Dare Mighty Things

by Heather Kaczynski

  I couldn’t focus on the details of what he was saying because my mind couldn’t get away from the word impossible. The technology we had could only send us on a very long, very slow, one-way trip. Voyager 1 had taken fifty years to reach the outer edges of our solar system. My father hadn’t even been born when that thing was launched, and it was still just inching across interstellar space, in the dark places between stars.

  The technology to take us five hundred light-years away simply didn’t exist.

  Unless it did, and it had been kept secret until now.

  The field of stars above was now a close-up of an unfamiliar star system—Kepler-186, the red dwarf, surrounded by five orbiting spheres. One in particular twinkled helpfully as it orbited the farthest from its sun. That was it. Kepler-186f. Our destination.

  I felt, suddenly, how small I was. Could almost feel Earth beneath my feet spinning freely, untethered to anything but laws of physics. Vulnerable. Alone.

  I felt us as we were, on a grand scale—Earth and the sun and all the planets rocketing through space together like a comet—and experienced a moment of vertigo.

  “I know what you’re all thinking.” The colonel’s skin looked gray, his voice subdued. “Suffice to say, we are not knowingly sending you on a one-way trip. There is something else you need to know.”

  Mr. Crane materialized from the darkness to the front of the room near the projector, and I jumped almost out of my skin. He stood beside Pierce and didn’t waste time with pleasantries. “On October eighteenth, 2024, SEE radio telescopes positioned in orbit around the moon picked up an unusual radio signal. Something unlike anything we’d ever received before. Its origin, we discovered, was Kepler-186.”

  2024. The year before I was born. I noted it dully through a haze of disbelief.

  The hologram blinked out, and instead a series of fractal patterns grew in repeating circular patterns, repeating and building into infinity. “This is the beginning of the message we received. A universal constant, the Fibonacci sequence—which, as all you know, is a numerical pattern repeated over and over again in nature, from the shapes of universes to the smallest seashells. This pattern was followed by another, and another. In case you had any doubts, you’re looking at the indisputable sign of an intelligent alien species trying to communicate with us.”

  I heard someone gasp. I raised my eyebrows at Luka, shocked, but he was stoic. If he was surprised, he hid it well.

  Mr. Crane plowed on without giving us time to adjust. “It took our best people years to decipher the entire message. Such an incredible amount of data.” Mr. Crane continued, as though he were commenting on the weather. “The first part of the message was just a hello—an intergalactic handshake, if you will. To show us that they are intelligent, and expected us to understand them. The second part was a mathematical designation of Kepler-186. Perhaps showing us their location. But the third part of the message was the truly amazing thing—and the reason why you are all here.”

  The air around us was now inhabited by ghostly mechanical 3D shapes rotating like tiny planets. Right in front of my face hung a familiar capsule, shrunk down to the size of my hand. The Human Hibernation Module.

  At Crane’s command, the hundreds of doll-size pieces zoomed around the room, assembling themselves in a complex dance until they became one completed structure: a three-dimensional model of an alien spacecraft, its white bones transparent like the skeleton of a bird. A long, thin ring structure encased a snub-nosed, spherical craft, all smooth edges like a toddler’s toy airplane. But elegant. Beautiful, even. I couldn’t take my eyes off it.

  “This is the product of fifteen years decoding the radio message, and the combined work of the best engineers in the world,” Crane said. “A gift to humanity from a benevolent alien race. They have granted us the technology to travel faster than light. By showing us how to build a true Alcubierre drive-enabled spacecraft.”

  There were no words, not from any of us. My universe had inverted on itself as though I’d been swallowed by a wormhole. I realized I was pressing a hand against my chest as if to keep my heart from jumping out, though surprisingly my pulse was calm.

  “This is absurd,” Shaw said. The color had drained from his face. “This is ridiculous. You’re telling us we have a way to travel faster than light? And no one’s thought to mention this before now?

  “Why did you think we were here, Logan?” Jeong’s voice was quiet, her eyes steely.

  He sputtered, unable to answer. “How long are we supposed to be gone?”

  “A year, perhaps two,” Crane said. “One year there, one year on your return. With this technology, there is no time dilation.”

  “That’s impossible.”

  “Our simulations have run this mission, Mr. Shaw, innumerable times. One year each way, plus or minus six months.”

  Shaw’s face was still ashen. He swallowed, his throat bobbing, as he seemed to begin to accept it. “Good lord, that message took almost five hundred years to reach us—whoever or whatever sent it, they’re long gone now.”

  “That’s a good point,” Copeland said.

  “You misunderstand,” Crane replied, unruffled in the least. “The message did not come from Kepler-186. It, in fact, came to us from near one of Mars’s moons.”

  “Oh my God,” I whispered before I could stop myself. They had been so close. Were they still there? Watching us? Had they landed on Earth?

  “Can this be possible?” Jeong asked, her eyes creased with worry and awe.

  “Here is one hypothesis,” Crane began. “The alien intelligence has sent probes, just as we have, to various places in the galaxy. With their superior technology it would not be out of the range of imagination that they could reach us here. Perhaps they discovered we may be intelligent, and have sent this message, and this ship, as a test. Perhaps it is an invitation to join them for an interspecies summit. You will find out when you arrive, I suppose.”

  He let us marvel on that a little while.

  “My company has built this ship. I’ve named it Odysseus, and I’m allowing NASA to use it. You were all chosen for this purpose. Not to be sacrificed—no, believe me, we intend to bring you all safely home long before I’m dead and buried.”

  We all watched the spinning hologram in silence, absorbing the knowledge of what this meant. I tried to quell my racing heart. Not a death sentence. We’ll be coming home. I’ll see my family again.

  Assuming everything went perfectly according to plan. Assuming this alien intelligence was, in fact, benevolent. Assuming all of our experimental technology functioned as it should.

  Assuming.

  The lights came back on.

  Nobody looked especially happy. Rather, the faces of my instructors were full of concern. Doubt.

  “Each of you has been training precisely for the task we have set before you. Each of you has been chosen for the special skill set and experience vital to this mission. Believe that I am not about to waste billions of my dollars and the last fifteen years of my life sending you unprepared into the unknown.” He leaned his knobby hands on the table. No wedding ring, I noticed. I realized I knew little to nothing about this man. “But it is your choice. Now that you know the truth in its entirety—will you stay?”

  Silence, heavy. I felt it as though it were sitting on my chest.

  Bolshakov had his hands pressed in front of him, eyes closed, as if in prayer. Finally, he broke the silence. “If all you say is true . . . how can any of us refuse?”

  “You’re right,” Dr. Copeland agreed. “I can’t walk away from this now. Could any of you?” No one said anything. Then Jeong shook her head.

  “No, indeed,” Luka said quietly beside me. He was looking down at this hands, lost in thought.

  Shaw was staring straight ahead, as if he hadn’t heard. He spoke in a nervous murmur. “Five hundred light-years. Light-years. Five hundred light-years from Earth.”

  There was another Earth out there, orbiting Kepler-186. A
benevolent alien race. A world of things unknown and unknowable. Humanity’s hope for the future.

  To discover something like that, I would do anything.

  “I don’t want to leave.” I pushed strength into my voice, trying to differentiate myself from Luka. I had to remind myself I was still an alternate; he was still my competition.

  “Have we heard anything from these”—Dr. Copeland cleared her throat, as though she couldn’t physically say the next word—“extraterrestrials since this transmission?”

  “No,” Mr. Crane said. “Regardless, we have this technology and it is irrational not to use it. We have the means and the opportunity. We have a destination that is likely habitable. We’re going to find out who sent this transmission.”

  “Why not send probes first?” Jeong asked again. “Why a crewed mission?” The unasked question: Why risk our lives for this?

  “This transmission gave us a means to possibly send living humans to a planet that may be habitable. Who sent it? Why? A probe can’t ask those questions. And it may even be perceived as a threat, as a weapon.”

  “It goes without saying,” Pierce broke in quietly, “that this information has not and will not be shared with the outside world. There will be no press, no media attention. All of you will be under strict monitoring and on communication restriction. The government is adamant that word of this mission not reach the general public. Under any circumstances.”

  “If you are all in agreement to stay,” Crane said, “pack your bags. You’ll be flying to Florida in the morning.”

  We were dismissed.

  I walked out of that room a different person than when I’d entered. The universe had been irreparably altered. And we were the only ones who knew it.

  Nothing, nothing would ever be the same again.

  Luka walked beside me without a word. He had been quiet the entire presentation. Perhaps later I’d have time to talk to him about it, but for now I needed to absorb it on my own.

  Technology that allowed us to traverse the universe. Physical evidence that intelligent life existed beyond Earth.

  And we were going to meet them.

  I had to prove I was more worthy of that honor than Luka.

  TWENTY-ONE

  ALMOST AS SOON as we landed in Florida, they subjected us to throat swabs and blood tests. If all the petri dishes came back clear after forty-eight hours, Pierce told us, we’d be quarantined—no contact with anyone other than the rest of the crew—until launch. Lessen the risk of us taking a virulent disease on board a cramped spacecraft.

  Luka and I were moved into a small set of living quarters that was basically an old motel on the astronaut training campus. The rooms were definitely from days gone by: cinder-block walls, white paint turned yellow with old tobacco stains, the scent of mildew permeating every fabric, pillows that collapsed like bags of tissue paper.

  But I was there, in the place where astronauts lived and trained. Where I would become an astronaut. That was enough for me.

  Time was a luxury we weren’t afforded. We had time only to drop off our luggage before our first lecture.

  It took only ten minutes for me to realize I was in the big leagues now. And I was not ready.

  Our crewmates were older than my parents and they had collectively logged hundreds of hours in orbit. Among them, they had faced all the spaceflight problems that were possible to walk away from. For them, these classes were only a refresher; for me, they were a crash course in astrophysics and mathematics that most people need multiple graduate degrees to properly learn.

  Luka and I were attempting to learn in a matter of weeks what most experienced astronauts learned in two years.

  My hands were cramped from typing notes on the government-issue tablet, but Luka seemed to take it all in stride.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  I’d taken a seat by myself at a table in the café during our lunch break. The rest of the astronauts sat together and socialized at lunch. I didn’t have that luxury—I needed every spare moment to catch up.

  I was hunched over my seat, eating a limp cheese quesadilla with one hand while trying to solve a set of complex calculations with the other. I must have looked frazzled for Luka to stop on his way to get his own lunch.

  I hesitated whether to tell him. It might show weakness. But I had no other friends here. And he looked more cheerful than last night, a friendly smile on his face. “I . . . can’t figure out how they got the solution to these equations.”

  “But in class—” he started.

  “I pretended like I got it,” I said quickly. “But I don’t totally understand.”

  He slid into the seat beside me, eyes on my tablet. “It’s just calculus.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s a little more advanced than I’m used to.” My face burned.

  He wasn’t looking at me, but at the numbers. “You’re only a little off. Can I show you?”

  I didn’t want him to teach me, to know the extent of what I didn’t know. But I needed the help. “Yes.”

  As he adjusted my calculations, and the numbers fell into their rightful places, I began to feel the tension in my chest ease. He never gloated, never treated me like the ignorant child I felt like.

  In our class after lunch, I was finally able to show off the real advantage I had over Luka. When our instructor, Dr. Murray, a woman in her forties with thick round glasses that magnified her already large eyes, rolled in the EEG, I clasped the bottom of my chair so I wouldn’t leap out of it to volunteer.

  “Now, you veteran astronauts don’t need to worry about this EEG,” she said. “This is just for Cassandra and Luka. But I would like a volunteer or two for a little demonstration.”

  Dr. Copeland raised her hand. Her EEG never wavered. Bolshakov was able to get into alpha for less than a minute. The older astronauts, it seemed, were inflexible in their brain-wave patterns.

  Our instructor confirmed my hypothesis. “This is why we need a young, flexible brain. Now let’s see what happens when we put Cassandra under.”

  Finally, I was able to let go of my chair and join our teacher at the front. I felt the familiar sticks of the electrodes snake through my hair and onto my scalp. I no longer needed any coaching; I closed my eyes, breathed from my diaphragm, and found Beethoven’s “Für Elise,” a sentimental favorite from childhood, and played it like a recording in my memory. My consciousness faded into a peaceful gray place.

  When I opened my eyes, everyone was staring at me—Bolshakov with newfound respect.

  “Good job,” Luka whispered as he passed me on his way to the chair, and I felt like I was glowing from the inside.

  “Well done,” Dr. Murray said, her large eyes sparkling with excitement. “This is exactly what we want. This is the exact reason we need you two. Your brain-wave patterns are best suited for interfacing with our monitoring computer. Now, Luka, let’s try you.”

  So that was one mystery solved, at least.

  Luka didn’t do nearly as well. He remained in alert beta the entire time, except for a few bizarre blips where he slipped into theta. I watched the readout with growing confusion.

  Our instructor was obviously a little abashed when it was over. “Well, that’s—that’s not quite . . .” She adjusted her glasses and reread the outline.

  Luka actually seemed embarrassed. “It’s difficult for me to achieve a meditative state.”

  Her mouth twisted uneasily. “You all have been under tremendous stress lately. We’ll try again tomorrow.”

  He sat back in his seat, caught my eye, shrugged one shoulder, and smiled ruefully. The one thing I could do better than him, and he was a good sport about it. I couldn’t believe I’d ever been annoyed at his supposed arrogance, when he didn’t seem to have any pride at all. I’d misjudged him just as much as I’d misjudged Emilio and Mitsuko.

  As everyone filed out of class later, I pulled him aside. “Hey, are you okay?”

  His lips pressed together, his eyes watching t
he retreating backs of the other astronauts as they disappeared down the hall. “No. I’m having some trouble focusing, that’s all. I’ll work on it.” His face looked drawn, his eyes red-rimmed and distracted.

  “Let me know if I can help,” I offered, though I had no idea how I could. “You helped me earlier. I’d like to return the favor.”

  He gave me a tired smile. “Thank you. But it is something I must do on my own. Come, let’s go get dinner, before they turn off the lights.”

  By the end of the first day, my mind was a fog of mathematical equations and schematics, a mantra of endlessly repeating formulas hopefully carving itself into my brain. I fell onto my bed, hardly able to believe I’d woken up that morning in Houston.

  But my brain wouldn’t turn off.

  So I laced up my tennis shoes and went off in search of the track they’d shown us on our brief tour. Our quarters had doors facing an open-air courtyard lined with a crumbling sidewalk. Across the courtyard was another building, lined with floor-to-ceiling windows, where the cafeteria and classrooms were.

  Almost as soon as I left my room, I ran into Luka.

  “Sorry!” My hands had latched on to his upper arms when we’d collided. He steadied me with hands on my shoulders as I pushed myself out of his way, carefully unclasped my hands from his arms. “Didn’t see you there. Somehow.”

  Still holding on to my bare shoulders, he looked me up and down. “Running away already?”

  I smirked, despite the pulse thrumming in my neck. “Antsy. Too much going on—I can’t sleep. Was gonna go for a run. What about you?”

  He offered a smile that didn’t seem particularly happy. “The same.” He looked me over again, seemed to realize his hands were still holding my shoulders, and released me. “Would you mind company?” Then he added, almost shyly: “That is, unless you’d rather run alone.”

  I thought about it. Remembered the times we’d run opposite each other those nights during selection, following each other around and around in comfortable silence and in our separate orbits. No explanations needed. Just me and Boy Wonder. “It’d be nice to have company,” I heard myself say.