Space Trash by LaVa Payne
This story originally appeared in Alien Dimensions #11
Recycle, recycle, recycle…it is our way, the natural way for galaxies to coexist!
Many of these polemic advertisements were all over the intergalactic broadcasting system. And as with most issues, it was always paramount to avoid, or at least appear to avoid, what might be perceived as a dereliction that would finally lead to an admonishment of terms for the compact.
Ah yes, the compact, or the OTRC, as it was abbreviated, was specifically geared towards the recycle, reuse and repurpose policy that has otherwise made its message not only obligatory but also sensible. For without the standards provided within the compact, the natural beauty of space and all things comprised within it, there would be malevolent consequences to the ebb and flow of space, time and physics.
That was the practical aspect. The realistic aspect was that it affected everything else, and ways to deal with it had to be addressed by all. For with all progress and intelligence there is an inherent waste generated by movement in the galaxies, and that ‘space trash’ had to have a management system that was organized and collective in order to procure and provide certain equality throughout the galaxies. As it affected all weather patterns, storms, and nebula energy existing in the galaxies, the organized effort to manage it was all the more important.
#
Now come this one, one without much to return to in the name of a home, but one nevertheless. His name was Tavid. He was of the nation of the Trunktoparishies from the white star called Angora, or what would be dubbed other places as WASP-33b.
Located roughly in the beautiful Andromeda area of the universe, Angora had long past its habitation abilities due to its immediate proximity to its sun. The average orbit took twenty-nine point five hours, with a surface temperature of two thousand three hundred degrees Celsius. And with its super-heated matter, even the Trunktoparishies who were a subterranean nation could not exist upon its continually elongated body which had become more and more almond-shaped as the planet inched closer to its own sun.
In fact, the matter from Angor was quickly dissipating into its sun at a rate that was considered phenomenal about the galaxies—it was infamous for that reason alone. Which left the Trunktoparishies without a homeland, and most of them had been taken in by the OTRC as workers towards the goal of galaxy keeping.
Tavid was no exception. He had remembered his homeland with much honor and pride as it was once beautiful and lush, much like the Andromeda Galaxy itself. Though few would ever remember its splendor with such admiration as he did, Tavid was committed to expanding the awareness of preservation and compliance to the OTRC.
Conservation was a key. As much of the Andromeda galaxy was excising and collecting black holes, the obvious feeding of matter to the black holes was not advised, based on the collapse and fall policy instituted among all the aliens. It was integral to all that lived in the Andromeda galaxy to prevent unnecessary gravitation to the twenty-six, now pending twenty-seven black holes currently in mass for the center of the Andromeda galaxy.
#
Tavid was termed a Conservation Specialist in the OTRC. His primary job was to identify, obtain and preclude any debris issues within the cluster known as Yewink Five.
The problems he faced, almost daily, revolved around the lack of observance of the debris policies already in place. And the enforcement of the policies made the matter tenuous among some of the more sordid beings residing in that quadrant. Fortunately, that was all about to change.
“Let me take you to Andromeda, this galaxy so fine…” Tavid was singing his favorite theme from the musical play Groenbeckel, when he pulled out of light travel and was aligning his probationary graviton with the planet Gord, “as beautiful as the sky with three moons, Let me take you to Andromeda, where the meteors rain cold!”
“Oh Tavid, you are such a sucker for olden musicals!” Banks was his co-pilot and avid friend from home.
“Andromeda, Andromeda…”
The mission to Gord was one of surveillance only. Interception was not authorized.
“Tavid, what are we looking for specifically?” Banks wrinkled her truncated nose.
She was really rather beauteous with her speckled pattern following down her trunk. And when she got excited, her large Manta ray-like ears looked cute, flapping curiously about her head.
“We are looking for space fleas. The OTRC specified that documentation has been presented to the extent that supports claims of illegal bio-waste being dumped here on a regular basis.” Tavid curled his ears inward, deflecting the dangerous aspect of this request.
Banks was not clueless. She knew that the bio-waste was but one small problem, as it meant that other illegal terms were being violated as well. “Do we expect to see any Obligork today? Or do you think that we will be lucky enough to just miss them on this trip?”
The question was an honest one. If they encountered them, what defense would they have?
“I don’t think we will. Today is most definitely safe.” Tavid lied.
“Good, I think observing and recording is the best job. Don’t you?” Banks smiled and extended her trunk towards the on-board recording panel.
The OBR was created with virtual touch capacity. It allowed for a virtual spatial expansion that could be presented four dimensionally about the transmitters head. With this technology, the transmitter could think and move objectives more efficiently without compiling unnecessary panels in a compact vessel.
As Banks began recording initial screening data, Tavid began taking exterior samples of the atmospheric pollution.
There were initial testing data that suggested more than space fleas. OTRC believed that several pirating rings were using the Obligork to dump toxic trash both on planet Gord and planet Merigue. Evidence had been provided from other officers of the OTRC. Strangely, the same officers had met untimely deaths. Tavid had not told Banks of these circumstances because he thought it best not to cause panic. But the truth of the matter was he was not sure what would happen, and that alone was terrifying to him.
The anamorphic skin of the Trunktoparishies was super heat resistant, but it was also absorbent as well. And the need to provide general protection from space matter floating aimlessly small and abundant was necessary. His partitioned suit allowed for both taste and smell sense, as the two appendages of the Trunktoparishies were simultaneous. They could both move and use these appendages, known as dwarv, much like a hand or arm.
While outside the craft, Tavid noticed the heat. “Banks are you recording the marginal heat differential radiating out here?”
“I am recording it through your input transgressor.”
Tavid extended his truncated spout and could taste the chromiusum deposits, along with gravitational plasma follicles. “Banks, we have gravitational plasma follicles, I am afraid we are not alone.”
The large bean-shaped pod emerged out of the darkness nanoseconds after his words. The Obligorkian ship had not yet noticed their small pod, and was just emerging from light speed capacity.
“Quick! Engage the sonic cloak so we can have a chance at being dark to them.”
“I am trying, I am trying.”
The hatch on the pod moved slightly with ease, but the reentry was time consuming. And as long as the hatch was suspended, the longer it would take to engage the sonic cloak. Tavid was moving as quickly as he could, but the non-gravity suspension made movement slow and cumbersome.
When Tavid was able to close the hatch, he initiated the scrub sequence for differential matter and placed his sample vestibules inside the collection container. The deposit usually went whirling off to the OTRC as soon as it was collected, but the chance of the Obligork scanning the ejection was too risky. He would have to hold the specimens in an effort to maintain invisibility.
“Tavid, what are we going to do?” Banks was blinking her one eye with much anticipation.
“We have to maintain cloaking and hope that they did not scan us.” Tavid was not sure what the ratio of time and distance would play on their ability to remain invisible.
“Should we send a dispatch of possible engagement to the OTRC and request assistance now?” Banks was beginning to panic.
“No. We would have to lower our sonic cloak in order to send out a distress signal. We are going to have to wait.”
The large Obligork ship was just entering the gravitation of Gord. It was approaching at a controlled pace. The deck side of the ship was armed with proton lasers which was old, old technology. This meant that the ship was more like a barge carrying trash rather than being a fighter fleet ship. Only the barge carriers were armed like that. Tavid had read the manual on their technology enough to know that it was also armed with limited sonic detectors. That was a plus for Tavid and Banks.
“As long as we sit still,” Tavid breathed out his trunk, “the likelihood of our detection is almost nothing.”
“What about a visual?” Banks was percolating, which was a Trunktoparishies first line of defense.
“This is a barge carrier,” Tavid explained, “and is only armed with sonic detectors. There is no visual deck. They are completely blind minus their sonar.”
Tavid and Banks watched the four-thousand-mile carrier ease past them towards the lower section of the planet. It was tasking. They counted forty-seven dump containers attached to the lower hulls.
“What do you think is in those hulls?”
“I am not sure, but it appears to be the illegal space trash from mining efforts on Darvadian V.” Tavid had read the updates on OTRC. Reports had not confirmed the dumping, but investigations had been made. Thus, the empirical data had been either lost or otherwise destroyed from vessels of the OTRC by other missing representatives that had been sent to follow the trail of illegal dumping.
Recycle, recycle, recycle…it is our way, the natural way for galaxies to coexist!
The OTRC motto resounded in Tavid’s mind. He wondered, what dangers do await?
Nearing the surface atmosphere, the Obligork ship was almost nigh out of visual. Banks turned to Tavid, “Should we follow?”
There were two choices. The first one would be to dispatch the vestibules, send out the distress call to OTRC and re-cloak their ship until help arrived.
The second choice would be to follow at length with cloak as slowly as possible. Hopefully, the sonar would only pick-up the spatial movement of rock debris.
If Tavid chose the first option, everything would work out fine. And, there would be no promotion, there would be no distinction. It was a safe call. Everything would be just fine.
However, if they were able to follow the Obligork ship and obtain visual evidence of dumping, then both Tavid and Banks would be sure to rise quickly in the OTRC. And the rewards of upper positions for them both would come easily. Time to move was of the moment, and he had to make a decision quickly before the opportunity to follow with the debris would pass.
“Banks, I am not going to lie to you,” Tavid paused to extend his trunk, “the best decision to make here is to send the vestibules, send out the distress call and wait for the OTRC to come and intervene.”
“What is the other option?”
Tavid took a deep breath, “We can cloak ourselves amongst the rock debris and hopefully trick their sonar. This may allow us to get visual evidence of them dumping.” He waited a moment and then continued, “I don’t think I need to tell you what a great thing this will be for our careers with the OTRC. Think about it, we could be the ones!”
Banks looked at Tavid respectfully, “You know, there is a third option.”
“Tell me.”
She took her trunk and pointed towards the vestibules, “Send them. Send them now, so that at least we can have the honor of having some evidence that the polluting continues, in case…in case we don’t make it!” Banks began to percolate profusely and Tavid touched her trunk.
“We don’t have to do it, but think about what we would become!”
Banks thought about their homeland. The subterranean paradise it had been. She thought about their home world and about how much things had changed. “You know Tavid, we will never be able to reverse the effects that dumping had on our world, but we might change the fate of this one if we are brave right now.” She extended her trunk still percolating from fear.
Tavid smiled at Banks. They watched the Obligork ship fade into the atmosphere.
“It’s now or never,” he said.
Banks sighed through her trunk, “Let’s do it. We have much to gain.”
With concerted efforts, Banks sent the vestibules off to the OTRC, while Tavid programmed the control speed to match the dense field speed of the rock debris falling behind the Obligork ship.
Banks turned to Tavid, “Let’s send the distress signal too, though I don’t think they will get it in time…”
Tavid nodded his trunk. And for one brief moment, they lowered the sonic shield and broadcast the encrypted message in hopes that the rock debris would provide an adequate shield.
#
The vestibules reached the first outpost of the OTRC in a matter of minutes. And it was scanned, decrypted and analyzed. The data contained in the tubules was positive confirmation of dumping. The lead commander of the OTRC Deep Yewink Five post was briefed.
“Commander Quich, there is positive confirmation from the Gord expedition team that bio-waste is being dumped there on a regular basis.” Lieutenant Drom handed the debriefing over the desk.
“Has this news been dispatched to headquarters yet?” Commander Quich fingered his tentacle mustache.
“Not yet sir—we are waiting for further instructions based on the types of dumping to alert.”
As he read the debriefing, Commander Quich found that not only was there bio-waste present in the report, but it also contained samples of contaminants from the mining process of Darvadian V. The samples implicated that the pirates were using long range dumping techniques to hide their excavations. And that was a problem because it meant one thing.
“Commander Quich”
“How many officers have read this report?”
“Two, sir—myself and Sergeant Jor.”
If there was one thing about the OTRC, the security measures were upmost.
“Scramble a message to headquarters, detail only this: Gord minor problem code 1234.”
The message was intended to “inform” with request for battalion backup. And any receiver getting the message would relay out with a mission to arrest.
#
Tavid had reengaged the cloaking device, “We cannot use our main drive to move into the rock debris. We are going to have to use air pulses to propel us. Otherwise we will risk detection.”
Banks agreed. “The heat emissions would be detected.”
“That means we are going to have to use short bursts and float a bit, do you agree?”
Banks nodded.
“Here goes nothing,” as Tavid took the manual controls he whispered, “it is all going to be worth it in the end.”
Banks knew from this moment forward there was no turning back.
Navigating forward, Tavid took turns alternating short bursts of air with long bursts until he had successfully landed on one of the larger rock debris in the cluster.
“Whew!” Tavid let out a long sigh.
“We did it!” Banks was overcome with enthusiasm but she wondered how they would follow now.
“Send down the probe extractor, we will use it as a make-shift anchor to this rock.” Tavid motioned towards the side exploration tool panel. “When we get anchored, I am going to use the propulsion of air to plunge us into the atmosphere behind them—and we will appear as the rock falling onto Gord.”
It was a brilliant plan. Tavid just hoped that it worked.
Pulsing harder now, the air gusts moved the rock only slowly at first until the gravitational field of Gord drew them down. And the heat emitted from the falling rock appeared to further cloak their presence so that they could begin to see the Obligark ships silhouette against the pale-yellow sands of the Gord landscape.
“Tavid, we are closing in on the surface…how will we land?”
Tavid took the hooked lever in his trunk, “When we are close enough, I am going to release the probe extractor, and we will hover for a moment and land.”
Banks watched as they seemed to fall faster and faster on this rock that had become smaller and smaller. She was not sure that they would make it, but she had to have faith. It was all she had.
At just moments before impact, Tavid released the probe extractor, and the rock plunged deep into the crust of Gord. Crust matter expulsed from the impact shed marbles of material in an alluvial manner. The shields against sonar were aligned, but their small vessel received damage as they hovered.
“Tavid, the communication system is malfunctioning. And there are numerous error and damaged reports coming online.” Banks had felt the fallout from the impact of the rock and was shaken by the impact.
“It is going to be fine.” Tavid lied.
#
The OTCR had received the message from outpost OTRC Deep Yewink Five about six point seven minutes before the distress signal from the Gord expedition. The collective data report was clear, there was serious dumping from Darvadian V being done, and it was paramount that the OTRC intervene immediately.
The battalion was mounted with hopes of reaching Gord before lives were lost. The Trunktoparishies played important roles and were deeply devoted to the mission of the OTRC. One opportunity for them to stop the pollution and destruction of a comparable world would go great in the effort to eliminate space trash and promote harmony among the galaxy’s nations.
Their only hope—was that help did not arrive on Gord before it was too late.
#
Tavid was hovering above the crater. Damages to the system required him to land. He used what was left of his air propulsion to pivot around the crater and situate on the outer rim. The Obligark ship was busy expending the cargo as they watched.
Tavid touched Banks’ trunk, “Are you ok?”
“I am fine, but I don’t know if our craft is going to make it out of here.” Banks had been busy trying to shut-down the alarms and error messages that kept piling forward since they landed.
Tavid looked at the visual screen, “Do we have video capacity to record this?”
Banks looked over at him with a shapeless shifting of her trunk, “No. I don’t think I can get the on-board recorder to open.”
Tavid moved his trunks together slowly, “I guess I am going to have to go out there with the mini recorder from our collections panel. There is no other way to get it.”
Banks grabbed his trunk hard, “You can’t! It is too dangerous—we will be detected if you let your heat signature emerge.”
Tavid thought for a moment and knew Banks was right. The very heat of his body would illuminate against the planet’s surface and would be a sure give away of their position. He was going to have to think of something else.
“Maybe we could work on this panel and get the digital recorder reconfigured to the main controls?” Banks was more skeptical than optimistic.
“Yes. I will try that.” Tavid was now the one with no answers. He had been so sure that the plan would work. He had not taken into consideration the trouble-shooting of the landing or any damages the ship would incur.
Banks had fixed several of the alert systems and had managed to maintain the energy reserves without rerouting them to the main. “I think this is going to work,” she said as she reintroduced the modular sim into the volor conductor. “There!”
Tavid had the sequence programmed and his orbital shocker powered-up. “I beat you!”
The two of them laughed for the first time since the almost crash.
“Now, I should be able to use the recorder on board to get the evidence.” With his trunk extended he pushed the record option. Tavid and Banks watched the recording begin.
Many times before this moment, both Tavid and Banks had been uncertain. But now, there was no uncertainty. They would be heroes. And they would get promoted.
“Tavid,” Banks looked over at him with a questioning glance, “did you know this was going to work, or did you just hope that it would?”
“I only hoped.” Tavid took her trunk, “And sometimes when you have enough hope, well it makes all the difference to the world you live on.”
As they watched the recording device on board acknowledge storage in the compositor, they saw a battalion ship from OTCR enter and land behind the Obligark ship. In a matter of minutes, the evidence from the recorded space trash dumping and the interception and arrest of the members of Obligark ship were well in hand.
Tavid sent a message to the OTCR battalion ship, “This is ship 1234. We have evidence aboard our system that reveals the Darvidian V dumping on Gord. Requesting permission to board OTCR.”
#
The message was received. The OTCR battalion ship granted access and from that day forward, not only was Tavid and Banks considered galactic heroes, they were also held out as fine ambassadors of the conservation effort in the Andromeda…with marriage following, and a new generation of Trunktoparishie kids.