Skywave

by K Patrick Donoghue

  They were goals Kiera was reminded of every time she stepped off the elevator into the cavernous warehouse-like environs of LL2. For in the center of the football field–sized underground chamber rested Amato’s monument to his ambitions…The Rorschach Explorer.

  Unlike the mocked-up prototype on display in the Gateway to the Stars museum, the spaceship Kiera now approached was the real deal. It occupied two-thirds of the room’s length and towered two stories tall. On any given day, a section of the ship might be missing, but tonight the ship was fully assembled. For Rorschach was really a collection of connected compartments that could be removed for servicing and swapped out for upgrades. When ready for its maiden mission, the ship’s compartments would be broken down prior to their separate launches and then reassembled in orbit around Earth.

  When Amato had first showed Kiera the work-in-progress ship from the catwalk above, he proclaimed the ship’s name reflected both its mission and its physical shape. “Our mission is to change the way we look at the stars and our place among them.”

  Much like a Rorschach inkblot, no two people seemed to share the same opinion about the ship’s appearance from above. To Kiera, it looked like a flying squirrel in midair — a bulbous head at the bow followed by a tubular spine with a tail that extended well past the main body. The central section that formed the main body fanned out on each side of the spine into broad, winglike panels. At the leading and trailing corners of the main body, four retractable landing struts arced outward.

  Dante believed the ship looked more like a splayed wolf’s pelt, hence his nickname for the ship: Fang. With the landing struts retracted, others saw the ship as a flying goose, generating yet another nickname among the Mayaguana team: Deneb, after the Milky Way–bisecting constellation. Still others called it Sixy, as it bore an eerie resemblance to card number six of the Rorschach test, the so-called sex card.

  From the side, however, all agreed it looked like a dragon, owing to the bulged appearance of the main body’s underside and the array of instrumentation and sensors that protruded above and below the full length of the ship’s spine like a spiked mane.

  As Kiera walked toward the portable jetway used to board Rorschach, she looked up to see Dante standing in the open doorway. Without saying a word, he motioned for her to hurry before he disappeared back into the ship. Kiera grabbed the jetway handrails and hustled up the steps.

  Once inside, Kiera looked toward the cockpit. From behind, she heard Dante call her name. She turned and gazed down the long corridor leading aft and saw Dante wave from the circular junction amidships where another corridor provided access to the wings of the center section.

  “Where have you been?” Kiera asked as she approached Dante.

  “Long story,” he said. “Come on, we need to talk.”

  She followed Dante to her quarters on the starboard side of the center section. Each member of the Mayaguana team rotated monthlong stays on the ship, abandoning their dormitory rooms on an upper floor of the command center to sleep, dine and sometimes work aboard the ship. It was Amato’s way of inspiring his team and reminding them of their ultimate goals. At the same time, the rotations provided Amato with valuable feedback to improve and refine living conditions and ship functionality.

  To the right of the door to Kiera’s cabin was a touchpad. She used her thumb to activate the screen and, when prompted, commanded the door to open. The cramped space wasn’t ideal for a conference but at least it afforded privacy. She entered first and Dante followed. He sat on a bench seat in front of a small desk next to Kiera’s bunk. Kiera closed the room door and approached another touchpad mounted on the wall at the head of the bed. Here, she tapped two icons. The first locked the door. The second put the room in private mode, cutting off the camera and microphone used for observing crew activity. Tasks completed, she sat down on the edge of the bunk and said, “Okay, what’s going on?”

  “First off, I had another talk with Amato after the meeting,” Dante said, laying his badge and eyeglasses on Kiera’s desk. “I didn’t like the bit about Phobos-1 at the end.”

  “Yeah, that was totally unexpected,” Kiera said. “What did he have to say?”

  “He was cryptic. He asked me to trust him for the time being. Said he’d fill me in after he thinks things through,” Dante said.

  “Thinks through what?” she asked.

  “I don’t know. Obviously, something to do with Phobos-1. He looked spooked,” he said.

  “What’s so spooky about Phobos-1? The Soviets fed it a bad computer command and it shut down. They couldn’t restart it and it drifted off into space. End of story,” Kiera said.

  “It may not be that cut and dried. As we both know, there’s always been suspicion about the official explanation,” Dante said.

  “Yeah, so what?” she said. “We didn’t tell him we thought the Callisto signals were coming from Phobos-1. I don’t think that, do you?”

  “No, but remember who we work for. He’s a full-on ‘aliens exist’ believer, and the conspiracy theories that have grown around both the Phobos-1 and Phobos-2 probes are legendary. Both lost under mysterious circumstances. Weak explanations for their demise,” he said.

  “You think Amato’s bought into the conspiracies?”

  “It feels like he has. You should have seen the look in his eyes.”

  “Oh, please,” Kiera said. “What’s his scenario? Phobos-1 was abducted by aliens and taken to Callisto? It was dormant for, what, twenty-seven years and then suddenly turned back on and started broadcasting radio signals? Amato can’t believe that!”

  “Yeah, that does seem improbable,” Dante said.

  “Seem?”

  “Okay. It’s nonsense. Couldn’t happen. Didn’t happen.”

  “Of course it didn’t happen,” Kiera said.

  “But I can think of a scenario where Phobos-1 made it to Callisto on its own,” Dante said. “The odds of it happening are close to zero, but it is possible.”

  Dante shared his scenario. Phobos-1 had gone dark after the erroneous computer command ordered the probe to shut off. Without power, the probe lost attitude control and its solar panels turned away from the Sun. Eventually, its batteries drained and without a resupply of energy from the solar panels, they couldn’t recharge.

  “Maybe the panels reoriented at some point — long enough to recharge the batteries. I’m sure the Russians kept trying to wake it up again…probably for years. Somewhere along the line, they were successful and the probe powered up again but they couldn’t reestablish control over it. It continued to float through space, somehow survived the asteroid belt and eventually got close enough to Callisto to get sucked in by its gravitational pull. It’s stuck in Callisto’s orbit, still has power and is trying to communicate, probably asking for instructions or just sending out a broadcast identifying its position,” Dante said.

  “But, Dante, think how far Phobos-1 would have had to travel to reach Callisto. It was less than two months into its trip to Mars when it went dark. It just doesn’t seem possible,” Kiera said. “There are other probes that were much closer to the asteroid belt when they were lost. They make better candidates for a theory like yours.”

  “I know, I know,” Dante said. “But I’m telling you, Amato is fixated on Phobos-1.”

  “Maybe he’ll lighten up after he reads through my presentation,” Kiera said, looking down at her dangling feet.

  “Presentation?”

  “Yeah. He asked me to put together a deck with my findings. I included the lost-probe list in it. If you ask me, Mars Observer or Nozomi are better options than Phobos-1.”

  “Did you say that in the presentation?”

  “Sort of. I ranked the list; those two were at the top,” Kiera said.

  “Good,” Dante said. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “It’s just so strange, especially the hush-hush part. Why would he care whether we’d talked to NASA?”

  “Beats me,” Kiera said. “Maybe he�
��s afraid they’ll take credit for the discovery.”

  “Then why not just say so?” Dante asked.

  “Who knows?” Kiera said. “Could also be he’s worried about being wrong. If it got out that we thought the clicks were coming from Phobos-1 and it turned out to be some natural phenomenon instead, we’d all look like dopes.”

  “Maybe,” Dante said. “But, again, if that’s what he’s concerned about, why not just say so? And why does he want to talk with Ajay?”

  “Probably wants to find out who he wrote to at NASA.” Kiera yawned and stretched out on her bunk. “I wouldn’t sweat it, though. Ajay will be here by dinnertime, we’ll find out then.”

  “I hope you’re right,” Dante said, rising to leave. “But I have to be honest, my gut tells me it’s not that simple.”

  Kiera reached for another touchpad on the wall next to the bed and entered the unlock command. “Well, let’s hope Ajay doesn’t convince him the clicks are coming from aliens.”

  Dante said goodnight and departed. He was halfway down the ship corridor when Kiera emerged from the cabin with Dante’s glasses and badge dangling in her hand. “Um, forget something, Einstein?”

  4: SMOKE SIGNALS

  A3rospace Industries Command and Control Center

  Mayaguana Island, The Bahamas

  June 18, 2018

  Amato clicked through Kiera’s presentation while waiting for Dennis Pritchard’s assistant to return to the line. He stopped on the page showing Kiera’s list of lost probes and wondered whether Pritchard was aware of Ajay and his clicks. If he was aware, Amato considered the NASA chief shrewd enough to appreciate the implications.

  After all, Pritchard was no dummy. He was a first-rate aerospace engineer and a masterful administrator — qualities Amato had witnessed on numerous occasions when Pritchard was a project manager at JPL and later as a flight director at Kennedy Space Center. Even though they were different in temperament and personality, Pritchard had as strong a passion for space exploration as Amato did, and they’d been through several crises together.

  Those crises created a bond between the two men that had endured for twenty-four years. In Amato’s experience, when a mission suffered a failure or setback, it was common for finger-pointing to occur. Sometimes that meant NASA would take aim at one or more aerospace contractors whose technology was involved in a mission mishap. Other times, contractors would return the favor. But Pritchard had never done that, not to Amato’s companies or any others. He had always focused on working the problems, solving the crises. Yes, there were always postmortems afterward, and yes, Pritchard had on occasion dinged Amato’s companies in those write-ups, but he also took responsibility when NASA was to blame. He did the same with many other contractors and employed the same tactics with NASA’s sister space agencies when problems arose on joint missions.

  Amato presumed Pritchard’s levelheaded style was one attribute that led the incoming president to tap him to run the agency. Though Pritchard had left NASA ten years earlier to lead Embry Riddle University, he had remained a positive voice through many NASA controversies over the years. Whether he was called to testify before Congress or solicited by the media for analysis and commentary, Pritchard’s political skill and leadership poise were unmatched, and Amato had been pleased when he learned of Pritchard’s appointment.

  For Amato’s relationship with NASA had become strained during Pritchard’s absence. It began when Amato announced the formation of his private-sector space exploration enterprise. The previous brass at NASA had not been pleased with Amato’s comments at the announcement press conference. They misinterpreted Amato’s explanation for forming the enterprise as harsh criticism of NASA’s progress in expanding humanity’s reach.

  “We move too slow. We think too small,” Amato had told reporters.

  The pithy quote had been picked up by the national media, leading to a firestorm of reactions from NASA, Congress and the previous White House administration. It didn’t matter that Amato had qualified his comments later in the press conference, attaching blame for NASA’s slow progress on the bureaucratic nature of government-run endeavors rather than inept leadership at the space agency.

  Retribution had been swift. Several of Amato’s project bids were rejected by NASA, and the chairman of the House subcommittee overseeing NASA appropriations had threatened to cut off funding to two active programs unless other Amato contracts were canceled.

  The controversy had subsided after Amato made the rounds to mend fences, but then reignited within the last year when Amato announced his plan to launch The Rorschach Explorer ahead of his ten-year schedule. The news had come on the heels of an announcement from NASA in which the agency provided a new timeline for its first manned mission to Mars — 2040 — reinforcing Amato’s earlier point about NASA’s slow progress.

  Pritchard assumed NASA’s helm during the height of the renewed controversy, and with deft touch, he quelled tensions on all sides in a series of media interviews. To his brothers and sisters at NASA, Pritchard had said, “Private competition is inevitable. We should embrace it. Anything that pushes us to up our game, raise the bar, is good for space exploration.”

  At the same time, he praised his colleagues for NASA’s recent accomplishments: “Perhaps Mr. Amato isn’t aware of the tremendous strides we have made in recent years. We fly faster and farther than ever before, and our slate of current and future missions is unprecedented in NASA’s history.”

  Pritchard had even thrown a bone to Congress in one interview. “Make no mistake. The strides we’ve made wouldn’t have been possible without the support we’ve received from the White House and Congress. Yes, we disagree on priorities and funding at times, but that’s a practical reality of living in a democracy. Mr. Amato, though an autocrat in his own empire, will likely find similar challenges balancing his exploration priorities and funding.”

  Finally, to Amato, Pritchard had extended a public olive branch. “I am personally inspired by Mr. Amato’s news and I look forward to discussing ways we can work together to push the boundaries of space exploration as allies.”

  True to his word, Pritchard had quickly demonstrated his willingness to be an ally. When Amato began testing his new HAB launch platform from his space centers on Mayaguana and Ascension Island, another controversy had erupted. This time, it was driven by the Pentagon. The military brass were none too happy they hadn’t been apprised of the launches. They were most miffed about the Ascension Island launches, as the island is home to various Anglo-American military and signal-tracking stations.

  The Pentagon demanded Amato put an end to launches from both islands. Amato refused, leading to the military taking matters into its own hands. Two subsequent HAB launches were intercepted and shot down by U.S. Air Force drones over the Atlantic. In addition, the secretary of defense rallied the State Department to apply pressure on the Bahamian government and the British government to shut down or confiscate Amato’s centers on the respective islands.

  Even though Pritchard was not a party to the conflict, the White House tasked him with resolving the matter. Pritchard brokered a compromise in which Amato agreed to suspend launches from Ascension in exchange for the cessation of efforts to shutter his command center there. On Mayaguana, Amato held fast to his freedom to launch as he pleased, but in return for a pledge of no further military mischief, he agreed to apprise the Pentagon and NASA in advance of future planned launches.

  Over the past few months, both sides had honored their agreements, and Amato had invited Pritchard and Pentagon officials to Mayaguana to observe the launch of his first drone trial. The military bristled when told the convoy would fly to Ascension and back, but once shown the drone convoy carried no weapons and would avoid military airspace on Ascension, they had simmered down.

  The occasion had provided Amato with a chance to reconnect with Pritchard in person and led to Amato asking Pritchard to serve as master of ceremonies for the Gateway Foundation gala. Therefore, wi
th all the good vibes that had accrued in their relationship of late, Amato viewed the impending phone conversation with trepidation. When Pritchard was connected, he was as affable as ever.

  “Augie!” Pritchard said. “How have you been?”

  “I’m doing well, Dennis. How are things in D.C.?”

  “Can’t complain. Lots of good stuff going on.”

  “Glad to hear it. The Mars announcement last week was exciting,” Amato said, referencing the discovery of carbon molecules in mud drilled by NASA’s Curiosity rover.

  “Oh, you ain’t seen nothing yet,” Pritchard said.

  Amato smiled at Pritchard’s salesmanship. “I’m sure that’s true, Dennis. Congratulations.”

  “Thanks. How did the gala turn out?”

  “Excellent. Your prodding to ‘stick it to Amato’ produced a nice bump in large donations,” Amato teased.

  Pritchard laughed. “Always happy to help a friend.”

  After a few more minutes of chitchat, Pritchard said, “So, I presume you didn’t call just to shoot the breeze. What’s on your mind? Something to do with your new gravity-assist?”

  “In a roundabout way, yes,” Amato said. “I was wondering if you’ve heard from Paul Morgan recently? I have a consulting project I wanted to discuss with him, but I’ve lost touch with him since he retired.”

  “Paul Morgan?” Pritchard said. “Gosh, I haven’t seen or talked with him in years.”

  “Do you know what he’s up to these days? Where I might find him?”

  “Can’t say I do, but I don’t mind asking around. What’s the project about, if you don’t mind me asking?”

  An excellent question, Amato thought. Let’s hope he buys my answer. “Don’t mind at all. We’ve made some modifications to Rorschach. I was hoping Paul might give us some feedback. I’ve got a good team, but they don’t have Paul’s experience.”

  “I see,” Pritchard said. “Well, I’d be happy to send one of our current crew. Maria Rodriguez just returned from ISS. She’s got Shuttle pilot experience, too.”