Black Infinity Read online

“You can say that again,” Sullivan agreed.

  “Not a good day.”

  ALIEN CONSTRUCT

  93° West, 4° South

  Near Tithonium Chasma, Mars

  In the near future, Year 4, Day 178

  “WHAT ON EARTH DO YOU think happened?” Maria asked, resuming her stance at the console and trying to turn the holographic display off. With everything happening on board their ship, she was ready to abort any further attempts to manipulate the alien control console. It seemed the alien technology wasn’t going to cooperate with her.

  Jules shook her head and watched the hologram. “I don’t know for sure, but a catastrophic failure of any ship that size would most likely be by design. I can’t see something triggering an explosion of that magnitude when the ship is resting in orbit, unless someone instigated it.”

  “I hate to say it, but I think you’re right, Commander,” Maria said. “Do you think one of those Chinese commandoes had a way to rig their ship to explode?”

  “I don’t know,” the commander said, shuffling further back to try to see the entire hologram at once. It felt as if she was a kid lying in front of the telly, with her nose about an inch away from the screen, and what a large screen it was. “What worries me the most is if that explosion was meant for our ship.”

  “Even if it wasn’t, it appears they managed to damage it ... again.”

  “Yeah, don’t get me started, Maria. The intentional damage to our engine cowling was enough, not to mention their attack down here. Thank goodness you managed to figure out the door code for opening the outer airlock.”

  “No, Commander, that was pure luck—simply hitting enough buttons until something happened and then trying to make sense of what we had just done.”

  “Well, whatever it was, it worked, and it saved my life. Not to mention the lives of those two SEALs. I doubt that commando was going to provide medical attention to them.”

  “I didn’t see his expression the way you did, Commander, but from what you told me, I bet he had murder in his eyes.”

  “You can call me Jules down here. We’ve been over this before, Maria.”

  “I know. Habits are hard to break, and with the men watching, I don’t like the idea of them taking us any less seriously by us appearing to have ‘girl’ talk, if you get my meaning.”

  “I do, and I’m sure we’ve both been through the usual gender discrimination. Still, when it’s just the two of us, I’d prefer you not call me ‘Commander’ all the time. It makes me feel like there’s a significant distance between us.”

  “Alright, Julie, but I won’t call you Jules.”

  “Fair enough. Now can you either access this display or at least turn it off?”

  “I’m trying, but the controls don’t seem to be responding anymore.”

  “What do you mean?” Jules turned her attention from the hologram to her science officer. “We’re playing whack-a-mole with the sequencing up here anyway, aren’t we?”

  “We were, but to troubleshoot, I tried to access the outer corridor doors, which have always worked for us up till now.”

  “What do you mean ‘up till now?’” Jules walked over and stood next to Maria to see the layout of the console.

  “I mean something has changed in a significant way. This board doesn’t appear to be accepting commands right now.”

  “You can’t open the doors to allow us egress?”

  “No,” Maria said.

  “Damn.” Jules walked over to the door that they had used several times and slapped at it with her helmet, which she had taken from her belt. “Can we reverse the sequence and reestablish control over the door?”

  “That’s the first thing I tried, Command—I mean Julie. The commands seem to be inert now from this console.”

  “Then what the hell are we watching?” Jules walked back through the hologram, passing Maria and reaching the far wall to turn and inspect the static display.

  Maria shrugged, then gave up her attempts at the board and joined her commander at the far wall. “If we can’t reestablish command then we’re going to have to get the lieutenant to bring his bag of goodies and blow these doors. I don’t like the idea of being entombed inside this place.”

  “It can’t be that serious,” Jules said. “We still have radio comms with the Horizon.”

  The women stood silently, watching the static display before Maria asked, “Do you miss your family?”

  The question seemed odd—not that it was unusual in and of itself, but the timing of the question took Jules by surprise. “Of course I do. I think we all do.”

  “I don’t.”

  Jules broke her gaze on the hologram and turned her head to face her science officer. She knew the woman had no husband and no children, but her parents were very supportive of her and had attended her basic graduation at NASA as a candidate astronaut years ago. “Why would you say something like that?”

  Maria turned to face her. “Does it bother you?”

  “No,” Jules said, shaking her head and forcing her eyes back to the hologram. “I simply find the timing unusual. Are you feeling alright?”

  “I’m fine,” Maria said, turning to face the display as well. “I’m sorry if my asking was rude or too personal for you, Julie.”

  “No, it’s fine. I got this a lot when I was moving through the space program. It seems we get questioned enough for our gender and then more questions if we have family.”

  “I didn’t have to experience the latter, though at times I felt as if my candidacy was questioned because of my educational background.” Maria was referring to the fact that she hadn’t entered the space program through the military, as many officers in the Air Force and Navy had done.

  “I don’t think that’s held against you,” Jules said. “You remind me of Marjorie Jones with all those doctorate degrees. You know, that’s quite an achievement to be proud of by itself. The space part—being in the program is just icing on the cake.”

  “I’m glad you think so, Julie.”

  “Well, the first thing I’m going to do as soon as we get communications established again is send a new video message to my family. Well, right after finishing our primary mission objectives.” Suddenly, the display went dynamic as movement to the far right side caught their eyes.

  “What is that?” Maria asked.

  “I don’t know.” Jules squinted at the blurry image, which seemed to go staticky as soon as it appeared. “The black interior isn’t helping us to see anything clearly.”

  Jules keyed her mic, which she had disabled and had on audible only. “Monroe to Horizon. Neil, are you there?”

  “Read you loud and clear, Commander,” Neil said.

  “Sitrep on our military personnel?” she asked.

  There was a moment’s pause before he replied, “They’re extricating him from the pod. It appears the bunk collapsed when the hull was breached, but don’t worry, Commander, Lieutenant Harris was suited up and managed to get his helmet secured in time, but in his haste, he disabled his com unit somehow. He’ll be fine.”

  “Roger that,” Jules said. “Are you seeing what we’re seeing?”

  “What would that be, Commander?”

  “We’re not sure, but it looks like a black blob moving against the black background on the far right side of the hologram relative to our position.”

  “John, did you enhance the rez on our C and C cams?” Neil asked, referring to the Control and Command cameras that were relaying the hologram to their ship and video feed recorders.

  “Should be coming online now,” John Royal said, and a switch being toggled was heard at the end of his transmission.

  “We see it,” Neil said.

  “I think it’s headed towards us,” Maria stated.

  “What are you basing that on?”

  “The display is showing a scene similar to what I saw when it first activated, only this time I believe we’re looking at interior corridors, and the center of focus is at ou
r location, located to the extreme left of the display. It’s moving from right to left.”

  “Commander, we’ve completed the extraction. LQ2 is secure and ready for repairs when you and your crew have time. I’ll be taking Lieutenant Harris to sickbay with Doctor Hill for eval. He’s bumped his head again,” Carter cut in.

  “Ah, Major ... I think we may need you or your men down here...” Jules said, hesitation and anxiety in her voice.

  “What’s going on down there, Commander?” he asked.

  “Something is coming our way, and I’m not sure what it is or what it intends to do once it gets here. However, be advised that we cannot, I repeat, cannot open the airlock doors. We may need our own extraction soon enough.”

  “Roger your last,” Carter said. “Commander Sullivan, are you ready in Red Two to drop?”

  “We can literally go in, like, sixty seconds,” Neil responded. “Not that our launch window will allow for that.” Unfortunately, the major didn’t fully comprehend his last remark.

  “Oh crap—Major, be advised the Soviets are powering up their lander,” Anderson said from his command post. “We’ve got major heat increases on our FLIR and infrared from their drop ship.”

  “On my way,” Carter said. “Flores, get to Red Two and standby. Jackson, can you man the CP?”

  “Command Post is all mine, sir,” Jackson said.

  “Wait a second,” Doctor Hill protested. “I haven’t cleared him for duty yet.”

  “No need, Doctor,” Carter said. “I’ve cleared him as of now. I’ll be taking Lieutenant Harris with me as well.”

  “I need to run a CAT scan on him before you take him anywhere.”

  “You can do that when we return,” Carter replied dryly, a sense of diminishing patience coming across in the man’s voice.

  “He’s not cleared for duty,” Hill continued to protest. “He could suffer permanent brain damage if you proceed.”

  The threat was clear, but Carter had his priorities. “Understood and noted, Doctor Hill. This is part of the occupational risk we’ve accepted.”

  Harris spoke up for the first time: “I’m fine, Doctor. Let me go planetside as I’m the most qualified on our explosives detail, and your commander and science officer may be trapped.”

  There was a long pause as his words sunk in, but there was no arguing them in relation to the safety and well-being of the NASA members. “Fine,” Hill finally said. “But I expect to see you first thing upon your return.”

  “I’ll escort him personally, Doctor,” Carter said.

  “You better hurry, Major; they’ve detached from the Red Star,” Neil’s voice interrupted. “Jules, we’re going planetside shortly. Are you sure you or Maria can’t get the airlock doors to open for us?”

  “We’re going immediately,” Carter said before Jules could answer.

  “Major, I appreciate the help,” Jules responded. “However, there is a launch window we discussed with you earlier, and a one-way trip down here won’t help. Neil, what’s the ETA on atmo entry?”

  “Commander, we can go in as early as four minutes twenty seconds,” Neil said. “We’ll stay within propellant burn limits, but it’ll take an extra two minutes for landing. I’ll ask again: can you get the air lock doors open?”

  There was a sense of urgency in his voice—they could lose communications at any time. Jules’ response was urgent as well. “Unknown, but Maria is at the console trying now. We’ll update shortly. Have the Russians left yet?”

  “No. Their lander is in tandem orbit ready for drop but no sign of entry burn ... yet.”

  “Roger. We have activity down here; standby,” Jules said.

  After a long minute, Neil reported, “Commander, we’re loaded and releasing now.”

  “Copy.”

  Their lander, Red Two, dropped away from the Red Horizon and started a slow descent paralleling the mother-ship as its orbit shortened ever so slightly. As was protocol, Neil announced their departure and personnel manifest. “Red Two to Red Horizon. Release maneuver complete, initiating initial burn for Mars surface. Sullivan piloting; Carter, Flores, Anderson, and Harris on board.”

  The personnel status was both unusual and interesting. The landers were designed for only four people, but after the first incident, Major Carter had the Horizon’s mechanical engineer, Dave Dakos, rig a fifth seat between the rear two. The SEALs couldn’t pilot their own craft, and the SEAL commander wanted the ability to split his team four by two, if necessary.

  Jules acknowledged. “Roger, Neil, break. John, what did you lower the frame rate to on the cameras down here?”

  “30, down from the standard 120,” John said.

  “The quality of the hologram improved when you did that,” Jules noted. “Can you lower it further?”

  “The quality shouldn’t matter,” Neil interjected. “The cameras are passive.”

  Maria chimed in, “We understand that, but the signal feed to the transmitter is not. It’s being relayed at the same frame rate.”

  “You think our camera feed is interfering with the alien hologram?” Neil asked, surprise in his voice.

  “That’s our theory for now,” Jules said. “John, can you get the rate down to 10 or 15?”

  “Working it now. Let it configure ... should only take a sec, Commander.”

  “Two minutes, twenty-five seconds to burn,” Neil stated.

  “There it is,” Jules said. “We’re getting a better feed on it now—standby.”

  One of the SEALs softly said, “Time to rescue the ladies.”

  It wasn’t loud enough to broadcast, but Neil put his hand up to the communications console of their lander and hit the emergency broadcast button, which was designed to shut down other communication transmitters in their lander to allow for a three-emergency broadcast. Turning his head slightly, he said, “I’d stow that shit pretty fast, Major, unless you want one of your boys trading in his brass ones for a pair of highly fragile ceramic ones when Commander Monroe gets wind of that.”

  “You are quite right, Commander Sullivan. My apologies as well,” Carter responded.

  “No problem.” Neil toggled the switch back to normal operations.

  “You’re going to owe me a hundred in Earth-gees once we get back,” Carter said in a bare whisper to one of his team members. Neil didn’t want to know who it was, as he suspected there’d be further consequences than just that for breaking discipline and protocol in the manner done. He was wondering if he’d been too harsh on them when the radio came alive.

  “Can you burn earlier?” Jules asked. “Neil, do you copy?”

  “Thirty seconds max will use almost all reserves,” Neil stated helplessly. The laws of physics and orbital dynamics weren’t very flexible.

  “Disregard, then ... we’ll manage till you get here.”

  Neil looked at his primary monitor between his console and the co-pilot and inwardly cursed at the small twelve-inch screen. Damn. They primarily would use the HUD, or Heads Up Display, overlaid on their cockpit windshield, which was easily thirty inches wide, but this tiny monitor didn’t let him see the feed from within the alien command console room very clearly.

  “That doesn’t look good,” Doctor Hill said. “I think I see two blobs moving in unison. Commander Monroe, can you and Officer Mayer exit the complex?”

  “No, Doctor,” Jules said.

  “The controls are not responding,” Maria said. “I’m afraid we’re going to need the doors forced open.”

  “Keep trying,” Jules said to her. “Horizon, did we receive any communiques from Houston yet?” She wasn’t sure who would respond in Neil Sullivan’s absence, so she asked the ship at large.

  John Royal’s voice responded: “Negative, Commander; initial packet stream and then nothing.”

  “Roger. Keep us posted,” she said for the third time that day.

  “Do you have any weapons down there?” Hill asked.

  “I can’t believe I’m actually hearing that,”
Jules responded with surprise. Doctor Hill was rather well-known as something of a pacifist.

  “We’re still recording for history’s sake,” Neil reminded. “One minute to burn.”

  “Maria, suit up,” Jules ordered. “I’m taking a defensive position near our equipment.”

  Jules walked over to the side door leading to the airlocks and rummaged through the plastic boxes that were roughly the size of a small foot locker. In one of the boxes, she found the small electrical drill that doubled as something between a jack hammer and a Jaws of Life.

  “Good idea, Commander,” Hill said.

  Neil tapped his monitor and asked, “What are you doing, Commander? I can’t get a good visual from the lander.”

  “She’s grabbed the hydraulic drill,” Dakos said.

  “Maria, keep trying the doors,” Jules called over her shoulder, pulling the drill close to her chest and activating the battery power pack. She had already donned her gloves and helmet and nodded in approval as Maria did the same.

  “It’s almost here,” Maria noted.

  There was a hissing sound and then a slight screech, audible even through their space suits that dampened almost everything except vibration. The door that they had tried for days to open finally did so under an unknown force, and the white light of their room spilled out and into the dark corridor beyond.

  A large, black, egg-shaped orb floated into the room and suddenly shot out a piercing blue light onto the floor. It swept from side to side, then widened to take in the entire room.

  “I think we’re making first contact,” Jules said. “Tell me we’re recording this.”

  “Affirmative, Commander,” John said. “We’re getting everything on 16k and I’ve bumped the frame rate back to normal for now.”

  “Screw it,” Neil said. “Twenty seconds to burn—initiating burn now.”

  “You’re cutting it close, Commander Sullivan,” Dakos said.

  “We’ll be fine,” Neil replied through his teeth, not believing a word he was saying. He turned to see Carter looking at him and added, “NASA always puts a healthy spare ratio even in the spare ratio.”

  “I hope so,” Carter said, gripping his belt tightly as the lander rocketed towards the red planet, its motors engaging at full throttle, pushing the smaller craft deep into the Martian atmosphere.