The Orthogonal Galaxy

by Michael L. Lewis

  After a brief pause, the procession continued towards the launch pad, where an elevator whisked the two heroes along with a pair of attendants towards a platform just below the rear of the Star Transport. As the bay door opened, the attendants unrolled a ladder from a spool on the platform up into the bay of the spaceship. Within a minute the ladder stopped, and the attendants returned to the side of the astronauts. Joonter turned to look over the platform, gave a brisk wave with his right hand, and blew one last kiss with his left. In an instant, he climbed out of sight, into the belly of the vehicle.

  An attendant scaled the ladder behind him. Because the Star Transport was placed upright, getting strapped into the cockpit seats was nearly impossible without assistance. The attendant harnessed Paol into his seat while the astronaut held on to a bar on either side of the seat to keep from sliding out. The attendant again emerged on the platform, but quickly disappeared inside the craft again with Paol’s blue space helmet in hand.

  Once Paol’s assistant emerged from Star Transport a second time, this same sequence continued for Blade, but not before he could give his final farewell to the crowds with a full-tooth smile and two thumbs up. Cameras zoomed tightly into his radiant face, giving field correspondents plenty of material to work with, touting the efforts of the heroes during training, invoking the encouraging example of Slater’s life in overcoming challenges, and praising NASA for their visionary efforts.

  Once both astronauts were secured, the attendants left the platform, and gave a signal towards the mission control tower. They quickly rolled the ladder back onto its spool and confirmed the complete sealing of the door.

  Blade’s head turned slowly to his comrade. Noticing the movement out of the corner of his eye, Paol turned to see a very anxious and wide-eyed expression on Blade’s face.

  “What’s the matter, Blade?”

  “I’s just wonderin’ what we got ourselves into here, Partna’. Why this is some fool dumb thing we’re doin’, ain’t it?”

  “Now, Blade—” said Paol softly. “You aren’t getting cold feet now are you?”

  “No, they’ve been cold ‘bout five years now. I’m just now recognizin’ it.”

  “Blade, what better thing could you be doing with your life right now?”

  “Anythin’ better than committin’ suicide quickly comes to mind.”

  Paol grew agitated and surprised by this comment, and scolded his fellow astronaut. “Blade! You were the one who convinced me that this mission has a perfectly fine chance of succeeding. Why are you second guessing that now?”

  “C’mon, buddy,” said Blade. “Ya’ can’t nohow tell me that ya’ don’t often think ‘bout the fact that we know so little ‘bout what we’re gettin’ into. I mean, nobody—nobody!—really knows anythin’ ‘bout this ride we’re gonna hitchhike on. Look, we have no clue ‘bout the real effects super-warp travel is gonna do on a livin’ bein’. And, we don’t know nothin’ ‘bout Earth2 that ain’t more than twenty-seven thousand years old. Fo’ all we know, evolution has advanced to the point that we’re gonna have to run from dinosaurs or cannibals fo’ five years, waitin’ fer our bus to return.”

  “Dinosaurs and cannibals?” Blade asked curiously. “Is that the worst you can think of? Why I’m far more concerned about lawyers and politicians.”

  “Say wha—” Blade looked at Paol’s half-hidden smile and realized a bit later than he should have that he was being joked with. Blade responded with grateful laughter that helped to strengthen his resolve.

  Just then, a voice from mission control was heard coming from no particular location in the cockpit. In fact, it sounded as if the noise was formed inside the ear. “Star Transport Pilot, all systems are a go for take-off in T minus 2 minutes.”

  “Copy that, Ground Control,” replied Paol.

  The voice continued, “Please provide cross-check of onboard systems, ST3.”

  Paol quickly worked through a checklist of systems.

  “Avionics: check.”

  “Communication: check.”

  “Computation: check…”

  When Paol had completed his checklist, Blade raced through a list he had also been working on.

  “Propulsion: check.”

  “Navigation check.”

  “A/V check...”

  “Mission ST3, it appears that all systems are check, and launch will commence in T minus seventy seconds.” Then in a less robotic manner, the voice asked. “Star Transport, is there anything you’d like to tell the inhabitants of Earth1?”

  Paol took a quick breath and replied, “To the citizens of the world, we thank you for the opportunity, and can’t wait to return with the knowledge you wish to gain from this expedition. To our families, we love you and hope the years will pass as quickly for you as the distance will for us.”

  And then, a final word from Mission Control before the final countdown. “Godspeed, ST3.”

  Anticipation grew with each second that passed. “T minus fifteen, fourteen… T minus ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three…”

  In a sudden blast, rockets roared to life and exploded into a fireball that lit up the Florida morning even more effectively than the low-lying Sun. Spectators struggled to determine whether they should shield their eyes or cover their ears. The vehicle lifted gently off the ground, cleared the launch pad, and then quickly shot the Star Transport into the atmosphere. The roaring of the rockets gradually subsided giving way to the cheers of the crowd. All were applauding, yelling, and whistling enthusiastically as their beloved astronauts approached the upper reaches of the atmosphere.

  Paol and Blade sat silent in the darkness of the cockpit, enveloped in the discomfort of rapid acceleration and intense vibration. They had experienced this multiple times in the simulator, but this time it was real, and that knowledge multiplied the difficulty of the situation, not to mention the churning of their stomachs.

  Medical personnel watched abnormal vital signs in both astronauts with guarded concern. While nothing they saw was unexpected, they also knew that the elevated heart-rate, body temperature, and rapid breathing were not desired.

  A sudden jolt shook both astronauts in a tense, yet anticipated moment. Through the darkness of the flight deck, the astronauts knew that this was the moment of separation. The two wing-mounted silo rocket boosters separated from the Star Transport, and the high-tension straps whipped rapidly away from the body. The astronauts braced for one final jolt, when the third silo was to be released. In an instant, the vehicle lunged upwards, while nauseated stomachs lurched in the opposite direction. Blade closed his eyes while Paol inhaled deeply.

  At long last, the astronauts exited the atmosphere and the ride became more smooth and comfortable. Slowly, as the astronauts realized that the worst was behind them, vital signs began to stabilize—for both the astronauts, and mission control personnel.

  “Piece of cake, huh partner?” Paol reached over and slapped his navigator in the arm.

  “Yeah, I can’t wait to see what super-warp’s gonna feel like.” Blade shook his head slowly.

  A voice from the planet they just departed sounded in the cockpit. “Star Transport Pilot, please provide physical check.”

  Paol replied “Pilot reports no major physical problems—a slight nausea. That’s all. Over.”

  “Star Transport Navigator?”

  “Is my head s’pposed to feel this way? Sheesh!”

  After a brief pause, a voice continued, “Navigator, medical staff reports some head stress reported in your vitals, but nothing out of the ordinary… so, yeah… it should feel that way for a while. Guys, I regret that we don’t have any beverage service on this flight, but we do have some in-flight entertainment.”

  With that, the light began to grow throughout the cockpit. The flight deck transformed into a virtual planetarium. The dome shaped roof shone with stars, and the bright curved outline of the blue and white Earth dominated the left side of the display. Drawn to the light, both astronauts
turned their heads to the left and gawked at the display.

  “Wow,” was the response from a wide-eyed Slater, whose word was more breathed than it was audible.

  Paol turned his head back to the right to see his navigator’s face full of stunned expression. “Pretty amazing, isn’t it, buddy?”

  “Ground control, thank ya’ fo’ the show,” Blade expressed, as he looked back to his left. “These views are simply amazin’… it’s just like lookin’ out a real window.”

  When systems engineers considered the body of Star Transport, they knew that the astronauts would need an unprecedented view of their surroundings for proper flight and navigation, but they also wanted every square inch for the collector panels to ensure a sufficient supply of energy for the entire trip. The solution was to place miniature high-resolution cameras around the fuselage to provide a full panoramic three-dimensional image.

  This seemed like a great idea, except that early demonstrations proved that the quality of the video wasn’t realistic enough. Psychologists noted that simulated scenarios with video-game quality proved that participants would be emboldened to take unnecessary risks. With improved video quality, responses were more scenario-appropriate. As a result, engineers pushed themselves in the design of the video until they obtained near perfection in image quality. In an experiment, less than one out of a thousand could discern the difference between a real image seen through the window and a projected digital scene through the high-quality display.

  Time stood still as the astronauts enjoyed the quiet and stillness of space as Earth floated quietly below them. The tranquility of the view was in stark contrast to the turbulence of life down below: people scurrying in all different directions, horns blaring in morning rush hour traffic, sirens attending to emergencies of all kinds, gunfire in war-ravaged countries. It didn’t seem possible that the still blue of the ocean, the silky white of the clouds, the extensive sands of the deserts, nor the deep green of the forests could ever have induced such chaos.

  Within minutes the Earth faded behind them, in spite of their necks craning to catch as much of the show as possible. Eventually, the duo had to concede that their home was gone—for more than twelve years. While hearts hung heavy, they knew that the best thing they could do was to just look forward—and that’s exactly what they did, for their first task lay exactly straight ahead of them in full view.

  …

  “It’s so big,” Paol gasped.

  “Sure is, Buddy,” the navigator agreed with a huge grin.

  “It’s just that—you know—you see this thing in the sky night after night, and you just don’t realize how big it is. It’s—well—I can’t even comprehend its size. Just look at that crater there, for example. How big do you think that thing is? I’m guessing I could get lost in that thing.”

  “You mean that one there with all them rays comin’ out of it?” Blade indicated with his finger straight out from his arm and one eye shut to focus in on the object in question.

  “Yeah.”

  “Why that there is the Copernicus Crater. A couple of those early Apollo missions landed jus’ south of there. That’s one nasty impact there, to be sure.”

  “Why do you say that?” Paol looked over at his navigator

  “Well that hole’s ‘bout 50 miles wide, and—” Blade paused for effect, sensing the eager stare of his partner. “—and over two miles deep! Good luck climbin’ outta that hole, if ya’ ever fall in.”

  Blade turned and looked at Paol. “See those white rays comin’ outta the crater? They’re ‘bout five hundred miles in every direction. How hard must two things hit each other to send dirt and rocks flyin’ that far?”

  Paol pursed his lips and let out a low whistle. “I’m trying to imagine the view from the rim of a crater that is two miles deep.”

  “Well, don’t try,” Blade shrugged. “There’s nothin’ like it on Earth. Even if you’re standin’ atop Everest, the base of the mountain is only ‘bout two miles below. Even then, ya’ wouldn’t get an idea ‘bout what a two-mile deep hole looks like ‘gainst the flat land you’re standin’ on.”

  Silence ensued in the cockpit as Star Transport raced towards the moon, on an apparent crash course. Eventually, the vehicle steered away to make its way around to the other side, where the astronauts would rendezvous with one final fuel stop. A moon orbiter with a trio of astronauts awaited the arrival of Joonter and Slater to top them off and give them that extra burst to speed them on their way towards Jupiter, which was projected as the closest spot to catch the super-luminal comet as it passed through the solar system again.

  “Moon Orbiter, this is ST3,” announced Paol. “Do you copy?”

  “Loud and clear, ST3. What is your ETA?”

  “We are currently at an orbital distance of 175 miles, and are anticipating arrival to your orbit in about 27 minutes.”

  “We look forward to seeing you, ST3. Over.”

  Blade scrutinized the navigational display for any deviance in calculated trajectories, or orbital velocities for either the Star Transport or the Moon Orbiter, but this was a mere formality, as the computers controlled everything exactly according to plan.

  While Blade monitored the computer displays, Paol maintained a constant vigil on their surroundings to make sure that nothing orbiting the moon might cross their path. Ever since NASA constructed the first astronaut base on the moon, the amount of space debris jettisoned by spacecraft, satellites, and rocket ships had increased greatly, and there were a couple of different orbits which posed greater hazards. Having past uneventfully through both, Paol turned his attention to picking up a visual on the moon orbiter. He strained to see, but with the sea of bright stars, it was difficult to catch a glimpse of the fuel orbiter, and the angle of light from the sun did not help his cause.

  “Blade!” Paol announced abruptly. “There she is. At two o-clock with an angle of declination about five percent.”

  “How’d ya’ spot her? Against the backdrop of the moon, she’s so small.”

  “I finally spotted movement with respect to the stars just above the horizon of the moon. Anyway, I think we’re in perfect position, aren’t we?”

  “Yes, sir… I’ll radio ahead.” Blade switched on his radio. “Moon Orbiter, this is Star Transport Navigator. We have a positive visual ID, and are closin’ in.”

  “ST3, we see you as well, and are ready for rendezvous.”

  The vehicles closed in slowly. Paol took over manual control, in order to ease the Star Transport just over the top of the orbiter, passing within just a few feet of each other. As the orbiter passed below, and out of sight, his heart started racing. To know that he was so dangerously close to another spaceship, and that both were racing at tens of thousands of miles per hour. The smallest mistake could mean disaster.

  “ST3, we see you overhead, and are taking over the negotiation.”

  “Roger, Orbiter.” Paol breathed a deep sigh of relief to know that the pilot below him was now in control of nudging the two vehicles together.

  Silence ensued for a couple of minutes before a sound of a thump caused Paol and Blade to lurch forward. Wide-eyed, the two looked behind them and saw a round portal open on the rear bay door. The round face of an astronaut, with a large tuft of blonde hair floating above his head emerged in the hole with a beaming smile.

  “Star Transport. Permission to board your vessel?”

  “O’Ryan!” exclaimed Blade with a mile-wide smile. He would’ve bounded towards the visitor to greet him warmly, but he was still becoming accustomed to weightlessness, in spite of all the zero-G training on Earth. Further, Star Transport was very short from floor to ceiling, so the astronauts had to move around a very confined space. Garrison O’Ryan, on the other hand, floated swiftly and effortlessly through the cabin to greet the ST3 companions.

  “Why—the last time we met, I thought you’s all against gettin’ back up in space,” Blade stated as he took a firm grasp of the visitor’s hand.

/>   “Me too, Blade—me too. I fully expected never to come back up here after the incident on Camp Mars. I still shiver to recall the destruction and the weeks of waiting and wondering.”

  “What made you get back in the saddle, Garrison?” Paol now joined in the exchange.

  With pride, O’Ryan answered, “You two!”

  Paol and Blade looked at each other, confused by this answer.

  “Like the rest of the world, I’ve been watching this whole mission unfold. I’ve read the interviews in the magazine, listened to the press conference updates, and I realized that if you guys could have the courage to travel tens of thousands of light years, the least I could do would be to travel the a few light seconds to help top off your fuel tank before making the long voyage.”

  “Well, we appreciate ya’ makin’ the trip just fer us, Garrison,” said Blade gratefully.

  Paol continued to catch up with their astronaut friend, “How’s the family, Garrison.”

  “Great, thanks—everyone is just great. Had you heard about the baby?”

  “Yes, we did—we also heard that Timmer wasn’t exactly thrilled.”

  “Funny—when he first found out that he was going to have a little sister, he was quite agitated. ‘Send her back!’ he demanded. But now, he seems to enjoy playing the role of big brother. He loves helping her with her bottle, but he still thinks diapers are icky”.

  “Well, they is icky,” Blade agreed with a comical shudder and contorted face, to which the group laughed readily.

  “So how are you guys feeling anyway?” Garrison asked with genuine interest in his pair of comrades with whom he had spent more than a few hours in training.

  “We’re doing well,” Paol spoke for both. “Leaving Earth was a bit of a trying experience. But the headaches are gone, and the stomachs as good as ever—except for the want of something a little more solid in them. As we adjust to weightlessness, NASA is keeping our diets fairly soft.”