“Direct to orbit?” James says.
Beckman and Hitoshi raise their hands.
James smiles and quirks his head. “Alright, pack the snacks and queue the tunes. We’re goin’ on a road trip.”
As James turns his head left and right, Bernard’s cockpit view pans. When he looks down, it’s his legs sitting in the pilot’s seat, his hand resting on Bernard’s fingertip controls. He presses down on the smooth panel. The recessed buttons slide under his index finger.
“How’s it look?” Hitoshi’s disembodied voice says from his left.
“Almost real,” James says.
“Okay,” Hitoshi says. “Ready for full senses?”
“Game on.”
A tingle spreads across James’s neck and there’s a subtle change in air temperature around him. His chair cushion feels firmer, pressing against him in a different contour, and the harness straps are taut along his chest. It’s all a virtual construct, he realizes, linked to Bernard’s internal sensors, but it feels so real. In reality he’s not in Bernard’s at all, but is sitting in Goose’s cockpit with a model of Bernard’s cockpit beamed into his central nervous system via the alternate reality link on the back of his neck. Bernard’s feels real and Hitoshi’s floating voice is what seems like the mirage. James gives a thumbs up to his imaginary friend.
“All systems green,” James says. Bernard’s running lights awaken and the navigation beacons glow red and blue. “Port engine’s up. Starboard’s purring like a kitten.”
“Looking good here,” Hitoshi says.
“Let’s knock the rust loose.”
James brings up the engines and a growing hum buzzes through the ship. Outside, ice and snow crack. The ship’s attitude control flattens as James’s weight shifts. He smiles and taps the comms icon. “Bernard’s Beauty, ready to launch.”
After a pause, Hitoshi says, “Uh, boss…first, I’m standing right next to you, so you don’t need to hail me. Second, you’re fully linked into all of Bernard’s system.”
“Yeah?”
“So, you really just broadcast that via open comms to all of Janus.”
James grimaces. “Damn. Force of habit.”
“Uh, okay, so, cleared to launch.”
James edges Bernard’s up and his weight shifts backward, the seat pressing against him. Fog mists from evaporating snow, ringing around Bernard’s and dissipating. At twenty meters altitude he rotates to a heading seventy-degrees to his right, slides the throttle forward, and accelerates over the landscape. The wash of light around Gossamer Goose’s landing area disappears to his left. As he pitches up, an impossibly starry sky welcomes him, then he’s picking up speed, mountains streaking beneath him, the sounds of wind buffeting the hull.
“You’re right on track,” Hitoshi says. “Romeo One is coming around.”
“Hell of a shimmy. She’s handling like a shot-up bomber,” James says. Yellow icons stack themselves like blocks on the left display screen. “Got some vibration warning lights cropping up.”
“About to go supersonic,” Hitoshi says. “Keep an eye on that ventral plating. Betty couldn’t get at it.”
The sonic boom rolls through the Janus landscape as James opens the ventral camera image on his right screen. The ship’s belly plating is gouged to hell. Betty did some makeshift welds on what she could reach, but the rest will have to be fixed by the ring. Plates rattle at bent exposed edges. James presses the throttle forward and slides back into his seat from the gees, the ship shaking in the atmosphere. When he looks at the external cameras, contrails spiral from the wingtips over Janus’s curving landscape. On his navcon, Romeo One approaches from behind and above him.
The warning screen to his left chirps as one of the yellow blocks changes red.
“Got a problem—” James starts. A pop like an explosion sounds from beneath him and the entire ship lurches to the right. Stars pitch up through the cockpit windows and Janus ascends. In the ventral camera, something shiny and bent tumbles off into the night. Instinct is to roll the ship out of the spin, but that will increase the gees even more, stressing the structure. Instead, he eases into the spin until his ship is upside-down. At this angle, the brunt of the wind force is on the undamaged top of the ship. The gees subside as everything levels and calms.
The stars are on the floor and Janus is on the roof through the cockpit windows.
“Lost a plate,” James says. “Picked up some more damage to the ventral shielding. Flying upside-down. It’s all good.”
The atmosphere sounds subside as more of space overtakes the cockpit view. The yellow vibration icons dim to green.
“Intercept in twenty seconds,” Hitoshi says.
James searches the externals. There, at his five-o-clock, a blinking star approaches. The star blossoms into a scaffolding filled with high-intensity lights. As he adjusts his speed, the ring slips by him to his starboard.
“Time to thread the needle,” James says.
“Go for dock,” Hitoshi replies.
Bernard’s rises and the ring centers itself in his field of view. He eases forward, the ring enveloping his ship. Smooth as silk he lines up his nacelles with the docking clamps. A jolt shakes the ship as simultaneous clangs sound from each side.
“Dock secure,” Hitoshi says. “Nice flying, boss.”
James powers down all of Bernard’s systems. As the last lights go dark, the dock’s robotic arms unfold and open the first of eight radial cargo pods. New silver hull plates gleam from inside.
Back in Goose’s cockpit, James reaches behind his neck and touches the cool disk affixed there. Bernard’s cockpit fades away, leaving him seated in Goose’s pilot’s seat. Hitoshi stands beside him.
“You know, we’ve never done a planetary take-off before with Bernard’s,” Hitoshi says. “So, that was awesome! Feels good to see her fly again.”
It’s just after twenty-hundred when Goose lifts off. Nothing is left behind. The only evidence of their presence is the disturbed ground from Bernard’s crash site and the snowy tread marks left by Betty. If you look carefully, human footprints trace overlapping routes with Betty’s tracks.
As the landing site falls behind Goose, the cryovolcano shrinks to a flattened dome. The impact crater to its south is easily five times its size.
Ava, Isaac, and James sit in the cockpit seats, with Ananke’s slate mounted to the right. Isaac is navigating, watching Goose’s progress on a map. As Goose passes through a layer of ethane clouds, everything washes out around them.
“Heading up to ten clicks,” James says
As they clear the cloud layer it’s nothing but black sky and stars. Erebus is a plum-sized sphere suspended in the sky, a glowing yellow crescent in enhanced view with a silvery ring. Some of its continents are visible as darker shapes in the sliver. Beneath Goose, the cratering fades into flatter landscape before rising to a low line of mountains extending as far as they can see.
“Coming up on the equatorial ridge,” Isaac says. “Love to study it more when we come back.”
Ava stretches, looking out the side window. “Janus looks a lot like Pluto.”
Isaac taps a waypoint on his map. “Very much so.”
“Cruising altitude,” James says. “Going supersonic.”
For the next twenty minutes they watch cratered rocked, snow-drenched mountains, and rusty basins slide past, Isaac pointing out features like a tour guide. Finally, he says, “Destination in five minutes.”
James toggles the intercom. “Crew, prep for descent.”
Up ahead, the terrain becomes rocky, irregular. As they draw near, it’s as if a great mountainous bullseye has been painted on Janus, concentric rings stretching across hundreds of kilometers. The ring’s spacing is closest near the outer edges of the bullseye, widening as it moves inwards until the land flattens into a curve before welling back up into a volcano-like peak in the center. Snow covers most of the peaks with glistening ice spikes, like barnacles reaching towards the sky.
Isaac switches his screen to ultra-violet. The crystal field around the central volcano glows a dim blue. Dozens of fissures radiate around the volcano. The glow is strongest in the fissures.
James magnifies the volcano area. Ice spikes rise as tall as mountains, pointing in random directions, reminding him of barbed wire. The landscape is chaotic, with some areas level and others showing fractured chasms. “Not a very welcoming place, is it?”
Isaac points at a clear spot. “Five kilometers from center. Looks free of ice. Might be the best place to set down.”
“Agree,” James says. He turns Goose in a slow arc, lining up with the new waypoint. Flicking the switch on his console, he says. “Prepare for landing.”
10
Penitente
Gossamer Goose rests in an other-worldly landscape of powdery cinnamon and salt-splattered rock. Behind it, the nearest crater ring is a jagged stone tower encircling them until it disappears over the horizon. Ice spikes fan out from the crater floor in patches, some as tall as skyscrapers. Overhead, Erebus is a black eye in the sky, watching.
Ava, Beckman, and Isaac stand at the base of the cargo bay ramp, Ananke glowing from Isaac’s suit mount. Four of Beckman’s security drones hover ten meters above the group.
“Okay,” Ava says, setting up the quadcopters. “Here goes.” She watches them fly towards the volcano.
Isaac holds a slate streaming their video feeds. The lead copter scans in the ultraviolet, a soft blue glow emanating from the fissures nearest the volcano. Two minutes until arrival.
“Do you think it could be a form of bioluminescence?” Ananke says.
Ava watches the display with interest. “Usually bioluminescence is in the visible spectrum. That doesn’t mean it’s not possible. Birds and bees see in the UV spectrum.”
Isaac reads the analysis of the second quadcopter. “Ice spikes are water ice with ammonium. Called penitentes. Caused by ice sublimation. Present on Earth, Pluto, and Europa. Some spikes along fissures. Suggests water bubbling up, freezing, sublimating.”
“Lead drone has arrived,” Ava says.
Beckman scans the horizon, a pulse rifle held in both hands.
In the slate video, the fissure descends into a wide opening. Angular rock slips past the camera as the copter enters the opening. After twenty meters, the fissure opens into a subterranean chamber partially filled with an icy slurry producing an eerie blue illumination in the UV spectrum, as if it were a pool with underwater lighting.
Isaac and Ava lean in.
The blue light shifts in patches, at times forming brief patterns at the borders where the slurry flow bends and turns. When the camera zooms, it looks like a star field, millions of tiny light flecks speckled against an indigo backdrop.
“Huh,” Isaac says.
Ava targets one of the stars and enlarges it. When the pinpoint zooms, it’s not a star but a constellation. Eight fuzzy blue spheres orbit a slightly larger central light.
“It’s beautiful,” Ananke says.
“Check visual,” Isaac says.
Ava taps the control and the drone’s flashlight flares bright. In the visual spectrum, the shape is a crystalline snowflake with a geometric nucleus comprised of connected decagons. The light glints along the decagon’s edges, giving them a metallic appearance. The snowflake’s shape abruptly contracts, pulling in its eight extended arms. It accelerates into a slow rotation.
“That was a reaction,” Ava says. “I’m turning off the light.”
When Ava extinguishes the light and switches back to ultraviolet, the organism’s lights are dark. It’s barely visible as a deep blue shadow against a black background. Ava zooms back to view the wider field of creatures. All of them are dark.
She looks up from the slate, staring across the crater field towards the fissures and penitentes, cycling her helmet to enhanced ultraviolet mode. The fissure where the drone is emits no blue glow, but the adjacent fissures and distant crystal structures still do. Then, as if it were closing time, one-by-one the blue lights fade, spreading out in a wave of darkness from the epicenter of the drone. Within a minute, the only ultraviolet light source is the distant pinpoint of the Sun and its reflections on Erebus’s oceans and Janus’s snow.
Ava’s lips are parted as she breathes quickly. Panning her view along the dark horizon, she simply says, “Communication.”
It’s twenty-two hundred hours and the crew shows their fatigue. Everyone stands around the media screen in Goose’s passenger area. A schematic of the organism is overlaid with technical details from the drone’s sensors.
“Polyoxometalate nucleus, surrounded by a saline slush solution, with a complex mineral outer shell, mostly diamond,” Ava says.
Hitoshi has a hand on his hip. “How’s it able to change shape with a diamond shell?”
Isaac shakes his head. “Unknown.”
Ava brings up the organism pictures from the crash-site cryovolcano. The ruptured cell surrounds a spiky buckyball. “Very different from what we saw at the other site. Life chemistry there was an organic shell, and the polyoxometalate structure was simple.”
Hitoshi crosses his arms. “Could these be machines?”
“To be honest,” Ava says, “I’m not sure that we’d know the difference.”
Everyone considers that for a moment.
Isaac says, “So, Ava and I were talking, and we have a crazy, unscientific theory.”
Ava smiles. “More of a ‘what if?’ So, Isaac’s theory is that Erebus and Janus were captured from another star. There’s a working theory that Earth life may have seeded other planets or moons, such as Enceladus. What if a moon, such as Janus, were seeded by life from two different stars?”
Julian rubs his chin. “You mean, then, what if Janus were seeded by its parent star, then, when captured by our Sun, was seeded again by Earth?”
“Yes!” Ava says. “Two entirely different life chemistries on the same moon, perhaps in competition.”
“Interesting,” Julian says.
“More of a guess than a theory. For all we know, dual chemistries may be common.”
James has his hands on his hips, examining the screen. “What do you want to do next?”
“Oh,” Ava says, “that’s a tough one. We’re here now, but I’ve got to take back the data and plan an expedition.” She crosses her arms. “We’ve got more this trip than I could ever have hoped for. It’s time to call it a day and return to orbit.”
James looks over to Isaac.
Isaac nods.
He glances over the rest of the crew. Everyone looks tired.
James grins. “I’m still flying high from the last discovery. This is awesome, and you’re right, it’s been a hell of a day. Let’s configure for orbit and get some sleep. Tomorrow we head home. Big news on the horizon.”
Hitoshi takes a deep breath as he clicks into his seat. As Isaac settles into his workstation, Hitoshi looks over his shoulder and smiles. “Nice work, today.”
Isaac nods, “Thanks. Looking forward to orbit?”
“Oh, yeah,” Hitoshi says. “Don’t know how I’m going to sleep tonight, but, you know.”
“Beckman has tea.”
“Think I’ll stick with the dermals.” He glances over at Ava’s empty seat, then follows the corridor line to the cockpit. A hint of Ava’s shoulder is visible where she sits next to James, and Ananke’s blue light pulses along the console. He’s a little sad to not have Ava sitting opposite him.
After a few minutes the cabin lights cycle red. James’s voice is audible from the open cockpit door, but it amplifies over the intercom. “Prepare for departure,” he says.
From Goose’s aft, the RF engines build to a low hum. Hitoshi’s seat pushes up against him as ice cracks outside. Lateral thrusters fire in bursts, stabilizing the ship, and after a brief pause Goose dips forward and accelerates. On Hitoshi’s monitor, the convoluted landscape slips away. He takes another deep breath, like a great weight has been lifted from his shoulde
rs, and closes his eyes
The chirp from his work station’s console jolts him. He snaps forward and opens the alert.
Sierra Two, Three, and Four satellites have all detected an anomaly. When Hitoshi dumps the video to his screen, the Milky Way slants diagonally across an endless star field. A new star flares briefly into existence and just as quickly fades away.
He slaps the comms. “James! Sierras picked up a flash. Sending to your screen.”
James responds, “Got it. Bad timing. Any other info?”
Hitoshi queues up a subroutine. “It’s in three different images, so I can estimate range.”
“Staying on course for orbit. If we have to bug out, can’t use the Riggs drive if we’re atmospheric.”
The calculations finish and display in an inset window. Hitoshi says, “One point four billion kilometers.”
The tension in James’s voice eases. “Alright, that’s plenty of breathing room.”
“Right…right. That’s like Saturn distance from the Sun—” He stops, the word Saturn catching in his mind. “Oh, I just had a horrible thought.”
There’s a slight pause. “Getting a little worried here, Hitoshi.”
“If we were jumping Goose, the light from the Riggs flash would arrive a little before Goose did.”
James processes that. “You’re thinking it’s a warning that—”
Lightning flashes outside, casting electric blue trapezoidal patterns in the passenger cabin from the cockpit windows. Hitoshi’s pulse quickens as he reaches for the external display. Thunder rolls across the sky.
Below, a silver asterisk spins suspended a few hundred meters over the fissures, orange lights flickering from the ends of its rods.
Hitoshi’s breathing hard now, gripping his arm rest.
“I see it,” James says.
Isaac is surprisingly calm. “Same appearance and dimensions as the one you encountered.”
The alien probe’s lights fade from orange to red as it rises towards them.
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