Raul, scruffy after three days of not shaving, slowly climbed the single flight of stairs to CAC where he found Savanna, seated in the pilot’s chair. “I swear,” he said, “those stairs get longer every week.”
“Buck up, Raul. And get a shave.” They were both tired.
“How long will we be in Oort?”
“Another year or so.”
“It makes me nervous,” he said, rubbing his chin and looking at her screen. “Anyway, the daily traffic is here, sent three months ago.” As Raul spoke, Savanna tapped on her screen to bring up the message. “Parts of the message are too degraded to interpret, sorry. Even with focused, phased array radio transmitters out of the atmosphere and the huge antenna built into the engine skin, the distance is so great that we are losing data as marked in the text.”
She scanned quickly through the document. “I wonder what that meant,” she murmured as she perused.
HEALTH AND MEDICAL NOTICE
REAP MISSIONS 24 AND 25 HAVE BEEN POSTPONED UNT [LOAST DATA] RD REVIEWS [LD] REPORTS OF UNU [LD] BEHAVIOR [LD] HOSIS ABOARD MISSIONS [LD] 13, 18, 19 AND 21. PSY [LD] FILES OF REAP 23 157 ALL REAP PERSONNEL HAVE BEEN HEAVILY SCREENED PRIOR [LD] REANALYZED SINCE THE LAST TWO REPORTS WERE [LD] INGS ARE OF SUFFICIENT CONCER [LD] WARRANT SUSPENSION OF FUTURE MISSIONS UNTI [LD] NDATIOS ARE AVAILABLE
“It doesn’t sound good,” Raul said. “Postponed or suspended missions for some reason, probably unusual behavior.”
“We know a little bit about that. I notice that our mission is not listed.”
“This was from three months ago. We reported Parambi first a little over three months ago. The messages passed each other. They did not have it when this was sent.”
“Our report will put the icing on the cake.”
“Fruitcake?” Raul gave a wry grin.
“Funny. This partial word looks like psychosis. I bet they won’t be sending any other missions until they get this straightened out, which could be never. I see heads rolling in Stockholm in a few months.”
“Savanna, it has been a few months. It may already be over. I can see them closing down Schaefer, at least the REAP buildings, a year early.”
“With so much lost transmission data and these broken messages, I wonder if it is worth sending and receiving.”
“I think I’ll condense each transmission and send it twice. Hopefully, they can put the two messages together and figure it out.”
“Good thinking, Raul.”
“Maybe part of the reason the messages are breaking up is dust. When we had the collision a couple of months ago, we may have passed through a cloud or trail. I doubt we’ll ever know because our scientist had gone mad at that point.”
“Yeah. One of us should talk to Lucinda about that at some point. How do you feel about sharing the new message with the crew?”
“We should. Maybe they can fill in the blanks, like a crossword with no clues.”
“They could make it say anything,” Savanna paused in thought. “Raul, did you have the computer try to reconstruct the message using the noise in the gaps? It is saved, is it not?”
“I can’t believe you thought of that before I did. I’ll go to work on it now. See you later.”
“One more thing, Raul.” He turned in the exit to listen. “Thanks again for your help with Cyrus a couple of weeks ago.”
Raul swatted as if to say it was nothing as he turned and went down the stairs.
Savanna, as commander, made the rule that the entire crew would meet at least once daily. This was typically over dinner. If a more formal atmosphere were needed, they would meet some other time. Dinner was just about over.
“‘Psychotic Scientists in Space.’ I can see the headlines,” Lucinda said wryly.
“‘Psychotic Scientists Scuttle Ships in Space,’” added Maricia.
“‘Several Sessile Psychotic Space Super Scientists Sabotage and Scuttle Ships,’” Lucinda countered.
“This is going to get worse if it doesn’t stop,” Raul said.
“Loose screws sink ships,” Savanna said.
“This is a PR nightmare for the European Space Exploration Program as well as for REAP,” Raul said.
“Out of our control,” Savanna said.
“‘Space Psychosis Spurs Psychiatric Special Session, Stuns Scientific Societies,’” Maricia said.
“We are the only ship out here capable of sending a communication,” Raul said. “I think we should send a public statement, a plea to continue funding the program because of its huge importance.”
“It’s a waste of time,” Cyrus said. “No one will pay much attention.”
“I think a short, potent message would be nice,” Savanna said. “Do you want to write a draft that the rest of us can look at, Raul?”
“‘Psychotic Syzygy Stalls Spaceships,’” Lucinda said.
“Sure. I would be happy to.”
“That was good, Luc,” Maricia said.
“Are you two going to join the conversation?” Raul asked.
“I agree with Cyrus,” Lucinda responded. “I doubt anything we send back is going to make the slightest difference.”
“That is not what I said,” Cyrus said.
“Looking at the message we just received,” Lucinda continued, “I doubt anything understandable will get there. This was sent three months ago. It might take four months to get some little broken message back. The news cycle is not that long.”
“That just makes me feel so warm and fuzzy inside,” Raul said. “Such optimism!”
“Lucinda has a point,” Savanna said. “The little message will need to be potent to get the attention of the media, the public, the politicians, as well as Command. Maybe everybody should draft a message. Make it less than a hundred words.”
“‘REAP Riders Write Request Regarding Revering Repopulation and Renouncing Retreat,’” Maricia said.
“Please,” Raul said.
“What?” she responded, eyebrows elevated in innocence.
“When is our assignment due, Ms. De Clerq?” Lucinda asked.
“How about tomorrow at dinner? We can go over them as we attempt to digest this new diet.”
“Never insult the cook,” Spoon said as he wheeled over to the table.
“Never trust a skinny chef,” Raul said.
“If I am skinny, you are a toothpick,” Spoon wheeled in front of Cyrus. “Oh, quiet one, what is the difference between a spaceship and a porcupine?”
Cyrus looked lost for a moment. “The differences are huge.”
“With a porcupine, the pricks are on the outside.”
“Very amusing,” Cyrus said dryly. “To think that you waited six months to come up with that one. Such patience.”
“I have more where that came from.” Spoon bused a stack of dishes away as he played a raucous rendition of “When the Saints Come Marching In.”
“Why don’t you tell us what you are doing in Science, Lucinda?”
“All I have time to work on is telescopic information. There is not much to report, although I might have something tomorrow. Raul asked me if we passed through debris when we were hit a couple of months ago. Our front and rear facing telescopes are set at a slight pitch to avoid having the ship take up half the image. We could not see directly behind us at the time, but we might be able to see more since our big turn. At this point, about a quarter of a light-year from the sun, the low-light level requires a long exposure. Exposure times are limited by our yaw even with the ability to track over a small angle with the scopes. Unless there was something pretty reflective, we may not see it. Savanna and I started a comparison of images that consumes a lot of computational ability, looking for a comet trail or debris. It should be completed sometime tomorrow.”
“What about thermal imaging and images from nonvisual wavelengths?” Raul asked.
“Same problems. We are looking and analyzing every day.”
“How does the solar system look from here?” Maricia asked.
“Just a very bright star. You have to know what you’re looking at to make any sense of it. It’s not like a schematic in a textbook.”
“Thanks, Luc,” said Savanna. “Does anyone have something that needs discussion or announcement?” Savanna asked as she looked around the table. Seeing and hearing negative responses, she stood. Everyone meandered out of the room, leaving Spoon to clean.
Raul carried a clear plastic stemware about half full of red wine substitute. His mock T was soft and smooth, his pleated pants hung perfectly, buckling over the top of his loafers. Maricia’s clothing was a little wrinkled, relaxed, and less refined. She had not cut her blond hair, and it hung straight, well below the top of her shoulders. She carried a cup of decaffeinated coffee. Together, they walked slowly to the stairs and up.
Ahead of them were Lucinda and Savanna, chatting in hushed voices and moving energetically above to somewhere above quarters. Cyrus had been the last to leave and had gone into the Recreation area.
As the sound of footsteps in the stairwell ended, Cyrus looked at his handheld and saw he was alone. He selected a program in the five cents and entered. Soon, he heard the call to prayer. He spread his rug, knelt, and prayed, something he had never done before as an adult until the last month. He spoke with an old fundamentalist imam. He listened and learned.