So, it was easy to guess. This had to be information on the Stellar Drives. I looked out at the simulator high-bay. There was still no curtain on my observation window, but there was no one in the high-bay. I lifted a thin foam cover off the contents of the case.
It was two, very thick manuals embedded in black foam. Both covers were blank. One was dull green, the other a light gray. I carefully wiggled the green one out and opened it to the first page. The title read, ‘Folded Membrane Communications’.
It set me back. Not at all what I expected. The next page contained an overview. It talked about long distance communication using a membrane between two adjacent dimensions. Bewildered, I flipped ahead through the pages and found diagrams of a new communications panel on the Griffin that did not exist in the simulator. My impression had been that when we were far enough away from Earth, there would no longer be practical communication. This manual was contradicting that. According to the description, communications data could be transmitted to a Nasebian support planet and relayed to them. The more space we traversed, the greater the transmission time, but at least messages could be sent. It was a one-way system. We could transmit, but not receive.
Checking the high-bay once more, I pulled the second book from its place. Inside the cover the title read, ‘Multiharmonic Reactive Shielding’. I sped-read the overview. It was talking about protective shields. Farther in, there was a diagram of yet another control panel that did not exist in the simulator. The Griffin had shields, and from the description, they appeared to be extremely powerful.
I sat back stunned. This was starting to sound like a combat mission. Had there been a weapons manual in the briefcase I would really have been beside myself. As it stood, the Griffin carried no weapons other than the hand-held type locked in the armory closet, but I was left feeling uneasy. Was all of this just to make the crew as safe as possible, or was someone, somewhere, expecting trouble? This wasn’t human technology. What did they know? What weren’t we being told?
Glancing over my shoulder, a janitor had entered the high-bay. I put everything back, snapped the case shut and committed the lock codes to memory. With the message from HR deleted, the case fit neatly into a bottom desk drawer with a key lock. I leaned forward on the desk with my chin resting in my palm and continued to be perplexed.
There were other matters that needed attention. More crewmembers would be showing up today. Wilson had been the closest. I wondered where he was. Almost in answer to the question, there was suddenly the faint sound of glass shattering. I sat up and thought, “It can’t be.” Curiosity quickly overcame doubt. I headed for the break room.
He was on one knee with a tray in one hand picking up jagged pieces of glass scattered on the break room floor. In keeping with his irreverence for fashion, he had on black dress slacks and a yellow New York Yankee’s tank top. Mary Walski stood over him, wringing her hands and shaking her head. I leaned against the divider and folded my arms.
“That was my favorite mug, too.”
“I’m so sorry. I bumped the tray. It was an accident.”
“It’s irreplaceable, you know.”
“I’ll replace it. I promise.”
“How can you? It came from the space station.”
“I’ll get you one even better.”
“How could you do that?”
“He will, Mary. I’ll vouch for him.” They both stopped and looked over at me. Wilson let out a short yelp and stood up. “Adrian!”
“Mary Walski, Wilson Mirtos.”
Wilson charged awkwardly over and gave me a hug. He stepped back and shook my hand for too long. “By God, it’s good to see you, buddy. It’s double good this time.”
I put one arm around his shoulder and smiled at Mary. “He’s a member of the flight team, Mary. I promise you, he’ll make up for it. We have a stop at the station, so we’ll hit the gift shop before we leave.”
Mary relaxed and reappraised him. “I haven’t seen a transfer request on you yet; otherwise I would have known who you were.”
“It’s coming. I just put the paperwork in a couple days ago,” I said.
“I guess the tray was kind of sticking out over the edge. I’m glad to meet you, Wilson.” She stepped forward and shook his hand. “But just the same, I’ll leave the mess to you two.” She shrugged and headed back toward her office.
Wilson had changed little since I had last seen him. The big upper body was there, supported by legs that looked like they belonged to a boxer. His short dark brown hair was slightly receding in the front, making him look like a muscular scientific-type. Women loved Wilson, partly because his size made them feel safe, and partly because, contrary to popular myth, size does matter. Wilson has always worn his heart on his sleeve, but at the same time his watchful stare suggests he is ready for and unafraid of the unexpected. The hazel red eyes befit someone who had seen most everything at least once. There was no sense in ever playing games with this man. Seeing him again gave me that same old feeling. It was always good to have Wilson around, especially if there might be hazard involved. Together he and I cleaned up the remnants of Mary’s mug and carefully returned the brooms and dustpans to the janitor’s closet so the janitorial staff would not come looking for us. We poured coffee, and took refuge in my office.
“So that’s it, eh?” said Wilson standing in front of the high-bay window.
“The front half, anyway.”
“It reminds me of the ship in that movie about the apes.”
“You’re not the first to make that comparison.”
“I’m still a movie hoe, you know.”
“You’ll have plenty of time to watch some.”
“Twelve months, you said?”
“That’s a rough guess. You never know on a search and recover mission. You still play chess occasionally?”
“Oh hell yes. Even though I don’t win a lot.”
“RJ is on this cruise. My money says you can beat him.”
“Smith? You dragged Smith into this?”
“I doubt I could have kept him away with a big stick.”
“Well, how is that self-proclaimed philosopher these days, anyway?”
“The same. He’s in the next hanger bay, in training on the habitat simulator. You should go track him down and let him know you’ve arrived. He’ll introduce you to our TD.”
“I’m looking forward to that. Can’t wait to see the tin can we’re getting.”
“Hold on to your hat. It’s something special. You still play the bass?”
“You bet. The electric for the blues. The standup for bluegrass.”
“Don’t try to bring that along, okay?”
“Damn. I bet there’s no smoking, either.”
“Very funny. Here’s a tablet with all our personnel and resources. That’ll get you started. The TD will take over from there. When you get settled in, I know a good place with friendly barmaids. We’ll go get some beers.”
“Damn, it’s good to be here. I owe you a big one, Adrian. The sky started looking different after you called. To be honest, I can’t wait to get past it.”
He stood and took the tablet, went to the door and looked back with a nod, then closed the door so hard that the glass shook. Same old Wilson. No sooner had the shaking settled than someone began tapping. The door pulled back open and a technician pushing a cart full of video monitors worked his way through and turned the corner in front of my desk.
“I have a service order to install these and set up your video feed, Mr. Tarn. Can I do this now, or should I come back?”
“What am I getting?”
“This will give you video feeds from both hangers,” he said. “You’ll be able to monitor what’s going on in both places.”
“Wow! Great. Please proceed.”
“Won’t take very long. All the hook ups are already here.”
“You know, what I really need is a curtain for this high-bay window.”
“I have that too. The stuff just c
ame in today. It’s been on order. The big screen fits up against the window. It’s clear unless you want privacy, then you just select an image and it blocks the view both ways. It’ll run video, of course, as well.”
“Wow!”
“Yeah, if it’s not too much of an interruption, I’ll hang that one right after these.”
“Please do. Great. I’ll go get a refill.”
I amused myself by wandering around, wiping up the table in the break room, and standing in the doorway of the TCC watching monitors of the ongoing training exercise. Wilson was leaning on a station counter beside Terry, looking on and asking questions. RJ’s image was on the main monitor in the habitat simulator, near the hatchway to the rear service crawlway, handing tools to someone lying on their side in an EVA suit. It had to be Denard.
When the exercise began to wrap up, I left and went to the deserted flight simulator hanger and climbed up to the flight deck. The cabin was cold and dark. I found the locations of the hidden communications and shield panels. There was nothing but blank plating. Climbing back down, I could still see into my office, although there was a new, clear video panel mounted against the glass. The other video panels against the wall were all up and running. One was set to monitor the hallway, another the TCC, and a third the habitat simulator. None was set to the Griffin high-bay. As I approached the door to the hallway something caught my eye, something out of place. Through the window, the technician was bent over my desk. It looked like he was fooling with the locked drawer. As I watched, the new screen morphed into a white raster blocking my view. I hurried to the hallway and entered my office with as little warning as possible.
His head popped up from behind the desk. He did not look startled, but he did look prepared. “Just tucking in a few cables. I’m about finished here.” He wrestled briefly with something beneath the desk, and stood.
“Your selector control is right here on the side of your desk. You can call up any monitor and then assign any camera to it. The big screen over the window has its own controls right on the base here. This is the operator’s manual for it on your desk. On the back cover is our contact info. Just give us a call if you have any questions or problems. Anything else I can do for you?”
“That should do it. Thanks.”
“My pleasure.”
He gathered up his tools and dropped his tool bag on the pushcart. I held the door for him as he maneuvered out. As soon as the coast was clear, I went to my desk and inspected the locked drawer. There was no sign of tampering. I unlocked it. The briefcase was still there and had not been repositioned. I pulled it out, unlocked it, and flipped through the classified books. It was all there. Nothing seemed amiss.
Was I imagining things now? Had I become so paranoid that a video technician now looked like a threat? But, was it a coincidence that he showed up right after delivery of the documents? Was it chance that he seemed to be working at the only locked drawer in my desk? Were both of those things just happenstance and I was becoming neurotic? I sat down, rubbed my forehead, and decided it was time to knock off.
Chapter 11