The Orthogonal Galaxy (4 page)

“
Wow, how the day has
flown!” Joram commented as he looked at his watch. “I have to be
going now, Kath, but I’ll see you in class on
Wednesday.”

“
Sounds great,” Kath
acknowledged.

With that, the new
acquaintances bid each other farewell, until Wednesday, when they
would meet again in Professor Zimmer’s class.

…

Zimmer took a long stride
as he walked into Dean Scoville’s office. As he sat down in the
chair opposite of the dean’s desk, he wasted no time in getting to
the point. “How was the meeting with NASA, Ballard?”

Scoville’s face turned
austere. Just as Zimmer was settling into his seat, the dean stood
up to look out of his window overlooking the campus.

“
Things did use to be more
simple around here, Carl,” Ballard admitted. Then turning back to
look at Zimmer while gazing on the well-manicured grounds visible
from his fourth floor office, he continued. “I didn’t know exactly
how the meeting with NASA would turn out, but I was worried when
they called yesterday to schedule an urgent discussion for this
afternoon. NASA almost never works on a schedule like that, unless
it’s pretty serious.”

Zimmer listened
attentively, fearing the worst. Actually, he had already been
fearing the worst for the last three years, precisely when he began
the extended summer research at Cerro Tololo. He was starting to
feel the pressure on his research budget, and knew that he had to
step up his efforts. He needed to throw a bone to NASA to ensure
that his funding would persist.

“
The research funding
committee flew out from Washington to visit us on our research
programs. Darn it, Carl, you know how everything has to be so
political these days. Politicians are riding the public appeal of
interstellar travel, because their constituents want to travel all
over the universe. But they don’t seem to care as much about the
real science of astronomy.”

“
But Ballard, they’ve
promised us—in writing—at least two more years of funding,” Carlton
announced.

“
Yes, they mentioned that
as a tactic to apply pressure. They’re threatening to pull the plug
at the end of this year if they don’t start seeing results from
your current research. It seems like every senator who’s aspiring
for the Oval Office is flapping their jaws about limiting
unessential research. Some are even so bold as to threaten NASA
with extinction!”

Zimmer hung his head.
“Ballard, they promised two more years.”

“
Funny money, Carl. A bill
that is signed into law today will have a counter-measure erasing
its efficacy next year. You can’t trust anything that these guys
put down on paper, because they can simply legislate it all
away.”

“
What are their demands?”
Professor Zimmer immediately put himself into problem solving
mode.

“
They want evidence,
Carlton. Hard, rock solid evidence that this parallel solar system
concept is valid.”

“
Ballard, I’ve provided
them with the statistics. The universe is—well, it’s universal.
With the vast number of class G2 stars out their, the mathematical
models provide compelling evidence a copy of earth is out
there.”

Dean Scoville sat back
down in his black leather chair, leaned over his dark walnut desk,
and looked Professor Zimmer straight into the eye. “Carl, when are
you going to find that needle?”

Zimmer hung his head
again. He had no answer, and was starting to see his lifelong dream
slipping away from his reach.

Hanging and shaking his
head slowly, Carlton responded. “I don’t know Ballard… I just don’t
know.”

3

As Paol Joonter took his
seat at the defense table, he poured himself a cup of water from
the pitcher in front of him. He looked down at a legal pad and
scribbled a few notes. The notes were intended as a distraction to
keep him from looking up at the jury or the district attorney,
actions which his lawyer suggested could cause him to appear
desperate, and that could sway the jury against him.

“
Warron?” Paol whispered
leaning somewhat to the left to get closer to his lawyer. With his
chin resting in the palm of his hand, the lawyer bent his ear
towards Joonter’s head, after which he spoke a brief statement that
only the lawyer was able to hear.

Scribbling quickly on a
corner of his legal pad, Warron ripped off the note and turned back
to hand the scrap to a paralegal, who nodded and quickly departed
the courtroom.

As the door to the back of
the courtroom opened, the court bailiff announced, “All rise. The
honorable judge Walldar J. Etherton presiding.”

All stood in unison as
directed and watched as the judge entered and assumed his seat at
the front of the room. Looking down at a flurry of papers in front
of him, he put on a pair of wire-rimmed spectacles, assessed that
all was in order and looked up at the courtroom. He counted the
jury and studied the counsel tables to make sure all were accounted
for. Looking at the audience, he saw many of the same individuals
who had been present for the duration of the case.

He observed the concern on
the face of Joyera Joonter, who sat as normal directly behind her
husband within arm’s reach. He saw a few additional individuals
seated on the opposite side of the courtroom, and understood that
more of the victims’ family members were showing up now that the
case was nearing its conclusion. To say that it was a somber
setting would be an understatement. Faces devoid of color hinted at
anxiety. Dark shadows expressed a lack of sleep. Bloodshot eyes
betrayed the tears that flowed freely previously.

“
Please be seated,” he
instructed. Looking at the district attorney, he continued, “Is the
prosecution prepared for closing remarks?”

“
Yes, your Honor,” stated
the lawyer with his hands folded over his legal pad.

“
Please proceed,
then.”

4

For Garrison O’Ryan, it
was the experience of a lifetime. As the most common route taken on
nearly all manned space missions these days, astronauts call it
“the interstate” of space travel. As a 26-year old astronaut,
Garrison was making his first journey along this well-beaten path.
NASA engineers are quick to point that this interstate is actually
safer than the one frequented during the morning commute. There had
never been any incident along this well-traveled corridor, and
Garrison was confident that he wouldn’t be the first, even though
he was a bit nervous about having to fly solo.

As it turns out, there are
actually two legs to “the interstate.” The first leg is a
relatively short 250,000-mile two-day trip from Kennedy Space
Center on the Florida coastline to the “rest stop” at Camp Moon.
Garrison will stop here and take a day to get several hours of
rest. From there, he will leave his rocket-intensive Moon Shuttle
behind for the more cramped but speedy design of the Mars Shuttle,
on which he will travel the second leg of “the interstate” all the
way to Mars. Due to its weaker gravitational field, the Moon makes
a more desirable location for launching a vehicle towards Mars.
Once in flight, the shuttle will transport Garrison to Mars in just
over a month of travel. While NASA always plans this second leg to
be as short as possible—that is, when the Earth and Mars are
relatively close to each other—this part of the trip will still
take Garrison an additional 60 million miles away from his home.
Astronauts claim that you feel every one of those miles too,
because while the Mars Shuttle was designed for speed, comfort
ranked pretty low on the list of design constraints.

On the first leg, Garrison
was overwhelmed at how massive the Earth appears when viewed from
several thousand miles above sea level. The vastness of his home
and the space surrounding him diminished his own sense of worth in
the universe in which he lived. As he orbited the moon to prepare
for landing, he was amazed to see the incredible detail of the
deep, shadow-laden craters. He was astounded at how much effort it
took to walk on the Moon, especially considering that he only
weighed thirty-three pounds there. He also noted how Camp Moon felt
like a well-preserved ghost town, particularly because he was the
only person present on the ten-acre site of buildings and hangars.
He was not, however, surprised at how little he was able to sleep.
With the anxiety of the long trip ahead of him, he only nodded off
for a couple of hours, and found himself in a confused state when
he awoke, wondering if all of this was nothing more than a
dream.

Walking from his dorm to
the hangar where the Mars Shuttle waited for him, he observed a
crescent Earth that hung precariously over the horizon. He ate his
breakfast consisting of a protein bar and pomegranate energy drink,
both scientifically calculated to minimize the amount of waste he’d
incur on his flight to Mars. Then he suited up, left his
pressurized room, and made his way out to the runway, where his
Mars Shuttle waited.

The Mars Shuttle was
designed for horizontal takeoff and landing, both easier
propositions for a solo pilot. It sat at the beginning of a
relatively short runway indicating its readiness for service and
its ability to accelerate into space very quickly.

Garrison knew how small
the space craft was, for he had already become familiar with the
cockpit in several prototypes. What amazed Garrison, however, was
the comparatively massive solid rocket boosters bolted underneath
each wing. The boosters were so large that the bottom of the
vehicle was twenty feet off the ground, meaning that the boosters
had to have landing gear of their own in order to propel the
shuttle down the runway. Garrison knew that the boosters were
necessary. In order to obtain high velocity, the shuttle requires a
massive volume of rocket fuel to obtain the required speed, even in
this low-gravity environment. Once jettisoned, the boosters would
be able to return to Camp Moon via automated computer navigation.
The same landing gear would be used to touch down on the satellite
and then taxi off of the runway for future use.

Looking up at his tiny
home for the next month, Garrison paused momentarily, wondering
whether he really wanted to be confined to this miniscule capsule
for a month. But, he knew that he had not spent years preparing
himself for this moment, only to turn around and abort the mission
now. Climbing the ladder structure to the top of the rocket booster
and then walking the length of the booster to his cockpit, O’Ryan
paused just a moment to admire the Earth and wondered if his wife
was looking up at him at the same moment.

Throwing his body down
into the cockpit, he sealed the hatch above him, and listened as a
rush of air pressurized his environment, allowing him to stow his
helmet in a compartment under his seat. Running through a
checklist, he inspected gauges and monitor readouts to ensure that
all systems were prepared for launch.

“
Mission Control, this is
Captain O’Ryan, prepared for takeoff in the Mars Shuttle Iowa”
Garrison announced formally to NASA engineers at the Johnson Space
Center in Houston, Texas.

“
Iowa,” responded a
mission control specialist, “this is Mission Control. We’re going
over the last set of data from the vehicle to make sure we are a go
for launch in T minus 32 minutes. We’ll confirm system check in
twenty minutes, Captain.”

“
All systems checked from
visual inspection of the vehicle, Mission Control”, Garrison
confirmed confidently.

“
How ya’ feeling,
Garrison?” asked another specialist more casually.

“
Certainly not as
comfortable as you, Halton.” Garrison recognized the voice of his
astronaut mentor, Halton Cooke. Cooke had recently retired from the
astronaut program, but still served as a mission advisor to NASA on
retainer.

“
D’ya sleep well?” Halton
knew that the chit chat would help keep Garrison’s mind occupied
during the pre-launch routine.

“
What do you think?”
Garrison answered the question with one of his own.

“
Yeah, I copy you on that,
O’Ryan.” Halton couldn’t help but smile as he leaned back with his
hands behind his head, making sure not to pull off his headset.
“After your third or fourth trip, you’ll be sleeping like a baby in
that bed on the moon.”

“
Sleeping like a baby?”
quipped Garrison. “You don’t know the O’Ryan baby apparently. That
little tike didn’t sleep until he was two years old it
seemed.”

“
Then, you’ll get to know
how he felt,” volleyed Halton quickly. “By the time you get to
Mars, you’re going to feel like you’ve gone two years without any
sleep.”

“
And that’s supposed to
make me feel better?” asked Garrison.

“
No,” admitted Halton.
“It’s supposed to make you feel prepared. This is going to be a
long trip, Garrison. I hope you’re ready for it.”

“
Of course, I’m ready,”
lied Garrison. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“
My prediction is that you
will certainly miss the world before you come home a couple of
years from now.” The brutal honesty of Halton did not escape his
friend. He was used to it, and it was that ability to say things
exactly as he saw them for which O’Ryan had always admired his
mentor. However, while Garrison had known that he’d be gone for
nearly two years, the realization of this was just starting to
settle in. He thought even more profoundly than previously how
Timmer would be six years old by then. He wondered if he would even
be able to remember his father after that much time.