Universalis

The skies were black when I walked outside, floodlights illuminating the pathway and what lay ahead. My team: a series of military scientists and engineers mixed from Europe and the Americas along with myself, were heading towards a Universalis IX cruiser rocket—a space shuttle, to specify. There was a silent air of unease amongst us—and with good reason as well.

We are the first team of people to voluntarily be sent into a spatial anomaly that happens to fluctuate and appear every five years between Mars and the asteroid belt. I specify voluntarily, because twenty years ago, an observation team ventured into the gravitational attraction of it, and went off of communications line. That was, the second time, that we observed it.

Over the years, we sent many radio focus probes, and one had managed to make it to the other side of the anomaly, with all of its sensitive equipment still very much intact—which gave hope to the families of the lost ones that their loved ones were still alive, somewhere.

The anomaly, dubbed, 'blue-space', on its appearance of a blue, swirling motion from far away, appeared by most to be a wormhole-like , caused by a small tear in the fabric of space. Attempts of finding an origin to this failed, however a very concentrated quantity of energy swirled around slowly. The scientists that observed it have drastically managed to get a better grasp on space manipulation technology and founded the basis upon which the Universalis IX was crafted on.

On our way to the shuttle, stood rows of soldiers, corporation heads, politicians, world leaders from countries involved and not involved, our families and further back, those who came near and far to see us off, cheering, saluting, praying for our path onwards. I suppose, somewhat, we were celebrities for our willingness to head off into the unknown. I put on an uneasy smile and waved to the people, as did my crew mates, a sense of dread amongst us all in the back of our heads. Nobody expressed it, but we all had and knew it.

We stopped at an elevator door with a tower that rose to a small catwalk leading into the shuttle itself.  the presidents of the European Union and the United States, waiting for us. We saluted, and attempted to suck in our guts one last time for men of power that we knew. The presidents stood on top of podiums, with microphones, speaking into it.

Words, of power, of glory for their country and for humanity, a praise for the daredevils to head into the unknown for exploration and hopeful recovery for those lost. The floodlights were on us, and the sky, still dark. It was.... Almost funny, I guess. I had hoped to see one last sunrise—one last... Beautiful sunrise. It was not to be, I suppose.

Cheering and applause came, as the president of the United States, brandished a small box, and the president of the European Union, brandished one box, showing it to us. One, contained a series of medals and awards to be given to each us and our families. The other box, when opened, gave us all a chill down our spines.

It contained an newly fabricated, but old model pistol. The Colt .45 with two clips, encased within the foam. Inscribed on it, were the words in latin:  “reliquêmus in sidera.” Rest in stars, even that, I could tell, uneased us more—because we knew what it was for.

We gave a weak salute, with slightly unnerved faces, that they noted, but were understandable about. After that, we stepped into the elevator, heading off up into the shuttle. Tension was high amongst us, I could feel it without even knowing. The first Martian colonists, I suppose, were like this as well, because they would never see their loved ones again—but, they could still talk to them and read to their children, and live halfway normal lives.

We knew, there was a decent chance that we would never return to our Earth. It didn't help much, but we all sucked our guts in, we all knew what we were doing. I had hoped for the best case scenario, that we returned, but prepared for the worst. Once we boarded, Major Reinhart, our captain for the Delta XVII, turned towards us and looked at us all.

“Alright folks, listen up. We, no longer, are from our countries, but we are from Earth, we are no longer Dutch, British, American, German or Russian, but we are human. We are, all not at ease, that much is known. We are a team, and we must confront, comfort each other, work together to build our resolve. Today's unknown, is tomorrow's advancement, for the betterment of the world, betterment of the peoples, betterment of humanity. I've met each one of you individually, and you've all earned my respect, not just because of what we're doing, but because you are who you are.” he spoke, saluting us.

“I am honored, to have you all, join me on this escapade. All of the explorers of the new world, felt an unease as well, a fear of the unknown. It is... Well known, that we all have such same fear amongst us. But, fear not, my friends, my comrades. What they did and risked their lives for, forever changed the way the world worked for the better. It is in my hope, that such happens again.” he added, turning to each one of us and giving us a pat on the shoulder.

“Now, to our seats, my fellow spacemen and women. Let us not disappoint our audience.” he finished, heading off towards the cockpit. We all followed him, with, slightly more of a confidence in step. I shook my head, sighing, but then slapped myself, as I climbed the ladder up, as the last person, to get the cockpit.

The timer flashed, the air was thin, the machine we were on begun to rumble, as we heard the echoing cheers of the people outside, and the sound of the announcer over our radios. I inhaled, and sunk into my feet, as the counter hit ten.

Nine, eight, seven, six, five. We begun to shake and shudder, a loud noise from below beginning to emit, beginning to push us down in our seats. Four, three, two, one---liftoff. It was, like a force never before experienced. My mind began to flash to several random concepts and such, most randomly that I can compare the experience to, is a tank running over you, with nothing but mud, softening the crushing sensation, a drowning sensation coming along as well.

I begun to feel the drowning sensation as well, my lungs quickly losing air, and I could feel myself slipping off—before I heard someone yell, “Remember to breathe!” I know not if they were speaking to me or not, but that snapped me out of whatever dream I had forced myself into, my lungs refilling with air.

It gradually became easier and easier, before we finally reached orbit, easing ourselves from there. We spent a day, getting prepared to launch off of orbit, but in the meantime using our apoapsis  and periapsis as time to gather momentum to launch ourselves out into space.

Afterwards, we spent a week heading towards the anomaly--though time felt like months had flown by, as unease and boredom quickly struck our minds. We had little for actual entertainment, as to not drain necessary power away from vital systems of the ship--playing cards which never really seemed to work as well as we had  hoped, stationary bikes, a few books that one of the engineers had brought aboard and our thoughts were the only things to keep us occupied during the time.

The commander of the mission ensured that everything that was edible or potable was rationed carefully--from MRE’s, to vitamin supplements and flavored drinks that were provided for our long trip. It was a pain when we went and got meals, having to sign off that, “we ate this” or “we drank that.” Was a wonder somebody didn’t snap if you ask me when the chief started rationing the waste dumps off into space--the toilet being the only thing that we had somewhat comparable to privacy around here, minus our little sleeping boxes that smelt of sweat and were not comfortable at all to be in.

Morale  aboard the shuttle gradually declined as the hours ticked by--mild annoyances and disturbances nibbling away at the sanity of the other crew members, putting them on edge even more than as they were before.

Finally, we reached the large blue anomaly--taking note of a few distinctions: One, it rotated in a rhythmic fashion; two, it didn’t seem to have an immediate gravitational effect on the ice and dust that had been around it--almost as if it was an illusion; three, that we noticed a definite center of the anomaly where it was much brighter than the outer layers of it, as if it were a miniature nebulae.

I made my way over next to the captain in his chair and two things hit me in the environment: that the captain stunk horribly and that everyone tried to hide their amounting unease. The former wasn’t entirely surprising as showers weren’t really much of an option to us in zero-gravity, however, the latter of the two observations struck me as comforting--though I still don’t know why.

It was odd, the disturbance that we observed seemed to be heeding us to come closer and take a look, like a spider waiting for insects to come near its web. As we approached the core of the anomaly slowly, it appeared to be shifting inwards and outwards constantly, in the form that I can only describe as a tesseract to my knowledge. It was truly fascinating and terrifying at the same time to be able to observe this instance.

We all moved to our seats, strapping ourselves in with our suits on us as we had no idea  what would happen soon--we were entering fresh ground for organic life after all. The captain slowly accelerated towards the core as blue speckles filled the air within the shuttle, the lot of us slightly panicking as our commander yelled, “Internals, quickly!” I don’t think i’ve ever seen people move so quickly in zero gravity, rushing to put oxygen tanks on that were built into blue containers that could easily supply a day’s worth of O2. It was honestly more there for psychological assistance than prospect of use I felt however, as a day isn’t nearly enough time for us to return home.

Our communications officer quickly pulled out his long-range communication device and began to type up a report to be sent back to earth in radio waves--though it would take some time before the signal could properly reach home.

I felt everyone holding their breaths in anticipation and fear of the unknown, all of us sitting back in our seats as the lights begun to flare up with the strangest pulling sensation towards the front of the cabin as we were soon blinded by the anomaly. Almost immediately after it stopped, all powered systems aboard shut down--the lights, the emergency power--all off. A few moments later, red lights dimly lit up the shuttle and sliding metallic doors covered all windows--the shuttle’s ‘emergency protocol’ systems. We took our moments to try and calm ourselves and assess the situation as we no longer saw the blue particles in the air all around us.

I removed my mask and inhaled slowly, saying, “Air seems nominal…” Everyone unbuckled and went to several duties in an attempt to try and restore power aboard the Universalis. Minutes passed, but they felt like hours as we all restarted systems and slowly restored basic functionality to the shuttle. Once life support was online, and air ventilation was going, the commander spoke, “We’ll have to figure out what exactly happened later… For now, try and continue establishing communications with Earth and restoring functions here.”

Orders were quickly barked and everyone moved quickly. My job was to perform an EVA sweep of the shuttle and ensure that I didn’t see cracks, ice forming on the shuttle anywhere, any defects in design that could be temporarily fixed now so that it wouldn’t give us issues later. As I stood in between the airlocks to go outside, I patted my suit down to make sure I had everything. Attachment cable, oxygen tank, spare oxygen tank, SAFER self-propulsion device… Check, check, check and check.

I slid my layers of visors down and turned on my primary oxygen tank, as the space inbetween begun to ventilate inwards to the shuttle, and the exit door opening--nothing but the stars and dark space greeting me. I held on to the railing as I walked outside, the attachment cable holding onto me via my belt, as I turned on my headlamp and looked around the shuttle’s top, carefully inspecting for small gaps or cracks in the ceramic/metallic plating.

After I scanned the top, I hopped off of the shuttle and turned my propulsion pack on, floating under it and doing the same, something catching my eye off in the distance--a flash of light. I turned my head as I grabbed onto the railing of the shuttle, seeing two massive ships off in the distance, along with small flashes of light exchanging between one another. I stopped and stared. “We’re not alone here…” I mouthed, before tapping my helmet, desperately trying to get communications inside--as the emergency lights hadn’t turned off yet, which meant all the windows were covered over. “Major, can you read me?” I asked, still staring at what was going off in the distance.

A few moments later, I heard radio static along with crackling, before I got a response, “Yeah, I hear you loud and clear Lieutenant. What’s the situation on the shuttle?” I paused for a moment, before shaking my head and saying, “Uhh… Sir, you’re probably not going to believe me but…”