2219.3.26
Personal log entry
Callum F. Cook
Assistant Signals Officer
Research Vessel Ganymede
Day 541

After nearly sixteen months on this drum, we should finally catch our first scans of the Alpha Centauri system tomorrow. Despite what scientists back home preach to the Committee, I remain skeptical of our finding anything of significance out here. Our xeno biologists and cartologists still insist the Centauri system is our best hope of finding another Earth-like planet. Unfortunately, my past dealings with certain SciCom representatives clouds my faith in their complete honesty. The feeling that some funding-starved Space Agency lobbyist had a thought and ran with it has hopefully not shaken my faith in the "Sykes" too much.

Over the past several days I have spent much of my free time reflecting on the historical significance of our mission, moreso the history before it. I’ve been digging through historical archives, the world that was mid-21st century Earth and the time of Project Unity - an inspirational, yet naive sobriquet for such a massive and dangerous undertaking. Obviously, most today find it impossible to imagine living in the society of 160 years ago, a world riven with such turmoil - such adversity - such ignorance. The “man-made apocalypse" mindset was so firmly entrenched in the human psyche back then. Extreme overpopulation, the blurring of national identities, natural resources literally being fought over, wars large and small, the repercussions of perceived moral disintegration...a world incomprehensible.

Desperation alone seemed to drive Earth governments into this all-or-nothing project - this "Noah's ark" to the stars. Nearly forty thousand people, chosen over a period of years, willingly submitting themselves to a mission that had more basis in hope than in science. But then, who could blame any one of them for believing their world, their entire existence, was teetering on the edge of perdition? With the safety of sixteen decades of history behind us, one can easily feel incredulous, horrified, even judgmental toward those people. With the stress humanity was under back then, it's ironic that war was not...

Callum's voice was cut off as the soft tone of an electronic double-chime interrupted his dictation. He instinctively touched a backlit control button on his desk and the words on the thin, opaque display instantly turned into unreadable symbols. He muttered "Door," and a smaller display zoomed in, superimposed over his now cryptic journal.

An image quickly formed and the round, dark brown face of Assistant Science Officer Dr. Koushik Mitra appeared. Callum read his demeanor in an instant; a mild intensity clouding his features, eyebrows pinched ever so slightly, jaw set a bit tighter than was usual. Clearly, he seemed to have something interesting to tell him. At least Koushik thought so. He could get a little too excited sometimes, even over the most mundane discoveries. But his passion and work ethic had infected the other scientists just enough to keep them sane during this long voyage.

"Enter," Callum said with a tired sigh.

The door glided open and Koushik quickly propelled himself into Callum's small quarters, his left shoulder nearly colliding with the opening door. Four quick strides and he was standing directly in front of Callum's desk, never once acknowledging Callum or asking to be seated. His intense face peered at his portable display pad, right hand randomly tapping keys as he sifted through information.

Callum leaned back in his chair and watched him. He watched him for a whole minute. And Koushik continued dissecting his data, seemingly oblivious.

Moving as if to stand, Callum finally said, "Well, if that's all you have for me Koushik, I'd like to get back to my..."

"I've run this at least a dozen times," Koushik said in a soft voice. "Obviously something different, but it doesn't make sense. I made Vaughn run a complete diagnostic on my station and everything was fine. Not a tangle in the system. Cross referenced my compilations with Dr. McKibben's data from yesterday...there is something different about it. It's just...I can't..." His voice trailed off, exasperation punctuated by a sharp exhale.

Callum slowly settled back into his chair. "Well, no offense Koushik but you are the Science Officer's right hand man. I fail to see where any problems you are having...I mean, how could you expect me to be of any help to you? If that's what you're implying?"

"Indeed that is what I'm implying. And I take no offense," Koushik answered, never looking up. "As long as you take no offense to the fact that this impromptu meeting of ours means that I have exhausted all other options."

"I understand. No offense taken," Callum nervously chuckled, trying to force a bit of levity into the somber air. "Um, Doctor," he finally said, "would it be possible for me to observe what you're working on there? I feel I could be of greater assistance if I were more - involved."

Koushik's demeanor changed and he immediately became more human. "Of course, of course," he said, reaching over to a corner of the room and rolling a low chair over to Callum's desk, opposite him. "I'm sorry, Callum. You know what I turn into when I run into an unexplainable discovery. I am as the vampire needing blood to drink. Is your terminal still on?" Callum indicated that it was. "Have a look at this."

Koushik touched a button on his PDP, waited for a moment, then removed a clear, elongated cube attached to the side of his display. He reached over and placed it into a recessed area on Callum's desk, the same width and dimension as the cube. The image on Callum's terminal bounced slightly then transformed into a duplicate image of Koushik's PDP display.

"This area here -" Koushik emphasized the point by circling it on his display, which simultaneously appeared on Callum's terminal - "is my current conundrum. As you know, one of our many methods of data acquisition on the space ahead and around the path of the ship is by radiating a low yield E-field at a constant rate in all directions...'white noise' if you will, to uncover ultra-high EM spectrum frequencies different from the anomalies we have logged so far."

Callum stared at his screen, absorbing what he was seeing, eyes narrowed in concentration. "From my analysis of this anomaly,” Koushik continued, “it appears to be some kind of fusion reaction. A very highly localized fusion-based discharge."

Callum looked up from his terminal, eyeing Koushik with a distinct lack of surprise. "I'm no expert on what you do, Doctor, but I do know localized fusion deposits are far from spectacular in space. It's like someone throwing a handful of gravel at you. You're guaranteed to get hit by some of it."

"Yes, yes," Koushik excitedly answered, abruptly straightening in his chair, his enthusiasm making him instantly appear younger. "But those fusion deposits can be explained by spacial correlations, the activity of the stars around them..."

Koushik clenched his mouth tightly and glanced down. As usual, he was over-explaining things. He started again, the words coming at a slower, more thoughtful pace. "This fusion anomaly is not necessarily unique in it's makeup, at least none that I can detect, but in its location."

"Where is it located exactly?" Callum asked.

Koushik made a few taps on his PDP and Callum's display morphed into a realtime starmap. The display zoomed in to the binary star system of Alpha Centauri, then closer still until a replica of the Ganymede herself appeared in the center of the screen, pulsating slightly. Koushik moved the starmap a bit, a portion of Alpha Centauri's "Earth" planet Chiron just visible on the left of the screen, the Ganymede near the right edge. Koushik's problematic fusion anomaly, still circled, hovered near the middle. "It's ten hours head of us, about twenty-three degrees above the solar plane," Koushik finished.

Indeed it was odd. Not completely out of the realm of possibilities, but definitely a rare find. As Callum zoomed in on the area in question, the image shifted to the left of the screen and Koushik’s calculations appeared on the right, slowly scrolling upwards. Callum pondered them as they moved. "Yes. Yes, I see what you mean here," he said after a time. "But again, Koushik, I can offer you little more but confirmation of your findings."

"I believe you could offer me more. You are well established as one of the brightest cryptanalysts on the ship. I was hoping you could run these calculations through that wave analyzer program you created..."

"...and come up with a waveform schematic," Callum finished. It wasn't the first time one of the eggheads on the Ganymede wanted to use his prototype software to substantiate one of their unexplainable discoveries. And every time Callum ran their data through the program they remained unexplainable. The scientists tended to give it more problem-solving power than it actually had. But it did give Callum a sense of pride and, though he would never admit it to anyone, a mild ego boost.

"I'm flattered, Doctor, and thank you for your confidence but I have strong doubts as to whether MicroWave will be able to formulate an accurate simulation. It's still very much a work in progress."

Koushik leaned back in his chair thoughtfully stroking his chin. "I see," he said. "So, you believe this to be a waste of time then?

"Callum gave Koushik a doleful look. "No, Koushik, I'm just saying that I don't believe my programming hobby will give you the answers you seek - and I’d never insinuate your work to be a waste of time. You know that."

Mentally kicking himself again Koushik looked down, shoulders slumped. "I know. I know this well." Koushik was often troubled by his inability to grasp the subtleties of etiquette. His mentor at the University of Oxford had often joked that Koushik would eventually become a great scientist, but he would forever be an awful diplomat.

After an extended silence, Callum finally let out a long, defeated sigh. "All right, Koushik. It does appear this anomaly of yours may be...unique enough to warrant a little more study."

He straightened himself and scooted his chair up closer to his terminal, arms laid on either side. "I'll give you three hours, no more. Some of us actually enjoy sleeping, you know. I'll run it through my program and see if there's anything worth mentioning. I'll transmit all my findings to you by 0230. Will that be sufficient?"

Koushik stood up so quickly his chair rolled back until it softly struck the bulkhead. His dampened spirits instantly soared back to their usual childlike exuberance. "Of course, of course! Three hours is more than I could ever have expected. Thank you, Callum. Thank you so very much! I won't forget this. Never, ever forget it!" He leaned over the table, grabbed Callum's hand and shook it forcefully, causing the bones in Callum's arm to pop slightly. Callum smiled despite himself and shook his head.

"Will you be awake in three hours?" he said as Koushik began to exit the room.

"Of course!" he exclaimed. "You know I rarely sleep. There is so much to discover!"

If Callum had a coin for every time Koushik had uttered that phrase...

Insomnia & Discovery

Koushik couldn't sleep. Dr. McKibben was right, of course. He desperately needed the rest. He had been awake and working for nearly thirty hours now and he needed to allow his body to take control of his mind instead of the opposite. After entering his spartan quarters, he sat on his sleeping cot for a few minutes staring at the floor. His mind continued running experiments, forming questions, sorting data.

He shook his head in frustration, trying to quiet his mind. He got up, quickly threw off his clothes and took a long, hot shower. Other than rinsing thirty hours of filth off his body, the shower did little to help. After finishing, he returned to his cot and sat there again, naked except for the towel wrapped around his waist. His empty gaze returned to the bare floor. Again his mind became excited.

Damn.

After sitting there for an undetermined amount of time, he absently rubbed his chin and realized he had the beginnings of a beard - something else he had forgotten to do. Somewhat grateful for another chance to distract his active mind, he walked back to the bathroom and began to shave. He shaved slowly, methodically, staring blankly at his reflection in the small mirror. After a too brief amount of time, his mind again became clouded with formulas and figures. He quickly finished up, tossed the used face towel into a corner, and put on his sleeping garments.

He slowly sat on his cot and just as he began to swing his feet up from the floor he paused. His eyes focused on his terminal at the opposite end of the room, reacting as if seeing it for the first time.

He stood up and began slowly walking toward it, unconsciously picking up his bare feet so they would not make noise as they slid across the metal floor, as if the terminal would be aware of his presence and stubbornly refuse to work the moment Koushik touched it.

The terminal came to life when he sat in his chair. Koushik's eyes darted to the entrance to his quarters, half-believing Dr. McKibben would burst in and verbally assault him the moment he tried to access the databse. When it became clear this fantasy would not materialize, Koushik tapped the keys that would connect him to his terminal on the research bridge. Dr. McKibben said she did not want him working on the bridge, so maybe he could work here instead.

But the log in process was the only thing the computer would let him do. The moment he attempted to enter the science database, the screen abruptly went dark. The terminal emitted a brief buzzing sound and a computer voice said,

"Entry denied for...Dr. Mitra, Koushik, assistant science officer. Terminal locked by authorization...Dr. McKibben, Rhona, chief science officer. Please consult with...Dr. McKibben...to regain access to science database. Thank you."

Bloody hell!

The defeated Koushik slumped in his chair as the terminal continued reminding him that he had been outsmarted by Dr. McKibben. She knew him so very well. Of course, Koushik wasn't that hard to read, so predictably single-minded he was. Koushik's hardened face began to soften, then he began to chuckle.

He stood up, the computer stopped mocking him, and he rolled into his cot. As he lay there, Koushik realized his mind was quiet now. It had been a long time since his mind was this still. He wondered if he should dissect the circumstances that led to this rare event but decided against it for fear of re-awakening the scientific beast within him.

He said aloud, "Sleep. Music." The lights in his quarters immediately dimmed to near complete darkness and the music of Mozart began filling the room.

* * * * *

A low, rhythmic thumping brought Koushik out of his deep sleep. At the edge of his consciousness, his mind reasoned the noise was either an FTL reactor spike or the footfalls of someone running down the corridor. He thought he heard a muffled "Koushik."

The room was quiet again. Koushik decided he was hearing things. But a moment later the intermittent thumping returned, clearer this time, followed by the loud whispering of, "Koushik! It's Callum! Are you in there?"

Koushik sat up in his cot well before his mind had registered what he had done. The darkened room made focusing difficult and he uttered "Lights, half," brightening the room enough to chase off the vertigo. He uttered another command and Mozart fell silent.

Outside the door, Callum noticed the quieting of the music and said in a much louder voice, "Koushik! Open up! I've got to show you something. You aren't going to believe it!"

Koushik covered the distance to the door in three haphazard strides, lazily slapped the door entry panel, and sat down heavily on his cot. This time, it was Callum who shot into the room tapping his PDP, a mixture of wonder and excitement on his face.

"Friend, you aren't going to believe what MicroWave found. I'm pretty sure it's a legitimate find - the program is far enough along to be fairly accurate. It's a minor miracle, really, how MicroWave made this correlation. You can blame that happy accident on my leaving the -"

Callum looked up from his PDP and for the first time noticed Koushik was sitting on his cot instead of at his terminal.

"You were asleep?" he asked incredulously.

"Yes, I actually was," Koushik croaked out.

"Well, that makes two breakthoughs in one day," Callum laughed. "I've been trying to contact you for the past ten minutes through your terminal feed, but I can't seem to get through."

"You can't," Koushik said, rubbing his eyes with both hands. "Dr. McKibben has banned me from all bridge and terminal access. I guess she locked me out from both transmitting and receiving."

"Ah, so you were grounded then?"

"I thought those days were all behind me." Koushik's head had almost completely cleared now, his eyes focusing and becoming more alert every second. "So, what did MicroWave find?"

Callum spun and roughly sat down next to Koushik causing the cot to bounce slightly. Callum's sparkling eyes met Koushik's.

"I know where your fusion anomaly originated from," Callum said quietly, almost reverently.

Callum held his PDP at an angle where both of them could observe it and continued, "When I began running the program, I neglected to instruct it to limit it's search to just the anomalies we have logged so far. Prior to this, I had been doing some reading up on the Unity mission...just to pass the time. I got a little nostalgic the closer we got to Chiron.

“Anyway, I accidentally left numerous links open to technical archives on the Unity herself...the materials used to build her, blueprints, engineer formulas, things like that. So after MicroWave went full steam through Ganymede's mission archives, it went off the reservation and began digging through the historical archives looking for a match to the schematic it created of your fusion anomaly." Callum's smile became wider. "It found something."

Koushik was fully alert now, thoughts racing overdrive though his mind. He felt his breathing becoming shallower as the implications of what Callum was telling him become clearer. "Are you saying my anomaly...that MicroWave made a correlation between my anomaly and the Unity itself?"

Callum, still grinning widely, didn't answer. Instead he made a few key taps on his PDP and turned the screen back toward Koushik. Two computerized schematics appeared opposite one another. Callum pointed to the one on the left and said, "This is the waveform of the Unity's fusion reactor output, taken right from the archives, created by the chief research engineer himself." Callum then pointed to the schematic on the right. "This one here is MicroWave's interpretation of your anomaly."

Koushik scowled, confused. "But, they don't appear to be the same."

"I didn't think so either. At first I chalked it up to a bug in the program." Callum raised a finger and held it in front of his face for a moment.

"Until..."

Callum placed his finger on the right side image and moved it around on the screen which rotated the schematic. When he stopped Koushik's eyes widened in complete shock. The two waveform schematics were nearly identical. His mouth fell open and he looked at Callum stupefied. Callum bore his teeth in a wide grin.

"I believe you may have found the Unity, my friend," Callum said. "And you just may have rewritten history."

Command Presence

Onto the bustling research bridge walked Ganymede’s commander Rafael Ramirez, tall and thin with dark eyes and the close cropped hair of a military man. He was a rare visitor to this area of the ship. Preferring to remain on the lower deck command bridge to give the scientists as much breathing room as possible to perform their tasks, he now found himself unable to resist observing the research crew as they performed their historic work. Scientists could be touchy regarding their privacy and he did not want be the cause of any uncomfortableness.

An odd group these eggheads.

Ramirez stood just inside the bridge entrance for several unobserved minutes capturing snippets of conversation which allowed him to create a fuzzy picture of what was happening. More than once he raised his eyebrows in surprise when he overheard particularly significant information.

He watched Dr. McKibben as she worked her corner of the bridge, shuffling back and forth between the crew, grabbing PDP’s and handing them from one person to another in a pattern only she knew, pointing at terminals and questioning conclusions. She finally registered Ramirez’s presence out of the corner of her eye. She smiled, walked toward him, and saluted. Ramirez returned the salute.

“Busy day, Doctor?” he said with a smile.

“The busiest,” she answered, brushing back a troublesome strand of hair. “My apologies, sir. I hope you weren’t standing there too long.”

Ramirez waved a hand in dismissal. “I was enjoying the show. By the way, what were you and Hendrix working on just now? He was acting as though he had made a breakthrough of sorts.”

“Just before I saw you? He was running more detailed tests on Chiron’s atmosphere. He believes while long-term exposure to excess nitrogen will not be good for humans, it should be a godsend for Earth plants. With the amount of nitrogen in the soil, I’d expect any plants to grow twice as large in half the time. With some minor genetic tweaking of course.”

Ramirez nodded, his face showing mild surprise. “So, we may have just solved the food problem then?”

Rhona crossed her arms. “It’s a little soon to say, but the data supporting that hypothesis is strong. A few more tests and we should know for certain by the end of the day.”

“Excellent.” He gestured toward Koushik and Callum. “And how are your two superstar’s doing?” Rhona turned toward them and smiled. The two men were working animatedly at Koushik’s terminal, childlike grins cemented on their faces.

“They can’t be stopped, sir,” she answered with obvious pride. She inched closer to Ramirez and said in a low voice, “I think the Chief Signals Officer is concerned he may have lost his assistant.”

Ramirez chuckled. “Well, we can’t have that, can we? Doctor, I know circumstances are quite extraordinary today but I need you to make sure Mr. Cook doesn’t burn himself out working with your team. He’s one of the best at his job and the CSO is going to need him back in his assigned place, rested and ready. Understood?”

“Understood, sir. I’ll voice your concerns to him.”


“Thank you, Doctor.”

Rhona saluted, began walking away, then abruptly stopped. “Oh, sir,” she said, turning back toward Ramirez, “have you sent a report off to Command yet?”

Ramirez nodded. “I did so about three hours ago. I expect to hear back from them in about - half an hour.” He smiled and added, “Of course, it all depends on how long it will take them to recover from the shock.”

Rhona’s face turned serious and she took a step toward him. “What do you think they’ll do, sir?”

Ramirez glanced away and took a deep breath before answering. “Progress is impossible without change. And a lot of key minds back home are being irrecovably, decisively changed right now.” He glanced at Rhona and held her gaze for a moment. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

He saluted and walked out.

I'm almost afraid to post and interrupt the flow of your story. But this is excellent writing! Please, continue!

Secrets Revealed
(1 of 2)

2219.3.29
Ship log entry
Rafael Ramirez
Commanding Officer
USS Ganymede
Day 544

We’ve been in Chiron high orbit for nearly twenty-four hours. Cartography and Signals have just completed mapping the planet. So far three of twenty Ganymede probes have been dropped to the surface. Initial probe data should be arriving shortly.

Both science team and command staff are extremely hopeful that our probes will bring back workable data regarding what appear to be a number of abandoned settlements of various sizes and construction scattered over the surface. Computerized image enhancements of these structures leave little doubt that there were indeed Unity survivors who successfully landed on Chiron. What has happened to them since is unknown.


But what is clear is that despite what Commander Garland stated in his transmission, it appears that Ganymede will not be the first to prove that humans can make a life for themselves on another planet. The Unity survivors have beaten us to it.

Ramirez ended his log entry and quickly walked to the command bridge eager for an update. “Sitrep?”

“We should be receiving probe-trans in less than five, Commander,” answered Emmons at the far end of the bridge, hovering over his assistant seated at the terminal. “Probe Four launched at 1426. Probe Five go for launch at 1435. Probes Six through Twenty all show green.”

Callum, analyzing information at his terminal station just to the left of Chief Signals Officer Myers, reported “Solar wavelengths nominal, Chief.”

Myers nodded, then turned toward Ramirez. “Centauri’s A and B show no signs of intense solar flaring. Probe data should come through free and clear.”
“Good,” said Ramirez. He walked over to his terminal and pressed a couple of buttons. “Dr. McKibben. We’ll be receiving our first probe transmissions in less than five minutes. I’ll need you at your command station within three. Acknowledge.”

A brief pause, then McKibben responded. “Very good, sir. I’ll be there.” A few moments later the science officer’s command bridge station came alive. The terminal and several display screens blinked on as Rhona began the computer transfer from the research bridge.

"Let's do what we came here to do," Ramirez said to no one in particular.

* * * * * *

Rhona did her best to make sense of the flood of images and raw information that seemed to scroll endlessly on her screens, her breathing slight as her eyes darted.

“My God.”

Except for the occasional awestruck whispered comment, the Ganymede crew became eerily quiet as details of the Unity’s human settlements on Chiron made its way through terminal after terminal. Ganymede’s central mainframe computer (nicknamed “Gort” by the crew) quickly auto-archived the information.

Probe One, controlled remotely by one of the researchers on Ganymede, floated about five feet off the surface of Chiron on the outskirts of a large city, it’s powerful and adjustable gyroscopic maneuvering fans holding it in position. It’s high resolution imaging system was being focused on a sprawl of low to medium height buildings of many shapes and sizes about three hundred yards away. Despite being stained with the red dirt of Chiron and completely devoid of life, the city seemed to have been functional and even comfortable at one time. Near the center of the city was a sleek, thirty meter glass topped tower. Few of the glass panes remained intact.

The probe moved through the outskirts and toward a long line of rubble that seemed to mark boundaries of the city. Rhona suddenly slapped the comm button on her terminal. “Probe One, hold up. Give me a slow rotation to port.”

Ramirez walked over to Rhona’s station. She pointed at the ground on the display as he approached. “There was a wall here at one time. A big one. Looks like it collapsed on itself,” she said in a voice not entirely convinced.

The probe continued its slow turn. “Stop. Okay, move forward. Toward the tower.”

As the probe began moving again, more details of the city came into view. Many above ground tunnels, some torn open and exposed now, radiated outward from the tower like spokes on a wheel. Large circular tent-like structures dotted the landscape around the tower, the durable material torn open exposing the metal bracing.

She touched the display screen at different points. “Look at the ground, at those craters. That couldn’t possibly be erosional forces at work, can it?”

Ramirez moved his head a bit closer to the display. “I don’t believe so. They look more like impact craters to me.”

Rhona looked at him. “From space? There’s a small asteroid cluster about thirty light minutes away from Chiron.”

Ramirez shook his head slowly. “No. I don’t think so. These impacts are in close groups. I don’t think meteor impacts would leave that kind of grouping behind.” He stood up, rubbing his chin, a slight chill running down his spine. “To be honest, they look like mortar or artillery impacts.”

The revelation disturbed Rhona. She saw no reason to doubt Ramirez’s assumption. Being a military officer, Ramirez would obviously know the difference between a hole made by a mortar and one made by a celestial body.

She stared at the tattered buildings, the rubble and the pock marked ground, her face a mask. “That may explain the uniformity of the collapsed wall. It could have been systematically demolished.”

Images of the city continued to float across the screens. As the probe got closer to the tower, blast marks and chipped stone could be seen along its length rising nearly to its apex.

“Stop,” Rhona said quickly. “There’s something above the tower entrance. Let’s see it.”

The probe's maneuvering fans adjusted slightly as it boosted itself to reveal an emblem carved into the stone above the opening that led into the tower.

“Well, I’ll be,” Rhona murmured.

Another fan! Thanks SanChonino. Glad you are enjoying it.

* * * * * *

Secrets Revealed
(2 of 2)

“That looks like the old United Nations insignia,” Ramirez said.

Rhona nodded. “It appears so, sir. Though it’s obviously been modified somewhat.”

The emblem was similar to the one used in the mid-twenty first century, composed of a flattened projection of Earth enclosed by two olive branches. But this emblem had done away with the Earth continents. In their place were two starbursts, one larger than the other, with an even smaller one on the opposite side. The three stars were set in a roughly triangular pattern.

Rhona gently touched the screen as if she could run her fingers over the low relief carving and feel the stone itself. “Those larger starbursts must represent Centauri’s A and B and the smaller one must be Chrion.”

“A new United Nations for a new Earth,” Ramirez said. “Whoever was in charge of building this place was quite the idealist. Though from the looks of this city, idealism only got them so far.” He chuckled to himself. “Realism always trumps idealism. I wonder what those people would think if they knew the old United Nations has been dissolved?”

Rhona cast a sidelong glance at Ramirez. “The goals of the United Nations were quite noble, sir. It was created in the belief...the hope...that humanity could set aside differences and work together for the common good. And idealists are always neeeded, sir. Their passion is what pushes inevitable and necessary change.”

Ramirez shook his head. “The old United Nations was a glorified debating society, Doctor, with many of its member nations far from interested in the common good. A number of UN programs were dreamed up simply because key members wanted to buy UN influence, not because they were in the best interests of the oppressed.”

Rhona’s expression cooled. “Some were, but most weren’t, sir. Remember the Twelve Minute War between Pakistan and India? The UN acted decisively in the aftermath and probably saved countless millions of lives. In that moment, your ‘debating society’ united under a common cause despite their past failings. It is possible, sir.”

Ramirez pursed his lips. “That’s true. Extreme crisis can bring out the best in men. But it’s not in our nature, Doctor. If it were, why the need for something like a United Nations in the first place?”

A report from Myers interrupted their conversation. “Probe Two has just gone online, sir. All systems green.”

Rhona touched a control and images of the somber but proud remnants of the United Nations city disappeared. Images from Probe Two, about two hundred kilometers to the southwest of Probe One, revealed a city more rugged and practical compared to its UN counterpart. A huge banner, tattered but mostly intact, fell from the top of the tallest building in the city center. A hexagon emblem with a downward graphic arrow piercing the inside was embroidered on it.

“That’s some impressive regalia,” Ramirez said with the slightest hint of admiration. He straightened, crossing his arms. “I would deduce from the structures and that banner that these were a very proud people. Wouldn’t you say, Doctor?”

Rhona glanced up at Ramirez, who had a measured look about him. She was uncertain whether he was genuinely moved or if he was merely toying with her.

“I’m no archeologist, sir, but the city does have a certain air of...intimidation about it. The large banner gives it quite a martial flair.” She grinned. “Probably settled by a bunch of militant realists. Wouldn’t you say, sir?”

Ramirez smirked. “Most likely.” He leaned closer to Rhona and said barely above a whisper, “Remember, Doctor. Militaries fight wars so there can be peace.”

Rhona’s eyes flared with indignance at Ramirez’s comment, the muscles in her face tense. Ramirez continued to hold his face close to hers but with a look of mock innocence as if he was unaware of having said anything distasteful.

Then he winked. Rhona’s burning eyes changed from anger to reproachfulness. She relaxed, giving Ramirez a sidelong stare as she slowly turned back toward the terminal, the faintest smirk on her face. She and Ramirez had had many friendly but heated debates during their voyage to Chiron about the dichotomic tendencies of man; that man was an aggressive creature, always leaning toward conflict with himself and nature; or that man was a benevolent creature, capable of doing incredibly good things if unhindered by external negative impulses. More often than not, Rhona’s sheer force of will allowed her to have the last word, wearing Ramirez down and forcing him to the throw in the towel.

But Ramirez had pulled his old trick of broaching the subject while they were both on duty. Since he was the superior officer, Rhona was powerless to properly counter his statement without Ramirez pulling rank. And she would never think of countermanding her superior on his own bridge and in front of the other officers. Ramirez shrewdly played off her regard for protocol so he could have the last word. It was a cheap shot that really irritated her. She silently swore he would pay dearly at their next off-duty meeting.

- - - - -

The last of the Ganymede probes reached Chiron’s surface two and a half hours later. The crew continued to get an eyeful. “Gort”, the central mainframe, had bogged down more than once as it struggled to quickly archive torrents of probe data.

As the hours had gone by other cities, bases and outposts were revealed in greater detail. Human settlements were scattered all over Chiron’s three main continents. The heaviest concentrations were located in the large central continent. These central continent cities were almost fully developed and quite modern.

Ganymede scientists had uncovered six unique construction characteristics of Chiron’s dormant cities and labeled then accordingly. The “UN style” settlements in the middle of the center continent and the “bunker style” southwest of them were among the first to be so designated. A group of settlements to the northwest were constructed in the “natural style” since those settlements utilized the environment of Chiron itself, set into towering natural rock formations and hills. To the northeast were chic, lavish settlements that seemed to sparkle in the sunlight. These were dubbed “Morgan style” because nearly all of the buildings sported a triangular logo with the name “Morgan” underneath. Set into the mountains of the southeast were the settlements of the “Galileo style”, so named because the most prominent buildings were towering cylinders topped with golden domes and large telescopic observatories.

The eastern continent also contained many settlements but these were uniformly underdeveloped and primitive. The continent itself was mostly barren and desert-like which, scientists guessed, may have helped attribute to their anemic state. The largest city, however, contained a single magnificent structure of tall spires, stained glass, and flying buttresses. Thin, wooden doors, fifty feet in height, pointed the way into the sanctuary. Inlaid above the main entrance was a massive, circular emblem containing a cross. The glittering, imposing structure seemed to rise from the midst of the dusty, ramshackle buildings that surrounded it, painting both an ethereal and paradoxical picture. Deducing the area to be some sort of religious center or culture, the scientists half-jokingly classified the structures under the “pilgrim style”.

The western continent was mostly empty except for a couple of “Morgan” and “bunker” style settlements at the northern and southern extremities respectively. The great swath of unused quality land between them had puzzled the scientists.

But the mystery had been solved by the hard working Dr. Mitra temporarily in charge of the research bridge. On a hunch, he ordered two of the probes operating on the western continent to switch from visual mode to ground penetrating sonar. Immediately, computerized images revealed a spider web of underground tunnels of all shapes and sizes scattered over several hundred kilometers. The five underground settlements were all connected by long singular tunnels so as to allow movement back and forth between them. It was an awesome display of subterranean engineering. The scientists simply referred to them as “the tunnels”.

Seven distinct structure classifications that possibly indicated seven distinct human cultures that had formed on this new world. The scientists were too busy gorging themselves on Gort’s seemingly endless streams of probe data to properly digest the significance.

But the officers, especially Ramirez and McKibben, were already beginning to piece together the larger picture. Humans from Earth had built these structures. They had lived and thrived in them for a time. There was strong evidence that violent conflicts had taken place. And now the entire planet was completely devoid of human life.

They wondered whether the conflicts of generations past had been brought with Unity and deposited on this new world.

Still loving it, Smegma.



Of course they were. We're talking about humans, aren't we?

I've never played the game myself, but I'd be eager to, after reading what so many here have so longingly written about it.

This is true. But Centauri's A & B are "closer" to Chiron and would be in a position to affect the planet in some capacity (light, heat, seasons, solar flares, etc.) As you stated, Proxima is much farther away and its affects would (should?) be nil. In the sci-fi world at least.

And thanks ganoesparan. Glad you are also enjoying the ride.

Sorry, no plans to use the SMACX factions. My first love has always been the original seven. Besides, I'm not a good enough (or patient enough) writer to effectively write about fourteen factions. Well, maybe if I got a publishing deal and wrote a book trilogy.

I also like the Pirates in SMACX but I have such a liking for the original seven that they kinda got relegated to oblivion.

Anyway, the story continues...


* * * * * * * *


Day 552
(one week later)

Callum was leaning far back in his chair, legs jutting out ahead of him. He was otherwise motionless except for one hand that absently tapped his leg. He stared at the terminal screen in his quarters, not really focusing on the words displayed there. His eyes seemed to look through the terminal, the bulkhead beyond, to space outside and the planet that rolled underneath him. But even Chiron seemed to be as distant as Earth was, as though Ganymede were floating in a starless black void.

The ice in his glass of bourbon clinked, shifting as it slowly melted, and the noise brought Callum back from the vast nothingness to his small, gray quarters. And to the terminal in front of him. His eyes settled again on the last line of his wife’s transmission.

I’m so sorry.

Callum knew this day was coming. He knew it was coming long before he had volunteered for the Ganymede mission. The founding of Chiron, the remnants of the human settlements and the part he and Ganymede’s crew had played in unveiling it to the people of Earth had “made all of you instant celebrities and heroes” according to her. So she felt that now would be a good time for her to leave him even though she knew he was still years away from returning home.

Not really. Hyperdrive will get us home a lot sooner than you think. Not that it matters, I guess.

They had both known they weren’t as happy as they should be. It wasn’t her desire to have children and his fervent rejection of it. It wasn’t his desire to be at Command’s beck and call, sometimes moving as many as ten times a year, while his wife earnestly desired to plant roots. No, any one of those things should have been enough to end it. But they just kept on for whatever reason, unable to seperate, as if some powerful life magnet had forced them together and refused to let them drift apart.

Strangely, Callum didn’t find the divorce announcement cowardly of her. She had never been vindictive. It wasn’t her nature. He understood the reason why she chose this moment to leave him. It was because she knew when Callum returned there would be no shortage of suitors for him to choose from. His newly acquired notoriety would make sure of that. She simply didn’t want to be the obstacle that kept him from starting a new life. If she left him now, the wounds she opened today would hopefully be healed by the time he made it back to Earth.

Callum grabbed the glass of of bourbon and finished it off with one determined quaff. He began to sense the heaviness lift slightly in the room. The empty pit in his stomach quivered as if life was pressing itself against him, like water trying to force its way through a cracked dam. Or maybe it was the bourbon. It didn’t matter.

He couldn’t help thinking back to what had caused him to fall in love with her so many years ago. He let that old comfortable, peaceful feeling course through him one last time. Despite what she had done, he knew he could never be angry at her.

A wistful smile began to grow on Callum’s face. Even in her “Dear John” letter she was able to show him compassion.

----------------

Rhona, Koushik and a dozen other scientists steadily worked on the research bridge. Rhona had given orders a couple of days ago to temporarily power down most of the probes so they could begin to get a handle on all of the probe data that had been transmitted. Gort, if it were capable of it, would’ve probably been greatful to be given the chance to catch its breath.

Rhona had broken up her second shift research team into three groups. Group one contained a geologist along with a xenobiologist and her assistants who focused on the study of any native lifeforms. Group two contained an archeologist and a cultural anthropologist who continued to study three dimensional computerized recreations of the settlement structures. Rhona, Koushik and four other scientists, two historians, an anthropologist and a psychologist, rounded out the third group. Their job was to sort through newly declassified historical information sent by Command about the Unity mission. Between the lot of them, they wanted to discover what actually caused the Unity survivors to break into these separate cultures and why.

But that was going to take quite a while.

“I’m surprised Callum isn’t here to give us a hand,” Rhona said to Koushik. He nodded.

“I haven’t talked with him for a couple of days now. I tried to contact him but he’s blocked his terminal and doesn’t answer his door.” Koushik shrugged. “I guess he just needs a break.”

“We all do.” Rhona twisted her shoulders, trying to relax her tense back muscles. “It seems like an eternity since I had some decent sleep.”

“Ah, but there is so much to discover,” Koushik said, turning back to his terminal. “Never was that more true than right now.”

Rhona rolled her eyes and glanced over to see the psychologist looking at her with an amused look, ruefully shaking her head. Rhona gave her a silent, knowing smile and gently shrugged her shoulders.

What can you do? she seemed to say.

------------------

(More tomorrow...)

Historic Moment
(1 of 2)

Two hours later

Morgan. Nwabudike Morgan.

Thanks to the Morgan logo emblazoned on nearly every building in his settlements, the researchers did not have to dig very deeply to find information on him. In fact, a few business remnants started by the then-powerful CEO still existed in some capacity on Earth’s African continent, though the corporations had drastically changed over the decades and the “Morgan” name had been mostly relegated to the dustbin of economic and corporate history.

Industrialist. Driven. Pleasure-seeking. Zest for life. Narcissist. These were a few of the words the psychologist had used in her preliminary psych report on Nwabudike Morgan, the primary and most important contractor of the Unity project. He was a brilliant economic opportunist and his gifted ability to raise money combined with his wealth of resources had made Morgan Industries the obvious, but somewhat reluctant, first choice to fund the project.

The reluctance to use Morgan Industries was clarified by a number of publications from the time period along with a few surviving employee memos from businesses that had been subcontracted by Morgan Industries. There were more than a few accusations involving the bribing of U.N. officials, project auditors and construction companies that tarnished Morgan’s otherwise squeaky clean project record. Perhaps too squeaky clean.

Even more interesting was a lone report that stated Nwabudike Morgan had disappeared days before the Unity launch and was not even present at the launch ceremony. It was bizarre considering how Morgan’s craving of the spotlight and his larger-than-life personality should have placed him front and center during Unity launch day.

Looking at the computerized recreations of Morganite buildings on Chiron’s surface, most on Ganymede quickly deduced where he had ended up.

- - - - - - - -

Silos! That was the word Hendrix had been trying think of to describe these “Galileo” structures. He zoomed out and twirled the fully formed dimensional image of the city, stripped away of the mountains that surrounded it. Half a dozen of the silo structures projected from it like perfectly formed fingers.

Probe Fifteen was his baby. Dr. McKibben had left only four probes operational for the time being and Fifteen was one of them. Lucky him. He pondered the value of being one of the more dependable members of the research crew. More like a curse than a virtue, always being singled out to perform the drudge work. He craned his neck to cast an envious glance at McKibben’s three research teams across the bridge.

Yeah. It stinks being good at your job.

Twisting his mouth into a pout, he slumped back into his chair. A real-time feed of Probe Fifteen displayed on one of his screens the entrance into a two story building gently bobbing there as the probe waited for instructions. Koushik’s bright idea to switch to underground sonar had revealed many settlements sporting underground areas but nothing as elaborate as “the tunnels” had been. Now the probe controllers had even more exploring to do.

Most of them were unremarkable: storage rooms, warehouses, basements underneath living quarters. There really hadn’t been much to see save the occasional personal artifact haphazardly left behind. Hendrix wondered if they had been left behind on purpose like a small beacon saying “I was here” or if they were simply discarded like so much refuse. Either way, most of the crew found them even more interesting than the settlements themselves.

A message blinked on Fifteen’s screen indicating that it was ready to proceed. Hendrix gave a command for the probe to move through the entrance and down an empty elevator shaft just inside on the right. There was no light in this underground space so Hendrix had been waiting patiently for the probe’s solar batteries to fully charge. Probe Fifteen now had six full hours to operate in complete darkness.

Lucky me.

Fifteen backed into the elevator shaft and slowly descended, its powerful twin floodlights activating as the sunlight gradually disappeared. The elevator had been lodged on the second floor which Hendrix found slightly odd. Usually when power was cut, most elevators slowly sank to the bottom floor for safety reasons.

Fifteen exited the elevator and moved slowly down a long featureless hallway, floodlights garishly highlighting the closed in walls. A minute later the probe entered a small square room, the light from the floods filling the room. A fine layer of dust covered everything. The room was featureless just like the hallway that preceded it save for a long table that ran the length of the back wall. On and around it were terminals, computers and machinery of all shapes and sizes. Hendrix had seen different versions of this room present in most of the other settlements.

Another data storage dump of some sort.

Hendrix sighed running a hand over his face and rubbing his weary eyes. Per procedure, he punched a few buttons and made the probe do a slow turn of the entire room for recording purposes. A few minutes later Fifteen was done and Hendrix instructed the probe to head back to the surface. The probe began to back away from the far wall automatically shutting down its powerful floodlights to save battery life.

Then he saw the lights.

Man i seriously LOVE SMAC, i also agree that the new civs didnt make much of an impact being as they were mostly derivative of the original 7, never noticed that colony pod breaking up, cool backstory there.

Until GC2 came out, in my opinion no other strategy came close, even civ4 paled in comparison in terms of gameplay, even though it had loads more features.

For me, theres not much reason to go back to SMAC, especially because the graphics have aged seriously now, especially against Twilight. Diplomacy in SMAC was realy good and still is pretty okay, the use of spies is the only feature i can think of that SMAC does better than GC2 even today!

Also the story in Alpha centauri was just so cool !