Star Trek: The Rings of Time (4 page)

Shaun ignored the woman’s outstretched hand. He shared Fontana’s outrage. How dare this glib intruder screw up their mission and treat the whole thing like a joke? He fought to keep his temper under control.

“You have a lot of explaining to do,” he said sternly. “Start talking.”

“All right,” she replied, dropping some of the flippant attitude. “I can see where my being here must be a bit of a shock.”

“To say the least,” O’Herlihy said drily.

She tried to snag the tablet as it drifted by. “Short version: I’m
an investigative blogger. Maybe you’ve read my work?” She searched their faces hopefully, only to be disappointed. Shaun had never heard of her. She sighed before continuing. “And I crashed your party to get the scoop of the millennium and to find out the
real
story behind this trip.”

“Real story?” O’Herlihy echoed. “What do you mean?”

“Never mind that right now,” Shaun said. At the moment, he was less interested in her motives than in how exactly she had pulled this off in the first place. “How did you get aboard this ship?”

“Sorry,” she said. “I can’t divulge my sources. Journalistic ethics and all.”

“Ethics?” Fontana said incredulously. “You’ve com-promised a historic, multi-billion-dollar mission that’s been years in the making, and you have the nerve to talk about ethics?” She confiscated the runaway tablet, which apparently belonged to the intruder. “I ought to cram your First Amendment rights up your—”

“Easy, Fontana,” Shaun interrupted. “We’ll get to the bottom of this.”

He tried to figure it out. The stowaway could not have ridden up in a cargo bay, since those weren’t pressurized or equipped for life support, so she must have been smuggled aboard via the
Renaissance
or one of the other ships servicing the
Lewis & Clark
while it was being prepped for departure. Maybe a Russian Soyuz capsule or one of the French construction crews?
In any event, she could not have managed that without inside help, probably from one or more persons involved in the
Lewis & Clark
’s construction and assembly. Shaun shook his head at the very idea. Even with well-placed accomplices, the difficulties involved in slipping an extra person into space boggled his mind, but clearly this “Zoe Querez” had managed somehow.
There’s going to be a hell of an investigation when this gets out,
he thought.
Heads will roll.

Maybe even his.

“Are you nuts?” Fontana accused her. “We can’t take on an extra passenger. Everything has been calculated for three people. The food, the weight, the oxygen, you name it.” She threw up her hands in exasperation. “This is crazy.”

“Please!” the stowaway shot back. “You think I didn’t do my homework? I know that this mission was planned with wide safety margins, just in case something went wrong way out past Mars or wherever. You’ve got food, air, and water to spare. We’re not talking a ‘Cold Equations’ scenario here.”

Shaun caught the reference. She was citing a classic old science-fiction story in which an unlucky stowaway had to be jettisoned from a crucial space mission that had absolutely no margin for error. She was right about one thing: this Saturn mission was a lot less precarious than that fictional space flight. The ship’s chemical fuel cells produced more than enough water for their purposes, weight was less of an issue since they hadn’t needed
to achieve escape velocity, and as for food, well, NASA didn’t intend them to starve to death if one of the refrigerated pantries went on the fritz.

“Listen, you freeloader,” Fontana said. “If you think you’re eating any of my share, think again. I’m not doing without because some irresponsible gate crasher snuck in where she didn’t belong.”

“That’s not going to be a problem,” Querez said. “If you check your cargo bay, you’ll find enough frozen dinners to sustain me for the trip and enough missing cargo to make up the weight difference.”

“Missing cargo?” Shaun didn’t like the sound of that. “What are you talking about? Every bit of that equipment was vitally important to this ship’s mission.”

“Yeah, right,” she said sarcastically. “Like that time capsule from Ms. Hultquist’s third-grade class at Thomas Jefferson Elementary School, the one with the large bronze plate with Senator Plummer’s name on it?” She rolled her eyes. “C’mon, we all know that was a boondoggle to get one last vote on that funding bill. Somehow I think science will survive if you don’t drop a crate of glorified souvenirs—including, as I recall, a school yearbook, a Bible, several personal letters and drawings, an autographed football, various stuffed animals and action figures, flash drives, CDs, baby teeth, and a complete set of
Harry Potter
novels—into orbit around Saturn for all eternity.”

Touché,
Shaun thought. He recalled posing for a photo op with the senator back in her hometown in
Kansas City. At the time, it had seemed a small price to pay for a crucial vote in the Senate. “I take it the time capsule didn’t make it aboard?”

“Not exactly,” she admitted, “although there’s a package with all the right markings. And you know all those orchid bulbs that big perfume company sponsored?”

“I get the idea,” Shaun said curtly. “You seem to have thought this all out, Ms. Querez.”

“Please,” she insisted. “Call me Zoe.”

Fontana snorted. “That’s not what I was planning to call you.”

“You said something about the ‘real story’ behind our mission,” O’Herlihy recalled. “What did you mean by that?”

“Like you don’t know,” she challenged him. “I mean, all of a sudden, we have to go to Saturn, even though Mars and Jupiter are much closer to Earth? Hell, Saturn is
twice
as far from the sun as Jupiter is, but we’re going there first? You really expect people to buy that?”

“We’ve explained that before,” Shaun said. “Dozens of times. Jupiter has a far more dangerous radioactive field, and Saturn just happens to be in alignment right now, or will be by the time we get there. We miss this chance, it’s another thirty years before it comes around our way again. If ever we want to check out Saturn and its moons, now’s the time.”

“Plus, there’s the comet,” Fontana reminded him.

“That’s right,” Shaun said. He’d gone over this in countless
press conferences, so he knew the spiel by heart. “Hubble has spotted a previously unknown comet approaching Saturn. It should be passing by the planet about the time we arrive. How could we pass up an opportunity like that? It’s a two-fer.”

“Sure, sure, that’s the official story,” Zoe said skeptically, “and I’m certain it’s true enough as far as the space science goes. Thirty-year solar revolution, dangerous Jovian radiation, incoming comet, yada, yada. But that’s not the whole deal, is it?” She winked at them. “What about the trouble with the rings?”

O’Herlihy frowned. “What trouble? There is no trouble with the rings.”

“That’s not what I’ve heard,” she said. “Word is, Saturn’s famous rings are coming apart—‘destabilizing’ is the term my sources use—which could mess up the entire solar system.”

“Nonsense,” O’Herlihy said. “That’s just a crackpot theory perpetuated by fringe elements. Contrary to what you might have read on the Internet, Saturn’s rings are always full of irregularities and hardly uniform throughout. There are clumps and corrugations, froths and churns, some nearly three kilometers high.” His voice took on a pedantic tone, as though he were addressing a classroom. “Think of them as raging rivers, complete with waves and rapids.”

“Uh-huh,” Zoe said, unconvinced. “But those rivers are getting wilder, aren’t they, Professor?”

O’Herlihy sighed wearily. “Yes, conventional astronomers
have recently detected some intriguing ‘wobbles’ in the rings, possibly caused by the approach of the comet, but that’s just one more reason to visit Saturn and its moons at this particular juncture. There’s no cause for alarm, despite the various dooms-day scenarios on the Web.”

“Really?” Zoe asked. “What if the rings break apart and the pieces come flying at the Earth?”

“A ridiculous fantasy,” O’Herlihy insisted. “Even if the rings did disintegrate, Earth is much too far away to be significantly affected. Chances are, the loose debris would just add to the asteroid belt, if it didn’t spiral into Saturn and burn up in its atmosphere.”

Zoe almost looked disappointed. “Oh.”

“Space is fascinating enough,” Shaun said, “without having to sensationalize things. Trust me, we have plenty of good reasons to check out Saturn right here and now, but the end of the world isn’t one of them.”

Zoe shrugged. “Well, a girl can always dream, you know.”

“Jesus!” Fontana said. “Why are we even wasting time talking to this flake?” She turned toward Shaun and O’Herlihy. “Now what are we going to do? Turn back?”

“Perhaps we should,” O’Herlihy said. “Despite Ms. Querez’s secret stores, her presence here completely upends our mission plans. We have no contingency plans for this.” He shook his head dolefully. “Missions have been aborted for less.”

He had a point, Shaun knew, but he hated the idea of
scrubbing the mission now that they were finally under way. “I don’t know, Doc. A lot is depending on this mission. You know as well as I do that the space program is on life support as is, especially given the shaky state of the world economy. Plenty of people want to shut us down altogether.”

He wasn’t exaggerating. Back in the United States, thousands of homeless people were crammed into so-called sanctuary districts, with little hope of finding new jobs and lives anytime soon. The average citizen was more concerned with the economy, terrorism, global warming, wars, and the latest celebrity scandal than with humanity’s future in space. Shaun’s recent publicity tour had driven that home. Many today saw space exploration as a costly luxury that the world could no longer afford—or, worse yet, as the outmoded dream of an earlier generation. There weren’t even any space shows on TV anymore. Hope was out of fashion.

“We need a successful mission, to get people excited about space and the future again. And NASA in particular could use a public-relations victory right now. The Eastern Coalition has already beaten us back to the moon. We can’t come in second on Saturn, too.” The more he thought about it, the more he realized what was at stake. “This is our last chance. We turn back now, that’s it, not just for the Saturn mission but for the entire space program. We’ll be grounded for good.”

O’Herlihy scratched his beard. “It would be a shame to miss out on that comet,” he admitted, “not to mention our chance to examine those intriguing ripples in the rings. As a scientist, I’ll never have an opportunity like this again.”

Shaun knew how much that meant to O’Herlihy. The doctor was a devout family man, very attached to his wife and daughter, yet he had agreed to leave them for 190 days and put hundreds of millions of kilometers between himself and his family, for the chance to take part in this mission. That was dedication.

“I won’t be any trouble,” Zoe insisted. “I’ll just be along as an observer . . . to document your historic mission. And I’ll help promote your success once we get back to Earth. Just think of me as an embedded journalist, like during a war.”

“Shut up,” Fontana said. “Nobody invited you along. You’re an intruder, not a guest.” She kept a wary eye on Zoe as she conferred with her colleagues. “And how do we know she is who she says she is, anyway? For all we know, she’s a saboteur or a terrorist . . . like those HEL freaks back home.”

The Human Extinction League was a radical environmental group that regarded humanity as a blight upon the planet and actually advocated its voluntary extinction, sooner rather than later. They had vowed to stop NASA from spreading the “plague” of humanity to other worlds and had even launched raids and attempted bombings against the space program.
Just last week, the Johnson Space Center in Houston had received a threatening letter containing a suspicious white powder. Operations had been shut down for hours before Homeland Security determined that the powder was just an artificial sweetener.

“What if she’s some sort of suicide bomber,” Fontana asked, “out to sabotage the mission?”

“Then why haven’t I done it already?” Zoe stretched out her arms. “Does it look like I’m wearing a suicide vest?” She scoffed at the notion. “Trust me, I’ve interviewed some HEL types, and they’re a little extreme for my tastes.”

“See?” Fontana said. “She admits she knows them.”

“So? I’ve interviewed movie stars, too. That doesn’t make me a Scientologist.” She appealed to Shaun. “Look, Skipper, check out my credentials if you don’t believe me.”

“Oh, I will,” Shaun promised. He wasn’t looking forward to having that conversation with Houston. “And we’re going to conduct a stem-to-stern search of this ship just to make sure there aren’t any more hidden surprises.”

“But that still leaves the burning question of what we’re going to do with her,” O’Herlihy said, “no matter which way we’re going.”

Fontana shrugged. “We could flush her out the airlock.”

Shaun assumed she was joking . . . maybe. “We’ll have to rig up a brig of some sort, perhaps in the airlock
outside the cargo bay.” Unfortunately, the
Lewis & Clark
had not been designed with prisoners in mind. “And keep a close eye on her regardless.”

“Works for me,” Zoe said. “At least until I can get you to trust me.”

“Don’t hold your breath for that,” Fontana said. “What’s the ruling, Commander? Are we seriously thinking about staying on course for Saturn?”

“That’s for Mission Control to decide,” he reminded them, “but if we present a unified front, our decision is likely to carry a lot of weight.” He made up his mind. “I say we keep on going. We turn back now, we’re never going to get another chance.”

“All right, Shaun,” O’Herlihy said. “You’ve convinced me. I’m game if you are.”

“Thanks, Marcus.” Shaun looked at Fontana. “What about you?”

As he knew from experience, his copilot wasn’t fond of surprises, especially where a mission was concerned. She was all about advance planning and preparation. An X factor like their stowaway was bound to get under her skin.