by Steve Alten
Thirty seconds passed, and still the sphere plummeted. Unable to hold myself up any longer, I dropped to my elbows, my face inches from Lara’s.
Slipping her hand behind the back of my head, she pulled my face to hers until our lips met again, only this time it was her tongue sliding inside my mouth. Gravity held us together another forty seconds until the rockets throttled back.
The shaft that had been evaporated beneath Oceanus filled with water, slowing the sphere’s descent. Released from the g-force, I separated from Lara, as stunned by her kiss as she had been by mine when I mistook her for Andria.
Lara winked. “Now we’re even.”
Turquoise-blue light transformed the chamber into a living aquarium as Oceanus abruptly splashed down below the ice shelf into an emerald sea.
I regained my feet, spellbound. I can’t even remember if I helped Lara to her feet, so overwhelmed were my senses by the beauty now surrounding us as we submerged.
Breathtaking is not a word I use often, but this … this was breathtaking. The underside of the Ross Ice Shelf appeared as an endless ceiling of billowing azure clouds. Having melted as a result of their rapid descent, a tidal wave of freshwater was washing below into the subzero salt water, refreezing before our eyes into a permanent cascading waterfall. All the while, Oceanus continued to sink, the habitat paced by medusa jellyfish, which rode the sphere’s current into the depths, their four-foot pink-and-peach bodies fluttering like the delicate fringes of a frilly Spanish bolero jacket.
As we sank into deeper water the light diminished, turquoise fading into shades of purple. GOLEM activated the habitat’s underwater lights — twin beacons searching for the seafloor.
Touchdown occurred at 1,286 feet. Coral beds were crushed into submission by the habitat’s four support legs, the steel fuselages still steaming as they sank, anchoring Oceanus to the bottom.
“Ike?”
Andria’s voice doused me back into reality.
Mission standards had forced her to lose the blue highlights in her onyx hair, but there were no codes that could alter the way her athletic physique filled out that burnt-orange jumpsuit. Andria kept the front zipper containing her well-endowed cleavage collar high to prevent any false messages from being sent.
Staring at her, I was suddenly aware of the other crewmembers. They were there to witness the show, having anticipated the moment since learning I was coming aboard.
To her credit, Andria was having none of it. “Let’s talk in private,” she said, leading me across the chamber to a ladder situated inside another bulkhead.
We climbed down two flights to the lower level, our descent paced by GOLEM, the annoying sphere drifting into view seconds later like a giant Peeping Tom.
I followed Andria in silence past a watertight door labeled SUB-4, the two of us weaving around pallets of equipment wrapped in plastic. I noticed a yellow hatch on the floor marked by a radiation symbol.
She stopped at another watertight door labeled EGRESS.
Andria opened the hatch, leading me inside a small tiled chamber resembling a firemen’s prep station. A dozen hooded Navy Steinke egress-exposure suits hung from hooks, with a plastic sign that offered step-by-step instructions. Above the frame was a red light and a green light, neither lit. A small watertight door on the opposite end of the room led to the escape hatch.
Andria straddled one of the two wooden benches bolted to the floor. She motioned for me to sit across from her.
Avoiding eye contact, she stared at her sneakers. “I don’t know how to say this, so I’m just going to say it.”
“Don’t. I already heard it once, I don’t think I could stomach it again.”
“You heard what from whom?”
“From you. Outside Stateroom One, about ten minutes ago. If you were so unhappy with me, why didn’t you say something sooner?”
“I wasn’t unhappy.”
“Let’s see … I’m an anchor, a recluse. Stuck in my own head. Afraid to live. Those words sound familiar? Christ, you make me sound like a mental patient!”
She looked at me, teary-eyed, but said nothing. There was nothing to say, I held all the cards in a losing hand. Still, I intended to get my pound of flesh.
“I asked you to marry me back in January. ‘Yes, Ike, I’ll marry you, only we have to wait until I’m shuttle qualified … until I get my wings.’ What the hell, Andria?”
“I was selected for Europa a week after we got engaged. I needed time to think. For three years I’ve committed every day to the Omega mission — how could I just walk away? Only twelve people on Earth were selected for Europa … we were sworn to secrecy.”
“So you cheated on me?”
“It wasn’t planned, it happened over time. I wasn’t looking, but under the circumstances … facing the prospect of being gone for six years, I guess I began to detach from you emotionally. Face it, Ike, there’s no way you would have let me go to Europa. With Kevin, it seemed our personalities meshed. I know this is going to sound crazy, but I think the computer purposely matched everyone onboard.”
I beat the back of my skull against the tile wall, more for effect than pain. “That’s some computer. It takes the damn thing two years to figure out the moon’s helium-3 is no good, but boy can it run an astronaut dating service.”
“I understand you’re angry.”
“I’m not angry. Okay, I’m angry, but I’m also hurt. I love you, Andie. I can change.”
“Stop. I’m really sorry, Ike. I handled this all wrong. But let’s be clear, I’m going to be gone for six years and that’s not going to change. Now I want to know the truth: Why are you here? And don’t tell me you’re prepared to spend the next six years on Europa.”
I hesitated. This was not the scenario I had rehearsed with my uncle.
I opted for an edited version of the truth. “There was a series of psychological exams administered by the Space Agency … all candidates submitted to the protocol before being admitted to the academy. SEA discovered that one of the male Omega crew may have sociopathic tendencies.”
“Who?”
“All I know is that it’s one of the men. Don’t ask me which one, they wouldn’t tell me.”
Andria shook her head in disbelief. “How could the Space Agency wait so long to figure that out?”
“It’s borderline.”
“There’s no such thing as borderline, not when it comes to living in isolation. Biosphere 2 had eight subjects sequestered in a huge habitat for less than two years when they started losing it. We’ll be on Europa forty-two months. You deal with an egg that’s already cracked and the entire crew’s in danger.”
“Then don’t go.”
“I’m going, so don’t even start. The question is, why were you selected as a backup?”
“Hell if I know. GOLEM selected me. The Space Agency asked me to accept the assignment; they felt my background in psychology qualified me to observe the crew in action. To make sure my evaluation remained unbiased, they refused to tell me who the suspected sociopath is.”
Her eyes become dark lasers. “You’re already biased! You know I’ve been with Kevin. You’d portray him as the next Hannibal Lecter if it meant keeping us apart.”
The voice of the man atop my shit list crackled across the intercom. “All crew: Report to the galley at once.”
Andria looked at me, unsure. “Ike, what are you going to do?”
“My job. See you in the galley.” I stood to leave. “Oh yeah … don’t even think about leaving orbit with my Rolling Stones CDs.”
9
Everybody, sooner or later, sits down to a banquet of consequences.
— ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON
Eating in space requires designing and packaging meals with long shelf lives, in single servings that can survive microbe-killing heat treatment or complete dehydration. Despite these new restrictions, the Oceanus menu was expansive, featuring over three hundred items developed by NASA, the Russian and European space a
gencies, and Japan.
Standing at one of four food stations in the galley like a fish out of water, I pretended to scan a computerized menu before selecting shrimp cocktail as my entrée, a juice pouch as a beverage.
Processing the request, GOLEM extracted the items from bins in the galley storage area using a ceiling-mounted robotic arm that resembled an elephant’s trunk. Designed by the automation company Festo, the robotic appendage was composed of three flexible polyamide coils welded as one to create a tentacle possessing a fluid motion. The trunk ended in three triangular fingers designed to grasp objects.
Selecting the items chosen, the bionic trunk placed the vacuum-packed meal and beverage on a conveyor belt for delivery.
I collected my lunch, then debated my next move. Eleven members of the crew were seated at the long rectangular table situated at the center of the galley. One empty chair remained. Heading for it, I set my food down at the place setting, only to be chided by Monique DeFriend.
“Sorry, Eisenbraun, that’s reserved for Commander Read.” She pointed to four bar stools set up by a snack bar. “Thirteen crewmen, twelve chairs. Guess you’re the odd man out.”
The other men and women stopped eating, waiting to see how I’d react.
“Thirteen’s always been my lucky number.” Grabbing my lunch, I walked over to the snack bar, eleven pairs of eyes following me. No worries. Only two more weeks of playing the unwanted camper until these assholes will be tucked in for their thirty-day nap.
I made a mental note to piss in Monique’s cryogenic tub.
Inspecting my lunch, I realized the vacuum-sealed plastic container of shrimp was a lot tougher to open than I expected. Trying my best not to draw attention, I attempted to puncture the thick wrap with my fork, but snapped the plastic utensil in half.
My struggle summoned the Chinese-Indian woman. As she approached, ABE’s short-term memory aid identified her as Dharma Yuan.
“Hi. I’m Robert Eisenbraun.”
“Yes, I know.” Her hair was brushed, but damp, probably from having just taken a hot bath. Her long ponytail smelled of lilac, and it left a wet mark on her jumpsuit down to the small of her back.
“Do you remember what happened?” I asked, seeking her gratitude.
“I remember you nearly killed me.”
“What? No … I was the one who carried you inside. You were out on the ice, freezing.”
“I was in a transcendental state, my mind had transformed my body into a furnace. Your aura broke the trance.”
“It did? I didn’t know. I’m sorry. Are you okay now?”
“Of course.” Reaching into her jumpsuit pocket, she removed a small pair of scissors and, in one motion, sliced through the plastic wrapper of my lunch. “When you are finished, be sure to deposit the trash in the recycle bin.”
She glanced over my shoulder. I turned as a strapping man with a barrel chest and short-cropped dark hair strode into the galley.
ABE gave me the rundown.
READ, KEVIN, RANK: COMMANDER. BORN MAY 14, 1987. NATIONALITY: CANADIAN. GRADUATED WITH HONORS FROM THE UNIVERSITY OF OTTAWA WITH DUAL DEGREES IN HUMAN KINETICS AND ENGINEERING.
Enough!
At least I was taller than him.
“Good, everyone’s here, Mr. Eisenbraun too, I see. Dharma, why don’t you join us at the crew’s table?”
Dharma, God bless her, slid onto the vacant bar stool next to mine.
Kevin Read registered her small act of defiance with a false smile. “Since this will be one of the rare times we can assemble as a group, I wanted to welcome everyone aboard. We’ve all worked very hard to get to this day, but there are greater challenges ahead. GOLEM has set a rigorous training schedule, which you can find on your h-pads. Since Alpha Squad is still on day shift until eighteen hundred hours, I’ll need you to join me in fifteen minutes on the lower deck to unpack the equipment needed on Beta Squad’s first dive, set to commence at nineteen-thirty hours.”
He looked up at me, smiling like we were the best of friends. “We’re on twelve-hour shifts, six to six. GOLEM assigned you to Beta Squad, the night shift. You can pick up your jumpsuit, eating utensils, and h-pad in the ship’s store, that’s on deck two. We couldn’t squeeze your cryogenic pod into the science lab, but we did manage to find a suitable chamber.”
Chuckles from the other men around the table.
I ignored the inside joke. “Where do I sleep?”
“Good question. Anyone want a roommate?”
The room remained silent.
“You can share my quarters,” volunteered Andria. “I’m on Alpha Squad; you’ll sleep while I work and vice versa.”
Commander Read stared at her, looking as disappointed as if she had announced she had just started her period. “Maybe hot-bunking it isn’t such a good idea. GOLEM has Eisenbraun rotating squads on week two.”
“He can share my suite after the shift change,” Lara Saints volunteered, upping the ante and drawing a scowl from Andria.
“Thank you, ladies.” I glanced back at Kevin Read, eyebrows raised. “Problem solved. Anything else?”
The commander locked eyes with me, then returned to his itinerary. “GOLEM requested that Mr. Eisenbraun rotate stations on a daily basis—”
“It’s professor.”
“Excuse me?”
“I wouldn’t call you Mr. Read, please don’t call me Mr. Eisenbraun. Professor or doctor; Ike is also fine. I’m just saying.”
“May I continue?”
“Please.” I smiled innocently, enjoying the ease at which I could get under Captain Courageous’s skin. By next week, he’ll be calling me a lot worse than Mr. Eisenbraun …
Commander Read finished his debriefing then left, accompanied by the rest of Alpha Squad, my former fiancée included.
Dharma stood. “I must join them. Perhaps next week when you switch over to Alpha Squad you can tell me why you seek to provoke Commander Read?”
“I’ll tell if you’ll tell.”
She acknowledged my wit by tapping my forehead with her index finger, then left the galley.
“Professor Eisenbraun.” The grapefruit-size neon-blue orb mounted along the ceiling crackled to life. “Please finish your midday meal and report to the science lab for your debriefing.”
“Acknowledged. And GOLEM, it’s called lunch. You sound like a bad sci-fi movie.” Squeezing the surprisingly tasty contents of the shrimp and mango sauce pouch into my mouth, I tossed the wrapper into the nearest recycling bin and left the galley for the main corridor. Turning left, I followed the curved hallway until I arrived at the science lab, the double doors opening to greet me.
The dimly lit, pie-shaped chamber was twice the size of the galley, its walls converging to meet the transparent central vertical column housing GOLEM. The shaft was vacant, the computer apparently occupying another level. A ceiling-mounted light bathed the liquid-filled tube in a luminous golden hue. The rest of the room was dark, save for four violet recessed lights, giving the lab the look and feel of an after-hours nightclub.
To my left were the cryogenic pods. Set in four rows of three, each seven-foot-long by four-foot-wide acrylic capsule was housed inside a rectangular steel base mounted to the deck. Dangling from the ceiling above each row of machines was a robotic trunk identical to the appendage in the galley. The mechanical arms appeared lifeless, awaiting the neural commands of their master.
Occupying the opposite side of the chamber was a surgical suite. Two more steel appendages hovered above an aluminum operating table. These robotic arms appeared far more sophisticated than the others and were equipped with a rotating wheel of surgical instruments from scalpels, probes, and forceps to a laser used to seal wounds.
Set along the wall was a pair of ten-foot-high, twelve-foot-wide sliding aluminum doors. Curious, I reached for the handle of the door on the left and slid the panel open.
It was an immense walk-in refrigerator. The walls were lined with shelves that were stocked with IV bags
, plasma, and an assortment of medications. Resealing the door, I tried the next compartment, surprised to find a blast freezer harboring a similar layout.
My eyes caught movement — GOLEM was descending silently through its tube.
Sliding the freezer door shut, I cut through an aisle of cryogenic pods and was standing by the vertical tube as GOLEM hovered just above eye level.
“Good afternoon, Professor Eisenbraun. How are you feeling?”
“Fine, GOLEM. How are you feeling?”
“I am functioning within expected performance parameters, thank you.”
“That’s good to hear, however the question actually pertains to your emotional state. Please refrain from using your automated linguistics program and respond appropriately.”
“Emotions are part of the human condition. The GOLEM matrix is not programmed to experience emotions.”
Seizing the opening, I decided to probe the computer’s level of cognizance. “Define ‘GOLEM,’ please.”
“GOLEM is intellect, programmed to protect and preserve the human species.”
“How can GOLEM protect and preserve the human species if you cannot comprehend the human condition?”
“Define: To protect. To keep from harm. Define: To preserve. To prevent extinction. GOLEM is functioning within expected performance parameters.”
“Define the human condition.”
“This line of inquiry does not pertain to the purpose of this briefing.”
“What is the purpose of this briefing?”
“To comprehend how Professor Eisenbraun will determine which male member of the Omega crew suffers from a psychological disorder and whether that psychological disorder is a threat to the success of the mission.”
“Define the ‘human condition.’”
“The human condition: Physicality flawed by mortality. Emotions flawed by ego.”
“Now define ‘sociopath.’”
“Sociopath: A human lacking conscience. Exhibiting disdain for human beings. Sociopaths believe others exist for their own pleasure and benefit. Possessing superficial charm. Manipulative and cunning. Possessing a grandiose sense of self. Pathological lying. Lack of remorse, shame, or guilt. Shallow emotions. Incapacity for love. Early behavioral problems—”