“I know.”
After twelve minutes and thirty-two seconds, the radiation fell to almost zero. “There’s the break we needed,” Ian said. “Reducing power to magnetic shielding.”
“Why would it fall that much?” Chad asked. “There’s far less radiation than before the flare-up.”
“One of us has a guardian angel?” Ian rechecked the readings. “I don’t have an explanation, but I’ll take it.”
The two drifted toward Jupiter, toward their rendezvous with the structure, in silence.
“Estimate seven hundred meters,” Ian said. “Hold on, I’m reading something on lidar.” They drifted on. “Measuring three hundred meters,” he said. “Twelve hundred meters? What? One hundred thousand meters now. It seems to be moving away.” He groaned. “Wait now, twelve meters. Two hundred meters. Fifty meters.” He frowned and tried to wipe his brow, instead bumping his hand on his helmet. “Lidar is malfunctioning. We’re totally blind.”
“Perhaps it’s malfunctioning. Or maybe the laser is reacting in an unexpected way with the surface of the structure. If that’s right…”
“We must be on top of it!” Ian smacked the reverse thrusters.
There was a soft thud. The ship eased to a halt, pressing them gently into their harnesses. For a breath or two, neither man moved. They looked at each other.
“Nice docking?” Chad asked.
“I would love to take the credit,” Ian said, “but if we docked softly, it was the luckiest maneuver in the history of space flight.”
“We should have crashed into it with our nose sensor array, right?”
“Correct. We were pointed right at it.” Ian surveyed his instruments. “I’m still getting readings. The sensor array is still there.”
“Well, I guess we just have to go and take a look.”
Ian pumped the water, which helped protect them from radiation, out of the narrow access tube. “Check your suit integrity. I’m about decompress the ship.”
“I’m good here.”
Their hearts raced in their ears waiting for the air to be pumped out.
“Decompression complete,” Ian said. “Inner hatch opening.”
Both men shined a light, attached to the wrist of their suits, up the tube.
“Opening outer hatch.”
The hatch slid into a recess in the Explorer’s skin. Where they had expected to see Jupiter at the end of the tube, a gold-gray metallic surface bounced the beam of their wrist lights back to them. The beams rippled, as if reflecting off a pond touched by a gentle breeze. Tinges of green and pink flashed over the alien surface.
Chad’s eyes widened, blazing with curiosity and fascination. “I believe, my good sir, we have contact.”
#
Chad pushed through the tube, up to the alien material blocking the exit. The surface was composed of a metal that was at once dull-gray and golden, with ink-black filaments woven in a chaotic pattern across the surface. What do we have here? Metallic optical properties, for the most part. He touched the surface with his gloved hand. It moved very slightly under the pressure. Deformation more like a strong rubber. He released the pressure. High elasticity. “Magnification factor four,” he said. His helmet deformed the material in front of his eyes, creating a magnifying glass. He grasped a small screwdriver and hit the surface hard as he could. It didn’t budge. Interesting. Non-linear reaction to pressure. He reached into a pouch on his belt, pulled out a device, and held it to the surface. Mild electrical conductivity. No electric charge. I’ll need to measure the magnetic field later if we can move this thing away from Jupiter. He pulled out a compact laser solderer and an infrared thermometer. He focused the laser on the surface and observed how it heated the surrounding area. What’s this? Zero measurable heat conductivity.
“Ian,” he called over the suit radio, “we’ve docked to an incredibly hard surface that sometimes decides it wants to be soft. Let’s pull back a bit, so we can get outside and search for a way in.”
“Roger that,” Ian said. “Pulling back. Say when.”
“Go ahead.”
“I did. We should be moving.”
“Well, we’re not. At least, not relative to the surface.”
“Is it holding us somehow?”
“Could be.” Chad worked through each tool in his bag, measuring the surface in many ways. Talk to me now. What are you? How do I get inside? I need to get inside.
The material’s color changed to copper-gold. Chad touched his glove to the surface. “What the…?”
“What’s happening?” Ian asked.
Chad’s hand passed through the surface. He gave a gentle push, and his body went through as well. “Ian, can you still hear me?”
“Yes. Where the hell did you go? I glanced at the instruments for a moment, next thing I know, you were gone.” Ian’s usual calm had an edge of anxiety.
“I’m… inside,” Chad said. Wonder flooded through his body and tears welled up in his eyes. “It’s… It’s amazing.” He was in an oval chamber, perhaps six meters across, the walls woven in golden organic patterns, giving way to complex geometric patterns, giving way yet again to organic patterns. The walls gently pulsed, emitting a flicker of iridescent light with every beat.
“What the…”
“What is it? What do you see?” Ian called over coms.
“Apples.”
“What? Apples? Did you say apples?”
“Yes.” Chad pushed forward to a basket of what appeared to be Pink Lady apples floating a few meters into the room. “Yes, I see apples.” He took a knife from his belt and sliced one open. “They’re fresh, almost right off the tree.” Is this an illusion? Is something toying with my senses? Is there an orchard in here somewhere? Could the apples possibly have been produced from raw matter? If so, that would make our best organic printers seem like a Play-Doh press.
“I’m moving out and explore,” Chad called. Three tubes, around two meters in diameter, led out of the room. One, to Chad’s right, led toward the rear assuming the structure was presently oriented with its front in the direction of orbit. The second tube was directly ahead. It seemed to lead across the structure. The final tube led toward the front, where the transparent dome that resembled a ship’s bridge was located. Lights flashed in irregular bursts along each tube, like miniature lightning bursts against an inky, storm-filled sky.
Is this is laid out like a human ship, engineering at the rear and control at the front? There’s no reason to believe it’s designed anything like we’d make it. Chad studied the tubes. That bubble did resemble a bridge, and I need to get control over this thing. Before anyone else does.
Chad took the tube leading forward. The side of the passageway was uneven, like a tunnel in an ant colony. He pulsed his integrated get-around, accelerating from a cautious pace to an eager one. Now the sides were linear, geometric. Is their shape shifting? Is that some trick of the light? The interior was dimly lit, but there was no apparent light source save for the pulsing flashes. Offshoots of the passage presented themselves, but he kept going straight. Or, as straight as the gradually curving path would allow. After a few moments, he reached the end. “I’ll be damned!” he said over the radio.
“What is it? What happened?” Ian asked.
Chad gazed upon a spacious chamber of nearly transparent… glass? Whatever the material, it barely refracted Jupiter’s light. Dang, it’s almost like being outside. The wall is hardly there. The room was shaped like a sphere that was stretched long from front to back and squished from top to bottom. Shaped almost like the beach rocks I played with as a kid. The ceiling was slightly bulbous, protruding above and below. Floors and ceilings are relative concepts in zero gravity absent a meaningful reference. Chad found that reference in six forward-facing seats, apparently intended for creatures of approximately human size and shape, arranged symmetrically, one curving row in the middle of the chamber and two seats near the nose. They were anchored to nothing he could see.
; Chad’s eyes wandered over the room, an ear-to-ear smile stretched across his face. I’ll be damned. “I believe, it really is a ship,” he said. Chad moved to the clear, domed ceiling and looked back at the Explorer. Metallic tendrils extended from the alien vessel, wrapping the Explorer and holding it firmly in place. “And I know why we couldn’t back away. This thing is holding on to you.”
“Holding on to me?”
“Yeah. It’s like a mess of metallic, um, tentacles wrapped around the front of the Explorer. See if you can turn this thing. Give me a three-second burst from the aft port thrusters.”
“Three seconds, roger.”
Chad saw the thrusters fire. The stars did not move. “No dice. This thing’s holding its attitude. At least, against the power the thrusters can provide.”
“Understood.”
Chad turned his attention back inside. Here I am, drifting in low orbit over Jupiter, on the deck of an alien spacecraft. Shivers flooded up his spine. “Did you report back to the Jupiter Express?”
“Negative. They’re behind Europa. By the time they emerge, we’ll be on the far side of Jupiter. We’ll be out of contact for eighteen hours.”
“Well, there’s not much you can do from there right now. Why don’t you come on over?”
“Protocol is, I stay here in case we need to communicate or move away in a hurry.”
“Well, you said it yourself. Communication isn’t possible for a while. As for moving away, with this alien ship giving us a bear hug, we’re not going anywhere soon. Look, Ian. I’m on board an alien ship. Alien technology. An intelligence from beyond Earth. You’re five meters away, missing the wonder of it all, and there’s nothing you can do for the mission from there. Come over here and give me a hand figuring it all out.”
“Well, if you put it that way…” Moments later, he was standing on the bridge of the alien vessel, next to Chad, taking in the wonder of it all.
#
Sara Wells straightened her blouse. I’ve got this. Just another briefing. She strode into the Oval Office.
National Security Adviser Nancy Kido and Dr. Abel Okoye sat on a red-and-white-striped couch in the center of the room. Ms. Kido perched erect at the edge of the cushion, while Abel lounged with his arms spread across the backrest.
Abel gestured to an identical couch facing the first on the other side of a magnetically levitated, glass coffee table. “Sara, good to see you. Have a seat.”
Ms. Kido nodded curtly to Sara and continued a conversation with Abel until Sara sat. “It’s good to see you in person again, Ms. Wells.”
The president entered carrying two tall glasses filled with a yellow-green fluid and plenty of crushed ice. Each was topped with two small, green leaves. Sara began to stand. “Sit, sit. Please, no need to be so formal.” He set the drinks on the coffee table. “That’s my grandma’s secret recipe for virgin Mint Julep.” The president stood between the couches and the Resolute desk awaiting a reaction.
Ms. Kido and Dr. Okoye sampled the beverage.
Dr. Okoye smacked his lips. “It’s outstanding, Mr. President. Not too sweet. The mint is strong but not overwhelming.”
“I made one for you too, Ms. Wells, if you would like.”
“Thank you, sir, it looks delicious.” Delicious? Ingratiate much? Just be myself.
The president nodded toward the door he entered from. A butler Sara hadn’t noticed vanished into the adjacent room and returned with two Juleps, one for Sara and one for President Billmore.
“Thomas can’t abide that I make these myself,” the president said with a friendly nod toward the butler, “but I can’t well reveal the secret family recipe.”
Sara took a sip. Delicious.
“I appreciate that you traveled to meet in person. We might be on the brink of a discovery that changes humanity. It feels right to be together in real life rather than in some virtual space. I know it’s old-fashioned.”
“Not at all, Mr. President,” Ms. Kido said.
The president nodded. “Dr. Okoye, you received an update from NASA a few minutes ago?”
Abel pulled himself forward on the couch and looked up at the president. “Yes, sir.” He sipped his glass, savored the drink, and set it down in a deliberate motion. “Two of the astronauts have successfully entered the structure. Sir, it’s definitely alien.”
The president’s eyes widened. He shuffled to the tall, bright windows behind his executive chair, his glass nearly spilling as he set it on the desk with a clunk. “I thought I was ready to hear those words.” He gazed upon the Rose Garden. “Definitely alien.”
Abel spoke, calm and confident. “This is a tremendous moment in the history of humanity. It’s a moment to be guided by our highest principles. A moment to exemplify our species at its best.”
The president nodded agreement. He returned from the windows, plopping his weary body next to Sara. “Do we tell the Chinese what we found?”
“Hell no!” Ms. Kido slapped the coffee table. “Mr. President,” she added in a gentler tone. “The Chinese aim to control this discovery. We can’t share information that will help them.”
“Do they?” the president asked.
“Yes, sir. They do. Everything we’ve seen points at confrontation.”
“And everything they see from us points at confrontation as well, Mr. President,” Sara said. She looked at Ms. Kido, her eyes set rigid with resolve. All the back and forth has been about security. Not national security. Psychological security.
Abel looked at Sara and nodded approval, a hint of paternal pride in his smile.
Ms. Kido’s look was less friendly. Sara swallowed hard. She thinks I’m a petulant child. Or worse. An enemy. I’m right, though. She’s wrong. Stay composed.
President Billmore slapped his thigh. “We’ll keep our secret for now,” he said. “I must attend to an urgent matter. One of our key senators is about to get voted out of office.” The president sighed. “I had a room down the hall cleared for your command post while the mission unfolds. Keep me apprised as more information comes in. We’ll reconvene tomorrow after breakfast.”
The visitors stood. Dr. Okoye said, “April 8th, 2045. The first day of a new age of humanity.”
“God grant us the wisdom to make it a golden age,” the president said.
“I’m certain God has given you the wisdom,” Abel said. “Trust in the answers you find when you look within.”
Ultimatum
“Sir! We’re tracking an object on radar. It’s orbiting Europa!” the Shengli’s navigator said. “It just emerged from the far side of that moon.”
“Is it large enough to be the American vessel?” Commander Long Jianyu checked the instruments himself, a bitter grimace on his face.
“Yes, sir. It is.”
“How far away is Europa?”
“If we continue on course to Jupiter, our nearest approach will be in thirty-eight hours.”
“How close will that approach be?” The Commander pinched his chin.
The navigator consulted an instrument panel. “One hundred-eighty thousand kilometers.”
Commander Long grunted. “Adjust our trajectory to bring us within one hundred thousand kilometers over a ninety-minute window.”
“Understood,” the navigator said. “With that modification, we will be at our closest approach in forty-two hours.”
“And the alien structure? Do we have new information?”
“We still have it on long range visual. It’s far away, but we can begin to make out detail.” The navigator called up a grainy holographic projection of a long object formed of smooth, organic lines. “We will lose sight of it in a few minutes when it orbits behind Jupiter. Once it comes around, in eighteen hours, we will be close enough to see significant details.”
“Excellent. Keep me informed of any changes. Anything at all.”
“Yes, sir,” the navigator said.
“Weapons status?”
The weapons officer straightened his ba
ck and spoke with military precision. “Both missiles are ready for launch. The nuclear tipped one is calibrated for maximum yield, per your orders.”
Commander Long pushed forward so his head was almost touching the command deck’s transparent aluminum window. He floated above a control array, arms crossed, and regarded the missile attached to the starboard side. It was stenciled with the international symbol for radioactivity. His officers exchanged uncomfortable glances, unsure how to act with the Commander floating above the navigation and communication stations. Finally, he spoke. “If we must use this one, we have failed. It is the duty of each of us to return the alien structure to China.”
Wong An, the Executive Officer, spoke. “Understood, sir.” She inhaled slowly, gathering her confidence. “If the Americans are orbiting Europa, it seems likely they intend to send a smaller ship to explore the structure. Or perhaps, they already sent one.”
“Yes,” Long Jianyu said.
“Shall we communicate with the orbiting ship or proceed directly to the structure?” Wong An asked.
“Patience,” Long Jianyu said. “We’ll wait until the structure emerges from behind Jupiter. I will be in my chamber. Alert me of any changes.” The Commander drifted to a tiny room walled off from the crew chamber with thin, reflective material. A picture of his nephew, the Commander of the first, ill-fated Chinese mission to Jupiter, was affixed to the wall. He studied the photograph then began to meditate.
#
After a few moments together on the bridge absorbing the wonder of their discovery, Chad told Ian, “Let’s survey the ship. We need to figure out how to release the Explorer if we’re to have any hope of pulling this thing to a higher orbit, one far enough up for the Jupiter Express to safely rendezvous and tow it back home.”
“Do you think the primary thruster will be able to move this ship?”
“I don’t know. Honestly, I doubt it. Not the way it resisted the maneuvering thruster. But it’s our best shot for now.”
The Gods We Make Page 22