Ephemeris

25 : Ephemeris

The space garbage vehicle had escaped Middle Earth orbit, passing many GPS and weather satellites with an orbiting scrap heap of cast-off space debris.

Gale did not avert his gaze at the unfathomable miles of emptiness and the unbelievably busy orbital paths of each spacecraft. He sat bolt upright, set his shoulders back, checked the seat belt, and then focused his eyes on some point in the distance. His stare seemed to crave love as infinite and profound as the universe and as minute and indivisible as an atom.

He dredged up memories of his beloved family, hoping they were still alive. He prayed for his son to preserve the warmth of his fatherly love inside his heart. He was hopeful that his silent voice resonated, ripping barriers of distance and time. Haggard and careworn was his son's face the last time he had a video call with him. When was the last time I hugged him and patted his back? I can't remember the feeling of his embrace. I wish I had done it pretty often, he thought.

He prayed for his wife to take good care of herself, to heal the wound she had kept for over a year, which was a corrosive nettle, inhibiting and twisting her judgments. It was never too late for her to start all over again and spark something new in her life, for her family, and to begin loving her son. Hoarse and agonizing were her screams that he had heard in the background when his son talked to him over the phone.

Now, his mind conjured their wedding day, a blissful day. He almost could hear the bells' melodious tolling, the tear-jerking orchestra of the bridal procession, the lyrics of their favorite song, their exchange of vows, the wooden tomfoolery slicing the three-layered wedding cake, the fluttering wings of snowy doves, and the awkward reception dance. He promised to make every day grand and to put a smile on her face, but all he could recall was the blues and disasters he had brought.

I am not good at telling jokes, and there is no ridiculous element in me. I look at your face with the stars in the night. I can't make you smile, not even a little bit. I can't remember the sweet sound of your laugh. I wish I had practiced to improve my humor and memorized some silly punch line for you, he thought.

Time struck down his plea, for he was needed for a mission, to buy more hours for the very welfare of humanity. Every tick of the clock was equivalent to every inch of Gale's covered distance drifting away from his home and was also equivalent to every degree of retrograding Earth's stability. Right now, he was inside his little world, living in a soap bubble that he couldn't figure out.

They had entered the geosynchronous orbit, the farthest orbit away from the Earth. Like the middle Earth orbit, it was busy, but thousands of operational and non-operational communication satellites careened through identical altitudes. It was like a minefield of discarded trash parked in a higher graveyard orbit. Nonetheless, they had gotten away from the outermost atmosphere successfully.

Gale shook his head, then whitecaps of instinct started rolling through him. "Vi, give me the position of the destroyed moon. I remember—February of last year—the moon was in the constellation of Gemini," he requested, using his deep voice.

"Now, you're talking," Vishesh smirked, "Yes, the moon stayed at that position," he did some fingering on the control panel. "Computing for the moon's ephemeris, February 24, 2029. Our vehicle right now passes over Charleston, West Virginia. Entering location."

"It never revolved since then," Gale heaved a sigh.

Vishesh cleared his throat, "It says here that the right ascension was 06h 12m 46s, and declination was +24° 13' 54"."

"Okay, coordinates were set," Gale fed the coordinates into the navigation equipment. "What is the mean distance of its location from us?"

"About 233,000 miles."