It's the last day of my off-week, and I couldn't decide on what to do, so of course, it's another installment of the Space Guys, and this time, something actually happens. As usual, the table of contents is at the end.
The approach to Uranus was the closest of the voyage since the Janus had left Mars. It was only when the gaseous giant’s buzzsaw rings filled the viewports from top to bottom that the orb began to drift to the starboard side. “We will be making a small maneuver as we pass the giant,” the captain announced. “It will be necessary to fire the primary engines several times over a total of four hours. You will have 12 to secure your possessions and evacuate the life support ring.”
It was also announced that the ship would receive a special broadcast from Earth, described as “live”. Yuri had explained what that really meant. “What the Martians and spacers will be used to are transmissions that are recorded, compressed and played back,” he said. “We do this to reduce the risk of interruption by static and outages. For this mission, our speed is also a concern. Going perfectly straight, the distance we travel in one hour is enough to add almost 1.5 seconds to the time it takes for a transmission to reach us. That is more than enough to put an uncompressed signal out of sync. But while we are rounding the planet, we will be almost stationary relative to Earth. It’s just the right window for a live transmission… live, that is, except for the time it takes to reach us.”
Alek insisted on holding a dinner in her own quarters while they listened to the broadcast. She also invited Jax, Jackie and Sandra. Sandra came with Vasily, while Jax brought Dr. Cahill. The table was set with flares as candles. Tik Tok and Chopper brought plates of rehydrated vegetables, while Scarecrow and the Patchwork Girl prepared soy steaks in the kitchenette. Vasily sat in almost complete silence, while Dr. Cahill chatted happily “I’ve been making regular reports on the crew’s health, mental and physical,” she said. “I’m really not supposed to say so, but we’ve performed far beyond expectations. There were very serious concerns that a crew this size would be unable to function over such a long voyage…”
That
finally brought a sullen remark from Vasily. “If this is good,” he said, “what
in holle were they thinking would be bad?”
“There
were concerns about whether the crew would be able to adhere to the diet and
exercise regime,” Dr. Cahill said matter-of-factly. “Some believed there would
be… political problems. There were even proposed plans to restore control if a
disorder broke out. I advised that it was better for the morale of the crew not
to develop them further.”
“Why did they think there would be a problem?” Alek said. “We all get along so well…”
The
dinner went on. The transmission began, shown on the video screens around
Alek’s cabin and lab. It was a concert in Bonn, held in Deutschland’s majestic
national concert hall. It proved to be a performance of Holst’s Planets,
beginning with Mars. Alek and Dr. Cahill were puzzled when a tenor vocalist
began to sing during the first interlude. Jax and Jason squirmed in discomfort.
Anastasia and Vasily were merely bemused. It was a hymn of the sending forth of
armies, to be followed by the release of the holy doves that would be the sign
of peace. The chorus implored the elder god for strength, victory, and failing
all else, that at least a few of their valiant warriors would live to return.
“Okay, so, a composer on Mars tried putting words to some of the music, like they were hymns to the Old Gods,” Jason said. “We tried not to make it a big deal…”
The music continued, doubling back to Mercury and Venus, who each received a few lines of praise. Then came Jupiter, whose entire middle movement became a hymn to the lord of Olympus: “Jove, king of highest heaven, to you we give the utmost praise. You send the rain on just and unjust, set the course of Sun and Moon. You are the protector of the stranger, the avenger of all wrongs. Light our way with justice and truth…”
By
then, the Martians were all in tears. Alek looked around and laughed. “Sorry,
sorry,” she said. “It is just, Jupiter is Zeus, no? I know the stories about
him. Sometimes, he is funny, but he is not no never a good god.”
“We
know,” Jason said, wiping away his own tears. “Those are, well, the stories.
That doesn’t mean he doesn’t stand for what’s good.”
It
was Jax who chimed in. “Jupiter is simple,” he said. “He’s more powerful than
mortals, but never acts like he’s better than us. When he does good, he helps
everyone. When he does punish anyone, it’s for breaking their word or just acting
like they’re higher than the rest. That's something.”
“But
there is no Zeus,” Alek said. “Olympus is a mountain. Jupiter is just a ball of
gas. The Greeks already knew that. So why tell the stories?”
Jason only frowned at that. “She is teasing you,” Anastasia finally said. “I like the stories. They’re good stories. That’s enough.”
They remained in a good mood as the concert continued, though the music for Saturn and Uranus was as gloomy as the grim gods. Alek became ever more elated, until Jason began to wonder if she had found a way to synthesize alcohol. Then, just as unaccountably, she burst into tears. She rose to her feet, not wobbly but stiff. When Jason moved to follow her, she waved him back. “Wait, wait,” she said. “I am not… no… feeling so… not good.” That was when Jason caught her as she pitched forward. One more word came from her lips: “Argon.”
That
brought Vasily to his feet. He looked up and around. In every direction,
propellant tanks lined the nacelle. “Is there anything flammable in these?” he drawled.
Donald snorted. “You know chemistry,” he said. “Argon is so non-reactive, we use it in the fire extinguishers.”
“Good,”
the Russian said. He picked up a flare and touched it to a page from one of
Alek’s notebooks. With significant coaxing, the paper began to smolder. He
slowly lowered the sheet. 60 centimeters
from the floor, the flame fizzled and went out.
“Alek
figured it out when she was about to pass out,” Jax mused. “Figures. She’s the
smallest of us. Lana, will she be all right?”
“Certainly,
if we get her oxygen or get her out of here,” Dr. Cahill said. “But there’s
enough propellant gas to flood the life support ring. We have to find the
leak.”
“It’s not that simple,” Donald said. All eyes turned toward him. “The tanks are self-sealing. It would take small arms fire to breach one. A leak this bad would have to come from one of the lines to the engines. If the fuel isn’t getting through, the simplest explanation is that a thruster is out of the line. If the problem is bad enough, firing one thruster might short the whole nacelle. We have to find out, or we can’t complete the voyage or go home.”
“Then
how do we fix it?” Jason asked, not really doubting the answer.
“We go outside, farmboy,” a voice said. He did not recognize the voice, yet he was not surprised to see Moxon in the doorway, already in his pressure suit.
By
the time Jason had suited up, Dr. Cahill had brought Alek a breathing mask.
When consciousness returned, she became giddy all over again. “Check the
diagnostic panel,” she said immediately. “It will show you where short is.”
Donald was in fact doing just that. “It’s in the port thruster,” he said, pointing to the left dot of the five that formed the engine assembly. “I could fix it myself. I just need my pod from engineering.”
“There
isn’t time,” Jason said. He knew he could not give a reason why, but no one
challenged him.
“He’s
right,” Moxon said. He had already opened the airlock in the floor. “If we
don’t fix this, we could lose the ship.” He moved to close the hatch as he
climbed down. When Jason followed, he simply continued his own descent without
comment. Jason met Alek’s gaze before he closed the hatch.
The airlock opened in the middle of the nacelle. The pair emerged tethered against the outward pull of centrifugal pseudogravity. Moxon went left. Jason went right without comment. Between them, a projection ran the length of the nacelle. On very close examination, the edge glowed a dull red. Jason raised his head. Directly ahead was the tail of the ship, seemingly spinning of its own accord. If he twisted his neck, he could see Uranus, circling like the sun in time lapse. He shook his head and continued to crawl, his eyes on the matte white paint of the hull.
By the time Jason reached the end of the nacelle, Moxon was already twisting a wheel that controlled flow to the mixing tank. Jason moved on to the thruster. It was a meter and a half wide, and looked like the bottom half of a nesting doll. He shown a light on the nozzle. There were 6 concentric rings all told. He examined them for any damage or fault. There was nothing to see, nor had there been any reason to think he could see the cause of the problem. For the first time, Moxon spoke over the channel: “You didn’t think it was going to be that easy, did you, farm boy?”
Moxon took out a current meter, consisting of a simple probe, a gauge and a well-insulated handle. Jason saw that the gauge was illustrated with an early version of Sparky. The lowest was the squirrel smiling. The successive measures went from him grimacing in surprise, to sparks between his tufted ears, to his ears smoldering and eyes replaced with X’s. He touched the outermost ring, and the needle stayed at the lowest level. He tested the next ring, and another, with the same result. When he applied the probe to the fourth ring, however, the needle went straight to the highest level and then dropped back. Jason saw that the tip of the probe had melted.
Reaching in carefully, Jason and Moxon undid two of the bots that held the assembly in place. The rings came free, only to be halted by tethering filaments, exposing the circuits, sensors and valves beneath. Now, they could see with their own eyes a blocked valve and its cause, an overloaded insulator that had run like wax across the assembly. That was when the hull resonated with an impact that jolted Jason by sound alone. He looked up and beheld an object like a pill with tiny arms attached. It was Donald in his pod, anchored by a filament launched from a cluster of implements between the arms. Anastasia followed in a second pod, with a tapered shape and faceted surface that made Jason think of a geodesic peanut. She carried a replacement for the ring. “Thanks,” Donald said. “You found out what we could have told you from engineering. Now let’s see if you can actually help.
The repairs took 10 minutes. Jason and Moxon did help enough that it probably took no longer than it would have without them. “There’s going to be more sensor damage, but Alek already has Chopper working on that,” Donald said. “Get back inside.”
Jason
made his way back along the handholds that lined the module. Now he could see
the front of the ship, from the ovoid science module to the Pegasus moored at
the front, and beyond it, the giant planet and its vertical ring. He looked to
one side, and froze. Within his reach was a line that had cut across the
central projection. For a moment, he was unsure if it was Moxon’s line or his
own. A quick check confirmed that his own remained on the same side. He took a
closer look, and saw that some combination of heat and friction had cut halfway
through the line. He told himself that it would be something to tell the
officer when they were both safely inside. Suddenly, the line began to twist
and then grow taut. The worn section tore, until it was parted by
three-fourths. He grabbed the line and reeled it in, until he gripped the
intact length. When he finally looked up, he beheld Moxon reeling himself in,
methodical rather than desperate.
There
was time to finish their dinner before the evacuation bell sounded. Moxon
joined them, in evidently good humor. Jason stared pensively at nothing in
particular. When Alek tried to draw him out, they both knew he merely humored
her. Anastasia finally carried Donald out. Alek followed, with one backward
glance. That left Jason alone with Moxon.
Table of contents
Part 7: Alternate universe pop culture!
Part 10: The domestic disturbance!!!
Part 12: The inevitable geography lesson!
Part 15: The bad guy backstory!
Part 17: The alternate history!
No comments:
Post a Comment