“Last night,” Forndala continued, “while you were asleep, one of the converters failed. Transcend offered to fix it for us, but I declined. We have over a dozen redundancies in the conversion systems, so the ship as a whole is not in any serious danger, but it occurred to me, and Shu agrees, that this might be a perfect opportunity for you three to test your mettle.”
“You want us to fix the converter?” Saiara said.
Forndala nodded.
A realization hit me. I held up the cylinder. “But to fix the converter, we need to stabilize the terranium.”
He looked at Shu Cresna with knowing eyes. “I told you we made the right choice having ensign Siris begin his rotations with us, Cresshu.”
Cresna pursed her lips and squinted at me.
“But how?” I said with anxiety. I’d spent my whole life working in a massive terranium refinery, but I had never faced a problem like this.
“That, my young apprentices, is precisely the question. What say you? Are you up for it?”
* * *
“First,” Saiara said, “we should uncouple The Gourmand from Transcendence. If the terranium overreacts it could be catastrophic. We need to move to a safe distance.”
We were standing in the vast accelerator chamber that formed the bulk of the ship, a wide room, ten times my height. If it had been empty, it would have been big enough to hold thousands of people. But every useable cube of space was filled with equipment. A web of corridors ran through it all, wide enough for us to move single file. After getting lost twice, we made our way to the failed converter.
I looked around, marveling at the engineering. On Verygone, the particle accelerator used to process terranium circled underground like a giant ring, stretching over thirty-seven farruns in circumference. On The Gourmand, the ship’s designers had figured out how to compress the accelerator into a seemingly endless labyrinth of curves and folds that rose above us like some monstrous alien digestive tract.
A perpetual hum filled the whole space. It was not painfully loud, but it was relentless, the aural equivalent of wearing a veil over your eyes, everything shaded and colored by the screen in front of your face.
“But even if it’s possible for us to reach a distance that keeps the voyager from risk,” Qurth said, “how will we extract the terranium?” The humming from the equipment made his voice sound reedy and fragile.
Saiara’s shiny golden hair was tied up behind her head, leaving a tail that hung down past her shoulders. “If even a single atom is exposed to air,” she said, absentmindedly curling her hair like a rope around her fingers, “it could kick off a chain reaction… What do you think, Oren?”
I tore my eyes away from the structural intricacies of The Gourmand’s accelerator to look at them. “I… I’m not sure. The particle accelerator on Verygone is buried a mile under the surface, beneath layers of massive radiation shielding. And I was part of a team of more than forty people specially trained to manage the whole system. I’ve never handled anything like this before.” I gestured towards the vast network of piping and joints.
“Fair enough. But you still have more expertise than either of us. Tell us what you know.”
“Well, I know that terranium is extremely rare and extremely dense. You aren’t going to find a hunk of it just lying around. And if you did, you wouldn’t be able to lift it. Its gravitational pull is so strong that an ingot the size of a pebble, like the one Forndalapausha showed us, could actually pull you towards it, trapping you in place.”
Qurth shook his head. “Terrifying,” he said.
I nodded. “It was first discovered because certain moons, planets, and asteroids had inexplicably strong gravitational signatures. After decades of research, astronomists and geologicians realized that tiny, microscopic particles embedded in the sediment of these celestial bodies gave them their tremendous gravitational heft. The geologic matter of a planet must be sifted hundreds of times to extract the terranium. Then it is refined and condensed in a particle accelerator, and after a certain threshold, the terranium must be contained using antigravitrons to negate its gravitational influence.”
“Every converter onboard must therefore have antigravitational containment inside,” Qurth said, resting his hand against the piping next to his head.
“That’s right. Here on the Gourmand, the terranium is suspended in its plasmic state, a miniature blazing star. The converter extracts that energy, using it to power the whole ship. There’s probably a whole set of converters dedicated just to the interstellar drive.”
“Once the terranium has been activated, how do you render it inert again?” Saiara asked.
“By infusing it with frethone. The molecules bond, making the terranium inert, transforming your portable sun into a dense orb tougher than pure carbon, and heavier than a class two mineral planet.”
“So,” Saira said, “we’re either dealing with a star the size of a person, or a pebble heavier than Jarcosa.”
I pinched my lips together and nodded.
“And we cannot open the converter to repair it without risk of reaction?” Qurth added.
“Not in here,” I said.
“What do you mean ‘not in here’?”
“The ship’s atmosphere. Like Saiara said, even a single atom from the terranium could ignite every molecule of carbon, hydrogen, oxygen, and nitrogen. We would all be incinerated.”
“We need a vacuum,” Saiara said.
“Right.”
“Then this whole accelerator is hermetic?” Qurth said.
“Yes,” I said. “It has to be. The energetic particles flow freely inside the accelerator without risk of environmental disruption.”
“But you must have technical problems on Verygone, yes? What did you do when things went wrong?”
“The interior is accessible through airlocks. Unless we powered down the whole system, which never happened in my lifetime, repair work was typically done by sending drones in through the nearest airlock. Eventually, they disintegrate in the intense radiation, but they usually last long enough to get the job done. And if not, we just send in another cluster to finish what the first set started.”
“But Dala Forn does not want us to take the easy way,” Qurth said, “or else he would have shipheart go in and do the repairs, much as you have explained.”
We all stood in silence at that, unsure of what to do next.
“Hey you three!” a whispery voice said.
“Did you hear-” I started to ask, then saw that the Qurth and Saiara were also looking around.
“Don’t worry.” The voice was louder now, penetrating the ambient hum. “You’re not imagining things. Up here!”
We all lifted our heads up.
“Here!” A hand was sticking out from between two pipes, waving to us. A moment later the person’s head poked out. It was one of the ship’s technicians. He wore thick black goggles that concealed his eyes and made him blend in with the equipment.
“What are you up to down there?” he said.
“Dala Forn asked us to fix the broken converter,” Saiara said, mustering an authoritative voice.
“Ah!” said the technician. “I’ve been wondering why we hadn’t just sent in the automatons. Teachable moments, eh ensigns?” He grinned wide. He could clearly tell that we were trainees, and he wasn’t buying Saiara’s attempt to sound official. “Of course, I don’t need to tell you young bloods that these units are all modular, right?” He smacked his hand on the surface of our malfunctioning converter.
We stared up at him. The technician grinned one last time, then disappeared back into the equipment, never even telling us his name.
We looked at each other. Then we all started laughing.
“Modular! Of course,” I shook my head. “We can seal both ends, bypass the flow, and remove the converter without disrupting the rest of the system.”
“We must still open it to effect the repair, ensign Siris,” Qurth pointed out to me.
Saiara grabbed my left arm
with both hands. “Ever been on a spacewalk, Oren?” she asked with childlike enthusiasm.
“A what?”
“Looks like you’re about to get a crash course. I have an idea.”
* * *
“Qurth,” Saiara said over the comlink. “Are you ready?”
“I am ready, ensign Yta.” His formal enunciation sounded almost inhuman through the miniature speaker inside my helmet.
Saiara and I were floating outside The Gourmand, tethered to the exterior of the ship. The terranium converter hung in space in front of us, a larger, more complex version of Forndala’s handheld antigravitational cylinder, about the length of my leg and three times as thick.
“Are you ready, Oren?” Saiara asked.
I was closest to the converter, with my back to her. We had pried open a surface panel, revealing the blazing terranium orb inside. Even with the antigrav containment on full power, I could still feel radiant heat through my exoskin. I slowly swiveled my head to look at her. Her exoskin glowed fiery bronze in the light.
Given my expertise, we had all agreed that I was the one most qualified to do the stabilization. An extendable hose made from flexible nanofiber stretched out from the ship, running alongside the tethers that ensured that neither we nor the converter could go flying off into space.
I turned back to the converter, gripped the hose, and nodded.
“Okay then,” she said. “Initiate the transfer, Qurth.”
Everything happened quickly then. The hose expanded and tensed beneath my hands as the frethon gas flowed through it. The terranium star started to solidify, dark spots spreading like a malignant virus through its white-hot surface.
“Almost there,” I said.
The last of the light disappeared as the surface of the orb congealed. Just a moment or two more, I thought.
I lurched forward.
For one brief instant, I felt the terrible gravitational hunger of the terranium pulling me closer. I took a deep breath, supressing my instinct to panic. We had planned for this. The small amount of additional mass caused by the injection of gas was enough to throw the antigravitons out of equilibrium for a moment before they self-corrected. I planted my feet on the converter, steadying myself, and the instant passed as the antigravitons compensated.
I breathed a sigh of relief. “It’s stabilizing,” I said.
Then the hose in my hand crimped and cracked.
A burst of gas hit me in the chest, knocking me backwards. I tumbled away from the converter, end over end. Qurth was shouting in my ear. Images blurred together on the tumbling wheel of my vision.
The hose, spraying out a smoky cloud of gas.
The ship, upside down.
The void of space.
Saiara, next to the hose, spraying it with sealant.
The ship, closer now.
The void.
Saiara careening towards me.
She caught me just above my waist with her left shoulder, wrapping her arms around my torso. My arms and legs pinioned forward, my body hinging and collapsing as she collided with me. She stopped me from pinwheeling, carrying us both away from the converter with her momentum.
I tried to speak but I couldn’t seem to catch my breath. I instinctively pulled my arms in and clawed at my throat.
“Don’t take off your helmet!” Saira’s voice screamed in my ear through the comlink. “We’re almost there.”
The biometric displays on my faceplate were blinking red. I focused in on them and saw that the air from my suit was leaking out.
I looked down. Bits and pieces of my exoskin were flaking off from my chest, brittle and ruined by the exposure to frethon gas.
The exoskin was disintegrating.
Panic started rolling back again. I gasped for air. My chest felt like it was going to burst.
“Oren! I need you to stay focused. Exhale. Right now. Do it!”
Her voice cut through my terror. I exhaled all of the air out of my lungs.
The panic subsided a little. My chest relaxed.
I lifted my head, trying to orient myself.
A solitary distant star glinted in my vision.
No. It was the converter, hurtling away from us.
I reached my hand towards it. We are going to lose it! my mind screamed, but no words came out.
My mouth felt hot and effervescent.
My vision went black.
* * *
“Stop pampering him,” I heard Forndala say from far away. “He has rested enough.”
“Dala Forn,” another voice from the distance responded, “it is my duty-”
“Don’t lecture me on duty, young blood.” Louder now. “You saved this ensign’s life. We are grateful to you for that. But this boy comes from hardy stock, and he needs to use his strength. He’ll spoil if we leave him cooped up too long!”
My eyes felt heavy. I forced them open.
A glassy cyclopean eye stared back at me. I blinked. The eye kept watching me. An inspector oculus, I realized. I am in the medbay, lying down.
I rolled my head to my right. Adaptive gel cupped my skull, adjusting precisely to my movements as the weight of my head shifted. Forndala and a young man I did not recognize stood above me. Forndala was at least two heads taller than the man.
Spiraled bands of silver glinted on the man’s lapel, marking him as a meditician. He’s been caring for me, I thought. He was attempting to stay firm as he faced down Forn, but the dala was using every bit of his intimidating height for dramatic effect. “Dala,” the young man was saying nervously, “I… I respect your position, but-”
“Look!” someone else said before the meditician could finish speaking. “His eyes are open!”
Her face appeared above me at the same time I recognized her voice, emerging from my periphery, obscuring the darkened oculus. “Oren! It’s me, Saiara.” Her wide blue eyes were close to mine, and the silver in her hair caught the light.
I gave her a weak smile. “Do you really think I could forget the woman who nearly got me killed?” I said. I was trying to be light, but my voice was tired and strained, and my tongue felt muddled.
“Oh, Oren. I am so sorry. I never should have put you at risk like that.” She took my hand, her small fingers lacing with mine.
Before I could tell her not to worry, that we had all made the choice together, the meditician was next to her, bringing his hands close to my face. He hovered his fingers, almost touching my cheeks, and slowly moved his hands down to my chest.
When he was done, he stood and nodded. “All vitals feel satisfactory,” he said.
“Excellent,” Forndala said, shouldering the young man aside. “Ensign Siris,” he said. “Welcome back to the waking world, son.”
I propped myself up to a seated position, waving Saiara away when she fretted over me. “Dala,” I said. “It’s good to be back. How long has it been?”
“Four full days in coldsleep, ensign. We just thawed you out this morning. You know,” he said, “you got real lucky out there. But you’re in top shape now, thanks to ensign Yta.”
I looked back at Saiara, and she gave me a shy smile.
“I remember,” I said. “The gravitational pull of the terranium ripped the hose, and the gas sent me flying. You… you leapt after me.”
She nodded. “I kicked off of the converter and caught you while you were spinning, propelling us both towards the airlock. Qurth reeled us the rest of the way in.”
“Qurth! Is he here?”
He stepped up next to Saiara. “I am here, ensign Siris.”
“Did we do it? Did we fix the converter?”
Qurth and Saiara nodded together. “The stabilization was successful,” Qurth said. “Once you were safely inside, we hauled the converter back and completed repairs. You did well, ensign Siris.”
“Thank you, Qurth.” I opened and shut my jaw, working my mouth. “Why does my tongue feel so strange?” I asked.
“In the vacuum,” he said, “the boiling p
oint drops so low, your own inner heat is enough to catalyze bodily liquids. Your saliva began to boil in your mouth.”
I opened my eyes wide.
“Your tongue and gums were badly burned,” the meditician confirmed, “and your lungs nearly burst after you panicked and starting gulping in what was left of your air. Fortunately, enisgn Yta had the presence of mind to make you exhale. When she got you back safely, we immediately went to work repairing or replacing the damaged cellular tissue. In a few more days, you’ll be right as starlight.”
“Thank you,” I said to him. “You saved me as much as Saiara did.”
The man nodded. “Most welcome. Now, I have to check on other patients. I’ll give you all a few more minutes,” he said, turning to the group, “and then we have to let ensign Siris here get some more rest.” He gave Forndala a pointed stare, then walked out of sight.
That’s when I saw Shu Cresna hovering behind Forndala. The bulk of his body had blocked her from view, but she peered around him now. Her face was pinched and strained, but when she caught me looking at her, she gave me a warm smile.
“Cresshu,” I said. “You actually look pleased to see me. You weren’t worried about me, were you?”
As soon as I said that, she scowled and waved her hand at me, brushing my nonsense aside. “Bah. You took foolish risks. All of you.” She glared at Saiara and Qurth. They both dipped their heads, acknowledging the truth of her words. Then her voice softened. “But I cannot deny your courage and creativity. This was, I think, a teachable moment for all of us.”
Forndala laughed his booming laugh. “Quite right, Shu Cresna. Quite right. We cannot always predict the challenges we’ll face. And great risks sometimes bring great rewards. But I must admit, we might have provided some guiding parameters to prevent you from being quite so creative. A localized vacuum field, for instance.”
“A what?” Saiara said, giving him a confused and accusing look.
Forndala looked a little sheepish. “A rather wonderful device that lets you form a vacuum just about anywhere. Ideal for these sorts of repairs, really.”
Saiara was incredulous, and watching her square off against Forndala, who was easily more than twice her body mass, was both impressive and riotously absurd. Her posture made me think of the xenovolves I had learned about as a boy; one of the most graceful and fearsome predators in the galaxy. She looked menacing and beautiful.
Gradient Page 7
