Trajectory Book 1 (New Providence) Read online

  The main screen was showing recent telemetry compiled from Watchtower data and the currently filed and predicted flight plans from the inbound ships. Previous mission tracks were ghosted out, showing Calypso’s recent changes.

  The screen showed a curved dotted line from Pandora’s last position towards Calypso’s general volume. That was the object. Each dot a flash in space cutting a lateral track across the inner asteroid belt.

  Oddly, Calypso had updated their flight plan with a new, slimmer trajectory. Captain Franklin was burning hard into Mars at a shallower declination than originally intended. Heavier burns too, according to the acceleration profiles. Was he hoping to outrun the object?

  Mancuso sauntered over to the science station, Ortega and Wilkins hunched over their screens talking. “Any change in the object’s trajectory?”

  Ortega blinked at him, pushing whatever conversation he’d been having with Wilkins away and adjusting to Mancuso’s question. “Some minor variations in the object’s blink period.”

  Wilkins shifted in his seat. Looking back and forth between Mancuso and Ortega. To Ortega, “Are you going to tell him?” Then back to Mancuso.

  “Tell me what?” Mancuso growled.

  Wilkins answered hastily. “It’s varying its period depending on Calypso’s velocity. It looks like it’s adjusting its speed to intercept them.”

  “Have they been notified?”

  Wilkins shook his head. “We were waiting to verify the data.” He looked back at Ortega pointedly.

  “Just send them the data. They can make what they will of it.” Mancuso sat down in his seat heavily and checked his messages. New message from Brennan at the university. He opened it up and read. Looks like they’d picked one of the students to join the science team. Emma Franklin.

  Captain Franklin’s daughter.

  He really hoped this wasn’t a huge mistake, but they needed smart people. Wilkins and Ortega couldn’t handle all this themselves. They needed some support.

  Mancuso rubbed his aching chest automatically. He skimmed through the rest of the unread messages in his inbox. Incident reports. Messages from the Council. Message from Doctor Lau, the chief station physician.

  Subject: Re: Test results.

  He took a breath and opened the message.

  David,

  I’d like you to come and see me sometime this week. Don’t worry about booking an appointment, just come by during office hours. We need to discuss possible treatment options for you.

  I know you have a lot going on right now, but you should consider taking some down-time. Let your people take over for you. This is treatable, but we need to get started right away. It’s spreading rapidly and if we don’t catch this, it’s going to be much worse.

  Peter

  Mancuso closed the message and squeezed his eyes shut. There was simply no time to deal with this now. Treatment was going to take him out of commission, probably for good.

  He remembered his father telling him nobody ever made it to old age in the space program. “Too much radiation,” he’d tell him. Maybe he should’ve listened, but he just couldn’t give it up. Space, science, engineering. It was all he’d ever wanted since he was a kid. Fifty years later it was the thing that was going to kill him.

  He wasn’t ready to be turned into compost. David Mancuso squeezed his left arm against his side, feeling the lump constricting in his armpit and wincing at the pain it caused. He straightened his jacket and stood up, walked into the small boardroom to deal with the incident reports.

  033

  New Providence.

  “Can I get you anything, Tam?” Greg was speaking through the closed door to the bathroom in Tamra’s apartment.

  “No.” she managed to answer. “Not now.”

  Tamra was lying on the floor by the toilet after another round of dry heaves that gave way into stream of wracking coughs. The floor was cool on her skin as she lay there, breath wheezing out of her.

  She felt the small bathroom start to spin around her again. Her head hurt. Everything hurt. She held on, feeling like she was going fall off the floor.

  Space. Zero gravity. Tamra was in a suit orbiting above an angry red Mars. Phobos off to her right, small and round and pitted. It loomed large in her vision. Larger than it should be in the sky.

  The sky spun around and she realized she was falling. She had no thrusters. No controls. The suit’s oxygen supply was reading low. Falling, space wheeling around her.

  Phobos loomed larger still spinning in front of her. She was falling into it. Picking up speed. The nav displays on her suit were blurred out. Her helmet cracked.

  That’s not right.

  Her suit was filling with water.

  Cold water. Had she sprung a leak? She tried to remember where her suit repair kit was. It was supposed to be on her belt. Her helmet was filling up.

  Why was she naked?

  The water continued to engulf her and she realized she was going to drown.

  She was in water.

  Blue water. Light streaming from above. Cool blue water. An ocean? Was she on Earth? Green plants sent clingy fronds from the sandy soil under the water and grabbed at her arms and feet, pulling her down. Bubbles rose up from her nose and mouth. It was warm. Comfortable. A hand reached up from below, reaching up towards her.

  A face emerged, light brown hair billowing around it. A ray of sunlight lit the woman’s face.

  “Mom?”

  The hand beckoned to her, drew her down deeper into the water.

  “No.”

  She fought to stay above, but the warm water called to her. Her mother, arms outstretched below.

  “Tam?” a distant voice. “Tam? Can you hear me?”

  She floated there. She could see the sun rippling through the surface above her. It looked warm. The seaweed waved around her in the reef.

  “Tamra!”

  She gasped and lifted her head. Greg was staring at her, holding her head and shoulders in his lap in the shower. Water beating down around them splashing on the tiles.

  “Greg?” she spluttered.

  “She’s awake now. Yes. I’ll keep an eye on her.” Pause “Alright. Thank you!” He closed the connection on his tablet sitting on the floor in a puddle outside the shower stall. He looked back down at her, her face in his lap, wet hair stuck to her cheeks and forehead. “Hey!” He gave her a big squeeze. “I thought you’d checked out.” He turned off the cool running water and it rolled into the drain to be taken to reclamation.

  He lifted her up out of the nest of wet towels and frozen gel packs and lowered her naked into a blanket, wrapping her up in it. Both of them dripping all over the floor. Greg’s clothes drenched.

  “We’ll get you back in bed. Doc says that should have broken the fever.”

  “Mom was in the water.”

  She was so tired. And cold. She shivered in the blanket as Greg carried her to her bedroom. Her eyes closed before he lowered her onto the bed.

  034

  Ascraeus Mons, Gagarin Terminal.

  Emma had arrived at the space port nearly three hours ago. She’d been taken to the station’s quartermaster and fitted for a suit. She spent the next two and a half hours in a classroom running through their suits’ systems. Safety seals, visor readouts, radio controls.

  It was a recap for her, she’d already spent time in one of these things before. The difference was this time she’d get to keep it. She was going to get a name patch. FRANKLIN, E. Just like her dad’s.

  Emma was taken to the locker by the crew specialist. She was glad she’d been assigned a female instructor. Her patch read, HARDING, G. “How long have you been doing suit orientation, Ms. Harding?”

  “A couple of years now.” She smiled at Emma, hazel eyes crinkling for a second around the edges. Thin lines on her face.

  “Have you ever been to the station?” Emma felt like talking might keep her from freaking out. So far so good. “That was possibly a stupid question.”


  “Yes. I go up all the time. I’ll be going up with you today.”

  “Oh! For some reason I thought you’d be staying here.”

  “No. I get to ride in the shuttle and keep an eye on you. Make sure you don’t pop your helmet off and go on a spacewalk.” Harding grinned at her.

  Emma made a noise that sounded like a gulp.

  They arrived at her locker and Ms. Harding opened it up. “Put on your liner and then give me a holler when you’re ready. I’ll help you suit up.”

  Harding turned and walked away, around one of the other rows of lockers.

  Emma stripped out of her clothes down to her underwear and quickly pulled on the grey/blue suit liner. It was not an attractive garment but served as an insulation and anti abrasion layer inside the suit. She tested the padding on her right elbow by bumping it in the palm of her left hand. It was also padded in the knees, shoulders and crotch. She pulled at the suit and shifted around in it unsuccessfully trying to get comfortable.

  “Ready.” Her voice sounded very small in her head.

  Harding re-materialized in front of her wearing her own shapeless grey padded inner lining. “Lookin’ sharp, kid.” She flashed a smile and a thumbs up. “Now, let’s get your booties on. Believe it or not, this is way easier in zero-G.”

  Emma could believe it. After climbing up onto the bench, she grabbed hold of the harness and lowered herself into the suit’s legs. She got stuck when her feet reached the ankles and had to squeeze them around into the suit’s boots one at a time. Harding kept each boot from bending too much as she got her feet inside.

  “Usually easier doing it this way than disconnecting the boots from the legs. Hard to bend over and get the seals when you’re inside.” Harding explained, helping to hold the suit’s floppy legs as Emma pushed her feet into the end through the rings at the ankle.

  Next, they lowered the suit’s chest piece over her head and Emma maneuvered her arms in around the bends in the elbow. The sleeves felt long and the torso was tight against her chest making it hard to reach the ends.

  “Don’t worry. It gets easier when you’ve done it a few hundred times.”

  Emma felt the suit’s torso click into the legs and Harding turned the lock.

  “How’s that feel?” Harding was inspecting her handiwork, tugging on the seals around Emma’s waist.

  “Feels big.” Emma wriggled her fingers around outside the rings at the end of the arms. Her shoulders were loose inside the chest piece. The legs were binding her in the crotch awkwardly.

  “Ah you’ll get used to it. Measurements said this suit was the best fit for you. You’re a bit on the small side.” Harding pulled on the neck ring peering in. “We’ll keep the helmet and gloves in their bag until we’re ready to board. Follow me.”

  Emma stomped after Harding around a couple of rows of lockers. They passed another person climbing into a suit. Emma looked away, embarrassed.

  “Here’s mine. I might need you to lock me in.”

  Harding climbed into her suit’s legs and then wormed up into the torso. When she was in, she pulled the torso down and told Emma to lock her in. Emma had a hard time sliding the ring seal into place with her hands half covered but managed to make it click.

  “Good! You’re getting the hang of it in there?”

  Emma grinned. Gave a lame thumbs up.

  “OK, grab your stuff and let’s get going.”

  035

  Calypso.

  Carl Lambert was on watch in the cockpit. After their endurance run earlier today he was happy just to relax weightless in the chair. Ben and the Captain were both racked out. He could hear the Captain snoring below in his bunk. Normally he’d be watching movies or reading on his tablet. He had a thing for horror movies and science fiction though he didn’t really feel interested in any of those. He felt like he was in a horror movie himself. The long lead-up to something awful happening.

  This is bullshit.

  Carl was running over the data from Control. He’d watched the footage from Watchtower a few dozen times, hoping to make some sense of what happened to Pandora, but there was nothing to it other than specks on a screen. The tiniest light show ever.

  And you know what? The Captain’s flying us right into this shit and all they had was a mining feeder they’d turned into a space grenade. He and Trigger’d checked it out in the equipment room before he turned in and gave it one more going over. At least he was confident the thing would explode on command now. He just wasn’t convinced it would be useful as a weapon.

  Maybe if they mounted it on their ship’s drone. Maybe.

  Flipping through the navigation data, Carl started laying out some new course corrections. They started out as minor changes to the existing flight plan then got more extreme as he drew longer, wider arcs around where they expected the object to be.

  “You like that?” He caught himself talking to his screen and rubbed the stubble on his head. He was tired. Getting loopy.

  What if we slowed it right down? Like, cut our velocity in half and then drifted? He plotted that, ignoring Mars’ advancement in its orbit, moving ahead of them as he drifted the timeline forward with a new slower trajectory. This thing’d blow right past us. It’d be expecting us to head hard to Mars rather than coast in. Wouldn’t it?

  He scratched his chin and looked at the final plot. They’d have to make up the time to Mars somehow. They’d have fuel if they conserved while drifting. Be a helluva lot easier on the engine too.

  Carl looked up through the windows into space ahead of them. He floated up and looked at the stars and the Sun glowing distantly through the shaded glass. It’s out there. Whatever it is. And it’s coming straight for them.

  The new plot made as much sense as anything else did. Not that anything about this made sense at all. What the hell was this thing that changed course in mid space? Had to be a ship, but what was flying it? Could it really be alien? They’d been broadcasting radio into space for two hundred years now. If there was intelligent life in the Galaxy, that’d give them two hundred years to hear them in their solar system and send out a ship to meet them, wouldn’t it?

  What if they didn’t like what they heard?

  He shivered, staring into the unknown. One thing was for sure: Carl Lambert wasn’t letting no little green men probe his butt.

  Fuck no.

  He saved his new flight plan. He’d bring it up with Edson in the morning when he got up. Maybe over breakfast.

  Would Ben have his back?

  036

  Making Time.

  Hey Jer,

  You’ll never guess what happened. I’m going to Lighthouse! Commander Mancuso asked me to come up to help out on the science team. I guess we found the thing before Watchtower picked it up. I guess I’m kind of a big deal. *grin*

  Anyway. I’m nervous. First time in a shuttle. First time off Mars. It’s huge.

  Jerem reread. They picked Em for the station’s science team?

  The last data we had showed the object tracking Calypso. I’ll be leaving here early today and will be blacked-out while in transit. I haven’t heard from Dad since they started their high trajectory.

  I’m worried. I really hope nothing happens to them.

  I guess I’m worried about a lot of stuff. Dad. You… Stuff.

  Be careful out there, ok? I miss you. Will send more when I’m on the station.

  luv,

  Em XOXOXOX

  Jerem flopped back in his bunk. They were cruising at 0.4G and had been for most of the day. The even gravity was nice. Comfortable. Heavier than home but not unbearable. He was getting used to it.

  To: Emma Franklin

  Subject: Re: Station

  Em, that’s awesome news. That means I’ll get to see you a day or two sooner than if you’d been down in the colony. Maybe we can book one of the suites in the hotel. One of the nice ones they reserve for the Council when they visit.

  I have to say, this is one of the roughest returns we’ve
had. Normally there’s not much to worry about, you know? You can set the controls and just do your thing. Read a book or listen to music. Watch movies. It’s boring as hell. This is different. It’s like we’re waiting to see what happens so everybody’s on edge. Spooked. Now we’re bored and edgy.

  What are we missing? What else is out there?

  Good luck on your flight. Those shuttles give a pretty bumpy ride, but they’re safe. Just stay buckled in and trust your suit. Always Trust Your Suit.

  I miss you a lot. I can’t stop thinking about you and it’s driving me crazy.

  Mail me when you get to the station. J

  He sent the message and opened up his photo book. He flipped through some pictures of her on his tablet. Selfies taken in various places sent to him at random then saved to his tablet. Smiling in her apartment, dark hair around her light brown face. Look of fake surprise in the park, her lips in a silent oh, those big bright eyes wide around their light green irises. Sleepy on her bed, eyes half-closed and a hint of a smile, her slender neck and a shoulder. Her lean body barely hidden under a sheet.

  He put on some music and turned off the lights in his bunk. He tried to think technical thoughts. Math. The three-body problem of orbital dynamics. The Sun, Mars and their ship.

  Every time he closed his eyes, all he could see was Emma’s giggling face teasing him. He fell asleep thinking about trajectories and imagined Emma and himself locked in a binary orbit. She tormented him in his dreams, naked, trying to run away from him. Jerem unable to catch her as she ran around him in a swirling circle, blue LED lighting like stars against a black room. Out of reach, she laughed and ran away.

  037

  Shuttle 8.

  Emma buckled into her jump seat on board the shuttle. The seat was barely recognizable as such. A shell with a number of hooks and receptacles that her suit was built to fit into, forming a tight lock on her back and legs. Once attached, and checked over by Harding, she hit the button on her arm controls to inflate the inner lining in her suit. The suit filled up with air around her squeezing and securing her into position with protective padding.