Brandon swung himself elegantly onto his seat. It was a pity that Sophie couldn’t see him now. She’d be impressed. He pulled the belt over his shoulders and buckled himself in.
“Fasten your seatbelts,” a voice was now saying over the ship’s system.
“Okay, I’m belted,” said Brandon.
“I need a moment,” said Vyacheslav. “My hair’s still full of shampoo.”
“Fasten your seatbelts,” the voice repeated.
“Come on, ship. You can see I’m in the shower.”
“Fasten your seatbelts.”
This time it was followed by an alarm tone. Why had no one told them anything, and what was going on? Was it a drill only KK had been informed about? The ship’s computer didn’t know he wasn’t there. The launch of the lander had been a little unconventional.
“Fasten your seatbelts.”
Another alarm, this time twice as long.
“Ye-es,” said Vyacheslav.
“Fasten your seatbelts.”
The alarm tone sounded again, but this time it didn’t stop. It wasn’t a drill. Something was headed their way, and the ship wasn’t going to be patient with them.
“I’d take a seat if I were you,” said Yunus.
“But I... coming...”
The alarm stopped. The deep rumble of the thrusters went through the ship. The computer wasn’t waiting. Vyacheslav pushed himself off from the wall and tried to reach his seat in a single bound, but it was too late. There was a loud clunk as he fell against the floor. He crept on all fours to his seat, then pulled himself up and flopped into it, his hair still full of suds. He wasted no time getting his seatbelt fastened.
That must have been an evasive maneuver. The thrusters were still firing to alter their orbit. What for? And how were they supposed to reach KK, Sophie, and Emily? Brandon gripped the armrests. He’d been playing around earlier with the ship’s computer, but he hadn’t been able to get around the login. It only let him run a couple of simulations. That couldn’t have caused this...? KK would be furious if the ship wasn’t there when he was ready to come back.
No, he wouldn’t. He’d suffocate. How long could they survive in the lander? Brandon pictured them fighting for their lives. Sophie would pull through. He had faith in her.
But that was nonsense. The lander only had to fly to NASA’s Gateway. They’d get all the air and food they needed there.
The words ‘Arriving at Lunar Gateway’ in three hours suddenly appeared onscreen.
Could the ship read his thoughts? Had a hacker taken control of it? You read too much sci-fi, Brandon.
“What the hell is this?” Vyacheslav asked.
“I’m guessing an automatic evasive maneuver,” said Yunus. “There must be some debris in our orbit.”
Brandon didn’t contradict him. The others didn’t know he’d been fooling around with the computer.
“Couldn’t they have informed us?”
“They did warn us, Slava.”
“Warned, sure, not informed.”
“That’s how passengers are treated,” said Yunus. “KK was probably supposed to tell us, but he went to the moon instead.”
KK’s face appeared on the screen. “Brandon, Vyacheslav, Yunus, can you hear me?” Maybe the lander had announced that their ship was moving out of its orbit.
“We hear you,” said Yunus. “Something strange is happening here.”
“Yeah, bad news,” said KK. “My friend Ihab has stolen the ship out from under me.”
“What?” asked Yunus.
“Ihab Chatterjee said he had to quickly loan out the ship that I paid a lot of money for. Naturally, while I’m stuck on the moon.”
KK seemed to be overestimating himself again. Even if he’d been on board he couldn’t have done anything about the course change.
“It was quite a shock,” Yunus said. “The ship started moving with no warning.”
“That’s not true,” Brandon corrected him. “It told us multiple times to buckle ourselves in.”
“But it didn’t give a reason,” Yunus countered. “Who’d have guessed we were going to be kidnapped.”
“I just finished speaking to Chatterjee. I didn’t realize he was already putting his plan into action while we were talking. But that’s just like him. I’ll be filing a claim for damages and inconvenience!”
“Chatterjee must have given a reason?” asked Brandon.
“He did. He needs the SS1 to rescue a lost NASA spaceship.”
“And we’re the ones who are supposed to leap into action?” Yunus wondered out loud. “Don’t they need highly-trained astronauts for an emergency like that?”
“I asked him that, too. He said that’s being taken care of. The whole mission must have just been decided. At my expense. I won’t put up with it.”
Now KK was overdoing it. If it was about helping another ship, they shouldn’t hesitate.
“And what happens with you guys down there?” Vyacheslav asked.
“We’ll be all right for a few days. If we run out of oxygen, we’re allowed to dock onto the Lunar Gateway. Isn’t that generous?”
“Is that even technically possible?” asked Brandon.
The SS1 didn’t have any couplings for the space station as far as he knew.
“Yes, the lander was developed by Blue Destination especially for the Artemis missions. I bought the back-up copy.”
An unpleasant humming sound filled the control room. KK disappeared from the screen and an older, sun-tanned man with a flattop haircut took his place. Brandon immediately recognized Ihab Chatterjee.
“Please excuse the inconvenience,” he said with what seemed like genuine regret.
Chatterjee had an inscrutable smile, which must be one of the reasons people—especially his fans—hung on his every word. He’d managed to give all his business ventures a purpose that moved people, and still earned himself billions in the process. It was as though Mahatma Gandhi had decided to become a businessman.
“There’s nothing to excuse,” Yunus said. “We just heard what it’s all about, and we completely understand.”
Chatterjee even managed to make you feel guilty for saying no to him, and he didn’t need to say anything. One look was enough.
“Thank you all very much. It really pains me to have to ask this of you as my guests, but I have no choice. The lives of two astronauts hang in the balance.”
“We’ll do everything in our power to help them,” said Yunus.
“That’s wonderful. Your ship is already on its way to rendezvous with NASA’s Lunar Gateway. A member of the Artemis crew will join you there, Daniel Schult, an experienced astronaut. And at the same time, you have the option of transferring to the Gateway. We can’t couple to it, but you’ll be transferred safely via an EVA. NASA, as the operator of the Gateway, has extended their warm invitation. Then the SS1 will assume a course that takes it to the lost NASA capsule.”
“Will that pose a risk to the crew aboard the SS1?” asked Vyacheslav.
“That can’t be ruled out. We know very little about the circumstances that led to the loss of communication with the capsule.”
“So we could disappear, too?”
“Unfortunately, I can’t rule anything out, Vyacheslav. I’m hoping for the best, but we have to expect the worst. That’s why we’re allowing you to transfer to the Lunar Gateway. If everything goes well, you’ll be picked up again from there by this ship.”
“And if it doesn’t?” asked Yunus.
“Then you’ll have to wait a little longer, a maximum of six weeks.”
“What? Six weeks?” Yunus said. “But, thank you for your honesty,
“Honesty is one of the principles I value most highly,” Chatterjee said.
An hour until they arrived at the Gateway. Brandon switched to the exterior camera. The moon was more distant, indicating the Gateway must be in a higher orbit. He’d been to the bathroom three times in the last two hours. The decision about whether to be part of the rescue
mission or stay in the Gateway was weighing on him, and on his bladder, the way he used to feel before exams and dates.
What should he do? Bail like a coward and watch the other heroes in the media? Or die with them? He was clear about one thing. Death was not an option. He’d never thought about his mortality before his 50s. Then he turned 54. His father had died at 54 from a sudden heart attack. He’d simply avoided thinking about it until then, but that didn’t work anymore. Luckily the doctors had given him a clean bill of health.
But he still felt mortal these days. He reminded himself that everyone ‘bites the dust’ in the end, but it didn’t help. It was too soon to die. He’d wait in the Gateway.
“Yunus?”
“Yes?”
“Gateway or rescue mission?”
“Gateway. What did you expect? I have a family. If they lost my income, the insurance wouldn’t cover it. And you?”
“I... I don’t know. Gateway, probably. I’m afraid of dying.”
“At least you wouldn’t have the insurance problem.”
“Why?”
“Well, just imagine, an author who writes about space travel dying on a mission in space. All your books would become bestsellers overnight!”
“But I wouldn’t see any of it.”
“No family?”
“They’re all independent.”
“I envy you. That means you can decide for yourself and don’t have to take anyone else into account.”
“Would your decision be different if you didn’t have a family, Yunus?”
“Definitely. Seeing a comet up close, that’s the chance of a lifetime, even if you died. No one could take the experience away from you.”
“I don’t know,” said Brandon.
He really didn’t know. Life had so many small delights: sunrays turning dewdrops into sparkling crystals; mist magically rising above a lake in the evening; the sun sinking into the sea like a red fireball. Should he give all that up?
“And for you, it must be a dream come true. You normally only get to write about these things. Now you can experience them.”
“I’m constantly experiencing them through the eyes and ears of my protagonists. That’s the main reason I send them on those kinds of voyages. I grew up behind the Berlin Wall, and as a child I could only travel in my imagination. Maybe that’s why.”
“You’re not American? You sound American.”
“I am. I have an American passport. I went to New York at 25 and ended up staying.”
His screen came to life, and there was Jenna. He greeted her with a smile. He had to.
“What am I hearing?” she asked. “You’re going on a rescue mission?”
“The ship, yes.”
“Not you?”
“I don’t know. You tell me.”
“Of course you should go. You’ll visit a comet, analyze dark matter, and save the lives of two astronauts.”
“I’d become a protagonist in one of my novels.”
“No, Brandon, you’d become a protagonist in your own life. Maybe that’s what’s been missing. There’s been something missing for you. You can’t fool me. You always just stand by and watch.”
“I don’t just stand by and watch.”
Jenna laughed. “Don’t take it badly, but you do. You often stand outside of yourself and watch yourself live.”
“Does that bother you?”
“Not at all. It’s a unique ability—I think so, anyway. You find out so much about yourself! I don’t have it, unfortunately. But it seems to bother you.”
That was the question. He was quite happy with his life. He could sit in the Gateway and watch people from a safe distance as they put their lives on the line. It would still be an interesting experience. Or he could insert himself into the action. He could put his own life on the line. That scared him. But it tempted him, too.
“Brandon?”
“Sorry. I still don’t know what I should decide.”
“Then you’re just like me,” said Jenna. “I never know what my decision will be until I’ve articulated it. That’s exciting. Enjoy it.”
August 29, 2026 – Lunar Gateway
“Hello, friends, and welcome to the Lunar Gateway. Daniel here,” said the man with his finger on the call button.
“Hello, Gateway. SS1 here. I’m Yunus. We’re already in the airlock.”
“Good. Just a moment.”
Daniel looked at the onscreen schematic of the Gateway and its visitors. He was sitting in front of the central computer in a spacesuit. The SS1 was still moving a little too fast. It was being braked by its control jets, a process that was invisible to him.
Relative speed 0.
“Now,” he said, and switched over to the camera view.
He adjusted the image until he could see the roughly man-high, oval airlock, which was brightly lit by the sun. A silhouetted figure stepped up to its edge and stretched an arm out holding something that had to be the safety harpoon. The astronaut in the airlock was aiming at the Gateway.
“Firing,” said Yunus.
The projectile and the cable attached to it were too thin for the camera resolution.
“Contact,” said Yunus.
Then he hung the firing device next to him in the airlock.
“I’m hanging the harpoon inside the airlock door,” said Yunus.
The man reached forward with his arm. He must be testing the line, held taught by the reservoir in the harpoon. “I’m coming across,” he said.
Daniel rose and floated to the airlock. Then he turned back. He got a pen and wrote ‘Welcome!’ on the back wall.
The airlock was cramped. The airlock door on the SS1 looked twice the size. He was getting out of a freighter into an oil tanker. Everything would be different over there—larger, more modern, and more expensive than NASA could afford.
The signal lamp was green. Daniel opened the outer airlock door. He clipped his line on, pulled himself out, and wedged his boot under a bracket. A shadow moved toward him on his left, startling him. The man who must be Yunus pointed to his helmet.
Of course, different channel. Alpha Omega didn’t use the NASA channels.
“Hello, Daniel,” said Yunus.
“Hello, Yunus.”
The men stood facing one another, not knowing what to say. Daniel stepped aside to let Yunus pass.
Yunus turned around and gave a military salute with his hand to his helmet. “All the best,” he said.
“Thanks.”
Daniel turned around. There was a second man from the artist troupe. Slava, it said on his suit. Daniel waited. Slava moved past him without a word.
“Where’s the third man?” asked Daniel.
Slava turned around. “Didn’t they tell you?” he asked.
“What?”
“Brandon’s going with you.”
“Sorry?” He couldn’t afford to get worked up, but he felt hot.
“Yeah, he only decided half an hour ago,” said Yunus.
“That’s... great.” He managed to keep his cool. This Brandon was probably listening to everything. But the fact that Luna hadn’t warned him... He’d have to have a word with her.
“I was thinking about staying on board,” said Slava, “but my wife was strictly against it.”
“I completely understand,” said Daniel. Thank you, unknown wife.
“I’m not really the hero type,” Yunus replied.
“Who is? There’s no need to apologize. You’re not obliged to do anything as civilians.”
“Thanks. I’ll pray for your success.”
The SS1 was surprisingly far from the Gateway. A 15-meter-wide and infinitely deep abyss lay in front of him, and he had to cross it. His bridge was a millimeter-thin thread between the ship and the Gateway, which he could scarcely feel through his gloves. He hooked the second safety line to it and detached the first one, his last connection to the Gateway. Daniel pushed off with his legs and slowly drifted across. He fixed his gaze on the unfamil
iar spaceship.
Suddenly it was darkest night. He turned his head. The sun had set behind the Gateway. He floated through impenetrable darkness until he activated the headlamp on his helmet. Its focused beam threw the lines of the spaceship into sharp relief, like a woodcarver chiseling a figure out of a tree trunk.
The airlock was empty. No reception committee. Daniel first released the safety line, then the firing device from the harpoon, and finally sealed the airlock door behind him. Air immediately began to pump in. This was a lot more comfortable than where he’d come from.
Beyond the airlock, he was greeted by someone he would have called an old man back on Earth. Thinning, gray hair, a slight paunch, but not fat, with soft hands and stubby fingers. So that’s what an author looks like.
The man extended his hand. “I’m Brandon,” he said.
“Daniel. Pleased to meet you.”
“I’m happy to be able to support you in rescuing your crewmates.”
“Yes, Brandon. I’m happy, too. Can I make a request?”
“Of course.”
“When things get serious, just buckle yourself in and don’t get in my way. Agreed?”
“I... of course. Agreed.”
August 30, 2026 – TU Darmstadt
“Hello Karl,” wrote Dieter Zetschewitz. “You’ve really caused a sensation with your paper on 67P. Thank you for listing me as a co-author.”
Karl smiled. He knew it was important to Zetschewitz that he was mentioned, which was why he’d insisted on it with Sylvia. His former intern would go far.
“I know I have you to thank for that.”
Yeah, yeah, you little ass-kisser. “So I’d like to return the favor.”
And of course he also wanted to be named in the next paper. His list of publications was prolific for a young researcher, and now his name was in a journal as renowned as Science, no less.
“I’ve had the OGS following Churyumov-Gerasimenko for the last few days. The closer the comet is to the Earth, the more precise the data. That’s the good news. The bad news is that the deviations are increasing compared with the measurements from the last time 67P swung around the Earth.”
The Dark Spring: Hard Science Fiction Page 18