The starchild compact, p.15
The Starchild Compact, page 15
You have been good to me, Dr. Bhuta," Saeed told her. I will not endanger your parents. The password you seek is "David." He gave her his warmest smile while reminding himself that lying to an infidel was not a sin.
#
The four men had been waiting patiently for several hours outside a converted warehouse in the industrial area about a kilometer south of the Zahedan International Airport runway near Iran's southeastern border where it met the borders of the former countries of Afghanistan and Pakistan. They looked every bit the part of ordinary industrial workers of the Caliphate. They spoke fluent Baluchi, the most common language of the region, and also Farsi and Arabic, and they carried papers that proved their citizenship and loyalty to the Ayatollah. They were short, swarthy, with dark curly hair, and their Baluchi accents indicated to an astute observer that they originated in the Afghani mountains to the immediate northeast. They wore dark glasses that served as efficient, high-resolution night vision devices. Under their traditional, loose-fitting garments, they each carried a modern pulse weapon with a lethal charge, equivalent to a thousand rounds of old-fashioned lead bullets – each weapon about the size of an old .45 caliber semi-automatic. They also carried concealed on their persons a half-dozen or so knives, some for stabbing, some for cutting, and some for throwing, and each man carried a small polyaramid garrote. Between them, they also carried two harness slings, a collapsed balloon shaped like a dirigible, and an unmarked cylinder of helium, manufactured in pre-Caliphate Iran – all part of a renovated Fulton surface-to-air recovery system.
It was well past midnight. Stars twinkled through a layer of scattered clouds. The airport had long since shut down, and the city of nearly a million inhabitants centered several kilometers to the northwest slept quietly under the heavy hand of Sharia Law. Even the students at the Islamic Azad University were settled for the night, their studies of the esoteric concepts of Islamic jurisprudence set aside until after the first morning prayer.
The warehouse was guarded, but not in force. Four guards oversaw the one-story building that was located southeast across an empty green space from a poorly maintained formal garden with intersecting pathways and a central fountain. At any given time, two guards walked around the building, and two relaxed near the main entrance located on the northern end of the building. The only sound at this late hour was the splashing of the fountain. A soft hot breeze blew from the west off the Kavir-e Lut desert, bearing the distinct smell of salt, reminding the four watchers that they were near one of the hottest, driest spots on the planet.
One of the men held up his hand and motioned with two fingers for two to approach a small door in the southwest corner of the warehouse. Then he pointed to the other, signaling for him to keep an eye out for the walking guard. He indicated that he would watch for the other. The two men approached the door soundlessly, fiddled with the door handle for a moment, and quietly opened it, and slipped inside. One of the men activated a small infrared torch that fully illuminated the interior of the small room they had entered, as viewed through their night-vision glasses. They crossed the room to a door on the other side, opened it quietly, and found themselves in a jury-rigged sleeping quarters, occupied by Carmen Bhuta's father and mother, sleeping in a bed just sufficiently large to accommodate both of them.
The two men approached the sleeping prisoners, and firmly clamped a hand over each mouth. Whispering in English, the man holding Dr. Bhuta whispered, "Quiet! We're here to get you out!" And to Dr. Bhuta's unasked question, "We're Israeli Mossad…put on trousers, both of you. Yes, Ma'am, wear your husband's pants…quickly, we are on a tight schedule." He glanced as his tritium illuminated watch, and motioned to his companion to hurry.
They slipped through the back room, glanced through the cracked door, and quietly closed it to wait for the patrolling guard to pass. "Quickly now," he said. "You must run, but soundlessly. Follow me!" He exited the door, holding the frightened woman's hand, who, in turn, held her husband's hand. They were followed by the second Israeli, who broke the woman's handhold, and grasped Dr. Bhuta's hand to guide him separately toward the garden. In the dark as they ran, they were joined by the other two Israelis. One ran out ahead of them carrying the helium cylinder and the balloon while the other covered them from behind. By the time they reached the garden, the black balloon had been inflated and was straining skyward at the end of a thin aramid cable.
The leader explained softly, "Put on these two harnesses," which they did with the others' help. "A low-flying aircraft will intercept the cable being held aloft by the balloon. You will be lifted off the ground together and drawn into the aircraft. Try to spread your arms and feet to minimize twisting. Don't worry if it happens, however, you'll be fine."
"But…but," Dr. Bhuta protested, squeezing his wife's hand.
"Don't talk!" the leader demanded in a whisper. "The only cover we have is the fountain." He looked at his watch. "Thirty seconds," he said, and counted down softly.
At zero nothing happened, but he kept his attention raptly on the cable. Suddenly, with a quiet whoosh, the couple was swept into the sky and disappeared against the star sprinkled backdrop, accompanied by a faint squeal.
The four men disposed of the empty cylinder in a pile of other empty cylinders at the back of the warehouse, and quietly faded into the dark alleys. An hour later they were making their way eastward at a fast trot toward a plateau just over the mountains east of the airport where they expected to be extracted before morning light.
Chapter 15
"What did you just tell me?" The Ayatollah Khomeini rose to his feet as he bellowed the question, shaking his fist.
The terrified messenger dropped to the tiled floor, prostrating himself. "Dr. and Mrs. Bhuta have disappeared, Sahib. They were there, and then they were gone." He tried to melt into the ornate tiles.
"And the guards?" The Caliph continued to bellow. "What about the guards?"
"They saw nothing, Sahib…they heard nothing," The messenger screamed as he felt the full 110 kilogram weight of the Caliph's 190 centimeter frame descend upon his neck through a booted foot as the enraged leader strode across the prostrate body.
"Execute the guards," he ordered his two robed assistants shuffling alongside him, as he departed the room.
"As you command, Sahib," one answered, struggling to keep up with the Caliph. The other turned back into the audience chamber, kicked the still prostrate messenger, and said, "Quickly, out the side door. Then to the desert with you, and don't return."
The messenger crawled to the door and disappeared.
#
Jon finished decrypting the latest message from Rod. "The Ayatollah is pissed to the max," he wrote. "He executed the guards, poor bastards, and razed the warehouse where they were holding them. They have no idea what happened to the Bhutas, and I want to keep it that way." The rest of the message concerned worldwide efforts to pick a landing spot. He read through the various points of view, noting with a certain degree of satisfaction that a plurality chose the geometric depressions. The wall was a close second, with the spire a distant third.
Jon called the crew to the Canteen and joined them.
Without preamble he asked, "How many of you want to land at the spire?"
Michele raised her finger, and Jon looked at her with raised eyebrow. "It looks like an inspiring masculine symbol," she said to general laughter. "I know the depressions are the most likely entry points, but these guys would never have raised such a symbol without it having access to the interior, oui?" Then she smiled broadly. "Mais, I am happy with anywhere on the surface." She got no disagreement.
"I prefer the wall," Demitri said, not waiting for Jon to set up the question. "It is the largest artificial artifact in the entire solar system. And I wish to plant the Russian Federation flag on the surface," he added, pulling a small flag from his jumpsuit.
"O oui! Me too!" Michele said, pulling a French flag from her bosom to subdued chuckles from the rest of the crew.
"We'll get to that later," Jon said. "So, are we in general agreement, then, that we land near the large depression just north of the equator?" General nods all around, even Michele and Demitri. "Earth consensus agrees with us, with the wall as a close second." Demitri grinned and gave a thumbs-up around the group. Michele clapped her hands. Elke, with eyes on Michele, remained stoic. Ari and Noel exchanged high fives, and Ginger smiled at Jon, nodding her head slightly. Saeed said nothing at all.
Jon asked Demitri and Ginger to examine the depression, and pick a suitable landing spot. He told them to set up a deorbiting burn to get them to that spot, and then he retired to his quarters to inform Houston of his decision.
He received an interesting response three hours later. Rod told him that some publicity wag in NASA had set up an online contest for children around the world, and the children had picked the depression as their choice for the landing. Since Jon had made the same choice, Rod told him that NASA would announce that the Cassini II would comply with the wishes of the world's children, and would land at the depression.
#
Ari floated with Noel in front of the lander. As many times as he had examined it, it still looked ugly and ungainly. They had opened the side hatch and removed all but three seats, in order to maximize the cargo carrying capability.
"I envy you being on the first descent," Noel told Ari. "We could all go together, you know."
"And what if something happened on descent?" Ari spoke with an unaccustomed seriousness. Noel shrugged, which in free-fall looked more like a body contraction than a shrug. "I know it probably is unlikely, but we've had several unlikely events happen. That's why Demitri's staying back." Ari moved to a clump of cargo they had unsecured earlier. "If the three of us crash and get hurt, or even worse, if we buy it, then you guys can rescue us…or carry on."
"Don't you think I know that?" Noel responded with a bit of irritation. "I still envy you…but am glad to be your back-up."
"Yah, I know. It's tough."
Ari had discussed the loadout with Jon several times. The problem really was that they had no idea what they might actually need once they were on the surface. They finally decided on an esoteric collection that included climbing rope and related equipment, digging and general archaeological tools, vacuum cutters and welders, emergency solar power generator, rock crusher, solar still, pressure tent with airlock, and – of course – sufficient food, water, and breathing air. The equipment set was designed to keep them alive in an emergency, allow them to conduct most kinds of repair to the lander/rover, and give them whatever they might need to recover whatever artifacts they might discover.
Jon had explained to Ari that he had not yet completely thought out how they would operate once the three of them had established the groundside base. The lander hypergolic fuel tanks held sufficient fuel for two landings and returns to orbit, and Cassini II carried sufficient hypergolic fuel to refuel each lander three times. Depending on what they found, they probably would cycle several crew members at a time to the surface, but would keep Cassini II manned at all times by someone who could fly her. An added complication was that, again depending on what they found, the Carmen, Michele, and Elke might need to remain on the surface, since that was where their operations likely would be. The only single item they had definitely agreed on was that they would not leave anyone on Iapetus without a lander/rover.
Ari grinned to himself as he contemplated these things. It's as much politics as logistics, Ari thought as he and Noel stowed the remaining equipment. That's why Jon wears the Command Pin.
"I think that's it," Ari said as they stowed the final tool, securing it inside the lander interior so that it would remain in position during the descent when the rear bulkhead was "down," and on the surface where the "floor" was down. "Whadya say we get ready to launch this baby?"
#
An hour later Ginger settled herself into the lander between two men she admired – Jon and Ari. All three were wearing their suits with helmet attached. She was more excited than she had ever been in her life. Getting laid the first time was special. Receiving her doctorate was right up there. Being selected for this expedition was better. The launch was even better, but the asteroid collision and the Jupiter boost trumped all that, until their arrival here in orbit around Iapetus. But this…this is the highlight so far! If I don't watch myself, I'll pee my panties. Ginger settled back to watch her Captain at work. Beyond the clear polymer nose she could see the open doors of the bay completely filled with a view of Iapetus, just fifty clicks away and looking for all the world like she could reach out and touch it. It was coldly black and white, with every feature in sharp relief.
Jon's voice sounded in her ears, "Ready to launch, Cassini."
Demitri answered in his Russian accented voice, "Roger that, Lander One."
Under the steady control of Noel and Elke, who were suited up and handling lines in the Bay, the lander lifted off the deck and moved slowly out the open port doors, nose first. This is almost better than sex, Ginger thought as the lander cleared the ship, and Noel and Elke cast off the control lines. Under computer control the lander tilted for their initial deorbit burn, presenting its single nozzle to the direction of their orbital path. Saturn loomed several times the size of the Moon from Earth, dominating the sky behind them, although Iapetus masked part of the ringed planet.
"Launch window coming up in three minutes, Lander One." Demitri was indicating the moment when the designated landmark would appear on the horizon. This would commence the fifteen-minute transit time before the landing site became visible. It would then pass the far horizon twenty-two seconds later, when communication with the landing site would be lost. Jon wanted direct contact with Cassini II for the entire descent and landing sequence.
"Roger that."
On her holodisplay, Ginger watched the three landing pads deploy around the nozzle.
It was almost exactly like watching a potential lover remove the last article of clothing. Ginger felt her heart begin to race.
"Are you alright, Ginger?" Doc Bhuta asked, inserting herself into the countdown. "Your vitals are speeding up."
"Of course they are, Doc. This is the most exciting thing that's ever happened to me!" A general chuckle followed Ginger's comments over the launch circuit.
"One minute," Demitri's voice droned. "Thirty seconds… Three…two…one…fire!"
Ginger caught her breath as she felt the force of the acceleration pressing her into the seat. It was over almost as soon as it had started. Out the clear nose, Ginger watched Cassini II flash overhead and quickly grow small to disappear into the bright field of stars in what now felt like overhead. In less than two minutes, Demitri announced the commencement of the braking burn, and once again Ginger felt weight return. She glanced over at Jon. His hands were resting on controls that he did not expect to use, but she felt safer just seeing his hands there. She glanced at Ari, and saw his hands available as backup, should that remote possibility become reality.
The holodisplay in front of her showed their fast approaching landing spot – a flat, rock-strewn plain just inside the rim mountains surrounding the depression. It grew closer as she watched.
"You're one click out, Jon. I don't like my feedback reading here. I recommend you take it in manually."
"You sure about that, Demitri?"
"Absolutely, Jon…take over!" Ginger caught her breath as Jon began to manipulate the hurtling lander, holding a joy-stick-like control in each hand. Ginger felt additional weight as Jon applied more thrust, apparently wanting to get full control before they reached any possible ground effect. Ari's hands hovered over his joysticks, but didn't touch them, as Jon eased the acceleration off and let the lander commence its final drop.
Ginger started as she saw a relatively large rock, a meter or so in diameter, appear in the landing display. To her relief, Jon eased the lander to the right, bringing it down about three meters away from the rock. He landed gently on the three pads, settling into their hydraulics to absorb the remaining inertia, and extinguished the hypergolic motor.
"Lander One has landed," Jon said without any further formality.
#
Add that one to my list of firsts, Jon thought as he extinguished the hypergolic motor. "Bring her horizontal, Ari," Jon said in the resulting quiet.
Ari manipulated his controls, and a fourth pad pushed away from the lander's belly so that it extended at a backward angle from directly under the nose, almost reaching the ground. Once the nose pad leg was fully deployed, he began to extend the landing pad by the nozzle that protruded from what would become the top of the rover. As it extended, the lander tilted forward, pivoting on the remaining two landing pads so that the nose pad contacted the surface. Then the nose pad retracted under hydraulic control so that the lander tilted smoothly until its after-set of pneumatic wheels made contact with the surface, and then the middle, and then the forward set. The nose pad folded snugly back against the hull. The top pad extending back from the top of the nozzle retracted, and then it and the other two landing pads folded against the hull. Ari lifted his hands from the controls and smiled at Jon.
"The rover is yours," he said.
"Rover One is operational, Control," Jon announced, moving the rover forward several meters.
The entire operation had taken fifteen minutes from lander launch to operating rover.
"You appear to be a few meters from the edge of the collapsed depression," Demitri reported from orbit. "We're about to lose you. Recommend you exit Rover One and examine the terrain on foot." The Com channel crackled. "See you in three-and-three-quarter hou..." The word hour was truncated as Cassini II passed out of sight over the horizon.
