Singularity_The Labours of Iktis_Book 1_A Space Opera begin Read online

  Life had other plans for him.

  Frozen Stage

  Puntshó was traveling in interplanetary space for the first time, under commander Marceu's orders, and was about to tackle a fairly rare task, which seemed simple and uncomplicated. He'd arrive to the new station with the second group, which included the bulk of the engineers and other technicians who would be responsible for docking the station with the ships that would soon arrive in waves. They were about fifty passengers, not counting the crew of the Daedalus "Bushido" ship, in which they were travelling.

  The first group, called the "on-start up", had arrived two weeks before and communications stated that the station's central nodes were functioning remarkably well; so they were awaiting for the engineers' arrival to begin working on the final assembly.

  Puntshó had asked to travel with this group, as he wanted to have at least a few days to look around and prepare his job as security chief, before the police arrived. He thought it'd be a quiet week, which would allow him to introduce himself to the commanders and crew; before officially taking office.

  He was actually trying to establish routines; something that took him some time and he didn't want to seem lost or undecided to his men once his tasks began. He also needed to pick the perfect table at one of the two station bars, as he wanted to breakfast every day watching the gas giant; at least until force of habit rid that planetary scene from its aura of mystery and exoticism, which he felt from the first moment he was assigned to that mission.

  Puntshó hadn't been in space much, having served mostly in attack and rescue command missions; and he longed to see the wonders of the infinite cosmos with his own eyes. He wanted to witness the daily evolution of the planets and get lost in distant scenarios, imagining how it would be to stand within those clouds or how it'd feel to fly alone in a manoeuvring suit between the rock and ice fields that that composed those beautiful rings. It was a childish excitement and Puntshó knew it, but at the same time he didn't want that enthusiasm to fade too soon.

  The journey had been long and boring. Though they travelled in a fast ship, it took them nearly six months to arrive to the Saturn system and during that time the entire staff had to fulfil certain preparatory tasks. The engineers and technicians attended classes and assembled circuits while Puntshó devoted himself to the observation and documentation of all the planets they passed; using the powerful telescopes he found in the ship's hull. The scheduled activities only took four hours of their days, and the rest of the time the crew took turns to use the common facilities, such as the dining room and cargo holds where a three-on-three basketball league was organized, this was the engineers' favourite leisure activity. Puntshó didn't participate in any team, and only attended the last games, in the late afternoon, after perusing the future station's personnel files, an activity he'd perform after lunch, sitting next to one of the few windows in the dining room.

  Finally, a couple of weeks before arriving, they were able to see the gas giant in all its splendour; and it grew larger as they approached it. The day before the end of the trip, one of the engineers pointed out a bright spot that stood away from the rings' orbit to Puntshó.

  “See that bright spot to the left of the rings, Chief?”

  “Yeah, a moon?”

  “Our moon, chief! That is the station we'll call home. What do you think?”

  “I'll tell you when we arrive, now I only have eyes for Saturn.”

  “Yes... It is enthralling...”

  “What a word for a technician!”

  “Hey! Don't be insensitive, Chief. Technicians also have hearts.”

  “Yes, full of pulleys and gears.”

  “I've written a poem about asynchronous motors. Want to hear it?”

  “No! No way.”

  And both stared at each other intently for a few seconds before breaking into laughter.

  Immediate problems

  The manoeuvres for docking on the new structure were much simpler and comfortable than Puntshó had expected. In less than an hour the "Bushido" had been secured, internal pressures had been stabilized and the floodgates had opened allowing travellers to disembark after the long journey. Everyone disembarked and touched the station for the first time. They were told to wait to be allocated to their dormitories so they could settle in before beginning the following day's activities.

  Another ship had docked on the opposite node in the spaceport, the "Alabama", a cargo ship with a small crew of only seven people. The two crews met in the central port area and introduced themselves, casually chatting, even though many had met during the flight.

  Two station personnel approached the crowd at the spaceport and called for attention. They had to identify the newcomers and assign them to a cabin, or community room, to settle in. So while one called out a name, his companion would tell the person were to go, and then they would proceed to the next one.

  Puntshó waited, almost hiding behind the group, and observing their faces and attitudes. In a mechanical and unconscious act, a result of his work as police, he began to mentally compare the faces with the pictures and reports he'd studied during the months of travel. A voice he knew withdrew him from his abstraction.

  “Chief Blade!” he heard someone call from one of the arrival platforms entry halls.

  He immediately recognized engineer chief Oscar Pachacuti, a skinny South American who'd arrived with the first group and who was now headed steadily towards Puntshó. He didn't know him personally, but they'd video-chatted several times in recent days. The engineer looked extremely concerned. When he arrived to where Puntshó was, he shook his hand and said quietly, trying not to be heard by anyone around.

  “Welcome to S.O.S. chief. I'm delighted to have you here.”

  “Thank you, Oscar. But, what's worrying you?”

  “We have a security emergency situation on board and we need you to take action and start an investigation.”

  “What's it about? Is the station in danger?”

  “We don't think so, at least not immediately. As you know we arrived two weeks ago and besides from the ship that transported the personnel, we also brought supply ships. Five hours ago while we emptied one of those ship's cargo bays... I don't know how to explain this better… We found a body.”

  “Oh! I see,” said Puntshó surprised “An accident? Is there anyone missing?”

  “No, of course not. We would've reported that days ago if that were the case. The body seems to have been there for several months, since we left Earth, and travelled frozen in the cargo bay.”

  “Have you removed the body?”

  “No, the doctor only confirmed the death with non-invasive medical scanners and the station commander decided it was better to wait until you arrived.”

  “Well, he was right. Please take me to where they found the body and tell the doctor that I'll need him in the cargo bay in a few minutes.”

  Without another word, they pushed through the small crowd that filled the landing platform.

  What a way to start my work at the station thought Puntshó while he attempted to make sense of the information he'd just received.

  Experiment

  Puntshó was sitting in his small station office, when he received a message from the doctor telling him that the DNA comparison for the samples taken at the crime scene and crewman Campbell didn't match; confirming the conclusion Puntshó had already reached and dismissing Campbell as a suspect.

  He thanked the doctor and then decided that if the crewman wasn't a suspect, then he could help with the investigation. He sent him a simple text message, asking him to join him at the spaceport deck bar for a personal conversation.

  Twenty minutes later, Puntshó awaited at a table by the small window that looked out into the darkness of space. Campbell arrived accompanied by the sergeant who stood guard at his door and with a rather annoyed face.

  "Am I still a suspect, chief?"

  “No, you can rest easy for now. Please, sit.”

&nb
sp; "Could you then remove the armed guard you have on my door?"

  “Oh yeah. Of course,” said Puntshó, and then kindly addressed the sergeant. “Sergeant, cancel guard on crewman Campbell, please. I'll take over from now.”

  The sergeant nodded slightly and left the bar, headed to the bridge.

  "Now that that's resolved,” said Pushtó condescendingly, “I need to ask for your help.”

  "Don't think that by treating me nicely, you'll make me fall into a trap. I want you to confirm that I'm no longer a suspect to you.”

  “To me?”

  “Yes, your opinion is very important, chief. And your recommendation to the commander will be greatly appreciated on my part.”

  “Ok, let's work together and see what kind of recommendation I can make to your superiors in the end. I have looked into your past Mr Campbell and saw that you've been disciplined by your superiors, at least twice.”

  “I'm a civil engineer who works for the army, I don't strictly stick to military discipline; and the project managers, senior military officers, follow sinuous and aimless ways when it comes to getting results I can only get if I do things my way.”

  “I see you've always been rehired due to your undeniable technical ability and specialized knowledge.”

  “I'm proud of my career and I'm not very flexible with meaningless orders...”

  "Believe me, if I tell you that I know from experience how difficult it is to follow orders and stick to military discipline. Especially if you're a civilian auxiliary. But now I need you to help me, because only you've seen and examined the strange chemical compound we believe was used at the moment of the crime; and only you, with your technical skills, can find the possible uses they're trying to give it in this station. Will you help me? Will you work with me?”

  “Despite of how you've treated me in the last few hours I now understand there's a potential threat and I wouldn't like, just because of some unknown fanatics, to become a man-sized ice cube orbiting Saturn. Anyway, I already completed the investigations you requested.”

  “Ah, we should've started there.”

  “First I wanted to understand my situation, chief.”

  “What did you find?”

  “These types of compounds are used in very specific experiments, based on the reaction I myself was able to observe, as it stays in liquid state even above zero degrees, evaporating slowly; which would explain why it remained as a liquid between the floor grates, in which artificial gravity panels maintain a very low temperature. But if it's heated to more than twelve or fifteen degrees Celsius, as when I rubbed it on my hand, a very fast cooling reaction takes place, reaching a temperature of thirty below zero almost immediately as a first reaction. But then it continues to cool as the heat applied increases. It's a self-regulating compound with an almost absolute cooling effect. It could reach a minus two hundred degrees temperature if heated enough. This effect explains the intense cold burns I suffered on the back of my hand.”

  “So it's a type of compound that serves to cool down very quickly in an almost self-programmed way. But what possible uses could it have?”

  “For the artificial gravity panels, where we injected a lot of electrical energy into a self-powered cycle, we used a similar but much less sophisticated cooling compound. Instead we maintain powerful magnetic fields to direct energy flows. This makes our artificial gravity technology rough and difficult to install. Now think of a compound that could both serve to cool down and transmit a tremendous amount of electricity. This could be achieved by adding a certain amount of suspended particles from some superconducting metal to the compound, which would be bombarded with an electric charge and which would transmit electricity almost instantaneously and almost without resistance. A huge amount of energy could be directed through a central element creating a king of electron gun.”

  “You mean: they're trying to develop a weapon.”

  “The problem is that it generates artificial gravity, which resonates with the gravitational fields of the place where the experiment is developed. There's a story among the engineers which I can't confirm. Fifteen years ago this type of experiment was attempted in a secret Russian laboratory, located in the second basement of an industrial complex around Moscow. The idea was to generate this kind of focused energy by directing several of these 'guns' to a single focal point.”

  “What for?”

  “They were trying to create a wormhole. A tiny controlled black hole.”

  “Are you saying they've tried using this technology to create a black hole? What for?”

  “In a few words chief. They were trying to create a controlled passage into a different part of space.”

  "That's ancient science fiction, Mr Campbell.”

  “It seems so, but it's the only reference I've found where this sort of compound is used.”

  “And how did the experiment end?”

  “According to one of my professors in 'petit committee', they increased the energy little by little, obtaining a small time scale space rupture effect and then then increased the energy until they reached a fifty percent scale.”

  “Did it work?”

  “Nobody knows. The few video footage some of the building's security cameras broadcasted prior to the disaster, showed how an intense light invading the upper floors. All the electronic devices hundreds of meters around the building stopped working due to an intense electro-magnetic wave and the whole building collapsed.”

  “What a mess!”

  “Thirty people, including scientists and technicians, died in that tragedy. Only the guards working their shift at the entrance survived. Investigations state that a huge part of the basement simply disappeared, leaving the upper floors without foundation and leading the whole building to collapse.”

  “What's your opinion about the possible use of something like this at this station?”

  “However powerful an electrons beam is, or several, they would need to be fired very accurately and in combination to cause some real damage to the station. I'm inclined to think of a team who's trying to reproduce the black hole effect. I'm almost certain.”

  "What makes you so sure, Mr Campbell?" said Puntshó surprised

  “The equipment needed to generate this effect isn't very large and the electricity required can be extracted from the generator of any of our spaceships. But the main element is gravity. We're in a distant orbit, far away from the gaseous giant, within a few hours any of the ships parked in this station can move away to a point in space where planetary gravity would have no effect and by turning on the device they could create conditions they didn't have on land.”

  “But, if it's just a simple scientific experiment; doesn't it seem excessive to assassinate a possible witness?”

  “It all depends on who and why they're trying to create this kind of effect. Discovering that is your job, Chief Blade.”

  Puntshó bid farewell to Campbell, but asked to see him again the following day for another conversation, once he'd have time to contrast his inquiries.

  “One more thing, Rick. Can you give me your opinion on which of the ships stationed at the ports would be the most adequate to carry out this experiment?”

  "If you give me a few hours I'll try to come to a conclusion, but you need to understand, this is just a theory."

  "Okay, I'll see you this time tomorrow, if that's all right."

  Superfluous clues

  Puntshó said good-bye to Campbell, asking him to make some discreet inquiries to his colleagues to try to find out if any of them were aware of this type of technology.

  He left the bar and walked aimlessly and pensively down the aisles for almost an hour. He needed to connect his thoughts.

  Until then he only knew for certain that he had a victim and that procedures were quite chaotic at the station. With such vulnerable systems any kind of attack could do a lot of damage. He couldn't be sure that the killer was at the station, but if he connected all the pieces, the most logical conc
lusion would be that someone wanted to try out some sort of new secret technological prototype in space, far away from Earth, and that he was willing to kill to achieve it.

  He couldn't find a reason for the whole thing and didn't have any other leads to follow; so he decided to comply with the formal requirement of checking the containers that had been in the cargo bay where the murder occurred, and which were now in the communications area, just to keep busy and make sure he didn't miss anything.

  He approached the front door of the area where the long distance instrumental communications complex was being installed, and which was also being used for radio wave exploration of the gaseous giant and its moons.

  A man was sitting with his back to the door on the other side of the huge room, in front of a screen that seemed to float in front of him and typing feverishly. Otherwise, the place looked deserted. Piles of containers were stacked at the right of the entrance.

  Puntshó stepped into the room and cleared his throat to signal his presence. The workstation technician was startled for a moment, then he stopped typing, got up and, rather seriously, greeted the newcomer.

  “Good afternoon, Chief Blade. How can I help you?” Puntshó was surprised that the technician knew his name, because he himself had some difficulties remembering the man before him. However, he believed to remember his combat pilot alias.

  "Eh... Stingray? Right?”

  “Yes, my name is Samuel Whitaby if you'd prefer, although I prefer to be called Stingray.”

  “Good, are you in charge of running this section?”

  “I am. But until tomorrow night, when the 'San Francisco' arrives with the rest of the technicians, I'll be the only one here.”

  "So you've been here since the first group arrived?"