7 February 2059 AD
Ian sat back in his chair, rubbing his eyes as he leaned away from his terminal. He turned to Frank, ‘The ISOE log indicates that the Daedalus will pass comet Hyakutake’s tail in forty-seven minutes. Have you seen it yet, from the observation suite?’
‘Not yet. How does it look?’
‘Nothing short of spectacular, my friend.’
Indicating the small camera unit in Frank’s hands, Ian asked, ‘Is the CHAMP unit ready.’
‘I finished unpacking it this morning. I even double-checked the batteries. Both sets. We sure are going to get some excellent pictures of that baby’
In the observation suite, Frank sat with the CHAMP unit held firmly in both hands. The camera poised and ready to start photographing the beautiful comet that reared close to the Daedalus.
Next to him, Ian sat and talked into a digital recorder, making eyewitness observations about the blue comet trails and the behaviour of the ice particles that flowed off the bulk of the body.
Frank raised the CHAMP and started snapping. Using the zoom facility to pick up the tinier details - the nuances and the secrets of Hyakutake.
As they worked, the onboard computer also performed analyses of the comet. In the brief time that they would spend flying past Hyakutake, they would have to gather as much information as was humanly and electronically possible.
Opportunities like this were few and far between, and such analysis helped put more pieces of the jigsaw in place.
The jigsaw with a billion, billion pieces. It was the jigsaw of the universe.
But eventually, Frank lost interest in photography, and Ian was too speechless to use the digital recorder. Instead they just sat and stared as the beautiful and wondrous display of nature at work gave them a show they would never forget.
The blue streaks of debris from the comet trail - in opposition to the direction of the sun because of the solar wind – stretched for thousands of miles into the distance to their left. As the Daedalus flew by, Frank could see along the length of the trail, as vast quantities of dust and ice particles flew off the rock and were dispersed into space. It all seemed to happen in slow motion, but he realised he was being deceived by it’s sheer size.
The rock itself was covered in plumes and clouds of dust, like a coating of icing sugar. Hyakutake looked – to Frank – like a giant boiled sweet. Beneath the plumes, he could see that the surface was peppered with impact craters, both large and small.
‘Look at those impact craters,’ he said to Ian.
‘Yes. It just goes to prove that no matter how small an object is, it still gets hit by smaller things.’
‘It’s the embodiment of fractal geometry. It emulates a universal concept,’ said Ian. ‘Do you realise how many people would kill to change places with us now.’
Frank found he was unable to reply. He just stared open mouthed at Hyakutake, as the Daedalus cruised past it at thirty thousand kilometres per hour.
A few hours later, at the table while they were eating dinner, Frank raised the question that had been on everyone’s mind (and not just the Daedalus crew either) for the last eight years.
‘Do you think the signal was sent by an extraterrestrial intelligence?’
Ian sighed, as though the point had been discussed one too many times now, ‘I’ve given this subject a great deal of thought over the last few years, and even now I cannot decide upon an answer.’
‘What if it is aliens? How would you handle being mankind’s ambassador to them? What would you even say?’ asked Frank.
Ian said reluctantly, ‘My friend I have no idea. The very thought chills me to the bone. Whatever I think of now, will undoubtedly go straight out the window when the time comes, because whatever we encounter will no doubt be the strangest thing any of us will ever experience.’
