The Orthogonal Galaxy
Chapter 23

“Bottomsup, Gentlemen.”

Paol Joonter drained his pint-sized bottle ofclear blue liquid immediately, but Blade Slater hesitated slightly. Glancing over at Paol, Blade gained theconfidence to follow his lead. As soonas the pair had completed the instruction, two prison security guards pulledout their wand-like laser keys and the sound of metal against concrete ensuedas each pair of hand and ankle cuffs dropped from each prisoner—a sign ofquasi-freedom that the two prisoners would now enjoy.

“As a reminder to both of you,” began the prisonwarden, “the contents of the fluid will remain attached to the blood stream fornearly three weeks. Therefore, every twoweeks, a member of my staff will remotely monitor your consumption of the beverageby video feed. You will continue to bemonitored by a central team of minimum security guards from Knoxville,Tennessee. You may not leave the bordersof the continental U.S. and any attempt to get within 50 miles of a border mustbe preapproved and done under accompaniment of a federal officer or guard. For you, Mr. Joonter that means you must bevery careful on home leave. Your home inWashington State is only 90 miles from the border. I wouldn’t wander to far north if I wereyou.”

“Understood,” Paol acknowledged the order.

“Mr. Edwards,” said the warden as he turned hisattention to a young man standing to the right of the prisoners. “I release these prisoners to the custody ofNASA.”

Edwards thanked the warden and escorted the pairto a van, waiting to drive them to the airport. As the pair left the prison building dressed in brand new streetclothes, Slater paused on the front steps in a dreamlike state of wonder at hisrelease.

“What’s the deal with the blue water, Paol?”Slater asked as they walked a few feet behind Edwards. He continued to gaze around at the outside ofthe prison and took in views which were new. He had not seen anything but the same concrete walls, whether inside theprison cell, or outside in the prison court. Trees, flowers, grass, cars and pedestrians passing by… it all seemed sonew.

“It’s a little concoction that was inventedseveral years ago. It’s called a minimumsecurity beverage, or MSB.”

“But what’s it fo’?

“It’s a cocktail of chemicals—all FDA approved, Iassure you—which will track any individual in the USA.”

“The devil, ya’ say.”

“No, really. It works like this. Each prisonerhas a specific ratio of two different chemicals. The combination of these chemicals will preventthe passage of a high-frequency signal. Around the US, there are transmitters which send a constantly-emittingvariable-frequency signal. That signaldisperses until it reaches your body. The chemicals in the blood stream will reflect the exact frequency whichis tuned to your chemical composition. It then bounces back to the receiver, and based on the location ofdetection and the time of flight, your exact location is calculated and mappedin Knoxville. So, it’s like a trackingdevice which you can’t get rid of no matter how hard you try.”

“And it stays inside the body fo’ three weeks?”

“At least.”

“And there’s them transceivers placed all overthe US?”

“You got it.”

“And they can cover the whole country?”

“Except for the non-continental states.”

After a pause of reflections with some low, quietgrunts, Slater spoke up. “What if I getme a transfusion?”

Paol appreciated how quickly this thought came tohim. “Who’s going to do that?”

“Maybe I got me a friend or uncle who’s adoctor.”

“Well, what would happen is that you would fadeon the map, go blank, raise an alarm, and have local law enforcement at thedoctor’s office within minutes. Yourfriend would either have to turn you in or spend time in jail himself foraiding and abetting a criminal.”

“Ok, but what if I decide to hop on an airplaneand fly outta the country?”

“You have to register all air travel. If you’re on a flight that you haven’tregistered for, your speed will become an alarm, the flight will be tracked byradar, and the plane will be diverted to land in the States by federal lawenforcement jets. The bottom line isthat there have been thousands of petty criminals tracked this way. Instead of being stuck inside of jails formonths or years, they are able to continue a semblance of a normal life. They can work, be with their families, and aslong as they keep themselves clean, they can serve their sentence.

“It was actually invented to track cattle on openranges. Ranchers would get an alarm ifthe herd wandered towards the edge of the network and be able to track andintercept cattle more quickly. Politicians dealing with prison over-crowding realized that it could beused to track criminals more cheaply, without the expense of putting them inprisons.”

“But, what if the criminal goes back to his oldbehavior?” Blade asked.

“Well, because they are very trackable, it’snearly impossible to get away with subsequent crimes, because they can betracked back to the scene of the crime, and then they are taken back tojail. Some opponents claim that itactually hurts crime, because people know that if they have a free pass onsmall crimes, then they are more encouraged, because they know that even ifthey’re caught, they can be back in society after a conviction. There really isn’t a whole lot of data toback up the claim, though.”

“Right over here, Gentlemen,” Edwards interruptedthe conversation as they arrived at the vehicle. Edwards took the driver’s seat, while Paoland Blade went to either side of the back.

Before climbing in, Paol looked over the top ofthe car at Blade as he opened his door. “I know what you’re thinking, and I know you won’t do it.”

“Do what?” Slater asked raising an eyebrowcuriously.

“I know you’re not planning on escaping,Blade.” He said with a wry smile.

“Oh, really… and why not?”

“Frankly, you know that the mission would abort,and I’d be sent back to prison. Youwouldn’t be able to live with the guilt. You should know that many have tried to escape, but none have eversucceeded. Besides, I know that you area changed man. You want to give back tosociety and repent for past doings. Youwouldn’t be able to do that as a man in hiding and on the run from the law.”

As the car engine started, Blade shot back, “Iwasn’t thinkin’ ‘bout doin’ it myself. I’m worried ‘bout you doin’ it to me.” He smiled and ducked into the back seat, leaving Paol standing with amock expression of disdain at the offense pronounced by his good friend.

“So, Mr. Edwards, you work fo’ NASA, then?” Blade asked the driver as the car pulled ontothe street.

“Yes,” Edwards replied, looking up into the rearview mirror. “By the way, call mePhyson.”

“So, whatcha do fo’ NASA, Mr. Ed—I meanPhyson?” Blade pressed the conversationout of excitement for his newfound freedom.

“I am an engineer working on your mission. I’ll be providing some of your training andinstruction regarding the details of the mission.”

“Tell us all ‘bout the mission.”

“Well, frankly, we don’t know all of the detailsjust yet, but when we get to Houston, you’ll be fully briefed on everything weknow to date. There are a couple ofyears ahead of us to get all of the details ironed out. However, the gist of it is this. You get in a spaceship, you travel toZB-5344-P1, study its geography and any inhabitants that you discover there,and return home to tell us all about it.”

“So this ZB… P1… is the official name of theplanet?” Paol interjected his questioninto the conversation, growing curious about what lay ahead of him.

“Yes. Earth2 is its common name among those of us here on Earth1, but it isthe first planet to be discovered around the star entered as ZB-5344 in themost comprehensive Milky Way star database. Thus the official designation is ZB-5344-P1.”

“Hey, Physon—I got a question,” Blade askedplayfully. “How do we know that it’sEarth2? Maybe we’re Earth2, and it’sEarth1?” A roar of laughter came fromthe back seat. Paol shook his head athis partner’s easy joviality.

As Physon looked again into the rear view mirror,Paol felt obliged to explain. “You’llget used to it. He’s fond of laughing athis own jokes. It kind of grows on you,and can be contagious sometimes. Even ifit isn’t the best joke in the world, I’ve come to appreciate how his laughtermade prison life a lot less gloomy.”

Physon nodded and replied, “Well, Blade, we knowthat we’re Earth1, because we are light years ahead of Earth2—literally.”

“Whatcha mean?” Blade asked inquisitively.

“Well, everything we observe here on Earth1regarding Earth2 happened 27000 years ago, so that just goes to prove that itis 27000 years behind us in history.”

Blade’s distorted face proved that he wasweighing this comment. Maybe he wasn’tas smart as he thought he was, considering that this remark from a trainedengineer seemed so ludicrous that it must instead have been absolutelybrilliant. Maybe Blade was over hishead, but he felt to rebut the comment anyway. “But that’s just because it takes light 27000 years to reach—” Blade stopped abruptly as Physon started tosnicker.

In between hearty fits of laughter, Blade managedto admit, “Ah, ya’ got me, Mr. Physon—ya’ got me there.”

Paol nodded slowly. “I told you so, Physon—the silly joking canbe contagious when you’re around this man.”

…

Paol and Blade sat alone at an oblong table in asmall conference room. Blinds were opento reveal a large workspace, with occasional passersby, each engaged in theirworkday tasks. Each of the recentlyreleased prisoners had a notepad and pen in front of them emblazoned with theNASA logo, as well as a beverage which Physon had retrieved for them after theyentered the room.

As he sipped his coffee, Paol closed hiseyes. “Ah, so much better than the stuffback at the pen.”

Blade appeared indignant. “Really? I’ve been cheated then,” he said as he sipped on his can ofcoca-cola. “Mine tastes just the same.” He could barely finish the comment beforesmiling and adding a spurt of choked laughter.

Conversation was suppressed, as each man wasconsumed in his own flurry of thoughts due to the abrupt change of events intheir lives. It would certainly takesome time to adjust now that they were no longer confined to their small prisoncell. With the muffled sound of anoccasional conversation taking place on the other side of the window, and theticking of an old analog clock—a tremendously contrasting relic in this centerof futuristic facility—the door to the conference room swung open and a pair oreplaceividuals entered the room.

Physon Edwards introduced Paol and Blade to VurimGilroy as the program manager for the Earth2 mission. Vurim took each hand and shook it warmly andvigorously. “I’m thrilled to meet bothof you. On behalf of NASA, the UnitedStates of America, and indeed for every citizen of the world, thank you foraccepting such an exciting mission of discovery.”

Gilroy invited his new acquaintances to take aseat, as he and Physon took seats directly opposite of them. Physon opened a notebook on the table, whilehis boss laid down a thin manila folder on the table and folded his hands ontop of it.

“Gentlemen,” he began after taking a drink fromhis bottle of water. “We have a littleover five years to prepare you for this mission. Let me explain first what the missionconsists of, and then I’ll tell you how we plan to get you ready for the task.

“A spacecraft, called Star Transport, iscurrently under development at the Jet Propulsion Laboratory in Pasadena,California. This craft is a horizontaltake-off and landing vehicle, designed to require as little facility aspossible for launching and landing the spacecraft. It requires no launch pads or lengthyrunways. It has a self-contained,highly-efficient, low-weight, and low-volume fuel reservoir for anti-matternuclear propulsion. Only due to recentadvances with sub-atomic replication were we able to generate the type ofpropellant needed for such an engine. Assuch, there are no external rocket boosters required as is the case with moreconventional rocket designs. This isimperative as it allows for planet-hopping without requiring booster equipmenton each planet. Its five-engine designis capable of speeds at 0.1 Warp currently.”

Paol, feeling overwhelmed from this rapid-firebriefing glanced over to Blade, who was copiously scribbling details down onhis notepad. He looked as if everythingwas making sense, and Paol figured that it probably was. Here, the engineer was having a harder timekeeping up with spaceship construction than was the unschooled convict.

“The spacecraft is—um—cozy. There are just two main compartments; namely,the cockpit, and the SAR chamber. Allflight activities naturally take place in the cockpit, with the pilot seated onthe left and the navigator on the right. Behind the cockpit is the main hatch for entry and exit of thevehicle. The SAR chamber is required forregeneration of all fuel, water, and nutrition. Waste is recycled in order to increase the range of the spacecraft, buteven so, the engines are not 100% efficient—they do lose some heat and exhaustthat cannot be reclaimed by the SAR. Thevehicle requires refueling where raw materials can be obtained to reproduce thenecessary fuel.

“Because of the immense speeds that the craftwill obtain, the entire skin of the craft will be coated with a shield thatwill prevent a breach, by avoiding or pulverizing any objects which gets hurledat the vehicle. At the same time, thisshield will allow the tail of the comet to propel the vehicle at speeds of 27KiloWarp—that’s around eight billion meters per second. In other words, fast—so fast that nobody cancomprehend what it means to travel at these speeds.”

Gilroy paused after this description of the StarTransport allowing for questions to be asked. Blade spoke up immediately.

“How do we knows what health effects there iswith humans travelin’ at these speeds? Imean… won’t we get torn to shreds up there?”

“Actually, no… we don’t believe that you’ll beharmed in any way. Physicists arerapidly converging on a set of mathematical models which are veryencouraging. They suggest that travelingfaster than the speed of light merely requires the escape of the electromagneticforce. It turns out that the mechanicsof escaping EM isn’t at all destructive to the atoms which comprise anyphysical body.”

“But we won’t be subject to electromagnetism?”Blade’s question was animated.

Edwards looked intently at Gilroy who wasweighing the answer. “That’s right.”

“Absurd!” responded Blade in agitation. “Without the EM force, we’d be nothin’. All the molecules that make me who I am arekept together because of EM. Without it,the finger attached to my hand will float off into space. The hand attached to my wrist? Same thin’. Wrist? Arm? Shoulder? Like Isaid, we’d be shred to pieces without electromagnetism. It’s—it’s—it’s responsible fo’ darn neareverythin’ we ‘xperience in life.”

“Well, this led physicists to some concern, butas Dr. Zimmer reiterated, there must have been an answer to that question,otherwise there would be nothing keeping the comet together once it hadobtained warp speed. It turns out thatrecent mathematical models indicate that once matter obtains warp speed, itenters a state of suspension. All atomseffectively remain frozen in place. While it is true that there is no electromagnetic force to keep atomstogether, there are very small sub-atomic particles which act as a glue to keepeverything intact.”

“But without electromagnetism, how we s’pposed tosee or hear anythin’? Light and soundtravel in EM waves, y’know.”

Dr. Gilroy leaned closely over the table. “Blade, have you ever heard of cryogenics?”

Blade instantly realized where this wasgoing. “You mean yer gonna freezeus? I thought the technology was stillunproven and dangerous. If traveling thespeed of light don’ kill us, then freezin’ us certainly will.”

“No, no…” Gilroy asserted. “We won’t be freezing you at all, but webelieve that warp speed yields effectively the same result. You will be suspended in time. It’s like being frozen without having tolower the core temperature of your body. In fact, even the 98.6 degree body temperature that you will have atthat velocity will remain suspended until you slow down below the speed oflight. It’s really like stoppingtime. And why shouldn’t it be? Einstein gives us the relationship of timeand speed. The faster you go, the slowertime goes. Once you hit the speed oflight, time stops. And now we know thereason why… because the EM force fades to zero. The strength of electromagnetism yields to weaker quantum forces thatsimply preserve the state of the body traveling faster than the speed of lightin freeze-frame as it were.”

Blade’s mind kept whirring with excitement overthese newfound theories. “Ok, so then ifwe have this comet that’s goin’ faster than the speed of light, and it’sfrozen, why is there a tail? Shouldn’tit simply stay frozen? If the freezetheory is right, then tell me how’s it sheddin’ matter.”

Gilroy sat back in his chair with a smile. “You really think through everything, don’tyou, Blade? Let me answer your questionwith a question. What do you thinkhappens when an object traveling faster than the speed of light strikes anotherobject which is not?”

Blade thought for a moment, but Gilroy didn’tgive him enough time to think through his answer. “The tail of the comet is due to materialstripping away from the comet because of particle impacts. As it hits matter in front of it, tinyatomic-level explosions result that cause the matter to unfreeze and drop backto sub-warp speed.”

Blade was not appeased. “When we’re ridin’ in the tail of the comet,won’t we be bumpin’ into other matter? Won’t our spaceship tear apart?”

“No, because it only happens when you hit matterwhich is subluminal. By the time theStar Transport obtains warp speed, you’ll be comfortably in the middle of thetail with nothing but particles that are traveling faster than the speed oflight. You will gradually acceleratetowards this point and then gradually decelerate away from this point, allunder computer control. Effectively,you’ll be riding behind the comet, which will block everything... kind of likea windshield keeps the bugs from hitting your face as you drive on thefreeway.”

“But won’ the computer be frozen too? I mean, once we’s travelin’ faster than thespeed of light, there’ll be no control of the system.” Blade volleyed backacross the table.

At this Gilroy leaned back, and cocked his headwhile wearing a playful smiled. “Ah, didI forget to mention the time bombs?”

Blade’s eyes grew into large circles, while Paolquickly whipped his head forward as if to hear better.

“In the last several months, we’ve come tounderstand that superluminal matter is not subject to the speed of light. The other forces, however, remain intact. In our case, in order to startmoving the ship back out of the tail, we’ll use the weak nuclear force to ouradvantage. By calculating the half-lifeof a heavy metal, we can combine the exact ratio of masses between a certaingas and the decayed material. At a pointwhere we desire, the decayed matter will be of sufficient mass to cause anexplosive reaction with the gas. Theexplosion will be used to propel the vehicle back out of the comet’s tail. Once the ship has hit the outer reaches ofthe tail, where matter is traveling at sub-warp speeds, it will act as abreaking system that will slowly decelerate the vehicle. Once the Star Transport is traveling lessthan the speed of light, the computer will be able to take over and make coursecorrections based on its position. Ofcourse, since the computer is coming out of a deep sleep, it really won’t knowinitially where it is at. It will useimage sensors to scan the sky around it in order to calculate its exactlocation and then put the spaceship back on track with its rendezvous withEarth2.”

After a pause, all that Blade could muster werethe words, “Time bomb.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that Blade. The explosion will be very small, not enoughto damage the ship, of course. It’s nomore harmful than the explosion of fiery gasoline that occurs in your car’sengine.”

Paol was dumbstruck by all of theseconcepts. “Sounds a whole lot likesci-fi to me,” he said in deep, serious tones. He wasn’t appeased by Gilroy’s response.

“It is—at least for the next couple ofyears. As we refine all of thesemechanisms and concepts, we’ll need to do extensive testing to see if we canpull it all together. We remainoptimistic that we’ll be able to pull it off.”

Questions flooded the minds of both Blade andPaol, and as quickly as they could come, Gilroy did his best to either answerthem or defer them to their normal course of training. In due time all questions would beanswered. He did proceed to tell them ofthe mission in its basic form. Hitch aride on a comet tail, orbit the Milky Way, visit another Earth, study it for afew years, and return with oodles of data.

Blade asked one final question at the end of thetwo-hour overview briefing session. “Dr.Gilroy?”

“Yes, Blade.”

“Why’d we get tapped fo’ this job? Ya’ gotta have hundreds of astronauts morecapable of this job. We don’t knownothin’ ‘bout bein’ astronauts. It don’tmake sense.”

Gilroy sighed. “I think you know the answer to that question, Blade. Our astronauts think it’s too much of acommitment at best, and suicidal at worst.”

Paol interjected. “So, give it to us straight, Doctor. I’m guessing you’re a man with a conscience. Tell us—if you wish to continue to sleep atnight—what are the odds of the mission?”

“Well... that’s impossible to say, Gentlemen.”

“Humor us, then,” Paol goaded. “Tell us what you think the odds of success are. It sounds like there is just so much that could go wrong, don’t youagree?”

“There certainly is, but we have five years toget everything as perfect as possible. After we’re done, and Star Transport takes off from Edwards Air ForceBase, all we can do is put it in the hands of God.”

Gilroy gave no indication that he was going toanswer the question. Paol gave everyindication that he wasn’t satisfied with this approach, but for the time being,he deferred questioning to allow the briefing to continue.

“Let’s turn to logistics,” Gilroy said after aninsufficiently basic briefing of the mission. There simply wasn’t enough time to answer every question and placateevery fear just yet.

“Typically, an astronaut candidate comes to us witha set of skills that is mandatory for mission training. Neither of you have any of that, so the firststep will be to make potential astronauts out of you. A physical, intellectual, and trainingregimen will be required to make sure the basic sciences and physicalconditioning result. Further, you willboth need to be trained as jet pilots and will need to log hundreds of hours offlight time in order to get you comfortable with the concepts of flying. Only then will real mission training begin.

“Your schedule will be as follows. You will wake up at 5:30 AM every weekdaymorning. Personal trainers will meet youin the gym on Mondays and Thursdays at 5:45 AM. You will be at the gym until 7:00 AM. You will have one half hour of personal preparation before reporting tothe astronaut candidate cafeteria for breakfast. At 8:15, you’ll be in class, learningaeronautics. At 11:00, you’ll turn tothe simulator to get cockpit training on the XJ-20 fighter jet. Lunch is at noon, and then at 1:00, you’llreturn to the classroom for instruction on mathematics and physicalsciences. Teachers will finish with youat 4:00, where you will then have an hour and a half to yourself for anypersonal business you’d like to attend to—email, laundry, etc. Dinner from 5:30 to 6:30, and then on to thelibrary for personal study after that. You’ll need to be back in your living quarters by 9:30. Lights should be out no later than 10:30.

“Of course, this is just for the next severalweeks. We’ll be mixing it up with fieldtrips to Edwards air force base for in-flight training, you’ll be tutored onpsychology, philosophy, and other social studies in order to know how to relateto any sentient beings that you discover on the planet. Eventually, there will be a host of otherastronaut training—spacewalking, scuba diving for weightless conditioning andfunctioning, wilderness survival training, medical training, emergencyprocedural training, atmospheric pressure conditioning, mechanical andelectrical engineering, earth sciences, orbital mechanics, earth and spacenavigation—let’s just say, you’ll know everything that you could possibly needto know by the time you launch several years from now. This is a crash course which will be about asmentally difficult as a PhD program and as physically grueling as boot camp.

“So, gentlemen! Good luck, and enjoy the adventure.”

After a deep breath and pause, Gilroy stoodup. “Mr. Edwards will give you the tourof the facilities from here and answer any logistical questions that you have.”

He paused as he walked through the doorway. With his hand on the lever of the door, heturned back and said, “One in three.”

“Come again?” asked Paol.

“Let’s just say that if you were going to playRussian roulette, you’d load four bullets into the revolver—not just one. Those are your odds, Gentlemen, but this isstrictly my opinion, and it is utterly off the record.” Gilroy took a deep breath. “It was a fair question, Mr. Joonter, and itdeserved an answer. But, I trust you tonot repeat it—to anyone.” His intent gaze passed from Joonter to Slater toEdwards. No words were exchanged, buteveryone understood each other clearly. Gilroy’s words were not to be repeated or the entire mission wouldcertainly be jeopardized.

Observing the look of terror in the eyes ofJoonter and Slater, he attempted to comfort the pair. “If it’s any consolation, I feel confidentthat those odds will improve by launch time.”

It was very little consolation.

…

The next morning, the alarm clocks went off at5:30, just as Gilroy had promised. Bladerubbed his blurry eyes and let open a wide-mouth yawn as he turned off thealarm and rolled away from it, falling back to sleep. He was quickly wakened up by a loud rap onhis room door. He sat up, and looked atthe clock. 5:32 AM.

“Who’s there?” called out Blade with an annoyedvoice.

A cheerful voice pierced the door. “It’s Paol. Time to wake up.”

“Oh, man… what on Earth?” Blade mumbled as he shuffled his feet acrossthe cool floor, rambling incoherent phrases with an occasionally articulateword, like “ridiculous,” “tired,” “unbelievable.” Wearing nothing but briefs, he cracked openedthe door and protected his eyes from the blinding light in the hallway outside. “Whatcha want, man?”

“Blade, get dressed. We’re due at the gym in 10 minutes.”

“It’s too early fo’ this!”

“You heard Gilroy. 5:30 AM!”

Blade closed the door, and Paol listened throughto hear his partner cursing lowly as he shuffled around the room getting readyfor their first day of training. Abruptly,the door opened, and Paol, leaning against it, almost fell into the room. Blade looked disheveled, but he was at leastattired in a sweat suit that was given to him for his workout sessions.

At the gym, the trainers got acquainted quicklywith the physical capabilities of each man. Paol was noted for having more endurance than his counterpart, but Bladehad spent some time at the gym at prison, developing upper body strength. Both had their work cut out for them, andtheir trainers spent the session showing them the various cardio, flexibility,and weight-training exercises that they would need to do. Both were expected to return to the gym eachevening after dinner.

“But we’ll be swamped hittin’ the books,” Bladeobjected.

“The books will be meaningless if we can’t getphysically prepared for this mission!”

Blade nodded and accepted the order withoutfurther criticism.

Throughout the day, the recently releasedcriminals were introduced to teachers and flight trainers as well. Large quantities of downloads to their iTextReaders indicated the vast reading and memorization assignments that were givento both. Cockpit acronyms, pre-flightchecklists, safety guidelines and more were given to them on just the first dayin the simulator room.

Upon leaving the simulator building, the pairsquinted in the bright sunlight and found their way to the cafeteria, with thehelp of some other NASA employees who happened by when they realized that theywere hopelessly lost on the sprawling Johnson Space Center campus. Paol opted for the chicken Caesar salad withbreadsticks, while Blade chose a bowl of Italian minestrone and a clubsandwich.

“How we gonna learn all this stuff ‘bout theairplane?” Blade asked after blowing on the soup in his spoon to cool it off. “We got tons to start memorizin’ tonight, andwe ain’t even been to the classroom yet!”

“Well, we begin by beginning now,” Paol saidreaching in his shirt pocket for his iText Reader. Turning on the blue-white display he asked,“What does HMDS stand for?”

“Uh… Head-mounted display system,” said Blade andthen slurped down his soup with an approving nod of his head. “Mmm... good stuff.”

“Close,” encouraged Paol. “It’s Helmet-mounted though.”

“Well, the helmet mounts on the head, don’t it?”

“Yes, but it’s the display that we’re talkingabout, and it mounts on the helmet.”

“Ok, wise guy,” said Blade, pulling out hisreader to continue the duel. “HOC!”

“Hands… off Control. Right?”

“Yeah, I started ya’ off light, so fer extracredit, can ya’ name the two types of HOC?”

“Easy,” Paol said with a snicker indicating thathis companion was taking it way too easy on him. “There’s gloved control, where the positionand motions of the hands are calculated through glove-mounted motion controlsensors. And there’s optical-sensingcontrol, where image sensors continually scan the cockpit for visual detectionof location and motion.”

“Ok, since ya’ seem to have soaked up everythin’,what’s the pros and cons of the two systems.”

“The gloved system can utilize finer motioncontrols. For example, to indicate aright roll maneuver to the aircraft, the right index finger makes one clockwiserotation. For a left roll, the rightindex finger makes a counter-clockwise rotation. You can use the same finger for bothmotions. However, with optical-sensingcontrol, there is a chance that the optics will not be able to discern thedirection of the roll, so the right index finger is used for right motion andthe left index finger has to be used for a roll to the left.”

“Nice job, Paol. Now, can ya’ tell me what the right middle finger is used fo’?”

Paol hesitated and strained to remember. “Yeah, I remember talking about this one—giveme a moment.” Rubbing his forehead andstraining to remember, there was just so much that brain could absorb from thefirst day of instruction in the simulator room, and the teachers really didfire-hose them. Thinking out loud, hecontinued. “I’m sure they talked about themiddle finger gesture. I just—just don’tremember.” He looked up at Blade for ananswer. “You stumped me, Blade. What is the middle finger used for again?”

Smiling in triumph for finally stumping hisfellow astronaut, Blade stated matter-of-factly that “of course, when pointedup, the middle finger gesture is used to indicate someone’s vehementdispleasure with another individual to whom the back of one’s hand isextended.”

Paol chose the worst of all times to put a largebite of salad in his mouth, as he laughed involuntarily at the joke that wasplayed on him, and the salad found its way back onto the plate. After wiping his mouth with his napkin, heturned towards Blade, doubled over in laughter. “If I were a less civil man, I would try the gesture on you to make sureI got it right.”

“Hoo boy that was a good one,” Blade said as hestruggled to regain his breath. “But,all kiddin’ aside, I think it should be used as a legitimate signal.”

“Yeah? Andwhy is that?” Paol said trying once again to consume his chicken salad.

“Just think ‘bout it, Paol. If I’m caught in the crossfire, and my planegets riddled with bullets, I’m gonna be in such a state of panic that I ain’tgonna remember no hand signals—except one. When I realize that I’m so totally screwed, I’ll extend both middlefingers to indicate my vehement displeasure with the bastard that gunned medown, and it will save my life, as I hear the pleasant cockpit voice say,‘Thank you fo’ choosin’ to fly the XJ-20. Fo’ yer safety and protection, the vehicle will now eject yer seat intothe atmosphere.’”

Curiously, Paol poked at the display of hisreader while Blade finished the joke. His smile was quickly replaced with an open-gaped mouth. “Unbelievable!”

“What?” said Blade as he tried to peer in atPaol’s LCD display.

“I just searched the XJ-20 manual for ‘middlefinger’ and it came up with this: ‘Extend both middle fingers towards the top of the vehicle in order toopen the canopy and complete seat-ejection sequencing.’ Looks like you’re not the first to think ofthat clever little usage of the ubiquitous hand signal.”

Blade continued to chuckle while concluding theconversation with a final thought. “Great minds thinks alike!”

“Ok,” Paol said steering the pair back ontrack. “We need to finish this lunch,and get back to business. What does MPSstand for?”

“Main power system,” Blade fired backquickly. “When comin’ up from a coldstart, the first step is to switch on the MPS.”

“And then what?” Paol drilled.

“Uh.... Put the ignition in standby... er... idlethe throttle, and the OBC, or on-board computer, takes over fo’ the rest ofignition sequencing.”

“You are a quick study, Blade Slater,” Paolapproved with a bow of the head. “I’mglad to have you as my partner on this adventure.”

Humbly, Blade deferred the recognition. “Ah, we got a long way to go, my friend. I suspect that we’ll be needin’ each otherlots to get through this effort.”

Noticing that time was limited, they finishedtheir lunch quickly and quietly, each consumed in his own thoughts.

During the afternoon, classroom instructors wereimpressed that both students were farther ahead of schedule than expected. Expectations were high for Paol, but nobodycould’ve imagined that a high-school dropout and drug-dealing convict wouldalready have a strong grasp of trigonometry and calculus. His math instructor attempted to stump himwith question after question on differential equations, analytical geometry,infinite series, trigonometric equivalences. Blade was able to work through nearly everything, balking only occasionallyfor a quick prompt from the teacher. Paol was much more rusty, having been farther removed from some of themore abstract concepts. Blade seemednaturally geared towards the subject, however.

Paol was quicker than his younger cohort in achemistry overview, but both performed admirably in both static and dynamicphysics. Blade, however, was much softerin the computer sciences. He had studiedthese topics, but had little opportunity for hands-on study or experimentationduring his prison years. Paol understoodthis field through many years of experience.

As the pair left the classroom at 4:15, theyconversed lightly but felt the weight of the mission that lay ahead.

“Boy, this reminds me of my college days,” Paolreminisced.

“It’s a darn shame I didn’t apply myself and goon to college. Learnin’ is soexhilaratin’. If I only knew then…”

“But here’s your second chance,” affirmed Paolwith a smile and slap on the back.

“This time’ll be different, fo’ sure. This time, I’ll take the bull by the balls.”

Paol gave a start at the imagery invoked by thisadage. “I don’t think you want to dothat, Buddy.”

“Why not?”

“I think you want to take the bull by the horns.”

“Nah… from what I hear, everybody takes the bullby the horns… I’m takin’ it one step farther.” Blade laughed jovially and enjoyed his newly coined saying. Paol appreciated his partner’s optimism.

“Anyway,” Paol redirected the conversation. “Looks like we survived the first day, Blade‘ol buddy.”

“Not yet, we ain’t.”

“Why not?”

“Tons of books to hit tonight, and Kai ordered meback to the gym too.”

Shaking his head in understanding, Paol replied,“I’m starting to wonder whether we’re more likely to die during the mission orbefore the mission.”

…

The embrace was powerful and emotional. Tears fell freely on each shoulder and eventhe three bystanders were moved to emotion. Closest to Paol Joonter and his wife were their two teenage sons, ages12 and 16. Paol looked at them throughblurry eyes, trying to imagine what they would make of their lives while he wasgone. By the time he returned from hismission, they would be in their 30s.

Blade Slater stood farther off, in the corner ofthe room. His lips were tightly pursed,and his eyes glistened with tears, which had not yet rolled down hischeeks. His emotion was one of joy seeinghis dear friend reunited with his family after the long months apart. But it was also filled with the emptiness ofnot having a family to call his own. While his mother visited him a few times shortly after he had beensentenced to the U.S. Penitentiary in Atlanta, her visits became farther apart,until finally he lost all contact with her. His uncle visited a couple of times as well, but they weren’tencouraging to Blade. Instead, they werejust reminders of how he had failed and missed the opportunity that his unclehad offered him. How could he have beenso stupid? His thoughts were broken ashe heard his name.

“Blade!” It was Paol. “I’d like you tomeet my family.” With his arm wrappedtightly around his wife’s waist, he introduced Blade to each of family member,and Blade graciously received his sons with a warm hand shake, but his wiferefused Blade’s hands, preferring instead to throw her arms around him and kisshim on the cheek.

“Thank you, Blade,” said Joyera with red andswollen eyes. “I was made aware from myhusband’s letters that when I couldn’t be there for him—you always were. It meant so much to me that Paol had beenplaced in the great company of a decent and good man.”

There was no sound of sobs from Blade, but thetears which had previously been contained now flowed freely down his face. “I’m so glad to meet you all. Paol’s told me all ‘bout each of ya’.”

After brief cordialities and deepenedintroductions, Blade excused himself. Hewas glad to meet Paol’s family, but he also knew that Paol needed time alonewith them.

“I’ll just head be headin’ back, then,” Bladestated awkwardly. “You all have so muchto catch up on.”

“Are you sure you won’t at least come have dinnerwith us?” Joyera asked imploringly. Blade felt like family to her, through the descriptive closeness towhich she had grown by reading each of her husband’s letters from prison.

“Ah, no, Ma’am. Thank ya’ kindly, but Kai—that’s my personal trainer—has given me strictinstructions to be in the gym every evenin’.”

“Well, Blade, it is a pleasure to meet you. We’ll be seeing you soon.”

Paol waved his family ahead of him, and as theyleft the visitor’s lounge at Johnson, he confronted his friend. “You gonna be ok, Blade?”

“Just fine,” Blade assured him. “So much to study anyways. And I got some sleep to catch up on thisweekend too.”

“Ok, buddy,” Paol was still hesitant to leaveBlade, but he knew he had to spend as much as time as possible catching up withhis family. “I’ll see you Sundayevening. You have my cell phone if youneed anything in the meantime.”

Blade nodded and waved Paol on with the back ofhis hand imploring him to catch up with his family in the parking lot. As he walked back to his room, an odd feelingcame over him—a feeling like maybe he did have a family after all. At least there was a group of people who hefelt had his best interest and concern at heart, and that was enough forBlade. His pace to his dorm roomquickened, and his resolve to succeed on the mission was strengthened.

After dinner, Paol and Joyera left the boys inthe hotel room watching a movie, while they drove to a nearby park, and enjoyeda fresh summer evening listening to the ducks splashing in the center pondwhich reflected the antique gaslights of the park. While spending a significant amount of timesimply holding each other and considering the misfortunes that came into theirlives over the last year, they also discussed matters of vast importance to thefamily.

“Joy, Dear,” Paol whispered after kissing his wifeon the cheek. “Do you think I made theright decision? I agreed to theopportunity without consulting you, simply because I knew that I would haveplenty of time to change my mind before heading out into space.”

“I think you said it exactly, right, Love.” Joyera spoke in a soft yet reassuringvoice. “There are still six years thatyou will at least be away from prison. In the meantime, we will be able to see each other on the weekends.”

“But you and the boys won’t be able to come everyweekend to visit, you know.”

Joyera sat up on the park bench and lookedintently at her husband. “The boys and Ihave discussed this, and we agree that we need to move to Houston to be closerto you.”

While Paol had wondered about this optionhimself, he didn’t think it was a realistic scenario. “But Dear, we have such solid roots inSeattle. And the boys will leave all oftheir friends and activities behind.”

“There will be friends and activities here,too. We just realize that there won’t bea father—and husband—in Seattle. Theboys will each be out on their own by the time the mission is underway, andthen I would be left alone in Seattle.”

“But your family—”

“You are my family.” She reached up and grabbed Paol’s head in herhands to make sure that he looked into her eyes. She was always a determined woman, and Paolcould tell that her resolve in this matter was stronger than ever.

“Besides, Warron will clear your name within thenext six years, and then you will be a free man.”

“And if he doesn’t?” Paol spoke antagonistically.

“Then all the more reason to move here, so we canat least have the next six years with you. And all the better for you, because that would be six less years inprison. The way I see it, the worst casescenario is that you remain here in your astronaut training program for thenext several years. The best case isthat at some point your name is cleared, and then if we choose to, we canreturn to Seattle. Either way, you madethe right decision in getting out of that prison, Paol.”

Paol stood up and took a few steps towards thepond with his back to his wife. Aftersome thought, he turned back to his wife. “Honey, I have to decide now whether I am committed to this or not. It is all or nothing.”

She shook her head. “I… I don’t understand. You wouldn’t go through with the mission,would you? I mean... you’re just waitingout your freedom here instead of in prison.”

“If Warron does clear my name, I still have to gothrough with the mission. I can’t justleave Blade to go back into the pen. Ican’t abandon him.”

In disbelief, Joyera took a moment to processthis unthinkable piece of data and responded, “So, you would choose him overme? I don’t understand, Paol.”

“Joy, he has become like abrother to me. He saved me from hell in thatprison. His attitude, humor, andintellect insulated me from pure torment. I to think of what it would have been like had I been cellmates with the‘Strangler’ or with Rall McHerd—a violent man I had only heard about, butnevertheless suffered through a number of nightmares because of.”

With a snort of disdain, Joyera now stood on herfeet and turned her back on her husband. As she felt his hands on her shoulders, her closed eyes released a teardown her cheek. “Joyera, you know I loveyou. Please don’t be mad with me. Try to put yourself in my shoes. If Warron is able to obtain my freedom, Ihave to make a choice between returning by your side as we both want to, but Iwould have to do so at the cost of my integrity to Blade. I would have to send him back to prison. It is not an easy decision, but I think youcan respect the fact that there is a good man—a decent friend—a brother—who Icannot stab in the back. I can’t use himas a stepping stone to escape prison on parole and then ask him to go backthere once I am freed.”

“But, they’ll replace somebody else to work withBlade.”

“No, Darling. They are extremely desperate for astronauts. You have to know how desperate they are bydigging up a pair of maximum security criminals to do the job. They are really rolling the dice on us. If I am freed, and I quit the mission, theentire effort is in jeopardy. Blade willreturn to prison, millions of taxpaying dollars will have been squandered, andthe hopes and dreams of the world will come to naught.”

She now turned to face him. “Oh, so that’s what this is about? Becoming a hero to the world? Gaining immortality in the history books? Paol, you probably won’t evenreturn—everybody is saying that this mission is suicidal.”

“No, no. Honey,” Paol sighed as he saw the discussionheading in the wrong direction entirely. “First, you’re allowing the media to convince you of that. They want the public to think it is suicidal,because it creates drama and excitement, and that’s what the media needs to selltheir lousy services. Further—I don’tcare about being a hero. I just want tosleep at night knowing I did the right thing, and sending Blade Slater back toprison would be crushing to me—if not to him. If you tell me that you would rather me go back and wait for Warron toreplace the smoking gun in prison, then I need to do it now, before this goes toofar.”

Tears flowed more freely now from Joyera’seyes. “Paol, what do you want me tosay? If I say yes to the mission, I’lllose you for twelve years at least and maybe forever if anything goes wrong inthe vast distances of travel that you’ll be assuming.”

“If you say no, then you may only be able toenjoy seeing me through a thick glass window for the rest of our lives.”

“At least I’ll have hope of seeing you freed.”

“Will you? Do you think you’ll still have hope in ten or fifteen years fromnow? The trail to any evidence will havecooled too much to ever hope for. But Ido see one thing—”

“What’s that?” She looked into his eyes that were now moistened with emotion.

“This isn’t an easy decision for either ofus. Should I go back to prison and hopethat something will happen soon? Orshould I go on with the mission, and not know for another 20 years whether wewill be able to enjoy together what remains of our lives.”

Joyera began laughing nervously. “Do you know what is wrong with us women?”

Paol’s mind worked this question at a millionmiles a minute. This was certainly aloaded question, but then again when would he have the opportunity to have awoman ask him that question ever again. But maybe he was being tricked into something. In the end, he opted for the only safe answerthat he could give.

“I didn’t know there was anything wrong withwomen.”

With genuine laughter, she bowed her head. “Nice try—do you really expect me to buythat? Anyway, since you are unwilling togive an answer, I will. Women fantasizetoo much about their happily-ever-after. All along, I had convinced myself that we would move to Houston, wait afew more months, have your name cleared permanently, move back to Seattle, andlive out our perfect little lives happily ever after. And then when those unrealistic expectationsare not met, our worlds are shattered beyond repair.

“But I have to accept that there may be a differenthappily-ever-after for us, which is that we move to Houston, enjoy our weekendstogether thoroughly for the next six years, and become famously admired forgiving up our father and husband to the heroic service of his country andworld. I guess, sometimes in life, thereare things larger than ourselves—larger than life itself. I mean, what does our existence on thisplanet mean unless we are engaged in bettering the world for generations tocome? Your efforts in learning aboutEarth2 will be indispensable in gaining the knowledge we crave and need tounderstand our universe better, and to progress—not as just a self-centeredall-important view of the universe that revolves around us, but rather auniversal community of beings who share the universe with brothers and sistersthat today we can only imagine are out there.”

“We don’t know that we’ll meet anybody on Earth2,you know.”

“You will, Paol—you will.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“We women may be optimistic to a fault, but ourintuition can’t be refuted. I’ve alwaysfelt that there is something out there bigger than just ourselves. Can we really be so egotistical to think thatwe evolved as the only intelligent beings in the universe? In the vastness of the galaxies, what makesour little solar system so much more important than the trillions of otherstars out there? Or—on the other hand,if we really are created by an all-powerful God, can we really think that hecreated trillions of stars just to populate one little planet with sentientbeings? Why would he waste his timecreating all of the other stars, planets and galaxies when one little starcalled the Sun would do?

“No, Paol—there are others out there, and Ishould be less selfish to keep you to myself when you have the opportunity todiscover them for us. You should go onthis mission—but I want you to do everything in your power to make itsucceed. You are a great man, PaolJoonter—too great for your efforts to fail and be in vain.”

Words escaped him, not that they would havehelped anyway, as he was too emotional at this point to be able to speak. Instead, he chose to hold his wife close tohim. As he felt her head on his chest,he also noticed his heartbeat, and in that heartbeat, he felt somethingdifferent—something that he had never quite felt before. He realized that his wife was right—that hislife was somehow meant for something greater and that the inhabitants of Earth1needed to learn about Earth2. He was theman chosen—either by God or by fate—to discover for his own race something ofvast importance, something so vast that it might even be paramount to thefuture of Earth1.