11
Traci’s only other experience with congressional testimony had been notably different from where she found herself today. Whereas the public debriefings of the Magellan mission had been held in a cavernous hearing room, facing a wall of dour old men in suits behind a phalanx of cameras and glaring lights, this forum was decidedly more intimate. Or more intimidating, which she sensed was on purpose.
Behind closed doors, facing only a half dozen senators and no reporters, the atmosphere was restrained and serious. With no press allowed, she expected considerably less speechifying and grandstanding than typically defined these events.
In other words, they were here to make decisions and get some actual work done.
More comfortable in her flight crew jumpsuit, she anxiously smoothed out her skirt as she took a seat at the witnesses’ table beside Roy and made note of the Senate inquisitors eyeing her entrance. Joining them were Cheever and someone she didn’t recognize, though she did spy the nameplate in front of him: Dr. Malcolm Trumbull, NASA’s chief scientist. That he hadn’t been at yesterday’s meeting with them suggested the administrator had something else up her sleeve.
She was keenly aware that the only other woman in the room was Caroline Sykes, the senior senator from Arizona, who caught Traci’s eye and acknowledged her with a friendly wink. Had she just found an ally, or was that gesture meant to put her at ease in order to catch her off guard later? In this place, either was equally possible.
As the chairman gaveled the hearing to order, she regarded the two men who were most likely to drive the agenda: Samuel Warden of North Carolina, a loquacious overweight lump of down-home geniality, and the more caustic Edmond Sullivan of Pennsylvania. Lean and smartly dressed, with slicked-back hair crowning an aquiline face, he was the stereotypical Northeastern WASP. Each other’s physical opposite, they were known to be dangerous questioners.
The chairman opened with brief remarks. “The Vice President sends his regrets that he could not join us today. We will of course be providing his office with an executive summary with full transcripts and a recording of these proceedings for review.”
Traci cast a sidelong glance at Cheever. Judging by her reaction she’d expected this and seemed comfortable with it, which meant the two had probably worked out some arrangement ahead of time. As president of the Senate the VP wasn’t expected to attend committee hearings, but as chairman of the President’s Space Council he would absolutely have an interest in today’s inquiry. That he didn’t send an aide to listen in told her all she needed to know: they were on their own.
The chairman continued. “We are here to consider proposals for what is a rather bold undertaking. We’ve been briefed on the discovery of the missing Magellan spacecraft and the various scenarios for rescuing astronaut Templeton. Not only would this be NASA’s first crewed flight in many years, it would be a more far-reaching mission than any previous, and within a timeline that appears to be remarkably optimistic. Dr. Cheever, I believe you have some prepared remarks before we begin our questioning.”
Cheever folded her hands and looked up from her notes, judiciously making eye contact with each committee member. “Thank you, Senators. My remarks will be brief. There have been some remarkable developments within the last few weeks, of which finding Magellan may well be the least astonishing. Our chief scientist, Dr. Trumbull, will be addressing those particular findings. We have studied a range of possible mission profiles to recover Magellan and bring Jack Templeton home, which we have narrowed down to two choices: crewed, and automated. For a number of reasons which will be made clear today, as administrator I am in favor of the automated option. However, astronauts Hoover and Keene have put considerable thought into the crewed option and I wanted to give their views a fair hearing before this committee. This concludes my remarks.”
That was it? Magnanimity was not in Cheever’s character, which only confirmed Traci’s suspicion that the administrator already had a good sense of how this was going to go.
“Very well.” The chairman turned to the linen-suited Warden. “We will open with the committee’s ranking member, the senator from North Carolina.”
Warden’s ample frame quivered as he leaned forward and cleared his throat. “Thank you, Mr. Chairman.” They were all very collegial and she wondered how long that would last. “Now, it’s my understanding that this crewed mission plan was put together just within the last couple of weeks,” he drawled, wagging a finger between her and Roy, “by you two?”
As chief astronaut, it was Roy’s place to answer for them. “That’s correct, sir.”
Warden’s amused look betrayed his skepticism. “And this was done without any input from other experts within the agency?”
Roy didn’t flinch. “We understood immediately that time was of the essence, Senator. We had a small window of opportunity and bringing in others would have taken time we didn’t have.” He nodded at Traci. “Keene and I were more than capable of assessing the mission profiles. It was critical to get things moving in the right direction before handing everything off to the subject matter experts. Now we’re at the point where we need to bring in more expertise if we’re going to make this happen.” Under the table, he nudged her with his shoe. It was her turn to add some color commentary.
She pulled the microphone closer. “If I may, Senator. For historical context, the Apollo 8 mission was enormously ambitious for its time and was conceived in a similar manner. The spacecraft itself had not yet flown, and it would be the first crewed launch on a Saturn V—which had almost shaken itself apart on its last test flight. Program director George Low put together a similarly small study group in Houston to validate his idea for a ‘Hail Mary’ mission to lunar orbit. They didn’t present their plan to anyone in leadership until they’d convinced themselves it could work. They did all of that over a weekend, going from operational concept to the Moon in five months.”
“Ah,” the senator said. He looked to Cheever, who remained silent. “Yes. Let’s return to the question of expertise. To reiterate, you didn’t share this with anyone else inside NASA until recently?”
Roy leaned back in. “As I said, we were concerned about time constraints, and NASA does not currently have operational control over the spacecraft. That is still contracted to the HOPE consortium, where most of the current operational expertise now resides.”
“It’s interesting you would mention that,” Warden said. “HOPE’s contract does not specifically confer the authority to send the other vessel willy-nilly wherever they choose.”
“That’s correct, Senator. Their control is limited to sanctioned missions. It’s our opinion that the most efficient path to bring Columbus up to full capability is to leave the current team in control. Transferring those resources and expertise back to NASA would add time that Templeton simply doesn’t have.”
A couple of the senators, Sullivan notably, appeared uncomfortable. Warden remained amused. “We’re not supposed to call it by that name anymore, Colonel Hoover. It’s become . . . problematic.”
“Columbus?” he asked, intentionally repeating it to them. He had little patience for politically motivated alterations of history. “I know there have been discussions to that effect, but no one has ever officially notified us. What are we supposed to be calling it now?” he asked innocently.
Warden turned to his fellow senators, then back to Roy. “Sacajawea is the current favorite, I believe.”
Roy pursed his lips as he considered that. “Not a bad choice, actually. But still not official, and as far as I know ‘Columbus’ is still painted on the hull. Begging the committee’s pardon, I prefer to work within the present reality.”
“Let’s talk about reality,” Sullivan interjected with a glance at Warden. “If you agree, Senator.”
Warden waved him on. “I cede my time to the gentleman from Pennsylvania,” he said, suggesting that the two had likely worked out whatever was coming next. Sullivan made a show of removing his wire-rim glasses and folding them delicately into one hand, wielding them like a wand at Traci. “Miss Keene, I have some questions for you. For the record, could you please state your background?”
She had been sitting attentively and did not alter her posture. “I’ve been with NASA for twelve years and was in the Air Force for eight before that. I served in F-16 and F-35 squadrons, then flew a variety of experimental aircraft as a test pilot at Edwards. As an astronaut I flew three orbital missions aboard Dragon spacecraft, served a tour at the Lunar Gateway station, and was mission pilot on the Magellan expedition to Jupiter and Pluto.”
“And what is your current role, now that crewed exploration is on hiatus?”
She was certain he already knew the answer, but played along. “I work in the Future Applications program. I perform feasibility studies for proposed missions using existing hardware.”
“So this clandestine exercise you undertook with Colonel Hoover was a natural extension of your official duties?”
She shifted in her chair. Where was he going with this? “Yes, Senator.”
“Would you also agree that your last mission has influenced your proposal before this committee?”
“In what way, Senator? Between training and the mission itself I dedicated four years of my life to that project. So yes, I’d say it influenced my analysis. A lot can happen in space that isn’t readily apparent in a feasibility study.”
Sullivan leaned forward, jabbing with his glasses for emphasis. “Your relationship with Astronaut Templeton being one of those?”
Traci remained rock steady with her hands folded carefully before her. “My ‘relationship’ with him? What are you suggesting, sir?”
The lanky senator leaned back and smiled affably, appearing to backpedal. “What I mean, Miss Keene, is Jack Templeton willingly sacrificed his life to save yours. More so, he did this without any guarantee that you would successfully recover from your injuries and with the near certainty that taking Magellan back into deep space would become a one-way trip. I’m familiar with the intense psychological profiling the agency undertook to ensure crew compatibility. It’s no leap of imagination to think there was some deeper connection between you two.”
She looked down at the table and squeezed her fingers together until they hurt. He was a crafty sonofabitch all right. “Jack was my crewmate and a good friend, Senator. That’s enough of a bond for any of us. Whatever else you’re trying to suggest, I think we should leave it at that.”
“Of course, Miss Keene. I didn’t mean to imply anything untoward. I only seek to understand your motivations.”
Like hell you didn’t. “Of course, Senator,” she said through a smile of clenched teeth. The senator from Arizona caught her eye and gave her a reassuring nod.
“So you don’t feel any special obligation to bring him home?” Sullivan pressed.
“Senator, it’s my job to figure out what’s possible with the tools at hand. Any sense of obligation is out of camaraderie and common decency. There isn’t a soul in the astronaut corps who wouldn’t drop everything to go after one of our own if we thought it were possible. It’s not about personal relationships. It’s a moral obligation.”
“Yet that remains precisely my concern,” he said. “You’re asking us to commit considerable resources to this adventure—this personal quest—in a budgetary environment where we remain significantly constrained. What we add to one program, we must subtract from another.” His displeasure with no longer being able to command the Treasury to print money as if playing Monopoly was legendary.
The Arizona senator raised her hand. “Senator, if I may?”
The chairman gaveled her in. “The committee recognizes the gentle lady from Arizona.”
“Thank you.” She clasped her hands calmly before her and turned to face the other legislators. “Senator Sullivan, I believe Major Keene’s professional achievements speak for themselves. But if you insist that her personal motivations are relevant, I’m sure she’d be willing to go on record.” She then turned to Traci. “Major?”
Warden harrumphed under his breath as Sullivan interjected. “I don’t think that will be necessary—”
“Begging your pardon, but I think she deserves the chance to defend her position.”
Traci had long ago learned how to read a room full of competitive pilots and earnest engineers, but judging this bunch was uncharted territory. “If you’d like for me to go on record about my personal interactions on an extended-duration mission, then I should warn you they could veer into some uncomfortable topics. Space is not for girly-girls, Senator. Privacy is almost nonexistent and traditional gender boundaries become an afterthought. For instance, helping each other practice going to the bathroom so as not to foul the zero-g toilets, or learning how to catheterize an incapacitated crewmate. I’d be happy to discuss more if you wish.”
Senator Warden cleared his throat with a sideways glance at Sullivan. “I believe that will do. I hereby reclaim my time.” He then held up a sheaf of papers. “You mentioned ‘moral obligation,’ which I do believe is relevant to the matter before this committee.” He gestured for an aide, who began handing them sheafs of paper stamped CONFIDENTIAL—OFFICIAL USE ONLY. “The Outer Space Environmental Protection Treaty would expressly prohibit the types of activities we’re discussing here.”
She and Roy exchanged looks—here came the first bombshell. How had they not heard of this before? “Excuse me, Senator,” Roy said, “but you appear to have us at a disadvantage.” Which was no doubt intentional, Traci thought. “A lot of information comes through the Astronaut Office, but this seems to have escaped our notice.”
“That’s unfortunate,” Sullivan sniffed in a subtle breach of protocol which Warden studiously ignored. “We can’t help that it hasn’t become public knowledge, what with so many other concerns demanding the public’s attention.”
Roy remained surprisingly collegial, despite his infamously low tolerance for bureaucratic chicanery. He’d acquired some political survival skills after being moved to the front office. “Perhaps you could indulge us, Senator?” he said, holding up the papers placed in front of him. “At least give us an opportunity to read the abstract?”
“I can do better than that,” Sullivan said, and swiped at his tablet, launching a presentation on a nearby monitor. “OSEP is a UN-sponsored agreement between all spacefaring nations that would prohibit crewed landings on previously unexplored solar system bodies. It recognizes the unique evolutionary risks of introducing a human presence into biospheres that are less than fully understood.”
Roy laughed darkly. “Senator, we barely understand our biosphere.”
“I recognize how this may give you some cause for alarm. If you take a moment to read the language, you’ll see it still allows for a limited human presence.”
“Limited,” Roy quoted back at him after taking a minute to leaf through the abstract. “To areas where we’ve previously landed.” He jabbed a finger at his copy. “Senator, this looks to go a lot farther than biospheres. This wouldn’t allow us to go anywhere we haven’t already been. We couldn’t even target different regions of the Moon or Mars. What would be the point of any future exploration?”
“That is the point, Colonel Hoover. The negotiating committee has recognized we can’t put that genie back in the bottle. But we can certainly control where we open it in the future. With the advent of artificial intelligence, robotic exploration is—”
“Like kissing your sister,” Roy interrupted, finally losing patience. “There is value in having a human presence in unexplored territory. Forget the ‘flags and footprints’ rhetoric. I’m talking about making decisions in real time.”
Sullivan grew annoyed. “As I was saying, artificial intelligence has changed the game. Robotic probes have become, well, less robotic,” he said, proud of himself. “We can rely on an onboard AI to observe and decide without human intervention.” He gestured again at Traci. “You of all people should recognize that after your experience with . . . Daisy, is it? You gave her a human name.”
“That part was easy,” she fired back. The acronym DAISE had made it nigh unavoidable. “Senator, what you fail to recognize is that she didn’t just emerge fully formed when they flipped on the power. Daisy’s intelligence grew over years of interaction with our crew. We didn’t realize she’d become sentient until almost halfway through our mission.” She turned to Roy. “I don’t want to speak for my commander, but I’m not sure he was ever fully convinced.”
Roy folded his arms. “It took some time,” he admitted. “But in the end we’d become so short-handed we didn’t have a choice. I had to treat her as part of the crew if we were going to make it home.”
Traci nodded her agreement. “Our point is AI isn’t ready to stand on its own. It’s out of its infancy but is still in—I don’t know—toddlerhood. From our experience, how they develop has a lot to do with the humans they interact with. Not every AI is going to turn out like Daisy. Handing over full control of a mission at this point would be like giving your car keys to a five-year-old.”
“I have a more pertinent question,” Roy said.
Sullivan looked down his nose at them. “Excuse me, Colonel, but we’re asking the questions here.”
Warden raised his hand and chuckled. “Let’s allow it, Ed. We did kind of sandbag them with OSEP, after all.”
“The proposed mission isn’t landing anywhere,” Roy pointed out. “It’s a straight out-and-back to ensure Templeton’s safe return to Earth. The only contact with anything would be a rendezvous between the two spacecraft. What about that is in conflict with this treaty?”
“All correct,” Warden said. “However, doing so will require outfitting Colum—Sacajawea—in such a way as to blatantly undermine the spirit of this important international accord. How would it look to the world if the US outfitted a ship like this right before signing the treaty that would prohibit it?”
“Prohibit?” Roy cocked an eyebrow at them. “So there’s not an allowance for, say, crewed ships with remotely operated landers?”
“That would still present an unacceptable risk of biological contamination,” the senator explained, looking to Cheever for backup. It was evident he had relied on his staff for this information and had reached the limit of his understanding.
Cheever answered with a satisfied nod. “That’s correct, Senator. I believe my position on the OSEP treaty is well understood by this committee, so I shall not waste your valuable time any further,” she said in a not-so-subtle implication that her astronauts had done just that. She then turned to her chief scientist. “If I may, this would be a good time for Dr. Trumbull to weigh in. He’s practically been living in his office since we received the first data packet from Magellan, and there have been additional discoveries which I think you’ll find relevant to this discussion.”
Warden looked to the chairman. “The chair recognizes Dr. Trumbull.”
An unassuming man, the chief scientist cleared his throat and pushed a pair of horn-rim glasses atop his bulbous nose, which contrasted all the more with his otherwise thin features. “As Dr. Cheever indicated, this is an extraordinary development which we believe warrants further investigation for reasons I will attempt to make clear. This matter has been all-consuming for everyone involved, so I will limit my remarks to those areas in which I have expertise. We have intentionally kept the investigation team limited to a small circle of subject matter experts until we could better understand the observational data relayed from Magellan.”
He took a sip of water. “There is a great deal we can infer from the fact that the spacecraft is no longer on a solar escape trajectory. It did not have enough propellant left to achieve this without the influence of a substantial gravitational field.”
“You mean that undiscovered planet Templeton was looking for when he took Magellan,” Warden said, signaling his displeasure with Jack’s actions.
Trumbull glanced over at Traci. To his credit, he didn’t let the remark go unchallenged. “Regardless of Astronaut Templeton’s motivations, physics dictated we were going to lose the spacecraft regardless. It was a necessary condition to return Miss Keene to Earth in time for the medical care she required. His actions saved her life.”
Warden sat back and folded his hands across his ample midsection. “Your point is taken. Go on.”
“As I was saying, the spacecraft’s relative position and velocity—what we call its ‘state vector’—can tell us much about the mass of the body it orbits. For reasons which are still unknown to us, the data stream from Magellan has been quite thin, but we have received enough observational data to draw preliminary conclusions.” Trumbull paused for effect. He was going to make it as simple as possible. “The gravitational field thought to belong to a large undiscovered planet is there. The planet is not.”
“Excuse me?”
Trumbull responded slowly, careful with his words. “Whatever Magellan is orbiting, it’s not a planet. Its gravity is acting on the spacecraft, and it is bending the light from background stars in an effect called ‘gravitational lensing.’ But the Anomaly itself is not directly observable. We have come to believe it is a dark matter object.”
Warden’s eyebrows lifted in a rare expression of surprise. Cheever’s star witness was having the desired effect. “Can you put that in terms this country lawyer could understand, Doctor?”
“The universe behaves in a manner inconsistent with its observable mass. Galaxies move in ways they shouldn’t, in fact many shouldn’t have formed based on what we can see. They behave as if they are heavier than they appear. We know this is the case because everything else works precisely as our current theories of gravity would predict. This means there must be something we can’t see which is acting on them. This ‘something’ has mass—and therefore gravity—but doesn’t interact with electromagnetic radiation. It does not absorb, reflect, or emit light, thus the term ‘dark matter.’ We can only infer its existence through the effect it has on other objects.”
“So even though he’s right there, so to speak, Templeton still can’t see it?”
“That’s correct, Senator.” Trumbull shot a glance at Cheever and pursed his lips, still debating the rest of his testimony. “There are other interesting anomalies gleaned from Magellan’s data. The time stamps on its telemetry aren’t consistent with the master mission clocks in Houston or with the control team in Grand Cayman. There is nearly a five-year differential.”
“That’s how long it had been since the ship disappeared,” Warden said. “So it’s just getting caught up. I don’t see the significance.”
Trumbull smiled as if lecturing to a particularly inept student. “I may not have explained this clearly enough. This is the ship’s current data stream. The spacecraft’s internal clocks are almost five years behind ours, as if nothing changed from its perspective. It is evidence of time dilation consistent with a vehicle that achieved relativistic velocities.”
Traci fought to stay composed. That explained why his life support had lasted so much longer than they’d thought possible: whatever time had passed for him, it had been years for them. She grabbed Roy’s arm under the table and squeezed. What had Jack gotten himself into?
“Relativistic,” Warden repeated incredulously. “You mean as in Einstein’s theory?”
“Correct, Senator. A fundamental principle of relativity is that time and velocity are both relative to the observer, thus the term.” Trumbull spread his hands apart to illustrate. “A moving object experiences time at a slower rate relative to a stationary observer. The popular understanding is that this phenomenon increases with velocity, though it is also caused by gravity. One proof from everyday life is that GPS satellites must compensate for this effect, otherwise they would be useless.”
“So Magellan somehow accelerated to . . . what? Light speed? How is that possible?”
“Put simply, it isn’t. That is for a number of reasons, the most immediate being that the vehicle did not have enough propellant.” That no amount of fuel could ever be enough was a fact he prudently left unmentioned. “While even a small fraction of light speed is enough to observe time dilation, recall that I also mentioned gravity. Extremes in gravitational potential will induce the same phenomenon. This suggests some remarkable possibilities. And some complications.” He paused to let the gathered senators absorb his physics lesson.
“And what would those be?” Warden asked impatiently.
“I am aware of some speculation that our wayward astronaut may have stumbled upon a black hole where this planet was thought to be. I do not consider that to be likely for a number of reasons, the first of which is the utter lack of an energy signature. There are other, more exotic, explanations which I am reluctant to indulge. But the gravitational effects cannot be ignored.”
“Please feel free to indulge us, Doctor.”
The scientist hesitated, taking another sip of water as he decided how bluntly to frame his answer. He pulled the microphone closer. “Magellan is orbiting a stable wormhole.”