Sunday, December 13, 2009

Part 4 of "Outside" (Final Part)

When Adam woke up, he saw that Chris was gone. The walls were solid, and the small window showed that he was traveling through regular space again, with its strands of stars. He checked the display and saw that it was set for a stop exactly where they had started, a few miles from Skylab C.

He was out of that nightmare. He felt like he’d had a delusion, that he’d gone mad and imagined the whole event. But Chris had been claimed. Somewhat solid evidence that something truly amazing had happened out there.

Why was everything else intact? How was it that he’d escaped that turbulent world unaffected? Hopefully the cockpit camera would resolve whether it had all truly occurred.

The bands of light outside his window disappeared, replaced with the regular speckle of starry space. He was home. Squinting, Adam could make out Skylab C in the distance.

Yearning for the sound of another person’s voice, Adam immediately radioed in.

Long minutes passed before a response came in. “This is Skylab C, state your identification.”

A male voice? Where was Rachel? Had they even had enough time to get another astronaut in there with her?

“This is the Encounter. Adam Neville speaking. We’ve lost Chris Worth.”

Minutes rolled by again without acknowledgement. Then, “Sir, come in for docking please.”

Adam fumbled with the computer interface, and the ship eventually closed with the station’s docking module. The small vessel shook with the connection. Adam unstrapped himself, and clicked his faceplate shut. He then floated a few feet to the airlock, and proceeded with the task of verifying a proper connection.

A sensation of disembodiment fell on Adam, and he knew the man that had answered his radio signal was waiting on the other side of the coupling doors. The new astronaut was perplexed, even nervous. Adam knew this, and wondered why he was so sure.

The door opened, and a dark-haired, tan-skinned man in a navy blue jumpsuit hovered there. He was frowning, his lips tight. He gestured for Adam to lower his faceplate, and Adam complied.

“Dr. Adam Neville?” the man asked, unnecessarily.

“Yes. Where’s Rachel Hanson?”

The man hesitated. “Why she’s down on Earth. Houston, I think.”

It was Adam’s turn to show skepticism. On Earth? “What’s going on here?”

“My name is Patrick Marshall, I’ve been here working on the new Alcubierre drive. We thought we lost you. Five years ago.”

Adam’s limbs felt suddenly heavy, and his mind reeled at the consequences of being away so long. If that were true, that time had somehow gotten skewed by the accidental trip beyond material space, then everything here would have changed. The project would be completely ruined at the perceived loss of two astronauts. It was surprising that this man was even still working on a drive at all. Probably for robotic exploration, not manned.

Patrick waved for Adam to follow him into the station. Adam sluggishly followed. A swarming understanding of Patrick’s state of mind filled him. The astronaut was frightened now.

But how could he know this?

“I think you’d better transfer the ship’s data,” Adam said, hoping the man’s mood might stop flooding his senses if he was given something to do.

Patrick started patching through information from the Encounter, and Adam laboriously discarded his spacesuit in the next room.

Five years. How had Kasi handled that, or Carol? Or his parents, and everyone else that had expected him back on Earth after a very brief mission? Oddly enough, the more he thought about it the more he seemed to understand how they were.

Adam gritted his teeth when, without warning, impressions of his family whirled in his head. Kasi was healthy, but sad, deeply sad. Carol felt lost, nervous. Her grades had dropped. Adam slammed a fist in the paneled wall, pushing him across the room. How could he know all this? It didn’t make sense. Chris’ family was hurt as well. Disappointed that he’d been lost to one of his last missions.

With a low whine, Adam launched himself into the work lab. He had to keep moving, get his head straight by getting down to business. As he entered the room, he was taken aback by the sight on one of the monitors.

Mouth agape, Patrick was watching Chris Worth vibrating and distorting on a playback of the inside of the Encounter’s cockpit. Patrick slowly turned to Adam, his white-knuckled hands gripping a handhold.

Proof. In some ways it was a great relief to know that the surreal experience he’d endured had been recorded. He hadn’t gone completely crazy out there. It had all really happened.

Before Patrick could make a comment on the video, Adam ordered the baffled astronaut to get Rachel Hanson on the radio immediately. Leaving the recording running, the man changed stations and began communicating with Houston. His hands were trembling, and sweat flecked off his brow to float slowly around him in a moist halo.

Houston came on, agitated. They wanted to talk to Adam, and were ignoring Patrick’s request to speak to Rachel.

“Look,” Adam said, leaning toward the radio console, “I don’t know who this is, but it’s vital that I speak to Rachel Hanson. Get her out of bed, into the country, whatever, just get her on this damn radio!”

Adam flicked off the radio and turned to Patrick. The cabin seemed to buzz around the astronaut, as though its fundamental particles strove to come apart, making Adam feel dizzy. Worry crossed Patrick’s features. Of course he was worried, Adam thought, this is all damned weird to him. The man had grown up in Maine, and had spent his childhood getting pestered by bullies, until he’d grown bigger than them. He’d gotten scholarships, bursaries, all the opportunities, and had followed his dream to work in space. He’d come up to the station hoping to discover what had gone wrong with the Encounter mission, not to be confronted by an astronaut that was believed long dead. This was all information Adam couldn’t possibly know, but he was certain it was correct.

Spinning away from Patrick, Adam clutched his head. The walls, the station, even the vacuum outside, it was all too dispersed. It was becoming unbearable.

“Take that video, Patrick,” Adam said, trying to keep his voice calm, “and send it to Rachel Hanson. Send all the information. Do it now.” His grave, shaky tone was enough to make Patrick rush to the computers and immediately begin transmitting everything down to Earth.

Adam’s vision shook, and his mind’s eye showed Rachel racing through the Nasa compound. Moments later her voice came on the radio. “Adam, is that you? My God, are you alright?”

The small communication screen blipped on, and Rachel’s face, usually composed, was now alight with astonishment.

“Rach, we went outside. We traveled faster than the stuff our universe is made of. Chris, he’s not with me. He’s not dead. He came back, another time.” He was blurting it out, and knew it was completely true. Images of sand dunes, and a bright, unusual star up above. Chris had made it back, but not in this era. Time had been non-linear in that pulling void, and Chris had embraced it, had used it to find his way back at his own leisure.

Tears fell from Rachel’s eyes, and Adam sensed the full strength of her emotion, and shed tears of his own.

“Adam,” she said, “What the hell happened?”

He sought unity. This realm of existence was exposed, shredded, lost. Unnatural.
“Tell them I’ll be gone for a while,” Adam said. “Tell Kasi I won’t be gone forever. She’ll understand soon.”

Adam snatched a handhold and then propelled himself toward the lab’s exit. Patrick followed, his intention clearly to prevent him from gaining access to the Encounter again. But with a mental flick, Adam paralyzed the young astronaut and went on his way. Back outside.

The End

The foregoing is excerpted from Outside by A. J. Seguin. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced without written permission from the author.

Saturday, December 5, 2009

Part 3 of "Outside"

Adam regained consciousness to find that the drive was still running. Without waiting, Adam slapped the shutdown button, and the drive immediately stopped.

Nausea swept over Adam. He fought it down, alarmed at the prospect of vomiting inside his helmet.

“Chris, can I open my helmet? Do we have air?” He remembered that the suits were only precautions, and that the environmental controls should still be active, but he wasn’t taking any chances.

“Yes,” Chris said, opening his own helmet visor and vomiting into a nearby trash receptacle. Adam did the same. They sat there for a minute, trying to overcome their queasiness. Why were they sick? The bubble wasn’t supposed to affect its cargo, and if it did, the strong tidal forces would rip them apart, not cause them to bring up their space food. And what had happened to make them lose consciousness?

“How far are we?” Adam asked, wiping his mouth with the back of his thick glove.

Chris spent nearly a minute snapping from interface to interface before turning to Adam. “No information.”

Adam clenched his teeth as vomit threatened to come up again. No information? What did that mean? They shouldn’t have pushed the drive’s limits. Something had gone wrong. They’d gone too far. Had they exited the Milky Way?

He looked out the window. Blackness. But there was something odd about it, as though it tugged at his gaze.

Turning to look at Chris, Adam suddenly felt a deep fatigue come over him. His eyelids lowered, and an abysmal sleep took him away from consciousness once more.

Adam awoke to the acrid smell of vomit. He felt hot in his suit, and the air, despite the ship’s perfect systems, felt muggy. Eye gunk fought against his efforts to open his eyes. He’d been asleep a while. He brought up his hand to rub his face, and his plastic-tipped thumb smashed into his right eye. He blinked repeatedly to remove the pain.

Through cloudy eyes he looked at Chris. The sight made him yelp in terror.

The mission commander, sitting facing Adam, was vibrating at phenomenal speeds. His mouth was open wide, too wide, and his eyes were unfocused. The shaking was unsteady, and he would lurch forward and then back, always rapidly vibrating.

Adam recoiled in his seat, trying to get away from the abomination. What was making him move like that? It looked like the man was stuck in a paint-shaking machine. As Adam watched Chris he could see that there were strange glitches in the movement. The man seemed stuck in some sort of loop, going backward and forward in motion.

Sweat poured from Adam’s forehead, his arms straining to keep himself away from Chris. What terrible thing had happened to them? Was it the drive, or this unknown, sucking-black place outside that had warped Chris? Where were they?

No information, the mission commander had said. Adam took his eyes off Chris for just a moment to look at the main cockpit display. He’d been briefed on how to work the drive, and to even know all the controls that had been manufactured for it, and surely enough the screen showed him nothing of any use. The air control systems were working perfectly, the ship was quiet, powered down. It couldn’t be the drive.

It was this place.

“We’re outside,” came a tremulous voice from nowhere in particular, startling Adam.
“Chris?” Adam shouted, watching the vibrating man.

A faint voice reverse-echoed into being again, “We’re farther than light, farther than matter. We’re outside it all.”

The words weren’t coming from Chris’ body, but from somewhere inside Adam.

“Outside the Milky Way?” Why was he asking? How could Chris, or whatever had become of him, know?

More wraithlike echoes, then, “Beyond our universe. We’ve gone past the expansion of our universe, friend. We were faster than its rim.”

A peculiar, and not unpleasant, sensation washed over Adam. An all-consuming sense of intimacy, of closeness to another person. It was Chris. Adam’s panic dimmed in an instant, replaced by this unexpected and warm connection to his colleague.

The voice came in more clearly now, more deeply imbedded. “We’ve left the dispersion of the Big Bang behind. We’re outside time and space. There is cohesion here beyond imagining.”

Adam’s perception pulsed out suddenly, and he felt Chris, the metal walls, the instruments, and the drive, combine with his consciousness. The inanimate materials displayed their molecular construction in vast detail, and as he absorbed more, he began to conceive of their quantum structure, and was able to understand all its intricacies. To his astonishment, separate parts of the ship, including Chris and himself, seemed interwoven at a level beyond human inspection, deeper than blipping quarks. But he finally resisted, balking at the eerie experience, and reeled in his mind. Panic returned.

He was shivering now, staring at Chris. Mental dilation tugged at the edges of his mind, but it was too strange, too frightening in its intimacy, for him to seek it out again.

Chris’ body had begun to change, and was now warping uncontrollably, shivs of him dashing against the walls. Piping on the ceiling wobbled when the distorted mission commander came in contact with it, and then began stretching toward him, as though magnetically attracted. Adam’s gut tightened when he noticed paneling begin to vibrate in tandem with Chris.

The whole ship was imploding, and he was stuck in the middle of it.

Acting fast, Adam tapped at the ship’s display, ordering it to turn around and face the way they had come in. Contracted space was straight-line travel, a detail Adam was hoping held true at this very moment. If they were actually outside the universe, beyond the reach of light, and therefore visual cues, he would have to trust in the ship’s precision orienting to drive right back into the thick of the inflationary universe.

After a few seconds, the ship instruments indicated that they had turned, not based on any external information, but on simple mechanical activation. There was no way to know whether the principles of maneuvering in vacuum applied to this realm, but he couldn’t think of anything else to try. Adam quickly activated the drive. The cockpit was turning into a wonderland of movement and vibration, and even the screen Adam worked on was beginning to wobble. Only faint wisps of Chris remained, his eye sockets and mouth cavity stretching from floor to ceiling.

Data that Adam could still read on the monitor showed that the drive was straining to initiate a bubble. The Casimir compartment was having difficulty creating exotic matter, and the oscillation was running without effect.

“I’ll help. It’s what you want.” Chris said inside Adam’s head, crystal clear now.

A bubble of contracted space suddenly formed, and exotic matter finally started rolling into the Casimir cartouche.

Then everything went dark for Adam.

Saturday, November 28, 2009

Part 2 of "Outside"

Rachel snorted. “I’m surprised at you, Adam.”

He raised his right eyebrow.

“For a genius you’re quite a kid.”

“You’re disappointed, you mean.”

Rachel sighed, and looked at a screen brimming with charts and diagrams.

He’d always known Rachel was on the serious side. Fifteen years before, in 2012, after Adam had announced his discovery of stable contracted space to the world, she had contacted him with plans of applying the technology to space exploration. Naturally, Adam had been intrigued. Tests in the lab were interesting enough, but to apply his innovation to something as huge as exploring beyond the solar system was greatly appealing to him. They’d worked together ever since. She was creative, clever and supremely intelligent, but had always resisted Adam’s more jovial aspect. This didn’t bother him; it only made those instances when she did laugh all the more satisfying.

“They want something meaty, Rach. They want to find other civilizations. We have to push things a little. You know how things were before the drive, science was getting less attention every year, at least in the States. Now everybody loves this stuff. Regular people love this stuff.”

“Being reckless won’t help,” Rachel said. “If you get stranded, or there’s an accident, that’ll put all that progress in jeopardy.”

She was right, Adam knew. One accident would eliminate manned exploration for decades, if not forever. Idiot robots would become the explorers, bringing back snapshots of far off places like mechanical tourists.

They’d already sent dozens of probes out into space using miniature Alcubierre drives. The results had been spectacular. Close-ups of the sun, Jupiter, Uranus, even Pluto. Wide shots of the solar system from the outside. There was even a powerful telescope clicking pictures of Oort cloud comets. Images that had roused Earth’s population to gaze at the night sky again, with thoughts of breaching that last frontier. Slow, lumbering progress through space using conventional propulsion was gone, suddenly replaced with fast-paced exploration. The inevitable next step had been manned missions. The thought of sending human beings out to discover the mysteries of the galaxy, and beyond, was enough to push even the most apathetic people into flights of fancy.

Rachel was correct about treading carefully with these first steps, however. She was ensuring that missions would become funded on a regular basis, that people would be roaming about the stars unheeded by Earth politics, or Nasa budgets. Scientists could eventually visit planets and solar systems, frolic in the wonders of dark matter, or experiment with black holes. She had thoughts of a super civilization on her mind, and she was afraid it all hung in the balance with this mission.

“Let us get out of the solar system, at least,” Adam said, “Those probes did it without a single bubble pop. Contracted space won’t hold out for much more than that anyway.”

Rachel bent toward the computer and typed in a few instructions. The display showed graphs that were quite familiar to Adam; statistics relevant to the manned mission that had taken place about five years before.

Two astronauts had astonished the world by using the Alcubierre drive to visit Jupiter from Earth orbit in less than a full second. The credit for that mission had gone to Rachel. She had plotted out the distances, had performed extensive tests in a lab on Earth, and provided concrete math for them to work from. The rest had been done in space in record time, with unlimited funding from various countries helping speed along the process of building the first crew-sized ship to contain the Alcubierre drive.

After Jupiter, the astronauts had popped back near Earth again, with stupendous control and ease. With interest still riding the wave of Adam’s discovery, people had practically held a worldwide holiday on the day of that event.

Adam remembered Kasi’s face on that day. She had looked as breathtaking as usual, but an added glow of exultation had made her staggeringly beautiful. They had watched the stars for hours that night, Carol chirping with enthusiasm next to them. Adam hadn’t thought life could get any better than that. He smiled at the memory.

“We’re using a tighter model this time,” Rachel said, still staring at the monitor. “I know. I finished the build, here. The Casimir harvesting is quicker, sharper. Even the oscillation is faster. You’re going faster than they did.”

Adam shrugged. “Yes, right. We’ve adjusted for that. It’s practically hands-free. Besides, Chris knows what he’s doing. He knows more than I do.”

“I do?” came a voice behind them. Chris Worth swung in from the sleeping quarters, an undershirt and pajama pants covering his lanky frame. Adam marveled at how Chris moved so lithely in microgravity. The mission commander was long-limbed, with light-brown hair and deep blue eyes. His thin face, always calm, was now quizzical. “You’re the physicist, remember?”

Adam laughed. “True. Which means I know nothing practical, eh?”

Coming to a stop next to them, Chris chortled. “Guess it’s all up to Rachel.”

“Good,” Rachel said, “that means you two are going on a short trip.”

Adam tilted his head back, staring at the ceiling tubing. “She wants us to stop short. Not test a full bubble length.”

“Oh?” Chris’ eyebrows went up. “They expect us to use a full bubble.”

Several outside companies had helped fund the project, all of which had their own ideas on how to use the technology, but Nasa still called the shots, and they’d opted for a stress test on the duration of a single expanse of contracted space, using a ship designed to hold passengers. The ship Rachel had designed was larger than the one used in the last manned mission, as was the Alcubierre drive, and so its limits still had to be ascertained in practice.

Adam hooked an arm around a handhold. “Well, we’ll go far anyhow.”

After another week of planning, including entering Rachel’s improvised stop into the calculations, Adam and Chris were in the ship, ready for launch. Though they were over an hour away from activating the drive, Adam felt perspiration on his forehead, and his spacesuit felt unreasonably constrictive. He writhed fitfully, trying to loosen the joints.

“Not comfy?” Chris asked. The mission commander was sitting next to him in the tight cockpit, also in a full spacesuit.

Adam fiddled with his open visor. “They’re all watching, you know.” He tested the sliding faceplate, and then left it down. “Probably one or two cameras from the station, but how many are looking through at us?”

“The whole world, I’d guess.”

“Yeah,” Adam chuckled, “this tops all the reality shows on at about this hour, doesn’t it?”

“People might check us out at the commercials,” Chris said with a grin.

They didn’t have much to do but wait for the countdown, and Adam tried to busy his mind with thoughts of what future astronauts might discover with this new technology.

The drive technology was getting better with every construction, with every test. People worked at making the spatial contraction greater, greedier, thereby increasing speed. Rachel had innovated on that principle already, and had applied it to this very ship. All this after just a decade of testing. What would the next ten years hold? Traveling to Jupiter from Earth orbit in under one second certainly sounded fast, but some critics, for there were always critics, claimed the speed was still insufficient to travel to anywhere other than neighboring stars without considerable time. Adam had disregarded the naysayers, knowing full well that the technology was still young, with plenty of refinements to come. Rachel promised this ship was faster. The distances between stars in the Milky Way were shrinking with each leap in technology. Humanity was no longer bound by relativistic speeds.

The warp field created by the drive had interesting properties compared to traveling while bound by relativity. The major reason the technology had gotten so much attention was its ability to allow the ship inside the bubble to remain unscathed, while the space around it became subject to a downhill effect that was ultimately faster than light, without the penalties of time dilation. Though the bubbles unleashed strong tidal forces, the trip for anyone riding inside was exceptionally quiet.

“Why call the ship Encounter?” Chris asked, breaking Adam’s thoughts.

Adam tested the straps that held him in his chair. “Ominous, eh?”

“We won’t encounter much, I think.”

The ship was sturdy, less geared toward a single mission like the one used to travel to Jupiter, and evidently meant for repeated tests. “Maybe they plan on visiting nearby stars with this very ship,” Adam said.

“Rachel would never allow it. She wants this ship for tests inside the solar system.”

Adam knew this would be his first and last time in space. Trained station personnel didn’t spend much time in space on the whole, and he was just a guest physicist, up here for public impression more than any kind of expertise, which meant this was a one-time deal. His goal on the mission was to stabilize the bubble, to make it resistant to popping, and let the shut down of the drive determine the stopping point rather than waiting for bubbles to collapse. A job easily left to any other astronaut once this mission was over. If the drive were to ultimately allow people to have a first encounter with an alien civilization, Adam would not be the one walking down the ramp proclaiming he was coming in peace.

“Besides,” Adam said, “little green men are going extinct.”

Chris shrugged.

That human civilization had found a way to achieve faster than light travel at this early a stage in its development, or rather had found a way to skirt around having to travel at relativistic speeds, meant that other, older civilizations would have come upon the innovation ages before humans did. Since the immediate area around the solar system didn’t hold any evidence of extraterrestrial life, the number of sentient beings running around the universe could be low, if not zero.

“You don’t buy that, do you?” Chris asked. “We’re only a few thousand years old as a decent civilization, maybe they just haven’t been in the neighborhood for a spell, while we were growing up.”

“Who knows.”

Of course Chris would see things in an optimistic way. Adam had met him for the first time on the ship’s space station, and there had been something immediately reassuring about the fellow’s casual demeanor. Adam guessed the man had probably never gotten angry in his whole life. His personality made for an excellent astronaut, a profession that literally left you shoulder to shoulder with your colleagues for long periods of time. His easygoing attitude probably contributed to the man’s current mangy appearance.

“Letting the beard grow,” Adam commented, touching his own stubble.

Chris smiled. “Who’s going to know where we’re going?”

This was his mission commander. Adam appreciated it, rather than getting worried at the man’s lax attitude. Chris had shown that he was a top-notch astronaut during the two weeks in the space station by exhibiting an intimate knowledge of the Encounter’s workings. It was possible he understood its intricacies even more than Rachel. As relaxed as he was, Chris had done his homework.

Let him be a hippy, Adam thought, he’s earned it.

Adam glanced out the small window to his right. They’d been moving away from the tiny station for nearly an hour now. Skylab C hung there, between Earth and moon. Its location in the Lagrange Point made it a low maintenance station in terms of reorienting, held there by the opposing gravitational pulls of the two massive bodies. The ideal spot for building the Encounter.

Rachel radioed in and spoke to Chris for a while, going over various systems and checking that nothing had changed since she’d tested its basic propulsion a few weeks ago. It was in perfect shape, apparently.

Chris really didn’t have much to do, and he easily admitted as much. The onboard computers were top of the line, and specifically dedicated to the Alcubierre drive. Software engineers had arranged for them to have an easy ride, the automatic systems relying on a complex three-dimensional star map to pinpoint their position from wherever they would end up when contracted space dispersed.

The ship builder sounded nervous on the radio, repeatedly checking instruments with Chris. Even the mission commander’s languid demeanor couldn’t calm her. After running down a life-support checklist, Chris was given the go-ahead to power up the drive. An unremarkable step, with just a few taps on the screen and the flip of two switches. There was no apparent change in status aside from a command-line interface on the monitor showing that a warm-up period had commenced. They both locked their faceplates.

Rachel signed off, and they sat there, waiting for a five-minute countdown on the right of Chris’ monitor to wind down.

Chris checked the instruments again, and verified their orientation. He didn’t do this out of nervousness, but out of habit. He’d been on countless missions before, and was likely bound for Earth sometime soon to save his bones from deteriorating completely in the microgravity.

“I can’t help but think we should be making a bigger deal out of this,” Adam said, smirking.

“I think the people at home are making a pretty big deal out of it right about now.”

“Should have brought champagne.”

“You do know the cost of bringing a single pound into orbit, right?”

Three minutes. Adam had never experienced a working drive like this. Experiments on Earth were highly contained, and nearly always set in a faraway compound and manipulated remotely. But this time he was inside the experiment itself.

A slight reverberation passed over the ship, and ice crystals blossomed outside the window.

One minute.

Adam turned with difficulty to look at Chris. The mission commander’s eyes were relaxed, almost sleepy. He turned slightly when he noticed Adam watching him. “It’s fine, friend.” His arms floated up in front of him. “Wonder what we’ll see.”

Adam’s arms were tight against his body, resisting zero gravity. He’d never been a person prone to anxiety, but he found the impending activation of the drive, while sitting right inside the radius of its effect, nerve-wracking.

It’s alright, he thought, Rachel checked everything. Just a matter of waiting it out.

At thirty seconds the stars outside wobbled with a minor distortion. The beginning stages of contracted space.

A moment of tense anticipation, and then the countdown hit zero.

Light suddenly streaked by the window, leaving long bands, like unending spaghetti strands, behind them. The lines accumulated as seconds passed, and Adam watched in breathless silence from inside his spacesuit.

“Systems O.K.” Chris said, his mellow voice entering Adam’s helmet. “Oscillation optimal. Casimir cartouche optimal.”

Reassuring. Adam watched the small monitor in front of him. The variations in contracted space were surprisingly minor. He adjusted the inflow of exotic particles, only by a slight amount, by tapping controls on the screen. Chris had all the control now; he could terminate the contracted space at a mere touch. Rachel had insisted on it.

The ride, regardless of its placid progression, pumped Adam full of adrenaline. The drive was holding, far longer than anticipated. He didn’t want it to stop. Chris apparently reflected that wish, for his gloved hand did not move to tap the shutdown tab on his screen. They had surely already passed Rachel’s stopping point by now.

“How far, friend?” Chris asked. “We can let her run for a bit. Bubble’s stable, isn’t that something?”

Adam swallowed, and nodded. It was something. The drive had never held a bubble for more than a few seconds. They were coming on half a minute now.

“Rachel’s going to kill us if we leave it any longer,” Adam said.


Chris leaned forward to touch the screen, but Adam nudged his hand out of the way before it made contact. “Still,” Adam said, “we’re doing what they wanted.”

The mission commander brought his hand down. “We’re far now. Navigation shouldn’t be tricky, though, not with the computers. Contracted travel is straight-line stuff.”

The star-lines outside were crowding the window now, an expanse of glowing light streaked with black bands. Then the stars were gone, and black filled the window. A flash of white pulsed, and darkness again. The lights flashed repeatedly, every pulse quicker.

“What’s that?” Adam asked.

“Don’t know,” Chris answered. “Oscillation tightening. We’ve been accelerating.”

“What?” How was that possible? The drive didn’t change from its original state, it couldn’t, there were no controls for that.

The flashing outside stopped, and a deep darkness held.

It was then that the Encounter’s passengers lost consciousness.

The foregoing is excerpted from Outside by A. J. Seguin. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced without written permission from the author.

Saturday, November 21, 2009

Sketch for the cover of Zealot

This is a sketch I did for the cover of a manuscript that I finished writing about a year ago entitled Zealot.

The scene you see actually takes place in the book, where an android named Vikir is striding toward the book's protagonist, Dalam, under the glare of a light-drive kicking in from above.

Thursday, November 19, 2009

Part 1 of "Outside"

Adam Neville smiled as his daughter’s face came into view on a small screen set in the wall of the space station lab. Her eyes, even at low resolution, shone crystal blue, and her black hair swung side to side as she enthusiastically waved. She’d gotten her blue eyes from Adam, and her dark complexion and pitch-black hair from Kasi, his wife. A real beauty. Adam felt the muscles in his back knot at the thought of countless boys attempting to get Carol’s attention while he swam about in space.

Kasi, sitting behind Carol, playfully pushed her daughter out of the camera’s field of view. Adam laughed.

Though they both tended to extol him for his work, Adam was sure he was the one in the family with the most to be proud of. Carol had grown up intelligent, animated and clever, and Kasi was still the most beautiful woman he’d ever met. He wanted to kiss them both, to join in their physical play, but he couldn’t be farther away.

Carol managed to wriggle in next to Kasi, and they sat together on a single, stiff guest chair somewhere in the Nasa compound in Houston, watching him in equally low resolution.

“You’re floating dad,” Carol said, her eyes wide.

Adam chuckled. “I am. I’m floating around. Makes you sick at first. A little. Now I’m okay, though. It’s fun.” He pushed sideways and, knocking into handholds and wall projections, performed a full swivel, and then awkwardly steadied himself to face the screen again. “I’m awful at it.”

After a few seconds of delay, their faces registered his stunt with grins. “Careful, Adam, you’ll open the airlock,” Kasi said, her expressive eyes squinting with laughter.

“I bet I will. These guys are great,” Adam pointed a thumb behind him, “they’d know what to do if I accidentally set off the self destruct.”
“No way there’s that, dad.”

Adam nodded. “It’s just like the movies. We have to shoo away aliens and everything.”
Kasi waved a finger at him, a gesture he always found humorous. “Adam, they will find aliens. Because of you, don’t you forget it.”
He waved a dismissive hand. She was referring to his work on the Alcubierre drive, of course, named after the Mexican physicist that had laid the groundwork for hyper-fast travel within general relativity. She talked about it more than he did, and she was a primary teacher, not a physicist. He appreciated her interest. Was even surprised by it.

He’d certainly been surprised at being awarded the Nobel Prize in physics for his work on exotic matter harvesting and simple harmonic oscillation. Though he hadn’t laid the foundations for bending space, he was certainly the one that had discovered how to apply it to a practical mechanism that could produce relatively stable, contracted space. For that, no one had even been a runner up.

“They’re going crazy down here,” Kasi said, waving her hands in a frantic manner.
Adam sighed with longing. She moved fluidly no matter how frenetic she tried to be, and it did nothing but make him yearn to be with her more. He hadn’t embraced her supple body, or caressed her impossibly soft hair, in weeks. Ever since he’d started training to be a short-term astronaut.

“You’re on TV a lot, dad.” Carol pushed a long lock of hair behind her ear. “My friends are excited. Everyone is.”

Kasi leaned forward. “It’s bigger than the moon landing. You, you are bigger than that.”

Adam blinked away his tears. “Kas, come on now. It’s not just me, it’s all these people, they all helped on it. I’m just glad I’m even part of this stage.”
“Don’t you go walking in space, Adam. We agreed you wouldn’t.”
“I won’t. Not if I have anything to do with it.”

Of the three astronauts in Skylab C, the mini-station devoted to the faster-than-light ship, Adam knew he was the least qualified of them all for any kind of maintenance or repair work. Mission commander Chris Worth, and the ship builder, Rachel Hanson, were vastly more experienced than he was at any kind of technical space work.

Adam looked behind him and saw Rachel tapping her watch. “Sorry, need to go over specs,” she said, her English accent somehow adding impatience to her words.
He turned back to his family, biting his lip. They were perfect, like iconic expressions of beauty in a painting rather than two people made of flesh and blood. How was he worthy of these two? It took one of the most important missions in human history to push him into saying goodbye.

Tears floated from his eyes as he finally shut off the small screen. The station’s water recovery and management subsystem would steal away those globules of emotion and put them to work in some fashion that Adam couldn’t fathom.

He clumsily turned and then, grasping handholds with sweaty palms, made his way toward Rachel Hanson. His flailing progress put a smile on the ship builder’s face, and Adam couldn’t help but grin himself as he careened off a jutting computer screen. They both laughed as he came to a stop entirely upside-down relative to Rachel.

“Well, that’s done,” she said. “Now let’s try to keep you in one spot, eh?”

Adam rubbed his face hard, trying to force his grin away. “Yes, of course, m’lady.” He then slowly turned himself to face Rachel right side up.

“You could have stayed upside-down.”

“And have you stare at my nose hairs? No way.”

Rachel cleared her throat. Adam could tell she was straining not to smile, her mouth tight.

She tapped a glowing screen. “We will have to plan a stop, regardless of what the higher-ups want. Contracted space has no discernable effects on the cargo it carries, but we can’t simply allow the ship to go on for however long.”

Adam feigned surprise. “You do care, Miss Hanson.”

“I do care.”

Adam rubbed his prickly chin. “But that’s the whole deal, though. We have to test the limits of the bubbles.”

Contracted space, though harmless to those inside it, tended to be a flimsy affair, and the bubbles that formed during the process were prone to popping. It was a problem Adam had already started working on while on Earth, when he wasn’t in space looking to jump into a ship and rival light in terms of speed. But the popping did not have any other effects on the crew other than simply stopping the ride, and even then, the Alcubierre drive could easily manufacture another bubble, and the passengers could be on their way again.

“Has it occurred to you that you may end up very far away by the time the bubble dissipates? Too far away?” Rachel asked.

“They haven’t been sustained for more than the trip to Saturn on a ship this size,” Adam said. “I know you’re a good builder, and she’s a good ship, but why all of a sudden do you think they’re more stable than that? And what then? So we leave the solar system a bit. That would be phenomenal, wouldn’t it?”

“It could cause unforeseen stresses on the drive, or the ship.”

Adam cuddled next to his handhold. “Imagine that, leaving the solar system. Wow. That would make them go nuts down there.”

The foregoing is excerpted from Outside by A. J. Seguin. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced without written permission from the author.

Revving the engines.

Hello, first time blogger here. I figured it was time to try my hand at flooding the internet with more data, as well as to see what friends, family and foe, not to mention agents and publishers, thought of my writing.

So what better way to inaugurate this momentous event than by splapping on a sample of a short story I recently wrote?

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