Unwanted Visitor

Chapter: Backstory
Scene: Discovery and Discussion

Unwanted Visitor

         The lead astronomer, Chuck Avon, has been growing anxious about a star that is expected to explode nearby.  He enters the catalog properties of Fast Star #5 into the telescope's tracking system.

         The machine whirs and slues the antenna system around to place the fifth star of the Fast Group into the view screen.

         Chuck says, “Computer, that's not exactly lined up is it?”

         The computer’s disembodied voice comes out of the wall, “Those are the coordinates as recorded in the Ephemeras, sir.”

         Chuck flits up to the optical focus and views the star directly.  “Computer, please null the instrument to the center of Fast #5.”

         After a couple of burps and chirps from the tracking gimbals, the star is dead on the cross-hairs in the finder.

         Chuck squints into the focus again.  “Computer, how much error from the last catalog update did we have?”

         “Zero point zero one four three arc-seconds Right-Ascension and zero point zero zero eight seven arc-seconds Declination, sir.”

         Chuck checks a file in his notebook.  The correction is a lot more than he had expected.  “Computer, append the catalog with that... and a question: how soon will Fast #5 be within fifty light-years of our system?”

         “Thirteen thousand two hundred fifty three years... plus or minus one year, sir.”

         Chuck drops back down to the larger view screen.  He considers what might be learned from his investigation, then says, “Computer, please make this session confidential.  Ah, back to when I first arrived.”

         A masking noise fills the room and the computer says, “Confidential session in progress.”  The entry locks click shut.

         Chuck asks, “Computer, when is Fast #5 expected to go nova 1A?”

         “Thirteen thousand three hundred twenty one years... plus or minus five years, sir.”

         “Computer, and how close will we be at that time?”

         “Forty-one point three light-years, sir.”

         Chuck sets his notebook to receive a block of data from the observatory central records.

         “Computer, give me a relative motion model of the Fast Stars Group for the next twenty-thousand years.”

         Chuck’s notebook blinks done, then he says, “How much would we need to deflect Fast #5 to put it two-hundred light-years away from our system at the nova event?”

         The computer says, “Sir, there are two minimal solutions to that problem.  'A', to prevent Fast #5 from ever passing within two-hundred light-years.  And 'B', to allow Fast #5 to pass through our system first and be two-hundred light-years away before the event.  Which would you like, sir?”

         “Computer, give me both.”

         “Solution 'A' would require a deflection of thirty-six degrees at present... increasing a degree for every thousand years of delay.”

         Chuck shakes his head, “Shit!”

         The computer pauses, “Excuse me, sir?”

         Chuck says, “No, go on.  What's 'B’?”

         “Solution 'B' would require a deflection of minus seven degrees at present... increasing a half degree for every thousand years of delay.”

         Surprised, Chuck says, “Whoa!  That much?  Computer, is there enough material available in Fast #5's accretion disk for both solutions?”

         “Negative, sir.  Only solution 'B' would be feasible for the next three-thousand years, sir.”

         Chuck ponders the last response for a minute.  Then says, “So there is really only one solution available for us.”

         The computer remains silent.

         Chuck scribbles a few more entries onto his notebook, then closes it and drifts down to the lower exit.

         Before he activates the opening, he says, “Computer, end confidential session and give my remaining instrument time to the survey.”

         The masking noise fades out, the entry locks click open and Chuck leaves the observatory.

* * *

         The governor is stretched out at the bar sipping from his morning toddy.  He says, “Seven degrees, nine or ten by the time we get there... if we go.”

         Chuck, even though he’s known him socially for two hundred years, is still a little nervous about a one-on-one conference with the Governor.  This is ‘official state business’ after all.  “If we go?” he asks.  “The alternative isn't much of a choice.”

         The governor hangs his drink from a peg above the bar.  “There are always options.  I'm just thinking of the opposition.  'Why can't we postpone for a few decades?'  They have other projects they want to proffer.”

         Chuck snaps open his notebook.  “But sir, if Fast #5 goes 1A within a hundred light-years it cooks everything on the surface.”  He pokes a button.  “Within fifty we lose our atmosphere.”

         The governor says, “Oh, I know we have to do it, but we just can't afford the budget hit right now.”

         “Sir, don’t these projects always generate more economic activity than they cost?”

         “Chuck, this is not logical, this is politics.  Politics has never used logic successfully.”

         Tucking his pennae in tight, Chuck says, “There may be another problem, though, sir.”

         “What... something more important than the survival of our species?”

         The meeting was confidential, but Chuck edged a bit closer to the Governor.  “Maybe.  We haven't been through this part of the large galaxy before.  It's not well mapped.  We don't know of any indigenous natural species that may reside in systems near where we might have to redirect Fast #5.

         Glancing to the ceiling for a second... then back to Chuck, the Governor says, “A possible conflict with evolution?”

         Chuck gives a slight nod.  “Fast #5 is in a group called fast because of their speed.  About one fifth c.  We don't have the technology to look out past a thousand light-years with enough clarity to detect life signals.

         “So, there's a chance we could just be throwing it from our species to another?”  Worry passes across the Governor’s face.

         “Exactly,” Chuck says.  “The same dilemma the ancients faced.  We don't have the right to choose who lives... or who burns.”

         The Governor’s pre-politics vocation was as a historian of the ancients.  Chucks reference to their ultimate choice took the Governor momentarily back to his eleven hundred years of study.

         To Chuck, it looked like the Governor was just gazing out the window at the brilliant sunshine of the new morning.

         The Governor finally said, “Well, we'll have to address that if it happens.  The first part of the project will be to pick a target site.  Do you have a preliminary?”

         Chuck said, “Sure.”

         From his notebook, Chuck projects a 3-D image of the intersecting galaxies into the air above the Governor.  Numerous red stars represent the larger galaxy.  Fewer blue stars represent their own much smaller galaxy, strung out, but intersecting the larger one.  A dozen stars forming the fast cluster are in yellow.  Fast #5 is blinking.

         Chuck says, “If we do nothing, Fast #5 detonates here.”  He advances the timeline thirteen thousand years.

         “Way too close to us.”

         He pauses to be clear.  “If we choose the easiest solution it can be here.”

         He reruns the model with the "B" solution.  “About 200 light-years away.”

         Studying the model intently, the Governor says, “That's still awfully damn close.”

         Chuck reassures, “But survivable if we prepare.”

         “What about those other stars?” pointing to a group of red stars near Fast #5’s violent end.

         Chuck hesitates, picking his words carefully, “Well, you see, that's where my concern comes in.”  Fingering a small star 40 light-years from the detonation point, he continues, “This is a yellow dwarf about five billion years old.”

         The Governor understands the implication.  “Humm.  Prime life candidate.”

         Chuck nods, “And it's not the only one.  There's another eight yellow dwarfs in this vicinity.  All within 200 light-years.”

         The Governor says, “We’ve known about Fast #5 for fifty thousand years.  It was supposed to pop 400 light-years from here.  Why hasn’t this conflict been apparent before now?”

         “A small black hole narrowly missed Fast #5 just last year.  It altered its path.  We didn’t see it because it was too far away.  I didn’t recalculate the trajectory until last night.”

         The Governor asks, “Have you told anybody else about this?”

         “No.  I discovered the change during my scheduled instrument time at the school’s observatory.  I immediately classified the records as confidential.”

         “Won’t the fact that you are doing confidential work trigger the curious?”

         “Hopefully not.  We classify a lot of our work confidential for academic reasons until we publish.  This will appear as normal.”

         “Good.  We will have to release this very carefully.

         “Is there a chance we could put Fast #5 someplace where it wouldn't make any difference?”

         Chuck said, “Possibly.”  Pointing to a smudge a bit farther away, “There is a nebula about three degrees farther off axis that wouldn't have had a chance for life to form yet.  Too much stellar birth activity.”

         “Is there enough material in Fast #5's disk to go the extra angle?”

         Chuck swallows hard, “Yes, just barely.  We would have to be prudent though.  The mission has to be able to escape, too.”

         The Governor laments, “I suppose that is another reason for a speedy decision to mount the mission.”

         Chuck almost speaks, doesn’t, then just nods.

         “You’ve confirmed that Fast #5 has usable debris to mount the redirect mission?”

         Trying to look as confident as possible, Chuck says, “We won't know the exact state of the debris disk until we get there.  But, only special circumstances could have depleted the disk.  We haven't seen it happen in more than one percent of systems similar to Fast #5 though.”

         The Governor pauses for a second, then with a frown, “That has to be confirmed before we try to convince the public to spend a hundred trillion dollars and fifty thousand lives to move a star off course, son.”

         Chuck says, “Well, we can’t move twenty of our own systems out of harms way.  We’ll have to move that one star for our own sake.”

         The Governor looks at Chuck, “You don’t understand the Evolution Imperative as I do.”

         “Sir, I think I do.  But part of evolution is survival of the fittest.  We go with what we know now.  If a further redirection becomes necessary, we can deal with that then.”

         The Governor’s eyebrows raise.  “I don't suppose you have a candidate in mind to lead the mission.”

         Chuck just smiles at the Governor.

         “This isn’t some guilt penance because you missed the black hole that caused the disturbance is it?”

         “Our surveys should have spotted it.  They didn’t.  I’m just trying to help.”

         “A ten-thousand year mission?  Longer than you've been alive.  It might be the biggest part of your life.  You actually want to do it?”

         “This will only be the third time our species has done this.  I wouldn't mind if I was on the same page of history as Gabriel and Nemons.”

         “One hell of an ego trip.”

         Chuck says, “Look, sir, I'm sure there are many others as qualified as I.  But, I want to go.  I can continue my research for ten thousand years.

         “The ship wouldn't have to be fully manned until we get there.  We could make up all the specialists and distinctive species we need on the trip out.  Fast #5 doesn't have habitable planets so we'd just stay on the ship for the duration.

         Retrieving his drink, the Governor asks, “And if the mission is a failure?”

         Chuck closes his notebook.  “We'd have thirteen thousand years.  That's a good life.  As long as most.”

         The Governor takes a long sip and stares out the window.  Deep in thought, he ever so slightly fluffs his wings.

         The meeting was over.


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