“Another option is solar sails. This was already in the works when NASA was disbanded, and the Europeans have already used solar sails for unmanned probes for more than a decade. Although the purely solar-powered sails the Europeans are using are too slow for star flight, with a theoretical maximum speed of little more than 1 percent of light speed, we could increase the speed dramatically by giving the sails a decent push. What we need then is a high-energy laser lens. We’re talking about a 250-meter-wide lens, a huge engineering project by itself, but possible, given the resources we’re willing to spend here. But the energy consumption is dramatic. The power needed would be more than 25 percent of the entire world’s energy consumption for about four months, fission probably. It is a practical issue, really. The lens would have to be constructed in space, and in addition to the fission-powered laser, it would consist of a chemical rocket that would push it out of Earth orbit, and then trail the starship. Then it would point the laser at the starship’s sail for four months, until the starship reached a cruise velocity of about 25 percent of light speed. This option would be devastating to our world economy, and it’s not something that would have been considered under normal circumstances. But this is hardly a normal circumstance now, is it?”
“I’m sorry to interrupt, but I have some serious doubts that such a project could be finished on time.” That was Eric Sloan, also of JPL, speaking. Throughout the previous meetings, he’d continuously referred to the engineering issues, and while admitting that solar sails seemed the best option when speed was concerned, his insight into low earth orbit engineering and its difficulties led him to oppose the addition of a high-energy laser lens.
“I just don’t see how we’re going to have the manpower for two immense construction projects at the same time. Remember, we only have about five to seven years to do this. A smaller laser, yes, that could be possible, but the sheer size we’re talking about here simply demands more time. And that’s time we don’t have. If we had enough qualified construction personnel, it would be possible, but we don’t have the time to train these people, and the energy still has to be produced, which is an immense challenge. And let’s not forget the solar sails themselves. The construction of such micro-thin materials would also have to be done in space, and that’s after we develop a new way of constructing them. The European model would be useless for interstellar travel, and again the scarce resource is time. So in my view, we should go for simpler, meaning a slower starship and longer transit time.”
“So what do you think we should do?” the president asked. Sloan thought for a moment before he replied.
“I believe fusion is our best option, since the technology is already in place, or close enough. The Deuterium and Helium-3 fusion rocket will give us 10 percent of light speed, and I simply cannot see any other option that will be possible, given the time at our disposal. The solar sail option has the upside of giving us great speed, if it could be finished in time, if all R&D is successful, and if we can get the power needed. That’s a lot of ifs, and the consequences of even a small setback could topple the entire project. So if I’m to have a say in this, I’d go for fusion.” Several of the others nodded, and even Dr. Shearing seemed to agree. Ramon could certainly see the advantages of solar sails, but Dr. Sloan did have a point. There were too many what-ifs. He’d rather place his bet on a starship that would be using a simpler technology, even though it meant sacrificing speed. It was then that Dr. Grant, having said nothing since the meeting started, decided to join in the conversation. He leaned forward and spoke, while at the same time checking something on his tablet.
“I might have something here, just a second … Damn, there’s too little openness in the world …” he muttered to himself, earning sideways glances from some of the others.
“It seems there was an interesting discovery by ESA a while back … It’s been kept secret, probably due to some scientists wanting to make sure they’ve got the facts straight. Damn fools, still more concerned about their publications than sharing knowledge … It’s a friend of mine at ESA, saying that some of his colleagues found something about 0.3 light years out. Wait …” He then typed something on his tablet, waited for a few seconds, eyes widening when he got the reply. A wide grin spread across his face.
“He says that they finally found definite proof of the existence of Nemesis.”
“What’s Nemesis?” the president asked, furrowing his brows, and tightening his lips at the new information that seemed to come out of nowhere.
“Well, it’s a star, sort of,” Grant replied, smiling as he laid his tablet down on the table. “There is a theory that the mass extinctions we’ve seen in the past, such as the dinosaurs, were caused by comets released from their relatively stable orbits out in the Oort Cloud by the gravitational influence of a star locked in an orbit that brings it as close to the sun as 0.1 light years every twenty-six million years. Now, the supporting evidence for this theory is the mass extinctions themselves, of course, but also the fact that there are gravitational forces out there that cannot be accounted for, and that suggests that currently undetected objects may actually exist in near solar space.” He checked his tablet again, then raised his eyebrows, and smiled knowingly.
“Seems the theory was wrong on a few important points though, which is to our advantage. The orbit is a lot closer than first assumed, although it never gets any closer than 0.1 light years …. Hmm, yes. All right, this is it. Nemesis is a brown dwarf. No wonder we haven’t detected it before, I’m surprised they even managed to find it. Brown dwarves are proto stars that never ignited, so they are very hard to detect because they emit very little heat and light. So … Ah … Nemesis, with a mass twenty times that of Jupiter, is locked in an orbit that takes about thirteen million years to circle the sun, and that explains the mass extinctions. Seems it only releases the devastating comets every other round, for some reason. At its aphelion, meaning its furthest distance from the sun, it will be about 1.8 light years away, while its perihelion, that is the closest it gets, is located at 0.11 light years from the sun. Its current position is 0.3 light years out, and it will stay at that approximate distance a long time after the starship has passed.” He looked up from his tablet again, grinning from ear to ear, and from the expression on Sloan’s face, he had also seen what this meant. Ramon was fascinated, although he still didn’t see the relevance of all this. Grant shook his head, still smiling, and now Shearing also chimed in.
“That opens up a whole new range of options for us, don’t you think?” She looked at Sloan, who was punching at his own tablet like crazy, crunching the numbers. He nodded fiercely.
“This is fantastic. You know, using the Deuterium and Helium-3 fusion rocket, with a maximum gravity assisted velocity of 10 percent of light speed it would take us three years to reach Nemesis, ignoring acceleration time. With acceleration and gravity assist from the sun, we’re talking five to six years. I’ll have to do the math on that … Now, with a second gravity assist from Nemesis, we can easily obtain a speed of 25 to 35 percent of light speed. That’s just … staggering …”
“He he, the timing couldn’t have been better, right?” Grant said.
“Say, six years to Nemesis, then a gravity assist that gives us a little more than 25 percent of light speed, sixteen years to Alpha Centauri, then three years of braking. We’re talking twenty-five years here. And that’s a conservative estimate.” Dr. Shearing, as the authority on the issue, then spoke directly to the president.
“Of course, we need to check all the facts, and make sure there is absolutely no possibility that the Europeans have made a mistake. Barring that, I’d say we have a recommendation.” The president just nodded, with a satisfied expression on his face. Havelar, always onto the practical details, looked up at the scientist.
“How soon before you can be absolutely certain? We need to get production started, whatever decision we come to.” Shearing, skeptical toward Havelar’s involvement, as she’d voiced, althoug
h carefully, several times, looked at Grant, who answered.
“Give us three weeks. Usually we’d need more, a lot more, but it seems the Europeans have been onto this for years, so it should be just a matter of talking to them and looking at the figures ourselves. Then we’ll be ready.”
Chapter 6
July 2076 ~ Sonora, Arizona
They were somewhere in the Sonora desert. Captain Tina Hammer felt weak, her throat parched, head throbbing, legs resisting her every movement. Whoever said black people don’t get sunburned was an idiot. Her face showed a deep red from sunburn, and there were signs of blisters developing on her nearly shaven head. She didn’t sweat anymore, even in the sweltering heat and being physically exhausted from days of trekking across the desert; she was too dehydrated. Her companions, Navy ensigns Dean Johnson and Kim Leffard and Army Lieutenant Henry Carroll, were still hanging on by sheer willpower, although Leffard was now slowing them down due to a sprained ankle.
“You should go on. I’ll catch up,” Kim said, while breathing heavily. “I just need a breather; you guys won’t get far without me anyways!” She was about the toughest woman Hammer had ever known, but sprained ankle or no, she now looked like she’d spent the last of her strength. Henry slumped down beside her, coughing heavily.
“Yeah right, and let you off that easily, eh?” He tried to pry off his right boot, but lost his balance, even sitting. Then he managed to slowly take it off, and saw that blood had seeped through his socks.
“I guess we’re both fucked good and hard now, Leffard. I don’t think I’ll be able to walk on this again for a while.” He shook his head.
“So damn close … It must be …” He took a pebble and put it in his mouth, an old trick. After a couple of seconds he spit it out again.
“Humph, never worked,” Henry continued. “Whoever made that one up never spent a week in the desert.” He licked his cracked lips, and grimaced. Then he lay back and closed his eyes.
Tina held up her hand and squinted to the east. They’d walked quite a ways since being dumped out of the chopper a few nights back, blindfolded and with only a couple of water bottles to share. She had no idea how far they had come, but the first few days they had walked a good twelve hours, daytime, before deciding it would be better to walk by night and rest while the sun was at its highest. That worked for another couple of days. After that, things had moved more slowly. Fatigue, blisters, hunger, and eventually thirst had slowly taken their toll. They had no idea how long they had to go, or whether they would be picked up if they decided they’d had it. Tina was deeply concerned. As the senior officer, she was in charge, and although she suspected they were being monitored somehow, in the back of her mind she worried that they were too far off the grid. Or that the instructors had dropped them out here to see how many would survive, and that losses were expected. She’d seen it before, and the situation was definitely extreme; in fact, you couldn’t get more extreme than this. It could be that this was the kind of situation where such extreme training and selection were deemed necessary. She rose to her feet, deciding such thinking was useless, and reached out for Kim’s hand.
“Let’s go. It can’t be far now. And if we don’t get there today, I’d like to find some shade. Come on, you too, Dean. Henry, you’ll just have to suck it up. You know that the pain numbs after a while. Now get that boot back on while you can. And no more of that ‘carry on without me’ crap, Kim.” Tina put her concerns away for now; the group was her responsibility, they were her team, and by far the best she’d ever worked with, and there was no way she’d let them down. She would not show her doubts.
They reached a dried out riverbed and decided to rest for a few hours. Somehow, they were still standing, but dehydration was now becoming a real danger. If they didn’t find any water soon … At least they had some shade; there were a few large scattered boulders that gave them some respite from the blinding white sun. Tina’s concerns had grown steadily over the last few hours, however hard she tried to suppress them. Of the four, she was probably the one in the best shape at the moment, although she felt the pain and exhaustion in every part of her body. She knew that, unless their instructors decided to show up, or they found some source of water, which didn’t seem likely now, her worst fears would come to life. She stared up at the cloudless sky, watching an eagle circling overhead, slowly, watching them, undisturbed by the human presence. Sleep evaded her, although she was so tired, oh so tired.
They had been split up into groups of twenty to twenty-five within the first weeks after arrival, and those groups seemed matched so that candidates with similar intended roles were grouped together. She’d been put in a group of experienced officers, Navy, Army, Air Force, even a couple of astronauts, which surprised her, as those were a rare breed these days. They were diverse in a lot of ways, but all had the common denominator that they were used to command on at least company level, or some equivalent. She knew other groups were similarly put together, and inferred that from each group, only one or two would be on the final list.
There had been all kinds of activities, from arctic survival training to physics projects, mechanical training, basic to intermediate surgery, military exercises of every variety; it was hard to quite see how it all made sense. At some point during the first year, she’d discussed it with a colonel whose name she couldn’t remember.
“Redundancy,” the colonel had explained. “What happens if you lose half your crew on final descent?”
“But you wouldn’t put all your eggs in one basket,” Tina had argued. “You’d split the crew according to competencies, so you’d always have someone left who could do the job.”
The colonel had nodded, then scratched his cropped black hair, while chewing on some kind of nuts he had this weakness for.
“Of course, but what if … What if you had to split your crew differently? This is nothing like we’re used to; you know that. What if the crew had to be split according to demographics? What if you had to make sure there were enough men and enough women on each landing craft to be able to breed? What if you had to choose between sick and healthy? What if not half, but most of the crew were wiped out by some freak accident?” It was probably at some point during that conversation that Tina really began to understand the nature of what this mission was all about. Of course, it wasn’t until the news about Devastator had leaked that she’d truly fathomed the finality of it all, that this was probably humanity’s only chance for survival. But it was the conversation with the colonel that had opened her eyes to the fact that this was so much more than she’d expected when she was picked for Selection. If she could only remember his name …
The colonel had washed out during one of the weeding processes that happened at irregular intervals, just a few months after Tina’s conversation with him, and she’d never seen the man again. Rumor had it the rejects were moved to detention centers so that they were unable to reveal anything, for security reasons. She wouldn’t normally believe such rumors, but under the circumstances, she wouldn’t rule it out. The fact was, no one really knew.
The eagle circling above seemed to be closing in on them. What does it want? Tina thought. Somehow, she was vaguely aware that she was delirious, a weird feeling, kind of what she imagined an out-of-body experience must be like. The eagle landed and opened a door on the side of its belly. It was huge! Out of the door, little people jumped out, some in white, others in desert fatigues. A funny eagle, Tina grinned, whoever heard of an eagle with doors, and people inside. She passed out.
Tina woke slowly to murmured voices in a white, cool air-conditioned room. Ensign Johnson was standing next to another bed, where a middle-aged doctor and a tall, suited man were standing beside a sleeping Henry Carroll.
“He’s been through surgery, seems his leg was worse than we thought,” she heard Kim Leffard whisper quietly. “Some kind of infection. It’s a wonder he made it that far. Tough bastard.” Tina nodded in agreement. They were quite a team now: herself, Kim,
Henry and Dean. They’d been in different groups throughout most of Selection, and had been put together as a team only six months ago. Now they were a tightly knit group, and she expected their experiences in the desert would bond them even tighter. Perhaps that was the whole purpose, she pondered.
The man in the suit turned toward her.
“Ah, it seems our pilot is back,” he said, revealing a broad smile, and a hint of pride in his eyes. He was clean-shaven, with dark blond hair, and couldn’t have been more than forty, although it was difficult to tell. The eyes, deep blue, seemed older, somehow.
“You, ma’am, have just made one hell of an impression. The Board has had their eyes on you for some time, and with good reason. Your team held on the longest of all, and you pulled everyone through till the end. You should be proud. I know I am.”
“Proud?” Tina said weakly. She still didn’t quite understand; she felt quite weak.
“Yes, damn proud. You don’t know me, but I’ve followed you for almost two years now. I’m on the Selection Board and you, ma’am, have been one of my favorites almost from day one. And I’m also happy to see that your team is ready to start your next phase of training.”
October 2076 ~ Washington, DC
Trevor Hayes was a man of few words, and his appointment four years ago as national security advisor had surprised a good number of Washington insiders. The media had also been taken by surprise, and they’ve been digging ever since to find background on this largely anonymous man. So far, very little had been found, except what was available from official sources. He had attended Harvard Law, and then served with the notorious Black Berets for close to ten years, before leaving the service to work for Pegasus Inc., a medium-sized company that provided security and private military services, a growing industry in the age of terror. The official file on him said he had worked in both the legal department and in several managerial and executive positions, and, although unsubstantiated, there were rumors that he was also involved in the company’s more clandestine operations. Within seven years, Hayes had become a partner, which meant a more public role. He had been involved in several of the lawsuits following the growth of the industry, but somehow they had escaped the media radar, being overshadowed by larger scandals, such as the royal wedding drug scandal in England and the Louisiana governor’s involvement in trafficking, which had covered the front pages for weeks. When the Supreme Court had dismissed the cases, there had been some stirring and talk of a shift in the checks and balances, assigning greater powers to the executive branch, but still Hayes had been just one of the many lawyers involved, although it was well known that he was one of the figures emerging as a leader of an industry growing steadily more entrenched with the sitting administration. And as America was evolving more and more each year into a one-party system, Trevor Hayes steadily rose in the ranks of the establishment.
Exodus (The Exodus Trilogy) Page 7
