KR_IME

by Andrew Broderick

  “We’d just drive around, out of cozy Ann Arbor, going into progressively more dangerous neighborhoods. We just wanted to see what it was like at night. To feel the rush of being in danger. To see another side of life.

  “We went into Detroit a few times – the north west, sometimes as far south as Eight Mile. We saw some scary stuff, like gangs and drugs and stuff. We were never in real danger, though. We never interacted with them. We just kept on rolling, and they’d ignore us, apart from giving our car some funny looks.

  “Well, one night we were coming back from one of our runs. We decided to come off the highway and go through Ypsilanti, which is just by Ann Arbor, for an extra dose of danger. We were going down one of the main streets, not even in the ‘hoods, when there was suddenly gunfire coming from both sides of the street. There had to be twenty or thirty gangbangers shooting it out, and we were right in the middle! Gerald, who was driving, just floored it. One of them aimed his gun right at us, and shouted, ‘get the fuck outta here!’ We never looked back. We just floored it back to Ann Arbor, in case they were chasing us because we might be able to ID them. Luckily, they weren’t interested in us, nor did we get busted for speeding. Needless to say, we didn’t venture out much at night after that. I think we all joined the chess club instead!”

  The others laughed. Emile went next.

  “Near where we lived, there was this pool. It had to be over a hundred feet wide. It wasn’t wide enough to be a lake. It was at least a hundred feet deep though. My brother and I went swimming in it in the summer. The water was crystal clear, because it was spring-fed. You could see right to the bottom. We looked down with our face masks on. We could see the fish swimming about, far below. We wanted to go to the bottom so bad. We couldn’t dive down more than twenty feet or so just holding our breath. So, we rigged up a garden hose to a gas-powered air pump. He ran the pump while I dived down.

  “I breathed through the hose. We were only kids, and didn’t know any better. I swam down sixty, maybe seventy feet. The water pressure was crushing me, until I equalized every so often by pinching my nose and blowing into it. Then the air supply cut out! He was trying to restart the pump. Meanwhile, I was drowning! I felt like I was going to black out. I just frantically started kicking towards the surface. I swam as hard as I could, but that, of course, just uses more oxygen from the blood. I nearly lost consciousness by the time I reached the surface. I only just made it up in time.”

  “Whoa!” Martin said. “I think that was more dangerous than what I got up to.”

  Nikita was just about to begin relating a story of falling through ice on a frozen pond, when the computer indicated an incoming call.

  “Conference request for Emile Ouvrard.”

  “Please route it to my room,” Emile said. He pushed off the floor, and up towards the hatch into the tunnel. “I will be back in a few minutes.”

  The other paused the game while he was gone. The conversation drifted to other topics.

  “So, we’re almost exactly a quarter of the way into the trip, time-wise,” Aleksandr said.

  “Yup,” Martin said. He glanced up at the display on the wall. “We’re going twenty-six kilometers a second, thirty-one million kilometers from Earth. So nowhere near a quarter of the distance, of course, since we’re still accelerating. Still, pretty impressive. We’re farther out from the Sun now by a few million kilometers, but it still looks about the same, as do the planets. Hopefully those VASIMRs will keep working the way they’re supposed to.”

  “Yeah,” Christopher said. “I heard they’re working on nuclear-thermal propulsion again. They made a prototype in the 1960s, and then shelved it over concerns about radiation. Only problem was, it worked. Now they want to revive it, because nobody’s yet come up with a faster way to explore the solar system. Can you imagine it on this trip? A constant acceleration, a hundred times greater than this. We wouldn’t even have to worry about orbits, once we’d left Earth orbit. We could just wait until Mars was near its closest approach, and carve a pretty much straight path to it. We’d be there in a week. Less, even. Planets like Jupiter would start to look feasible then.”

  The others nodded, imagining themselves being shot to Mars at speeds that would make even this mission look pedestrian. Emile had been gone for almost half an hour when he returned. He was ashen-faced. The others immediately knew something was wrong.

  “I have some bad news. It is my father. He is dying.”

  “Oh, my God,” Christopher said. Everybody was too stunned to say very much.

  “It is his cancer. It has returned, and is worse than before. He may only have a few months left.” The words hung in the air.

  Christopher said, at last, “We’ll be here for you in every way possible, brother,” putting his arm around Emile’s shoulder. The others nodded in agreement.

  “We’re your family. Anything we can do, just name it. If you want to talk, we’re here.”

  Emile nodded his appreciation, but grief was still written all over his face.

  28

  T-plus 25 days

  Space ping-pong bears very little resemblance to Earth ping-pong. There is no table. There are nets behind each player. The player has an area, roughly one by one and a half meters, on the net that they have to defend. They stand – or float – in front of this dark area, as best they can, and have to stop their opponent from hitting the ball into the net, while trying to get the ball past their opponent using traditional wooden paddles and ping-pong balls.

  It was New Year’s Eve, and the first matches in the tournament were taking place. The nets had been set up in the docking adapter’s suiting area, as its four-by-four meter volume was just about right. The nets were strung across two of the walls, held taut at the corners, and three spectators gathered at each of the other two walls.

  The initial seeds had been picked by lottery. Alessia was playing Tung-chi.

  “I played actual ping-pong in the army,” he said, “so you’re going down.”

  “I don’t think so,” she replied. “There’s no gravity and no table. You just hit the ball straight away from you.”

  “Well, I’m still going to beat you.”

  “I don’t think so, Commie boy,” she said.

  “Oh yes, pizza girl. Maybe you can use a pizza crust as a paddle and get an advantage.”

  She mock-glared at him. The others smirked. This type of good-natured teasing was now becoming commonplace on the ship.

  He served a very fast ball. She tried to block it, but it went straight into the net. Her rapid arm movement to deflect the ball produced an equal and opposite reaction, and her body spun slowly the other way. She grabbed the ball as it rebounded off the net. She served it towards his feet, as fast as she could. He reacted in time and blocked it. It bounced back and ricocheted off her legs back towards him before she could reach it. It still counted as a block though, so she got the point. Aleksandr was keeping score.

  The match progressed. Tung-chi used his body skillfully to counterbalance the movements of his arm, so he never spun too far in either direction. For example, to block at his feet, he would bring his knees up as his arm went down, or straighten his legs while he blocked high. Though Alessia had a decent aim, she kept floating in different directions, as she had not quite mastered this. Thus, he had an edge, and ended up winning the match by a small margin.

  Next up were Aleksandr and Nikita. Both were veteran spaceflyers, and so had an easier time of staying put as they swung for the ball – their natural instincts of moving in weightlessness took over. Both were very strong players. Martin had to concentrate in order to keep score, on the app that Christopher had written for this purpose (which also managed the tournament brackets). The two players focused intently on the game. They were tied nineteen to nineteen, and then Aleksandr put one past Nikita to win the match (which went to the first one to score twenty). They shook hands. “You were a fine opponent, comrade,” Nikita said.

  Next up were Martin and K
inuko, then Christopher and Emile. Emile was grateful for the fun to take his mind off things.

  “Are we staying up to see the new year in?” Martin asked. The docking adapter was starting to smell a bit sweaty.

  “Of course,” said Nikita. “It’s just a shame we have no vodka.”

  “Totally,” said Martin. “I could so go for a drink, even if it was just a Bud Light or something. Shame we’re a dry ship. What do you drink in Japan on New Year’s, Kinuko?”

  She shrugged. “Beer or wine, same as most people. Downtown Tokyo is a puddle of puke in the morning.”

  Martin chortled. Cute, smart and funny? What a catch she would make for someone.

  “Much like Times Square, then,” Christopher said. “Not that I’ve ever been, but I’ve seen pictures of the aftermath.”

  “I could not have a hangover this time, anyway,” said Aleksandr. “I have to talk with the Pope tomorrow.”

  “True that,” said Martin. “Still, let’s go and watch TV or something until Mission Control conferences us at midnight. Although, it’s getting painful to talk to them now that we’re over two light-minutes away.”

  They floated off back down the central tunnel – all except for Martin, who liked to let himself fall slowly down it, in the microgravity. “Get snacks on your way past,” he hollered. A couple of people were already heading off into the side tunnels to do just that.

  * * *

  Interactions with the Cosmos – The Blog of the International Mars Explorer

  This is one thing we do on board for fun:

  [Attachment: picture of ping-pong match in progress]

  -Kinuko Sasake

  29

  T-Plus 26 days

  “Happy New Year, Mars astronauts!” said the CAPCOM, while the screen showed a scene of merriment at Mission Control. People wore party hats, and there were streamers from party poppers draped over equipment. Many of the astronauts’ family members were in the background, waving. The camera panned across their faces. Mothers, fathers, uncles, aunts, cousins, nieces and nephews looked across the giant gulf of space separating them. Auld Lang Syne played in the background.

  “And a happy new year to all on Earth,” Aleksandr replied. They had their own party hats. They held up origami cocktail glasses made by Kinuko, and toasted the New Year. “Hopefully this year of exploration brings much fruitful science.”

  They had to wait four full minutes for a response, as the one-way light time was over two minutes.

  “Roger that, Mars Explorer. Yes, indeed, this is going to be one of the most exciting years in the history of humanity. We have some very eager planetary scientists down here waiting for your data and samples. Y’all have fun up there, but don’t forget to get some sleep before your interview with the Pope in the morning. He’ll be on at 0700, so they can edit it for his New Year address from the Vatican.

  “Also, we’re going to need video of Earth from your location. You’re going to have to turn the ship a little bit so the telescope can see us. Get the best full-disk image you can. We need that by no later than 0800 your time. If you need new course correction data after that, since your thrust will be off-course for a little while, let us know, else we’ll assume you’ve got that under control.”

  “Okay, Mission Control. Enjoy your party. Don’t drink too much! IME out. Computer, end conference.”

  Aleksandr turned to the others. “Shall we get that Earth video now? That way we don’t have to worry about it in the morning.”

  “Okay,” they replied.

  “Okay. I will only need Martin and Nikita. The rest of you can go to bed if you like.”

  “I’d kind of like to stay up to see a close-up view of the Earth,” Alessia said. The others agreed. “I’m getting homesick in a way that just doesn’t happen in Earth orbit. From there, it’s only about 300 kilometers away. It feels like you could reach out and touch it. Here, we are so far away that it’s just a dot in space.”

  The close-up of Earth was displayed, three meters wide, on the starboard side of the hub. Silence and awe fell over the crew as they looked back at their home planet. It was just over half-illuminated by the Sun – the left side was in darkness. The green and brown colors of the continents, the blue of the oceans, the swirling white of clouds and weather systems, and the white ice caps of the poles were all nearly as clear as when they looked back with unaided eyes only three weeks before. All just suspended there in space, with a blacker-than-black background.

  They thought of the billions of people talking, walking, driving, working, eating, sleeping, dying and being born, oblivious to being watched from 44 million kilometers away. Oceans full of ships, and a sky full of airplanes. All of it invisible from space. As they watched longer, they could perceive its rotation. Countries coming out of night time and into morning. People waking up, stretching, and going about their business, as people on the other side ended their days and went to bed.

  There was not a truly dry eye in the house, as each of them knew what the others felt.

  At length, Aleksandr said, “That’s a good segment of video. Send it all to Earth – they can take what frames they want out of it, or even use the whole thing. Let’s wrap it up for tonight. Sleep well, everyone.”

  Martin turned off and retracted the instruments. They dispersed to their cabins for the night.

  30

  T-plus 27 days

  * * *

  Interactions with the Cosmos – The Blog of the International Mars Explorer

  Happy New Year to all on Earth!

  -The IME Crew

  * * *

  They all got up late, apart from Aleksandr who had given video responses to pre-recorded questions from the Pope early that morning. Flicking to Earth News Network afterwards, he saw that the violence had spread to New York and Los Angeles too. London, New Orleans, Detroit, St. Petersburg, Berlin and Johannesburg also had trouble brewing, and wouldn’t be far behind.

  The Pope, predictably, used his New Year address from the balcony at St. Peter’s Basilica to call for peace, and an end to the bloodshed (both the worldwide civil unrest, and the saber-rattling between the now-impoverished Arab world and the West). In it, he cut to a portion of the interview with Aleksandr that showed his face in the top left of the screen overlaid on the video taken of Earth from the immense distance of space.

  “Commander Kozlov, you have a unique perspective on the globe. You are among the humans who are looking back at ourselves, from forty-four million kilometers away. What would you say to the human race?”

  “Your Holiness, the distance has given us a perspective that is difficult to grasp any other way. All of humanity lives on a ball that is a mere 8,000 miles across, which spins in the great vastness of space. We have to work together to overcome common obstacles. That is the true meaning of this mission: to put our lives into perspective, and perhaps encourage humility and peace between societies.”

  Suitably impressive, the others thought, as they watched the broadcast. They gave him a round of applause, and he bowed, as best one can in near-zero gravity.

  “I’m kind of glad we’re not there,” Emile said. “It’s a lot more peaceful up here!”

  * * *

  @KR_IME: THE POPE’S NOSE KNOWS ALL.

  * * *

  This referenced the pontiff’s preposterously large nose. A short while later, an email arrived on Aleksandr’s tablet. It read:

  Commander Kozlov, it is imperative that you find out who is behind the Twitter posts. Alienating over a billion Roman Catholics is not an appropriate use of the Mars exploration project’s funds or equipment. Nor is it consistent with the goals of the project. I assume you have control over your crew. Steps will be taken to censor Internet access from the ship if this is not brought under control.

  Lesley L. Jones, Flight Director, NASA

  Aleksandr flicked the message from his tablet to a large window on the wall, for all to read. “You know who you are,” he said. A few barely-suppressed smil
es broke out among the crew.

  31

  T-plus 34 days

  It was evening. The rest of the crew had settled down to various activities: exercising, checking on experiments, and playing chess. Kinuko was engaging in her love of astronomy.

  She had brought her beloved telescope from her uncle's house. It took up over half of her personal mass allowance, but she didn’t care. The telescope was an extension of herself; her gateway to the universe, and an object she had come to love about as much as anyone can love an object. However, using it was not practical in weightlessness. There was simply no way to keep it steady and be able to point it. The tripod that she used on Earth was useless here. She had tried all manner of contraptions, usually involving attaching it to the sides of the window in some way with tape, wire, and bits of string. These worked to keep it fairly steady, but she could not then point it anywhere.

  Martin had noticed her frustration with this. He floated next to her, and said “I can get you some time on the ship's telescope.”

  She turned to him. “Really?” she said, very surprised. “I thought it was only to be used for approved mission observations.”

  “It is,” said Martin, “but I'm Chief Scientific Officer, so I approve them. Besides, what Mission Control doesn't know won't hurt them. They're millions of kilometers away,” he said, grinning.

  “Uh, okay.”

  “Let's wait until most people have gone to bed. Then I'll show you how to use it.”

  “Okay, sounds good.”

  She felt a surge of great excitement at getting to use such a powerful instrument in space, with no atmosphere to get in the way. He felt excited at the prospect of getting to spend some time with her.

  Later, most of the crew had drifted off to bed, and those who hadn’t were about to head that way.