Adam's Rings

by Matthew D. White

  “That’s the sign you’re doing what you were meant to do. Also, that your programming was spot-on correct,” Erin said.

  “And you have to make it creepifying,” Adam said with a sigh. “Leave it at that, and we’re not a whole hell of a lot different than the AIs running the stations. If you program the AIs to like what they do or at least say so, we’ve only got a few layers of meat separating us from them.”

  “So, you’re happy with your station in life, but if you think about it, it makes you distressed? Maybe you should just focus on the present here and now and don’t worry about how things came about. You never would have had such issues had you not known at all; it’s the same with me. You don’t think I’ve been able to survive without asking questions here and there along the way?”

  She hid her emotions well, Adam decided, as he looked back through the monitor at his stalwart companion. “I had no idea,” he finally said. “I thought the whole idea had just slid off your back.”

  “I wish, Adam, I wish,” she replied. “But if we were back on Earth, we’d have the same problems. If you say you’re not human because your genome was spliced together piece-by-piece, then you need to have a defining line somewhere in the past. When the genes were activated to repress cancer growth, does that mean you’re not human? Or farther back, when they were able to turn off major birth defects or protect our cells from infection? Or if you were simply jump-started in-vitro? Would you only be human if you avoided all possible modifications along the way? Radiation has changed individual genes for thousands of years. Would that be too much? What if you were conceived naturally from two modified parents?”

  Adam shook his head. “You have quite the gift for making tough questions all the more complicated.”

  “I’m not making them complicated; I’m trying to make the case that your distinction is arbitrary and you need to reject the premise along with your hypothesis outright,” Erin said. “All sorts of circumstances conspired in the goal of your creation, just like everyone else. You and I are self-aware, we know what we are, and that’s really the end of it.” She shrugged. “Welcome to the ranks of the living. Go do something worthwhile with the time that you have been given. There, is that a little better?”

  “I guess so. I just really wish I had some better direction for what I need to be doing.”

  “We all do, but in your case, I think Mission Control is still trying to let you develop. With the Hydra having arrived, you’re obviously now on their timeline, so they’ll be needing more out of you one way or another. I’d wait and see what their reaction is to your map of Saturn’s atmosphere before you jump to any more conclusions.”

  “Thanks. By the way, how’s your assignment going? Since, you know, you actually have a real one.”

  “It’s slow, duh, but we’re making progress,” Erin admitted. “Going just as it should. You should see it; the detail we’re able to pull out is incredible. Maps of the structure within galaxies by the thousands. We’re able to see the whole of the universe, all of creation.”

  Adam smiled. “Next time I’m over you’ll have to give me a tour.”

  “Of course. My collection has grown considerably since your first visit. In any case, it’s about that time. Let me know what Mission Control has to say about your experiment.”

  “Right,” Adam said, flipping off the display. It was confounding that every time he grew in wisdom and experience, the more convoluted his situation became.

  ***

  “Captain Montgomery, again, we cannot thank you enough for your assistance with the crew of the Hydra. It is welcome news to hear that they are safely on their way to their final destination,” Sergey’s voice came through the transmission that afternoon. Adam had waited anxiously for the response, not knowing what to expect from his leadership regarding his recent activities.

  “We have also received your preliminary report on the direct study of the Saturn atmospheric structure, which has gathered a high amount of attention across the organization. While adding little to your initial plan, Dr. Dreher has given his personal approval of your work, so long as it does not impact the ongoing missions of Draco and Gemini.”

  “It is the general consensus that the level of detail you were able to produce on the atmosphere might become incongruent, as a full scan of the planet would take several months, but your method of test is suitable for mapping the heavy, lower layers, as well as the solid core. We are concurrently looking into the possibility of wider scans across the atmosphere, which would remove these sources of error and will forward the recommended settings once they are computed.”

  “Draco,” Adam said, “is what he saying accurate? I like the sound of it.”

  The AI interrupted the video feed. “Yes, there is no reason that a change in the transmission parameters could not effectively map a contained volume of space in a shorter amount of time if we devote more pulses to the effort. I would need to start with their estimates before I make the changes that could compromise our experiment.”

  “Excellent. I’m impressed they’re finding some of this of value. Keep it going,” Adam said, motioning to the transmission.

  “Moreover, we are considering the option of expanding your mission as a whole. The information you have already uncovered have convinced the team here that a more direct study may be necessary. Upon completion of the current atmospheric survey, you are allotted the use of one experimental probe to be fired into Saturn to take accurate measurements of the entire descent to the core. As you can imagine, this will require significant shielding and radiofrequency pollution management if it is to survive the drop.” Sergey paused. “This is a future effort and considered high-risk, so begin thinking on it while continuing with your current data collection. We will assist in construction as able now and in determining a landing zone once your map is complete.”

  Adam paused the video feed one more time. “Now we’re getting somewhere,” he said to himself, studying the face on the monitor.

  “It is my understanding that this is what you have been seeking, yes?” Draco asked. “A validation of your prowess as a competent member of the crew?”

  “It’s quite the test,” Adam remarked. “Shielding a probe against those kinds of pressures while still trying to gather information on the way down and sending it back out from the bottom. We’ll probably need to build another case around the body just to protect it. Maybe there’s a way to use the synthesizer to print some parts that can withstand the heat and pressure and use the multi-caster to assemble them…” his voice trailed. “Anyways, we can give that some more thought while we’re running the current collection.”

  Adam got to his feet. “I’m going down to the Hydra’s leftover pod. Maybe something will trigger me.” He stumbled and grabbed for the door frame, wincing. “I’m… I’m okay,” he insisted before the AI could break the silence.

  “I’m less inclined to believe your biased assessment.”

  “No, really, I just lost focus for a second there.”

  “Your sleeping patterns have become irregular over the last two months in particular, and your average pace when moving in the station has decreased by fourteen percent. This is a growing cause for concern.”

  “I think you’re overreacting.”

  “Impossible. I need you to report to the medical pod to give me a blood sample.”

  “No, thanks,” Adam said. “That’s definitely more than I need.”

  “I will lock every door in the station until you follow my instruction. It is for your own good.”

  Adam sighed and straightened himself back up. “Fine, I’ll give it to you. Just don’t take all day.”

  ***

  He had spent relatively little time in either of the two pods that the Hydra had dropped off to assist in the outfitting of Draco Station. Adam had read the manifest before they had arrived and had a vague knowledge of their contents, but he was not about to go digging through them while the rest of the crew was present, le
st they accost him with more pejoratives than usual.

  Each was set up like an extended heavy-equipment bay, only instead of packing a single-mounted booster engine, it was loaded with four corrugated metal floors full of industrial processing stations, suitable for constructing anything up to and possibly including another orbital station.

  It was an exaggeration, of course, but not by much. A forge in the far wall was able to process the icy ring material with an attached smelter, remove the water content, and produce what was akin to compressed metal plates by way of a high-precision printer. Their quality would be questionable and limited to the stock on hand but could be fashioned into the shells of habitats for further planetary exploration. Meanwhile, the extracted water could be vectored to use elsewhere in the station.

  Adam had considered the utility of doing just that since he had seen the surfaces of Janus and later Titan. If there was a need simply for floor space, he could construct just such a shelter, connect it to the existing infrastructure, and be set for whatever was needed. With a bit more planning, they could also cover the shell with debris or sediment for additional protection.

  Titan continued to call his name, beckoning him to return to the plain that had nearly cost him his life, along with those of the Hydra crew. He wanted to return and not be bound by the narrow parameters afforded them the last time around. Hell, they were a generation into the first landing on Mars, and still groups of explorers were gallivanting about the surface, seeking untold wealth in knowledge, minerals, and raw heroics. Adam shook his head, staring at the smelter. Here he was, with an entire planet to himself, and yet he wanted more. The programming of the Orbital Genesis creators was every bit as insidious as he had suspected.

  His mind was left pondering a multitude of problems, each one as vexing as the last. Mission Control’s proposed probe to the surface of the planet would require more shielding than he had available, as would any follow-on missions back to Titan. Before that, any use of the smelter would require a voyage into the ring structure to mine the rocky bits for food. Even a trip back to Janus was not out of the question, as it would take a lifetime to feed its mass into one of the searing caldrons. Driving the madness deeper was that his mission to the center of the planet was now hinging on his study of the atmosphere, which was a piecemeal effort between the two stations, plus the leadership on Earth who seemed to be coming up with their own ideas at the same time.

  Had he not thought there was merit to the earthbound team’s suggestions, Adam would have liked to have told them to cease and desist. Having a bunch of other scientists horning in on his experiment was a touchy subject, and he would have liked to brush them off and say he’d be in touch once it completed. Prudence dictated otherwise, since they still maintained a vast store of knowledge, and he relented before the antagonism crept into his regular transmission back to Mission Control. Clearly, he had work to do.

  ***

  “I’m surprised,” Adam said as he scanned across the workbench. “That was not nearly as bad as I was expecting. It looks to me like we’re ready for an experiment.”

  What had been spread about the station only days earlier in a wide array of individual components and sensors was now safely packed inside a probe body and waiting for its one and only flight. As per Mission Control’s recommendation, a ring of the removable panels was now fitted with the full suite of atmospheric instruments with the software backing to make a full account of a trip through the endless layers of Saturn’s voluminous mass.

  “I concur, but you are only looking at a fraction of the task,” Draco said. “You’ll also need to shield it.”

  Adam knew the statement to be true long before the AI uttered it. He had left it as a footnote in his plan since its inception with full knowledge that the contraption as currently assembled would have no chance of surviving the drop through the unforgiving atmosphere. Halfway down and the probe’s casing would be eaten away, with only a few layers of insulation protecting the components inside.

  “I know, I know,” Adam insisted. “What do you suggest?”

  “As you are surrounded by unlimited low-grade ore, I would suggest you follow your earliest plan and harvest what we need.”

  “You think I just need to process some ring material through the smelter?” Adam asked. “With enough of it, I suppose it’d work to get some iron plates and fuse them around the frame.”

  “Exactly.”

  Adam cycled through the options in his head. “It seems to me it’d be too dangerous to drag the material back here and risk the station, so that’d leave me taking the smelter with me out to find the pieces myself. That sounds like a pilot’s nightmare. Another option is to go out to one of the moons and shovel in a little at a time. Would I need to go back to Janus? Or Atlas?”

  “I wouldn’t recommend Janus, as you know how uncommonly low its density is. Ideally, you’d want the closest body that would provide the most useable ore with minimal maneuvering. Atlas is a possibility, but the closer bodies are Daphnis and Pan, either of which I would recommend.”

  “Daphnis is a lot smaller too, right? You think it’d be better than any of the random rocks out there?”

  “That’s correct. We don’t have a clear estimate of its local gravity field, so it’s likely it’d be only a step above a spacewalk.”

  Adam built a mental image of himself attached to the outside of the lander and scraping material off the moon with a gravitational field barely strong enough to counteract the force of the entrenching tool. “You say Pan is a little larger? That I could actually land on it?

  “Correct. It’d likely provide for easier extraction but due to the small size, I can only provide a general estimate of the mineral content. If this is your decision, I’ll build a flight profile and assemble the procedures to move a smelter to the lander.”

  Draco’s words were expected, but Adam twisted his face at the thought. “You want me to drag a smelter up to the lander? Why can’t I just bring an equipment bay with me? Wouldn’t that be a lot less work?”

  “Yes, you could, although that would require a reconfigure of both components.”

  “I think that makes more sense,” Adam said. “Give me a flight path and let’s get moving.”

  ***

  Assembly of the craft took a minimal amount of time and was no more harrowing than the Hydra’ preparation for the opening trip to Titan. Adam watched from the lander as Draco used its assembly arm to detach an equipment bay and hold it aloft for him to grab. He made the connection in a single attempt and pulled it free before striking out on a familiar flight path above the brilliant plain of planetary rings. For the majority of the journey, the astronaut drifted between the flight deck and the attached bay, studying both the ore smelter and the forge which would, with any luck, produce the convex plates needed to protect his creation.

  Upon first observance, Adam could hardly discern the tiny moon from the rest of the particles which made up the rings. He sighed with relief as the lander eased itself into its close proximity, running through a bevy of calculations and measurements. As suspected, the gravitational field was a fraction above non-existent, and Adam was ready to test his abilities once again.

  The craft was now a stacked array of modules, with the primary lander at the top, the equipment bay in the center, and the booster stage at the base. With such a low field, Adam wouldn’t need to leave the bulk of the system in orbit and could instead fly the assembly to the surface and land on its side. To escape, Draco had determined the maneuvering engines to be powerful enough to stand it back up to allow for a safe launch back into space, with a failsafe of digging out the ground beneath the booster if their estimates were off by more than a few percent.

  Adam flew by his instruments as he could only see the flicker of starlight through the lander’s windows, and he tipped the craft at a steep angle until he felt the trailing edge drag upon the dusty surface of Pan. His hands pulled back and he let the ship ride a gentle burst from the
maneuvering rockets down to a horizontal stop against the ground.

  The landscape came into view as the pitch leveled out, an ancient wasteland of stacked craters and jumbled rocks, likely torn apart and recreated five times over throughout the course of Saturn’s history. Far in the distance, the equatorial ridge stretched along the horizon, a mountain range unencumbered by the pull of a meaningful gravitational field. Adam paused in the relative silence, waiting for secondary movements, but sensing none, he got to his feet and drifted to the attached bay. Through each bounding footstep, he was determined to see the collection through in as expeditious a manner as possible, never forgetting the earlier disaster on Janus. There would be no exploration this time around, no leaving the safety tether behind; he had a very specific function to perform.

  Adam focused on the deployment of the smelter, which in the low gravity was easier than he had anticipated. The machine was the size of a large cabinet, but with only a few minutes of planning, Adam had it detached and pushed out the service airlock. Once outside, it rested lightly on the icy terrain and failed to sink any appreciable level.

  He attached the fuel cells and deployed the feeding chute, leaving the box to more resemble an old brush chipper than a piece of scientific equipment. Adam looked from the metallic duct to the entrenching tool. “Draco, you’d better be right about this,” he muttered and hit the power switch. It started with a whisper-like vibration that he caught through the soles of his feet.

  The shovel’s blade easily cut through the porous ground of flaky ice and rock, and Adam quickly proceeded with the task, dumping the material into the smelter. Even with the strangeness of the ordeal, the most unexpected consequence was the power required to move the moon rock. Back on Earth, Adam knew well how far a shovel of dirt could be thrown, but on Pan, a little energy would send it clear over the towering body of the rocket itself. He was split between moving slower all together or pushing the material into the chute.