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  “Have a good day, Mr. Alvarez,” the uniformed man said.

  Alvarez said nothing. He entered the office and found McKinley along with two other men sitting at a long boardroom table. The three stood to greet Alvarez. McKinley, despite his years, possessed a powerful presence. He was unquestionably the largest man in the room, broad shouldered and a head taller than the rest.

  “John, thanks for coming in,” McKinley said.

  Alvarez was usually nervous in these situations. But today, he was ticked. “Didn’t have much choice.” He paused, then added, “Sir.”

  “I know, I know. I hated to do it this way. But you’ll understand why in a minute.” He gestured with his arm. “This is David Parker. He’s the best space-architect we’ve got.”

  Parker’s eyes were fixed on the floor, and his arms were wrapped around his waist. He hesitantly looked up at Alvarez and extended his hand. Alvarez still wasn’t in the mood for socializing, but he had a hard time mistreating strangers. For all Alvarez knew, he and Parker were in the same boat. They shook hands, and Parker quickly sat down.

  McKinley continued, “This is Dr. Michael Brenn…”

  “We know each other,” Alvarez interrupted.

  Other than smirking, Brennen didn’t move a muscle. Unfazed, he continued reading over documents.

  “Well then. Let me get down to business. Time isn’t on our side. There was an incident with one of our space probes, NC-108D. John, that should sound familiar to you.”

  “Should it?” Alvarez said. He recognized it, but he didn’t feel like playing along. He wondered if they were trying to pin a problem on him, or convince him to fall on the sword for the corporate settlement.

  “I know I told you not to take your work home with you, but surely your memory is better than that. Anyway, this is a probe that we’ve had out in deep space monitoring a star which was behaving in an atypical way.”

  “Atypical, how?” Alvarez said.

  McKinley turned to Brennen.

  Without looking away from his documents, Brennen said, “It’s getting younger instead older.”

  Alvarez didn’t care about any of this. It was none of his business, and it didn’t affect him. “Can you get to the point where you tell me why I’m here?” he said.

  McKinley took a deep breath. “The reason is because of this video. It’s some of the only data that we were able to recover from the probe’s last data-burst. Most of it was lost or corrupted, but somehow the video feed got through. John, you’ve seen the first part of the feed. Dr. Brennen and his team were able to restore the rest of what I’m about to show you. After you see it, I think you’ll understand why I couldn’t brief you remotely.”

  The screen behind McKinley’s desk came to life, and the room darkened. There was a time stamp at the bottom of the screen that read 2171:322. A young man’s face appeared. To Alvarez he looked like he was in his early twenties. He wore a white suit, the kind that clung to one’s body like long underwear. It covered his head, ears, and neck—a one-piece, fitted shirt.

  The man spoke into the camera. “This is James Metchikoff—technician for research probe NC-108D. Today is solar day…” he looked at the wall beside him. “…three-hundred twenty-two, and today is the one-hundred and fifth day of my mission aboard the probe.”

  Alvarez detected a Russian accent. He noticed the tech had no trouble remembering how many days he had been there. The day of the year was another story. The single manned missions were the most strenuous tests of the human psyche. Only the bravest or most desperate people took those commissions.

  “We’ve been researching the nearby stellar events to confirm our astronomical readings and to determine, if possible, the cause of the phenomenon. As mentioned in previous logs, all readings here have confirmed our initial observations from the Winston Observatory. The star appears to be developing in reverse direction from all previously observed life cycles. It’s gaining in mass and—by all appearances—getting younger. The reason for this entry is that we’ve picked up an anomaly that had been hidden until now. We recently got our first glimpse of it when we adjusted orbit.”

  Alvarez noticed that the technician kept using the words we and us. Loneliness causes people to develop peculiar affects.

  “The anomaly occurring on the other side of the star appears to be some sort of energy burst,” the probe tech said. “At least, that’s the assumption we’re working from. Thus far, the probe hasn’t come in contact with the burst, but we have witnessed a greenish-blue wave of light emanating from the far side. What’s most unusual is that the burst seems to occur periodically, with a precision of regularity that’s uncommon in cosmic phenomena. Novos, you should be getting the data with this entry. See for yourself.”

  “In less than one solar day, our new orbit should have us on track to intercept one of the bursts. We don’t anticipate any danger to the probe. The emanating waves appear to be relatively weak in magnitude. All of the asteroids and debris struck by the wave appear to maintain their original trajectory. We will be pointing all of our array toward the source of this pulse, and will make a new log entry to report findings. Metchikoff out.”

  The screen flickered before the technician reappeared. The time stamp read 2171:323.

  “This is a follow up post. We aren’t in impact-range of the burst yet, but we are getting new readings. The wave possesses unusual characteristics. We can’t help but wonder if some of them are artificial patterns. In the same way frequencies are encoded into lasers, these waves appear to have properties of both light and—I’m guessing—ultra-high frequency radio waves. We’ve pinpointed the origin of the burst, but we should study the wave phenomenon more carefully before approaching its source. Metchikoff out.”

  The screen flickered again. The time stamp remained at 2171:323.

  “Novos, something’s off. These numbers don’t make sense.” His speech was hurried, and his Russian accent was more pronounced.

  “When you get this, please confirm the data is rational. We’re checking the sensor calibrations to be sure these readings are correct. Also, new developments with the energy pulse. The wave appears to have mass, somehow. It’s so slight that it was undetectable until the pulse impacted the probe directly. The way we noticed it was from the AG system. After the pulse hit, the gravity felt off-kilter. Diagnostics showed that the probe’s mass had increased by several hundred grams.

  We don’t think we need to tell you guys what the significance of this might be, but we’ll say it anyway; if this burst is carrying matter near the speed of light…well, this isn’t supposed to happen without a hyperspace window being opened. And certainly not with the regularity that is happening here.

  We’re going to collect a sample from the outer hull. We can’t get a visual through observation windows or cameras, but there has to be something out there. We will dust the hull and see what we find. Metchikoff out.”

  The men around the board-room table shifted in their seats. Even Brennen who had seen all of this before seemed riveted. The screen flickered again and with the same time stamp.

  “We finished the spacewalk and have followed all of the decontamination protocols. We collected a dust-like film from the hull. We’re still in the re-pressurization bay as an extra precaution. Vials will enter the main quarters after the patho-scans are complete. Five vials were obtained from various parts of the probe’s exterior. I’m waiting to restore artificial gravity until after they have been processed.”

  There was a beeping sound. The technician looked down at his console. “Whatever’s in these vials appears to be uncatalogued. It’s not a pathogen, or any substance for that matter, that we’ve seen before.”

  He reached over to the handle on the wall and opened the scanner door. Carefully, he grabbed individual vials and placed them on his workstation. Despite his care, he unwittingly brushed against one of the vials on the table as he reached into the scanner. After all the vials were removed from the scanner, he fastened them in
place on his workstation. Both Parker and Alvarez winced as they saw the undetected vial float out of view. The tech looked into the camera and said, “Attempting to restore artificial gravity.”

  The probe’s lights flickered as AG came back online. Then Alvarez heard the sound of shattering glass. The technician looked over his shoulder at the floor. “Nyet!” he said. He looked back at the camera with bulging eyes. He made little gasps, like a wheezing hiccup.

  “It looks like,” he gasped, “one of the vials broke. We’re (gasp) going to restart the decontamination (gasp) protocol to kill off pathogens. I’m going to up the radiation intensity. Our suit (gasp) should protect us.”

  He looked away from the camera. His cheeks were drawn tight and his lips were pursed together as if he was unsuccessfully trying to open his mouth.

  “Afterwards, we (gasp) will start the analysis of the undamaged vials and send the data with this transmission.” Another pause. “Metchikoff out.”

  The screen flickered again. Beads of sweat pooled up on the technician’s brow now partially covered by his spacesuit’s helmet. Alvarez noticed he wasn’t gasping, but he was still breathing hard.

  “We finished decontamination procedures,” he said. The timbre of his voice transmitted through his suit’s comm system sounded metallic.

  “We were only able to do some preliminary tests on the samples. Before we could finish, the probe’s navigation controls went off-line. We can’t seem to access them. There’s no immediate danger, and the probe is still in a stable orbit. But we don’t know why we lost navigation.”

  The technician had a defeated demeanor. He looked down as if he forgot he was still recording. A warning bell sounded, and his eyes refocused on the console. “Novos, (gasp) life support appears to be faltering. We don’t know if the instruments are reading correctly or…” He trailed off. “Something isn’t right. We need an immediate extraction. Bozhe moi. We will (gasp) continue to work the problems, but send rescue. Don’t know how much time we have.”

  Then the screen went black. Parker said, “What happened? Is that the end of the feed?”

  “No,” Brennen said. “Listen carefully.”

  Alvarez cocked his head to one side. The probe tech was still breathing. The faint sound grew louder, turning into wheezing.

  Barely audible, the probe tech spoke. “Gospod’ Iisus Khristos Syn Bozhiy, pomiluy menya greshnogo.”

  A pause. Then louder, “Gospod’ Iisus Khristos Syn Bozhiy, pomiluy menya greshnogo.”

  “Gospod’ Iisus Khristos Syn Bozhiy, pomiluy menya greshnogo.”

  “Gospod’ Iisus Khristos Syn Bozhiy, pomiluy menya greshnogo.”

  The screen flickered and an automated voice said, “End of transmission.”

  Chapter 9

  The screen dimmed, and the lights in McKinley’s office came back on. There was an awkward silence. Alvarez didn’t know what to make of it all. His mind was still processing, spitting out random inconclusive thoughts. He looked around the table. Parker had a faraway look in his eyes. Even McKinley and Brennen, who must have seen the video before, were reverently quiet.

  McKinley broke the silence. “Any questions?”

  “Only a million,” Parker whispered.

  “What was that nonsense at the end?” Alvarez asked.

  “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner,” Brennen said.

  Alvarez said, “That’s very nice, Michael, but…”

  “He’s interpreting the Jesus prayer,” McKinley said. “It’s the Russian Orthodox version of the Catholic last rite.” Again, everyone was silent.

  Finally, McKinley said, “We’ve got to go to the probe.”

  “Sir, that’s over a week away by interstellar travel,” Alvarez said. “There’s no way that man would still be alive when we got there.”

  “We don’t know that,” McKinley said. “He may have life support back online.”

  “He would have contacted us,” Parker said.

  “Not necessarily,” Brennen retorted. “He may have life support but be unable to get comms back.”

  “Regardless,” McKinley continued, “we have to go. This is the first time anything like this has ever happened to a Novos probe. This could be really damaging to our recruitment program, not to mention the loss of assets in space.”

  “I feel bad for this tech, but I’m not concerned about Novos recruitment” Alvarez said.

  “You better care, John,” McKinley said. “Unless you’ve divested all of your wealth, your investments, your certs into non-Novos denominated assets…If the markets get a whiff of this, it could bring us all down.”

  “You assume he has investments,” Brennen added.

  McKinley ignored him. “I don’t think I need to remind you of the non-disclosure agreement you’ve signed.”

  “I didn’t sign anything,” Alvarez said.

  “It’s in your reactivation rider,” McKinley said. “Moving on—we need to recover the probe, figure out what happened, and try to vanquish the political damage this will cause back home. The probe should still be in orbit. Right, Dr. Brennen?”

  “I’m just a biologist.”

  Parker spoke up, “It should be there for months if nothing was altered.”

  “How do we know what happened to him won’t happen to us?” Alvarez said.

  “Do you plan on breaking any vials?” Brennen asked. “We’ll bring enough radiation to kill anything known to man.”

  “What about something unknown to man?” mouthed Parker.

  “What was that Parker?” Brennen said.

  Alvarez interjected, “We don’t know what we’re dealing with. What about the rest of the data? You obviously were able to recover more of the vid-feed than I could.”

  “The feed was all we could salvage,” Brennen said. “The rest was either missing or so corrupted we couldn’t reconstitute it.”

  “What about the technician. How many hours did he have in his space suit?” Alvarez asked.

  Brennen shrugged. Parker said, “If it was a standard, fully-charged Novos tank, he had over six hours of air left. He could and should have other tanks on board to extend the time.”

  “And he probably has life support back online,” McKinley added optimistically. Everyone seemed to have a hard time swallowing this notion.

  “But if he didn’t,” Alvarez continued, “what are his chances?”

  “No chance,” Parker said. “He would need two dozen tanks to wait out a week-long rescue journey.”

  “Twenty-eight tanks,” Brennen corrected.

  “So, we’re flying in blind. We have no clue what this stuff is the tech found?” Alvarez said.

  “You fly your little ship,” Brennen said, “and leave the science to me.”

  McKinley interrupted, “That’s enough, men. We are to assume the probe tech has everything but communications back online and is waiting for us to come get him. Alvarez, I’ve reactivated your contract. You’re getting paid at the agreed upon rate. You said you wanted enough certs for you and Nadia to start over. Well, here you are. Brennen, you asked to be here. You know what to do.”

  Brennen said, “Of course.”

  Everyone’s eyes slowly turned to David Parker. He spoke up sheepishly, “So why exactly am I here?”

  “We need the Constance,” McKinley said.

  “She’s not ready,” he blurted out. “I just took her out for her first run, and she’s got a lot of bugs left.”

  “You can keep her flying,” McKinley said confidently.

  “Why don’t you just take an Atlas-class ship or another Falcon-class ship?”

  “None of the Atlas-class ships are fast enough, and none of the other Falcon-class ships have the versatility of the Constance. She’s the fastest ship we have that can carry enough crew, equipment, and research capabilities to deal with this problem. Like John mentioned, we don’t know what we’re facing here. We can’t afford to send anything less than our best craft and crew. The board of d
irectors—and I agree with them—says sending the Constance is our best bet.”

  “It won’t do us any good,” Parker said, “if there’s a breakdown along the way. What if we have an electrical fire or we burn out the core? You’re placing far too much confidence in an untested design.”

  “That’s why you should go. Look, you’ve got the material support of the entire corporate settlement. Make a list of all the parts you are afraid will fail, and we’ll store them onboard. Easy as that. And you can request any crew you’d like. Look, Parker, the board has decided; the Constance is going. Your decision is whether you want to increase her chances of success by going too.”

  “I want Terra York.” Parker said impatiently. He blushed. “She’s the best—actually the only—chief mechanic I know of that will make my job any easier.”

  “It’s settled then,” said McKinley. He stood up from the table, and the three men instinctively did the same. “Pack your bags. The Constance leaves at 08:00.”

  Part 2 - Constance

  Chapter 10

  Alvarez walked from the officer’s quarters into the main corridor, the inner vein leading to all of the Constance’s inner compartments. The corridor was a hallway of alternating doors on right and left and—on one end—the door to the helm.

  It was time to relieve Parker, but Alvarez needed a cup of coffee. Now that he was on a mission, he realized how much he relied on caffeine. The starlight hitting his windows back home on the orbiter helped him wake up. Out here, there was no night or day. The only signal to Alvarez’s circadian clock was the regular, timely caffeine dump he consumed at the beginning of his work day.

  He turned left and walked down the corridor to the so-called cafeteria. It was just his luck. What was left in the coffee maker was old, burnt brew. He threw the worthless sludge into the garbage vent and initiated a new brew cycle on the machine, selecting the most caffeinated variety.