They got out of the car at the entrance to the visitors center. The car then drove itself to a nearby parking lot. After Maribel and Chen checked in with their ID cards, an employee led them to the location of the memorial service. Robert Millikan had asked to have his ashes spread around the large antenna dish. He could not have picked a better place, Maribel thought. The giant, white parabolic dish gleamed in the sunlight. As a human being, one automatically felt tiny next to it.
Most other mourners seemed to have arrived before them. They stood around in small groups or wandered across the grass without apparent aim. Maribel knew none of them.
After a while an older man in a gray suit left one of the larger groups. A woman with Asian features followed him.
“Pssst,” the man said loudly. This worked immediately, as everyone present turned toward him. A woman wearing a black sweater and black pants took the urn from a marble table decorated with flowers.
“I am glad you found the time to pay your last respects to my father today.”
This must be Martin Neumaier, one of the heroes of the Enceladus mission, Maribel pondered. She did not recall his face, even though as a child she had often seen it in the media. It was quite obvious that 20 years had passed since then. The woman next to him must be Jiaying, his former crewmate and now wife. If Maribel remembered correctly, they had gotten married on Earth after the mission.
Martin Neumaier spread his arms and pointed at the landscape. “My father was happy here,” he said. “He did not need much to be content, and in that he is an example for us all. He had a meaningful job, a green, wide land around him, and until two years ago, someone he was genuinely compatible with. Robert was a plain-spoken man, open to new ideas, which he liked to support and promote as eagerly as if they were his own. He was intelligent, but not ambitious. He was so successful that the success of others could be more important to him than his own.”
Neumaier went on. “This institution profited from him, just like he profited from it. People were always more important to him than technology, though ultimately he lived for this telescope. He hated darkness, just like he hated long winters. Therefore it is altogether fitting that we are handing over his ashes to the grass, the air, and the weather today, on the first day of spring.”
His voice broke during these last words. Maribel sobbed when she heard it, but Neumaier regained his composure. He unscrewed the lid of the urn, turned around, and started walking clockwise around the large antenna.
“It wasn’t always this way,” he said, “I know that myself, but today, dear Father, I am glad of being your son. I wish that all of us could remember you as you are now, free and easy and floating in the wind.”
Neumaier spread his father’s ashes while the others kept their distance. After finishing his round he closed the urn again. His wife stepped next to him and took the vessel. A small line of people formed. Each mourner shook his hand and mumbled something Maribel did not understand. It suddenly hit her that she had to say something to him, but what? Chen had already joined the line and waved her to him.
Then she stood in front of Martin Neumaier. Even though the man must be around 70, he seemed like a little boy to her. Maribel immediately understood what must have attracted his wife. Neumaier looked like he could not make it through life without help. Of course she knew this could not be true, but it still triggered maternal instincts in her.
“My sincere condolences,” she said, annoyed that she couldn’t come up with something more personal.
“Thanks. Aren’t you Maribel Pedreira, the woman who discovered our nemesis?” Neumaier asked as he shook her hand.
“Yes.” Her cheeks felt hot. What should I say now?
“I wasn’t aware that you know—I mean knew—my father,” he corrected himself.
“He helped us.”
“That’s so much like him. With what, if I may ask?”
“Martin, you really shouldn’t interrogate the young woman,” Jiaying said, smiling gently as she stood patiently next to him.
“We tried to establish contact with the Enceladus creature, hoping it might be able to tell us something about Object X,” Maribel explained.
“That seems to have failed.”
“Unfortunately.”
“Then we should definitely repeat the attempt!” insisted Neumaier. “If you want, I will take care of it. My father would have liked that.”
“Gladly, Mr. Neumaier,” Maribel said, as she shook his hand again and then gave way for the next person in line.
Chen was already waiting for her. He put his arm around her shoulder. “It wasn’t so bad, was it?” he asked gently.
“No, it wasn’t,” Maribel said while moving closer into her boyfriend’s embrace. “But tomorrow will be really terrible.”
“One thing I would like to say,” Chen began, while the rental car was taking them to the nearest airport, “is that I want you to get on board tomorrow, you understand?”
This was the moment Maribel had been dreading. During the past few days, every time Chen wanted to mention the topic of her departure, she had run away from him. She was trying to repress the necessity of saying farewell, as well as the question of how she was going to make it without Chen. At this moment, though, they were sitting inside a moving car. At the airport she would board a plane for Miami, and then get into a car that would take her to the launch site at Cape Canaveral, where she would finally disappear inside the belly of a rocket. She knew the schedule down to the minute, yet it all seemed utterly surreal to her.
“I don’t want to talk about it now,” Maribel said.
But this time Chen left her no choice. “I am sorry, but you have to.”
“And what do you want to hear from me?”
“That you are accepting your responsibility. That you are giving hope to these hundred people and ten billion others.”
“And what about us?” she asked.
“I love you, Maribel, and I would much rather see you safe than back here with me on a dying Earth.”
“But that’s not fair. Nobody asked me.”
“You were asked,” Chen reminded her.
“That was weeks ago. I feel like I’m being abused, used as somebody else’s pawn.”
“What do you want, Maribel?”
That is the problem, she thought. She did not know. Ideally, Maribel would like to spend the rest of her life with Chen, but during her daily work she also noticed she had a real responsibility. She tried to negotiate fair methods for allocating slots on board the Ark. If she demonstrated that she did not believe in following this practice for herself, what would other people think? Would she then be able to enjoy the last months with Chen if others were unhappy because of her hypocrisy? It was so hard to decide. What she would give for a single glance into the future!
“To be quite honest, sweetie, I don’t know,” Maribel said. “I will try to keep functioning, but I can’t promise you whether I’ll manage.”
Chen placed his hands on her knees and leaned forward.
“Please do it for me, get on board and fly to the Ark,” he softly pleaded “Maybe it’s selfish, but I don’t care about other people.”
“I am going to try,” she said, “for you. But now I would like to talk about anything else.”
March 22, 2072, Cape Canaveral
Pull... yourself... together. Maribel had been repeating this mantra in her mind since she got on the six-wheeled vehicle that was rolling along at a walking pace, taking her to the launch pad. Next to her sat three other persons in light spacesuits, and four more on the other side. The Ark was slowly filling up. This would be the second-to-last passenger flight.
Pull... yourself... together. So far, Maribel had held up well. She had been well-behaved, had eaten the traditional pre-liftoff meal of steak with scrambled eggs that was served here. She played poker with the others—another tradition—until the signal to go was given. She also carried a stuffed animal that the best pupil in the state of Flori
da had been allowed to give her. It looked like a cat, but was supposed to represent a panther, the state animal.
Maribel would be launched by a Blue Origin rocket from Launch Pad 36. It was from here that the Pioneer and Mariner probes had flown into interstellar space by way of Jupiter and Saturn, and to Venus, the Moon, Mars, and Mercury, respectively. Her own journey would first take her into low Earth orbit to where the Ark would be waiting for her. From there, she would rise from the plane of the ecliptic in order to escape the deadly radiation storm that would engulf the Earth in a few months.
Maribel had done what felt impossible, leaving Chen behind so she could watch Object X killing him, together with ten billion other humans. She had been told that her not being with him would give other people hope, but she was not so sure about it. The anticipation was convincing for a few weeks, yes. People probably speculated on getting a slot on the Ark, either through the lottery or by working on the project. Now only eight slots were officially unfilled. Maribel had already seen the names and supervised the drawing herself, but the official announcement was supposed to be postponed for as long as possible.
There were already protests against this policy, while conspiracy theorists claimed it was all a rigged game. They said that the lottery was biased or even worse, that the winners would be tossed into space and their valuable places on board the Ark would then be taken by the secret world government, the Illuminati, Jews, Monopolists, Communists, or Islamists.
Maribel’s security director had become the most sought-after member of the team during the past few days. By now, a third of the budget went for securing the transports. Of course there were also normal people who might not fear a conspiracy but felt they were being abandoned, and Maribel could not blame them. The USA had less and less control of the overall situation. Supplies were becoming scarce, and the transportation system was functioning only sporadically. Maribel and Chen had managed to travel from West Virginia to Florida in one day, because they simply drove a rental car.
How would things change in the coming weeks, once the Ark was underway on its voyage? Was it really Maribel’s place to be on board? She grew more uneasy about her situation with every passing minute. Everyone in the office explained to her how important it was for the boss to be present on the ship, plus her parents had called, wishing her the best of luck. Maribel believed them when they expressed how glad they were that she would be safe. Even Chen had sweet-talked her, but now she was alone with herself and her thoughts.
The rituals, which were supposed to keep her from brooding, were over. Suddenly she was glad the vehicle was rolling along so slowly on its solid rubber tires. Maribel looked around and saw mostly swampland and low shrubs. With the exception of a few wooden shacks the area seemed to be unpopulated. Of course there was the launch tower toward which the vehicle was moving, with its majestic three-stage rocket.
Where might Chen be now? wondered Maribel. During their farewell he did not shed any tears, but she really felt how hard it must have been for him to remain calm and level-headed during such an emotional moment. She appreciated that he wanted to make their parting as easy as possible for her, even though it was all so overwhelming. In the end, though, she wanted to make her own decision and therefore needed to know how he felt.
Maribel patted the cushion next to her, and dust rose, which slowly drifted away due to the forward speed of the vehicle. When she sat up tall she could see the ocean. A few months from now the Atlantic would only be a deep, dry depression. Had they overlooked, missed, or forgotten anything? Could they still save Earth? Were they lacking courage or vision?
Her stomach felt heavy. If Maribel went up to the Ark now, the story would be finished for her. She could still express her wishes, but she would have no influence anymore and could not change things. But it was too early for this to actually happen. The Enceladus creature might still send an answer, or the crew of Kiska could solve the problem. She did not want to completely give up hope.
Maribel placed a hand on her stomach. Somewhere under there was the knot telling her she should stay. There was also the buckle of the belt keeping her in the seat. Her fingers wanted to open it, but she kept them from doing so. She should not risk making a mistake now. Did she only want to stay because of Chen? No. She really did not want to die—it was too early for her. Millikan died after a fulfilled life. Maribel still could experience so much, if she just remained seated. The Ark might not last millions of years, but it would be enough for a life full of adventures. She would find another boyfriend.
But she could not go. She reached for the seatbelt buckle and opened it.
Chen was pacing up and down in his hotel room. He could not bear to wait for the launch in the control room. His heart ached, even though he knew the heart muscle did not possess any pain sensors. As he had been driving to the hotel, Chen had imagined Maribel moving gradually farther and farther away from him, and each meter cost him a sigh. That drive had been more stressful than anything before in his life, and the trip had taken even longer due to a demonstration on the main access road to his destination.
The TV showed thick clouds of smoke forming under the rocket that would take Maribel away from him forever. Chen had turned the audio very low. He could not stand the voice of the TV anchor who acted as if this were a historic, auspicious event for all humanity. No, it was a surrender to a force they could not control. Why couldn’t Object X have appeared a thousand years from now? Chen was convinced mankind would have had a chance for survival then. In the meantime, at least Maribel would be safe, the one person he would have given anything for.
Chen had seen rocket launches several times in his life and knew what to expect. Now the spaceship should rise out of the smoke cloud on a mighty column of fire. However, it did not move. Chen stopped pacing. Below, at the bottom of the engines, lightning could be seen, electric discharges. That was wrong, totally wrong, and the rocket had to lift off, now or never. Suddenly spurts of flame enveloped both the rocket and the launch tower. The fire only needed a second to reach a height of 80 meters. It was enormous. It broke the rocket apart like an eggshell, with its contents spreading in all directions. Metal debris flew around, and these deadly projectiles dug themselves deep into the ground that surrounded it. Luckily nobody is standing there, Chen thought. It was only then that he remembered Maribel sat in the tip of the rocket, waiting for her flight to Earth orbit.
It was impossible. Where a rocket stood a moment ago, only smoke and wreckage could be seen. Chen turned up the volume of the audio. The TV anchor had fallen completely silent, and wailing sirens were the only sound he could hear. Chen fell to the floor, rolling himself up into a fetal position. He hid his head in his arms and howled like a wolf, out of sheer grief and anger.
Three hours later, Chen heard a knock on his hotel room door. He held his hands tightly over his ears. Already, various people had attempted to reach him electronically, and this was probably someone from the Ark organization coming to try to comfort him. Or even worse, some media vultures, such as journalists greedy for a scoop and wanting to sell the exclusive story of the grieving boyfriend.
There was another, even louder knock on the door. The person outside the door was really stubborn. Do reporters have to be so pushy? Chen clenched his fists in frustration. If a journalist wanted to ask him about Maribel, he or she would get a bloody nose and nothing more for an answer. As quietly as possible, he walked to the door. Another knock came. He opened the flap over the peephole. A familiar-looking man stood in the hallway. Must be someone connected with the Ark project, and Chen had seen this guy in Maribel’s office once before.
“Chen, open the door, I know you’re in there.”
He felt sure he was going insane. He had definitely heard Maribel’s voice, but that was impossible. Could she have a twin sister? And why was this man still standing outside the door? Chen opened the door rapidly. The man he knew from the office fell toward him—he must have been leaning against the door.
And there she was. Maribel! Chen could not believe it. She looked at him.
“Chen, I did not get on board the rocket,” she said, almost breathless. “I had them bring me back. I sent you messages, tried to call you, but you couldn’t be reached.”
He leapt toward her and enfolded her in his arms. He would never voluntarily let Maribel go away again.
March 23, 2072, Earth Orbit
Nicole Verrier, who was working the early shift at the ESA control center in Darmstadt, calmly checked all the instruments as she was about to make a routine call to the crew on board the Ark.
“CapCom to Ark. Good morning, everyone! Reporting for duty,” she said cheerfully.
The image of Tim Peakes, one of the astronauts, soon filled her monitor screen.
“Ah, Nicole, nice to see you,” he replied.
“How is the mood up there?”
Tim stroked his chin. “Well, you can imagine, after yesterday’s catastrophe…”
“Yes, it’s no different here,” Nicole said with a half-sigh.
Yesterday’s planned celebration at the control center had unexpectedly turned into a wake. Everyone on duty had watched the explosion of the rocket at Cape Canaveral. At first, hardly anyone suspected technical reasons for the disaster, since this particular rocket model was considered to be extremely reliable. This time, though, not even the emergency separation of the crew capsule had worked.
The immediately-launched investigation concluded that sabotage was the reason behind the catastrophe. That fact, along with the numerous casualties that resulted, had really depressed everyone’s mood at the center. Even when it became known later that the leader of the Ark project had not been on board the rocket as planned, this did not lessen the despair felt by the staff. There was only one remedy for the overwhelming dispirited mood—lots and lots of alcohol.
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