Star Rider

Alcon's Journal #13 -- Soaring Beyond the Stars

DSF@60e39ceed23814e991561906a4faef81

After the gravitational slingshot around Saturn and the dual acceleration from the fusion engine, Mars reduced its propulsion. At this point, as long as the propulsion could counterbalance the gravitational pull of the Sun, we could maintain high-speed gliding. The bow of the 3137 pointed directly towards the serene expanse beyond the solar system, reaching a speed close to 700,000 kilometers per hour. It would take approximately nine days to traverse one astronomical unit (AU). As we passed the orbit of Uranus, the planet appeared distant, and I could only catch a glimpse of its silhouette.

Ahead was Neptune, and then we entered the Kuiper Belt. Mars reevaluated the remaining propellant and concluded that, aside from countering the Sun's gravitational pull, only minimal amounts would be consumed during centrifugal force adjustments and course fine-tuning. The usage so far was within the planned parameters, and Mars had a good handle on propellant consumption.

Although non-propellant engine technology had been implemented, the acceleration was too slow, making it suitable for interstellar probes that required sustained linear acceleration without maneuverability. Additionally, while curvature engine technology had made some breakthroughs, the scale of spatial distortion it caused and the energy required still couldn't be minimized to propel relatively large spacecraft. For a vessel like the 3137, which needed to perform exploration missions involving frequent changes in trajectory, acceleration, and deceleration, neither of these futuristic technologies could be used. Instead, we relied on the preliminary practicality of controlled nuclear fusion and the well-established propellant propulsion technology. The gaseous giant planets in the outer solar system, primarily composed of hydrogen and helium, served as excellent materials for fusion engines and a source of propellant. Jupiter and Uranus became our supply stations.

Mars reminded me that we would soon be able to see Swift-Tuttle Comet (109P/Swift-Tuttle), a comet with an approximate period of 133 years. Thousands of years later, it could come dangerously close to or even collide with Earth or the Moon. Since it was relatively far away and located ahead of us, Mars suggested we save propellant by not stopping centrifugal force and simply observe it. With the help of telescopes and the optical composite images provided by Mars, I caught a glimpse of this relatively unknown comet. Its tail was not very long, but as it approached the Sun, it would become longer and more prominent. I observed the comet intently, and suddenly Mars said, "There's also a possibility that it will evaporate completely before intersecting Earth's orbit in the future, making Earth safe."

"By that time, our tug ships should be able to divert it from its trajectory, right?" I mused to myself.

"No problem, but when we change its course, it might break into several pieces. After all, comets are prone to fragmentation. We would need multiple tug ships," Mars pondered the question as well.

"We still have several hundred, or even thousands of years. We'll find a way."

"Yes," Mars agreed.

These days passed by, and soon we entered the inner edge of the Kuiper Belt, close to Neptune. I was fortunate to catch a glimpse of Neptune from this vantage point. Compared to Uranus, Neptune had a more pronounced blue hue, accompanied by its blue planetary rings, giving it a serene appearance. However, its atmosphere experiences winds reaching speeds of several thousand kilometers per hour, surpassing the speed of sound. It made me think of the many novel books describing standing and shouting in the wind. On Neptune, such a concept would indeed defy the laws of physics. Perhaps that's why, despite having a similar hydrogen-helium atmosphere and being closer to the Kuiper Belt, humans chose Uranus, which has slower atmospheric convection, as the next planned supply station.

Once we entered the Kuiper Belt, the exploration work turned out to be simpler and calmer than I had imagined. This region was newly explored by humans, and most of the small celestial bodies had not been closely identified or analyzed yet. Mars took on the majority of the survey and data analysis work, leaving me with a lot of free time on my hands. I often found myself staring at the vast expanse of the starry sky through the viewport, accompanied by my parents' bracelet. In this frigid corner far from the Sun, I could observe the Southern Cross (Alpha Centauri) in the Centaurus constellation, which is less than 5 light-years away, or Sirius (Alpha Canis Majoris) at a distance of 8.6 light-years. However, I found myself gazing most frequently at Vega, located more than 25 light-years away.

During summer nights, my mother and I would sit in the yard, gazing up at the starry sky. She would point out Vega, the brightest star directly above us, in the constellation of Lyra. Sometimes, my mother would stare at Vega for a long time. After learning about the Chinese legend of the Cowherd and the Weaver Girl, I once believed that my mother symbolized the Weaver Girl, waiting for my father, who often went on duty, to return. Later, I realized that my father's command ship would periodically fly over our sky more than a dozen times a day. The ship was equipped with electromagnetic wave shielding and light-absorbing coatings, making it undetectable by the naked eye or radar. My mother could only guess my father's whereabouts by gazing at the sky. In the northern hemisphere, during summer nights, the brightest star near the zenith is Vega...

My father has been gone for 8 years, and my mother passed away nearly 3 years ago. The passage of time, as it travels away from Earth, should still carry the memories of my parents. And these memories will continue to traverse the stars, never ceasing... Indeed, time is nothing.