Kourou in French Guyana - chapter 7

The European Space Agency’s base at Kourou in French Guyana had gone through some changes the past decade. The Mars mission had called for larger launch power for all agencies and two more sites for rockets had been added here. In addition, three launch pads for self propelled shuttles had been constructed. These shuttles trafficked routes between Earth, Moon and a multitude of different stations and working platforms orbiting the planet. The astronauts would dock with the Jupiter bound ship at one of these working stations.
The trio continued to move across the long concrete walk towards the small shuttle. A faint red light lay on the horizon. Dawn was coming. Time arrived. As they stepped into the white shuttle, they had to rest a while as they went in one by one. Instruments surrounded them in the equally white and padded interior. Some hundred diodes blinked in different colours. Munch entered first, being second in command. Technicians went in after making sure he was well secured in his unwieldy space suit. After him du Pont stepped into his seat, being the pilot. Starchild came last. She had her pre-designated place behind the two pilots in the front. She would have an empty seat beside her during launch. The cabin hatch closed with a small hiss as the interior pressurized. A few moments later, all systems where go inside the capsule.
The three astronauts walked through the morning mist. Some ten people or more followed them close behind. Close enough to be able to rush in an aid if support should be needed, after all, their suits were rather cumbersome. One of them could fall, and there was lot of equipment connected to them. Yet the technicians had to be far enough behind for the cameras to have a clear view of the hopefully soon historical triumvirate. Astronauts in focus, personnel out of focus, it would be classic pictures.
The last weeks had been hectic, for all the three of them, and for the personnel as well. The schedules had been filled with preparations, reorganisation, and more preparations and of course all the interviews. Then again, yet more preparations. Media had asked the ordinary questions. How did it feel to be headed on such a long journey? What would it be sharing space in such a small vessel. Had they had any fears about the mission? What did they think about the object? How did they feel about being taken off the Mars mission?
Answers had been fairly short and predictable. It was a very exciting moment for all of them going away on this historical mission. The small size of the group didn’t really matter, they were well prepared as a team. A lie, they had been, but the coming of the new partner had overthrown that status. They had no fears about the mission; no one had ever died in space. No reason to start now. And there was no real opinion about the object it self, that was the reason they were going in the first place. Jupiter was larger than Mars. No regrets. It wasn’t until a reporter asked what their mission was really about that some tension got into the room. There was no real answer to the question, neither officially nor unofficially. du Pont had tried some technical explanations that no one cared much about. Starchild had simply changed her position in the chair. Astronaut Munch had stepped in and saved the conversation with a small joke in his German accent.
“We are going out there in the name of mankind”, he said, ”to make sure they pay their parking fee. It is long over due. And we have also got some complaints about large volume on their stereo.” Radio astronomers had noticed that the signal overshadowed everything else in the cosmic area around Jupiter. This fact had been discussed in the news the resent days.
Laughter filled the room and the interview was proclaimed to be over. Officials stepped in and led the astronauts away, thanking the press for their time and patience. The truth was that there was no real objective to the mission, beyond the obvious, “go there and have a look”. Their ship would be fitted with every possible technical that anyone could come up with. But only time would to tell what the real object would come to be.

***

The shuttle itself resembled a white cone with a rounded top. The design was classical and the combined emblems of ESA and NASA had been depicted on its side. The shape and white coloured ceramic plates gave it away as a thing that where meant to go into space. Ten years earlier it would have been mounted on top of a large rocket. But this model would fly for it self. It had four seats inside and was just about four meters tall from base to top. It would take off like a rocket, and land in the classical way with a splash in the ocean. It was still the most efficient way. Great progress had been made the recent years in the field of interplanetary propulsion, but inside Earths dense atmosphere, this was still the easiest and most economic way in terms of load to go about it.

A brave old world - chapter 6

Jean Pierre du Pont the French astronaut stared down in his bowl of escargot boiled in whine and garlic.
“What the hell of a kind of a name is Starchild anyway? What is it with those people and their names?”
Herman Munch, his German counterpart, had finished his meal halfway and was now making good way through the champagne instead. He leaned back and sighed as he relaxed.
“It is all politics”, he said. “Three years of training means nothing when it comes to prestige, and you should know that if anyone”, he said.
“What do you mean by that?”, Jean Pierre du Pont replied.
Hermann Munch smiled.
“I mean that you are French and that you care nothing about anything else when it comes to prestige”, Munch answered.
Jean Pierre du Pont the astronaut gave him an eye. Then he poured more champagne for them both. Jean Pierre was borne in La Barre, France. As a child he spent most of his time wanting to become a postman, just like his father. In his youth interests shifted and while he attended a university of natural sciences, his mind was at some point become an artist and live the decadent and extravagant life of the creating arts. After graduating he drifted the universities of the world for some time, though always without any brushes or canvas, not enough absinth, and definitely in lack off any bendy ballerina somewhere close to his sheets. When he passed thirty he got admitted at the ESA astronaut training, and he had been at the European space agency since. He had been commissioned to flight only ones so far, but then the Mars agenda came his way and suddenly astronauts where in demand. Therefore he got scheduled for a scientific flight somewhere in the middle of the second objective of the program.
Then Jupiter happened. Almost immediately the strategists of European politics saw their chance. If Mars, why not Jupiter? Of course it was every spacefarers dream to take on such a journey, but until recently, no one had ever really though of the possibility to go there within the next two centuries or so. All everybody ever talked about these days was the ongoing Mars mission. After Chinas moon landings and lunar base, however small it was, the West decided to step up the Mars agenda. Go to Mars – and to stay there, was the new deal. No red planet to the reds. A massive explorational program was drawn out and was already on its way to earths crimson brother.
Jean Pierre du Pont, was average height, black hair, brown eyes, average built, a handsome French face and strove through life with an educated sophistication. It was hard not to like him.
“What do you think will happen with Oskar?”, he asked. All Mars mission was already populated.
“I don’t know”, said the German, “I spoke to Mr Alexander earlier today in his office”.
Mr Alexander, director of ESA, was the ultimately responsible for taking the Swede of the historical mission and giving to the Americans.
“You did?”, asked du Pont, “So what did he say about it?”
“Not much. But I imagine he didn’t want to protest on higher ground. No fuss, more money has always been his philosophy. Not my personal way to handle things but I suppose it is right when coping with the bureaucratic world. Supposedly the Americans made some goodwill promise that let the Swedes exit the stage without loosing too much face. I suspect though not much money will come ESA’s way from them the coming decades”, said Hermann.
“From the Americans?”, du Pont broke in.
“No, Jean Pierre, the Swedes of course”, Hermann corrected.
“I heard their government had made an official complaint for ones”, du Pont continued.
“Yes it’s true. I guess it is mostly for the show”, Munch replied.
“Well, you never answered my question about Starchild”, said Jean Pierre with a smirk smile.
“She’s well trained, well educated, but have had some disciplinary issues in the past. Therefore, she has never been a candidate for the really important flights as I understood it”, Hermann informed Jean Pierre on his question.
“So they send her to Jupiter? It does not make sense”, thought Jean Pierre.
“They have no one else I suspect”, said Munch, “everyone is tied up in the Mars project”.
“Not a bad career move”, said du Pont, “benchwarmer on the Mars missions just to end up on an express train bound for Jupiter”.
“She has been up there four times, all on the ISS, she’s quite experienced”, said Munch and pointed towards the ceiling. “She will surely be their cover girl after this one”. For Jean Pierre du Pont space as a concept was still “up there”, but for Hermann Munch the endless dark was more a natural part of “here”. It didn’t matter much but the Frenchman had a tendency to comment Hermann when he brought space to earth, so he tried to avoid it.
“Ok, so I guess I will have to accept that they will send this hotshot our way then. Not much we can do.”
Jean Pierre du Pont moved a hand through his hair.
“Have some more champagne”, Hermann intercepted Pierre’s thoughts.
Hermann Munch sipped for a while on the bubbling drink and drifted in his thoughts. It was probably the last bottle of it for a long long time. He had always been something of dreamer, a fact that delayed his degree at the university well until after his thirties. For some reason however the government had sent him to ESAs training of astronauts. He had never really understood why, but it wasn’t the thing you asked about. He kept silent and went to the stars. Well, off world at least. He had felt that certain feeling of weightlessness two times now. Ones at a trip to the ISS, and ones at a repair mission to one of ESA’s orbiting telescopes. It was a bit like scuba diving. Just freedom, no gravity around to bother you. But neither of the flights could have prepared him for the journey to Mars of which he had trained some years now, or to Jupiter which were where he now seemed to end up, just distantly passing Mars on the way out. Further from home than any other human ever before.

Actually he had a hard time believing it. Could he really cope with the thought? What would happen when they got back? He had read all the reports of the astronauts that landed on the moon last century ending up in depression – everything else had seemed futile in comparison. How does one adjust from something so important to a dull and insignificant earthbound life afterwards? A radical thought slipped his mind. Perhaps he should see to it that they wouldn’t return home. Why not end the mission out there. Burn the ships, like the Greek heroes of old. He let it go again. No one knew anyway if there was any return ticket on this ride. They didn’t really know anything else than that that object suddenly had appeared close to Jupiter. And they were going there to check it out. He liked the thought of that, sailing across an unknown ocean, leaving at sunset. Europa, a brave old world.

At the oval office - chapter 5

The president stood with his back towards the doorway when Mr Jonathan, director of NASA entered, looking out the windows of the oval office. Black pants, white shirt, the blazer casually thrown over the back of the chair behind the presidential desk.
“Please enter Mr Jonathan”, the president said.
“Thank you Mr President, I’m very pleased …”.
“Please have a seat, I will be with you shortly”, he interrupted still standing by the window.
Mr Jonathan, the director of NASA took his seat in one of the classic sofas. It was actually his first time in the oval office, though he had had the pleasure of meeting the president on numerous occasions before. The president came over and sat on a seat beside him.
“I’m pleased to see you again Mr Jonathan”.
“So am I sir”, Mr Jonathan replied.
“Now”, the president continued, “please inform me on the current situation”.
“Well”, said Mr Jonathan, “It appears an unidentified object have put itself in orbit around Jupiter. It was, as you surely know by now, first observed by an American named Jacob who called a Mr Peter Schrim to get the observation confirmed and of course claimed. There where initially quite naturally some doubt about the sanity of the case, but none the less they checked it out some hours later at the Arecibo antenna in Puerto Rico, who in turn called the Europeans at the VLT in Chile to get a visual confirmation. Though they couldn’t find the light at VLT that Mr Jacob had claimed, there is at this moment no doubt of an active object emitting radio signals in the vicinity of Jupiter”. Mr Jonathan stopped.
“So”, the president said, “we just found out that we are not alone in our universe, an amateur astronomer sees a blue light engulfing Jupiter, he calls an observatory, they call their off shore friends and so forth, while I, the president, is the last man in the world to know.” A big smile filled the room as he pronounced the conclusion.
“It seems so Mr President. I’m a very sorry about that fact, however I my self was just recently noticed on the matter”. Mr Jonathan felt somewhat embarrassed. “And if I may, Sir, It is not established that the object is artificial”.
The president continued to smile. “But it is probable, isn’t it?”
“It is highly probable, Mr President. I can see no way about how it can be different”.
“And the signal in itself? Have we made anything out of it? Is it telling us something?”
“We are working on it Mr President, but so far it seems that the objects signal is just a large quantity of noise”. The director sighed slightly.
The president changed his position, putting one leg over the other.
“Ok, and then you tell me we have no resources available to go there?”
“Not as it is Mr President. Almost all of our budget and launch capability for the coming years is tied up the ongoing Mars flights”, Mr Jonathan said.
“The Europeans however, have a more favourable situation, and as we speak they are looking at possible plans for a manned mission to Jupiter”, he continued. “The decision hasn’t been made yet though”.
The president looked at Mr Jonathan. “Of course they will go Mr Jonathan, they would like nothing better than to beat us to it. But, aren’t they also in the midst of this Mars endeavour?”, the president replied.
“Oh yes, they are, very much so. In a way that’s the reason for them being able to send a ship Jupiters way. As we speak they are making plans to refit one of the scientific personnel vessels originally bound for Mars. The Koios”.
“The Koios? What is wrong with these people and their names”, the president laughed, “What does it mean Mr Jonathan?”
“Koios was one of the Greek titans Mr President. He was the son of Uranus and Gaia. That is Heaven and Earth. He was the Titan of wisdom. He was together with the rest of the titans overthrown by the Olympians led by Zeus. Or Jupiter as he is known in Roman times”.
“Well then”, said the president still smiling, “maybe it is a fitting name after all. So they will change their objective concerning Mars?”
“Not really, they are building several new shuttles bound for Mars. The one mentioned wasn’t to be launched for some time, there is apparently as I understand it enough time to replace it with a new craft”.
The president hesitated.
“So they will beat us to the greatest adventure of all time? They will send a man to Jupiter before us?”, the president became serious.
“Well sir”, Mr Jonathan continued, “up until a few days ago, the two ships now closing in on Mars was without doubt the greatest adventure of all time, sir. And in fact it took us quite some time and diplomatic skill to get us the larger part of the seats in those two flights just for that reason. It could only be solved by giving them most of the seats in the following cargo and scientific flights. One of which they now are refitting. So, Mr President, yes it looks like they are going to Jupiter, and we in fact are not.”
“How many are they sending?”, the president asked.
“Sir?”, Mr Jonathan didn’t got the question.
“How many men, Mr Jonathan?”
“The scientific shuttles designed for the Mars project carry three people. I would be surprised if they can change that in such a short time”, Mr Jonathan replied.
“Can we get a man of ours aboard?”
Mr Jonathan hesitated on the answer.
“With just three seats, they will certainly not be happy about us even asking”.
“Don’t we have one or two rides to collect at ESA if we want?”
“Not really Mr President, if you remember Mr President, we somewhat screwed them on the unmanned Venus missions a few years ago. I don’t think we have any more goodwill we can collect. Not if you take the Mars project in count”. The director of NASA was certain of this fact. The relations with ESA was rather strained, though not full blown hostile. After all Nasa and ESA were going hand in hand to Mars, just to beat the Chinese.
The President stood up and went to his desk.
“Well Mr Jonathan”, he said, “I guess I’ll be the one to have to call in some favours then. Start selecting your man Mr Jonathan, and set him on a plane to Europe. There must be an American on that flight. Get it done.”
“In fact, sir”, Mr Jonathan replied, “I think it will be a woman.”
“A woman aye?”
“Yes”.
“Very well then”, the president said, “my staff will follow you to your car”.
Mr Jonathan headed for the door when the president shortly hindered him.
“By the way Mr Jonathan”.
“Yes sir?”
“Who are they sending, the Europeans?”
“I don’t know their names yet, sir, but if they send the ones I think, it is a German and a French together with a Swedish astronaut”.
“A Swedish astronaut?”, the president smiled, “I guess there is a first time for everything”.
“In fact Mr President, if I remember correctly it is, at least, their second one”.
“Oh … well”. The president fell silent. “Anyway, it is probably him that they’ll pull out of the seat”.
“Probably so”, thought Mr Jonathan as he left the presidents oval office.

Globe - chapter 4

Four hundred thousand kilometres out from Jupiter, where the pale banded view of a planet with a red storm fills most of space, lays the path of Io. It is the innermost of the four large Galilean moons, a volcanic, draconic creature that orbits Jupiter inside the giant’s wide spanned magnetosphere, generating current.

Io is the golden daughter in the solar system. A young surface shifts in different shades of gold and yellow covering the iron sulphide core. Ever changing volcanoes spew out sulphide gasses and streams of basaltic lava from her infernal insides. Io can be said to be alive in a sense. Tidal forces twist it, and pull the crust and core, generating extreme heat, up to fifteen hundred Kelvin or more. She is the geologically most active object in the solar system, and unlike other moons in the outer regions, for this reason, she is much more than a dead body of ice.

In mythology Io was impregnated by the Olympic Zeus, taking every chance to betray his wife Hera. Now, in orbit far distant from Earth Io finds herself in wedlock in a tidal resonance with Jupiter, Europa and Ganymede. For every orbit Ganymede makes, being farthest from Jupiter, Europa manages two inside of it, and Io four in close orbit. This resonance tears Io and her mountains and core into dust. Then the Jovian magnetosphere lifts a tonne of this ionized matter and atoms off her every second into a thin atmosphere before these particles is pulled off the moon in a dusty trail that eventually escapes the planets system into the black of space.

Somewhere here between the moon and the planet, in the cauldron of gravitational energy and matter, in one specific moment a globe appeared. It cast around it an intense azure shadow of time and space, covering a golden moon and a red planet with a strange colour they had never seen before. It had come quite a long way, in what most people would say to be a very short time considering the distance travelled. It soon faded, but the globe remained, drawing energy from the cosmic resonance.

After some time the object started to move, finding its own trajectory, entering orbit, adding one to the sixty or so satellites circling over Jupiter’s clouded surface. Emitting a signal.

Sightings - chapter 3

Jacob's telescope followed stars in the sky. He saw Orion, the blue draped stars of the Pleiades and the hazy appearance of Andromeda. Then his vision was that of Jupiter and the four Galilean moons of Io, Europa, Ganymede and Callisto. Despite its size the planet appeared as a small disc, and the moons were no more than four glowing lights close to it. As he studied the planet a fifth light suddenly appeared among the moons. It was blue in essence, and shone for a few moments before disappearing. No larger than any of the moons

This was something that Jacob hardly could believe. The telescope was just a small refractor, but it didn’t matter, the light shouldn’t have been there. Of what he had seen before its sudden appearance there were no star in the field of vision. Perhaps it had been a small one. Perhaps he had just seen a distant nova he thought. Some minor star far away, blowing up, before him. But what would the chance be of that? For a short moment a though went though his head of it being a fifth moon. After all Jupiter had over sixty of them. But that also was not plausible. The four big ones made up almost the full hundred percent of the mass orbiting the gaseous globe. Also he had never heard of anyone else having such a vision. A human satellite then? No. That also, was out of the question. So he came back to the idea of a nova. But who could confirm this? Sure as anything he couldn’t do it himself. The light was gone now.

Jacob decided to call the university at the break of daylight. It was to late now anyway, and he didn’t have contacts among the strange people that he imagined populated the larger observatories.

The following day Peter Schrim received a call at his office at the university outside San Francisco. The man had hardly finished introducing himself before he tried to make some disoriented claim on a seeing a nova in the vicinity of Jupiter. At first Peter had taken him for a lunatic claiming that Jupiter itself had gone nova. But after he finally had managed to calm the fellow down, it became clear that the man had seen some blue light in his small refractor just the night before. When the conversation reached this point, Peter had more or less already reached for another phone. Here was an opportunity. Not to be missed. If it really were a nova it would make for a great article. Peter Schrim soon called some colleagues from the faculty who were on duty for a project at the Arecibo radio telescope in Puerto Rico. He was sure his friends would be as excited about this as he was now.

***

That night, as Earth moved and the antenna came into position towards Jupiter the staff in Puerto Rico naturally felt alert and excited. This could be one of those happenings that every astronomer hopes for to happen once in her lifetime. Noise of the cosmic background filled the room coming out of the speakers placed on top of the rest if the receiving equipment, digital pictures showed on their screens. Then as the Arecibo got the planet focused the cosmic noise went right up, became higher, until the speakers screamed out in a high pitch note at the limit of the endurable.

Helena Maria - chapter 2

Helena Maria her self had been born during a thunderstorm rolling through the valleys of the Sierra Nevada mountains. This fortunate event had taken place in the late eighties. She had been brought up in a small village that commonly went by the name Canillas de Albaida. Even though being close to Nerja, the blues of the mediterranean and the sunny coasts of Spain, Canillas appeared a different world. Far from any hotels, packed beaches and any signs of more modern times, Canillas de Albaidas white houses clung to the slopes of Sierra Nevada like a last memory of a different Spain. An older nation of scorched earths, winegroves and olive trees. And of course an occational cactus fig. Therefore she came to spend most of her childhood close to the heavens of the Earth. Even at summer the air there was particularly clear and the sky shined like a sea of distant diamonds at night. From her home in the village she could also se the summer houses on the opposing slopes. They were more like traditional fincas really, small stone buildings for the farmers of old. One of these houses had been bought by an astronomer from somewhere far, and at certain nights he could be seen gazing the skies with his telescope. The villagers of course though he was spying on the village, and he was not very well welcomed in the small town, because they didn’t have any mind for the skies and could not comprehend the situation without a colorful explanation in their own words, and since they kept from talking to the man, and he from them, their relations didn’t improve much over the years, being as most people are that spend most of their lives worrying what will grow out of dust or not rather than what looks down from above. But Helena Maria was different, and when she saw the distant figure standing there, she learned her eyes and mind to travel the deph of the skies and dreamed away. In fact, it was on one of those nights, laying on her back after a short meeting with a surprisingly untallented youth, that she made a promise to devote her soul to the heavens. Now, had this been some hundred years earlier, this would have ment rigorous celibacy and silent contemplation upon Gods mysterious love rather than the sinful pleasures of mankind. But Helena Maria had another mind, though it included an occasional vision of love. Often short, too hasty, or delivered with a surprising deficiency of skill.

Her family had a branch in the Netherlands. A result of european power politics in the fifteenhundreds. So she eventually went there and studied astronomy at the university of Groningen. She wrote her master thesis on the evolution of quasars. She continued to Uppsala for her phD on the subject of Galactic evolution in the Local group – a time schedule for the next one billion years. She had since worked at different observatories until two years ago when she got a position, assigned at the european VLT - Very Large Telescope - in Chile. Since then she had been working with the tracking of stars like Betelgeuse when she didn’t manage other projects passing through the observatory array – which in reallity took a good portion of most of the time.

Helena Maria carried obvious spanish features, there was no question about that. And she was percieved as a beatuful woman by the average male population. She was blessed with a slender and curved body that few men failed to notice. It had been a close liaison since her early teens. Her slighly protruding jaw, her distinguished chest, and the long curly black hair, it was all quite spanish in nature. So was her temper. Her mother had said that it came from the thunderstorm the day she was born. Helena Maria beeing aware of all this, thought large stars like Betelgeuse to be suiting objects of her devotion. Red hot boiling titans, from a distance they could cope with her fluctuant passions.

She had just come down the stairs of the Yepun telescope, one of four mirrors at the array, when one of the staff members addressed her.
“Dr Helena”, the young man obviously came of scandinavian origin. His eyes sold him out. Fallen. No morals.
“Yes, that would be me”, she replied with an accent. “What can I do for you?”
“You have a call.”, he continued.
“Really? Who?” Few called.
“’Honestly don’t know”, he said. “It wasn’t I ...”.
Sound came from the orange earplugs dangling from his neck. It was playing loud and the minimilized sound found a nearby airwave. A few moments after the song came to Helena. The voice unmistakable. It’d been a long time though. She had played the song many times when she was as a younger version of her self. From a time draped in neon lights, short fluffy skirts and lace. Really more than a decade before her own generation. Still. The tiny voice came to her again. In an exquisit high falsetto going for the next octave in high tempo rainbow coloured notes.
“Don’t leave me this way ...”
“Never mind she said. I’ll be right there.”
“I had the call directed to your office.”
Helena gave a thankful smile in return. The young mans eyesight followed her as she left. Fallen. She would of course have to have him. Another day.

When she came in, the office met her covered in the slightly dimmed light she had left it in. Papers spread themselves across the desk. Over the shelves, the floor and much about everything else that offered a surface. She moved a recent report from ESA on Mars away while she sat her self down in a chair and picked up the phone. A diod blinked. The caller was still there. Beeing in the middle of the night this was obviously no social call. She saved a few breaths. And spoke with her most official voice, in slight accent.
“Yes, it’s Helena, with whom do I have the pleasure of talking at this late hour?”

View of a dying world - chapter 1

Helena Maria came off her shift at VLT. They had been monitoring the same objekt all night. Betelgeuse, the red giant, a thousand times larger than Sol, or at least it used to be. The mass was still about twenty times that of Earths sun. Its volume could fit about a billion ordinary sunlike stars within it. Yet Betelgeuse was a dying world. It had been known for some time now. The estimate was that the ball of gas would say its last farewells with quite a big bang somewhere between now and the beginning of the next millennia. It had been shrinking about twenty percent since the tracking started in the early nineties and showed no sign of stopping. While it was laying there on its dying bed it spewed out long trails of gas in the surrounding night. More than one and and a half solar mass had already left the star in this way.

These days you could actually see these trails on photographs, especially those taken by the staff at VLT. It had become their speciallity. With tecniques developed during the last thirty years or so you would catch detailed pictures of the titan. One of few that allowed it. It was all about size. Most other stars were still no more than points of light in the night. But with Betelgeuse astronomy had recently celebrated some victories. The past years Helena Maria and her team had taken pictures as sharp as those of the sun, showing sunspots and solar prominences in breathtaking detail, as media usually put it. And well, it wasn’t her team really, she was just a part of it. Still, she had some skill. And with their work the star had become a close friend in the minds of the people of Sol.

Betelgeuse was about to die young. It had been around less than ten million years and it would end its path well before its tenth birthday. A timespan for a stellar life that seemed like a single breath compared to Sol. Somehow this became a saddening thought for Helena. When you had worked with one single object for so long, almost every astronomer made a habit of seeing them as living entities. And of course they already had names. The undisputable sign of an individual. So you could say that nature had put it there, the premature feeling of loss, for a freind that was about to raise sails on the horizon.

Betelgeuse is a bright red titanic star at the shoulder of Orion. The suns burning red inferno dominates the neighbouring dark of space. Yet its ending will light up the skies of Earth, and the last lights will outshine that of her companion Luna. And when it is all over, It may be so that only a black massive nothing floats in the place where it once was. Pulling the surrounding dark closer to home.

Preludium

Kosmos is dark. Stark. An endless vast black. Fundamentally empty, yet full of something. Gas and matter holding together for no particular reason. Strictly unlogical and yet simple. Billions of suns glowing. Living and dying through passing eons. And so there is something strange about the relationship between distance and time in the universe. Not apparent at first, it soon becomes an unresolvable quest for the serious thinker. The celerity of light is said to limit the pace of matter. And the distance of neighbouring stars be unwalkable. Yet light must be fundamentally slow, and distances surprisingly short. For light uses time to reach our beholder. Minutes pass, weeks and lifetimes where it drifts. And still from distances said to be so far that he can not grasp the measure of remoteness a suns light strikes him. Brilliant as ever a jewel. Here Kosmos reveals itself. Uncountable neighbouring worlds, speaks with slow light. And the story goes like this. No one is ever alone in the fundamental void called space.