The First Exoplanet

by T. J. Sedgwick

  Satisfied with that avenue of enquiry, Demenok went on to ask, “And what have we managed to learn on the FTL drive? This technology is vital to our future ambitions as a Russian empire in space, Sergei.”

  “We have some useful data, but unfortunately it looks like we’re going to need to capture Santa Maria on her return. If we are to stand any chance of getting FTL tech working, we need the probe itself. If the virus works as programmed, the probe will come under our direction shortly after returning to the Earth-Moon system. To the Westerners it will look like a malfunction and a burn-up on re-entry. We will set it up to look that way, just wait and see,” said Bekov, high on his own power and recent successes in deceiving his enemies.

  September 9, 2061 Downtown, Seattle, WA

  After learning of Jenna’s death, Dr Alan King had managed only a few hours of restless sleep and was in no fit state to work. He was on compassionate leave and wouldn’t be back on the probe programme any time before Jenna’s funeral. He just couldn’t think straight. He was still in his pyjamas just before noon and lounging around the apartment they’d shared up until a few days ago. Then her sudden departure had come out of the blue to see her seriously injured brother in Miami. For Tyler to befall a brutal attack and days later for his sister, Jenna, to die in a horrific car wreck was an awful turn of fate. King had no idea how the brother was doing. Perhaps he’d find out once he’d pulled himself together. His kindly old Aunty Joyce was due to arrive later. She’d always been there for him ever since his parents passed away in his forties. She was a religious woman and now a widower. Aunty Joyce was the only person he was close enough to to offer support.

  There was a tone coming from the video entry phone. Aunty Joyce was there earlier than expected, thought King, as he made his way from the couch to the door. But it was not Aunty Joyce in the video display. It was a man in a dark suit and tie, flanked by a similarly dressed younger guy. He looked into the camera and said, “Dr King, this is the FBI,” holding up his badge to the entry phone's camera. “I’m Special Agent Healey, with me is Special Agent Wong. We need to talk to you, Dr King, can we come up?”

  “FBI? Err, okay come up,” said King, truly at a loss as to what the FBI would want. Perhaps there was foul play involved in Jenna’s death? He dearly hoped not. Dealing with a terrible accident was hard enough, but if her death turned out to be the result of a malevolent act…

  Special Agent Healey introduced himself, allowing King to take a closer look at his FBI badge. “...and this is my partner,” continued Healey in his deep voice and thick Boston accent, “Special Agent Wong.”

  The younger, shorter man took out his badge for inspection. “Hello sir,” said Wong with a business-like nod of the head and the briefest of smiles.

  Healey continued, “We’re from the FBI field office in Baltimore. Can we talk inside?”

  “Guess you’d better come in,” said King, opening the door to his unexpected visitors, letting them pass into the apartment’s open-plan living area. “Please take a seat and tell me what this is about.”

  The two agents sat side-by-side on one couch, King opposite them over the coffee table on the other couch.

  “Dr King, we understand that until recently you shared this apartment with Jenna Sophia Perez. Is that correct?” asked Healey.

  “Yeah, until she died two days ago. You do realise that, right? Look, what’s this about?”

  “I’m sorry; it must be a difficult time for you right now, Dr King. We understand that. Please hear me out—things may not be all they seem,” said Healey.

  He continued, “We’re attached to the NSA out of Fort Meade in Maryland. You are security cleared and we’re telling you this on condition of secrecy. We have evidence that the Santa Maria probe’s on-board computer systems have been hacked and your logon credentials were used by Jenna Perez to do so. We believe we know which organisation is behind the attempt.”

  King could not believe what he was hearing. “Why on Earth would Jenna want to hack into the probe?” he asked incredulously.

  “Sir, we do not believe her real name was Jenna Perez,” said Special Agent Wong unscrolling a tablet to display a photo of a much younger-looking Jenna in a military uniform with the Russian flag on it. “This is a photo taken in 2037 of Dasha Morozova, at the time a member of an elite Russian SPETSNAZ team.” King sat there wide-eyed, open-mouthed and hanging on to each and every word that passed Wong’s lips.

  Wong continued, “We believe she was a deep-cover agent of the SVR—the Russian foreign Intelligence service. Since you are part of the probe team, we can share this with you. The NSA has picked up microburst transmissions from the Emerald Gemstone to a ground station in Russia. We believe they are getting the messenger microprobe data sent directly to them. Sir, we need to search this apartment. We can get a warrant but would prefer it if you’d cooperate.”

  King felt like he just wanted to go and hide under a rock somewhere. His whole life with Jenna a lie? He was finding it difficult to accept, but part of him knew they might be right. Hell, he didn't know what to think anymore.

  “No, you don't need to get a warrant, just go ahead,” said King, resigned to go with the FBI agents’ clear sense of purpose. The foundation that had underpinned the recent era of his life had crumbled in an instant. He never felt more lost and confused.

  The search team arrived an hour later and turned the place upside down before making an inadequate attempt to make the place presentable again before they left. Amongst the things they removed was a hidden safe that King did not know existed. It couldn’t be opened there, but King wondered what was inside. That safe alone added credibility to the Dasha Morozova story. She was so convincing, thought King to himself. He’d never even suspected her in the slightest. His paradigms for trust and relationships had just been shattered so thoroughly that he could never view people in the same way again.

  September 10, 2061 Western Global Alliance Mission Control, Seattle

  “Return of Gemstone Topaz in e-minus-ten seconds,” announced Sarah Townsley from the Mission Control room, referring to the second messenger microprobe. The Santa Maria probe’s first Gemstone, Emerald, had proved beyond any doubt the alien civilization’s existence. It had given a good idea of the extent of their presence in space around the Avendano system. It had also provided additional details on planets, moons and the geography of Gaia, assumed to be the home world of the aliens. The first day’s data had come back on Emerald with Santa Maria staying hidden while it gathered data and assessed the situation. Another two days had passed since then, and Topaz was due back with further details. The view of Gaia from orbit would, with any luck, reveal the first real details of life on the surface. And, perhaps, the first images of the aliens themselves.

  “Watching entry coordinates…” reported the tracking operator in the Mission Control Room with Townsley. “Nothing yet,” he continued.

  A minute passed in the Mission Control Room; personnel engrossed in their displays, some touching their panels with taps and sweeping motions, all largely in silence. The probe was fifteen light years away, so there was no direct means of control. Nevertheless, there were options available should no news be heard from the Santa Maria probe. However, it was too early to start considering that. The probe’s AI had a degree of freedom as to exactly when it transmitted Gemstones back with the latest data. There could be something delaying it such as alien scrutiny or proximity when the AI had elected to stay stealthy. Detecting the gravity spike caused by sending back a Gemstone was always a worrying possibility.

  “Anything yet?” Mission Control Director William Trantham asked the tracking operator.

  “Still no sign of Topaz so far,” he replied.

  “Ok, all we can do is wait. Please confirm that gravimetric sensor coverage is looking in the right places,” said Trantham.

  “Confirmed. If Topaz turns up, even if she doesn't ping us, we’ll see the gravity spike on sensors,” he replied.

  They w
aited the rest of the morning and it became clear that the messenger microprobe Topaz had not returned. There wasn’t much to do except wait, but Trantham could see his people were getting restless and had started discussing increasingly outlandish theories on what may have happened. He knew that it wouldn't be long before he’d need to start making some calls to initiate a contingency plan.

  ***

  The contingency plans only had two options for the current situation. If the scheduled return time of a Gemstone exceeded twenty-four hours it indicated a possible loss of the main probe, Santa Maria. They could either use the backup probe, Pinta, to transmit a Gemstone to Avendano with a recall instruction for Santa Maria or send Pinta herself to investigate. Each option came with its trade-offs, its pros and cons.

  William Trantham, Mission Control Director, entered the conference room with members of the six-person operations committee already present. He would present his proposal and the committee would review, discuss and either approve, reject or modify it.

  “Okay, all present and accounted for. Let’s get started,” said General Fred McIver, the Space Force chief chairing the committee.

  “We all know each other except perhaps Dr King’s stand-in. Christina, perhaps you can introduce yourself,” suggested McIver. He was addressing a tall, slim woman with strawberry blonde hair in her mid-thirties sitting on his right at the round table.

  “Yes. I’m Christina Frewer, standing in for Chief Scientist Dr King who’s on compassionate leave,” she said.

  Around the table were Professor Kenneth Hawkins - Astrobiologist, Adam Chesters - probe design, Robert Hartmann - probe construction and Lukas Majewski. The young, pale-skinned AI programming expert from Poland had led the team that had developed the AI and other software on Santa Maria. He’d graduated with his master’s degree in computing and AI from an online university at the age of just fifteen and was considered a prodigious talent.

  “We’re all up to speed on mission progress or lack thereof, so please go ahead, Will, and tell us your plan,” requested the now aging McIver to Trantham.

  “Gentlemen, Christina, we only really have two options short of just waiting. Option one: send a Gemstone using Pinta with a recall instruction for Santa Maria, or option two: send Pinta herself and assess the situation in the Avendano system,” said Trantham.

  He continued, “Now each has its pros and cons as you’d imagine, as detailed in the short document I sent through earlier today. We do not, I repeat, do not propose option two, which is to send the backup probe Pinta to investigate. Here’s the reason why: if we send Pinta and something happens to her we have a two year wait until a third probe can be built. That is not a timeline that appeals to anyone, so we’d like to avoid that eventuality. Sending just a Gemstone with a recall instruction, per option one, carries some risk but nothing as big as losing our last remaining probe.

  “I’ll summarise what we see as the main risks. Firstly, the Gemstones have very limited sensors of their own. It’d have no guaranteed way of detecting exactly where Santa Maria is unless she were uncloaked and broadcasting her location. So the microprobe cannot stay silent—it must send out a recall signal to Santa Maria. For it to transmit the recall signal to Santa Maria it would need to use maximum power to give the best chance of her receiving it. After all, the Gemstone could jump to a location quite a distance from Santa Maria given inaccuracies in FTL technology. With no means of cloaking the Gemstone, we risk the aliens picking up the gemstone signals and finding it. However, we feel the risk is small given that these things are the size of a thumb and will only broadcast momentarily. It may not work, in which case we’ll have to send Pinta. But it’s a low-risk, low cost option and it’s the whole reason the recall mechanism was designed in the first place. So all we’re really doing is rubber-stamping the contingency decision tree,” explained Trantham. The bearded Mission Control Director looked around for the first question. He considered it a pretty open-and-shut case with limited options and a clear way forward.

  “Any questions? Challenges?” asked Trantham after no one said much in the first few seconds.

  “If we send the Gemstone on a recall mission and Santa Maria does not return, then what? Try again or send Pinta?” asked the young Majewski.

  “The Gemstone’s transmissions will be picked up zero-point-two-five AU from Gaia; there’s no way Santa Maria won’t pick up the recall failsafe if she’s still operational,” answered Chesters, whose team had designed the probe and the recall mechanism.

  “What if there’s a Gemstone failure?” asked King’s science deputy, Christina Frewer.

  “Well, I suppose that could happen, but it’s highly unlikely given the reliability of these things. There’d be political pressure to go there with Pinta if the first attempt fails but we’d default to the Pinta option anyway sooner or later,” said Trantham.

  Hartmann half-raised his hand, smiling as usual, and said, “Will, as the document says, the Gemstone will be set to self-destruct after a few hours. Are you sure that’s a good idea? I mean, what if the aliens do pick it up and it explodes in their faces? Not a great way to start relations with them is it?”

  Trantham replied, “Good question Rob, but self-destruct will not be explosive, it will use a capsule of nano-particle carried internally. The nanoparticles will be programmed to disintegrate the Gemstone after a set period and only the Gemstone. So we did consider this.”

  No further objections were raised and the proposal was supported to send Gemstone Ruby to recall Santa Maria.

  ***

  September 11, 2061 Alliance Citadel Space Station, Low Earth Orbit

  The plan was put into action early the next day with Pinta transmitting the Gemstone Ruby directly from the Assembly Module of the Alliance Citadel. Then the wait began.

  ***

  September 12, 2061 Western Global Alliance Mission Control, Seattle

  “We’ll have reached the four-hour mark in five minutes, Will,” Townsley reported to Trantham as they sat in the Mission Control Room. The self-destruct was set to four hours from jump into the Avendano system. The Ruby microprobe had been transmitted at 8am local and it was nearing noon in Seattle Mission Control.

  “Well, as I sai,: if it ain’t happened in the first half an hour then it ain’t gonna happen at all,” repeated Trantham for the third time that morning.

  There was a mixture of glum, bored and anxious faces around the room. There was a gloomy atmosphere. The second malfunction and their limited ability to control a probe fifteen light years away made the Mission Control and wider WGA teams feel despondent and powerless. Trantham was starting to feel restless and wanted to get on with the Pinta option, as it had become known. Sending the backup probe was a risk, he knew, but what choice did they have? The recall had not worked and there was no realistic chance it was the Gemstone at fault. This only meant one thing in his mind: something had gone seriously wrong with Santa Maria. He was also all too aware that there was no way to know what that was exactly. Until they either retrieved her or got eyes back in the Avendano system it would remain a mystery.

  The pressure from above was building. Trantham felt the weight of expectation from the WGA establishment and the world pressing on his shoulders. Even though this endeavour had waited the length of human history to happen, there was now a sense that there was a timeline to follow. The world had expected a steady stream of astounding discoveries. At least, that had been the implicit promise after the build-up and the climax from the first and only Gemstone data. Now the disappointment in the media and from his higher-ups was palpable.

  There was no more time to waste, it was time to send Pinta and get to the bottom of this unwanted mystery.

  Chapter Eleven

  September 12, 2061 Western Global Alliance Mission Control, Seattle

  “Citadel, this is Mission Control,” said Sarah Townsley.

  “Yes, Mission Control, reading you on Citadel,” confirmed the communications officer, some static n
oise making the sound crackly in places.

  “We’ve cleared all checks and are preparing to launch Pinta. T-minus-10 minutes and counting.”

  “Acknowledged, Mission Control. We’re standing by and observing remote operations. You continue to have the con.”

  The Pinta probe made her assisted exit from the Assembly Module and out into the vastness of space ready to find out what had happened to her sister, Santa Maria. Pinta went through a series of waypoints taking her a safe distance from any other space assets. In a few moments, she was ready to engage her FTL-drive and transit to Avendano on a mission of investigation. She needed to find Santa Maria and continue the survey of the aliens and their system. At some point, when deemed safe by the AI, the first contact communication would be made. There were no dignitaries crowding the WGA conference rooms this time. It was amazing how public figures started backing away as things deviated from the plan. Their desire to be associated with success while keeping failure at arm’s length was glaringly obvious to anyone who thought about it. Literally billions were still viewing the jump though. There was wall-to-wall coverage on hundreds of news media streams. This reflected the way events, as well as the discoveries, had captured the world’s collective imagination. Nothing like this had been seen in human history and the fact it was turning into a day-to-day drama only added to the allure. It also added to the pressure on the WGA Space team, with calls from several senior politicians.