Gauntlet

Waymark

Entry for  ScienceFiction Challenge April 2018: Beacon
(Prompt: https://my.w.tt/KP1MOzhtWL; 958 words)

From the control pod of the Jah-Be-Merciful tug-ship, Mission Specialist Tandi Codner spotted a flickering light in the distance. At first, she believed she was going delirious from hunger.

By that point, she estimated the ship had probably been adrift in deep space for several days. The tug's on-board timekeeping systems had already shut down as a power-saving measure, together with other non-critical functions.

She wondered if the anomaly was a star twinkling brighter than usual — maybe in the process of going supernova. But after observing the light, it was definitely shining in a consistent pattern. Whatever it was, it was broadcasting a message.

Tandi noted down the pattern using Morse code symbols. Then she manually compared it with the database of global signal lexicons. Sure enough, it spelled out "Guòlái" —  "Come here" in romanized Mandarin.

*

It all began with a fairly routine hauling mission — Tandi would pilot the Jah-Be-Merciful just beyond the moon's orbit to intercept an unmanned Mule-class transport ship returning from the asteroid belt. From there, she would attach the cargo ship to her module, then tow it back into earth's geospace, where both vehicles could be docked on an elevator platform tethered in geostationary orbit. That way, the cargo of precious minerals could be safely reeled down to the Marcus Garvey Space Center in Kingston, Jamaica.

All in all, the operation was meant to be done in 32 hours, at most. Hundreds of similar missions happened every month. There was no reason to believe this one would be any different.

Granted, Tandi's superiors at the Joint Caribbean Space Agency were hesitant to send her up. It wasn't usual for someone in her mid-forties to be doing her first solo mission. But she met all the fundamental physical and skill requirements. It also helped that she didn't have too many emotional ties on the ground. She had been widowed quite early. No extended family or regular social commitments, and she rarely dated. Her only close relationship was with her estranged son, Lawrence.

Besides, there weren't too many other candidates. More developed countries were offering citizenship to promising space cadets. Meanwhile, astronauts with better credentials would need to be reserved for more high-level operations. Tandi was the best fit for the role.

That's why she felt a massive wave of shame and disappointment when the first piece of loose space debris struck the hull of the tug-ship. Sure, it was a freak incident. Nobody could have anticipated that scrap from a derelict satellite would collide with orbital junk, sending the pieces hurtling towards her craft at hypervelocity. Indeed, had it not been for her keen piloting, the debris would have collided with the fuel tank, blowing up the Jah-Be-Merciful on impact.

*

Steering the tug-ship in the beacon's direction was a maddeningly slow process. Tandi had to manually channel the dwindling energy reserves into the rear thrusters, fire them up, then lurch towards the signal until the energy fizzled out. Then came a few hours of interminable waiting as the outer panels absorbed enough cosmic radiation to power another jump.

Worse still, it never seemed like the beacon got any closer. At least it didn't appear to be moving away either. But the whole experience just made Tandi question her sanity even more.

At one point, Tandi woke from slumber to find the ship moving on its own towards the beacon, as if being pulled by a tractor beam. Relief quickly became confusion as a recording of "Michael, Row the Boat Ashore" began to play over the Jah-Be-Merciful's damaged comms system. Not just any version of the Negro folk song — it was the rendition by Harry Belafonte from his Midnight Special album. Tandi used to sing along with the cassette to put Lawrence to sleep, as a baby.

Tandi closed her eyes and steadied her nerves. She had learned about situations like this at the academy. She just had to focus on her training. All of this was just inside her mind, she reminded herself.

But there was no fooling her senses. As the tug-ship drew closer to the waymark, it began to reveal its true form.

It was difficult to make sense of the entity in human terms. It appeared to be vaguely fungoid; its chitinous surface mottled with a kind of iridescent living color. Bizarre appendages seemed to materialize from the being's core, coiling around themselves in ways that defied understanding. It was an un-presence; a sentient void whose mere existence was a mockery of creation itself. Many space-farers had considered the possibilities of making first contact but few imagined it would be like this; a close encounter with an amorphous non-Euclidean intelligence.

Now it loomed directly above the Jah-Be-Merciful. Tandy looked up at the being, fixing her gaze. It should have been a truly awesome experience. But in that brief instant, she felt neither fear nor wonder, but peace.

That's when the silence of outer space was broken by a quick, insistent beeping, followed by a high-pitched electronic drone.

*

At that precise moment, 86-year-old Tandi Codner succumbed to type-3 Ecrivain's disease, in the executive suite at Nu-Elysium hospice care facility in Hobb's End, Greater London. The EEG display flatlined as her brain activity stopped.

"I can't thank you enough, Dr. Patel," said palm oil tycoon Lawrence Codner.

"Oh, I just sign the contracts these days," said Kavisha. "You should be thanking Yee-Lin here. She did all the heavy lifting."

Dr. Bao removed the electrodes from Tandi's scalp, disconnecting her from the experimental oneirograph system. "Most satisfactory," she remarked. "Pituisol levels were slightly above normal for terminal cases. Neural fugue remained steady throughout the end-of-life process. As far as she can tell, it all really happened."

"Mother always dreamed about going into space," said Lawrence, wiping away his tears.