“Thanks, Ripley. Keep watching.”
“Always, Commander.”
Mitch exhaled. “So much for our guys on the ground always having our back — I’d better check with Russ; see what else he can tell us.”
Mitch placed the headset on and switched to external. The computer would use NASA’s DSN — Deep Space Network — to send signals back and forth between the Orlando and NASA. Luckily, they were close to home at 333 miles up, and would endure no time lag. He opened a channel.
“This is Commander Mitch Granger onboard the Space Shuttle Orbiter Orlando. Russ, are you there, over?”
Mitch only had to wait a few seconds. As he expected, Russell Burrows seemed to be there night and day, every day. When they were in space, Russ being on-deck was as dependable and regular as clockwork.
“Howdy Mitch, great looking morning. How’s it look from up there?”
Mitch smiled, hearing his friend, engineer, and top dog at NASA Control. “Another beautiful day over the US of A, buddy, and not a cloud in the sky.” He looked briefly over at Gerry’s screen. “It’d probably look even better if we didn’t have something in our front yard. What’s going on, Russ? We got a small bogey in quadrant ninety-five, coming out of the void at about 224 miles per second.”
“Hi, Mitch.”
Her voice made Mitch smile. “Hi, back at you.”
Anne’s voice made him feel homesick all over again. Doctor Anne Peterson was one of the NASA ground technicians for the space program. She was also a trained biologist and medical doctor. She and Mitch had been dating for a year, and Russ had let her stay on-deck while Mitch was in orbit.
“Miss you,” Anne said softly, and suddenly Mitch wanted to be home more than anything in the world.
“And me you, beautiful.” He wanted to tell her he loved her, but knew the team would give him hell for weeks if he did. “Can’t wait to see you again.”
“You two love birds finished?” Russ had a smile in his voice.
“For now.” Mitch grinned back.
“We can see your bogey, Mitch. Been tracking it since last night when it swung out from behind the moon. We originally expected it to pass you by with over 1,000 miles to spare, and no need to even mention it,” Russ said. “Small, but heavy in trace metals and other composites that are unknown — could be meteorite, but doesn’t seem on any sort of minor or major elliptical orbit. Maybe bumped out of the Kuiper Belt by an asteroid.”
“Originally expected?” Mitch waited.
“Yeah, we received updated information just a few minutes back.” Russ mumbled to someone in the background and then he whistled. “Looks like it’ll come a little closer to you guys than we first estimated.”
“How close? Ripley confirmed it’d miss us.” Mitch stared out the cockpit windows to the quadrant from where he knew the object was approaching.
“Close, real close.” There was a muffled conversation again before Russ came back. “Has Beth finished her work in the bay? Might be a good idea for her to pack it up and lock it down; just until this little guy has said goodbye to you.”
There was a clicking sound and more muffled conversation, and Mitch could imagine Russ Burrows snapping his fingers and calling for more data, before he came back on the line.
“Our calculations are that it’s still gonna pass by, but now within 120 miles of your position — give you guys a bit of a skinny.” Russ turned serious. “Better strap in, just in case we have any more deviation and you need to give Orlando a little bit of a kick. Be skimming by your orbit in thirty-six minutes. Roger that, Mitch?”
“Roger that, Russ, over.” Mitch shifted in his seat. He could read his friend like a book. The man came across as laid-back as you like, but underneath it Mitch could sense a little tension. Russ was worried about something — maybe the proximity, or maybe something else. And if Russ was worried, then he sure should be. Any more deviation, he had said. Since when do astral objects keep deviating?
Mitch started to open all the sensors, and spoke without turning. “Gerry, can you go help get Beth all squared away and back in her chair.”
“You got it.” Gerry unbuckled and floated backwards, pulling himself around on the chair edge, hitting the door-open button on the wall that separated the cockpit from the rear bulkhead door of the cockpit, and then torpedoing down the center of the cargo bay area to where Beth was working.
Mitch turned back to his screens. “Ripley, give me a constant data feed on our bogey.”
“Presenting now, commander.” Ripley sent the data directly to his MEDS screens and it scrolled up before his eyes. “Commander, I have detected an interesting anomaly.”
“Huh?” Mitch’s brows came together. “What is it?”
“There seems to be a rhythmic recurring emission from the object.” Ripley’s voice was objective as always.
“Feed it.” Mitch listened as Ripley pushed and then boosted the sound to his headset. He closed his eyes and concentrated — there was a faint heartbeat-like pulse, and something else that could have been a low hum or buzz, like the sound a swarm of bees bedding down for the night.
He opened his eyes. “What do you make of it?”
“Unknown, Commander.” Ripley paused.
“Hypothesize,” he urged.
She complied. “High probability of background interference.”
“Other probabilities?” He waited.
“Solar signal distortion, radio wave bounce, acceleration flow, other signal, type unknown,” she intoned.
“Okay.” He listened for a few more moments, feeling a small twist of unease in his gut. “Cut transmission.”
Immediately the sound was shut off, and he breathed out. “High probability of background interference, huh?”
Curiosity got the better of him. “Let me hear it again, and amplify.”
Ripley restarted the sound, and Mitch tilted his head, listening — clicks, weird scratching, and a dull, liquid throb, like a heartbeat. It gave him the freaking creeps.
“Hey.”
“Jesus.” Mitch jumped in his seat.
“Easy there.” Gerry grinned and floated back into his seat. “Beth will be done in five.” He buckled in. “So what is it?”
“What it is, is just plain weird.” Mitch switched the external sounds over to Gerry.
Gerry placed a hand to his earpiece and concentrated. “Holy hell. Interference maybe?” He frowned. “Or some sort of acceleration flow?”
“That’s what Ripley suggested. But like I said, weird.” Mitch sat back. “The good news is it’s small enough to totally burn up if it punches into the atmosphere.”
“Commander Granger, come back.”
Mitch touched his ear mic. “Go ahead, Russ.”
“Look, ah, this might sound a little weird, but…”
“Weird, huh?” Mitch turned to roll his eyes at Gerry.
“Yeah, this little guy seems to have altered its trajectory.” Russ responded, still cheery. “It’s still just tumbling around up there, but now seems to be course correcting. Trajectory risk programs say it’s now on collision course with you.”
“Magnetic?” Mitch sat straighter.
“That’s what we’re thinking, iron-based composition and all. So we’re gonna back you guys up a few hundred miles,” Russ said. “Better get Beth in right now, and then we’ll give you a little bump.”
“Roger that.” Mitch turned. “Go get her in, Gerry, pronto. And don’t let her argue with you.”
“You got it, boss.” Gerry was already shooting back to the hatch door again.