Shroud of Eden (Panhelion Chronicles Book 1)
Page 7
An hour before day-cycle, he woke with surprise at Marie’s voice. In the dim light of night-cycle illumination, she stood at the entry to his cabin and spoke through the entry communicator. “If you want breakfast, I’ll have it ready in the mess alcove in a few minutes.”
Roused and alert, he answered, “Give me five minutes.” His sleep pod opened with a slight tug on the slip-fastener. He cleaned up and donned his duty uniform.
The air recyclers had not yet cleared Marie’s pleasant scent from the corridor. As he made his way to the alcove, he closed the last magnetic fastener on his tunic.
When he arrived, Marie had already turned the alcove lights up to a soft glow. She glanced up from the projected image on her e-reader.
He couldn’t see what she was looking at; she had the reader set to private.
“Care to join me?” Her lips curled in a half-parted smile. “I’ve already ordered.”
The subtle aroma of hollandaise and capers drifted out of the auto-waiter as he positioned himself across from her.
She looked him over. Her green eyes reflected a tiny image of the overhead lights. A lock of her smooth brown hair covered one corner of her left eye. She half-closed her eyes and flicked her tongue in a sexy lick of her lips.
He glared his disapproval, and she averted her gaze. “I’ll take a little.” He maneuvered round the table and settled in.
She took her own order out of the recess and dialed in a second.
The auto-waiter chirped, and Scott lifted the wall slide and exposed the prepared meal, a dish of processed soy with the look and smell of eggs and hollandaise. “Shall we see what nourishment the most advanced technology of our species can prepare from synthesized bean curd and a few spices?” Without taking his eyes off her, he pulled his meal disk across the table.
Her eyes met his. “You must have some interesting stories about your time in Defense Command. I’d like to hear them some time.”
The question bemused him as he sorted possible reasons for her interest. He swallowed a bit of soy egg. “Someday. They’re not really very interesting, just simulated battles and boring drills.”
She lifted a brow and turned up the corners of her lips. “You’re too modest. Rumor has it you saved your ship from a solar flare and certain destruction. That must have taken great courage. I admire that.” She tossed her head in a playful gesture.
“I faced a simple decision, be bold or die. I chose not to die.” He smiled and glanced away. “If you heard that rumor, it’s likely you also heard that I was court-martialed for it.”
“Boldness. That’s a nice trait in a man. As is honesty. You don’t hide the disagreeable details.”
“Thanks for the compliment, but at the risk of breaching command protocol, I must say I admire your skills too. The company of a lady astrophysicist is new to me. Your exceptional skills will serve us well on this mission.”
“You’ve probably read my personnel file,” she said in a soft voice, almost a whisper. “When I’m assigned to a new ship, I spend a little time brushing up on my skipper as well. What I found out about you made for interesting reading.”
“I’d guess you found it rather dry,” he said with a glance back to his food disk.
“At the risk of appearing too forward, I deduced that a few days ago you were the first to wake out of stasis. Just supposing you walked by my stasis-capsule, would you have liked what you saw inside?”
The heat of a blush warmed his face, but in an attempt to maintain his demeanor, he said, “My position requires me to ignore my personal feelings and to look upon all my crew, whether dressed or in stasis, as just that—crew.” He shifted nervously in his seat and took a final bit of egg. “We’d best take our positions, Lieutenant.”
They entered the subdued lighting of command deck and took the watch from Anton.
Marie immediately went to her station and poured over the data graphs.
Anton briefed Scott on a few unimportant matters from his watch and left.
“Anything of interest, Lieutenant?”
“I’m routing the data into a surface construction program. When complete, we can see the shape of the contours in three dimensions. The first results are painting a rendering on the main display.”
The sight was astounding. The surface rose and fell in great mountains and valleys. Struck by the enormity of the space-scape, he stood back from the main display. The visual stretched from his feet to just above his head. The ship had crisscrossed over five hundred thousand square kilometers, and they had covered only a tiny amount of the surface.
Klaas ambled out of the oval corridor onto the command deck. “Wow, is that the anomaly? It’s huge.”
The day-watch began as the overhead light panels brightened with the colors of an Earth dawn.
Marie lifted her head and faced the two of them. “It might be either big enough to contain entire stars, or depending on the thickness, there may be no interior at all. The portion we’ve mapped so far suggests the overall shape of the exterior may be a rough ellipsoid. If so, the major axis might be several parsec or more.” Her voice carried the indifferent tone of a professor lecturing a class of undergraduates.
“Is there any place we can get through?” Scott asked. “Presuming there’s an interior to this thing.”
Five hours into the shift, Marie left her post and approached her commander. “Skipper, I have some possible good news for you. I coarsened the data points so we could cover more area. An hour ago, the search found a modest but consistent change in the anomaly slope. I’ve set the supervisor program so the ship will follow the decrease.”
An hour later, a steady tone alerted to a sharp decrease in the gradient slope. She hurried back to her post and flicked on her headband laser. “If this continues, we may have found an opening.”
The captain paced from his station to Marie’s and back again. His command screen now confirmed the surface ahead.
Anton appeared at the hatch to report for his shift. “What’s all the excitement about? I notice we’ve altered course, and your voices carried all the way to the meal alcove.”
Scott broke into a broad grin as the junior officer came on deck. “It’s a strong decrease in the slope. Let’s hope it’s an opening.”
Marie rubbed her hands together in excitement. “It shows near vertical now. If it doubles back on itself, it may well be what we’re looking for, unless....”
“Yes, unless?” His face reddened with flaring impatience.
“It may not be an opening, rather a corner that swings in on itself and doubles back—something like a wisp with an overhanging ledge. We’ll know in a few minutes. The results from the forward pingers will tell. If the void continues it’s probably an opening.”
She spun about wide-eyed. “Skipper, the forward pingers show an opening. I can see a rough outline of an area where there’s no return echo. We’ll have to launch a telemetry probe to be sure.”
“Put as much of the rendered image as the computers have calculated on my screen.” He stared in awe at the rough Vee shape forming on the screen in front of him, and his thoughts swirled with the possibilities. The probe might crack the riddle of the gradient. There may even be some trace of the Themis.
Scott announced his orders in rapid fire. “Anton, telemetry. We need a probe that can give us data on how time inside the opening changes. Klaas, bring the ship into position to launch the telemetry probe into the opening.”
The junior officer stood and twisted round to his captain. “The Mark VI probe has a full telemetry with on-board clock and Laser ranging sensors. We have three of them. Do you want to risk one?”
Scott didn’t hesitate. “Send it.”
Minutes later, the soft hiss of pneumatics announced the launch of a half-meter diameter sphere packed with instruments and transmitters. The outside skin of the sphere had miniature versions of the pingers used by the Pegasus. After launch, the ship’s company concentrated their attention on the displays and
the image of the receding sphere. Antenna stubs covering the outside gave the probe the appearance of an ancient spiked mace without its chain.
Ten minutes after the probe reached the opening, the crew went silent. The glistening orb faded to gray and then black as it sped deeper into the abyss.
“Marie, you got anything yet? If so, let us in on it.” He drew his lips to a fine line and sidled up to her.
“From what I saw,” she answered without looking up, “it’s not exactly an opening as you would think of one. It’s a place where the gradient is extremely shallow.” Her lips curled in a hint of a smile. “Time changes only a tiny amount with distance.”
She reversed the video recorder and began a fast forward replay, and put her finger to the screen. “Here you can see how the image of the probe fades as it goes through the gradient. That’s because it’s moving into a future we can’t yet see. I’m extrapolating from the data, but time in the part of the hole closest to us appears to change on the order of about two minutes per meter into the future.”
“About fourteen months in a hundred kilometers?” Scott’s jaw dropped. “You mean....?”
“Yes.” She stood and faced him. “The other side might be either a few years, or a few weeks in the future. Deeper in the opening, where the image fades, signals from the probe may take several hours to get to us. We can’t be sure until we can compare the fade time with the probe’s velocity. Then, if we assume a constant change with time, we can estimate the time at the probe’s position.”
“But it didn’t disintegrate. That’s the point.” Scott jabbed the display screen with his finger to emphasize his statement. “Anton, what do the signals from the probe’s on-board clock report for the date-time?”
Anton turned with a shrug. “Right now, I only have the onboard radio telemetry, and that travels at light speed. If the signal speed across the gap varies, the signal may not arrive for another hour or so. Once it does, I can tell you the probe time.”
“Skipper,” Klaas growled. “How about we break and let Marie work her numbers magic. That’ll give Anton time to get us the probe data as well.”
Klaas gave Marie a sympathetic smile, and she returned to her work with a straight face. Their bruised relationship from the shuttle excursion had turned from hostile to mutual acceptance.
“All right. Anton, take the watch. You can use the time to analyze whatever probe data you get, and Marie will finish her work later.” Scott lingered a moment on the deck as Klaas disappeared into the companionway. Time would tell if they could traverse the anomaly. Time. That’s what this crazy mission is all about.
The Opening
-
Pegasus
~~~
Several hours later, Scott made his way back to the command deck. “Anton, what data have you gotten from the probe? I’m especially interested in the data from the on board Entangled Communications transmitter.”
“The data came in a few minutes ago, Skipper. Given that the ECCO transmitter says the clock is operating normally, I’d say the probe made it to the far side. The clock reads a little more than ninety-eight years in the future. Maybe if the probe made it though, we can as well.”
A broad grin broke out on Scott’s face. “Profound. If the Themis didn’t stumble into the abrupt part of the gradient and become universal light and heat, it may have made it to the interior. Call Klaas and Marie on deck. I have something to say that affects us all.”
Within minutes, the three stood at their posts, glancing at each other in bewilderment.
Scott paused and motioned toward his junior officer. “Anton has reduced the time data gathered from the other side of the opening. Anton, tell us what you found.”
His subordinate stood tall, eager to tell of his success. “The telemetry probe successfully transited the opening with no damage, and it now reports a date-time of ninety-eight years plus a few hours in the future. Although the time and date differ from ours, at its present position the clock runs at the same rate as outside the gradient.”
Marie stepped over and took a long look at the data on Anton’s screen. “Inside of the gradient entropy increases the same as outside. I think we can safely transit to the inside, and surprisingly, based on the probe data, we can communicate across the gradient via ECCO.”
Scott tilted his head and eyed Marie. “You think that’s true?”
“Why not? Entangled particles don’t care what time or date their companions are in. Their coupled reactions still happen instantaneously and simultaneously.”
Mild elation swept over Scott. “That’s comforting. If we get through we can still communicate with Command.”
Klaas’ eye twitched. “I take it we may now return to Earth with a successful mission to our credit.” He shot a quick glance first at Anton and then Scott.
Scott faced his crew and shook his head. “We’ve completed only one part of our mission. Marie has analyzed the anomaly, and with the information from the probe, she has all the data she needs to write a fascinating scientific paper.”
Klaas patted Marie on the back. “You’ll be the hero. Congratulations.”
Scott cleared his throat to regain their attention. “True, but Admiral Delmar added a confidential protocol to our departure orders. He ordered me to keep it under seal until I had some reason to believe Themis left survivors. Now I have a reason, and I can tell you what the protocol contains. It orders us to make every effort to find the Themis.”
Klaas grew somber. “What if they got through and didn’t find a friendly environment? They’re all dead. I mean, they left Earth a hundred and seventy-five years ago.”
“Probably, but our orders are to find out what happened.” Scott stood ramrod straight, his hands on his hips. “If any survived they may have had offspring.”
Marie pulled her brows together in an inquisitive stare. “If their descendants are still alive, they may be nothing more than a pack of starving humans, fighting like animals in a primitive world.”
He dismissed the thought and concentrated on the implications of the secret protocol. “If there were descendants, we’re obligated to attempt a rescue.”
“Unless they found an Earth-like planet, they wouldn’t stand a chance,” Klaas protested.
“For reasons we don’t understand, Admiral Delmar wants us to investigate, and given any chance we may find something, I intend to do exactly that. Prepare the ship for transition.”
Klaas took a step back and swallowed hard. “Are you sure you want to do this, Captain?” We’ve accomplished the mission. We found and analyzed the damn gradient. Why take further risks by going into this tunnel? Marie’s analysis is bizarre, but I’ll accept her conclusions at face value.” His eyes were cold and unmoving. “Sure, we may be able to safely go into the future, but to come back we have to travel into the past. Even with my limited understanding of physics, I know travel into the past violates cause and effect. I say we go home and celebrate what we have.”
Scott turned to Marie. “What do you think? Can we return?”
“Klaas has a point,” she said. “Our return would invoke the grandfather paradox. That is, if one returns to the past and makes a change, that change must necessarily ripple through and alter the present. The classic example says it this way: if you go back in time and kill your grandfather before he met your grandmother, your father could not have been born. You, therefore, could not exist.” She held up her hand, inviting them to listen. “It’s causality. It permits travel into the future but not into the past.”
Klaas shifted back and forth from one foot to the other and hesitantly spoke up. “That’s all very well, but Marie, you didn’t answer the question. Can we return from the future?”
“One theory I know of allows it,” she mused. “The Gödel solution to the Einstein field equations yields closed, world time-lines that return to their origin. It would permit a time traveler to follow a closed time-line into a future and back to the moment he left—that is, from hi
s future destination back to his departure time.”
Scott shook his head. “I don’t follow you.”
She held out her upturned palms, her expression nonchalant. “Captain, if we travel to the other side of this opening—that is, into the future—we can follow a specific, closed time-line that leads us back to our starting position, but not the space-time we knew when we left. It would be the same position but a different time—our start time plus the time taken to go to our stop point, and then back to our starting point plus any dwell time.”
Scott shook his head even more, his brows knitted. “You lost me.”
“Consider it this way.” She steepled her hands. “Say you spent a week traveling to and a week returning from a future time, ninety-eight years in the future, and further assume you spent one week at the end point. You then return to your original position in space three weeks later than your departure time.” Marie shrugged, and studied his face to see if he grasped her explanation.
Scott’s eyes brightened as he grasped the idea. “According to this Gödel fellow, if we spend two weeks traveling to and from the other side and one week there, even though it is ninety-eight years in the future, we could return via a time-like curve. We would then be in the same place we started, three weeks later, and causality would not be violated.”
“Exactly.” The small lieutenant crossed her arms and rocked back on her heels.
Scott stood motionless for several moments. “I wonder what Einstein would have said about this.”
Marie stared up at him. “He was aware of Gödel’s solution and didn’t dispute it.”
He sighed audibly. “I have one other question. How long will it take us to get across the gradient, and how will the time change affect us?”
She pulled her shoulders back. “Based on the data, my estimate says the time to the far side will be about six days, depending on our speed. We can’t move too fast because the shallow gradient limits our velocity. It will resist sudden movement into the future. We also have to avoid any radial irregularities like inward pointing wisps. To answer your unasked question, we will age the same amount as our duration away from the starting time, if that’s what you’re asking. In the gradient wall, time and space are coupled differently than outside the gradient.”