Forbidden the Stars Part 2

"The science team reports all spectroa.n.a.lyses are normal. Ekwan again requests permission to venture out on the surface." The first mate lowered her voice to match the captain's tone. "Justine, if he doesn't get his way soon, he's going to drive us all off the end of the planet, you know."

There was always one bad apple in every bushel. Unfortunately, NASA had had no say for whom the j.a.panese included in the mission. They had to accept Ekwan along with the fifteen billion in research money the j.a.panese s.p.a.ce Administration had invested.

Six months in s.p.a.ce with that overblown, opinionated jacka.s.s, however, was enough to test the patience of a saint.

I should deny his request, just out of spite. That would be petty, and a blatant misuse of her authority. Besides, it was not a generous att.i.tude to take with any member of the civilian science team. That would be petty, and a blatant misuse of her authority. Besides, it was not a generous att.i.tude to take with any member of the civilian science team.

Looking around, she could barely see twenty meters beyond the landing lights of the Orcus 1 Orcus 1. Willing to ignore the petty politics of Earth's corporate countries, she had accepted this mission-ecstatic and full of pa.s.sion-for the chance to touch the heart of Pluto for herself.

Now I am here! She reveled in the fact. She reveled in the fact.

The surface of Pluto was barren and unforgiving. The achievement of reaching it would spur Earth to invest more resources in s.p.a.ce exploration. The mantle of that responsibility rested squarely on her slight shoulders, and she dare not let anything untoward happen on this mission. She knew she should make the other members of the eight-person crew wait an hour after her exposure to the surface of the planet, in the event there were microbes eating into her suit, or some other fantastical possibility thought up by the NASA scientists. But if letting Ekwan go would shut the seismologist's loud mouth up for just five minutes...

"Permission granted, Helen. But make sure he follows regulations. I'm coming back in. Seen all I need to see for now. I've got enough pics to keep NASA's publicity department busy for a year."

"Very good, Captain." She could hear the relief in the First Mate's voice.

Justine made her way up the lander's ceramic ladder and entered the belly of the Orcus 1 Orcus 1. It took a minute to cycle through the airlock.

Inside, she faced an unorganized mob. In an orchestra of confusion, four crewmembers circled about their unbidden conductor, all shouting in a cacophony of anger.

"Ekwan! Slow down," Justine commanded, getting their attention. "We're here for seven months. You'll get all the surface time you need." She stared into his vesuvian face. So much anxiety in such a little man. So much anxiety in such a little man.

"It's these stupid belts, Captain! There are too many, and they're getting in the way. And she-" He jerked his head at First Mate Helen Buchanan. "-won't let me go out until she has me trussed up like a prisoner."

"Ekwan. Just do it. Would you rather waste time arguing, or get your suit on properly and get out on the surface that much sooner?"

Clearly unhappy, the seismologist allowed Helen to finish strapping his suit together. With comic exaggeration, he stomped into the airlock.

"And wait for the rest of us!" Helen shouted through the intercom. "We'll be ready in a few minutes."

Ekwan's reply was unintelligible, but there was no misunderstanding the frustration on his face.

In a way, Justine could understand him. Even in modern j.a.pan, the need to excel and surpa.s.s everyone else drove their economic and social order. In a small country with such a high population density, it was no wonder people were frantic and short-tempered in their race to get ahead of the pack.

The others in the locker room slowly fumbled their way into their suits.

Justine nodded at Johan Belcher, the European s.p.a.ce Agency's geologist. The handsome Austrian was there to run detailed tests on the makeup of Pluto's icy surface, including depths, densities, and percentages.

If not for her captaincy, she would have encouraged his smooth-tongued advances. She had to keep herself set apart from the others, however; to do otherwise would undermine her authority. It was imperative she keep her command and authority for the duration of the twenty-month mission.

Johan returned the nod with a calculated smile as he helped Dale Powers, the NASA astrogator, into his suit.

Two other NASA members struggled to get ready. Henrietta Maria and George Eastmain. Justine suspected the two had become lovers on the long voyage. They giggled at each other like schoolchildren when they thought no one was looking, and whispered in each other's ears frequently.

"Where's Sakami?" she asked the group. The single representative from the People's Republic of China, Sakami Chin was clearly an outsider. He refused to dine with the others, and made no effort at casual conversation. Surly and abrupt, Sakami made no qualms about his aversion to s.p.a.ce travel.

Justine turned her head at the sound of boots striking the metal plate that divided the locker room from the rest of the ship.

Sakami pushed his way through the crowd to his suit, and paid no attention to the cries of outrage from the others.

Justine glanced at her First Mate. "I'm heading to the bridge, if you've got everything under control here."

"Sure do, Captain. Take a nap. I'll alert you if Ekwan falls down a crater," she joked.

"Belay that. Only alert me if he kills himself."

She forced a smile, and made her way through the s.p.a.cecraft.

With the Orcus 1 Orcus 1 empty, Justine made a detour to the galley and helped herself to a squeeze tube of cold tea. She congratulated herself on achieving the most important goal of her life. empty, Justine made a detour to the galley and helped herself to a squeeze tube of cold tea. She congratulated herself on achieving the most important goal of her life.

Stories of Planet X had filled Justine's young mind and fed her imagination, and as a teenager, she studied every book she could download on the subject.

She made it her lifelong pa.s.sion, reading everything she could find about the planet, scouring two centuries worth of data. With every probe that went past the dark world, she made certain to download all relevant data.

After she graduated from her Arizona State's Astronomy Department with honors, the Lowell Observatory took a shine to her, and sponsored her into the NASA training program. Justine had worked hard over her short career. She clawed her way up through the ranks, just for the opportunity of fulfilling her dream. Her ultimate goal: the Orcus 1 Orcus 1 mission. It was hers, though it had cost her a marriage along the way. mission. It was hers, though it had cost her a marriage along the way.

Brian, her ex-husband, had decided he did not want to play second runner up to Justine's career. Her single regret was that she never made room in her schedule to have a child. The sense of loss and regret over her decision to put career ahead of family might have sent her into a deep depression that might have gotten the best of her, had not the Orcus Mission become a strong possibility.

Duty beckoned. Someone had to staff the bridge. With squeeze tube in hand, she picked her way through the ship.

She reached her command chair just as a klaxon sounded.

Scanning the monitors to no avail, Justine pitched her voice to get the computer to acknowledge her command. "Com: on." The ship's computer beeped, and Justine asked, "Captain, here. What is it?"

The replying voice came across filled with a high-pitched whistle of static.

"Captain! We've got something strange out here, you know! Something you just have have to see!" There was no mistaking Helen's Canadian accent when she was excited, and the woman tended to get overexcited about even the little things. Justine sighed. to see!" There was no mistaking Helen's Canadian accent when she was excited, and the woman tended to get overexcited about even the little things. Justine sighed.

"If it's a patch of ice with pink and purple streaks through it, I'm not going to be impressed."

"You want impressed?" Helen's digitized voice asked. "Well, I guarantee you won't be disappointed. Get out here and see for yourself!"

"What is-"

The computer beeped, indicating that Helen had cut off communications.

With a grudging effort, Justine lifted herself out of the chair and made her way to the lockers to suit up and go outside.

She grumbled all the while. "Crazy Canucks. Always with those cliffhangers. She probably loves the weather up here, while I freeze my nethers."

Justine, who weighed 59.8 kilograms on earth, was finding it difficult to maneuver with her Plutonian weight of 2.4 kilograms once outside the Orcus 1 Orcus 1's artificial gravity simulator. She weighed about as much as a large bag of salt. A strong leap could send her dozens of meters in any direction. That kind of activity, she admonished herself, was against regulations, and unsafe.

With its surface a slick sheet of methane ice and dunes of frost, any small misstep on Pluto could send her sliding hundreds of meters away. There would be little time to use the ice hooks built into the sleeves of her suit-shields to slow her down. Her boots were equipped with vacuum-suckers to keep them stable on the ice. Even so, a fall into one of the kilometers-deep craters that pocked the surface could mean a chilly death.

NASA publicity department wanted lots of commentary on the trip, and Justine decided to get it out of the way while she could. She spoke into her microphone, and pointed a small mini-cam toward the largest object in Pluto's sky.

"The moon, Charon, whose surface is more water-based without traces of methane, is a dark blue orb filling the sky."

Shifting to get out of the glare from the Orcus 1 Orcus 1's landing lights, she skittered across an expanse of ice, and caught herself. With a deep breath of relief, she faced upward again.

"Although it is 1,270 kilometers in diameter, a third the diameter of Luna, Charon is more than five times the size of Luna from the Earth because of its proximity to Pluto, 12,640 km away."

Justine got into an ATV and set it to follow Helen's homing beacon.

She babbled while the vehicle rolled over the icy glacier that made up most of the surface of the planet.

"The primary mission of the Orcus 1 Orcus 1 is to examine the possibilities of methane-based life forms existing on Pluto. Nitrogen is a necessity of life, making up about 78 per cent of Earth's air by volume. It makes up a vital part of protein molecules. As with the Mars microbes a century ago, NASA is hoping to find some evidence of life on Pluto." is to examine the possibilities of methane-based life forms existing on Pluto. Nitrogen is a necessity of life, making up about 78 per cent of Earth's air by volume. It makes up a vital part of protein molecules. As with the Mars microbes a century ago, NASA is hoping to find some evidence of life on Pluto."

The beacon indicated she was within a kilometer of the group.

She struggled to think of something to say that might interest an Earth audience.

"Pluto is named after the Roman G.o.d of the dead and the underworld. To continue the allusion to Greek Mythology, they named Pluto's smaller twin 'Charon' for the old boatman who ferries souls across the River Styx. In following this tradition, NASA decided to name the first manned mission to Pluto as Orcus 1 Orcus 1 after the-" after the-"

As she came over a rise, she shut her mouth tight with a clack that echoed insider her helmet. Below her, the science team and Helen gathered like acolytes around a divine statue.

Her eyes beheld a sight beyond anything she had ever imagined possible.

In a place where no human had ever before set foot, against the cold darkness of Pluto's skyline, there was a monument the size of an aircraft hangar. The bulk of the structure resembled the nucleus of a complex atom.

Orbiting that nucleus, a number of spherical objects formed what looked like an electron cloud, hovering in the s.p.a.ce around the monument without any visible tethers or supports.

An alien chill walked icy fingers up Justine's spine.

Humankind was not alone in the universe...

St. Lawrence Charity Hall : Ottawa : Canada Corp. :

Michael Sanderson, vice-president of Canada Corp.'s s.p.a.ce Mining Division had his best smile on for Stall Henderson, the Mayor of Ottawa, and Ian Pocatello, the National Minister of Finance.

Sharing innate pleasantries over triangular gla.s.ses of champagne at the St. Lawrence Charity Hall, Michael groaned inwardly at the need for such a cosmetic facade.

Michael had lost track of how many of these functions he had attended over the past thirty-two years of his career, both in and out of the corporate government. Since his appointment to the VP of SMD five years previous, his attendance to these functions had tripled. They wore thin on him.

His smile, however, never faded.

"I don't usually drink, but after tasting this excellent champagne, I'm considering changing my views." He took a sip to punctuate his opinion.

"My wife spends hundreds of hours finding and sampling new labels, and buys it by the case when she finds one she likes. I'll tell her to send you and Melanie a bottle for Christmas," offered Stall Henderson.

"Wonderful. I'll be looking forward to it."

Mayor Stall Henderson was an open, jovial man, well suited to public office. Short in stature, he had a balding pate and an expanding waistline; a sign of the good times he had brought to the city. Everybody's friend, he had a quick mind, but suffered from a dry sense of humor, which some people found condescending.

Michael genuinely liked him for his personality, and for his integrity and political ac.u.men. He was a politician's politician.

"So how is the asteroid business?" Stall segued not so casually. He kept his eyes from glancing at the Minister of Finance. Stall Henderson was well into his sixties, and had been mayor of the country's capital city for twenty years.

In the past century, Ottawa had grown from merely the legislative capital of Canada to a major international city that attracted investors and researchers from all over the globe. Canada Corp. had resisted the worldwide corporate trend of diversification, and had located all its divisional headquarters in Ottawa and its environs; a major stroke of good fortune for Stall's political repute.

Michael smiled and set his empty gla.s.s on a tray carried by a servochine, exchanging it for a full one.

"Oh, we're doing about as well as can be expected," Michael said equivocally. "We have a few more prospects in development, as you've no doubt read in yesterday's press release. If the preliminary surveys are correct, I can see a day in the future when Earth's natural resources will no longer be extirpated. All mining for the globe will be done off-planet. It's quite exciting."

"Fascinating, I would hasten to add," the mayor said. "Anything to do with outer s.p.a.ce has my interest piqued. I have a son in post-grad studying the geothermal anomalies of Mars."

"Sted Henderson." Michael searched his mind, and was pleased with his recall. "Yes, I read his graduate thesis on it; published in Sol Weekly's last issue, I believe. Since finding those microbes last century, experts have been arguing about life having once existed on Mars. Sted's thesis points out that the evidence might suggest, instead, that life will will exist one day in the future on Mars, that the planet is preparing itself for some kind of evolutionary burst. A boon for the naturalist movement. There was talk of degrading orbits or something along those lines. Increased temperatures and so forth." exist one day in the future on Mars, that the planet is preparing itself for some kind of evolutionary burst. A boon for the naturalist movement. There was talk of degrading orbits or something along those lines. Increased temperatures and so forth."

"Yes! He'll be delighted to hear you've taken an interest."

Ian piped in. "I caught that issue as well, though I had bought it more for the cover story about the Orcus mission to Pluto."

Ian Pocatello was an unknown quant.i.ty to Michael, and that night's focus. Younger than both Stall and Michael by at least twenty years, Ian had won a seat in the House of Ministers in the last round of proxy elections with a resounding majority decision; it had been his first time campaigning, which served to show he was a dangerous political opponent.

Researching Ian's background, Michael learned the man had spent the early part of his life as a successful financial advisor. Upon his election to the legislature, Ian had been appointed to the cabinet as "Minister of Finance" by Canada Corp.'s long-time CEO, Pierre Dolbeau.

The first two budgets under Pocatello's administration had brought sweeping cuts to every department of the corporate government of Canada. Warning of a trend of global economical collapse-China, Ltd., Australia Company, India Limited, and Spain Corporation being the first countries to declare bankruptcy and be taken over by neighboring economic powers-Ian had forewarned of a day when Canada Corp. would be the victim of a hostile takeover from the much more fiscally powerful USA, Inc.

Three years into his Five-Year Plan, he turned around Canada Corp.'s financial outlook, and although the budget was still constricting, Canada Corp.'s debt had dropped by eighty percent, and forecasts indicated a possibility of a surplus within the next six quarters.

Ian Pocatello's straight-faced, quiet approach to functions was daunting, however, and it took all Michael had in him to keep the conversation going, trying to find a soft spot in the Minister's defenses.

"I didn't know you were a s.p.a.ce buff."

Ian shook his head. "I'm not. Progress in s.p.a.ce industry bears watching, though. If it's profitable, I'm interested."

Around the three men, dignitaries and functionaries in all levels of government-national, provincial, and munic.i.p.al-as well as lobbyists from differing private corporations and minority groups, swirled in a cacophonic dance of political maneuvers. Behind those smiles and polite nods were feral plans and ambitious agendas.

Ostensibly, they were all there at the dinner to help fund-raise for Child-Find Canada, and it was more than a success at ten-thousand dollars a plate and a full house, but that was an excuse for the partic.i.p.ants to lobby other politicians for support in whatever individual goals they had come to the Hall to achieve.

Michael's agenda was straightforward, but he had to play his hand close to the vest, or others would dismiss his motives as a smoke screen for some private objective. If he did not portray himself as a political barracuda, he would lose standing and reputation. The mining effort would suffer, and, ultimately, he believed, the rest of the sub-corporation.

The SMD needed funds to bolster their research efforts. At present, they had thirteen cla.s.s 2 nickel mines to show for the $140 billion the Corp. and private stakeholders had invested in the s.p.a.ce Mining Division. Forty-two of their projected asteroidal mines had showed, after additional surveys, to have impure lodes of ore and minerals; in a cost versus product schematic, they were not worth the trouble at present.

Michael Sanderson believed in the SMD, as the best hope for Canada Corp.'s financial supremacy in the global economy, and as the best hope for the world. Scientists had estimated that the asteroid belt itself held hundreds of undiscovered new elements, with attributes that could improve the quality of life for everyone on Earth.

Already, USA, Inc. and The British Conglomerates of the Commonwealth had aggressive and profitable s.p.a.ce mining programs up and running, although most other country corporations were so far as unsuccessful as Canada Corp. A major lode had not yet been discovered on any of the s.p.a.ce Mining Division asteroids, and the race to the proverbial mother lode was getting tense.

Michael knew there were iron ore lodes out there in the Belt that would more than justify the ma.s.sive investment by Canada Corp. and others. One or two big finds would alleviate the debt the SMD was acc.u.mulating.