Edward Carr
sat two rows behind Macomber as Walker, Nina, and Jennifer went through their
presentation. Unlike Peterson, Carr had never been vocal one way or the other
about the theories thrown about. Macomber watched all in silence, and Ed was
content to wait until the end, despite Peterson’s frequent interruptions.
Ed lazily
sketched on his slate, occasionally looking at the simulation of Hermes
crossing the threshold of the heliopause and into interstellar space.
“We believe
this is the point of acceleration,” Jennifer was saying. “Hermes was caught up
by dark energy winds—” Ed sat forward at that. “—at a velocity of 1.4 light
years per hour. It kind of tumbled through space, buffeted by these winds, and
then the mesh was torn loose after 14 minutes, when it lost its superluminal
speed.”
“Did you
say winds?” Macomber asked the question on everybody’s mind.
Jennifer
hesitated, then nodded. “Yes. That’s the closest analogy we can come up with.
The idea is that, outside of the heliopause, dark energy winds are constantly
in motion, blowing throughout the galaxy faster than the speed of light.”
“You mean
tachyons?” Peterson asked. “Like a stream of them?”
Jennifer
frowned, shaking her head. “No. What we know, or theorize, about tachyons
wouldn’t do the job. They would have to come from some kind of source, like the
sun sending out photons and other particles. We think that dark energy doesn’t
have a precise source. We think that a property of dark energy is that it is
like the atmosphere of the galaxy, or maybe the universe, and is constantly
moving, like wind.”
For once,
Peterson was quiet as he scratched his head and consulted his slate.
Macomber rubbed at his chin.
“Ladies, gentleman, that is one hell of a leap. But tell me this, why wasn’t
Hermes smashed to atomic particles by the acceleration?”
Peterson looked up briefly, and
began nodding, but his head was still into whatever calculations he was doing.
Jennifer frowned again, looking to Nina
and Walker, both of whom shrugged, then nodded. “We don’t know. As best we can
tell, we are violating Newtonian motion and Relativity all over the place. The
gravimeter should have been obliterated, but it’s as if the acceleration didn’t
really happen.”
“Anyone?” Macomber asked.
Ed doodled again.
What
if it’s a different medium, with different laws?
“What was that, Ed?” Macomber
turned to him.
Every eye was on Ed, then,
including Peterson’s now-perpetual frown.
Oh,
I said that out loud.
He cleared his throat.
“What if it’s a different medium?
Like . . . putting something underwater. Buoyancy and water resistance are now
factors, properties of the new medium.”
“The new medium doesn’t negate
previous laws of physics—” Peterson began when Macomber held up a hand.
“Keep going, Ed,” Macomber
encouraged.
“Well, what if one of the
properties of dark energy is to counteract, or maybe make Newtonian
acceleration irrelevant. I mean, we’re not talking about a tiny bit faster than
the speed of light; this is several times that. Think about it, Hermes traveled
at 1.4 light years per hour. In fourteen minutes, it ended up
87 light days away. We have to be operating in a completely different
framework, with forces we don’t understand.”
“That’s certainly possible,” Nina
said.
“Well what the hell are we supposed
to do, now?” Peterson said. “We’ve got half theories and speculation. Where’s
our proof? If we take this to the community, we’ll be laughed out.”
“I think we need to start doing
what any good scientist does, and experiment to find out new information.”
Macomber pointed to the sketch Ed had been working on.
Ed blinked at the rough sketch of a
satellite with a sail in front of it.