by Purple Hazel
The second of the three message pods was then saved for when they reached the supposed location of the next matter pod. This one Young-Min Jo had also worried might have been damaged or demolished. However, B.J.’s team of “astronomer chicks” as she casually referred to them (or “star babes” as she loved calling them too) dismissed this as “highly improbable”.
B.J. couldn’t resist a bit of playful sarcasm at that point—knowing she’d won over her teammates and they wouldn’t get bent out of shape if she didn’t go too far. But she just had to slip in the comment, “That’s astronomer-speak Lieutenant. I’ll translate: It ain’t fuckin’ likely,” and everyone chuckled, even the bookish Elena.
“It’ll be there, Lieutenant, don’t worry yourself,” commented Ensign Ebunoluwa to the worried young fellow, and Ensign Durrer nodded in confirmation. “Ja...you’ll find it soon, I’m sure. This random debris was not that big as to cover an area as large as a half of a light year. Comet Hyakutake’s tail only stretches out five hundred million kilometers and that’s the largest ever recorded.” To this Margo Ebunoluwa added, “Right. We’ll be fine, Lieutenant. You can come up for air….”
Finally, the third message pod was prepared for launch. Once again Gary Orem assisted in programming the destination and helped Lieutenant Guerrero with the launch. This pod contained essentially the same information, with specific messages to the captain of the Nautilus, copied for Space Command, along with all they thought they knew so far about the cause and details of the disaster.
It would take nearly a year to reach Earth, and when it arrived, it would soberly explain their rapidly-compiled conclusions: Interstellar debris, likely thrown off a speeding comet, had made its way across the path of the matter pod line and collided with one of them, just as Santa Maria was approaching its anticipated rendezvous point with the Nautilus. As to whether the pod might still be functioning and derail the Nautilus from her course, their theories were that this was “highly doubtful”.
However just in case they’d assumed incorrectly, a message pod had been sent toward its projected location as a precaution, the captain noted in his report. Other than that, as Captain Stehter reported calmly in his recorded transmission, the Santa Maria was going to proceed toward Earth as before, hoping and praying for the safety and success of the Nautilus and her crew, and projecting a new rendezvous point for a possible intercept later.
Yes, B.J. was finally called upon to do her own little bit of magic. Not the amorous kind that is. The mathematical kind. It was up to her to calculate a possible link-up point; and she based this solely on the assumption that the missing matter pod had been destroyed. If Nautilus came out of its warp bubble way off course, due to a functioning matter pod driven millions of kilometers away from the pod line, she’d have no known basis point from which to calculate—only educated guesses, and that was certainly not enough to work with. Instead, she deduced a probable intersection of the two ships at the seventh light year of Santa Maria’s anticipated route home.
This proved to be tricky, what with so many variables to consider, but B.J. never doubted it could be done. She worked up the numbers for it—for the most part in her head—then checked her math with the ship’s computer. “It’s nothing but a kick ass algebra problem really,” she boasted to her fellow star babes.
“If it takes two and a half Earth years for Nautilus to travel to the next expected location in the matter pod line,” proposed B.J., “then when they get there, her captain should be able to reactivate his ADM Drive and fly at ten times the speed of light once again, same as before the disruption, am I right?” The other girls nodded in agreement. “Well then, while Nautilus is struggling to get back on track, we can cover about 2.25 light years of distance.” Given this, B.J. figured Santa Maria could reach light year six quite easily, and possibly much further while Nautilus crept along at auxiliary speed.
“From there,” she deduced, “Nautilus can use her warp drive and scoot right past us…reach light year six in roughly two months and twelve days. It can reach light year seven in three months and eighteen days using the same equation, so that location is where I think we should meet up.”
Allowing for any other possible delays or setbacks, this gave both ships “plenty of wiggle room,” as she put it. Light year seven was thus selected as the best alternative. She reported her findings to Captain Stehter and that eventually became the chosen intercept point.
“Year seven, Captain,” she informed her superior proudly. “We can meet up there and fly home with our new friends in about...oh...eight months and twelve days—give or take an hour or two. What do you think?” Steinhart sighed and thanked her. It was such a longshot he couldn’t begin to picture how they’d succeed. Yet he had to admit his crew had certainly risen to the occasion.
He therefore decided to include that in the second two message pods. Year seven. As for the crew flying on Santa Maria at ninety percent of the speed of light, they’d age about one year, seven months and fifteen days. And that wasn’t all. If B.J.’s calculations were correct—and she usually was dead on when it came to math—this would put them back home in the year 2109! The renewed excitement onboard over her projections spread quickly. Many rejoiced at the news. If it worked out they’d arrive home only three years behind schedule!
But...at the same time there were crewmembers who more wisely chose to take this with a grain of salt. Preferred not to get their hopes up and accepted the very likely possibility that they might be in space for much, much longer—however it pained them to even think it. Enthusiasm gradually faded over the following few days.
Within a few weeks, people grew cynical regarding B.J.’s lofty prediction of a 2109 homecoming. No one dared believe in it. Not completely, anyway. Discussions of it amongst each other as though it was really going to happen were rarely heard in the corridors, hallways, the Virch, and the hygiene chambers. People just weren’t buying into it this time.
In the three months that followed, the crew’s mentality changed markedly. Some fell into despair. They started to worry about just how terribly dangerous their situation was. The excitement of being on a space ship, being a space pioneer, being part of something historically significant, and being part of a team of super-talented/ highly educated individuals had worn off years before, truth be told. Now their sentiments changed to those of fear and apprehension. That a random event in space could simply streak across their path and alter their destinies so easily...it truly frightened some of them when contemplating it.
Not everyone grew disheartened, of course. Some were more philosophical. Some found religion! Steinhart figured this would happen and accepted it as inevitable. Perfectly natural as far as he was concerned. Not many of the crew were extremely religious to begin with, but it was a fine opportunity to seek unity among the different men and women on board who wanted answers, especially when science could only explain so much regarding their dilemma. To Steinhart it was completely normal for those experiencing hopelessness to simply want to know, “why...why us?”
He encouraged these discussions too. Participated in them whenever and wherever he could. Made himself accessible. Showed compassion and leadership. That’s what they needed, and he made sure they understood he’d listen to their concerns. Speak openly of their worries and fears. Tell of their torments and apprehensions. And when they gathered in groups, often randomly, to pray to God for their own as well as the safety of the poor folks on the Nautilus, he joined right in. It brought everyone together for a time and soothed their troubled souls.
Knowing they were going to arrive back on Earth eventually was a key factor in this. Certainly, that was a big relief, even if a few continued to feel a bit sideways about things. But it pulled them through nevertheless. The difference was that Santa Maria could continue at its current pace using now-outdated technology. The same couldn’t be said for the Nautilus. Santa Maria didn’t need nonbaryonic matter devices to power its momentum. It would simply soldier on unti
l the ship made it into Earth’s orbit.
Everyone understood this. They were, after all, scientists and engineers. But Steinhart knew the circumstances they were in required strong leadership and most of all guidance from the one person they would ultimately look to for direction.
If Nautilus never showed up, even at light year seven of their journey, the crew of Santa Maria would get through this just fine. A little older maybe. Their families and childhood friends much older and more than a few already dead and buried. But they’d get there in one piece. Steinhart had confidence in them. To be sure, he had the best and brightest people Earth had to offer working for him.
He would tell them, whenever they’d wax philosophically about their predicament, “No, there’s no one to blame here. No scapegoat to bear the burden of our sins. Everyone has risen to the occasion splendidly. We had true heroes step forward and perform magnificently, right when we needed them. Everyone has done all that can be done.”
And when he’d meet with the more religious among them, regardless of denomination, Muslim as well as Christian, he’d quote Exodus 14:13. “Do not be afraid. Stand firm and you will see the deliverance the Lord will bring you today.”
Despite their education and regardless of what they’d been through and done, this was for many of them the greatest comfort to hear those words from their captain in their hour of need…
Chapter 23
Dropping a Dime
“Grazie a Dio! Is it really true?” exclaimed Commander Cadorna as he stormed onto the bridge. In normal circumstances the ship’s captain would have braced himself for yet another vociferous complaint from the prickly Italian. Was it the same thing as last time—more reports of fraternization and insubordination among the former colonists and construction workers—along with a request for a security detail no doubt to go assist him in arresting the offenders? Not likely. Not this time. Cadorna must have heard the great news. The matter device had finally been located...after thirty months of desperate searching.
Two and a half years had passed on board the Nautilus and things were finally starting to settle down. There seemed to be a light at the end of that long, dark tunnel they’d been trapped inside of for such a very long time. Buried in a galactic grave of perpetual night they’d been. Wondering if they’d ever see home again. Languishing as though sad convicts on an old prison barge sailing out to Botany Bay, Australia from Ireland.
Morale however was improving. Yes, things were turning around. Captain Yermak Timofeyevich and Commander Luigi Cadorna had somehow managed to keep things under control throughout the crisis. The captain sighed with relief when he sensed this exchange would not be yet another heated one…
* * * *
True to form, Luigi had been a royal pain in the ass for practically everyone the past four years, not the least of which the captain himself. They butted heads on practically everything—with the captain clearly outranking Commander Cadorna, but the little Italian fellow always with some form of advantage in every disagreement they had.
He’d been there longer for one thing. He’d been in charge of building the Kapteyn B planetary colony from the ground up. He’d led his people “to the shores of the great sea”, and oversaw the establishment of their ocean-marine farming facility.
What’s more he knew how everything worked. Knew who was reliable among his colonists and who was not. The captain as far as he was concerned was just their ride home, and truth be told it seemed at times that’s what he was implying whenever he spoke to the captain. Moreover, the one hundred new colonists sent to relieve Cadorna of his burden, didn’t have much of a commander of their own when they arrived. The person sent with them was not the strong leader type but more of an administrator—and she had absolutely no interest in battling Commander Cadorna for control. Just wasn’t in her nature to challenge anyone for power.
Besides...she knew he’d be gone in a year anyway, once Nautilus departed; so she agreed with him whenever he’d tirade, and for the most part avoided him however she could. When people complained to her—which was almost daily it seemed, she’d defer to the captain of the Nautilus and let him handle it. The poor captain by way of comparison would typically have no idea what to do about it and find himself ending every conversation with his bombastic subordinate, placating him with comments like, “Okay then, well…if that’s what you think is best,” or “Right uh, then I guess I see your side of it now.”
This only served to frustrate the crew and colonists even more—though they could hardly blame him, really. He wisely kept his fifty crewmen away from the projects going on down on the surface, while Nautilus orbited the planet from above.
“Just stay out of it,” he’d say when new colonists or construction contractors transmitted their grievances up to the command team. “I’ll travel down with the next supply shipment and look into things.” Then he’d add sincerely, “I’ll meet with the commander and discuss these matters with him next time I see him.” Sometimes he did indeed follow up on those promises. Most of the time however, he didn’t bother.
The projects had been easy to construct. The fifty crew and one hundred new colonists of the Nautilus were supported this time by a group of fifty construction engineers; and these men and women were military contractors, not soldiers or sailors. They had their materials, tools, equipment, and plans. Merely needed to know where the commander wanted it built. Besides that, they didn’t want to see or hear a thing from the imperious fellow until they were done. Unfortunately, he was all over the place in his surface rover—just like he used to do with B.J.—but by then he had a new driver and a newer, more determined attitude toward micromanaging his colonists.
Now in all fairness the original colonists had pretty much brought this on themselves. It was the marijuana use that set him off shortly after Santa Maria had left orbit; and in B.J.’s absence there was no stopping his subsequent paranoid spiral. Somehow, they’d figured hiding a few cannabis plants within the rows and rows of tomatoes, potatoes, and other produce growing inside the agricultural center would go unnoticed. Assumed perhaps they could splice the plants’ roots together just like Young-Min Jo had done in the hydroponic garden center. It worked for a while, sure. But Luigi caught on eventually. And when he did, there was hell to pay.
The construction engineers hated him immediately and used to joke about how they’d dearly love to set up a convenient little “accident” for him so to meet with an untimely end. Cadorna never pushed them far enough to do it; but at times they seriously considered it. They simply couldn’t talk to the man about anything regarding the project without it turning into an argument.
He never threatened anyone of course. Just yelled and gestured and shook his head, furiously rattling off, “No-no-no-no-no...you are not understanding me.” The construction workers and engineers were tough guys and gals who had seen it all and done it all. What’s more, they knew what they were doing and their knowledge of structural engineering was not simply based on textbook theory but real–life experience from decades of doing this on the Moon. If they said the foundation needed to be dug “here” and not “there” then they were likely correct, even if Luigi imagined it “over there…where the view is so nice.” But he never risked a physical altercation with them. No. Had enough sense not to make that mistake.
There were two main projects that had to be constructed before Nautilus could leave. Naturally, the ship was far too big to land on a planet, but it did have a landing craft which exited from its massive cargo bay and could descend to the planet’s surface. This second landing craft was practically identical to B-lander. It landed and set up shop immediately. Those construction engineers sent from Earth were all business right from the start.
The first project was to build permanent housing, providing room for all one hundred new colonists to live comfortably. This was located in close proximity to the massive agricultural center built by the previous colonists and crew of the Santa Maria. It was a nearly windowles
s dormitory; which looked more like a correctional facility when they were done. But it provided comfort and relief from the cold, the heavy gravity, and best of all the constant sunlight. This feature was especially appealing. Daylight would now be regulated with skylights which could be shuttered when the occupant wished to snooze peacefully in their private sleeping quarters.
The housing facility had its own latrines built in to the structure, which composted human feces into manure for fertilizer. This biosoil could be used over in the “ag center” as they called it, to fertilize their crops. Finally, the colonists were provided additional materials to build tunnels between the dormitory and the ag center, and then between the housing center and the B-lander as well, so they’d rarely have to go outside anymore.
The second project was an ocean processing facility built to turn food harvested from the sea into dehydrated squares or “cakes” which could be packed and crated for shipment back to Earth. Building the facility only took about six months. The structure went up immediately using prefabricated materials ferried down to the surface from Nautilus on the new supply vessel. This craft had minimal living facilities and was otherwise like a big cargo van.
Food processing equipment followed after the walls and foundation and roof had been done. Soon it was a fully functional packaging operation, cranking out sea cakes and sealing them for shipment back to Earth. It also meant the new colonists remaining behind when Nautilus eventually left could feed themselves as well, using their own garden produce to supplement their diet and continuing to expand the marine netting and harvesting operation to bring in newer varieties of the Kapteyn Sea’s almost infinite bounty.
What’s more the Nautilus also brought along a pair of two-man ocean exploration vessels which would allow them to begin harvesting plant life from the sea floor. These vessels could launch from the shore but more easily from a pier, and could explore to as deep as one thousand meters while remaining submerged for up to three days. They could then dredge the seafloor and cultivate crops—as well as perform the task of harvesting them. Kelp mainly, as well as nutritious seaweed could now be planted and later harvested.