The Orthogonal Galaxy

by Michael L. Lewis

  Jes leaned forward in his chair. “Do what, Blade?”

  “I’ll go on with the mission. I won’t break her heart again, Uncle—I won’t do it anymo’.”

  Chapter

  25

  Six years had passed since Joram Anders, Kather Mirabelle, and Reyd Eastman began their graduate studies at CalTech. Since then, all three of them had received their doctorate degrees in astronomy and had filled post-doctoral positions as researchers with Carlton Zimmer. During those years, they had helped discover a superluminal comet as well as the first extrasolar planet with specifications nearly identical to that of Earth. While each had opportunities to work for different research institutions, all had decided to stay on for the time being with Zimmer, mainly because they were interested in continuing the study of the superluminal comet and had a host of experiments lined up to gain a greater understanding of its origins, construction, and operation.

  At the moment, however, they had set their work aside to be a part of the event that their research had made possible. They were filled with nostalgia as they began to realize that their years of research were about to be put to practice. Reverently, each took positions in the back row of the room. Even though they were the most responsible for the discoveries, they were too absorbed to notice the irony of being placed in the position of least prominence among the crowd. 0020`Ahead of them, several rows of padded folding chairs held occupants of diverse backgrounds. Some were huddled in pleasant conversation, while others waited intently for the table ahead of them to fill. The vacant table was covered with a black velvet cloth and skirt. Four black chairs sat empty behind the table, while four microphones and two tumblers of ice water had been prepared for the panel that was to assemble presently. Name placards located on the front of the table indicated the two scientists and two astronauts who would shortly be attending the press conference.

  Behind the table, a wall-sized banner provided a photographic backdrop. It depicted the deep blackness of space, its depth implicated by the thousands of stars of varying brightness and color. A thin yellow beam cut through the mural at a gradual curve, while a smooth silvery-black spaceship with three blue-white rocket engines thrust the vehicle towards a rendezvous with the beam. In the middle of the mural, the artist had placed a depiction of Earth in a three-quarter illumination. A spotlight recessed in the center of the ceiling acted as the imaginary sun shining down on the blue planet with its swirling white clouds. At the end of the yellow ray, was an identically apportioned planet almost too small to make out. Written in brilliant gold letters above were the words:

  Earth2 Mission – ST3

  Joonter / Slater

  The researchers studied the banner, admiring the artist’s efforts in capturing the essence and emotion of the mission. Just as Kath’s eyes began to moisten with emotion, she noticed a few heads turn towards the door at the front of the room. She elbowed her colleagues on either side of her, in order to focus their attention on the spot that everyone else was now monitoring. Through the door, Dr. Gilroy led the procession to the table. Paol Joonter and Blade Slater followed, with Carlton Zimmer in close pursuit. The crowd now stood and in unison respectfully began to applaud this historic group of individuals.

  All four men had become household names in the United States and throughout most of the world for the roles they assumed in the Earth2 mission now in its sixth year of its preparation and twelfth digit of its funding. The media portrayed these individuals as both champions of space exploration and consumers of $267 billion in wasteful spending for which nobody would reap the benefit for at least a dozen years, even if the low-percentage mission actually succeeded.

  Only after the men took their seats at the table, did the applause taper off. Throats cleared, and the shuffling noise of chairs on the tile floor indicated the adjustments being made to settle comfortably into the press conference. Gilroy spoke first and addressed the audience with prepared remarks, which he read from a yellow manila folder that he opened flat onto the table.

  “Ladies and gentlemen of the press, esteemed colleagues of NASA, and dear dignitaries, we thank you for your presence here today, and trust that you are as excited as we are to enter the second phase of the Earth2 mission. These two unlikely and yet extraordinary astronauts—” Gilroy paused while gesturing to his left where Paol and Blade sat donning their teal spacesuits. “These two astronauts have been examples of inspiration to all of us. Even in the most desperate and unfortunate of circumstances, their stories have given us hope to overcome our difficulties, to correct our own courses with courage and determination. In the last five and a half years, these two fine gentlemen have become some of the highest caliber astronauts that I’ve ever had the privilege of knowing. Perhaps it is the nature and complexity of their mission, but I can say without any reservation that they have done everything humanly possible in preparing themselves to face any obstacle they should encounter on this mission. Tomorrow, we will bid farewell to these men, as we send them on a journey of more than 150,000 light years. We commend them to the far reaches of our galaxy as ambassadors of Earth1 to the inhabitants of Earth2. Never in the history of scientific study does one mission have the promise of so much learning. We are eager to take our learning of this universe in which we live to new heights previously unanticipated.”

  Addressing the astronauts directly, Gilroy concluded, “Mr. Joonter, Mr. Slater, may God speed you on this journey to bridge the inhabitants of the Milky Way.”

  Paol and Blade bowed graciously to their program manager and to the audience as an even more generous ovation ensued.

  Through the din, Kath turned to Joram. “Look… I have goosebumps.”

  Joram nodded understandingly. “I know. It’s overwhelming to be a part of this. We all feel it, Kath.” Through the years, Joram had to proverbially pinch himself for the role he was taking in the scientific community. Under the tutelage of Professor Carlton Zimmer, some of the most exciting and unprecedented research of the century was taking place. And he—a humble farm-boy from Kansas with a passion for star-gazing—was a part of that effort.

  Joram leaned forward and looked over at Reyd as Kath’s eyes followed. Without words, he concurred knowingly through a wink and a single nod of his head. The experience was clearly surreal for each.

  “Now,” continued Gilroy, “we will be pleased to hear a few remarks from our esteemed astronauts, and then we will open up the session for questions and answers. Mr. Joonter, you have our attention.”

  “Dr. Gilroy, thank you. Thank you for your leadership of this mission, your encouragement through the difficulties, and your meticulous oversight of so many details along the way. Your example and efforts over the last few years have given me great confidence that everyone involved has made every effort to provide the mission with the highest opportunity for success.”

  Turning to face the audience, Paol continued. “Ladies and gentlemen of the press, I thank you for your attendance here today. Because of your efforts in following this mission from its most unlikely beginnings until this very moment, you have made the world aware of the exciting future facing Earth, our galaxy, and indeed the universe. While I know there have been skeptics, I do not scoff. There certainly were many occasions when I found myself in their camp.”

  A few chuckles filled the room, mainly because of the way in which Joonter rolled his eyes, conveying the overwhelming nature of the preparation which he and his companion endured.

  “Your reporting of this mission, both encouraging and critical has helped fuel a healthy and needed debate over the necessity of this effort. I applaud each of you in raising awareness of the issues, the difficulties, the risks, and the benefits that such a mission could entail. Tomorrow, we turn the page in the history books to a new chapter. Many of you will be in the envious position to write this chapter, and I can assure you that my companion and I will do our part to give you the best possible material. Thank you.”

  The audience applauded vigorously as
Paol expressed his gratitude with a slight bow of his head, and a tip of the baseball cap, emblazoned with the ST3 mission logo.

  Once the applause died down, Dr. Gilroy spoke clearly and proudly into his microphone. “Ladies and gentlemen, please give your attention to Mr. Slater for a few comments now.”

  Blade had been scanning the crowd the entire time, and had mapped out those who were friendly to the mission and had easily honed in on those who were clearly antagonistic. He was encouraged that the overwhelming majority of journalists were proponents of the mission, and this gave him the ability to speak comfortably.

  With deep, yet hushed tones he began, “Ladies and Gentlemen, this is a most humblin’ experience. Many years ago, I made a mistake—a most terr’ble mistake. I thought I’d pay fo’ that mistake the rest of my life. As I sat in a cold concrete cell, while many my age was makin’ somethin’ of their lives in school and college, I suspected that my life was over befo’ it’d begun. But somehow, fate plucked me outta that cell, and put me here. It is a position I do not deserve—a position I did not earn—a position fo’ which there’s many more who’d qualify better. I ain’t the most eloquent, and I ain’t the most learned, but seein’ where my life was and where it is today, I am the most fo’ knowin’ that where there’s breath, there’s life. And where there’s life, there’s hope. And that’s what I bring to the mission. In a world where doubt and despair are more common than hope, I intend to use the latter in this mission. I’ll work with my colleague and dear friend, Paol Joonter, every day we’re together fo’ the next twelve years with hope. I’ll fight to make this mission a success, and bring back hope to all the world. When we come back to ya’ a dozen years from now, my hope is that the word ‘impossible’ will be replaced with ‘hope’, ‘cuz if two average guys can safely travel so far at speeds which should tear us to microscopic pieces, then I think Mr. Joonter and I certainly have a case to make fo’ hope!”

  With this last word, Blade realized that his voice elevated gradually throughout his speech. What began as a soft tone, ended in a piercing trump. The contrast and intensity of the ensuing moment of silence was broken by a controlled whisper: “Thank you.”

  The audience leaped to their feet and applauded vehemently. Each felt the emotion and determination in Blade’s delivery. While the applause continued, videographers raced to upload their recordings over wireless links to a mass of vans, buses, and trailers outside. In a flash, Blade’s speech was delivered around the world, interrupting television programming everywhere. His speech, while delivered in simplicity, would become instantly famous, and media, would latch onto the word ‘hope’ as an endearing connection to Blade Slater, and the ST3 mission.

  Once order was restored to the room, Gilroy laid ground rules for the question and answer session. Each individual was entitled to ask one question of any of the four panelists when he gave them the floor to do so. With hands aloft, Gilroy selected a front-row participant to begin the questioning.

  “Mr. Slater, thank you for reminding us of hope. Can you tell us of a time when you needed to reach deep to find hope while preparing for this mission?”

  “One time? Why I could tell ya’ of a hundred fo’ sure.” Blade stated sincerely while shaking his head. His voice softened as he continued. “But, I can tell ya’ of one time where I had to reach very deep. Paol and I—we had to do some wilderness survival trainin’ in some very rugged areas. The worst, fo’ me, had to be the time we were told to jump out of a plane in the Arctic Circle. It was a long cold drop to the ground. As the ground rushed up at us, I have to say that I’s too ‘fraid to enjoy the view, but when we landed, my breath was taken away. We was in this small valley, with mountains towerin’ ‘bove us on either side. A lake at the end of the valley met a glacier comin’ down the chute ‘tween two mountain peaks. As we walked to the edge of the shore of the lake, there’s icebergs so big I had to look up to see the top of ‘em. I never saw anythin’ so amazin’ and beautiful, and was taken back such that I didn’t even remember that it was darn cold and I was put into the middle of the wilderness to survive on my own.

  “Well, Paol pulled me back to reality, and we used our global positionin’ devices to locate where we were and where we needed to go. As we studied the terrain, we saw that we had a fifty-mile journey to get to our destination—the Anaktuvuk Pass. There’s an airport there where our support team would be waitin’ fer us to take us home. We located a valley pass connectin’ the lake with the Anaktuvuk valley, where the outlet of the lake cut through. It was at the end of Spring, so the river was pretty swollen, and there’s all sorts of ice blocks floatin’ down the river, but we needed to make good time, so we pulled out our sponge kayaks—little things in the pack, but when ya’ put ‘em in the river, I’s surprised at how big they swell up, and make a perfect floatin’ craft.

  “At first, it was a nice float, but then the river picked up as we went through a narrow steep part of the valley. Over a small rapid, I didn’t even see that large chunk of ice churnin’ at the bottom of a small drop. When I hit it, I flipped over into the river, and slammed my shoulder ‘gainst the ice. Pain shot through my arm, and at first, I tried to swim to the shore with my good arm, but I knew that the current was too strong. I had to use the other arm. Reachin’ overhead, I could feel my whole arm convulse in pain, but with big strokes, I’s able to power myself over to the shore with as few strokes as possible.

  “I fell down onto the shore exhausted and hurtin’, but worse, I started realizin’ that I was freezin’. Within moments, Paol brought his kayak to shore, and was by my side, warmin’ me up with a fire and a wrap. As dusk was settin’ on, we had no choice but to camp right there that night. I slept on my other side, to make sure I didn’t put any pressure on my shoulder. In the mornin’, I was still in pain, but was glad to discover that it was just a nasty bruise. We were just six miles into our journey, and I was devastated when Paol mentioned that we’d lost my kayak—it floated downstream, and our only hope was that we’d find it just a little way down.

  “Mile after mile we walked that day. We never did find the kayak. In the afternoon, the valley started to open up, and I heard a splash just behind us. Spinnin’ ‘round, I saw this monster of a grizzly bear, splashin’ across the river ‘bout 30 yards behind us. I suspected that he was comin’ to get his dinner. When he dragged himself on shore, he shook his fur of the icy water, stood on his hind legs and stared at us intently. He stepped slowly towards us, and I was just standin’ there frozen. I mean—where’s I goin with a ragin’ river to one side of me and a sheer cliff on the other. Good thing my partner had the sense of mind to climb onto a ledge nearby, wave his arms frantically, and make some noise. I thought it would just agitate him, and at first, he looked to charge, but then he got a sniff of us, turned and bolted.

  “I thought I’d never be so scared again, but then two days later, as the canyon started widenin’ into a marshy plain, I saw somethin’ outta the corner of my eye across the river. I looked across to see a gray wolf scramblin’ down a mountain. At first, I wasn’t sure if he’d seen us, but then he bolted towards the river, and stood erect on the bank, just starin’ at us, and bearin’ his yellow-white teeth at us. We continued to walk, as if to pay him no attention, and he simply followed along the bank, keepin’ an eye fixed on us. I could also see some frothy drool in the corner of his mouth, and I couldn’t help but wonder if he was plottin’ to get at us fo’ some meat to chew on. My heart raced, and my stomach was all in knots fo’ nearly an hour, as he continued to follow on the other side.

  “At one point, Paol here stopped and turned to me. He pointed out that the river was widenin’, and we knew that it also meant it was gettin’ shallower too. We worried that the current would be easy to traverse fo’ the wolf if we went much further. In fact, we could see ‘bout three miles downstream, where the canyon opened up to the Anaktuvuk valley that the river was splittin’ up into a delta. Had we continued on, the wolf woulda had no problem gettin�
� to us had he wanted us bad ‘nough. So we waited there to see what the wolf’d do, and he waited to see what we’s gonna do. There we was at a tense impasse, and we could do nothin’ but wait until the sun set. We don’t know when the wolf left, as we could see an occasional reflection of light off of his eyeballs, even after it was pretty dark. But I do remember sleepin’ next to nothin’ that night, worried ‘bout where that wolf was. Maybe he was gonna work his way downstream, cross over and then come up to greet us. Then, very early in the mornin’, we heard the most eerie and hauntin’ group of howlin’ in the distance. By our recknoin’ the pack was high up on the mountain across the other side of the river, but my skin crawled with each new chorus of howls that echoed across the canyon walls fo’ the rest of the night.

  “At the first sign of light, we peered across the river. There was nothin’ there. As the light grew brighter, we grew more confident that the wolf had gone on—moved up hill with the rest of his pack, we s’pposed. We packed up as quick as we could and made fer it downstream, where we hoped to reach the Anaktuvuk valley befo’ that wolf came back.

  “’Round noon, we had left the mouth of the canyon and entered into the vast expanse of the Anaktuvuk. We saw loads of caribou that day, and we worried ‘bout whether they’d cause us any trouble. While they knew we were there with ‘em, they kept their distance, and in some cases, bolted away from us when they thought they’s gettin’ too close. Miles passed, and we didn’t feel like we was makin’ good progress, ‘cuz the valley’s so long. We’d hoped to come ‘cross the Anaktuvuk village, but we saw no signs of it that day. When we set up camp that night, however, we could see in the distance—only ‘bout ten miles away the dim electric lights of the tiny Anaktuvuk village. It was such a welcome sight as I never thought I’d feel. It wasn’t much of civilization to be sure, but it was more than we’d hoped fer in four days of adventure.