Beacon Light

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Dear Susannah 

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In cosmic terms a ship like Galileo is almost too small to exist, less than a molecule of dust in the vast expanse of a terrestrial sky.

 

We plunge into the dark, deeper into the abyss, the moons of Saturn like distant beacons, lighting a journey’s end that is still impossibly distant. Space redefines all notions of scale. Even equatorial distances, the largest measure of terrestrial spans - distances that measure the girths of entire worlds - are nothing Out Here. This is a vastness so great it has to be measured in the width of suns, in the Astronomical Unit or AU. The gradations on God’s slide rule, as Tanya calls them. Anyone but an astronomer would struggle to comprehend the distances involved.

 

Our path through space is arrow straight, as though Galileo has been loosed from some cosmic bow. Now that we are done with gravity assist (the slingshot manoeuvre that allows us to borrow angular momentum from stores of orbital energy) we are proceeding on the principle that the shortest distance between two worlds is a straight line. Hyperion of course is the target we are aiming at. But that cosmic bulls eye is too far away in both time and space to contemplate just yet. For many months to come there will be more immediate concerns, nearly all of which will revolve around the operation and maintenance of Galileo. She is our African Queen, the old tug boat that must see us to our destination, for without her there is no journey, no means of completing this mission. We are on a bold but mad endeavour, an attempt to reach further into the solar system than ever before. Even if we fall short it will be a mighty achievement.

 

A circle has been drawn quite literally in the dust of Hyperion’s surface. But what does that circle mean? Is it an invitation, or a warning to stay away? Are we meant to explore first hand, or study from afar? I see Fate's signature on that distant moon. I’m certain of it. But the others are not so sure.

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