The Snodgrass Incident

The Snodgrass Incident

By Robert P. Hansen

Copyright 2014 by Robert P. Hansen

Smashwords Edition

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Acknowledgments

This novel would not have been possible without the information gathered by NASA probes visiting Enceladus, Europa, and Titan that has been disseminated through their website. Many thanks for the exceptional work NASA has done in exploring the solar system.

My understanding of the physical parameters for non-terrestrial bodies was also enhanced by online resources, particularly Wikipedia articles and YouTube videos (especially a series of SETI Talks).

The future orbital locations of the various planets, asteroids, moons, etc. were determined by using the Jet Propulsion Laboratory’s Small-Body Database Browser.

Chapter 2, Stranded ©2013 by Robert P. Hansen was originally published as a short story in the June 2013 issue of The Fifth Dimension.

Chapter 9, Issues section III and IV ©2013 by Robert P. Hansen. It was originally published in a slightly different form as the short story Fishing on Enceladus in the 2013 edition of The Martian Wave.

Chapter 10, Crises is derived from the short story Contagion, which is forthcoming in the 2014 edition of The Martian Wave.

Special thanks to Linda Foegan, of Heartland Book Design, for the cover design, and Ronda Swolley, of Mystic Memories Copy Editing, for the copy edit.

Dedication

To the poor saps who were subjected to the early drafts (Mom, Eleanor, and Ronda); their comments made this a much better novel than it otherwise would have been.

Table of Contents

Title Page

Table of Contents

Moles

Stranded

The Empty Bucket

A Ceres Detour

Conjoined Twins

On Thick Ice

Arrival

At Titan’s Door

Issues

Crises

Breathe In …

… Breathe Out

Epilogue

Connect With Me

Additional Titles

Moles

I

Patty? her assistant said as he leaned through the open entryway.

Yes, Albert? she replied without looking up from her desk console.

He came into her office, approached the desk, and held out a small slip of paper—a rare and unnecessary commodity on Mars. There is a messenger waiting in my office for a response to this, he said.

Patty Valentine held out her hand, glanced at the note, and frowned. It was cryptic:

P—

Need ship, pilot, and

M-Type asteroid.

J.

I wonder what Jasmine is up to now, she muttered.

Jasmine? Albert asked. Isn’t she that hermit at the Bacalor Crater Lab?

Patty nodded. We don’t hear from her often, but when we do, we listen, she said. Send in the messenger.

While she waited, she set the note on the flat surface of her basalt desk, turned her attention to the console, and brought up the list of ships currently on standby for Cartel use. They were all small passenger ships, and she scrolled through them until she found the ones orbiting Mars. She tabbed the icon to put a temporary hold on The Argyle, a four-passenger luxury cruiser. It was piloted by Jack Arnstaadt, a pilot she had used before, and she was confident he had the patience to deal with Jasmine’s eccentricities.

Patty, Albert said, ushering in a prim young woman in standard lab apparel—a dark gray jumpsuit, soft black boots, and emergency air packet. She was a stark contrast to Albert’s tall, lanky form hovering beside her. This is Regina Wallander.

Patty smiled, Reggie.

Regina, a recent young graduate from The Academy, smiled back. Hi Mrs. Valentine, she said, her voice lilting as if it were about to float away in the light gravity. She shifted slightly to the right and absently rubbed her left thigh.

Relax, Reggie, Patty chuckled. I thought you were in the computer bay.

I was, Regina nodded, her shoulder-length black hair fanning slightly outward and slowly settling back into place.

Was?

I was reassigned to Jasmine Oribi a few weeks ago.

Oh? Patty said, raising her eyebrows and turning to her console. She keyed the sequence for staffing and frowned. Jasmine doesn’t seem to have filled out a personnel requisition form.

It was a temporary assignment, Ma’am. She said she didn’t need to worry about it.

She never does, Patty said, shaking her head. It’s not the first time she’s borrowed people without telling us, she added, picking up the note. It crinkled a bit, and she relaxed her grip as she waved it toward Regina. What’s this about?

Regina straightened up, bouncing slightly in the process, and locked her hands behind her back. I don’t know, Ma’am, she said. Jasmine didn’t tell me.

Well then, Patty said after a moment. Why don’t you have a seat and tell me what you do know. What did she have you do for her?

Yes, Ma’am, Regina said, moving forward to sit on the light brown, upholstered, air-cushioned, stone-framed chair. There isn’t much to tell.

Nevertheless, Patty said, I’d like to hear it.

I’ve only been helping her for a few weeks, like I said, and all of that time I’ve been programming sequences for her. They don’t make any sense to me, though. From what she has said, Regina continued, the programs will ‘process sensor data to discriminate among a variety of spectral wavelengths in order to single out specific ones to target.’ I’m not sure what that means.

Patty leaned forward and looked at the note again. If I show you those wavelengths, can you identify them? she asked.

Regina shrugged. Probably not. I only wrote the code.

Let’s try it anyway, Patty said, turning to her console. A half minute later, spectral wavelengths hovered above her desk, each one lingering long enough for Regina to shake her head no.

I’m sorry, Ma’am, Regina said a few minutes later. I just wasn’t paying much attention to them. All I needed were the numbers.

Numbers? Patty repeated, smiling. Let’s try this, then. She manipulated a few tabs and the images of the wavelengths were replaced by a series of numbers representing the peaks and valleys of particular wavelengths, the numeric equivalent of the spectrographic readings.

Hey! That’s one of them, Regina said a few seconds later. The ratios—

Patty nodded, It’s the wavelength pattern for iron. What about this one? She brought up nickel and got a similar reaction. A few others also elicited recognition from Regina, but most did not. After several minutes, Patty shut off the hologram. Okay, Reggie, I think I have enough information to form an educated guess. You can go.

Yes, Ma’am, Regina said, rising. She stood still for a long moment and gestured at the note on Mrs. Valentine’s desk. Ma’am? she asked hesitantly, I was told to bring your response back with me.

Of course, Patty said, smiling. She tabbed for the private intercom connection to her assistant and said, Albert, would you bring in the stencil?

The door opened almost before she had finished her request, and Albert walked in. Here it is, he said, handing the archaic writing implement to her when he reached the desk.

Patty looked at the note from Jasmine, gripped the stencil tightly, and carefully added a √ and P next to the J. She handed the note to Regina. Give her that when you get back.

Yes Ma’am, Regina said, turning briskly.

Patty held out the stencil for Albert’s waiting hand.

I’ll put this back in the safe, he said, turning. If you’ll come with me, Miss Wallander, I’ll show you out.

A moment, Reggie, Patty said, stopping them at the doorway. Who was your pilot?

Deidre Maddox, Regina said, "of The Fifth Wheel."

"The Fifth Wheel, Patty repeated. That’s the new prototype, isn’t it?"

Regina shrugged. I wouldn’t know Ma’am. I don’t travel much.

All right, Patty said. Albert, I’d like to see you after you’ve shown her out.

He nodded, gesturing Regina out of the room ahead of him.

A half minute later, Albert returned, alone, and asked, Yes?

Two things, Albert, she said. "Give me fifteen uninterrupted minutes, and then I want to talk with Deidre Maddox of The Fifth Wheel."

Yes Ma’am, Albert said, quietly closing the door as he left.

Once it was shut, Patty went through the sequence to initiate a direct, secure link from her console to the Mars Base Astronomic Computations Department.

What can I do for you, Mrs. Valentine? came the prompt reply from the young man on the other end of the connection.

I need you to locate an M-Type asteroid near Mars.

That won’t be easy, he said. All the M-Type asteroids in the vicinity have either been mined or towed into the orbital processing facilities.

Try, she said. It doesn’t have to be very large.

He turned away for several seconds to talk with someone Patty couldn’t see. He had a lovely profile—the usual short-cropped hair of base personnel, a thin nose, strong chin—he reminded her of a younger version of her husband. Or Albert. When he turned back, he said, The nearest available M-Type asteroid not currently slated for mining or towing is an unnamed 20x8x5 meter rock in an extreme orbit that will come closest to Mars in four days.

How long will it take to get there? Patty asked.

Depends upon the ship and departure time, the young man said.

"The Argyle, Patty replied, departure any time within the next three days."

He nodded to his side and said, It will take a moment to run some calculations. Is there anything else I can help you with while we wait?

No thank you, Patty said, leaning back.

Half a minute later, he listened to someone off screen and said, "Travel time is three weeks, if The Argyle leaves in seven hours sixteen minutes. Longer if it doesn’t."

All right, Patty said. "Send the departure time and coordinates to The Argyle, please."

Yes, Ma’am, he said, nodding to his side again.

Thank you, Patty said as she end the connection.

She sat quietly for several minutes, and then Albert connected her with Deidre Maddox. After a short conversation, she had arranged for The Fifth Wheel to transport Jasmine Oribi and her equipment to The Argyle, once she had ferried Reggie back to the Bacalor Crater Lab.

II

Jasmine nearly dropped the vacuum-sealed titanium container when her communications console suddenly sprang to life and announced: Patty Valentine for Jasmine Oribi. Patty Valentine for Jasmine Oribi.

Damn, she muttered as she carefully set the container on the bench near the communications console. I disabled that, she added, reluctantly reaching up to press the tab that would complete the connection. Where did I put that footstool? she muttered, looking on the floor around the bench. After a few seconds, she gave up her search and returned to stand on the toes of her feet in front of the communication console’s video receiver.

What? she demanded of the wrinkled, gray-haired man who appeared.

The old man lowered his gaze to the bottom half of the screen and asked, Jasmine Oribi?

She took a step back for a better view and nodded.

Incoming transmission from Patty Valentine, Chief Scientist for The Cartel. Transferring. His image was quickly replaced by Patty Valentine’s matronly gaze. Today, her long, straight blonde hair draped her shoulders, the ends curving inward like wooly mammoth tusks.

What? Jasmine repeated.

Good morning, Jasmine, Patty said, smiling. Patty’s smile had an infectious quality to it; it always ran up her face to the eyes and brought down the furrows of her forehead in a way that Jasmine usually found quite amusing. Your memo was succinct, as always.

Jasmine nodded, trying to bolster her indignation at being interrupted.

Am I correct in assuming you’ve built something that will facilitate our efforts to mine asteroids?

Jasmine frowned and nodded again.

Nanobots? Patty asked.

Jasmine’s frown deepened, and she said, Of a sort.

Patty tilted her head and prompted, Oh?

Jasmine shrugged. Microbots would be more accurate.

I see, Patty acknowledged. You are ready to test them?

Jasmine glanced at the titanium container and said, Yes.

Will they work?

Jasmine shrugged. They have functioned as designed in laboratory conditions. They need to be deployed in their proper working environment before an accurate assessment can be made.

An M-Type asteroid, Patty said.

Jasmine moved over to the container and pushed it a little further from the bench’s edge, its base grating lightly on the smooth stone surface. When she returned to the communications console, she said nothing.

I assume you have schematics?

Jasmine nodded.

Send them to me.

Jasmine shook her head. I only have one copy, she said. Here, she added, pointing to her short black curls.

Patty frowned, paused a moment, scrunched up her eyebrows, and then shifted the conversation. "I’ve asked The Fifth Wheel to remain at your location after it drops off Reggie. They should arrive shortly. It will ferry you—"

Me? Jasmine protested, slumping until the camera only captured the top of her head. My assistant can—

Patty shook her head, sending her hair whirling about her face in the low gravity like the slow, gently swoosh of a horse’s tail. You are the only one who knows how they work. I want you there in case something goes wrong.

It won’t, Jasmine interrupted, lifting her head.

I also want you to conduct detailed scans, retrieve data, and report any developments as they arise. Take whatever supplies you need from the lab with you.

Jasmine flexed her fingers but said nothing.

You don’t have much time to get ready, Patty continued. "The Fifth Wheel needs to rendezvous with The Argyle in Mars orbit within five hours to make the optimal window for the nearest available M-Type asteroid. Unfortunately, she paused, then gently finished, it will take three weeks to get there."

Three weeks, Jasmine squawked as her knees buckled. She reached out to grab the edges of the communications console to steady herself.

I’m sorry, Jasmine, Patty sympathized, but Mars has already mined all of the M-type asteroids that come near the planet.

Jasmine shook her head. No, she said firmly. I won’t do it.

But—

They have rocks in orbit waiting to be processed. We can use one of them.

What if the nanobots get loose? Patty asked. What if they get into the mining facilities or even make it to the surface of Mars?

Jasmine took a deep breath, glanced at the container again, and exhaled slowly. "Does The Argyle have the capacity to generate an electromagnetic pulse?" she asked, her lips trembling.

Patty raised her eyebrows until they disappeared beneath her bangs. It’s a passenger ship.

Jasmine looked back at Patty and tilted her head downward, pressed her crossed her arms across her chest, and clutched the NeoChristian ankh dangling between her breasts. There is a slim possibility the Moles will go off-mission, she admitted. The programming is … unique.

Moles?

Microscopic Ore Extraction System.

M-O-E-S? Where’s the L coming from?

The nanobots act like moles, Jasmine replied. They burrow into the rock, use their sensors to locate specific molecular compounds, and employ their claws to harvest those molecules. Once they have done so, they manipulate the collected ore into small nodules and deposit those nodules on the surface for further processing. Moles.

It sounds more like ants, Patty said.

Jasmine shrugged. I like Moles.

All right. If they go off mission, Patty asked, what do you think will happen?

Jasmine forced herself to loosen her grip on the ankh and ran her fingers along the base of her chin. After a few seconds, she shrugged again and said, If any got loose on a ship, they would treat it and the people on it like an asteroid.

Oh, Patty said.

I’ve programmed in several safeguards and an automatic termination sequence that causes them to deactivate in two weeks unless they receive a specific binary sequence to reset the clock, Jasmine said in a rush. There is also an emergency self-destruct sequence I can implement electronically. Still, she continued, it would be nice to have an electromagnetic pulse generator, just in case these precautions fail.

That would wipe out the ship’s electrical components, Patty said.

Jasmine shrugged. They can be replaced.

A strong magnetic field—

"A very strong magnetic field, Jasmine interrupted. They’re shielded from the levels of magnetism normally encountered in Mars orbit."

Oh. Patty paused for a moment. Containment, then, she said. We won’t risk testing them on an asteroid already in orbit.

I’ve rigged something up for remote deployment to avoid unnecessary exposure. Jasmine looked at the container again; it was an elegant design, simple and easy to use. Anyone can deploy them, she pleaded. I can observe them from here.…

Patty shook her head. Sorry, Jasmine.…

Jasmine took a deep breath and scrunched herself up, dipping below the console’s camera altogether. Fine, she barked at last.

Good, Patty said, gently. Let me know when you reach the asteroid.

Jasmine reached up and terminated the connection just before she sagged to the floor and began to cry.

III

Jasmine hated space.

The cabin walls pressed in against her.

The Evac suits were uncomfortably confining.

The weightlessness left her disoriented, nauseous, and dizzy.

The Cartel’s medical department had spent a week designing a drug to help her cope with the symptoms of spacesickness, but it only masked them; it didn’t eliminate them. Every now and again, when she floated too quickly down a corridor or turned just so, there would be a brief moment when the world spun like a desynchronized gyroscope. The sensation would pass quickly, but it always left her unsettled. That feeling lasted for hours. But the drug made it possible for her to work, and that was what mattered.

Mostly, she hated being around other people.

The Argyle was a luxury cruiser, and, aside from the Moles, she was the only passenger. Jasmine’s equipment and luggage took up the other three compartments. The pilot quickly learned to leave her alone.

It had been seven years and three days (Mars time) since she had been outside her lab or living quarters for more than a few hours, and it didn’t take long for her to suffer withdrawal symptoms. She’d have an idea, move to pursue it in the lab, and suddenly realize the equipment she needed was tens of thousands of kilometers away. At best, all she could do was jot down a few notes to remind her of the idea and hope that it was still interesting enough to pursue when she finally had a chance to do so.

On the third day, she had an idea that didn’t need any equipment other than a computer console. She had one of those, a secure console connected to The Cartel network, and she thrust herself into it.

It started with a simple question: If the Moles are successful, what next? She was idly curious about why she hadn’t thought about that question before, but she always had thrust herself into solving puzzles without worrying about their consequences. It had served her well so far.

It was an interesting question. The first answer was easy: use them on a large scale. A very large scale. Asteroid mining was time-consuming, and the Moles would make it much faster and far more efficient. Drop the Moles on an asteroid and come back a few weeks later to pick up the ore they had harvested. Refinement? Unnecessary. The Moles harvested individual molecules, so there would be no impurities in the nodules they produced. Seed a thousand asteroids.…

What to do with the metal? Build things. What kind of things? The kind of things we need most. What do we need most? Water. Harvest water directly? A few modifications to the Moles, and they would mine water instead of iron or nickel.

Water. Next to oxygen, it was the most precious commodity in the solar system. Mars needed water; the ice mining was inefficient and required extensive purification. Ceres was better, but its ability to transit ice to Luna and Mars was limited. Asteroids are difficult to collect, process and purify. Comet captures had all failed; there was too much debris to navigate through. Earth has plenty of water, but it hoards it, claiming the desalination and transportation costs were too high. It was easy to believe; lifting water from the surface to space used up a great deal of fuel and other resources, resources that could not be spared.

Where is water readily available? Enceladus? Too far. Too much ammonia. Maybe after the Snodgrass mission. Europa? A liquid ocean covered by kilometers of ice. How to get at it? Laser drills. How to transport it? Build a ship. A big ship. Need metal to build a big ship. Lots of metal. Moles mine metal.

While she suffered through the three weeks it took to get to the asteroid, she delved into the project, outlining rough schematics, designing the siphoning system and laser drill apparatus, running calculations—anything to keep her active mind under control until she could actually do something.

Then they were there.

Luxury passenger ships have top-of-the-line Evac suits with all the perks and safeguards. Any idiot can use them. They claim One size fits all! but they don’t. She was far shorter than the average woman and always had to make an unappealing choice: Either she squeezed into a suit made for a child that never quite fit her ample bosom; or she was dwarfed by the size of an adult suit. She didn’t like either option, so she decided not to go into space. She sent the pilot instead.

The deployment mechanism was simple: set it on the surface of the asteroid, pull out a handle, turn it clockwise, and push it back in. The container’s anchor would secure it to the asteroid, and five minutes later (the time delay was another necessary precaution) the nanobots would be injected into the asteroid’s crust.

The first few hours after deployment, there wasn’t much apparent activity, but that was to be expected. The nanobots were relatively few in number, and they were designed to tunnel through to the other side of the asteroid first. Once through to the other side, they would enlarge the passageway until a pair of two-centimeter-diameter nodules could be passed through it side by side. Then, and only then, the ore processing would take place, expanding