Physon Edwards introduced Paol and Blade to Vurim Gilroy as the program manager for the Earth2 mission. Vurim took each hand and shook it warmly and vigorously. “I’m thrilled to meet both of you. On behalf of NASA, the United States of America, and indeed for every citizen of the world, thank you for accepting such an exciting mission of discovery.”
Gilroy invited his new acquaintances to take a seat, as he and Physon took seats directly opposite of them. Physon opened a notebook on the table, while his boss laid down a thin manila folder on the table and folded his hands on top of it.
“Gentlemen,” he began after taking a drink from his bottle of water. “We have a little over five years to prepare you for this mission. Let me explain first what the mission consists of, and then I’ll tell you how we plan to get you ready for the task.
“A spacecraft, called Star Transport, is currently under development at the Jet Propulsion Laboratory in Pasadena, California. This craft is a horizontal take-off and landing vehicle, designed to require as little facility as possible for launching and landing the spacecraft. It requires no launch pads or lengthy runways. It has a self-contained, highly-efficient, low-weight, and low-volume fuel reservoir for anti-matter nuclear propulsion. Only due to recent advances with sub-atomic replication were we able to generate the type of propellant needed for such an engine. As such, there are no external rocket boosters required as is the case with more conventional rocket designs. This is imperative as it allows for planet-hopping without requiring booster equipment on each planet. Its five-engine design is capable of speeds at 0.1 Warp currently.”
Paol, feeling overwhelmed from this rapid-fire briefing glanced over to Blade, who was copiously scribbling details down on his notepad. He looked as if everything was making sense, and Paol figured that it probably was. Here, the engineer was having a harder time keeping up with spaceship construction than was the unschooled convict.
“The spacecraft is—um—cozy. There are just two main compartments; namely, the cockpit, and the SAR chamber. All flight activities naturally take place in the cockpit, with the pilot seated on the left and the navigator on the right. Behind the cockpit is the main hatch for entry and exit of the vehicle. The SAR chamber is required for regeneration of all fuel, water, and nutrition. Waste is recycled in order to increase the range of the spacecraft, but even so, the engines are not 100% efficient—they do lose some heat and exhaust that cannot be reclaimed by the SAR. The vehicle requires refueling where raw materials can be obtained to reproduce the necessary fuel.
“Because of the immense speeds that the craft will obtain, the entire skin of the craft will be coated with a shield that will prevent a breach, by avoiding or pulverizing any objects which gets hurled at the vehicle. At the same time, this shield will allow the tail of the comet to propel the vehicle at speeds of 27 KiloWarp—that’s around eight billion meters per second. In other words, fast—so fast that nobody can comprehend what it means to travel at these speeds.”
Gilroy paused after this description of the Star Transport allowing for questions to be asked. Blade spoke up immediately.
“How do we knows what health effects there is with humans travelin’ at these speeds? I mean… won’t we get torn to shreds up there?”
“Actually, no… we don’t believe that you’ll be harmed in any way. Physicists are rapidly converging on a set of mathematical models which are very encouraging. They suggest that traveling faster than the speed of light merely requires the escape of the electromagnetic force. It turns out that the mechanics of escaping EM isn’t at all destructive to the atoms which comprise any physical body.”
“But we won’t be subject to electromagnetism?” Blade’s question was animated.
Edwards looked intently at Gilroy who was weighing the answer. “That’s right.”
“Absurd!” responded Blade in agitation. “Without the EM force, we’d be nothin’. All the molecules that make me who I am are kept together because of EM. Without it, the finger attached to my hand will float off into space. The hand attached to my wrist? Same thin’. Wrist? Arm? Shoulder? Like I said, we’d be shred to pieces without electromagnetism. It’s—it’s—it’s responsible fo’ darn near everythin’ we ‘xperience in life.”
“Well, this led physicists to some concern, but as Dr. Zimmer reiterated, there must have been an answer to that question, otherwise there would be nothing keeping the comet together once it had obtained warp speed. It turns out that recent mathematical models indicate that once matter obtains warp speed, it enters a state of suspension. All atoms effectively remain frozen in place. While it is true that there is no electromagnetic force to keep atoms together, there are very small sub-atomic particles which act as a glue to keep everything intact.”
“But without electromagnetism, how we s’pposed to see or hear anythin’? Light and sound travel in EM waves, y’know.”
Dr. Gilroy leaned closely over the table. “Blade, have you ever heard of cryogenics?”
Blade instantly realized where this was going. “You mean yer gonna freeze us? I thought the technology was still unproven and dangerous. If traveling the speed of light don’ kill us, then freezin’ us certainly will.”
“No, no…” Gilroy asserted. “We won’t be freezing you at all, but we believe that warp speed yields effectively the same result. You will be suspended in time. It’s like being frozen without having to lower the core temperature of your body. In fact, even the 98.6 degree body temperature that you will have at that velocity will remain suspended until you slow down below the speed of light. It’s really like stopping time. And why shouldn’t it be? Einstein gives us the relationship of time and speed. The faster you go, the slower time goes. Once you hit the speed of light, time stops. And now we know the reason why… because the EM force fades to zero. The strength of electromagnetism yields to weaker quantum forces that simply preserve the state of the body traveling faster than the speed of light in freeze-frame as it were.”
Blade’s mind kept whirring with excitement over these newfound theories. “Ok, so then if we have this comet that’s goin’ faster than the speed of light, and it’s frozen, why is there a tail? Shouldn’t it simply stay frozen? If the freeze theory is right, then tell me how’s it sheddin’ matter.”
Gilroy sat back in his chair with a smile. “You really think through everything, don’t you, Blade? Let me answer your question with a question. What do you think happens when an object traveling faster than the speed of light strikes another object which is not?”
Blade thought for a moment, but Gilroy didn’t give him enough time to think through his answer. “The tail of the comet is due to material stripping away from the comet because of particle impacts. As it hits matter in front of it, tiny atomic-level explosions result that cause the matter to unfreeze and drop back to sub-warp speed.”
Blade was not appeased. “When we’re ridin’ in the tail of the comet, won’t we be bumpin’ into other matter? Won’t our spaceship tear apart?”
“No, because it only happens when you hit matter which is subluminal. By the time the Star Transport obtains warp speed, you’ll be comfortably in the middle of the tail with nothing but particles that are traveling faster than the speed of light. You will gradually accelerate towards this point and then gradually decelerate away from this point, all under computer control. Effectively, you’ll be riding behind the comet, which will block everything... kind of like a windshield keeps the bugs from hitting your face as you drive on the freeway.”
“But won’ the computer be frozen too? I mean, once we’s travelin’ faster than the speed of light, there’ll be no control of the system.” Blade volleyed back across the table.
At this Gilroy leaned back, and cocked his head while wearing a playful smiled. “Ah, did I forget to mention the time bombs?”
Blade’s eyes grew into large circles, while Paol quickly whipped his head forward as if to hear better.
“In the last several months, we’ve come t
o understand that superluminal matter is not subject to the speed of light. The other forces, however, remain in tact. In our case, in order to start moving the ship back out of the tail, we’ll use the weak nuclear force to our advantage. By calculating the half-life of a heavy metal, we can combine the exact ratio of masses between a certain gas and the decayed material. At a point where we desire, the decayed matter will be of sufficient mass to cause an explosive reaction with the gas. The explosion will be used to propel the vehicle back out of the comet’s tail. Once the ship has hit the outer reaches of the tail, where matter is traveling at sub-warp speeds, it will act as a breaking system that will slowly decelerate the vehicle. Once the Star Transport is traveling less than the speed of light, the computer will be able to take over and make course corrections based on its position. Of course, since the computer is coming out of a deep sleep, it really won’t know initially where it is at. It will use image sensors to scan the sky around it in order to calculate its exact location and then put the spaceship back on track with its rendezvous with Earth2.”
After a pause, all that Blade could muster were the words, “Time bomb.”
“Oh, don’t worry about that Blade. The explosion will be very small, not enough to damage the ship, of course. It’s no more harmful than the explosion of fiery gasoline that occurs in your car’s engine.”
Paol was dumbstruck by all of these concepts. “Sounds a whole lot like sci-fi to me,” he said in deep, serious tones. He wasn’t appeased by Gilroy’s response.
“It is—at least for the next couple of years. As we refine all of these mechanisms and concepts, we’ll need to do extensive testing to see if we can pull it all together. We remain optimistic that we’ll be able to pull it off.”
Questions flooded the minds of both Blade and Paol, and as quickly as they could come, Gilroy did his best to either answer them or defer them to their normal course of training. In due time all questions would be answered. He did proceed to tell them of the mission in its basic form. Hitch a ride on a comet tail, orbit the Milky Way, visit another Earth, study it for a few years, and return with oodles of data.
Blade asked one final question at the end of the two-hour overview briefing session. “Dr. Gilroy?”
“Yes, Blade.”
“Why’d we get tapped fo’ this job? Ya’ gotta have hundreds of astronauts more capable of this job. We don’t know nothin’ ‘bout bein’ astronauts. It don’t make sense.”
Gilroy sighed. “I think you know the answer to that question, Blade. Our astronauts think it’s too much of a commitment at best, and suicidal at worst.”
Paol interjected. “So, give it to us straight, Doctor. I’m guessing you’re a man with a conscience. Tell us—if you wish to continue to sleep at night—what are the odds of the mission?”
“Well... that’s impossible to say, Gentlemen.”
“Humor us, then,” Paol goaded. “Tell us what you think the odds of success are. It sounds like there is just so much that could go wrong, don’t you agree?”
“There certainly is, but we have five years to get everything as perfect as possible. After we’re done, and Star Transport takes off from Edwards Air Force Base, all we can do is put it in the hands of God.”
Gilroy gave no indication that he was going to answer the question. Paol gave every indication that he wasn’t satisfied with this approach, but for the time being, he deferred questioning to allow the briefing to continue.
“Let’s turn to logistics,” Gilroy said after an insufficiently basic briefing of the mission. There simply wasn’t enough time to answer every question and placate every fear just yet.
“Typically, an astronaut candidate comes to us with a set of skills that is mandatory for mission training. Neither of you have any of that, so the first step will be to make potential astronauts out of you. A physical, intellectual, and training regimen will be required to make sure the basic sciences and physical conditioning result. Further, you will both need to be trained as jet pilots and will need to log hundreds of hours of flight time in order to get you comfortable with the concepts of flying. Only then will real mission training begin.
“Your schedule will be as follows. You will wake up at 5:30 AM every weekday morning. Personal trainers will meet you in the gym on Mondays and Thursdays at 5:45 AM. You will be at the gym until 7:00 AM. You will have one half hour of personal preparation before reporting to the astronaut candidate cafeteria for breakfast. At 8:15, you’ll be in class, learning aeronautics. At 11:00, you’ll turn to the simulator to get cockpit training on the XJ-20 fighter jet. Lunch is at noon, and then at 1:00, you’ll return to the classroom for instruction on mathematics and physical sciences. Teachers will finish with you at 4:00, where you will then have an hour and a half to yourself for any personal business you’d like to attend to—email, laundry, etc. Dinner from 5:30 to 6:30, and then on to the library for personal study after that. You’ll need to be back in your living quarters by 9:30. Lights should be out no later than 10:30.
“Of course, this is just for the next several weeks. We’ll be mixing it up with field trips to Edwards air force base for in-flight training, you’ll be tutored on psychology, philosophy, and other social studies in order to know how to relate to any sentient beings that you discover on the planet. Eventually, there will be a host of other astronaut training—spacewalking, scuba diving for weightless conditioning and functioning, wilderness survival training, medical training, emergency procedural training, atmospheric pressure conditioning, mechanical and electrical engineering, earth sciences, orbital mechanics, earth and space navigation—let’s just say, you’ll know everything that you could possibly need to know by the time you launch several years from now. This is a crash course which will be about as mentally difficult as a PhD program and as physically grueling as boot camp.
“So, gentlemen! Good luck, and enjoy the adventure.”
After a deep breath and pause, Gilroy stood up. “Mr. Edwards will give you the tour of the facilities from here and answer any logistical questions that you have.”
He paused as he walked through the doorway. With his hand on the lever of the door, he turned back and said, “One in three.”
“Come again?” asked Paol.
“Let’s just say that if you were going to play Russian roulette, you’d load four bullets into the revolver—not just one. Those are your odds, Gentlemen, but this is strictly my opinion, and it is utterly off the record.” Gilroy took a deep breath. “It was a fair question, Mr. Joonter, and it deserved an answer. But, I trust you to not repeat it—to anyone.” His intent gaze passed from Joonter to Slater to Edwards. No words were exchanged, but everyone understood each other clearly. Gilroy’s words were not to be repeated or the entire mission would certainly be jeopardized.
Observing the look of terror in the eyes of Joonter and Slater, he attempted to comfort the pair. “If it’s any consolation, I feel confident that those odds will improve by launch time.”
It was very little consolation.
…
The next morning, the alarm clocks went off at 5:30, just as Gilroy had promised. Blade rubbed his blurry eyes and let open a wide-mouth yawn as he turned off the alarm and rolled away from it, falling back to sleep. He was quickly wakened up by a loud rap on his room door. He sat up, and looked at the clock. 5:32 AM.
“Who’s there?” called out Blade with an annoyed voice.
A cheerful voice pierced the door. “It’s Paol. Time to wake up.”
“Oh, man… what on Earth?” Blade mumbled as he shuffled his feet across the cool floor, rambling incoherent phrases with an occasionally articulate word, like “ridiculous,” “tired,” “unbelievable.” Wearing nothing but briefs, he cracked opened the door and protected his eyes from the blinding light in the hallway outside. “Whatcha want, man?”
“Blade, get dressed. We’re due at the gym in 10 minutes.”
“It’s too early fo’ this!”
“You heard Gilroy. 5:3
0 AM!”
Blade closed the door, and Paol listened through to hear his partner cursing lowly as he shuffled around the room getting ready for their first day of training. Abruptly, the door opened, and Paol, leaning against it, almost fell into the room. Blade looked disheveled, but he was at least attired in a sweat suit that was given to him for his workout sessions.
At the gym, the trainers got acquainted quickly with the physical capabilities of each man. Paol was noted for having more endurance than his counterpart, but Blade had spent some time at the gym at prison, developing upper body strength. Both had their work cut out for them, and their trainers spent the session showing them the various cardio, flexibility, and weight-training exercises that they would need to do. Both were expected to return to the gym each evening after dinner.
“But we’ll be swamped hittin’ the books,” Blade objected.
“The books will be meaningless if we can’t get physically prepared for this mission!”
Blade nodded and accepted the order without further criticism.
Throughout the day, the recently released criminals were introduced to teachers and flight trainers as well. Large quantities of downloads to their iText Readers indicated the vast reading and memorization assignments that were given to both. Cockpit acronyms, pre-flight checklists, safety guidelines and more were given to them on just the first day in the simulator room.
Upon leaving the simulator building, the pair squinted in the bright sunlight and found their way to the cafeteria, with the help of some other NASA employees who happened by when they realized that they were hopelessly lost on the sprawling Johnson Space Center campus. Paol opted for the chicken Caesar salad with breadsticks, while Blade chose a bowl of Italian minestrone and a club sandwich.
The Orthogonal Galaxy Page 31