The starchild compact, p.2
The Starchild Compact, page 2
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Over the next several days, Saeed mingled with the Cassini II provisioning crew that verified the final loadout of the Box and the provisions stored in the Pullman. Another, more technical crew completed the final installation and testing of the gas core reactor and the advanced VASIMR engines that would drive Cassini II to Saturn in record time.
On the final day, prior to the flight crew arrival, the transport tug that ferried the provisioning crew to and from the massive spaceship experienced a catastrophic seal failure where the tug attached to the Box. The entire crew was suited up except, apparently, one Saeed Esmail, the newest provisioning crew member. Searchers found bloody pieces of his suit and a few helmet shards on a trajectory that would ultimately have taken them to the Moon. They never could quite figure out what had actually happened to Saeed, but it was obvious that he had somehow managed to shatter his nearly unbreakable helmet, and rip himself and his tough suit to shreds as he depressurized. The conclusion was that an untracked small meteor, two or three millimeters in size, had gotten him, and somehow maybe even caused the catastrophic depressurization of the tug. Saeed Esmail was not the first casualty on the project, although the consensus was that he might have been the last.
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After ejecting the bloody suit pieces and helmet shards from a trash lock in the outer bulkhead of the Box, Saeed worked his way into the hiding place that he had created during the loadout wedged against the outer wall at right angles to both lower level accesses. It was an airtight polymer tent of just over five cubic meters, with its own oxygen supply and scrubber. It would keep him alive during the transit to Iapetus. He had the freeze-dried food, water from the emergency supply, and he could dump waste out the waste lock. His Link with its collection of holofilms, books, and the Qur'an would keep his mind occupied for the projected four-month trip. He examined the four burst transmitters that had been included in his life pack. About the size of a softball, each was designed to be ejected through the waste lock, orient itself with the ship to its rear, extend a gossamer parabolic antenna, and do a circular search for Earth, using a very limited supply of compressed gas. Then, using a high-density charge, the device would transmit a series of encrypted bursts until the charge was consumed. Saeed was to deploy the first at the tether extension, the second following the Jupiter boost, the third when they arrived near Saturn, and the fourth was for whatever circumstance warranted a special transmission.
In his hideaway, Saeed prostrated himself facing Earth, he hoped, and recited his prayers, adding a personal thanks to Allah for keeping him safe thus far, and on line to accomplish His holy mission.
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Jon Stock stepped out of the launch loop capsule at Mirs Ring and made a beeline for the men's room. "Those capsules need a latrine," he muttered to himself as he splashed water on his face. Steely blue eyes stared out at him from the mirror. His hair was gray and cropped short above a craggy, clean shaven face that testified to his fifty years. A lean, muscled 183-centimeter frame belied those same years. He wore the uniform of a U.S. Navy Captain, his left chest bedecked with ribbons. One stood out top center, jet black, framed in silver, with a golden image of Mars attached to the center – the Mars Expeditionary Medal. Jon was the second in command on that first expedition to the Red Planet. When Commander Evans was killed in a freak accident on the surface, he assumed command, saved the mission, and brought the crew back. Now he commanded the international crew of Cassini II on an expedition to Iapetus. They would travel five times further than any human had ever gone before. And what awaited them at their destination might very well change human history forever.
Iapetus… Jon reviewed what he knew about Saturn's iconic moon. In 2004, the Cassini-Huygens spacecraft flew by Iapetus. Iapetus proved to be unlike any other moon. The surface seemed to display an intersecting grid of geodesic sections, something not normally found in nature. A narrow mountainous wall extended around Iapetus at the equator, so that the moon looked something like a walnut. Iapetus' density was far too low for a moon that appeared solid, but if Iapetus were substantially hollow, then the numbers worked out just about right. Several of the "geodesic sections" appeared to have collapsed inward, revealing what could be interpreted as complex structures underneath the surface layer. A tall, very narrow structure extended from the surface at one point, like a towering spike a kilometer high. Like the "geodesic structure," this spike had no "natural" explanation.
In September 2007, the Cassini-Huygens spacecraft made another relatively close transit of Iapetus following the equatorial wall, revealing that the wall consisted of a series of mountains up to twenty kilometers high, following each other in series, none side-by-side. It also supplied further details on a series of equally spaced craters on a line parallel to the equatorial wall and halfway between and the wall and the North Pole.
Iapetus had remained a mystery. It was very difficult to imagine that all the things discovered by Cassini-Huygens were natural. The implications of the discoveries being artificial were staggering. As more and more information was gathered by space telescopes in orbit around Earth, on the Moon, and at the Mirs Complex at L-4, the possibility that Iapetus could have an artificial origin became quite real. The initial concept for a human investigation of Iapetus had been put forward by Launch Loop International (LLI), the consortium that had built Slingshot as an entirely civilian operation, followed by several other launch loops around the world. While there was lots of pushing and shoving by the governments of the territories where the launch loops were located, in the final analysis, most people considered a launch loop as something akin to an airline company, and in the end, most of the loops were left in civilian hands, although governments exercised whatever control they wished.
Iapetus, however, was seen by the world's major players as a potential prize like none other. If Iapetus turned out to be an artifact, eloquent spokespersons from various governments argued, then it belonged to all the people, not just to the greedy corporations that found it. This argument fell on sympathetic ears of a world population that had grown used to being told what to do by benevolent governments. When LLI partnered with their former rival, Galaxy Ventures, to form Iapetus Quest, they found themselves faced with an unusually consolidated array of governments united in their opposition to a privately funded and operated Iapetus operation. The United States, in its still dominant position on the world stage, muscled itself into the leadership slot in the newly recast government owned and operated Iapetus Quest. The international debate had raged on how to structure the crew of Cassini II. Many had argued for a civilian crew, structured however they wanted. Eventually, by negotiated treaty, arm twisting, back-room dealing, and even outright bribery and coercion, an international crew was assembled that represented the interests of the participating nations.
Because of the politics, the crew members not only had not trained together, but with a couple of exceptions, they had not even met. Jon had reviewed the material supplied by each crew member's respective government to the point where he felt he practically knew each individual. As he strolled toward the Great Room, Jon reviewed what he did know about several crew members.
He had met Canadian Noel Goddard at several conferences dealing with VASIMR engine technology. Goddard was his space structural engineer and one of the backup VASIMR engineers. He traced his roots back to the famed early 20th century rocket scientist, taking much pride from the connection. His immediate family was well-to-do, and he was tall, thin, and wiry. Jon respected him, but they had little in common, as exemplified by Jon's love of fast sports cars and Goddard's preference for luxury sedans – the larger, the better.
Jon had actually served on two occasions with Israeli Ari Rawlston, and considered him a friend. Ari was his Chief VASIMR Engineer and backup computer engineer. He stood 173 centimeters, with short curly dark hair and dark eyes – looking every bit the Semite he was. Jon was privately aware of Ari's Mossad connections, but the official papers did not mention it, and Jon kept this information to himself.
As Jon made his way to the Great Room where he expected to meet with his crew, Colonel Demitri Gagarin, his Russian First Officer, caught up with him, resplendent in full uniform of the Russian Air Corps.
"It looks like both our governments made us dress up," the Russian said as he snapped a salute.
Jon instinctively returned the salute, and then smiled and held out his hand.
"Please, Colonel, let's drop the military protocol." They shook hands.
"That works for me, Captain." The Russian's English was nearly perfectly enunciated, with only the slightest trace of a guttural accent that betrayed his Russian origin. "Please call me Demitri." He removed his peaked hat to reveal a shaved pate. He was a bit shorter than Jon at 178 centimeters, but was more stocky, and gave the impression of a tough guy who could handle himself in any situation, despite his forty years.
Although Jon needed to establish his authority from the outset, he was keenly aware that they were all strangers thrown together to satisfy the whims of a political world that had no concept of what it took to cross a 1.5 billion kilometer void, a distance so vast that a radio signal took nearly one and a half hours to get there from Earth. Such a trek would be difficult enough with a crew that knew each other, that had trained together, that was used to military structure and discipline. Only he and the Russian came from a military background, which Jon suspected might be more hindrance than advantage, especially with his First Officer. Jon was well aware that the only reason he was Captain, and not Demitri, was the American muscle within the controlling government consortium.
Jon and Demitri stood before the expansive window looking out into the star-studded backdrop of the Mirs Complex. The view moved slowly from right to left as the great multiple wheel station revolved to create one gravity at the rim where they stood.
"Magnificent view, isn't it?" Demitri said with a sense of homegrown pride. The Mirs Complex was a private operation built and run by a consortium of firms led by a Russian based company, the Mirs Corporation, that started out building deep submersibles for the old Soviet Academy of Sciences back in the late twentieth century.
"Gentlemen," a pleasant female voice with a soft Australian lilt penetrated their thoughts. The two men turned to see a very tall slender woman with blue-black skin and startlingly green eyes. She carried her Zulu heritage with obvious pride. "I'm Second Officer Ginger Steele," she said, extending her hand first to Jon and then to Demitri. Her skin was smooth and her grip was firm. Ginger's close-cropped kinky black hair emphasized her long neck. By any measure, she was a beauty, and well aware of her impact on those around her. She wore a simple, elegant pale blue pantsuit and white silk blouse, with jacket draped over her shoulders, and white pumps with just a hint of a heel.
This one could be trouble, Jon thought, as he took in her unfettered small breasts and the almost laconic way she carried her 185-centimeter willowy frame. Ginger was his thirty-one-year-old Communications Officer and backup Astrogator under Demitri.
"I'm delighted to meet you, Dr. Steele," Jon said, locking eyes with her.
Without flinching, she looked straight back. "Likewise, but please call me Ginger."
As if by mutual agreement, they both turned their attention to the Russian.
"Ya rad vstretit'sya s vami, tozhe (I'm glad to meet you, too.)," Ginger said to the Russian with a slightly accented turn of phrase.
"Spasibo (Thank you.)," Demitri answered back. "And the lady speaks Russian on top of everything else," Demitri added with a wide grin. "That's good, because I don't speak a word of IsiZulu."
"Neither do I," Ginger said, "but both my grandparents did."
"Since English is the official language of the expedition," Jon said, "that won't be a problem anyway."
"But it should be French," a slightly husky female voice toned in from behind them.
They all turned to take in a 165-centimeter, well toned woman with shoulder length blond hair and green eyes. She wore a one-piece green jumpsuit with a neckline designed to display her ample assets to their best advantage. On her feet she wore the latest fashion in women's off-earth foot wear, slightly clunky appearing boots that actually were made of a soft artificial chamois. Her pose somehow broadcast a covert sensuality that Jon could not quite pin down. Had he not been aware from her record of her thirty-five years, he would have placed her in her late twenties.
"Dr. deBois, I presume," Jon said, squeezing the hand that she proffered in a slightly palm-down position, as if expecting it to be kissed.
"Michele deBois," she said with a coy smile, "Mission Specialist, biology and botany." She turned to Demitri and brought her lips to both Demitri's cheeks in the traditional French fashion, and then lifted herself on tiptoe to do the same with Ginger, pausing momentarily to brush her lips. Jon was certain that they had exchanged a few quiet words.
"Mon Capitaine," Michele said, brushing her lips against his cheeks. "I save the best for last, non?" she said, with the slightest of French lilts.
"I would have to take issue with that," Jon said, glancing at the tall Australian.
"Oui…You're right," Michele said, moving next to Ginger and taking her hand. "The Capitaine must be right, non?" Her eyes twinkled and a husky chuckle escaped her lips.
And I thought Ginger would be trouble, Jon said to himself, and turned to greet the next arrival. "Folks, please say hello to Noel Goddard."
Hand shakes all around with another tiptoe French welcome from Michele. Jon thought it interesting that Noel and Ginger stood eye-to-eye when they shook hands. Noel wore plain shirt and trousers, although a trained eye would have distinguished that they were absolute top-of-the-line. His shoes, likewise, were the best money could buy.
The next arrival was Chen Lee-Fong, the Chinese systems engineer and second backup VASIMR engineer. He seemed shy, and like the rest of the crew, did not show his forty years. Chen shyly shook each proffered hand, and flushed crimson to his short cropped dark hairline when Michele greeted him in the traditional French fashion.
"I am happy to meet you all," he said in flawless, unaccented English, but with an overtone that said he was not a native speaker. His smile remained tentative as he brushed his hands against his dark trousers in what appeared an unconscious effort to remove the foreign touch. He wore traditional business attire, and seemed unaware that with its normalcy, he appeared somewhat out of place in this crowd.
At that moment they were joined by a woman dressed in a peculiarly mannish pin-striped suit, but that on her, nevertheless, appeared distinctly feminine. She was a couple of centimeters taller than Michele, and wore her medium blond hair in a pixie cut that made her look younger than her thirty-three years. Although she was not the ravishing beauty of a Ginger, nor the sensual figure of a Michele, Jon decided that she was every bit as pretty – just different, and then he chided himself at making these comparisons in the first place. I am, after all, the Captain, he sub-vocalized as the newcomer introduced herself.
"I am Elke Gratz," she announced, adding a bit of German burr to her pronouncing her surname. While introducing herself, she stood at what Jon instantly recognized as attention, and bowed slightly from the waist, as she shook each hand in turn – a single, definite pump. Jon noticed that Elke responded in kind to Michele's French greeting, and this time it was Elke who initiated lips brushing lips.
"Elke is our historian and computer engineer," Jon announced to no one in particular. "Welcome to the Cassini II crew, Elke."
The crew members chatted among themselves, getting to know one another, at least on some superficial level. Several minutes later a petite, beautiful woman dressed in an Indian Sari approached them. Her long black hair hung straight down her back, and she sported a scarlet bindi on her forehead. Jon stepped up to her and took her hand, drawing her to the group.
"Please meet Dr. Carmen Bhuta, our ship's physician," Jon said with an expansive smile.
"I am so pleased to meet you all," Dr. Bhuta said, her words flowing smoothly from her beautiful face, carrying a hint of the language as spoken by the upper echelon of Indian society. "What an adventure this will be!"
Jon added, "Dr. Bhuta is also our language specialist." Responding to a couple of lifted eyebrows, he said, "I know that all of you are multi-lingual, and so could also qualify as a language specialist, but this talented woman has specialized in the creation of language, in how to bring an unknown written language to life. We all hope, I am sure, that her special skills will find some use before the end of this expedition."
"Now," Jon announced into the light conversation his comment had launched, "we only await our Chief VASIMR Engineer."
As if on cue, Ari Rawlston approached the group with a purposeful stride. "Sorry I'm late, folks," he said in absolutely native, born-in-the-USA English. "Some last minute matters regarding the VASIMR drive test tomorrow." Ari made the hand shake rounds, accepted Michele's kisses, and paused to punch Jon in the arm. "How's it hanging, Old Buddy?" Then he launched into a technical description of the next day's engine test.
Chapter 2
The next day found all nine crew members in the Pullman, settling into their respective quarters. Jon had decided to designate the third deck as female country. Ginger and Michele were directly below him, sharing a lavatory, and Dr. Bhuta and Elke shared a lavatory below the common area. Below them, Demitri and Ari, who were directly beneath Ginger and Michele, split the deck with Chen and Noel. Gender distinctions rarely were an issue in the modern world, and Jon had no thought of so-called male-female issues. He was only concerned with the physical comfort of his female crew members, since sharing lavatory facilities was the only remaining recognized area of gender differentiation. It was a no-brainer, therefore, to pair up the women. The only remaining question was whether to keep all four on the same deck, or to split them up. Given the interactions he had observed surrounding Michele's meeting the other women, the question probably would turn out to be moot anyway.
