Project Sail (31 page)

SE 185
banked to the right until another incredible sight came into view: a dark sphere hanging in the void of space under the watch of that glowing red star.

“Marvin, give me a course, I want to go into orbit around G,” Charles ordered and then returned to his chair where he contacted the engineering room. “Professor, are we good on the diametric drive?”

“Yes, Captain! Say, pipe a few images down here, we’d like to have a look, too.”

Charles waved a hand at his XO and ordered, “Hawthorne, open internal communications so everyone can see what we see.”

Hawthorne did as commanded, sending the main bridge feed throughout the ship.

Starr reported, “I have a course, sir. We can be in orbit in ten minutes.”

“Plot it and give it to Stein. Helm, execute when ready.”

“Aye, sir, received and executing.”

SE 185
moved for real this time, and that mysterious sphere hanging in space grew in the window as they closed.

Hawthorne accessed his scanning equipment and shared information as they neared.

“581g is point one-four-six AUs from its star, mass is 4.3 times that of earth with a relative radius of 2.0. Computer estimates surface gravity at 1.7 that of Earth.”

Stein quipped, “Wow, talk about fat and heavy.”

As they neared, the planet grew better defined.

581g was tidally locked to its parent star making it a world permanently divided between day and night. As they approached the night side, they saw it to be a planet of rock and ice. Any hope this might be the second coming of Earth faded. It could not even match Mars in the potential for habitability.

“Atmosphere is mainly carbon dioxide with traces of nitrogen and argon, but despite the gravity, the atmosphere appears to be frozen off on the side facing us, the dark side,” Hawthorne reported.

Charles said, “There will be temperament zones around the poles, between the hot side and the cold one. There might be a stable atmosphere there.”

Fisk spoke in a wobbling voice, “Captain, you must send a message to Oberon.”

“Yes, Mr. Fisk, I thought we should first complete an orbit.”

“Captain, you can send another message after an orbit, but the procedure established for this mission dictates you have to send one now.”

Charles turned around and glared at Fisk and for all the young man’s determination, the glare from the Captain nearly sent him sprawling.

Hawthorne came to the rescue, “He’s right, Captain. The company wants it that way so, well, we should do it. I mean, if you would like, I’ll send the message,” and he reached for the panel above the pincushion as if to transmit a code.

“Hold it, Commander, I will send that message.”

He acted disappointed, but Hawthorne knew Charles would demand to send the first human message from an alien solar system, so he yielded his station to the Captain.

Charles sat and then used his chip and voice commands to interact with the QE system: “Communications station, prepare the following for transmission to Oberon home. Message follows: Arrival, affirmative. Drive function confirmed. Crew intact.”

Because of the nature of QE communications, the message needed to be short and clear.

If Henderson and Admiral Duncan were correct, the European Alliance had hacked into UVI’s computer on Oberon and would receive the message, too, and then decide whether to launch their own mission to Gliese 581g.

Are you sure he is a European spy?

Fisk prompted, “And the condition of Gliese 581g, Captain? I think it is safe to say that first glance confirms what the probe found. Report that.”

Fisk’s pushiness bothered Charles, but he complied and added to his message, “Planet matches conditions described by probe. Detailed report will follow.”

He waved his hand at the comm screen to trigger the send command and the QE box went to work, instantaneously relaying Charles’ message across twenty-two light-years of interstellar space by the mysterious phenomena of quantum entanglement.

“Happy, Mr. Fisk? Now I have a job to do.”

Charles made to stand but Hawthorne stopped him with a hard hand to his shoulder and a pistol in his face. The sight of the weapon and his first officer’s actions shocked Charles into stunned silence. Hawthorne, however, did not remain silent. He spoke so fast the bridge crew did not understand, at least not at first.

“By order of Universal Visions Incorporated and the United States Navy, I place you under arrest and relieve you of command.”

Fisk opened the bridge door and Kelly Thomas came in armed with a pistol. She locked the door behind her.

Leanne Warner—closest to the action—stumbled away from her station toward the bow as if escaping an explosion. Stein and Starr turned and gaped.

Fisk said, “Your orders are to kill him. Do it, Jonathan.”

“No. Now tell everyone why this is happening.”

“Your orders are—”

“I know my fucking orders, Reagan, and I am changing them,” Hawthorne tried to keep the gun steady but his hand trembled too much. “Tell them before this gets out of control.”

Charles growled, “Stow that weapon, Commander and return to your post or I swear to god I will throw you out the airlock.”

Stein, Warner, and Starr shouted questions and obscenities, which mixed into a jumbled ball of verbal confusion. Hawthorne just hoped that none of them did anything heroic before Fisk could do his job.

Charles reached for the gun and grabbed the barrel, forcing it up. Kelly leaned in and pistol-whipped the Captain. His grip faltered and Hawthorne tugged the gun free. Charles remained conscious but dazed.

Fisk approached the Captain’s chair and, through his implants, downloaded a program into
SE 185’s
main computer.

“Hello, um, all crewmen please pay attention to the following.”

A pre-recorded message from Victor Henderson spoke to humanity’s first interstellar travelers.

“Crew of the
SE 185,
congratulations on reaching your destination. Unfortunately, I must report a traitor in your ranks. Captain Donavan Charles is aligned with the European Alliance. We have been aware of this for several months, but on the advice of USNA Naval Intelligence, we have allowed him to command this mission as a counter-intelligence operation. On authority from the President of the United States of North America, Commander Jonathan Hawthorne has removed Charles from command by summary execution, as permitted under naval articles of conduct and discipline.”

Charles, of course, was not dead and Hawthorne still had no interest in murdering anyone.

Henderson’s communiqué continued, “Imbedded in this message is a series of override protocols that have transferred full command control from Captain Charles to Commander Hawthorne. Corporate Liaison Reagan Fisk and Lieutenant Kelly Thomas have been briefed and are supporting these actions. This was necessary to keep the full extent of our find at Gliese 581g secret from potential adversaries who could have threatened your mission with direct military intervention. We hope that the risk taken in allowing Charles to remain in command until this point will result in your mission proceeding without interference from any foreign power.”

Although dazed, Charles heard the announcement and muttered, “What else did the probe find? What is he talking about?”

Fisk said, “You are not cleared for that information. In fact, you are supposed to be dead.”

“No,” Hawthorne insisted again.

“I’ll do it if you want,” Kelly offered and that bothered him a great deal.

“No executions.”

“This is a bunch of lies,” Charles turned his attention to the three at the front of the bridge. “Leanne, help me.”

Startled into inaction, Warner and the other two merely stared at the grim drama unfolding on the bridge.

Hawthorne addressed them and the entire ship, “Look, I was shown evidence that convinced me of Charles’ guilt. He intended to use a coded message to signal the EA to send a warship here, and they would have killed every last one of us.”

“That is crazy!” Charles raised his voice again.

“So where the hell will we confine him?” Fisk asked.

“In his quarters,” Hawthorne answered.

“Fuck you,” Charles spat.

Hawthorne reminded, “You heard Henderson’s message; I was supposed to kill you but I could not pull the trigger. But if try anything I will kill you. Kelly, open the door and check the corridor.”

Before he left the bridge, Hawthorne ordered, “Return to your posts and continue our orbit.”

Fisk stayed behind but told Hawthorne to, “Hurry back, you do not want to miss it.”

Hawthorne did not know what that meant, but he focused on securing Charles. Kelly led them from the bridge, down the hall, and then to the Captain’s quarters, the only cabin on the command deck.

They searched those quarters but found only official documents and personal items such as an old-style mantel clock engraved with “Best Wishes from the Department of the Navy.”

“You are making a mistake,” Charles warned as they locked him inside.

“Perhaps, but then again, the computer did pick me for command. It thought you were dead on the
Niobe
. Oh wait, you picked that day to visit a friend.”

“Oh, so now I’m a spy for the Chinese, too? You think that’s possible?”

“Right now, nothing would surprise me.”

---

Hawthorne left Kelly outside the Captain’s quarters hoping she would deter any misguided attempts to reverse the mutiny, at least in the short term.

He needed time to get himself under control and then to get the ship under control. He had faltered badly when he had legitimately inherited command of the
John Riley
thirteen years ago. Taking over in a coup posed a new set of challenges and he did not feel equal to the task.

Fortunately, when he returned to the bridge he found his task had become much easier.

Fisk had coaxed Stein, Starr, and Warner back to their posts and as Hawthorne closed and locked the door behind him, he heard Starr babbling excitedly from his navigation station.

“That wasn’t on the chart a few minutes ago!”

Fisk said, “Your computer was programmed not to see it until I loaded Henderson’s message. That is what we need to keep secret from the European Alliance, and everyone else. That is why we came so far.”

Hawthorne looked outside and saw 581g orbiting underneath, still just a dark rock but the glow of a sunny horizon approached.

Then everything changed. As they orbited around to the dayside, another body came in to view. A moon. A beautiful moon with a blue sky, white clouds, and frozen poles.

Fisk regained a touch of his youthful optimism as he announced, “This is what the probe found before we lost contact, a moon with a thick atmosphere, continents, and oceans.”

He stepped to Hawthorne who stood shocked into silence as he watched the gorgeous globe swing into full view.

“That’s why we are here, Commander. Not rocks and chemicals, but the most precious resource humanity needs. Hope.”

34. Loyalties

Tommy Star remained at his post on the bridge, Andy Phipps stayed in engineering running a review analysis on the A-H drive, and Kelly Thomas stood guard outside Charles’ locked door. All three watched the gathering in the common room by video link, where nine other crewmembers confronted Reagan Fisk and Commander Hawthorne.

“I did not want this, I did not want to go on this mission, but the company drafted me,” Hawthorne explained to an angry crowd. “I did not know about Captain Charles until after Chambers died when Henderson ordered me to kill Charles when we arrived here.”

Leanne Warner shouted, “You expect us to believe the company let a spy command this ship for the entire trip?”

The way she stared at him through those icy blue eyes made him think she might club him with her artificial arm.

Fisk came to his defense, “You saw Mr. Henderson’s message and the transfer of command functions from Charles to Hawthorne.”

While Dr. King’s associate—Rafael Soto—was not as loud as Warner, he made his point through grit teeth that suggested he was just as skeptical: “Maybe you two are alliance spies.”

Sheila Black spoke as she paced, “Typical bull shit from the states, can’t trust the likes of you; you are all a bunch of snakes.”

Wren protested, “Don’t lump me in with them.”

“You’re all the same.”

That led to a nationalist tirade by Wren at the same time Stein protested her insult of Americans that occurred simultaneously with Warner accusing everyone who had joined the mission from the
Virgil
of conspiracy.

Meanwhile, Carlson sat with his head in his hands, Kost stood still and quiet, and Dr. King whispered a prayer.

As the cross talk intensified, Hawthorne’s eyes drifted to the observation window. He saw the beautiful blue moon out there, the one with the complex atmosphere that included an ozone layer and a nitrogen-oxygen base; a rocky moon with water, landmasses, and a diverse topography. The greatest discovery in human history, standing backdrop to an argument over politics, power, and prejudice.

Then one man cleared his throat loud enough to rise above the shouting. It was Professor Coffman, who had remained silent in a corner away from the chaos.

He stepped forward with his arms folded and his thumb scratching his chin. Coffman’s voice always carried a hypnotizing rhythm, and while he did not speak loud, everyone listened.

“It seems our choices are limited. We can accept the explanation provided by Commander Hawthorne and Mr. Fisk, or we can remove them from command and release the Captain.”

Warner and Soto murmured approval.

Coffman’s thumb moved from his chin to the top of his balding head and scratched.

“So what should we do?”

The professor walked among the crew, touching Dr. King on the shoulder and then patting Carlson—who still sat with his head in his hands—on the back.

Warner said, “We could lock them up.”

Black suggested, “We could turn around and head for home.”

Cross talk threatened to erupt again, but Coffman held his hands aloft. Hawthorne envied the authority the mild-mannered professor wielded. They had confidence in him, perhaps because he was the only one not yelling.