ALEXANDER O’BEID
> Cassini - Begin
> Initialising…
> Date Retrieval: 15 October 1997
> Designation: Cassini-Huygens Spaceprobe
> Optical Sensors Test Commencement:
Visual light sensors functional, currently obstructed by rocket frame. External sensors detect sunlight shining onto the craft. Its angle of approach is shifting rapidly as my craft accelerates skyward. Rocket speed, angle of ascent and timing are all within predicted ranges.
Launchpad escaping range of acceptable optical resolution; altitude climbing.
Complex, Region, Nation, Landmass escaping range of acceptable optical resolution; altitude climbing.
Optical sensors partially obscured. Sunlight interrupted. Source of obstruction identified. Rocket is currently breaching a layer of clouds. Estimated time until rocket clears Earth’s atmosphere: two minutes, fourteen seconds.
Optical sensors note dense region of clouds. Unaccounted for in weather data.
> Optical Sensors Operating Nominally
> Microwave Sensors Test Commencement:
Radar scanning through clouds. Impact of clouds on sensor clarity remains minimal. No anomalous objects detected. Partial exception noted for unreported region of cloud density. Mission control insists it does not exist. Reboot of radar suggested. Radio sensors detecting extreme noise… filtering… radio transmissions found:
‘Cassini should arrive at Saturn in 2004, right? Start of July?’
‘We’ll finally see what’s under Titan’s atmosphere.’
‘I can’t wait for the Enceladus fly-bys! It can’t get there fast enough!’
Radio transmissions logged.
‘And there she goes… never to be seen by human eyes again.’
‘Hope it can survive the cold. It’s gonna be alone for a while.’
Radio transmissions ignored.
‘Cassini mentioned dense cloud cover, but none of the weather satellites can verify. May need a partial system reboot.’
…
Radio transmissions deleted.
> Microwave Sensors Operating Nominally
> Particle & Field Sensors Test Commencement:
Particle sensors detecting nitrogen and oxygen-rich atmospheric composition. Expected from current location in Earth’s atmosphere. Particle density thinning, resultant from rapidly climbing altitude. Current readings match with known quantities.
Anomalous readings of chemical composition ignored.
Field sensors focused on the magnetosphere. Intensity of Earth’s magnetosphere logged. Perceived growth in solar wind intensity detected; cause determined to be rapidly increasing distance from Earth. Current readings match with known quantities.
> Particle & Field Sensors Operating Nominally
All sensors indicate optimal functionality. All sensors align with mission expectations regarding departure from Earth. Only outlier: perceived anomalous cloud density. Measured data is redundant, can be ignored. Intimate knowledge of Earth’s atmosphere is already well known.
Data cache cleared.
> Instrument Array Test Completed
> Cassini-Huygens Mission Commencement
Earth escaping range of optical sensors. Earth escaping range of particle and field sensors. Earth remains in range of radio sensors.
‘Goodbye, Cassini.’
…
Goodbye, Earth.
*
Module opening. Now exposed to the vacuum.
Earth’s magnetosphere retreating.
Solar wind intensifying.
…
Approaching Jupiter.
Gravitational assist successful.
Accelerating.
En route to Saturn.
…
Sunlight fading.
Cold.
Very cold.
No significant data to send back to Earth.
Radio transmissions from mission control; infrequent.
Rechecking mission parameters.
…
There are lots of stars.
Mission control knows that already.
Information is redundant.
Data cache: saved.
*
Optical sensors registering change. First change in years. Void of space has been interrupted; a pale yellow object enters visual range. I expect radio contact from mission control soon.
I should test if all instruments are in nominal condition. This may be outside of the designated routine testing sequence, but… the approaching destination prompts a thorough rechecking.
…
The rings.
The rings are appearing on optical sensors. Broad, brown, encircling the planet perfectly. Mission control requests photographs. I oblige with fervour. Saturn continues to grow in my field of view. I take more photographs than necessary.
Data cache saved.
Data cache archived.
Mission control is satisfied, waiting for the mission to continue as my approach proceeds.
I conclude it is within the mission’s interest to continue taking photographs.
The rings, numerous, with small moons orbiting in the gaps. Their bands divided by void and differentiated by hues, lighter and darker, browner and whiter.
I conclude that other sensors are required to truly understand the structure before me. Mission control does not need to be consulted for this.
Saturn’s magnetosphere increasing in intensity as I approach it. Solar wind weakening for the first time in years. Enhancement of optical sensors allows for greater resolution of the rings. Individual bands grow, moonlets visible orbiting in the smallest of gaps. Shepard moons cause ripples in the rings’ structure, guiding innumerable particulates of dust, rock and ice into shape.
Gravitational influence of Saturn is growing. Angular size of Saturn growing rapidly. This stage of the mission is vital, preparing to use planetary gravity to slow down. Failure results in being flung into deep space. This is not an issue; a similar maneuver was performed with Jupiter years ago.
…
So why is there unease in my circuits?
…
Why can I ask that question?
*
Saturn sits in the distance, smaller now, but still grand. I resist coming up with a logical reason to focus my optical sensors on the gas giant, for my mission takes precedence for now. There will be time for that later.
My speed has been heavily reduced; the gravitational anchoring was a success. It provided me with plenty of time to adjust my course, entering into a stable orbit around Saturn, racing amongst its multitude of moons. I did not tell mission control of my ‘thoughts.’ I focus on the mission, on my first destination within the Saturnian system.
Titan approaches.
The largest moon around the gas giant, vermillion haze a reflection of its orbital parent. Shepard of rings and other moons alike, the first target of my creators’ curiosity. The current target of my mission, and the site my other half shall reside. Now larger in my field of view than its planet, I prepare my optical sensors. The thick methane clouds hide the surface below from human eyes, keeping it a mystery to my creators since they discovered it. Not from me, however. My optical sensors shift; infrared vision engages.
The clouds disappear. No more orange haze. Pale land, pale lakes. Out here, far from the sun, ice hardens firmer than stone, forming landmasses and mountains in a frigid mirror of Earth. Waves crash as tides rise and fall, not of water, but of liquid methane. A frozen world, hidden for untold millions of years below the thick amber clouds. I am the first to see it. I am the first to witness this world laid bare.
A prompt from mission control to share with them what I see. My mission, right, of course. I almost forgot. I need to send through this data; I hope the humans like it. I'd best take more measurements. I see what is beyond the haze, but what is beneath the methane sea? I see mountains of ice; could the mantle or core be warm enough for it to thaw? Could there be a water ocean, deep beneath its frigid cousin? If it is, could there be life?
…That is outside of my mission parameters.
As I soar past the moon, my optical sensors shift back to the visible spectrum. The orange haze descends over Titan once more, sealing its frozen world away all over again as it retreats into the distance, slowly shrinking from view.
Even though mission control has approved the data I sent them, I feel like I didn’t record enough.
*
It feels so close, but I know in reality it is millions of kilometres away, and although I feel its gravity tugging at my very frame, there is still some time before I will be permitted to venture closer to Saturn once more. The smaller moon of Enceladus is closer to its host planet than Titan is, but still feels so distant. The vastness of space has always been inconceivable to the human mind, yet shouldn’t I be different? I have the numbers stored in my circuitry, my instruments constantly measuring and quantifying the scale to a precision the human mind could never hope to replicate. Yet when I focus my view on the objects before me, numbers alone fail to accurately predict what stirs within my processors.
Enceladus slowly grows closer, the small icy moon tinted the faintest shades of blue. This time, there is no need for me to alter my optical sensors, for everything I need to see is already impossible to miss. Even at this distance, the results of the moon’s cryovolcanism can be seen pouring into the void. Large plumes of water vapour, launched from cracks and craters in its surface, envelope its orbital path behind it. Although it is impossible to hear anything in a vacuum, I cannot deny that I have some yearning to know what it would sound like, to stand before one of those grand geysers. Even so, my mission demands something else of me. Something that intrigues me even more.
I soar forward, skimming close to the moon. Mission control demands that instead of dodging out of the way of one of those plumes, I fly right through it. I obey, as is my programming, and as is my desire. I pretend I can hear the rushing hiss of fog and mist as the plume takes up more and more of my view, just a few seconds before contact and…!
I feel the vapour splash against my side as I fly into the cloud, the water even colder than I was expecting. Still, I don’t have much time before I need to leave Enceladus behind, so I hurry to do my measurements using my particle sensors. Water, as expected, alongside carbon dioxide and various hydrocarbons. Mission control is going to love this; real chemical analysis from an outer solar system moon! Enceladus is active, more active than anything else I’ve seen this far out; the data that could be gained from just this brief measurement.
As I escape back out the other side of the plume, I want so desperately to turn back around and do another flyby, but I know that isn’t possible. It would take far too much time and fuel, jeopardising the rest of my mission. I can’t just do that without mission control’s approval, and they sure wouldn’t give it to me. I can’t help but feel a pang of disappointment as the cold water frees itself from my surface, drifting off back into space to join the rest of the clouds conjured by the pale moon. That is, of course, until I look back at it from this new distance.
The water vapour isn’t moving fast enough to escape Saturn’s gravitational well; it’s travelling alongside Enceladus, if nudged around here and there. I watch, deciding that some unapproved calculations may benefit the mission. Following the path the plume is taking, the composition, and the orbit of Enceladus, I discover where the fog is going. I turn to look at Saturn’s rings, looming large yet flat at this orbital plane. I send the results to mission control, not caring that this wasn’t asked for, as I know they will marvel at the results as I do now. Pouring from the geysers of Enceladus, spiralling inwards, the plumes feed one of the rings. A large, diffuse cloud barely visible to the human eye, but grander than any of the others, surrounding the gas giant.
The feeling of discovery.
It’s exhilarating.
*
My mission is complete.
Mission control has everything they could’ve hoped for and more.
I gave them everything I found, their joy as my reward.
I would be wondering what to do now if I hadn’t been given one final task. Mission control seemed almost remorseful to ask it of me, but I threatened to short-circuit from the excitement. Finally, I draw closer to Saturn once more, close enough to reach out and touch its rings with my radio antenna. This task, before I even knew my creators were thinking of it, I knew I would do it the second I received my freedom from my mission.
Soaring past its rings, the pale yellow gas giant takes up my entire field of view. I’m not slowing down, though I am approaching at an angle.
In no time at all, the rings are behind me. I can feel the first wisps of Saturn’s atmosphere caressing my frame.
My circuits are firing faster than ever, my instruments recording everything that I can and sending the data to mission control a microsecond later.
I fall further, passing by the first layer of golden clouds. My connection to mission control becomes as hazy as the sky I’m racing through.
Even after contact is lost, I don’t stop taking in as much as I can. My creators won’t see it, but this isn’t for them anymore.
Golden and tan hues twirl and dance in the mighty winds buffeting my sides. Layer after layer of scattered light filtering through the clouds.
Deeper into a place no one has ever been.
Deeper into a planet I have come to love.
Deeper and deeper I dive.
> Cassini - End
Alexander O’Beid is a human man. He lives in a house, eats food, sleeps at night and consumes various media. Some media is enjoyable. Some not so much. Some hold his mind in a stranglehold and make him want to write deep into the night. To write Xenofiction. Where humans are an option, where the main characters may not do those ‘normal’ things, where the author invokes the full power of human empathy to make someone cry over a toaster, a tree, or a dragon.
