Dark Secret (2016)

by Edward M. Lerner

  Or the inside of a windowpane during a Boston cold snap. On the glass in Blake’s mind’s eye, random lines and curves crisscrossed the icy coating. But what did window frost have to do with anything?

  “Picture the fracture lines in the ice,” Rikki said. “Each line is where expanding regions of spontaneous phase change, water turning to ice, collided. Where matters get hand-wavy”—and she gesticulated, illustrating—“is in likening the collisions between cooling space-time regions with ice fracture lines.” She hesitated. “Help me out here, Antonio.”

  Antonio said, “Energy got trapped…in the interstices. Lots of energy. Theorists call these objects…cosmic strings.”

  “Because cosmic strings remain theoretical,” Rikki said. “No one has ever seen one.”

  Dana turned to study the star-field holo. “But you have, Antonio? The red dots?”

  “Right.”

  Rikki said, “Well, we can’t see a cosmic string, not directly. But they’re massive, so they bend light. That’s why we’re seeing microlensing events, when on our fast-changing line of sight a star drops behind the string.”

  “And you’re the first person to spot one?” Dana said skeptically.

  “This string points more or less straight at Sol system. The backdrop is…the Coalsack. Few stars are visible through that to be lensed. Both factors…would make this…string hard to spot.”

  Rikki said, “And remember where we are: far beneath the ecliptic, about thirty times Pluto’s distance from the sun. No one has ever had this perspective.”

  “You said trapped energy,” Blake said. “Isn’t it the presence of mass that bends light?”

  “Energy. Mass. Same thing,” Antonio said.

  Because E=mc2, Blake thought. I know that. And I need to sleep.

  “This is all quite educational,” Dana said, “but how does it matter?”

  Antonio shrugged. “Some things are just interesting.”

  11

  Angry voices roused Dana from restless slumber. A man and a woman, Dana noticed. She couldn’t make out any words.

  Antonio, his mouth agape, was fast asleep across the crew cabin. He didn’t stir as Dana left her jump seat. Blake and Rikki had the bridge and with it what passed aboard for privacy. Feeling like a voyeur, Dana pressed an ear to the hatch onto the bridge. The yelling was not coming from inside.

  Antonio stirred at the hinge squeak when Dana opened the deck hatch. “Go back to sleep,” she whispered and he settled down. She went into the central shaft. With one hand, she kept a grip on the ladder; with the other, she slowly let down the hatch, trying to avoid the customary clang. Her arm trembled with the effort.

  From within the shaft, she recognized the quarreling voices: Li and Carlos. They were inside cargo hold three.

  “…could be our last chance…you can’t tell me you don’t…,” Carlos said.

  Dana let herself down closer.

  “I am telling you,” Li said. “You’re better than this.”

  “Don’t be such a tease. You came when I asked.”

  “Not knowing the kind of ‘help’ you had in mind,” Li said. “I won’t say this again. Get away from the hatch.”

  Shit! Dana thought.

  She had allowed herself to believe people would act like adults. Aboard Reliance, no matter the mixed crew, people did. But those were trained professionals who expected, someday, to go home.

  Li was tiny, almost a meter shorter than Carlos. Dana grabbed for the hatch latch—

  And jerked her hand back as the hatch shuddered. From inside came a surprised basso grunt, then a thud.

  As the hold’s hatch opened, Dana scuttled a few rungs down the ladder. Let it appear she was coming from an engine room.

  Li grabbed the ladder, swung into the shaft, and slammed the hatch behind her. She was breathing heavily, all but panting. “Oh, Captain. I didn’t know you were up and about.”

  “Just making rounds,” Dana said. “What’s going on?”

  “Oh, nothing.”

  “I thought I heard voices in the hold,” Dana hinted.

  “Carlos asked about my help with something, and I advised him to handle it himself.”

  “And everyone is all right?”

  Li sighed. “Okay, so you overheard. I believe Carlos has acquired an appreciation for my point of view.”

  “Which is?”

  “That if he’s Adam, I’m AWOL. And that a scrawny Martian beanpole shouldn’t cross Earth girls who know tae kwon do.”

  “Applied psychology?” Dana asked.

  “Self-defense.”

  A soft moan drifted through the hatch.

  Dana said, “From what I overheard, he deserved what he got. That said, I hope you didn’t inflict any permanent damage.”

  “He’ll be fine, and perhaps wiser. I could have planted my foot much deeper.”

  Carlos didn’t seem the type to admit that his advances had been spurned, or that a woman had decked him—especially to another woman. Dana said, “Assuming that he doesn’t bring the matter up to me, do I know what happened? It’s your call.”

  “I don’t think that will be necessary, Captain. Not that I noticed a brig on this ship.”

  “It’s your call,” Dana repeated.

  Her hands shaking, Li started up the shaft toward the crew cabin. “Damn Hawthorne!” she burst out.

  Huh? “What do you mean?”

  Li paused on the ladder. “Rikki and Blake, dotingly married. You and Antonio, of similar ages. Carlos and me, the same. Don’t you imagine Hawthorne had more than professional skills in mind when he picked this crew? Or that Carlos also sees the obvious pairing?”

  In encrypted files Dana would never admit to having aboard, Hawthorne had revealed Antonio as a widower, Carlos as three times divorced, and Li as between serious relationships. Of Dana herself, the same data field had delicately declared: career-oriented.

  Dana said, “It’s understandable that you don’t care for the apparent matchmaking.”

  “You do?”

  Antonio was so focused, the marvel was that he had ever gotten together with someone. All Tabitha’s doing, Dana had to believe. There would be no unwelcome advances from that direction. That made Li’s situation all the more unique.

  “Regardless,” Dana said, “Carlos has no right to act as he did. Forget him and Hawthorne. Are you all right?”

  “Fine, Captain.”

  “Dana. One woman talking with another.”

  “In that case, I’ve been better.”

  “What do you say you and I check out the supply of medicinal alcohol?”

  Li tipped her head, considering. “That, Dana, is an excellent idea.”

  *

  Under the ongoing, relentless acceleration, the pilot and copilot seats were the closest things to comfortable on the ship. Blake and Rikki’s turn had come around again on the rotation and he dozed fitfully, listening to her gentle snoring and wishing he could sleep. But since he couldn’t, he took turns watching Rikki and, in the main bridge display, the unblinking, brilliant spark that was Sol.

  Someone rapped on the hatch set in the deck.

  “Go away,” Blake said.

  “It’s Dana.”

  “Sorry,” he said. “Come in.”

  Cautiously, the hatch swung open. Dana climbed onto the bridge and squeezed into the space beside his seat. Antonio followed, to stand beside Rikki. Despite the crowding, Antonio latched the deck hatch while Dana secured the already closed hatch to the crew cabin.

  Blake started to stand. With a hand on his shoulder, Dana nudged him back into the acceleration chair.

  All the rustling or the whispering woke Rikki. “What’s going on?” she asked.

  Blake shrugged.

  Dana turned to Antonio. “Now will you tell me what we all must hear?”

  “One of the big issues with Big…Bang theory is that…”

  After—could it have been a month?—cooped up together, Blake recognized the enthusi
asm in Antonio’s voice. More astronomical esoterica?

  “Stop,” Dana said. “Before you get going on the Big Bang, tell me why I wouldn’t be better off sleeping.”

  “Because maybe we don’t have to…die.”

  Rikki twitched.

  “Maybe start at the end,” Dana said.

  “Our odds of getting clear,” Antonio said. “Maybe two percent.”

  “You’ve said we had days of margin,” Rikki said.

  “There are uncertainties. I gave you the best-case scenario.”

  Perilously close to a lie, Blake thought. He noticed that Dana didn’t look surprised. “You knew?”

  “Hawthorne told me. The more realistic, longer odds didn’t change what needed doing, so why deny you some hope?” Dana turned to Antonio. “All right, you have my complete attention. But can we start a few billion years after the Big Bang?”

  “I’m afraid not.” Antonio began fingering the scar on his chin. “Many observations about the universe make sense only if everything…had enormously rapid expansion right after the Big Bang.”

  “Cosmic inflation,” Rikki said. “Space-time expanding at many times faster than the speed of light.”

  Dana frowned. “I thought nothing went faster than light.”

  “Right,” Rikki said, “but space-time isn’t a thing. And if space-time did once expand at super-luminal speeds—faster than light—otherwise counterintuitive observations make sense.”

  “Like the uniform distribution of galaxies across the…universe.”

  “About not dying?” Dana prompted.

  “Cosmic inflation is a mathematical fix,” Antonio said. “It fits what astronomers see so well we’ve come to accept…it as what must…have happened. The particular details don’t matter.”

  “Then why are we talking about it?” Dana asked.

  “Because there’s an alternative mathematical fix. If certain universal constants aren’t constant. Maybe only their ratio must be.

  “I only vaguely…remembered this old theory. None of the files aboard mention…it. I had to derive enough to reconstruct the hypothesis.”

  “And that hypothesis is?” Dana tried again.

  “Under early universe conditions, light went faster than light. Than light does…today.”

  Blake saw the struggle on Antonio’s face, the words refusing to come out. “Take your time,” he told Antonio.

  Even though time is the commodity we most lack.

  “May I try?” Rikki asked. “I think I see.”

  Eyes cast downward, Antonio nodded.

  Rikki said, “Suppose light speed was much higher under early-universe conditions. Cosmic strings, like the one we see ahead, froze bits of the early universe. Near a string, the speed of light may be faster than what we now know.”

  “Near the string?” Blake asked. “Not inside the string?”

  Rikki shook her head. “You can’t get inside. The string itself is very thin.”

  “Like a…proton.”

  “How does this help?” Dana asked.

  “Antonio?” Rikki said. “I know this is important, so be sure I get this right. The faster our ship goes, the more relativistic effects we experience. Before the DED, unable to keep accelerating as this ship can, these effects never mattered.”

  She leaned forward to read numbers off a console. “We’ve reached about fifty thousand klicks per second, about one-sixth light speed. Marvin, what is our relativistic mass effect?”

  “About a percent and a half,” the AI answered.

  “Not yet dramatic,” Rikki said. “But it will be.”

  “The faster we go, the more massive we get. Pushing more and more…mass, the DED is…less effective. But maybe close to a cosmic string…”

  At last, Blake saw their point. “If light speed is much faster along a cosmic string, we won’t experience relativistic effects. So our mass won’t increase, and that means we’ll accelerate faster than otherwise.”

  “Indeed,” Antonio said.

  Dana said, “The string you found points toward the Coalsack, somewhat off our course. Maybe that’s okay. Drawing upon dark energy, we don’t spend fuel to detour. But will we gain enough extra speed to get clear of the GRB?”

  Antonio murmured something.

  “What’s that?” Dana said.

  “Yes,” Antonio said. “Unless we don’t.”

  “Meaning what?” Dana pressed. “We’re talking in circles.”

  “Case A,” Rikki said. “Cosmic inflation happened. The speed of light along the string is exactly what we are accustomed to. Case B. Inflation never happened, and as we approach the string, light goes faster and faster.”

  “And we can’t know…which…till we get there.”

  Dana asked, “Suppose we detour and find that the speed of light hasn’t changed?”

  “Then…we die.”

  Dana frowned. “What are the chances either way?”

  Rubbing his chin more briskly than ever, Antonio shrugged.

  “So either fifty-to-one against us or we just don’t know at all?” Dana asked. “Do I have my scenarios right, Antonio?”

  “Yes, Captain.”

  Blake turned toward Dana. “It’s your call, Captain.”

  “Life or death for the human race?” Dana said. “That’s everyone’s call, Li and Carlos included.”

  When they found the other two, Carlos uncharacteristically subdued, and Dana put the ship’s course up for a vote, the decision was unanimous to steer for the cosmic string.

  12

  Six long, tapered tubes with their piano-hinged lids tipped back—the cold-sleep pods gaped like open coffins.

  Though no one commented, Blake would have bet anything that everyone saw the resemblance.

  He stood with Rikki, among the passengers, along the cargo hold’s curved, exterior wall. Rikki’s hand in his felt clammy. Dana stood opposite, at the feet of the pods.

  There should be a speech, Blake thought, but after six weeks living like sardines in a can what could possibly remain to be said? Regardless, Dana was about the last person he knew to make a speech.

  Death stalked the worlds of man. Billions must die. Civilization would die. Maybe, against all odds, the six of them would escape. Maybe they would survive to add a chapter to humanity’s story. Far more likely the GRB would blast this ship, too, and their riddled corpses would hurtle forever through the interstellar darkness.

  In any case, I shouldn’t give a speech.

  Then Dana surprised him.

  “The time has come, my friends,” she said. “I know the situation is dire. I know that our prospects look bleak. But consider: we are on a mission grander and more important than anything we might ever have dared to dream of. Good people believed in us; good people gave their all to hasten us on our way. Already we have gone where no human has gone before. Endeavour is a fine ship, a proven ship, and Marvin knows what to do while we sleep.”

  But did Marvin know? Blake wondered.

  How complete could their modified nav software be? No one had ever approached a cosmic string. And how meaningful were the AI’s assurances that its hastily coded program extensions had not broken it?

  “I’ll see you all on the other side,” Dana concluded firmly.

  Antonio shuffled toward the first pod in the line. He sat, lifted his legs over the platform edge, and lay down. “On the other…side.”

  Li followed, offering a brave smile, then Carlos.

  In Blake’s grasp, Rikki’s hand trembled. “It’ll be all right,” he told her.

  She nodded.

  “Let’s do this together,” he said.

  They took the few steps to two pods at the end of the row. He helped Rikki settle inside hers, trying not to think of coffins. Leaning over, he gave her a kiss. “Sweet dreams.”

  She forced a smile. “Sweet dreams.”

  As Blake lay down, he saw Dana had taken her place in the final pod.

  “You have the conn, Marvin,�
�� Dana called. “Close the pods.”

  “I have the conn,” Marvin acknowledged. “Commencing cold sleep.”

  The transparent lid pivoted down. As freezing mist billowed, Blake turned his head for a last glimpse of Rikki.

  Never had he seen her so despondent.

  Did her hopelessness evoke the memory, or was the sudden chill to blame? Maybe both. In proposing a ship’s name, surely Rikki had not intended to reveal the depths of her despair. After all, how likely was he to recall one particular conversation from three years ago?

  Only he did.

  She had once, her eyes shining, told him about the Heroic Age of Antarctic Exploration and the race to explore Earth’s last frontier. One adventurer, too late to discover the South Pole, had set out to be the first to make a land journey across Antarctica. He had run an advertisement in the London newspapers:

  “MEN WANTED: For hazardous journey. Small wages, bitter cold, long months of complete darkness, constant danger, safe return doubtful. Honour and recognition in case of success. Sir Ernest Shackleton.”

  On the way to Antarctica, Shackleton’s ship Endurance became trapped in pack ice. After almost a year in the grip of the ice floes, with its hull crushed, the vessel foundered. Its crew was cast adrift, far from any land.

  And Endurance was the name Rikki had proposed for this ship.

  But in search of rescue, in one epic feat after another, Shackleton had conquered ice, ocean, and mountains. Everyone on the expedition survived.

  As frigid vapor filled Blake’s lungs and the cold permeated his body, as consciousness failed and thought congealed, Blake found hope in Shackleton’s ultimate triumph.

  This crew, too, would endure.

  DETOUR

  (About forty-five years later)

  13

  Indistinct, out of reach, something beckoned.

  Light? Through closed eyelids, she sensed brightness. Space to move about? That, too. But most of all—and most enticing of all—warmth.

  But how to enter the warmth? That mystery eluded her.

  From the depths of an abyss, she sensed movement. Shaking? Convulsing? No, something between. Coughing. She was coughing.