by Ron Rayborne
“Well, now from decontamination they’ll go into the sterile target room where the Strong Box is located by way of two internal doors. Once inside, they will close and seal the capsule doors behind them. Then they buckle in. There will be a series of functions to perform. The capsule is also sterile, so internal pressure will be increased to prevent potential leakage from the outside environment. Then we begin cycling up the accelerator. Actually, it’s already warmed up. Then we drop the nuclear package into the accelerator tube. Pretty much immediately after that, the proton collision will occur in a small chamber just above and attached to the Strong Box. At that very moment, a tiny E.H., or “event horizon”, will form. It is an instantaneous occurrence which initiates launch. One minute they are here; the next they are on their way, or already there, fifteen million years ago.”
“You don’t sound sure.” Tom looked at Karstens.
“Well, we did have a recorder on our last trial box and thus were able to observe the time of actual retrieval and compare that to our time, but we are not sure of its accuracy. The time elapsed showed four minutes, thirty-two seconds. That’s way, way faster than would be possible if Einsteinian physics applied. As an example, the speed of light, which is considered the universal speed limit, is more than 186,000 miles per second. Light travels close to six trillion miles per earth year. As you can see, if we were to travel at that speed and distance for fifteen million years, we would be traveling an ungodly distance, approximately 88 quintillion miles. Imagine traveling that distance in mere minutes!
“Another example, Messier 83,” he continued, “known as the Southern Pinwheel Galaxy, is fifteen mega, that’s fifteen million, light years away. That’s how many years it takes light leaving that galaxy to reach us. That’s the same temporal distance as from our current time to the Barstovian age. Imagine traveling to Messier 83 in such a short period of time!”
“Boggles the mind,” Tom said.
“Mine, too, and I study this stuff! But what’s interesting is that if we look at M83 today, we are seeing it the way it looked fifteen million years ago, during Julie’s Barstovian. There’s a bit of time travel for you! Of course, we’re not talking physical distance here with our mission, but temporal. Thus, in the case, it means they’ll be moving at roughly 50,000 years a second!” Karstens didn’t mention that they still didn’t understand the actual processes involved in their discovery of time travel, or that its finding was pure chance.
“And once gone, there’s no way of contacting them?” Tom asked.
“No, unfortunately. Not until our retrieval in thirty days’ time. It’s not like we can pick up a cell phone and call, though I wish we could.” Out of the corner of his eye, Karstens noticed Tom's dejected look. “Thirty days time, my friend, and it’s over.”
“A lot can happen in thirty days,” Tom said.
“Yes, it can. And we’ve done all that we can possibly do to make this go smoothly. I only ask for your patience. Really, this is not all that different from many, many voyages in the historical past by other great adventurers, men like Magellan, which led to the formation of the United States.”
“Yes, and look at us now,” Tom added cynically.
There was a pause.
“Yeah,” Karstens conceded faintly.
“I gotta ask you, do you really believe all that stuff you said, you know, in that speech back at the send-off?” Tom asked, somewhat nervously.
“You mean about ‘our glorious future’, that kind of thing?”
“Yeah.”
“Sure,” Karstens said.
Tom didn’t buy it. “Hmm,” he replied.
Karstens glanced around, then back to Tom. “Between me and you?” Tom looked over, then nodded.
“Pile of crap.”
“Then what’s this all about?”
Karstens looked suddenly uneasy. He cleared his throat. “In a way, it does have to do with our future, the future of the race. That part is accurate. Further than that, however, I can’t — talk about. It’s classified.”
Tom stopped and turned to face Karstens, who also stopped. “I knew it. Something’s not right here, is it? So what aren’t you telling me?” he asked, “I want to know what’s really going on, and now,” he grabbed Karstens by the front of his shirt, “or so help me ... I swear I’ll raise a ruckus like you’ve never seen.”
Karstens, not anticipating this, looked around apprehensively, afraid that someone might notice and call security. No one had. “Please. Everything I’ve told you and Julie about the mission is true. Nothing has changed. It’s just that... I think there might be more to its, um, long-term, uh, aim, then I’ve been told.” The answer wasn’t satisfying Tom. Karstens exhaled, “Look, I am sworn to keep quiet and could lose my job if others find out, and I don’t know everything, but in thirty days time when Julie comes back, I will gladly inform you both of what I do know.” Tom looked hard at him, then let go.
“Why is it always like that? You government people hiding stuff, thinking you know better than everyone else. You can’t just level with people,” Tom bristled.
It’s because people don’t want to know the truth, Karstens thought. Instead he said, “I’m not the government. I’m just as much a pawn of them as are you, perhaps more so.”
“What’s your Worth number?” Tom asked accusingly.
Karstens exhaled again, “I’m a sixty-nine,” he admitted, seemingly ashamed about it.
“Yeah. Government man,” Tom said. Karstens said nothing to that. Then he noticed someone approaching them. It was the Blacksuit he’d seen at the launching party, the one who had altered Julie’s speech.
“Suit,” Karstens warned, quietly flicking his eyes in the man’s direction. Tom turned to look. The man had a grim look on his face.
“Wonderful!” Tom said, rolling his eyes. “I suppose he heard everything.”
“Maybe,” Karstens replied. But as he advanced, the Suit’s hard look changed to a smile and a wave. “Maybe not.”
“Gentlemen! Fine day for a launching, is it not?” The Blacksuit declared.
“Absolutely!” Karstens agreed, “Couldn’t be better.”
The man’s eyes shot back and forth from Karstens to Tom. Small, beady eyes that reminded Tom of a spider’s. “So I trust all’s well then, Doctor Karstens?” he inquired.
“Of course. We’re all set for launch in, let’s see,” Karstens looked at his watch, “about twenty-five minutes.”
“Good. Good,” The nameless Suit said. Then his former dour appearance returned, and he gave Karstens a hard look. “Because it certainly would not do to have a loose indiscretion throw a wrench into the works at this late date, would it?”
Karstens gazed at the man, paused, then parroted his tone, “No, it certainly wouldn’t,” he smiled.
“Yes,” the man continued. “We all need to be mindful our actions, and their consequences. Keep our eyes on the prize, so to speak.” He looked at Tom.
“Um hmm. Yep, that’s certainly true,” agreed Tom.
“Delightful!” exclaimed the Suit. “Well, now that we are all on the same page, perhaps we should repair to the viewing room?”
“A good idea,” agreed Karstens. “Julie should be ready. You’ll be able to watch her on the viewer.” He looked over at Tom.
“Let’s go,” said Tom. He immediately set his step in the direction of the room, and off the three went, Karstens and Tom in the lead, with the Suit behind.
Arriving at the room, he found that it was packed with, he guessed, at least a hundred crammed into the small chamber. Two seats had been reserved for Karstens and he at the front. The Blacksuit went to stand in the back. Strangely, no one showed up to see Jaqzen off. This worried Karstens. A wireless mic was given to Tom, and he put it on. Julie, wearing a green jumpsuit, was seated at her place within the Strong Box, Dietrich, in red, was opposite her. Both wore mics as well.
“Can she hear me?” Tom asked.
In answer, the speakers sounde
d overhead, “Honey, is that you?” It was Julie’s voice.
Tom perked up, “Yes, it’s me!” He looked at her image. The name Pine was attached above her left breast. Vari-colored lights were blinking around her. There were also tubes attached to their arms. Slowly, sedatives and anti-nausea agents were being administered.
“I’m so excited. I sure wish you were here,” Julie said, her exhilaration apparent.
“Me too, sweetheart,” Tom answered.
Another voice came through. It was a technician from the control room. “Julie, this is Howard. How’s the weather in there?”
Julie looked at the instruments that she and Dietrich had trained on. “Oxygen, twenty-one percent. Nitrogen, seventy-eight percent. CO2, normal. Pressure, fourteen point seven pounds. Temperature, twenty-one degrees Celsius.”
“Affirmative, Julie. That’s what we’re reading here,” the tech said. There was some background commentary, then he said, “Julie you’re showing elevated adrenaline levels and your heart rate’s up. Everything OK?”
“Affirmative, Control. I’m just amped.”
“Understood,” Control acknowledged. “In a minute, you’ll be feeling the effects of the sedative.”
“Affirmative, Control,” she said.
More commentary, then, “Deet, you’re level across all boards,” meaning that nothing was out of the ordinary. “How are you feeling?”
“Excellent, Control. I’m ready to go!” Jaqzen replied.
“Affirmative. Launch time in fifteen minutes.”
A muffled, but nevertheless, loud noise overhead, like a large thrumming gong, blared, followed by the sound of a relay and servo starting. “Winding up,” said the voice at Control. That meant that that the accelerator was turned on and was warming. A powerful hum filled the room. Tom could feel the vibration in his teeth. This kept up for about five minutes, then suddenly lowered to a dim background purr, like an engine smoothly idling.
“Julie, this is Bob,” Karstens said.
“Hi, Bob!” Julie answered.
“I can’t wait to see your video.”
Julie laughed. “I’ll do my best, sir,” she replied.
“I know you will. You just have fun, okay? And take care of yourself.”
“I will, thank you,” Julie said.
“You too, Deet. I’m looking forward to your report!”
“Yessir,” Deet replied. “Already working on it,” he added, smiling.
Then someone spoke something in Tom’s ear. He nodded, stood, and followed the man to a very small room. It had only one chair and a view screen. Julie wanted to say something privately to him. Since she and Jaqzen were wearing headgear, the control room techs were able to mute the comments so that only her husband could hear. The main view screen also switched off. The tech voice screen in the control room showed only the bouncing lines of a dialog graph.
After a few moments, a voice sounded. “Five minutes, Julie,” it said. Tearfully, she and Tom said their goodbyes. The main viewing room screen remained off as the impact doors shut. From this point on, until Julie and Deet returned in thirty days, they were incommunicado. The sedatives finally kicking in, they sank back into their chairs, which had gone into a reclining state. Soon, they were out, each tightly buckled. If he had wanted to say anything else to her, she would not have heard, Tom thought. But he said it anyway.
“Be safe, my love.”
“T-minus one minute and counting,” the voice said. Another loud noise of relays opening sounded. Tom jumped slightly and gulped. He crossed his fingers. Someone behind him put a hand on his shoulder. It was Karstens. He’d let himself into the small room and now stood behind him. He handed Tom some hearing protectors, his own already on. Karstens looked at his watch and compared it to the time on the wall chronometer. The decibel levels rose as a whirring servo opened and continued to rise.
“T-minus twenty-seconds and counting,” said the voice. No one else said anything. Unbeknownst to Tom, Karstens was holding white knuckled onto the back of his seat. He was also saying something over and over again in a voice too low for anyone else to hear. A prayer, perhaps.
“T-minus ten-seconds and counting. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Five. Four. Three. Two. One. Launching!”
A loud BOOM, like a clap of thunder.
And then, the room where Julie and Dietrich were just a moment before was void.
Chapter 9
The month was a long one for Tom. Every day that went by seemed like an eternity, and the nights were longer. When the loneliness seemed overwhelming, the worry and fear, he’d scold himself for his weakness and lack of trust. Karstens was a good man, someone who made you feel that he had thought of everything. Every angle. Every possibility. And indeed, that was the case, so why was he so anxious? Karstens encouraged Tom to think of the fact that every day gone was one day less to wait. To busy himself and take his mind off this interval.
Karstens turned out, in fact, to be a true friend. If he didn’t call every day just to chat, he’d come by the Oasis and have a few drinks. Rather than annoyance at Tom’s disquiet, he understood.
Once, Paul came over and sat with his new patron at the table. He could tell from his observations that the two had become confidants, compadres of a sort, and he wanted to meet him. If Tom liked him, he was okay. Paul also thought that Karstens looked somehow familiar, but he couldn’t place him. He suspected, though, that the man had something to do with Tom’s troubles. Something to do with Julie, but how, he couldn’t quite get. A lawyer, maybe? No. Perhaps he was family. There was something about him that seemed to Paul rather more refined, more, intelligent, than his typical customer. The way he spoke. The way he seemed to be a man in charge, yet not overtly so. It was rare to have someone who exuded such professionalism and integrity in his lowly establishment.
When the overhead television began showing a program about space aliens and “Grays”, Paul decided to test him.
“If you asked me, it’s all a crock,” he said, waving at the monitor.
“Oh? How so?” Karstens asked, intrigued.
Paul thought about it, then said, “The ships. You know? They are supposed to one day take us all away to our ‘heavenly future’, so to speak.”
“Yes?” Karstens furtively took a small box out of his pocket and stuck it upside down underneath the table. The white noise amplifier.
“Uh,” Tom said, suddenly uneasy. He could see his boss had been drinking.
“No, no. Hear me out, hear me out,” Paul said confidentially. “It’s true that there are ships. But guess what? You ready for this? They’ve already left! They’ve already left!” Karstens and Tom looked at each other now.
“We all know that there is no way they could build enough ships to take billions of people off this planet. No way. Okay? So they built a few. I have it on authority, I can’t tell you who, either, so don’t ask, but I have it on authority that they left some time ago, and with them they took the élite. You know, the rich, the powerful, scientists, engineers and others that are useful. They’re already gone. They couldn’t even go down with the ship! And the gang that’s running things now? They’re the rejects.”
Karstens’ calm smile dropped. He said nothing.
“Oh come on, Paul,” Tom whispered, “you don’t believe that!”
“Believe it? I know it,” Paul said, “And you know something else, I have a theory about them.” He turned to look again at the screen, at a picture of the thin lipped, large-eyed, large brained grays. “Those things up there, you see ‘em? They’re not aliens from another world. Those are us, people, but from the future! They are the descendants of those traitors that left us all to rot! But they’ve come back now, back in time, after spending who knows how long out there evolving, or maybe I should say, devolving into them.” He jabbed a finger over his shoulder at the TV, his expression a look of disgust. “They’ve come back in failure, finally learning that people can’t live in space. Look at how wasted their muscles are, how s
ickly they look: gray, the color of death. They also discovered that the closest candidate planet for colonization in our galaxy was either uninhabitable or too far away.”
“Paul!” Tom urged. He coughed now, trying to prevent a bout of it.
The bar man lowered his voice. “And those medical experiments we hear about? They’re real. Their scientists are stealing our genes to try to fix what they’ve wrecked! But it won’t work. Those cretins were too stupid to realize that this planet is all we have. No, they were more interested in terraforming some cold, dead rock than protecting a living planet. What’s that old saying? Good planets are hard to come by. And now it’s shot, thanks to creatures like them.”
There was a long break now as Paul stopped to let it all sink in. Tom, stunned, stole clandestine glances around them to see if anyone else was paying attention. If there were, it wasn’t obvious.
“That’s extraordinary!” Karstens said lowly, looking at Kiley with solemn admiration. “How did you...?”
“Like I said, I got it on good authority.”
Karstens nodded. Tom worried. And Paul satisfied. Evidently he’d wanted to get that off his chest for some time.
“My friend,” Karstens said, “you’re a very bright man, and what you say may well be true, but from this point on you must, must keep this to yourself.” There was grave earnestness in his voice. Paul nodded, suddenly embarrassed. In a rush of enthusiasm, he’d foolishly let his guard down.
“Sorry,” he said.
“Don’t be,” Karstens whispered. He extended a hand across the table and shook the bar man’s. “A pleasure meeting you.”
At home, Tom occupied himself with housework, things that lagged since Julie’s departure or things that he’d put off for months, even years. He finally repaired that broken step to the upper floor that she’d nagged him about for so long. He also spent an afternoon trying, without luck, to fix the freezer. Ultimately, he gave up, put it back together, and found a repairman. The bored fellow had it going in five minutes.