Song to the Siren: A Titan Story (Part One of Three)

Song to the Siren: A Titan Story (Part One of Three)

Crows perch in a line along a telegraph poll. They seem to be either staring at me or peering into infinity. It’s easy to get lost looking into their inky-black eyes. Behind them are rolling hills and fields. The sky looks like it belongs in a painting; different shades of blue mixed with white cloud in an artist’s metaphorical palette. Light winds rustle leaves on distant oak trees. Seagulls patrol above scavenging for food. Houses painted bright colours stand shoulder to shoulder in the foreground, jostling for attention. I turn towards the sea. I am sixteen years old. In some ways, a coming of age. 

That day seems so distant now. The memory fades a little more as time goes by; diluting its essence, turning lucidity to sepia. I can still see mum and dad looking out at waves, standing on a beach. A little boy is running with kite string in his hand, laughing as a man dressed in knee-length shorts is dawdling after him. A golden retriever is chasing a tennis ball while a young jack Russell is dipping its paws in lapping water. Nobody is watching me. I look down at my open-toed sandals. The sand is light brown, dried by the sun and awaiting the next high tide.

I look up. I can’t see anyone now for a thick enveloping mist. It’s like a shroud of some kind, within it an aura of dread. A mild panic runs through my body. There’s a need to find bearings. Taking a step forward, it’s difficult to orientate but the sound of water washing against sand guides me. Instinctively, I know this is the direction I want to go in even if it seems contrary. Surely back towards land is the right way to head? Am I running away from something? Seaweed and kelp litter the ground, tiny indentations give clues to marine life in hiding. Crabs mostly.

I step into the water; there is a gentle splashing sound. The banks of mist roll around arbitrary, shapeless borders. Other than the sea itself, there are no other sounds. I continue to move forwards, through the briny. My clothes are getting wet. The bottom of my tee shirt is damp. My arms are outstretched in the air to maintain balance. And then I see her. A blur swimming around under water; motion smooth and graceful. There’s a large fish tail and scales on skin. I should feel fear but, instead, there’s a benevolent reassurance about this. It’s said that mermaids can offer the gift of eternal life.....if they like the look of you. If not, they are just as likely to drag you to the bottom of the sea. I can hear singing. It’s so beautiful. Calling to me.

There’s a hissing noise. It’s subtle, like when you are going under an anaesthetic. My eyes flutter open and blurry vision slowly clears. I am looking through a glass pane. There are lights flashing amid a blaze of electronica. A whirring sound precedes the opening of the coffin I am in. Tilted on a gentle incline, rousing is made easier. Hands and arms at my sides have tubes feeding into them. Gently, they are unattached one by one and freedom is in sight. I rise. Lights illuminate in sequence forming a pattern of white, neon luminescence. The room is filled with other cryo-chambers, the occupants still in hyper-sleep. Now standing, I stretch my arms out and yawn, rolling my head around my shoulders. The temperature is balmy at 22C which is just as well as I am naked. My eyes traverse my arms, hands, torso, legs and feet checking for anything unusual. My genitalia are still intact. Nine years is a long time to be out of it. Recent reveries were a marker indicating close proximity to the mission goal.

There’s a lot to do. A torrent of training went into planning for this point; there’s a lengthy checklist to be completed before the rest of the crew are woken. Safety is paramount. It’s still hard to resist first seeing where we are. A voice command and iris scan allows the opening of my locker. In it is an armless skinsuit and trainers. Once dressed, there’s a rigorous exercise routine to undertake and a proper medical once over to be done in sick bay. Striding towards the bridge, my most recent dream becomes a reflection. Will I ever swim away with a mermaid? Seated at a raft of controls, my credentials are validated and a computer screen cursor flickers.

“Confirm current status and location.”

It’s been a while since I gave any authoritative commands. It feels good to be in control again and a relief that nothing appears to have gone wrong.

Words, numbers and symbols scroll along the screen. The ship is approaching its target. There are 23 hours 25 minutes and 11 seconds until geo-stationary status is achieved. It proceeds with a lengthy, rolling update on the numerous processes in progress as well as all the software and hardware on board. There are a million and one things that could have gone wrong in all this time. I worry, in particular, about the solar sail. With all of the activity on the sun, it wouldn’t be a surprise if a hole had been punched through it by a renegade flare. There are reports of minor impacts from space debris and some incidents of excessive radiation on the ship’s hull during the flight. Fortunately, the safeguards have worked sufficiently to mitigate the issues. The systems have done their job.

Titan awaits.

An hour of exhaustive system checks passes quickly and I now feel secure in waking the rest of the crew. As much as there is an imperative to stay professional and efficient, my mind strays and I think about my family back on Earth. James will be seventeen now. His birthday was a few weeks ago. As hard as I tried, I still managed to miss celebrations at times due to work commitments. It’s not something I’m proud of but NASA is a demanding mistress. Jenny will want to know if I am alright. She worries. Out here we are 746 million miles apart depending on relative positions from the Sun. There is a time delay of between 71.02 and 87.66 minutes if we want to catch up on satellite link. Quite literally, we are worlds apart.

Of course, we both knew what the brief was at the start of all of this. Getting home to them won’t be easy. Once we are on the surface of the moon, the plan is to re-engineer fuel from the raw materials on Titan including methane for a return. Needless to say, this will take time; possibly years. It’s a weighty personal commitment for all of us. My wife and son understand. I hope they still do. I miss them. They are my designated contacts. Hopefully they will have an update on behalf of the rest of the family. My dad was having problems with his heart when I left.

The crew are woken, one by one. They have five minute, sequential slots to exit their sarcophagi and become active to spare them the embarrassment of seeing each other before they are fully clothed. We assemble in the galley. There are six of us in total. We sit around a large, circular eating area; its whiteness emphasises that it’s sterile and clean. A toughened-plastic bench runs around the circumference, light in weight yet sturdy in use. There’s a plethora of plates with food on them, servings set of cutlery and beakers to drink from. The choice is nuts, fruit, chicken, beef, rice or prawns with coffee, tea, orange juice, fruit punch or lemonade to drink. The atmosphere is a blend of euphoria and anticipation.

“So whose chest is the alien going to punch through?” Jim Benson laughs and waits for a reaction. He is the back-up commander and, aged 39, his white hair and sharp nose makes him look a ringer for Owen Wilson.

A nervous laughter ripples across the group. As much as the joke is apt, there’s an element of tempting fate which nobody wants to acknowledge publically.

“That’ll be you then Jim!” Eleanor Reach aka Ellie is the ship’s medical officer. Now in her forties, she has a gentle sense of humour that makes her instantly likeable. With blonde hair tied at the back and an athletic figure, Ellie is the stereotypical fitness fanatic.

“Trust me, there are no aliens on board. At least, there wasn’t when I did the sweep earlier. Listen up team. It’s good to have everyone up and raring to go. Let’s enjoy this meal together now then the serious work starts. I know you have been through this a thousand times but there will be a further briefing at 14:00 hours in the operations room. I am awaiting an update from Mission Control which we should have in time for the meeting. Any questions?” As ship commander, I am used to being clinical with expectations; people’s lives depend on it.

There’s a pause as the team consider the situation. The rest of the crew is made up of Jaden Hinds, engineer, Genevieve Pasco, specialist and Damien Thompson, scientist. All of them were involved with the drone project “Dragonfly” that successfully landed on Titan in 2034 and with it the discovery of microbial life at the Selk Impact Crater.

Everyone is acutely aware of the history behind the mission; the previous fly bys of Pioneer II, Voyagers 1 and 2 and the Cassini-Huygens probe that sent back so much information about Saturn. This expedition has been decades in the making.

Part two at:

https://www.abctales.com/story/marandina/song-siren-titan-story-part-two...

Image free to use at: https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/7/7d/The-Mermaid.jpg