by Scott Baird
“I’m coming, Neil. I’m almost there.”
“Don’t forget to retract the fuel hose, sir.”
Nelson cursed under his breath and broke into an awkward run. Figuring out how to run on alien terrain in low gravity with the bulk of a space suit around his legs was a challenge he had not trained for, and a stumble would be costly. He concentrated on his feet and forced himself to slow enough to avoid falling.
Finally he reached the lander. He quickly deposited his hard case into the craft and then moved to where the fuel hose connected into the craft. He grabbed the hose and began dragging it out of the lake hand over hand, but it retracted into the ship at a snail's pace. The clouds were on him now, and a harsh wind swirled around the X-57.
“Neil, prime the VTOL's! We're going to have to get out of here in a hurry.”
“Yes, sir!” A loud hum from the rear of the craft penetrated his helmet.
With the hose finally secured, Nelson climbed into the lander’s small rear airlock and shut the wind out. He waited a few seconds for re-pressurization, then threw the interior door open as soon as its light showed green. He lunged forward and swung himself into the pilot seat, pausing only to open his helmet’s solar shield up so he could see the controls more clearly. “Full power, Neil. Let's launch as quickly as we can!”
“Negative, sir. This wind has created an unacceptably dangerous mix of gases around the ship’s exterior. We can't risk igniting rockets now, and a launch in high winds would be extremely dangerous in any event! We will definitely have to wait out the storm before leaving.”
“What?” Nelson cried. “That’s not your call. We can still make it! I've got the world's most important discovery in this case here, and I'm not twiddling my thumbs on this moon because of a little wind!”
“I have to insist on protocol, sir. The danger level far exceeds acceptable risk to the ship at this time.”
Nelson knew he could override the A.I. with a third directly stated order. But he also knew that Neil’s repeated resistance indicated a hard line beyond which he might not survive if he pushed his luck. “How long until the storm clears?”
“Unknown. Communications with the Magellan are still out and I'm receiving no further data from Ferdinand.”
Nelson sighed. “We'd better not miss our orbital exit window.” He looked out at the storm as it raged around the lander. Methane rain began to pelt the glass, and the sound of debris being picked up off the crusty ground and ricocheting off the sides of the ship made him flinch. He punched the seat of the pilot chair with his gloved hand in frustration.
“You seem distressed, sir. How are you feeling?”
“I'm fine, Neil. I'm having a great time. Thinking about having a picnic in here.” He exhaled slowly. “That was sarcasm, by the way.”
“Unfortunately, I'm not programmed to respond to complex emotional needs,” the A.I. replied, its enthusiasm significantly muted. “Perhaps Ferdinand will be able to assist you when we return to the Magellan.”
“Maybe, Neil. Maybe.” Nelson reached back and retrieved the sample case from where he'd secured it, and set it on his lap in the cockpit. “Are you still receiving the signal from this thing, Neil?”
“Yes, sir. Loud and clear. Please be advised that guidelines from Mission Control require safe storage of all artifacts immediately upon collection.”
“Right. Are there any particles coming from it, any radiation that you can detect?”
“Just the radio signal. But mission protocol states that it is important to store it right away.”
“I know,” Nelson replied. He opened the case and stared at the ball, sitting innocently in its transparent sample container. It was sending him a silent message, one he couldn't receive with his biological senses, but which was real nonetheless. How could such a small object project a signal so far through the solar system?
He checked that the cockpit was fully pressurized and the temperature was back up to habitable levels, and then he opened his helmet visor and removed the gloves from his suit. A faint smell of charcoal lingered in the cabin, and he wondered if he’d brought some dust in on his suit. The airflow inside the cabin was steady.
On impulse, he picked up the sample container and cracked it open to get a better view of the object.
“Sir, the properties of this artifact are unknown. I must advise you to exercise extreme caution in handling it.”
Nelson reached out a finger and touched the ball to get a sense of its texture and hardness.
It instantly glowed where his skin came into contact with it, and the sphere emitted a loud tone reminiscent of the major chord he had heard in his first briefing. It echoed inside the lander's cockpit.
The tone was accompanied by a visual event. He could only describe it as a hallucination. An immense star field flashed through his mind, even as he was still looking at the object sitting in its container with his un-gloved finger touching it. He was still in the lander, still lucid, but the visual sensory experience was real and vivid.
He instantly retracted his finger in shock, but the image was so deeply impressed on his mind that individual stars still stood out in his memory. Startled and fearful, he dropped the whole container and watched as the sphere bounced gently on the floor and rolled to the side of the cockpit.
“What was that?” he whispered, stricken.
Neil picked up on his question and answered, though Nelson had really been asking himself. “The signal was interrupted momentarily, sir. The object seems to have responded to your touch!”
Nelson sat up and put his glove back on. “I really hope I haven't done something stupid. I just felt... drawn.” He gingerly picked up the ball again, with no reaction this time. He placed it back in the secure container and sealed the lid, staring at it for another minute as the methane storm raged across the alien landscape outside.
Later he realized that when he had touched it, the ball felt slightly warm to the touch. Little more than room temperature in the cockpit, really, but after being emerged in liquid methane the ball should have been so cold as to freeze the skin of his finger. It was a foolish experiment, done without calculation or caution.
10 – Stability Deficit
“As I said, we won’t know what’s happening until Commander Nelson returns the lander to the Magellan in orbit.”
Several journalists were on site for the Titan landing, even though the whole thing was being broadcast live online. Becker had to step in to answer questions every fifteen minutes regardless of whether he had new information or any answers. The public affairs director had demanded it.
“Whatever’s going on down there, he’s well equipped for it. And don’t forget—it’s already happened! The delay is over an hour. He’s probably already back at the Magellan as we speak. But if anything has gone wrong, well, we picked the man most capable of overcoming issues on his own. He’ll be fine.”
The reporters wanted a story, and the news that Nelson hadn’t made his first rendezvous opportunity with the Magellan had nearly resulted in “Astronaut Nelson Stranded on Titan!” headlines going out. Hopefully, Becker’s explanation would put the brakes on that.
A woman in a bright red jacket held up her recorder and asked, “What about Nelson’s wife? How is she handling this news, and can we get a few moments with her?”
Becker sighed. All Abby needed today was reporters getting in her face. As far as he knew, she had gone home to rest and be alone, but he wasn’t about to let the reporters know that. He checked his watch and realized he should have called her by now with an update on the mission progress.
“Abigail Nelson is a strong woman, one of our finest employees, and she’s holding up well in the face of intense pressure and public scrutiny. I’d request that you give her some privacy and let her deal with the stress on her own.”
“What stress?” the woman in the red jacket asked. “Are you referring to the possibility that her husband might not make it off Titan?”
B
ecker rolled his eyes. “Ma’am, we’re still well within our mission parameters. We planned for a number of scenarios, and nothing has gone wrong at this point. We’ll let you know as soon as we hear from the X-57 Lander. For now, I need to get back to Mission Control.”
He ignored the clamor of questions that followed him into the hall, and walked quickly through the corridors. But instead of entering Mission Control, he ducked into a conference room and called Abigail.
“Hey, Abby,” he said after she’d picked up. “Everything is on track. Roger is still on Titan, but we expect him to rendezvous with the Magellan on its next pass.”
Abigail breathed in and then out, carefully managing her response. “Thank you for calling, Gerald. I’ve had some time to sort out what’s going on here, and there’s nothing more to do at this point until the CIA gets back to me. I’d like to come back in and send another message to Roger.”
Becker fidgeted with his phone. “Uh, we can do that, Abby, certainly. But are you sure you’re ready? I think it might be better if you let us finish this phase of the Titan mission before you come back in.”
“My husband will only be awake for a few hours, Gerald. I need to be there.”
“Well… okay. But I’m going to send Matthew over to pick you up. There is a pack of ravening wolves in the media room and I don’t think you need the limelight right now.”
“That would be great. Thank you, Gerald.”
An hour later Abigail was back in the NASA facility. She wanted to check in on Mission Control, but Becker met her at the door.
“Abby. Let’s go to the Comms Center.” He quickly closed the door behind him before she could even see inside. Immediately, Abby’s senses were on alert.
“Gerald, what’s going on? Have you heard from the Magellan?”
“No, we haven’t. It’s still not time. But Secretary Stewart is in there, and he’s talking about barring you from access due to the security concerns that came up this morning. It’s best if he doesn’t know you came back in.”
Abby had to fight to control her breathing again as anger flared up and joined the fear and insecurity threatening to spill out of her chest and engulf her whole world. She followed Becker to Comms and sat down in front of the recording station.
She closed her eyes, formulating the words she wanted to say for transmission to Roger. But when she opened them again and saw the camera that would carry them to him, she suddenly burst into tears.
Bent over, shaking with sobs, she put her face in her hands. Becker stepped forward and put a hand on her shoulder, and she turned and hugged him where she sat.
“Gerald,” she choked out, “please tell me he’s going to be okay.”
“Sure he is,” Becker gently replied, rubbing her back with one hand. “We’re still on schedule. He’ll be fine, you can trust him.”
“I don’t think I can do this,” Abby said, shaking her head, tears streaming down her face. “I’m just scared. I’ve never been scared before, Gerald. Not like this!”
“You don’t need to worry, Abby. Trust Roger. He’ll come through, I promise.”
“It’s not just the mission anymore,” she said, shuddering through additional sobs. “I don’t even know if I’m safe! CIA surveillance spotted a car following me home yesterday, and it waited outside well into the night. And I haven’t even told you about the dreams I’ve been having!”
All Becker could do was let her cry. He waited awkwardly with her for another ten minutes, wondering if he really had made a mistake in recommending Nelson for the mission.
If Nelson didn’t make it off Titan, it would be the end of everything.
11 – Rendezvous
“Sir, the winds have died down, but there is still a high amount of residual methane and hydrogen in the air around the lander. I can only detect trace amounts of oxygen at this point, but I would really suggest waiting until that clears away.”
Nelson re-sealed his helmet and gloves. Not that it would help much if an explosion ripped apart the lander, but it made him feel better, and it would help against the turbulence. “We're out of time, Neil. If we miss this launch window, the Magellan won't be in docking range for another three hours and we'll miss our window for Neptune. I will not be running behind all the way to Triton and risk compromising the mission there. Prepare the ship for liftoff, and ready the VTOL's.”
“Done, sir.”
Nelson ignited the rockets himself, and the X-57 picked up and then lifted away from the ground faster and faster. Nothing exploded. He waved as the ground disappeared from view. “Farewell, Titan,” he breathed. “We hardly knew ye.”
As the lander left the atmosphere Nelson got a visual on the Magellan, small and glinting in the sunlight, as it moved along its orbital path. He adjusted the lander's course with a small of thrust from the directional jets, and came alongside the larger ship. Docking took several minutes, but then the light went green and he mated the lander successfully with the Magellan’s cylindrical hub. When the hatch slid open he emerged eagerly from the cramped lander cockpit into the rest of the recombined ship and stretched.
“Ferdinand! It's good to be back. You'll never guess what I found down there.”
“Welcome back, sir. I'm gratified that you found success on Titan. Our orbital window closes in five minutes.”
Nelson removed the sample container and artifact from the larger case, then stowed the bulky carrier in a secure cupboard in the ship's wall. “Roger that. Prepare the Magellan to depart Titan's orbit, and take a trajectory toward Saturn for gravity assist. You can handle the details.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And please queue up a new transmission on the main screen. I have news for NASA.”
A moment later, facing the camera in the back of the Magellan, Nelson spoke to the humans he knew were waiting with bated breath on Earth.
“This is Commander Nelson, reporting to Mission Control on a complete and successful mission to the surface of Titan. I located the source of the signal and recovered it for analysis. I've got it here aboard the Magellan with me now. I am preparing for immediate departure to Neptune, but first I’ve got to show it to you!”
He held up the sphere, nestled in its transparent box. It looked curiously small and unimpressive in the fluorescent light of the ship, somehow less mysterious and awe-inspiring than when he'd pulled it from the frigid lake on Titan's surface. But he knew that the knowledge of what it represented would command the world's attention anyway.
“It was submerged a few inches down in Punga Mare. Whatever this thing is, it's completely self-contained—no external power source or other equipment. Just this little ball.” Nelson held the box closer to the camera and steadied it to make sure the auto-focusing lens would get a good look at the object inside. “Still transmitting steadily, so it apparently doesn't draw its energy from the sun or anything on the surface. And it's not radiating anything detectable in here. I'll send over a full analysis once I'm safely en route to Triton and can run some tests. But I thought you'd want to begin your celebrations now. We've done it! Extraterrestrial artifact number one, right here in my hand.” Nelson couldn't help grinning widely. “Commander Nelson, out.”
He ended the transmission and sent it on its way, then began a new one, this time marked private for his wife. “Abigail, I did it! You aren't going to believe what I found on Titan. Becker will decide when and what to show, but... I did it! I found the source of the signal!” He knew he sounded even goofier than in his previous transmission, like a proud kid showing off his latest project. But he couldn't help it.
Ferdinand's voice broke in behind him. “Commander, we need to leave orbit in thirty seconds. Please take your seat for this maneuver.”
Nelson sent the message to his wife and hurried to the pilot's chair. He sat at the controls and strapped in as a pulsing countdown on the screen overhead neared zero.
“Fire the rocket, Ferdinand. Take us to Triton.”
Later, after hours of
careful examination of the sphere and many photos from every angle, Nelson paused and rested against the wall opposite the work table. He stared at the sphere, now housed in a sealed glovebox that was dialed to a temperature and atmospheric pressure similar to that of Titan. The thing sat, quiet and unassuming, betraying no detail of its true nature.
He had measured it, shot x-rays at it, manipulated it with the thick rubber gloves that allowed him to reach into the interior of the sealed box. He’d even tried to chip and drill into it, but so far the object defied conventional lab procedure. He still didn't know what it was made of, what was inside (if anything), and how it was capable of transmitting such a powerful radio signal.
It was a puzzle, a tantalizing mystery, and Nelson did not want to go to sleep without getting a better understanding of the thing. But what was the next step to unlock its secrets? NASA’s procedure manuals were the opposite of creative, and contained nothing more to suggest a new angle of analysis.
“Transmission from Mission Control, sir,” Ferdinand said, breaking Nelson from his reverie.
“Play it. Should be from Abigail,” Nelson replied.
Instead of his wife, Becker's face appeared on the screen in the corner near Nelson's workplace. “Congratulations on your discovery, Commander Nelson,” the NASA director enthusiastically began. “This is truly a historic day! We are indeed celebrating here, and we eagerly await your full analysis of the artifact. Please make absolutely certain that you follow the procedures outlined in your mission documentation. Ferdinand can guide you through it as well. I cannot stress enough how important it is that you follow specific protocols now that you have the artifact on board. Things are getting a little testy with the Sec—with certain elements involved in this mission. Please take extreme caution not to taint the object or let it interface with the ship or anything outside of its secure testing environment.” Becker paused for a breath. “We look forward to seeing the results of your tests. And again, congratulations!”