ALKUBYER'S LEGACY
♫ Soundtrack 1: YouTube / Spotify (Rammstein - Mein Herz Brennt Instrumental)
Thursday, January 11th, 12’018 HE
Selene research station (lunar orbit)
18:30 MST
Nobody had said internships were necessarily fun. Fernando Sandoval had known this, yet somehow he had expected more.
Two weeks into his internship at the Space Examiner and Lunar Environs Explorer, a Neo-Meshikan space laboratory in low-Lunar orbit, his initial excitement at being in space was finally beginning to wear off.
As he watched the tiny white pixels, each one representing a dull grey hunk of space rock, waltzing around his computer screen in intricate orbits, he wondered how in God’s name he would be able to develop a thesis from this. Even if he could in some way manage it, he was sure he’d bore his professors to death. And his classmates. Really, you went up to space for four months to track the motions of space boulders? Couldn’t you do that from here?
Well, what else had he learned? He didn’t feel like much, thanks in no small part to his new mentor. He was a brilliant scientist, to be fair. Just not good at the… actual mentoring bit.
Young Fernando sighed with a barely suppressed exasperation and decided he needed a break. He felt miserable. Undoing his straps and floating away from his seat in the direction of the kitchenette, he reflected on the fact that not far from here, the world’s—no, the Moon’s—first Lunar Games were commencing.
Thursday, January 11th, 12’018 HE
Codezegor Stadium (Zemlya-Luna Lagrangian Point 4)
19:10 MST
The Codezegor Stadium—short for Codeco Zero-Gravity Orbital Stadium—was a metal cylinder located in Lagrangian point 4 of the Zemlya-Moon system, approximately 200 meters in length and some 120 in diameter. Though its construction had been plagued by delays, its time to shine had finally come.
The interior design was highly modular, adaptable to the wide variety of zero- or low-gravity sports that the future would inevitably bring. The current configuration consisted of rows upon rows of seats strapping hundreds of spectators to the structure’s curved walls, leaving a large, hollow space in the middle. Structure rotation was currently at a minimum.
The hollowed-out center portion was now quite a sight to behold. Estela Ybarra watched as hundreds of gallons of crystalline water floated in large spherical bubbles aligned with the axis of the craft. A thin membrane of some transparent material separated her and the rest of the audience from the central spectacle. The scarcity and preciousness of water in space drove the point home: the Lunar Olympics Committee, funded mostly by Codeco nations, had spared no expense for the project. (A fact which would continue to puzzle Yuzanese economists for generations to come.)
The members from each participating nation had begun their parade across the length of the craft. Making use of maneuvering poles installed at regular intervals throughout the length of the station, they propelled themselves from one extreme towards the other, gliding gracefully and with practiced ease over and around the spheres of water.
The Neo-Meshikan delegation had been designated to lead the parade, as an honor to its establishment of the first successful Lunar colony. It was also, along with the Halloranian and Krasniyan delegations, one of the largest. They were dressed in bright white suits with orange markings, the team’s colors. A velvety red mariachi sombrero was waved and floated about, while Neo-Meshikan traditional music trumpeted in the background. The rest of the fifteen total participating nations followed in alphabetical order (in Anglish, the de facto language of communication in outer space), each also carrying their respective national banners; these were: Amazonia, Andeainca, Corsaer, Cundinamarca, Czervenika, Great Slatain, Hallorania, Krasniya, Los Cartagenas, Peihan, Terra-Pacifica, Yavapai, Yorkonia, and Yuzan. The colored banners floated by strangely in the microgravity, as if underwater, while the members of each delegation waved, smiled, and showed off various feats of zero-gravity gymnastics to an enthusiastic crowd. Most of the participants were workers on one of the Lunar colonies or from the various space stations.
The parade was not completely without controversy. Given that the audience present all hailed from socialist nations, there was a notable and tense silence upon the appearance of the Slatish, Peihanese, and Yuzanese teams. The Space Olympics Committee, despite vociferous objections from the governments of some member states (notably Nuevo Meshiko—who continued to protest the occupation of upper Granadita in western Estinia—, and Krasniya—who viewed the Slatish as traitors to the working class), had opted to invite Yuzanese and Slatish participation in a feeble bid to promote solidarity and coöperation in space. Neither nation had a lunar settlement, but the Yuzanese had considerable presence in the cislunar region while the Slatish still had researchers and other workers under Codeco contracts, making them both eligible to participate. Nevertheless, their unabashed decision to accept had still come as somewhat of a shock to some.
Following the parade, Estela watched as Álvaro Seymour, president of the SOC, entered the central chamber and began his short speech:
“From the dawn of civilization, humans have looked up and dreamt of the moon and stars, and wondered what it would be like to be up here, in the heavens, among the gods. We no longer have to wonder, but there is still much work to be done to fully realize that dream.” He paused for effect. “In the meantime, we have much to celebrate, in ourselves, in our capacities, and our achievements… People of the Lunar colonies, you are the present of our world, and the future of our civilization. I thank you, for your unmatchable courage, and for your indispensable enterprise.” His words were met with much fanfare from the crowd.
“I now have the honor of asking the Chairwoman to the Council for Developmental Coöperation to open the Games of the First Space Olympiad of the modern era.”
Silence fell. From the opposite extreme, Margaret Brenner, looking rather fetching in a golden Codeco jumpsuit and with her brown hair in a tight-yet-neat bun meant to keep it from floating in her face, had already taken her position. Her deep-blue eyes seemed to pierce the cameras as she spoke.
“I hereby declare the Games of Luna, celebrating the First Space Olympiad of the modern era… open!”
Thursday, January 11th, 12’018 HE
Selene research station (lunar orbit)
19:30 MST
Fernando Sandoval’s eyes were glued to the screen as the Chairwoman’s words drew euphoria from the crowd. The camera panned a sea of waving arms, floating banners, and excited faces. How he wished he were one of them.
The Olympic anthem played, and the new Olympic flag was brought in… five linked hoops with a rocket shooting through them like a meteor. The crowd cheered, and the people in the room with him cheered along with them.
“How cool is that?” someone was saying.
“I wish I was there,” someone else said.
“Why didn’t you apply?”
“Fernando, where are you going? The ceremony’s just getting started!”
“To check up on the Doctor, he hasn’t been out of the lab for ages. I’m starting to wonder if he’s still alive,” Sandoval replied. His remark was met with a chuckle, but he was only half joking; his mentor was a very strange man indeed, and could fixate on a project for ages. He had been known to forego food and rest when he was particularly excited about what he thought could be a breakthrough.
Some ten or fifteen minutes later, he had reached the lab. He had requested access several times already, and had begun to worry when the speech module announced that access had been granted. The door slid open, and Sandoval let himself inside.
♫ Soundtrack 2: YouTube / Spotify (Star Trek: Into Darkness Main Theme)
Thursday, January 11th, 12’018 HE
Codezegor Stadium (Zemlya-Luna L₄)
19:36 MST
The lighting dimmed, and slow, soothing music began to play. The soft glint of the enormous floating spheres of water was barely visible in the dark, at least until a beam was projected, bathing one of the bubbles with in soft blue glow.
A person appeared, dressed in shimmering silver. She launched herself effortlessly—making clever use of the barely visible maneuvering poles—directly into the bubble. Once at the heart, she began to swim, propelling herself around the interior in elegant strokes. The color of the bubble changed, gaining a slight greenish hue. One by one, other bubbles were similarly lit, each revealing a single shimmering swimmer in its interior, then two, then three.
The beginning of life on Zemlya.
Vocals began as more, empty bubbles were lit, but these glowed earthy browns and vibrant greens. Lasers were used to project images of plantlife; the bubbles were now essentially floating holograms meters and meters across.
Some of the swimmers shed their silver costumes, revealing different colored ones underneath, and made the jump from their ocean-themed bubbles to the earth-themed ones. Others stayed in the water habitats, also trading in their own silver suits for new ones, and leaping from watery to watery bubble.
The music intensified as millions of years’ worth of evolution was played out front of the audience. Estela, along with every other soul present, stood transfixed, strapped to her seat, watching the history of life on her planet unfold before her eyes. In a manner of minutes, creatures small and large had lived and died, the dinosaurs had ruled and had been obliterated by a random blast from the skies in a shower of sparks, smoke, reds, and oranges.
The planet was then grey and desolate. But the smoke cleared, and soon, humans emerged. In a span of a few minutes, they had gone from hunter-gatherers (watching swimmers thrust about in frantic chases was enthralling) to farmers, to industry-owners and rulers of cities.
The story of the modern era sped up along with the music, until they were both stopped by a loud, drawn out chord. The scene faded from view. The silhouettes of the bubbles glimmered in near darkness once more.
A quiet, yet expectant tune rose once more. It was accompanied by a spotlight aimed at a single individual, dressed in what resembled a unmarked spacesuit. The astronaut glided forward slowly, right arm stretching outward, as if wanting to touch something only he could see.
A sphere lit up before him. Dull, gray, lifeless.
The astronaut was reaching for the moon.
It was a tense few seconds for all present. The closer the astronaut seemed to get, the slower he seemed to go. Had the performer miscalculated? Had he not gained enough momentum to reach his target?
The crowd held their collective breath. The astronaut drew closer, arm outstretched, palm facing forward. And, after what seemed like an eternity, it made contact with the surface of the bubble, sending ripples across its surface.
There was an explosion of laser light and music. The ship’s window panels opened, offering a clear view into space as the background to the spectacle. Other spheres lit up, with holograms of space stations, lunar colonies, satellites, and an orbital tower. People from many nationalities working together to mine water ice, to grow crops, and to practice sports together on the Moon. The lights and music died out once more as a recording played in the background. It was hard to hear clearly over the roar of the crowd, yet unmistakable.
”That's one small step for a man, one giant leap for mankind.”
Three water spheres began to glow again, as Strauss’ “Also Sprach Zarathustra” began to play. The astronaut was illuminated, finding himself between two of them. But this time, his back was turned towards the blue and gray spheres. He had his attention focused on the red one, and was slowly drifting toward it.
The crowd’s silence became a deafening furor of excitement. Against the backdrop of the stars, the real ones, the meaning was clear. Humanity would go to Maedim.
Thursday, January 11th, 12’018 HE
Selene research station (lunar orbit)
19:44 MST
“Sorry, Doctor, sir, but we were wondering if—”
The man, as usual, was not listening to him. “¡Fernando! Qué bueno que vienes, ven acá, you’re going to want to see this.”
“Um, sorry, sir, but I just—”
“Es acá.”
Sandoval sighed softly. He decided he’d check whatever the man was working on quickly and then he’d be on his way. He glided over. The man was motioning to something floating across the lab, shielded behind a thick pane of plastic.
“¿Sabes qué es eso?”
Should I know? Sandoval wondered, trying to get a better look. Something about it was indeed familiar. Two parallel rings surrounding a perpendicular metal hub…
Sandoval’s eyes widened. Out loud, “Is that… what it looks like?”
His mentor nodded, eyes a-twinkle. Sandoval let out a gasp. “But that’s not possible… did you build this?”
“Well, I had some outside help, but one could say that, yes.”
“And have you tested it?”
“Not yet. But your timing couldn’t be more precise.”
“I’m sorry?”
The Doctor’s eyes twinkled brighter.
“Wait, are you testing it now? Here?”
The Doctor nodded.
“Wait, isn’t that dangerous? We don’t know what will happen!”
“The lab is well-protected. What’s the worst that could happen? Besides, this is only a small-scale model.”
Something about this seemed incredibly reckless to Fernando, but he held his tongue. This was just the Doctor being the Doctor, as usual. At least he’d never killed anyone, yet.
“Jerónimo,” he heard the Doctor whisper as the room seemed to warp around them and his eyes were met with a blinding light.
♫ Soundtrack 3: YouTube / Spotify (A Good Man?)
Thursday, January 11th, 12’018 HE
Codezegor Stadium (Zemlya-Luna L₄)
19:44 MST
The final act of the performance was no less impressive. As was tradition in Zemlya-bound Olympics, the Olympic torch would be lighted. And just like the Zemlyan Olympics, the flame now being presented at the Stadium had been lit in Olympia. The Flame had been trekked across Yevropa, sailed across the Adriaric to Hallorania, transported via Nuevo Meshiko to Cundinamarca, and set on a five-day trip up the Codeco Tower. From Space Station One it had been flown to the Eurameshikan Space Station, and embarked on another craft to the Stadium.
It now burned coolly and evenly in the torch that was being presented to a Krasniyan archer. Fire in space, free of any meaningful gravity, took on a round shape and a bluish hue. The archer dipped an arrow tip into the firefall, and, once lit, readied the arrow into her bow. She took aim, drew the string, and released.
The firetip flared, but did not go out, as the arrow sailed smoothly from one end of the Stadium to the other. It hit its mark on the spot, lighting the expectant cauldron at the opposite end. The crowd cheered; the archer smiled and saluted. The ceremony had concluded, and the Lunar Games had officially begun.
But the night’s surprises were not over. For as the spectators undid their straps and prepared for celebration, a light brighter than anyone had ever seen filled the Stadium. For a moment it appeared as if Zemlya suddenly had two suns, but that could not be. The light was too bright, too white, and too nearby. The flash lasted less than a second, its source a single, short-lived point of light in the black sky. But that was enough to temporarily blind anyone unfortunate enough to have been looking in its direction.
Confused gasps were heard all around. Nearly everyone here lived and worked in space, and it was immediately obvious to them that something was terribly wrong. This could not have been part of the spectacle.
“What was that!?”
“I don’t know…”
“I can’t see!”
Bewildered mutterings enveloped her senses as Estela tried to regain her bearings. She was one of the lucky few whose vision was returning promptly. What the hell had happened?
Sirens blared, and she looked around in time to notice a handful of guards pour into the chamber. They appeared to corner the Yuzanese, Slatish and Peihanese delegations, and led them out of the chamber stealthily. Estela undid her straps and did her best to make her way across the commotion in direction of the guards. An official stopped her as a voice announced:
— Everyone, please remain seated. An explosion has been detected in cislunar space. The cause is now being investigated. This is not a drill.
“It’s the Yuzanese!” somebody yelled. “I knew it! They should never have been invited! They’re nothing but—”
His voice was drowned out by the ensuing clamor. Everyone seemed to have an opinion on what to do with the presumed culprits.
“Jettison them!”
“Send them back to their countries—!”
“Arrest them!”
“Bomb their stations!”
— Precautions are being taken as we speak. Please remain in your seats. No one is authorized to enter or leave the station while the cause is being ascertained.
It was a tense quarter hour after that. All communications with the outside world were cut, so no one had any way of knowing whether their families, friends, coworkers, or even themselves, were safe. What if they were next?
The tension was almost at a breaking point when someone yelled, “Look, it’s the Chairwoman!”
The Chairwoman was gliding towards the podium. She looked paler than usual, and wiped the sweat from her brow as she prepared to speak.
“Fellow citizens of Codeco, comrades of the Lunar communities and space stations, it is with utmost regret that I must inform you that the explosion you witnessed has been determined to have come from the Selene spacecraft.”
She paused to several audible gasps.
“There are no survivors. The cause of the explosion is still unknown, but there is as of now no evidence that Selene was the object of an attack.”
A confused and troubled murmur arose from the crowd. A chill went down Estela’s spine. If this was an accident, what did these mean for the future of CodeSA? Of the Maedim mission? Public backlash would surely force CodeSA to cancel the expedition. After four years of preparation, and with not even a week until launch, a cancellation now would be devastating.
Not to mention, what kind of accident could cause a blast like that?
“Our thoughts and prayers go out to all those affected by this tragedy, particularly to those families and friends who have lost loved ones today.
“We are sorry.”