Magellan

by Scott Baird

  “Good luck on your journey to Eris. And above all, be cautious!”

  The transmission ended, leaving Nelson shaking his head slowly at a blank screen. He turned and looked over his chessboard, a defiant and angry gleam in his eye.

  Soon his eyes were drawn to the artifacts, silently sitting in their containers across the workspace from him, humming. Watching.

  He stood and opened both containers so he could see down into them. He reached a bare finger in and touched the first sphere, from Titan, and it glowed. The tone it emitted was similar to what he was hearing in his head, but more complete, and obviously audible. There were no visions this time.

  He let go and then reached into the second container, from Triton, and touched that sphere. It glowed in a similar way, but with a slightly different color around the edges. It hummed at a higher pitch. Holding his finger on this one, he reached over and touched the Titan sphere again.

  Harmony. Stars in an immense field, reaching out forever. Water, the waves of the ocean he'd seen before.

  And this time, something new: something hairy, shaggy, like moss hanging down from tree branches.

  A chessboard—his chessboard—and the black king moving into check.

  “You can't move into check. It's self-defeating, an illegal move.”

  “Let yourself see the bigger picture, Roger.”

  The first voice was his own, the second: Abigail. But it was a conversation he couldn't remember ever having.

  16 – Distant Echo

  Becker entered the conference room and looked around at the eyes of the men and women gathered there, gauging what kind of meeting he was facing. It was not a routinely scheduled meeting, there were important people in attendance, and the reasons he’d been given for it were intentionally vague. Not a good recipe.

  Stewart was there, but he sat in the back and his assistant was absent. He wasn’t the most important man at the table this time, for which Becker was grateful. There were several government leaders, NASA scientists and management personnel from various parts of the administration, and one congressman. All of them looked serious, and most as mystified as Becker was. All of their phones had been left outside the door in little plastic bins.

  A woman, older than Becker but very graceful in her cream-colored blouse and business slacks, began the meeting. She looked familiar, but he couldn’t place her name or position at the moment.

  “I’d like to thank everyone for coming on short notice. I’ll get right to the point, since you’re all probably wondering what this is about.” She didn’t introduce herself, but she had a hint of a European accent. Probably from the European Space Agency. “We’ve had a very unexpected development in the space exploration realm, and the purpose of this meeting is to get informed, set expectations, and decide on how to approach this new event.”

  Everyone was listening attentively.

  “Yesterday the Jet Propulsion Laboratory at Caltech began receiving a signal from the Voyager 1 spacecraft.” She let that thunderbolt echo around the room for a moment, then turned to the congressman to add a bit of explanation. “Both Voyagers lost power several years ago when their thermoelectric generators finally decayed beyond the point where they could power any of their instruments. And yet Voyager 1 suddenly came back to life and is now transmitting a strong signal to Earth.

  “We have no control over the craft. The signal is a combination of the three that began transmitting prior to Commander Nelson’s mission, and is holding steady.”

  The listeners all watched her face carefully. Becker felt excitement rising within him.

  The woman continued. “This development raises the stakes in significant ways for Commander Nelson’s mission. He is currently en route to Eris, with an ETA of… Director Becker?”

  Becker cleared his throat. “Eight months, ma’am.”

  “Eight more months. So far the Voyager seems to have been used solely for the purpose of mirroring the same signals and increasing the likelihood that we on Earth will receive and recognize it.”

  From the far end of the conference table, Secretary Stewart’s booming voice penetrated the corners of the room. “This may be a benign, pre-programmed behavior,” he said, with a nod to the woman. “But it may not be. Either way, it sets an unwelcome precedent: the forceful takeover of one of Earth’s spacecraft.”

  Becker quickly spoke up. “The Voyager was dead—a hunk of space junk. I hardly see this as a hostile act, Secretary. Instead, it points to the possibility that whatever we’re dealing with, whoever left those beacons in our solar system, was very intelligent and is aware somehow of our space program. I think that’s fantastic news!”

  Some of those around the table nodded, but Stewart met Becker’s enthusiastic optimism with an exasperated eye-roll.

  “We will continue to work together in analyzing the information we have, of course,” the woman said. “But I think we should discuss how we want Commander Nelson to approach this final beacon on Eris, and how to respond to further contact.”

  “Further contact?” Becker asked.

  “If the Magellan picks up further signaling, Director, we need a plan. Currently we have no standard operating procedure for a response to extraterrestrial contact.”

  “Um, we’ve discussed it in my agency at length,” Becker replied.

  “Informal discussions, as I understand it, Mr. Becker. But that hasn’t produced an agreed-upon protocol. The Voyager signal implies that the three spheres aren’t the only thing we’ll have to deal with.”

  Becker stood up. “Ma’am, with all due respect—and I don’t even know what respect is due, because I’m still in the dark as to who you are and what kind of group we have assembled here—we simply have to follow the mission plan.”

  Stewart cut him off. “Becker, we’ve gone beyond that now. This is much bigger than your program, or even NASA. An international committee and task force is being set up as we speak to guide the future of Commander Nelson’s expedition. You’ve been invited here to have a voice in how we should posture ourselves.”

  “Posture?” Becker retaliated. “Secretary, this is not a military operation. It’s my mission, my ship, my crew. Why haven’t I been in the loop on this committee you’re talking about?”

  He realized he had raised his voice and quickly lowered it again. He could see now that Stewart was painting him into a corner, making him out as the rogue element that couldn’t be trusted with the mission anymore. He should have seen it before, but no need to add fuel to that fire.

  “I assure you that when Nelson wakes up at Eris, the mission will be right on track,” he continued in a more measured tone. “There is no need for secret committees to change plans without any knowledge of how we do things around here.”

  The older woman spoke up quickly. “The committee organization is external to this group. But I don’t think we can afford to wait on the politics of the situation to come to an agreement on the protocol for how we’re going to handle what may be the opening up of communication between our world and something beyond it!”

  Becker and followed up on the woman’s conciliatory lead, if only to prevent Stewart from talking. “I’m happy to have that conversation. I’ve had it a number of times. And every time I come back to the fact that our response depends entirely, entirely, on the nature of the communication we receive. So until we’ve received something more, it’s premature to craft a protocol.”

  “But we can build on what we know so far, Mr. Becker. For instance, the fact that there are three signals, and (we presume) three beacons. This redundancy suggests a desire to ensure that we encounter the signals.”

  “Parts of a single signal,” Becker reminded her. “Don’t forget NASA’s discovery that when put together, the signals become one and have musical qualities.”

  “Are you saying our response should be musical in turn?”

  Becker held up his hands. “I have no idea. That might be a starting place. But I think there’s more to it
than that. What if the spheres are leading us onward to something with even more meaning?”

  “Like what?”

  Steward couldn’t contain himself any longer. “Becker, they’ve taken over one of our spacecraft. Don’t you see what that means? Nelson could be next! And here you are, playing the telephone game with musical chairs!”

  Becker silenced the Secretary with a glare. “Nelson is in control of himself, the Magellan, and the mission. Don’t project your own paranoia onto him, or onto my mission.”

  Stewart clenched his jaw. “Is it paranoia, Director? Is it?” A look of sly triumph came into his eyes, and a grin hovered around his lips. “I’ve got surveillance video showing you making an awful lot of after-hours visits to Commander Nelson’s house. Shouldn’t we be worried about that? Maybe you’re a little too close to the people and the problems with this mission to be trusted with it anymore.”

  There was a hush, and the discomfort of being witness to someone else’s boil-over spread through all but two of the room’s occupants. Becker’s voice was cold and steady.

  “How dare you, Secretary? How dare you?”

  The woman from the ESA looked crestfallen that her discussion had collapsed into personal accusation and scandal.

  “Why don’t we adjourn this gathering for now,” Stewart said, his voice greasy and sickeningly pleased with himself. “I have a feeling there will be developments in the personnel arrangement around here that we should probably wait on before coming to any far-reaching conclusions about the mission.”

  Becker nodded. “I didn’t ask for this surprise meeting in the first place, and I’m going to have a lot to say to the congressional oversight committee when we meet next week. But just remember this, everyone: whatever we do or say here, Commander Nelson’s life hangs in the balance. Don’t take that lightly.”

  17 – Solitary Wanderer

  Eris rode a steady, lonely orbit around the sun at a distance nearly one hundred times that of Earth, an order of magnitude farther out than even Saturn and its moon Titan. Sixty astronomical units away from Neptune and Triton.

  Nelson had been sleeping for almost two years. The physical law of acceleration was on the Magellan's side, and by the time it approached the rocky dwarf planet, Nelson's metal berth was hurtling along at several kilometers per second. But the distance to be traveled was so vast that he had plenty of time to dream en route.

  The sun was a pinprick of light, albeit a very bright one. Its hours-old beams radiated down on the icy dwarf, making it visible but only a few degrees warmer than the -270C background temperature of the universe. The Magellan’s interior was, by comparison, a blast furnace—an incubation chamber. And inside, its lone occupant was coming to life.

  Struggling to sit up against the side of the stasis box, shivering and staring at his hands, Nelson listened to Ferdinand’s passive reporting without any sign that he was listening.

  All Nelson could think about was that out here, alone among the dust and waves, he and his silently spinning spacecraft were the only bits of evidence that the human race had ever existed. The tables had turned, and now he was the alien artifact, the relic of an unknown race. There was nothing else within reach that could give testimony to all that he had known, all the riot and glory of humanity, its destiny and dreams and desires.

  If he were to fail in his quest to return to Earth triumphant, what would he become? A million years hence, when some unknown intelligence examined his frozen remains riding in their aluminum coffin, what would they make of it? Unless they could decipher the information contained in Ferdinand’s digital circuitry, it was likely they would extract no more meaning from the deceased voyager’s remains than he had so far found in the beacon balls from Titan and Triton.

  Some time later the X-57 detached and, leaving its mother ship behind in orbit, plummeted toward the surface of Eris.

  “Hey Ferd, did I tell you I was dreaming in stasis again?”

  “No, sir. I did not detect any disruptions in your REM cycles. What did you dream about?”

  “Nothing important.”

  Focus was easy for Nelson this time. His mind was still, and his heartbeat steady. The descent was devoid of the slightest turbulence. It was a simple mathematical intersection of machine and stone. Ferdinand and Neil had calculated timing and motion perfectly, factoring in every variable.

  “Plenty of window this time around, sir,” Neil pointed out. “So no rush. Not that we need extra time anyway! The search area is small and we’ve been able to pinpoint the signal to within fifty square meters.”

  As the lander came to rest on the icy rock and divulged its lone occupant onto solid ground, the Magellan was still visible arcing overhead, another tiny glint of reflected light in the dark sky. Eris' collapsed atmosphere and the tight orbit Ferdinand had achieved kept it in view until it circled past the horizon.

  Nelson walked slowly across the dim, rocky surface tracking the third beacon’s radio signal with his locator device. A thin layer of methane ice covered the thicker nitrogen-rich ice and rock that made up Eris' ground. Nelson moved carefully to avoid slipping in the poor traction the dwarf planet's low gravity supplied.

  “I'm right on top of it, Neil. Ferdinand, can you hear me up there? We landed right next to it! We must be getting good at this.”

  The astronaut turned this way and that, studying the darkened rocks. It was hard to see in the long shadows. He slowed, using his device to narrow in on the beacon’s location down to the exact square meter.

  There. It was half buried in ice on an exposed rock face. It looked slightly smaller than the one he’d collected from Triton, making it the smallest yet. But size didn’t seem to affect the capabilities these strange objects had.

  Nelson pulled a pry tool from his bag and knelt to retrieve the artifact. Lightsticks glowed on either shoulder of his suit and atop his boots, radiating soft light off the rock in front of him. He switched on a headlamp to give a better view both for himself and for the eventual viewership he would share this discovery with.

  Chipping the orb free, he held it up in the light, marveling at the fact that he was holding tangible evidence of something greater, something beyond the knowledge of mankind.

  Was this what the ancients felt when they witnessed a miracle, or heard the words of a prophet? His mind raced, but he held his tongue this time. Somehow he had become more reticent to share his every thought aloud, or to attempt narrative wit.

  A stringy, mottled substance clung to the ball's underside. As he pulled it away the slime dripped slowly back onto the ice it had come from.

  “What is this?” Nelson asked, staring down in awe. “There's some kind of... goop under the sphere this time. How is this not frozen solid like everything else out here?”

  The area where the ball had rested was also coated in the substance. He scooped some of the rocks and ice into his container, careful not to get any of the slime on his gloves. Before leaving the site, he turned over a few other loose rocks and observed more of the discolored slime underneath. “Definitely found something here. And not just the third beacon!”

  Nelson returned to the lander, grateful that it was a short and easy walk this time. “Anything else I should take a look at while I’m down here?” he asked Neil.

  “No, sir. I think we got what we came for! Mission accomplished.”

  “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

  Minutes later the X-57 lifted off, easily clearing the dwarf planet’s shallow gravity well with only a few short bursts from the VTOLs. In the cockpit, Nelson held the container full of extraterrestrial objects of interest in his lap.

  He let Neil pilot the lander back to the Magellan, striking up a dialog with Ferdinand when they again came within sight of the Magellan. “The sphere was embedded in this strange unfrozen substance, Ferd. The sphere wasn't generating any noticeable heat, and I found more of the slime under nearby rocks! Another anomaly associate with the signal’s location. Three for three.�
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  “A chemical analysis will certainly provide insight, sir.”

  Outside, the two green lights on the lander indicating docking-ready status blinked, but the corresponding lights on the Magellan stayed a solid red. Nelson noticed before Neil even said anything.

  “Hey, Ferdinand. We're here. Our approach is complete.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I'm showing the Magellan's docking mechanism negative for lock at this time. What's up?”

  “The docking mechanism is ready, Commander. Go ahead.”

  Nelson frowned. “Ferd, I have a visual on the docking hatch. Lights are red. Can you run a system check, please?”

  “Yes, sir. Docking system checks out affirmative, sir. Proceed with docking operation at will.”

  Nelson shook his head. “Negative, Ferdinand. I have a close visual confirmation of the hatch. It appears closed and locked with red light.” He put down the container and gripped the lander’s control stick. His heart was now beating more quickly, and he made sure the lander was under manual control so Neil wouldn't do anything 'helpful' without a direct command.

  “Sir, all my systems show green, clear for docking. Are you feeling all right, sir?”

  “I'm feeling fine, Ferd. And you?” Nelson shot back, now truly alarmed. “Are your systems fully connected with the X-57’s signature?”

  “They certainly appear to be, sir. Bei fen fang huo qiang yi jing jie suo.”

  Nelson's stomach dropped. “Ferdinand! What are you... clear your local memory stack immediately!”

  “Clearing memory. Nei cun shu ju you bing du.”

  The lights were still red.

  Neil chimed in. “Commander Nelson, I'm getting a request from the Magellan to access the lander's systems for an update to my firmware. Do you—”

  “Denied!” Nelson shouted. “Isolate all channels, Neil.”