Forbidden The Stars

by Valmore Daniels

  Michael looked at Alex with a sympathetic look that Alex did not want.

  Grasping for straws, Alex added: “Don’t you realize that at the very least I am saving the pilot’s life by taking his place?”

  “Alex, that pilot is fully aware of the risks he is taking and fully cognizant of all of the factors involved.”

  “So am I!”

  “No, you’re not!” the Director yelled in frustration. A hand on his shoulder stopped him from saying anything more. Somebody whispered in his ear and he turned back to Alex with a haggard sigh.

  “Director William Tuttle is coming up to Ops; he wants talk to you as soon as he gets here.”

  Michael leaned closer, as if everyone in the center could not already hear every word that had passed between the two. “Alex, I’m sure you won’t get in very much trouble if you just come down right now. You’ll save all of us so much hassle.”

  “No. If it’s all the same to you, Mr. Sanderson, I think I will wait and talk with the Director.”

  “Fine,” answered Michael, and in frustration he turned off the monitor.

  Alex had time recheck the flight stats, as well as go back into the cargo bay to make sure he had enough food and water, and also had time to finish off the manual before he got a call from the Director of NASA.

  While he was reading that manual, he looked over at the pull-ring in the wall many times—it was the final test in this mission, the final test that would bring Alex to the apex of his life—but first he would have to win past the Director of NASA.

  He turned on the monitor when it blinked to notify him of an incoming link.

  “Hello, Alex,” said an older man. He was sitting next to Michael with another headset on and smiling disarmingly at Alex.

  Alex immediately grew wary. “Hello, Sir,” he answered, a bright smile on his face.

  “Oh, you just call me Bill, son,” the Director offered in a sprawling Georgian accent. “Now, you’ve got an awful bunch a folks here up in arms ‘bout you, uh, appropriating that vehicle. Now, why don’t you just bring it back down here and give these nice folks a break?”

  “I’m afraid I can’t do that, Bill,” Alex replied in a condescending tone to match the Director’s. Tuttle kept his unwavering smile as Michael started whispering in his ear. The microphones couldn’t pick up what was said, but Alex knew just the same—they were talking about him.

  When Sanderson finished his monologue, the Director focused his smiling attention back on Alex.

  “Hmmn! It seems here that we have what my folks back home would call a dilemma! But I’m gonna make an administrative decision here and, considering your case and the situation at hand, I’m gonna instruct Mission Control here to go on with the operation as if you were the regular pilot. However,” he added in an aside to Michael, also meant for Alex’s ears, “since nobody but ourselves in this here room knows what’s just transpired, we’re gonna keep it hush-hush. No one is to know ‘bout our li’l switcheroo.”

  “What?” Alex demanded, nearly jumping from his seat. His head fogged a little as he saw his name being wiped from all future textbooks. No one would know him, no one would know what he had done—and that was half the reason why he had undertaken this project of his in the first place! But now it would be all for naught!

  “Oh, sorry, son,” the Director said quickly. “But we are just like a little mouse forced into a corner by a cat. We have to let you do this, else we stand to lose an awful bunch of the taxpayer’s money. But if the public ever got wind that we let a fourteen-year-old on such a mission, why we’d never hear the end of it.”

  “But—” Alex began, eyes wide, brimming with tears.

  The Director raised a hand to quell the protest. “However, we have to come up with some name to satisfy the history books—especially since our other pilot will be about and alive. I’m sure the Director here can quickly make up a pilot file under the name ‘Alex Manez’. And I’m sure that Michael’s people at the Government in Ottawa will be more than obliged to change your birth date officially to make it seem as if you were old enough to go on this here mission. I’m sure I can get NASA and the Pentagon to come ‘round. Now, will that satisfy you, son?”

  Alex sank back into the pilot’s chair in relief. The main reason he was doing this was for his parents’ benefit. They had lost their lives for Kinemet. If Alex could make use of the new element, make it a success, then his parents’ deaths would have meaning to him. But that hadn’t been the only driving force behind his decision, that hadn’t been what had forced him across the final length of the Lunar tarmac and into The Quanta.

  The past few years he had been nothing but a freaky little kid who limped like an old man—a spectacle, a sideshow attraction to be goggled at for a few minutes, then discarded. No one paid attention to him. He wanted the world to know his name as a person, to know it was he, a person, who had changed the course of history. If he was just passed over again with no one to remember him, he might as well have just pointed the ship at the sun!

  But even if posterity remembered him as a slightly different, slightly older Alex Manez, then all was well. He would be known, and his parents’ deaths would have meaning.

  “Yes, Sir,” Alex answered finally, “that’s all right by me.” Alex knew the Director did not give a damn about him, and only acted with the propensity of an administrator trying to meet an end. That suited Alex just fine.

  The Director smiled even wider. “Alright, then.” He turned to Michael in an aside that Alex could hear. “I trust you can take matters from here?”

  “Yes, sir,” came the muted reply. The Director removed the head set and, with a nod and smile to Alex, moved out of the way of the technicians and controllers to let them get on with the experiment.

  *

  Because of the nature of the new element, the Kinemetic reaction would disable all electronic systems on the ship. As with Macklin’s Rock, there had been no energy left to even power the security receptacles. This phenomenon had been studied at length, and, the techs thought, solved.

  Alex stared at the pull-ring placed a few inches below the manual.

  The techs had surmised that a kick-start could return power to all systems. Once he reached his destination, the pilot would have about ten seconds to grab that ring and pull it…

  Or so they thought.

  Alex knew better. The kick-start would not be enough to overcome the Kinemetic influence. The pilot would die out in space from lack of oxygen, or lack of heat, whichever got to him first. Although he would be exposed to the Kinemetic power, and become clairvoyant and electropathic as Alex was, the pilot would not have enough time to orient himself, and develop that ability. It had taken Alex a few days to be able to grasp the power and wield it effectively.

  Only someone with the electropathic ability could restart the power generator. Someone like Alex. He would explain this to Mission Control later, when he had proved his theory.

  He got a signal from ground control: they were beginning the secondary countdown.

  *

  10…9…8…7…6…5…4…3…2…

  *

  Alex took a deep breath and closed his eyes as they reached the number 1…

  …and then he was struggling for reality.

  His vision doubled, faded, tripled, doubled, refocused; his hearing echoed, muted, expanded; his sense of touch was beyond description.

  Time was nothing.

  Four hours to Pluto?

  It was merely four instants for Alex.

  __________

  USA, Inc. Exploration Site :

  Mission Orcus 3 :

  Pluto :

  Justine stood on the edge of the solar system with bated breath. For the first time in four years, Dis Pater was reacting once again.

  With the exception of Sakami Chin, who had been recalled to the People’s Republic of China after his capture and subsequent rescue from Luna, the entire crew of the Orcus 1 had returned for the Orcus 3 mission
to witness the first planned FTL flight from Luna to Pluto.

  Helen, George, Henriette, Ekwan, Dale and Johan were joined by Allan Yost, a South African whose credentials surpassed their previous planetologist’s qualifications.

  The eight of them were dressed in their suitshields and standing in a protective outbuilding they had erected as close to Dis Pater as Justine would allow. Once again, as with the first time, Ekwan called out the changes.

  “Surface temperature rising. The monument is changing color as well.”

  It was as if they had gone back in time and were replaying the events of five years previous again, reciting lines in a play.

  Nevertheless, it was just as exciting as the first time, and Justine could barely contain herself.

  Ekwan’s voice rose with excitement. “It should be here in less than thirty seconds.”

  Helen looked up. “Captain?”

  Justine had wandered near the door of the outbuilding. She laid her hand on the latch release.

  “I’m just going to get a look from out there,” she replied.

  George Eastmain cocked his head. “You’ll actually get a better view of The Quanta from the monitors here.”

  “It’s okay. I want to see if I can spot it myself. Besides, you don’t need me until it’s time to send in the reports.” She smiled.

  Dismissing her from his attention, George focused his eyes on the monitors.

  Justine cycled the lock and stepped out onto the icy surface of the dark planet.

  It was just her and Dis Pater who would truly witness the culmination of the last decade of her life’s work, as far as she was concerned. Everything she had done, everything she had sacrificed was for this moment, and she was not about to watch it second-hand from a monitor.

  In her earmask, she heard Ekwan’s voice over the static. “Ten seconds.”

  Despite herself, Justine felt butterflies in her stomach. She was as nervous as the night of her high school prom.

  She looked up into the night sky in the direction she estimated The Quanta would arrive. Of course, she wouldn’t be able to see the vessel itself; it would be too far away to spot with the naked eye. However, Justine hoped she would see some kind of trail, a distortion of light and space that would mark the ship’s progress.

  Beside her, Dis Pater, the monument that represented almost exactly the atomic model of Kinemet, had turned its final color.

  Justine scanned the skies.

  “Three,” called out Ekwan.

  Almost, Justine thought she saw a smear in the firmament of the heavens.

  “Two.”

  There was a faint streak of multicolored light that appeared in the distance, as if some giant invisible artist had painted a swath through the dark blanket of outer space.

  “One!” Ekwan called out.

  The heavens exploded.

  Justine screamed and collapsed on the ice.

  *

  “Are you all right?”

  Justine regained consciousness slowly. “What happened?” she asked. As she stood, she quickly steadied herself. A preternatural calmness settled over her.

  Dale Power’s voice filled her earmask. “It didn’t stop. It kept on going. The Quanta is, by now, racing for the Oort cloud at faster than light speed.”

  Helen, concern visible in the expression on her face, spoke next. “You screamed and fell down. When we got to you, you were out like a light. What happened to you?”

  Justine reached for the clasp on her helmet and undid it. She slowly pulled it off her head.

  “I was looking right at it when it passed,” she told them, her voice quiet and even.

  Helen, who stood right in front of Justine, cocked her head. “Captain, what’s wrong with you. You seem to be looking past me?”

  “Sorry, Helen. But you know how they tell you not to look directly at an eclipse?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I looked directly at The Quanta as it passed. I should have stayed and watched it from the monitor like Dale suggested.

  “Helen,” she explained to her second-in-command, “I’m afraid I can’t look at you because I’m blind.”

  __________

  The Quanta :

  Pluto :

  Once he reached Pluto, Alex did not stop.

  He knew, instinctively, that Pluto was not his destination; it was merely the jumping off point.

  All he knew was that the artifact, Dis Pater, was there, a beacon the starry blankness of space, and then it was gone.

  He was past it.

  Past the limits of the Solar System.

  Out there in that vastness between the stars.

  From one point of view, the years ticked by.

  From Alex’s point of view, it was merely another instant.

  And then…

  Then he could detect another beacon, a twin to Dis Pater.

  Come to us, Alex.

  Over here.

  This is where you are heading.

  We are waiting for you.

  __________

  The Quanta :

  Alpha Centauri :

  Four Years Later

  Somehow, Alex knew that there was no such thing as time, but he also knew that he was over four years older chronologically—though his body had not changed. He was an eighteen-year-old in the body of a fourteen-year-old.

  It was as if he had taken a detour through another dimension, a dimension without distance, depth or time. A second Dis Pater, this one on the outer planet of another solar system, registered his arrival.

  (one second)

  But now his ship had re-entered reality in another sector of outer space—Alpha Centauri, or Proxima Centauri as some called it…

  … the problem was that he wasn’t following! He was bordering in that alternate reality and tangible reality. He was there, sitting in the cockpit

  (two seconds)

  trying to reach for that pull-ring with a hand that was not part of reality.

  (Three seconds)

  He was a ghost.

  (Five Seconds)

  No, he wasn’t a ghost. He was something—somewhere? somewhere?—else.

  (Eight Seconds)

  He kept trying to grab that pull-ring, but his hand only went through it. He started panicking—he was going to die!

  (ELEVEN SECONDS)

  He had forgotten! The pull-ring did nothing. It was he who had to…

  (!!!TWELVE SECONDS!!!)

  Alex screamed as…

  (!!!!TWELVE POINT FOUR SEVEN THREE SECONDS!!!!)

  …the ship…

  __________

  Quantum Resources, Inc. :

  Canada Corp.:

  Toronto :

  August 2103

  A little more than eight years had passed since Alex Manez had stolen the world’s first interstellar spacecraft. Michael Sanderson was celebrating his sixty-fourth birthday, and his upcoming retirement, at home when there came a knock on his door.

  After receiving the message from the young army private, Michael hurriedly pulled on his jacket, retrieved his briefcase and followed the man into a waiting car without a word to his family or guests.

  As he was being driven to the Center, Michael Sanderson opened his briefcase and read over the file on Alex Manez and The Quanta for perhaps the thousandth time in the last two years.

  Everyone at the Center involved with the project had all but forgotten about Alex and The Quanta, and had dismissed the possibility of success.

  The original mission plan was a light speed trip to Pluto. When The Quanta shot past the outermost planet, every astronomer and astrogator on Earth raced to plot its course. Alpha Centauri was the inevitable destination.

  Assuming there was a twin to Dis Pater there, and also assuming The Quanta would stop once it reached Alpha Centauri, and also assuming Alex Manez was able to stop The Quanta from exploding, Michael had every available space telescope aimed at Sol’s closest neighbor, hoping against hope for any sign of Alex’s ultimate
fate.

  They should have had some result a several months earlier—even a signal that the ship had exploded in Alpha Centauri space—but after weeks and months of waiting with no signs, they had finally given up. It seemed that their news release of the failure of The Quanta and the death of Alex Manez had been correct after all. Or perhaps they would never know what had happened.

  But now this.

  What was this?

  The unmanned outpost on Pluto detected an anomaly and would be relaying a full report to Earth.

  Was it a bona-fide message from Alpha Centauri from Alex, or a pick-up of an explosion that had happened over four light-years away, nearly six years ago? All the young private had known, indeed, all that anyone knew was that the station had received some kind of signal from the nearest solar system to them.

  Michael did not want to become optimistic, but his mind kept going over the details of the project, and Alex’s part in it.

  Kinemet was the key to interstellar travel, but no one had expected it to happen for decades. There was too much research to be completed first.

  The secret of Kinemet was that, when it was ignited, it randomly converted mass to energy and energy to mass, making anything it came in contact with into a quanta, a spectrum of light.

  The science teams from the ten space agencies around the world had worked on containing that energy and harnessing it. The result was The Quanta project. The Kinemet would convert the ship into a light wave and send it out to be received by Dis Pater on Pluto. Once the alien artifact had snared The Quanta into an orbit, the Kinemet would reverse its electronic polarities and convert its energy back into its original mass. The only loss of energy would be in the Kinemet itself, thus theoretically leaving the space ship intact.

  They had tried to perform this experiment with unmanned spacecraft but there was a difficulty—once the craft was reconverted to mass, any residual Kinemet left in the fuel tanks would re-ignite and destroy the vessel. They could not rig up an electronic trap to discharge the Kinemet before it reacted since electricity could not work while the reacting Kinemet was present—it was a Catch 22.