by Gary Starta
On deck three, Fortier continued to struggle for air as Parsons had both hands wrapped around his neck.
In engineering, Sanchez and Devaney were both oblivious to the happenings of the universe as their bodies became one.
On the bridge, the captain stood among the bodies of his fallen crew. He paged Fortier on his communication pad and received no response. Bennett was just about to exit the room when he heard the computer signal the auto destruction countdown. The captain’s face flushed as he immediately deducted that the doctor had commanded it. As Bennett turned to authorize the console to terminate the sequence, he felt a dizziness overtake him. The captain engaged in a coughing fit as the doctor began to flood the compartment with gas.
In the launch bay, the shuttle craft revved up its engines. The doors to the launch bay slowly opened as the craft was automatically prepared to launch in three minutes—with or without a pilot.
In the medical unit, the doctor—who had been an agnostic—started to pray for forgiveness as the self destruction countdown reached five minutes.
Back on the bridge, the captain choked for air and began to crawl on his knees towards the command console. Bennett moved slowly while keeping his head low to the floor in an effort to find suitable air to breathe.
On deck three, Fortier managed to free himself of Parson’s grip with a kick to his attacker’s groin. He hurried for the launch bay in vain. The shuttle had already exited the ship by the time Fortier reached deck two.
On the bridge, the captain’s shaking hand reached for the console to confirm authorization as the countdown neared the one minute mark.
However, the commander’s hand fell short of the screen as the anesthetic took hold of him.
“Fifteen seconds to auto destruction,” the computer’s emotionless voice reported. The computer began a verbal countdown which would result in an engine overload causing a massive explosion:
“Three…two…one…”
The cascading explosion then ripped through the ship leaving no evidence of the except for the probe headed for Earth and the unmanned shuttle that would end up crashing into the Ceres’ moon due to a navigational error.
Chapter 10: Dark Matters
Joyce Starkman wrestled with the covers in her bed. Her mind kept reverting back to the bad news she had reported to her colleagues one day ago.
“What environmental anomaly could have suddenly occurred to make Ceres soil toxic after two years of fruitful cultivation?” she thought to herself.
The fingers of blame were already being pointed at Adrian McElroy by the Petrovsky’s. Joyce believed it wouldn’t be long before the others followed suit, especially if Dr. Hiroshi determined that the scientists were ill from radiation poisoning.
“Mom, are you awake?” asked a voice that broke Joyce’s train of thought. Joyce managed to grunt something inaudible as she turned to face the doorway. She thought that maybe she had only imagined the voice as she saw no one was standing in her dimly lit bedroom doorway. She then saw an elongated shadow being cast on the ceiling.
“Is that you, James?” Joyce asked cautiously. She did not want her husband Aaron to hear her posing foolish questions in the middle of the night. She stole a glance at her husband to make sure he was asleep before acknowledging the voice again.
“It’s me, James,” the voice responded in a monotonous tone.
“You can come in, dear,” Joyce said with a touch of fear in her voice.
James walked stiffly into the room as though he was one of the first automatons built. He lowered his head to look into his hands and then slowly brought them up to his neck.
“What do you want?” Joyce asked with alarm as she tried to dispel the disturbing image she was witnessing.
James did not respond as he continued to lock his fingers around his neck. He made a twisting motion and detached his head from his body. The boy then slowly brought his android head down to chest level and cradled it in his arms. The face of the head began to blink its eyes as its mouth twisted into a grimace.
As Joyce looked on with horror, the head of Dr. McElroy suddenly appeared on top of the boy’s shoulders.
“You can come out, Petrovsky!” Joyce screamed accusingly. “Your holographic tricks won’t scare me!”
The voice of Adrian McElroy then emanated from the image: “You must join us. You must join us now.”
Joyce thrust her legs to free them of the bedspread, but was unsuccessful as the covers became even more twisted around her ankles. The android body then started walking slowly towards her with its newly attached head .
“Stay back! Stay back!” Joyce screamed.
“Honey, what is it?” Aaron cried as he placed his hands on his wife’s shoulders in an attempt to calm her.
As Joyce slowly opened her eyes, the weary scientist realized she had fallen asleep sitting in front of her computer.
Fear quickly turned to embarrassment. Joyce began to explain she had dreamed they were in bed. “It was horrifying, Aaron. James’ headless body started to approach me as McElroy’s voice pleaded with me to join him. Before I could get an explanation, you must have shook me awake,” she concluded.
“No wonder you fell asleep in front of your monitor. You have been up for nearly 48 hours” Aaron reminded her.
“How can I sleep when I may have discovered a death sentence for us and this planet?” Joyce reasoned.
“I will give you a chamomile-based sedative to relax you,” Aaron suggested.
“Before you do, I want to check on James,” Joyce insisted.
Aaron assured her the boy was fine. “He has been up for nearly two hours and is playing his violin.”
“I must see for myself,” Joyce responded as she walked towards her son’s room. She stealthily peered into the boy’s room. Although the beautiful sounds of emanated from James’ violin, Joyce listened with trepidation. She did not see the same glow in the android’s eyes that James had once had. After listening for a few minutes, Joyce tiptoed away from the room carrying even more doubts than she had had five minutes ago.
In the ship’s stellar cartography bay, Peter Ciprelli and Karen Hiroshi worked through the night to solve the puzzle of the crop poisoning.
“It appears the moon Argos enters into an extended orbit cycle once every three years,” Peter explained while examining a star chart.
“I would theorize that increased gravitational pull keeps it positioned between the sun and Ceres for a longer amount of time once every three years.”
“Well if that’s true, that makes it more implausible that we’ve experienced the increased radiation from the sun,” Karen interjected. “If Argos spends more time blocking radiation from the sun, then why would Ceres’ ozone layer be more depleted?”
“That is the trillion dollar question, isn’t it?” Peter asked rhetorically.
Peter shifted his dark brown eyes away from his monitor to stare at Karen’s face.
“Peter, we are facing a life threatening situation. Please don’t distract me in that way.”
“In what way?” Peter asked pretending to be confused.
“I suggest we solve one mystery of the universe at a time.” Karen nervously tugged on the ends of her shoulder-length black hair attempting to refocus her energies.
“Well, I do have one more theory,” Peter noted as switched his computer into another analysis program.
“Are you familiar with dark matter?” he asked.
“I have heard about it in lectures, but have never had any reason to study it further. As far as I know, it’s a large mass of matter invisible to our eyes,” Karen responded.
“Yes, it is invisible. However, our long range scanners have detected a large mass of this dark matter emanating from one side of the moon. The location of the mass—or what’s also known as mirror matter—would allow it to bombard this planet with radiation when Argos becomes closer to the sun than Ceres.”
“So you’re saying Argos normally blocks this radiation
when it’s located between the matter and the planet? If this is true, then we’ve explained why the planet is subject to increased radiation once every three cycles. We were protected during the last two growing cycles,” she continued.
“No one has been able to identify exactly what the mirror matter is—but since some scientists have speculated that it’s probably a brown dwarf—it would make sense that radiation from a dying star could penetrate the atmosphere,” Peter hypothesized.
“We should then be able to use the Gallant to bolster the ozone layer with its shielding system,” Karen speculated.
“Yes, but the damage has been done, Karen. Both for us, and for the civilians. It’s just a matter of time before your husband reports the findings from our examinations.”
“Peter, I think it may be possible to cleanse the planet so the mission can still continue as planned. We can use hydroponics to grow the crops. And as far the examinations go, we are still waiting for the definitive analysis.”
“In any event, my findings have also turned up another mystery, Karen. An analysis of itself shows the remains of a small ship. The chemical composition of the vessel indicates that it was made of the same type of metal alloy used in W.A.A. ships over 100 years ago. I believe theTempestwas the only federation ship sent to this galaxy before the Gallant.”
“The official W.A.A. report is that the ship exploded in mid-flight due to an engineering flaw,” Karen pointed out. “Either the ship traveled farther than reported, or perhaps a shuttle was launched in an evacuation attempt.”
“Well, before we theorize anymore, don’t you think it’s time we reported our findings to the group?” Peter asked.
“We have to be careful how we present this information. I know the Petrovsky’s are looking for the smoking gun to hang McElroy,” Karen cautioned.
“I think this analysis shows that the doctor should be absolved of any negligence. Who could have predicted such an anomaly?” Peter argued.
After powering down the ship’s consoles, each scientist headed home to join their spouses.
As Karen rushed to reach her husband’s laboratory, excitement overtook discretion—but only for a brief moment.
Karen walked into the lab. Her eyes met the stern gaze of Akira Hiroshi. The young scientist knew without asking that her husband’s prognosis was dreadfully serious.
Chapter 11: Chess Game
Ten years in the past, Mikola Petrovsky and his lawyer waited at a conference table for the World Aeronautic Association’s legal term to join them. Mikola had just lost the case he waged against the W.A.A. for terminating his prestigious engineering position. As Petrovsky’s lawyer stared out the skyscraper’s window, Mikola impatiently rapped his fingers against the conference table’s info-panel. The unit engaged a cheerful tone as it reported the latest weather-net report. The weathernet system was controlled by satellites to create rain when needed and to contain the impact of damaging winds and storms. Petrovsky smiled to himself that the W.A.A. probably wished it had such a device to harness his wrath. Mikola planned to barter with the association so they could avoid an appeal of their decision. The arrogant engineer would agree to accept the loss of his post in exchange for W.A.A. acceptance of his application for the upcoming Ceres mission. As the space organization’s legal team approached the conference room doors, they were unaware of the trump card Petrovsky would use to make them agree to such a request. In the next hour, Petrovsky would lay his cards on the table…
The W.A.A. lawyer team headed by Joshua Berman strode confidently into the conference room on a sunny Wednesday afternoon to hear the proposal from Petrovsky’s legal counselor Kimberly Stuart. Berman beamed a blinding smile as he extended his hand to greet Petrovsky. Mikola ignored the gesture and remained seated while Stuart scurried to shake hands in an effort to preserve her personal reputation with the defense lawyers. Petrovsky began to speak as the lawyers were still taking their seats. “Let’s cut to the chase, gentleman. I have a proposal to save the taxpayers thousands of dollars in legal fees that would be incurred if I appeal to the Supreme Court. I am prepared to concede the loss of my engineering job as head of space travel research and development under one simple condition.”
“We are not so concerned about your filing of an appeal of the decision as you seem to think, Mr. Petrovsky,” Berman responded. “I remind you that you signed a paper stating the W.A.A. was free to terminate your employment at anytime.”
“That is quite true,” Stuart interrupted, “however, my client also signed an agreement to be compensated if the position was lost due to downsizing. I contend that the position no longer exists in the W.A.A.’s administration as robots now perform many of the tasks Mikola once so aptly performed.
Federation employment law states that you cannot replace a human being with an automaton without compensation. If you had replaced Mikola with a person and gave him or her my client’s job title, we would have no basis to appeal the court’s decision.”
“Ms. Stuart, we can compensate Mikola with a fine position at the space academy. The W.A.A. would be quite happy to hire Petrovsky as a professor,” Berman propositioned.
“That won’t be enough,” Petrovsky stated flatly.
“I believe the courts would agree our job offer satisfies the compensation requirements you seek Mr. Petrovsky,” Berman responded. “You should be happy the robots are doing such a great job. Since they don’t have egos, they don’t waste half the time you and your former colleagues spent arguing with each other or posturing for political gain.”
“This is where we enter into what is known as a gray area, Mr. Berman,” Petrovsky said with a smirk as he purposely ignored Joshua’s baiting remark.
“As chief engineer I had access to all W.A.A. classified data pertaining to space travel, both past and present. Now do my ramblings begin to hold some more of your interest, gentlemen?” Petrovsky asked. “Although you will argue that I no longer have the right to claim possession or have access to any materials of your organization, I really do not care,” Mikola noted. “At this point, you can accept my application for the Ceres mission and we can leave all skeletons in the closet.”
“I will pursue a court order mandating that you surrender any and all data you are referring to, Mr. Petrovsky,” Berman retorted.
“In the time it will take you to do that, I will have released a video broadcast documenting the real fate of the Starship Tempest to all the major electronic media giants. I have various contacts throughout the world in position to decrypt the scrambled telecast signal upon my request or in response to any injury or sudden disappearance I may suffer. Apparently, I am not the only person to have an ax to grind with the association,” Mikola pointed out.
“Are we really supposed to believe that you have this video?” Berman questioned in an attempt to call Petrovsky’s bluff.
“Gentleman, believe me when I tell you I am speaking the truth,” Mikola offered. “I should be the one doubting you. Lawyer and liar seem to sound pretty similar, don’t you think?
You have my word that the dark secret of the federation will remain lost in deep space as long as you select me for the Ceres mission.”
Berman asked Stuart for permission to take a fifteen minute recess to consider the matter. “Take all the time you need,” Kimberly responded. “I am quite confident you will not be able to locate where my client has hidden the broadcast in that interim. I also submit that Petrovsky is exercising his rights as a federation citizen to fight the suppression of public information.”
“I highly doubt that Mr. Petrovsky is fighting for anything other than his own personal gain counselor,” Berman argued.
“You’re quite right, Josh. I am a glory seeker.” Petrovsky reasoned. “The mission will bring me more fame than any W.A.A. professorship.”
Berman then consulted in private with his associate Richard Ormond. Ormond had been extensively briefed about Petrovsky’s character by W.A.A. engineers who were only too happy to disp
arage the engineer. Berman first asked Ormond if he thought Mikola was bluffing. “I wouldn’t put it past Petrovsky to have found a way to blackmail us,” Ormond theorized. “He provided himself with an insurance policy in the event that the association ever crossed him.”
“Well, what exactly is the broadcast going to be about?” Berman inquired.
“I have no doubt Petrovsky was alluding to how the W.A.A. buried the chief medical officer’s report on what really happened to the Tempest. The doctor’s log detailed how association scientists sabotaged the mission with an engineered contagion. The crew came down with symptoms that caused them to attack each other. The doctor was left with no choice but to blow the ship up. The W.A.A.’s version of the star ship’s fate only cites a failure in the ship’s environmental controls. There is no mention of any sabotage or murderous rampage.”
“Now that we’ve overcome this internal opposition of space colonization, does Petrovsky really think this video poses a threat to us?” Berman asked.
“It’s an indirect threat to us and any future attempts to colonize other planets, Josh,” Ormond responded. “This organization has spent billions of dollars to recruit and train civilians to become the next inhabitants of Ceres. In the next 10 years, the W.A.A. has scheduled six flights that will carry 200 couples to the new world. These young couples will not likely volunteer for a space mission that could result in them murdering each other. So that is why the association hoped a transmission of the doctor’s broadcast would never see the light of day,” Ormond explained.
As the meeting reconvened, Berman addressed Petrovsky. “We have no doubt that you possess the engineering skills to make your threat a reality. In good faith, we therefore will grant you a position on the mission and trust that you will continue to use your talents to make this planet the new home for many federation citizens.”
“I graciously accept your wise offer,” Petrovsky said while bowing his head.