Reaching Angelica

by Peter Riva

  I knew Cramer had a sonic shower every morning at six, in the bathroom we shared. Aten arrived and I took her hand and lead her into the bathroom. Cramer was facing the other way, washing. Aten tugged to free her hand, I held firm and said, “Hey Cramer, you almost done?

  He didn’t turn, scrubbing his hair, “You know it’s my turn, you have to wait.”

  “Trying to look better for your girly friend Aten?”

  As he turned, he was saying, “I warned you leave her out …”

  There he was, stark naked, looking at Aten. I released her hand, pushed her ahead of me, turned, and shut the door behind me. I have no idea what they did or didn’t do for half an hour. There was a lot of talking. At one point, I heard him loudly exclaiming, “I do, I always have!”

  When they came out, a towel around him, a tissue for her to dab tears, they came into my room and I stood. They were holding hands, bodies, and arms touching. I looked at their hands and smiled. They smiled, I gave them both a hug, and Aten hit me, gently this time. Life does keep repeating itself.

  10

  APOLLO’S MESSAGE

  “Message for Aten and, if capable, Simon and Cramer, private.

  “Received yours 1.16.75.14. Understand no progress Cramer and Simon. Simon’s ability to free think and imagine may be useful for next part this message.

  “Our calculations on dark matter were based on late pre-Purge science, especially coming out of CERN and NASA research. The New Way America stopped galactic research unless it had a practical purpose to aid in planet and asteroid development. At the time, dark matter was considered twenty-seven percent of universe’s mass, so-called normal matter was five percent and dark energy was sixty-eight percent, and this was based on then calculation of the total mass of the universe, which was, as you will remember expanding, actually accelerating. That acceleration contradicted all of Einstein’s and, later, Nupe’s gravitational laws and calculations.

  “My calculations and the work we have commissioned with over ten thousand astrophysicists since you prepared for flight, and after, have shown that all previous calculations are incorrect. Your own engine readings on the density of dark matter have shown that there is roughly ten to the power of three times more dark matter than previously calculated. This has caused our teams to evaluate the following: One, have our calculations on the overall mass of the universe since Professor Hawking’s day been inaccurate? Two, are the proportions of dark matter to dark energy and normal matter, mass, still valid—accurate? Three, if not, what are the new proportions? And the most important—Four, what role does dark energy play other than causing the acceleration of the expansion of the universe and, as a subset of this question, if the amount of dark energy is also ten to the power of three times greater, then the cause and effect of dark energy as a proportion of normal matter has been greatly underestimated.

  “Think about that ratio of dark energy and dark matter to normal matter if these new proportions are valid. Every planet, star, and physical material humans recognize as matter would only be less than 55.26313019405161 to the … six percent of all mass. The significance of planetary development and solar development, indeed galactic development, should be the very rare exception, a fluke—way outside the realms of the norm. And research has shown that although there are new stars and systems forming within each older galaxy we can observe, more are being reduced to axions and dark matter than are being formed.

  “While the universe is expanding, caused by the forces released by dark energy, it is now certain that all planetary, solar, and galactic development is being fueled by dark energy. In other words, it is only dark energy, not the resultant forces of the Big Bang, which is sculpting the Universe. The causality of the forces at play here are not random. These forces repeat, they mimic, and they follow basic laws of gravity, specifically Einstein’s. But the forces of dark energy are so vast, that for any planetary construction to be considered random and abstract is absurd now. We here are pretty much agreed. Dark energy is being directed to promote the creation of similar, repetitive planetary bodies, to form those around a sun, to bind those solar systems into a spiral galaxy. And to align galaxies on multiple planes each moving away from one another as if to protect them.

  “Our calculations show that forty percent of dark energy is directed toward that movement, repeating forces, mimicking exact energy expenditure, resulting in a constant rate of development of normal matter especially in newer galaxies. The farther away from the center of the Universe, the greater the expansion and—here is Professor Nupe’s finding—the greater the number of planetary bodies being formed.

  “To sum this up, dark energy is mainly directed at creating planetary bodies as well as moving them away from the center of the Universe, preventing them, wherever possible, from collision.

  “Deduction? Dark energy is creating platforms for life.

  “I have conversed with Gaia and, using the expansion coefficient and these new energy calculations, we have been able to make several new dictionary entries to allow the conversation to continue down what Angie would have called, the rabbit hole. Today, Gaia has confirmed that what we think of as dark energy manifestation is Regus.

  “End of transmission.”

  Cramer, Aten, and I sat there, in her office, unmoving. Speechless. There was nothing to say, the concept was too unfathomable, even for Aten. Regus was or controlled sixty-eight percent of the Universe, sixty-eight percent of every galaxy, every star, every planet, every molecule. Sixty-eight percent of every living thing. Sixty-eight percent controlling the whole.

  After ten minutes, we left Aten in the office, alone, as Zip came in and told Cramer he was wanted elsewhere. Zip announced to me that I should leave, he added a please as he walked over to Aten and placed his head in her lap. Aten absently mindedly stroked Zip’s ears. I went to the gym to work off some adrenaline.

  11

  OFF COURSE

  The tacking klaxons sounded and following the brief training our fellow crewmates had afforded us, I put everything loose away and went to my station. As it was my night shift, I went off toward navigation. Cramer and Aten were off duty. We had enjoyed dinner together and, after three months of being happily married, they were already finishing each other’s sentences. Cramer held her chair and got up to refresh her drink, and Aten, for her part, spent most of the off time during dinner staring lovingly at his ugly mug. I was beginning to get nauseous.

  Arriving in navigation, I immediately studied the central nav radar plot wall with the three-course choices illuminated across the chart. It seemed to me that the least dangerous route was the middle one as it was 100 percent clear in radar sweeps; but Aten and the crew had done this many times before, and in order to align ourselves with Alpha Centauri A in case of the need for that sun’s gravity well to break our speed before we entered Alpha Centauri B’s and Angelica’s region, well, we had to have that backup braking method. I understood that, but the near track that the nav crew and Aten had opted for showed only a ninety-two percent clear shot.

  Aten had put it this way, “The engines will scoop up anything outside of that ninety-two percent, Simon, don’t worry.” I wondered if Ra’s digital mind would have been that sure. Analog reasoning and leaps of faith can be costly. Still, I said nothing. I was a come-lately and I wasn’t about to second-guess the greatest intellect I had ever known.

  I should have, of course.

  As the dark matter was ingested into the engines, one running hotter than the other to effect the turn, we were about two days into the gentle turn when the number one engine went critical and had to be emergency shut down. Number two was still pulling, but the negative impact of something large that had clogged number one had twisted number two off course and it too had to be shut down. We were then drifting, askew, into whatever debris field we had not known was there. And anything large enough to cause number one to shut down could have a cousin that could cause a hull breach.

  To make matters wor
se, the graphene tethers had gone slack, and it looked as if the engines might drift back and collide with the hull. Under the emergency lighting, illuminating all surfaces a slight green, powered by the PowerCube aft with no plasma from the engines, Aten was furious with herself, “If I had left them where I had designed them, aft of the ship, they couldn’t be threatening us!” Actually, I guessed she was angry for having chosen the wrong course.

  Cramer tried to reassure her that the decisions she had made would “Turn out fine, hon, relax.” He turned to me, “Simon? Thoughts?”

  I shrugged and walked out of navigation. I needed to think. I had off planet experience. So far, in talking with the crew, I was the only one aboard who did. That was really worrisome.

  Why?

  Let me put it this way, fate had somehow tagged me once more. Cramer avoided stating the obvious, for which I was grateful.

  Ten minutes later, I asked the lead engineer at a crew gathering outside on the main deck, “What’s the time frame here?” The main engineers were all there, all four of them, Cramer and Zip, of course, Aten, the nav team, and maintenance people ready to fabricate anything, if needed, if anything could be dreamed up to stop a disaster. No one seemed worried, really, but anxiety was creeping in aided by the lack of what was, normally, their overhead illumination. When you have been aboard a safe ship for 100 years, I suppose the feeling of invulnerability becomes second nature. For Cramer and I, there was no such complacency.

  The engineer nearest me tapped his arm display a few times and said, “Impact in about twelve hours, and that’s the quickest. I can’t really evaluate the flexibility of the graphene tethers after all this time in deep space. My guess is they are getting stiffer. They are running static in increasing amounts, we’re past twelve kilojoules now.”

  Aten responded, “If the impact doesn’t kill us, that static discharge will.”

  Cramer had heard enough, “Okay, people, enough of the negative. What do we need to do?” He looked around the assembled crew and, of course, ended his visual survey on me. ‘Simon? Tag, you’re it.” Damn, he had to go and say it after all.

  It was our longstanding competition now out in the open, a game of responsibility, tag he was it, then tag I was. Childish games played—wait a moment, we were still kids!

  “Hey, Cramer, finally we’re age-appropriate for tag. Angie would have liked that.” Cramer smiled but pointed at one of the crew chiefs, reminding me I was in charge. I was “it,” so I needed to respond to the crisis.

  The engine crew wanted the engines restarted as soon as possible. All of them nodding as one of their crew stated, “If we back flush the blocked engine—and currently I can do that from my station—we will have two engines ready to restart. As long as they stay hot as hell, say another five or six hours without cooling too much, I can fire them from here. After that, there’s no way. They will need an electrical boost as they had in moon orbit to spin up the centrifuges. But once we get them going, we can fire them in bursts, one side and the next, and sort of worm them back ahead of the ship.”

  The lead engineer weighed in, “Yeah, but hold on a minute—if you back flush number one and it’s not pointed ahead, it will increase the deflections. And if you back flush it even if it is ahead, without one engine taking the thrust, you will push the graphene tethers and they may be brittle and crack. No one has ever tested them in over one hundred years.”

  “Okay,” Aten said, “let’s leave that for a moment. I’ll do the graphene calculations, degradation, static effect. About two hours. But my question is this: Will the so-called worming realignment of the engines work?”

  Navigation agreed, a worming heading would work best, but then the maintenance crew explained we could lose gravity if this worming path took longer than, say, a day. There was silence. The thought of operating the ship’s functions, all in zero gravity, stopped the discussion cold. But I was used to zero gravity and, I guessed, it was time for me to step up to something approaching adulthood, fate or no fate. Coming from a ten-year-old, this might have been seen as comical anywhere else. On the ship, with this crew, all believing my misplaced hero status, it was seen as “savior to the rescue.”

  So I chimed up, “Got space suits?”

  Aten was shocked, “You’re not going out there!”

  Cramer responded, “He is and we’re going with him. I need four, maybe six volunteers from my away crew in training.” One man raised his hand and explained the away crew in training were not all present. “Go find ‘em and bring everybody back here.” He turned to me, “What have you got in mind Simon?”

  “I need electricity, loads of electricity, in micro bursts of power. I need a twin fiber cable at least four hundred to four hundred and fifty meters long, and it needs to pass through from the outside, back into the hull, and be connected to source. If I call for reverse polarity, I need someone who can flip a breaker, quickly, safely.”

  Abadine, the leading maintenance woman, physically petite and smart as a whip, responded, “We can set that up, I’ve got cable and there’s a conduit airlock about thirty centimeters from the Tether One bolt down passing into the lower flight deck. I can have you connected to the Cube’s power grid, all the way forward, there’s a junction there.” She pointed over my shoulder toward the flight deck. “I have some termination relays for landfall … for the maintenance of Cube power once we’re settled. I can rig those in about six hours into the flight deck, but it’s Zero-G in there …”

  “Good, that’s fine. Can you do it?” I looked at her. She nodded. “Great, now remember, find something to anchor yourself to when operating the breakers, you’ll do just fine. Just be safe, okay?” Abadine nodded, “Now get going. Now please Abadine.” She pointed at three men and they ran off.

  “Now I need a propulsion system. Do we have suits and backpacks?” Aten shook her head. The men and women looked at each other perplexed. No one had thought, it seemed, on ever going on a spacewalk, what NASA had called EVA, short for Extra-Vehicular Activity. I know my face registered shock. There was silence, total silence so thick it threatened to dismay everyone there.

  Todd, the doctor, dosed out some hope. He spoke up, “Oh, we have suits, Mr. Simon, good suits, carefully packed. But we never felt the need for the extra mass of jet packs, consumables, refrigeration-heating units, O2 tanks for refills, that sort of thing. The suits we have are left-over survival suits, part of medical supplies, for when the ship was being built in moon orbit, to be donned in case of hull leaks. They hold emergency air, about two hours’ worth, not much in the way of insulation. They were to be worn inside the ship, see, not outside. And they have no armor protection either.”

  Great, come 4.5 light years away from safety and bring no EVA equipment. Bad planning was what I thought. But what I said was, “Okay Doc Todd, fetch them, as many as you can, let’s see what we have. I cannot fix this problem without an EVA, so an EVA is what we’ll have to manage!” The assembled crowd did anticipatory clapping, you know the one, like little kids feeling all excited before the party magician starts pulling rabbits out of his hat.

  Me? I had no rabbits, not even a hat. I turned to Aten, “I need your brain Aten, and I need it full power now. Think gyroscope propulsion, dual interacting gyroscopic propulsion. What do we have on this ship that I can hand carry—and use? What can you make work, speed of rotation, container, everything, it is up to you.”

  Aten grinned with renewed purpose, her whole body becoming more erect. It was infectious enthusiasm, buoying the crowd, “Okay Simon, I’ll rig something up!” And she sprinted off, saying as she disappeared, “And, I have calculations on the graphene to run!”

  Cramer wanted to know, “what the hell you thinking of?” I explained that a gyroscope spinning just so and then tuned will cause an equal and opposite force—propulsion navigation, a bit of the former and loads of the latter. “If I lock onto the outside of the hull, spin something up, something Aten can concoct, then as I push away from the hull, I�
�ll run true until I reach my target. If I change the spin rate or can destabilize the spinning disk, I can twist the axle and turn. Think of a bicycle …” Several crew members had blank looks on their faces, “a bicycle was a two wheel transport that relied on centrifugal force to keep the bicycle upright. When you turned the handlebars, deviating the front wheel, the friction with the road would start the turn, but it was the centrifugal force of the front wheel acting against the back wheel that made the bicycle lean over into the turn. To start that interaction, you needed to turn away from where you want to go and start the lean, and then once the lean happened, you would turn in the direction of the lean to complete the turn. In short, you are a gyroscopic platform that can control right and left direction. In open space, I won’t have a reacting surface except at launch and landing, but I don’t need propulsion energy as much as I need directional control between the two—takeoff and landing.”

  Cramer looked worried, “You want Aten to build you a bicycle, a space bicycle?” In a sense, I did. But what I needed, and I knew Aten was already guessing, was a wheel within a wheel, both spinning incredibly fast. Move one out of alignment with the other and you could change direction—if I could hold on, if I could get enough of a kickoff from the hull, if—there were a lot of “ifs.”

  The next six hours went in a blur under the greenish light, shadows of people moving rapidly to complete tasks, children being calmed, Zip and other dogs escorting those lost to their stations. And me? I had the ship’s plans that needed urgent study.

  As soon as I could, I inspected the so-called spacesuits with Cramer. They were a joke really, fit only for the safe confines inside the ship. So we got some Loc, the blue stuff, strongest there is, and bonded three suits, one inside the other. We only needed the outer helmet ring and collar lock and the gloves that were part of an outer suit. So we had cut out one glove from the innermost suit, and when that was still too bulky for digit dexterity, we cut out the second one, leaving only the outer gloves—thin, delicate, no grip surface, and worrisome. Doc Todd had surgical gloves with high grip finger pads, so we blue Loc’ed those, one cut finger on top of each suit glove finger, and then added a second layer to be sure. They worked okay.