DAYS UNTIL THE ETERNITY ARRIVES:
354
When I check my inbox for messages, it’s still empty.
Determined to ignore it, I force myself to do some studying. When Dad was alive, we used to spend hours training while he taught me everything that an astronaut could possibly need to know. I was getting quite good, for an eleven year old.
Back then it didn’t matter that I didn’t know everything, because if there had been an emergency, Dad would have dealt with it. If it was a good day, my mother might have helped too.
Now that it really does matter, I find it harder to focus. I pull up some astrophysics problems and read the first question.
A twin leaves Earth on a spaceship of mass 3 x 102 kg, which is travelling at a speed that an Earth-based observer measures to be +0.600c. After the spaceship has been travelling for 8 light years, the second twin departs Earth in a faster spaceship travelling at a speed of +0.750c, as measured by an Earth-based observer.
According to the theory of special relativity, what is the difference between their ages when they arrive at a planet 27 light years away from Earth?
Immediately I know what I’m supposed to do. I can barely write fast enough to keep up with my brain, scribbling down time dilation equations and drawing diagrams of the forces, masses and accelerations involved.
I get swept up in the joy of stretching myself, of being able to feel just how clever my brain can be sometimes. When I look at a problem and immediately know what to do, it feels like I’m flying. Sometimes I have dreams about doing maths, just because that feeling is so wonderful.
But then, as always, I start criticizing myself. A voice in my head tells me that I don’t know what I’m doing, that nothing I’ve written is right. I start panicking that really I’m not clever at all. I know, deep down, that if there was ever an actual emergency where I needed to use this stuff, my mind would go blank. I wouldn’t be able to do it. My brain would jam, clogged up with that imaginary pressure and fear.
It’s been like this ever since Dad died. I just … stopped studying. I couldn’t – and wouldn’t – learn this stuff without him. When NASA found out, Molly was put on my case to restart my training.
It’s amazing how quickly the advanced astrophysics dropped out of my mind. I’m learning things now that I used to know – things that Dad made sound so easy to eleven-year-old Romy. But now, I’m always finding fault with myself. I usually just look up the answer at the end of the textbook. It’s frustrating.
I’m erasing my failed calculations when a notification in the corner of the screen catches my eye. My heart skips a beat. A message is coming in.
I open the program for the detector, unable to resist watching the data packet arrive at the transponder. I need to know. Is it from The Eternity or Earth? Please, please, please let it be Earth. Let it be Molly.
The message trickles in, fragments at a time.
From: NASA Earth Sent: 02/07/2065
To: The Infinity Received: 08/03/2067
TRANS [Message incomplete]
I jiggle my knee, wishing I could hurry it up.
TRANSMISSIONS [Message incomplete]
I should go and do something while I wait, instead of sitting here watching it, but the scared feeling won’t go away. Something important is happening, and I can’t make myself look away from the screen.
TRANSMISSIONS POSTPONED. WA [Message incomplete]
Transmissions postponed? Again?
R ON EARTH. [Message incomplete]
War on Earth. There’s a war happening on Earth? I wait for more, but that’s it. That’s the whole message.
From: NASA Earth Sent: 02/07/2065
To: The Infinity Received: 08/03/2067
TRANSMISSIONS POSTPONED. WAR ON EARTH.
MOLLY
How could a war stop her from communicating with me? I wrap my arms around my chest, gnawing at a sore spot on the inside of my cheek where I’ve torn the skin from chewing at it. It would heal up if I left it alone, but I know I won’t. I’ll prod and rub at it until it’s sore and inflamed.
Molly said that international disputes meant that NASA weren’t allowed to use the DSN antennas to communicate with me. If a full-scale war has broken out, it must be stopping NASA from accessing the antennas at all.
I’m itching for more information, desperate to know just what is happening on Earth. What kind of war is it? Will there be actual fighting, or is this just a political stalemate?
I sit at the helm for hours, staring at the detector and hoping to see even a single letter more. But there’s nothing. War has started on Earth, and I’ve been cut off.
What do I do next?
I fetch my teddy from my bunk and snuggle my face into his fur, breathing in his familiar scent. My mother made him for me out of an old pillowcase before I was born, to keep her hands busy while Dad was working.
My conception was a surprise (or as Dad used to say, a “happy accident”). NASA hadn’t planned for any children to be born until the ship arrived at Earth II, so there was twenty years’ worth of food piled on top of the childcare supplies in the stores.
To make sure that I had a cot to sleep in and nappies to wear, Dad had to sift through the endless towers of supplies in the ship’s centre. Apparently, my mother kept trying to help. He had to make her stop, in case she hurt herself. Instead, while Dad excavated the depths of the stores, she spent hours sewing me a teddy bear. The fur’s starting to unravel now, but I still love it.
However much I hate to think about her, I can’t bear to give up my teddy. He’s a reminder of the happier times during my childhood. So I keep him, despite everything.
I’m still staring into space when another message arrives, this time from The Eternity. For the transmissions to arrive so close together, Commander Shoreditch must have written it as soon as he read the message from Earth. Despite my worrying, I note how nice it is of him to think of me like that.
From: The Eternity Sent: 30/07/2065
To: The Infinity Received: 08/03/2067
Commander Silvers,
I just heard the news from NASA. I’m not going to lie, I’m more than a little worried. Before I left Earth there were a number of ongoing political tensions, and I knew war was a possibility, but somehow I still never expected it – or thought that it might affect my mission.
I can’t really process what’s happening. It’s like the world has become a completely different place already, only a month after I left.
I hope you’re OK, Commander Silvers. This is a big thing – it’s perfectly natural if you’re a bit unnerved. I’m here if you need to talk. I know how much it can help to speak to someone, even if you know there’s no reply coming anytime soon.
Commander Shoreditch