The European Team

"So you see, we’ve had quite a run of bad luck. When our main drive crashed from an overloaded magnacoil in the M81 galaxy it created a number of corrupt sectors in our navigational databanks. Completely threw the system out of whack. We thought we were heading home. By the time we realized our mistake we had no idea where we’d ended up. Lieutenant Marinucci was having the dickens of a time trying to pinpoint our location. And with our communications out we couldn’t radio Earth, not that we would’ve been able to reach them without proper coordinates. Our only option was to send an omni-directional distress call." He took a long sip of his tea. "Ahhhh! That hits the spot. My compliments to your chef. Anyway, with provisions running low and our oxygen failing, we all said our prayers. We’re deeply grateful you came along when you did. Another couple hours and we’d have been done for."

Hawke marveled at how he managed to drink without getting his moustache wet. The Commander and his crew had been given hot food and drinks while they settled into their confines, but despite the easy manner they tried to project, their nervous anxiety was palpable. Bishop’s men were stationed outside the door while he and the Major remained to question the Brit about the Nova’s presence in that sector. Hawke looked over his shoulder to see what his Security Chief thought about Charles’s explanation but the woman’s face was as readable as slate. He thought the story was a bunch of crap, though. The magnacoil was probably only partly to blame for their troubles. Likely they hadn’t been as attentive as Starling in detecting the wandering black hole’s subtle navigational effects. Or perhaps their sensors weren’t as sensitive as the Xī Wàng’s. Whatever the reason, it meant they were traveling to the M51 galaxy.

Hawke steepled his fingers under his chin. "And what were you hoping to find in your study of the M81?"

Before Davies could respond, one of the scientists spoke up. "The Herschel Observatory recently came up with some interesting readings on a planet in the GSC M81-j211A.141 solar system. The spectral analysis shows strong evidence of ice formations. Naturally we needed to examine it closer for ourselves."

"I see," said Hawke, "I never heard about this discovery."

Commander Davies cut in, "It was kept top-secret. Mum’s the word, eh? Didn’t want other governments to jump our claim, so to speak."

"Is that why your craft wasn’t listed in the GLL?"

"Just so, Commander, just so." Davies fixed him with a cool, steady gaze. Hawke couldn’t read anything behind the deep-set dark eyes even though they both knew it was a lie.

Back in the hall Bishop gave strict orders to the two men on duty that, under no circumstances, were the Europeans to leave their quarters. In the event of some unforeseen emergency they were to notify her first, then take action. Once out of earshot Hawke could see by the tension in her neck and shoulders that she was ready to pop. "Well?"

"You didn’t buy that cock-and-bull story, did you?"

"No, but Davies has a heck of a poker face."

"That doesn’t mean shit. I’ve seen murderers hooked up to stress analyzers barely skip a beat, even when their own bloody DNA taken from the crime scene is shoved in their faces."

"Well, fortunately I don’t think we’re dealing with a bunch of crazed serial killers."

"Maybe not, but they obviously have their reasons for lying to us. And until I know what those reasons are they’re all guilty in my book until proven innocent."

"I didn’t realize our justice system worked that way."

Bishop’s eyes flashed. "It’s how my justice system works, Commander. And trust me; it’s served me well over the years."

*****

"What did you say the Greek scientist’s name was?" asked Dr. Dave Lehman.

In the conference room designated as their ’lounge,’ Hawke called an impromptu meeting with their own scientists to make them aware of the presence of the European astronauts. It was not by accident he neglected to invite Snelling. If Bishop noticed his absence she gave no indication of it.

Hawke strained his brain. He was normally very good at remembering names and faces but so many foreign names all at once was too much for him. "I think it was...Dim...Dimopools? Or something like that."

"Dimopoulos? Dr. Dimitri Dimopoulos?"

"Yes, that sounds right."

"Was he an older man? Maybe early or late sixties? Short?"

"Yes."

Dr. Lehman slapped his knee. "Hot damn! I can’t believe it."

"You know him?"

"Know him? I use his textbook for the course I teach in Climatology. We’ve collaborated on writing papers together. We sit on the same journal review boards. He’s one of the foremost authorities on global climate patterns."

Bishop cut in, "The real question then is why such a prominent climatologist was recruited and why this mission was supposedly being conducted under such secrecy? Surely a man as world-renowned as you say would not go unnoticed for several months."

Dr. Lehman was silent.

Claudia asked, "Do you recall the names of the others?"

Hawke shook his head but Bishop tapped into the datalogger device on the inside of her forearm and systematically read the names aloud. In each case, the researchers were well-acquainted with the names of their peers.

"I think this is a great boon – to have such esteemed colleagues here to assist us in our work. There will be so much data to analyze. It’ll be advantageous to get a second perspective on the results," said Dr. Chiang. There were murmurs of agreement.

"I’m afraid you can’t count on that," Hawke said. Bishop nodded emphatically.

"Why not?" demanded Dr. Lehman.

"Because at the moment they’re considered diplomatic prisoners." Hawke quieted their protestations. "At least until we get word back from Earth. If an agreement can be worked out among our governments, and everyone is amenable, then I see no reason why you shouldn’t be able to collaborate with them."

Bishop stepped in. "The Commander is correct. There will be no contact with any of them." She fixed them with her square jaw. "I’ve ordered my men to deal harshly with anyone who tries to get into their quarters without my approval. Is that understood?"

They grudgingly nodded.

"So what do we do now?" asked Dr. Miller.

"Nothing," Hawke replied. "For the time being, just go on with your work as if nothing has changed. I called this meeting simply as a courtesy, to tell you of our new guests. Until we get an official response, you should pretend they’re not even here."

"Do you honestly believe these men represent a threat?" asked Dr. Lehman.

Hawke looked sidelong at Bishop. "No, but it’s not our call. Besides, let’s be realistic. We’re not at war with Europe. So it’s unlikely they’ll need to be kept in isolation for the duration of the voyage."

"And then you’ll let them wander freely throughout the ship?"

"No," Bishop returned flatly. "Your insinuation is correct. I wouldn’t be doing my job otherwise. Problem is, I don’t have enough men to watch them all. Therefore, I can only allow one or two to leave their confines at any one time."

"There’s always the honor system," suggested Hawke.

Bishop glared at him.

Victor raised his long arm. "I have a suggestion," he offered. "This StarCruiser uses RF scanners throughout the ship to continually monitor our location via the embedded ID chips. You could modify the algorithm to sound an alarm if anyone ventured into a restricted area, an area you define. If our visitors were aware of the safeguard they’d be less inclined to attempt such an infraction. And it would ease the, ah, administrative burden on the Major."

"Can you do it?"

"Certainly. It’s quite simple actually. I employ a similar program to keep students away from secure areas of my laboratory in Calcutta. I have always been very interested in software, you see. I wrote my first code when I was seven. I thought I might do it as a profession but then became interested in terraform engineering. But that is neither here nor there. For the problem at hand, all I require would be the ID numbers for each of the men – which any simple scanner could provide. I wouldn’t require any personal information, nor would I need access to...sensitive ship functions."

Hawke and Bishop exchanged glances. "Alright, but on one condition: I’m going to assign Roger to work with you. And he needs to be present at all times while you’re logged in to a secure server."

Dr. Bhattacharya bowed his head.

"Alright. If no one else has any more comments, you can go back to what you were doing."

As they got up to leave, the Major said, "A moment of your time, Commander?" Hawke sat back down in his chair. Bishop waited until the last of the scientists departed. "I know there’s a bit of tension between you and Max. Most of it’s warranted, I know." When Hawke didn’t respond, she grunted and continued, "You know he’s just doing his job."

"What’s that supposed to mean? Am I supposed to give him special treatment?"

"I don’t know. Maybe just give him a break, is all."

"Why? You think he’s had such a hard life?" he asked with obvious vehemence.

"We all bear scars we don’t like to talk about, Commander." Before he could respond, she marched out of the room.

*****

"The man’s an incredible programmer. He missed his calling, if you ask me. His code is so clean. And the idea is inherently simple. He designed a simple GUI to navigate through. It allows me to set three levels of security with both local and global warnings. I tested it out with my own ID and it works perfectly. It’s a straightforward matter to implement."

Hawke replaced Starling on the bridge several hours earlier but Frank was making sure his seat didn’t get cold. The maintenance engineer lounged in Jim’s chair with one leg over the arm.

Hawke was amazed how someone could be so enthusiastic about something as tedious as writing software. Personally, he’d rather chew his right arm off than write and sift through lines and lines of monotonous code.

"I was thinking of asking for his help on a few networking issues that’ve been giving me fits."

At that Hawke became instantly alert. "That’s all well and good but I’d feel better if he didn’t have access into the ship’s secure mainframe more than necessary."

"Oh, I know. I was just going to pose the problems to him to see if he had any useful insights. That’s all."

Hawke felt mildly guilty to be so suspicious of the Hindu professor’s intentions. He had no reason to suspect Victor of any wrongdoing but the fact remained: his exceptional proficiency in higher-order programming was negligently absent from the CIA dossier he was provided. He wondered if Bishop had the same worry.

"How are you coming with those calculations we talked about?"

Roger’s face flushed. "I never finished. I’ll get right on it." He bounded from the room.

Frank leaned back in his chair, hands clasped behind his head. "Eager little beaver, ain’t he?"

"Maybe, but he’s a sharp beaver! He’s more than pulled his weight so far, which is more than I can say about some people!"

"That hurts, Hawke. Jeez! You really know how to hurt a guy."

*****

"Any word yet on our European guests?" It’d been four and a half days since they intercepted the disabled spacecraft.

Starling shook his head. He was reading through the latest transmissions from Houston. "Not yet. But you’ll be happy to know they approved our detour around the black hole."

"Well-timed, as always."

Jim frowned. "That’s odd."

"What?"

"Not sure. It looks like a bunch of garbled text attached to the bottom of the message. Here, take a look." He swung his console around.

Hawke looked, but it made no sense to him either.

"You want me to delete it?"

"No, just enter it into the log the way it is. It’s probably radio crosstalk when the message was sent. It might be nothing. We can send a note back to them about it. Let them figure out the glitch. We’ve got enough to do."

"You got it."

Hawke’s UCD buzzed. "This is Hawke. Go ahead."

"Hey, Hawke, it’s Frank," Frank said in a conspiratorial whisper.

"What’s up, Frank? You’re not stuck in one of the ducts again, are you?"

"Very funny. After that ribbing you gave me the other day, I decided ta catch up on some jobs I been puttin’ off. Right now I’m working on some lights in Storage Room 5E-1 on Deck 5. It just so happens I’m directly under where we got them Europeans stashed. I think you better haul ass over here right away."

Hawke jumped out of his chair. "Talk to me, Frank."

"Well, nearly as I can tell, it sounds like Bishop’s about to interrogate ’em using an OEES."

"Shit!" An OEES, pronounced "O-eeze," was an optical electro-encephalo scan, a state-of-the-art lie detector which was fitted over a person’s skull. It read the electrical impulses generated by the synapses in the brain and interpreted those impulses, converting them into visual images of what the person was thinking. Since most people tended to think visually, whether they realized it or not, the device was very effective. The images were often blurry, random and fragmented, but a skilled analyst and interrogator could often get an accused suspect to portray clear images or details in their mind about the crime of which no one but the criminal would have knowledge. For added encouragement, the device was capable of inducing mild electric shocks directly into the brain.

Bishop had never mentioned bringing one onboard. Nor was it on the list of pre-approved equipment. Angrily Hawke wondered whether the woman was simply neurotic or a complete raving paranoid.

"Oh, and one other thing," Frank continued, "that weasel, Snelling, is there, too. I can hear his snivelly voice resonating through the crawlspace."

Hawke wasn’t surprised. His fast walk became a run. "Good work. I’m on it."

"You want me to meet you there? Y’know, in case you need some muscle?"

Despite his girth Frank fancied himself as an intimidating thug, like in vintage gangster movies. "That’s alright. I think I can handle it but thanks for the offer."

"Just give a shout if you need me. I always enjoy knocking a few heads together."

Hawke kept up his pace until he arrived at the storeroom.

"I’m sorry, sir, but I can’t let you pass. Major’s orders." Rottmann and Utley blocked the door.

"You know damn well, Lieutenant, that my authority supersedes hers. I know what’s going on here so quit waving those pistols at me if you’re not going to use them and let me through."

Corporal Utley looked uncertainly at Rottmann. Rottmann seemed to be considering his options. After several tense seconds he lowered his gun. "Very well, Commander. You may proceed."

"Thank you, Lieutenant."

Inside the high-bay room Sergeant Gonzales was setting up the OEES while Bishop and Sweeney had their weapons drawn. Snelling stood to the side rubbing his palms together. For a brief moment Hawke saw the looks of fear and defiant resistance on the faces of the European astronauts. All heads swiveled his way when he entered.

"What the hell is going on here?"

Corporal Sweeney turned and aimed his pistol at him.

Snelling looked irritated. "That’s not your concern, Commander."

"The hell it’s not! Everything that goes on on this ship is my concern. Bishop, why wasn’t I informed about this?" He growled at Sweeney, "Get that gun out of my face, Corporal."

Sweeney looked casually over at Bishop, who nodded. With an indolent smile he returned his aim toward the Europeans.

"My apologies, Commander. I was following orders."

"Whose?"

"Mine," answered Snelling.

"You can’t conduct an interrogation of these men. They’re diplomatic guests and are afforded all the rights that title entails."

"Stop being naïve. You know as well as I do their appearance here wasn’t an accident. And I’ll prove it."

"I don’t need you to prove anything. You’re out of line, Max. This interrogation is grossly illegal. Since when does a Protocol Officer stoop to using terror tactics and forced confessions?"

"I was given full latitude..."

"I don’t give a shit! This brain-scan isn’t happening. Not on my ship. This is a scientific mission, not a gulag. I’m willing to follow security protocols up to a point, but this is going too far." He turned to Bishop. "Major, pack up your equipment."

Bishop looked briefly at him and Max, then she ordered Gonzales to tear down the OEES.

"Commander, your lack of cooperation in this matter is going into my next report," Snelling said.

"Go ahead. Transmissions don’t get sent until they’re digitally signed by the commanding officer onboard. Not that I care what you say about me anyway."

"We’ll see about that."

Hawke rounded on the Major as soon as Max left. "How could you be party to this? You asked me to give him a break. Fuck that. He’s a little Nazi shit."

She apologized. "I’m under strict orders to give Max my full support, provided it’s in the best interests of the mission."

"By whose authority?"

"I’m not at liberty to say. The orders are genuine, though, and from very high up."

Hawke refused to be mollified. "It’s still inexcusable. In the future, I’d appreciate it if you inform me about any illicit demands imposed on you by him."

She inclined her head.

When the equipment was packed up Bishop and her men departed, with the exception of the two who remained on guard outside the door. Hawke let out a deep breath. As if on cue his UCD buzzed. "Yes?" he answered tiredly.

"That was great, pal. You really socked it to ’em."

"Will you get to work, Frank?"

"Aww, hey, I am working. I can’t help it if I can hear everything you guys are saying. Next time keep your voice down. Well, my job here is done. Now I’m off to fix Angie’s head."

"Angie?"

"She’s a real looker. One of the cleaning crew. Talk to ya later."

Hawke sighed in exasperation. Love him or hate him, he owed Frank big-time for the opportune warning. The Europeans stared hollowly at him, relief mirrored in their faces.

Commander Davies grabbed his hand, pumping it several times. "Good show, Commander. On behalf of my men I want to thank you once again for your timely arrival. We answered all their questions, gave them everything they asked for, but they still wouldn’t believe us – especially that bald one. Snelling, is it? A bloody wanker. He–"

Hawke yanked his arm away. "Enough, Commander! I happen to agree with Snelling, just not his methods. So why don’t we just cut the crap, alright?"

Davies was taken aback by the sudden change in Hawke’s disposition. He started to protest, claiming innocence, but when he met Hawke’s gaze he relented. "Very well. You’re right. There’s nothing to be gained by keeping up this pretense, and I certainly don’t enjoy it. Not my nature. Anyway, I feel you’re a man I can trust. The truth is the EU felt they were being shut out. They wanted the opportunity to get their own piece of the planetary pie, so to speak." There was a long moment of silence. "Is that what you wanted to hear?"

"Was it your intention to try to beat us to Eden M51? To stake your claim by right of first arrival?"

"No. Our intelligence never found out the exact coordinates of the planet. Your NSA managed to keep that information close to the vest, as they say. Our plan was simply to get to the M51 galaxy as quickly as we could and wait until your vessel came into range. Then use long-range scanners to track your ship, following discreetly from behind until you led us to it. A little late but still ensuring the European Union’s interests would be represented. Meanwhile, our government was prepared to handle the political fallout back home. I’ll admit, it wasn’t much of a plan but it was all we had."

Hawke accepted this confession. "Thank you, Charles. I appreciate your candor. Of course, if you’d been honest with us from the beginning this whole ugly incident could’ve been avoided. In the meantime, I need to share this information with my Chief of Security."

Davies bowed his head in mute acquiescence.

On the way to the bridge Hawke had a chance encounter with Dr. Hoyos.

"Hello, Nathan," she said, smiling.

"Hello, Ana. Anything wrong?"

She reversed course and fell into step with him. "No, nothing. I was just chatting with Jim. Mind if I walk with you?"

"Not at all. You know I enjoy your company."

Hawke saw Roger approaching from the other direction and groaned inwardly. He’d seen that expression on the young engineer’s face before and it meant bad news. Haven’t I had enough for one day?

"What is it, Roger?"

Roger didn’t answer, his eyes shifting to Dr. Hoyos and back again. Hawke took his meaning.

"Ana, I’m sorry. I have something I need to discuss privately with Roger."

"Manly stuff, I’m sure. That’s fine. I know when I’m not wanted. Another time?" She flashed Hawke a look.

"You know you can count on me."

Ana looked Roger up and down with concern. The engineer had pushed his eyeglasses up and was pinching his nose between thumb and forefinger, squeezing his eyes shut. "Roger, I want you to come down to my office so I can check your visual acuity."

Roger waved his hand in a warding gesture. "I’m all right, Doc. Really." But in the face of her imposing glare, he added hastily, "Uh, yeah, sure…I’ll stop by. I promise." Hawke chuckled. Ana did not lightly take ’no’ for an answer.

"Good. Tomorrow morning then, o-nine-thirty." She said without waiting for his reply.

When she was out of sight Hawke turned toward Roger expectantly. "Sir, I finished those calculations. As a result, I caught a couple other things. Minor, but I’m sure they’re related."

"And?"

"Well, like I told you before, the changes would affect the way the Navigation System interpreted our flight path. We think we’re going one way while we’re actually going another."

"So where would we have gone?"

"On a direct course into our own sun."

Hawke’s jaw dropped. "You’re absolutely sure?"

"Positive. Lieutenant Commander Starling can check my findings, if you like. He’s the navigation specialist."

"That won’t be necessary." After everything Roger had done, Hawke no longer had any doubts about his technical competence and attention to detail. "Wouldn’t the CDA alert us?"

"No, the Collision Detection Algorithm itself was compromised. Normally it shuts itself off automatically as you approach final destination. But in this case, it was getting tripped way too early. But getting too close to the sun isn’t the same as getting too close to a planet, or other large cosmic object. The ship would melt long before the sun’s gravitational pull became a problem."

"But the ship’s thermal sensors would have sensed the increased atmospheric temperature."

"I checked. A small piece of code had been inserted to take them off-line from the main system, even provide false readings. It’s possible Commander Starling might have noticed the deviations before the effects became fatally unavoidable but I’m not sure he could’ve done anything about it in time, short of a complete shutdown of the teleport drive. The window of opportunity for corrective action would’ve been very short, only seconds."

Hawke crossed his arms over his chest and considered all the implications. "Do you think whoever is responsible is aware you discovered their tampering?"

"No, sir. I mean...I don’t think so."

"Are you alright?"

"Yes, sir. It’s just...this wasn’t random sabotage. I mean...everyone onboard. I can’t believe…who would do such a thing?"

Hawke didn’t have an answer.