CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The Anomaly
March 31, 2334 — The Worm
A beeping noise poked at Hope’s mind, growing more intense. She wished it would go away so she could sleep. Her confusion faded, and pain took its place. Her whole body ached. She heard someone moan, then decided it must be her doing the groaning. Something cold covered her eyes. Computerized voices became loud, reporting on health metrics, operational systems status, and the ship’s location.
Location! That seemed important. Kepler Station, she thought. Wait, no, I’m not there. She swiped her face, peeling a hydrogel compress away. She tossed it aside and sucked in a breath as the room snapped into focus. Robotic drones whirled around the cockpit.
I'm on the ship, Kairos, she thought.
Kants leaned forward, scanning readouts, then swiveled in the pilot’s chair to meet her eyes. “I wondered if you might sleep through the entire mission.”
“I don’t feel good,” she said, pressing her palm to her temple. “Everything hurts. My head is . . . foggy.”
“The acceleration Gs will do a number on the unaltered human body. I informed you beforehand that we are working out the kinks with the inertial dampeners and the hibernation chamber. You took the meds, yes? You will survive.”
“Great. I’m a space travel experiment.” She rolled her shoulders until something in her neck popped, then winced and pressed her fingers into the knot at the base of her skull. “They need to get this figured out, or nobody will make it to Proxima B.”
“Indeed,” he murmured. He gestured toward the large viewscreen in front of him. “This may improve your outlook. We have arrived at your anomaly.”
On the screen, a long, bluish-white ribbon glowed amid a sea of ebony. Thicker in the middle and tapering at each end, a tight writhing spin wrapped its span. Bright flashes punctuated the swirling exterior in random bursts.
“Whoa,” she exclaimed. “Not what I expected.” She watched, awe-struck, while Kants zoomed in on the live image. The lights became more pronounced. “It looks like a sideways tornado!”
He snorted. “More like a big, fat worm.”
“Right,” Bannister breathed. “You’re right . . . one hell of a crazy worm.” Her eyes traveled to its coiling length.
“You should call it The Worm.” He looked over when she didn’t reply. “Simple.”
“Yeah,” she said, distracted. She leaned forward, checking the data. “No radiation. No flares. But cosmic rays are erupting outward in all directions.” She frowned and rubbed the slate with a finger, shocked to see graviton waves spiraling around the center. “How far away are we?”
“Ten thousand kilometers. Maximum magnification is on.”
She ran calculations through her mind. “Computer, run safety protocols based on established standards.”
A few seconds later it replied, “Minimum distance is one-thousand kilometers.”
“That can’t be right,” she whispered. “Give me a hull temp projection. I want to know if this thing will incinerate us.”
“Temperatures are within normal operating parameters.”
Kants interrupted, “Surely, there is a heat bloom coming from it?”
“Ship’s sensors are working within specifications,” the smooth voice intoned. “Therefore, the initial recommendation is correct.”
The colonel leaned in a fraction, his jaw tight. “You said you’d noted a heat signature when we were back on Kepler?”
“I, I did,” she stuttered. “I’m not sure what to make of it. The Kairos AI seems certain, though. Can you take us closer without risking the ship? My instruments would be more effective.”
“The AI seems to think so. I’ll move us a thousand kilometers away.” Kants pulled up a hologram and typed on a keyboard burrowed inside. He set the viewer magnification to auto-adjust, keeping the entire anomaly within view during their approach.
Hope used the time to prepare her research equipment for a more thorough look, checking their progress every few minutes. She paced the narrow space in between, adjusting filters, tagging data streams, her hands unable to stay still. It’s real, she reminded herself. This is for real!
After an hour, Kants announced, “One-thousand kilometers. We are here.”
A quick pulse of adrenaline hit her. “Phenomenal!”
She clipped into her seat and flicked through several screens, studying the rolling input from multiple instruments. The science world always presumed a gaping opening would be at the wormhole’s terminal end, which you could access. This had nothing like that.
“I’m directing a scout drone into the horizontal center mass to get readings from the inside,” she said, entering commands into her console.
“It is your party,” Kants replied.
The probe left Kairos and approached the behemoth at a snail’s pace. They tracked it in silence, both switching their attention back and forth from the device to their panels.
A few minutes later Kants said, “Your probe is picking up speed.”
She tweaked the controls but got no response from the small craft. It lurched toward the anomaly with increasing velocity. “No, no, no . . .” Hope murmured, fighting the controls but watching the numbers climb. Something yanked on it hard. Must be a graviton wave, she thought. Haven’t seen that on the models. “This is bad news. I don’t see how—”
A flash erupted when the drone impacted the outer perimeter.
“Damn it!”
“Unfortunate,” Kants grumbled. He tweaked a couple of settings. “Even so, you collected a large amount of data. You should be able to glean information from the initial findings.”
“Of course,” she said, disappointed. “I’ll do a deeper dive when we return to Kepler Station.” Once again, she examined the anomaly, memorizing every detail. “The Worm,” she said. “An inauspicious name for such a magnificent discovery.”
Kants said nothing.
Engrossed in the data, Hope lost track of him. She pulled up another viewscreen. “This is huge,” she murmured. “Huge!” Her fingers flew over the controls. This moment could change everything about human relocation to a new colony.
She heard no reply from the colonel. Confused, she turned toward him. He hunched over the console, engrossed in the readouts, new lines etched across his brow. A low tremor rippled through the hull.
“Everything okay?” she asked.
A bead of sweat rolled down his hairline and dripped along his jaw. “No. The gravitational pull started acting on us when your probe hit. I am attempting to counter the force.”
Fully aware now, Hope noticed the growing shudder of metal and the rattle of loose panels. She glanced at the monitor, alarmed to see their view of the twisting maelstrom growing larger. Her heart skipped a beat, then thumped in her chest. “Computer! Read out the distance in one-hundred-kilometer increments.”
“Understood, currently at eight hundred kilometers,” it responded.
Kairos bucked against the anomaly’s pull, as if the ship tried to wrench free. “Hey!” she yelped, grabbing the edge of the console. Her safety restraints tightened, restricting movement in the chair. Vibrations rattled through the cabin in protest. Kants wrestled with the controls, swaying with the motions.
The AI’s voice rose above the noise. “Five hundred kilometers.”
“We have reached maximum reverse acceleration level without engaging the warp engines,” Kants boomed out over the noise.
“Then do that!” she yelled, bracing herself.
“We cannot,” he called out. “The Force will kill you and maybe me.”
“Four-hundred kilometers.”
“Do something!” Hope shrieked. “It’s dragging us straight in!”
“Three-hundred kilometers.” The words echoed through the cockpit like distant thunder. Kairos jerked in loud spasms.
“Shields up,” she yelled. Force over mass is all that matters now. The anomaly’s gravity pulled harder than the engines could push back. “Engage the warp drive at one hundred percent!”
“Are you insane?” he bellowed, struggling to keep his hands on the controls of the shuddering spacecraft.
“Now!” she screamed over the chaos. “It’s our only chance!”
Kants hit a couple more commands, and the half-light engines kicked in. Instantly, they smashed back into their seats. Hope gasped, feeling suspended, disconnected, bathed in brightness and surreal beauty. Inside the anomaly, she realized. We’re inside the anomaly. It wrapped them in a cathedral of swirling light and color, beauty so intense it stole her breath. Then, in the blink of an eye . . .