Look What I Found

"Docking in twelve minutes," pilot Aaron Breedlove announced.

The crew of the Argonaut was in their final approach to the orbiting gargantuan Hercules. Mars was quite large in the viewport and they would soon be docking with the "warehouse" ship.

"Tomaston reports a problem in the docking tube Commander," Breedlove said. "She says she needs you down there."

"Tell her I'm on my way. Keep your eyes on the flight trajectory. I want this docking to go smoothly. If any problems come up, don't hesitate to go manual and abort. We can be back around in sixty minutes for another try."

"I'm on it."

Commander Chamberlain found Engineer Tomaston cursing at a keyboard as she threw her hands up in exasperation.

"We've got trouble, Ian," she said. "We've got a software problem with the coupling mechanism. Without the system on-line, we're going to have to do it manually."

"What about reload & reboot?" Chamberlain asked.

"I've tried that once and now I get no interface at all. The thing is locked up big time," Tomaston said.

"We'll just have to do it manually then."

Hitting the com switch he called to Breedlove on the Flight Deck.

"Aaron, we're having trouble with the docking software. We're going to have to do the clamping manually. You'll have to try to keep us close to Hercules longer if we're going to operate the mechanism by hand."

"Affirmative! Two minutes to docking Commander." The slight raise in his voice betrayed Breedlove's nervousness.

"Okay Aaron. We've got this end. Just take us in nice and smooth," Chamberlain replied.

"I hope he's going to be okay up there. He seemed antsy about the docking when we went over it this morning," Tomaston said.

"It's not an easy procedure, Daphne. I'm sure he's a bit anxious. After all there's a first time for everything."

Breedlove was sweating and felt like he had ants crawling all over him. He counted down the time until docking.

"Thirty seconds."

"Fifteen."

Hands shaking, Breedlove began the delicate adjustments that would align the docking tube on the Argonaut with the hatch on the orbiting Hercules. In the innumerable drills he had been perfect. Why did it seem so much more difficult now?

The ship began to drift during the manual clamping procedure and Breedlove punched at the thruster adjustments to compensate. Accidentally hitting the full power setting, Breedlove propelled the Argonaut toward the Hercules ramming it against the curved wall of the huge cylindrical ship, crushing the docking tube, and puncturing the Argonaut's hull.

A bubble of air blew out of the Argonaut carrying the two astronauts with it. They passed in front of the foward view port where Breedlove watched in horror as they struggled briefly against the vacuum, then became still.

"Oh, my God! What have I done?" he cried. The image of their contorted bodies hanging in space would haunt him forever. The glittering ice crystals of frozen atmosphere formed a cloud around the scene. Combined with his tears it seemed as if it was happening in a dream.

Then, Breedlove saw that the air pressure on Argonaut read zero on all but the Flight Deck.

"Total decompression. I've killed the Argonaut too."

The space-com radio had been the last addition to the ship's outfitting. The technology was new, but would allow near instant radio communication between the ship and Earth over the vast distances of space. Breedlove was glad to have it now.

"Argonaut to Mission Control. This is Lieutenant Breedlove. Mission status critical. Accident in docking and transfer. Chamberlain and Tomaston ... lost. I ... I ... I can't dock. The Flight Deck is holding, but the rest of the ship is depressurized."

"Telemetry confirms your report, Aaron," said Mission control. " Are you okay?"

"I'm not sure," Breedlove lied. "We had a problem with the docking software and the Commander and Tomaston were going to do the clamping manually. The docking was underway when the Argonaut lurched toward Hercules. They were in the tube when it was destroyed. Damage has not been limited to the docking port. The ship's hull integrity has been permanently compromised, leaving me with about six hours of life support."

"Roger, Aaron, understand your problem," responded the Flight Director. "You'll have to EVA to Hercules. Hercules appears healthy on our system monitors. Get over there and we will be out of immediate danger. We'll check out the data we have here and get back to you shortly."

Rigging up a thruster device from a small bottle of compressed oxygen, he knew he could at least guide himself a bit if he were off course on the 20-meter voyage. When all was ready Breedlove cycled the emergency airlock and gasped for breath, as the panorama of the Martian surface and the enormous Hercules lay stretched out before him. Praying a prayer to a God he had not spoken to in years, he leapt.

The magnetic handles held in his hands affixed him to the airlock door of Hercules and Breedlove let out the breath he had not realized he was holding. As he keyed in the airlock cycle code into the Hercules door, he felt like he was being watched or judged. The anxiety he had fought all of his life, was becoming stronger. No doubt the enormity of his situation was causing some paranoia, he thought. "Get that out of your head, mister!" he heard his father say. Only when the door closed behind him and the air was once again pumped into the chamber did he relax.

Hercules was exactly as it should have been, with every piece of equipment in place. The ship had been sent from Earth over a year ago and held all of the necessary equipment for their planned landing.

"A landing that would not take place now." Breedlove thought.

Making his way in the zero gravity to the Hercules control room was no problem. The ship had already been brought to life before the accident. Lights were burning, and the life support system had the ship at a comfortable 70 degrees.

Once in the control room, Breedlove reestablished contact with Mission Control and set up shop on the new ship. His home for God knows how long.

"Mission Control to Hercules," came the call from Earth.

"Breedlove here, go ahead."

"Aaron, we're working on a return plan using the resources available on Hercules," said the Mission Chief. "You are in no immediate danger and there is a possibility that we can put something together that will get you home. It may not be the quickest or most comfortable ride, but it ends up on Earth, and that can't be all bad."

Their original plan had been to explore the planet's southern pole, but had been revised to exploring a nearby area that had been the source of metallic reflections picked up by the Hercules' cameras.

In the southern Martian summer, the carbon dioxide ice on the South Pole melts away, leaving only a core of water ice. It was this ice that many felt could hold a clue to whether there was ever, or could ever, be life on Mars. Hercules' cameras had picked up the reflections from the surface during routine orbital observations. As the ice melted, the reflections became stronger. Whatever was their source could hold the key to unlocking Mars' secrets.

The possibility of being the first to discover life off of Earth was what had drawn him to volunteer for the mission in the first place. This window of opportunity, when Mars was at perihelic, would only be open for a short while and would not recur for seventeen years. At next opposition, in just over two years, Mars would not be so close to the sun, and the polar cap would not melt down as much. There would not be such a golden opportunity again.

"Ruined." Breedlove said.

"I've killed two people and destroyed a mission costing billions. I'm not going to be able to get back. Goddammit!" He cursed at himself.

"How stupid can you be?"

Breedlove occupied his time with the planned pre-flight procedures that he had been trained to perform while on Earth. The lander would set down as close to the edge of the ice cap as possible. He had only to select the exact area, and begin final preparations.

The first lander was fueled and all systems were green for launch. Breedlove had not heard what the Flight Director's plan for return would be, but he was sure that his excursion to the surface would not be a part of it.

With that in mind, he disabled the remote piloting systems on the lander. There would be no stopping him if he wanted to go. Likewise, the lander's launch system was reprogrammed to respond only to commands from the lander itself or the Hercules control room.

He thought: "Why am I doing this? I could try to return to Earth and hope that the Space Administration will cover up. Most likely, if I make it home, my piloting error will haunt me forever. I'll be drummed out. Ruined. Disgraced." Each succeeding dishonor guiding him toward the course he would finally take.

His father had been a very successful businessman before retiring. The elder Breedlove had built a sizeable corporation through shrewd business decisions, forced takeovers, and merciless practices. There was not a single employee at any level of his empire that did not fear him. Not a single member of their family had gone unscathed when they did not live up to his high expectations.

Breedlove remembered finishing second in his class in high school meant that his father had a "business obligation" to attend to. He later found out that his father had not attended the graduation because Aaron had not been valedictorian. Finishing third in his class at the Naval Academy would have been the highlight of nearly anyone's scholastic career. This only led him to be derided for not trying hard enough.

When he finally confronted his overbearing father on the issue Mr. Breedlove responded by asking why Aaron had "goofed off" when he saw the pinnacle so close.

"How could you let the family down like that, Aaron? Why don't you have the initiative to be the best at something when it is within your grasp? You are always satisfied to be second or third best. I see that as a weakness son. You should have more pride in yourself than that!"

Aaron had hated and resented his father for this attitude. In the years since his mother had died his father's callous treatment had taken their toll.

"I'll do what I feel is important," he had told his father, "I will make the decisions on my own life and no one else! I couldn't care less what you or anybody else thinks!"

His father would be devastated and humiliated by the news of his failure. Their meeting would be cruel.

"I guess you were right all along," he said quietly to his father. The call came from Earth startling Breedlove from his memories. The message was what he had expected.

"Mission Control to Hercules. Come in Lieutenant".

"Breedlove here".

"Aaron, we've come up with our best option for a return to Earth. Stand by for briefing and transmission of flight data to Hercules main computer."

"Standing by. Hercules computer is ready for transmission", replied the Lieutenant.

"Beginning transmission".

"Aaron, the Flight Director would like to speak to you on the secure channel," said Mission Control.

"Switching over. Go ahead Flight."

"Aaron, this is the Flight Director. I've got some bad news for you. While we may be able to get you back, we are definitely going to have to scrub the mission to do so. We're going to need every bit of fuel available to us. With the Argonaut unable to support life, and no way to dock with either of the landers or Hercules, the trip is going to have to be made using the landers as a two-part ship. As it stands we are planning to have an unmanned ship meet you on the way back. Truthfully, there is a slightly less than even chance that this will work."

The news was about what he had expected, and he appreciated the Flight Director's candor. Breedlove knew that without the Argonaut's huge engines it would be doubtful, at best, that he would return safely. Not being able to dock with her meant that Argonaut could not tow the landers. Not being able to support life meant that he could not fly the ship back at all.

Using the landers meant that a two-month flight became a six-month crawl into darkness, with little hope of survival. They would, no doubt, be able to recover the ship. But a frozen corpse was all that would be left of the Lieutenant.

"Let me have time to review the data and think about this." Breedlove said, and switched off.

In fact, Breedlove already knew what he was going to do. The decision had been made the moment that life was sucked from the bodies of Tomaston and Chamberlain, but it was not until this moment that everything seemed clear. So very, very clear.


July 25, 2018 - 5:00 a.m. UT

Breedlove initiated the launch sequence and floated out and away from Hercules. Within seconds his space-com radio was alive with chatter from distant Earth.

"Aaron! We show that one of the landers is being launched. What's going on there? Breedlove, do you read?" came the panicked voice.

"Breedlove to Mission Control. I read you. I am taking the lander down. I'll be in contact when I reach the surface. Breedlove out". He silenced the radio with a flick of the switch.

The panorama of the Martian surface was at once breathtaking and desolate. This was a planet that had long ago used up its internal fires. Nothing had happened here for ages uncounted. Breedlove was the first to see Olympus Mons with unaided eyes. The gigantic volcano was larger than any that had ever sprang to life on Earth.

The shifting of tectonic plates on the Earth had created strings of islands and ensured that no volcano would ever grow to this gargantuan size. Mars, on the other hand, had but a single plate and simply poured forth it's inner fluids from this mammoth rupture. Since the plate did not shift, Olympus Mons, was the vent for Mars' furnaces.

The thin atmosphere offered little resistance to the flight of the lander. Instruments indicated that the temperature would be between 0øF and 50øF. There was no sign of the dust storms that had been known to completely blanket the southern hemisphere. Conditions could not be better, he thought. Time to see what secrets, if any, Mars was keeping.

"Three minutes to landing." Breedlove said to himself.

The orange-red rocks that he had been flying over turned darker, as he flew over the landscape that had been uncovered by the melting carbon dioxide. The sky, a peach color, was clear and the sun shone brightly.

"God help me", he thought aloud.

Unlike the docking, the touchdown on Mars was uneventful, and exactly like the innumerable simulations he had flown. There were no simulations to practice what would come next.

He switched on the transmitter: "Breedlove to Mission Control, I have arrived on the Martian surface".

"Copy you on the surface."

"That's affirm."

The Capcom in Mission Control coughed into his microphone, then said, "Please try to keep us up to date on all that is happening, and we will try to provide whatever support we can. Are you at the designated landing coordinates?"

"I am at the selected southern polar site. Yes. Conditions are ideal and I should be able to step out within the hour," the Lieutenant replied.

"Our prayers are with you Aaron," was the reply from Earth.

July 25, 2018 - 8:00 a.m. UT

Breedlove switched on his spacesuit's space-com link with Earth. Now Mission Control would be able to follow his every move. They would know what was happening almost as soon as he did. The outer door to the lander's airlock slid open, and Lieutenant Aaron Breedlove became the first human being to step foot on another planet.

"First at something," Breedlove thought to himself. "What would the Old Man think?"

He had thought what he would say when this moment arrived. Like Neil Armstrong's landing on the moon, he had thought of something that would go down in history. Now, nothing came to mind.

"Mission Control, this is Lieutenant Breedlove, I am on the Martian surface", was all he said.

Unloading the gear stowed in the lander's cargo bay took fifteen minutes. Preparing the planet rover was a simple matter of driving it down the ramp and affixing the equipment to its back. He was ready to go.

Being here on the surface of Mars was like being reborn. He felt the tensions and the cares of a lifetime of resentment and feelings of inadequacy fall away. While he was doomed, Breedlove had never felt so alive.

July 26, 2018 - 10:00 a.m. U.T.

The ice field lay only about a hundred meters from where the lander had touched down. The bright sun shone off of it like the reflection from a new car bumper on a sunny day. It seemed new somehow, and filled Breedlove with vigor and anticipation. Looking over it he remembered the winters of his childhood. Indeed, the picture was so familiar that he could almost have believed that he was back on Earth. Only the peach colored sky reminded him of his locale.

The thermometer on his suit registered a semi-comfortable 45ø F. Warmer than he thought it would be. If it were not for the lack of oxygen, Breedlove could have easily gone without the environmental suit he was wearing.

"I'm approaching the area that produced the reflections. The rover is doing very nicely on this ice. I should be there in a few minutes," Breedlove said.

As he made his way across the ice, Breedlove saw a sight that came like a slap in the face. Breedlove stopped the rover and stepped away from it. He staggered back and gasped for breath. There was a very solid "something" protruding from the ice and reaching ten meters above the surface. "Something" was gleaming silver and was just where the Hercules' observations said the reflections had come from.

Before him was the only known thing in creation not made by God or man, and it shone in the sun.

"It's beautiful," he said.

"Flight suggests you move in closer," said Capcom.

What purpose the thing served could only be guessed. There was no outward sign of what it was. Only an in-depth study of the "artifact", as it was now being called, could provide the necessary information that would enable an educated guess.

"Holy Smokin' Jesus!" he gasped. "Breedlove to Mission Control. Are you reading this?"

After a stunned few seconds elapsed they answered. "We see it Aaron. It looks like a tower or silo or something. Can you get more information on it?"

"Will do. I can't believe it. I just can't believe it. What is that son-of-a-bitch?"

Having come 35 million miles, Lieutenant Aaron Breedlove was within ten meters of the greatest mystery any man had ever faced, and he faced it alone.

As Breedlove approached the structure, his heart rate soared, sweat poured down his face and his palms were drenched. Standing within arms reach of the thing, Breedlove tightened the suit's wristlocks and removed his gloves from his hands.

He reached out and touched the monolith. It felt warm and smooth. Placing both hands, palms down, on the surface of the thing, he explored the surface. Nothing. Or almost nothing. Were his hands trembling or did he feel a slight vibration? Was it his pounding heart or did the object have a pulsating rhythm of it's own?

Suddenly, as if in answer to these questions, the object emitted a thumping sound like a giant heart had begun beating. The sound permeated every sense. One felt it at every level. The hammer of Thor would make such a sound.

The artifact had come to life, and it was filled with awesome power. The ice around Breedlove began to tremble and crack. It seemed as if a long sleeping giant had been awakened. Breedlove ran for the rover.


July 26, 2018 - 3:00 p.m. UT

From the safety of the rover, Breedlove could see the ice around the artifact begin to crack up and disappear. It was being broken by the sonic vibration emitted from the shining tower he had uncovered. The resulting water seemed to be absorbed by the tower itself. The steam generated by this process obscured his view to the point that he was often unsure if the thing was still there at all.

Within a period of ninety minutes, the object had completely uncovered itself. Then, as if nothing had happened, all was quiet. The barren surface of the planet, that had not been uncovered in untold centuries, lay exposed to the harsh sunlight. In the center of a gigantic circle stood a shining, tower with rounded corners. It seemed to wait for Breedlove to return. He was dumfounded. The radio call from Mission Control snapped him from his stupor.

"Ye gods, Aaron what in the hell is that?"

Breedlove could hear the clamor of many voices shouting all at once in the background. The artifact appeared to have caused a riot in Mission Control .

It now lay straight ahead of him. What had once been a gently sloping ice formation had now been hollowed out. The path to the artifact was straight and wide. The road to Breedlove's destiny. Carved by what? At the end of the path lay a great shining tower of light.

"Are you getting this?" Breedlove spoke into his transmitter. "It's magnificent," he understated.

"Be careful Aaron," came the response.

This answer struck Breedlove as being perhaps the funniest thing he had heard in a very long time. Perhaps knowing that no matter what happened he was doomed, he laughed at the irony. Perhaps he was simply letting go of built up stress. He could have been losing his sanity. No matter. He laughed and it was a great relief. He felt new again. He was full of an inner strength that he didn't know he possessed. He strode forward to the waiting artifact.

Upon his approach he, again, heard the rhythmic pulsing that he had previously encountered. This time, though, it was less intense. As if the power that had been released had been subdued and controlled.

When he had come to within a few feet, he saw the markings. There were several squares with small circles etched into them arranged in two lines.

"Mission Control, are you seeing this clearly?" Breedlove asked.

"We see it. What are those markings?"

"They look like some kind of keypad-type arrangement. I wonder if we need to hit them in a certain order to get this thing to open up or operate?" Breedlove said.

"Operate? Aaron, we don't know what the hell that thing is. We may not want to turn it on," the Flight Director said.

"We can't just ignore it either. I'm here now. Let's work on it," Breedlove said. "Besides, what can it do to me? Kill me?"

After a delay of several seconds the response came from Mission Control.

"Affirmative Lieutenant. Let's work on it."

"Good. Now it seems that the pads are arranged by numerical value. The line on the right has just one at the very top, about eight feet up, and runs in a row to the bottom. The bottom set has... let's see...sixteen circles. The row on the left starts with seventeen and runs down to, yes, thirty-two at the bottom. All of the circles are black except for the one, two, three and five on the right side, which are glowing white."

"Try hitting the seven," came the suggestion from Earth.

Having once more removed his gloves, Breedlove wanted to feel the warm surface of the thing again. He touched the seven with his bare hand. It lit up like the other three. Now one, two, three, five and seven were lit.

"Okay, it's lit up like the others. Good guess. Now nine."

Breedlove ran his hand down the panel touching the nine. All went blank.

"Damn," he said.

"Go back and touch them again and see if we get the lights back on." The Flight Director suggested.

"Okay, it's working. Now we skip the nine and go to what? Eleven?"

"Affirmative. Try eleven and see what happens."

This time there was a deepening in the hum. When he touched the thirteen he thought he could see the barest outline of a large square on the surface of the artifact. When he touched the fifteen all, again, went blank.

"Shit," he said.

"I hit eleven and thirteen and was doing fine. Then, when I touched the fifteen it went blank again. I could swear that I saw something on the side." Breedlove said.

Then it struck him.

"I've got it! One, two, three, five, seven, eleven, and thirteen are the first seven prime numbers," Breedlove exclaimed.

With visibly trembling hand Breedlove punched up the first seven primes. There was the faint square shape on the surface and the deeper hum. Then he tested his theory and punched the top set in the left-hand row and the faint square shape on the surface of the silver wall became four deep grooves that he could feel with his hand.

"There is some indentation appearing on the side of the monolith. It could be a door. Are you getting this? Can you see it?"

Nineteen: the square became indented. Twenty-three: it started to move inward on its own.

Twenty-nine: a dark hole appeared in the side of the thing. Thirty-one: a light, long dormant, flickered on and invited him to come inside."

"It's opening up. We've done it! There is a door opening in the side of the tower. There's light inside!"

Breedlove could hear the silence over the com-link. Mission Control was speechless. Then, as if on cue, they all burst out talking at once.

"I'm going inside." He said.

Ignoring the frantic voices on his ear receiver, Breedlove stepped through the doorway. Immediately the voices stopped, and all was quiet except for the sound of the blood pumping through his veins. The space-com radio apparently could not penetrate the walls of the structure. Stepping back outside, Breedlove reestablished contact with Mission Control.

"There seems to be something blocking the space-com link when I go inside. I'll try to boost my power on this end. If you don't hear from me, I'll report back when I come out. Breedlove out."

The inside was a brilliant white, but where the light was coming from he couldn't tell. The walls seemed to glow and there were no shadows. He was in a room, roughly twice as wide as it was deep. Circling around the edge of the room was a series of panels with no obvious function. They were about four feet up from the floor and projected roughly three feet from the wall. These were disturbed only by large round projections at the far ends of the room, which went from floor to ceiling.

"They must be control panels of some sort," Breedlove thought. "But what type of machinery? What is this thing?"

In the center of the room was a circular ramp disappearing into a hole in the ceiling overhead. There was light there as well. Breedlove stepped onto the ramp and began to climb.

The second level was not entirely unlike the first. There were only two of the lighted panels that ringed the walls on the first floor, and the room was much smaller. Breedlove could see the outlines of doorways on the walls. Featureless was the best description. The doors would not open. Following the ramp up to the third level, Breedlove released the breath he had been holding.

There were rounded chambers protruding from the walls, and each had an open door. Inside the rooms were rather high tables. Each held various panels of the same nondescript function as the ones on the first level.

Judging by the size of the tables and the height of the panels and ceilings, Breedlove began to think that whatever "people" had created this building must have been tall indeed. The relative size differential made him feel like a small boy who had wandered into a forbidden place.

Again, the ramp continued up through the ceiling into another lighted area. Unlike the previous three floors, this one was dimly lit. When Breedlove stepped onto the floor from the ramp and turned around a very familiar sight greeted him. On the wall in front of him was an image of his lander. The panel on the wall showed the lander just as he had left it. The image seemed to be real-time as he could see the winds whipping the dust around. Then, he saw the image of the Hercules against a background of stars. Then the Argonaut. Each was displayed on a section of the building wall. Some kind of projection, but what was taking the pictures? In the center of the room was a series of controls set into a black panel. Unlike the others that were blank white, these were an array of moving, multicolored lights. Where the previous panels had been dead, something had activated this set of controls.

"It seems as if I've awakened the caretaker," Breedlove spoke aloud to himself. Repeating the habit he had unconsciously picked up.

A few seconds later Breedlove was startled nearly out of his wits when a voice spoke, seemingly into his ear; "Maintenance systems activated, all ship systems are at ready status."

Turning around quickly, Breedlove saw no one. He was alone in the room.

"Hello?" Can you hear me?" he asked.

"All ship systems are at ready status, awaiting instruction", came the voice in his head. Within his own mind.

"This is Lieutenant Aaron Breedlove. Do you read me? Please answer."

"All ship systems are at ready status, awaiting instruction", repeated the voice in his head.

"Who are you?" Breedlove asked.

"This is the computer communication interface system."

Again, Breedlove was disconcerted to hear the voice in his own mind responding.

"Where are you?"

"The computer communication interface system is located in the central computer core of the ship," came the response.

"What ship? Are you in orbit? What are you doing here?"

Could another mission have arrived? Could another government have sent a mission immediately after the launch of the Argonaut? Who was he talking to, and how were they able to speak with him when his own Mission Control communication had been cut off when he entered this building. Whoever they were had to be on the surface of the planet.

"The computer communication interface system was built into the ship's computer to receive and execute commands from the crew. The ship is currently positioned at the southern pole of the planet. You are currently on the Command level of the ship. All ship systems are at ready status, awaiting instruction," said the voice.

Breedlove was staggered at the revelation. He was at the Command level of the ship. This "building" was a ship.


July 26, 2018 - 6:00 p.m. UT

"How is it you understand what I am saying?" Breedlove asked the voice.

"It is a simple matter to probe your thoughts. It is the standard method of interface for ship commands," was the response.

"Where are the ones who built this ship?"

" Part of them left on a geological survey mission to this planet's great volcano," the voice replied. "They had an emergency situation that required the remainder of the ship's complement to mount a rescue mission. None returned. Their instructions were to wait and maintain the ship."

"How long ago was that?" Breedlove said, now unfazed by the thought of the computer "probing" his mind.

"This planet has orbited its sun 12,964 times since."

Quickly calculating in his head Breedlove determined that the ship had sat here for over 24,000 Earth years. It seemed the crew was not coming back.

After a lengthy series of technical questions, Breedlove determined that the ship basically ran on hydrogen atoms. Water contained hydrogen. Hydrogen was a most abundant element in the universe. That's what it had been doing with the ice! It was refueling itself, repowering!

The ship had come from a planet that orbited Alpha Centauri and the crew were oxygen breathers, though they required a purer mixture than the Earth's atmosphere. We apparently could breathe their air, but they would have some trouble with the nitrogen level in ours. The ship was operational, and could cover the distance from Mars to Alpha Centauri in about five earth years. Not faster than light, but very, very close to it.


July 27, 2018 - 7:00 p.m. UT

The long-range radar tracking picked up the blip just as it entered Martian orbit. The crew in Mission Control nearly lost their own control at the prospect of what their instruments told them. There was another ship in orbit around Mars. The Hercules and Argonaut were in their predetermined orbits. Whatever it was, it wasn't one of ours.

"Chief! Take a look at this. Quick!" called the Tactical Radar Specialist. "I don't know what this thing is, but its coming our way in a hurry!"

The tactical display, which showed the positions of Argonaut and Hercules, also showed a moving dot on the screen. The screen showed the entire area of operation, from Earth to Mars with mission status in real-time.

It was virtually impossible to distinguish any movement of the ships traveling the vast distance between the planets. An object would have to travel at incredible speeds to show any visible movement at all, yet the object moved steadily toward Earth.

"ETA eleven hours Chief!"

"Have we reestablished contact with Breedlove?" The Flight Director asked.

"No contact sir."


July 28, 2018 - 6:03 a.m. EST

The President of the United States and heads of state from eight major nations were in attendance when the ship began its slow descent to Earth. These were all that could be assembled at such short notice. Others had gone into hiding and were preparing for an attack from space.

The great silver tower sat before the stunned crowd like a monolith. Breedlove stepped from the ship and onto the surface of the runway at the Kennedy Space Center, his eyes watering as the sunrise of the new dawning day hit him square in the face. The ship towered over the assembly like a great finger pointing toward the heavens. Pointing the way to the future of mankind. The crowd of politicians, military and scientific personnel were silent.

Stepping past the stunned security men, Howard Breedlove moved to the front of the assemblage.

"Welcome home son," he said.

"Thanks Dad," he said, hesitating. "Look what I found."

Dave Mansfield was a drummer in a punk band during the late seventies and eighties. He has degree in journalism and enjoys baseball, music and exercise. Dave moved back to his hometown of Indianapolis and is currently working as a Graphic Artist for a national trade magazine.

E-mail: Dave_Mansfield@intertec.com

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