He imagined Jiaying walking among the shelves in her underwear. I like her, but I know I have absolutely no chance with her. The psychologists claimed sexual desires decline in space. So far, Martin could not confirm this, but then they had not been in space that long.
“Damage to outer wall, module Gamma 3,” Watson’s voice said, startling him out of his meditative activity. The shift was almost over. The AI sounded completely neutral. If something serious had happened, it would have modulated its voice and announced one of three alert levels. Smaller impacts were casually reported to the astronauts, like just now. Every second the ship’s radar waves scanned, at the speed of light, the hemisphere of space in their direction of travel. The radar would detect larger, more dangerous fragments before impact. Only very large rocks could be detected so early that the chemically powered secondary jets of the ship could move it away from a collision course.
Martin imagined one of the three spider robots now crawling across the hull to investigate the damage. The six-legged robot would examine the width and depth of the impact. It attempted to determine the source, which was not always possible, as the impact would pulverize at least the smaller meteorites. The spider could seal up damaged areas in the one-centimeter range. For this purpose it carried a special red resin in its ‘spinning gland.’ The spider sprayed the resin into the hole, where it hardened within seconds in the vacuum of space. Afterward, the robot moved to its service bay, which the astronauts called the ‘doghouse.’ They had also given names to the three robots—dog names. The kind of thing you do when you are bored, Martin thought. The commander had suggested this, but again the idea probably came from the psychologists. There had been more than three suggestions so they had drawn lots. Martin’s ‘Rex’ did not win, but now he was glad about it, because the name seemed too unimaginative to him. The three winners were Joker, Obi-Wan, and Lancelot.
Larger problems were fixed by the crew during an exterior mission, though it wasn’t worth doing this at once. Watson kept a list of necessary repairs, and as soon as the AI estimated that at least an hour of work was required, the commander planned an exterior mission, or EVA. Luckily, she had not yet sent Martin outside. He did not want to remember his first, and until now, only spacewalk during the week of training on Tiangong-4 when he had acted very clumsily.
The second part of his workday was dedicated to exercise, but first he had to create a report. He spoke the keyword and told the always-listening AI what he had done in the garden. As the astronauts were constantly supervised, the reason for this procedure had originally eluded him. The NASA trainer, however, had given a convincing explanation; the AI analyzed his speech recording on two levels: first, it attempted to look at speech patterns, rhythm, and stress to find the unspoken message behind what was said; and second, the text helped the software understand the environment, as it provided meta-information to match the video recording of his activities. Humans were still better at classifying and arranging things than the AI was.
Martin moved through the zero gravity toward the hamster wheel. The fitness room was located in the fourth habitat module—numbers one through three contained two cabins and a WHC each. If he had been given a free wish, he would have asked to move the dining table there. After all, in his opinion, it is much easier to eat under the influence of gravity.
He climbed the ladder in a direction that now felt downward, but in fact constantly rotated around the axis of the spaceship. Two meters from the end of the spoke there was a glowing ring that Martin pressed. This opened the hatch of the habitat module, and a ladder was extended, as long as no one stood in this spot. The way was clear. Martin climbed down from the ceiling. He then turned around to face the door of the fitness room. He had not memorized everyone’s schedule, so he did not know who else would be there. Work was planned in such a way that at most two astronauts would exercise at any given time.
He pressed a button and the flat door disappeared into the wall. Martin stopped at the threshold. Amy sat on the exercise bicycle, wearing a VR headset and headphones, pedaling steadily. She whistled softly, probably the song she was listening to. Martin did not recognize the tune. Now the bicycle adjusted itself by several degrees. Amy pedaled more slowly; it was obvious she was exerting more strength. The VR headset was probably showing her images of a steep ascent.
Let her continue her trip! Martin was glad he did not have to engage in conversation. He entered the room, which measured approximately three by two meters. Amy stepped on the brake. She seems to possess a sixth sense. Or maybe she had just smelled him? Here in space, of all places, where one could not escape the scent molecules emitted by machines and people, the olfactory sense improved. The commander took off her headset, hung it from the handlebars, and then removed her earphones. She smiled at him. Martin noted sweat stains under the armpits of her T-shirt, and he also saw she wore no bra, probably unnecessary under half of terrestrial gravity.
“Well, did you do some nice gardening work today?” Amy asked.
Of course, she knew the schedule, as befitted a commander.
Martin replied, “I had to dispose of a large number of seedlings.”
“Well, that is... frustrating.”
Her facial expression did not match what she had said. Her thoughts seemed to be far away from here. Amy smiled, and Martin considered what he might call her expression. Lost in thought—that is it.
“It really is… a great loss of biomass,” he said.
“Hmmm... Some salad for dinner.” Her voice was full of longing. Martin got on the elliptical machine and started his exercises.
“We have enough food on board,” he said, “and ILSE 2 will be waiting for us near Enceladus with fresh supplies.”
Amy knew this, of course, but he had to say something. She did not answer.
“How is Hayato?” Martin had intended this as an innocent question, but when he listened to himself, it sounded unduly curious. Amy looked into his eyes.
“So-so. He is very worried. You know he has a daughter?”
Martin shook his head and hoped Amy would now tell him more. He had always considered the Japanese man to be a kind of friend. I know he is not married, and he has never mentioned having a daughter.
“Don’t worry, he told me it was okay to talk about it. He wants you all to know why he is so reclusive. He does not want to bother anyone with his problems.”
Martin once more was angry with himself. Why didn't I visit Hayato more often in his cabin? It seems improper because, as men, you go out drinking together; heart-to-heart talks in a cabin, this is not my style.
Martin had the impression Amy was waiting for his next question, “And what about his daughter?”
“After the death of her mother, she joined a cult,” Amy began. “Hayato had not heard anything from her in years. He could not even say goodbye to her, since she seemed to have disappeared off the face of the earth.”
“And now she has returned?” Martin asked.
“Yes, she showed up two weeks after our launch. She managed to leave the cult and is now in psychiatric treatment.”
“I’m sure Hayato would have liked to have been there for her.”
Amy explained, “He is very sad that he is so far away and cannot help her at all. If he had known about this, he would not have come along.”
Martin sighed. Why had the engineer not told him anything about this? Martin knew the answer, though. I would have been helpless. It looks like Amy is different in this aspect.
“Tell him... I don’t know. I don’t know what I would say to him.” I feel like a loser, Martin thought. This was no problem he could calculate, and for that reason he had always tried to avoid such situations.
“It’s okay. Hayato does not want to bother others with his problem. That would really stress him even more.”
It's a paradoxical situation. The person I consider a friend is suffering, but I can help him best by ignoring him? Martin did not know what else to say.
&nb
sp; “I can’t do anything?”
“You can,” Amy said. “Just leave him be. I’m here, after all.”
For a while Martin moved on his elliptical trainer. He started to sweat. He looked at his watch. Only 15 minutes so far. If anyone had told him months ago that he would exercise eight hours a day... Exercise, Martin knew since attending a series of lectures by the Chief Medical Officer of NASA, was incredibly important, more so than any other activity the crew members engaged in. In zero gravity the body lost considerable amounts of calcium and the bone structure changed, similar to that of women during menopause—just much more so. A month in space could reduce bone density by one to two percent, and their voyage would last 30 months. They were required to spend hours per day in the fitness room, four during work and four in their spare time.
“I have a secret plan.”
Amy spoke more softly, as if no one should overhear her. This makes no sense, Martin concluded. If I can hear her, the AI will certainly be able to.
“Yes? Then you had better not tell me. You know... ” he said.
“Aren’t you the least bit curious?”
“I only want to help you. If you tell me, the plan is no longer secret.”
Amy shrugged. “But I want to tell you. Don’t worry, I will also tell the others.”
“Okay, then I'm curious,”
“Do you know what I have in my footlocker?” she asked.
Such an old-fashioned word, Martin thought. Amy likes old words, I've noticed. He shook his head and made sure she noticed this gesture.
“Pansy seeds,” she answered. “They are small, colorful flowers.”
Do I look that surprised? he wondered. “That’s good,” he said. “I know what pansies are. My grandmother had some in her garden.”
“Do you like them?”
“Yes... I think I do. I always liked to watch how my grandma enjoyed her flowers.”
“But do you like them yourself?” Amy persisted.
Martin shrugged.
“They are flowers. Not food.” He thought about it. “I like what they do to people who look at them.”
“That is very... pragmatic,” she said.
Martin considered that a compliment.
“You want to sow the seeds in the garden, don’t you?”
Amy nodded. “Yes, exactly. I do.”
“If you want to, I can find the best spot for them,” Martin offered. “The crop rotation has some flexibility. Or we make do without a few heads of lettuce.”
“That would be nice. I would like there to be flowers, when...”
Martin waited for Amy to finish the sentence, but she said nothing more. He looked at her. She did not want to continue the conversation. It was useless to try to find the reason for it. Martin looked at the display of the elliptical trainer. He had to get moving if he wanted to reach the daily goal the computer had set for him.
August 4, 2046, ILSE
The only thing missing to complete the mawkish picture would have been burning candles. The six of them were gathered around a table and appeared to be sitting. There was a cake on a white tablecloth with a colorfully embroidered fringe, and plates and silverware in front of all the guests. There were no open coffee cups, and the guests floated instead of truly sitting under the pressure of gravity. It was the missing flame that acknowledged this occasion was no normal birthday party. While Amy had placed a candle next to the cake, no one would dare to light it. An open fire aboard a spaceship was the nightmare of every astronaut. The flame would probably be quite a sight, Martin thought, even though he had never seen one burn in zero gravity. It would spread in all directions from the wick, a perfect sphere of cold blue, because no soot particles would be dispersed to glow in the heat.
Amy had sent them invitations yesterday and called this event ‘a birthday party.’ Martin would not have noticed anything, since he was not good at remembering dates. If only Francesca had not asked whose birthday it was. Amy had not answered, and then asked them to be patient.
Martin looked around. Marchenko had lowered his head and stared at the fringe of the tablecloth as if he was looking for something underneath the table. He did not make eye contact. This told Martin, The doctor is in on this and does not want to say anything. Jiaying silently looked from right to left again and again and shuffled her feet. She obviously does not know what is going on, either. Francesca seems to be amused by something. She was resting on one arm and looking around. She looks like she is about to tell a joke. Martin noticed the corners of her eyes twitched. She did not seem to enjoy the situation. It looked like she was itching for a confrontation. He remembered the hours she had been trapped in Valkyrie below the Antarctic ice. Waiting passively drives her insane.
Hayato was as calm as always. He had folded his hand in his lap and looked straight ahead, past everyone else. He looks like a sacrificial lamb who knows exactly what to expect, Martin decided. Amy tried to keep her expression neutral, but she did not succeed. Martin wondered, What can I tell from her facial expression? He was grateful for his special-ed teacher because the man had taught him to read such details, which others had been taught by empathy from birth. What he saw in Amy’s face was something he had never noticed in the commander. He was afraid to name this feeling, for it was fear.
Amy cleared her throat.
“Nice that all of you found time to come.”
This was followed by a short pause.
“Siri, stop recording.”
“Excuse me. Authorization required.”
“Authorization has been given by the commander.”
“Recording stopped. Log entry created.”
This is a surprise. Martin had not even known it was possible to deactivate the continuous recording. There would be no record of what was about to happen now, and therefore no transmission to Mission Control. On Earth they would only find out what the crew members later reported. This is unheard of in the history of human spaceflight. His hands were trembling.
“Thanks, Siri. Deactivate acoustic interface.”
“Excuse me. Authorization required. I would like to point out that after doing so, commands can only be entered via keyboard.” Siri’s voice sounded as if the AI was really worried.
“I know. Authorization has been given by the commander.”
“Are you sure?”
“I am sure.”
The double-checking was part of the protocol. Martin had studied the source code, but he had never actually witnessed the protocol being implemented. Siri answered with two auditory signals.
Then Amy nodded. She rose and held onto the table to avoid drifting away. She had a determined look on her face.
“Please excuse me. You are here because I asked you to come. I have to tell you something because I do not want you to hear it elsewhere.”
Everyone was looking at her, except for Hayato, who still stared straight ahead.
“I am sure you noticed in the last few weeks that Hayato,” she nodded in his direction, though he did not change his posture, “and I have become friends. To be precise, we are more than friends.”
Martin was surprised at hearing this confirmation. Jiaying was right. However, this cannot be the reason for the meeting. There were three men and three women on board, and the mission planners must have expected such relationships, maybe to get over the boredom. None of them had left a classical family behind on Earth. That had been one of the selection criteria.
“We are,” Amy said, and cleared her throat, “a couple.”
Congratulations, Martin thought, but did not say anything. Jiaying pressed her lips together. It is obvious she considers this kind of fraternization as damaging to the mission. On the other hand, Francesca seems rather open-minded. Marchenko was still looking at the fringe of the tablecloth. More was to come.
“We are all adults, so I don’t have to tell you what a romantic relationship involves.” Amy paused and looked directly at Hayato, who did not react. She shrugged and continued spea
king.
“I have told some of you who know me better some facts about my life before this mission. I was married for fifteen years. We were trying to have kids until the doctors finally determined that I was infertile. This issue eventually led to the breakup of my marriage.”
Martin had not known Amy’s story. It must be hard for her to talk about it so openly.
“And now I am getting to what I wanted to tell you. I don’t know whether it is good news or bad news. It looks like the doctors were wrong. Not just one doctor or two, but many—including those at NASA. I cannot say how many times I was examined, how many unsuccessful procedures I had to undergo in the attempt to maybe change this.”
Amy took a deep breath.
“Anyway, I am pregnant.”
There was an abrupt BANG as Jiaying’s chair collided with the wall. She must have pushed off with her legs and now she pulled herself back to the table. No one said anything.
A child could be a gift, a challenge—or a catastrophe. If Martin asked his mother, she would have called him a gift, even though his growing up was a definite challenge. He had often been stressed just by dealing with himself.
The child carried by Amy is a potential catastrophe. Maybe it will cost all of our lives. The entire mission has been planned for six people. Food, oxygen, the mass of the spacecraft that determines its acceleration. If you change a single parameter, you endanger the entire mission. Martin unconsciously grabbed the table, as if danger was already waiting for them in the form of a meteorite. This death, though, would come slowly. Martin knew enough to imagine all the possible outcomes, but not enough to decide which one was the most realistic scenario. Would they perhaps miss the orbit around Saturn, because ILSE arrived a bit too slowly at its destination, or was harder to decelerate? Would they suffocate because the oxygen was not enough for seven passengers?
The Enceladus Mission: Hard Science Fiction Page 11