Beyond Kuiper: The Galactic Star Alliance

by Matthew Medney

  Ava dove right into the unspoken subject at hand. “Lisa says CORE is working through some pretty exciting discoveries.”

  Galena confirmed it. “Yes. Yes, she did.”

  “Did she, now?” Bernard raised his eyebrows and turned to his wife. “Well, thank you for warming them up. Might as well get straight to it, then. The fusion drive is real. It can get us to the edge of the solar system in two and a half years. I’m planning a mission comprised of myself and eleven other exemplary examples from key fields to reach the Kuiper Belt and investigate the disappearance of the Voyager probe. In the extremely improbable event we’ll encounter intelligent life, we’ll be acting as a first contact team representing our species.”

  Galena gulped the remains of her glass. Though trained in medicine, her understanding was superior to most physicists. “How? The energy requirements to contain a reactor that size would be staggering… debilitating. William Hunt couldn’t solve that problem and it was his theory.”

  “Isaac figured it out. I don’t quite get the math, myself, but we tested it, and it works.”

  “Hmmmm.” Galena murmured with a keen interest. “So, Angelika builds it, you captain it, and we go explore the stars?”

  Ava’s brow twisted. “Do you hear yourselves? Bernard, I love and respect you; we go back a long way, but are you serious?”

  “Completely. We’re calling it W.C.O.L. Nomad -A, in honor of Darren. By we, I mean William Hunt, Godric Adams, Angelika On, and myself. Ang will stay on the ground with Lisa. Will, Ric and, I hope the two of you are coming with us.”

  At the name Ang, Lisa looked briefly irritated but still nodded her head in agreement.

  Taken aback, Ava’s voice trembled. “Honestly, I... I didn’t actually believe you until you mentioned Darren. Did he have something to do with the fusion drive? Was that what you were working on at CERN? Darren died for his work so did a lot of our classmates. We could too. Is it really worth it?”

  Noticing the exchange of looks, Galena asked, “Darren also went to Kepler?” Lisa nodded. “We were all close.”

  She didn’t mention that Ava and Darren had briefly been a “thing” back then. First loves were not easily forgotten.

  Ava repeated her question. “You want us to give up five years of our lives? No. You’re asking us to risk it all... our lives. Why? What can we gain from this?”

  Bernard had to be laser focused, give enough to satisfy but not expose a truth too dangerous to share until they were actually in space. “The short answer, Ava, is we don’t know. We don’t know what’s out there; we don’t know the risks. What we do know is that we will be the first humans past Saturn: the first to behold Neptune, the first to leave our solar system. William, Godric, and I have hand-picked the nine we want to join us. We choose you two for your ability to see the bigger picture. Galena’s vaccine research contained the tuberculosis epidemic6. Ava’s work on limb regeneration is revolutionizing biology. Between you, there are dozens of patents, papers, awards, and millions of saved lives. We need you. Humanity needs you.

  “Girls, cut the crap,” Lisa said. “You’ve already sacrificed everything for the greater good; you both want more out of life than Earth, and you both know if anyone can do this, it’s Bernard, William, and Godric.”

  Ava and Galena knew Lisa would never blindly oblige her husband. Her support was the cherry on top. They’d often seen her put Bernard in his place when she disagreed. They raised their glasses and mutely toasted her.

  “I have a million more questions,” Ava said, “but I didn’t fly all the way here on Angelika’s dime to not enjoy that alfredo.”

  The mood shifting, Bernardo ran to the kitchen and returned with a beautifully plated bowl of pasta smothered in a creamy, golden sauce punctuated with bits of crispy ham.

  Ava smacked her lips. “I thought you were exaggerating, Lisa.”

  “Oh my god! This is everything!” Galena blurted.

  They ate, drank, discussed, and planned. When the three women were deep in conversation about a nanotech biometric signal monitor to install in the suits, Bernard took a moment for himself.

  Next he knew, Lisa was shouting snapping her fingers in his face. “BERNARD! Anyone home? Hello?”

  “Yes! Sorry. What were you saying?”

  “I asked you to tell them about the NanoCube you and William created at Kepler. He still uses it, doesn’t he?”

  Bernard winced. I’d have preferred you hadn’t brought that up. You were right, Will. Touché.

  “Uh, yes. Security-wise, it’s the safest place on Earth. In fact, he keeps all the Nomad schematics on it. In the next few weeks he’ll bring it to Outer Limits to begin construction. You’re more than welcome to come have a look.”

  “A NanoCube… fascinating,” Ava said. “Everyone thinks they’re only theoretical.”

  “And we’d very much like to keep it that way,” Bernard said.

  “Understood.”

  Galena thought out loud. “Can we use it to store some sensitive medical research I’d like to bring?”

  “As long as it isn’t an infectious disease blueprint, I don’t see why not. I’ll clear it with William.”

  “Excellent!”

  The course was set; Lisa played her integral role perfectly, and the crew was two stronger. The next morning as Bernard packed the car, Lisa had a final tea with her friends. Once certain he was out of earshot, Ava spoke for both of them.

  “This is the most exciting thing that’s ever happened in our lives. We can’t imagine what you’re going through—how strong you must be to let Bernard do this.”

  Lisa drained her tea. “We’re scientists, Ava. The needs of the many...”

  1 polyResonate

  Type of material that can be vibrated into different atomic configurations using magnetic fields.

  2 Owl

  Science geeks in the future enjoyed paying homage to their favorite late 20th century childhood inspirations with these drone styled messaging systems.

  3 Newton 7GRX

  “The “grand pumba” of racing cars and more powerful than the Newton 200, the 7GRX is the rally model of the 7th iteration of the Newton and encompasses style, muscle, and efficiency in one fully automated sportscar.

  4 New England Intercontinental Airport

  Formerly known as Logan Airport in Massachusetts, it was renamed under the W.C. and services nonstop flights to every continent but Antartica.

  5 Hubble

  The Hubble Academy is a rival SETI school to Kepler founded by Aiden Alexander.

  6 Tuberculosis Epidemic

  The African Tuberculosis Epidemic of 2079 was contained to the continent by the World Health Organization, but 50 million people died.

  Twelve

  Redacted

  Godric screamed into the phone. “She already has her O.L. security! And there’s no way you’ll convince her to get on a helicopter with W.C. personnel!”

  A surly dark voice responded. “If you want him, if you want even the thought of your Nomad to have any hope, that’s how it’s going down.”

  “General, this is not W.C. jurisdiction.”

  “It is if I say it is. The man you want to chat with made a dead city sustainable with a few nuts and bolts. We’re sending back up.” A buzz, a click, then silence. Smith had hung up.

  She’s not going to like this.

  Dreading her response, fearing for his safety even at this distance, he called Angelika. Indeed, her rage against a man she’d never met made his chest hurt.

  “SMITH SAID WHAT?! Agh. If he wants to play games, let’s send Bernard and my head of security. We’ll see who’s the better chess player.”

  “Understood, Angie.” Thankfully, she hung up as well.

  Shortly after, Bernard was sitting in a briefing room in Moab. He completely understood why the excessive oversight boiled Angelika’s blood. She hated playing by another’s rules. He didn’t care for it himself, but he understood that Godric was being
thoughtful in positioning his chess pieces. If he believed having two knights, such as himself and Security Chief Roy, engage these pawns would help Nomad’s chances for approval, Bernard was all for it.

  Roy was Angelika’s muscle: Bernard, the brains, the secret weapon she’d sorely missed. Analyzing the room while appearing zoned out was child’s play for the Kepler K.I.N.G. Aside from Roy and himself, there were two Peacekeepers; Moab Consul1 Cheyenne Martin, a Council attorney, and two women who were clearly intelligence agents. It wasn’t the sunglasses that gave them away; everyone wore those to ward off the desert sun. It was their constant displeased expressions.

  Bernard managed to keep a low profile until Peacekeeper Commander Williams felt it necessary to read Ilya’s file aloud. Everyone present already knew plenty about the man; his image was enshrined on two walls of the Moab regional office building they were in, not to mention the courtyard statue that looked like the Pietà. The grand irony made Bernard chuckle, which, in turn, caused P.K. Williams to snap at him.

  “Something funny, Dr. Hubert?”

  “No, Peter, not at all. Please continue.”

  Williams’ death-stare lingered a bit, then he read. “Ilya O’Connell, born 2051, Framingham, Massachusetts. Older brother, Patrick, younger brother, Jacob. At the age of seven, Ilya displayed prodigal engineering skills.”

  Reminds me of Isaac, but Ilya sadly lacked the framework we provided for my son.

  “At fourteen, Ilya’s father, Jack, died in a construction accident at which point his mother, Ruth, moved the family to Denver. He declined three full scholarships from Kepler, Hubble, and Jefferson Hall and chose public school instead. An incident with CU Boulder followed. The details have been redacted.”

  He was building his first zero-shock matrix, Kepler-level work; making it more the pity Ilya had turned them down. Bernard heard all about it from Ilya himself. Not that they were good friends, but shining intellects tended to draw one another’s attention.

  They’d been introduced at the 2078 NE01 Sector 5 Nanotech Symposium2 following Bernard’s keynote. The misunderstood hotshot seemed worthy of his time, so they talked—for hours. They started at the rebuilt Hayden Planetarium but following a joint and a bottle of mezcal, somehow ended up on a rooftop in the former Brooklyn. Bernard heard Ilya’s side of the story that night providing clarity amongst the many black lines scrawled across the document in Commander Williams’ hands.

  “Following his expulsion, he moved to Moab, worked as a vehicle repairman while experimenting with battery efficiency, solar power, and lightweight structures.”

  Bernard grunted—A crude and circuitous way of saying he’d revolutionized off-grid travel.

  “During the Darkness, he ran the municipality for eight months, with full autonomy.”

  Another glossing-over. Borderline blasphemous. Ilya’s a hero here.

  He made Moab’s power grid self-sufficient in days, then shepherded a series of conservation projects that kept the town virtually unchanged throughout the global crisis. Greenhouses were rapidly built while wing-suited scouts mapped out local resources.

  Bernard originally heard of him when P.K. forces began moving east from the Pacific. Finding mostly desert and a few anarchists when they reached Moab a bluegrass band was playing in the town park.

  “Asked to join the W.C. rebuilding effort—he declined. Crashed non-sanctioned quadcopter on restricted W.C. military outpost—redacted—August 24, 2074. Passenger Naomi Barnes, girlfriend, was killed. Additional details have been redacted. To avoid prison, he accepted a plea deal to work with the W.C. Science Division. For the following five years, he… redacted, redacted, redacted, redacted. 2080, he married Michelle Hostford. 2082, he stole a battery prototype from a World Council R&D facility. It malfunctioned, destroying his home and seriously injuring his spouse, who divorced him shortly after the incident. He denied any involvement whatsoever but made another plea deal. This time to work for—redacted—but was let go in 2086 and has spent the last five years here.” Williams snapped the report shut. “Questions?”

  Bernard leaned over to Roy. “What a painfully simplistic description of a great man.”

  He nodded. “He was certainly… ah… misunderstood.”

  Council attorney Wolf piped up. “I have a question. Why don’t we just ask him to come in?”

  Even P.K. Williams laughed at that. “He doesn’t respond well to invitations. He has a strong preference for not being contacted—at all. If that’s it, we’re done here. Boots up in two hours.”

  And so, Bernard found himself strapped into a repurposed Black Hawk along with the other attendees. The personal touch, face-to-face contact with each candidate, was essential. Still, most of the others were a plane ticket, rental car, and door-knock away. This extreme greeting reflected fear. Not that Ilya was a murderer, no. His capabilities went far beyond killing.

  This feels like a movie. It’s not about simply bringing in an asset. It’s more like Professor Moriarty hunting Sherlock.

  It was a beautiful day in NA Zone 3, Grid 37, formerly Utah. No wind, the desert simply baked. A gecko, one of many on the ground, basked luxuriously atop a sandstone outcropping. The sunlight refracting off its dull green scales made it seem black. On its left were the distant snowcaps of the La Sal Mountains, on its right, endless winding cliffs, buttes, and mesas undulated towards the horizon.

  Content, the gecko prepared for a long, midday nap when a subtle vibration pulsed through air and ground. The reverberations intensifying, the gecko frantically spun about, searching for an oncoming predator. But there was none.

  The Black Hawk burst over the ridge. Its green and purple O.L. insignia shining, it zoomed beneath an arch scattering the gecko and its fellows.

  The extraordinary speed of the fleeing reptiles impressed Bernard, but, mostly, he was thinking. Ilya knows we’re coming.

  Irritated by the length of the trip, one of the intelligence agents used her headset to address the Moab Consul. “You told me he was eighty-seven klicks from Moab.”

  Cheyenne smiled disarmingly. “Roughly. It’s not as if he carries a transponder or a calendar. He was headed towards Capitol Reef and said he’d be back in a few weeks.”

  The agent tsked. “Pilot, can you do any better than that?”

  “Sorry, Ma’am. Can’t radar track in this topography, and the relays are still shoddy.”

  The agent sighed. “Christ, what i wouldn’t give for the old, full-spectrum, prewar, spy-sat constellations.”

  Her counterpart shrugged. “Be a few more years before we’re at pre-war standards.”

  Bernard laughed inwardly. Ilya wouldn’t be found until he wanted to be. No doubt he was the one tracking them. Rather than share his opinion of their futile efforts, he tried to add to their conversation about pre-war technology.

  “All that will do is return humanity to that tiny place where we think we’re living the high life because we can see and hear each other all the time—ignoring the developmental cost of never having a private moment. It never ceases to amaze me how so many derive so much comfort by mistakenly believing their minuscule corner of the universe is so important. I’d much rather know how to reach another world than another nearest Starbucks.”

  His words were met by two haughty sneers, but Cheyenne’s shoulder tap pulled him from further confrontation.

  Rather than the headset, she yelled over the chopper roar. “You’ll want to look out the window for this!”

  The helicopter cleared a cliff the ground dropped away. Flocks of birds scattered…their cries drowned by the swooshing rotors. They were above a vast gorge cut deep into the earth. The Green River Canyon was the Fiddler’s Green of the American West: it’s ancient waters having eroded enough rock to reveal thick, distinctive bands, rusty Wingate sandstone stacked above thinner, lighter Chinle, and below that, Moenkopi.

  The river was a serpentine mirror reflecting blue sky. Cottonwoods dotted the banks, and wherever the water bent sharply, lin
es of reeds created an oasis in the otherwise harsh landscape.

  Bernard nodded to Cheyenne. “Thank you. I can see why he retreats here.”

  Cheyenne smiled. “Never gets old. The desert calls the eccentrics most of all. He deserves some peace after all he did for us and all he’s endured.” She gave the P.K’s a cold sideways glance, then eyed Bernard meaningfully. ”I imagine you can sympathize.”

  If she means we were both misunderstood in our own right, then yes, but I faced my accusers while Ilya ran. I couldn’t bear the thought of such loneliness.

  They flew across the capricious landscape bearing west towards their target.

  Preparing himself for what lay ahead, Bernard looked back on his previous recruitment trip. It was significantly less complicated yet, perhaps, more difficult.

  He’d heard of the legendary Eurasian Steppe winters, but actually feeling the icy winds burn his skin was another thing. Otherwise, the journey to Asia Zone 27, Grid 9 (formerly Kazakhstan) had been uneventful. It was here the World Council established the new Chokin Regional Science Academy3. Taking advantage of all the post-war reconstruction, they’d decided to build key tech and research facilities in the lesser-trodden areas of the world.

  Watching the city zip by from his mechataxi4, Bernard fretted about the coming meeting. So far, the crew consisted of a close circle that shared his vision: William, Angie, and Ric. He had no strategy to sell the Nomad to an outsider. He felt it shouldn’t even require an explanation. Any effort to pitch it like a product in some ad campaign seemed facepalm-worthy.

  By the time he ascended the stairs of the Chemistry building, he was still clueless but had settled on thinking: Best not overpredict it.

  Justin’s nasal drawl reminded him that he wasn’t alone. “The information logs say the main research lab is on sublevel 4.”

  “We could just ask someone, Justin.”

  Angelika’s O.L. tag-along was all network interfaces: totally lacking people skills. Bernard expected Angie to keep a close eye on him, but she was ruining her cool with this toad.