John Sandford - Saturn Run

Zhang had positioned the Odyssey on the far side of that body from the Nixon but much closer in, just fifty kilometers from the alien base. Zhang could appreciate the Americans’ caution; they were the first ones to approach this enigma. He recalled an Americanism—the first pioneers were the ones with the arrows in their backs.

That was a benefit of being second on the scene: now Zhang knew that the aliens wouldn’t instantly initiate hostilities. In fact, given the repeated visits of the survey team, it appeared that they wouldn’t engage in hostilities at all. Further, it appeared, the Americans had found something worth making repeated trips for.

At this close distance, surveillance probes weren’t even required; not on this side of the planetoid, anyway. The ship’s telescopes could resolve centimeter-sized objects on its surface. First Officer Cui had joked, “From here, if they wave at us, we can tell if it’s a friendly greeting or if they’re giving us the finger.”

Nobody had waved. Until now, it had looked like the Americans were entirely ignoring the Chinese, continuing their predictable routine of visits. The new vids, though, showed a second shuttle vehicle arriving at the planetoid just as the survey team was about to depart. It landed and deployed four people, who took up stations in pairs at the landing pad and the access port to the planetoid.

Thanks to that centimeter-scale resolution, the vid clearly showed that all four were armed. It appeared that the Chinese presence was being acknowledged.

Cui pushed for a confrontation. “Sir, the Americans can’t lay unilateral claim to the planetoid. It violates the Law of Space Treaty. Not even considering that in all likelihood there are intelligent beings in that planetoid, with their own sovereignty. We need to press the issue.”

“Mr. Cui, before relying on space law to back your outrage, you might wish to recall that our original mission was to establish a sovereign colony on Mars. Also, this planetoid falls below the ten-kilometer limit for sovereign territory. While its resources must be shared, to some degree, any party can lay claim to it for such things as exploitation of mineral rights. I don’t believe we have a lot of legal push.

“Now, the local sovereignty issue, there may be something to that.” He thought a moment. “We don’t even know what the aliens’ desires are in this matter. They might be entirely happy having more than one group of humans visit them. They might have means to enforce those wishes, regardless of those of the Americans. We will send a party over. A diplomatic party. Let us see if we are welcomed.”

“Sir! May I volunteer to lead the party?”

Zhang shook his head. The last thing a possible first contact with aliens—and a definite contact with probably-antagonistic Americans—needed were the diplomatic talents of someone as temperamental as his first officer. He kept those thoughts to himself. Instead, he said, “Mr. Cui, I really need you here, capable of making on-the-spot decisions for the ship. Furthermore, we know nothing about the aliens, but it’s possible they might take umbrage if approached by less than the highest-ranking entity. This task falls on me.”

More importantly, he thought, I’m less likely to get us into a dustup with the Americans. Beijing had been clear to him on that point: keep the aliens’ knowledge out of the hands of the Americans at all costs… short of starting the next superpower war.

Two hours later, a short-haul tug departed from the Celestial Odyssey with five space-suited crew. A fifty-kilometer run didn’t require anything like the shuttle, and Zhang didn’t want to risk it on so uncertain a mission. Really, prudence dictated that he shouldn’t be there at all.

Unfortunately, there was no one on the ship who was better qualified to deal with this unpredictable and delicate situation. If worse came to worst, his first officer was entirely capable of commanding the vessel for a return trip to Earth. She’d not likely make any friends along the way…

And they had yet to settle the question of whether the ship was capable of bringing the crew home alive and whole.

Zhang had done what he could to minimize the potential for loss. He had a bare minimum complement accompanying him. The contact crew included Lieutenant Peng Cong, who was without question the best pilot on board and Zhang’s personal favorite. A short-haul tug did not usually require fancy piloting, but this was not a usual run, and evasive action might prove necessary.

Dr. Mo Mu was a research biologist and medical officer and one of the oldest and most experienced crew members. He might have some insight into the nature of the aliens and if there were an accident… or incident… his skills might save someone’s life. He was also, frankly, expendable; there were several other people on board the ship with advanced medical training. Dr. Gao Xing Xing was an astrophysicist, best in her class at Beijing University, smart as a whip, and very, very fast on the uptake. She was along to study alien technology and science. If first contact failed catastrophically, there’d be little for someone of her skills to study, and she served no function in the operation of the ship. So… also expendable.

Zhang hated planning this in terms of who he could afford to sacrifice. He’d just lost four crew members in the bay depressurization, including two engineers. That had been an unavoidable accident. It still ate at him. Consciously choosing who was dispensable, to put them on this mission, it didn’t sit well. It was especially difficult when he knew that the people he’d chosen for this trip thought that he’d honored them by doing so.

He was too soft. He needed to be more dispassionate.

Then, there was the fifth team member, one the captain wouldn’t mind seeing expended. Second Lieutenant Duan Me wore two hats on the under-crewed Celestial Odyssey . She was a plant biologist, in charge of the ship’s hydroponics, and as such she kept the crew well fed.

She was also the ship’s political officer, the voice, eyes, and ears of the Party. On first meeting, you’d be impressed by her charm and humor, Zhang thought: she was a compact, solidly built woman who liked a good laugh. She also liked digging in the dirt, of which, she complained, there was far too little of in hydroponics.

She was the kind of person you’d want to confide in… unless the conversation turned to politics. With her, it inevitably did. Then she gave old Mao a run for cultural purity.

She had made it entirely clear that while she might be a mere second lieutenant and he was captain, she would be going on this little jaunt. Strictly as an observer, of course, to ensure that Beijing got an accurate report of the behavior of the Americans. No interference, she wouldn’t think of it.

If Zhang could have thought of a way to release her tether and make it look like an accident, he would have been tempted.

Fifteen minutes in flight had them at the planetoid. Zhang had timed the launch so that the landing pad and apparent access port were facing the Celestial Odyssey . He preferred this encounter take place within sight of his ship, not to mention out of sight of the Nixon .

The four Americans took no action until the tug got within about a kilometer of the surface, when two of them unshouldered their weapons. Zhang signaled Peng to bring the tug to a halt. He toggled a common comm frequency, stood up, and held his arms far out from his sides.

“Gentlemen, I am Captain Zhang Ming-Hoa, commander of the Celestial Odyssey . May we have permission to land?”

One of the Americans, Zhang couldn’t tell which one, responded, “I am sorry, sir, but we must regretfully decline your request. We are under strict orders that no one is to land here without the explicit authorization of Admiral Fang-Castro. We have received no such authorization.”