Andromeda, The Lost Princess

The United States and Russia have had space stations on the orbit since 1971. The first space stations were the Russian Salyut program, the U.S. Skylab program, and the Russian Mir program. And since 1998, the United States, Russia, the European Space Agency, Canada, Japan, and other countries have been building and operating the International Space Station (ISS) in Earth orbit. With the ISS, humans have been residing and operating in the space for the course of many years.

There are a variety of reasons for establishing and managing space stations, this includes but not limited to research, commerce, exploration, and tourism. The first space stations were developed to be able to scrutinize the effects of long-term weightlessness on a person. After all, if astronauts will ever venture to Mars or other planets, then people must know how prolonged microgravity on the order of months to years will affect their health.

From high above the Earth, space stations offer unique views to study the Earth's climate, landforms, vegetation, and marines. Additionally, because space stations are above the Earth, they can be used as manned beacons where telescopes can look out upon the outer space. It has been widely known how space stations revolutionized research and human exploration—it revealed what it was like beyond the cerulean skies people have known over so many years, and it gave a peek of what was the root of the universe itself might be.

Ephraim was an archeologist and a fan of history. He likes to connect puzzles—historical human evolution, ancient buildings, and remnants of long-extinct creatures. These were his forte. It was the color of brown, beige, orange, and the sand he associated himself with—it was the past; history. The hues of purple, blue, and black were unknown to him. Those of the color of the future—the outer space, something beyond the digs, something not from underneath the earth but above it. It was not his cup of tea, yet it didn't mean he wasn't intrigued. He loved archeology as much as he loved discovering things—and it was not limited to relics of the past.

Russia (then known as the Soviet Union) was the first to place a space station. The Salyut 1 station, which went into orbit in 1971, was actually an aggregate of the Almaz and Soyuz spacecraft systems. The Almaz system was incipiently devised for space military objectives, but repurposed for the civilian Salyut space station. The Soyuz spacecraft ferried cosmonauts from Earth to the space station and back.

After Soyuz 11, the Soviets started a different space station, Salyut 2; however, failed to enter orbit. The Soviets then tailgated with Salyut's 3-5. These flights tested the new Soyuz spacecraft and crews worked these stations for frequently more prolonged missions. One shortcoming of these space stations was that they had only one docking port for the Soyuz spacecraft and could not be re-supplied from Earth by other ships.

In 1986, the Russians launched the Mir space station, which was designed to be a lasting residence in space. The first crew, cosmonauts Leonid Kizim and Vladymir Solovyov, vacillated between the reserved Salyut 7 and Mir. They spent 75 days aboard Mir. In 1994, as to equip oneself for the necessary means for the International Space Station (ISS), NASA astronauts (including Norm Thagard, Shannon Lucid, Jerry Linenger, and Michael Foale) had boarded Mir for quite some time. During Linenger's stay, Mir was damaged by fire.

During Foale's visit, a Progress supply ship smashed into Mir. The Russian space agency could no longer afford to sustain Mir, so NASA and the Russian space agency had planned to junk the station in order to concentrate on the ISS. Mir re-entered the Earth's atmosphere on March 23, 2001, already at its lowest: scorched and almost destroyed. Debris crashed in the South Pacific Ocean about 1,000 miles (1,667 km) east of Australia. This marked the end of the first permanent space station.

This was between and after the time ANDROMEDA deviated from the research. During this period, funding for ANDROMEDA halted as well. Ephraim couldn't quite connect the subsidiary space station of NASA to these seemingly important preceding events—ANDROMEDA was viewed little to no significance at all. People knew it existed, but it was something like a piece of knowledge about ketchup. It was there as a condiment, and people had known of its existence, yet it wasn't really viewed with high regard such as a burger.

In 1984, President Ronald Reagan suggested that the United States, in collaboration with other countries, build a permanently occupied space station. Reagan dreamt of a station that would have both the sovereign and the support from industries. To help with the tremendous expenses of the station, the U.S. forged a united effort with 14 other countries (Canada, Japan, Brazil, and the European Space Agency, which is comprised of United Kingdom, France, Germany, Belgium, Italy, the Netherlands, Denmark, Norway, Spain, Switzerland, and Sweden). . .

"Now this simply doesn't make any sense," says Ephraim to himself. Immediately he shut his notebook out and breathed deeply.

The desk was neat, with no draft and crumpled papers. Underneath the desk was a clean floorboard. There was no box left unboxed. Everything was in order now, much like Ephraim's usual. But there was something Ephraim knows he's missing—it was his organization on thoughts. He had just researched things about the space station, hoping for a clue . . .

But then again; zilch. Null. Nil. None.

There was nothing but information, and information, and information after another which did not help his already exploding brain. He wanted to gauge his eyes out. He was exhausted from reading and thinking. He'd read the text yet there wasn't any comprehension at all. Ephraim tried to outline, summarize his thoughts into a bullet form but he finds himself simply holding his pen, thoughts drifting again.

Ephraim sighed, and then he again browsed the net with his laptop. He came across several sites he already clicked and found one result he hasn't.

"I hope I'm not wasting my time . . ."—he says, clicking the link.

ANDROMEDA, THE LOST PRINCESS

"Ah, fiction . . ." Ephraim mumbles. He had confused a book over the abandoned space station. He must be tired. He scrolled to the text, scanning its contents briefly. Ephraim thought to himself he must be crazy for thinking there must be a clue even here. He had a weird feeling there is. He read a passage quickly.

"Andromeda, what did you do?" The knights ask with a slight tremble in his voice; in his hand was a corpse clad in a bloodied, luxurious robe. "You murdered the king!"

"Let him be, Lancelot," Andromeda says coldly. "Let his blood bathe the throne. His rule now ends."

"King Arthur . . . my king!" Lancelot grieves. "Andromeda, how could you . . . how could you do this to your father?"

"Merlin chose the wrong king," Andromeda says. "Guinevere chose the wrong husband,"

"And you, Lancelot," Andromeda points her sword to the grieving knight. "Was wrong to trust me,"

Ephraim stops and sees that it was the end of the chapter.

"Is this a fanfiction about King Arthur?" Ephraim mutters and then stares at the cover. It was a young girl with a pale, silver hair. A moon was behind her, and she sat upon a stone as water circled over her. There were stars and clouds and it looked as if she was waiting.

Ephraim exited the browser and turned his laptop off. It was already midnight, and he already wasted his time. He had searched for space stations, yet he found himself more engrossed around fictional stories over factual information. He wanted to hit himself from that.

He tried to shut his eyes and sleep, only to last five minutes unable to drift into a deep slumber.

"How annoying . . ." Ephraim cursed underneath his breath, and then sat quickly. "Just a chapter. A random one. Whatever," he says and proceeds to search on his phone. It was a random chapter, several chapters before the one he had read.

When Arthur marries Guinevere, her father gives Arthur the Round Table, at which 150 men can assemble. Guinevere, who is frequently present at the convening of the Round Table, behaves as a moral compass for the knights, rewarding knights who behave well and disciplining those who fancy crudely. Malory clearly associates the stories of Sir Gawain, Sir Tor, and Sir Pellanor as a means of introducing the concept of chivalry.

Guinevere and Arthur had a daughter and named her as the universe. Her name was Andromeda. Lancelot, Arthur's knight, had personally become Andromeda's personal knight, his loyalty solely to Arthur's daughter.

"Lancelot, Lancelot!"

"Yes, princess?"

"I love you! I wuv you!"

Lancelot chuckles. "Yes, Princess Andromeda, I love you too."

"So, Lancelot," Andromeda starts. "When will Papa and Mama come to visit me in this tower?"

Lancelot stared at Andromeda's big, purple eyes. He smiled and ruffled her hair. "Anytime soon, I believe. The king and queen are busybodies. You are their universe, so they're making the world a better place for you so you three can live in peace."

"Is that why Mama and Papa refuse to come to this tower because they want to clean the world first?" Andromeda asks.

"Yes, princess."

Silence.

"Lancelot?"

"Yes?"

"Do they really exist?"

"What do you mean, Princess?"

"Do Mama and Papa really exist?" Andromeda asks, sadness laced over her eyes.

"Of course they exist, Princess . . . why would I even lie to you?"

Andromeda embraced her stuffed bunny closer to her chest. "But I've never seen them before. I only see them on pictures, but they never visited me . . . did they visit me when I was a baby, Lancelot?"

"O-of course they did, Andromeda," Lancelot exclaims. "I was there too."

Andromeda puffed her cheek. "Really?"

"Yes, really."

Ephraim skipped several chapters once more.

"Ha!"

A sword was pointed to Lancelot, who was now thrown off the ground. Before him was a panting young lady, a grin slowly creeping to her delicate face.

"You lost, Lancelot." Andromeda extends her arm to Lancelot, and then both of them smiled at each other.

"Yes, princess. I did,"

"For the hundredth time, I defeated you. But you're holding back," Andromeda says. "Why is that?"

"Because you're . . ."

"A girl?"

"The princess." Lancelot corrects. "You cannot be doing this. You should be studying, learning music, drawing . . ."

"But I love swords."

"Yes, but . . ."

"And you permitted me to have one,"

"That was because I—"

"You even gave me tips."

"I—"

"Lancelot, it's your fault, you've been spoiling me."

Andromeda laughed heartily. It was the time she was happy, even if no one but Lancelot came to visit her in the lone tower.

. . . several pages ahead . . .

"I'm meeting father?" Andromeda asks excitedly. "I'm meeting my family now, Lancelot?"

Lancelot nods. "Yes, you're eighteen now. And your debut will just be a matter of time. You won't be staying in this tower anymore."

A few pages more . . .

"I'm sorry, Princess."

"Why—" Andromeda covers her face with her bare hands. "Why must my family hate me? Why can't I meet them, Lancelot? Why do they want to keep me in this tower?"

"Princess . . ."

"Ever since I was born, I was stuck in this tower for God knows how long. I was raised here by nursemaids without the sign of my father and mother. Only their picture had been the one I've ever seen their faces. . ." Andromeda sobs. "I only wanted to be with them . . ."

A few pages more . . .

"You—why are you not on your tower?! Lancelot . . .!"

"Father—I—"

"Get out," the king says. "Get her out of here now. Imprison her to that tower! Why are you not doing your job, Lancelot!"

"Im-imprison?" Andromeda repeats. "F-father, it's me, Andromeda—I—I just want to meet you . . ."

"LANCELOT!"

"Understood," Lancelot says, and seizes Andromeda by her waist, and then walked away from the king.

NO INTERNET CONNECTION

"Seriously?" Ephraim mutters. He was engrossed with the story—and he regretted just scanning it. He wants to come back to the first chapter now. He laid his phone to the nightstand and then decides to read the book tomorrow on his flight to Peru.

It would be a very long day tomorrow, after all.