Saving proxima, p.12
Saving Proxima, page 12
“Er, okay. Charles, I asked about governmental liaisons two years ago even before I was named captain of the Samaritan. Why now?”
“Simple enough, I guess,” Charles replied. “Government moves at the speed of molasses in most cases. And the fact that the president’s party is in a precarious position heading into next year’s election cycle might have something to do with it. Honestly, we have plenty of time to ‘train’ along the way, plus, we’ll be out of your way unless we can help or the situation requires interaction.”
“Adding Dr. Gilster to the roster was difficult enough. This is a big change and it will totally piss off the scientists. That whole ‘situation requires it’ part. What the hell does that mean?” Captain Crosby was clearly uncomfortable with the circumstances. Charles could see his face growing red with anger. “Am I the captain of this ship or not? Are you going to start interceding in my decisions? Just exactly when will the ‘situation require’ your interaction, Charles?”
“Sam—can I call you Sam?” The captain just nodded at him. “Sam, I know absolutely nothing about running a space vessel, let alone the world’s first-ever interstellar space vessel. You are our first-ever starship captain and I’m not going to get in your way in fear of my own horrible death in space! I can assure you that I’m only here to set up interactions with the Proximans once we get there. And, of course, anything we can do to help along the way.”
“Why is your ‘staff’ and your equipment manifest so filled with weapons and such, then? How can I be certain that you are not here to mutiny once we’re underway?”
“Sam, seriously, my staff was directly picked by the president’s personal security force within the Secret Service and by the national security advisor. These are not individuals with a mission of a mutiny. Their mission is to protect me and the citizens of Earth on this vessel if something goes wrong between us and the Proximan people.” Charles wasn’t certain that Crosby was buying the argument, but for the most part it was true.
For the most part.
“So, I’m asking you once again . . . how can I prevent your armed support team from mutiny?” Captain Crosby pressed.
“Okay, okay, I have an idea. You have a security force on the ship, right?” Charles leaned back in the guest chair of the captain’s office and exhaled lightly.
“Yes, of course we do.”
“Alright then, until we make it to Proxima or some other emergency were to occur, four of the five-person security detail will be under the command of your chief of security. You can lock up their weapons other than whatever you deem appropriate for onboard security. The fifth will have to be my shadow per her job description. She will relinquish all but her sidearm and body armor as per standard security detail equipment. The rest of my staff of nine persons will take on shipboard duties per your assignment and as per their skill sets.”
“And what if we don’t need those skill sets?” Crosby raised an eyebrow. “What then?”
“Captain, we’ll stay out of the way, unless you need us for something. We are literally just hitching a ride here. Again, my team are not starship people. We’d end up crashing into an asteroid or something if we tried to fly this ship.” Charles laughed lightly, hoping to relax the captain’s mood.
“Alright then, Charles. We’ll try it your way. Your people can come aboard. Please have them report to the XO for quarters and arrangements. Don’t make me regret this. If I get so much as a whiff of mutiny, I’ll either lock all your asses up in a hold down by the engine room or I’ll toss you out the damned airlock. Does that copy?”
“Uh, yes. I’ll have my people start loading on then.” Charles stood to shake Crosby’s hand.
“You want to help? Truly?” the captain asked.
“Of course we do.”
“Well then, I have a bit of a sticky situation. Joaquin Luce, whom I think you’ve met before, is forcing his way onto the ship for a ‘launch ceremony.’ That son of a bitch couldn’t care less if we launched or exploded,” Crosby explained. “But until we’re out of this system I have to pay lip service to the damned politicians.”
“I know him well. He was the biggest opposition to even communicating with the Proximans from the start.” Charles recalled Luce and they weren’t nice memories. In fact, Charles recalled him as just a bureaucrat who had been the most outspoken voice against contact with the Proximans. His following was large enough that it propelled him into a seat within the European Parliament. “He’s been meddling in the interstellar affairs since the original hearings on first contact with the Proximans. He’s a political hack only concerned with his own growth of power. I’m not going to miss him at all once the star drive is kicked in.”
“Good. We’re on the same page, then. You’re a politician. You take care of all that for me. I have too much to do to prepare for launch,” Crosby said gruffly. “In fact, that’ll be your ship duty. Keep politics away from me as best you can. Hell, we’ll even call you the ship’s political officer. Ain’t that a hoot? Just like an old Cold War-era Soviet ICBM naval vessel. We have ourselves a political officer . . . ”
“Captain, I’d be more than happy to oblige. I’ve had more than my share of days as an ambassador dealing with political situations that are absolutely no fun and for the most part useless, if not counterproductive.” Charles showed a toothy grin. “I’ll get right on that.”
“Good, then. Now if you don’t mind, I’ve got a lot of other things piling up that need my attention.”
“Right. I’ll get with the, uh, XO. Where do I find him?” Charles asked.
“Mr. Clemons brought you here to my office . . . oh hell . . . ” Crosby got up from his desk and walked to the doorway. He tapped at the panel to the right of it and the hatch hissed open. “Artur!”
“Aye?” The man who had led Charles to the captain’s office appeared almost immediately. Charles now vaguely recalled him introducing himself as Artur. “Show our new political officer here around and get his staff oriented and moved in. He’ll fill you in on our conversation—and if you have further questions, don’t bother me with them!”
“Aye, Captain!”
CHAPTER 14
July 15, 2089
“Right this way, Doctor.” Artur led Joaquin Luce, MEP—Member of the European Parliament—and his somewhat appreciable entourage of staffers and a few press people down the main corridor that led toward the bridge. “The ship’s political officer is waiting for you.”
“Political officer?” Luce asked, surprised by the concept.
“Yes sir, the newly appointed ambassador from the White House. He and his staff started moving in a few days ago,” Artur explained just as he had rehearsed with Mr. Jesus the day before. “Here he comes now.”
“Dr. Luce, so good to see you again.” Charles held out his hand as he approached. The MEP took it and looked at him squarely as if to size him up. Charles could tell that Luce did not at first recognize him, and then his expression changed as he did so—and not in an inviting way.
“Mr. Jesus, right?” Luce shook his hand cautiously. “From the UN hearings?”
“Yes sir. You have a good memory. I’m the political officer of the Samaritan and the ambassador for Earth-Proxima Commerce. Good to have you aboard, sir.” Charles smiled a big fake grin while at the same time thinking of all the million things he would rather be doing—no, that he needed to be doing before leaving his home planet for . . . well, forever.
“What an amazing vehicle this is, Mr. Ambassador.”
“Please, Doctor, call me Charles. And yes, it is. I’m no engineer, so I can’t tell you much about the wizardry it took to build and the magic within, but just imagine that where you’re standing today in just a few weeks will be farther from our home world than anyone has ever traveled before. Mind-boggling, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is.” Luce stepped between Artur and Charles and put his arms around them. “Let’s get some pictures, shall we?”
* * *
Nobody pays attention to the press. Especially not the silent camerapersons or support staff. One extra tech guy here or there was essentially just a filler in the periphery of most people’s attention. And at the moment, MEP Luce was making certain that all eyes were on him. He was good at that.
Raymond Simms—or at least that’s who his visitor’s badge and press pass said he was—had hung in the back with a bag that looked like any other press techie equipment bag slung over his shoulder. He stopped to dig through it as if he were looking for just that particular adapter or gadget he needed, giving just enough separation between the rest of the political dog and pony show and himself. Nobody had even noticed as he slid an ID badge different from the one he wore across a panel on a side hatch. The door opened and he slipped in, closing the door behind him.
Raymond waited about thirty seconds to see if anyone had noticed, but, thankfully, nobody came. He tapped at the monitor panel on his left forearm and a three-dimensional map appeared in front of him, projected on his contacts.
“Hmm, the contacts work great,” he quietly said to himself. “Okay, this is the bridge here . . . yep . . . right there . . . astrogation. Down one level, back three.”
CHAPTER 15
July 16, 2089
“ . . . on this historic day one hundred twenty years ago, mankind embarked on its first mission to another heavenly body—the Moon. Just as those brave Apollo 11 astronauts faced the depths of space as never before, the brave crew of the Samaritan will engage the fusion drive and begin its departure from the Moon, sending man- and womankind on our most courageous journey yet. We will depart this, our home solar system, for the first time ever, reaching out a helping hand to our nearest stellar neighbors. Today humanity becomes a star-faring species . . . ” The secretary general of the United Nations continued to speak in the most-watched live presentation feed in the history of mankind.
“ . . . the Samaritan is firing its onboard fusion drive and has just now departed lunar orbit. I’m certain the mood in the space dock, as around the globe, must be jubilant. The scientists, engineers, and spacecraft technicians, and mission planners, and all other members of this multinational team, have managed to meet the ambitious schedule and we are now on this momentous day launching to the stars. The lower-powered engines are now sending the Samaritan out toward the orbit of Mars, where in a few short weeks it will engage its Samara Drive and be on its way to Proxima Centauri. On its way to meet our brothers and sisters across space . . . ”
Roy Burbank was among those watching the ship depart with his own eyeballs from the space dock. He was one of the lucky few. The rest of the world watched it on video feeds around the planet and the Moon and throughout the solar system. He and his engineering team had installed, tested, troubleshot, and fixed no less than twenty-two of the major subsystems on the Samaritan and for that he was quite proud. They had done their job and done it well. He still had nagging concerns about the PINS and was not quite able to let go of the uneasy feeling that he had overlooked something despite having gone back over the equipment twice more after the initial installation and tests were completed. It was performing exactly as it should.
Burbank was planning to enjoy the day of celebration for as long as he could because he knew that tomorrow he was taking a weeklong cruise vacation with his wife to Mars and back, then it would be back to work. He’d been assigned to work on the next starship being assembled on the other side of the dock. He didn’t yet know what he would be doing. He didn’t even know the name of the ship. As far as he could tell, no one did. His employers had been quite stingy with the ship’s technical specifications, insisting that he sign a comprehensive nondisclosure agreement before they would allow him to see or begin reviewing the specifications. And they would only allow him to begin preparing for the job on the day he reported to work. He suspected he would spend the first several days, perhaps even weeks, poring over design and detailed technical information about the ship before he would even begin hands-on engineering work. That was okay. He needed a break.
As the Samaritan faded from view, becoming a small, bright, moving speck in a sea of specks that was the stars, Burbank wondered what awaited the crew on their special relativistic journey and when they arrived. He did the math and figured out that nature was going to do weird things to the crew during their flight. The Samara Drive would allow the ship to accelerate at a constant one fifth of one Earth standard gravity, providing a comfortable onboard gravity roughly equivalent to that experienced by astronauts on the surface of the Moon. It was enough to keep the muscles from decaying too much when they were awake and moving around. While they were asleep, the electrostimulation of their muscles and bones would have the same effect, or better. The electrostim was designed to approximate one full Earth gravity.
But that wasn’t the weird part. To optimize the trip time, the Samaritan would accelerate at two-tenths gravity until the halfway point, then turn around and begin decelerating until they slowed down enough for the onboard fusion drive to bring them safely into orbit around Proxima Centauri b. At that acceleration, the ship would eventually reach just over eighty-five percent the speed of light before the deceleration phase began. At those speeds, Einstein’s special relativity would kick in and slow down their clocks—the rate at which time would pass for the crew. Taking into account the constantly changing speed due to continual acceleration and deceleration, the crew would age about seven years during the voyage while almost exactly ten years would pass here on Earth. If the crew could watch people on Earth during the trip, then they would see those left behind start moving, talking, and experiencing life faster and faster, like fast-forwarding through the latest VR sim.
Burbank knew that special relativity had been verified many, many times in different experiments, and even measured at relatively low speeds with high-precision clocks. But this was to be the first time that humans would experience time dilation on a scale that would be truly experiential. Burbank wondered what it would feel like for the crew. Would they notice any difference? He doubted it, but wondered, nonetheless.
He was extremely glad they were the ones going. He liked to think about things like relativistic travel and life on other worlds, but at the end of the day all he really wanted was an hour or so at the pub with his friends and coworkers, followed by dinner and an evening with his wife, Chloe. And when the weekend came around, bye-bye to all work thoughts and one hundred percent focus on Chloe. They were even starting to talk about having a family—well, once her last month was done at the ER. There was absolutely no way that he would sacrifice that for a trip to any world in the galaxy. No, his feet were firmly planted near Sol and preferably on Earth. His goal was to save enough money working at the space dock to afford a place in the Norwegian countryside where they could build a house, raise their family, and grow old together. He smiled at the thought and noticed that he had lost sight of the Samaritan’s exhaust among the other points of starlight. They were on their way—more power to them.
Of course, Roy knew that the Samaritan wouldn’t engage the Samara Drive for quite some time to come. In fact, as modern-day spacecraft were concerned, the Samaritan was very average and maybe even on the low end as far as speed was concerned. The cruise ship that he and his wife were getting on tomorrow traveled a bit more than twice as fast. In fact, as part of the cruise package they hoped to see the Samaritan when they passed it going out and then coming back. Roy’s boss had awarded him with the cruise as a bonus for all the late hours he’d put in while getting the ship ready.
The cruise ship was almost the same crew complement as the Samaritan but wasn’t quite as big since there was no interstellar drive on the thing. Since the Samaritan was big and used modern nuclear fusion-based plasma propulsion for interplanetary travel, there was a lot more mass for the standard engines to push and therefore it was slower. It would take it several weeks to reach a point far enough from shipping lanes and other habitat regions within the Sol system before it could safely ignite the star drive. Perhaps, he thought, some of the crew might get cold feet and could still jump ship right up until a week before igniting the drive. It would take that long to get clear of the dangerous exhaust path of the interstellar engine—assuming there was a really fast ship nearby.
* * *
The ship had been underway for less than three hours when the chime sounded, indicating that dinner was being served in the mess hall. Rain, and about half of the thirty-six-person crew, moved from their stations to the mess to take dinner together. The remaining crew members would eat on the second shift. There simply wasn’t room for everyone to gather in the same room at the same time.
Rain entered the mess hall and immediately noticed how small and cramped it was. It was the first meal post-departure and the first time that the crew was alone together without the technicians and engineers from the space dock intermingled with them. As she scanned the room, she saw some familiar faces and one in particular—Enrico Vulpetti, the aerospace engineer from Georgia Tech who had first told her of the Samaritan’s existence. He said he would make it as part of the crew and, true to his word, here he was. She hadn’t seen him anywhere in the past few days and wondered where he’d been keeping himself before launch. He motioned for her to join him and three others around one of the tables in the corner of the room.
“Dr. Vulpetti, it’s good to see you here,” said Rain as she approached his table and sat down.
“Dr. Gilster—or should I say, Lorraine—it’s good to see you also. And remember, you should call me Enrico. We’re going to be spending a long time together and formalities can get very tedious,” he replied, breaking into the same big smile she remembered from when she met him after her lecture over two years before. He was definitely a charmer.
“Fine, Enrico, and you should call me Rain. The only people who call me Lorraine are strangers and my parents,” she said, breaking into her own smile.
