“We have a groove? I mean, I felt like we definitely had a groove thing happening, but I didn’t know for sure if you thought we had a groove.”
Her eyes cut over to him, now dancing with mirth rather than ice. “Are you going to help, or is droll commentary going to be the extent of your contribution?”
He bit his lower lip, and was intrigued to see an odd flare in her eyes before she directed her attention to the hull. “I can’t do both?”
“Nope. It’s scientifically impossible.”
He sighed for added effect. “Ah well. I guess I’ll help then.”
“Thank god.”
As they settled back into the routine, this time with considerably less tension in the air, he pondered her rapid and dramatic shift in mood. Unquestionably the prospect of locating additional materials for the hull would be a welcome development and should cheer her up, but not to so great an extent.
It took him a few minutes to figure out the answer, though in retrospect it seemed blindingly obvious given what he had ascertained about her thus far.
He had provided her the means to make her ship whole. To fly again.
23
ERISEN
EARTH ALLIANCE COLONY
* * *
“IT’S THE SAME PRINCIPLE as the dampener field, except blocking signals from getting in rather than keeping them from getting out. We don’t need to reinvent the wheel, merely reapply the principles in a slightly adjusted manner.”
The young engineer looked at her as though she had sprouted a second head. She checked, she hadn’t. “Well? I’m not forgetting some fundamental rule of chemistry, am I? Quantum physics? Electronics?”
“Um, no ma’am, not as—”
“Kennedy’s fine.” She smiled at him in the ghostly light. The prototype lab was of necessity windowless and dark, save for the scattered glow of dozens of screens and interfaces.
“Yes, ma’am. Kennedy. Ma’am. It’s just the dampener field doesn’t block everything, even at its strongest. It only tamps down the strength of the waves. For reverse-shielding to work, it’ll have to be impermeable.”
“True, but the energy the dampener field blocks is on the order of terajoules. The energy we want to block here is far smaller.”
“Right. Good point.” He ran calculations on the screen in front of them. The blue and teal glyphs coating his arm pulsed brightly to splash color in the air. “It shouldn’t be too difficult to create a strong Faraday cage using a silver-based nonlinear metamat. We could—”
“And we should do that—but not now. For this project to be successful it has to be easy to install and inexpensive, relatively speaking, not another costly lattice which has to be painted on.”
He stared at her. “A cheap virtual shield blocking the entire spectrum?”
“No, I’m not that crazy. It has to protect against directed signals, not space radiation or anything. I think it doesn’t need to be a Faraday cage at all. It simply has to disrupt specific signals, after all. We disrupt signals all the time.”
His eyes widened and looked to the ceiling for inspiration. “We can certainly design a shield to diffuse or disrupt incoming waves. But it would disrupt the exanet as well, including messaging, and I, um…” he chuckled to himself, then blushed “…don’t think our customers would like that, right?”
She patted him on the shoulder in encouragement. She loved nerdy engineers; they were so pure. In point of fact this was the root of the problem she had sought him out to solve. But she had wanted him to work through the variables and come to it on his own, because now he would feel he owned it, too.
“You are absolutely correct, which is why I need you to figure out a way to allow exanet signals in without creating a hole big enough for the evil pirates to sneak through. What do you think? Can you do it?”
His brow furrowed and his gaze bounced around the lab. “Well, it will have to be adaptive and semi-intelligent, so we’re looking at some manner of active ware in its core and—”
She laughed and began backing away. “Just let me know when you have something.”
He nodded distractedly, his mind already lost in a magical mathematical world.
In truth she needed ‘something’ rather fast. The Board presentation had gone better than expected, and they had requested practical design plans as soon as possible. But the fastest route to those plans was to get a techie intrigued by the challenge then give them the room to be brilliant.
She stepped out the glass doors of IS Design’s offices onto the broad sidewalk, only to grin in delight. Light, fluffy snowflakes danced about in the air to become a luminous gold in the refracted evening rays.
She pulled her hat snugly over her ears and started off, though not too quickly. Her apartment was eight blocks away in the heart of downtown, and she decided to enjoy the walk.
Erisen had been her home for eleven years now, but having grown up in Houston and attended university in Pasadena, she still found herself a little enamored by snow. It made everything feel…softer. Gentler. Brighter. It was okay to be a child again when in the presence of snow.
Halfway down the next block she lingered at the window of a shoe boutique, futilely as always. She was going to Houston for her parents’ anniversary in two days and required eye-catching attire to wear to the party. In her parents’ vernacular, ‘party’ meant gala extravaganza involving five hundred guests, a private orchestra and delicacies shipped in from half a dozen worlds. And while Erisen’s fashion offerings had matured to a point, retailers tended toward the practical attire required by a cold and snowy climate.
Alas. Maybe she should head to Earth early and swing by Manhattan first. She wouldn’t want her parents’ friends thinking Erisen was some backwater hick world, because at a hundred seventy-two years old, it wasn’t. Much.
Her eVi indicated an incoming message, and a frown tugged at her lips when it opened. Miles, the eco-dev executive, would like to take her to an art exhibit the next evening. She pondered it a moment while crossing the street, and abruptly stuck her tongue out to capture a falling snowflake.
Once the initial thrill of a new romance had worn off, she was finding him increasingly high maintenance. He had turned out to be a horrific skier, which could have been cute if he hadn’t been so damn whiny about it. He prattled on about his work incessantly, which could have been interesting if his work didn’t consist mostly of lobbying. And while he was quite handsome, his mouth did this odd downturn thing in response to whatever you said; it made him look churlish.
With an eye roll she sent back a decline and excuse. The excuse was easy, as she legitimately wasn’t available on account of needing to get ready for the trip home. Whether he interpreted it as a more permanent decline…well, she would worry about that on her return.
Another one bites the dust. She laughed to herself, fully aware she had done it again, but opened a compose anyway.
Alex,
…or not. He’s entirely too needy, and on the verge of petulant. Oh well, tomorrow is another day.
— Kennedy
She sent the message as a gleam to her left caught her attention. The last moment of the sunset over the mountains tossed glittering beams into the snow-filled sky. It looked—
Message unable to be delivered. Recipient is not connected to exanet infrastructure. Message will be queued until it can be delivered.
What?
The person behind her collided into her, and she barely caught her balance in time to prevent a tumble to the ground. She mumbled a “sorry” and moved out of the way.
Distracted by troubling thoughts, she managed to wind through the busy pedestrian foot traffic to the low ledge marking the barrier between the sidewalk and a small sculpture park. She sank against the ledge.
There were a few instances when one might be cut off from the ubiquitous exanet infrastructure. Spelunking beneath a couple of kilometers of solid heavy metals, for instance, or catching a front-row seat to a supernova explosion.
Not much else…other than being dead, of course.
The Siyane was equipped with the most robust radiation shielding available, but even it had limits.
Oh Alex, what are you doing?
24
SIYANE
METIS NEBULA, UNCHARTED PLANET
* * *
THE SIYANE SKIMMED FIFTEEN METERS above the ground, cutting through a harsh wind toward the only reading for kilometers which showed any signs of being artificial.
Alex pointed at the screen taking up the uppermost-right quadrant of the cockpit display. She had given him view rights to the HUD, because it was simply practical to do so. “Keep an eye on this readout while I try not to crash into any sudden mountainous objects. Let me know when it spikes.”
Caleb nodded from his position leaning against the half-wall separating the cockpit and the main cabin. “Gotcha.”
They had spent the previous evening stretching the hull material as far as possible and called it an early, tired night. This morning they had set out in the direction of the region the navigation system identified as the likeliest crash site zone. They’d been flying for more than an hour to reach the edge of the region; for obvious reasons she flew conservatively.
He had baked muffins after they had lifted off, then showed up in the cockpit and casually handed her two.
Muffins. He had utterly confounded her with muffins. Banana nut multigrain muffins, to be precise. The man’s arsenal of weaponry was truly impressive.
She found her mind wandering to what other weapons he might have in his—Jesus, Alex, get your mind out of the gutter. It’s far too early in the morning for those sorts of thoughts.
“Hey, got a spike.”
She blinked hard and glanced at the display. “Yep.” She arced toward the flashing signal. When they were in range she slowed to a crawl until they could see the wreckage among the blowing sand.
He moaned and sagged against the wall in apparent despondence. “My baby….”
“Look, I said I was sorry. There’s nothing else—”
“She was a loaner. I’d had her all of a week.”
“Unh!” She leaned over and punched him in the shoulder. “Very funny.”
“Ow.” He rubbed his shoulder gingerly. “So what’s the plan?”
She studied the hazy outline of the wreckage. “It looks promising. The wind is nasty strong though, so we’ll tether ourselves to the hull. I say we take turns slicing off a piece and bringing it to the airlock. I’d like to end up with at least three square meters, as solid and flat as possible.” She leaned in closer to the viewport. “Given the state of the wreck, it may mean a lot of small pieces.”
“Works for me.”
The ship’s landing gear settled to the ground, and she cut the engine. “Let’s get to it.”
She rejoined him after depositing a sheet in the airlock, her fourth such trip. They had accumulated a nice stack of material by this point, but she didn’t want to come up short and have to do this all over again. The wind made every step a challenge, and the swirling dust reduced visibility to a few meters. “Goddamn this planet sucks.”
He chuckled over the vicinity comm. “You don’t have to tell me—I’m fairly certain I’ve been telling you. But that’s not even what bugs me the most about it.”
“And what does bug you the most about it?”
“How is it even here? What is it orbiting? We’re a long way from the pulsar, and there’s no indication of another star in the vicinity.”
“Perhaps the answer’s in that unusual radiation. I don’t know. Regardless—”
A powerful gust swept across them from out of nowhere; the crashed ship rocked precipitously, several loose sections tearing off to disappear into the sky.
The punishing wind ripped the piece of hull he had just severed out of his hand. Its jagged edges sliced right through the line tethering her to her ship on its way to oblivion.
The velocity of the wind increased yet more and began to push her relentlessly backward. She reached to grab onto the wreckage, and had succeeded in doing so when a fresh gust whipped in and her tenuous grip slipped on the metal surface.
His voice was low and steady. “Hang on. I’m going to—”
“I can’t!” The gust shifted direction, and she felt herself being blown sideways away from the wreck—
—his arms wound around her waist and gripped her against him. She didn’t understand how he managed to reach her. Somehow he had.
“It’s okay. I’ve got you.”
Her pulse raced, pounding in her ears above the howling wind. A wave of dizziness crashed over her with the rapid flood of adrenaline. She gasped in a breath. “Don’t let go.”
His faceplate dropped forward to rest on hers. “I won’t. I promise.”
Her eyes rose to meet his. She was shocked at how frightened he looked. Those beautiful irises had darkened to a raging midnight blue surrounding pinpoint pupils. Rigid lines of clenched muscles cut beneath his cheekbones.
But the tone of his voice remained calm and confident. It made her feel safe…as did the firm grasp of his arms around her. It seemed his deceptively lean build hid a great deal of strength. She sucked in several deep breaths until her pulse began to slow. “Thank you.”
He grinned, if a little shakily. “Couldn’t lose my pilot, now could I?”
“We should probably…head to the ship.”
“You want me to carry you?”
And the cocky wit returns. She glared at him through the faceplate, though any annoyance was contrived at best. “That’s quite all right. How about we just tie my line onto yours instead.”
“Okay, but don’t say I didn’t offer.”
“Noted.” She hoped the helmet hid the smile which insisted on pulling at her lips as she reached around him to secure the frayed end of her line to his. “Let’s each get a piece and head in. I think we have enough.” She jerked the knot tight and pulled back to face him.
A second passed, then two. Her pulse decided to reverse direction once more. She swallowed. “You can let go now.”
He laughed softly. “Right.” But he waited another full second before loosening his grip and taking a half-step away.
She spun toward the wreck, only to grumble in frustration. “And my blade’s gone.”
“S’ok. You can take…this one.” He finished cutting off a small piece and handed it to her, then went for the last one. Once he held the final slice in his hands, he paused to stare at the remnants of his ship.
“What is it? Is there something else you wanted to try to find?”
She saw his shoulders drop fractionally, though the sigh wasn’t audible. He looked back at her. “Nope. We’re good.”
She smiled to herself as the metal cooled to meld together into a nearly seamless sheet. The materials weren’t identical; as such, the hue underwent a noticeable shift at the…well, seam. Still, it would do. More than do, honestly. She had to admit, she was impressed by the Senecan-manufactured metamat. It wasn’t better than hers, merely different. But not bad different.
She began heating the next section. After laying out the recovered material and matching the pieces to the remaining gaps, they had divided up the repairs to save time. His work the previous afternoon had more than convinced her he knew what he was doing. She trusted him to get it right, which was saying a fair amount.
“So I was thinking. Once the repairs are finished, we should go check out those anomalous readings.”
His torch froze above the hull. “You think so?”
“We should consider it at least. At this point we’re practically there, we might as well drop by. I mean it’s why I’m here, it’s why you’re here. It won’t be much trouble to check it out.”
Her torch created a bright glare, and beyond its halo she couldn’t see his expression at the opposite end of the hold. She could see him set his tools on the floor. A reply was several seconds in coming, however.
“You’re right. It is why
you’re here, and why I’m here. So what does that mean? If it turns out to be important, do I get a copy of the data?”
She didn’t even hesitate. After all, ‘I’ve been thinking’ meant she had previously identified the parameters and analyzed all the branching considerations. “Yes.”
His response was also quick, though she suspected for a different reason. “You mean it? Why?”
She returned to the still-ragged edge of the salvaged material. “Because I don’t gain anything by keeping it from you. You’ll know what the phenomenon is, at least in general terms, because you’ll be there. I suspect unlike my typical clients, your bosses won’t demand detailed scientific analyses and spectrum charts before acting on the information, so you’ll already have everything you need. I won’t gain any advantage by being a bitch and I’ll lose….” Her hand paused two centimeters from the shard.
“You’ll lose what?”
Asshole, as if he didn’t know the answer. “Comity.”
He choked back a laugh. “Comity?”
She scowled at the torch. “Yes, comity. Goodwill. Friendly relations. You not trying to kill me. Call it whatever—” She yelped as the flame grazed her fingertip, and quickly extinguished it lest she set the ship on fire.
“Alex, you have to know by now I’m not going to kill you.”
She sucked on the scalded finger to buy a second or two. “Of course I do. I was trying to be humorous. Failing miserably apparently. Not a huge surprise, it was never one of my strong suits.” He didn’t comment further, and she flicked the torch back on and turned to the hull—
—then realized he had come over and crouched on the balls of his feet against the wall beside her. Damn he could move quietly.
She eyed him without actually looking at him; a corner of his mouth tweaked up in response. He was entirely too cute for his—or her—own good when he did that…. Surprised at her own reaction, she wondered when precisely it was his smirk had stopped being annoying and started being cute. The evening before? This morning with the muffins? Just now?
Aurora Rising: The Complete Collection Page 21
