Mixed Messages

Another backstory from “The Edge of Space,” a science fiction novel I’m starting. This story introduces three supporting characters and how they interact.

The Science Director’s words were still ringing in Michael Snedden’s ears as he stared at the fake analog clock on the wall of his office. NASA had a reputation for facing up to its failures and moving on. The Viking One mission was a failure. It had been launched fifty-years earlier to travel beyond the solar system but, once entering interstellar space, its instruments began reporting anomalous data. It didn’t even know where it was, even though it was hurtling through the cosmos at more than thirty-four-thousand miles per hour. He was to inform the principal investigators for its science missions of its status and not release any of the faulty data. That last part bothered him. Wouldn’t the PIs want to examine the data so they could improve future instruments? He had raised that point but Director Richardson had been clear that the data were useless for scientific purposes, which raised another flag for Michael. If the instruments had reported scientifically useless data, what else could it be used for? He would to the JPL contractors who’d discovered the problem when he informed them that their services were no longer required.

His computer notified him of the call he’d been expecting, from the White House. Michael knew Assistant Undersecretary of Science and Technology Djimon Walker by reputation only; he was a relentless young man who should not be underestimated. Michael accepted the video call and prepared for the worst, but he was going to insist on knowing why the science leads were not to see the data. He would need a plausible answer when their complaints became public.

Djimon Walker couldn’t have been more than thirty-five, his black face topped by short-cropped hair, a thin mustache separating a broad nose from thick lips, but his symmetrical eyes were focused like laser beams on Michael before he spoke.

“We’ll keep this brief because you are going to get a lot of blowback from your scientists. They are going to demand to see the data that we’re telling them is corrupted but their accessing it is out of the question. You will need to have a good cover story. I suggest that you speak to Malcolm Goodson at NSA. I’ll send you his contact info, He’ll be expecting your call. Meanwhile, I’d like to know more about the contractors at JPL who discovered the anomaly.”

Michael was taken aback by Walker’s verbal assault and had to think a minute, consulting several reports lying on his desk, before responding. “The Viking program’s science mission is being handled by a subcontractor. The lead is …” He dug through the papers and found the contract before continuing, “Madison Long has a B.S. in physics. She’s been working on the project for two years, flawless performance, not a single complaint from the mission scientists, and she was recently joined by Devon  Chambers …” He leafed through some more papers adding, “He has a B.S. in physics from Texas A&M, had a scholarship. I don’t know much about him because he’s only been on the program for a couple of weeks. Despite the exemplary job Madison was doing, the contract called for two analysts.”

Walker’s eyes narrowed briefly before he said, “Can you add anything that I don’t already know?”

“I met Madison Long a couple of times in formal situations. She’s a strange girl but … she’s brilliant, that’s how everyone describes her. She could have gotten a PhD from MIT but dismissed it as a lot of academic bullshit – those are her words as I was told. During one brief conversation, she informed me that the constellations were nothing more than paintings put there for our entertainment. She’s a big believer in astrology. During another brief encounter she told me my horoscope and explained it in detail, ignoring the complaints of the scientists around us. Very determined and … she is the most intellectually persistent person I’ve ever met. All I can say about Devon Chambers is what Madison reported in what she calls his initial performance report; he’s a fast learner and doesn’t follow typical scientific thinking. He spotted the anomaly after only thirty minutes on the job, with no introduction to the mission —  a failure she admits was her own. He’s a pretty sharp young man. Probably would be a good PhD candidate.” 

Walker’s focused expression was unchanged as he said, “Inform Ms. Long that she is on a leave of absence and doesn’t need to monitor the Viking mission any further, but leave the contract in place so that we don’t garner unwanted attention. I will deal with her myself. Thank you for your time, Dr. Snedden.”

The video call ended just like that but, before Michael could reflect on the conversation, his computer informed him of a video call from the President’s undersecretary of science and technology. He had never met Sylvia Dubicki but he’d read about her in newspapers and magazines. She had held temporary positions in the White House for both political parties and was considered to be an honest, pragmatic scientist who was above the political fray. He accepted the call.

“Good afternoon, Dr. Snedden.”

Michael glanced at the clock and did some quick mental math. “Good evening, Dr. Dubicki. What a coincidence. I just got off the line with Dr. Walker, who informed me of the official status of the Voyager program.” He smiled at the aging face on his monitor, a white woman who could have been a grandmother in a children’s story, with short, dyed blond hair showing gray, and twinkling eyes.

“It is getting late,” she replied. “Thank god I don’t have to worry about putting the children to bed. They’re probably going to be up for hours. That’s their problem. My problem is how to deal with the current crisis confronting humanity …” She paused to let her words sink in. 

Michael made the connection to Dr. Walker’s ambiguous reference to scientific uses for Voyager One but hedged his response. “Yes. The failure of Voyager One will be a problem with Congress, the competence of NASA once again called into question.”

Dr. Dubicki smiled knowingly. “Good equivocal answer, but this is a … I don’t know how to put it. This isn’t a question of national defense because the spacecraft is far beyond our ability to investigate what happened but there may have been interference by an unknown entity, by which I mean that there is something hidden … the anomalous data seem to conatain a communication of some kind, but NSA’s algorithms haven’t gotten further than that.”

Michael’s mind was reeling. “What kind of message?”

“We don’t know but the only reasonable interpretation at this early stage is contact with an extraterrestrial species. The data reveal patterns that make no sense to our analysts or our supercomputers. By the way, this call was a spur of the moment. I’m sure that Dr. Walker explained the White House’s position very well, but then I thought … maybe we need an outsider’s perspective because, after all, our best effort produced nothing more than a pattern with a fifty-one percent confidence of it being anything more than noise.”

“What would you like me to do, Dr. Dubicki?”

Blue eyes filled with uncertainty presaged what her words made clear. “Madison and Devon are more familiar with the data than the NSA so, even though you are to terminate their involvement in the Voyager program, I would appreciate it if you could continue to allow them access. I’m not asking you to break any law or NASA regulation, but only give them a leave of absence … so they can look at the anomalous data from another perspective.”

“So, officially their contract is terminated but they aren’t told to turn in their badges and they continue to have access to the data. Is that what you’re saying?”

“Yes. Can you do that?”

“That’s a lot easier than telling the mission scientists that they can’t see the data. Why don’t we get their assistance too?”

Dr. Dubicki sighed and frowned. “That would be violating a direct instruction from the President. We are walking a fine line here, Dr. Snedden. Are we in agreement?”

“Yes, ma’am. I will speak to them myself.”

“Thank you, Dr. Snedden.”