The Furnace

by Timothy S. Johnston

  “Where could he be?”

  He shrugged. “Injured maybe. We took a big hit. Anna doesn’t know either.” He held my eyes for a moment.

  The voices continued. Anna, Balch and Grossman were still going over Module A from the outside, working to repair five punctures in the hull. Shaheen, who was inside the module, reported major damage to the power distribution and carbon-dioxide scrubbers.

  “I’m not sure if I can fix this,” her voice echoed in the command center. “The damage is major.”

  “We have spare parts—” Manny began.

  “Captain, the meteors made it through all three hulls. They’ve incinerated whole components in here. I’m not sure they can be fixed—they may need to be rebuilt.”

  He grimaced. “Keep me updated.”

  “Roger.”

  The crew finally sealed the punctures in the hull on the engineering module and moved to Module G to start repairs on the docking bay. There they discovered even more damage, but luckily no vital station functions were located in that area.

  “It wasn’t just a meteor that hit us,” Rickets snarled. “It was a whole goddamned shower!”

  “Didn’t show up on radar?” I asked.

  “No. Must have been small and fast.”

  Micrometeors were one of the major hazards of space travel: at the speeds ships, or stations such as SOLEX, traveled, even a speck of dust was dangerous. When a hit occurred, the damage could be extensive. Deaths from meteoric depressurization were common.

  “There’s a call from the scientists’ module, Captain,” Rickets reported.

  “Put it though.”

  Sally Johnson’s voice warbled from the speaker. “Captain, can you update us on the situation? We felt quite a tremor here.”

  “We’re getting it under control. Please stay there until I give the all clear. Are you in your vacsuits?”

  “Yes. But—”

  There was another shudder and warnings began anew. Alarms blared and the captain gestured at them savagely.

  “Turn those damn things off!”

  Rickets complied. His face was tight. “We’ve been hit again. Looks like Module I, storage. I hope our supplies haven’t been—”

  “Balch!” Manny yelled into the microphone. “Are you okay?”

  “Captain!” his tinny voice shrieked. “I can see air venting from Module I! This one looks bad! I don’t think we can seal it. The puncture is a couple of square meters and—let me check something—yeah, it goes right through! Material is still venting into space! I can see—hey, a field conductor just flew out! Won’t last long this close to Sol, I’m sure.”

  Manny checked the time. “You’ve been out there sixty minutes. Only thirty left. Have you sealed what you can?”

  “Just finishing the docking module now. It’s gonna be close.”

  “Can I help?” I asked, noticing the look on the captain’s face. His expression showed deep anxiety, and I knew that he had a need to do something, anything, but couldn’t leave the command center. His place was here, in charge of the station, coordinating his people.

  He turned to me. “The scientists aren’t up to this sort of thing.”

  “What needs to be done?”

  “The equipment in the supply module. It won’t stand up to the heat for long. We’ll have to seal the module and abandon it, but we need to salvage what we can first.”

  “I’ll go get started.”

  Relief flooded his features. “Thanks. I’ll send Malichauk and Brick too. The module’s exposed to space. Remember, ninety minutes is the limit.”

  “The electromagnetic shield is out?” I wondered why I had a ninety-minute limit inside the module; Shaheen had modified the EM shield to take the stresses this close to Sol. It ran powerful currents through superconductors around the station, funneling high-energy protons and electrons away from the station.

  He looked grim. “It’s on battery power right now. It’s protecting us, but one big burst from the monster out there will fry us all. Hopefully Shaheen can get full power restored quickly. Now get down there and save what you can.”

  * * *

  I made record time on my sprint to the damaged supply cylinder. At the tunnel that connected Module F to I, I noted that the display on the hatch control registered full pressure in the tunnel. I sighed in relief. Had the tunnel been in vacuum, I would have had to try the one from Module H. And if the meteors had compromised that, then getting into the supply module would have been that much more difficult.

  As it was, however, all I had to do was open the hatch, step in and close it. The tunnel could act as a makeshift air lock and allow me access to the exposed part of the station.

  I hit the button and nothing happened.

  “Captain,” I said as I thumbed the suit’s communit. “I can’t get the tunnel open.”

  A grunt. “The depressurization locked both hatches, Tanner. It won’t open by anyone’s command. You have to override it using the emergency code. On the number pad, hit one-three-five-five-one.”

  I pressed the numbers and the hatch slid aside. “It worked.”

  “Use that code for the next hatch as well. But make sure—”

  “I know, make sure I seal the first hatch.”

  “Right. That code bypasses all safety checks. Be careful with it.”

  I swallowed. “Right.”

  I closed the first hatch and marched through the tunnel to the far end. I brought my face to the porthole and peered into the cavernous supply module.

  Damn.

  Sunlight lit the interior. I had expected the dim red emergency lighting that currently illuminated the rest of the station and was shocked when I saw the intense glow instead. It was blinding.

  I stepped back, eyes tearing, and swore at myself. My helmet! I had almost depressurized the tunnel and stepped into a module totally exposed to space and the heat of the sun without my helmet on!

  I grabbed the helmet’s O-ring, pulled it off my shoulders and sealed it around my neck. It had been hanging on my back on a set of hinges, but even so, I’d forgotten about it entirely. I couldn’t claim to be a very good astronaut; I was used to solving mysteries in pressurized facilities or in domed colonies. I shook my head at my stupidity.

  My ears popped as the indicator lights on the helmet’s interior turned from red to green and the suit pressurized. I entered the captain’s code on the number pad and commanded the hatch to open. Pumps drained the tunnel of air, the hatch slid aside smoothly, and I stepped into mayhem.

  * * *

  The storage cylinder didn’t have three levels like the other modules. Rather, it was a large open space with catwalks and shelves that circled the exterior bulkheads. The organization system had to be perfect; in case of an emergency, spare parts had to be located immediately. For that reason, the cargo bays were kept in immaculate condition.

  Except for now.

  Shattered supply crates were strewn across the deck. Shelves had collapsed on one another and mangled important equipment. I stared at one whole bulkhead of crushed material forlornly; I hoped Shaheen didn’t need any of it in order to repair the power and life-support systems.

  What most captured my attention, however, was the ceiling of the module. There was a five-meter gash ripped into the hull of the station fifteen meters above the deck. Through it I could see the sun, intensely close, intensely real.

  Living on SOLEX, you could occasionally forget that the sun was only five million kilometers away. There were no viewports to the outside, and the life-support systems kept the air comfortable, perhaps even cold. Unless you went to the command center and saw the viewscreens that displayed exterior views, or went outside on a space walk, you’d never know you were so dangerously close to Sol.

  But that comfort lev
el vanished as I entered the cargo bay. The jagged gash in the ceiling and the fireball beyond brought the danger home in vivid reality. I couldn’t even see black outside the tear; I could only see the sun.

  My eyes traced the meteor’s path to its point of exit. It was about two meters long and nearly as wide. The meteor had torn through the module on a steep angle and entered effortlessly through three layers of steel. It had exited through another three just as easily.

  How large had it been? Probably only a pebble, but even that was considered huge at the velocity we were traveling. Many people think the sun isn’t moving through space. In fact, it moves at approximately two hundred and fifty kilometers per second. On top of that, material in the solar system revolves quickly around the sun. The earth, for instance, moves at thirty kilometers per second. Asteroids, comets and all the dust and junk left over from the solar system’s formation move at similar speeds.

  So the speed of an object in space is immense. At least seven rocks had hit us, and they had caused massive damage to SOLEX.

  We were in major trouble, all worries of killers aside for the moment.

  Chapter Sixteen

  It took me a moment to figure out where I could move the supplies. I finally realized that Module H, adjacent to this one, was also a supply module. I would grab what I could and move it there. To do that, however, I had to depressurize the neighboring cylinder to make the transfer faster. Otherwise, I’d have to load the tunnel with equipment, seal the hatches, pressurize the tunnel, unload the equipment—a colossal waste of time. It would be faster just to carry the equipment through the tunnel from the damaged cylinder.

  I cleared the decision with Manny and had it depressurized within minutes. A little after that, Larry Balch, Anna Alvarez and Godfreid Grossman appeared at my side, ready to assist. They’d finished repairs on the punctures in the docking bay and life-support cylinders. They couldn’t stay in the damaged module, however, for fear of radiation penetrating the weakened EM shield. They had reached their ninety minutes and could risk no further exposure today. They therefore stayed in the undamaged module and grabbed handful after handful of equipment that I shoved through the tunnel at them.

  Lars Malichauk and Brick Kayle eventually showed up to help as well.

  “Where were you two?” I gasped as I ran an armload of supplies through the tunnel.

  “In the clinic,” Malichauk answered. “I found Bram—he suffered an injury when we got hit. He’s in the clinic right now. I should be with him, but the captain ordered us down here.”

  “How bad is it?”

  He hesitated. “He’s unconscious. I’m not quite sure what’s wrong with him. Concussion maybe. I injected priority nanos and left him. I have to go back when we’re done here.”

  Part of me wanted to know why Bram hadn’t been with Anna. The crew had been in pairs so that no one would be alone.

  How had Bram lost contact with his partner so easily?

  * * *

  As radiation levels built, Manny warned me to get out of the module. He and Rickets came down to take over, and as sweat poured down my face, I stumbled through the tunnel to E and back into the pressurized station. The ventilation fans were still silent and the lighting still out. Shaheen must have a struggle on her hands, I thought.

  Eventually everything that we could save was in the adjacent storage cylinder. We sealed the hatches, pressurized Module H and stalked back to the common mess to confer.

  The eerie red illumination cast long shadows across the decks. I saw ghosts in darkened corners, and every creak made me jump. I must have worked too hard; I was probably dehydrated and a bit delirious. It had made me jittery.

  On the way to the mess, I pulled Anna aside. “Where was Bram when the meteor hit?”

  She shook her head. “I was in the lavatory, in the crew quarters. He was supposed to be standing just outside. When the alarms sounded, I bolted out but didn’t see him. I’m not sure why he left. He knew the orders.”

  It sounded fishy. He might have heard the alarm and reacted without hesitation—as training dictated—but he must have known that leaving his partner would draw a great deal of suspicion, and he would have avoided that at all costs.

  * * *

  We congregated in the common mess—all but Malichauk, who was seeing to his patient. The crew members were sweat soaked and unkempt from their hard work. Shaheen looked weary, her eyes cast downward and her shoulders slumped in exhaustion. Manny and Rickets seemed concerned but hopeful; they were probably putting the best possible face on the dilemma. The scientists, who had cowered in their modules during the emergency, looked terrified.

  “Here’s where we stand,” Manny said with his arms folded. “We’ve lost Module I. The damage to its hull is just too severe. Thanks to Tanner, we managed to save what we could and store it in Module H. The crew repaired the hull on the docking cylinder and the life-support/engineering cylinder. The heat shield on all remaining modules is functioning perfectly.” He paused. “That’s the good news.”

  “And the bad?” Katrina Kyriakis asked. She had lines in her forehead and bags under her dark eyes.

  Manny exhaled. “We’re currently on battery power.”

  “Captain,” Sally Johnson said. “We are a power generating station. We have massive solar arrays used to convert light energy to electricity. Surely we—”

  “It’s not that simple,” Shaheen broke in. “The arrays are unaffected. But the equipment in Module A took a devastating hit. The meteors damaged the recyclers, scrubbers and ventilation fans. The impact severed the cables that run from the solar collectors to the power distribution and microwave converters in multiple places. Maybe even some places we can’t see, like outside. In short, the solar arrays are no help right now.”

  “Life support?” I asked.

  “Our oxygen supplies are fine, so we’re lucky there. The hit obliterated the carbon-dioxide scrubbers. I’m going to have to build new ones from scratch. I can get the vent fans going again, I’m sure. The temperature has risen by a few degrees in here, but the cooling system will bring things back under control once the fans are going again. The EM shield is on batteries too, but that won’t last forever. I need to get power up and running, pronto.” She trailed off. “I’m going to have to track down every cable to check.”

  “But it can be done.”

  She nodded. “It’s gonna be a long couple of days, but yeah, we can get it working. The problem is that there’s only one of me on this station.”

  “So you need a little help,” Rickets said.

  She looked grim. “Looks like it.”

  * * *

  Manny assigned Anna, Grossman and Balch to find and repair the damaged power cables. Shaheen began to work on the ventilation fans; she had to get them going again before she could start on the carbon-dioxide scrubbers. Despite the difficulty involved, within two hours somehow she had the vent fans running and had set to work on the scrubbers.

  We weren’t in immediate danger from carbon-dioxide buildup, luckily. The station was very large for its complement of crew, officers and scientists, and a couple of hours breathing without the scrubbers wouldn’t make a huge difference.

  In the clinic, I watched as Malichauk saw to Bram O’Donnelly, the big, red-bearded crewman. He lay on the procedures table, eyes closed as he breathed steadily. He seemed to be just asleep.

  Brick was assisting Shaheen with the scrubbers, so I decided to sit in the clinic and keep my eye on Malichauk and his patient.

  “Do you know anything else?” I asked him with a gesture to Bram.

  He peered at the diagnostic readout. His brow creased. “No. The nanos report a slight concussion. Other than that...”

  “Maybe psychological trauma of some sort?”

  He looked skeptical. “Perhaps. But doubtful.�
�

  I turned my gaze to Bram. Where were you when the meteors hit?

  * * *

  The microwave beam to Earth had been disrupted during the emergency. Within a matter of minutes—eight, in fact—the crew who manned the microwave receiving station in Earth orbit sent a message to Mercury CG, wondering just what the hell was going on. Within seconds of that, Jase Lassiter was on the FTL demanding answers from Manny Fredericks. Unfortunately for Lassiter, the power crisis on SOLEX prevented an immediate response from the captain. But after the crewmen managed to reconnect the first of several power cables, the FTL communit started to blare like mad.

  Manny spent the better part of two hours explaining to Lassiter that everything was just fine—SOLEX had experienced an emergency, but the worst had passed.

  “The funny thing was,” Manny said to me later, “he kept asking about the situation on the station. He wasn’t all that concerned with the meteor damage.”

  I frowned. “What do you mean? What situation were they curious about?”

  “If everyone was acting normally, that sort of thing.”

  “What did you tell them?”

  “That you were still investigating Jimmy’s death. I didn’t say any more than that.”

  I looked away and pondered that. It was curious.

  * * *

  Within eight hours we had partial power restored. Shaheen got a makeshift carbon-dioxide scrubber to function, and with the station’s ventilation fans already repaired, life support was back in operation.

  The lighting, however, had to remain at only twenty-five percent intensity. Some of the power cables that ran electricity from the collector array to the station’s distribution center had arced during the meteor strike. Either that or the kinetic energy from the strike itself had obliterated some components in the station’s power systems. Shaheen rigged up a bypass for the microwave-conversion equipment and reinitiated the beam to Earth but was unable to get the station up to full power.

  “Life support is good. Scrubbers are good. Recyclers are good. Now the only problem is the lighting,” she said as she wiped grease from her forehead.