The Rift: Hard Science Fiction

by Brandon Q Morris

  “What made you think that? Why would we want to just do that?”

  “I... I don’t know. To get a better look at the rift?”

  “Scientists have looked at it from all directions and in the full spectrum. Just looking is not going to tell us anything new. We’ve got to take the next step.”

  “That’s how I see it too, Akif, but I never thought you... we might not come back from this.”

  “You don’t think I know that? Life always ends with death. If we can learn something this way, then it’ll all be worth it,” Akif said.

  “But nobody will be able to learn about it from us,” Derek said.

  “Wrong. I’m streaming everything to the net, and we already have eight viewers,” Gita said. “The New Shepard even has satellite Internet onboard.”

  Derek sighed. Somehow, he felt guilty that the two others had joined him onboard. Maybe it was because he had never been completely honest with them. If he thought about it, he had to admit that the possibility of dying in the rift was somewhat comforting to him. Even that could be a way of finding Mary again.

  “You two should get comfortable and buckle up,” Gita said.

  Derek leaned back in his seat and latched his seat belt. He should have put on some sweatpants instead of his tight jeans and the belt that was cutting into his abdomen. And had he watered the flowers on the kitchen window? Had he turned off the stove? Suddenly all sorts of things that he might have forgotten were going through his head.

  Gita stood up from her place at the computer, walked over to the still open hatch, and called down, “Stop fueling.”

  Then she closed the hatch. Derek watched her as she peered through the large windows, tracking the two drivers as they moved away from the rocket.

  “Good,” she said, “I think they’re at a safe distance. Start the countdown.”

  “How high will we go?” Derek asked.

  “Maximum 20 kilometers.”

  “That should do it.”

  “20, 19...”

  Derek dug his clenched fingers into the side cushions of his seat. Couldn’t they have at least dimmed the lights in the capsule a little?

  “3, 2, 1, ignition!”

  He heard loud rumbling and hissing noises.

  “Engine ignited,” Gita said.

  A glowing light could be seen through the windows. But they felt no vibrations pulsing through the New Shepard, no forces trying to free them from the confines of gravity and the steel cable.

  “Power barely above zero,” Gita said.

  Derek could hear the disappointment in her voice.

  “It appears that we’re sitting on top of a gas oven instead of a rocket engine,” Gita explained. “The hydrogen fuel is being burned cleanly, but it’s not producing any thrust. The engines must’ve been modified at some point.”

  “Shouldn’t someone have...” Derek held his tongue.

  “We couldn’t see this in the simulations. We would have had to inspect the engines and compare them with the standard New Shepard designs. We failed to do that.”

  “It’s not your fault, Gita,” the doctor said. “For a group of beginners, I think we did pretty well.”

  “And now Johnny has his tourist attraction,” Derek said.

  He leaned back and took a deep breath in and out. The engines had purposely been made unusable at some point. The previous owner would have known it. That must be the reason why it wasn’t shot into space like every other available rocket during the events of 2052. Actually, he should have thought of that. But it had been a nice dream anyway. Now he just wanted to simply lie here until he died. That is a good plan, Derek decided.

  May 31, 2085, Vandenberg Air Force Base

  “May I introduce Arthur Eigenbrod? He’s the journalist who will be joining us aboard the space elevator.”

  Glen Sparrow gestured toward a tall, light-skinned man with European facial features. Maribel tried to recognize anything French about him, but he didn’t seem to conform to any of the old stereotypes. Eigenbrod made a whimsical bow. When he smiled, she saw his teeth were yellow. He must smoke Gauloises—at least there was one thing that fit with her preconceptions about Frenchmen.

  “It’s very nice to meet you, Ms. Pedreira,” he said. “I’ve been following your work since ‘72. Very impressive, what you’ve accomplished.”

  Maribel dismissed the comment with a tiny nod of acknowledgment. She could never stand it when someone praised her like that. She had just been doing her job.

  “Then I hardly need to introduce Maribel Pedreira to you,” Sparrow said.

  “Nice to meet you too,” Maribel said as she shook the reporter’s hand. “I must return the compliment. If it hadn’t been for you, we might’ve missed some big revelations about our sun.”

  Eigenbrod had unearthed the story at the time. Before that, neither his name nor his newspaper had been as well known worldwide as it was now.

  “Ah, that was all just a huge bit of luck,” the journalist said.

  The man had turned red, which made him seem more likable to her. He too appeared to place little value on his own fame. She studied him a little more closely. He already had to be older than 60. He had distinct bags under his eyes, eyes that seemed to view the world quietly and constantly. He noticed that she was looking at him and held her gaze.

  “When will my old friend Crewmaster be here?” Maribel asked.

  “The professor wanted me to send his apologies, but he couldn’t be here today. He’s already seen the capsule, though, so he will join us on the day of the launch,” Sparrow explained.

  “That’s too bad,” Maribel said, “George Crewmaster is an astrophysics expert. You must know that, Arthur. He helped me a lot in the past.”

  “And he’s very well connected,” Sparrow said.

  Maribel nodded. Crewmaster had been able to get her valuable telescope time when she had urgently needed it.

  “It looks like we’re all getting along well,” Sparrow said finally. “Are you both ready for the big day today?”

  “What do you mean by ‘big day,’ Glen?” Maribel asked.

  Had he pushed up the date of the manned launch? Nobody had agreed to that. Even Eigenbrod looked at him somewhat skeptically.

  “No, no. No need to panic,” Glen replied, raising his hands as if to calm her down. “The elevator’s still going to launch without us today. The plan is to evaluate all the data tomorrow and then finally attempt the manned launch the day after tomorrow, assuming everything goes well.”

  “That still sounds very ambitious,” Eigenbrod commented before Maribel could say something similar.

  “Oh, we’d already done all the safety tests a long time ago, before the project was put on hold. You already know that whatever happens, the cabin must be able to separate from the cable and land safely on the ground again from any stage of the flight,” Sparrow said.

  “How does the landing work without a cable?” Eigenbrod asked.

  “We’ve got a combination of parachutes and landing jets. And even if all the jets fail, we’d still reach the ground safely with the help of the parachutes, although the landing might be a little bumpy.”

  “Very reassuring.”

  “We made extra space suits fitted especially for you too. Actually, the plans were for passengers to be able to wear their normal clothes. But in light of the small number of test flights, we decided to implement some additional safety precautions.”

  “Will we be able to work in them?” Maribel asked. “I’ll need to be able to operate my instruments.”

  “Should be no problem. You’ll be getting the latest version. They have almost no restrictions on mobility anymore. Quite the opposite, in fact. Many motions are even boosted by electromechanical systems. They’ll give you more power and dexterity than usual. You might have to make a few adjustments.”

  “Then it’s good that I lost some weight,” Eigenbrod said, pointing to his stomach. He wasn’t fat anymore, but no one would say he was sk
inny either.

  “Good for you, but our suits are very flexible, so they can even accommodate a bit of a belly. The only limit is in height, a maximum of 1.95 meters.”

  “Good, then I can have a proper meal before the launch,” the French reporter said.

  “I wouldn’t recommend that.”

  “Why?”

  “For practical reasons, Arthur. The space elevator’s travel time to its final destination should take less than two hours. It didn’t make sense to install a bathroom for that amount of time. But the tests that Maribel and I have planned might take four or five hours. You understand the workings of the digestive system, I take it?”

  A look of comprehension dawned on Eigenbrod’s face. “I understand completely, you don’t need to go into any details. Just talking about it makes me want to go look for a toilet.”

  Maribel noticed that he used the rather blunt word ‘toilet’ instead of the more euphemistic ‘bathroom’ or ‘restroom’ that was typical here.

  “Through the door, take a left and then the next right,” Sparrow said. “Do you have your badge? If not, you’re likely to be put under arrest walking around by yourself.”

  Eigenbrod reached into his pants pocket and took out a badge attached to a lanyard that he placed around his neck. “Will I be safe now?” he asked.

  “Looks good. See you soon,” Sparrow replied.

  “Have you heard anything with regards to Ceres?” asked Maribel, after the journalist had left the room.

  “Yes,” Sparrow replied.

  “I thought someone was going to call me right away.”

  “Sorry, I didn’t want to bother you at night. The call came sometime between two and three this morning.”

  “Japanese, Russian, or Chinese?”

  “The Russians,” Sparrow said. “They have a mobile lab on Ceres that is conducting all possible research.”

  “‘All possible?’”

  “Nobody knows exactly. Officially, the Russian Space Agency leads the expedition, but it’s being financed by the RB Group.”

  Sparrow walked to his computer and pressed a few buttons.

  “Have a look, this is the mobile lab. Someone I know sent me the picture... unofficially, of course.”

  A shiver went down Maribel’s back. The robot looked like a gigantic black spider. Around its axis-symmetrical body were six spidery-looking legs, each with two joints.

  “Yeah, looks hideous,” Sparrow said when he saw her reaction.

  Maribel was annoyed with herself. She was now well past 30 and shouldn’t be afraid of spiders anymore, especially when this was just a simple research robot. “No, it looks like a fascinating piece of technology,” she replied. “So, what can it do?”

  “Robots of this series have sensors for practically anything you might want to measure. They can also do spectral analyses of rock samples and look for traces of life. The best thing is, if they don’t have something they need, they can build it themselves. As long as the raw materials are available.”

  “Nanofabricators?”

  “Exactly.”

  The Russians were leaders in this field. The West had long resisted working with nanofabricators because of the fear that the robots would get out of hand and could become uncontrollable. The fears had been overblown—and in the meantime, the tiny machines had become so important for the economy that no one could do anything without them anymore.

  “I’d like to have research equipment like that,” Maribel said.

  “Sorry, but the use of nanos on Earth is still prohibited.”

  She shrugged her shoulders. That had been the compromise eventually agreed upon by everyone. There were always reports that individual nations were violating the agreement, but so far nobody had been caught in the act.

  “So, who do I need to speak to if I want to contact this robot?”

  “Officially, you’d have to go through the Russian Space Agency,” Sparrow said.

  “And unofficially?”

  “Let’s try the official way first. I know the guy who’s responsible for such research operations very well. If we share our findings with him, I’m sure he’ll help us with the robot.”

  “What do you mean by ‘share?’”

  “Don’t worry, Maribel, he won’t want to appear in any papers you might write. But it’s essential to be well informed and up-to-date. He won’t want any more than that, I’m sure.”

  “That’s acceptable. When can I talk with him?”

  Sparrow looked at the large clock on his desk. “He works at a large institute in Siberia. There’s a 14-hour time difference. I’m afraid your first chance would probably be tonight, definitely not before 10 PM our time. I reached him this morning shortly after six.”

  Maribel sighed. She had the feeling that time was short, even though there didn’t appear to be any reason for that feeling. “That’s too bad,” she said finally.

  “What’s too bad?” Arthur Eigenbrod asked. The Frenchman had just returned to the office.

  “We wanted to speak to someone from the Russian Space Agency, but we’ll have to wait until tonight due to the time difference,” Maribel explained.

  “Oh, anything to do with the RB Group?”

  “Them too. How’d you guess?”

  “Russian space travel is always involved with RB. They finance almost the entire program.”

  “Are you involved somehow with the Group? Do you know someone there who could help us, maybe?”

  “‘Know’ would be a bit of an exaggeration, but I was there for a while. Give me a minute and I’ll gladly tell you about it.”

  “Okay,” Maribel said, although the offer sounded a little strange to her. What was he going to tell them about it?

  “Then let’s take a walk over to the launch pad,” Glen Sparrow said, interrupting her thoughts. “The first launch is set for noon on the dot.”

  Today, unlike Maribel’s last visit, there was a lot of commotion in this part of the base. She was constantly being stopped and her identification inspected and scanned. Not even Glen Sparrow escaped this treatment. Maribel watched her companions. They put up with the added inconvenience as calmly as she did. That was a good sign for the expedition they were about to undertake together on the space elevator. Finally, they reached a platform. It looked like a large, round trampoline. The conical capsule sat in the middle. Someone might think that one of the famous Dragon space capsules from the 30s had been misplaced.

  “Where’s the concrete block?” Maribel asked.

  “What concrete block?” Arthur asked.

  “The elevator’s cable is attached to a giant block. You could still see it here yesterday,” she said.

  “It’s under the platform,” Glen said. “Come on!”

  He pointed to a walkway that could be used to cross the platform. Glen went first, and Maribel followed him. The platform felt rather springy as they walked on it.

  “At first I thought this was a trampoline,” Maribel said.

  “You’re going to laugh, but people actually do call it the trampoline,” Glen said.

  “Why doesn’t that surprise me?” she replied with a grin.

  Sparrow reached the capsule and opened the door. Then he invited her in with a wave of his hand.

  “Go ahead, Arthur,” Maribel said, “I’ve already seen inside the capsule.”

  “No, you should come too, Maribel, there are some new things you haven’t seen yet,” Sparrow said.

  Maribel nodded and took a few steps closer to the entrance. Before she even stepped through the hatch, she noticed that the capsule was now full of scientific equipment.

  “We got everything that you asked for,” the JPL man explained. He seemed very proud of the results.

  “You... did an excellent job,” Maribel said.

  She felt a little strange, praising him like she was his teacher, but that appeared to be her role. She looked around the capsule. The six seats were still there like before, and there was very little free s
pace. She bumped into Glen and Arthur several times while trying to move around.

  “Looks like things will be nice and cozy in here. We might as well be friendly and use our first names,” the journalist said after one such collision. “Call me Arthur,” he said as he stretched out his hand.

  “Maribel,” she answered, shaking hands with him.

  Arthur repeated the ceremony with Glen Sparrow.

  “I’m the oldest one here by far,” Arthur said finally, “so I feel like it’s my job to set a friendly tone.”

  “Good idea,” Sparrow said. “We’ll be spending quite some time in here together, and I think things will go a little easier aboard our spaceship if we can be a bit less formal with each other.”

  “You’ve flown before, then?” Maribel asked.

  “Yes, though it was probably 20 years ago now,” Glen said. “At the time I was in much better shape.”

  “And you, Arthur?”

  “Only as a passenger. But not so long ago.”

  Maribel remembered her first flight into space. It had been 13 years ago in a Blue Origin cruise vessel. She had made her first—and last—space walk, and then inspected the Ark, humanity’s rescue ship. Then she had returned to Earth. It was still her only spaceflight. When it had come time for her second, she had turned away at the last second—and that had saved her life. At the time, she had sworn to never fly into space again, and after Luisa had arrived, she had renewed that promise. Everyone was telling her that this expedition with the space elevator wouldn’t even bring her close to the edge of space—but still, she felt like she was breaking her word.

  “What’s wrong?” Arthur asked.

  This guy has a good eye for what others are feeling, she decided. It seemed like something a journalist would need to be good at.

  “Memories,” she answered evasively. “I feel like I shouldn’t really be here.”

  “My wife thought the same about me,” Eigenbrod said. “She’s worried about my heart.”

  “Does she have a reason to worry?”

  “My doctor gave me the okay. I’ve lost some weight these last three years, and I eat well and exercise.”