Those were the words by which Mikhail Borodov introduced Louis Armand to Johann von Schüssler.
“Bonjour, monsieur von Schüssler,” said Armand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Likewise, Herr Armand.”
“Now that you two have been introduced,” said Borodov, “we can begin training, yes?”
These three men were astronauts of an extraordinary kind: they were destined to be the first humans to leave our solar system. A theoretical faster-than-light propulsion system, known as Project Icarus, had recently entered the prototypical phase.
Eight unmanned probes had been equipped with FTL technology and dispatched in eight different directions. However, telemetry would not be received for several years, due to the fact that radio signals could not travel faster than light.
But the point was that the drives worked, and they were ready to be tested by humans.
In the briefing room the three astronauts sat with five other men, three of whom were their respective heads of state. The others were unknown.
Kathryn Edwards, he mission controller, stood behind a podium at the top of the tiny room. She was British, in her fifties and pore a passing resemblance to Margaret Thatcher, that famous Prime Minister of nearly 100 years before.
She balanced her half-moon spectacles delicately on her nose. “Gentlemen,” she began, “on behalf of the Terran Astronomical Foundation and the Global Confederation of Space Administrations I would like to welcome you to Latitude Zero, the brand-new subterranean research, construction, training and launch facility, funded in part by your own governments.”
A subtle nod from the three heads of state.
“Without further ado, allow me to introduce the designer of the Icarus Drive, Professor Julius T. Lampton.”
One of the two unknown men rose and took to the podium. He was somewhat elderly, with fisheye glasses and a very loud tie. His tweed suit quivered with excitement.
“Ge… ge… gentlemen,” he stammered, “as I’m sure you’re all aware, this is a mo…mentous occasion for ma…mankind.”
He pressed a button on the podium and the large computer screen behind him lit up with the image of a futuristic spacecraft.
“Th…this is Hermes, your final stage craft it is a very delicate piece of machinery, and requires an expert hand to operate. That is why I will be personally instructing you in its use. I… I think that’s enough for now.”
He bustled back down to his seat and Edwards stood again. “Thank you, professor. Now, our long-range Heimdall Array has recently picked up faint radio signals from the Proxima Centauri star system.
“Judging by their organised nature, we believe they originate from an intelligent source.”
There was silence for a moment as that last statement reverberated around the tiny room and eventually sank into the minds of its occupants.
“You mean to say,” ventured Armand, “that we may be dealing with extra-terrestrial lifeforms?”
“That’s right,” replied Edwards. “And you three would be making first contact.”
* * *
Serenity. The only condition possible for the human soul in the Tai-Xen mountains of eastern China.
Atop a nameless, amid snow-covered ash trees, sits a small Buddhist temple, home to five monks.
Yuen Xiu-Bai regularly led the prayer, he being the eldest. Often after prayer he would walk into the woods, down the mountain past the snow-line, and meditate for several hours.
That s what he is doing now.
He sits under the shade of an ancient tree, almost as old as the world itself. The sound of a nearby stream making its way down the mountain surrounds him and flows around him, like the water of the stream itself flowing past a rock.
The stream stops flowing. He is now sitting on the surface of a lake. No, a sea. Water as far as the eye can see in every direction. Water as smooth as glass.
There is utter silence. The silence of the lake, the silence of the wind, the silence of his soul.
Suddenly, a pebble drops. Ripples form; the glass is shattered. The ripples grow to waves, the waves begin to crest. Higher and higher, more and more violent. They are crashing around him and he cannot move. He is paralysed in the centre.
The thunderous roar of the waves—it seems to be articulating something. Vaguely perceptible:
“Master!”
He heard it again, one word above the chaos:
“Master!”
He falls. Down through the water, the bottomless ocean. He falls until he opens his eyes to see the round face of Li Qen-Jung, a young apprentice in the temple.
“What is it, Qen?” Yuen says softly.
“Master, it is time to eat.”
“I will eat when I am ready, Qen.”
“Yes, master.”
He bows reverentially and turns to leave.
“And Qen,” Yuen calls after him.
“Yes, master?”
“It is not wise to disturb one’s meditation.”
“Yes, master.”
* * *
Their training was difficult, very difficult. They had to be prepared for the intense g-forces they would encounter while travelling faster than light.
“We ha…ave equipped the Hermes with an inertial dampening system,” Lampton explained, “but neverthe…the…less, the g-forces will be phenomenal, much hgher than anything you’ve ever ex-experienced before.”
They had already been informed of this by Atkins, their personal trainer and the other unknown man in the briefing room. Large and burly, he seemed the perfect antithesis of Lampton.
The three astronauts trained day and night for over six months. The launch date grew ever nearer, crawling like a beetle. When it finally arrived, it paradoxically seemed to appear from out of the blue. None of the three were ready for it.
They clambered into their expensive, futuristic spacesuits and entered the elevator which would climb the height of the two hundred-metre spacecraft and allow the crew access to the cockpit.
As they rose higher and higher their stomachs sank lower and lower.
Even at lightspeed, it would take about five years to reach Proxima Centauri. Since they would be using the Icarus Drive only sporadically, it would take them almost twenty years.
They weren’t expected to return.
* * *
Yuen Xiu-Bai stands on the peak of the mountain, his bare legs immersed to the knees in freezing snow. He looks up at the pale blue sky to see a thread of white smoke arcing across the immense dome.
He knows what this is—he knows what is happening.
A smile draws across his face. It is a sad smile.
* * *
That familiar tug on the innards seemed a little stronger than usual this time; perhaps it was the extra weight of the Icarus Drive. With each moment that passed, it grew less and less strong, until eventually Mikhail Borodov plucked up the courage to open his eyes.
Both Armand and von Schüssler were peering intently at a large monitor in the cockpit of Hermes. The monitor gave the rear view down the barrel of the launch craft. The launch pad on the tiny Polynesian island grew smaller and smaller. The world now looked like a page in an atlas.
“This little screen hardly does it justice,” said von Schüssler. “How about we take one last look at the real thing.”
He switched the helm controls to manual and, after the final stage launch craft had been separated and Hermes had achieved a stable orbit, von Schüssler turned the craft around. As the three explorers looked through the main cockpit window at the stunning blue jewel that is this planet, their breaths seemed to elongate. Their hearts swelled in their chests as they knew this was to be the last time they would see Earth in their lives.
The melancholy silence in the cockpit was broken by an urgent beeping. Borodov turned to a computer console. “Icarus Drive fully charged,” he said. “Ready for activation.”
Armand took a deep breath and said, “Very well. Set course and speed. Prepare for superluminal flight.”
Von Schüssler entered the relevant vector information into the navigational computer. The ship turned itself around in the direction of Proxima Centauri. As it did so, the shining sapphire dipped below the horizon of the cockpit window.
The Hermes shuddered slightly as it gathered speed. Borodov looked at the other two, strapped tightly into their seats, and said gravely, “Gentlemen, may whatever gods you believe in have mercy on your souls.”
With a blinding flash, the Hermes disappeared, no longer confined by the visible spectrum.
* * *
Yuen was sleeping on his simple mattress when it came to him. He rose as if sleepwalking, yet perfectly awake.
He picked up a large, sharp knife used for carving bowls and, on the smooth wooden floor of the temple, spent hours carving out this symbol as large as he could:
地球
Its meaning: Earth.
* * *
Louis Armand regained consciousness first and woke the others. They looked out the cockpit window, but all they could see was black. No stars, no planets, just infinite blackness.
Von Schüssler checked a computer panel. “This claims that Icarus is operating at peak efficiency. We must be travelling faster than light now.”
“In that case,” said Armand, “the inertial dampers are working better than predicted. I’d say we weren’t moving at all.”
“How long were we unconscious?” asked Borodov.
“According to the computer logs, we’ve been travelling FTL for a week,” replied von Schüssler.
“Then we have two more weeks of this before Icarus overheats and we have to recharge it.”
Armand looked out the window at the impenetrable void and said, “I hope somebody brought a pack of cards.”
* * *
Ten years have passed since Yuen carved the ideogram into the temple floor, and with each day that goes by he seems to move further and further away from reality.
He has grown distant from the other monks and now spends most of his time, more than before, in the woods down the mountains.
He can feel it coming. He knows it’s there, just out of reach, barely in is peripheral vision. But it is there. He can sense it. It’s on its way, and he intends to greet it with open arms.
* * *
The three astronauts couldn’t stand each other any more. They had tried to organise shift rotations so that two men slept while one monitored the ship’s systems, thus minimizing the amount of contact they had with one another.
This failed spectacularly. They somehow still managed to get on one another’s nerves. They quibbled over the most trivial of things:
“99 Pascals is well within tolerance levels!”
“Well, I want to get it down to 98!”
“Why do you eat so much? We’re running out of food!”
“I eat a ration pack a day, no more than you!”
“I’m the captain! I decide when we use Icarus!”
“No, Icarus decides when we use Icarus!”
* * *
For the first time in his life, Yuen feels light. His soul is elated. For the first time, he is curious. He has started to look at things differently, to notice the sheer beauty and variety of the world, to wonder at its complexities and nuances. He feels delighted just to be alive to experience this fascination in nature.
He can feel it coming. It is getting closer.
* * *
Twenty years is a long time, but it feels an awful lot longer when spent in the company of animosity.
It took them an eternity, but the three old men have finally ended their journey. They arrive at Proxima Centauri twenty years, three months and five days after leaving Earth.
They turn on the radio scanner, as instructed, and listen. As they make their final approach to the lone planet orbiting Proxima Centauri, they hear the radio click. It clicks twice, then three times, then five, then seven…
The Prime Numbers.
The crew of the Hermes transmits the same sequence back.
* * *
It is here.
After twenty years of searching, Yuen has finally found his lake again; his child-like wonder and innocence have led him here. He knows what he must do. He sits on the surface of the lake. He is lighter than air. He floats. Up, up on a cushion of pure joy. It pushes him higher from the surface of the lake. The lake falls from his sight. He continues to rise above it all.
It makes sense to him now. This old man has found it, and it fascinates him.
His heart, his soul, fills with pure joy.
* * *
They received the response they expected. They grew ever closer to the foreign world, not knowing what they would see. It rose over the cockpit window like the Earth over the moon’s horizon.
Somehow, the shade of blue of this new world was exactly that of the old one.
They extended the landing gear of the Hermes and prepared to set down. The lush, green land came closer and closer.
Their hearts, their souls, filled with pure joy.
* * *
Yuen Xiu-Bai sees no reason to stay here. He wishes to move on. His questions have been answered; he no longer needs to ask. Before he departs, he leaves an answer for those who seek it. Into the bark of his favourite tree, he carves:
地球
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