Magellan

by Scott Baird

  “Go ahead, Director,” the beefy man said, straightening his tie and leaving untouched the expensive coffee his assistant had brought along.

  “Certainly, Mr. Secretary,” Becker said, and took a breath. When he looked at Nelson, it was with an air of one dropping a bombshell that was fully expected to overwhelm its target.

  “Approximately forty-eight hours ago, Commander Nelson, SETI reported a radio anomaly picked up by Arecibo. A low frequency pulse repeating at constant intervals, nothing we’ve ever heard before. Within minutes the VLA and Atacama had picked it up too. They sent it our way, and we started listening. I’d like you to hear it now.”

  Nelson, totally mystified, watched as Matthew cued an audio file and pressed Play. A pulsing tone sounded from the tablet device, throbbing and humming with otherworldly rhythm. Matthew let it play until the Secretary shifted in his seat, and Becker held up a hand. The sound was unlike anything Nelson was familiar with. The mention of SETI raised the hair on the back of his neck, but he refused to jump to any hasty conclusions.

  Everyone was looking at him to gauge his reaction to the sound. “Some kind of pulsar, perhaps?” he muttered, knowing it wasn’t likely, but unsure what else to say.

  “That was our first guess, of course,” Becker answered, “going off of the reaction to Burnell and Hewish in the Sixties. But we quickly discarded that possibility, because the signal isn’t on sidereal time. Yesterday SETI reported a second anomaly, this time at a higher radio frequency than the first. And then a third signal showed up last night, higher still.”

  Becker nodded to Matthew, and the young man played audio recordings of the second and third signals, again pulsing with constant intervals but higher in pitch. Nelson listened with consternation written across his face.

  “What are they?” he asked, once the audio had ended. “I’m a flier, not a professional astronomer, Gerald. Lay it out for me, will you?”

  Becker took a breath and tugged at the collar of the sweater vest he was wearing under his suit coat. “Look, Nelson, we aren’t jumping to any conclusions here. But these three signals have been transmitting consistently ever since they came on. And after we received the third signal, one of our audio experts realized the second pulse is exactly four semitones higher than the first, and the third is seven semitones higher. Play them all together, now, Matthew.”

  The young man was ready with another audio clip and quickly played the file. It began with the first signal, layered in the second on top of it, and then joined the third signal over the others. To Nelson, it sounded pleasant, triumphant, encouraging. Like the initial strain of a song about to burst into life.

  Something was nagging him. When the audio clip ended, he asked Becker about it. “A second ago you used the word ‘transmitting’, Director. Not ‘emitting’. Why?”

  Becker nodded. “In musical theory, Commander, what you just heard is called a perfect major triad. The primary harmonic building block of tonal music. Unless this is a complete coincidence—and I’d have to be a very stubborn man to make that stretch—it’s essentially some kind of space music that we’re receiving.”

  Nelson looked over at the Secretary. His blonde assistant was surreptitiously fussing with a smartphone under the table, but the SecDef himself was staring at Nelson with rapt attention. Becker also stared at him, calmly but with a strained look as if he was still grappling with the concept himself.

  “Are you saying these signals are artificial, Becker?”

  Becker slowly nodded, but didn’t say anything.

  Nelson continued, mentally sliding the pieces into place as he spoke. “You’re saying that from somewhere across the galaxy, somebody is sending us a song? To communicate with us?”

  Becker cleared his throat. “This may be a lot to take in, Commander. But, uh—”

  The Secretary leaned forward and cut in. “Not across the galaxy, Commander. Right here in our back yard. These signals are, all of them, coming from within our own solar system.”

  Nelson raised his eyebrows and looked at Becker. The director nodded.

  “They’re originating locally. Matthew, the map chart, please?” Matthew activated the projector and transferred a basic map of the solar system to the big screen at the front of the room, with planets radiating out from the Sun along their elliptical orbits, and several other celestial bodies included as well.

  Matthew, unable to contain his enthusiasm, spoke up despite the intimidating presence of the Secretary. “We traced the radio signals to three separate points of origin. The first is transmitting from Saturn’s moon Titan, we think at a point near one of its poles. The second is coming from Neptune’s moon Triton, maybe around the equator. And the third… that one’s coming from the dwarf planet Eris.” He got up to point to the markers on the projected map, stretching his arm to reach Eris near the edge of the map, far from the Sun.

  Becker took up his explanation. “The signals probably all began transmitting at the same time, but Triton and Eris are four, four and a half light-hours away from Earth. We’ve got all our telescopes trained on those locations, and we even pinged Titan with a return transmission using the same chord. But they just keep beaming out those radio signals, straight to Earth.” He opened his folder and started leafing through the print-outs inside.

  Nelson sat back and whistled softly. “And we have no idea what’s out there, what kind of machinery or entity might be doing the transmitting?”

  The Secretary of Defense laid both his hands on the table. “That’s where you come in, Commander. We’re scrambling a mission to travel to each location and discover the exact source of these signals. Collect samples and, if possible, the transmitting devices themselves. Get us some idea of what we’re up against here. For this kind of urgent mission, we need a highly specialized astronaut with the right background for the job. I’ve been told you’re just the man for it.”

  Nelson, finally confronted with his part in the plan, sat up straight as a rod. “To fly a manned mission to Saturn?”

  “And to Neptune, and to Eris,” the Secretary said, nodding. “I gather that it’s quite a long trip. But you’ve got the spaceship for it, don’t you?”

  “You mean the X-57?” Nelson asked, looking over at Becker. “It’s a lander, not a long-distance vehicle. And it’s not outfitted for a mission of that duration. You’re talking—”

  “It will be shortly,” Becker said, looking over the paper on top of his stack. “With all resources shifted to this mission on emergency priority, I think we can assemble our interplanetary vehicle in orbit and be mission-ready in just under eight months. The X-57 will be the command module and the surface lander, and the larger vehicle will be AI-controlled.”

  Nelson stared at his director, dumbfounded. Nothing like this had been attempted since the Cold War. This was history-altering. The back of his neck tingled as he realized that he was either the subject of a bizarre prank, or he was about to become one of the most scrutinized individuals of all time.

  The Secretary, impatient with the astronaut’s reaction, raised his voice. “Commander Nelson, these signals, whatever they are, have created quite a stir in the international community over the past several hours, and certainly in the White House and in my office. We don’t know what we’re looking at here. We’re flying blind! It’s quickly escalating from nifty scientific find-of-the-century to the gravest threat to national security we’ve ever faced.

  “The ideal window to launch this mission would be three years from now, or so I’m told. But there is a manageable window at the end of June, and our intel is telling us that the Chinese are already shooting for it. We can’t allow that to happen.”

  Nelson shook his head in disbelief. “So now it’s another space race with the communists?”

  The Secretary grew even more stern, interpreting Nelson’s comment as a challenge. “That’s right. And in my department, we’re not into losing, especially when there’s potential alien contact going on. Are you up for this
mission, Commander?”

  Nelson nodded respectfully. “Yes, sir. Absolutely. I’m your man.”

  Becker chimed in to calm the moment of tension. “Most of the international space exploration community is getting behind us on this and following our lead, because we have the infrastructure in place to pull it off. We should have billions pledged by nightfall to speed up the artificial hibernation program and other technologies that aren’t quite there for a decade-long mission.”

  Nelson was floored all over again. Matthew, noting the look on his face, nodded and advanced to a slide that showed transit times between the signal locations, using planets for gravity assist. “Eleven years round trip, Commander. You’ll be in stasis for most of it, though.”

  “Yeah, but Abby won’t,” Nelson muttered. He swallowed, glanced at the Secretary, and then back at Becker. “Of course I’ll do whatever it takes, sir. But can I ask why we aren’t just sending a probe?”

  “We’re looking into the feasibility of sending advance probes to attain survey data,” Becker replied, “but it’s simply too important a mission to trust in the hands of remote operation. In the event that a probe encountered the unexpected, re-configuring a follow-up mission would take several more years. We need someone out there who can adapt and respond to the situation as it unfolds.”

  The Secretary of Defense cut in with a series of emphatic hand-waves. “Nelson, we’re not just sending you to some distant rock in hopes of gathering a little scientific information. Whatever those transmitters are, they were put there for a reason. We need real-time decision-making. Humanity’s outstretched hand! The bottom line here is that we are facing the real possibility of first contact. We want you to be Earth’s ambassador, scientist, investigator, and advance scout.”

  The beefy man glared down the table at Nelson. “You’ll be gone a long time, Commander. Can you handle this? Can your wife handle this? You’re duty-bound to go, as I understand it, but Director Becker here requested that you be given the option of refusing the mission. In case you don’t think you’re fit for it.”

  Nelson looked at Becker, who shrugged.

  “I wouldn’t have put it in quite those terms,” Becker said, “but I think it’s important you make the commitment voluntarily. I shouldn’t have to tell you that despite our full efforts to support you, once you get out there… well, with a first-time mission like this there’s always the possibility that it becomes a very permanent decision.”

  Nelson squared his shoulders. “I cannot refuse the chance to make one of mankind’s greatest discoveries. Perhaps the greatest discovery since the birth of our species. I am your man, and I will complete this mission. And don’t worry about my wife—she’s NASA herself, and she can manage. She’ll be thrilled.”

  Becker nodded, but Nelson saw him almost wince at the mention of Abigail. Becker knew Abby personally. He’d always been a softy when it came to crew families, and Nelson could tell he didn’t like the prospect of burdening two of his own with an undertaking immense enough to bend or break them.

  The Secretary nodded his approval. “Good. That’s what I want to see. Now, we’re going to announce the mission tomorrow morning. Get a jump on things for once, keep those Chinese guessing. I don’t want a word of this leaking until then. You tell your wife, Commander, but no one else. And Becker, I want daily status updates for the next eight months. You can run them through my assistant here. I’ll see you in the morning prior to the press conference.”

  With that, he swept from the room, his blonde assistant in tow.

  “Is this all for real?” Nelson asked once they had gone.

  Becker nodded, then creased his forehead and frowned. “You’re sure about this, Nelson? You can take some time to think it over. Talk through it with Abigail.”

  “They’re announcing it in the morning,” Nelson pointed out. “But fortunately I am sure. I’ve never been surer about anything in my life. This is what I was born for.”

  He slowly shook his head, mulling over the prospect of what he had so suddenly gotten into. “Man, oh man. Abby is going to flip. She’ll be so excited! And she’ll flip.”

  3 – The Separation

  “This is insane, Roger!” Abby shrieked, turning from the kitchen sink where she had deposited her uneaten dinner. Roger was still sitting, poking at his half-eaten lasagna. “You just signed away ten years of your life. Our lives! My life. What do you expect me to do the whole time you’re gone?”

  “Oh, I don’t know, you do pretty well without me when I’m gone for training,” Roger grumbled back, unwilling to match his wife’s emotional level but feeling indignant all the same. “When we signed on to this whole thing together, you knew what we were getting into. You were okay with it then!”

  Abigail threw up her hands. “That’s when I thought there could someday be a slight chance I’d end up a widow. You’re asking me to certainly be a widow, effective immediately, for ten years with no way out!”

  Nelson looked up at her, hurt. “A way out? Abby? Come on! I’ve never even questioned orders before, much less refused them. Now the Secretary of Defense has assigned me this mission in person, the most important space mission since Apollo, and you want me to weasel out so we can sit here and play chess together?”

  He gestured without looking at the side table where they kept a constant chess match going, making moves throughout the week as their individual schedules allowed. It was a point of connection the two working professionals had cherished throughout their marriage. Now it was Abby’s turn to look hurt.

  Nelson sensed he’d pushed too hard, and looked back down at his plate. “Anyway,” he sulked, “I still might die up there. So there’s your way out.”

  Abby let a tear roll down her cheek and quickly wiped it away. “So just like that, Roger? Some guy with a badge tells you to jump off a cliff, and you agree without a moment’s hesitation? Good soldier boy.” Nelson flinched but didn’t look up. “You don’t have to blindly follow everything they tell you, you know. You could choose your own path.”

  Nelson was silent for a moment. “This is my own path,” he finally said, putting effort into keeping his voice measured and cool. “It’s what I’ve chosen. It’s what I’ve dreamed of all my life.”

  Abby didn’t respond, so he got up to take his plate to the sink. He left it there and then stood in front of her.

  “I know it is,” she finally said. “I can see this is how it has to be. I should have seen it coming, and in some ways I did. But it hurts. Terribly. I never imagined it would hurt like this.”

  Nelson slowly nodded. “Abby, I just need to know if you’ll be there with me.”

  She held her breath for a long time, then let it out shakily with a half-sob. Staring at Nelson’s feet, she gently reached out and took his hand in hers.

  “The entire way, Roger.”

  Gradually they came together and leaned against the counter, staying there with heads resting on each other’s shoulders for a long, long time.

  The launch began slowly, as all such processes had to when it came to something as complex as space travel. Roger, who had rehearsed in the training module for months now, was bored to tears two hours in. But the thought of what lay ahead, the unknown entity that silently awaited his arrival out there on a distant moonscape, kept his imagination fired.

  Three days ahead of launch, the countdown clock had been activated and backup systems were all checked. Flight software and backup software was updated and loaded into mass memory, navigation systems were checked, and the mid-deck platforms were removed from the rocket that would carry the X-57 lander craft up to the point where its interplanetary vehicle, dubbed Magellan, waited in orbit. It had taken four separate launches to assemble and test, but no expense had been spared. Now it waited silently for its human pilot to arrive.

  On the day of the launch, propellants were loaded, umbilicals were detached, and a variety of other systems were checked out, in precise order: inertial sensors, communications, a
nd ascent switches. Much of this went on while Nelson and other mission control personnel were in engineering and weather briefings. These took even longer than usual, because they had space weather to account for that was much farther out than historically simple trips into orbit or to the moon. Once the Magellan got as far out as Saturn, all kinds of new factors were introduced.

  An entire team of assistants ran interference for the Nelsons, carefully limiting their exposure to the flurry of international attention the mission had generated. It was important for them to focus on the upcoming mission and avoid getting swept up in the psychological wars sweeping the internet. As if there weren’t a hundred million reporters and a few billion followers eagerly clamoring for every detail about the astronaut and his unprecedented mission.

  Finally the launch pad was cleared, external fuel tanks began loading, and Nelson could feel his adrenaline begin to rise at the prospect that soon, he would be in space. He meditated briefly to control his emotions and maintain the long, steady focus he would require to achieve orbit. The A.I. aboard the Magellan would perform auto-piloting duties admirably once in space, but getting to orbit would be largely the same crew-centric process that had put the space shuttles there.

  Roger’s exposure to others was limited by the pre-flight medical quarantine rules, but fortunately Abby had passed the medical check at 100% and was allowed access. They had a moment in private to say goodbye right before entry to the launch vehicle. Curiously, though, neither of them had much to say. They found that they had hashed everything out over the intense months leading up to the launch, and now that the day had arrived they chose to simply sit in silence for a while, holding hands. Being together for what felt like the last time. Abby leaned her head on Roger’s shoulder and they just listened to each other breathing.

  Then the call came for the crew to enter his spacecraft, and they had to part ways.