I have to dig through a few layers of UI on the Beetles panel to find the launch command, but I find it. As far as I can tell, it’s just a button labeled “Launch.” I guess they orient themselves based on stars and head toward Earth on their own. The Hail Mary did the same thing to get here, so they know how to do it. No reason to introduce human error in the course selection.

While I’m here, I poke around the Scientific Instrumentation screen. The first few subwindows are the helioscope, the Petrovascope, and a telescope that can see in the visible spectrum, IR spectrum, and a bunch of other bands.

I play with the visible-light telescope. It’s kind of fun. I can look at the stars. I mean, there’s nothing else out there. Even Tau Ceti’s planets would just be little dots from where I am. But it’s still nice to see the outside from my confined little world.

I also found a dedicated EVA screen. It has more or less what I would have expected. There are a bunch of controls for the EVA suit itself, so an operator in the control room can manage any issue with the suit during an EVA. That way, the person in the suit doesn’t have to deal with it. Plus, it looks like the ship has a complicated tethering system on the hull. Basically a bunch of tracks that the tether hook can run along. They really figured an EVA would be important. Probably to collect local Astrophage.

If there is any.

If Tau Ceti has a Petrova line, then there’s Astrophage to be collected. Getting ahold of some would be step one. Getting that down to the lab, and seeing if it differs from the Astrophage on Earth. Maybe it’s a less virulent strain?

The next two days are, basically, me worrying about what happens next. Oh, I know what happens next—I’m just worrying about it anyway.

I fidget in the control room and watch the seconds tick away.

“You’re going to be in zero g,” I say. “You are not going to be falling. You will not be in danger. The acceleration of the ship will stop. But that’s okay.”

I don’t like roller coasters or water slides. That dropping sensation scares the pants off me. And in a few seconds I’m going to feel that exact sensation because the “gravity” I’ve been experiencing will stop altogether.

The seconds tick off. “Four… three… two…”

“Here we go,” I said.

“One… zero.”

Right on schedule, the engines shut off. The 1.5g’s I’ve been feeling all this time vanishes. Gravity is gone.

I panic. No amount of mental preparation would have worked. I straight-up panic.