The crew makes the necessary changes to the water filtration and fuel systems. All systems are tested and readied for the encounter with the approaching, possibly hostile, ship.
The Space Cruiser USS Marius, CS-1
In orbit around Jupiter-Europa at the L2 Lagrange Point
December 2056
It was that day. The rogue ship was on radar and slowing to enter orbit around Europa.
Marco and I were in my engineering module in the gravity wheel. Marco had helped me get plugged into the bridge with video and audio. My task—baby the big nuke.
Marco fastened the last support strap of the water-filled cushion he’d fabricated to surround me, which we hoped would distribute the g-force. At five months pregnant, I wasn’t sure how my body would react. The docs had me facing forward at my console so the force of the main engine would push my swelling belly against me and the back of my acceleration couch. Maybe Marco’s contraption would help.
He flashed me one of his killer smiles. “You’re kind of cute in your plastic blimp with your two little arms sticking out.”
Not funny, Marco. Fortunately for him, he decided not to make any more of his usual smart remarks about how I looked. The stink eye and the pointed finger probably deterred him as he left for his duty station.
I had to admit—it was comical. But at least I could operate my console.
We had plenty of Marco’s fuel for the moment, but with one engine, no spares for the impellers, and minimal maneuverability it was risky trying to fly the Marius. The nuke fired in one direction—back, no steering with that beast.
Engineering had stopped the gravity wheel and partially braced it for acceleration. The docs weren’t sure what the effect zero-g, and then high-g, would have on my baby, but we had little choice. Engineering assured me they’d spin up the wheel just as soon as the nukes shut off.
The captain’s voice, calm but stern, but barely masking the strain, blared from my console speaker. “All hands. This is the captain. Take your stations and strap in. We fire main engines in thirty seconds.”
I was ready as I could be. Only time would tell how little Jason would handle it. But Marco tells me that if he’s as tough as his namesake, he’d come through fine. We’ll see.
“All hands, brace for engine start. Five-four-three-two-one. Ignition.”
The roar from the nuke was felt more than heard. Marius groaned as the ship’s structure settled against the g-force. The force increased. The gravity wheel shuddered and shook, squealing against the torque of the engine thrust.
Minutes passed. In thirty more seconds, the nuke would cut off. We’d flip the ship and use a quick burst from the main engine to put us in orbit between the rogue ship and Europa. So far, all the readouts were in the green, engine performance was nominal.
“All hands. Main engine cutoff in five-four-three-two-one …”
Nothing happened. The nuke remained on full thrust.
The captain’s shout came through the speaker. “Watson. Main engine cut-off—now.”
“It’s not the engine, sir, it’s the shut-off command.” I checked every readout, pulled up the command log. Nothing. No shut off, no throttle down. The engine fuel feeds were on full volume, the nuclear pile running at peak capacity.
What I could hear from the bridge, they were trying everything.
“Watson. We’re locked out up here. Execute an emergency shutdown.”
Scramming the nuke again could make it inoperable. “Captain, that could damage the engine for good.”
“Do it, Watson, or we’ll end up plowing into Jupiter.”
“Yes, sir,” and I hit the scram control. The screeching and moaning of the ship’s superstructure intensified. Quickly louder—then silence. The readouts spun into the red, pile temperature spiked and fuel pressure peaked. After what seemed like forever, the readouts drifted down and turned green—engine shut down complete.
I let out the breath I was holding. Nothing broke. Nothing exploded.
But we were heading out of orbit and away from Europa. We may not get sucked into Jupiter’s gravity well, but getting back to Europa … well, let’s just say I wasn’t placing any bets.
“This is the captain. We’re rotating the ship and heading back to Europa. Watson, get ready to restart the main engine.”
I’d get ready, but there was no guarantee the engine would start, let alone provide enough thrust to place the ship back into orbit. I tested the control rods—no kinks, no hangups, and the pile temperature increased as expected. Phew. One thing out of the way. Scramming the beast hadn’t broken anything.
I had no way of checking fuel flow, but none of the indicators were flashing read or were stuck out of operational norms. As far as I could tell, the nuke was ready and would fire on command. “Captain, this is Watson. Main engine is nominal, ready at your command.” Apparently, the universe was being forgiving. But counting on that in space was a good way to end up dead, so I crossed everything crossable just to be sure.
“Acknowledged, Watson. All hands. Full thrust in five-four-three-two-one ignition.
Thank God. The engine fired, and we were headed back to Europa.
The captain gradually reduced thrust, tweaked the course with the thrusters, and eased the Marius into a parking orbit ten kilometers inside the projected orbit of the arriving ship. I’m not a weapons expert, but I think that puts us close enough for our weapons to be effective, but far enough away to take evasive action. I had to give to the captain. He didn’t want a fight, but he wasn’t shying away from the second space battle in history. Personally, though, little Jason and I would just rather not make that history.
###
It was tense waiting. I reset the nuke, readied it for action, and squirmed inside my super-g bubble. Honestly, though, the crazy thing seemed to have worked—I felt fine. I didn’t know yet how little Jason was, but the doc said she’d be by to check, but she hadn’t said when. So, I sat. Finger on the trigger, so to speak.
“All hands. This is the captain. The approaching ship is entering its orbit, as expected. I’ll keep this channel open so you all can hear what they have to say.”
It was now or never.
“Approaching ship, this is Captain Bullard of the USS Marius. Please identify yourself.”
“Marius, this is Seth, in control of the SST The Horns of Ammon. How may I be of assistance?” The voice was a calm, almost neutral, man’s baritone.
“Seth, are you the captain of The Horns of Ammon?”
The captain sounded, well, not confused, but reserved, like Seth’s greeting was unexpected. And frankly, I could empathize. You would have thought first contact would have been a bit more dramatic, more confrontational. Instead, this Seth guy just calmly offered us help.
“No, Captain. I’m controlling The Horns. There is no captain.”
“No captain? Who directs the mission, supervises the crew?”
“There is no crew, and I direct the mission. Hasn’t my sister Lexi explained this to you? I communicated this to her months ago. We’ve been discussing my mission since our initial contact during your trip to Europa. And my offer of help is genuine. Lexi has apprised me of your fuel and water situation.”
Wait? What? What? Boy, does Celina have some explaining to do. How would Lexi know this guy? And his sister? Oh, yeah—Celina and her little friend are definitely on the hot seat.
After a long pause, the captain rejoined the conversation. New respect for him. He didn’t miss a beat.
“Well, Seth. I assume you are an artificial entity and that your ship is automated. To be honest with you, my mission is to interdict yours. Is this going to be a problem?”
“We’ll see, Captain Bullard. We’ll see.”
###
Martian Colony at Lyot
Region North of Deuteronilus Mensae, Mars
December 2056
Samuelson, groggy from a long night in the lab and little sleep, shuffled his feet outside General Buckley’s office in the wee hours of the Martian day. He’d been gathering additional data on the communications interference he and Bart had encountered in the Jezero crater. It turned out other teams had picked it up in the Gale crater area, and in other locations where ice mining survey teams had been working. His team and the communications group had been working long hours to figure out where the interference was coming from.
A week ago, Samuelson had been ordered to turn over his data to Space Force for further analysis. He wasn’t sure how the military could do any better than the comms team. He guessed he’d find out when he’d received the order to meet General Buckly in her office at this godawful hour.
A chimed sounded. “Come in, Dr. Samuelson,” came the command from the wall speaker. The hatch door clicked a few centimeters open. Samuelson pushed his way in and closed the door behind him.
General Buckley came from around her desk, shook his hand and guided him to a pair of lounge chairs. “Thank you for coming, particularly so early.”
Samuelson was surprised at the warmth of her welcome. He’d never met the general before, but he’d heard stories. “No problem, ma’am. But I am a bit confused why you wanted to meet with me.”
“Doctor, I’ll get right to it. I’d like you to join a new team I’m forming. We’ve discovered something that needs investigating, and I need civilian staff with top secret clearances, which I believe you have.”
Samuelson knew right away he’d say yes. He’d always signed up for odd projects, no questions asked. “Yes. Yes, I’ll join your team.”
“You don’t even know what it is yet.”
“I don’t need to. My guess it has to do with the modulated interference we’ve been studying. And frankly, if you’re asking for top secret clearances, I know it’s going to be interesting.”
“Well, Doctor. Welcome to the team. And you’re right. We sent the interference patterns to the AI group in New Mexico. Their artificial entity, Jessa, has translated the signals.”
Samuelson took a moment to ponder that statement. He’d heard rumors of the AI Jessa, but nothing concrete. Now it was real. “Translated, you say. So who’s talking?”
General Buckley took a moment, even smiled at the question. “It seems there’s an indigenous intelligence living in the subsurface brine and they’ve made contact.”
“No shit!” Samuelson could feel the heat rising up his neck. “Sorry, ma’am.”
The general smiled. “Exactly.”