The White-Hole Situation

The Old 99-K

It was the year 2511 and the starship Kathandra was exploring the final sector of its five year run. They'd been hearing rumors about unusual measurements in the old 99-K. Some said the stars were prematurely thinning out that-a-way, while others claimed to have witnessed first-hand some stars just blinking once and winking out without a trace. The crew was used to hearing tall tales like these at every way station and dockside tavern so they did not take the rumors too seriously, but Captain Geronimo held an all-hands-on-board meeting to get everybody on the same page just in case.

"Nobody wants a leaky ship," he told the assembled team gathered in the movie room, "and nobody likes a leaker." There were murmurs of assent before he continued.

"We've all heard the same things. 99-K is a quandary, it's a minefield, it's a trap. No one who goes in ever comes out quite the same. Some people lose their minds. Others start spouting nonsense because of the things they've allegedly seen. I don't believe a word of it and I hope that none of you do either. According to the I.B.U., there is nothing special about the 99-K. It's just another region of the galaxy. It's got some solar systems, some exoplanets, a bunch of asteroids and comets, moons and random star stuff. There was a black hole out there once but a long, long time ago it collapsed and folded over nice and neat like a good hole ought to."

Some of the crew laughed at the joke. Most were uncertain if it was one. September by this time had become accustomed to Geronimo's way of uttering misleading facts if not outright false conclusions. Number one science officer Jai sat in the back of the room, farting at will and shaking his head. As far away as possible, Pagan kept her eye on him while pretending to listen to the captain.

"The point is," Geronimo said, "if you don't expect to see a ghost, you will never a see a ghost. Everybody knows that, right?"

A few of the crew mumbled assent. Geronimo realized he was losing his audience.

"You all know that, right?" he repeated. "I want to hear you say it."

"Yes, Captain," more of the crew spoke up.

"You're right, Captain," others followed up.

"Damn right I'm right," Geronimo said, somewhat mollified. "So we are going to go about our mission and explore some of these places and report back whatever we find, and it better be straight and it better be true. I don't want anybody thinking of us like we're a bunch of nutjobs who got messed up in 99-K. I don't think you want that either. Am I right?"

"You're right, Captain," shouted most of the crew in unison.

"All right," he said, "let's get to work."

As the members of the crew shuffled off to their stations, September remained in her seat, reflecting on the fact that no one really had any work to do, at least nothing that required immediate attention. The ship was running perfectly smoothly all by itself. It was powered by some sort of chemical reaction - she forgot the exact terminology - but if it ever ran short, which it never did, the I.B.U. ("always on the scene") could surely mix up some handy ingredients and deal with it. The system attended to all their needs on demand, it performed all the navigational and computational assignments needed and ran continuous health checks to monitor its condition and if there were anything in disrepair it would handle that as well. Here we all are, she thought, and for what?

Pagan came over to sit by her side.

"I'm gonna kill that bastard," she said. September knew what she meant.

"All that sweet talking is working it's magic as usual," she replied. Pagan had an enormous crush on September, who wasn't quite sure why. In those days September was all about the skin tone, altering her own complexion up and down the dial on a daily rotation, enhancing the effect with off-color combinations of lips and brows and braid. Maybe it was her eyes, famously enormous and usually a deep, deep blue. On this day she was a skin-tone zero, eggshell white, with level ten black accessories, a classic voodoo shaman look. Pagan, to her credit, never messed with her own look. She was strong in all things, but utterly helpless when it came to September.

"I didn't mean," Pagan started to say but failed to continue. She often fumbled her words like that.

"What do you think about that 99-K stuff?" September asked her senior officer. Pagan didn't really have an opinion but didn't get a chance to reply because the alert sounds came blaring out the speaker and the room was filled with strobe yellow flashing lights.

"Why do they do that?" September asked, rising to her feet and rushing toward her seat in the main cabin, Pagan right behind her.

"It's because we're all so stupid," Pagan shouted after her and they both broke into laughter.

The top ranks soon reported to the cabin, Geronimo on the hot seat and the other seven in their stations. On the big screen a bright green planet was whirling about its axis at an incredible pace, like a spinning coin. Number one science officer Jai stepped up and pointed up at a small object just above and to the right of the planet.

"Magnify," he commanded, and the screen zoomed in on a little bit.

"Magnify times ten," Jai said, and now the screen filled with nothing but the smoothie-like green of the spinning orb.

"Not there! Sector One Alpha Three," he barked, and now the view shifted to a close up of the object he'd originally been pointing at. It was stationary, mostly gray with a hint of purple around the bottom edge, and shaped exactly like a half a clam shell.

"Computer," Geronimo asked, "what is that thing?"

"I'm sorry," the voice replied. "I don't understand. To what do you refer?"

"That thing right there on screen!" Geronimo said.

"The screen is showing sector one alpha three," the voice said, "magnified to a power of ten ex two, as requested."

"What is the object at approximately 20x, 170y?" Jai asked.

"Approximately eleven molecules of hydrogen per cubic meter," the voice instructed.

"Computer," September decided to jump in, "are you able to distinguish visible colors on the screen?"

"In the human range of 390 to 700 nanometers," the computer said, "the screen is capable of displaying approximately seven million so-called color variations. To which of those are you referring?"

'The ones currently on the screen," September said with a sigh. She couldn't remember the computer ever being so obtuse.

"There are presently four different such colors represented on the screen," the computer told her, "all of which you would most likely label as black."

"Then what color is this?" Jai demanded, jumping up and touching the screen at the point of the clam shell.

"I don't understand," the voice said. "Do you want to know the color of the screen when no image is showing?"

"We want to know what the shell-looking thing is," Geronimo took over, jumping from his chair and beginning to pace around the room. Pagan held her breath. Was he going to try to shoot himself out into empty space one more time? She worried that one of these days the system might not be able to redirect him in time, but she was also beginning to lose her temper with the stupid thing.

"I'm sorry," the voice said. "I don't understand."