Adam's Rings

by Matthew D. White

  “This is of upmost importance,” Dreher stated without inflection. “I know you have revealed the secret of your production to Dr. Moroder. While that is water under the bridge and can be recovered, you are not to under any circumstances reveal any details or speculation on the nature of the program nor of your life. Your apparent age will be brought into question by the Hydra crew, who you must dissuade. The story will be that you were picked up straight out of flight school and shuffled off to Draco for longevity’s sake. They’ll buy that explanation.”

  Adam rolled his eyes at the prospect of being a party to their dirty secret and crossed his arms tighter as he sat bolted to his commander’s seat, resenting the day that he had ever learned of Orbital Genesis’ existence. Not only that, with a need to defend its secrecy paramount to the mission’s success, he immediately grew additionally distrustful of the operation and their leadership from beginning to end. There was no telling what else they were keeping from him.

  “Outside of that, you will continue to manage the workings of Draco Station. We will be sending your commission within the week, which will provide you the official authority to do as you see fit. Once they arrive, the Hydra crew will fall in line and give you the respect you require and deserve. Thank you for working through these times with us, and again, accept my apologies.”

  The Long-Expected Party

  “What do you think he meant by all of that?” Adam asked Erin on the following day’s discussion.

  “Just don’t do what you did to me, that’s all,” Erin replied. “If what the director said is accurate, your guys will be in the middle of a bunch of moving parts, and that’d be a layer of complexity they shouldn’t need to deal with.”

  Adam nodded. “That makes sense.”

  “Of course, it does,” Erin said with a quick smirk. “I’m steaming full ahead over here and can deal with a morality crisis in my own way. I’ve got time to think and no critical flight operations to speak of. Nothing I do would be derailed by a pipe to the knee like that.”

  Adam sighed, not wanting to affect the doctor’s work any further. “Do you think your training gave you the fortitude to deal with death here in space?”

  Erin’s face grew twisted at the thought, as if she had indeed been doing a full routine of internal gymnastics to make sense of it all. “It’s a little creepy, I’ll give you that, but I’m a product of the system, not a creator of it. From my memory, I had five undergrad classmates die in car wrecks. Another took his own life in the middle of the Ph. D program due to stress, and we lost two in the desert when their test vehicle broke up mid-flight. Granted, none of that actually happened to the people that I knew, but there were others who suffered the same fates. If not, how were the memories originally programmed?” She paused, thinking.

  “In my case, I’ve got good authority to assume those events were elements of my conditioning, to make me realize my value and to ensure I’d be able to handle the trauma of living out here. It’s only a degree away from being sent up to test an experimental spacecraft with a less than one-hundred-percent chance of mission success. It’s a risk to all involved; we accept it and we live with it.”

  Adam shrugged. “True.”

  “Life’s never been fair, and anyone telling you so is full of it,” Erin said. “If you wanted to live in safety, you’d have never left your hometown and you’d spend your days stocking shelves at the grocery store, staring out the window at every chance to ponder the limitless opportunities you let pass by. Freedom means nothing without risk, sweetheart. You’re not going to kid either one of us that you’d have taken that road,” she added with a laugh. “It’s dangerous work keeping humanity viable, isn’t it? Just think, from what we do here, we’ll be set to launch the first manned mission beyond the solar system. From your work, we’ll know how to keep astronauts viable, and from mine, we’ll know where to send them.”

  “You’re making this sound pretty rosy.”

  “You’ve got to dream big,” Erin said. “By the time you check out, you’ll have a twenty-foot marble statue christened in the Aviation Hall of Fame, Wright-Yeager-Glenn-Armstrong-Montgomery.” She stopped and tilted her head. “Don’t let it get you down. You didn’t make any immoral decisions; you’ve just done the best with what you have. That’s all any of us can do.”

  “Thanks,” Adam replied as his heart quieted within his chest. “You might be good at astrophotography, but let me be the first to say you’ve also got a gift for moral clarity. We’ll have to talk more sometime.”

  Erin smiled. “Aww, well just let me know when. Probably not now, since it seems to me you’ve got your hands in more cookie jars than you can handle.”

  ***

  A full composite image of the Janus ice core sample was displayed on the wide screen in the dim command center. Although in real life its total length rivaled the diameter of the entire station, Adam had zoomed in on the delicate structure of the rock, until its one-centimeter width took up the entire height of the monitor. Slowly, he scanned down along its length, taking note of the changing texture of the gray rock.

  What started at the surface as a light, if not airy, foam constructed by the immediate heat of impact along with the surface tension of the melted material, slowly became more densely packed the deeper he went. The growing mass and increasing force of gravity, combined with the occasional energy release from the collisions, served to compress the lower layers into what appeared to be a more familiar sedimentary rock or primordial clay. Ever present were the regular shifts from light to dark and back again as the body was pelted by bits of rock over its unbelievable lifespan. Like the rings of a tree, Adam continued down, taking note of the wide and narrow bands alike, making up a story in his head as to why they had formed in that way. “From your judgment, what do we have here?” Adam asked Draco.

  “We have a moon made from the debris of Saturn’s creation. When the planet began to coalesce in the early solar system, there was material in the local area but beyond the immediate pull of the central mass. This dust and ice has since clumped together to form the rings as you know them today. Over time, bits of the rings collapsed to form their own moons, which is what you are seeing here,” Draco said, and continued to advance the display along the sample’s length.

  “Composition is heavy in water, iron, and aluminum, with several other trace metals as well. The four areas that I had you remove for further study indicated high levels of lead, which is otherwise scarce. The most probable cause for these anomalies is an intermittent bombardment from comets or stray asteroids from beyond the solar system. I would estimate they started as highly radioactive materials which have since decayed.”

  Adam leaned back, disappointed. A tiny, spongy pile of rubble had nearly taken his life, and what did he have to show for it? A slight amount of practice with his equipment and a few hundred meters of analyzed core samples. “If it weren’t the same as every other bit of rock in the rings, I’d say it’d be a great place to start mining.”

  “That is an accurate assessment,” Draco replied. “The Hydra is carrying with it a smelter of sorts, which can be used to synthesize semi-refined iron from the debris along with water through osmosis, allowing the construction of settlement structures. When that time arrives, it might become useful, although less so in its current location.”

  “Well, that wasn’t quite what I was expecting,” Adam lamented. As he long had known, the moons were dead, if not impressive to look at, and little more. Nothing yet held the infinite promise of Earth, despite decades of searching by the best minds among them. It was a primer, he felt, of the adventures of the Hydra when they arrived to make their study of Titan to see if it held more than irradiated rock, or in the case of Europa, nothing but blasted ice. Time was growing short and he would soon know one way or the other.

  ***

  “Draco Station, this is Hydra Orbiter. All personnel accounted for. ETA forty-eight hours.”

  The message caught Adam’s full att
ention, the sound of a new voice echoing through the station like the alarm for a hull breach. He dropped his work in the docking bay and bolted for the command center, rounding the station in mere seconds. He hit the reply channel. “Hydra, this is Captain Adam Montgomery, Draco Station OIC. You’re clear for approach. Welcome to Saturn.”

  Adam wished that the words had come easy and that he could operate as an expert orator, but that was as far from reality as his childhood. In truth, he had rehearsed the statement dozens of times over the course of the previous week until his own name flowed easily off his tongue. If he wanted to avoid his bumbling self from Gemini, he’d need to stay at least one step ahead of the new crew, first impressions being what they were and all.

  Among the first status report from the orbiter, he caught five names between the newcomers: Cooper, Hassan, Martinez, Prescott, and Stevenson, which he took to be the full accounting of the crew.

  On the final day, Adam watched as the Hydra approached his station from the far side of the planet, gradually reducing its speed as it closed in to meet him. Even at a distance, he could tell the mass of the craft was significantly higher than any of the landers and likely would rival Gemini in scale once fully deployed.

  Standing in the observatory alone and without distraction, he watched as the silvery form grew in the distance, beckoning him toward the next great change in his life. The chapter that saw him as a lone survivor and a misplaced student had drawn to a close. In hours, he’d be called to lead a team of the most highly-trained scientists the world had ever produced.

  Once within the minimum safe distance, Draco took over for their pilot and put the Hydra into a carefully managed spin, bringing it in to dock with the station. Adam could feel the spin of the ring adjust itself as the massive weight took hold of their structure and joined them for the ride. By the time the Hydra powered down, it consumed half the observatory’s field of view. Adam took a deep breath and made his way to the dock, mixed with rising excitement and fear.

  The hatch unlocked as the pressure equalized, the familiar metal disk sliding away to reveal a pair of figures. They were already attired in the uniform of the program and sauntered with authority onto the deck.

  “I’ll be damned; this place is every bit as big as it looked in the sim,” the one in the lead remarked before staring down Adam. “Hey, kid, where’s the station commander?”

  “That’s me. Captain Adam Montgomery of Draco Station.”

  “Bullshit. I think I’m looking for your dad,” the astronaut said with a laugh. “How’d you manage to draw the short straw on a gig like this?”

  “I don’t remember any straw-drawing; I was selected straight out of commissioning to join the program.”

  “Well it’s not the first mistake they’ll make. Captain Vin Cooper. Nice to meet you.” The man went to shake Adam’s hand before gesturing to his accomplice. “This is Lieutenant Will Prescott, our navigator and second in command.”

  “Sorry about all the shit time’s done to you. It sucks going bald before you can drink,” Prescott remarked, shaking his hand in turn.

  The comment hit Adam hard across the face. Although he hadn’t thought about the state of his appearance in forever, Lord knew what the Hydra crew would dig up. First impressions and all aside, Adam was immediately conflicted as to the attitude of the new team.

  Prescott’s face was blank, his eyes flat and holding a disapproving sneer as he stared down at the captain. “Draco Station, identify. Full report,” he stated into the air.

  “Lieutenant Prescott, Draco Station present, all systems online,” the AI immediately returned. “Fuel reserves steady at ninety-five percent. Three landers and boosters in dock and fully mission capable. Last contact with Mission Control: six hours, thirty-seven minutes. Pod Two-Bravo, auxiliary medical bay, damaged and removed from service. Orbital rotational period: seventy-five-point-four hours. Gravitational compensation: steady at zero-point-nine-eight Earth nominal. Current velocity…”

  “That’s enough,” Prescott said, holding up his hand as he scanned about the docking area, a blank but judgmental stare plastered on his face, as if he was inspecting the room for any piece of equipment which might have been misplaced. “How did you manage to lose the medical bay?”

  “We suffered an impact from a piece of ring debris,” Adam said. “I…”

  “I didn’t ask you,” the navigator cut him off without looking back.

  “The captain’s ascertainment is correct,” Draco stated. “A large piece of ring material struck the station without warning and without time to adjust the orbit. It was only through the captain’s quick action that we were able to disconnect the damaged section and save the station.”

  “It’s the truth,” Adam reiterated without waiting for a response from the navigator. “I’ve performed a survey of the G-ring and found that the incidence of collisions and gravitational anomalies is over sixty percent greater than initially estimated, which puts Draco Station in a more dangerous position. I’ve adjusted the orbit by two degrees of inclination to allow for greater clearance of the ring field during most of the orbits while having minimal impact on the mission.”

  “It’s unfortunate you lost a billion-dollar laboratory which we could have used, but regardless, I’d like to see the calculations which led to your conclusion,” Prescott said. “Once you send them my way, copy Lieutenant Hassan, our mission specialist, as well.”

  “The data and associated work are ready for your inspection,” Draco replied without provocation.

  A thin line of sweat formed on Adam’s brow as the three remaining crew members emerged from the Hydra, who he assumed were Martinez, Hassan, and Stevenson.

  “Hey! Look at this place!” Stevenson exclaimed, taking in the open docking bay. “I can’t believe we actually made it. To Saturn. I mean, it’s incredible to think about. It’s been years back on Earth.”

  “Calm down,” Cooper replied. “We’re going to be moving out a whole lot farther than this. We’re halfway home compared to what’s out there.” He turned to Adam. “That’s Stevenson, our astronomer and planetary expert, Hassan, mission specialist as I mentioned, and Martinez, our medical officer.”

  Adam aligned the names to the faces as the team moved out, discussing the equipment that had been packed away on the installation. He could scarcely imagine the situation going any worse, but at least they were making progress of some kind or another.

  “Just think, Hassan,” Stevenson continued, “you’ll be the first person to skip a training day on two planets! Maybe three!”

  “Don’t be a hater when you can’t keep up,” Hassan shot back. “Besides, who needs it? By the time your girl gets your pants off, it’s too late to say no.”

  “Stop the tactical TMI,” Cooper called out above the others. “If I needed to hear about your pathetic inadequacies, I’d have asked about them.”

  “Ouch, tall talk from a bumpkin.”

  “Scranton representin’.” Cooper smirked.

  Adam felt a knot grow in the bottom of his stomach but played along. “That’s the middle of eff nowhere. Did you ever catch the Perseids?”

  “Oh damn, every year!” Cooper replied, beaming. “Best days ever. Take a different bitch out to the ridge road overlook every night and you’re guaranteed at least third base.”

  ***

  “Erin, I know this is out of sync, but I need to vent. This nightmare refuses to end, and I’m about to lose my damned mind over here.” Adam paused, staring into the camera of the communications node mounted in the heavy equipment bay, currently populated by his used booster engine. He was alone for the first time that day, seated at the small workstation at the corner of the catwalk overlooking the entirety of the industrial space. “Seriously, I’m not sure what I’m missing, but the lot of the new crew are a bunch of insufferable blowhards. I… I don’t even know where to begin.” He stopped again. “Draco, what’s their status?”

  “All present in the command center, r
eviewing launch procedures for the mission to Titan.”

  “I’ll have to head back up there, but I needed to get away for a minute.” Adam continued, “I haven’t seen the Hydra up close yet, but I’m pretty certain the five of them were produced just like us, except it was done on the move. They genuinely have no recollection of the imprinting, and from what I can tell, they believe they lived their lives so as to have the world heaped at their feet. Worst part is Dr. Dreher has already sworn me to silence against dropping any bombs on them.”

  He continued, “I can’t tell if their states are a side effect of the programming or if there’s something else at play; maybe the genetic makeup needed to be adjusted or the incubation was slightly off. Or…” his voice trailed in thought. “This is what happens when they need a hundred-percent yield from a batch of embryos. That would explain it, and Dreher’s admission that the Genesis program has been evolving since our inception.”

  He sighed, closing his eyes. “This is getting more confusing, but thanks for listening to me rant for a minute. I’ll let you get back to work.” Adam closed the recording. “Draco, forward the message when our next transmission window with Gemini opens. If I’m not available to take a response, record it and lock it down to my eyes only.”

  “Affirmative, sir.”

  The AI’s voice died out, and Adam was left in the silence of the bay. He needed to head back to the second ring, but it would take all of his concentration to retain his sanity. He took a deep breath and decided not to postpone the inevitable any further, electing instead to take the long climb back to the upper level. Voices echoed through the pods, and Adam could tell the group was still rallied in the command center. He made his way around the corner in the midst of a heated discussion.

  “I’m telling you we have far more flexibility than we initially anticipated, sir,” Prescott said to Cooper. “The launch windows are wider and more numerous than what we were provided back on the ground.” He turned as Adam entered. “Nice of you to join us.”