Space Voyage #1

[TheFaithfulStone]

Dozens of the little buggers had swarmed out of the hold, crawling all over me, the shop, and into the air vents and service corridors with abandon. Whereas only a few seconds ago I had been overwhelmed with the the little robotic insects, now the shop was once again empty.

The "buggers" where small robots, about the size of a rat with a wireless camera and some basic sensors affixed to them that had a (very) basic analog pathfinding routine. They also had a connection to The Prophesy's main computer, and a battery life of a few days to a week or so. They would crawl "out" for half that time, and then "back" for the other. Being small, and equipped with six nano-fiber legs, they could get into places the crew could never go. They sent low-res video to the main computer, which used advanced image differencing techniques to alert us to things that might be out of place. And of course, the sensors on the little crawlers could find leaks, small broken bits, and anything that might have shaken loose in the burn. They were handy little suckers, and of course an operator could tap into the video stream whenever he felt like it, provided he had the password. If they found something, they stayed put and emitted a strong beacon that the crew could use to find them and repair whatever little anomaly they had found.

During shakedown they had found nearly a hundred dropped bolts. Not a big deal on a surface ship, but on a spacecraft, they could turn into dangerous projectiles during a despin, or get sucked into a fan, or something worse. They'd even managed to find a tiny pinhole in an air duct, a manufacturing defect that the onboard sensors wouldn't have picked up.

The "crawlers" were certainly handy, although some of the crew were a bit creeped out by their cockroach-like behavior. You tended to see them scurrying into air-vents and hear them walking around behind service panels.

I was watching the feeds now, twelve on the screen at a time. There was of course, not much I could see - it was mostly dark in the access panels and air-ducts, and the computer was much better at detecting slightly "off-balance" readings that I ever would be, but it was fun to watch... kind of.

I snapped out of my virtual cockroach experience when the intercom went off behind me.

"Stone! We've got a problem with one of those bots you refitted for the Ag Section. It seems to have broken a plow."

"No big deal, I'll bring you another right now..."

I grabbed my tool-kit, and an extra CNT plow off the workbench, thinking to myself that it was a little odd that one would have actually broken, but attributing it, in the same thought, to a problem with the CNT nano-lathe, and headed out the door.

I didn't see the signal from Crawler-34 suddenly turn to static.

[dum dum dum!]
TFS

[Pyrotex]

Well, I have done the best I can do. There is every reason to believe that I am being watched, since the Scotland Yard dude was in fact murdered mere hours after he had arranged to slip me the warning. (I see from one of the French news feeds that he was killed by over 300 2.5 mm high velocity ceramic flechettes in the abdomen, chest and head. Yuch!) Therefore, from this point on, I shall play innocent and make no more moves that our adversaries may deem suspicious.

I gave BD the gist on the Moon by sound conduction of our helmets. The full story I slipped to him via a handful of toilet paper on which I had written the facts in #2 pencil. I requested that since he has certain "special" access to Earth via means that do not rely on our standard comm sats (I shall say no more) that he let Earth Prophecy Central (EPC) in on our "problem" and have them initiate some research on our computer vendors.

I caught Janus in the ol swimming hole and jumped in. I knew that the garden modules have very few surveillance feeds -- cause he and I designed them that way! I asked him a favor. Could he design a virus, a tiny harmless virus, that could pass from one computer to another without detection and look for abnormal execution activity? The bug we are up against is likely to be, itself, another virus, precluding any way of cleaning it out of the systems all at once. Janus gave me a big grin.

I managed to get TFS into one of the garden modules by "carelessly" screwing with one of his auto-plows. I led him into the corn plot and asked him if he could modify some of his "little buggers" to do some very discrete espionage. It would nice to know IF I'm being followed--and by whom. TFS had no problem. He always does love a challenge.

I sorely wanted to use the talents of KAC, but I don't know his background. Could he be one of the perps? I just can't risk it at this time.

And finally R/Pon. As defacto floor sweeper and "mascot" nobody (BUT NOBODY) would suspect his REAL STATUS on our crew, a fact that is totally tip-top secret to everybody onboard except for him, me and two other officers who I shall not mention by name. Even EPC doesn't know who R/Pon really is, chuckle chuckle. His assignment was the most sensitive and secret of all. And the most critical.

If he fails--then we are all as good as dead.

[Jay-qu]

I guess because you didnt come talk to me I am a prime suspect

[ronthepon]

My reciever blipped repeatedly, indicating motion somewhere ahead. I knew that I would be asked suspicious questions if I were found there. I also knew that this was my last proper chance to search Pyrotex's room properly.

Just then, I spotted the little bugger(no pun intended, I assure you). Thankfully, it was still moving in the vent, with the wire mesh exposing it to me. Before it could turn and expose me to its transmittive camera, I had to destroy it.

I drew the nailgun I had brought as a precaution. Then I aimed at it the best I could. I pulled the 'trigger'. Three missed the target before I could properly 'nail' it down. Hopefully the listener was not exactly concentrating of the screen of the bugger at the time.

I quickly proceeded to pick up the remains of the multimillion dollar crawler, and extracted the nails from its shiny body. Crawler 34. May not have been on screen while I broke it. I put it in my pocket, deciding to make it look like an accident.

A few more minutes of searching in Pyrotex's room proved to be inconclusive. I found nothing that would betray him explictly. Although, he had kept a .357 revolver model without any bullets. It was indeed strange.

Why would he keep an empty weapon like that? And why would he risk putting such a dangerous giveaway in such an open place?

I considered the possibility that he was being implicated. That would mean that the true suspect knew about my searching intentions.

I kept the .357 back in its position. Picking up the destroyed crawler, I moved out of the room.

[Pyrotex]

Shit. Someone has been in my room. And they left a .357 magnum under the richly embroidered bathrobe in the top drawer of my dresser. I don't touch it with my fingers, but it is definately mine. I left it in my house back in Texas six months ago! Somebody is trying to tell me that my house was searched prior to our launch from Earth orbit.

I check the vent for the custom bugger that should have been recording the events in my room. It's not there. I see two small holes in the vent itself. Disturbing.

The last lunar shuttle leaves the Moon day after tomorrow. The Moon base we will leave behind is fully automated. There is someone down there that I MUST talk to: Jay-Qu. It is imperative that I warn him BEFORE he gets back onboard! But HOW am I gonna get to the Moon's surface and back without anybody but Jay-Qu knowing?

Watson, this is a three-pipe problem!!!

[TheFaithfulStone]

[OPEN STREAM]
[OCTECT-8 HANDSHAKE]
-CRAWLER-34-IP-192.168.15.34-
-PROPHESY-MAIN-IP-192.168.0.2-
KEEP ALIVE----

BEGIN TRANSMISSION.

T-INDEX:1
UPDATING POSITION REPORT: CABIN-C81 (PYROTEX)
SENDING IMAGE DATA: @C-DATA
SENDING SENSOR DATA: @S-DATA
WAITING FOR REPLY . . . . . . [no anomaly]

T-INDEX:34
UPDATING POSITION REPORT: CABIN-C81 (PYROTEX)
SENDING IMAGE DATA: @C-DATA
SENDING SENSOR DATA: @S-DATA
WAITING FOR REPLY . . . . . . [Anomaly Detected]

REQUEST ANOMALY DIFF. WAITING . . . . .

ANOMALY IDENTIFIED. REFERENCING . . . .

ERROR: LEG MALFUNCTION.
ERROR: SMA ERROR
ERROR: CONTROLLER ERROR.

ANOMALY(2) IDENTIFIED - CONNECTIVE PIN (PART #A3450349RX2)
ANOMALY(3) IDENTIFIED - CONNECTIVE PIN (PART #A3450349RX2)

SENSOR ANOMALY - AIR PRESSURE CHANGING.

ERROR:LEG CONTROLLER 2,5,6
ERROR:CAMERA FUNCTION OFFLINE
ERROR:NETWORDSF9089xzxcl;akjw234;lzkjzlxcjvas7df98 7F*(&D(*F&(*D&SFasdfdfasdfzxcvzxcv

.... NO CARRIER

CRAWLER-34-PING . . . . NO RESPONSE
CRALWER-34-PING . . . . NO RESPONSE.

[END TRANSMISSION]

I stared at the print out. What did it mean? Had someone actually knocked off the little bugger? Or had it just wandered into a fan and been destroyed? It had been known to happen, they weren't particularly smart.

But still, the nail thing was a little odd, and the sudden change in air pressure, it could either be a fan, a something descending rapidly towards the bugger.

Back on the workbench Crawler-43 was disassembled while I fitted it with a wireless mike and a reprogrammed it's controller to follow Pyro's beacon around. I'd even obscured it's insignia - no one would suspect it was the same little bugger that was following him around, just that the he seemed to be kind of a strange magnet for them.

There was even a kind of informal competition among the crew, seeing who could spot the most buggers in a day. Current leader was Ronthepon. (Current leader was ALWAYS Ronthepon, he spent all that time lurking in corridors and cleaning stuff... creepy.) I'd ask him if he'd seen #34.

I needed to show Pyrotex this printout, but he wasn't in his cabin, and I couldn't find him on the ship. He may have been in the center section or near the reactor - the position tracking system we used to keep track of the crew got a little spotty down there.

I put the case back on 43. I'd nicknamed this little spy-bot "Julia" after Julia Childs, WWIIs most unlikely OSS agent. Plus I liked the irony - Julia Childs was 6'2" tall - my little bugger was barely six-inches end to end.

I turned it on but nothing happened - the robot couldn't locate the signal from Pyro's personal beacon. Odd.

I pinged the robot to make sure it was working, and it was. Things were getting strange on board this ship. I might need a little something out of my personal stash...

I put the little bot into the airduct. When ever Pyro's beacon came back on, the bot would seek him out and follow him around (at a non-suspicious distance) of course.

Then I went looking for Ronthepon. I wanted to ask him if he'd seen Crawler-34 anywhere.

TFS

[Jay-qu]

The moon was fun at first, all the excitement, the cameras, but now the novelty had long but worn off. It was time for all the boring stuff! I have been picking up and sealing sample after sample of rock dust and anything else we could find. I cant beleive I scored this job, I should be up on the ship with Pyro and Janus figuring out our satellites orbits and all the cool stuff!

Thats it, finally I finished! I shoved the last sample into its holding container in the lander and started heading for the platform, as I got there was a loud burst of static over my comm. Then it cleared up a bit, it was faint but I could hear a voice in there.. It was Pyro!

[KickAssClown]

Oblivious to the stranger dealings of the ship, KAC found himself wandering about the ship, mostly being a lazy bum, but then again he didn't have many duties at the moment. Someone had suggested him as a Wrangler operator, guess they had liked his Rover stunt.

He chuckled to himself, drawing some looks as he went about. signing in with GAHD, and grabbing his own tools from his quarters, KAC would spend the rest of the day shuffling about the ship performing maintence. He continued to break into chuckles and big grins as he worked away, some silent personal joke giving him great amusement... they wouldn't know what hit'em.

[TheBigDog]

I sat alone in my quarters, leaning back in my chair and fidgeting with a small piece of metal. The past two days since the moon trip...

I didn't have a clue about what all had been going on. Not a minute after we stepped off the platform onto the surface, Pyro is giving me a gesture that only two guys who had downed more than a bottle of tequila in a night would both know the meaning of. I knew that about 3 billion people were watching us on the tube. We were in fact expected to make some public words, and answer some questions from the press pool who had been selected to interview us live once we landed. Lucky for us the plan went to hell. Someone, I know who but I am not telling, took control of the rover and drove it right into the middle of the pack of six lunar-naughts standing in the group. No sooner had that happened than InfiniteNow and the rich guy had seated themselves on its flat top and were being toted over to the old Eagle lander. the other four following close behind kicking up a storm of dust.

With all eyes of the world now dancing with that group Pyro and I were free to exchange a few words. We both switched off our mikes, including the telemetry monitors, and touched our bubble masks together. This was the first time I had noticed real tension in Pyro's face. Sure, he had been feeling a little under the weather, but the look he flashed me at that moment was enough to make me forget were in the universe we actually were. Words were quickly exchanged, but all I needed was the look. We would find a way to talk in detail later.

That was all I needed. This was perhaps my only opportunity to visit the moon, I would most likely spend every day of the next few years onboard the Prophesy, while the scientists got to do all the cool extravehicular stuff. And now was so distracted that the surreal joy was turning into a numbness. Shaking my head to gather myself back into the moment I bounced off to join the others for the ceremony.

Inside the rover was a monument. We took it out and placed it by the foot of the lander where Neil and Buzz had descended to the surface 36 years earlier. We posed for a picture, and read some speeches. But they seem unimportant now.

Then we moved off to the shuttle for a short hop to another moon site. This time we landed at the site Apollo 13 had selected as their primary landing site. Another PR stunt, we had our guests actually perform some of the experiments that they had prepared for all those years earlier. Then, ceremonially we passed the tools for gather rocks from the Apollo 13 crew to InfiniteNow and Jay-Qu from our crew.

We soon ascended back into the shuttle and returned to the Prophesy.

I had to figure out a way of changing our plans for the return trip to earth. But how? First thing I would do is delay them. We would linger at the moon for a couple of days, including our guests. This would give us some time to get a handle on things.

We launched the real science crew to the surface the next day. They would be setting up an automated base to conduct research controlled from the earth. Plus doing their own research. They were controlling the seven rovers we had sent previous to gather moon samples from every interesting corner we had found on the surveys. Racoon, Jay-Qu and a couple of redshirts made up the crew. They could stay down there for a couple of days. Racoon was interested in gathering soil samples for gardening. Jay-Qu was getting his first chance at command. We had spent the past few years grooming him for this mission. He seemed to be doing fine.

Dammit! Why couldn't I get it off my mind! Sabotage? What member of the crew could be planning sabotage? I had helped with the selection of every person. We had used multiple methods of vetting people and checking backgrounds. How could the be a bad guy up here? WHO WOULD WANT TO HURT MY SHIP!

The more I though about it, the more impossible it seemed, and the more impossible it seemed, the more it bothered me that it was probably true. Dammit! I had my trusted people, but Pyro had said to trust nobody. Did that include him? Did it include me?

The piece of metal kept twisting through my fingers. The clock on the wall continued to makes its slow loops, marking the passage of time spent doing nothing. Was I all right? I didn't know anymore. I had been sitting there for hours. The pieces of broken bugger along with six bullets. .357 I think. On my computer screen was a simple message. I would be given orders that I would follow, or bad things would happen. Very bad things. I could only image what that meant. And the first thing it said to do was to get Pyro back to the surface of the moon, but nobody could know I had made it happen. Not even Pyro.

And I sat twiddling the bullet and wondering how I would make that happen. And how I could flush out the person behind this. I would play along for now, with my eyes wide open. I had put too much of my life into this ship. I was not going to lose her. I found myself gripping the bullet tight in my fist, my nails digging into my palm. I knew what I would do. But first, to get Pyro to the moon. Did they want to play? I had a game for them!

BAM! My fist came down on the table as I shot up from the chair. First things first, I had to get Pyro to the moon.

Bill (t+3)

[ronthepon]

I knew I had made mistakes. In my attempts to make the holes look bigger, so that they would not give direct indications of nails, I had ignored the other, larger holes already present. Back in training, it would have gotten me badly kicked.

It turned out that someone had already shot at the thing with the .357, before I had entered. I then came, innocently believed it to be fine and shot it with my nails. I knew that the rest of the crew was becoming wary of the situation. And the suspicion could very easily fall on me, because of my easy access to everywhere on the ship.

Pyrotex was getting wary of me. TheBigDog was getting wary of me. I was no closer to knowing who the threat was, than I was at the commencement of my assignment. I had to work fast.

I waited for the moon mission I had been told about by TheBigDog. It could be an oppurtunity for me to get sure about Pyrotex.

But now, I had to talk to the TheBigDog. I procceded to his room, he had been there for about two hours fiddling with the very thing I wanted to hide. And he had not allowed any visitors. But he had to allow me. He knew that I was worth it.