For Now the Dark Has Passed

"Copernicus, this is Tranquillity Base. Authorization for burn is green. T-minus sixty."

"Minus sixty and counting. Roger that."

I lean back in my command chair and let out a sigh. Not in relaxation, but the closest thing a commander can get to when being at the helm of a kilometre long starship carrying 3000 tonnes of liquid oxygen and hydrogen. It's an accident waiting to happen, and if there's one thing that humanity has learnt from space, it's that it wants to kill us. Vacuum, meteoroids, solar radiation. Not aliens though. They haven't tried to kill us. Not yet at least.

"Fifty. Forty-nine. Forty-eight."

I glance over at my co-pilot – his face is white, his hands are gripping his command chair as if his life depended on it, and his breathing is slow, pronounced, and loud. Breathing that's being controlled in an effort not to hyperventilate.

"Scared?" I ask.

Chang shoots me a dirty glance.

"Forty-five. Forty-four. Forty-three."

"Just asking."

Maybe I shouldn't be so hard on him. Xhao Chang's an accomplished colonel in the People's Liberation Army Air Force. I can't doubt his courage. But nothing on Earth, or simulations, or trial runs within the inner system, can prepare you for a year long trip to Eros and back. We, the flyboys, carrying ten of the best trained engineers from the United States, USSR, and People's Republic of China, all the way out to an asteroid that's about 16 square kilometres in size, destined to serve as a halfway point between the inner and outer reaches of the Sol system. Or, as some say, the guard between Sol and Lucifer.

""Thirty-eight. Thirty-seven. Thirty-six."

I take another breath. And I reflect.

I remember when going into space was a dream of mine – the wishes of a child who'd yet to understand how large the Sol system, let alone the galaxy, is. I remember reading and hearing about a time when going into space was an impossibility – the realm of science fiction. Of men in the moon, and cannons shooting craft into it. I remember a time when there was only one star in the sky. When the world was poised on the precipice of nuclear armageddon.

"Thirty-three. Thirty-two. Thirty-one."

Chang wasn't alive for any of those times. Half of the sleeping beauties in the stasis section weren't alive either. They've never looked up into the night sky and saw only darkness. They've never lived in a world where the possibility of alien life was just that. They've grown up in a world without fear, and for that, I envy them. Yet they have never known the still beauty of night. Of the stars and moon alone, without Lucifer's eerie glow.

"Twenty-eight. Twenty-seven. Twenty-six."

But I remember all of it. And when an intelligence far beyond our own deemed fit to contact us. To give us commandments – as if it were the voice of God himself.

ALL THESE WORLDS ARE YOURS EXCEPT EUROPA. ATTEMPT NO LANDING THERE. USE THEM TOGETHER. USE THEM IN PEACE.

Even now, we can't understand it. No-one can explain what the monoliths are, or what they are for. Not even my father could explain. Words I remember – the last words I heard from him in space, before he returned to Earth. Words that showed his wisdom by admitting that he had no answers. Yet, like the best of us, could guess.

I think it's many things. An embassy for an intelligence beyond ours. A shape of some kind…for something that has no shape.

"Twenty. Nineteen. Eighteen."

And other words I remember as well.

Your children will be born in a world of two suns. They will never know a sky without them. You can tell them that you remember when there was a pitch black sky.. with no bright star, and people feared the night. You can tell them when we were alone...when we couldn't point to the light and say to ourselves, "there is life out there."

"Fifteen. Fourteen. Thirteen."

Chang takes a breath, and I mimic him. Like yawning, our unease is contagious. Haven't I mentioned that space wants to kill us? That less than two decades ago, we watched the largest planet in our star system be transformed into a second sun? That it is this sun we are pointed towards, with the warmer, brighter light of Sol behind us? We are not travelling as far as Jupiter. We couldn't land on Europa even if we wanted to. And yet, we are going far. Far enough so that others may follow. "All of these worlds are ours," are they not? And indeed, my father spoke of the future as well.

Someday the children of the new sun will meet the children of the old. I think they will be our friends. You can tell your children of the day when everyone looked up...and realized that we were only tenants of this world. We have been given a new lease and a warning from the landlord.

"Ten. Nine. Eight."

I smile. My father left me when I was four. I was seven by the time he returned. Going to Eros isn't nearly as far, but someday, I'll get there. Someday, I'll get to make you worry as well. No hard feelings though.

"Seven. Six. Five."

Before me is Eros. Lucifer. Ganymede. And so much more. Before me is a second sun, in an expanse that for all its light, is as dark as ever.

"Four. Three. Two."

But I'm ready. I've never been more ready than anything in my entire life. I was there at what felt like the end. And I was there, as the skies of Earth brightened, when I saw a new beginning."

"One. Ignition."

Copernicus does so. Loudly.

"Good luck and God speed."

"Roger that. Commander Floyd out."

"Keep in touch Christopher."

I lean back in my chair as the ship accelerates. There's no gravity in the command module. So if either of us barf, there'll be no escape.

But I don't care. Because for me, the universe is bright.

And I no longer fear the dark.