Lone Star

“My name is Doctor Julius Denzer and I am a leading theoretical physicist in the field of Cosmology.”

The dining hall remained silent.

“I am proud to announce my cutting edge research in high energy astrophysics. My work over the last several years now culminates in this mission. And your ship will be the one to host this final phase of my work.”

An anonymous cough broke the silence of the audience, followed by a solitary clank of silverware.

“We will approach the AX-9 binary pair,” the doctor continued. “These are two super-massive neutron stars that are locked in tight orbit. In a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, these stars will collapse into each other over the coming days. And my equipment will be there to observe the formation of the Black Hole that will result. With my Gravity Wavelet Shield that I developed, your ship will be able to maintain a highly stable orbit right on the edge of the event. My pioneering shield technology will, for the first time, make it possible to observe the initial formational dynamics. I will be able to confirm my theory and usher in a new era of physics.”

The captain returned to his feet next to the doctor and conspicuously cleared his throat.

“Dr. Denzer is a leader in his field, studying the stars,” the Captain asserted. “His shield technology has been tested and proven safe, even for a Black Hole. So on behalf of the fleet, we are proud to be a part of this historic research. Thank you, Dr. Denzer.”

“Yes, thank you,” Denzer replied with a squinted glare. But this subtle rebuke at the captain’s interjection went largely unnoticed, as the raucous crew acknowledged the speech as an excuse for celebration. In unison, the room erupted into deep-throated cheer and sloshing drink.

Dinner resumed in full force as the two men pulled their chairs back to the officers’ table and each returned to his plate.

“So, Doctor,” the Captain began. “What is this theory of yours, anyway?”

The Doctor lowered his fork and sat upright in his chair, readying a posture to profess his expertise. His hands came forward and his fingertips pressed together into an authoritative arch.

“Yes, my recent work into the nature and structure of Black Holes… You see, there have been decades of conjecture and double-talk on the subject. But I have developed a stunning theory that makes full account of all known properties of collapsing stars. It is an opus of theoretical physics.”

“Please explain,” the Captain prodded. This First Officer and Chief Engineer exchanged a quick, quizzical glance. But the doctor went on unabated.

“My theory makes use of nothing more than the long established truths of Relativity, you see. Einstein tells us that the speed of light is a constant, regardless of frame of reference. That speed is a fundamental cornerstone of nature. And from that fact alone, I can reveal the truths of the phenomenon we call Black Holes.”

Speaking to chewing onlookers, the Doctor continued, “We understand that the concentration of mass of the Black Hole has the effect of warping space-time. To the outside observer, it appears as though that region of space is slowed in time. If one were to fall into the horizon of a Black Hole, the outside observer would simply see them slow to an infinitesimal pace and appear to freeze in time. But what does the one falling in see? My colleagues in the field postulate that, from that frame of reference, the one falling in would not in fact experience a slow decent. He would, they say, burn up into his most elemental components. You see, this is where my theory provides correction.”

Between his gulps of ale, the captain stole a moment to prod, “So you think you’ll survive jumping into a Black Hole?”

The Doctor gave a wincing smirk and proceeded, “My theory, you see, is based on the constancy of light. We understand that light speed is independent of reference frame. That is, it must always remain the same. And within the Black Hole, what we know of as time must come to a halt. But I recognize the true nature of what is at work, you see. Black Holes are in fact explained as regions of maximal field density within space-time. I state that space cannot support any flux density greater than that at the horizon surface of the Black Hole. This is quite a jump for the untrained mind, you see, but it is actually quite self-evident.”

The Doctor dramatically separated his arched hands and raised an index finger into the air. The trick did little to restore wavering attention. But he continued his commanding oratory.

“From this I deduce my theory. The Black Hole is perfectly spherical, hollow shell within which our space-time is at limit. Time is essentially frozen inside. And for the constancy of light to be maintained, that absence must drive a new dimension in time… a new universe. That, you see, is what I have set out to prove.”

The Captain’s mouth was momentarily filled with chicken, but the Chief Engineer took the opportunity to poke in a question.

“But a Black Hole is a pretty dangerous thing. So how exactly does your shield work?”

“Ah, yes. My Gravitational Wavelet Shield,” the Doctor recounted proudly. “I wouldn’t wish to bore you with the advanced mechanics, but essentially it is a small example of my grander theory. The Gravity Wavelet is a protective shell of space-time that has maximum flux density. With space-time at limit, it, therefore, cannot be breached.”

“Wait,” the Chief jumped in. “The shield is based on the theory that you have yet to prove??”

“The testing is quite complete, I assure you,” the Doctor countered smugly.

Having swallowed, the Captain added his own words of assurance. “The shield technology has completed thorough testing and review. We have full confidence in the technology and that the mission does not pose any risk to the ship.”

“The shield would outlast the ship, if it came down to it,” bristled the Doctor under his breath.

“Excuse me??” answered the Chief, raising his head from his broad shoulders in an instinctive posture.

“Right,” the Captain intervened quickly. “I say we do another round of drinks… for what we all agree will be an interesting mission.” He raised himself in his seat, as the contagious posturing worked its way to him.

“Right here!” the First Officer signaled toward the wait staff in order to fulfill the captain’s request.

The Captain entered the bridge and took his seat next to his First Officer.

“So what do you think of our cargo on this one?” the First Officer commented jovially.

“You mean the good Doctor?” the Captain smiled with a reciprocating nod. “It’s a mission. You’d rather be in dry dock?”

“Well, that beats the bottom of a Black Hole.”

The Captain flashed a brief expression of discipline before responding. “The Doc may be a handful to deal with, but he knows his stuff.” The Captain’s firm tone quashed any further conversation on the topic. Paramount was the commitment to the mission.

“Location?” the First Officer called out, redirecting the subject.

“Ten ticks out from AX-9, sir,” the Pilot answered.

“Don’t get us any closer. I don’t want to get eaten for lunch,” the First Officer replied with a hint of frustration in his voice. “I’ll go fetch our special guest.”

The Doctor looked up from his papers. He sat with his stomach anxiously pressed against the edge of the table. There he had a spread of star charts, handwritten sketches and sheets scrawled with the markings of his trade.

The First Officer knocked again.

“Come in,” the Doctor answered with some annoyance at the distraction. As the door behind him slid open, a pillar of light shot in from the hallway. The officer’s eyes took a moment to adjust to the cool ambient glow of the single lamp inside.

“We’re 10 ticks out from AX-9, Doctor.”

“I know.”

“Well, would you like to join us on the bridge?”

“In due time, Commander. I am just finishing up some calculations for my optimal orbit of the event.”

There was a brief pause, as the officer pondered the significance of that delicate orbit.

“Doctor, how far will we be from the explosion?”

“Space-time is a funny thing, Commander. But I have entered the precise trajectory into the Navigational Computer.”

“My question is, how close that will be,” the officer reiterated with a shimmering of impatience. “We don’t want to get eaten for lunch.”

The Doctor looked up from his work again. He stared forward into nothing, his back remaining toward the First Officer.

“How close we can be has everything to do with how much thrust your ship’s engines can produce. We can approach until we reach the safety margin set out by your Chief Engineer. Your engines merely have to propel us outward to counteract the gravity pulling inward.”

“And when the star explodes?”

“When that happens, falling in is not the concern.” The Doctor’s ego was apparent, as he continued. “You see, the gravitational force will not change through the event. But the violent burst of radiation as the stellar mass implodes, well, the momentum from that will only serve to push us outward.”

Clearly sensing condescension, the First Officer turned back toward the door. “I feel a lot better.”

“Sir, the Gravity Wavelet shield is at full operational strength,” the lieutenant at Ops confirmed.

“Of course, it is,” the Doctor announced as he arrived onto the bridge. “If not, the ship would not have made it thus far.”

“Electromagnetic, gravitational and matter waves are not penetrating, sir,” the Ops officer continued, on the heels of the previous comment.

The Captain and First Officer were seated side-by-side in their respective chairs. The Pilot, Ops and Navigator each monitored their posts. And the Doctor made his way to another seat beside the Captain. In front of them all, the celestial phenomenon of a collapsing binary star developed on the viewer display.

“Engine status?” the First Officer asked, watching the screen with attentive caution.

“Unchanged at 80% thrust,” Ops relied.

“Science telemetry?” the Captain queried.

“All sensors recording. Shield windows stable. All data within modeled projections.”

“Ah, Yes!” the Doctor muttered aloud.

The Captain gave a slanted glance toward the doctor but only for a moment.

“You’re going to have a front row seat, Doctor,” the First Officer taunted.

“It is a view that I alone will appreciate,” retorted the Doctor. “The cosmological community may not care much for me, but they cannot deny the success of my work.”

“Engine status?” the Captain reminded.

“Unchanged, sir,” Ops replied.

“So, what is it that you expect to see?” the First Officer prodded on.

The Doctor chuckled with brimming confidence before answering. “I expect to see the creation of a new universe. It will emerge right before my eyes. After the Black Hole collapses, it will be impenetrable to view from our space-time. But for that instant of creation, I will capture a snapshot of its birth.”

“Thermal stabilizers?” the Captain queried.

“85%, sir.”

Suddenly the Ops station began to clamor as the deck filled with the white light from the viewer display. The events taking place were too fast for any verbalizations, but everyone knew that, in a brilliant flash, this was the celestial collapse.

Next, without warning, a shock front rattled the ship. In the blinding light of the bridge, the crew instinctively gripped to weather the turbulence. The novice Doctor, however, toppled instantly to the floor.

“Status??” demanded the Captain, over the blare of the instrumentation.

“Damage reports coming in.”

“Shield capacity??” shouted the First Officer.

“At maximum. Reaching overload.”

“Watch those shields. Divert full engine power to the shields,” the Captain commanded. His decisive demeanor masked his strain.

The Ops officer, at the same time, had cause to loose his cool. “Shield overloaded, Captain! The shields have failed! Shields down!!”

The Captain rose from his chair, his face now showing emotion. But the tension was not to last. His eyes slowly dilated as the bridge light dimmed to a dull grey of the viewer screen. Silence swept the room.

“Report?” the First Officer asked with a confused hesitation.

It took a moment for Ops to answer. “Engines and shields off-line. Main sensors down. But it looks like we are traveling through a gas cloud.”

“We survived! We must have been blown out by the blast!” the First Officer exclaimed. The Doctor, now seated against the wall, stared pensively at the floor.

“Main sensors are coming back online from saturation,” Ops added. “It’s a hydrogen gas cloud.”

The Doctor stirred.

“Where is the Black Hole??” the Captain insisted.

Ops continued to review his station. “Sir, the Navigation Computer is... It is on-line but cannot acquire a fix.”

“Get a fix on it, Lieutenant,” the Captain warned. “We need to keep clear of that thing.”

“The blast… it must have pushed us out,” the First Officer mumbled aloud. “…or we’d be gone already.”

“No!” baulked the Doctor in exuberance. “No! Don’t you see??”

“Not now, Doctor,” the Captain snapped sharply.

“No,” Denzer spouted again with kinetic excitement. “We’re in it.”

The Captain now shot cold eyes at the Doctor. “What??”

“We are inside of it! We are in the Black Hole!!”

The room went silent, but only for a moment.

“You see,” Denzer pressed on, “we are here at the Genesis moment, the birth of a new universe!! – It’s just as I predicted.”

The bridge crew remained silent, as the Doctor bolted upward from the floor in ecstatic jubilation. His grin was beaming with the light of a thousand stars.

“Doctor… Doctor…” the Captain called to the victorious scientist. “Doctor!”

“Yes??” the Doctor answered irritably, interrupted from his euphoric triumph.

“Now how do we get home??”

The Doctor whipped his head toward the captain, a new reality setting in. And there he stood, as if time had frozen.

“I was asked to provide the eulogy for Doctor Julius Denzer. I can’t say I was close with him… or that anyone was, really. But as a colleague in theoretical physics at the Institute, I can certainly speak a few words.

“Doctor Denzer was certainly an innovator in his own way. And although his unique theories may now never be proven, his force and strength of character will certainly live on with all who knew him.

“Let me just close with an observation. Even though Dr. Denzer and all hands of the Lone Star science ship were lost, don’t think of them as burning up at the Black Hole’s center. Instead remember that they are forever falling in toward it. Forever falling but never reaching their destiny.”

Writings page

Home