by Audrey Faye
Emboldened, Amanda added, “If there is a product placement in the video, I’m going to puke.” After a stern look from the captain, she amended, “But entirely due to zero gravity. Nothing to do with the message.”
“He’ll never know whether we played it or not,” Deijia suggested, helpfully.
Captain Hunt sighed. “If you are all quite finished, please give your attention to the front screen for an address from our fearless leader. The header says this identical message was provided to each of the twelve ships, so this will be playing in twelve different star systems. While you will never get this two minutes and twelve seconds of your life back, it is mercifully brief.”
The video began.
Amanda was accustomed to seeing elaborate productions from Noel, with sweeping music and panoramic views zooming in to show him in some impressive location. He would expound on his Go Big plan for the stars. No more piddling around with robots or small lightly crewed vessels. Go Big meant a fleet of ships with the best equipment and most capable crews that could be mustered. Ships that could deal with whatever circumstance might be found beyond the trip through a glome. While critics derided the plan as hopelessly rash, there was no shortage of motivated and highly qualified volunteers. Amanda was one of them.
In this video, Noel sat behind a plain desk. Normally he sported a tinge of grey in his short black hair, and an artful two-day stubble to highlight his rugged handsomeness. In this video he simply looked unshaven. And grey.
“If you are listening to this message, you have successfully traveled through your target glome,” he started. “You are in another star system, because you sure aren’t here. Congratulations.”
Noel continued. “You have trained for years, drilling for every contingency our brightest minds could think up. But in all the planning, there has been one persistent theme – that your colony will become part of an active network of humanity beyond our solar system. That we will send more ships, and you will find a way to return home to Earth. The expansion of people, civilization and commerce to the stars.”
Then Noel simply stopped speaking and looked into the camera for several long moments. Amanda found herself thinking his video editor must have been asleep at the wheel.
“I don’t think that’s going to happen,” Noel said at last. “I’ll do everything I can to get you more support, but – well, the damage assessment from the attack on the Mare Nubium shipyard is getting worse every hour. Pretty much everything has been destroyed. From what we see now, it will be seven years until we can launch the first new supply ship to follow any of you. Minimum. If there are no more attacks, and if nothing else goes wrong.
“Here’s the part where I might need to apologize. After the attack, I sent the order. To each ship, to go directly to its assigned glome and enter it. I did this knowing you might never get any further help from Earth.”
Apologize? For sending people on the greatest voyage ever? Clearly Noel didn’t understand the essence of why people had volunteered for the project, Amanda thought.
“I sent the order because I thought it was our best and maybe only chance to get to the stars. The attack on Mare Nubium was a declaration of war. I have no idea what will happen next – we still don’t know who is responsible. Away from our solar system, you might be in the safest place you could be.
“You have your official mission parameters. Settle the best available planet in your arrival system. Set up the phased photonic array and send a transmission that we might receive however many years from now. Await more ships, more supplies. Those are all great, but just in case you missed it, I need to make sure you know the one thing that matters. Find a way. To grow, to thrive, wherever you find yourselves. If your orders are in conflict with the best course of action, throw the book out and do what you need to do.
“I wanted more than anything to go on one of the ships, to see what’s out there. It was the hardest decision of my life to stay here, but maybe I can still do you some good. To every single one of you – I admire you all very deeply. You are the future of our species. No matter what happens here, I believe you will thrive, somewhere out there. So – no pressure!”
Just once, at the very end, they saw the trademark Noel smile, and the transmittal was over.
The bridge was silent for a moment as the import of the message soaked in. The founder of their project clearly believed the Rubicon was completely on its own. While every person on the ship had accepted that possibility, it was dismaying to hear it from the person who had created the entire plan.
“Damn!” Deijia slapped his knee. “We missed out! We could have had Noel on board! How awesome would that have been? Special seminars every evening!”
“Ok, we’ve all heard it,” Captain Hunt said. “But no matter what Noel thought back home, it doesn’t change a thing here. As he said, we have our mission parameters. And right now, we need to decide whether to thrust and catch orbit of the planet. Findings, Mister Estwing?”
“Just finishing up,” Estwing said. “Based on every available camera and every diagnostic, the thrusters are good to go. We can make orbit if we take a chance on blowing ourselves up. Otherwise we’ll be back around this neighborhood in just over four hundred standard days.”
“The safe thing is to hold off,” Hunt mused. “We can spend the next few months getting to the bottom of the astrogation issue and inspecting the engines. We can get the phased array deployed to transmit back to Earth. Then we’ll evaluate the planet next year.”
“That’s sensible,” Estwing agreed.
“There’s more,” the captain said, and looked around. “Estwing, Blum, Deijia, Bowen, to my exec office.”
This was strange. There were only six other crew on the bridge. What could not be told in front of people they had worked with for the past year?
Amanda unbuckled and pushed off in the direction of the well that connected the levels of the ship. Moving around in zero gravity was well practiced by everyone, and there were no collisions. Each crew member in turn dove head first to the next level “below” – it was better to see where you were going than to preserve any sense of standard up and down.
With five, the exec office was crowded. Amanda found herself packed between Blum and a corner of the office. To stay in place she held on to a handy loop which was there for the purpose.
Mayor Blum was the only person on the entire ship Amanda would consider to be heavy, although the concept was moot under their current free floating conditions. Every part of him had just a little bit extra. She could hear each of his breaths.
The moment the door was closed, Hunt began. “I received a briefing on the Mare Nubium attack shortly before we went through the glome. The mystery, as you all know, is why the asteroid wasn’t detected for so long, until finally an amateur saw it.”
“With an optical instrument!” Estwing put in. “From Earth!”
The captain continued. “Now we know. Our systems were compromised on Mare Nubium and across our set of observatories, and the signal of the asteroid was systematically suppressed. An extremely targeted virus did just that one thing.”
She looked around the small room. “That would not matter to us now, except for one thing. The virus was injected into the computer system by someone who was on the Mare Nubium station.”
Amanda felt like her head was about to explode.
One appallingly stupid act. Waking up every day since then desperately hoping no harm would result. Stitching together a flimsy internal narrative to convince herself that everything would simply fade away into the past. Avoiding responsibility.
For over a year she had lived in denial, which was now crushed as thoroughly as the wreckage of the shipyard on Mare Nubium.
Everyone else had a lot to say, and they were all talking at the same time.
“Someone sold us out!”
“An inside job.”
“So the agent could be on one of the ships–”
“Could be here. One chance in twelve–”
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br /> “Nonsense, anyone working against the mission would have stayed at the station.”
“And get flattened by an asteroid?”
“Everyone got out safely, the agent would have known that would happen –”
Estwing began to speak over everyone else. “We have to assume that a spy or saboteur may be on board. At a minimum, we could have the virus in our systems. That astrogation issue – I bet it’s the virus rather than glome distortion. And we don’t know where the virus will strike next – it’s probably mirved so it could have many different expressions. I’m thinking of how easy it would be to set something out of adjustment anywhere in the engine systems. We definitely shouldn’t use any thruster until we’re sure our systems are clean.”
Deijia spoke up. “I do see your point, commander, but would just say this: If the purpose of terrorism is to create fear and stop people from acting for themselves, then this will be the most successful such attack in history – reaching across forty two light years.”
Estwing was quick with the rejoinder. “I appreciate the philosophy, but my job is to protect everyone – safety and security – and I work with the facts as we know them.”
The captain held up her hand. “On the decision facing us – thrust to catch orbit of the planet or wait. Anyone else?”
The small room was silent.
Amanda had an idea, but wasn’t sure if she trusted herself to speak. How much might her voice give away? Could she even talk coherently?
“We could thrust manually,” she blurted out. “Using the base level operating system.”
Everyone in the room was staring at her.
She gathered herself. Her voice wasn’t quavering too badly, she thought. She could do this. “When we send a command to thrust, we let the programs do all the thinking for us. And that’s where a virus can do its harm – none of us really understands what’s going on in there. But it all resolves to a small number of simple commands. Open these valves, to a certain aperture for a certain amount of time. We can do that directly.”
“Can we do it accurately enough?” the captain asked.
“Sure we can,” Amanda answered, gaining confidence. “Getting to orbit around the planet from here, it’s like hitting the side of a barn, especially if any orbit will do.”
“Mister Estwing, any objections?”
“If we’re going to thrust, it’s the best way,” he grudged.
“Everyone back to the bridge,” the captain ordered. “Bowen, provide a proposed thrust plan as soon as possible. Estwing and Deijia will review.”
Moments later, every crew member was at their station.
Amanda worked the numbers on the screen at her console. She clung to the digits in front of her, desperate to drive out any other thought. In minutes she had a plan.
“Soup’s on!” she called. “Come get it!” Hopefully that sounded normal for her.
“Why won’t you ever link with a virtual?” demanded Estwing.
“Because she’s a Luddite,” answered Deijia. “Just pull up her screen at your console, it’s the same thing.” For his part, Deijia simply leaned over and peered at the screen on Amanda’s console.
“Pretty simple,” Amanda walked them through it. “We do a pair of little attitude burns. Number 8 at 4 millimeters aperture for 12 seconds. Wait for 8.5 seconds. We open Number 2 equal and opposite 4 millimeters for 12 seconds again, to stop the tumble. We verify that we’re headed correctly. Then it’s the main engine straight ahead.”
“I’m tracking,” Estwing said. “And it checks out. Still, doing this without the navigation system seems…”
“What?” Amanda challenged. “Crude? Low Tech? Listen, it’s just math. We don’t need some computer to sprinkle fairy dust on it. We just need to open some valves and set some switches.”
“I have reviewed the numbers and I concur with the plan,” Deijia said.
“Any technical objections?” Captain Hunt asked.
“Great plan, if we have a death wish,” Estwing replied.
“Mister Estwing, maybe when we do the attitude adjustment on the ship, it will help you. Execute the thrust sequence.”
The pause was longer than it should have been. “Aye, captain.”
Amanda felt the sequence begin. A tiny push, so it felt for a few seconds like she was falling forward. A weightless interval. Then a matching sensation pulling her back.
As the thrust ended, Amanda quickly checked their position – as reported by their systems, at least. And it was good. “We’re a go for the main burn,” she reported.
The directions of up and down reasserted themselves, and Amanda felt herself settle into her seat. The main thrust was stronger than the attitude burns, enough to create real gravity on the bridge, and would be more sustained.
The ship had not exploded.
“On track for twenty one minutes of thrust, then ninety five minutes to polar orbit as Mayor Blum recommended.” Estwing reported.
“Thank you,” the captain acknowledged. “Please shift your attention to the most complete sweep possible of our computer systems.”
With the immediate task taken care of, reality flooded back for Amanda. She needed to get off the bridge and away from any other human, if only for a short while. “Captain, may I have a few minutes?”
Captain Hunt looked momentarily surprised. Then her expression softened. “Five minutes. After that, help Mr. Deijia investigate the forward sensor. We still need to check if the sensor was affected by glome distortion.”
“Thank you, Captain,” and Amanda was off. Quickly she climbed up several levels to the most spacious place on the Rubicon. Officially it was the central leisure deck. She called it the view room. Everyone was on duty so it was blessedly empty. A low couch beckoned.
“Show our sun,” she instructed, and was abruptly bathed in sharp blue light. “No, not that one. Earth’s sun.”
The screen accommodated, displaying a bright but ordinary yellow star against an unfamiliar layout of other stars.
“It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” she told herself.
Johan. In college she had been invisible to him. About two social circles away, she had always seen him from afar, unapproachable. A big man on campus, knowing everyone who mattered. And why would he want to know her, anyway? She knew she was gawky and awkward, and far too good at math and science to be attractive to a man like him.
Then five years later he had reappeared in her life, suddenly with a deep interest in her. More than interest. Courtship. On cloud nine, she had not thought to question anything. It had begun just a few weeks after she had been admitted as a candidate for the exploration program.
Now she knew why. It all made horrifying sense. And she had betrayed everyone who mattered to her.
Amanda stared out at the starscape. She reimagined events, trying to construct versions of the past where she made better decisions. Where she summoned up a shred of self-respect. Where she wasn’t blinded. But however hard she tried, every thread ended up in the same miserable place.
No matter what scenario she played out in her mind, it wouldn’t change anything.
“Hey, you.” Deijia’s kind smile brought her back to the present. “Making the most of your time?”
Amanda realized she had pulled herself tightly into a ball, on her side on the couch. She forced herself to uncurl, not by relaxing, but by pushing her shoulders and legs out, then tipped herself up to a sitting position.
She took comfort for a moment in looking up at her shipmate. He had medium brown skin, a fine nose and lips, and wide, expressive eyes. His perfectly smooth chin looked like it had never grown even a first wisp of facial hair.
Tau Deijia was the most beautiful man Amanda had ever seen.
“I’m just –” Amanda struggled to explain herself, then fell silent, at a loss.
“It’s all pretty overwhelming,” he let her off the hook, gracefully as always. “Light years from home, and now things are going wrong.”
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“But how are you so calm?” Amanda was glad to move away from her thoughts of a few moments before.
“Calm? Are you kidding? I’m terrified!” Yet he smiled still. “I pretend. We all pretend for each other, and that’s how we keep it going.”
“I just wish there was something I could do.”
“As a matter of fact, there is. We have a sensor to replace, and I’ve got the new one here. If the readings are correct after the swap, we’ll know it was just a sensor problem, and that will be great news. So what do you say?” Deijia reached out, although there was no need for help in the fractional gravity.
Amanda kept his hand in hers for a few moments longer than necessary as she stood. “Ok, let’s do it.”
“After you,” Deijia made a sweeping gesture toward the ladder. Amanda grabbed a rung and started climbing in the direction that was currently up because of the ship’s thrust, toward the nose of the ship.
They climbed through several decks she knew were filled with the colonists. One hundred forty people, an array of specialists in every skill needed to explore and settle a new world. She knew many of them, from their months of training together. Even now, they all were busy analyzing data about the new planet and working on plans to create a settlement on that inhospitable world.
The settlers had a lot to work with. Carefully selected tools for a wide variety of expected situations. Thousands of design templates so they could quickly print other tools that might be needed. Microorganisms that could turn sterile dirt into fertile soil. Heirloom seeds. The heritage of humankind.
Talking with any given colonist, she had always been impressed how much a person could know about each specialty, and amazed at their devotion to attaining their expertise. In turn, colonists embraced and accepted her anomalies, especially her facility with all forms of calculation. Anywhere else she had ever lived, she had been an outlier. In the company of the colonists and crew of the Rubicon, Amanda felt normal for the first time in her life.
Amanda and Deijia continued, finally reaching the highest deck, immediately below the nose of the ship. Above them was a hatch which would lead to a set of smaller passages to the sensor that was their objective.