Project Sail (17 page)

Both Ira King and Leo Wren yelled, in unison, the same words:

“You refuse to see the truth!”

20. Oberon

Hours before reaching Uranus, the
Virgil
began decelerating. Of course, the passengers did not notice. Gravity fields generated by the ship’s engines not only provided propulsion but also shielded the vessel’s interior from changes in momentum.

As the ship slowed from five million miles per hour, the ice giant grew from a disk in the distance to a massive blue-green ball of methane and hydrogen sulfide, floating in an orbit three billion kilometers from Sol.

Mars had its iconic red hue, Jupiter its swirling bands of color, Saturn its distinctive rings. The seventh planet in the solar system was a bore in comparison, its atmosphere almost featureless. Uranus did sport rings but they paled in comparison to Saturn’s, being comprised mainly of small rocky bodies born from millions of years of collisions.

While the other planets rotated like a spinning top, Uranus resembled a rolling ball in relation to the plane of the solar system, with one pole continuously facing the sun.

The
Virgil
flew around Uranus, bypassing the rings and the thirteen inner moons as well as the first four of the five major moons trapped in orbit around the giant. Its course aimed straight for Oberon, a sphere of ice and rock.

The first man-made satellite along the ship’s path was a large cube devoid of light because it was nearly devoid of people. This was a transfer hub. Every twelve hours a cargo capsule rose from the surface and disappeared inside where robots transferred collected resources—minerals, chemical compounds—into barges.

Once a month, huge bulkheads on one side of the orbiting cube would open and release a rectangular, robotic vessel the size of a small city filled with gifts for mother Earth. That barge would fire up its ion drive and head toward the inner solar system.

The second artificial satellite circling Oberon had been built in stages, resulting in a mishmash of squares, rectangles, and spheres attached to a central structure resembling a mile-long boxcar. This was a manufacturing plant that produced everything from engine parts to pharmaceuticals, allowing the workers to keep working and the miners to keep mining. Supply ships visited Uranus and its moons regularly, but without local manufacturing man could not keep a persistent presence so far away from home.

But this, again, was not the
Virgil’s
destination. The cube and the industrial complex disappeared behind the cargo ship as it flew to a spinning wheel in space, far above the other stations.

While measuring hundreds of meters in diameter, it was not nearly as big as the two they had passed along the way. Each of the eight spokes on this wheel ended in a rectangular compartment. At the center sat a cone that seemed like a castle tower overlooking a round kingdom.

The
Virgil
slowed to a crawl, descended beneath the central hub, and eased toward a docking port as the cargo ship-turned-transport reached the end of its journey.

---

Hawthorne entered the
Virgil’s
canteen where the passengers formed a line facing the airlock. Horus’ crew stood to the side gnawing on snacks as they watched their guests assemble at the exit.

Despite having traveled together for over two weeks, the groups—passengers and crew—had kept mainly to themselves. Hawthorne realized he was just as guilty. Other than playing handball with the Captain, he had rarely spoken to the bridge crew or engineering team.

The inner airlock opened and an automated voice originating from the station told the passengers, “All new arrivals will undergo decontamination procedures.”

That sounded ridiculous, but he said nothing.

Wren, however, muttered colorful words of disgust to his bunkmate Kost, who carried that same handbag Hawthorne had seen her clutching during the original capsule ride from Earth to orbit two weeks ago. Whatever was in that bag, she chose not to trust it with the rest of the luggage.

In any case, Kost followed Wren as he stepped into the weightless space between airlocks and drifted toward the station.

Reagan Fisk wore a freshly pressed dress shirt, business slacks, and an eager smile. He also kept checking his pockets for his identity card, even after he found it twice. The man was an obsessive-compulsive poster child.

Meanwhile, Lieutenant Thomas was clearly unhappy but not because of the looming decontamination.

Captain Horus said to her, “Your robots will transfer to the station through the cargo hold, not with the passengers. That is standard procedure.”

“Standard procedure is stupid,” she saw Jonathan approach. “It’s a new place. They might get afraid.”

He rested a fatherly hand on her shoulder and said, “Their rocket pods and laser turrets will keep them feeling secure. Don’t worry, you will see them soon.”

She accepted his assurance and then followed Carlson into the connecting tunnel.

“Welcome to Oberon, Commander Hawthorne,” Horus motioned toward the airlock. “Thanks for riding on my ship.”

“Oh, I’m certain you enjoyed it; you beat me two out of every three games.”

Horus produced a handball and bounced it twice on the deck plate.

“Now you will receive your answers. As I said, I am betting it’s important. I think the excitement is just beginning for you.”

Voices echoed out from the docking tunnel. The first was Wren in a sarcastic shout, “Praise the Lord, we finally made it to fucking Oberon!”

“You are a foul-mouthed hooligan!”

Carlson said something about zero-g making him want to throw up and that elicited a childish giggle from Kelly Thomas. Reagan Fisk just moaned as he tried to navigate the span of zero g.

Horus glanced through the open airlock, considered, and then said, “Whatever you are doing out here, you have an interesting team: An arrogant, annoying atheist, a Bible-thumping religious zealot, a junior executive in over his head, and a little girl dressed up in a soldier’s uniform.”

“Do not forget the aging handball player who has lost his touch.”

Horus bounced the ball off the wall at an angle and it shot at the Commander, who caught it in a show of quick reflexes.

“Oh, you’re still pretty good when you bother to put any effort into it.”

Hawthorne pocketed the ball and then stepped through the airlock into the zero-g of the docking tunnel.

Horus called from behind, “Good luck, Commander, you will need it.”

---

It took an hour for Hawthorne and his fellow travelers to complete the decontamination procedure. They were sprayed with disinfecting foam, rinsed in an icy shower, examined under ultraviolet light, and answered a multitude of health questions. It seemed as if hypochondriacs manned the station.

Eventually they received blue coveralls with the zipper-like “UVI” logo on the chest and “Oberon” in script letters underneath.

In the corridor connecting decontamination and the station, waited a white-haired older gentleman wearing a throwback three-piece suit with a black and white dog and a skinny dark-haired woman.

“Welcome to Oberon! I am Victor Henderson, Director of the Space Resource Exploitation Division at UVI, and your host here on S.R.E.D. Eighty Five. I hope you had a pleasant journey.”

Each of the new arrivals received an unenthusiastic sniff from the dog, an act that held Henderson’s attention, as if the dog had to approve the visitors before he would accept them.

Once Hawthorne passed this sniff test, Henderson extended his hand for a vigorous shake.

“Command Jonathan Hawthorne of Ganymede fame,” he turned to the skinny woman and told her, “a genuine hero, Judy!”

The dog showed greater interest in Ellen Kost. Henderson’s smile faded and he eyed her as if she might be hiding a bomb in her coveralls. After a moment, his welcoming attitude returned, but he no longer shook hands and put distance between himself and the newcomers as he led them along an outer corridor.

“While we are a remote station, our work here will reshape man’s exploration of the stars. The timing of your arrival is perfect.”

He stopped at a horizontal observation window. An object approached, growing from a flickering speck to filling the window in seconds.

Hawthorne’s first impression was that of a turtle, a big ship with a convex plate resembling a gray shell. A short stem extended from beneath the shell and held a square-shaped bridge, underneath which sat a pair of concave slots that might have been weapons or projectors.

The familiar bulging spheres of a diametric drive lined the hull and circular protrusions at each of the underbelly’s four corners pointed to capsule hatches.

The ship was twice the size of the
Virgil,
rivaling a frigate in mass. However, it projected an industrial aura, not a military one; the only obvious weapons were two vaguely threatening tubes on the bow.

“That’s a mining vessel,” Wren sneered but their host chose not to hear him.

“Ladies and gentlemen, let me introduce the most advanced space ship yet created by man. I give you
SE 185
. Where light requires a year to travel, this vessel will reach in a day.”

“That’s impossible,” Wren spat.

“Haven’t you heard?” Henderson’s eyes grew sharp. “At Universal Visions we do not believe in the impossible.”

21. Lecture

Two hours after docking, the new arrivals from the
Virgil
attended a gathering of the entire
SE 185
crew. They met in a rectangular multi-purpose room that reminded Hawthorne of the cafeteria/gym/auditorium of his old elementary school in upstate New York.

Hawthorne sat in the last of ten mostly vacant rows of plastic chairs with Lieutenant Thomas, who fidgeted nervously as if expecting the results of the prom queen vote.

Including himself, Hawthorn counted fifteen souls wearing blue UVI Oberon coveralls. To his eyes, they might have been clones, a result more of his cynical nature than physical appearance. He wondered how long it would take to see them as anything more.

Three people in the room did not wear coveralls. One was the thin woman named Judy, another was Regan Fisk, who stood by the door eagerly awaiting the meeting’s start.

The third person not dressed in coveralls was Mr. Henderson, and he spoke first.

“For those who have just arrived, again I welcome you to Oberon and to Project Sail. You join a group of extraordinary astronauts and together you will make history. For the first time, human beings will venture beyond the heliosphere and travel to another star system.”

He paused and while the newcomers found the announcement shocking, the nine crewmen who had already flown aboard
SE 185
appeared bored. Clearly, they had heard this grand speech before.

“It is tempting to compare this advance to the first flight of the Wright brothers, Neil Armstrong’s small step, or the flight of the
Pyotr Anjou
. I say there is no comparison. When your preparation is complete, the
SE 185
will cross interstellar space by circumventing the primary rule that governs the physical world, the speed of light. Airplanes, moon rockets, and harnessing the power of gravity showcase mankind’s understanding of nature, but Project Sail represents our ability to manipulate the universe.”

He glanced around the room. Carlson, Thomas, and King sat with their eyes wide open in wonder, shocked by the revelation. Wren, however, drew the face of a skeptic while Kost watched her bunkmate as if waiting for a bomb to explode. Standing to the side, Fisk smiled ear-to-ear.

“You are here because you were chosen to undertake this important mission.”

Hawthorne wondered if someone had given the same speech to the crew of the
Niobe.
He considered pointing out that this room was full of second choices.

“On behalf of Universal Visions and the United States of North America, I congratulate you on your selection. Your work will change the course of human history. Now I present the man who will command this mission, Captain Donavan Charles.”

Captain Charles remained exactly as Hawthorne remembered from the
Princess
. He wore a scowl and a Navy dress uniform gave his threatening demeanor an official stamp.

“Project Sail is a joint undertaking between Universal Visions and the American military. We will follow military protocol and crew members will behave to the standards of naval discipline and conduct.”

He paused and traced his eyes across the rows of seats to make his point.

“Ship’s crew is divided into four groupings. First, the Command Staff: Myself, Medical Officer Dr. Ira King, Chief Engineer and Sciences Director Professor Frederick Coffman, Corporate Liaison Martin Chambers, and Executive Officer Jonathan Hawthorne.”

Whispers spread and eventually every pair of eyes found Hawthorne in the back row. Kelly—at his side—patted him on the shoulder as if he had won a prize.

“The flight crew consists of pilot William Stein, Navigator Tommy Starr, and Air Boss Leanne Warner. The third grouping is support: medical assistant Rafael Soto, security specialist Lieutenant Kelly Thomas, and engineering assistants Sheila Black and Andy Phipps. Finally, the ship’s complement includes three research specialists who arrived today: Professor Matthew Carlson, Dr. Leo Wren, and Dr. Ellen Kost.”

At the front of the room, beams of green light came together in a hologram, which Charles controlled through his thinker chip. Those lights first formed a grid, scattered, and then reformed in the image of a turtle-shaped blue print hovering alongside as he spoke.

“
SE 185
was envisioned as a second-wave interstellar ship designed for resource exploitation. That mission has changed and
SE 185
is now a first-wave exploration and research vessel.”

Hawthorne translated the Captain’s words: This ship was intended to follow the
Niobe,
but now would have to lead the way.

Charles touched various parts of the display as he offered details about their new home.

“
SE 185
consists of three levels starting with the command deck that occupies the front third of the ship’s upper level. This area includes the bridge and four project rooms as well as additional facilities. The aft two-thirds of the upper level are part of a cargo bay with space access that is also home to a heavy-lifter shuttle.