Peterson let out a long breath as the rest of the explosive lights disappeared beneath the Surveyor's higher orbit. The shaking ceased. The noise dissipated. Everything, except for a few blinking warning lights, was back to normal.
The crew slowly climbed to their feet. They hovered around Harris and Choi, who were still seated at their consoles, breathing heavily. Choi punched a few keys on the console and switched on the autopilot.
Willard leaned close to Choi. "Did the electromagnetic shields hold?"
A sudden look of concern washed over Choi and she worked the keyboard with fast fingers. A diagnostic flashed onto the screen. Her shoulders sank with relief as she read the text. "A few failures, but the backup system kicked in. Shouldn't be too hard to fix. We're okay."
Peterson noticed that Willard didn't appear too convinced.
Connelly put her hand on the back of Harris's chair, stabilizing herself. "Please," she said, "someone tell me you know what just happened."
Choi looked over her shoulder and spoke, "They were charged particles…very large. Contact with the hull appeared to cause an explosive reaction."
"I know all that," Connelly said. "What I don't know, is what they were."
"I'm afraid no one knows that," Harris said, "but you're not going to believe this." Harris turned to his console's screen. "I had the computer analyze the speed and inclination of those particles, so we could know where they came from. There's no doubt about this, folks, they came from Europa's surface."
"No…"
Peterson didn't know who said it. He was too astonished to identify the voice.
He saw Choi's lips move and knew she was speaking.
"Perhaps this same phenomenon disabled the Orbiter in 2010?" Choi said.
Peterson shook his head and cleared his mind. When he finished, he noticed Connelly was staring out the clear ceiling, a smile forming at the side of her mouth. He followed her eyes and noticed a single bright orb, floating past. The sphere's light faded, flickered and disappeared.
When it was gone, he turned to Connelly. Their eyes met and a full fledged smile broke onto her face. "We have to get down there."
But Peterson wasn't so sure he wanted to any more.
* * * * *
With every footfall, Connelly's steps echoed a dull thud through the maze of hallways. She'd been told by her mother on several occasions that she walked on her heels, which created loud thumps when she walked. As a result, she was never good at sneaking up on anyone. The long, empty hallways of the Surveyor accentuated the noise created by her footsteps, so much so that she became annoyed by them.
She adjusted her stride so the sole of her foot struck first. The noise disappeared.
Mom was right.
Connelly looked down at the digital map of the Surveyor's inner workings, which was displayed on a four inch touch-screen. Below the screen were numbers one through eleven, each representing a deck of the Surveyor. The user could move around the map and zoom in and out by dragging a finger, or two, across its surface.
Sighing, Connelly stopped at an intersection and looked in every direction. She looked back at the map, huffed in frustration and took a right. Being an intelligent and self sufficient woman, Connelly was unaccustomed to being lost, but the ship was so new, and so vast, that she had become hopelessly lost after only five minutes.
Connelly picked up her pace in an effort to speed through the maze, knowing she would eventually find something she recognized.
Without looking up from the map, Connelly took a right, using her peripheral vision to guide her forward. Had she been using all her vision, she would have seen Peterson approaching, looking down at his own map.
"Oof!" Connelly collided with Peterson and fell backward.
Connelly let out a slight yelp as she toppled over, but felt a force beneath the small of her back push up and equalize her fall. In seconds she was back on her feet and looking into Peterson's smiling face.
"Is it just me," Peterson said, "or do you swoon every time we're together?"
Connelly pulled away from Peterson's protective arm. She wasn't sure how to respond. He was obviously joking, but she couldn't help but think he really wanted to know. She knew that men thought about sex…or women…all the time, but up here, in orbit around Europa, just a meteorite's throw from Jupiter, and having just survived a completely new extraterrestrial phenomenon, she couldn't fathom Peterson had enough room in his mind for romantic thoughts.
She then realized that since the floating light bulbs nearly killed them all, Peterson had crossed her mind once or twice, as well. Her face began to flush, but she put on a straight face and decided to ignore his comment.
"I take it you're lost too?" she said.
Peterson looked down at his map and shook his head. "This thing is useless."
Connelly smiled.
"How long you been at it?" Peterson asked.
Connelly rolled her head around on her shoulder, feeling two of her vertebrate pop. "Too long."
"Well then," Peterson said, as he switched off his map and pocketed it, "I say we explore. It's not like we can get any more lost than we already are, and the best way to learn something is by experience. We'll know our way around this beast in a few hours."
Connelly raised a single eyebrow. His skepticism was clear.
Peterson lowered his gaze. "C'mon. We have two hours before debrief…"
Connelly's expression didn't change. In truth, she was doing all she could to maintain it. She didn't want to show him an iota of above average interest.
"I won't hit on you," he said. "I swear."
A smile crept onto Connelly's face. She reached down, turned her map off and put it in the pocket of her gray jumpsuit.
"That's the spirit," he said.
They continued walking together. It was five minutes before either of them spoke again.
Connelly wracked her brain for a conversation piece. The uncomfortable silence drove her crazy. Anything work related seemed contrived and all personal subjects felt too…personal. She forgot all her concerns when a door label caught her attention. "What's that?" she asked.
"What?"
Connelly pointed her index finger to the text that caught her attention. "Bio-Lab."
Peterson walked to the door, which was labeled, BIO-LAB in bright yellow. "I think I know. They had something like it on the roof of the GEC building."
He pushed a button to the side of the door and it whooshed open. He motioned for Connelly to enter first. "After you."
Connelly wasn't sure they should be entering a laboratory she knew nothing about without the captain's consent, but the idea of returning to the never ending maze of hallways seemed torturous in comparison. She walked through the door and stood still as she took in the view.
The first twenty-five feet of the hundred foot wide room appeared to be a solid metal platform. Along the walls were long black lab tables. Atop each table were several odd looking machines, with solid black, octagonal shaped bases and a glass top that looked like a giant upside-down test tube. They ranged in size from six inches tall to almost six feet. The larger ones sat on the floor in clusters of five. Inside each of the glass cylinders were plants of various species.
But the strange glass containers weren't what captured her attention the most. Connelly thought the room must be as deep as a football field and maybe a hundred feet tall. From the platform to the back wall, which was barely visible, and covering all one hundred feet of width was a jungle. Scores of plant species grew in real soil and reached toward the ceiling. There were fruit trees, a large garden and flowers; brilliant beds of roses, daffodils, tulips and others were in full bloom. Connelly took a deep breath and smiled as the aromatic air swept through her nostrils. "What is this place?"
"A greenhouse. It provides a portion of our food and air." Peterson bent down and picked a deep red rose. He handed it to Connelly. "Amazing, isn't it?"
Connelly took the rose and placed its petals against he
r nose. She drew in a deep breath and felt her muscles relax.
"How does it smell?" a firm, feminine voice asked.
Connelly turned around and saw Choi standing in the doorway.
She wasn't sure if they were going to be in trouble for invading the bio-lab, but she decided it would be best to play it cool "Wonderful," she said. "But why are there flowers on board?"
Connelly offered the rose to Choi, who took it, smelled it and then handed it back. "Psychological studies have revealed that flowers have a calming effect on people. Long term space missions can be…stressful."
"That's an understatement," Peterson said.
Choi nodded. "Perhaps you'd like a bouquet for your room?"
Peterson chuckled.
Connelly was feeling more comfortable now. Choi seemed to have no problem with them being in the bio-lab. "What are these?" she asked, motioning to the test tube-like devices.
"Plant incubators." Choi walked to one of the larger units. "Watch."
Choi reached into a small pouch that sat atop the nearest table. She pulled out a single, tiny object that Connelly thought looked like a seed. After twisting off the glass top, Choi pushed the seed into the soil that filled the black base of the plant incubator. She replaced the top and flipped a switch on its side.
A mist sprayed into the glass tube, clouding the interior of the incubator. Connelly moved closer, trying to make out what, if anything, was happening inside the contraption. The glass slowly began to clear, like a windshield defrosting.
Peterson leaned in close next to Connelly. "I don't see anything."
"Just wait," Choi said.
The glass cleared and Connelly thought she saw the soil at the bottom twitch. She focused on the soil and saw it again. "It's moving," she said, her voice almost a whisper.
"Where?" Peterson asked.
Connelly pointed to the soil without a word. They watched, spellbound, as a small green sprout emerged from the soil and twisted upwards, growing at an incredible rate. After twenty seconds the sprout had reached three feet in height and had began to grow small branches and leaves. After another twenty seconds the four foot plant was pushing against the glass.
With her face almost mashed against the glass, Connelly gazed at the plant as the first signs of small, green tomatoes began to grow at the end of the nearest branch. Choi reached over and turned the machine off.
"We let the fruit begin to grow, but it has to finish at its normal speed or it spoils," Choi said.
"How…" Connelly stood up slowly. "How did you do that?"
"The plant's atoms are sped up, which causes a chain reaction in the plant's chemistry and cells. I'm not entirely familiar with the science behind them, but as you've seen, they basically make vegetation grow at an accelerated rate."
Connelly shook her head in disbelief.
Choi's expression changed as she looked from Connelly to Peterson and then back again. Connelly became suddenly self aware. She glanced at Peterson and noticed he was standing comfortably close to her. Their hands were almost touching.
"What are you two doing here, anyway?" Choi said, her tone suspicious. Choi looked at her watch. "Debrief is in ten minutes."
A look of shock appeared on Peterson's face. "We got lost."
Choi squinted at them, making no effort to hide her disbelief. "Then you can follow me to the conference room." Choi moved past them and strode to the door.
Peterson leaned over to Connelly. "It was fun while it lasted," he whispered.
Connelly crossed her arms. "You promised."
"So I lied," Peterson said. "Look, in my line of work, when you find something worthwhile, you go after it."
Connelly frowned playfully. "You're comparing me to dirt now?"
Peterson chuckled as he headed for the door. He turned to Connelly looking over his shoulder. "Dirt, no. A nice diorite maybe."
"A diorite," Connelly said, keeping pace behind Peterson, "doesn't sound too bad. What is it?"
"A rock."
Connelly laughed, but then sucked in her breath, not wanting Choi to hear her. As she exited the bio-lab, she glanced back and thought about how much the world around her was changing. Space exploration, extraterrestrial phenomenon, plant incubators. It seemed everything in the solar system was evolving around her.
CHAPTER 9 -- DEPLOYMENT
There were two things that Choi couldn't stand.
The first: infectious diseases, which she had spent the better part of her adult life battling on the job for the CDC, and personally after being diagnosed with Hepatitis C, which she contracted from her mother at birth—a fact that was kept from her employers at the CDC, and now, at the GEC.
The second was almost as bad: professional adults getting goo-goo eyes for each other, which she had spent all her life avoiding. She could feel the energy from Peterson and Connelly like it was a static charge in the air, and it made her cringe. To Choi, it seemed that the only human diseases that had no cure were lust, desire, love, and a slew of other emotions that made things of importance seem insignificant.
As she led Peterson and Connelly to the conference room from the bio-lab, she listened in on their conversations. Most topics seemed innocent enough, astrogeology, oceanography and extremophiles, but after joining up with the GEC, Choi spent enough time around crush-struck scientists to know that talking science and using big words was the equivalent of talking dirty to the layman. She'd attempted to be patient with them in the bio-lab, even amiable, but her patience was wearing thin.
Ever since making the move from the Center for Disease Control and Prevention, Choi had discovered a new world of annoyances. Six years ago an outbreak of a mutated common flu swept across the globe. Science predicted common illnesses would reemerge as modern plagues, but mankind had ignored the warnings, bathing in antibacterial soaps, popping antibiotics whenever a sore throat struck, and taking vaccines for every ailment imaginable. The resulting super germs were nearly unstoppable and humanity's immune systems—adapted to having antibiotics and vaccines do all the work—were weaker then a newborn baby's fifty years ago. But of all the new strains of germs, bacteria and viruses that cropped up around 2015, the flu was the worst.
The original outbreak started in Omaha, Nebraska and spread across North America, moving with the produce shipments. It had reached both coasts in three days and before anyone realized it was worse than the seasonal flu, it had leapt to every continent on Earth. Choi was relatively new to the CDC, but they recognized her talents immediately and put her on the first response task force.
Choi's work led to the development of a vaccine, which was mass produced and administered globally, saving countless lives. But the result, while a success for Choi, had been a stunning failure for the human race—two million people died from the flu in 2015.
Choi had dedicated her life to stopping illness before it got out of control. She'd become renowned in her field and a celebrity face at the CDC. It was almost on a daily basis that she was approached by a newspaper, magazine, television news show; even the FBI and CIA had tried to recruit her. But the strangest offer she received was from the GEC. She had laughed when Nancy Heintz introduced herself over the phone.
"What does the Global Exploration Corporation need with an infectious disease specialist?" Choi said with a note of sarcasm.
Choi remembered Director Heintz's next words perfectly. They had changed her life. "I am well aware of your achievements Dr. Choi, and I commend your work. The world is a safer place because of you. But new threats arrive at our doorstep every day. The Global Exploration Corporation's work places our staff at the outer reaches of the global frontier. Did you know that over seventy-five percent of new infectious diseases are first encountered by GEC employees?"
Choi had heard of several cases involving the GEC, but had never totaled them, and would have never guessed the percentage to be so high. Her interest was immediately piqued, though still reserved.
Nancy continued, "Working with us
will give you first access to these diseases as well as provide a measure of safety for our scientists, who are some of the brightest minds on the planet. We would place you on the forefront, where your talents could be used to stop these diseases before even one human life was lost."
"But the GEC doesn't have the resources I would need to—"
"Dr. Choi, you will have all the resources you require. Even more than the CDC provides."
Choi was speechless. She'd been made the best offer anyone had yet to make. And it was from an organization that had nothing to do with infectious disease. Or did they? Choi's mind spun through the possibilities.
"What aren't you telling me?" Choi said.
Nancy was silent on the other end.
"Tell me now, or the answer is no."
What Nancy told her next sealed the deal. The human race was going to other worlds and if life was discovered it would almost certainly first be discovered in the form of microscopic germs, viruses and bacteria. The GEC was exposing the world to a vast spectrum of new dangers, and Choi, it seemed, was their chosen leader in the defense of humanity from the extraterrestrial sniffles.
When Choi found out about the Europa mission and the incident in the Arctic, she insisted on being on the mission. She couldn't sit back and monitor the situation, like she did with Mars. She had to be there at ground zero, because what she saw in the Arctic, at Peterson's discovery, was one of the most unusual, complex life forms she had ever seen. The man, Benson, had been killed in seconds with some kind of virus or poison that had simultaneously affected his mind and body. There was nothing else on Earth like it. She felt it was her position to make sure it stayed that way.
No one argued her point when she volunteered to be the mission's second in command. And now here she was in space, defending the earth from microscopic invaders and listening to a couple of scientists ogle over thermal vents.
The door to the conference room whooshed open. She led Peterson and Connelly inside. She was glad to see Harris, Willard and Robert all waiting inside. "Take your seats and we'll get started with debrief," she said to Peterson and Connelly.
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