Chapter Five

CHAPTER FIVE
A Supernova Death

1532 HOURS GMT
NOVEMBER 16^th 2232
APPROX 928.8 MILLION KM FROM EARTH

DAY TWELVE

The door slid open, a pair of feet suddenly rushing into the room.

“Sir! You have to see this, quickly!” Jim Ramirez exclaimed somewhat excitedly, “Normandy says it’s a once in a lifetime sight.”

Commander Logan Grey was already seated on his wheelchair, immediately surprised by Ramirez’s arrival. He offered the pilot a perplexed expression, until he finally shrugged and followed Ramirez to the bridge, where the complete assembly of the entire crew was congregated, visibly astonished by something.

Logan received clarification a second later. Upon every screen around the bridge, a live feed of a distant star—or what used to be one—displayed its impending demise. The commander moved over beside Normandy, but saw that the man was too excited to be bothered. Instead, he rotated to face Josef Arnette, nicknamed ‘Pirate’ for his rather confusing love for ancient pirates.

“What’s going on, Pirate?” asked Logan.

The specialist astronomer raised two eyebrows: “About ten minutes ago, I was studying Aldebaran, one of the closest red giant stars to our planet, and I begun to detect all signs of an impending supernova. It’s interesting. Aldebaran is a little over 65 light years away—it’s just so surreal to just know all this is happening 65 years ago.”

“Are we recording this?”

“We have all sensors and cameras active and focused. If the Hubbles don’t get it, we’ll have the best data on it. Supernovas only every happen every 50 years—and that’s around the entire galaxy, and nowhere as near as Aldebaran,” Pirate called for one of the other scientists, Bunt, and requested for a folder on the star. She returned five minutes later, handing a file to Pirate who gave it to Logan. “This is everything on the star. The star is due to explode in about ten minutes, to my rough estimate.”

“How likely do the signs indicate that it will actually occur?”

“70% chance. I mean, this star was expected to explode at around 2300, so it’s virtually overdue. But of course, this sort of anticipation has happened before, only to end up as an anti-climax where nothing happens at all,” Pirate sighed, “still, fingers crossed,” he continued with a hopeful smile.

The crowd watched intently as seconds faded into minutes, minutes into an hour, every hopeful expression slowly disappearing as time passed. Pirate, in particular, had his shoulders slightly slouching now, his excitement dissipating. However, with no surprise to Logan, Normandy still remained in the front row, tiptoed with his eyes brimming with undying anticipation.

Logan found it hard to resist laughter.

“Alright, is this gonna’ happen, or what?” Ramirez asked tirelessly.

“Don’t get your hopes up too much, Jim,” Bunt, another astronomer, advised, “despite of every fact we know, space still remains an ever-changing mystery that is very unpredictable.”

“Then why do we bother with it?”

“Because it is simply amazing.”

“—shhh! It’s happening!” announced Pirate in growing exhilaration, “Oh my god, it’s actually happening.”

The spectacle was simply breathtaking. Initially seemingly calm and content, the red giant grew rapidly, then, abruptly detonated, sending a wave of red inferno flaring across space. Following instantly was blinding white light, which hung brighter than anything else, slowly fading away to unveil the beautiful visage of a soft, misty skeletal nebula, colossal in size and infinite in description. The nebula grew, expanding like a balloon, where it would continue to do so for weeks, months or even years.

And like the star’s explosion, purely soundless, so was the crew. They stood frozen, the sight of the supernova still only beginning to subside.

“…my God,” Pirate muttered, tears of joy beginning to escape his eyelids, “I never thought I’d live the day to see it happen.”

Normandy snapped back to reality a second later. “Excellent! Research Division, back to the labs for analysis. Go, go, go!”

“That was…amazing,” Doctor Erin Baker commented beside Ramirez, who had watched the event like an extravagant, lavish fireworks display, “Don’t you think?”

Ramirez looked at her and nodded blankly, “I want a copy of that video.”

“Everyone will,” promised Commander Logan, “I only wish Emma was here to witness it…”

Flight Assistant Sarah Watcher glanced to Logan, offering a sympathetic smile to the man, “I am sure she saw it, Commander.”

“You know…” Ramirez interjected, “there could easily have been life near that.”

“What?”

Luke Hunter appeared, evidently untouched by the spectacular event. “He’s right. There could have been an Earth there, and we’re here applauding. It makes you think, doesn’t it? Destruction is a wonderful sight to one afar and never the one near it. If our own sun blew, somewhere out there, someone is smiling.”

Everyone remained silent, speculating the topic, rather embarrassed.

Commander Grey scowled at his Executive Officer. The assumption may be true—there was a possibility—but the occurrence would have brought an influx of much needed morale if Hunter hadn’t spoiled the moment.

Luke Hunter took a second to understand, before he quickly switched into an apologetic expression.

“Everyone. Regardless of the possibilities, what we saw before us was nevertheless extraordinary and very rare. The chances of seeing it ‘live’ is hairline thin. You are all incredibly fortunate, and we should remember that,” Commander Grey said, in an attempt to reverse what Hunter had said, “We will all have copies of the video, I’ll see to it. How’s about we watch it once again at…1900 hours?”

A blend of “sure”, “alright” and “great” rolled through the crowd, visibly pleased at the news. It appeared Logan had fixed the momentary problem; losing hope and morale-increasing opportunities was too critical in a situation such as theirs.

The Commander also nodded to Ramirez, who jogged over eagerly to his superior, “Yeah, boss?”

“Set up a poker tournament to keep the crew busy,” Logan instructed, deciding that they needed a game of some sort to keep the men and women entertained, “Keep it to virtual money for now. Get back to me once you have it organized.”

“A poker game?” Sarah Watcher said aloud, overhearing the conversation, a hint of excitement in her tone.

Commander Logan Grey smiled; finally, the ship was already beginning to pick up morale.

“—Oh my god!” someone suddenly screamed from behind, “Commander, it’s Dr. Gordon, hurry!”

Everyone hurried, following the witness back to the scene, a dismayed series of gasps bursting from the group.

Beside a metallic table, its protruding corner bloody red, lay a lifeless Scientist Franklin Gordon. The top of his forehead was crunched, blood flowing to form a pool beneath his head. Due to the nearby puddle of water—which must’ve been spilled—Commander Logan assumed he had simply slipped; an accident, but nevertheless, a very much horrible one.

“Dr. Baker. Where is she?” Logan asked a split-second before Erin stormed into the room, sprinting to the body to check for—if any—signs of life.

She gazed upward; discontent radiating from her expression.

“Damn!”

****************************************

CAPTAIN’S LOG
SAME DAY
TWO HOURS LATER

Excuse me if this recording is not clear, as my voice is rather weak at the moment. Today, we have yet again lost another valued member of the ESV Nightingale’s crew. Research Scientist Dr. Franklin Gordon was involved in an accident that led to his death. As we have no apparent witnesses of the accident, we can only infer that, with all our gathered evidence, Dr. Gordon slipped on a puddle of water, consequently landing brutally on the corner of a table, which ultimate lead to his death.

However I harbor much suspicion. Firstly, if water was spilled, the crew member would ideally take initiative to clear it up for the safety of others. Even so, our regulation boots have embedded specialty grips to prevent slipping.

Nevertheless, Dr. Gordon’s body was in an awkward position, where his feet were pointed at the table, inches away from it. And as it was a forehead injury, this meant he would have tripped forward, crashed onto the table, and bounced back completely—something purely unfeasible. Furthermore, the puddle of water, if it had not shifted following his slip, is directly adjacent to the table, leaving no room for him to fall forward fast enough to cause so much blunt-force trauma.

But, the most disturbing of evidence is a recorded transcript we have drawn from the database, showing signs of—although obscure and ambiguous—struggle.

I have made the note to continue investigations. The screening of the supernova will proceed as planned at 1900 hours, and tomorrow, if Ramirez has finished organizing it, the poker tournament will be held to distract the crew from recent incidents.

On an unrelated note, Bill Skelton has been signed for therapy treatment. As a good friend of Dr. Gordon, he knew, as I did along with the rest of the crew, that his newborn baby was due in this week.

It is a disturbing thought to somehow feel that something as innocent as an accident could just very well be a sinister act.

****************************************

RECORDED TRANSCRIPT
QUARTERS
1605 HOURS

Franklin Gordon: “I swear I left my lucky coin here somewhere… Huh? Who’s there?”

Unknown: “[heavy breathing]”

Franklin Gordon: “Hey, sorry, I was just loo—hey! What’re you doi—Agh! [sounds of struggle, punching] Help!—“

Unknown: “[forceful panting]”

Franklin Gordon: “….”

Unknown: “…..I am sorry. This must be done.”

Franklin Gordon: “….”

VOICE IDENTIFICATION PROGRAM ANALYZING UNKNOWN VOICE SIGNATURE…
RESULT: FAILURE