Titans

The Stelliferous Era [160:02]

Location: The Hermes Starship

Cal comes rushing onto the observation deck early the next morning, book in hand. I look up at him wearily, tired from another night of little sleep. It seems no matter how I position myself at night, my shoulder still aches, enough to keep my mind painfully awake.

And then, of course, there’s the dreams.

Merc sits up straight, his own book quickly forgotten. “What is it?”

“It isn’t done,” Cal says as he rushes towards us.

“Huh?” Lilith, equally weary, peaks up at him from behind strands of her dark hair.

His eyes spot me and he falters ever-so-slightly, as if he’s seen a ghost. The moment passes. He flips open the book he’d been carrying and slams it on the small table we’d moved into the room the other day. “The explosions. They aren’t done.”

Lilith looks bothered. “Well of course not. You said so yourself – this is the beginning of the universe…somehow. It’s not exactly going to be calm and quiet.”

“I was wrong.”

“Excuse me?”

He lets out a long breath. “Technically, I was wrong, but not in the way you think. This is the beginning of the universe, but it’s not as early as I originally assumed. I saw the exploding stars and thought, logically, that we must be at the very beginning – the moment of the big bang. But of course, after doing some reading, I realise that’s impossible. It says it all here,” he says, gesturing to the book. “‘The big bang wasn’t an explosion, more the simultaneous existence of space everywhere in the universe.’”

He looks up, eyes wide with knowledge. “The universe doesn’t expand into space because space doesn’t exist outside of it. It creates it as it goes. Therefore, logically, we can’t witness the big bang because there’d be no space to witness it from. We are, in fact, much later down the track. At the beginning of the stelliferous era.”

I can feel the frown on my face, his words failing to make sense to my ears. Merc’s reaction is similar. “Say again?”

“The stelliferous era. The ‘age of starlight’.” He flips forward a few pages. “There are five ages of the universe. The first is the primordial era, the second is the stelliferous, then the degenerate and so on and so forth. I believe we awoke” – he air-quotes – “at the very end of the primordial era, just as the universe became transparent. Therefore, we must now, with the birth of two stars, be at the start of the stelliferous – the longest and most active period of the universe’s history.”

Merc runs a hand through his hair. “Christ.”

“It’s when all the matter in the universe started to clump together, forming stars, galaxies, galaxy clusters.”

“Planets?” Lilith asks, and I know what she’s thinking, what we’re all thinking – how in the world did we find ourselves on a planet with a breathable atmosphere before planets or even stars had been created?

Cal nods. “Planets are formed from the gas and dust left over by a star’s formation. Which means in order for this planet to have been created, there must first have been the formation of nearby star. And no such star exists. If it did, we would have night and day. There would be a sun in our sky. We have no sun – only two stars that came into being after we had already arrived or awoken or whatever.

“But to get to my point, since we are at the beginning of the stelliferous era, we can safely assume there will be more stars formed and more explosions – many more. Which is, in fact, good news.”

“Good news?” Merc asks disbelieving. “We’re going to end up dead.”

“I think ‘blown up’ would be the correct phrasing,” Lilith mutters. Merc shoots her a look.

“I’m not saying it will be good in the long run. I just mean it will be good for our…current circumstances.”

“You mean being stuck hanging over an abyss?” Lilith offers bluntly.

“Yes,” he says. “That.”

I speak up. “How?” As is the usual reaction when I speak, everyone’s eyes swivel towards me, curious and a little surprised. But now I notice something else lurking in their gazes – or at least the gazes of Cal and Lilith. Something that borders rather closely on unease.

Cal swallows, eyes shifting away from my own. “The explosion that comes with a new star’s formation creates shock waves and vibrations, as we’ve already seen. Most likely, when the shock wave hits, it will be enough to open the crevice wider, pulling the ground apart further. When that happens, our ship will be freed from the rock. It will be a short window, seeing as the moment we do become unstuck we will instantly begin falling, but if we start the engines as we prepare for the movement we should be able to regain control of the ship as it falls. We would be able fly out of here.”

For a moment, everyone’s silent. Then Merc exhales. “It’s risky. How are we to know when the shock wave will hit? We only have so much fuel – we can’t waste it on keeping the ship running so we can be ready to fly out.”

“Light travels faster than anything in the universe. We will see the explosion before we feel it. All we have to do is turn on the engines when we see it in the sky.”

“But we don’t know where it will occur. What if it occurs on the other side of the planet, a view of the universe obscured by the ground beneath our feet? What then?”

“We’ll just have to hope it doesn’t.” Cal pauses. “Until then, we’ll need to keep watch. The control room would be the best spot, as it is linked to cameras which monitor every conceivable angle of the ship’s surroundings. There’ll have to be at least one of us there at all times. When the explosion happens, whoever’s there will have to send word. And fast.”

“But who will fly the ship?” I ask.

“I’ll do it,” Merc says. “I’ve a read a manual.”

“Boy, aren’t we in good hands,” Lilith scoffs.

“It’s not like we have any other option.”

Cal nods. “Merc’s right. He’s our best shot.” He folds up the book, tucking it under his arm. “I’ll take the first shift up in control. Merc, keep reading. Make sure you know as much as you can. Everyone else, be ready. This could happen at any moment.”

He turns and leaves. I lie back on the couch, closing my eyes. The second I do, my dreams return to me: images and sounds that won’t fade, that make sleep frightening and difficult. Now add an impending explosion, a pilot who doesn’t know how to be a pilot, and the over-arching realisation that we’re in for shit, no matter what we do.

If sleeping wasn’t hard before, it sure will be now.