stars. But then, he reflected, it was not that much different than having water-floating ships pushed by wind against sails, and humans had traveled that way for millennia. The only difference now was that they were providing their own 'wind.'
Oh, another difference , he thought. Sails used to be a few square meters of woven fabric, while his sail was square kilometers of ultrathin carbonoflex conductive composite bearing a repulsive electrical charge. But other than that, same thing. Except for . . . Matt lost interest in enumerating the few other things.
Sails. Wind. Beams. Seas. Space. The thoughts dissolved into images. Matt's last clear thought as he drifted into years of dreams was that his mother had asked that he wave as he passed Pluto. But that too had only been a joke, as Pluto was in an entirely different direction from his course. Nonetheless, he tried to raise his arm. Then he forgot why. Then he slipped into oblivion.
Relativistic time dilation at .1c is negligible to human senses. The compression of time that Matt experienced was entirely due instead to the subjective, quasi-hallucinatory effects of the biogel upon his nervous system. Ivan of course was immune and kept track of the time exactly, even adjusting for the all-but-insignificant relativistic effect, while Matt drifted in and out of dreams across the empty light years.
The primary purpose of biogel nanotechnology was to keep Matt's body suspended from the effects of time, and so even his dreaming was sparse.
His most vivid dream was that he arrived on Tian. He dreamed there was a banquet to celebrate his arrival and his father and mother and elephants were there. He played checkers with Random, levitating mountains as game pieces. Synethesia, silvery and trailing broken wires, floated from the sky and laughed as she spray painted Matt's body with spots of blue, red, and yellow. And Ivan was there too, telling him to wake up.
"Matt, please wake up. Matt, please wake up! MATT, PLEASE WAKE UP!"
“Huh . . . what . . . uh . . . are we there yet?”
"We are within the Centauri Oort Cloud at this time. However, a meteoroid impact has destroyed sixty-eight point nine percent of the magsail. Therefore we cannot magnetically brake sufficiently for capture into the Alpha Centauri system."
Matt gazed semi-consciously at the situational schematic that Ivan was projecting in the center of his field of vision. There was the pod, there was the sail. The navigation inset showed that they were inside the Centauri Oort Cloud, which cosmically speaking was part of the Centauri System.
Oh , he thought groggily. So it's forty years later. That was fast.
“So, uh, why are you telling me this?” Please , he thought, just let me sleep a little more . . . .
“Matt, I do not think you are fully grasping the seriousness of the situation. Please review the graphic that I have provided.”
Matt had no choice, as Ivan made the graphic visible even with eyes shut. So he looked, and details seeped through his brain. Okay. Okay. The sail was damaged, perforated by passage through a cloud of cosmic dust so fine that it apparently, improbable as it seemed, had not been mapped by astrographers in either Sol or Alpha Systems.
The sail was still capable of deceleration, but the velocity profile indicated the pod would not brake sufficiently for retrieval by the robot tugs in the Alpha Centauri System.
“So we can't get to Tian now,” he said.
“Yes,” Ivan replied.
It almost seemed a relief. Now he could go back to sleep and not be interrupted again. But no , he drowsily thought. Should try to stay alive. Do something . . . but what?
Struggling against the biogel-induced stupor, Matt remembered this same scenario from one of his Colonization classes. Yeah , the instructor told the class, now and then sails and pods get damaged by micrometeorite impact. It's a risk. Star
Oh, another difference , he thought. Sails used to be a few square meters of woven fabric, while his sail was square kilometers of ultrathin carbonoflex conductive composite bearing a repulsive electrical charge. But other than that, same thing. Except for . . . Matt lost interest in enumerating the few other things.
Sails. Wind. Beams. Seas. Space. The thoughts dissolved into images. Matt's last clear thought as he drifted into years of dreams was that his mother had asked that he wave as he passed Pluto. But that too had only been a joke, as Pluto was in an entirely different direction from his course. Nonetheless, he tried to raise his arm. Then he forgot why. Then he slipped into oblivion.
Relativistic time dilation at .1c is negligible to human senses. The compression of time that Matt experienced was entirely due instead to the subjective, quasi-hallucinatory effects of the biogel upon his nervous system. Ivan of course was immune and kept track of the time exactly, even adjusting for the all-but-insignificant relativistic effect, while Matt drifted in and out of dreams across the empty light years.
The primary purpose of biogel nanotechnology was to keep Matt's body suspended from the effects of time, and so even his dreaming was sparse.
His most vivid dream was that he arrived on Tian. He dreamed there was a banquet to celebrate his arrival and his father and mother and elephants were there. He played checkers with Random, levitating mountains as game pieces. Synethesia, silvery and trailing broken wires, floated from the sky and laughed as she spray painted Matt's body with spots of blue, red, and yellow. And Ivan was there too, telling him to wake up.
"Matt, please wake up. Matt, please wake up! MATT, PLEASE WAKE UP!"
“Huh . . . what . . . uh . . . are we there yet?”
"We are within the Centauri Oort Cloud at this time. However, a meteoroid impact has destroyed sixty-eight point nine percent of the magsail. Therefore we cannot magnetically brake sufficiently for capture into the Alpha Centauri system."
Matt gazed semi-consciously at the situational schematic that Ivan was projecting in the center of his field of vision. There was the pod, there was the sail. The navigation inset showed that they were inside the Centauri Oort Cloud, which cosmically speaking was part of the Centauri System.
Oh , he thought groggily. So it's forty years later. That was fast.
“So, uh, why are you telling me this?” Please , he thought, just let me sleep a little more . . . .
“Matt, I do not think you are fully grasping the seriousness of the situation. Please review the graphic that I have provided.”
Matt had no choice, as Ivan made the graphic visible even with eyes shut. So he looked, and details seeped through his brain. Okay. Okay. The sail was damaged, perforated by passage through a cloud of cosmic dust so fine that it apparently, improbable as it seemed, had not been mapped by astrographers in either Sol or Alpha Systems.
The sail was still capable of deceleration, but the velocity profile indicated the pod would not brake sufficiently for retrieval by the robot tugs in the Alpha Centauri System.
“So we can't get to Tian now,” he said.
“Yes,” Ivan replied.
It almost seemed a relief. Now he could go back to sleep and not be interrupted again. But no , he drowsily thought. Should try to stay alive. Do something . . . but what?
Struggling against the biogel-induced stupor, Matt remembered this same scenario from one of his Colonization classes. Yeah , the instructor told the class, now and then sails and pods get damaged by micrometeorite impact. It's a risk. Star
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