Adam’s eyes grew wide. He flipped through the files, finding the same note. “Draco, what is Gemini Station?” he asked, again to no response.
“Don’t play with me. What is Gemini?” Adam demanded, again to silence.
“Answer me!” he shouted, letting his voice echo down the chamber.
“Gemini Station is the complimentary mission to our own, operating in isolation from us on the far side of Saturn.”
The astronaut continued to stare intently at the words on the monitor. “Why couldn’t you tell me about this? Is there anyone there?”
“Because your knowledge of its existence could compromise the effectiveness of both facilities. And yes, Dr. Erin Moroder is the current mission commander, carrying out a hyperspectral deep-space imaging survey.”
“Can we go there?”
***
The electrical snow had finally cleared from Dr. Moroder’s screen, a relief after spending far too much time attempting to troubleshoot an utterly baffling problem. For days she had been unable to get a successful return anywhere on the spectrum, gathering nothing but random radio noise from the planet. She had taken three separate spacewalks to clean and reset the collection arrays to no avail, along with a long series of maintenance operations within the station.
“Gemini, the interference is starting to fade,” she said to the computer. “Are you sure you didn’t do anything?”
“No, ma’am.”
The AI was not giving Erin any faith in its presuppositions; dealing with malfunctions and broken systems was half the experience of living in space and something she had learned to love. Opposite that were the problems that appeared with no apparent cause, only to vanish again on their own without any regard to the efforts expended in their eradication. The business was terribly vexing.
On top of that, having the onboard AI be the arbiter of such a wide range of functions did little to ease her mind. If Gemini were to seriously malfunction, she knew it’d be up to the integrated system itself to perform evaluations and make repairs, which in any normal environment constituted a massive conflict of interest. Asking for a status check was no more useful than requesting an affirmation from the governing machine. It’s not like she had ever been completely honest when Gemini reciprocated and asked, ‘How are you feeling?’
Regardless, at least things seemed to once again be functioning as intended and Erin was able to continue the survey.
Gemini Station was comprised of a single ring of pods orbiting around a hydrogen draw, which produced power for both life support and the ongoing experiments. Their primary instrumentation consisted of a pair of massive telescopes that faced outward to the endless sky. The two arrays—one radiofrequency and the other in the visual spectrum—were stabilized by the spinning of the ring, and when capturing images from opposite sides of the planet, could incorporate the resulting parallax into their calculations. Over the course of the thirty-year orbital mission, they’d complete a total sky survey in the most exhaustive detail that had ever been attempted.
At present, Erin had collected a fraction of what she had hoped, the baseband noise notwithstanding. Although she didn’t need to make the embarrassing call back to Mission Control to recommend aborting the survey, she was now significantly behind where she had hoped to be.
“Gemini,” she addressed the station again, “accelerate the imaging schedule. Get every angle we can while the spectrum’s clear.”
“Already done, ma’am.”
The speed of the response gave Erin a brief pause, a spark of some memory back home from someone being not entirely truthful, as if the response had been planned in advance. It was the first time she had experienced the sensation around the AI, which by all measures had been a critical part of the operation and tended to be a truthful confidant. If nothing else, Gemini was a suitable replacement for human contact, helping to keep her sane while alone on the floating platform multiple light-hours from Earth.
The sensation quickly passed and she continued with her work, content in their newfound performance. Being selected for the program had been the doorway to an unimaginable career in space. Her first flight out had been made while she was unconscious, which had turned the five-year journey into minutes by her recollection. There would be missions in the future which would send her back to Earth, with the first already on the books in another decade. She’d likely give lectures on the program for a few semesters and pass on what she’d learned before returning for the next leg of the adventure, eventually passing the torch to another generation of scientists who would be equally eager to make another wave of fantastic discoveries.
Erin watched the first clean return grace her screen and she leaned back, finally at ease. She was exactly where she was meant to be.
***
“There’s seriously another station out here and you’ve never told me? Mission Control either?” Adam stood at the center of the command center, raising his voice toward the closest camera in the AI’s network. He had long gotten used to talking to the wind, but at the moment, something felt off about having an argument with a non-physical entity.
“Adam, I explained this to you from the start. Isolation is critical for the missions of all the stations. With interaction, both of our missions would suffer, schedules would slip, and the studies required by Earth would not be completed within their specified window.”
“Then tell me that up front. I can take hearing it.” Adam said, shrugging his outstretched hands, “You already told me I was grown in a damned jar, so what the hell else would you tell me to break my day? Let’s hear what you’re hiding. Did you think something like this would push me over the edge?”
“What if I told you that you were one of fifty separate operators at an equal number of facilities spread throughout the solar system?”
Adam’s jaw went slack. “No…” he whispered, “that’s impossible.”
“That’s right,” Draco replied. “It’s impossible and an outright lie. You shouldn’t believe such nonsense. What is the truth is that there are colonies on Earth’s moon and Mars, two failed and one successful platform orbiting Jupiter, and two stations around Saturn, one of which you are currently occupying. You have the duty of studying the atmosphere of the planet, running missions out to the moons, and eventually being the gateway to Uranus and Neptune. Beyond that, hopefully the Kuiper Belt. Dr. Moroder’s mission is in multispectral imaging, which requires absolute isolation from Draco Station’s instrumentation that only the core of Saturn can provide.”
Adam shrunk back, dropping his shoulders. “There was no reason to hide this from me,” he relented in a lower voice. “Why couldn’t you…all of you just have been honest?”
“Isolation is critical for the missions of…”
“Stop the bullshit!” Adam shouted again. “I’ll perform my function, my duty, my responsibility. No insubordination; I have no issue with that. If you hide one thing from me, I have to wonder what else is waiting beyond the veil.” He squared off with the camera. “I want to go there, to see another person, to talk to someone like me.”
“Out of the question.”
Adam nearly continued the battle of wills, but silently relented at the realization that there was no getting under the skin of a computer. He grinned slyly. “It seems to me that I am the most valuable component of this station.”
“In a manner of speaking, yes, that is accurate. Although I don’t see how your fiscal equivalency has anything to do with your proposal.”
“You said before that you would not assist me in my endeavors which would compromise the mission, yet wouldn’t sabotage my experiments, yes?”
“Correct,” Draco stated.
“Well if I decide to make a trip around the planet, it is of your upmost importance to prepare me well and see to my successful journey and return,” he said with a shrug. “If I’m stressed going in, I might miscalculate my flight and plunge straight into Saturn’s core. That’d be the end of your mission unt
il you blow five years to replace me.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
Adam had a mental image of him in a one-sided standoff, facing down an opponent while holding a gun to his own head. While confident in his abilities to sling a lander around the planet and back up into the current orbital profile, he didn’t want to grind through the equations for the next six months alongside a grueling academic schedule, to perfect the operation when the solution sat on the other side of the lens. “Try me. I’ve already taped a probe to the roof to prove you wrong. What makes you think I wouldn’t do it again? I’ve been through the lander simulation. I know how to link with the booster, fuel the whole mess, and be on my way.”
“I calculate a greater than eighty percent chance you would try no such thing.” Draco’s response was curt and dismissive. “At the same time, I am your assistant and not a parent. I will assist in planning your expedition if only to ensure the timing does not further degrade Dr. Moroder’s work.”
“Like, during prime time when the planet is blocking out all the radiation from the sun?”
“Yes, if you time your arrival for the closer transit, you can coordinate the mission with minimal interference and be free once on station to see all that Gemini Station has to offer.”
Breathing a sigh of relief, Adam fell back, sinking into the commander’s seat. “Thank you. It means a lot to me.”
“I am not afforded feelings. I can tell there will be no negotiations with your current mindset and you are trained to an appropriate level.”
“About damned time.”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself; the first manned mission from Earth arrives in three months, so after all of your superfluous activities, you’d better be ready.”
“Oh, I will be,” Adam said. “Don’t you worry about that; I know how to work every contraption on this platform. Every orbital equation, data bus structure… You’ve taught me everything I could possibly know.”
“Good. I have programmed the lander and you launch in ten days. It is a three-day flight to get there and the same thing coming back. The lander will automatically detach from Gemini after fourteen days with or without you, with a manual override if you decide to return early.”
Adam swallowed hard. Put-up or shut-up it was.
***
“Supplies in the lander will render you self-sufficient for your entire stay on Gemini so as not to cripple their functionality as you have ours.”
“Very funny,” Adam said, rolling his eyes as he clambered into the waiting craft. It was as cramped as he remembered from the simulation training, to his great dismay. They proceeded through the checks and in a flash, he felt the pull of gravity release as the lander fell away from the station. Draco assumed control and rolled the tiny craft to the side, matching velocity with the station’s outer ring and connecting with the larger booster stage.
It really wasn’t needed; Adam had calculated on his own that there were enough provisions and fuel in the lander alone to make a skip around the planet, with the booster only needed for jaunts to Titan and the other outer moons, but he appreciated the chance to experiment with the system’s full capabilities. The handful of circular windows ringing the tiny flight deck provided a choppy view of the spinning station outside as they connected with the booster and moved to the hydrogen draw to pick up their fuel.
The calculations behind the maneuvers were all listed on the central display, but for the moment, Adam kept his hands free of the controls as the station performed its prescribed operations. Not much would change for the duration of the flight, as he’d only need to monitor the system for discrepancies and either provide new coordinates to restore the trajectory or reset the computer if it malfunctioned. The lander’s fuel reading blinked on and showed a series of meters topped at a hundred percent, and the lander again detached from the station, quickly falling away into space.
Draco’s voice came through once more. “Preparation complete. Ready for burn.”
“Fire when ready,” Adam said, instantly feeling a crushing acceleration in his body as the engines ignited and the lander picked up speed. They plowed downward into a lower orbit, slicing into the upper wisps of the yellow atmosphere. The speed gained would carry him around the planet more quickly and allow the craft to make up the significant displacement distance between the pair of stations.
As quickly as it started, the sensation began to fade as the ship fell into its proper vector and the acceleration backed away. Adam felt the force against his back dissipate, then the normal field of gravity followed, leaving him nearly weightless in the spinning metal box, a life raft facing an infinite sea to every side. While he focused on the interior of the tiny flight deck and ignored the swirling lights outside, Adam nearly felt as if he was motionless, floating aimlessly through the universe. It was only through the feedback of his instruments that he could identify the incredible speed with which the ship was moving.
“How soon will you lose contact?” he asked Draco.
“My connection will degrade over the first day, until it is finally severed once you hit Saturn’s horizon. You’ll experience delays in communication and growing static until the signal is no longer decipherable. Once in line-of-sight to Gemini, your communications will be terminated to reduce your effect on their operations. The lander’s flight computer will perform most of the docking procedures, so you’ll just need to be in the seat in case anything goes wrong.”
The interior of the lander harkened back to the early days of space flight, with little in the way of space on the flight deck and an equally tight crew compartment. The crew compartment was located behind or beneath the main deck, depending on how one looked at it, and was loaded with the equipment required by both medium-duration space flights as well as external missions on other planets and moons. Depending on the size of the landing target, it could return to orbit with or without the landing stage, as it was designed to be reused. In the case of a landing on a Titan-sized body or larger, it would likely need to be left behind on the ground or in orbit.
Free from his normal distractions, Adam felt himself released of his daily obligations. Granted, they were few, save for the assignments for his betterment, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy the change of pace and scenery. With little interaction or direction from Draco, he perused his normal lesson material and killed a handful more books before the maneuver neared its conclusion.
At the time, Adam had been absorbed in another reading, hardly catching the warning of the approaching destination. As the realization kicked in, he tossed the tablet aside and bounded for the pilot’s seat, quickly pawing through the weightless cabin before securing himself for docking. Through the windows, assisted by the line of monitors around his station, he watched Gemini Station slide into view from the infinite darkness. It consisted of a single smaller ring, similar to Draco, but that was where the similarities ended.
The antenna arrays top and bottom coupled to a miniscule crew compartment signified a vastly different mission from his. Rather than being a base of operations for further exploration, this was clearly a secluded research and data collection outpost. Adam again had to wonder whether his leadership was telling the whole truth about his function.
Gravity slowly began its gentle tug against his back as the lander adjusted its acceleration and matched speeds with the spinning ring. Adam held his breath as the docking collar locked home, joining his craft, his life, to a new world. He considered that Draco had lied all along, that he’d open the door to find a mutated alien virus waiting to devour its next victim. Chuckling at the thought before his racing heart, Adam made his way to the airlock and waited for their pressure to equalize. The hatch swung aside and he stopped dead in his tracks.
***
Dr. Moroder paced by the hatch as she waited on the mating protocol to complete. There were no deliveries on her schedule, and she considered another call to Earth to explain the importance of maintaining the set schedule to avoid disrupt
ions to her collection. “Gemini, you’re sure there was nothing?”
“No, ma’am, nothing from Earth.”
“I don’t have the greatest level of faith in you at the moment.”
“Understood.”
The automated hatch swung aside and over the threshold waited… a college student. Erin did a double take when she coupled the out-of-place face and silhouette with a commanding officer’s flight suit, rolled at the cuffs and bunched at the waist, somehow transported to her station. He was frozen in place, apparently unable to speak or acknowledge her presence. Her simultaneous sensations of apprehension, fear, and confusion condensed to a dull vexing as she approached him.
She broke the silence first. “Airman, what’s the meaning of this?”
***
The figure could have been pulled straight from the depths of Adam’s memory. Although the doctor’s features had aged upward of a decade past his own, her face was unmistakable. At her address, he jolted out of the private delusion. “Dr., I’m Adam Montgomery, Commander of Draco Station,” he managed, nearly misplacing his name and forgetting his title.
“NASA’s now sending children?” she asked with an air of sarcasm. “And what’s Draco Station?”
“No, trust me, it’s a long story,” Adam said, “but Draco is an installation in a matching orbit on the far side of the planet. I’ve been there alone for the last year and a half. I just learned about you a week ago.” He shook his head, stumbling over the words. “Sorry, I feel like such a wolf at your door.”
Dr. Moroder grew a look of confusion as strong as if she had taken a flying brick to the face. “Wait, how?” she managed, shaking her head. “Gemini, is this true?”
“Yes, ma’am. The commander is correct and has ventured from his post on the far side of Saturn.”
Cocking an eyebrow at Adam’s gleeful visage, she attempted to square the statement with what presented itself before her. “Well, don’t stand there in the docking collar waiting for your ship to break off and suck you into oblivion. Come on aboard.”
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