Project Sail

by Anthony DeCosmo

  “No,” Hawthorne and Henderson answered in unison but then the Commander explained, “That was a chain reaction in the RDM. It does not happen often, but it does happen.”

  He thought Reagan Fisk would never look at a gravity panel the same way.

  Henderson said, “If you are worried about criminal prosecution, you now have cover. The revisions to the Geneva Conventions in 2085 state that you cannot be held accountable for actions ordered by a superior officer.”

  Hawthorne said, “You found something on Gliese 581, something you and the navy want to keep from the Europeans.”

  “I am sorry, Commander, but eventually you will understand why we are asking so much of you.”

  “Whatever it is, I am certain it will be of great benefit to Universal Visions, Incorporated.”

  “Not just UVI, Commander, but the future of the human race.”

  29. Launch

  Carlson carried a box in his hands and a bag slung over his shoulders as he arrived at the project rooms outside the bridge aboard SE 185. Without a free hand available, he stared at the door trying to figure out a way to open it.

  Professor Coffman came to the rescue.

  “Thanks, Professor. I didn’t think I would make it.”

  “Are you settled in?”

  “Everything is here; I just hope I can find places for it all,” Carlson answered as he set his packages on the floor.

  “Yes, well, preparing for scientific studies is difficult when you don’t know what you will study.”

  Inside the project room across the hall, two UVI technicians struggled with a heavy box of their own, this one lined with tiny spikes. The door was open allowing Carlson to see.

  “Professor, is that a pincushion?”

  “Oh, yes, well we brought along the QE connection box for Probe 581 and a new translation computer, in case we receive signals again. No sense leaving it behind.”

  “Our ship has one of those as well, right?”

  “Yes, we do. Einstein called quantum entanglement ‘spooky action.’ Here we are, hundreds of years later, with brain implants and engines that contort space. Yet we still do not understand this spooky action.”

  Carlson considered today’s launch.

  “We are traveling a long way, aren’t we?”

  Coffman put a hand on Carlson’s shoulder and said, “Yes, but we are traveling together, Matthew. Consider the first men in space over a century ago who crammed into tiny capsules and flew alone. Even the original trips to the moon involved only three astronauts. Imagine how alone they must have felt. We have a crowded ship with a smart crew. We will be just fine. This is an adventure.”

  Carlson said, “I have been in space before, sometimes months at a time, but I could always send a message home to my mother. But the company blocked transmissions since leaving Earth and, well, I am all she has.”

  “And she will be proud when you come home and announce to the world that you were the first man to step foot on a planet beyond our solar system.”

  “I just hope it is worth it.”

  “Matthew, we are ushering in a new era of exploration. Mankind will no longer be confined to the worlds around our home sun. Imagine what great gifts the universe can offer us!”

  Carlson considered everything he had seen and heard since his recruitment to this mission.

  “I wonder, Professor, if we have anything to offer the universe in return.”

  ---

  Another announcement echoed through the halls of the space station: “All personnel assigned to SE 185 are to board immediately.”

  Hawthorne and Kelly Thomas walked together, and while the burden of his role in this mission weighed heavily on his shoulders, she appeared unfazed by her part even after learning about Charles’ planned assassination.

  He did not want her involved, but he had no choice. They resolved not to speak of it again until he needed her, but he did not doubt she would do as asked. Hawthorne wondered if he could say the same.

  As they crossed the boarding lobby, he spotted Reagan Fisk sitting on a bench, his head in his hands and a bag at his feet.

  “You go, I will catch you onboard.”

  Kelly continued while Hawthorne studied Fisk from across the room. He knew the kid wanted nothing to do with this mission anymore. His fantasies about the excitement of space travel and the nobility of UVI had come crashing down, first with Chambers’ horrific end and then with revelations about spies, murder, and mutiny.

  To Hawthorne, it seemed technology evolved but humanity remained Neanderthals just with fancier clubs and nicer caves.

  Hawthorne walked over to Fisk. He felt an obligation to the young man. Not the obligation of an officer to his crew; the obligation of one generation to the next.

  “I do not want to do this,” Fisk said. “I am not cut out for this. When I accepted the job recruiting the specialists, I told my fiancée I would be gone for two months. Now I will be gone for another ten weeks, at least, assuming I ever make it back.”

  “Reagan, you saw something nasty, but the company taught you about micro meteors, gravitational anomalies, and suit breaches; you know shit happens.”

  “That is not what is bothering me.”

  “Look kid, I understand how you feel but you cannot let it change you.”

  “How can I not let this change me? You know our orders. That opened my eyes to the behind the scenes bullshit.”

  “And you hate it.”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  Fisk said, “Because I believed we worked on something worthwhile and the future could be new and different.”

  “It can.”

  “Don’t bother, Commander. Since the day we met you have been saying that for all our progress it’s just the same old shit.”

  “Yes, that is what I have been saying and that is how I feel. I have seen worse than what happened in the cargo bay, and I know what it is like to kill. I am too far gone and that is why you are so important to this mission.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You’re a believer Fisk, even if this has shaken your faith. For me, that died thirteen years ago and until you knocked on my cabin door, I never thought further ahead than a day or two. But you have a reason to do better than that. You have your girl; you have plans for restaurants and kids.”

  Fisk said, “That sounds silly now.”

  “You are wrong. The political backstabbing and cloak-and-dagger crap is the stuff that is silly. Oh, it can get you killed, but it is small and petty. You and that girl in the picture, that’s important.”

  “Are you trying to convince me, or yourself?”

  “Not so long ago, a friend of mine talked about how each of us will face our moment of death, one day or another. Like Chambers when he realized he was stuck in the anomaly. My friend feels that at that moment, your life will be empty memories and the only thing you will have is fear.”

  Fisk said, “Your friend sounds like he is fun at parties.”

  “I wonder how it will feel the day I die, knowing I am not leaving anything behind. The life that flashes before my eyes will be one of space battles followed by copious amounts of alcohol.”

  “You were a hero.”

  “No, I was a killer. I lived because I killed better than the other guy did or, honestly, because I got luckier. When people call you a hero, they are saying they are glad it was you and not them. But you, Reagan Fisk, are the most important person on this mission.”

  “I’m the most disposable person on this mission.”

  “Look, we have people who can analyze rocks, sample the atmosphere, and measure orbits. This ship needs someone who can see what it means, and that has to be a person who has a stake in the future. You do.”

  “Do you really believe that?”

  “Me? No, and you can be like me and not care, or you can be that optimistic pain-in-the-ass who picked me up two months ago, convinced we are on a noble mission.”

 
“Maybe I do not want to be that anymore.”

  “You have no a choice, Reagan; you have too many dreams invested in that girl in Mexico. During this trip, think of her. You will find that giving up is not as easy as it sounds.”

  ---

  Victor Henderson approached the big window that overlooked nearly half the space station, including the docking port SE 185 had left a few minutes ago.

  He held his hand in the air and sent a mental signal through his implant to the computer, activating a video link projected above the observation window. Using one finger, he jabbed toward the screen and his chip did the rest. The control room appeared, five men sitting in two rows monitoring SE 185.

  “Mr. Henderson,” a man wearing computer goggles and a well-trimmed beard reacted. “They have reached safe distance.”

  “I assume we are still in communications range.”

  “Two second delay, sir, but still in range.”

  “Good, I would like to address the crew.”

  “Of course, sir.”

  Henderson poked the air three times and—combined with mental impulses sent through his thinker chip—three more screens appeared. One broadcast on SE 185’s bridge, another the common room on the crew deck, and the last in the engineering section.

  “Captain Charles, Commander Hawthorne, and rest of the crew of SE 185, I call to offer my best wishes for the voyage on which you are about to embark.”

  Captain Charles listened, waited, and then replied, “Thank you, Mr. Henderson. We will depart in two minutes.”

  “Good that gives me a chance to address the crew, if you do not mind.”

  “By all means, sir.”

  He straightened the lapel of his navy blue suit and spoke over the monitors to three audiences.

  “I cannot overstate the importance of your mission…”

  …Professor Coffman glanced away from the console and looked to the image of Director Henderson on a wall-mounted screen, then back at his controls.

  This was a critical time; the generator neared optimal performance. In two minutes, they would release that power, feeding the Alcubierre—Haruto drive and beginning their journey.

  He appreciated the director wishing them well, but any problems now would result in disaster.

  Around the corner from Coffman, Andy Phipps oversaw construction of millions of nanobots to deploy into the conduits that funneled power to the bow array. Even man’s advanced alloys could not contain such energy without suffering damage. The nanobots would repair that damage as it occurred at speeds measured in femtoseconds.

  Sheila Black stood nearby, smoking an e-cigarette and interfacing with her wrist computer. Like Coffman, she supervised the Rotating Field Power Generator.

  The gravitational anomaly in the station’s cargo bay that had killed Martin Chambers came from one panel covering two square feet. If the RTFG spawned an anomaly, it would destroy the ship and possibly create a black hole.

  Henderson’s speech bounced off the high ceiling in engineering and echoed around the generators and cisterns.

  “Astronaut Ellison Onizuka of the space shuttle Challenger said that ‘every generation has the obligation to free men’s minds for a look at new worlds; to look out from a higher plateau than the last generation.’ That is what you are doing today. You stand on the shoulders of those who came before, pioneers such as Yuri Gagarin, the first human in space; and Arthur Banks, the first man to step on Mars…”

  …Dr. King sipped from a plastic cup filled with coffee while sitting at the table in the common room on deck two. She found a chair between her assistant, Rafael Soto, and Lieutenant Thomas. Reagan Fisk sat further away, fidgeting nervously as they watched Henderson on a wall-mounted screen.

  Ira King did not understand the engines driving the ship or the dangers, but she understood human nature. She saw the crew as a volatile concoction.

  Hawthorne, the playboy with few cares lacked the determination to be the hero Kelly Thomas worshiped.

  Captain Charles and Leo Wren were bullies, Professor Coffman was oblivious to anything other than his scientific pursuits and his assistants were no better. Carlson was timid and Fisk suddenly seemed afraid of his own shadow.

  The crew lacked a moral center. They traveled into the unknown, and she worried the slightest challenge could turn the shipmates against one another.

  Henderson’s broadcast continued.

  “Those men came from different nations and different times, but when they journeyed to the heavens, they did so for their entire species, climbing a little higher than those who came before them. When you reach your destination, you will indeed look out from a higher plateau; a view from a new solar system…”

  …Hawthorne sat at his console putting six weeks of training to use. He watched power levels across the ship including data from engineering and adjusted the communications array to improve the quality of Henderson’s transmission.

  Across from him, Leanne Warner kept busy checking—for the tenth time—the bulkheads and hatches, as well as eyeing their airspace for any sign of intruders.

  For the first time, Hawthorne noticed she wore a gold necklace from which dangled the design of three interlocking rings. He recognized it as a symbol of unity with the pro-labor, anti-corporation movement, particularly on Mars. She must have forgotten to tuck it inside her coveralls.

  As for Captain Charles, he sat in his chair, intently watching data streams as information flowed to his station. It was a mask, of course. Once the Alcubierre—Haruto drive engaged, they were riders on a runaway train with no control other than an emergency stop. Hawthorne wondered where the big red abort button was on this ship.

  Stein was the most relaxed person on the bridge, probably because now that they had reached the launch point, he had nothing to do for two weeks.

  Conversely, navigator Tommy Starr squirmed while his fingers tapped air and cycled through his charts repeatedly. The course Starr plotted was critical not only for the ship but for whoever might be waiting at their destination. The Alcubierre—Haruto drive would take them to Gliese 581g, but it would bring with it a devastating wave of energy that would bombard anything in front of the arriving craft.

  Considering their target destination was light years away, computing the exact angle of approach posed a challenge despite advanced navigation computers. If an error caused the ship to arrive facing the planet, 581g would be blasted and irradiated beyond repair.

  Henderson finished his speech: “Our sun and the planets in orbit around it will be but a speck of light to your eyes, lost in a sea of stars. Earth will be twenty-two light years away, so in a sense you will see into our past, even as you chart our future. And that is what you are doing; paving the way for tomorrow by daring to take the greatest step ever attempted in the history of human exploration. On behalf of our company, your country, and our children’s children, I wish you success.”

  The transmission ended and a murmur of ‘thank god’ from Stein reflected the feelings of the bridge crew.

  Charles pulled up a link to engineering.

  “Professor, my board shows ready.”

  “Yes, Captain, we have reached maximum power levels. On your word, we will transfer that power to the drive, and our journey will begin. Engineering is mission go.”

  “Stand by, Professor.” Charles turned his chair and made eye contact with every station as he said, “Put up or shut up time, people. I need a go, no-go on mission. Commander?”

  “Gravitational fields activated and stable, protection enabled. XO says mission, go.”

  “Hatches show sealed and local space is clear. Flight says mission go.”

  “Helm here, mission go.”

  “Tommy? What do you say?”

  “Captain, navigation is mission go.”

  Charles looked to the screen and told Professor Coffman, “Mission is a go; activate the A-H drive.”

  One moment SE 185 hung in empty space, the only signs of the vast power generating ins
ide its hull came from the concave slots at the bow glowing a soft green.

  Starlight shining around the ship then bent and warped, twisted by an unseen force before finally righting again as SE 185 vanished.

  30. Captain’s Table

  Leanne Warner sat at the flight operations station, one of three crewmen on watch despite having nothing to watch. So she sat, listening to the steady hum of equipment and spinning her artificial wrist round and round. In public, the sight of her hand rotating three-hundred-and-sixty degrees shocked onlookers, but Stein and Starr had seen the trick enough that they had run out of hand job jokes.

  Stein sat in the pilot’s chair with his feet resting atop his console while he bounced a small ball off the hull and Tommy Starr played a game of Shogi on his navigation screen.

  The thrill of interstellar travel had given way to the monotonous reality that once the A-H drive activated the crew were merely passengers along for the ride.

  “This is boring,” Stein said for the fifth time in the last hour.

  Leanne pointed at the closed bulkhead over the window in front of him and asked, “What do you suppose it looks like outside? The cameras are blank.”

  “You would think there would be a pretty light show,” Stein said and bounced the ball again.

  Without taking his eyes from his game, Tommy Starr told them, “Space is bending in front of us and straightening out behind, so there is nothing for your eyes to see.”

  Stein asked Warner, “Say, did I ever show you the scar I got on Mars?”

  Starr warned, “Do not fall for it; he is talking about the one he got from a lady friend in a bar at Valles Marineris.”

  She ignored the question and said, “Three weeks of this.”

  Stein bounced the ball again.

  “This is boring.”

  ---

  Kelly Thomas navigated the maze of shipping containers and stacked pallets filling the cargo bay, eventually stopping at a green metal box that stood apart in a row of orange containers marked “Geological Survey Team.” She typed her security code into the lock and the door swung open.

  She spoke, “It’s okay to come out,” but it was the impulse sent from her implant that coaxed her friends from their crate.