ANOTHER EARTH

Catalog Star System HB22147
USS Constellation NCC-1017
Stardate 2258.81

Beginning Day Forty One of our survey mission in this star system. Science Officer Masada has reported the conclusion of the outer planet survey [see attachment for complete report]. Crew morale is exceptionally low, partly because of the recent loss of Lieutenant Onayemi, but more distant because of what the EBC is already calling "The Vulcan Incident." Though I'm not sure "incident" is the word I'd use. Maybe "Massacre" or "Holocaust" would be appropriate. In any case, our expanded mandate feels more like a mercy mission than any colonization survey, though I suspect the Vulcans would be too proud to see it that way.

We're still having trouble plotting a survey route because of this system's weird composition. Most of the large luminous objects in the outer orbits are remarkably low density, mainly composed of molecular hydrogen and noble gases. The denser inner planets are indicated on gravitic sensors, but thanks to the distortion from the innermost world-an L-Class giant, what astronomers used to call a "Hot Jupiter"-we're unable to get a precise fix on their orbits and positions. Three of the seven largest objects have been pinpointed within the star's estimated habitable zone, and one has a spectral pattern suggesting a possible oxygen atmosphere. Since that seems to be a good starting point, I've ordered Ensign Gambrelli to move us into a standard orbit around the candidate planet to begin our first ground survey. My expectations for this system aren't very high, but I'm always willing to be surprised.

USS Constellation Mission Log, Captain Matthew Decker

"Entering standard orbit, Sir," Ensign Gambrelli reported, only seconds after the ship dropped out of warp. Without the distortion field from the warp drive, the Constellation was just another free-falling object hurtling through space under the tyranny of Newton's Third Law. An array of dozens of magnetic nozzles extruded a thin spray of supercharged hydrogen blasted from Constellation's main fusion reactors at thirteen thousand kilometers per second. Senior Navigator Horowitz had programmed their insertion maneuver to drop the ship into the gravity well as close as controllably possible to the planet's orbital velocity; the impulse engines made up the difference in the space of about half a minute, and Constellation eased into a circular orbit several thousand kilometers above the surface.

A small fleet of automated probes immediately ejected from the launch tubes in the engineering section: four atmospheric probes and four orbitals, each programmed with a slightly different mission and designed to detect slightly different features of the planet. Constellation had arrived on the night side of the planet, so there was nothing to see through the viewscreen window. Masada's station, however, had a more detailed image from the infrared telescopes and the first lidar spectrographs of the atmosphere and surface features. The radar survey would take more time, a few minutes at most to map the surface and oceanic features, but for now early analysis was already underway. "It reads as Class-M, Captain," Masada said, "Sensors are picking up radio transmissions in the S- and L-bands, sounds like frequency-modulated and amplitude modulated radio signals. Recording to library computer for analysis. First probes will enter their search orbits in eight minutes, twenty seconds."

Captain Matt Decker watched the large circular screen in front of his science officer flash into a blank wireframe graphic. Over the next twelve to sixteen hours that screen would become a detailed 3-D image of the entire planet and all notable features thereof, but only the most general information would be available in the short term.

All eight of Constellation's probes maneuvered automatically on preprogrammed trajectories, instructed to adjust their orbits with a handful of navigational milestones that would make them most effective overall. The orbital probes, which had the loosest parameters, skimmed the edge of the atmosphere just to gage the edge of its effective surface and then hoisted themselves back into higher orbits, stabilizing at an altitude of a few hundred kilometers. Their atmospheric cousins - more torpedo-like than the orbital devices - simply power-dove through the upper layers of the atmosphere, letting compression and drag destroy their extra momentum. Once reduced to subsonic velocity, all four of these probes went into a kind of floating hover, each on an opposite side of the planet, suspended a mile or two above the surface on an antigrav generator where they could probe the terrain as it slowly rolled beneath them.

"All probes are now in position," Masada announced, twenty minutes later as Constellation began slowly to emerge from the planet's shadow, "We've got telemetry coming in."

"Geographic analysis," Decker asked lightly, "Any good camping grounds?"

"Coming through now, lateral sweep is almost finished. We'll have a full map of all surface features in a few seconds."

"Good. How's the weather down there?"

Masada gazed into the hood of the infrared telescope and panned the viewfinder over the surface of the darkened planet, with data from the ship's sensors combined with the thousands of megabytes of data from the probes, "Definitely Class-M, Captain. Scans confirm vegetation and animal life similar to Earth types. Large body of water, deep oceans... yeah... all around, surprisingly similar to home."

"Hm... compositional data?"

Masada slid his chair away from the telescope to the gravitic/subspace sensor control on the end of his science console, "Probable Class-M planet, tentatively designated HB22147-C," he announced, making this an official report from the flight recorder's log, "Equatorial diameter, approximately twelve thousand seven hundred and fifty kilometers. Mass, five point nine one zettatons, density five point five three kilograms per cubic meter. Orbital period, twenty three point nine three hours-" Masada paused here, looked at his screen in puzzlement as the report was beginning to look entirely too familiar. "That's not right..."

Decker had noticed it too. He came to his feet and stepped a little closer to the science console, looking over Masada's shoulder as he began double-checking the sensor reports. Meanwhile, the alien sun had begun to rise over the disk of this new world, lighting an ever-growing blue-green crescent on the surface of this world. "Atmosphere composition?" Decker asked carefully.

"Twenty one percent oxygen, seventy eight percent nitrogen, one percent water vapor, argon, carbon dioxide and other trace gasses. Average surface temperature, three hundred and thirty seven kelvins, approximately one hundred and one point four kilopascals average pressure..." Masada now looked at his console in complete disbelief. "That can't be right... one moment, Captain, I'll have to run a quick diagnostic..."

But Decker wasn't looking at the science station anymore. The rising sun had lit enough of the surface world that the coastlines of its continents were becoming visible to the naked eye, partly shrouded in a band of clouds, but in a shape at least as familiar as Masada's sensor readings. "Horowitz... call me crazy, but does that look like Africa to you?"

By strange coincidence, Horowitz had just been thinking that. He set the navigational sensors to take a lidar sweep of the visible surface and then enhanced the image with an overlay on the hud, showing the outline of the coast even on the still-invisible night side. Here, now, a slightly garbled but perfectly legible coastline stood out on the viewscreen, not just the coast of Africa, but the outline of South America and the Caribbean Islands, of Mexico and the Gulf Coast, Florida and the North American Eastern Seaboard.

"Earth..." Horowitz looked over his shoulder in amazement, seeking confirmation - or at least a smirk to confirm an elaborate prank - from his Captain.

"Not Earth," Decker said, "Not our Earth."

Masada looked through the viewscreen and then threw himself back to his sensor consoles. "That's impossible on so many levels..."

"Yeah, it's impossible alright," the boot of Italy and the Swiss alps slid over the horizon, "But that doesn't mean it's not there."

"Another Earth?" Gambrelli said, breathless, "A duplicate?"

Masada whistled in amazement, "An exact duplicate. I'm seeing cities, aircraft, roads, power signatures..." he paused for a moment and queried his library computer, then nodded, "Radio frequencies consistent with standard Earth languages. All the right languages in all the right places. Chicago, New York, Tampa... "

Decker's heart skipped a beat, "Orbital contacts?"

"I'm picking up... wait..." it would take more data than he had to get a definitive answer, so Masada decided to estimate. He directed the orbital probes to scan a higher altitude in co-orbital space around them, about where the global satellite network should have a densely packed ring of subspace and radio communications platforms linking the Earth to neighboring planets and moons and connecting population centers wirelessly with one another. When the probes failed to return conclusive data, he directed Constellation's more powerful sensor arrays to sweep the standard parking orbits where starships and space stations should have been in evidence. All three scans reported back in a matter of seconds, a report concise enough for him to conclude, "Scans show no signs of orbiting spacecraft, satellites or manned stations, Captain. Only ground and air transport. I'm also picking up some massive carbon emissions from major population centers. Levels are consistent with the extremely widespread use of internal combustion engines at a level not seen since the late 20th century."

"What in the-" asking the obvious question would get him nowhere. This planet could not exist - it should not exist - and yet there it was, right in front of them, like the Lost City of Atlantis floating out of the mist.

And yet, Constellation was in no way equipped to answer those questions. The small survey vessel could afford only brief surface excursions to examine areas perhaps a few square miles in diameter, and then only at the Captain's discretion. Whatever they might find on the surface of that world would be just a momentary snapshot of a much larger picture and would probably raise more questions than it answered. For a mystery this baffling, Starfleet needed to the send the big guns. "Tatiana," he ordered of his communications officer, "Program a coded message for Starfleet Command, Priority One. Tell them exactly what we've found here and request a followup mission."