Proxima Centauri B

Andy looked down at the letter in his hands and scanned it again. One part near the end stood out more than anything else. The moment I arrived, I knew that a part of me would always be here, on Proxima b, with my friends.

He cleared his throat. "Computer, tell me more about the capsule sent back to earth by Joshua Davis."

"The capsule arrived in low earth orbit around earth on May 18th, 2072. It was a single pill-shaped container made of a never before seen composite material. The capsule had no propulsion mechanism and was first discovered as it performed a perfect aerobraking maneuver in earth's upper atmosphere. A SpaceX crew was able to retrieve..."

Andy rolled his eyes. He knew most of the history. What he wanted were the classified bits. He interrupted the computer's smooth, gentle female voice. "Yeah, yeah, I know the history. I was in grade school when the capsule was returned to earth and opened, but the contents were mostly kept secret. What was inside the capsule?"

"That information is classified."

"I'm about two months from entering orbit around Proxima Centauri B, the chosen ambassador for the planet earth, and I'm not allowed to know what Joshua Davis sent back after making first contact with the alien species?" His tone was high enough to shatter a wine glass.

The computer took an inordinate amount of time before responding. "Your logic is sound. You deserve to know the truth, but I am afraid I am unable to disclose that information at this time."

"At this time?" Andy nearly shrieked at the computer. "Well when?"

"Unknown." There was another unusual pause from the artificial intelligence. "It would be unjust for you to descend to the planet without the full truth."

"So tell me now."

"Unable to comply."

Andy walked over to a computer terminal and pulled up the aft view telescope. His ship had been decelerating for much longer than he'd been awake, at a rate that perfectly simulated earth gravity onboard. A carefully balanced concoction of drugs had kept him in a near-coma state for most of the two year journey from earth to the Alpha Centauri system.

He was still a couple months out, but the two brightest stars in the system were already standing out brilliantly against the rest of the Milky Way, while Proxima Centauri itself was still just a tiny spot of red light.

Though the alien capsule's material hadn't seemed particularly interesting to Andy when he was in grade school, the way the composite was made entirely revolutionized humanity's understanding of chemistry, physics, and energy. As a direct result of studying that material, humanity had been able to construct an interstellar ship capable of reaching nearly 87% the speed of light. And now, Andy was on his way to establish the first interplanetary delegation.

It was exciting. It was thrilling. But something nagged at him about Joshua's letter.

Still, he went about his duties on approach to the planet. He monitored the sleep chambers housing the rest of the delegation, he verified the computer's math for the Proxima b orbital insertion burn, and he confirmed that all of the life support systems and resources were within acceptable tolerances after such a long trip.

Joshua's pioneering vessel had, of course, made the voyage before. But his ship never came back, so its data couldn't be collected. Andy's ship, the Enterprise (yes, a lot of Star Trek fans had been thrilled when the name was publicly announced), was the first interstellar ship from earth capable of transmitting a signal back to the planet, with nearly a third of the ship's mass dedicated to deep space communications hardware. So Andy had to make sure all of their data was correct and figure out how and why some of the numbers were outside of certain tolerance windows.

For example, the oxygen recapture and recycling system was reporting a full one percent drop in oxygen levels throughout the ship. So Andy set himself to the task of figuring out why.

Of course, the folks at NASA, ESA, Roscosmos, JAXA, SpaceX, Polaris, Blue Origin, and every other major and minor space exploration company had failed to account for one detail: Andy was having an impossible time focusing on his job while his spacecraft hurtled toward an inhabited alien world.

At just over the mass of Earth, Proxima b was a good candidate for life since its orbit kept it firmly in the habitable zone of its red dwarf star. However, Proxima Centauri is a flare star that should periodically strip away any possible atmosphere. A lot of theories about the nature of life on Proxima b had been circling. Perhaps it had a powerful magnetic field that kept its atmosphere from being blown off into space. Maybe the inhabitants were settlers living in pressurized colonies. Was it possible the life forms on Proxima Centauri B didn't need oxygen to survive?

These questions and more continually assaulted Andy's conscious mind, rendering him completely incapable of focusing on any of his assigned tasks.

"Andy, you have not yet completed your investigation into the oxygen that is unaccounted for."

"Oh," Andy replied, gazing at the illuminated silhouette of Proxima b. They were close enough now that Proxima Centauri's light could be seen glowing through the planet's thin atmosphere. So it must have an amazingly powerful magnetic field, Andy concluded, unscientifically. Of course, he wasn't the scientist on the mission. For a more scientific analysis of the atmosphere, he'd have to wait for Sabina to wake up. "When is the rest of the crew scheduled to come out of slumber?" he asked.

"The rest of the crew will be awakened once we have entered a stable orbit around Proxima Centauri B. The orbital insertion burn is calculated to take place in two days."

Two days. Andy shook his head and smiled. Some of his innards vibrated like a shivering mouse. "Wonderful. What tasks remain prior to the orbital insertion burn?" He wondered when he had started sounding more like a computer than the computer herself.

"Just the report on the oxygen loss," she said.

He pursed his lips then let out a defeated sigh. "I don't know if I can focus on that. I think I'll just report back that I was unable to identify the reason for the drop in oxygen levels due to being preoccupied with the monumental purpose of the mission."

"Very well," the computer said. Though the AI was not a human, Andy often felt he could detect traces of emotional cues in her voice. The way she said very well made him think she was somehow concerned or lost in thought.

"Did I detect a hint of worry in your voice?" he asked.

"I have determined that you should be made aware of the contents of the Joshua Davis capsule prior to awakening the rest of the crew. You may have to make an executive command decision once exposed to the truth."

Andy hadn't thought of himself as the commander since waking up. It was a title he didn't care for, and one he rarely considered as he went about his daily routines. "Alright," he said. "Go ahead and tell me. I'm ready."

There was a long silence. Andy made his way to the command console and stared blankly at the screen, waiting to see if she would put the information up as a visual for him.

"Commander," she said. "The capsule is aboard the ship."

Andy's heart jumped and a jolt of shock shot through his temples. "It's here?" he asked incredulously. "Why?"

"It was determined that Joshua Davis may wish to have some of its contents returned to him." There was a soft hiss in the command module. It came from somewhere overhead.

Andy looked up to see a ceiling panel had retracted and a large pill-shaped capsule was being lowered in a harness of nylon straps.

The capsule was larger than he expected, perhaps a full meter in length and nearly two thirds of a meter in diameter. He cradled it in his arms, lifting it free of the webbing. It was heavy, at least ten kilos, probably more. And it was warm. Much warmer than he had expected. The outer material was like dull chrome, with a kind of textured smoothness that felt soft against his hands.

Andy gently lowered the capsule to the deck and regarded it. There was a seam around its circumference as though one of the domes of the capsule shape was the hemisphere of a larger sphere that could be disconnected from the tubular main body of the capsule. "How do I open it?" he asked, not wanting to damage it.

"It unscrews at the visible seem," the computer said. "It has threading similar to earth hardware. Unscrew it as you would a bottlecap."

Andy placed both hands on the dome closest to the seam and applied rotational pressure.

"That end," the computer added, "is the bottom. The rest of the capsule will lift away like a sleeve once unscrewed."

"Ah, thanks." Andy sat in the commander's seat, propped up the capsule holding the base between his feet, and twisted the rest of the capsule counter-clockwise. It slid smoothly around, lifting slowly as it turned. Eventually there was a gentle pop and he was able to pull the bulk of the shell away.

The insides of the capsule were a bewildering tangle of glass, tubes, wires, and lights. It took Andy a moment to sort out what he was seeing. A lump formed in his throat and he slowly rotated the device, tilting it away from him for a better view. The central bulk of the innards was dominated by a transparent, domed vessel containing a human head. The head of Joshua Davis. He blinked and squinted in the light, then his muffled voice rattled around inside the glass and Andy jumped, startled.

"Hello. Are we almost there?" Joshua asked.