Instinctively, each man placed a hand over his heart in the traditional Pledge of Allegiance maneuver.
“Good,” she said. “You know something about anatomy. Now look here.” She pointed to where Joshua’s heart was. “Notice the two chambers? One atrium and one ventricle. Humans have a four-chambered heart. Two atria and two ventricles.”
“What you’re describing is impossible,” Zell said.
“Not really,” Soong said. “Two-chambered hearts can be found even on Earth today.”
“They can?”
“Absolutely,” Soong said. “In fish.”
The men fell silent a moment. Then Donovan spoke. “So he could breathe underwater?”
Soong laughed. “He’s got a two-chambered heart, not gills. Although I’ll admit that I did check for them. You see, fish have what’s called a ‘single circulation’ system. Blood comes in through the heart, is oxygenated, then pumped through the gills and into the body. Humans have a ‘double circulation’ system. Blood enters the heart, leaves the heart, travels to the lungs, then back to the heart and out into the body.”
“So if he doesn’t have gills, where’s the blood going to be oxygenated?” Donovan asked.
“Good question, and I wish I had the answer. My setup here is much too primitive to get the kind of information we’re looking for.”
“Okay,” said Zell. “Here’s what I want to know. We know they’re engineered. So this discovery is less shocking than it could be. However, some things still don’t add up. Number one, if the purpose was not to have him breathe underwater, then why give him a single circulatory system?”
“Again, that’s something that a more complex autopsy might reveal. However, it might shed some light onto the kind of world Joshua was living in.” Soong paced in an effort to jog her thoughts. “All right, mammals have a four-chambered heart because they have a greater demand for oxygen. Just maintaining our body temperature requires more energy than fish or frogs. We also absorb more oxygen through the lungs than we do through the skin, again unlike fish. In order to meet these high demands, we need two extra chambers to create more pressure to force the blood through the body.”
“So maybe their demands weren’t as high,” Donovan said. “Maybe they’d found some sort of way to conserve body energy longer.”
“Or maybe there were changes in the atmosphere on Earth in their time,” Zell said. “Or on one of those terraformed planets or moons. Maybe they need less air or have found some sort of way to conserve the air they have. The other question I have is, how were they able to do this?”
“I don’t know,” Soong said. “I’ve heard of Nazi experiments that attempted to crossbreed humans and animals with horrifying results. Somehow, and for some unknown reason, these people seemed to have figured it out. I want to get a look at the files Joshua has in the memory banks of this ship. For all we know, fish aren’t the only animals they’ve experimented with. They could be using different pulmonary types for different tasks, different environments—especially if the worlds they terraformed weren’t exactly Earth normal. The list is endless.”
Zell ran his hands through his hair. “Whatever the case is, there’s more to the puzzle than we ever knew. Now, if only there was a way to communicate with the Copernicus. They could probably talk us through downloading all of Joshua’s information and getting it back to Earth.”
“Maybe there is,” Donovan declared.
Soong turned to them. “You think the computer can contact the Copernicus?”
“I wouldn’t put anything past a technology that can download seven hundred years of history into someone’s mind or conjure up consoles out of thin air.”
“Be careful,” Soong warned. “We’re really working without an instruction manual now.”
Zell spoke up. “Computer, can you find the ship located on the surface, in the Ocean of Storms?”
“YES.”
“Do you have the capability to make radio contact with it?”
“YES.”
“Open a channel,” Donovan commanded, then smiled at his comrades. “I always wanted to say that.”
“CHANNEL OPEN. YOU MAY NOW PROCEED WITH YOUR TRANSMISSION.”
“Copernicus, this is Donovan. Do you read me? Over.”
A second later Wilson’s voice filled the medlab. “Donovan, this is Copernicus. How the hell are you sending this transmission? Are you back on the surface?”
“Not exactly, Colonel.” Donovan couldn’t help but smile. “We’re talking to you from the starship Astraeus.”
June 29
Johnson Space Center
Houston, Texas
3:31 p.m.
John Dieckman poured himself another cup of coffee. He knew it would probably fill his stomach with acid, but he needed the caffeine badly. He hadn’t slept much in the past thirty-six hours, refusing to leave his post despite the gentle warnings he had received from his superiors. He needed to be in Mission Control. There seemed to be no one else who still believed they had a ghost of a chance of repairing the Copernicus. Nobody had said as much as of yet, but he could tell by the eyes of his engineers that they had given up hope long ago. So much for the can-do spirit of NASA. He peered at the Copernicus’s blueprints again through his reading glasses, hoping to find some way of cannibalizing the ship’s systems to repair the engine and get the crew back into orbit.
A hand gripped his shoulder, and he flinched at the touch. He turned to find Cal Walker standing behind him, a beatific look on his face.
“Any progress, John?”
Deke pulled off his glasses and rubbed his bleary eyes. “None. How’re things on your end with the sim?”
“We’re not having much luck either. When we designed these systems, we never planned for a complete rebuilding of the ascent engine on the Moon’s surface.”
Deke smiled weakly. “I thought you Apollo boys planned for every contingency.”
Walker lifted the blueprints from the desk. “Not for a catastrophic failure of the ascent engine. It breaks your heart to know that nothing can be done.”
Dieckman stood up. “I’m not ready to call it a day just yet. We’ve managed to get the Tai-Ping up and running. We’ll fix this problem too.”
“Of course, John,” Walker said, patting him on the shoulder. “I meant to imply nothing else. Perhaps I’m just too old and not of much use with this refit. Or perhaps I just keep thinking in the back of my mind of the scrubbers. Even if we find a way to fix the engine, the scrubbers may give out long before the crew can effect any repair.”
“I’m not at that step yet, Cal,” Deke said, taking the blueprints back. “I’ve got to fix the damn engine first.”
Walker glanced at his watch. “Perhaps we both need some rest. We’ll see things better after a little shut-eye.”
“You rest, Cal. I want to look this over a little more.”
“Of course. I’ll see you in a couple of hours.”
Walker stepped out of the room and walked down the hall. Around him he could hear the tired voices of engineers and mission controllers debating repair procedures. He pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed.
“This is Walker. I just wanted to give you an update. It looks like NASA will be unable to make repairs in time. Our work won’t be threatened.”
June 29
4:23 p.m., Houston Time
6 days, 10 hours, 8 minutes, Mission Elapsed Time
“So to sum up, Donovan, you’re on a ship, from the future, that came back into the past to stop genetic engineering from causing the extinction of the entire human race?” Wilson said in an even tone. “And you got this from the interactive hologram of a guy who’s been dead for about two and a half million years?”
Donovan sighed. It had taken him about a half hour to bring Wilson up to speed about their situation. It took additional time to convince Wilson, Benny, and Yeoh that no one had been drinking any of Zell’s smuggled scotch down in the fissure. Once Donovan had finally convi
nced his crewmates that the tale of the Astraeus was at least plausible, Benny and Yeoh began peppering him with questions about the ship’s technology and power supplies while at the same time explaining the difficulties they were facing in repairing the ascent engine.
“Helium-3,” Yeoh said, shaking his head in amazement. “Incredible. Powering that ship for millions of years.”
“If we could tap into it,” Benny added, still in a state of wonder over the scientists’ discoveries, “then we could repair Copernicus in a flash.”
“What if we didn’t have to?” Yeoh wondered, a smile in his voice.
Zell lifted his head from his screen. “What do you mean?”
“Well,” Yeoh began, “the ship is able to generate stable wormholes that move through both time and space. If we could figure out how to use one, then it could be possible that the ship could transport all of us back to Earth.”
“It didn’t work too damn well when they tried it,” Zell grumbled. “These ‘stable wormholes,’ as you call them, deposited this ship on the Moon more than two million years in the past.”
“Assuming this is all true, people,” Wilson said, clearing his throat, “Dr. Zell’s right. It’s too risky.”
Yeoh chimed in. “But maybe we could do a test run to see if it works.”
Wilson looked unconvinced. “What’ve you got in mind, Doctor?”
“If we can figure out how to generate a stable wormhole, maybe we could send something small from the Astraeus to here and back again. If it works, then we can recalibrate the parameters to move us from the Moon to the Earth.”
“Better be careful with your coordinates,” Zell added. “We don’t want to wind up in the middle of the Antarctic or the bottom of the ocean.”
“That’s what the test would be for,” Yeoh replied, his clipped tone showing uncharacteristic annoyance.
“Not on a person or anything,” Benny stressed. “At least, not initially.”
“But we need to figure out how to make it work first,” Soong added. “And that’s been the problem we’ve had down here: giving the computer the right commands.”
Donovan pulled a small rock hammer from his pocket. “I’m for it. How’s about we try it on this?”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Wilson said soberly. “I certainly haven’t approved this.”
“Well, I certainly don’t approve of it, Colonel,” Zell said. “But have you a better idea of getting us home?”
June 29
The White House
Washington, DC
5:30 p.m.
“That’ll be all for now, ladies and gentlemen. Thank you.”
The President’s national-security team gathered up their papers and rose in unison. As they began to file out of the Oval Office, the President walked back toward her desk and took off her suit jacket.
“General McKenna, could you stay for a moment?”
McKenna looked up from collecting his briefing papers. “Certainly, ma’am.”
The President waited until the last of her staff left the office. Once the door clicked shut, she gestured for the general to take a chair and offered him a drink. The President made up two neat, short glasses of scotch and handed one off to McKenna.
“Jim,” the President began as she swirled her drink around in its glass, “what if I told you that there might be a way out of this Taiwan mess?”
“Ma’am?”
The President took a swallow. “Despite the official line about us having cut off diplomatic relations with China, our two countries have maintained contacts through informal channels. I’ve just received a proposal from the Chinese government that could very well save our necks.”
“Ma’am, I don’t understand.”
“I’m sorry.” The President rubbed her temples. “I don’t mean to be mysterious. I’m just tired. The long and short of it is that the Chinese are willing to back off and leave Taiwan alone provided we share all technologies we discover on the Moon with them and them alone.”
The general nodded. “But surely they know we’ve already promised to share our findings with the world.”
“Of course. But they’re assuming—probably rightly—that no other country will be able to get to the Moon to verify what we’ve discovered for at least the next decade or two. Russia has no plans to get to the lunar surface in the near future. The Europeans don’t have the money and haven’t shown any real interest in human spaceflight. India could do it, but if they divert money to their fledgling space program, they’d stand a chance of hurting their economy.”
McKenna sipped his drink. “Even if we agree to such a proposal, Madam President, there’s no guarantee we’ll be able to deliver. The latest reports from NASA indicate that there’s a strong chance the crew won’t make it back from the Moon.”
“And with them all knowledge of whatever they might have uncovered. I know. But the Chinese seem willing to venture to the Moon with us again if need be. And if there’s any chance to avoid bloodshed—”
“If you’re asking my opinion, ma’am, I’d agree to the deal—provided that the Chinese sign a nonaggression pact with regard to Taiwan.”
“I doubt I could get any public promise. More likely an under-the-table gentlemen’s agreement.”
“The Chinese are good to their word, ma’am. But they also need to find a way to save face.”
The President set her drink down on the desk and sat on the edge nearest McKenna. “I want an honest assessment from you, General. If this thing goes to the mattresses, what’re our chances?”
“In a conventional war? Not good, ma’am. Our forces are more technologically advanced, but as far as actual manpower is concerned—”
“I know. I guess I just wanted someone trustworthy to tell me. The rest of the Joint Chiefs have been assuring me that we’ve got the manpower ready, but I can read numbers. Our forces are dispersed all over the world. China’s are concentrated in the mainland. They wouldn’t even have to call in additional forces from Tibet to take us on.” The President shook her head. “So we just have to hope for a miracle from the Moon.”
June 29
10:31 p.m., Houston Time
6 days, 16 hours, 16 minutes, Mission Elapsed Time
Donovan had been surprised that Wilson was so willing to keep the discovery of the Astraeus out of his transmissions to NASA. He had assumed the lieutenant colonel would want to issue a full report ASAP, but he seemed more than willing to hold off until they had completed their wormhole experiments.
“They wouldn’t believe it anyway,” Wilson had assured him, still not entirely convinced he believed it all himself.
Things must be more desperate with the ascent engine than Wilson let on, Donovan realized.
It took more than three hours for Benny and Yeoh to figure out the right commands to give to the computer that would allow them to download the Astraeus’s wormhole protocols. During that time, Benny and Yeoh had been relaying instructions to Donovan and the others with relative ease. Their initial issue was with regard to the vessel’s energy reserves. The Astraeus, according to their best estimates, likely had enough power left to send them home but far less than would be needed to move the entire ship through time and space. So the Astraeus would remain on the Moon, but Benny and Yeoh were confident that it would be able to get the six of them home.
Donovan knew little about physics, but Zell and Soong knew enough about the subject to explain stable wormholes to him in layman’s terms. The Astraeus had been designed with both standard ion-propulsion engines and a wormhole drive. The conventional engines were intended to bring the ship to a point in space far from any celestial objects it might run into as it made the jump in time. Once in the right position, the crew set coordinates and a date into the main computer. Then the ship would accelerate while at the same time generating a stable wormhole. Once it reached the event horizon, the ship would instantly arrive at the point in time and space the crew had plotted.
How
ever, since the ship itself wouldn’t be going anywhere, there would be no need to engage the conventional engines. Yeoh had extrapolated that any vessel with the ability to form matter from energy would also likely be able to generate smaller versions of wormholes to move objects back and forth within its confines. What he planned on doing—generating one of those wormholes to send the lot of them back to Earth—would be an extension of that program but not a great one. All they would be asking the computer to do would be to invert the wormhole—put it inside the ship instead of outside it—and send them to Earth approximately one minute after they would leave the Moon. They just needed to plot very specific time and space coordinates, which, as Zell liked to point out, was easier said than done.
Yeoh lifted his glasses to his forehead to rub his tired eyes as they finished their calculations. All looked right; the numbers added up. But creating wormholes, moving matter through space and time—he found it hard to believe he was about to test out a theory that was completely beyond their capacity only a day earlier.
Yeoh cleared his throat and asked Donovan to place the rock hammer at the central coordinates of the bridge. The computer aided him in this endeavor by shining a single light on the exact coordinates.
“You got that hammer in the right spot?” Benny asked, his Brooklyn accent bellowing through the bridge.
“It’s in the center of the beam.”
“Refresh my memory, gentlemen,” Wilson interrupted. “How exactly is that computer going to know where to place that hammer on the Copernicus? I don’t want it popping through a bulkhead or a window and depressurizing the cabin.”
“It’s pretty straightforward,” Yeoh explained. “I’ll send the computer the exact coordinates to the center of the Copernicus.” A pause was followed by, “Soong, do you see them on one of the screens?”
“All of them, in fact,” Soong replied.
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