“Mr Pachacuti, I must speak to Chief Blade right now.”
A small uncomfortable silence left everyone listening in the air for a second.
“One moment, Deputy Chief. My commander will explain the situation right away.”
“Deputy Farman, this is Commander Gremmins. Chief Blade, following his instinct and against my orders, has boarded one of the warehouse ships that unfortunately suffered a breakdown and wandered aimlessly away from the station.”
“Are you sure of that, Commander?”
“Yes, in our last communication with the Chief he confirmed that he was on the hull of the ship and that he was about the enter the upper pressurized hatch.”
“Why would he do something like that after the explosion?”
“I still don't know, the terrorists were killed in the blast and the chief helped save the station from anything worse, like an uncontrolled decompression... But then, based solely on his own judgment, he made a very risky manoeuvre to board that ship.”
“What ship is that, sir?”
“The 'Dead Parrot', and before you ask, it was only one of our cargo ships, with no crew at the time of the attack, full of spare parts and screen parts.”
“For my part, I am extremely confident in Chief Blade's judgement, and I'm sure he must've had a good reason to act that way, sit. Do you have any information about the vector the Dead Parrot followed?”
“Mr Farman... We follow the Dead Parrot with one of our telescopes and I regret to inform you that about thirty minutes after leaving the station, it suffered what looked like an explosive decompression, followed by a fusion reaction, perhaps caused by a fault in the main reactor...”
“Are you telling me the ship exploded, sir?”
“From what we could see with the tracking telescope, the explosion was brutal. We don't expect to find any survivors.”
“But Chief Blade could've left the ship before the explosion. We should start a search, maybe this ship could...”
“No, Deputy Chief!” said Commander Gremmins sharply. “As you'll understand, I won't authorize the San Francisco or any other ship in this fleet to risk more lives to save one man.”
“But, sir. The chief could be adrift and...”
“I'm sorry, Deputy Chief. But none of the ships can abandon their relative position with respect to the station until the central node is repaired and the crews are safe. Then we'll organize a search. Chief Blade is a resourceful person, Mr Farman. For now I ask for your patience.”
“Very well, sir,” said Farman unconvinced. “I'll be grateful if you keep me informed.”
“As soon as we repair communications, I'll send you a report with the chief engineer.”
“Thank you very much sir.”
Communication cut off immediately and Farman addressed Captain Timms in the San Francisco.
“Captain, I'm sure I can help my superior, but I'll need assistance to do it.”
“Daves...” Captain Timms used Farman's first name to speak with him in confidence. “Puntshó is a comrade in our army, I knew him myself when we were trained in Bristol many years ago. Believe me, I'd like to do everything I can to give him a chance. But Puntshó is most likely dead, if he left the ship in time he'll be floating somewhere out there; we don't know where and there's no way I can take a ship this size on a search like that without being immediately relieved from my post. What do you think we can do?”
“I can get the Dead Parrot's flight vector at the time it left the station, I can narrow down a search area and give Puntshó a chance. Besides, I want to see the ship's remains. I don't think it was only carrying spare parts and screens.”
“I can help you with the flight vector, if I'm not mistaken we were filming it with our own telescopes when the bomb exploded and we have every ship's location. It'll take us a while, but my boys can figure out where that piece of junk went.”
“Good, that'll be a huge help, Captain.”
“As for your means of transportation, I think I have an idea, but you'll need to leave me out of it. I'll put you in touch with some friends in another of this fleet's ships and if they agree you can have theirs.”
"How can I thank you, Captain?"
“You know... one box of those "Chablis" that your family keeps in that cellar in Toulouse and I'll consider myself well paid.”
“If we can rescue Puntshó you'll get a couple of boxes every year, my friend. Now tell me your plan to get me into that ship.”
A ray of hope
Hyperion didn't have much gravity as it was mostly an irregular rock made of water ice and rubble. But in spite of it Puntshó noticed he'd began to orbit the small moon. He recalled that this moon in particular had less than one percent of Earth's gravity and thought he'd be able to land without a problem if he only had some sort or propulsion or flight suit.
He looked at his weapon and silently reproached the fact that it was so efficient and that the designers had eliminated its recoil. Anyway, he thought calmly, landing wouldn't help him, only perhaps to die lying on a surface.
He was flying a few hundred meters away from Hyperion and the little moon always showed him the same face, as he was synchronized with the rock's rotation. He watched the amount of caves and pits closely. An idea had grown within him as he thought about the satellite's composition.
He had no way to increase his suit's radio's power; he thought about the other equipment it contained and nothing could help him create any kind of distress signal. He recalculated how much air he had left; just about two hours. Then the air inside the suit would quickly reach poisonous levels, perhaps within a few minutes. Having exhausted every possibility, he looked at his weapon again and thought maybe it could be useful after all.
He spent several minutes manipulating the particle gun's power control, to find the right shot. He programmed the weapon to have a higher focused and continuous beam temperature. He tried very short and high power burst and then shot towards the small moon's surface, trying to lift some stones off the surface.
It took him several shots to achieve the effect he wanted. Then he began firing at the icy surface, making circular clouds of ice and dust rise off the surface, which floated a short distance from the moon.
Three short shots, three small clouds. Three prolonged shots, and he obtained the desired effect, three more elongated clouds. He repeated this operation a couple of times and then shot a different area. In less than half an hour, sets of icy clouds slowly moving away floated on the small moon Hyperion. Each set consisted of three small circular clouds, followed by three larger and elongated ones, followed by three other small clouds.
“If anyone sees this S.O.S. in space, I'll have to patent it when I get back to Earth. Now let's light the fire!”
He changed his weapon's configuration to emit a continuous and very fine beam, using the least amount of energy possible. He pointed inside a beautiful ochre cave he found in his field of vision and supporting his weapon's butt against his chest, he fired right in the centre of the cave's entrance; and then kept firing.
A thick, grey vapour began to rise like a spouting volcano, and began to be expelled into space, creating a dense cloud that extended towards Puntshó and which largely exceeded the small moon's diameter.
Puntshó kept firing and smiled inside his suit.
If the Sioux Indians saw me now...
Ferry
Captain Timms of the San Francisco, contacted the exploration team aboard the "Reina del Plata" spacecraft, which was orbiting about two thousand kilometres from the station, and put Farman on the line.
“Hello, this is the station's deputy security chief, Daves Farman. With whom am I speaking?”
“Hello, Mr Farman. This is Enrique Santos, the geologist in charge of the Beagle expedition. What can I do for you?”
“Captain Timms informs me that you have two landing ferries prepared for exploring the gaseous giant's small moons.”
“That's right, Deputy. The intention is t
o land on several smaller moons with very low gravity and perform mineral studies and atmospheric measurements. Besides we'd be the first to perform these sort of landings with a human crew.”
“I'd need you to lend me one of your ferries.” Farman dropped the bomb without giving his interlocutor any time to react, who first looked frightened and then incredulous.
“Are you serious, Deputy Chief? These are very delicate and yet very rough ships, designed for travelling between moons. If you plan on travelling back to Earth with one of these forget it!”
“It's for a rescue mission. The station's security chief was trapped in one of the ships that moved away from the station and I have to try and bring him back.”
“I heard what happened to Chief Blade; news fly in a small fleet. I'm really sorry, but you need to assume that your boss is dead. As you know our long range antenna can capture the station's emergency internal communications and from what we've heard, there's no hope of rescue. On the other hand Chief Blade saved the station... He tried to save lives and I don't think it's a good idea for you to risk yours for such a low probability of bringing him back.”
“As you say, he saved a lot of lives today. Even if I can't rescue him, at least I need to try and understand why he boarded that ship. This goes far beyond rescuing him or his body. If you heard the station's transmissions you'll know that he boarded that ship because he considered it dangerous.”
“You're right about that, Deputy Farman, it's was a strange action. But what do you think you'll find in the ship's remains?”
“I need your ferry to figure that out.”
“All right. I don't like lending my equipment to other people, but if there's the slightest chance of rescue, you should try. Do you really think there's a chance of bringing him back?”
“Knowing Puntshó Blade, I'm sure there are possibilities.”
“Let's not talk anymore, if you can make it official, with some sort of paperwork, I'll organize a rendezvous with your ship and you'll be able to use the UNO shuttle.”
“Don't worry, in Chief Blade's absence, I'm in charge of the station's safety, I will find a way to make it official so it doesn't cost you any trouble. I appreciate it a lot.”
“Don't thank me just yet. Have you ever flown a tractor with rockets?”
“Believe me, I'm an old school pilot, I can fly a broom, if you show me where to “start.
“Well, you'll need all your expertise. I'll try to load some extra fuel so it'll have greater manoeuvrability and we'll monitor your radio-beacon so we don't lose you too. And another thing; I want it back in one piece, understood?”
“Don't worry, I'll have the carpets cleaned after I use it.”
Chief Santos spoke to someone away from the microphone and then spoke to Farman again.
“Well, the captain of the "Queen of la Plata" has set sail for the San Francisco. If Captain Timms can move towards these coordinates, we'll meet there in half an hour. I'll send you the ferry's technical sheet, so you can take a look.”
“I thank you sincerely, Chief Santos.”
“Just bring that crazy man back in one piece. Over and out.”
Farman looked at Captain Timms, who was listening from the other side of the bridge and he nodded as he entered the coordinates into the manoeuvres computer.
Witness
Puntshó floated sleepily, slowly orbiting the small moon Hyperion. His pulse weapon had lost its battery a long time ago, but the cloud he'd created had spread out, creating a kind of frozen tail that stretched across space. From his position the show was quite beautiful.”
The low oxygen alarm started ringing, which meant that his suit no longer had any reserves and could no longer process the indoor humidity to produce a breathable mixture. He had drunk very little and connected the canteens to the electrochemical air production system. This had given him about twenty more minutes of breathable air. However, he was now out of resources.
He was beginning to feel a very recognizable dizziness and numbness, while the flashing red light insisted from within his viewfinder and the vocal warning echoed in his ears. But now everything seemed distant. An inexplicable peace invaded him completely, overcoming his instinct for survival he gladly plunged into darkness. His mind turned off slowly.
“Everything is dark, I no longer breathe, and there are no more thoughts.”
Although he couldn't define it with words, he was surprised to notice that despite having no thoughts, no ideas, no memories; right in that timeless moment in which he was submerged in the peaceful darkness, he was still present.
A latent witness, a being observing the circumstances, life and even his own forgotten thoughts.
He tried to identify with that presence, but his self-had disappeared. And without warning that vacuum was no longer dark, but full of a light that came slowly from both possible and impossible angles. A slow burst of pure light, enveloping him in warmth, equanimity, and perfect tranquillity. A loving and quiet light.
And he stayed there in that luminous presence, for a second or millions of years. A time without time, a light without light, a presence more present than any other.
Suddenly the pattern changed and an unspoken message materialized in his consciousness; written in the pure language of love, which was the essence of that light. Then he knew he had to go and where to go.
The light pulsed once and his memories returned. Twice, and all forgotten questions echoed in his mind.
Another pulse of light and he felt the pain again. A familiar pain piercing his chest.
Risen from the darkness
Farman was flying the Beagle mission shuttle away from the Saturn station. He'd chosen to follow the Dead Parrot's route, starting from the side of the station. Passing near the scene of the blast, he saw crew members working in flight suits and emergency sealing panels. He paid no attention to the calls coming from the station's bridge, demanding identification and a flight plan and chose to accelerate to follow the last course the lost cargo ship had followed.
He had difficulty manoeuvring the small ferry, because he'd thought of it more like a landing and take-off platform than a flying ship. It was obviously ugly. A series of three fitted nodes one after the other. The first for the crew, the second for the cargo and the third for the engines. And it had a lower platform made of aluminium tubes and equipped with retro-rockets, which served as landing gear and a take-off platform. The important thing was that it had enough autonomy to travel between the giant planet's moons and even to land in the smaller ones. The expedition's director had installed an additional fuel tank in the cargo area, which would give Farman the chance to explore for longer, with the assurance of returning safely. The cabin, which had three seats, was comfortable, but didn't have artificial gravity, even though it did have a pantry full of portions and a small toilet in the back. Ugly, yes; but functional and surprisingly fast.
Once he'd set the route, Farman extended the communications antenna and checked that it was out of reach. He then took out his palmtop from his suit's top pocket, placed it on the dashboard, and pressed a series of key combinations that would've seem random to any other digital tablet user. A small three-dimensional projection emerged from the small device and occupied a space the size of a large screen, right in front of Farman. This projection showed him all of the components found in the ferry at that moment. He reached out and touched a bright area, which showed the bottom of the shuttle.
Let's see: Depth radar... I can use this.
He then touched several icons and connected the depth radar to the front sensor. The projection's image changed and showed an amplified view of the space in front of the shuttle. A kind of augmented reality in which energy measurements of nearby satellites and moons stood out.
“Think, Farman!” He told himself vehemently. “If they were to activate a door; where would they do it?”
He watched the projection for several minutes but couldn't find a trace of heat from the Dead Parrot, or any k
ind of gravity distortion that wasn't related to one of Saturn's natural satellites.
Then as he watched the virtual screen, an alarm began to ring, watery and musical; and a bright orange flashing light turned on in the middle of the projection. A strange icon accompanied that indication and Farman understood immediately what it meant: a gravity distortion, residues of a singularity and very recent implosion. He looked at the distance gauge and noticed that he was almost half an hour away from the scene and was saddened. He accelerated the engines to the maximum and got ready to explore a wide area around the distortion.
He arrived earlier than expected and appreciated the benefits of the ugly ship. There were no remains of any ship anywhere, if it weren't because of the screen that showed him that the distortion was still in front of him, one would think it was empty space.
It had been more than two hours since when he calculated the Dead Parrot had exploded there, and if Puntshó had managed to get out in time, he'd be at the limit of his oxygen supply. If it was inside the ship when the singularity opened, he'd be far beyond any rescue attempt. He tried using the radio, but received nothing more than static.
Come on, Puntshó! You have to be around here somewhere.
Then he asked his palmtop to calculate the distance a detritus of more or less seventy kilos would travel if it were pushed by the shockwave of an implosion caused by singularity, which had enough power to leave the kind of distortion he found in space at that moment. His tablet was much more than just a computer and Farman played a much bigger role than everyone else believed. But now he only wanted to rescue his colleague and then he'd worry about the consequences of not having prevented that experiment from taking place.
The virtual screen in front of him drew a three-dimensional sphere that took over a huge space. And Puntshó could be anywhere on that sphere's surface. He needed to narrow down his search.
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