The Orthogonal Galaxy (50 page)

Turning to face the
audience, Paol continued. “Ladies and gentlemen of the press, I
thank you for your attendance here today. Because of your efforts
in following this mission from its most unlikely beginnings until
this very moment, you have made the
world
aware of the exciting future facing Earth, our galaxy, and indeed
the universe. While I know there have been skeptics, I do not
scoff. There certainly were many occasions when I found myself in
their camp.”

A few chuckles filled the
room, mainly because of the way in which Joonter rolled his eyes,
conveying the overwhelming nature of the preparation which he and
his companion endured.

“
Your reporting of this
mission, both encouraging and critical has helped fuel a healthy
and needed debate over the necessity of this effort. I applaud each
of you in raising awareness of the issues, the difficulties, the
risks, and the benefits that such a mission could entail. Tomorrow,
we turn the page in the history books to a new chapter. Many of you
will be in the envious position to write this chapter, and I can
assure you that my companion and I will do our part to give you the
best possible material. Thank you.”

The audience applauded
vigorously as Paol expressed his gratitude with a slight bow of his
head, and a tip of the baseball cap, emblazoned with the ST3
mission logo.

Once the applause died
down, Dr. Gilroy spoke clearly and proudly into his microphone.
“Ladies and gentlemen, please give your attention to Mr. Slater for
a few comments now.”

Blade had been scanning
the crowd the entire time, and had mapped out those who were
friendly to the mission and had easily honed in on those who were
clearly antagonistic. He was encouraged that the overwhelming
majority of journalists were proponents of the mission, and this
gave him the ability to speak comfortably.

With deep, yet hushed
tones he began, “Ladies and Gentlemen, this is a most humblin’
experience. Many years ago, I made a mistake—a most terr’ble
mistake. I thought I’d pay fo’ that mistake the rest of my life. As
I sat in a cold concrete cell, while many my age was makin’
somethin’ of their lives in school and college, I suspected that my
life was over befo’ it’d begun. But somehow, fate plucked me outta
that cell, and put me here. It is a position I do not deserve—a
position I did not earn—a position fo’ which there’s many more
who’d qualify better. I ain’t the most eloquent, and I ain’t the
most learned, but seein’ where my life was and where it is today, I
am the most fo’ knowin’ that where there’s breath, there’s life.
And where there’s life, there’s hope. And that’s what I bring to
the mission. In a world where doubt and despair are more common
than hope, I intend to use the latter in this mission. I’ll work
with my colleague and dear friend, Paol Joonter, every day we’re
together fo’ the next twelve years with hope. I’ll fight to make
this mission a success, and bring back hope to all the world. When
we come back to ya’ a dozen years from now, my hope is that the
word ‘impossible’ will be replaced with ‘hope’, ‘cuz if two average
guys can safely travel so far at speeds which should tear us to
microscopic pieces, then I think Mr. Joonter and I certainly have a
case to make fo’ hope!”

With this last word, Blade
realized that his voice elevated gradually throughout his speech.
What began as a soft tone, ended in a piercing trump. The contrast
and intensity of the ensuing moment of silence was broken by a
controlled whisper: “Thank you.”

The audience leaped to
their feet and applauded vehemently. Each felt the emotion and
determination in Blade’s delivery. While the applause continued,
videographers raced to upload their recordings over wireless links
to a mass of vans, buses, and trailers outside. In a flash, Blade’s
speech was delivered around the world, interrupting television
programming everywhere. His speech, while delivered in simplicity,
would become instantly famous, and media, would latch onto the word
‘hope’ as an endearing connection to Blade Slater, and the ST3
mission.

Once order was restored to
the room, Gilroy laid ground rules for the question and answer
session. Each individual was entitled to ask one question of any of
the four panelists when he gave them the floor to do so. With hands
aloft, Gilroy selected a front-row participant to begin the
questioning.

“
Mr. Slater, thank you for
reminding us of hope. Can you tell us of a time when you needed to
reach deep to find hope while preparing for this
mission?”

“
One time? Why I could
tell ya’ of a hundred fo’ sure.” Blade stated sincerely while
shaking his head. His voice softened as he continued. “But, I can
tell ya’ of one time where I had to reach very deep. Paol and I—we
had to do some wilderness survival trainin’ in some very rugged
areas. The worst, fo’ me, had to be the time we were told to jump
out of a plane in the Arctic Circle. It was a long cold drop to the
ground. As the ground rushed up at us, I have to say that I’s too
‘fraid to enjoy the view, but when we landed, my breath was taken
away. We was in this small valley, with mountains towerin’ ‘bove us
on either side. A lake at the end of the valley met a glacier
comin’ down the chute ‘tween two mountain peaks. As we walked to
the edge of the shore of the lake, there’s icebergs so big I had to
look up to see the top of ‘em. I never saw anythin’ so amazin’ and
beautiful, and was taken back such that I didn’t even remember that
it was darn cold and I was put into the middle of the wilderness to
survive on my own.

“
Well, Paol pulled me back
to reality, and we used our global positionin’ devices to locate
where we were and where we needed to go. As we studied the terrain,
we saw that we had a fifty-mile journey to get to our
destination—the Anaktuvuk Pass. There’s an airport there where our
support team would be waitin’ fer us to take us home. We located a
valley pass connectin’ the lake with the Anaktuvuk valley, where
the outlet of the lake cut through. It was at the end of Spring, so
the river was pretty swollen, and there’s all sorts of ice blocks
floatin’ down the river, but we needed to make good time, so we
pulled out our sponge kayaks—little things in the pack, but when
ya’ put ‘em in the river, I’s surprised at how big they swell up,
and make a perfect floatin’ craft.

“
At first, it was a nice
float, but then the river picked up as we went through a narrow
steep part of the valley. Over a small rapid, I didn’t even see
that large chunk of ice churnin’ at the bottom of a small drop.
When I hit it, I flipped over into the river, and slammed my
shoulder ‘gainst the ice. Pain shot through my arm, and at first, I
tried to swim to the shore with my good arm, but I knew that the
current was too strong. I had to use the other arm. Reachin’
overhead, I could feel my whole arm convulse in pain, but with big
strokes, I’s able to power myself over to the shore with as few
strokes as possible.

“
I fell down onto the
shore exhausted and hurtin’, but worse, I started realizin’ that I
was freezin’. Within moments, Paol brought his kayak to shore, and
was by my side, warmin’ me up with a fire and a wrap. As dusk was
settin’ on, we had no choice but to camp right there that night. I
slept on my other side, to make sure I didn’t put any pressure on
my shoulder. In the mornin’, I was still in pain, but was glad to
discover that it was just a nasty bruise. We were just six miles
into our journey, and I was devastated when Paol mentioned that
we’d lost my kayak—it floated downstream, and our only hope was
that we’d find it just a little way down.

“
Mile after mile we walked
that day. We never did find the kayak. In the afternoon, the valley
started to open up, and I heard a splash just behind us. Spinnin’
‘round, I saw this monster of a grizzly bear, splashin’ across the
river ‘bout 30 yards behind us. I suspected that he was comin’ to
get his dinner. When he dragged himself on shore, he shook his fur
of the icy water, stood on his hind legs and stared at us intently.
He stepped slowly towards us, and I was just standin’ there frozen.
I mean—where’s I goin with a ragin’ river to one side of me and a
sheer cliff on the other. Good thing my partner had the sense of
mind to climb onto a ledge nearby, wave his arms frantically, and
make some noise. I thought it would just agitate him, and at first,
he looked to charge, but then he got a sniff of us, turned and
bolted.

“
I thought I’d never be so
scared again, but then two days later, as the canyon started
widenin’ into a marshy plain, I saw somethin’ outta the corner of
my eye across the river. I looked across to see a gray wolf
scramblin’ down a mountain. At first, I wasn’t sure if he’d seen
us, but then he bolted towards the river, and stood erect on the
bank, just starin’ at us, and bearin’ his yellow-white teeth at us.
We continued to walk, as if to pay him no attention, and he simply
followed along the bank, keepin’ an eye fixed on us. I could also
see some frothy drool in the corner of his mouth, and I couldn’t
help but wonder if he was plottin’ to get at us fo’ some meat to
chew on. My heart raced, and my stomach was all in knots fo’ nearly
an hour, as he continued to follow on the other side.

“
At one point, Paol here
stopped and turned to me. He pointed out that the river was
widenin’, and we knew that it also meant it was gettin’ shallower
too. We worried that the current would be easy to traverse fo’ the
wolf if we went much further. In fact, we could see ‘bout three
miles downstream, where the canyon opened up to the Anaktuvuk
valley that the river was splittin’ up into a delta. Had we
continued on, the wolf woulda had no problem gettin’ to us had he
wanted us bad ‘nough. So we waited there to see what the wolf’d do,
and he waited to see what we’s gonna do. There we was at a tense
impasse, and we could do nothin’ but wait until the sun set. We
don’t know when the wolf left, as we could see an occasional
reflection of light off of his eyeballs, even after it was pretty
dark. But I do remember sleepin’ next to nothin’ that night,
worried ‘bout where that wolf was. Maybe he was gonna work his way
downstream, cross over and then come up to greet us. Then, very
early in the mornin’, we heard the most eerie and hauntin’ group of
howlin’ in the distance. By our recknoin’ the pack was high up on
the mountain across the other side of the river, but my skin
crawled with each new chorus of howls that echoed across the canyon
walls fo’ the rest of the night.

“
At the first sign of
light, we peered across the river. There was nothin’ there. As the
light grew brighter, we grew more confident that the wolf had gone
on—moved up hill with the rest of his pack, we s’pposed. We packed
up as quick as we could and made fer it downstream, where we hoped
to reach the Anaktuvuk valley befo’ that wolf came back.

“’
Round noon, we had left
the mouth of the canyon and entered into the vast expanse of the
Anaktuvuk. We saw loads of caribou that day, and we worried ‘bout
whether they’d cause us any trouble. While they knew we were there
with ‘em, they kept their distance, and in some cases, bolted away
from us when they thought they’s gettin’ too close. Miles passed,
and we didn’t feel like we was makin’ good progress, ‘cuz the
valley’s so long. We’d hoped to come ‘cross the Anaktuvuk village,
but we saw no signs of it that day. When we set up camp that night,
however, we could see in the distance—only ‘bout ten miles away the
dim electric lights of the tiny Anaktuvuk village. It was such a
welcome sight as I never thought I’d feel. It wasn’t much of
civilization to be sure, but it was more than we’d hoped fer in
four days of adventure.

“
While we sat there
enjoyin’ the shimmerin’ lights, we were treated to a light show of
even more impressive caliber. The Aurora Borealis—wow! I was awe
struck at the curtains of yellow, green and electric blue that
waved ‘cross the sky. It was mesmerizin’, and at some point durin’
the light show, I drifted off to sleep, and I done slept better
that night than any while I was in the Arctic, I’ll tell ya’ that
much.

“
Well, to make a short
story long,” Blade chuckled to himself for his inversion of the
common cliché, “The next day, we marched on and arrived at the pass
late in the afternoon, where the Nunamiut eskimoes was waitin’ fer
us and took us in—quite hospitable they was… Well that was it—the
most frightenin’ adventure of my trainin’. It took a whole heap of
faith and hope to get through that.”

The room stood still,
riveted by Blade’s dramatic story-telling. All felt as if they had
experienced some of it for themselves, and so they remained rooted
in their seats. After a brief moment, a tentative hand raised into
the air. And then another, until most were clamoring to ask the
next question. With a point of his finger, Dr. Gilroy yielded to
another for the next question.

“
Mr. Joonter,” beamed an
eager journalist with large spectacles in the front row, “Since
your colleague has shared his most concerning experience with us,
how about you? Can we hear about your biggest trial?”

“
I suspect that most would
assume this to be the plane crash in Nevada, and I will attest that
it was my most frightening moment to that point in my mission, but
there were worse. The Alaska experience that Blade shared with you
was truly bothersome, but remember that we had to endure many
different wilderness survival training adventures over the last few
years. One very big concern with our mission is the unknown
elements of Earth2, and while the highest powered telescopes have
been focusing their attention on that planet for the last several
years, there is still very little that we really have come to
understand about the geography and climate of that planet. Besides,
since we are 27000 light years away from there, the data we do have
is from the very, very distant past. While scientists believe that
we will be subject to very similar conditions that we have here, we
don’t know if we’ll be subject to generally warmer or cooler
climates, and whether we will have to face more extreme biomes than
here on Earth1.