Quarantine

by William Hayashi

  “Would you two give some thought to maybe moving the recruitment project to the space station circling Earth,” requested Christopher. “And I’ll have Ops give some thought to the issue of safely retrieving people from Earth.”

  Back Stabbers

  The US military’s PR campaign was in full swing, painting their scheduled launch of a much-needed weather satellite as a humanitarian mission. Arable land had decreased precipitously in the 21st Century through poor land management and climate change. This new satellite would increase the predictive capabilities of weather scientists worldwide. With newly developed sensors, the satellite could monitor the ocean’s currents and the movement of weather fronts with unprecedented resolution and accuracy.

  Specifications of the satellite’s hardware and its programming were beamed directly toward the colonists’ Earth station in an effort to convey the benign nature of the launch, and to beg an exception to the current embargo on humanitarian grounds. To date, no response was received.

  What those on Earth did not know was that the space station’s A.I. had already accessed the schematics on the satellite stored across several locations, analyzing the hardware, and determined that it was completely as advertised. Discussion passed back and forth between the colony and the Earth station, whether to grant an exemption to the launch. The consensus was that the embargo be upheld, not that they were inclined to convey the decision to an ignorant Earth ahead of time; they knew the score and if they wanted to waste the launch and lose the satellite, that was their lookout.

  The Chairman of the Joint Chiefs was quietly assembling all the parts to his plan to get hold of a colonist spaceship. None of his preparations were committed to paper or to the military’s network. All the pieces were being deployed in separate, seemingly random manner, including the deployment of the DS500-equipped destroyers to Naval Station Norfolk for firmware and hardware upgrades.

  When he realized that there was no way GST was going to be able to deliver twenty-five new DS500s in under two years, General Archer re-calibrated his plan to use the resources at hand. As nothing was recorded, those stationed on the colony’s Earth station, including the station’s A.I., were not aware of anything but the coming launch of the weather satellite.

  * * *

  The colony’s council spent plenty of time hashing over the humanitarian issue, but with the discovery of the railguns as an offensive weapon, Christopher, Chuck and Peanut held a hard line against giving any concessions. And as the remaining “originals,” their opinion held considerable weight, but their words were mostly unnecessary. Almost everyone on the council saw allowing the satellite into orbit as nothing more than a case of the camel’s nose into the tent.

  When Genesis reported the logs of the UN committee on nuclear disarmament showing little progress in getting the final nuclear-armed country to even come to the table, the council’s final vote was unanimous to maintain the embargo. Fortunately, Christopher held his anger about the development of the railguns, but he didn’t have to work hard to persuade the others.

  When he, Peanut and Chuck left the council, making their way to Peanut’s office, people just stood aside in silence.

  “I think everyone’s worried about the three of us leaving the admin wing together,” Peanut observed as they arrived at his office and settled in the conference room.

  “Maybe. But I’m guessing it’s the ‘dammit I’ll bite you’ look on Chris’ face,” Chuck replied, drawing chuckles from the other two.

  “Guilty as charged. But I still want to send a message to the president, to the whole U.S. military in fact, that our people will not be attacked or challenged.”

  “We get that. But how? It’s been a few weeks now and you still haven’t come up with a plan,” Chuck pointed out.

  “I’ve been thinking about how this launch may present us with an opportunity, I’m just not exactly sure how. Hell, maybe they aren’t intending to try something in the future. But damned if I’m not going to hope for the best, but plan for the worst,” Christopher said, shaking his head.

  “In any case, your jumpers are ready, Chris. They have your special hardware and Jupiter-strength shields. I’m only going to say this, they’re better equipped than any fighters on Earth. Just don’t be anywhere near a nuclear explosion. I’m pretty sure you’ll be shielded from ionizing radiation, but let’s not test it just for shits and grins,” Peanut warned. “So, if you have to go to Earth and ‘splain’ it to the President, or anyone else for that matter, you’re loaded for bear.”

  “And, as an added bonus, whatever you decide to do, I’m coming along this time,” Chuck announced.

  “Really?” Christopher challenged.

  “Damn right. Oh, you can have Angela as your pilot, as a matter of fact we both insist,” said Chuck pointing to Peanut and himself. “But this time, I’m riding shotgun in the second jumper. Someone has to make sure you don’t bite off more than you can chew when you go off half-cocked!

  “I thought there would be more blow back from the council when you tagged along when we shrank that Russian ship down to nothing with a ship-mounted G-wave, but no one said a word to me then or since. As much as we want to be a completely nonviolent community, defending us from idiots is always going to have us straddling a line somewhere,” Chuck pointed out.

  “Yeah, well I’m off. Help me out and think about what we can do to finally convince those on Earth to leave us the fuck alone,” Christopher said, getting up to leave.

  Once Christopher left, Peanut said, “At least he’s not so angry.”

  “I think he’s just gotten a lot better at hiding it.”

  “Mad or not, he’s right. We need to figure out some way of making them leave us alone. Eventually they’re going to get back into space and all bets are off if they duplicate the G-wave effect.”

  Chuck sat up, “Then those bastards are going to really try to stick it to us in revenge.”

  “When we were growing up and started our own fortress, I always thought of you as our warlord. You were in the Navy, you’ve got attitude in spades, and you were the most protective of Chris. But brother, you got nothing on him in the rage department!”

  “Ever since Lucius told us about how Chris was at his dad’s funeral, I always knew he needed watching over. Hell, I thought he was going to destroy the White House to get Julius and Lucius out of custody. That’s why I’m going with him this time,” Chuck cautioned. “Hopefully I can keep him out of trouble.”

  “Amen to that!”

  * * *

  “Hey! Come look at this,” Lois exclaimed.

  As the rest of the team crowded around, she pointed to a trace on the output from the chromatograph.

  “If I’m not mistaken, that looks organic. What do you all think?” she asked.

  Pulling up some information on his datapad, Sam said, “It definitely does; at least at the molecular level. Where is the sample from?”

  “It’s from where the little ball was anchored to the seabed floor. I carefully extracted the tiny fibers to test by themselves without contamination from the clump or the lakebed,” explained Lois.

  “According to the database, the compound is some kind of organic hydrocarbon hybrid. I want to look at those fibers under the electron microscope. I need to see exactly what we’re looking at,” Sam said, engrossed in the data on the screen.

  Virginia and Piper started setting up the microscope while Joy retrieved another sealed container with lakebed samples. Sam fired up the computer that controlled the microscope and digitally recorded the scope’s output.

  They were on their third day of testing. It was no surprise that the colony’s second generation was in no short supply of science and technology nerds and for the most part, they were proud of the label. They were smarter and more aggressive than their Earth counterparts. The colony had suffered none of the ubiquity of the dumbing down of America that President Nixon began in response of the antiwar moveme
nt erupting from high school and college campuses across the country. Conservatives fashioned an educational system that produced high school graduates just smart enough to make change at a fast food restaurant, pricing college out of range for anyone but the children of America’s oligarchies.

  As the electron microscope was being prepared, Benjamin returned to the lab from helping the ice asteroid collection crew queue up several of the large masses of ice for processing.

  “Hey, man! How’s the water collection going?” Sam asked.

  “Great! It looks like we will be fully filled in a day or so. I had fun grabbing a couple of the larger asteroids. How’s it going here?”

  “Lois may have found some live organic molecules in the little strands that held those balls to the sea floor.”

  “Seriously?” Benjamin exclaimed.

  “Yeah. Sam wants to look at the strands under the electron microscope so we’re getting it warmed up and ready to go,” Joy explained.

  “Let me get out of the way and let you all get to it. I’m going to clean up my log entries. By the way, Ops wanted me to let you know that your check-out of the jumpers was perfect, Piper.”

  “Great to hear!” she replied.

  Benjamin watched as the preparations were underway. “Isn’t scanning the tissue—or whatever stuff it is—likely to destroy the sample by either the beam or the vacuum?”

  Lois chimed in, “Most likely. But Sam’s most interested by the structure of the filaments. I’m washing some other samples so we can look at the structure conventionally and see the finer, softer compounds. Kind of how they look at the coating on viruses. I doubt we’re looking at a life form, but chains of organic molecules could very well be present.”

  “Frankly, I’d have been perfectly fine with a big fuckin’ monolith,” Sam muttered, to everyone’s laughter.

  They all turned to their tasks, with the room quiet except for the hum of the instruments and Benjamin’s typing. Occasionally there were brief conversations about the samples and how best to prepare them and calibrate the microscope.

  Benjamin was collecting everyone’s log reports into a single, linear, time-coded narrative, getting a jump on the final report they had to file with Ops once they returned to the colony. He highlighted notable observations or data filed by the rest of the team, complete with annotations, links to pictures and video. Some of the protocols they developed will be used in future manned missions to the various bodies in the solar system.

  Benjamin peeked at the console screen next to him where Virginia was entering data that she was collating from the previous day. She looked at him and winked, continuing to tap away on the keyboard. When everything was ready, Sam threw the primary display on the big screen on the wall so everyone could see.

  “Benjamin?” came the call from the hab’s A.I.

  “Yes, G3. What’s up?” he replied.

  “Ops would like to know if you can spare a few hours to pilot one of the jumpers?”

  “Sure, let them know I’ll be there shortly.”

  “Very well.”

  “You sure are popular!” Joy observed.

  “Good looks are always in demand,” Benjamin replied with a chuckle.

  “Very true, but that doesn’t explain why they want you!” Sam quipped.

  Benjamin saved his work and logged off the console. “Probably need someone to perform an absolutely vital task essential for the ultimate success of the hab! Anyway, I’ll try to catch up with you all for dinner,” he said heading out the door.

  Once he arrived at Ops, Benjamin saw several other pilots gathered around one of the display tables. They gestured him over, most reaching out to shake his hand.

  “What’s up? Something wrong?” he asked.

  One of the older pilots, Jason, replied, “We’re going to grab several larger ice asteroids to bring back to the colony, like your dad did before the colony left the moon.”

  “Are they low on water? I didn’t hear anything about that before we left,” Benjamin said.

  “Not at all. But they could use a little topping off their reserves. They’re using the pool as the reserve for the colony, have been since we left the moon. The thinking is that there’s nothing wrong with a ‘better safe than sorry’ surplus. If the pool chamber is breached, we have no idea how long it would take to repair a hole in the wall. So right now, they’re building a containment tank below the pool deck that will hold twice as much water as the pool chamber,” explained Jason.

  “What we’re going to do is collect and anchor enough ice to fill the tank and a bit extra,” said Jenny, another of the pilots.

  “We’re taking four jumpers with two to each ship; one to pilot and one to wrangle the ice. I want everyone taking their time and Ops doesn’t want anyone moving their catch at over one meter per second. I’d like it to be even lower than that since we’re going to have suited personnel out there anchoring these icebergs to the exterior. Make no mistake, if someone screws up, people are going to die,” Jason said soberly. “This is going to be the most dangerous operation on this mission. We have no real operation plan, so everyone stay on the radio and keep your head on a swivel. Everyone know Neil? He’s got about a dozen candidates picked out, the closest is about eighty-thousand kilometers away, the farthest are over the distance from the moon to Earth.”

  “Traffic control is going to be strict. No one comes closer than ten kilometers to the hab, and every asteroid must be completely at rest, relative to the hab before we bring the first one in to be anchored. I want everyone to remember that the inertia is going to make them hard to stop if they get out of hand. Even though we can move the hab out of harm’s way, we don’t want to be playing dodge ball out there,” explained Neil. “Take a look at this chart, it’s already been loaded into the nav systems of the jumpers. Remember, the red zone is anything closer than ten kilometers. Nothing passes into the red zone until Ops has cleared one, I repeat one, asteroid to approach at a time.”

  Neil looked around, seeing everyone understood the mission parameters, then said, “Good. Everyone get suited up and head to the hanger.”

  The four crews headed off to the space suit storage locker room to change. Once suited up, they met in the hanger where Daphne from Ops made sure they were clear on asteroid assignment and what would happen once all four of the first batch were holding at the ten-kilometer perimeter around the hab.

  When they dispersed to the jumpers, Benjamin was paired with Everett for the collection mission.

  “Hey, man. Glad to be here with you,” Everett said slapping five with Benjamin.

  “Me too. I’m jacked to be chasing after an asteroid or two to bring back. Pull up where our first ice cube is on the nav console. Let’s see where we’re off to,” requested Benjamin.

  “Looks like we’re heading out about a six-hundred-fifty thousand kilometers to the underside of the ring. The estimates here say it’s huge, over sixty times larger than the jumper,” Everett read off.

  “On the way,” Benjamin announced, setting a course through the ring.

  They flew through the ring in silence. Even though Saturn’s rings look solid from Earth, they’re made of billions of smaller bodies of rock and ice. Flying through them wasn’t difficult or particularly dangerous if one paid attention. They passed by several very large rocks, as large as some smaller Earth mountains, and marked them to avoid on the way back to the hab.

  After a leisurely trip out, they approached the target asteroid.

  “That’s one big mo-fo!” Everett exclaimed.

  Benjamin circled around the huge chunk of ice so Everett could look for weak spots or deep crevasses that might indicate the ice would shatter once secured by the jumper’s tractor beam.

  “It looks pretty solid to me. Let me give it a nudge and see what happens,” said Everett.

  “Okay. Holding steady. Why not give it a nudge straight up through the plane of the ring. We’re going to have to
head in that direction anyway,” Benjamin suggested.

  “Okay, stand by in three, two, one, applying force,” warned Everett. “Hang on. It looks like the damn thing is moving about a meter per second.”

  “That’s fine. Let’s let it go at that rate for a while. I don’t want to get it careening through the ring.”

  The two watched as the huge chunk of ice slowly made its way through the ring, Everett nudging it up to five meters a second, once they were convinced it was in no danger of fracturing.

  Benjamin followed behind the asteroid as it passed through the plane of the ring, watching as debris occasionally collided with the ice and was bumped out of the way. They had to fight the urge to push it faster, but knew better, especially so when there was no deadline for this phase of the collection mission.

  Three hours later, when the ship and asteroid cleared most of the ring’s debris, Everett slowed the upward motion and sent the asteroid in the direction of the hab while Benjamin radioed their position and status to Ops.

  They kicked their collective speed up allowing them to arrive at the ten-mile perimeter in six hours. Two other teams had already parked their target asteroids at the outer boundary. The three jumpers hung around for another ninety minutes, waiting for the last jumper to arrive, then they all returned to the hab for the night, planning to spend the next day securing the ice to the exterior of the hab.

  When Benjamin finally returned to his cabin, he was surprised to find Joy on the couch working on her datapad, waiting for him to return.

  “This is a nice surprise,” he said. “What’s up?”

  “Nothing. Grab a shower and when you’re done, I’ll rub your back,” she replied.

  “But I didn’t get you anything!” he said as he smiled, making his way to the bathroom.

  Under the hot water, Benjamin realized how tired he was. He spent ten minutes soaking under the hot spray before getting out and drying off.