Phobos

Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say. I don't know if that's true. But I'm pretty sure I'm going to find out.

***

"We need to regain control!"

The ship was reeling, buffeted by forces which were pummelling it from every side. Or so it seemed.

Captain Blunt, in all his years of space travel, had never encountered anything that compared to this. He stood on the bridge of his Medi Mars Shuttle, legs wide apart, trying to maintain a position of command and confidence in more ways than one.

He would never admit it to his crew but he was scared. What was it that was attacking them? There was nothing visible, nothing showing on the scopes. And yet, there was no mistaking that they were subject to the will of something else. If it made itself known, then they could at least counterattack. But this nothing...it was unnerving. He could do nothing. He was a commander but he had exhausted his avenues of direction.

They had been travelling towards Mars to deliver their cargo to the small settlement that had been made there. An experiment, of course. Not their original mission planned but schedules changed. This was their third trip since the mission had been decided and they were due to land their craft within 10 hours when they had suddenly been blindsided by what he had initially believed to be a blast from an attacking spaceship.

"We are trying, Sir, but there is nothing to be done!"

First Officer Dickens. A first rate crewperson to have on board. Always calm, decisive and headstrong. Never fazed. Never raised her voice but today Blunt could hear the panic, the uncertainty. This just compounded his despair. A good friend to him, she had never let him down, as a crew member and in a social capacity. He hoped she felt the same way although at this moment, he felt like he was failing.

"Try reverse thrust again!" He shouted over the noise of the attack, steadying himself by putting his hand on the console in front of him and bracing his legs to absorb the jerks of his ship.

"We are reverse thrusting, Sir. Nothing is working. I will keep trying!"

Engineer Achebe. Another stoic, methodical in a crisis, applying logic where needed. Could be seen as aloof but Blunt knew better. Culture and background has a way of shaping a man and Achebe held the character traits that were instilled by his ancestral tribesmen for years. He also had the dry wit of his Dutch mother which was held by some to be sarcasm and many kept their distance from the tall, dark man with the acerbic wit. Blunt, however, found him to be good company for the most part, even in the silences. He was a good person to be around; solid.

"What should we do, Captain?"

Second Officer Steinbeck. A new addition to the team for this mission to Mars. Bright, eager, educated and ambitious. Blunt was not as sure about him as the others but this was because he was unproven. Young, assured and tall, Steinbeck was not shaken by what was happening. He was composed in a way that surprised Blunt - as an inexperienced crew member, he would have expected to see fear in his face but he seemed alert rather than scared. Which was good. Nobody wants to be on a ship heading for death with a screamer.

"Can I get a damage report? How is the ship holding up?" He faced Heller, seated in front of the extensive monitoring system. There was no crazed mass of noises coming from his console, which was strange considering the situation.

Heller shouted over the noise of the perceived blasts hitting the ship. "No damage, Sir! The ship is intact, shields are in place, according to the readouts! All screens show there have been zero breaches to the ship, at this stage, Sir!"

What? Blunt took a moment to digest what Heller had said. Again, he steadied himself as the ship lurched, the suddenness of it threatening to launch him across the bridge. How could it be that there was no damage being sustained? The ship was being blasted from all directions by forces unknown, enough to make him lose his footing and rattle his brain, and yet, Heller said no damage had been sustained and shields were up? Now that he reflected, there were none of the normal outward signs of the ship in distress: sparks as circuits blew, intermittent flashing of lights, bulbs popping.

"Heller? Repeat please. Give me that again?"

Heller repeated his report again, shouting once more to make himself heard, frantically pressing buttons to bring up pictures from outside the ship and reading numerical displays, analysing data in an instant.

Heller was an experienced member of the crew who was respected for his competency but not liked. Blunt wouldn't have said he was creepy but Dickens would. His bulging eyes and stick thin physique combined with pasty white skin gave him a less than attractive appearance, combined with dubious personal hygiene and a skin irritation which left small flakes of skin on the surface of his uniform. One shouldn't judge on appearances but it was hard not to in this instance. He also had this unnerving habit of going from a grimace to a manic grin, seemingly without a prompt. He would do it in the middle of a conversation and a serious one at that, almost as if he had no control over his features or as if, he was being controlled externally - an electric pulse being sent through him at certain points, to animate his features. He certainly seemed to be unaware of this a lot of the time.

Despite these quirks, Heller was dependable and reliable and loyal. He worked hard, was never late and reported well and this was why he formed part of the crew. He was, simply put, excellent at his job. Strange in other ways but solid where it mattered. Blunt would never have a drink with him like he would with some of the other crew members but Heller counted on this ship.

"Achebe? Can you confirm?"

The engineer responded. "I can! No damage! No engine failure! All is as it should be!"

"Sir! We are being taken off course, Captain!"

Navigator Saylor. Beautiful, talented young woman. Top of her class and modest with it. Funny, friendly, fit. Incredibly intelligent and interesting. Blunt found himself a little in awe of her and her presence, although he would never admit that to anyone. Only 24, she had confidence and attitude beyond her years and exuded something which was attractive to all and not the least bit contrived.

"What direction? Towards what?"

"I don't know, Sir. I am trying to obtain readings but it appears that we are shifting away from Mars, Sir and towards Phobos."

"Phobos? The moon?"

"Yes, Sir."

The ship was shaking less as Saylor confirmed the change in direction. Blunt felt his legs tensing less to stay in one spot as the ship was manoeuvered by the outside force. It was quietening down but Blunt felt little relief. What was going on?

"Herbert? What do we know about Phobos?"

Old man Herbert, Knowledge Officer. Over 100 years old, and still on missions because of his encyclopaedic knowledge which could not be rivalled, he was their most valuable resource. Not much of the original Herbert remained except his brain as his body had been overhauled by medical science. He was limber and spry and 70% titanium. Blunt valued him but there was something that produced a wariness in you when you spent too long in his company and it was difficult to pinpoint. He was harmless enough, Blunt thought but he had never been able to like the man.

"I know a lot. You, it would appear, less. It is an irregularly shaped moon, uninhabited. I could give you greater detail about its composition, but all you need to know is that it is relatively sound. Never visited. Named after the son of Aphrodite and Ares, a singularly lesser deity."

"Safe to land?" The Captain ignored Herbert's supercilious attitude. He liked to posture. 107 years alive gave you a certain amount of know-it-all kudos, which he tolerated purely on the basis of Herbert's superior knowledge.

"Surface scans show grooves: deep enough to land in and climb out of. No reason to believe otherwise, Captain, although no-one has landed there previously. We will be pioneers!" Herbert grinned, showing immaculate white teeth that dominated his wizened face.

"Saylor?" Blunt shouted. "Continue on this course. Crew, stop fighting it."

The ship became still. In a single moment.

It was a strange sensation. Everyone took a moment to look around them, now that there was no external threat. Blunt had a fleeting memory of having got out of his car back on Earth in the middle of a Floridian hurricane and having to battle to get to the house, only to shut his front door on the meteorological chaos he had just left behind and savour the still of the indoors. He was also reminded of the ramshackle houses that had not survived and the jagged edges of torn wood, sunken steps and walls open to the skies that littered his way to the Space Centre.

The noise of his crew mates, starting to talk above hushed whispers and gasps, broke him from his reverie and he noticed Dickens coming his way.

"I don't like this. I don't like this at all." She was echoing his own thoughts.

"I know, Charlie but it buys us time at least."

"The calm before the storm?" How apt an analogy, Blunt thought.

Dickens raised one eyebrow and turned to Saylor. "How long before we reach the surface, Saylor?"

"2 hours 20 minutes at this speed."

Dickens turned to face Blunt again. "Battle mode? Or exploratory team?"

Blunt ran a hand across his forehead. This was like nothing he had ever encountered before. The total control taken of his ship. All of his tactics exhausted. The sudden end of the blasting of his ship, which would appear not to be blasted at all and merely the will of an external force, applying itself. He had no idea what he was up against; no experience to draw on. A spike of fear threatened to rise and he swallowed it down. He had to lead and this required strength.

He sat down in his Captain's chair, feeling suddenly weary. Adrenalin wearing off, he thought. "Prepare an ex. team - light armour and weapons. You and Steinbeck. Immediate perimeter only to establish basic knowledge once we land. Fifteen minutes max."

Blunt turned to Herbert. "Herbert, now is your chance to shine. I want you to tell us everything that you know about Phobos in exhaustive detail. Dickens, Steinbeck - listen up. But keep it to what we need to know to survive at this stage and what is essential for Dickens and Steinbeck to know when leaving the ship.

"Saylor? We need visuals as we approach. Heller, you will need to co-ordinate with Saylor on this. A safe place to land with easy access to the outside."

Heller nodded and then produced his sudden grin. "Yes, Sir!"

Saylor also nodded but her face remained impassive.

Blunt opened the communication channel to the rest of the ship and announced the intention to land. "Everyone needs to be on high alert. We have received no damage to the ship but we have not identified the cause of the turbulence. Until we know what we're up against, we need to be prepared for anything."

He closed the comms.

He turned to Dickens. "Dickens? Take Steinbeck and Herbert into Meeting Room 3 and get Herbert to debrief you on Phobos. I'll be there in a minute. Anything I miss, you can fill me in on before you disembark."

Dickens nodded, went to follow Steinbeck and Herbert and then turned back. "Are you okay, Bill?"

Blunt wasn't sure how to answer that. Something stank about this. He thought it had been strange that the mission had been changed at the last minute to Mars but reasoned that sometimes this happened. Never to him in his work-life but he had heard grumbles from others about having their routine disrupted. Then there had been the diverted route programmed into the computer that Saylor had highlighted. Phobos was never usually passed on the way to Mars. A ship would never come into its proximity during a normal run. Again, he had dismissed this as an anomaly associated with bad organisation or an unknown change in protocol. The Space Centre's administration had never been particularly robust or thorough and he had had times where he had had to change navigation instructions although this had not been possible this time. Saylor had tried but the co-ordinates could not be altered.

Finally, the turbulence encountered that arrived so suddenly and then as abruptly departed. It was all unprecedented and it made him uneasy. Something wasn't right and he wasn't sure what it was but it did not bode well for him and his crew.

He nodded and Dickens put a hand on his shoulder before turning and trotting after her colleagues.

***

Poor, poor Captain Blunt! He does look forlorn sitting there gazing into space. It's good to know he can still be surprised even with all his years of experience. I wish I could tell him that I mean him no harm but I can't. I wish I could tell him that he won't come to any harm but I can't. I am not sure what the purpose is to all this, only that I am the puppet, leading them to Phobos.

This is something I must do. There is too much at stake.

***

Dickens headed towards Meeting Room 3, her head in turmoil. She had never seen Bob so shaken. His face, a little paler with anxiety, his posture slightly slumped. Things that may be glossed over by the less observant; things that she could see more than others from her time with him, working closely. She loved the man like a brother.

Space was always an unknown but they had been lucky in what they had encountered to date, not really being taxed. They had had the odd mechanical hiccough and they had been shot at by ambitious debris hunters once but Bob had outmanoeuvred and defended with aplomb. But this shapeless, invisible attack? This was faceless, ethereal space crap - the stuff of science fiction. There was no origin, no entity to tackle, no communication. And it stopped just as quickly as it started. What the fuck was it?

All this was going through Dickens' head as she entered the room where Herbert and Steinbeck were already seated. She could sense the eagerness in Steinbeck, the young pup. Ambitious and driven, she wasn't sure how she felt about having him as her companion on the ex-team. He was fit, no doubt about it, but he didn't give a lot away and Dickens wasn't sure that she had a handle on him yet. She didn't think that he would defy her but she had an idea that he would be like a willful dog on a leash - testing her limits at every opportunity, attempting to pull her every which way he wanted to go without concern. Well, we would see about that.

He looked relaxed, sitting back in his chair but there was a tautness to his neck muscles and a slight twitch in his left foot which suggested impatience and a willingness to move. Steinbeck looked up at her as she walked past to sit a little way from him around the table to face Herbert directly. She was here to focus on Herbert and nothing else.

"So, Herbert, what have you got?" Dickens set her comms device on the table to record. She would send it to Blunt later as well as providing him with a debrief so that he was as clued up as them all. She had a feeling that Bill would take this time to do some thinking and she didn't expect him to make the meeting. He would have come at the same time otherwise.

Herbert cleared his throat and stood up, without even a creak.

He smiled. "The answer, dear Dickens, is not a lot. As I told the Captain, Phobos is an unexplored place for the most part. I erroneously suggested that we would be pioneers but it suddenly sprang into my mind that that was not true. I dredged through my quite copious memory..." Dickens spun her finger in the air in a gesture designed to make Herbert speed up. "...Yes, yes! I am getting to it! And I remembered a report of a rather intrepid young space explorer called Verne who was last heard of attempting to land on Phobos. Whether this was achieved is unknown as he was never heard of again. No ship sighting, no comms, no "Goodbye, cruel world!" Nothing." He paused. "It could be that he made it but it seems unlikely."

"So, no first hand information," Dickens commented. "What about probes?'

"Well, probes have been able to take samples from the surface of Phobos but those that were sent deeper into those grooves I mentioned earlier have recovered very little. The ones from the surface show that it is comprised of Type I or II carbonaceous chondrites, the same as dwarf planets and asteroids. Nothing too unusual there.

"What may be more relevant is that the grooves could be an indication that the moon is breaking up."

Steinbeck leaned forward with interest and Dickens raised an eyebrow in curiosity.

"Oh?" she questioned.

"Yes, it could be a sign of instability although an explosive dispersal would normally be indicated by small clouds of particles in the moon's nimbus, which are not obvious at present."

"Safe, then?" Dickens knew that Herbert was reluctant to commit to anything more than general comments about its state but she did not detect any panic in his voice or warning.

"As safe as any unknown territory can be, Dickens, with limited knowledge."

"Steinbeck? Do you have any questions?'

Steinbeck had remained quiet but alert while Herbert spoke and was a little surprised to be asked to speak by Dickens. She liked to unsettle if she could. It was good to keep the younger recruits on their toes.

He cleared his throat and said "Yes, I do have one thing I'd like to ask."

Dickens moved her hand in an open gesture for him to proceed.

"Could the grooves be caused by mining?"

Herbert looked startled by the question and took a moment to hold Steinbeck's gaze.

"What makes you ask that, young man?'

"I have seen these sorts of ravines before. They look like mining channels to me, where machines on the surface dig out the deposits easily from above. It can be used for minerals that are not buried deeply."

Herbert looked thoughtful. "Like strip mining?"

Steinbeck nodded.

"Mmm." Herbert put his fingers to his chin and gently stroked it as he looked at the floor of the room, the looming figure of Phobos visible through the vast meeting room window. "They are similar..." He lifted his head up to look at both Dickens and Steinbeck. "...But there is no evidence to confirm this."

"Nor deny it," Steinbeck added.

Dickens looked over at him. His eyes were glittering with...Excitement? Anticipation? Some emotion that had enlivened him. She noted it, keen to think about it once the meeting was over.

"So, there may have been people, aliens, other life forms, there before us? If they are mining strips and not signs of the moon splitting."

Herbert shrugged and Steinbeck turned to look at her, still with his eyes strangely glistening.

"I'm not sure which I'd rather - alien miners or dying moon splits." Dickens sighed. "Anything else, Herbert?"

Herbert still looked thoughtful as he focused again on Dickens and said,

"Er, no, nothing. But Dickens? It pays to be mindful."

Dickens pushed back her chair, holding eye contact with Herbert and stood, and Steinbeck did the same.

"Always, Herbert. Always." She smiled at Herbert who held an expression of puzzlement more than confidence, an unfamiliar look on a man who knew so much.

Steinbeck had already headed towards the door. His mind was already on the excursion into the unknown. As he exited, Herbert put his hand on Dickens' arm.

"Dickens, you may want to take someone else with you as well as Steinbeck. Safety in numbers and all that."

Dickens looked at Herbert's hand on her arm. In all the years that they had worked together, he had never touched her. She was conscious of the coldness of his skin and its smoothness on her arm. Following the path from his hand, up his arm to his shoulder and then, inevitably, his face, she looked deep into his eyes.

"Do you know something, Herbert? Is there more that I need to know?"

They held each other's gaze and she saw a flash of something there. If only she could read minds. But he merely shook his head, eyes on her the whole time.

"Okay. I will see if the captain will agree to an extra on the mission."

Herbert lifted his hand from her arm and said,

'If the boy is right, and there has been mining on that rock, you need to find out why. I can't say for certain that he is wrong - I believe he is - but he is right about the gouges looking like the remnants of mining activity. But that knowledge is not in the general knowledge domain and I know that because I don't know it." He shook his head. "There isn't much I don't know." He looked at Dickens again. "Be careful."

Dickens searched his face for more clues but found only concern. This was unlike Herbert who generally only worried about the way he appeared to others and very rarely thought beyond that. She felt a small cold shiver creep down her spine.

She nodded at the wise old man and left the room.

Herbert turned to gaze at Phobos. Something was hiding or something was hidden here. Why were they being drawn to it? This was no random event. Phobos wanted them to come.

He had wanted to tell Dickens then, what he knew of classical Greek mythology, the origin of Phobos. He was not a man prone to believe in portents but with the strange occurrences that had taken place today, it was difficult not to draw parallels. Logical minds always try to find the commonality within things: the patterns and the clues that help us make sense of our world and in this case, worlds beyond our world.

He didn't want to dwell on it but his mind kept returning to Phobos and what he stood for. Was it significant? Probably not. It was only a name given after all. It was not imbued with anything more, he was sure. So why not tell Dickens? Normally, he was all too eager to show off his vast knowledge but this time, he had felt a compulsion to hold back. She had seen it, he knew, when she had held his eyes, he had felt it, her intelligence probing him with her inquisitive look; she was shrewd and perceptive and he was grateful that she had not pursued it.

He hadn't wanted to tell her. He wanted her to survive and he had felt it keenly, more powerfully than anything else in recent years, that he should keep this nugget to himself.

Phobos was the son of Ares and Aphrodite, or Mars and Venus as they were known in this cosmos. God of war and goddess of love respectively. But what was less known was what Phobos represented as a god. Herbert shivered as he thought on it: the god of fear and panic.

***

Herbert may have to be the first to go. I feel that he knows too much. I wonder if he'll scream?

***