The room erupted. The moderator stood before the journalists, stone-faced. He looked at his watch and an uneasy quiet settled. Julia continued, “As you know well, the ISEA has always operated with crews chosen for their abilities, regardless of nationality, ethnicity or orientation of any kind. We have never had…”
The noise rose again and a booming voice from the back of the room called out, “We have never had such complacency, greed, indifference to suffering and political manipulation…”
Julia stood up and raised her voice. “We are deeply conscious of our responsibilities to civilisation, and the urgency of the situation. This mission will take us as far, and as fast, as our technical capabilities will allow…”
“Cretin!”
A barrage of shouts and insults followed. The moderator looked at the General, who responded with a flick of the head. The three of them rose and left the room, while the moderators remained, staring at each shouting face in turn.
9
Prometheus is Born
Two hours later the crew were filing into their shuttles mounted on the huge transport planes that would take them to the upper stratosphere. From there they would progress into Earth orbit on their own rocket motors. It was the moment when these rockets engaged, the awesome brute strength of chemical explosive force, that never failed to impress even the most hardened space traveller.
Julia sat next to Arlette. “Not my most gratifying presscon,” she said with a sigh.
“Well, next time you’ll have the advantage of the communication time gap to cool things down between questions,” volunteered Arlette.
“It’ll be more of the same until we announce that we are leaving the solar system, I’m afraid.”
“Yes, but that will be a moment to savour! All will be forgotten in their thirst for information about the wormhole.”
“I think General Lee will be hogging that one,” said Julia, “but they’ll rapidly lose interest in him once they know what we’re up to. For the time being I’m more concerned about keeping the lid on ethnic hatred.”
The plane took off and the passengers busied themselves with their mail and functional admin. All dressed in their pale blue uniforms, they looked, and to some extent behaved, like school kids on a Sunday outing. A half hour later Sanam Ghorashian entered the passenger cabin of the shuttle and addressed the crew members as she strode up and down the aisle, a wisp of black hair falling provocatively over her cheek.
“We have 15 minutes before we disengage from the mother craft and fire the escape velocity rockets,” she announced in her haughty Oxbridge tone. The passengers were immediately divided into those who paid attention and those who found something else to occupy themselves, which corresponded roughly with their gender.
“From then on we shall be weightless or approaching weightlessness, so you will remain tethered in your seats until we have docked with IP262. When you use the washrooms please use the tethering conduits. This shuttle is not designed for weightless activities and serious injury could occur during manoeuvres, which can occur at any time. Your in-seat communication modules provide a comprehensive range of services. In-flight time will be 22 hours and 14 minutes. Enjoy.”
She turned and headed back into the cockpit, without having made eye contact with anyone.
“Hey, Sanam, thanks for the warmth and sincerity,” muttered Julia.
Arlette stretched back in her seat and opened up video contact with her chief propulsion engineer. “Hey, Genes, why is it that we still have to spend a whole day to get to the moon? Can’t you guys build something a bit hotter?”
“Nice one, Commander,” drawled Genes. “If you guys would let me get my hands on that induced gravity technology so that I could control the G-forces on your puny little bodies, I might just give you a ride you won’t forget in a hurry.”
“Yes … OK”, replied Arlette as she caught up with his thinking, “but that’s a lot of energy and hardware for a pretty modest economic return.”
“Hell, lady, you don’t get much new space technology for popcorn.”
They grinned at each other momentarily before their screens faded.
“Brace for ignition!”
There was a roar and a jolt. The shuttle lifted its nose and shot into space, pinning its passengers in their seats. ‘Point of no return,’ thought Arlette.
The journey was long and boring, and most slept at best intermittently in zero gravity for the first time in a while. Breakfast was a pretty mediocre affair of warmed-up packaged nutrients, and queueing for the washrooms while floating about on a tether made everybody irritable. However, the mood picked up when they entered lunar orbit and there was a cheer when IP262 was sighted, floating majestically above the horizon.
“Hello, my Prometheus,” breathed Arlette. “You are indeed a Titan.”
The shuttle approached gingerly, in little jerks as the final course corrections were made. There was the tiniest of bumps and then the clamour of machinery as the airlocks engaged and locked.
“Welcome to IP262. Please keep your tethers hooked up as you disembark, but remember that induced gravity will begin to affect you immediately,” the pilot said, and signed off.
Euphoria gripped the crew as they entered their new ship. It was airy and spacious. It was tastefully decorated. The main spaces seemed to be open to the universe by virtue of the external cameras projecting the view onto the internal walls. There were little touches like vases of flowers in corners and paintings on the walls. There were internal maps posted at intervals. There was light everywhere and soft, pleasant music.
“Please make your way to your allotted cabins,” said a voice. “You will find them on levels 3, 4 and 5.” The lifts began to hum and the crew to explore their new quarters. If this was how extra-terrestrial life was to be, it had plenty of takers.
Henri Bertin barely glanced at his quarters before heading up to the monitoring centre. The eye scanner granted him immediate access, but the room was empty. He switched through the entire range of monitoring cameras, but in most cases received a ‘clearance restricted’ message. “How can I detect malevolent activity”, he fumed quietly to himself, “if I have no eyes and ears; and who does have clearance?” He called Arlette and got an icy reception.
“Colonel Bertin, we have an automated surveillance system in place that scans the whole ship continuously and will alert you, and me, in the event of any subversive activities,” she said flatly. “We do not engage in clandestine snooping into the private affairs of the crew on this ship. The IT department can show you the criteria which trigger the reports. You’ll have to work on those criteria if you believe it necessary for the security of the mission.”
End of conversation.
“Merde!” said Henri to himself. “Automated surveillance my arse! If I need to know, I need to know. Do I need to apologise for doing my job?” He called again. “We need to discuss this in the interests of…”
She cut him short. “Check out the criteria first,” was all she said.
The second shuttle arrived half an dhour later, and, a few minutes after the new arrivals had settled into their cabins, the central communication system came to life.
“This is IP262 administration. Will all crew members please access their in-room terminals within the next thirty minutes and link their phones. You will then have your detailed schedules and shift rosters to hand. Please synchronise all devices to Central European Time. Your cabin lighting system will adjust to your shift schedule automatically, but you can select external view at any time. The ablutions are set to normal gravity use. In the event of a loss of gravitation they will switch automatically to weightless mode. Will all section leaders contact their opposite numbers in the ground crew by 15.00 and arrange handover. Ground crew are to prepare for departure at 16.00. Commander Piccard will address you at 17.00. Thank you.”
Arlette breezed into her spacious quarters, checked that all her clothes and personal effects were in place and that the sup
port systems were all working, showered and changed.
Seconds later the door buzzer went. She glanced at the screen – it was Henri. She let him in, maintaining her distance and an air of professional humility.
“I’d like you to approve some changes in the automatic surveillance criteria,” he began. “I really need this to provide effective security – please.”
Arlette took the piece of paper he held out to her and scanned it. She looked up at him as if studying him for the first time. “I won’t have the ethnic screen,” she said. “Is the rest absolutely necessary?”
“It is,” he said, “but the automated surveillance system remains in place as a first defence of personal privacy. This just makes the suspect profile better suited to the potential threats we have on board Prometheus.”
“Then get it done” said Arlette, handing back the piece of paper.
Henri nodded and turned to leave. Then he had second thoughts and turned back.
“I just want to say that I deeply regret having offended you, that I am honoured to be under your command on this mission, and that what happened to me in Acapulco was a joy, not a duty.”
Arlette pursed her lips. “I hear you,” she said. “Keep your distance.”
Henri nodded and left.
Arlette turned and studied the star-scape on the wall for a moment, then called in Chang, Julia and Marcel. “So, what questions are being asked?” she enquired.
“Crew members want to know if their personal time is going to be monitored,” said Chang.
Arlette felt a little chill in her stomach.
“We need clarity on the rights of the crew to external communications,” said Julia.
“The crew want to know how much freedom of movement they have,” said Marcel.
“Anything else?”
“It’s pretty mundane at present. Crew members are generally surprised at the quality of life on board. They like the feeling of private space they have, which is very much enhanced by the projection of the external view on the walls, and they like the scale of the leisure facilities, unheard of on earlier ships. We’ll learn more in the next week or so, but I think you should address the privacy and communication points this afternoon. Can I draft something for you?”
“No thanks, Chang,” said Arlette. “I’m clear on the answers and I would rather that they sounded spontaneous.”
At 17.00 she was ready, seated at the desk on her control platform, eyes resting on the prompt screen before her.
“Fellow Prometheus crew members,” she said, “welcome on board. According to Greek legend, Prometheus was a Titan – a giant – who bravely stood up for mankind in the face of the depravity of the Gods. Our role on this mission is to extend the bounds of human civilisation, bringing with us the values that have sustained us so far.
“Whatever we find in the part of the galaxy that man will be entering for the first time, we shall treat with respect and humility, bringing only the very best we have to offer.
“To that end we must have discipline and mutual respect within this ship.”
Arlette tried to soften her expression as she addressed the next topic.
“Some issues have been raised regarding personal freedoms. Obviously there must be limits in the interests of the security of the mission, but although we have the technical capability to monitor everything that occurs on this ship, those files will not be seen by human eyes. They will be scanned by our security software, but only for signs of obvious malevolence in the interests of us all. This applies to your personal activities, your internal communications, and your freedom to move around the ship. External communications will be subject to more rigorous vetting, again electronically only, because our rules preclude transmission of mission-sensitive information to third parties. The rules are all clearly stated in the standing orders on your in-room terminals.
“We have three days of arduous training ahead, almost all of it to be conducted in the context of a failure in the ship’s gravitation system. This will affect everything we do on the ship and we must be satisfied that we can operate effectively in these conditions.”
She now smiled.
“We are about to embark on the greatest adventure in the history of mankind. I am very proud to be a member of this crew and I have faith that you will all play your parts such that each succeeding generation will look up to you with wonder and admiration. Thank you.”
Arlette’s face faded from the screen and was replaced by the newly minted Prometheus logo: a pair of hands cradling flames.
10
Underway
The remainder of the pre-launch training and preparation was completed in an atmosphere of suppressed excitement. Incoming world news coverage was delivered in an edited form, largely devoid of contention. Crew members were familiarised with every functioning component of the ship by means of clips showing the successful test processes.
A popular form of entertainment was the video footage of the induced gravity system failure tests, particularly those taking place while crew members were in the canteen or in the pool, since no warnings were given. While the antics of crew members suddenly confronted with airborne food, particularly soup, were viewed as slapstick despite some nasty burns, the implications for swimmers finding themselves in, rather than on, a few hundred tons of water were more serious and resulted in several emergency rescue missions and subsequently the institution of ‘life savers’ in the pool area.
Hannah Cohen, the medical director, was not at all amused by these incidents. A tall, statuesque, prematurely greying woman and, at forty-six, the oldest member of the crew, she had seen a number of very able space personnel lose their lives as a result of exuberant behaviour. Hannah managed to combine an apparently effortless intellectual grasp of scientific medical complexity with a commanding managerial presence and, although she had no children of her own, an unfailing motherly touch. Her multiplicity of talents had been recognised early on and she had become the youngest medical director in US history before being virtually drafted into the ISEA by the then US President. Her long-term partner, Jafar, was a Palestinian she had met in medical school who now lived in Beirut. He was an established international journalist, and, as Hannah’s career had blossomed, his life had become increasingly peripatetic. They were well used to long separations and brief reunions, but always managed to stay in contact. Hannah was able to perpetuate this tradition by means of the special communication channel available to her as the ranking medical officer on board Prometheus. She was, as a result, one of the best informed of all crew members.
“A collapsed lung, a fractured skull and two ulna fractures, one compounded,” Hannah was telling Jafar. “That’s today’s output of training accidents. That woman really does push reality training to the limit.”
“Why would she take that kind of risk with such a highly trained professional group?” Jafar wanted to know.
“She tells me she has to know how individual crew members will react when confronted with a real disaster, and that includes the medical team.”
“Well, they wouldn’t be on the crew list if they hadn’t been through all that,” observed Jafar.
“Yes but she’s leery of virtual exercises. She says she likes to see a bit of blood on the carpet. Of course she still has back-ups available for every crew member; she can replace them right up to the time we launch. But I think it’s also part of her process of adjusting to absolute command. She wants it known that she will not flinch from the tough calls.”
“And how do you feel, Hannah-le?”
“Excited. I’m focused on the immediate. Actually I’m glad to have the medical team busy with these incidents. But I miss you, Jafar. I can’t just jump on a plane when I need your warmth any more. I have to be professional 24/7 and I will have no intimate life for a year. It’s a heavy price to pay, even for the adventure of a lifetime. Do you miss me?”
Jafar smiled his big, warm smile at the appealing image of his lady love on the sc
reen before him. She was giving him her vulnerable look although he knew that she had almost infinite reserves of courage and forbearance.
“Yes, Hannah-le, I miss you, just as I have missed you every day for most of my adult life. But I also tell myself every day that you will only be mine as long as you are free, so missing you is not such a burden. Oh, and do you remember little Aini, the girl in the flat below who was so terribly burned and lost both her arms and legs? Well, I saw her riding a bike yesterday, completely kitted out with neurologically controlled prosthetic arms and legs, shrieking and giggling like all the other children. These are the moments that compensate me for life’s other deficiencies.”
“Deficiencies?!” shot back Hannah. “Is the lack of carnal relations for a whole year with the woman of your dreams just a ‘deficiency’?”
Jafar sighed.
“Alright, Hannah-le, my door is locked and I can do anything I like in front of this screen.” Jafar began to unbutton his shirt. “Take your top off and show me your pretty little titties.”
“No! You can’t mollify me with video sex. I just want to know that you’re aching for me.”
“Yes, about fourteen times a day.”
“Good,” said Hannah with a pout. “What else is going on in the world?”
“Well, the average temperature is now supposed to be four degrees hotter than it was 100 years ago,” reported Jafar. “It’s unbelievably hot here now in Beirut and the drains stink. Milk is unobtainable and half the time there’s no fruit in the shops because the low-temperature storage systems fail. I just got back from Armenia. I was taken out to see the remains of a Russian relief convoy. Apparently the Iranians assumed it was carrying weapons and just opened fire. The corpses of twenty-three nurses were just lying there in the dust with all their supplies and equipment burning around them. Pretty girls in the flower of their youth, their lives and good intentions blown away in a couple of minutes of insanity. I talked to the Iranian commander and he just shrugged and claimed that it was all a Russian trick. It’s the utter heartlessness of these people that disgusts me. Nobody cares. It’s not as though they are driven by some deep-rooted conviction. It’s just the violence of survival. Did you hear about the 400 inmates in a Siberian prison that were burned alive when a cloud of methane released from the melting tundra ignited? Jonny Tarbuck was there for AP. He said the whole prison looked like a fast-food production line. All these roasted bodies in their cubicles.”
Omnipotence: Book I: Odyssey Page 6