“Probe power supply coming up to necessary power levels,” the technician in the control center reported.
The probe’s computer verified operation of the power supply within nominal parameters, then began the hyperspace transition sequence.
“Hyperspace transition sequence initiating.”
A distortion began forming around the hyperspace probe, as if the probe were in an ovoid of glass.
“Hyperspace bubble forming.”
The probe’s computer sent the signal to the hyperspace field generator, and power consumption spiked. There was a flash, and the probe was gone.
“We lost telemetry on the mark. The probe’s transitioned.”
As before, the probe was programmed to spend five minutes in hyperspace and transition back. They still didn’t know if hyperspace ran on the same clock or not. Was it delayed? Running at some factor from space-time normal? Relativity time-dilation implied it could be.
Five minutes later, the technician reported.
“Telemetry has resumed. The probe has successfully transitioned back.”
There were cheers, even tears, in the control room.
ChaoLi stood up and shook the hands of Borovsky, Huenemann, and JieMin.
“Congratulations, gentlemen. You have just changed human history.”
The beach was crowded on the Founding Day holiday, but they went anyway. The buses to the beach ran non-stop. ChaoLi and JieMin just sat on the beach and watched JieJun play in the sand and let the older kids run off to the water.
“That was pretty remarkable yesterday,” ChaoLi said. “You were right all along.”
“Within broad parameters, perhaps. But we also got a lot of new data.”
“Like what?”
“Like the timebase of hyperspace and space-time are the same,” JieMin said. “At least for condensed matter in the hyperspace field.”
“What are the implications of that?”
“It will tighten up some parts of the theory. Where the existing theory allowed that timebase to be different, we now know it isn’t, so that will change some things. Make the theory more accurate.”
“Anything else?” ChaoLi asked.
“We need to look at all the data in the telemetry, of course. Inspection and testing of the device when we get it back will be important, too.”
“They flipped it over and fired the engines to an intercept course for where Arcadia will be by the time it can get here. Should be a couple weeks, even playing with orbital speeds and such. We need it in the right velocity range or the shuttle won’t be able to pick it up.”
JieMin nodded.
“You know, we both just broke the rule about talking shop on weekends.”
“We’ll have to spank each other later,” ChaoLi said.
“Deal.”
Chen Zufu and Chen Zumu were sitting in his tearoom before having dinner and going up to watch the fireworks later.
“They actually did it,” Chen Zufu said.
“Yes. It’s marvelous.”
“Now what happens?”
“Years of engineering,” Chen Zumu said. “Running probes in and back. Trying to accelerate in hyperspace and learning how to do that. Figuring out how close to the planet the transitions can be. Working out how big the components really need to be. Scaling the whole thing up to the size of a ship that can be used for passengers and freight. Lots of work.”
“Can we afford it? Or should the government do it?”
“We can afford doing it as a private enterprise. The expenditure will also be spread out over years. What’s funny is that the government is so inefficient, they probably can’t afford to do it. There just isn’t enough money in government coffers to carry that kind of waste burden on a project this big.”
“Will we live to see it?” Chen Zufu asked. “Interstellar travel and shipping?”
Chen Zumu considered.
“I don’t think so,” she said.
She watched a bee, laboring endlessly in the garden.
“Perhaps.”
Epilogue
They had rented the big banquet room at the family restaurant in the Uptown Market. It was something of a double celebration. JieMin and ChaoLi were celebrating their twentieth wedding anniversary.
But the big event was the wedding of ChaoPing and JuMing.
ChaoPing had been promoted two years ago from tea girl in Chen Zumu’s entourage to the reception desk, where JuMing already worked. They had gotten along well together, and enjoyed each other’s company. When JuMing received his next promotion – up to two years of full-time study to finish his education – the two had decided to marry rather than be separated.
At seventeen and eighteen years old, ChaoPing and JuMing were in the most common age range for marriage on Arcadia. For all that, the divorce rate on Arcadia was low. Children grew up fast on the colony, with most beginning some kind of employment by age fourteen.
Self-paced study via the heads-up displays on the communicators had a lot to do with that. ChaoPing and JuMing were already deeply into their college work. In two years of study, JuMing would likely receive his masters degree in engineering. ChaoPing wasn’t far behind, majoring in business, like her mother.
All of the families’ friends and close relatives were there, numbering over three hundred people. JieMin’s parents, his siblings, and their spouses had come in on a special chartered bus from Chagu. Project people were there, too, including Karl Huenemann and Mikhail Borovsky.
Even Chen MinChao and Jessica Chen-Jasic attended, in a place of honor at the main table. A bigger surprise to many people was the attendance of the prime minister, Rob Milbank, and his wife, Julia Whitcomb.
The hyperspace project was going well. The government had stepped in to assist with the financing in a sweetheart deal cooked up by Milbank and Jessica.
The government would make interest-free advance payments against future deliveries of the first hyperspace-capable spaceships. The Chen family though, under business manager ChaoLi, would continue to independently manage and carry out the effort under the technical leadership of JieMin, with Karl Huenemann as the engineering manager.
As steward of the government funds being invested, the prime minister stopped by monthly for an update on the
