Episode Nine: First Contact, Part I
Marius runs the gauntlet of first contact and enters orbit behind Io.
Space Cruiser USS Marius, CS-1
The Jupiter-Io L2 Lagrange Point
May 2056
The captain suspended the red alert. “I guess they know we’re here.” He scanned the bridge. “Well. It doesn’t look like anyone’s injured. Pilot—excellent job. Comms, relay our thanks to One and SO-1.”
The bridge crew immediately ran system checks and diagnostics. I found a jump seat near Ops and made myself available if needed, but would stay out of the way until I was. The bridge crew worked calmly and professionally, but there was a palpable undercurrent of strain in their voices. And I could swear the air had taken on a locker room aroma. None of us were as calm and cool as we looked. It might take a while before the environmentals gave us back the tangy, ozone laced air we all loved so much.
I listened as the operations officer fielded calls from around the ship. There were several injuries from the rapid momentum changes, two severe but not life-threatening. Medical would treat the injured on a priority basis.
Comms reported we’d lost twenty percent of the mini-sats around Io in the last bolt from the invaders that had grazed the surface of the moon. The remaining units could handle the data traffic for the moment, but engineering would get more out of stores and begin printing the components to assemble additional units.
The biggest concern came from engineering. Our maneuvers damaged one of the construction tugs. The sudden braking had wrenched it on its mooring at the docking collar. It was fortunately skewed away from the gravity wheel, but engineering didn’t know the status of the docking collar. The captain signaled the operations officer to put the call on speaker.
“Engineering, this is the captain. What’s the status of the damaged tug?”
The engineering chief’s usual lyrical, soft contralto came flat and unemotional from the speaker. “Captain, telemetry tells us it’s still attached, and the boarding hatch is secured. But we don’t know how reliable that dock link is. We don’t know if the hatch is operable.”
“What is your recommendation?”
“Two options. We cut it loose, pilot it remotely, and move it away from the Marius. That avoids the risk of it breaking loose and damaging the ship, most notably the gravity wheel.”
“And the second, Chief?”
You could almost hear the chief considering her words in the silence. “It’s risky, sir, but we should try to salvage it. We only have six, and it’s a long way to get a replacement.”
The captain shifted in his chair and stroked his beard. “Understood. Makes sense. So why the reluctance? What’s the risk?”
Another pause. “Well, Sir. We can use one of the other tugs to stabilize it and try to move it back into position, but we need someone outside to work the docking latch manually. The remote activators are inoperative. And, well, the ionizing radiation out there is off the charts. Even with the EV suits’ protection, they could only withstand exposure for minutes. Any delay could be deadly.”
“Understood. Who do you have that can do the job? How long will you need?”
“Twenty-four hours should do it. It’ll take about two shifts to undock the other tug, get it into position, and plan the undock and re-dock of the damaged tug. Normally, I’d send Watson out to do it—”
The captain turned at my sharp intake of breath. “You have something to say, Chandler?”
“No, Sir. Just always worried for my sister.”
He met my glance for a few seconds, but his expression was deadpan as usual, not giving anything away. “Continue, Chief.”
“As I was going to say, she’s still recovering from her last EV and still lacks the dexterity and strength in her right hand she’d need for the job. But don’t worry, I have an entire squad of volunteers eager to show her up. We’ll get it done.” The tension had left her voice; she sounded eager to take on the challenge.
The captain sat up straighter, if that was even possible. “Very well, Chief. Get started. But make sure whoever draws the long straw follows protocol. We don’t need any cowboys out there.”
“Understood, Captain. Engineering out.”
Thank God for small favors. Celeste is not going out there. It’s just the sort of thing she’d volunteer for.
The captain’s voice broke into my reverie. “Chandler … Chandler.”
I looked up to meet his impatient expression. “Sorry, Captain. I was lost in the tug issue.”
He swiveled in his seat and motioned for me to join him. I unbuckled from the jump seat, glided to the command chair, found a couple of foot restraints, and waited.
“Chandler, our mission is to expel the alien invaders. If we can make contact, great, but in the end, they need to stop their gas mining operations. Despite their warm welcome, I’d rather do that without firing a shot.”
“How can I help, sir?”
“I want you to work with your AI to talk to them. If I understand it, the AI in New Mexico has been doing that. I want a local connection. Can you get that done?”
“Yes, sir. I believe we can. Lexi can work with her mother to learn the language, and we can use the same communication protocols we used for talking to the Jupiterians.”
“Then get going. We don’t know what their next move will be or how much time we have. Dismissed.”
I left the bridge and hurried to the AI lab, speeding through the ship’s passageways with apologies to a few bumped crewmates. I could hardly wait to tell Lexi. She would be so excited, and we could work with our moms.
But what will we say? What will be needed to avoid a conflict—if that will even be possible? That sobering thought tamped my excitement down.
All that mattered was the mission.