aware what a loss of one, let alone potentially three more ships would cost this colony.
It was a death sentence.
Nolan came over. “Sir, why don’t you get some rack time. We can manage this. We’ll figure it out.”
Mancuso stared at Nolan for a moment, then checked the clock. They had about forty eight hours until the object reached Calypso and not one bit of new information. If it was still out there, they didn’t have any data since Pandora.
He nodded suddenly feeling very old. “Ok, Mister Nolan. You talked me into it. Message me if I’m not back in four hours.”
“You got it.” Nolan turned back to the room and clapped his hands. “Alright people, we want some solid answers. Get on those instruments, please.”
Mancuso made the walk to his cabin on automatic. When he got to his door he barely remembered walking there. He had a sense he was forgetting something. He needed more eyes on this thing.
He leaned into his tablet and sent a recorded message to Powell: “You said it was your students who decoded that thing’s orbit? I need to speak with them.”
017
New Providence.
The three students sat in Emma’s cramped living room listening to music. Occasionally talking. They’d already exhausted what they could do with the limited set of data they had from Olympus so they wrote messages to their families in space.
It had been a few hours since delivering the report to Doc Powell. Since then, the news feeds had erupted with stories about the lost ship. Most of it sensational, very little factual information since they didn’t know anything.
“Do you think they know?” Tamra asked no one in particular of the people on the newsfeed. She was writing a message to her father. … It looks like it’s heading towards you and probably has a few days before it gets there. Please be careful.
She copied Jerem and hit send just as the door to the living room slid open and Emma’s mother entered. She looked tired.
Emma’s mom, Julie walked through the room, dropping her bag on the floor. “Hi Emma. Kids. I have to make a casserole.” She hung up her jacket on the hook beside the door and walked into the kitchen.
Emma got up. “I’d better go help. Wait here.” She walked into the kitchen. Sounds of pots, bowls and casserole dishes could be heard over the music.
Tamra looked at Greg who was still head down on his tablet, doing his best to ignore everything around him. “Hey.”
Greg looked up. “I was just sending my mom some new graphs. You send your dad a copy yet?”
“I sent a message, yeah. I need a text copy of the data when you’re done.”
“Yeah, it’s in our folder.” Greg put his tablet down.
“Thanks.” Tamra felt her forehead and slid closer to Greg. “I don’t feel so good. Do I have a fever?”
They could hear some low voices coming out of the kitchen. A bang of dishes. Some crying. Emma’s voice drifted out through the door trying to console her mother.
Greg looked uncomfortable, but gave Tamra a squeeze. “Do you think we should go?”
Tamra smiled weakly. “Nope.”
Emma and her mother Julie came out of the kitchen. “I’m sorry. I was just over at the Bruno’s apartment. They’re pretty upset. I’m going back over there in the morning.”
Tamra looked up, feeling increasingly tired. “How are they doing, Mrs. Franklin? What about the kids?”
“Oh, you know. I don’t think they really understand yet. They have a lot of questions.” Julie had a far-off look in her eyes, her brain elsewhere. “We all have a lot of questions.”
They nodded, not really looking at each other. A concerned look crossed Emma’s face, said what everyone was thinking. “What if this thing’s going after Dad?”
“Oh sweetie.” Julie hugged her daughter. “What thing? They’ll figure it out. Probably just a fluke accident.” Then, decisively. “I have to make this casserole.”
Tamra sniffled. “Anything we can do to help?” She squeezed Greg’s
It was a death sentence.
Nolan came over. “Sir, why don’t you get some rack time. We can manage this. We’ll figure it out.”
Mancuso stared at Nolan for a moment, then checked the clock. They had about forty eight hours until the object reached Calypso and not one bit of new information. If it was still out there, they didn’t have any data since Pandora.
He nodded suddenly feeling very old. “Ok, Mister Nolan. You talked me into it. Message me if I’m not back in four hours.”
“You got it.” Nolan turned back to the room and clapped his hands. “Alright people, we want some solid answers. Get on those instruments, please.”
Mancuso made the walk to his cabin on automatic. When he got to his door he barely remembered walking there. He had a sense he was forgetting something. He needed more eyes on this thing.
He leaned into his tablet and sent a recorded message to Powell: “You said it was your students who decoded that thing’s orbit? I need to speak with them.”
017
New Providence.
The three students sat in Emma’s cramped living room listening to music. Occasionally talking. They’d already exhausted what they could do with the limited set of data they had from Olympus so they wrote messages to their families in space.
It had been a few hours since delivering the report to Doc Powell. Since then, the news feeds had erupted with stories about the lost ship. Most of it sensational, very little factual information since they didn’t know anything.
“Do you think they know?” Tamra asked no one in particular of the people on the newsfeed. She was writing a message to her father. … It looks like it’s heading towards you and probably has a few days before it gets there. Please be careful.
She copied Jerem and hit send just as the door to the living room slid open and Emma’s mother entered. She looked tired.
Emma’s mom, Julie walked through the room, dropping her bag on the floor. “Hi Emma. Kids. I have to make a casserole.” She hung up her jacket on the hook beside the door and walked into the kitchen.
Emma got up. “I’d better go help. Wait here.” She walked into the kitchen. Sounds of pots, bowls and casserole dishes could be heard over the music.
Tamra looked at Greg who was still head down on his tablet, doing his best to ignore everything around him. “Hey.”
Greg looked up. “I was just sending my mom some new graphs. You send your dad a copy yet?”
“I sent a message, yeah. I need a text copy of the data when you’re done.”
“Yeah, it’s in our folder.” Greg put his tablet down.
“Thanks.” Tamra felt her forehead and slid closer to Greg. “I don’t feel so good. Do I have a fever?”
They could hear some low voices coming out of the kitchen. A bang of dishes. Some crying. Emma’s voice drifted out through the door trying to console her mother.
Greg looked uncomfortable, but gave Tamra a squeeze. “Do you think we should go?”
Tamra smiled weakly. “Nope.”
Emma and her mother Julie came out of the kitchen. “I’m sorry. I was just over at the Bruno’s apartment. They’re pretty upset. I’m going back over there in the morning.”
Tamra looked up, feeling increasingly tired. “How are they doing, Mrs. Franklin? What about the kids?”
“Oh, you know. I don’t think they really understand yet. They have a lot of questions.” Julie had a far-off look in her eyes, her brain elsewhere. “We all have a lot of questions.”
They nodded, not really looking at each other. A concerned look crossed Emma’s face, said what everyone was thinking. “What if this thing’s going after Dad?”
“Oh sweetie.” Julie hugged her daughter. “What thing? They’ll figure it out. Probably just a fluke accident.” Then, decisively. “I have to make this casserole.”
Tamra sniffled. “Anything we can do to help?” She squeezed Greg’s
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