Proxima Trilogy: Part 1-3: Hard Science Fiction

by Brandon Q Morris

  Adam is currently testing how clumsily the spaceship would react after such modifications. The large cross-section makes us more susceptible to asteroid hits. We still do not know whether there are many such obstacles in our destination system, but we must assume so. I can see Adam leaning to one side, as if trying to avoid being hit himself.

  He practically merges with the ship when he is at the controls. I like that. The control jets we can use to avoid collisions are relatively weak, and it is important for us to detect obstacles in time and to react accordingly. The ship sensors do a good job of recognizing dangers. Then algorithms calculate the necessary course corrections. However, in the simulator the algorithms have been deactivated.

  Adam is supposed to get a feeling for how much thrust from the jets is appropriate at which moment. Until now he has mostly learned how frustrating this can be. I hear him cursing all the time. A collision that usually destroys the ship occurs if he corrects the course too little. If he overcorrects, it is suddenly difficult to reach the destination, and the spaceship starts tumbling and becomes uncontrollable, or we hit another rock that Adam overlooked in the heat of the moment. In the simulator we die in 99.6 percent of all cases. According to my calculations, Adam could reduce this rate to 76 percent by diligent training. He would be an elite pilot if he could manage to save Messenger in a quarter of all cases.

  Hopefully he will never need this skill, because the algorithms normally manage these maneuvers. Nevertheless, there are situations where the ship will suffer damage in any case. We just have to live with this risk.

  Since starting this training Adam has not been as hostile. Eve is currently in a phase in which she particularly identifies with her femininity. At her request, the fabricators produced a bra, panties, and a dress. Adam and Eve are supposed to wear comfortable and practical uniforms, but Eve seems to be trying out being a woman. She had found the dress patterns in ancient books, but I have no clue whether women on Earth are still wearing this style of clothing.

  Eve always wears the dress during her free time, while Adam still prefers his uniform. The two of them rarely talk to each other. They are shy around one another, do not hug, and at most, warily shake hands. I can have good conversations with Eve, but that is harder with Adam, and I feel he does not care about it.

  “Shit!” Adam yells. I check the simulator: For the third time in a row the spaceship failed to enter an orbit around Proxima Centauri. Instead, it will keep flying into the infinite reaches of space forever. I do not concern myself with Adam, as he can calm down by himself.

  I have a strange feeling, though. The end of an important phase lies before us. The two children have quickly developed into young adults, and Messenger will soon reach its destination. There are changes ahead we cannot even guess at. At least two additional sensor drones will reach the Proxima system in a few days. We definitely need to learn more about what to expect there.

  February 14, 18

  Today, the four of us sit in the command module. I have decided I should no longer keep the data sent by the ISUs secret—well, not completely. I won’t mention to them that, earlier, I already saw pictures of the planet’s surface. But all of us will look at the images sent by the two probes which today will probably reach their point of closest approach to Proxima b. Of course, not actually today. The probes got there a few months ago.

  By now we can see both components of the double star system Alpha Centauri as the brightest stars in the sky. Proxima Centauri is still too dark for that, and the planet even more so. When the probes look backward now, they might see the same image as we do. It took so long because the ISUs are always moving at the speed Messenger was traveling when they were launched. For a long time, this has been less than a fifth of the speed of light.

  I am watching the siblings. I often catch myself using this term, but strictly speaking they are not related, even though they were born the same day. They have really turned out well. Being crowded in a tiny space for so long and still ending up such reasonable people, is not something I could have definitely expected. For the sake of safety the Creator even gave me permission to use lethal force, in case one of the children endangered the mission. In that instance, the incubation chamber would have tried to create a substitute through an accelerated process. However, I don’t think I would have been able to kill one of the children even in an emergency.

  Eve looks downward, shuffling her feet. This action causes her whole body to move in the zero gravity of the command module. Adam has his arms crossed and is sitting completely still, as if all of this does not concern him. I don’t believe he really feels this way.

  The outer window is turning into a monitor screen, and this is an automatic reaction when new data arrives.

  “Signal lock achieved,” the computer voice says. At the same time, I feel how one of my memory modules after the other is filled. This time the yield seems to have been excellent.

  “Looking good, kids,” I announce.

  “Don’t call us kids. We are adults,” Adam says. Eve gives him an irritated look.

  First, the images must be verified using the checksum. We cannot risk any kind of harmful data entering Messenger. This test is performed by an algorithm I can neither modify nor cancel. The operating system will not display any unchecked data.

  Then something is happening on the screen. From top to bottom, an image starts building line by line, a photo. I hope this is not the picture I have already seen. For Adam and Eve, this will be their first view of their new home, a place where they will stay until they die.

  It is the darkly glowing plain I already know. Eve stands up in order to see every detail. Adam is also watching with rapt attention.

  “Not exactly paradise,” Adam says, and Eve nods in agreement. Both obviously have not yet decided how to react. The disappointment seems to take a moment to reach their minds.

  ‘Switch to Next?’ a text on the screen reads. Apparently, more images have been processed.

  “Switch,” I say, and the second image appears. The time stamp tells me the probe had flown farther, about 800 kilometers, I calculate from the time and speed data. Here the landscape looks quite different. The faces of Adam and Eve brighten, even though it is considerably darker here than in the central plains, because the sun stands overhead at an angle. Yet the ground is obviously covered by something other than hard rock. The ISU, the data indicates, took the picture from an altitude of about 3,000 meters, so we cannot clearly recognize what we are seeing.

  While Adam and Eve study the image, full of fascination, I run it through the spectral analyzer. I detect hydrogen, oxygen, nitrogen, and carbon. Everything indicates that the temperatures are lower there. The oxygen content of the air is still barely above ten percent, but if the temperatures are correct, we can handle the rest. We are going to build respirators that can first concentrate the oxygen in the air before delivering it to the wearer. Three percent more should be sufficient—maybe five, considering the greater physical exertions due to the gravity.

  The analyzer also finds strange lines I cannot assign to specific substances. They are not reflected but are being emitted. It is almost as if the ground, or whatever covers it, shines in certain frequencies.

  “There is something more,” Adam says, interrupting my musings. True, we are receiving a third image. This is a decent result, considering that the ISUs were intended for very different purposes, and have not been designed for transferring data across such enormous distances.

  “Switch,” I continue. The automatic system needs my command, perhaps because I might want to manipulate the content of the image before showing it to my passengers?

  This will not be necessary. While taking the photo the probe must have been crossing the terminator, the line separating the always-lit side from the always-dark one. Three vegetation zones can be detected: an area about 300 to 100 kilometers before the terminator is covered by a dense forest zone; beyond it there is an ocean ring that seems to span the
entire planet, containing a few small islands; and finally, about 50 kilometers after the terminator, there is a zone of eternal ice. We cannot see whether this is the continuation of the ocean in frozen form, or whether an ice-covered desert waits there for visitors. If the ocean covers the entire rear side, Proxima b would contain much more water than does Earth.

  “Wow,” Adam says. I haven’t heard such an expression of enthusiasm from him for a very long time. Eve starts to turn the three photos into a schematic representation, a kind of map. I wonder where our greatest chances would be to find the inhabitants or what they left behind.

  “What do you think?” I ask. “Where should we look first for whoever sent the signal to us?”

  “Definitely not in the central plain,” Adam replies. He is probably right, but we cannot discount any possible option.

  “There might be silicon-based life forms that would flourish in the conditions there,” I add.

  “In the pictogram message there were clearly creatures with two legs and two arms, and under those circumstances, such a shape would make no sense.”

  “Good objection, Adam,” I say. “Is there anything else?”

  Eve sways her head and says, “I would suggest the rear side.”

  I am surprised at this and ask, “Even though it is extremely cold there?”

  “It is the place best protected against the Proxima Centauri flares,” Eve says. “If there is a civilization capable of sending such a message, it could also survive under extreme environmental conditions.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure. Mankind is currently struggling with an added two degrees, and we at least made it here,” I explain.

  “I know. J told us about it in a lesson,” Eve says. “Humans are really messed up. Not all beings have to be that way.”

  If she only knew how messed up some humans really are! I hope she never finds out. Yet her arguments are valid and even convince me. We definitely have to check the ocean.

  “Why should they stay in the ice when the great flare is long gone?” Adam asks, making a good point. “Right now, it would be easier for them to survive in the steppes or the forest regions.”

  “Maybe both of you are right?” I offer. “There might be individuals bored by living in the ice regions, who now wander through forests and meadows.”

  I am skeptical about one thing, though, but I decide not to share my worries with them. The signal, which the ship had been receiving for a short time, had disappeared again, long ago. That is too bad, because we could have used the radio beam for guidance during our approach.

  June 22, 18

  Since the beginning of the week, Adam and Eve have definitely preferred to attend their lessons. Only here in the command module can they escape the simulated gravity that tortures them in their quarters. Of course they realize this tough preparation is necessary, but the sore muscles are still painful. And they can’t just lie on their beds, they have to move around. This is the only way to get their muscles accustomed to the high gravity we will encounter on Proxima b.

  The torture has not yet reached its maximum level. Right now, we have only increased the rotational speed of Messenger to the point where the cabins experience about three-quarters of Earth’s gravity. We cannot rotate the spaceship much faster, but the fabricators are already busily expanding the radius of the ship. No later than two months before arrival the passengers are supposed to be accustomed to the full gravity of the planet.

  I am glad I do not have to participate in this program. My old bones would have failed, as even the gravitational acceleration on Earth was sometimes too much for me. There is a difference between being padded and wearing a diaper while having to withstand 6 or 8 g during the launch of a spaceship—or having to live the rest of your life at 1.5 g, one and a half times terrestrial gravity.

  Adam has some major back problems, and this is no surprise, since he is considerably taller than Eve. She, in turn, complains about severe pain in her calves. This is rather unusual. I ordered the incubation chamber to investigate, but it found nothing. Considering these new muscular strains, both of them are holding up well. The slight genetic modifications to their metabolism allow them to incorporate a significant amount of calcium in their bones in a short time, so that their bone density increases more quickly than in normal humans.

  But I did not call the two of them into the command module to discuss their health. We received new data from the Proxima Centauri system. We are finally close enough for the onboard telescope to detect more than we already know.

  The window once more turns into a computer screen.

  “Adam, you should be glad about this,” I begin. “It looks like entering the system won’t be that easy. We might even need your skills.” The boy has turned out to be truly gifted in using the simulator, and on Earth he might have become an excellent pilot.

  “Why?” he asks.

  I zoom in to the system on the screen.

  “There, in the center—that’s obviously Proxima Centauri,” I reveal to him. “Then, at a distance of about seven million kilometers, there is the planet where the message came from. It orbits its sun approximately every eleven days. That is pretty close and very fast, but we can solve this problem. But out here, about where Mercury would orbit in Earth’s solar system, there is a real problem, a kind of asteroid belt that obstructs our approach. Perhaps another rocky planet used to exist there at one time.”

  “Or something interfered with its evolution into a planet,” Eve adds.

  “That’s possible, but not likely, as there is nothing here that could interfere. Essentially, this system does not possess a Jupiter.”

  “Perhaps it was the gravitational effect of the Alpha Centauri double star?”

  I nod involuntarily, until I realize no one can see it. “Yes, Eve, that could be one cause.”

  Eve nudges Adam with her elbow.

  “Unfortunately, the asteroid belt contains a lot of material. It could have become a nice planet, or maybe it once was one,” I explain. “And the material is not just distributed in the plane of the ecliptic, but also above and below it.”

  “But the asteroid belt in Earth’s solar system only seems dangerous.”

  “That is correct, Adam. This one, though, contains more material and is much, much closer to its star. So there are considerably more potential collision candidates in a significantly smaller space. That makes it quite dangerous for us to cross this asteroid belt.”

  “Couldn’t we just fly around it?” Adam asks.

  “That would be an option if we had unlimited time,” I reply. “The problem is that Proxima Centauri generates a flare about every 40 days. I am not sure we would want to expose you to the effects of one of these solar storms in space. It shouldn’t be a problem for Messenger itself, but your biology is too fragile for this. If we need more than 40 days for approach and landing, a flare will most probably catch us.”

  Adam says, “That sounds as if we would be safer on the planet itself.”

  “We would be much safer than inside Messenger. By now we have more precise measurement data concerning the gravitational field of Proxima b. It looks like the planet has a large, rotating iron core which amounts to 60 percent of its radius, much more than in the case of Earth.”

  “Does this mean the planet has a magnetic field that protects us from radiation?” Eve asks.

  “Yes, it does,” I reply.

  “And why did this not protect the inhabitants?”

  “The giant flare, which could be seen all the way from Earth, must have been about 4,000 times stronger than a regular flare. Even the magnetic field couldn’t shield them from it.”

  “And how does something like that happen?” Eve says. “Could it happen again while we are on Proxima b?”

  “We still know too little about that,” I explain to both. “Generally, red dwarfs are very stable. Maybe the fuel in its interior ran out locally.”

  “I don’t think so,” Adam interjects. “There
must be another reason. Proxima Centauri is fully convective and the fuel gets well mixed. If I remember correctly, its expected lifespan is four trillion years.”

  “That is true, Adam,” I say. “We simply do not know enough about the causes of this flare. For the time being we have to assume it could happen again and take precautions as quickly as possible.”

  “As quickly as possible?” Eve asks while looking at the monitor screen, as if I were right inside it.

  “Almost immediately after our landing on the planet,” I reply. “We can’t do anything beforehand except study its star as thoroughly as we can, and on all wavelengths.”

  August 23, 18

  It is time to tell Adam and Eve the truth—perhaps not the whole truth, but as much of it as possible. Today is their 16th birthday, and according to the laws of our future colony, written personally by the Creator, they now are both considered of age. And indeed, they have not acted like children for a long time.

  Adam is still more stuck in the transition to adulthood than Eve is. It is difficult for him to define himself as a man. This is strange because even though I am invisible I act like a man, and J is also a more masculine type. We always refer to the robot as ‘he,’ not ‘she’ or ‘it.’ On the other hand, Eve has no role models on board, but she seems to have accepted her femininity. The fact that she emphasizes it might be related to a desire to differentiate herself from the predominant masculinity on board the spaceship.

  It is not much fun celebrating a birthday with 16-year-olds. Put quite simply they are no longer impressed by anything, and it is difficult to select a gift for them. They get what they need and what they want. ‘I would like to go to the movies with a girlfriend, like in this TV series’ we cannot offer. But the truth about their origins, I would think, might be an impressive gift. At least I hope so.

  The conversation is taking place in the command module, particularly because Adam and Eve are always happy to escape gravity. By now we have reached full terrestrial gravity. It is only here in the center of the rotational axis that we do not feel it, not even the Coriolis force, because the module is not turning.