Fiction: Orbital Dynamics

Is this a continuation of The Last Will and Testament of Ebeneezer Scrooge? Don’t know yet. Maybe.

A star shines in every direction. No matter how much of its light a planet can absorb, a single planet could never absorb the whole output of its star. This isn’t a fault in the planet or in the star; it’s just a matter of geometry. One planet can’t catch all the sunlight, and one star can’t light up both sides of a planet at the same time. But that doesn’t mean you can just put your planets wherever you like. It’s a balancing act of masses and velocities and distances, and not every orbit is stable for every planet.

Keith’s orbit was very eccentric. Not an easy orbit to accommodate. Other orbital bodies had to shift to avoid collision. He’d been explaining something to her for about ten minutes, and Em only understood about two-thirds of it, but his passion kept her invested. She forced herself to look at the clock. She often lost track of time with him, and there were other orbits to consider. A gentle external force to keep everything in line. “If you’re not sure about the analysis, I know someone you could show your results to.”

A hint of a catch in his breath. “You mean Joshua, don’t you?” The disapproval in his tone was controlled; if she hadn’t know to expect it, she wouldn’t have noticed.

“Someday, you’re going to tell me why you don’t like him,” she said.

His smile came back a little and he raised his hand. “Purely a matter of personal taste,” he said. “I don’t have to like all the same people you do.”

“You don’t,” she agreed. “But it makes things easier.”

“There’s a certain baseline level of difficulty we can’t really avoid,” he said.

“Which is why I’d prefer not to invite more.”

“Fair enough,” he said. “I feel the way I feel. If I had any issues that were objective, I’d object.” The juxtaposition of “objective” and “object” forced a hint of a smirk to the corner of his mouth.

Em sighed and leaned into him. An objection would play merry hell with her orbital dynamics. She didn’t want to think about it, so she took out her phone and pulled up the weather report instead. She felt him shoulder-surfing. “Going somewhere?” he asked.

“A bunch of us are doing STEM night at the elementary school. I’m trying to decide if it’s worth bringing the Apo. It’ll impress the kiddies, but it’s not really worth the effort if it’s going to be cloudy.”

“You should take the one you made in middle school,” he said.

She wrinkled her nose. “What? The Newtonian I made out of a shaving mirror and a dentist’s mirror and a mailing tube?”

He nodded. “Think how cool that would be for a little kid: here’s an actual astronomical instrument you can make with stuff you found around the house.”

“I don’t know about ‘actual astronomical instrument’.”

“Still.”

“I’ll think about it. Got to call mom and see if she knows where it is.” She checked the time. “I need to go soon. The cat will mutiny if he doesn’t get fed by eight.”

He harrumphed mildly. “Gax can’t feed him?”

“He’s on the road until Friday.” Em stood lazily, not at all eager, and found her sweater.

As she pulled it down over her head, Keith said, “I’ll email you the draft paper and the raw data.” He huffed slightly. “You can forward it to Joshua if you want.”

“If I want?” It took her a moment to find her shoes.

He rolled his eyes. “Are we doing this? Fine. I would appreciate his input.”

And that is why, one week later, he received an email from an address he only vaguely recognized, flagged “Important”, and written in all-caps. “IF YOU CAN REPRODUCE THIS WE NEED TO TALK IMMEDIATELY.”