Authors: Chris J. Randolph
Rao waved him on. "She passed all diagnostics with flying colors. Just waiting for you to throw the switch, Boss."
"Lead on," Marcus said, and together they made their way through the heart of the Copernicus Observatory like creatures born to weightlessness, until the narrow tunnel opened up into the station's spherical command center. The walls there were covered with workstations, each with its own technician and glowing terminal, except at the room's equator where a ring of windows revealed the Earth beneath them, the sun above and countless stars in every direction.
"Commander on the bridge!" someone shouted, and the crew snapped to attention.
"Damn jokers," Marcus muttered. He wasn't a stickler for protocol, or anything remotely like formality for that matter. The Global Aerospace Foundation drove him batty with that stuff, and everyone knew it. "Back to your stations, people. We may be three weeks ahead of schedule, but there's still work to get done."
He pushed off and drifted into the middle of the room, then stopped by gently colliding with his own station. Rao trailed a meter behind him.
Marcus said, "Jansen, bring the generators up to full and start cycling the capacitors."
"Already on it, sir."
"Park, bring the array about. You know where I want to look."
"Aye, sir."
"We only get one chance at this. Let's make it count."
Rao patted him on the shoulder and said, "You're a liar, buddy. The only reason you're up here is to tilt at this little windmill of yours."
Marcus cracked a smile. "One man's windmill is another man's giant. Ms. Park, are we ready?"
"Coordinates locked and ready to scan, sir."
Rao put on his gambling smile. "Bet you fifty credits we only find rocks and empty space this time."
"Make it a hundred and you're on."
They shook hands, and Marcus turned, saying, "Commence scanning, full spectrum at eighty-five percent intensity."
With that, the Copernicus Observatory was momentarily filled with an ear-splitting whine as its massive capacitors discharged, followed by the deep electronic hum of a multi-megawatt scanning array. No one spoke for minutes as they waited for the first results.
Ms. Park finally called out, "We're receiving data, sir. Should I pipe it over to the main viewer?"
"Yeah. Let's see what we've got."
A three-dimensional holograph blinked into existence in the center of the room, at first indistinct like a roiling cloud of smoke. Park worked furiously at her station and the image became more crisp, but it remained speckled by snow that frustrated any attempt to make sense of it.
Marcus pushed away from his station and toward the projection. "That's no good. Raise the background radiation filter's threshold another twelve percent."
"Aye, sir."
It came into focus with crystal clarity. "I'll be damned," Rao said near whisper. "I'm out another hundred bucks."
"Hello again, Zebra-One," Marcus said to the image, greeting it like an old friend. He watched the display's clock tick away, and when it reached thirty-five seconds, the object vanished from sight. He wasn't at all surprised. "You're getting slower, you little tease."
"Should we continue scanning, sir?"
"No point," he said. "That's all we'll ever get with this equipment. Switch over to the deep space survey program. Mr. Shen, tell Bangalore the array is online and that we're prepared to hand-off control to the ground."
Marcus Donovan pulled his datapad out of its holster and dialed back the recording to the thirtieth second, and there floating in front of him was the anomaly he'd personally discovered seven years earlier. He was stationed aboard the Brahe Array at the time, an orbital telescope like Copernicus but older and mustier, tasked with routine scans of the asteroid belt. That's when he stumbled upon her, a dozen kilometers long, oddly striped and density all wrong to be an asteroid. Then, before he could get a decent look, she was gone just as suddenly as he'd found her. That first peek was only five seconds long, but those five seconds changed his life.
During the months that followed, Marcus used every spare minute aboard Brahe to re-scan the belt, but he only found rocks and the rocks behind them. He personally oversaw diagnostics and checked each piece of hardware by hand, and he went over his data with a fine-toothed comb, but he always arrived at the same answers: there was no malfunction, he had seen something, and now he could not.
Marcus called the anomaly
Zebra-One
because of the strange stripes along her length, as well as her talent for disappearing into the grass.
His secret obsession transformed him. He grew from an undistinguished junior researcher into one of the single most dedicated, knowledgeable and experienced minds in deep space study, and it wasn't long before the Foundation took notice. Offers poured in from more prestigious postings, and with nothing left for him aboard Brahe, he left.
Marcus toured through every orbital station that would have him over the next few years, and he picked up a reputation as a true-blue problem solver along the way. He became the GAF's patch kit, an answer to every project that was over-budget or behind schedule, all the while continuing to hunt for his elusive zebra. At each stop, he enjoyed another brief glimpse that ended with her vanishing from sight, and he grew more obsessed with each look.
As his reputation spread, he attracted some of the best, brightest and most eccentric minds in astrophysics, such as the illustrious Vijay Rao. Before he knew it, Marcus was in charge of a thirty-man team of roving problem solvers, called the Gypsies because they never stayed anywhere for long. They would move onto a station, drag the troubled project back on track, and then depart immediately for the next.
When finalized plans were finalized for the Copernicus Observatory, the Gypsies were offered first crack at bringing the newest and most expensive deep space sensor array online. Marcus jumped at the offer without a second thought.
Six months later and more than three weeks ahead of schedule, Dr. Marcus Donovan was now staring at the object of his obsession in stunning clarity. She floated there among the asteroids, half blanketed in a layer of sediment, but revealing patches of glistening hull here and there. She was some kind of vessel; Marcus was sure of it.
He keyed his pad and the holograph rotated slowly. It was clear now that she had two separate hulls, one more than thirteen kilometers long, and the other about two-thirds that length.
Rao floated up beside him, staring in disbelief. "I've been riding you all this time, but... I can't say it... I think you're right, Marc."
"Of course I'm right, ye of little faith," he said, still staring intently at the holograph, trying to soak in every new detail. "Not to be an ass, but I seem to recall you betting fifty credits on my theory being... and I'm going to quote you here...
wrong, wrong, one hundred percent wrong.
"
"I need to stop gambling... Hey, take a look at that," Rao said, transparently changing the subject. "The stripes aren't visible here."
Marcus dragged his finger across the datapad's screen, and the display cycled through different EM bandwidths. He stopped when it showed the object in dark blue streaked with glowing red-orange stripes. The amount of fine detail was startling.
"Holy shit," Rao said. "The stripes are internal. If I didn't know better, I'd say they look... biological?"
When the words registered in Marcus' head, the structures took on a whole new shape. Rao was right: they weren't stripes at all, but branching veins connected to some central organ.
"Ummm..." Marcus intoned as he fumbled at the keypad. He rewound ten seconds then started advancing frame by frame, watching the veins grow brighter, then dim and grow brighter again. He rewound and watched it again, and one more time. The veins were pulsating. It... she was alive.
"You're a genius, Jay."
"No shit."
Marcus' mind was racing a little over 299 million meters per second. Alive. Zebra-One wasn't a vessel at all, but a living creature that had been lying dormant in the asteroid belt for at least the past seven years. Judging by the mineral build-up, she might have been there much, much longer. How long? What did it mean? He couldn't even begin to imagine the ramifications of his discovery.
Then he made a decision that was too long in coming. "I need to see her in person," he said quietly.
Rao said, "Come again?"
Marcus blinked and then shook his head as if waking from a daydream. "I have to go see her, Jay. By hook or by crook, any damn way I can."
"Sure. I'll call the Appropriations Committee, tell them we've found an enormous space serpent, and ask to borrow a ship so we can take her out to dinner and a movie. I'm sure they'll rubber stamp the proposal without a second thought... y'know, what with their stance on extraterrestrial life and all."
Marcus watched the recording loop a few more times. "Sarcasm duly noted," he said, and started to chew on his lower lip. Then his eyes lit up. "What was that long-winded paper you wrote about exotic materials?"
"You talking about my graduate thesis?
Theoretical Conditions for the Formation of Metallic Hydrogen in Deep Space.
"
"Lovely title," Marcus said with a grin. "Promise me you'll never name anything again."
Rao cleared his throat and said, "Zebra-One?"
"Fair point," Marcus replied. "Vijay, what would you say if I asked you to help me falsify months worth of sensor readings?"
Rao scratched his head while dozens of emotions momentarily bubbled to the surface and disappeared. When the bubbling stopped, he said, "Tell you what... knock fifty credits off my debt, and maybe I'll forget about the pesky ethics course I took as an undergrad."
"You're a scoundrel and a scholar, Jay. You should've asked for the whole debt."
"Really?"
"Too late. We've work to do."
Jack Hernandez was rechecking equipment when his ride began to buck and shake. The metal cabin dipped and shook violently, but the metal restraint over his shoulders kept him planted firmly in his seat. At this point in his career, trans-atmospheric flight was slightly more exciting than riding the morning train.
"Hell of a ride, ain't it?" Corpsman Walters asked. He was trying to sound cheery, but the quivering in his voice gave him away.
Jack didn't bother to look up. "Skip, right? Nothing but a little turbulence. Just hang tight and everything will be peachy, okay?"
The cabin lurched up and back down again, accompanied by a rumble like nearby thunder. "Jesus. You ever... ever wonder what would happen if something went wrong?"
Jack started to fiddle with a strap on his leg. "What's to wonder about? The tranzat is biting back into the atmosphere at twenty times the speed of sound. If anything went wrong, we'd be hamburger before we knew what happened."
He suddenly realized that last part might have been a minor
faux pas.
He lifted his head and looked over at Skip Walters who was strapped into an identical seat to his right, with both white-knuckled hands clenched around his shoulder restraint. This was Skip's first drop and it showed.
Jack gave him a little pat on the shoulder. "Relax, newbie. I've been through more of these than I can count, and this is nothing out of the ordinary. Right, guys?"
The twenty members of the
San Jose Bravo Brigade
ignored him. They were strapped down on either side of their
leviathan's
cabin, separated by five meters of floor and packed equipment. A few were checking their gear like Jack had been, while others were reading or playing mobile games. Lisa Albright had her headphones on and was doubtlessly listening to some band no one had ever heard of, and Leonid Nikitin was sound asleep and snoring loudly.
"See," Jack said, as if his question had been met with raucous agreement. "Nothing at all to fret your little head over."
The blue lamp at the front of the cargo bay came on, indicating that
drop
was imminent. "Oh. Hey Skip, I'm gonna need you take a nice deep breath and try to relax. Can you do that?"
Skip nodded his head rigidly.
"And if you gotta puke, you damn well hold it until we're back on terra firma, or I'll watch you scrub down the whole boat."
A series of loud mechanical thuds echoed through the cabin as the docking clamps released, then the leviathan shifted and slid free of its cradle. The windows along the length of the cabin, which had been black throughout the rest of the trip, suddenly filled with blinding blue sky. Jack could see the javelin shaped transport that had dropped them, and a half-dozen other glimmering orange leviathans also in free-fall. He thought the view was just marvelous.
Skip Walters screamed. Thinking back on it, Jack had screamed his first time, too.
Not today, though. After a half-dozen years at it, he loved plummeting out of the sky. It meant the trip was nearly over and he'd soon be pounding dirt in another foreign land.
Skip screamed until his lungs were spent, but before he could take his next breath, the cabin was filled with the sound of twin rotor blades chopping at the air. Their free-fall was complete, and the helicopter was now flying under its own power. It leveled off after a few more seconds and began its approach.
The leviathan descended and came around, and the rear door opened to reveal forested hills and a monstrous plume of smoke rising high into the air. The helicopter tilted back, providing a good view of the grassy Earth below, while the two full pallets at the back of the cabin slid down the ramp, sprouted parachutes and drifted away.
Then it was down, down, down to the ground. The leviathan slowed and its suspension groaned as the landing struts dug into stiff soil. The pilot broke in over the loud speaker and said, "Welcome to lovely Santiago De Compostela, Spain. Once your restraints pop, you've got five whole minutes to disembark. Be sure to take all your crap with you, and thanks for flying Emergency Response Corps Air."
Twenty sets of metal restraints noisily unlatched and raised themselves overhead, then the brigade hopped to and stomped down the ramp. Skip charged out ahead of them, and after three long strides, he was on his knees and evacuating his stomach violently in the grass.