Salvador Mercer - Lunar Discovery

“Aren’t we getting a bit ahead of ourselves?” Rock asked, scratching the back of his head and leaning against the table with his elbow. “I mean, ETs? More like an artifact of some sort of ancient civilization, wouldn’t it?”

“Who knows?” Jack said. “My money is on the roadmap, ET-phone-home kind of thinking.”

Marge nodded her head. “I’d agree with Jack or go with a chemical blueprint along the lines of the periodic element chart. You know, hydrogen, helium, and so on. The building blocks of all complex matter. This would be just as viable as a mathematical blueprint.”

“All three including the biological theory would be possible,” Jack said.

“So what’s the catch? I mean, what is the key to unlocking this code from the device?” Rock asked.

Marge and Jack looked at one another for a moment before Marge responded. “The primary issue would be how any information would be conveyed. The data itself could be clear and understandable to us, but not if the way it’s presented is confusing, and that is where we are at right now. No one understands how to interpret the data in order to fit it into a structure or language that would make sense to us.”

Rock leaned back, removing his elbow from the table and interlocking his fingers behind his head. “So would having a linguist on board be beneficial?”

“It could be,” Marge replied, “but it doesn’t mean there would be a break through if the language was, for example, mathematical instead of phonetic.”

“I can ask Mr. Smith for one of those linguistic experts from the academia crew if either of you two feel it’s worthwhile,” Rock said.

“They already have a large group working on that end of things, looking for a way to linguistically decode a mathematical code, not to mention all the processing power they have working the problem,” Jack replied.

“It seems our Mr. Smith has covered all their bases, then.” Rock nodded.

“All but these,” Jack said, nodding at Marge’s theories and spreadsheet on the data input. “I’m not so sure they know how to think out of the box.”

“Perhaps, but if anyone could apply logic to this, it would be you guys,” Rock said, smiling at his team members.

“Nice of you to say, Richard,” Marge responded formally. “I’d feel better if I knew which area to concentrate our efforts on. It’s hard enough working just one theory, much less three, and add to that the fact that we don’t know how the information is being conveyed, and we are as lost as the NSA.”

“For now,” Jack said, placing a hand on the laptop and tapping it lightly.

“I see your point,” Rock replied, looking up at the ceiling and letting out a long sigh. “Well, keep at it in your spare time. We’ll have another day and a half before we start getting busier, and I’ll need you both at the top of your game for the lunar mission.”

“If there will even be a mission,” Jack said.

“I doubt we’ll send them this far just to sit it out.” Rock nodded.

“Perhaps, but if the Chinese or Russians get ahold of the device first, there won’t be much to do on the surface except to inspect an empty box,” Marge said.

“I take it that was metaphorical?” Rock smiled at Marge.

Marge smiled back and started to work on the data from the laptop again. Jack looked at his boss for a moment before pulling out a notepad and jotting down a few ideas. Rock took this as a sign that their conversation was over, but he sat for a minute longer and watched his team at work. Marge looked up at him once and smiled. Rock returned the smile and then got up and returned to the control room. He’d leave in another hour or two, just in time to have a late dinner with Sally before catching a few hours of sleep and then getting up before dawn and returning to do the same routine all over again.

Crimson Glory Lander

Surface of the Moon

In the near future, Day 46

Hen Sing set his glove down beside him next to his helmet and took a deep breath. The entire area was now dark as he had powered down most of his equipment and turned off the exterior lights. It had taken a few minutes for his eyes to adjust to the dark, but even on the far side of the moon, there was enough starlight shining on its surface for him to make out a few details.

He fingered the plastic cover for a moment and then flicked it open. The red button simply had the two Chinese characters on it for “interlock” and “override.” Sing closed his eyes and steadied his breathing. He had given his last reports on time despite the constant pain and waited for instructions.

He knew it was a one-way trip once he detached and landed. Well, one way in the sense that he had planned to return to the orbiter and place the alien device in one of its small equipment bays and then steer clear in his lander and watch the orbiter boost and return to earth without him. He figured he’d orbit the moon for decades before someone finally came to retrieve his body, and his coffin would lie in state, a hero to his country for his duty and sacrifice. What greater honor could he have hoped for?

Now he would die within kilometers of the prize, and it would all be in vain. Sing sighed again. Not just kilometers, but fifty-two of them, to be precise, now from the radar data fed to his console. He had really overshot his mark despite his best efforts.

He had recorded his final transmission to be sent to the orbiter once it passed overhead. He was finished, and a simple push of the interlocking override button would open the hatch on the lander, expelling his small atmosphere of nitrogen and oxygen onto the moon’s surface and exposing him to the vacuum of space. His death would be quick and the pain would be over. He didn’t want to focus on the humiliation of defeat and failure.

Just when he was about to press the button, he heard the faint call from mission control. It was Commander Hun Lee himself. “Do you copy, Colonel Sing?”

Sing moved his finger away from the override and keyed his mike. “ Crimson Glory here. Repeat your message.”

“Can you monitor and report on the signal data from your lander? Is it functional?” Director Lee said, his voice full of static in the small cockpit of the lander.

“Affirmative, I can transmit the signal data to the orbiter for relay if you wish.” Sing thought for a moment. Could it be that his life may just have a few more days of usefulness to his beloved country? Could he redeem himself in some small way? What was the mission team thinking to keep him alive if not?

“Commence transmit and repeat data stream flow every ninety minutes. Confirm.”

“Confirming orders.” The military part of Sing’s mind took over. He pressed a series of buttons on his console to collect the data into several time packets, and then he pressed the transmit button on the communication’s console to encrypt and beam the information to the orbiter overhead.

Sing sighed and then made one final reach for the medical box mounted on the side of the wall. He could reach both sides from his seat, so he didn’t need to move. He could wiggle his toes, so he knew his spine was intact and perhaps hadn’t broken his back, but his legs were another matter. He could deal with broken legs with a little help.

In one motion, he brought out the vial of morphine and opened a new syringe. There were only three more left, so he’d have to reuse them, not that he worried about living long enough for infection to take over. He filled the syringe and then plunged it into his exposed wrist. The drug started to work instantly, giving his entire body a tingle at first and then slowly dulling out the pain that was throbbing from his legs.

Next time, he’d plunge the bloody needle into his neck if the pain continued to be this intense.