The Mission

The table was uncharacteristically silent the night before the big mission. This was despite an excellent meal – it seemed that everyone in the Space Agency had caught something of the gravity of the coming mission, and despite many previous successes, there was a sense of great risk pervading the entire complex.
Even the four crewmembers themselves were somewhat subdued.

“A good meal, the night before you’re executed,” was a comment made by the pilot.

The Commander looked over her three team members.

“Gentlemen,” she said, quiet steel in her voice. “What do you intend to do?”

The flight engineer looked up. “We intend to fly the mission,” he said. But there was something unsaid behind his words.

“And?” asked the commander. In three years of training for this moment, the four of them had developed an excellent understanding of each other, to the point of recognising unsaid words and reading emotions as though they were written words.

The engineer apparently decided that there was little point in beating around the bush here.

“Commander, I think I speak for all of us – yourself included – when I say that what I really intend to do is to die testing this new technology. I can’t see how it’s going to work.”

The Commander nodded.

“You weren’t this morose a week ago,” she observed.

The Data Officer, who had remained silent until this point (nothing like his usual ebullient self), said “A week ago we hadn’t seen three probes fail to reach light speed. And break up in the process.”

The commander accepted this. But she felt constrained to say “Our best analysis suggests that an unmanned spacecraft has far less chance of success than we do. We’ve trained for so long, and we know the new drive very well. D’ran, you have simulated every mishap that has occurred to the probes this week, is that not true?”

“It’s true,” said the pilot.

“And if you were not confident that you could bring us safely through any of those mishaps, do you seriously think I would have reported our status as ‘ready’?”
Around the table, it was clear that the Commander was coming through loud and clear. She’d definitely stuck her neck out for the crew in the past, that much was certain. It took real spine to do that, given the gung-ho attitude of many of the executives within the agency. None of them could imagine her being blasé about the risks.

“Well, then,” she said, “Let’s enjoy this meal, and then let’s launch tomorrow and show the naysayers. For the record, I know the risks as well as everyone, but I also think that we’re the best people to overcome them, and if we can’t nobody can.”

* * *

The following morning weather conditions were perfect at the launch site. The preparations of the SupraDrive were also perfect – it seemed nothing could go wrong that day. The conventional rocket that would boost them into orbit for this historic attempt was fuelled with rather less than the usual fuss, as was the hypergolic second stage; and when the moment of the first available launch window that day arrived, all was in readiness.

The countdown proceeded as normal and the craft lifted off on schedule.
The crew reported a good separation from the launch stage, and the craft was placed into quite a circular parking orbit.

They had an orbit to prepare for the lightspeed attempt. Readying the spacecraft took only a few minutes; most of that time was for psychological preparedness, and they knew it. They spent a few precious moments looking at their world from orbit. For the Engineer and the Data officer, this was the first time in space; the pilot had flown twice before, and the Commander was a grizzled veteran. But even they took this moment to look one last time at their homeworld. Their orbit was high, allowing them an excellent view of the entire planet.

“It’s funny,” mused the pilot. “It feels so big when you’re on the ground. But looking down on the planet like that, you can’t help feeling tiny.”

The Data officer grinned. “My Dad used to say that every world was actually just a subatomic particle in some enormous universe, and the planets and stars in THAT universe are just subatomic particles in ANOTHER universe.”

“Nice idea,” chuckled the Commander. “I’d like to see them test it!”
The crew laughed.

“Places, people. Set your switches to readiness, then we’ll commence orbital maneuvering.”

* * *

The ship had completed maneuvering itself free of the homeworld’s gravitational field. It was time for the test to begin.

The Data Officer readied his instruments.

The pilot smoothly pushed the handle.

For a moment the craft seemed to hang motionless in space. Then slowly, gracefully, she accelerated.

The drive pulsed. The pulsation was just a little off-rhythm.
“That’s what killed the first probe,” said the engineer. He made a couple of adjustments. “That oscillation there could have torn us apart.

The four crew members breathed easier.

The engines thrummed with a stronger rhythm now; the heartbeat of the craft had been made regular again.

A short while later, the Data Officer turned to the Commander.

“Rogue gravitational fluctuations,” he reported. “We’ll want to steer carefully.”

The Commander was pleased. So far they had eliminated the cause of two of the three probes malfunctioning. It looked indeed like their mission was going to succeed where the others had failed.

A light flashed on the Pilot’s console. He frowned.

“Commander, something’s wrong. I have lost control.

The commander looked over the Pilot’s controls. “Did you do anything unusual?” she asked.

“No Commander,” replied the Pilot grimly. “The readings were all normal until just a moment ago.”

She turned to the Data Officer.

“Tell me,” she said, “What was the cause of loss of the spacecraft in the third probe?”

The data officer replied crisply. “Inconclusive Ma’am. But I’d be prepared to suggest that it’s a better than even chance.”

“Right,” she said. “Lock in backup RCS.”

She turned to face our crew.

“Steady as she goes, people,” she said. “We’re not giving up yet!”

A moment later the Pilot reported “RCS back on line. We have control, but only very slight movement.”

“Data Officer, what do you read?”

“This can’t be right . .” he muttered, before announcing “We’re in the wake of
several incredibly large, fast-moving objects.”

“Can you dodge them?” asked the commander.

“If I start now we can,” he replied.

“Will it prevent us completing the mission?”

“Only if we hit one, Commander, and I’m fairly sure I can avoid that.”

“All right,” said the Commander. “Hang on, people!”

The Pilot made some path adjustments, and then shoved the levers controlling the SupraDrive into the “engaged” position.

The ship rattled. The acceleration was incredible, but the hull held.
“Steady as she goes. Prepare!”

At that point, the largest moving object could be seen in the window, and the ship was drawing inexorably close.

“Commander!” called the Pilot. “There’s no doubt in my mind that what happened to the third probe is happening here. The reason the information was sketchy is that the probe actually collided with something.” He pointed out the window.

Large globes whooshed past. In the opposite direction. The craft was heading directly for one.

The pilot made some extra changes. Far from moving the flightpath away from the object, he moved towards it. He even managed to steal some momentum from the object.
The meter on the bulkhead began to approach 1c, the speed of light.

“This is it, everyone,” he said. “Now or never.”

The globe slammed into another globe moving in the opposite direction along with the craft. Debris flew everywhere. But the craft was not there.

The spacecraft leapt past the speed of light. It only maintained that speed for a couple of seconds. It only needed to. As it was, it would take the craft several months to return under its conventional drive. No matter, they’d get home to a hero’s welcome.

* * *

A researcher at the Large Hadron Collider at CERN looked up from his readings.

“There it is again,” he said to a second scientist. “For a moment there, a neutrino seemed to be going faster than light! But that can’t be right . . .”