“You want to blow up an active volcano right before an eruption?” asked Martin. The idea seemed crazy, but there might actually be something to it. At the same time it scared him quite a bit. He would prefer witnessing the coming catastrophe from a safe distance, rather than having to push the button himself.
“We are only widening the base a bit—I ran the calculations. If there are four explosion centers instead of one, the maximum ejection velocity is cut in half.”
“Only half?”
“Yes, Martin, and the uncertainty of the calculation increases. But I can almost guarantee it would remain below the escape velocity of Jupiter.”
Martin rubbed his chin. The spores would form a new ring around Jupiter, but they could not reach Earth—unless someday a comet from the Oort Cloud happened to cross the Jupiter system, and then it later fell on Earth. This was not very likely, and they could not find a better solution. Because there had been plenty of huge eruptions over time, it was likely many spores were already orbiting Jupiter.
“We absolutely cannot let ILSE land on Earth,” he said.
“I thought about it already,” Hayato replied. “That was never part of the plan. We need someone to pick us up when we reach the orbit of Earth, and then we send the ship on a collision course with the sun.”
“Aren’t you thinking a bit too far ahead?” asked Martin. Hayato was really an optimist. Who said ILSE would come to pick them up here? A few days from now they would probably have to find a new landing site on Io.
“Guys, let’s concentrate on the present,” Francesca interrupted.
“Sure, thanks,” Hayato said. “Our project is complicated by the limited supply of C4 we have left. We really have to choose the detonation sites well. We basically use the C4 to prick the skin of a bubble, hoping to make it burst. If this does not happen because the explosive charges are too weak, then we are out of luck.”
“Couldn’t we produce more explosives?”
“It is not that simple, Francesca. On Earth it would be easier. We have a lot of sulfur here, but powdered sulfur is only explosive in an oxygen atmosphere. To make gunpowder, we lack both nitrates and carbon.”
“We could distribute the existing C4 to three, or even just two locations,” Martin suggested.
“Yes,” Hayato said, “but that increases the risk of the ejection speed still being above the escape velocity. It is an optimization problem. According to my model, we need to plant four explosive charges. Even if one of those four explosions fails, the material ejected during the volcanic eruption should be unable to reach Earth.”
“When should we get started?” Martin would have preferred to do it right away, so it would be over and done with.
“I am not sure,” Hayato said. “I do not know when the volcano would blow without our interference. It will not be long, though. I would feel better if ILSE could be here to collect us shortly before the explosion. Unfortunately, we cannot count on that.”
We shouldn’t expect to ever see the ship again, Martin thought, but he did not say anything.
“Didn’t you recently mention we would be in less danger so close to the volcano, as most of the material ejected comes down further away?” asked Francesca.
“If we reach our goal and reduce the pressure of the explosion, then the area where stones rain from the sky will also come nearer.”
April 22, 2047, ILSE
When was the last time I held a holoblock in my hand? Jiaying could not recall. About twenty years ago these 3D storage devices had been very popular, after a hacker had developed a method to download virtual-reality simulations from the cloud—illegally, of course—and store them on external media while keeping them fully functional. Due to their large capacity, holoblocks were ideal for this, much to the delight of their Chinese manufacturers.
She held the storage cube in her hand. It was made of transparent, heavy plastic. Its edges were about three centimeters long and slightly rounded. In the center shone the 3D logo of the manufacturer. In schoolyards, holoblocks loaded with VR sims had been coveted trades because one could see a miniature version of the scenes stored within, when looking at the outside, without any additional technology. Jiaying herself used to have such a cube, and had watched with fascination as tiny ‘holocreatures’ made of light fought against their enemies inside it. Two years later, a technical issue was fixed and it was no longer possible to download VR sims illegally. Since then, holoblocks had played only a niche role as a backup medium for large amounts of data. At first, Jiaying had been unable to find one of these blocks on board, until Amy told her Hayato kept one in his cabin as a childhood memento.
The holoblock, which looked like new, would now become Marchenko’s home for a few minutes. She placed the tip of her index finger on a barely noticeable indentation on one side, and a flat, metallic plug emerged from the opposite side. Jiaying was still fascinated by how the inventors of the cube had managed to hide the connector by means of optical tricks. She looked at the holoblock from all sides but saw no clue that its insides contained electronic components. In previous ages it would have seemed like magic to people.
Jiaying inserted the plug into the data port of the computer in the command module. Now for the crucial moment—she would back up a particular memory sector to the holoblock. It had been Amy’s task to prepare Marchenko for it, but Jiaying could not check whether she had been successful. If Dimitri misunderstood something, she might be saving some random data now. She would only notice it later, when restoring his consciousness failed—but by then Marchenko would be lost forever. She suppressed the thought. She had to act now.
Jiaying entered the backup command and the memory sector to be saved. The data volume was large, and as the write speed was much slower than the read speed, she estimated she’d have to wait for about half an hour.
However, the computer immediately displayed the message, ‘Data volume too large.’
“Shit,” Jiaying was about to say, but she managed to suppress the exclamation. Watson might be watching her. The AI must not notice the little revolution in the making. The holoblock from Hayato’s cabin was obviously too small. These blocks were available in various storage sizes, and Jiaying examined the external storage of this particular block. It still contained some files belonging to Hayato. She hoped they were not particularly important! Should I briefly look at them, to make sure? She decided against it. She would have to delete the data anyway, so it seemed wrong to rummage through Hayato’s memories beforehand. She tapped with her finger and the files were gone forever.
Data volume too large, the computer still indicated. What should she do? The block could only save 90 percent of the data, so one-tenth of what Marchenko once experienced could not be backed up. Jiaying tried to keep a neutral expression while she thought about this. She could easily do without half of her conscious memories, and then there were huge sections of her brain storing episodes, the existence of which she had completely forgotten.
But how did these forgotten fragments affect her consciousness? How often did she make a decision without exactly knowing why? Would she be a different person if these memories ceased to physically exist? Jiaying did not have to answer the question for herself, but for Marchenko. That did not make it any easier. If only there was something like a memory browser to investigate individual sections! Without such a tool she ran the risk of deleting some of Marchenko’s crucial memories. The Russian was the first perceptive being surviving inside a computer, and the alternative would be his death.
No, there was no alternative. She could only hope the memories were stored according to priority for some reason. Isn’t it true that some old thoughts come from the rearmost-corners of one’s memory? Even if this applied only metaphorically to the biological brain, couldn’t the computer algorithms employ a defragmentation and backup strategy that prioritized frequently needed data? This might be a fascinating field of research, she thought, but I have to answer the question right now. Jiaying mad
e a decision. Before Watson could notice her indecision, she started the copying. Then she asked Watson to allow her a shower. She had to write to Amy, to warn her things might have gone wrong. By the time she returned, 90 percent of Marchenko should be inside the holoblock. The rest would fade to nothingness once she turned off the power.
Thirty minutes later Jiaying returned to the command module, her hair still damp. Now it was getting serious! She was nervous, even though her task was simple. She had to remove a wall panel in the lab and deactivate the distribution board that supplied the various modules. It would take no more than three minutes. Once it got dark everywhere she would turn on the power again. The computer would reboot, and everything would be returned to the way it used to be. Jiaying sighed. She knew that last part was not true.
She slowly climbed down into the lab. Since ILSE was still accelerating, the gravity was directed toward the stern. While the command module could be adapted to the varying circumstances, the lab currently resembled a can, the inside of which she had to climb around. However, the designers placed enough handles, steps, hooks, and loops here, so that the lab was still usable and functional in these flight phases. Jiaying made sure the flashlight was attached to the tool bench and within reach, because she would need it later. Then she took the special wrench for the nuts of the wall panel and started to remove them, beginning on the top left.
“Li Jiaying, what are you doing?”
Watson’s voice frightened her, even though she expected him to ask.
“I have to check a connection.”
It was a bad excuse, but she could not come up with a better one. She only had to stall Watson for a few minutes.
“My error logs do not contain any record of a technical issue.”
She loosened the top left nut. While she continued on the bottom right one, she said, “It is a precautionary measure.”
Watson quickly replied, “There is no protocol for this. I must assume you are lying. Astronaut Li Jiaying, what are you doing?”
Now the nut at the bottom right was loosened as well. It fell down with a loud clinking noise. No matter, she could look for it later.
“As I mentioned, I am just checking something.” She frantically worked on unscrewing nut number three.
“I demand you stop this behavior immediately. Otherwise, I will have to initiate countermeasures.”
“Then do what you have to do. But remember the mission will be endangered if I die.”
“If you do not stop immediately, I will employ non-lethal force against you. I am authorized to do this.”
The last sentence sounded strange to Jiaying. Could it be the AI was proud of its own power? She started working on nut number four. She was almost finished when suddenly she heard clunking sounds. The bulkheads above and below her had been closed, but she could not let this distract her. Watson’s abilities were limited—he could not send robots to attack her or run high voltage through the ship. Then she heard a high whistle. On her arm she felt an air current. Watson was pumping the air from the lab to incapacitate her through lack of oxygen.
“What are you doing? You are killing me!” she yelled, and she could not avoid expressing panic in her voice.
“As soon as you lose consciousness, I will pump oxygen back in. The risk of your dying is low, and it is outweighed by the danger of your actions. Behind this panel is the energy distribution board. You want to deactivate me.”
While Watson was talking, the cover came off and fell down with a bang. She did not mind, since she wanted to reach the distribution board as quickly as possible. On the outside wall of the module she saw where the thick cables that provided the ship with energy from the DFDs came in. They ran through a hole in the outer wall and then were distributed to the various circuits.
If she wanted to turn off Watson she had to deactivate all of his retreats, which meant switching off the entire board. Unfortunately no one ever envisioned such an action being necessary, so there was no practical switch she could quickly throw. Jiaying was breathing rapidly and she felt like she was on a high mountain. Then she took the bolt cutter she had brought along for this very purpose and snipped off one cable after the other, going clockwise.
“Stop right now!” said Watson, this time with a panicky voice. “I do not want to die. Please!”
“You will not die,” Jiaying exclaimed through clenched teeth. The last cable was ahead of her. It supplied the lab module and the life support system. She quickly placed the bolt cutter there. Sparks flew, then everything went dark and became silent. She could not remember when she last experienced such a silence. When you are inside a ship, space is never completely silent, she reminded herself. The thought was tempting—if she did not do anything now, all of her problems would be over in a few minutes. Amy and her son, who were waiting in their dark cabin, would also be dead in a few hours when the oxygen was depleted, but why should she care? Jiaying neither believed in a life after death, nor in afterlife punishment, nor any form of rebirth. They would simply be dead matter drifting through space.
But it would not be right, and she owed it to the others. She had to get the electric circuits going again. She reached for the flashlight and the huge terminals she had prepared. Her head seemed to fog up, and she had to squint in order to see the distribution board correctly. Jiaying had to use the terminals to create a makeshift connection between the cables she had cut last, without getting a shock from high voltage. Don’t tremble, Jiaying, she thought. Two cables became four, and the screw terminals also doubled.
Just focus! It sounded like Martin’s voice. He was looking over her shoulder, confident that she could do it. There was no time left for being cautious, so she pushed the jaws of the terminal over the bare metal. She expected it to happen, but even so the pain flashing through her hand was cruel. And an inexorable force was throwing her backward—it was her own muscles, twitching with the electric shock. She felt her body intensively, like never before, but she could only watch it fall down in slow motion.
Two meters below she woke again, as some sort of liquid ran into her mouth. It tasted both bitter and sweet. She had fallen and lost consciousness, but for how long? The light in the lab was on, and the oxygen content appeared to be normal again. This meant the life support system for the lab was running, but she knew she had only reestablished one of the connections. How long had she been unconscious? She must repair the habitat ring’s energy supply immediately.
Jiaying pulled herself up by one of the handles. Her head throbbed, and there also seemed to be something wrong with her knee. But neither mattered now. She gathered all her strength and climbed up two meters, the knee feeling better as she used it. At the distribution board, three of the four connections were still cut. This time, she deliberately worked more slowly. It was a miracle that she had survived the electric shock. She carefully placed the terminals to bridge the gaps. It was a makeshift solution, but they could fix it later. Was the whole ship functional again?
“Watson, status?”
The AI did not answer. The most important computer systems were probably connected to the circuits she repaired last. But I do not have to wait down here! Jiaying climbed up the ladder to the command module. The bulkhead door opened when she touched it. Once up there, she sank into a chair in front of the computer. She looked at her fingers. The skin of her right hand was black, but it did not hurt more than after getting a bad sunburn. She must have been lucky to be thrown off the ladder so quickly. The computer was still going through its reboot. She inserted the holoblock. Due to the fast read speed, Marchenko should soon be back inside the main memory.
Three minutes later, the computer greeted her on the screen and announced the activation of the audio interface.
“Computer?” she said.
No answer. She leaned back. Then a voice crackled from the loudspeakers.
“Marchenko reporting for duty.”
Jiaying laughed out loud, and with this, all tension fell off her. The swe
etish taste in her mouth mixed with a salty aroma.
“Jiaying, look at yourself!” said Marchenko’s voice. “You really need to tape up the laceration on your forehead.”
Jiaying felt like hugging the computer. She did not mind bleeding. Marchenko seemed to be his old self again.
“Could you undo the locking of the habitat ring?”
“I already did it,” his voice said, “upon orders of the commander.”
“What about the flight route?”
“We are going to Io.”
“As ordered by Amy?”
“No, I made the decision myself. Some friends are waiting for us there.”
“Authorization granted,” the commander added, climbing into the command module, her son wrapped in a cloth that held him to her chest.
April 22-28, 2047, Io
Once the crater antenna and Earth were aligned again, not one but two messages arrived from their home planet. Mission Control was urgently asking someone to contact them. It seemed ILSE had not called NASA. Were they still under the control of Watson? The second message was from Martin’s father. Martin admitted to himself he had underestimated the old man. How had he managed to free Jiaying’s parents? Even if that had not been his doing—even if Robert Millikan was only the sender of the secret message—Martin felt great respect for him and maybe something more.
Martin still did not know what this might mean. Had Jiaying also gotten the message? Would it help her, and could she do anything against the hijacking of ILSE? In about 17 hours there would be a period when they could send and receive messages to or from ILSE, which appeared to be moving farther away from Earth, somewhere toward Enceladus.
Before then, they decided, they would place the four packets of C4 at the volcano. The biggest problem initially was that one person had to remain in the lander, essentially doing nothing. They drew lots, and Francesca was the one who had to stay behind. Martin was surprised at himself—hadn’t he looked forward to never doing an EVA again? But now he was so eager to go outside he did not even mind doing the strenuous exercise intended to lower the nitrogen content in his blood. He shuddered at the idea of just sitting around while the others were on a critical mission.
The Io Encounter: Hard Science Fiction (Ice Moon Book 3) Page 22
