located within solid waste recycling. Though far from posing an immediate problem, its existence offended Moutiers's professional pride. He's hard at work correcting the problem. Dr. Oyo is helping him as best she can without neglecting her own job, which is primarily to keep a wary eye on us first deep-space travelers.
We're all disgustingly healthy, she insists. Hardly surprising, since physical fitness was as important a criterion in our selection as any mental abilities.
Only sixteen years, four months, two days to Barnard's Star. That's barring the successful utilization of the Molenon Multiplier. None of us expects anything to come of that. We don't see how the installation of an alien device, however efficiently modified for human use, can help us. Especially when the experts don't profess to understand fully how it functions:
I realize that the Multiplier is somehow supposed to react to mental output and translate that into space- time distortion leaps along our line of flight. I'll stick with the photon engines, thank you. Slow but steady wins the race.
On Day Twelve out Sese Oyo is supposed to lead us in our first 'session.' No one here is looking forward to what all consider essentially a waste of time, but orders are orders. The thought of six highly trained scientists squatting around muttering 'om' while thinking positive thoughts about Barnard's Star strikes most of us as more than marginally ludicrous. I am willing to concede that such meditative sessions might have beneficial relaxing effects, however. That's the only reason I finally agreed to go along with this.
As nominal commander and chief programmer of mankind's first attempt to reach the stars, I'd like to register another formal objection, though.
DAY 003-14:32
Smooth as vacuum so far. Moutiers found and corrected the problem with the solid waste recycler. Presently he's fiddling happily with his hydroponics. He figures he has thirty-two years in which to create a better cantaloupe.
Kim Rahman purrs over her precious engines, which purr back at her. Our resident stargazer, Paul Usakos, can't wait until we leave the solar system. We all feel the same way. Morale is good. Astrogator Ostersund found a minute deviation in our course, which is not unexpected this early in the flight. She and Rahman will-collaborate on correction.
Thank the city of Barsoom for the city lights' message. Yes, we are 'Go,' assure them, with all our thanks.
DAY 007-11:43
Accomplished Uranus pass-by and beamed them records and messages. Our last close contact with civilization. Now we're truly outward bound. The rings have an ethereal beauty no photo can properly convey. Ostersund and I have seen them before, but it was a new sight for the rest of the crew. They spent hours at the ports, ooing and aping. They had time for sight-seeing. We all have time.
The Secondjump is performing above all expectations.
DAY 012-21:58
We just concluded our initial session under Dr. Oyo's guidance. Feeling no less idiotic than I expected to, I returned to work while trying to avoid the immediate gazes of my fellow crew members. The overall reaction seemed to be one of embarrassment. Dr. Oyo says that repetition will cure this, but I'm not so sure. Only she and Jean-Jacques Moutiers appeared to enter into the spirit of the thing. Moutiers is a bit of a flake, anyway. A wizard with life-support systemology, but at heart he's a clown. It should be interesting to see what kind of better melon he can come up with.
Oh, by the way, the Molenon Multiplier works. I can hear the screams of pleasure at Tycho from out here. Go ahead and enjoy yourselves for a minute, folks.
Ostersund informs me, and I've separately confirmed, that our speed has increased by a factor of . . . well, check the readouts we're beaming back to you. What it means is that this wonderfully complex, altered alien gizmo you've had us truck all the way past Pluto will get us to Barnard's Star exactly two hours, four minutes earlier than predicted.
So much for the much ballyhooed 'gift of the aliens,' as the news media have been calling it. All that research and money and time to gain two lousy hours over sixteen years! I've half a mind to cut the monstrosity loose and chuck it out the rear lock. Might do it, too, if it wasn't so closely interstructured with the rest of the ship's systems.
Dr. Oyo insists we can do much better at our sessions. Sure we can.
Belated birthday greetings from Kim Rahman to her father down in Kuala Lumpur. By the time this message reaches him he'll be . . .older. Received birthday wishes from Mr. and Mrs. Usakos for Paul. He returns the greetings and says for his dad to tell everyone on his old rugby team that he won't be back in time for the playoffs but that he'll be back to coach their kids.
DAY 019-08:27
Dr. Oyo says that our growing boredom is to be expected. She maintains that it's a stage that will pass as we settle more fully into in-flight routine and grow completely accustomed to the fact that we're utterly cut off from additional human contact for thirty-two years. I wish I was as certain. Actually, I have to confess that I'm a bit worried. All the work and games that are available, in addition to whatever we can invent, seem inadequate to relieve the present disenchantment. I am hoping this will pass, as Dr. Oyo claims.
Oh, there've been no outward signs of discontent. We're all too mentally stable for that, too well balanced. But I can tell when someone is enjoying themselves and when they're just going through the motions.
Even Kim Rahman's jewelry and sculpture are suffering. Paul is trying to help inspire her. His first flush of excitement at being able to observe the entire solar system has already faded.
Another session today. Dr. Oyo sounded pleased. Ostersund discovered another slight jump in our position. We'll now arrive at our destination three days, six hours ahead of schedule. I'm not impressed, although Sese (pardon me, Dr. Oyo) is excited.
I personally think we're doing the best we can. If the Multiplier can't do better than shave three days off a sixteen-year trip, I personally don't hold much hope for its future benefits re interstellar travel.
DAY 033-06:44
It appears we have to devote more and more time to simply staying sane. As ever, the Secondjump runs like a fine timepiece. All systems are performing flawlessly. Mankind can be proud of this ship.
Whether they'll be able to be as proud of us is presently open to question. I'm still not seriously concerned, but I am troubled by unpleasant prospects. Dr. Oyo and I had a private session yesterday. She ascribes my worry to my position as commander. My concerns, she explained, were typical of someone carrying my burden of responsibility.
When we finished our chat, she offered me a mild soporific. I refused it. I wasn't selected over three thousand other applicants for this position so that I could resort to artificial aids to retain control of myself.
DAY 045-22:35
Moutiers took me aside yesterday. It seems that while running a routine check of recycling he discovered minute traces of a complex protein chain that shouldn't be in our food. He's personally unfamiliar with the chain and has no record of it in the chemical log supplied to him.
It's this lack of a record that troubles him. He's assured me that the proteins are harmless and may even be a benign additive that someone neglected to list in the log or computer. This omission is what offends him. As I believe I've mentioned before, Jean-Jacques is a perfectionist.
I told him that if he was positive the proteins weren't harmful, he shouldn't let it worry him so much. As long as it did not interfere with his normal assignments I suggested he try and identify the stuff in his spare time. It will give him something else to do, which, God knows, we could all use.
