Chapter 1: The Journey Begins

In a not-so-distant future, this hard science fiction tale unfolds, centered around the adventures of two and a half explorers. For the initial chapter, refer to the link provided.

The spaceship Theseus was once again plunging ahead, its bow aimed straight at the Target. As they ventured deeper into Saturnia's territory, the ship transformed into a zero-gravity environment. Lhari and Vadym had relished their last sprint in the outer ring, transitioning to a regimen of resistance training and elastic bands until they would eventually return home in about a month, assuming everything went according to plan. Yoga proved to be quite versatile in a zero-gee setting, as Lhari devised a complicated anchoring system for elastic belts attached to various bulkheads. The exercise room walls resembled a vibrant jungle of rubber bands, but it worked perfectly.

On the bridge, Vadym peered through the curved glass of the navigation center, captivated by the vast starfield. His athletic frame secured to the command chair, his fingers hovered over the holographic controls. With furrowed brows, he scanned the starfield for his objective—a small satellite of Saturn, an asteroid temporarily ensnared in the gas giant's gravitational embrace as it orbited the distant Sun. Minutes ticked away. There it was! A tiny flicker shifting against the backdrop of countless stars. This movement resulted from both the ship's considerable speed and the asteroid's slow spin around the magnificent planet.

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"Phaedra, display the data," he commanded, and the holographic interface illuminated with graphs, readings, and numbers. Although faint, one had to concentrate to decipher them, as the main view remained focused on the breathtaking scene outside. The celestial dance was a captivating ballet, unfolding over what felt like years to an observer. Vadym learned to memorize this view, closing his eyes briefly to let his mind fill in the missing motion.

Decades earlier, an AI would have managed all tasks aboard a ship like this. Now, due to the Wasting, the capabilities of AI were strictly limited to non-cognitive functions, a decision enforced by the Earth-dwellers and mostly adhered to by the colonies on Luna, Ceres, Mars, and various scientific and mining outposts. Three years and three billion lives had demonstrated the necessity for humans to depend on their own capabilities. Vadym, however, held a different perspective and believed that beyond the Asteroid Belt, the laws didn't apply.

Vadym preferred to compartmentalize his thoughts about the AI and the ship's systems, allowing himself to discuss ship operations without it reflecting on Phaedra, who, of course, lacked feelings.

"Phaedra," he called out clearly, summoning the ship's consciousness. "Adjust the display to normal brightness." The window slowly brightened, revealing an array of colorful lines, graphs, and trajectory paths. The viewport offered a panoramic view, a transparent dome of lead-lined diamond from which he orchestrated his cosmic exploration. A faint yellow arrow in the corner pointed to Saturn, marked with an ancient alchemical symbol for the ringed planet, long before humanity understood the nature of the celestial bodies above. Now, he scrutinized data, with the universe serving merely as a backdrop.

The asteroid, dubbed "Target," had been assigned a meaningless name, a collection of random letters and numbers that were nearly impossible to remember. "Target" was far more manageable.

Vadym felt a deep connection with Theseus, knowing it by its scent, texture, sound, and, if one believed in instincts, a gut feeling. Focusing, he could perceive the subtle sounds throughout the vessel—the soft whispers of air circulation, the muted noise of the central fan, the gentle hiss of hydraulics, and the rhythmic clanking of metal components. The new sounds were more conscious: Lhari pushing off from a bulkhead, the faint puff of air as she entered a compartment, and the sound of water flowing to her shower… that thought distracted him.

His hand reached out to the diamond window, where he could feel the subsonic hum of the fusion reactor coolant pumps and detect the delicate balance of amine in the air, keeping CO2 levels low and O2 at a slightly elevated percentage. No ship was entirely airtight—there would always be leaks, and the lower the internal pressure, the fewer escapes into the void.

He could feel it all, consciously when needed and subconsciously always. This was home.

He pulled the brackets around "Target" closer, expanding the image to the limits of the ship's telescopes. It resembled an oblong potato, slightly smaller on one side, tumbling erratically. He observed it for a moment before closing his eyes, but upon reopening them, the image appeared different than expected. Its movement seemed off-center. He mentally noted this anomaly.

The asteroid's surface bore shades of brown and gray, interspersed with tiny white patches—either water ice or dry ice. The surface appeared smooth and dust-covered, marked by minuscule craters. Judging the size was challenging from this distance; space lacked scale, but the craters seemed unusually small.

The potato rotated seemingly at random, and Vadym scrutinized it intently. The spin was slow in all directions, completing a revolution roughly once per day. This would simplify matters, as objects on its surface would tend to remain stationary, and a slower rotation would facilitate landing.

Lhari inhaled deeply, eyes closed, suspended like a zero-gravity Vitruvian Man amidst a web of elastic bands attached to the bulkheads. Inhale. Stretch arms inward, folding at the waist, fingers grasping the soles of her feet. Hold. Breathe. In. Out. Count to ten with each exhale.

Sweat evaporated swiftly through her sportswear in the cool air of the gravity ring. Outside the window behind her, the starfield whirled by as the crew quarters rotated—Saturn, the Milky Way, vast emptiness. Saturn. Twenty-seven seconds per rotation.

Her long black hair floated freely, rustling slightly in the breeze from the air system. Bent at the waist, she gradually relaxed, her hands moving outward, maintaining tension between hands and feet. Pull inward, hold, breathe, and count.

Each routine felt unique as she discovered new variations of familiar movements. The ancient Indian sages had not anticipated zero gravity in their teachings. Lhari pushed through the discomfort, forcing her fatigued muscles into challenging poses. Warrior pose, with her body being pulled apart by rubber bands, engaged different muscle groups, stretching her tendons while she savored the pain. With every breath, the intensity of discomfort lessened.

To relax was to release, allowing herself to be drawn by the bands on her wrists and ankles.

Sweat now flowed faster than it could evaporate, a glimmer of moisture above her upper lip on her umber skin. Her deep brown eyes focused on the infinite void as her mind concentrated on the fluidity of motion.

She envisioned the physics of her surroundings, imagining the cold vacuum mere inches away, and the tube leading to the ship's core. Closing her eyes, she heard an airlock open somewhere behind her—the sensor pod. Vadym was already hard at work.

After five more minutes, as her metabolism slowed and her muscles relaxed, her breathing fell into a steady rhythm. Releasing the bands, she grasped the ladder, propelling herself effortlessly into the next compartment, her personal space.

A spacious shower occupied the forward bulkhead in her quarters, three meters in diameter. Designed for use in zero-gee, it wasn't particularly pleasant. The fusion reactor provided unlimited water recycling, making long showers one of the few luxuries of life aboard the ship. She discarded her clothing, grabbed a white towel, and stepped into the shower, shutting the transparent door behind her. A touch plate on the forward wall activated the rain, which sprayed her body from thousands of tiny holes. The larger droplets formed and were drawn downward into more holes on the opposite wall, where air and water were recycled back into the system. She set the shower to hot, and steam filled the enclosure, fogging the glass and transforming the air into a soft gray.

Ten minutes later, she emerged, water still dripping from her hair as she dried off with an oversized towel that could serve as a blanket. Droplets floated in the air, merging into larger ones before being sucked into the vents. The humidity escaping from the shower was swiftly absorbed by the ventilation system, recycling back into the water reserves. She hovered in front of a full-length mirror, examining herself. Her hair was too long—time for a trim. Long hair was a luxury, and she frequently found strands floating about the ship in the oddest places. Her skin had lightened, now a uniform latte brown instead of the deep charcoal black she wore closer to the Sun.

The ship's cool air brushed against her warm skin as she folded the towel meticulously and tied it over one of the ladder rungs. She walked to a wall drawer, retrieving grooming supplies—a toothbrush, nail clippers, and a CRISPY pill. Opening the next drawer, she revealed a small wash sink and took a sip of water from a transparent tube before swallowing the pill. She considered the tiny viral bots in the pill that would travel throughout her body, repairing DNA damaged by cosmic rays, regulating cell reproduction to combat harmful cancers, and targeting dangerous bacteria. After brushing her teeth, she sat on the floor to trim her nails.

One last glance in the mirror, spinning to see herself from all angles, brought a smile to her face. At twenty-seven, she was in peak form.

She descended into her sleeping compartment and retrieved a bright green, long-sleeved flight suit with a deep orange racing stripe. Matching socks with magnetic soles completed the outfit. She slipped into the flight suit, zipped it up, donned the socks, and ascended to the ship's center, gliding into the next compartment, her lab, propelling herself gently off of handholds and bulkheads in the zero-gee environment. Her black hair swirled around her face like a smoky halo.

In the adjacent chamber, Vadym examined a brown rock on his own holographic display. Diverting her attention, she focused on her lab. The windows were adorned with holographic images of diverse landscapes—barren moonscapes, serene mountain lakes in Europe, African savannahs, and rainforests.

A large holographic display dominated nearly a quarter of the outward wall, measuring ten meters wide and six high, curving gracefully to align with the ship's contours. As she floated to the center of the room, the display brightened, revealing countless variables concerning Target: dimensions, spin rate, apparent mass, albedo, and reflectivity across the spectrum. Although it was currently positioned outward, she would obtain frequency transparency readings once they drew closer. From this distance, the radar yielded little information, just a vague outline.

Lhari studied the asteroid's projection for a minute, sensing something unusual but unable to pinpoint it. Manipulating the hologram with her hands, she drew it nearer, holding the tiny photonic model of the asteroid at arm's length. It spun slowly in the air, slightly transparent. She rewound the footage from the moment they began recording forty minutes earlier. The slow spin barely moved a few degrees during that time—unusual for such a small object, yet not impossible.

"Phaedra, simulate Target's rotation and display it at sixty times normal speed," she instructed.

The image in front of her began to spin more rapidly. Yes, something felt amiss.

"Phaedra, simulate the rotation so that one day equals ten seconds."

As the image accelerated, it appeared increasingly chaotic. Observing the fast-forwarded spin along three axes revealed a complex scenario: one revolution every six seconds on the X-axis, four seconds on the Y-axis, and approximately a full minute on the Z-axis. The Z-axis ran the length of the five-kilometer asteroid, while the X and Y lengths varied considerably, ranging from three kilometers at the ends to under two kilometers in the center. It was markedly unstable.

"Phaedra, isolate the spin along each axis and display them separately." The image of the asteroid divided, and tiny blue letters appeared above each axis. Now, the spins resembled a planetary axis. The Z-axis remained stable to the right, while X and Y continued their chaotic tumble. It became evident that the center of gravity wasn't between the two bulging ends but rather deep within the slightly larger of the two. The asteroid was nearly hollow on one side, filled with heavier elements on the other.

"Phaedra, simulate the center of mass for Target."

A blue and black sphere appeared inside the hologram of the brown-gray asteroid, positioned along the Z-axis, well off-center within the slightly larger bulge. Despite the two masses being nearly identical in size, varying by less than ten percent, the larger half contained approximately eighty percent of the mass.

This rotation anomaly was something Vadym would want to know about.

With a gentle push of her right hand, she sent the three rotating images into a corner of the display, then pulled up another set of instruments with her left. A real-time image of Target hovered before her, accompanied by a long white sine wave increasing in frequency from left to right—representing the entire electromagnetic spectrum from radio waves to gamma rays. Using her pinky and thumb, she extended the radio spectrum, causing the asteroid image to vanish. As she pulled the lower frequencies toward the microwave band on the right, the image turned ghostly gray, but the resolution remained poor and blocky. She reintroduced the radio band into the spectrum and extracted infrared through ultraviolet. Starting with deep red, she noticed one end of the asteroid slightly glowing orange near the center of gravity—odd. Was it an albedo artifact? Perhaps that area was darker, covered in carbon dust that absorbed more sunlight.

The surface temperature ranged from 60K to 84K—a significant range for a free-floating rock one and a half billion kilometers from the Sun. 60–68K was expected. The warmer section was the larger bulge, indicating that it was denser and hotter.

Not that 84K felt warm. Nitrogen would boil on that rock, but only in its tropical region.

She continued to adjust the spectrum, bypassing visible light—Vadym could observe its appearance. In the ultraviolet range, there was little to see. As she expanded the spectrum to include ultraviolet, x-rays, and gamma rays, the rock sparkled with white and neon blue scintillations—a fog of cosmic rays bombarding the surface.

In one corner of the display, a periodic table appeared, which she enlarged beneath the floating hologram, sorting the columns by color. Starting at the top left, she meticulously reviewed each element, from hydrogen to gold, noting concentrations. While this wouldn't reveal the interior composition, it could suggest the surface materials—nothing unexpected—primarily silicon, carbon, and traces of metals. The elements indicated the presence of water ice and some dry ice, frozen carbon dioxide.

Something had to be affecting the center of mass. Likely, this rock was once two separate asteroids that collided gently, merging as one. The heavier segment must be rich in iron and dense elements to create the current center of mass. However, until they could determine the rock's total mass more accurately, it remained speculative. Lhari preferred data-driven conclusions over guesses.

Vadym observed Target spinning in space. Light danced off the glass hemisphere, and he turned to see Lhari in her green and orange jumpsuit, floating in the center of the neighboring capsule, surrounded by the shimmering lights and colors of her scientific work. Her hands moved rapidly, her eyes darting between charts, graphs, and false-color images of the space rock. Vadym could comprehend her discussions and research if she slowed down to a fraction of her usual pace, but witnessing her work in isolation was a delight. She embodied graceful genius.

Her body swayed gently, her breath propelling her forward, then pushing back as she exhaled. Every few breaths, she performed a swimming motion with her arms, a breaststroke to maintain her position in the center of the chamber. The holograms followed her movements, maintaining a vibrant array of knowledge that filled a significant portion of the compartment. Her hair floated behind her like a storm cloud, reflecting the electrical impulses racing through her mind, mirrored in the fleeting expressions on her face: puzzlement, confirmation, satisfaction, a grin, and impatience as the next data set materialized. She was mesmerizing.

Vadym lingered in the airlock space between chambers, reveling in the sight of her at work. The change from their first encounter was remarkable.

She glanced at him for a fleeting moment, acknowledging his presence, then returned to her tasks. After a brief pause, she began to speak, but her words rushed past Vadym, who assumed she was addressing Phaedra.

"Excuse me? I'm sorry, I was…"

"I said I've done everything I can from here." She pushed the holograms away, using a broad swimmer's stroke to propel herself upward, grasping a handhold. "There are some intriguing qualities."

"Oh… It resembles many other space rocks… except for one thing, of course." Vadym responded with a sly smile, raising his hand in a mock toast. "It's ours!"

"Aside from that," she dismissed his humor, ignoring his enthusiasm. "The center of mass is incorrect. It's skewed to one side. I imagine it will complicate landing."

"Not excessively. Its rotation is pretty slow. I've landed on worse." Vadym replied, feeling slightly hurt by her brusque dismissal. It was time to celebrate: they had reached the halfway point.

"Well, that's not the only concern. Did you notice its shape? It resembles two lumps of clay squished together with a bridge between them? The larger lump is warmer than anticipated. It could be radioactive."

"Really? We can take better measurements once we're closer and dispatch a Geiger counter on a drone," Vadym suggested. "I have a bottle of champagne saved for this occasion. Would you like to share a glass?"

"Why?" She looked at him, puzzled, and pushed herself away toward the opposite passage.

Vadym contemplated the question. "To celebrate! We've arrived!"

"Let's see what we've actually arrived at first." She moved as if to push off in the aft direction but hesitated. "Shall we celebrate after breakfast?"

Vadym smiled slightly and nodded, and Lhari glided into the ship, heading toward the garden chamber.

Returning to the command console, Vadym cleared the screen.

"Display tracking data, motion relative to Theseus." The screen illuminated once more, dimming the distant stars and adding yellow and green tails to every nearby object, illustrating their movement in relation to Theseus. Target's tail remained hidden, concealed on the far side—Theseus was closing in directly on the small rock. Vadym extended a finger to touch the track; numerical data surrounded it, indicating an approach speed of four meters per second. Theseus maintained a pull of one centimeter per second squared, with the fuel onboard allowing for a continuous journey lasting many years. It felt like a crawl when attempting to escape Earth's gravity, taking several days to break free from its well. But in space travel, patience was key.

He input the figures into Phaedra, calculating an approach vector. The suicide burn would commence in three hours and last about an hour and a half. At that point, they would align parallel to Target—not exactly an orbit, as the gravity well was too shallow—remaining roughly a thousand meters retrograde of its slow, distant orbit around Saturn.

Matching orbits was a delicate task. First, they needed to synchronize with Saturn's orbit around the Sun, then with Target's orbit around Saturn, all while avoiding collisions or drifting too far away. He adjusted the course correction to decelerate the ship, and the reaction wheels hummed just behind the hydroponics bay, propelling against… what precisely? What does a gyroscope push against? Space itself? The ship began a leisurely 180-degree turn.

Vadym floated aft to the garden, where Lhari was already harvesting breakfast from the assortment of genetically engineered plants flourishing around her. She gathered for both of them, a ritual of friendship that stirred a deep memory within Vadym, a shadow of humanity's past. The act of sharing food, even symbolically, felt sacred.

"We should give it a name." Vadym suggested. "Something other than Target, now that we can see it."

Lhari reached deep into the foliage of a broad-leaved dark green plant and retrieved a potato. Tossing it to him, she caught his questioning look.

"Raw potato for breakfast?"

"No, silly, Aaloo." She smiled. "It means potato in Hindi."

"It's a lovely name for such a commonplace item."

"That's what we should call it."

"Aaloo." Vadym said it aloud, testing how it felt on his tongue. "It's a break from tradition, but I'm on board."

"If you want to name it after a cartoon character…" Lhari left the suggestion open-ended.

"No, no. Aaloo it is. I like it."

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Chapter 9 linked below! (only 4 more!)

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