Mosquito

By jinnis

The Ceres mission was the fulfilment of all my dreams. When I'd started the volcanologist training on Earth, I was fascinated by the sheer power of these fire-spitting mountains. Then I heard about cryovolcanoes, and my mind was set. This was my calling. Here, I wanted to leave my mark as a scientist.

To my surprise, several big companies funded the mission. That they did not act out of sheer altruism became obvious when I studied the report of the NASA robotic mission, Dawn. Ceres was supposed to be a hoard of rare minerals and water ice. While mining in space was not yet invented, the Ceres mission was supposed to pave the way. I didn't care—better than destroying Earth's last resources, right?

The personal costs to join the mission were high. Only trained astronauts were accepted. I passed the tests, working hard and keeping my focus on my single goal. I'd be among the first who walked on Ceres, a true pioneer, the first to study the cryovolcanoes close up and not only in theory.

We would be gone for several years and, perhaps, never return. The isolation would be complete, with no possibility of contacting our families, sending letters, or posting our blogs. And, like everyone else, I had to cut my bonds. The crew became my family.

When the Icarus broke free of the homeworld and carried us towards Ceres and the asteroid belt, we celebrated.

We spent the voyage working on research projects ranging from micro-farming to plasma propulsion. It was like living on a campus with a dozen brilliant minds, cross-inspiring each other in a science-dominated environment. As a geologist, I could not gather hands-on new data while travelling. But I found ample opportunity to join in other running projects and enhance my knowledge of chemistry, physics, biology, and psychology.

My hour came when the Icarus set down with an unspectacular crunch in a minor crater in the foothills of Ahuna Mons, a giant cryovolcano. The landscape was breathtaking and forbidding. Blueish, rugged mountain formations covered by eternal glaciers stretched under a dark indigo sky dotted by millions of stars.

The first days passed with settling in. We sent out a fleet of robot probes to collect samples and data from the surface and the atmosphere. I had found my personal heaven, analysing the rock and ice lumps brought in. The results of NASA's Dawn mission were confirmed. We found clays containing rare minerals, several carbonates, and frozen water in huge amounts.

No observable seismic activity though, despite my hope to trace it in the ancient cryovolcano. In a second step, excursions to the surface allowed us to acquaint ourselves with our environment. We were exhilarated, caught in a haze of new and existing discoveries.

With Jones, our mechanic whizz kid, I prepared the rover to take several drill cores. I hoped to learn more about the dwarf planet's crust and geological history—and perhaps find more geological treasures. We used my preliminary results to define promising drill sites.

When the first results came in, I called Jones. "This must be a mistake. Why did we stop at 30 metres? Didn't we agree to go at least to 200 here?"

"Sure did. Let me check the programming." He did what I'd done already, with the same result. "Strange. There must have been something that stopped the drill at this point. But what's strong enough to withstand our diamond cutting head?" A low rumble shook the ship, and he clutched the table rim. "What's that?"

"Seismic activity. We're sitting on a volcano here. Nothing to worry about—it hiccups, but just vapour. So far, I was more concerned about not finding any mensurable quakes."

Jones shrugged. "If you say so. What do we do about the drill?"

"Let's try another spot." We did—with the same result. With seven drill cores, it became undeniable we had a pattern. I placed a few minuscule deposits I found on the drill head in my spectrometer, when another quake shook the Icarus. This time, we had a probe in place to analyse the Vapor emission of Ahuna Mons. My smile about this success faded when I got the results of my analysis.

I checked and rechecked the probe data. They were all the same. Under the surface layers that Ceres had accumulated during aeons, lay something buried. Something made from an alloy able to withstand our most powerful drill. Emitting gases through shafts. Shafts like Ahuna Mons. And Jones was out there, on the volcano's flank, supervising another drill.

I snatched my pad and ran for the bridge.

"Captain, I think I found something." I stumbled into the command centre, hitting my shin on the rim of the bulkhead. While I rubbed the bruise, I held out my pad. "There's a pattern to the seismic activity. And it's changing. Stop the drill."

"Why?" A vertical fold formed on the captain's forehead.

"Here, check this out." I pressed the pad into her hand. She glanced at it, and her face lost its colour. "You think this is a ship?"

"A ship, a weapon, a memorial... who knows? It's certainly artificial and not an ice-covered rock, as we thought. Call back Jones' mission."

"But then—"

A sharp hiss told me it was too late. The Icarus shook on her landing struts, and an alarm blared, telling us that the connection to the out team was lost. Beatrix called up the view of the sensor covering their direction.

A column of blue smoke marked the flank of Ahuna Mons where Jones had been working with the rover.

Another quake shook the ship. And then we heard the sound. Like a gigantic gong, it resounded through the structure of the Icarus. Whatever we had woken—to this giant, we were not more than a mosquito stinging its skin.

Seemed it hated mosquitoes.