Origins (22 page)

Chapter 31:  Power It Up

Flight director Kranz
stood up from his work station and placed a beat up Texas Rangers baseball cap on his head.

“What’s with the ratty head gear?” Mark asked to pass the time.

Alfred stared straight ahead as he answered, “It was a gift from my late wife.  It’s always brought me good luck.”

Mark found it rather ironic the flight director’s lucky cap supported a professional baseball team that had never won a World Series.

“It’s show time people,” Alfred boomed.  “Julie’s team has put the reactor’s slingshot and subsequent break from orbit maneuver into the guidance system.  We’re going to have a seven minute full throttle burn around the moon that will use all but the last few drops of fuel.  This will fling the reactor section out of orbit to chase down the errant probe.  If we miss the entry or exit angle by so much as one degree coming around the moon we’re all out of a job.  Now let’s get it right.”

On the view screen Mark watched a computer generated diagram of the earth and moon with the reactor section traveling in between.   A solid blue line showed the craft’s current path, and a dotted red line showed the project path resulting from the engine burn.  In the upper right was a number counting down from ten. 

The maneuver needed to be so precise in its execution that the computer was given full control of the process.  For the next seven minutes, everyone in the flight control room was just an observer.  All they could do was hope they got the calculations right.

The countdown reached zero and Julie announced the obvious, “Full engine burn initiated.”

Seven minutes ticked by at a glacial pace.  Some people simply stared at the screen, others paced around the room.  Alfred had the annoying habit of removing his lucky hat, smoothing the hair underneath with his free hand and then placing the cap back on his head.  The flight leader did it so often Mark feared the man would soon rub his scalp bald.

Mark glanced at the screen and around the room periodically but spent most of his time inspecting the inside of his eyelids.  He was totally at peace with the situation.  If the maneuver didn’t work then his job was complete.  If it did, he still had a few maneuvers of his own to end the mission prematurely. 

Mark hated working against these people and intentionally trying to scrap a ten billion dollar piece of machinery, but he had a duty to protect the nation.  In this case he was protecting the whole planet from the danger this probe represented. 

“Ten seconds left,” Julie announced.

Mark opened his eyes to watch the main screen.  Each time he looked that way he hoped to see the craft deviating from the dotted line, but it was tracking exactly where it was supposed to be.

“Engines have shut down,” Julie reported.

“Good work,” Alfred acknowledged.  “Expand the image to include the runaway probe’s path out through the Mars orbit.”

Seconds later the image of the moon shrunk as the view range expanded.  The lost probe appeared as a single dot at first, until the computer plotted a bright green flight path line.

Mark was glad everyone’s attention was focused on the view screen so his open mouthed smile went unnoticed.  The two paths didn’t come even remotely close to intersecting.  Even though it appeared to go according to plan, the maneuver was a total failure.

“What happened?” Mark asked as he got up from his chair to join the flight leader at his station.  “Everything looked like it was on track.  What went wrong?”

“Nothing,” Alfred protested.  “We escaped earth’s orbit as intended.”

“But the flight paths don’t come anywhere near each other, and the fuel is completely spent.”

“We don’t need the liquid fuel engine anymore,” Alfred said.  “Now that we’ve achieved a safe distance from earth we can bring the fusion reactor online to chase down the probe.”

“Right, of course,” Mark managed to say through his crushing disappointment.  “When does that happen?”

“Right about now,” Alfred answered.  “Jeremy, are we ready to power up the reactor?”

“I’m initiating the
magnetic containment field now,” Jeremy replied.

Mark watched as the young man hit a few keys on his computer to bring up a display showing the power readings on twenty five electromagnets that made up the fusion reaction containment field.  The display vaguely reminded him of a sound mixing board in a music recording studio.  The bars displayed as bright green, and all but one was pegged at the top of the indicator.  The lone exception hovered just below the maximum reading and drew no one’s attention except Mark’s.  He looked on with satisfaction knowing everyone would soon be looking at nothing but that single power reading.

“Each magnet reads at full power and the field is stable,” Jeremy reported.  “It should be safe to initiate the reaction.”

“Introduce the tritium and deuterium to the reaction chamber,” Alfred ordered.  When the two types of hydrogen isotopes met, the power readings from the reactor jumped to life.  “Now introduce the laser beam.”

When the heating laser met the chemicals in the reaction chamber the temperature reading increased rapidly.  What was once a 500 degree Celsius reaction finally leveled off at 2,000 degrees Celsius.  As the temperature inside the chamber rose, the gases inside reached a state of plasma.  The hydrogen atoms shed their electrons causing their nuclei to fuse together.  For the first time in history a fusion reaction identical to that found inside a star was created and contained within a manmade device.

“The magnetic field is successfully containing the heat from the plasma reaction,” Jeremy reported.  He drew the flight director’s attention to the energy output indicator.  It was glowing bright red.  “The reaction is still consuming more energy than it’s giving off though.’

“Now introduce the lithium pellet to the reaction,” Dr. Kranz instructed.  “The catalyst reaction should do the trick.”

Shortly after the order was given, a loud cheer exploded from everyone in the room.  Mark was not sure how, but when the lithium hit the reaction chamber the power output increased by a factor of fifty and far exceeded the resources needed to sustain the plasma reaction.  Mark pushed his natural urge to know how the lithium’s catalytic reaction worked.  He didn’t need to know how it worked, it only mattered that it did work.

“The reaction is still stable and we have more energy production than we know what to do with,” Jeremy reported with pride.  “We have a fully functional fusion reactor.”

A high pitched beep from Jeremy’s computer consol
e interrupted his celebration.  The young man looked on in horror as one of the electromagnet’s power indicators fell below the half power marker and was trending even lower.  The indicator bar was no longer a comforting green but a flashing yellow.

“What’s happening?” Mark asked.

“The flow of electricity to one of the magnets is being disrupted.  If we lose magnetic containment of the reaction it’ll have an uncontrolled exothermic reaction,” Jeremy answered.

“In English,” Mark demanded.

“Picture the tsunami of 2005 in the vacuum of space,” Alfred said with frustration.  “Now shut up and let us do our job.”

Mark dutifully backed away from the NASA employees feeling good about the frustration levels he saw.  There was no way they’d be able to cool the reaction chamber before that magnet gave out.

“There’s no time to stop the reaction,” Dr. Kranz said.  “We need to repair the electrical lead to the magnet.  It’s time to wake up Rex.  Put his camera feed up front.”

The main viewer flickered and the picture was replaced by a terrifying image of a mechanical device that looked like a five legged spider.  Abruptly, the image was ripped away to the side to reveal the blinding glow of the reactor chamber that housed the plasma reaction. 

Mark rubbed his eyes and soon realized he’d seen the reflection of the machine off the shiny metal door to a maintenance hatch on board the reactor.   Apparently NASA had the forethought to put some sort of maintenance robot on board.  On screen, Rex attached itself to a data port.

“Rex has assessed the problem,” Jeremy reported.  “The Iron Solenoid needs replacing.  The swap out should only take a few minutes which is plenty of time to keep the magnet from failing.”

“Good,” Alfred beamed.  “And the big shots said including an autonomous maintenance robot onboard was a waste of resources.”

Mark rose from his chair
and rejoined the discussion.  “What is an autonomous maintenance robot?  This is the first I have heard of it.”

“Oh, it’s just one of those wasteful passion projects you civilians always accuse NASA of wasting time and money on,” Dr. Kranz said as he reveled in being able to brag about the weight of his brain pan.

“The probe was designed to fly at near light speed.  Pair that with the fact that radio signals also travel at light speed and you arrive at a bit of a dilemma.  Any signals we try to send the probe will never reach it since the probe is traveling as fast as the message.  The solution we came up with was Rex.  It’s programmed to diagnose and solve a multitude of repair and software programming issues on its own.”

“I’m sure all of you grew up watching the
Terminator
movies over and over while real people went on dates and frolicked in their youth, so this won’t be a new concept.  Doesn’t this Rex sound like a first step toward robots taking over the world?” Mark cautioned.

“It’s not like Rex has artificial intelligence,” Alfred challenged.  “He can only deal with problems and solutions we coded into his programming.  It’s not perfect, but it’s better than nothing and it sure saved our bacon this time.”

“Just think of the commercial implication of automated repair robots working around the globe,” Jeremy added.  “Who knows, twenty years from now none of us may need to vacuum or dust our houses or even cook meals anymore.”

“Y
eah, I think I saw that concept on TV during some reruns of the
Jetsons
,” Mark exclaimed in frustration.  “Hanna-Barbera would be so proud to know every home will have their very own Rosie the robot to order around and perform menial tasks.”

“Rex has finished the repair,” Jeremy reported.

Everyone looked to the power reading display and observed as the indicator changed from flashing yellow to bright green and extended to the top of the indicator bar once again.

“Now let’s see if we can convert the excess energy from the fusion reaction to propulsion for the craft,” Alfred said.  “Start us off at one percent thrust.”

A few minutes later the overhead view screen switched back to a familiar diagram of the probe and reactor section flight paths.  Mark saw the lines were now intersecting and fought back the urge to kick something.  Plan B came and went, and the probe was still on track to be assembled so it could head off into the great unknown screaming out the location of earth for all to hear.

Hastelloy took the
navigation unit out from its concealment one last time to verify the readings.  Sure enough, in the three days since Mosa delivered the message from her god, a tidal wave of silt and ash from the sea was finally about to arrive.  It was time to revisit Pharaoh and hear his reply; which would most certainly be to the negative. 

There was always the small chance Pharaoh would give in
to the demand to free the slaves too early.  If this happened the entire plan would fall apart.  Not to worry though, Pharaoh was an overly proud man bent on becoming a god himself.  Nothing short of the apocalypse would dissuade him from that goal, but the leverage to change his mind was on the rise, as it were.

“Tonwen, it’s time to retrieve Mosa from her hiding place,” Hastelloy ordered.  “You two owe Pharaoh another visit.”

“Yes, sir,” Tonwen responded, and left to fetch Mosa from underneath the latrine sheds.  Naturally, Hastelloy would’ve preferred hiding her in a more pleasant location, but it was necessary.  During the past three days the guards turned the entire slave camp upside down looking for Mosa.   The only place they wouldn’t go near was the toilets, and for good reason.  The entire area was infested with flies and wreaked of excrement and urine.  There wasn’t a reward rich enough for the guards to mount a prolonged search of that rancid area.

Hastelloy left the tent and headed for the river.  It was morning.   Pharaoh and his court of concubines always used that time of day to bathe in the river waters.  The captain joined Valnor and Gallono as they led a large group of slaves toward the river to witness the royal rumble. 

Hastelloy took a deep breath to calm his nerves.  The fresh morning air cleared his head so he took another deep breath looking for the same sensation.  This time a foul stench that nearly gagged him filled his nostrils.  Hastelloy turned to see Mosa standing by his side. 

“You look as radiant as ever my dear,” Hastelloy managed to say through a set of dry heaves.

The snarl on her face was difficult to miss.  “You owe me your sense of smell when this is over because I’ve burned through my own.”

At least she’s got a sense of humor about the ordeal Hastelloy thought, “Sacrifices, princess.  Sacrifices.”

As they made their way to the riverbank, a crowd grew behind them and swelled in ranks with every stride taken.  By the time Pharaoh was in sight, a mob of several thousand gathered to watch Mosa deliver them from bondage.

One of the guards took off running towards the nearest barracks to rally reinforcements when the mob drew near.  Pharaoh turned to see the commotion.  If the large crowd concerned him, it didn’t show in the least. 
As Mosa approached, Pharaoh opened his arms as if to embrace her.  He quickly lowered them and crinkled his nose.

“I’d ask where you’ve been hiding these past few days, but the answer precedes you.  That stench does not become a member of the royal family, dear sister.  Neither does being an advocate for the cattle who cower behind you.”

“Nor does being passed around to your lieutenants as a prize for a job well done; yet it happened.  You made me a slave to your sadistic will long ago.  So now,” Mosa swung her arms wide into the air and turned to face those behind her, “I serve these people, not you.”

Hastelloy couldn’t understand the words since they were spoken in the Sigma language, but Mosa’s turning around was her check to see if it was time for her display of godly power.  Hastelloy looked down river and saw no signs of a change.  The time was not right so he shook his head slowly from side to side.

Mosa turned back around to face Pharaoh with a determined glare.  “My god demands your answer.  Will you free the slaves?”

“I am the living god,” Pharaoh shouted.  Paying no attention to the smell, he brought his face an inch away from Mosa’s and said sternly, “I answer only to Anubis, he who granted me my power and divinity.  Now get this rabble out of my sight.” 

Pharaoh stepped back and addressed the crowd in a booming voice.  “You have a monument to build for Anubis; get to work or suffer the consequences.”

With a cool level tone, Mosa delivered her confident retort.  “If you don’t heed my god’s command, it is you who will suffer.  Eight plagues will befall your people if you fail to comply, each more devastating than the last.  First the river will become poison.  Next frogs will infest the land.  Then gnats and flies will envelop the city and all the livestock will be exterminated.”

Pharaoh began to laugh uncontrollably at the absurd threats. 

Mosa continued undisturbed, “The fifth plague will cause everyone to suffer incurable boils and sores on their bodies.  Next a storm of fire and hail will devastate the land, followed by perpetual darkness that will drain the life out of all living things.  Finally a swarm of locust will descend upon the city and devour whatever remains.  This is the promise of my god if you do not free his people from bondage.”

Pharaoh continued laughing as he turned around and approached the water’s edge.  While he began to disrobe in preparation for his bath Mosa glanced at Hastelloy, which he was very happy to see.  The change was upon them so he nodded his head up and down vigorously.

“I wouldn’t get in that water,” Mosa shouted with great concern.

Pharaoh turned around to face her one last time, “Perhaps you’re right, sister.  The necessity for you to bath is far more urgent than my own.”  He gestured with his hand toward the water.  “Please, ladies first.”

“I wouldn’t put one foot in that poison,” she said with surprise and horror in her voice.

Pharaoh turned toward the river in time to see a tide of blood red sludge flow upstream, against the current, and replace the clear waters that were there moments before.  He stumbled backward in shock and tripped over his own feet, falling to the ground in the process.

The putrid smell of rotten eggs hit the onlookers like a falling boulder.  Mosa didn’t react to the stench at all, which made sense to Hastelloy since the aroma was probably an improvement over her prior surroundings.  She moved forward and grabbed Pharaoh under the armpit and lifted him to his feet.

“Neferhotep,” Mosa said addressing her brother by his given name.  “Please; release the slaves.  One way or another my God’s command will be done.  The only question remaining is how much your people will suffer until you set aside your lust for power and comply.”

“Out of respect for your God, I won’t kill you where you stand.” Pharaoh said through gritted teeth.  His nostrils flared as he fought to contain his anger.  “Anubis will overcome this . . . treachery,” he said defiantly.

Pharaoh shook off Mosa’s touch and yelled for all to hear.  “I hereby disown this woman and cast her down as a common slave to be worked and whored like any other.”  He then looked Mosa directly in the eyes and said quietly, “Now get out of my sight, before I do something unkind.”

Mosa said nothing, turned, and briskly walked toward the slave quarters.  The crowd soon followed amid a buzz of discussions about what they just witnessed.

Hastelloy joined his other three crew members on their way back to the tent.  “I think he took it rather well don’t you?”

“That must have been one enormous eruption to deposit that much silt and ash into the sea.  So much so that it rushed up river against the water flow,” Valnor commented.

“According to my readings, the tidal backflow will extend almost 500 miles upstream.  The bloody water will be here for the better part of a week before getting washed back out to sea,” Hastelloy instructed.  “That’ll be more than enough time for our God to work his magic.”