Forbidden the Stars (7 page)

The report had been sent in binary code; a video uplink was thought too expensive for routine communications. The power requirements of AV at that distance were astronomical, to say the least.

The computer translated the message:

*

To:

Orcus 1

From:

Mission Control, NASA, USA, Inc.

Re:

Dis Pater

Message:

The glyph on the last row, last column is confirmed as Mayan Hieroglyph, circa 700 AD

Translation:

“Behold the Mighty Door of Kinich Ahua; Eternity is Now Before You; Be Ware the Power of Kukulcan.”

Orders:

Discontinue initial mission.
Dis Pater
primary priority. Local authority granted.

Signed:

CEO Frank Madison, USA, Inc.

Director William Tuttle, NASA

CEO Pierre Dolbeau, Canada Corp.

Thomas Granville, Minister of CSE

Dir. Lassen Kruger, ESA

Dir. Vic Tong, Japan Cong. space enterprises

Honorable Tung Jo, PRC Space program

*

Loud conversation broke out immediately, threatening to escalate into argument.

“What does that mean, ‘Behold the Mighty Door of Kinich Ahua; Eternity is Now Before You; Be Ware the Power of Kukulcan’?”

“And what does ‘local authority’ mean?”

“What do they expect us to do?”

“Who is going to be in charge? The Mission Chief? Or the Science Chief?”

Johan Belcher asked, “Are there any more details?”

“No.”

Henrietta had a concerned look on her face. “Are they keeping us in the dark on purpose?”

“Is there more? Does Captain Turner have a private message?” George Eastmain demanded.

That last question brought silence as all turned to her for an answer. Justine, in turn, glanced at Helen.
“Is
there anything for me?”

The First Mate/Navigator of the mission blinked a number of times. It was against regulations to reveal even the existence of coded military messages to the Science Team, but it was obvious the captain wanted to allay suspicion among the Team.

Slowly, she nodded,
yes.

“Bring it up.”

Helen hesitated. “Captain,” she began to protest.

“Bring it up,” Justine reiterated, her tone forceful and full of command. She brooked no disobedience.

“Very well.” The Canadian turned to her comm computer and tapped in a few passages, giving the preliminary codes. She turned to Justine. “Captain?”

Nodding, Justine said out loud, “Voice print confirmation: Captain Justine Churchill Turner,
Orcus 1
. Security Code: Alpha-Alpha-Alpha-Zeta-Alpha-Turkey-Chicken-Rat.” There were a few chuckles, despite the tension.

The on-board AI replied, “Confirmation acknowledged, Captain.”

Justine added in a mock imperious tone, “Just so everyone knows, I’m changing the code after this.” That elicited a few more chuckles.

On the bridge DMR casement, the NASA insignia was replaced by the CEO of USA, Inc.’s official emblem. Unlike the binary EPS, this message was an AV communication, with a length of two minutes, fourteen seconds. The cost for that brief message was in the thousands of dollars.

On screen, the image of CEO Frank Madison and Director William Tuttle appeared, both seated on a couch in Camp David.

The Director spoke first. “I won’t waste time, Captain Turner. No doubt you received the translation of the inscription on that artifact yew called
Dis Pater
by now. I know, I know. The words mean nothing without a frame of reference. We’ve got top Mayanologists and cryptologists working on it right now with our best technical and theological experts.

“For now, I want you to inform the Science Team that they should proceed with utmost care, but with utmost urgency in trying to solve the mystery of
Dis Pater
; we need as much information as possible.”

The CEO, the most powerful man in America—and some said, the world—interrupted the Director.

“Since the discovery, we’ve had a number of summit meetings with the involved agencies represented by the Science Team up there, as well as with most of the other countries. There is a widespread movement to make public any and all findings. But the five agencies who are in cooperation on this project are in a position to keep the upper hand with our discovery.

“It’s political chaos down here. It is imperative that we have some solid information before making any kind of arrangement with any country outside the five. Therefore, we are depending on you to ride herd on those scientists up there. Bring us something we can use.”

The Director of NASA took over again. “Justine, no matter what, I want you to make sure no lives are in danger. Come back to us safely. There’s a promotion waiting for you upon arrival.” He smiled and gave a quick nod of his head.

The NASA insignia transposed itself over the frozen image, and then the casement went blank.

The argument that threatened to boil over from the collected scientists was cut off as Helen’s voice cut through the growing roar of protest.

“Captain! We’ve got something on the spectrograph sensor at the artifact site.’

She stared up at Justine, her eyes widened to the size of saucers.

“It’s the
Dis Pater
.”

Her voice throaty, she spoke in a breathless rush. “It’s…
reacting.”

__________

SMD Catalogue :

Largest Asteroids :

by diameter (kms) :

1. Ceres – 952

2. Pallas – 544

3. Vesta – 529

4. Hygiea – 431

5. Intermenia – 326

6. Europa – 301

7. Davida – 289

8. Sylvia – 286

9. Cybele – 273

10. Eunomia – 268

- - -

42. Macklin’s Rock – 148

__________

SMD Event Center :

Ottawa :

Canada Corp. :

Michael and Alliras
arrived at the SMD Event Center twelve minutes after speaking with Raymond Magrath. Taking the Colonel-By thoroughfare, they made it to the large neo-mod building in the southern section of Ottawa, near Gloucester and the international airport.

Inside the Event Center, the two men made their way to the seventh floor, Operations. Stepping off the conveyor tube, they entered organized chaos.

Technicians and operators were hustling back and forth, hovering over computers and monitors. All along the walls of the enormous room, giant DMR casements showed schematics of Earth, Luna, and the other planets. One showed the entire Sol System, with running statistics on each view scrolling up the legend casements. Most of the smaller monitors showed various asteroids in the belt.

Rows of desks housing computers and DMR casements divided the floor of the Event Center. Technicians and operators took up every available space.

Filled to capacity, the room held more people than would be present under normal circumstances. Most of those in attendance were regular evening shift. A few had not left after their shift ended, and stayed on through the emergency to lend their expertise.

Michael glanced at his watch.

The second night shift would arrive in four hours to spell the day shift. It did not matter what the emergency was; tired people made mistakes. Michael would direct them to go home himself, if it came to that. For the time being, he felt secure with an abundance of intellect in the room.

Raymond Magrath spotted them as they entered, and hurried over. With his thought-link patch secured to his temples over his widow’s peak, he nodded to the two, and directed their attention to the central screen.

Raymond was young, in his early thirties, but competent in his duties, regularly performing beyond his job description as administrative assistant.

Raymond wasted no breath with pleasantries. “It happened just over two hours ago.”

“What happened?” Alliras pressed.

Michael glanced over to Calbert, hovering over a technician.

Raymond squinted: a sign he was giving the CPU a command through the thought-link. Everyone had their own way of showing they were thought-linking, even though no physical movement was required. The central DMR casement flicked, and a new image superimposed itself for their scrutiny.

The legend explained that they were looking at Segment 14568 of the charted asteroid belt. The screen showed a number of large bodies, some rotating, others stationary.

The AI filtered out any rock smaller than a kilometer in diameter, to avoid creating a cluttered DMR display.

Many of the rocks had a white circle sketched on their surfaces, with a direct legend detailing their physical attributes and statistics, SMD mine number, and name, if they had one.

Michael saw an anomaly in one of the SMD asteroids.

One of the circle designations—Macklin’s Rock—showed that the site was in the process of being surveyed, but there was no real-time image of the asteroid itself on the screen.

“What happened?” he asked, repeating his superior’s question.

“The whole damned asteroid just vaporized on us. We have the EPS record cued and ready for playback.”

Just then, Calbert Loche spied them, and hurried over.

“Two surveyors were on that asteroid when it exploded. Although exploded is not quite the right term,” he added. “Disappeared, vaporized, vanished, who knows?”

At the moment, Michael was more concerned with the deaths rather than the technical explanation for the incident. “Who?”

“Margaret and Gabriel Manez, two senior geologists. They were checking a Nelson II at local site 14 when it happened.”

Raymond thought-linked to a smaller DMR monitor, and an archived image of Macklin’s Rock appeared, magnified, showing the location of the TAHU, and the thirty-seven prospective sites. Site 14 was illuminated in red.

Michael searched his memory. He prided himself on remembering the names of every person in the SMD, all 532 of them. A particular fact came to him, and he had trouble swallowing.

“There was a ten-year-old boy on that rock as well.”

“Yes,” Calbert answered, his voice low and solemn. “Alex, I believe is—was his name. Their son.” The hard look on his face told Michael that he felt just as responsible and remorseful as the VP.

“Survivors?”

“Sorry, Michael.” Calbert remained silent a moment, then concluded. “We don’t know what happened exactly.”

“Collision?”

“No. The EPS sent by the TAHU’s Hucs indicated something approaching them near light speed.”

“Light speed?” he blurted, shocked. “A Sunburst? Electric cloud storm? What was the point of origin?”

“None. We have no indication that it even originated off surface. We think it might be something they found at the site. Their Hucs’ long-range sensors picked up nothing, but the short-range picked up the anomaly about thirteen seconds before impact. Again, I’m not sure ‘impact’ is the right word, either.”

“That long? Thirteen seconds at light speed would be well past the boundaries of Macklin’s Rock,” Alliras pointed out, checking the statistics of the asteroid. “The origin of the pulse could be anywhere between Mars and Jupiter!”

Then Calbert’s words registered.

“The
short-range
picked it up? It’s geared for a few hundred klicks. That doesn’t make sense. Thirteen seconds? Are you sure?”

“That’s right, thirteen. The watch probe we have orbiting as sentry to this section EPSed that there was a oscillating pulse of energy—form unknown—at a point
inside
Macklin’s Rock.

“Whatever it was, it traveled, or at least originated under, the surface of the asteroid, just this side of the speed of light. Perhaps bouncing back and forth inside the rock a number of times, eating or consuming the asteroid from the inside out, before impacting with, or reaching, the surface. It was too fast to get a decent measure, to be sure, in any case. Whatever this energy source was, we have no signature on it, no means of identification.”

Michael struggled with his chemistry. “Whatever the substance was, it was inert until something triggered it. But what?”

“I agree in theory; there was some kind of fission taking place. Much more powerful than any nuclear reaction. If we only had a sample…”

“What do you mean?”

“All we know is that the energy pulse vaporized the entire rock in a matter of less than fifteen seconds.”

“Vaporized? Any traces?” Michael asked. “Resultant gases?”

Raymond shook his head. “None. Mass readings of the quadrant indicate a net loss of 142 teratons and change, exactly that of the Rock.”

“That’s impossible. Either it moved, or we’ve got millions of meteorites coming our way.”

“As far as we
know,
it didn’t move. There’s no trace signature of the solar wind tail. And there are no new meteorites in the segment indicating an explosion. None of the sensors picked up anythin; but then, again, the energy pulse of that thing was so strong, our sentry probes lost a few seconds of power. Anything could have happened in that time.

“—Anything,” he reiterated.

Michael sighed heavily. “What do we have to go on?”

“Just the recorded conversation between the surveyors—between Margaret and Gabriel,” Calbert corrected himself, his voice somber.

“Bring it up.”

“We should go into the conference room to view the log,” Raymond suggested, always thinking. “Right now, the techs don’t need the distraction.”

“Quite right.” Michael gestured to a portal leading to hall, which housed a series of conference rooms on either side.

*

With Calbert remaining at Ops, the three others seated themselves in leatherback swivel chairs around a large semicircular marble table facing a collection of DMR screens.

Raymond, his thought-link patch still connected, brought up schematics. The smaller monitors held images of Macklin’s Rock recorded two-and-a-half hours before the occurrence.