The Orthogonal Galaxy

by Michael L. Lewis

  “I don’t gets it, Paol. They tolds us that the trip through the belt would be easy.”

  “They said that it was a very, very low probability that we would experience any debris. They based their calculations on their map of the asteroid belt and our timeframe through here, but it is purely statistical. Even NASA doesn’t know all of the tiniest asteroids that orbit up here. The space is too big to categorize all of the smallest rocks. Either we just got really lucky—”

  “Uh—dontcha mean unlucky, Joonter!” Blade corrected.

  Paol smiled appreciatively. “Either we got really unlucky, or perhaps this indicates a much more dense field in the asteroid belt than was previously estimated. I mean NASA has sent hundreds, if not thousands of probes up here, you’d think that would be sufficient to get a decent idea of density. But then again—” Paol trailed off as he noticed another slight course correction. The ship had leveled off below the asteroid and was traveling parallel to the ecliptic plane of the solar system. Likely, this meant that they had cleared the bottom of the asteroid already.

  “Then again,” persued Blade. “The asteroid belt is ‘bout 2 billion miles in circumference. Even if two thousand probes have come out this way, that’s still one fer every million miles of circumference. That’s hardly sufficient to know what’s really out here.”

  “Aha!” Paol interjected triumphantly. “Look at monitor five. The computer is beginning to collate data sets from the Star Shield.”

  Paol swiped his finger across the top of the monitor, where a blue 3D line drawing in the shape of the Star Transport demonstrated itself on the monitor. After pressing the playback indicator, the video showed an accelerated time lapse of collisions with the Star Shield indicated by red flashing dots on various parts of the front of the spaceship. An impact counter went from a start of zero to nearly three thousand.

  “I’m so glad you turned off that video display. Could you imagine how bright it is out there right now with a peak of several impacts every second?”

  “Well, at least we know that the shield is workin’.”

  “Indeed.” Paol nodded and sighed, in realization that the pair had successfully come through the first of what could be many challenges and risks in the years to come.

  …

  The ST3 mission control room was a much larger and more active facility than the room in which Professor Zimmer and his research contingency used for studying the yellow beam just over six years ago. Rather than just two rows of flat work stations, there were sixteen independent stations scattered throughout the large floor, with each station serving two mission specialists. The stations had sizeable work surfaces with eighteen inch walls at the back of the station where mounted stacked glass monitor panels filled the back wall. Each station and wall jutted out at a 30 degree angle on either side, providing a second set of wall-mounted panels, giving each specialist a wrap-around work space. The angle allowed for efficient usage of both monitors, as specialists could quickly see data from both screens equally well.

  The stacked glass panels were a relatively new and costly technology. When turned off, the monitors appeared as little more than a stack of four panes of glass, each just three millimeters thick. Each panel is separated by a vacuum space of five millimeters, and together, the panels were all encased in a single, light-weight housing. When turned on, each panel was independently controlled by any computer capable of multiple parallel image generation. The computer manages pixel transparency independently, such that any portion of the screen can be fully transparent, fully opaque, or any degree of transparency in between. In this way, a portion of the screen can be opaque, while others can be partially transparent to allow seamless overlapping of multiple images. This can be useful when engineers wish to see a model of Star Transport on the back screen with overlays of surface temperature on another, an astronaut position on a third screen, and air quality on a fourth. Each pixel projection is controlled by a system of lasers mounted in the bottom of the display on the edge of the glass, and each pixel is projected onto a curved bubble inside of the glass pane in order to provide image shifting for parallax control. For a single engineer looking straight on to the display, parallax is not an issue, but the concept of parallax adjustment on curved pixilation is necessary to allow multiple viewers to see the same stacked images without image shifting. If one viewer is sitting to the right of the screen, then his angle of view would otherwise cause images to appear shifted, thus distorting the stacking of images. The computer takes this problem into account by shifting the image for each panel onto different pixels for viewers of different angles.

  The front wall of the room contained a main mission control monitor 20 feet tall and 40 feet wide. It was flanked on either side by two smaller monitors, each of which was only 10-15 feet in diameter. On the center of the main control, a computerized image depicted the planet Jupiter. A thin red circle tightly hugging the planet showed the orbit of the Star Transport, with a small dot indicating the current location of the ship. On the opposite side of the planet, at the right edge of the screen a curving yellow line emerged and disappeared on the display, indicating the predicted course of the superluminal comet, and its flyby of the largest planet in the Solar System. Star Transport was clearly using the planet as a shield from the intense radiation field anticipated from the comet in a high-tech game of hide and seek.

  From a curved theater-like balcony, which is used as an observation deck, a large gathering of media, NASA officials, and politicians were gathered. Seated on the front row on the right side of the balcony, Professor Zimmer sat with his three post-doc astronomers, Joram Anders, Kath Mirabelle, and Reyd Eastman. There was an obvious tension throughout the room, with all eyes glued to the central display.

  “Professor,” Joram whispered as he leaned over in his seat towards his white-haired mentor. “What are your thoughts on the matter? Our calculations indicated an arrival of the comet nearly a half hour ago.”

  “No need for worry yet, Mr. Anders,” Zimmer consoled his colleague. “A thirty minute discrepancy on an orbit of nearly six and a half years is not outside of normal statistical deviation.”

  Joram nodded, but his pursed lips and narrowed eyes indicated that he was clearly not placated. Two minutes later, he inquired, “We’ve only seen one orbit of this thing, Professor. What if it doesn’t return?”

  “And why would it not return, Mr. Anders?” Zimmer responded into Joram’s ear to avoid disrupting the focused silence of mission control personnel. “A collision is outside of the likelihood of possibility. As you know, this thing orbits in the sparseness of the Milky Way periphery where a collision with a large enough deterrent for such a speedy object is extremely unlikely.”

  “Do you think, then that we simply didn’t account for everything in our calculation, Professor?”

  “Undoubtedly!”

  “We have studied the equations for years. What variable could we have overlooked.”

  “It’s not what we overlooked, Mr. Anders, but rather what we couldn’t calculate.”

  Joram tilted his head and looked Zimmer squarely in the face.

  “While I feel confident that no major collisions have occurred, I wouldn’t be surprised at all if the comet hasn’t had some resistance to its orbit from space dust, rocks or other small sized asteroids from nearby star systems.”

  “Of course!” Anders stated loud enough to obtain the attention of several field correspondents seated around the group. It was so obvious that he wondered why he hadn’t thought about it himself. His face flushed as Kath scowled at him for his irreverence. Leaning closer to the professor, he regained himself. “But, Professor, if these minor collisions could slow down the comet and cause a delay, couldn’t they also impact its course?”

  “Certainly, but I don’t believe that it will be significant. Work the numbers, if it will satisfy you. A thirty minute delay is only 5 ten millionths of the entire orbit. Even if we wait several hours, the change is miniscule. I susp
ect the same will be true of the orbit.”

  After a moment of silence, Anders continued. “Professor, I’ve been concerned about—”

  Joram was interrupted by a raised hand of Professor Zimmer, who leaned forward in his seat as if to obtain a better view of the Mission Control floor below. A certain level of bustling ensued with some shifting in seats, and a couple of engineers stood and rushed about to various workstations.

  Several more engineers stood as the main video display began processing the clear path of the superluminal comet, significantly closer to Jupiter than previously anticipated.

  Several chattering voices were heard, but above the din, a voice of the mission control commander came from the back of the control room floor. “Trajectory team, please adjust calculations of comet’s orbit and upload immediately to ST3. Comm, please notify ST3 that we have received confirmation of the comet and that once the onboard computer has adjusted its trajectory assignment, they are to proceed immediately to rendezvous. Congratulations, Team! ST3 hyper-warp phase begins now.”

  Kath enthusiastically embraced Joram and went to plant a kiss on his cheek, when she noticed his ashen complexion. “Joram?” she asked wrinkling her forehead in confusion.

  Joram responded by shaking his head in confusion with a shrug of the shoulders. He turned to Zimmer to notice a similarly fallen countenance. “Professor, I’m worried about—”

  Zimmer shot a knowing wide-eyed glance at Anders along with a rapid, yet subtle shake of the head. “Not here, Joram.”

  Kath squeezed Joram’s hand for his attention. He turned and leaned towards her ear. “I hope I’m wrong, Kath. We’ll need to do some thorough reviews and crunch some big numbers, but there may be a chance that—”

  “Mr. Anders! Not—here!” Zimmer’s voice was soft enough to not be heard above the chatter of the room, but was as stern as Joram had ever remembered. He stopped short, and began to comprehend that his mentor was absolutely right. Being overheard in this group of individuals could prove detrimental.

  Chapter

  27

  “There she is again,” exclaimed Blade, “just comin’ over the horizon.”

  “Yeah, I see her,” Paol’s jaw dropped. “What a show!”

  Paol Joonter and Blade Slater had already spent several days hugging the surface of Jupiter while waiting out for their ride to Earth2, and yet they certainly had not tired from the celestial show they were enjoying. They found Jupiter to be simply mind-boggling as they closed in on it. The radiant colors, and turbulent cloud patterns provided an eerie, almost frightening backdrop, as if the planet was trying to swallow the tiny Star Transport into its violent atmosphere. They had also been able to see all four of the Galilean moons, each so vastly different in appearance. Now, while they hovered above the wavy equatorial clouds of Jupiter, they could see two of Jupiter’s moons simultaneously.

  They had already been enjoying the view of Callisto directly overhead. When he first saw the moon up close as the vehicle approached Jupiter, Paol was stunned to find that it looked like an inhabited planet due to the appearance of city lights scattered all over the otherwise dark and ruddy surface of the satellite. Even after Blade had explained to him that the bright white spots on Callisto were nothing more than fields of ice at relatively higher elevations, he still found it eerie to look upon and imagine civilization on such a small, remote, and frozen moon.

  With Callisto perched high above the domed ceiling of Star Transport, Europa now began its rise above the Jovian horizon. In stark contrast to the dark regions of Callisto, Europa is covered by a light, deep permafrost. With the appearance of dirty snow the surface is mingled with a dusty brown crust and watery ice. What really distinguishes Europa, however, is the deep brown lines scattering along the face of the planet in all different directions, as if the surface had been clawed by a very large cat. Neither Paol nor Blade could conceive of the violent geologic forces at work to cause this vast scarring all over the face of the moon.

  “You know, Blade,” said Paol in awestruck wonder, “We’ve seen four pretty amazing and starkly different moons here around Jupiter. After we travel the circumference of the Milky Way on this mission, I can’t help but think that it would be a walk in the park to come explore the moons of Jupiter after we get back home.”

  “Ah that would be somethin’, Paol. I don’t know if they’d let us have a go at it though. They’ve been talkin’ up the Magellan mission fo’ years, where they send off astronauts to explore and map the Solar System. It always comes back to a price tag that Washington won’t pay fo’.”

  “It seems likely,” Paol mused, “that if this mission succeeds, it will open up a whole world of possibilities. It would prove that if interstellar travel is possible, then intrastellar exploration would certainly be a safe proposition, and would look like pocket change compared to the costs of this mission.”

  “Well,” Blade snorted. “I thinks we first need to cross this bridge befo’ we can comes to the next one.”

  “Agreed. I guess I’ll just sit back and enjoy the show.” Paol reclined his seat and clasped his hands behind his head, enjoying the view of Callisto overhead with Europa straight ahead and the dominating surface of Jupiter to the left.

  A series of chimes pulled the astronauts back to the mission at hand.

  “Message from: Mission Control,” Blade read the display. “Let’s haves a looksy shall we, Partna’?”

  Paol remained in his position of repose. “What’s it say, Blade?”

  Blade read the display. “It says, ‘Show time, boys! The superluminal comet passed by at oh-eight hundred six hours. While its approach was later and nearer to Jupiter than anticipated, we have ascertained that the mission is a ‘Go’ for hyper-warp phase. Please ensure that data set 13009 is uploaded, configured, and operational before proceeding to rendezvous with the yellow beam. This is the final communication from Mission Control until you emerge from superluminal speed on your return to Earth1. Please confirm message and proceed with mission. Godspeed, gentlemen!’”

  Paol quickly pulled out of his dreamy enjoyment of the celestial view around him, and became austere and business-like. “Navigator, please respond affirmatively to the message from Mission Control. I will work on installing the 13009 patch to the computer for correct navigation to the comet tail.”

  Paol worked the control panel in front of him furiously and efficiently as Blade typed and sent his response to Earth1. As Blade sat back in his seat, Paol also paused briefly and turned to his partner.

  “This is the moment we’ve been waiting for, Blade. Are you ready for this?”

  “There’s no backin’ out now, Cap’n.”

  The two reached out and clasped each other by the right hand in a tight grip. With intensity, they stared deeply into each other’s faces, both attempting to assess the readiness of the other. Without further need for words, the moment sealed their intent to do everything possible to proceed with the mission and succeed. They could read the expression on each other’s face and realized that they could strictly rely on the loyalty of the other from this precise moment in time to the day they step back onto Earth1, over twelve years in the future.

  Turning back to the display, Paol and Blade silently read, “13009: Installed & Functional!”

  “Full speed ahead, Cap’n,” Blade confirmed. “Full speed ahead.”

  In an instant, the Star Transport accelerated through its final orbit of Jupiter. The computer had assumed full navigational control via the 13009 data set, and as a result, Paol and Blade only needed to sit back and enjoy the ride.

  After about a half hour of travel, Star Transport had locked its course directly for the path of the superluminal comet. Paol squinted at the video display for signs of anything out of the ordinary.

  “Ain’t gonna work, ya’ know,” Blade guessed Paol’s thoughts.

  “What’s that?” Paol inquired.

  “You tryin’ to stare down the path of the comet. You know that t
hing has left the solar system already.”

  “Yes.”

  “And ya’ also know that our ride is currently travelin’ faster than the speed of light, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, there ain’t no use tryin’ to see it. It’s out there alright, but we ain’t gonna be seein’ it. It's gonna be a few Earth1 days befo’ any of the dust from that thing slows down enough to be seen.”

  “I know, I know,” Paol sighed. “It’s just that it’s hard to have confidence in something you can’t see.”

  Blade attempted to convince his counter-part, “But Earth-based astronomy could sees the comet path through non-visual radiation, right? We don’t have to see it with our own two eyes if somethin’ else detected it with certainty.”

  “But what if the calculation of the path was wrong? I mean, space is so vast out here that we’re trying to find a very thin line of the comet’s path. If the calculations are off at all, we won’t be able to intersect such a thin object. It would be like finding a needle in a haystack.”

  Paol stared blankly at his companion.

  “At night.”

  Still no response.

  “Blindfolded.”

  “So,” Blade replied, “You’re sayin’ ya’ don’t believe NASA? They’s confident that they caught the path, and they’s given us data set 13009 to make sure that we intersect it.”

  “I understand that they are confident,” Paol responded. “All I’m saying is that if I could see the darned object, I’d be able to know for myself.”

  Blade sighed and spoke softly, “Therefore we are always confident, for we walk by faith, not by sight.”

  “What?” Paol asked looking directly over at his navigator, to see a contemplative look on his face.