Solar Express (17 page)

A report immediately appeared. Alayna studied it. As was usually the case, she could find no faults. “Send that to the IAU and a copy to both Farside Operations and to Director-Generale Braun. And a copy to my personal directory.”

“All three reports have been dispatched.”

“Thank you.”

Alayna sat there, stunned. She didn't know what else the object could be but something created by technology. But whose? And when? And why was a huge piece of it in a cometary orbit? And what technology or force could have sliced through a sphere almost three kilometers in diameter so relatively cleanly?

A thought struck her.
Shouldn't the Space Service know?
She ought to report the possibility that the object might be more than a chunk of rock to someone, just in case it was. Yet, the problem with sending off a blind report was that it was likely to be buried or disregarded, and she had no idea to whom it should go. Then she nodded. It wouldn't hurt to send a copy to the Space Service and one to Chris as well, along with a message. She began to write.

When she finished, the message to the Director of the Space Service was direct, the key lines simply being:

 … the object described in the attached report filed with the IAU is so unusual that it might represent an artificial construction, or possibly an alien artifact. At the least, you should know of this possibility.

The message to Chris took just a little longer.

Chris—

I never thought we'd be corresponding on what might be officially related business, but I feel this is important. As you can see from the attached messages, my “not-a-comet” asteroid might just be something far more important. There's nothing like it in the current catalogue of small solar system bodies. That absence indicates to me its absolute uniqueness. If it does happen to be a technological artifact, then I felt the Space Service should know of it. Although I did send the message to the Director, I have no way of knowing if it will reach him, or how soon. Because I think the matter just might be too important to be left to chance, I thought you might have a way of getting the information where it should go.

Alayna sent it off, wondering if she was being too dramatic. Yet …
one way or another, whatever that object is, it's unique enough that it shouldn't be buried … or allowed to be singed, if not destroyed, by the sun.

For several minutes after she sent off the message to Chris, she sat there, trying not to second-guess herself.

You need to get back to work.
Alayna knew she needed to get back to her own research, to see what else she might try and come up with a plan before it became lunar day on Farside. The trouble was … she couldn't help but think about the comet/asteroid/possible alien object.

Perhaps if she answered Emma's latest message, that would help. She called it up and let her eyes scan the text, her eyes taking in the key sections.

 … hate the fact that we can't do face-to-face real-time. You'd think we were back in the early twentieth century, as far as off-Earth comm goes. Data everywhere. Personal comm? Forget it!

Sure you must have heard, or read, since you don't get full spectrum news on Farside, but we're shut down for repairs—fairly major repairs. I'd always thought that hurricanes or tropical cyclones didn't do that much damage at altitude. Wrong on that. We had winds over 300 kph here on top of Mauna Kea … The ITRF Facility was one of the few that didn't suffer much damage … but it was built not to budge. It hasn't, in more than a century. Us … everything's out of calibration and, like everyone, we're short of funds. I just hope the Sinese charges about militarizing space are wrong. The last thing we need is missiles and weapons in space. We can't even get a decent road up to the astronomy park, and DOEA turned us down flat for any help with repairs …

Times like these, I almost wish things had worked out between Carlina and me, but two headstrong bitches in the same time and place isn't a formula for stability, even if sometimes the fire's spectacular. Did you hear about Joe Dupree? He's a junior science adviser to one of the senators from Alberta. Must be through someone he or his family knew because the position was for an ecologist, not an astrophysicist.

At that, Alayna shook her head. Not that she was surprised. She'd walked away from Joe ten minutes after they met and never looked back.
And never wanted to.
Brains and looks weren't worth much if they only supported a solipsistic ego. With a faint smile, she once more began to write.

Emma—

I'm sorry to hear about the damage on Mauna Kea. I must have missed that. I knew about Hurricane Josephina and all the damage at Hilo and especially at Kawaihae, but the reports I got here didn't mention the devastation at the astronomy park …

Should she mention her thoughts about the possible alien artifact? Alayna shook her head.
Not now.

For a time, I thought I might have discovered a comet. I reported it, but the IAU finally decided that it was just an asteroid in an odd orbit so that it's now just a minor planet/small body with a number—2114 FQ5 …

She continued to write.

 

22

ON
EILL
S
TATION

14 O
CTOBER
2114

Tavoian woke early on Sunday morning. He'd not slept well the night before, especially after he'd been greeted by a Marine captain who had politely informed him that he would need to be debriefed on Sunday and that, until that time, all his comm privileges had been suspended … and that he was limited to the officers' quarters and mess on ONeill Station until he was debriefed. Tavoian, being the skeptical sort, had attempted to access the comm network … and had been denied.

All that had meant seeing almost no one on Saturday evening, except the captain and two first lieutenants who ate in a corner of the mess. On Sunday morning Tavoian ate almost alone again, except for the two lieutenants, and a pair of captains who kept to themselves.

By 0900 UTC, Tavoian was more than restless. He had to refrain from frowning when the same Marine captain who had met him the afternoon before appeared at his quarters cubicle.

“Captain Tavoian, the major is here to debrief you. If you'd accompany me.”

“Of course.” Tavoian didn't see that he had much choice, especially if he wanted to leave ONeill Station, which he was coming to dislike more with each passing minute. The suspension of comm access combined with the effective isolation had resulted in a situation where he had no idea of what was happening anywhere in the solar system. For all he knew, his surveillance mission had triggered all-out war … or had been totally ignored. The latter was far more likely, but he didn't like not knowing.

The captain, who wore no name badge, escorted Tavoian to the upper level of ONeill Station, the one just below the shaft leading to the docking ring, and then to an unmarked pressure door. “Just go in, sir. He's expecting you.”

The small chamber held little more than two chairs and a console against the bulkhead. The major stood briefly and gestured to the empty chair as he again seated himself. “Major Ernest Kohler, Captain. I'm here to debrief you.”

Tavoian took in the major, not caring particularly for what he saw, a round face above a chiseled body likely kept in shape by hours exercising in the full-gee centrifuge and a friendly smile not matched by the cold blue eyes. “Then we should get started.”

“Did you notice anything abnormal or any other spacecraft near you when you left Donovan Base?”

“No. Not during the checklist, release, or orientation.”

“Nothing?”

“I saw nothing. The monitors and screens showed nothing, and the AI noted nothing abnormal.”

The major nodded. “A Sinese fusionjet passed fairly close, in space distances, to your spacecraft shortly after turnover. What did you observe?”

“I observed very little. The relative velocities were such that we were close to each other for less than fifteen seconds. I did compute the ship's course, which appeared parallel to mine, suggesting that it began its flight somewhere close to the Sinese space elevator and would end up passing close to the L1 station. I relayed that information to L1 Operations.”

“Were there any other ships that approached you after that, either en route or after you took up station off the Sinese counterweight installation?”

“No.”

The major offered an inquiring glance.

Tavoian waited.

“What about after you took up station? What happened then?”

“The ship was laser-tagged with a single range pulse. That happened three other times. Those were the only contacts during the entire time I was in position observing the Sinese station.”

“How many spacecraft were docked there?”

“I counted eight. All were of Sinese burner design.”

The major continued to ask questions about the Sinese installation, the answers to all of which would have been revealed by the data gathered by the ship itself. He did not ask about the cubesat array. That suggested that the Marines were not exactly privy to that data.

Tavoian answered all the observational questions directly, because any optical system trained on the Sinese station would have revealed that. His most frequent reply to the other questions was, “That data along those lines went directly into the ship's data system. I wouldn't know, sir.”

Finally, the major said, “Then you went to observe the Indian upper station. What did you see there?”

“A large solar-powered station, and another installation that was not complete. No work was being done on the incomplete installation while I was there.”

“Was there any communication?”

“The Indian station hailed me as an unidentified spacecraft. The controller asked if I was going to request permission to dock or if I needed assistance. I replied, without giving identification, that I was not seeking permission to dock and that I did not need assistance. The station did not initiate further communication.”

“You proceeded from there to ONeill Station directly?”

“I did. Those were my orders.”

“Were you told what would happen once you got here?”

“I was told that I would dock, get some rest, and return to L1 with whatever passengers or cargo needed transport.”

The major spent another half hour going back over what Tavoian had said before finally declaring, “That should do it.” He rose. “Your comm privileges will be reinstated once you leave ONeill Station, but all your comms will be rerouted through the colonel's office before they are sent or received.”

“I take it I won't know about messages someone thinks I'm not supposed to get, then?”

“Oh, no. You'll get anything that's sent to you. And if anything is classified in what you send, the message will be returned unsent with a notice of what should not be discussed.”

Tavoian managed not to look puzzled. He didn't see that anything was different—unless the major was saying that all his comms from everywhere would be rerouted, and not just those made from Donovan Base.

“Your ship's ready for your return hop. You'll be carrying cargo back to Donovan Base. Quite a bit of it. They've been loading it ever since you locked in yesterday.” The major rose. “Your gear's all onboard. I'll see you off.”

Tavoian understood. For whatever reason, someone wanted to make certain that no one in civilian status saw him on ONeill Station, and that he was leaving without any comm going through the station's net. That was clear. The reason why wasn't, but it likely had to do with his “reconnaissance” mission. Had it caused that big an uproar? Or was the colonel trying to keep the “militarization” of Space Service pilots secret for as long as possible? Or did the major have his own agenda and did not want it revealed until Tavoian reported back to Donovan Base?

The two took lift chairs to the transfer car near the center of the station, then used it to transition into the null-grav shaft that led up to the docking ring. The major motioned for Tavoian to lead the way. Tavoian did, moving hand over hand up or along the ladder—which was merely a matter of perspective—until he reached the docking ring, then used the corridor railing to propel himself to the lock where he had docked Recon two. He had to wait for the major there, because the inner lock door was sealed.

The major tapped in a security code, and the lock opened. “Have a good trip, Captain.”

“Thank you.” Tavoian inclined his head, but did not add the “sir” before closing the lock and then checking the seals and pressure before opening the outer door and the ship's outer lock.

Once he was inside Recon two, he immediately saw what the major had meant. Both the forward and rear passenger spaces were filled with plastfilm-sealed containers, strapped in position, with only a narrow passage to the ladder up to the control deck.

The trip back to Donovan Base was uneventful. Tavoian still wondered what the major had been up to, and what part of DOEA he represented, or whether he also reported to the Noram planet-based Defense Forces.

Once Recon two was grappled in at the docking ring, and Tavoian had finished his shutdown check, he gathered his kit and left the ship. The same hard-faced tech2 who had first greeted him at Donovan Base was waiting just inside the lock.

“The colonel wants to see me?” asked Tavoian.

“Yes, sir. You're to report to the colonel immediately, sir.” The tech's face offered an inquiring look.

“If he hadn't asked, I would have requested.”

“Yes, sir.” The inquiring look was replaced by one of curiosity.

“He needs to know about certain matters.”

Spacer3 Riske nodded as Tavoian stepped into the colonel's outer office. “He's expecting you, Captain.” She still pointed to the biometric ID attached to the wall.