Chapter 7
June 2078 ~ Cambridge, Massachusetts
When Kenneth Taylor, at the age of twenty-six, had washed out of the space academy in Houston, Texas, he thought his life and everything he’d ever dreamed of was over. Before that, he’d been a rising star, with a dual degree in biology and psychology from Harvard, with excellent grades; and his record at the academy up until then had been outstanding. He’d been marked for success, and already stood a good chance at being one of the cadets to be chosen for the Mars mission. Ever since he’d seen John Scott and Oliver Reynolds set their feet upon the surface of the red planet, and with a decent insight for an eleven-year-old kid as to what would be the next great step, his dream had been to one day be among the pioneers to colonize the planet. To be one of the very select few who, as his forefathers had done more than two centuries earlier in the American west, would seek and explore new lands to create a new world.
Throughout the more than two decades that had passed since that dreadful day, which, although it saved his life, did crush his dream of Mars, he’d often wondered how everything could turn out the way it did. He had no good answer to that, and however he phrased the question to himself, whatever angle he chose, he still couldn’t understand what really had happened. The facts were simple enough, but the reasons, the reactions, the chain of events—they were still a mystery to him. Now, as a man closing in on fifty years, he sometimes took on an analytical view, to meditate on how the experience had changed him. Of course, there were the apparent changes, like his shift from confident space cadet to renowned academic. With time, his ambitions had recovered and taken on new shapes, and led him to an eventual Harvard professorate, and over the years he’d shown much of the same excellence that had led to such high hopes back when Mars was still the ultimate goal. But the subtle changes, the ones no one really noticed, were perhaps of greater importance as to who he was today. For instance, he never gave away his reactions to people, unless they were part of his agenda, and he’d developed a certain flair for reading people without making it obvious that he did.
Politically, he’d also had quite a development, from being quite ignorant and uninterested to gradually becoming more critical of where the country and the world were headed. He’d started noticing how more and more democratic values and civil rights were being sacrificed in the name of “security.” The plague of terrorism that had swept across the world at first bolstered the free world, united them in a common cause. But then, gradually, as time went by and terrorist cells continued to strike, policy shifted toward authoritarianism. When terrorists nuked Seattle, fear seemed to creep into every corner and every critical voice was perceived as a destructive element. America, like most of its allies in the western world, was still a democracy of some sort, but many rights had been revoked, like the right to assembly. These days, if an interest group wanted to legally assemble, they had to be approved by a committee, led by a judge and comprised of two government officials and one layman. The implications were obvious, and this was just one example. Taylor came to resent this development, but public sentiment actually supported it, and he and others of like mind were outnumbered by people who just wanted to live their lives without fear of bombs going off in the streets. He had no problem understanding this, but somehow he felt more and more alienated and isolated from the society in which he had once been such a star.
After Seattle, the critical voices had gone silent, or been subdued by wrecked careers, and sometimes legal action. Some had switched views, due to the horrible acts of terrorism, and chosen what they thought of as the lesser evil. In some cases, the persecution had actually led critics toward more extreme views, and a very few had become involved in terrorist activity. Then there were the likes of Kenneth Taylor. He hadn’t been a very vocal critic, which probably was the reason he seemed to escape under the government radar, and after Seattle, he quickly saw the implications. So he went silent. He kept in touch with a few of like mind, but severed his ties to most others. On the surface, there were enough personal and professional reasons to justify him staying in touch with those few that remained, so he never personally experienced any difficulties due to his connections, and it didn’t hamper his career any. But when he was alone, the thoughts would come, and he felt like he was the only person in the world who could see the poison that was seeping through the nation. For a long time, he had great difficulty seeing how things could be changed to the better, and although his earlier fall from grace had thickened his skin and made him less prone to despair, he definitely had his black moments.
Kenneth was still unmarried, and when the news of Devastator broke, he was on his yearly hiking trip near Mount Washington with three other bachelor friends. They were taking a break, and when he checked his messages, there was one from one of his research assistants that just said “see news—important!” So he went online, and that’s how he learned about the end of the world. Of course, that became the main topic for the rest of the trip, and although it didn’t seem real to any of them, he could still remember one of his friends mentioning that for mankind to survive this, they would have to build arks and settle on another planet. Of course, that all seemed like science fiction at the time.
But it was real enough. Three years later, he was called into the office of the head of the Psychology Department, where two government officials greeted him as they got the room to themselves. That’s when he learned of the Exodus project and was asked to participate in the selection process out west. When he had asked why he was the one to be approached, as there were almost as many psychologists as there were lawyers, he was told that he wasn’t the only one. There were other psychologists out there, but his research had been noticed as groundbreaking where the fields of biology and psychology converged, and his extensive studies on the psychological effects of waking up from a prolonged coma was also an asset that separated him from most. By then, selection had been going on for four years, but he was told that his entry would not be unusual; at times, new candidates would enter, as the plans developed, and needs arose, and he was one of those late candidates. Actually, the first launches were less than a year away, so he had to leave immediately. At that moment, he rediscovered hope. There would be a new world out there, like a tabula rasa, a blank page, waiting for whatever would fill it. That was the moment he made a silent vow to himself that his role would not be limited to what the government officials intended. It was too early to fully comprehend the implications, or to consciously figure out how to make an actual impact. He just knew that this was a chance to make a better world than the one he’d leave behind, and he’d be damned if he didn’t grab that chance with both hands and hold tight. As he shook hands with them, he knew that the opportunity he could only have dreamed of had arrived. As much as the prospect of Earth dying was a miserable one, he couldn’t help it. He felt excited, beyond anything he’d ever felt in his entire life.
August 2078 ~ Somewhere in Arizona
“Today, we’re going to have a discussion. I expect everyone to contribute to this. You will be graded, and as you all know, final selection is only a few months away, and your grades will count.” Maria met Sophie’s eyes for an instant; they both knew they were far from safe. Sophie’s relationship with Jesse had almost made her quit after Jesse had been cut, and although she’d dived deep into her studies and projects, everyone knew she’d had a period of doubts and low motivation. Of course, the instructors had also noticed that, and it didn’t sit well with them. Maria had continued to do well in her main chosen areas of agriculture and life support, but she’d had a difficult time trying to support her friend, and while that would be seen as an asset by instructors, they also saw that she’d come to depend too much on another, which would be counterproductive to her own development. So many considerations … And really, who knew what would eventually count, come final selection?
Dr. Tanaka paced slowly in front of them, chewing his old-fashioned pencil, as he usually did, while choo
sing his words.
“I expect you to have speculated on where your destination will be. Many of you will have read extensively on planetary habitability, solar analogs, and so forth. I can tell you right now that when the time came, some two years ago, when a choice had to be made, it was not an easy one. In the years prior to our discovery of Devastator, several exoplanets had already been found, using different techniques, such as Earth-based telescopes, Doppler detection, and telescopes able to observe star occultation. However, the number of possible habitable planets was low, so after Devastator came into the equation, the studies began to focus on a small number of systems.
“The basic criteria to be a candidate were that the planet would have to be in the habitable zone around a star analogue to our own sun. The habitable zone, to those of you who haven’t read up on this, is the zone where an Earth-like planet can maintain liquid water and possibly harbor life. To pick a star similar to our own is really a practical consideration; we still don’t know exactly what it would take to support life around, say, a red dwarf, for a long period of time, so we made it a little simpler for ourselves. Red dwarves could support life, but they are noted to sometimes flare up, which would kill everything alive. This can probably be predicted, but why bother? There are better options. There was also the question of mass. Stars smaller than the sun have habitable zones with planets that might be conducive to life. However, the habitable zones of such stars would be a whole lot closer to the star, making such planets prone to larger tides. This might remove the axial tilt, which would make seasons disappear. One downside to that is that the poles would be colder and the equator would be damn hot. Also, that close to the star, the day and year could be synchronized, meaning one side of the planet would always face the star, while the other remained in permanent night. This would give us a number of problems, like one side being way too hot and the other frozen, although on average it would look nice. Since there is no way to know the details before you arrive, we couldn’t take a chance on that.
“Of course, distance has been an important variable, but our solutions to the distances involved in each scenario are still experimental. Variable stars were excluded, and we decided to focus on stars that showed signs of being rich in metals, since that would give us nice rocky planets, rich in necessary resources and tectonic activity. We didn’t want to spend time on gas giants, which could possibly harbor habitable moons, since we don’t know enough about them. What we wanted was a habitable solid planet, a nice ball of solid rock, like Earth. And since we had found a few of those, we chose to focus on them. We then studied what data we had, and found five candidates that could be proven to have the elements needed to sustain life as we know it, that is carbon, hydrogen, oxygen, and nitrogen. As some of you will note, we would definitely need phosphorus and sulfur as well, but we’re unable to detect that from Earth.
“We then focused on orbits, that is, we need a fairly circular orbit to avoid extreme variations in temperature. We could to some degree adapt to that, but it would be a difficulty best avoided. That ruled out another two. There were several other considerations that I won’t bother you with, but in the end a decision was made.”
Maria almost held her breath. If she hadn’t been so intent on what was to come, she would have noticed everyone shifting a little, backs straightening, eyes wide open, as Dr. Tanaka stopped moving and signaled one of his assistants to dim the lights a bit so that his presentation would show better.
“Approximately 40.3 light years away, we find 55 Cancri, a binary system located in the constellation of Cancer. The system consists of a yellow dwarf, like our sun, and a smaller red dwarf, separated by over 1,000 Astronomical Units, that is; one thousand times the distance from Earth to the sun. The primary, 55 Cancri A, has an apparent magnitude of 5.95, and is just barely visible to the naked eye under very dark skies. The red dwarf 55 Cancri B is only visible through a telescope. We shall focus on the primary here, since, as many of you by now have guessed, this is where we find our chosen planet.”
“Excuse me, sir,” a skinny redheaded woman Maria had only seen a couple times before interrupted. “I don’t mean to interrupt, but …” Dr. Tanaka turned toward her and motioned for her to rise.
“Ah excellent, finally someone who dares to take part. Don’t be shy, young lady, please speak up. Oh, and please state your name for us, I believe you haven’t all been introduced to each other.”
“Okay, ah … Well … my name is Karin Svensson, please excuse my English …” She stuttered a bit, clearly nervous, with every eye upon her. She fumbled with her notes, then decided to put them back down on her chair.
“Where are you from, Ms. Svensson?” That was Dr. Tanaka again. He could be a hard nail in class, but he also liked a good discussion. Though he could lose himself in monologue from time to time, he had a curiosity that allowed him to appreciate differing views, a trait that probably made him a very good teacher.
“I’m from Sweden, sir. I was with ESA before I came here.” This could be interesting, Maria thought. The European Space Agency had contributed greatly to the planet-finding efforts, and after NASA was disbanded, space studies in general fell from grace in the U.S. Ever since, ESA had been the world’s leading community for astronomy and astrobiology.
“Well, what I was wondering was what your thoughts would be on our final candidate being a binary? Binaries are not thought to be very conducive to habitable planets, since the gravity of two stars could affect the orbits of planets. Have you found actual evidence that this is not the case here?”
Dr. Tanaka smiled, and nodded to himself.
“You’re right of course; that was common knowledge among astronomers for a long time. At first, because it is common sense; with two stars pulling at a planet from different angles, one should expect the planetary orbit to take on really odd shapes. This would present serious obstacles, to say the least, because there would be extreme variations in surface temperature. For a long time this was the general consensus within the scientific community. It wasn’t until a 2009 paper on the properties of Alpha Centauri, that this was disputed. The study showed that Centauri A and B, having a distance of at least eleven AU, had stable habitable zones. This of course meant that planets within those zones could perhaps support life. Actually, the results showed that planets within a distance of three AU of either star could have stable orbits. I guess I’ve lost some of you already, but this is important, as it shows how little we know, and how much of a gamble this project really is. Okay, as you, Ms. Svensson, probably know, this study was the groundwork on further studies by NASA, ESA, SETI, and others concerning the possible habitability of Alpha Centauri, and although the results were dubious, the conclusion was that the 2009 study must have erred somehow, as the planets that were finally discovered had orbits that ruled out any possibility of habitability, at least for life as we know it. And that was basically the end of binaries as possible new worlds for future human exploration, and search for life continued elsewhere. Then, just before Devastator was discovered, new findings indicated that the 2009 study had actually been onto something, only that the distances they claimed were wrong. The distance between stars had to be at least 180 AUs, which of course excluded Alpha Centauri. But for systems where the stars are further apart, the gravitational effects will be negligible on planets orbiting an otherwise suitable star. These new findings were never published, as the discovery of Devastator got all the attention of the scientists. But a small number of people worked on this and everything we’ve found so far supports the thesis.” He paused, took a small sip of water, and smiled broadly.
“I’ve already told you, we found the orbits of planets around 55 Cancri to be stable, simply put. And what’s more, we found every basic element that is needed to support life on one of the planets. Not just the elements, but the general geological features as well. It has an atmosphere, possibly not very different from our own, although it is impossible to be certain at this time. We expect th
ere to be differences, but it is really impossible to know the exact composition from this distance. It seems promising though, and definitely good enough to protect colonists from radiation and so forth. The destination planet is the fifth out from the primary, and it has been given the name Aurora. And as science moves forward, so does the equipment. Just recently we’ve been able to conduct a spectral analysis of the light emitted from Aurora itself, and the findings were, to say the least, interesting … We found evidence of photosynthesis. You all know what that means. Ladies and gentlemen, we found life.”
Maria was stunned. She hadn’t expected this, and nearly skipped a heartbeat as Dr. Tanaka let the truth of that sentence sink in. Life. Finally, as life on Earth came to its close, the greatest question of all time had been answered. We are not alone! she thought.
“Of course, we are unable to know whether life means intelligent life or plants or microbial life. We don’t have the means to study that, and only those of you who survive final selection will ever be able to find out. But life means both new opportunities and new dangers. It could mean more easily obtainable food, or it could mean spores or bacteria that could kill you. Or, less likely but still possible, intelligent life. That would raise more questions; will it be benign or hostile? How could we prepare for either, what could be done in advance to increase the likelihood of such an encounter being a success and not a final and devastating blow to the last remnants of humanity? Life. This changes everything. And that’s what I want you to work on for tomorrow. That’s right, I’m giving you an assignment. We’ll continue discussing our designated target, but right now I want you to write down your assignment, then take a short break. We’ll start again in ten minutes. I’ll expect you to be a lot more engaged when we resume: ask questions, voice opinions, look at things from different angles, like Ms. Svensson just did. Remember, you’re being graded for participation. I guess that should be even more of a motivator now.”
March 2079 ~ Somewhere in Arizona
The first launches were only weeks away, and there was a much more competitive mood in the compound these days. The candidates that remained knew that not all of them would be on the final list, and that sometimes brought out the worst in them. Cheating seemed commonplace, and there had been several instances of even close friends sabotaging each other’s projects and assignments. If someone seemed to get too much praise, or do too well on tests, they were disdained by the others. And of course, everybody hated the newcomers.
Kenneth Taylor understood that all too well. It wasn’t just the competitiveness; it was also a basic instinct for survival. Devastator was coming, and the latest predictions said it would hit Earth in a little more than five years. There was a margin of error, but the closer it got, the more certain the predictions were. A direct hit. The worst possible outcome. By now, there were so few candidates left that everybody felt they stood a decent chance. Humans are funny that way, Taylor thought. In the face of certain death, men will show great courage, make great sacrifices, show a selfless determination to complete an impossible task. But if there is a slight chance they might actually get out of a sticky situation by sacrificing their friends or their ideals, the dark side of mankind shows itself. Taylor had long since concluded that humans could be both selfless and selfish; it all came down to the situation. So, in this particular situation, most candidates acted according to their nature, sad as it was. But he understood. If the astronomers were right, everybody knew what would happen to those who didn’t make the cut. The greatest adventure in human history seemed a far more tempting prospect than the greatest disaster.
“I heard Carol Larkin had to go last night.” That was Geena Travis, the girl he’d been teamed up with when he arrived just two weeks ago. There were three others on the team, but he couldn’t see them anywhere. He guessed they were back at H Building, studying, or maybe plotting how to get ahead on tomorrow’s advanced technical aptitude test. He had always thought that the human machinery works best on a full stomach, so here he was in the big dining hall, enjoying a nice after-dinner Italian coffee and Tiramisu with Geena, whom he’d quickly learned to like.
Geena Travis was a twenty-three-year-old girl, still in high school when she was picked for Selection five years ago. A pretty blonde, always with a smile on her face, and a positive outlook on life, she sometimes provoked people who didn’t share her attitudes. She had often been underestimated, based on that big smile, long blonde hair, and typical high school cheerleader appearance. Kenneth Taylor wouldn’t dream of making such a mistake. As a college professor, he’d often seen the most unlikely freshmen excel when put in an environment that reinforced their innate abilities. He’d seen assumingly mindless cheerleaders and high school losers go on to PhDs and astonishing careers in business, academia, or government. As he’d gotten to know her better, he’d discovered a keen mind and a talent for coming up with creative answers to questions that most candidates had to struggle hard to figure out. In addition to an athletic body that would stand more rigors than he’d only dreamed of coping with, and a psychological makeup that would make her less prone to depression in the face of adversity or even disaster, she was surely a top candidate.
“That right?” Taylor answered.
“I really thought she was going to make it. She seemed the type.” They both hunched their shoulders, taking another sip of coffee, and Taylor discovered he’d eaten most of his cake too. Typical me, he thought. I always get too distracted to really enjoy the pleasures of life, like this cake.
“Yeah,” Geena continued. “You never really know what they are looking for. Or what their selection criteria are. Who knows, we might be next.” Her cheerful disposition didn’t allow for her to dwell on things like that, and it only took about ten seconds before she changed the subject.
“You know, I don’t think Devastator means the end of the world. I think it just means some sort of cleansing, a new chance. Nothing like the cultists say,” she hastily added. “I am a Christian, you know, sort of anyway, but that kind of BS doesn’t have anything to do with Christianity, if you ask me. God’s punishment and all that.” She shook her head and peered into her empty cup. When she spoke again, it was a little strained.
“No, I think it will be a nightmare. And that a lot of people, most I guess, will die. But some will survive. I have to believe that. We all have to believe that. And from there, anything could happen.” Taylor smiled sadly at her. He very much wanted to believe the same. He knew that she knew of the latest predictions. He just didn’t have as much faith as she did. She was determined to keep her belief that some good had to come out of this, even here on Earth. His hopes, on the other hand, lay in the possibility of a better world on Aurora.
They rose and walked back to H Building to meet their team. They had individual tests tomorrow, so there was no need to work together. Just as well, Taylor thought. The others seemed much too concerned with the competition than with the actual tasks at hand. As they entered the apartment they shared, they saw that only Hans Kleve, the Danish shuttle pilot, remained. There were no sign of the others, or their belongings.
“Where are …” Geena was interrupted by Hans, who waved her off.
“The instructors came just fifteen minutes ago and took them away. They didn’t give an explanation.” He sat slumped on the couch. He’d just lost two of his best buddies and seemed to believe he was next in line. He’d never excelled at anything, but his team had been a good one for a long time now. Taylor suspected that it was mostly due to Geena and didn’t mourn the loss. Of course, that was something he didn’t state out loud.
“I’m sorry, Hans. I know how much they meant to you.” Hans just stared emptily at the open door, as if waiting for the instructors to come barging in to carry him off. Away from his one chance to live. Taylor knew in his heart that it was actually the most likely outcome for him.