The Graviscape

By M.A. Mollenkopf

Captain Dave Murray and the crew of the Algonquin disappear from Earth's solar system during a vital Space Colonization Agency mission and find themselves reemerging light years away in a crowded planetary system with no weapons, no supplies and no way to return home.

Through first contact scenarios, the captain and crew discov

• Language: English
• Publisher: M.A. Mollenkopf
• Release date: Sep 10, 2023
• ISBN: 9798988769200

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M.A. Mollenkopf

The Graviscape

Unexpected Expedition

First published by M.A. Mollenkopf 2023

Copyright © 2023 by M.A. Mollenkopf

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

M.A. Mollenkopf has no responsibility for the persistence or accuracy of URLs for external or third-party Internet Websites referred to in this publication and does not guarantee that any content on such Websites is, or will remain, accurate or appropriate.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher except quotations used in a book review. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

First edition

ISBN: 979-8-9887692-0-0

This book was professionally typeset on Reedsy

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To my wonderful family and friends – I’m so grateful that each of you afforded me the space and encouragement to explore the creative art of storytelling.

Thank you.

Contents

Chapter 1: On Mars

Chapter 2: Potholes in Space

Chapter 3: We are Where?

Chapter 4: The Meeting

Chapter 5: A New Puzzle

Chapter 6: Accounting Problem

Chapter 7: Plan A

Chapter 8: Plan B

Chapter 9: Contact

Chapter 10: Recovery

Chapter 11: Round 2

Chapter 12: Misunderstanding

Chapter 13: Off to the Council

Chapter 14: Earthlings at the Council of Civilization

Chapter 15: Pirates, Again

Chapter 16: Stuck

Chapter 17: Complete Disappearance

Chapter 18: Building the Team

Chapter 19: First Jump

Chapter 20: Messaging

Chapter 21: Second Jump

Chapter 22: The Odyssey Home

Chapter 23: Clash of the Airbags

Chapter 24: Holding it Right

Chapter 25: The Advantage of Allies

Chapter 26: Back to the Council

Request of Author Support

About the Author

Chapter 1: On Mars

What they suddenly wanted done was just impossible.

With no less than fifteen strangers staring right at me, I dipped my head, looking down at the ground and then slowly shook my head from side to side, trying to figure out how to make this work.

Okay, okay, let me consider this for a second, I said as I raised my head and pasted on a fake smile for the bureaucrats.

I stepped away from the table toward Sarah and whispered a question to her. She looked up as if the answer was in the sky, then back down to me and murmured a seriously long, exception-filled response. I let out a low whistle thinking about what she’d said.

I think we can make it without help from the tug, I whispered.

I looked over at Huang, who had a solemn look on his face, so I gave him a grin and moved my eyebrows up and down a couple of times.

Huang, what are we looking at here, four or five? Huang looked at me and I saw the slightest smile appear on his face.

Roger, sir, this is looking to be at least a five-WTFs-per-hour event, Huang replied quietly.

I smiled more fully at Huang and Sarah to give them a reassuring look as we continued quietly exchanging thoughts until a crisp, but shrill voice crackled from the speaker in the center of the table.

Captain Murray! the sharp male voice said, you will report on time with the required complement of personnel and cargo or face disciplinary actions consistent with the policies you are violating.

But sir, I retorted, It’s not safe to try and pull all this together and meet the space tug timeline. I just need a couple more days to get everything organized—

Listen Dave, the voice started again in a softer tone, I don’t mean to be unreasonable, but the senior agency leadership has received several reports concerning you and your crew…. And, well, the reports imply that you are horsing around and not tending to your assigned missions—so the order has come down from the Ops director—get your missions done and get back here on schedule. Earth Prime station out.

Everyone around the table turned their heads in unison to look at me with a reasonably judgmental look in their eyes as my face started to flush in embarrassment.

Well crap, that sure seemed final.

Sir, that’s just not true, I retorted back into the speaker using my best super-deep tough-guy voice even though I knew it was going to take about twenty minutes to get a response.

In fact, these long-range conversations always seemed to be one-sided because of the propagation delay of sending a signal from Mars to Earth, which took about ten minutes, then another ten to receive the response.

Anytime HQ said Out at the end of a transmission, that pretty much ended the conversation.

I looked at the faces around the table, and, despite the sidebar conversations, I noted several staffers and military personnel collecting their papers and documents with intent to leave the meeting room now that the conversation appeared to be over.

I got the feeling that no one believed in me.

Well, regardless of everyone else in the room, I really wanted my crew to believe in me. But that’s been a tough road to travel because of some of my decisions, especially the decisions made under pressure that didn’t turn out so well.

Anyway, one man was looking at me with strong intensity, like I’d done something to offend him. I think his name was Max, I don’t know where I remember him from but yes, Max was his name. As I was contemplating Max, four people moved my way from the other side of the room, appearing to approach for what I hoped was a conversation and not a confrontation.

I recognized them as part of the Agency base-engineering team. Good people and innovative thinkers. You have to be creative in order to be stationed on Mars and handle the wide variety of challenges they encounter each day.

Leading this foursome was a person named William Castle, a man in his forties wearing a brown Agency engineer uniform. He strode right up to me and started a conversation. Dave, I’m sorry about this. I don’t know what reports they are talking about; we haven’t sent them anything.

No worries, Billy, I’m sure there’s some sort of misunderstanding at the root here. We’ve worked out a plan that I think will work if you and your team can help us with a few details. Do you still have those container pushers?

"Yes…I think so. They are pretty old, you know. If my memory is right, we have about thirty of them. I think using them in this situation would be tricky. Getting that many super-heavy lifts sequenced just right will require a lot more time than I think you have.

You may not recall but those are the older leader-follower type that operate in a chain with one leader engine and four to ten follower freight cars.

I smiled uncomfortably as I tried to control the anxiety that was creeping up and replied, Billy, I’ve got a strategy that will work. Can we go over to your ops facility to discuss the plan? I mean, can we go right now as I don’t have a lot of wiggle room in the schedule.

Billy nodded up and down in what looked like a firm yes and said, A plan huh? Okay, roger that, we are heading that way right now—will see you there, Dave.

I reached out to Billy and gave him an appreciative, strong handshake and said, Thank you Billy; I owe you one.

Billy looked at me with the broad grin that he gets when he’s trying to be funny and said, Hell, Dave, that’s more like eight or ten that you owe me. I’m not sure if this is doable, but I’ll withhold my ‘expert’ analysis until we hear your plan.

With that, Billy and his associates walked out of the room while Sarah, Huang and I collected our papers and tablet computers and prepared to follow them to the engineering ops center.

After a couple of solid hours of analysis and planning in the Agency station engineering main conference room, we started feeling a little bit better about our plan. Sidebar conversations continued as the Mars station chief Gerrard came into the room in his dress uniform, which was decorated with a pin and few insignias that indicated he was a very experienced, senior civilian leader in the Space Colonization Agency.

Gerrard owns a small but important chunk of Mars station, and he’d be held responsible if we created a major disaster trying to get the cargo and related items off Mars and back to Earth station.

Gerrard looked around the room, spotted me, then walked quickly to the table where Billy, Sarah, and I were working through final plans. Billy and I stood as he approached.

Captain Murray, I see you’ve once again managed to make your unpreparedness an emergency for my organization to deal with.

I looked around at the assembled team, feeling a rather severe sinking feeling developing in the pit of my stomach, so I faked a smile and prepared my deepest, calmest tough-guy voice. Chief Gerrard, hello, it’s good to see you again. And I do understand your view, but there are other issues that we’ve not been able to highlight up to this point.

Now Isaac Gerrard and I came up together in the Agency, and he moved fast. It was warranted, as he is brilliant, if not a bit too by-the-book for my tastes, but a good friend nonetheless. He’d treat me, my team, and this situation in a professional way, and I was fairly sure that the Agency was leaning on him as well.

Okay Captain, let’s hear it, what are the issues?

We’ll have to talk in private sir as there are security concerns related to the issues.

The Agency chief looked at Billy, then over to Sarah, finally refocusing back on me. Okay, let’s go to my office, just you and me.

I looked around at the team and focused on Sarah. Sarah Maxwell is the Algonquin’s Chief of Navigation and Sensors: Computer Science Track. She’s young, but she’s a smart, trusted leader, and most importantly, third in command. I asked her to finalize the sequencing of events because getting it right was important for success, and I knew she could handle getting it done.

A few minutes later I found myself seated across the desk from Chief Gerrard as we sat alone in his office.

Alright, Dave, let’s hear it. What are the complicating issues?

Now I addressed him as sir because he was senior to me, and that’s the protocol for the Agency. That’s just how our system works, but I must admit, I was surprised at his rather aggressive interaction with me given how long we’d known each other. I wondered if something else was bothering him. Sir, there’s been a rather vicious outbreak of Snale pox in the hydroponics district…. Snale pox was a water-borne virus discovered by a researcher named Dr. Randal Snale just after we started colonizing Mars. Snale pox grows in algae that sometimes leaks into water or food supplies and could easily spread to take out a lot of people in a short time span.

Gerrard sat up straighter, immediately concerned. Damn. Is it under control? What is the spread ratio?

Sir, the full details are classified, I said and saw Gerrard wince slightly. They’ve managed to isolate the sections of algae, moss, plants, and employees so spreading has been neutralized. Several employees remain hospitalized but most concerning …. I had to think about what I was about to reveal because I was not supposed to do so, but I felt he deserved and needed to know. There have been eleven deaths.

Gerrard suddenly looked sullen and peered off into the distance over my shoulder. And with a deep breath, he replied. Dave, my wife has not been home in two days. She’s been isolated over in the military barracks with several of her coworkers, and they’ve been very tight-lipped about whatever situation is going down. I knew something really bad must have happened if they were keeping the details from me. This is not good. Gerrard paused and rubbed his eyes, then exhaled slowly. Okay, so what’s the mission, and how can we help?

I thought about the stress he must be feeling regarding his wife, probably more than he was letting on. An idea popped into my head about how to set him at ease. I pulled the tablet computer out of my cargo pocket and looked through the data.

Sir, I see a Catherine Gerrard on the list at the military barracks. As of 2100 yesterday, she has reportedly experienced no symptoms, and I believe that’s where they are holding folks that were not exposed to the sections of plants where the Snale pox was found.

Gerrard turned back to meet my eyes. He perked up a bit and said, Thank you, Dave, I appreciate you sharing that information.

He knew I must have been sharing sensitive info. His eyes contracted just a millimeter as he said, What about our food and water, any risk to the supply chain you can share?

I looked down at the tablet, scrolling through the data pretending to read it as I thought about how to provide insights without revealing classified information. The agency wanted to handle this carefully and restricted access to nearly all the information. Well crap. There’s no way for me to do that.

Sir, there’s been a significant effort to trace the origin of many key supplies, and luckily most of the contaminated food and water has been successfully recalled or is in the process of being returned. Most colonists will not know how close we came to a disaster of epic proportions. So, this is why we are in a bit of a spot.

Chief Gerrard glanced around the room, then looked back at me. What’s the whole story here, Dave? HQ calls me out of the blue and says that you have been here screwing off and have failed to get priority cargo loaded for transport. Transport that will miss the scheduled cargo tug back to Earth, and, I guess, miss some timeline that’s not been mentioned. Dave, they indicated it was because of negligence. I told them that was uncharacteristic of you, but I never got a response or any details. The lack of response is puzzling. Have you made any new enemies back at HQ who you can think of?

I thought about that for a moment. My mind shifted immediately to the run-in I’d had with that jackass, Max. But that had happened here, and it seemed unlikely that he would be linked up with anyone who mattered back at HQ. My brain raced. Max is tight with that Agency geologist, Sasha Rairkov. She’s a major pain and could have something to do with this. Well, sir, I did have a run-in with one of the geologists that works for Dr. Rairkov, guy named Max Randolf, but I can’t imagine they would send secret reports about me back to Earth as our run-in seemed to be focused as much on the company I was keeping as some research effort he was working on, I said with a perplexed look.

Gerrard nodded and looked as though he was contemplating something. Okay, I’ll look into it quietly, Dave. Can you share some of the mission background?

Yes, sir. The short version is… we were on route to Outpost Yankee when we received a flash notification. So we immediately diverted within laser range of the nearest message buoy and downloaded our traffic including the sensitive flash message. I moved around a bit in my seat but kept my eyes locked on Gerrard’s eyes, and he nodded as I spoke. "The message diverted us here to take part in the Snale pox response action as Big Al has a superb medical facility and staff. After arriving, we focused on the affected districts, working on the hydroponics systems and eradicating the Snale pox virus across the colony’s footprint, including performing supply chain analysis. Then, out of the blue I get this Agency request to load and deliver one hundred tons of important cargo back to Earth."

You’re saying it was a request, not an order?

Right, and I thought it very odd, but it just said priority-2 cargo transport request. Since it wasn’t an order, I decided I didn’t have to accept it. I made the decision to decline it, but did not respond with an official reclama. I figured the leadership back on Earth knew that I was dealing with the classified Snale pox issue, so I ignored the request. Then I got called to the carpet late last night which led to the session this morning over at the Colony HQ. I sucked in a deep breath and continued. We are packaging samples of the algae, moss, and other plants, along with the virus for transport, and we obviously want to get that right, so there’s not been a lot of time to get rock-transport plans calculated in. Now… I did stop by to see a couple of ladies, and on one of those engagements, while at dinner, the guy I’d mentioned before, Max, he and I got in a pushing contest, but after that he disappeared.

The look on Gerrard’s face told me he was mentally assembling the situation. So now I have to get all the virus-related packages stowed and secure plus figure out how to get one hundred tons of frigging rocks off the planet so that we can catch the inbound tugs in about twelve hours to transport everything back to Earth.

I saw Chief Gerrard make a few notes on his tablet before he looked up at me. What is the difference in time to Earth if you miss the tugs?

Without looking at my tablet I told him, The tugs will have the cargo and Snale pox samples to Earth’s logistics perimeter in 21 days. But I can take them directly from Mars Colony to Earth Prime Station in thirty days. So if you add the time it takes to get from the logistics automation perimeter to Earth Station, which is about six additional days depending on the level of traffic already in the line, we’d make it there three days later than the automated logistics system could get it there. Plus, my team could be conducting analysis of the Snale pox genetics and exchanging them with scientists back on Earth the whole way home.

Hmmm, I should think the Agency would go for that set of tradeoffs. Three days for direct transport. What about your op to Yankee?

"They’ve redirected the Liberty to handle that visit. They don’t have the size or surgical staff that the Algonquin’s got, but they do have more modern medical and engineering capability to meet the mission."

"Yes, Big Al is quite a capable colony support ship; too bad it’s being decommissioned," Gerrard said.

I raised my chin just a millimeter or two before fake-smiling hard and replying, "We’ll see, sir, if that happens. Big Al has been up for decommissioning three times during my term as Captain, and each time I’ve managed to push the timeline."

I see, Gerrard grinned at how hard I’d worked, angling to keep the mighty Algonquin in action. When do you need to leave orbit to make it back to Earth on your own?

I didn’t need to consult my tablet to reply, "We need to depart from Mars in twenty-eight hours. So we’ll be hustling to get the cargo up to Algonquin now that we have a plan. By the way, I really appreciate Billy and the team’s help. We couldn’t do any of this without it, so thank you for that."

I could see Gerrard now realized how much of a time crunch we were under, and he smiled and stood up from his chair. He put out his hand. Dave, we’ll do what we can to get you out of here as soon as possible. If you need anything, call me directly. I’ll let you know what I find out about this ‘request’ to transport the cargo.

I stood and shook his hand heartily, then hurried back to the conference room. On my way, I submitted an urgent request to have Carrol Gerrard moved to the priority list for screening, and, hopefully, for her to be returned to duty status shortly thereafter. The Chief has too much responsibility to be alone here, I thought.

Back in the conference room, I went over the final details of using our cargo tether to yank the cargo into space to make sure we all understood what we were going to do. "Our glorified space hook should be able to pull this much weight up to the Algonquin if we can boost it high enough into Mars’s light atmosphere with the initial push; we’ve done this sort of thing before on planets and moons where the gravity is low, just not quite to this size and scale. To make this work, the Algonquin goes into low orbit, and, essentially, unreels a really long tether that has specialized vertical and lateral control hardware every few hundred kilometers. Attached at the bottom end of the tether is a specially designed hook, and a tiny aerospace ship to guide the hooking mechanism toward the target cargo."

I paused to look around the room, but I could see they were all with me, so I continued. "The big idea is to use cheaper, unmanned rockets attached to big cargo boxes called ‘pushers’ to get the cargo off the surface to a certain elevation in the atmosphere. Then we catch the cargo with the hook and pull it toward the Algonquin. The pushers are not piloted, so there’s a lot less risk to human life."

We all shook hands and departed the conference room heading in our different directions to execute our assigned tasks.

An hour later I arrived out at the pusher launch point, which was the Mars colony’s perimeter. We conducted all automated launches off the planet at that location to avoid risk to the massive colony complex if something failed or went wrong. We packed the cargo containers, wired them up and used wheeled drones to push them outside into the launch area. Alright Sasha, this is the last crate of cargo, right? I stated as definitively as possible, trying hard to be congenial, because Dr. Sasha Rairkov is a very reactive person, and I was hoping she would respond with a yes.

Yes Captain. By the way, you are aware of the urgency to get this material back to Earth, right?

I wonder if she knows about me getting called to the carpet by the agency ops director? Roger Sasha, I’m tracking the critical timeline. Although it doesn’t make much sense to me to risk life and limb to get a bunch of rocks back to Earth. I’m not sure who would make such a request to the Agency, because it’s an inherently risky maneuver. I was probing for more details.

Sasha stopped what she was working on, removed her gloves, stood with one hand on her hip, and looked at me for a few milliseconds before she finally replied. If you are asking if I spoke to headquarters, the answer is yes. Sasha let that sink in, and then she said, I told them that… that you—Captain Dave Murray and his crew—were distracted by other missions and uhh, ‘visits.’ I need this material back on Earth as soon as possible.

Sasha raised her fingers making air quotes around the word visits, which meant she was cognizant of my visits with a lady friend in the colony complex. That, coupled with the fact that she’d called home to Earth station to gripe about me and my team, pissed me off. Well that was a cheapjack thing to do; why didn’t you just explain to me the urgency of this issue? I said with annoyance.

I tried several times, Sasha began, ready to rant at me, just as her pet goon, Max, sidled up to our conversation.

You mean you had your associate, Max here, bother me with this when I was having dinner with a friend. You know, I have many other roles on this mission that you are not aware of. Sometimes, things we think are important are not so important in the grand scheme of things. Hell, I’d like to find the person that invented round shoelaces and kick their asses on general principle, but that doesn’t mean something so petty is going to happen.

I was looking at Max then, with a just try it smile on my face. Sasha started in on her priority list again, and Max just stood there, adding in what he felt were key points to support her argument, and the whole thing was starting to draw the attention of several folks working on the launch process.

Damn, I hate talking to her. I stood there as she railed on, stonewalling. She was brilliant, there was no doubt, but it was hard to look past that mean, ugly attitude to try and build any sort of relationship. I continued to be unresponsive, and she finally stormed off in a huff, Max trailing behind her. That was okay by me; I had work to do anyway.

We conducted the final cargo transport coordination meeting, then I headed back to my ship so we could employ the space hook and get this cargo loaded and get on our way.

On my way back to my transport ship, I stopped in at the colony shoppette to grab a few essentials as requested by the crew, and I also had to get peanut butter for me because I do have a thing for it, so for me, it’s an essential. Yes, that’s what I said, rich, nutty peanut butter. It’s a well-known colonist staple, but most non-colonists don’t realize that peanut butter sits by itself at the top of the colonist food pyramid… more or less. Then I headed back to the spaceport where our dinghy, Ranger-1, was parked. Huang Fei was sitting in the pilot’s seat in a video teleconference with engineers aboard the Algonquin and the Mars station.

Huang, a superb young leader and an outstanding pilot, looked in my direction, giving me the okay sign to tell me everything on the conference was proceeding as anticipated. I gave him a thumbs up and headed to the back of the dinghy to hide… err safely store the peanut… err… important crew supplies.

The Ranger-1 is quite the nifty little aero-spaceship that enables a multi-person crew to get from space to planet side and back, quickly using the latest in advanced, but small-engine, tech. After I had stored the precious cargo, I went back to Huang, who had completed his call. All right Huang, how many WTFs per hour are we looking at now for this crazy cargo mission? I asked with a big grin on my face.

Huang returned my broad grin, then pretended to be serious for a moment saying, Zero, sir. I have a feeling this will go very smoothly.

I smiled back. Holy moly, zero? That would be something Huang! We discussed a few notes resulting from the coordination with various points of contact involved, and, after checking in with the Algonquin, we decided it was time to bug out.

An hour later I was back on Big Al working through cargo storage plans with the crew while Zane, the Algonquin’s deputy commander and executive officer (XO) worked on the plan to hook the cargo from Mars’s light atmosphere.

I thought about Huang’s prediction of zero WTFs per hour but… my inner monologue was counting WTFs per hour at around the range of ten to twenty. Gotta think positive, I told myself, trying to control the apprehension twisting my gut. Especially in front of the crew.

Zane and Mickey, the ship’s co-lead engineer, verbally jousted about the space tether’s ability to withstand the strain of such a large load