But when the Free Nation U.S.’s space- and surface-based systems detected the approach of what they named Near-Earth Object Keanu, Aggregate cyberwarfare cells concluded that a visit was likely to the ninety-ninth percentile.
And that a visit with military potential was in the seventieth percentile.
Further, the Aggregate’s political cells declared that even if a NEO Keanu–origin visit would necessarily target the Indian subcontinent, a direct military strike against the North American continent, specifically Free Nation U.S., was low probability.
ANALYSIS: The visit, no matter how “peaceful,” was quickly rated as a potential military strike. So Aggregate defensive cells activated their links to Free Nation U.S. moribund anti-missile systems as a precautionary measure, while offensive units revived surface and subsurface naval systems, a process that took substantially longer, deploying them to the South Atlantic and to the Pacific.
In accordance with decisions by the affected Aggregates, it was determined that a return to Earth by NEO Keanu entities was not in the best interests of the formation, so offensive means were authorized.
ADDITIONAL NARRATIVE: Cyberwarfare cell prediction B was correct: On 13 April 2040 UDT, inhabitants of NEO Keanu attempted a visit to the Indian subcontinent instead of an overt strike (though defensive systems remain on alert for the possibility that the NEO Keanu entities plan both a visit and a hostile strike).
A subsurface naval vessel with a host crew was in position to launch a weapon at the Keanu vehicle, and did so under prior orders from the Aggregate Iron.
The strike was not direct; the vehicle survived. The units involved have voluntarily restructured themselves and the human hosts have been eradicated.
CONCLUSION: This vital operational military data was rated no higher than level three because of lack of success.
Four seconds elapsed from the moment Carbon-143 received the operational military data and reached her conclusion.
AFTERACTION: Carbon-143 removed herself from the fabrication-assembly facility at Site A, deferring her involvement in the monitoring of mobile-vehicle propulsion quality control, to protests from Carbon-144 and Carbon-145.
She physically stepped into what another human counterpart would call a “sunny Arizona afternoon,” and approached Carbon-14, her immediate hierarch, to encourage the swift receipt and processing of the Indian strike message.
Carbon-14 responded: “Tentative agreement, pending response to this query: Why?”
And Carbon-143 answered, “Failure of the strike increases the probability of a reaction from the Keanu-origin entities. Chance of success—and likely damage to the Project—is now higher.”
Carbon-14 processed, then responded: “Mathematical probability analysis?”
Carbon-143 could only respond: “No. Nonstandard emotion-based judgment.”
“On that basis, this request is denied. Similar requests will result in removal from quality control and data hierarchy and total reprogramming. Persistence could even result in recycling.”
Carbon-143 returned to her place inside the facility. She was aware of unwanted data—images and sudden surges in her electrosomatic web—that made her momentarily inefficient at her task. It took, in fact, almost twenty seconds for her to return to optimum efficiency.
She reran the context, analysis, narrative, conclusion, and especially action. The same electrosomatic spike occurred again.
Her human counterparts would have called it “frustration.”
It isn’t the flight that kills or even stresses an astronaut. What really gets you is the bullshit they put you through after landing.
ANONYMOUS ASTRONAUT, 2011
RACHEL
Once the initial greetings and introductions were complete, Rachel stood back and let Taj and the rescue team prepare to take Adventure’s crew to Yelahanka’s infirmary.
“I would like the Sentry and Mr. Toutant inside the rescue truck,” Taj said.
“Okay,” Rachel said. She was still a bit dazed by the landing and the sight of Taj and Tea—Tea! The pretty, smart, almost socially hopeless woman her father had turned to in his widowerhood . . . to find her here, married to Taj!
It was one too many shocks.
In their limited contacts, Rachel had made it clear to ISRO that she would defer to them on where the returnees would be taken, and how, and in what order. But little else.
“We would rather not advertise the presence of an alien,” Taj added, unnecessarily.
Now that the euphoria of arrival had passed, the other Adventure travelers seemed to be as numb as Rachel. Only Yahvi seemed to have any life to her, as she kept looking at the sky and at what must have been, for her, magical distances.
“Feeling okay?” Rachel said, taking her daughter’s hand.
“Weird, but okay.”
Zeds and Toutant climbed into the rescue truck. Even though it had twice the height of the ambulance and Jeep, it seemed to be a bit of a squeeze for the Sentry. Wing Commander Kaushal rode with them.
Rachel, Pav, and Yahvi boarded the Jeep with Tea and found themselves waiting for Taj.
Before the convoy could leave the landing site, there had been a scramble of luggage and equipment. The Adventure travelers each had a small bag—toiletries and a change of clothes. (Yahvi had insisted on bringing Sanjay’s bag down from the cabin.) “What is the problem?” Pav said.
Rachel knew why. “Soyuz landing,” she told her husband. He made a face, but his father nodded. “When I returned from ISS in June 2014, landing in Kazakhstan, many personal items went missing.”
It was pleasing to Rachel to know that even with the quasi-emergency nature of the landing, Taj would not allow Adventure to be ransacked. Before departing the landing site, he insisted that they seal the hatch. Of course, as with any customs shipment, those seals could be broken by eager parties undaunted by legalities.
So Taj had encouraged Pav and Toutant to actually lock the hatch.
“Do you trust these guards?” Pav asked his father, as the Jeep finally started rolling away.
“They aren’t the usual sort,” Taj said. “We did a special screening.”
Rachel wondered what that might involve, and how any of that would stop someone from being bribed.
No matter; she could do nothing but trust Taj and ISRO.
As they drove through the empty streets of Yelahanka village, she noticed Taj repeatedly glancing over at his son—now a grown man in his thirties.
“Why don’t you ask him?” Rachel said.
“Ask what?” Taj said, surprised by the question.
“All of the things you want to ask him.”
Taj smiled, a rare event from what Rachel recalled. She knew he must have a thousand things he wanted to know. Surely he wanted to embrace his son, his son’s new wife, and his granddaughter.
But the streets were narrow and the task of getting to safety had priority. So Taj had to settle for brief eye contact and nervous smiles. Rachel sympathized, even as she and Pav and especially Yahvi craned and looked around like tourists.
Pav shouted one question to Taj: “What about Mother?”
“She died ten years ago,” Taj said, likely horrified that he had to deliver the news in this manner. Rachel recalled that Taj had separated from his wife, Amitra, Pav’s mother, shortly before the Brahma mission in 2019. It had been big gossipy news in the astronaut community of the Johnson Space Center, where any “off-nominal” personnel matter was scrutinized like a Dead Sea Scroll. “Ovarian cancer,” Taj said.