By R.E.Diaz

November 3, 2040. Saturn and Jupiter are coming into perfect alignment with Earth. There it is! Just across the limb of the Sun. Mercury is swinging through the path, but that is just a perturbation. 

I move to the rim of Saturn’s outer ring, while the flytrap remains fifty-three thousand eight hundred kilometres above the surface of Saturn, deep in the giant planets’ shadows. Of course he sees me. (Telescopic vision and all...)

“You are not green,” I taunt, not bothering to turn on the radio transmitter. He can't hear radio waves. But he trained himself to read the microscopic vibrations of EVA helmets that time he rescued the astronauts from the international space station.

“Wasn't born on Mars.” He replies by modulating his wake in the solar wind; loud and clear through my receiver.

His change in trajectory is subtle; but I can tell he's trying to get a better look at my flytrap. 

“What I mean is, haven't you ever wondered how our yellow sun powers you?” There, I’ve compensated. My EVA thrusters have brought my lead-lined space suit back into his line of sight. “Your body doesn't make chlorophyll, you know.”

“I don't need to understand my gifts to use them for the good of humanity.” 

“So noble.” He's past the orbit of Mars, closing in; but hesitating: Take me out or go for the flytrap? That is the question. I know he is wondering if I have a dead man's switch inside this suit. But technically, I haven't done anything yet. His own boy-scout code hamstrings him. 

“That earthquake engine of yours could have levelled New York city!”

Oh… he’s miffed. I knew he would find it. I left enough clues when I issued the challenge; gave him enough time to find the transmitter, locate the satellite, and see where the dish was pointing. 

A little more prodding should help now: “Son of Tomorrow... You've interfered with our tomorrows for the last time. Four million years of evolution got us this far without your help. Natural disasters are a necessary part of our journey. Who are you to object to Darwin's sieve? We'll manage just fine. The strong will survive. Science is the only saviour we need.” 

“So, you call yourself the Darwinian.” The solar wind ripples sharpen. “What does Science teach you about truth, justice, and the dignity all humanity deserves? Tell me, where are the rest of the engines?”

“You’ll see soon enough. The gravitational pulse from my apergy cannon, focused by Saturn’s and Jupiter’s masses, will trigger them, all at once.” That would be a one shot in a million; but he knows if anyone can do it, I can.

Those course corrections: He's going to go for the cannon. I fire all EVA thrusters: My suit’s internal pressure cushions take the brunt of the 8g burst. And I am again, perfectly in the way. He'd have to break the light barrier to get around me to reach it before I do. But that'd open a huge other can of ethical worms, time paradoxes and all that. And going through me is out of the question; it would kill me, you know… There is only one way: Slingshot around the other side of Jupiter and punch through Saturn’s atmosphere.

Predictable as always. 

It was beautiful. I had to record that piece of instinctive astrodynamics for posterity. He didn’t bother to slow down. One billion dollars of one-of-a-kind techware has been instantly turned into an expanding spherical shell of pulverized debris. Note to myself: Come back and scoop up as much of it as possible: Sold as souvenirs, I bet I can recoup most of my investment.  

I am finally at the centre of that ephemeral sphere, deep in the shadow of Saturn; and he is coming back for me. He doesn’t know I am at the centre of the flytrap. “By the way, that yellow-sun question had a point… I figured it out. The answer is electron neutrinos.”

I see his eyebrows flicker as he approaches. “You see, as a red giant star dies, it puts out a hundred times more energy in electron neutrinos than light. They are poison to your kind. They are the reason the people in your planet never knew they were born with superpowers. It's Nature's way of levelling the field.” 

He pauses at the edge of the penumbra, wondering. But he'll come in anyway. That's the way he is. “You don't expect a shadow to slow m —” He shudders.

“Our sun also produces electron neutrinos,” I go on, “but the MSW effect rotates most of them into harmless mu neutrinos as they travel through the sun.” He's actually gasping for breath! “It turns out, going through planetary matter rotates them again. Jupiter and Saturn are just about right to take them back full circle to their original deadly flavour.” He’s coughing! 

It is too late. He didn’t feel it during that meteoric manoeuvre because he was going so fast. But now, he can hardly move. He’s actually coughing blood.

Coughing... a molar? 

No; a toy? 

A tiny astronaut? 

No — now it’s full grown — and it swings in front of him to shield him with his body. The Son of Tomorrow wipes the blood off his mouth. “You’ve heard of the Nucleon?” he asks, nodding at his saviour.

Oh, no! From the Rightness Alliance… 

“His Nuclear suit is made of white dwarf star matter. He calculated it ought to be just about right…”

“... to rotate them back.” I barely catch the end of that sentence. It’s been doppler-shifted into the infrasonics.

Oh well, I always wanted to see the Oort cloud.

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