Stars changed from sharp points, moving imperceptibly, to streaks across his vision. It was a relief to be in this place, alone, where the air was cool like an autumn Calgary night.
Scott Alendry had felt no physical sensation when it happened. One second the ship was travelling through space at less than one per cent of lightspeed; the next ... he had to admit to himself he didn’t quite understand. What he knew is that any concept of distance no longer applied. It was not that they would travel from one place to another – as the original pioneers in their sub light ship – through the random particles of dust, of hydrogen atoms. What enveloped them now was the stretched light of stars; devoid of baryonic matter. But also something more exotic. Energies unimaginable, harnessed from antimatter. So much technology on a knife-edge between optimal performance and total annihilation – observed one engineer in an interview, who worked for a rival contractor. He claimed if this balance were to be tipped in the wrong direction the consequences would be visible in Earth’s daylight, whatever distance of the 2,300 light years they had travelled.
Scott had another sixty-four hours to contemplate this. Another sixty-four hours to think about the more sensationalised media reports. It made little difference to him that this ship had been ‘test-onauted to its operational limit,’ taken on a four thousand light year round trip to no particular destination. Those guys lived on the edge of death as part of their thrill; the rewards an added incentive. Ah yes, the rewards! Yet it occurred to him, if there had been any problems on that test journey would they ever be reported? The only requirement was proof that the test had taken place and that the ship passed the same additional safety tests required of more basic craft. No new standard for a totally unique vessel.
A short, rotund figure emerged through the ‘swish’ door into the observation lounge; his girth held in by a long white, pocket-festooned jacket, the tapering grey plastic of medcorder protruding from one. Ostensibly the doctor.
‘Long time no sleep?’ the man asked. ‘Same here,’ he continued without pause for an answer. ‘Being the first, it’s psychologically fraught. I mean, we’ve been sent into something ... well...’ He trailed off as he seemed to realise the potential of making the situation worse.
‘I know the risks, doc. I’m just...’ Now Scott couldn’t quite finish.
‘Overawed,’ the doctor completed. ‘Who wouldn’t be? After all, we’re making history.’
‘Well, since you put it like that I think I will have some tranqs.’
‘Hey, I’m not here as drug dispenser.’ His expression serious now. ‘If that's all you wanted you could’ve got a medibot. You may not know but I’m also the ship’s counsellor.’
‘Yeah, I expect we’ll all be in need of counselling in a few days.’
The doctor went to pull something out of his lower jacket pocket. ‘If you really need something to help you get through the night...’
‘It’s all right, doc, I’ll just watch the stars and hope they send me into a trance.’
‘So long as they don’t send you mad in the process,’ he said as he left.
***