by C. Gockel
Alvarez thought for a second. “You’re right,” he said. “We couldn’t have disengaged the power-coupling in time if it had required a spacewalk.”
The two were quiet. Then Alvarez said, “I think I’ll take an Atlas-class ship next time.” They laughed.
“They’re ugly, but they get the job done,” Parker said.
Alvarez looked into the hatch. “Let’s get this done.”
Parker took another rope from underneath the transport table and hooked one end to an O-ring on the new combustion chamber. After attaching the other end to the rail, they released the tie-downs. The chamber was free from the table.
“York, are you there?” Parker said.
“I’m in here,” she said. “This service shaft’s a tight fit, but I think I can do it.”
“When you’re ready, disassemble the valve fitting and loosen the bolts,” Parker said.
“This thing’s held together with bolts?” Alvarez said. “What is this, the Twenty-First Century?”
Parker smiled. “Four bolts, actually. Sometimes there’s elegance in simplicity.” He pointed to the burnt-out combustion chamber. “What do you want to do with this?”
“Let’s chuck it,” Alvarez said. “I just hope the new one works.”
The cylindrical chamber exited the hatch, the men guiding it. Alvarez said, “Two, three.” They shoved the hunk of metal towards the nearby star.
“Here’s where I need your help,” Parker said. “Getting the old part out is easier than getting the new part in.”
They positioned themselves along each side of the new chamber. Alvarez peered around it into the mostly dark hatch. He saw a reflective glimmer from Terra York’s helmet before she scuttled out of the way.
“We need to move this slowly,” Parker said. “If it’s out of alignment or we bang it up badly, we’re back to square one.”
Alvarez raised an eyebrow but said nothing. How could something that withstands the pressures of nuclear fusion get dented so easily? He guessed it came down to engineering tolerances, compressive versus tensile stresses, and numerous physics facts he had learned in school and long since forgotten.
They inserted the chamber, making miniscule adjustments at each increment. Alvarez glimpsed the burnt-out chamber tumbling in the distance. There was something engaging about the sight of this once essential component, now hurtling as trash toward the ultimate incinerator.
He needed to concentrate. But he had too many problems to solve. His ship was a sitting duck. Brennen had gone rogue. Alvarez knew nothing about the probe, and nothing about the technician or the phenomenon he had encountered.
The chamber was nearly in place. Alvarez saw Terra York’s small hands reaching in and around parts trying to line up the giant bolts.
“This part’s always harder,” Parker said.
“All the kings men…” Alvarez said. No response. Either no one knew the rhyme, or they didn’t find it amusing.
“Threading the bolts will be easy,” York said. “I’m worried about the seal.”
“One thing at a time,” Parker said.
Jitters came over the comm. “Colonel Alvarez, Dr. Brennen needs to speak with you.”
“He’s on board?” Alvarez said.
“No, sir. He’s still on the research probe. We have a video up-link. He says it’s urgent.”
“Now he wants to talk,” Alvarez said.
“John, we can finish the rest of this without you,” Parker said.
Alvarez took a deep breath. “Jitters, I’ll be right there.”
Chapter Fourteen
ALVAREZ STEPPED ONTO the helm. At the communications console, he saw a vid-feed on screen. “Brennen, I’m going to nail your hide to the wall when we get back to Novos.”
Brennen, his back partially turned, was busy working on something. “John,” he said without looking up, “we don’t have time for this right now. I know what happened to the probe tech, and I think I know what happened to the probe.”
“Is he alive?”
“Do you think I’d be the only one talking right now if he was?” Brennen said. “What’s important is that I got systems back online.”
A twinge struck Alvarez’s abdomen. Brennen wasn’t on the shuttle, he realized. He was on the probe. “Michael, why don’t you have your space suit on?”
“Relax. I took care of it. The robotic unit hit the probe with so much broad-spectrum radiation and antiviral/antibacterial gas, nothing could live through that. If I don’t glow in the dark from all this radiation, I’ll be fine.”
Alvarez wasn’t convinced. “What about life-support? How much air do you have?”
“John, this is silly. I took two weeks of supplies with me: oxygen tanks, food and water. I’m spending the rest of my time here working on the probe. I’ll head back with you after the mission’s over. If you’re done mothering me, can we please get back to business?”
Alvarez clinched his teeth. “Fine. What did you find?”
“The onboard computer has the uncorrupted files from the data burst sent to Novos.”
“The missing video?”
“The video and the sensory data. But it wasn’t easy to find. I had to wade through over a hundred useless log entries. This guy fancied himself a singer-songwriter. How many terrible songs about flying-solo or love-by-starlight can one man write? There wasn’t one tune that I-”
“Michael.”
“Right. I’m just saying I should get paid more for the abuse I suffered.”
“What can you tell so far?”
“For one, the probe tech didn’t die from the life-support failing. The computer shows that it came back online shortly after we lost the vid-feed.”
“So what killed him?”
“He was outside the ship, John—dead in his space-suit.”
Alvarez tried not to look shocked. “Was he trying to make repairs or something?”
“All he did was disengage the primary power, right outside the main access hatch. I don’t know why he’d even do that. If he was going to try to reboot systems manually, he would have turned primary power back on.”
“I don’t get it.”
“John, I’m convinced he thought something or someone was on the ship with him.”
“But you found nothing to support that?”
“Right. Power of the mind, perhaps. You know how crazy people get on these solo missions. He already saw himself as a starving artist. Those types are always looking for an excuse to fail, some reason why it’s not their fault their art or music is worthless. As soon as he ran into trouble, I think he accepted his fate so strongly that he couldn’t shake it, even after the real danger was gone.”
“You’re saying he was scared to death?”
“He was so scared he took all of the oxygen tanks out with him, and when they were used up he chose to asphyxiate in space rather than go back into the probe.”
Alvarez looked down for a second. “What happened to the probe? Why did life-support go down in the first place?”
“I know what happened,” Brennen said. “But I don’t know why or even how. It’s most likely the same reason the star has been getting younger and gaining mass. The probe detected some sort of object, perhaps a moon, orbiting the star. The tech positioned the probe between the star and this object.”
Brennen paused. “John, this anomaly—moon, object, whatever—it’s unusual to say the least. Whatever it’s transmitting or emitting, it’s doing so at regular intervals.”
“Regular like a definite frequency, a wavelength?”
“No, I mean it’s emitting this burst every one hour and thirty-seven minutes. John, I’m sending you the coordinates now. It’s closer to the probe than to the Constance, but it should still be within visual.”
Thomson, overhearing the conversation, received the coordinates and searched for the object. “There it is, sir,” he said.
Alvarez saw a small gray dot, dimly reflecting starlight. “Increase magnification
,” he said. The object filled his screen. It was smaller than most moons, but too spherical and uniformly proportioned to be an asteroid. “Michael, when’s the next burst? When’s it going off again?”
“I should know the answer momentarily,” Brennen said. “The computer’s clock went down with the rest of the systems. So, the time-stamp’s unreliable. I’m using the star charts and the probe’s navigational records to calculate how much time passed while systems were offline.”
Brennen’s cool, sarcastic demeanor faded. For the first time in the conversation, he looked directly into the camera. “John, the object is going to transmit in less than six minutes.”
Chapter Fifteen
“WHAT DO YOU mean transmit?” Alvarez asked Brennen.
“That same burst that hit the probe is going to hit you in less than six minutes. And unless you want the same trouble the probe encountered, I suggest you move.”
“What about you?”
“I’ll figure something out. I always do. See you on the other side.”
Before Alvarez could say anything, the screen went black. Alvarez grabbed his forehead and leaned against the console.
“S-s-sir, are you alright?” Jitters said.
Alvarez straightened up. He got on the comm. “Parker, how are those engines coming?”
“We have two problems. One is the—”
“We don’t have time for this,” Alvarez said. “How long to get them running?”
“At least another hour,” Parker said.
“You’ve got six minutes to get them operational and get yourself back inside, or we’re in big trouble.”
Alvarez turned to Thomson. “If we get engines back, how far do we need to go to get out of range of that blast?”
“Sir, I don’t think we need to worry about distance. We need to find something to put between us and the object. If we had engines, the easiest thing to do would be to get on the other side of the star.”
“Look for something else,” Alvarez said. “Maybe there’s something close. If we just had a little propulsion, we could find a place to hide. Even with engines online, I don’t expect to have them long enough to get to the other side of the star. That would take…” Alvarez tried to do the math in his head. He couldn’t. He was numb. Whatever thoughts surfaced were only conscious as he spoke them. Everything else hid in the numbness.
“It would take at least two minutes at maximum thrust,” said Thomson.
“That means we have no more than four minutes until we have to use plan B,” Alvarez said. “Jitters, start a countdown.”
“Already did, sir. We have five minutes, twenty-three seconds left.”
Alvarez got on the comm. “Parker, what’s your status?”
“Colonel, I was trying to tell you. We have more than one problem. The valve seal’s not cooperating. But even if we fix that, the hatch door won’t close over the new combustion chamber.”
“The first one fit. What’s wrong with this one?”
“It’s too big. I think Novos goofed up. They gave us the wrong part. This combustion chamber looks like it goes on a Atlas-class ship. They didn’t see the alterations I made in the design. They look so much alike; I understand why they got it wrong.”
“With the valve fitting sealed, will it work with the latch open? All we need is a little bit of power.”
“It might,” Parker said, “but if we go too fast or hit debris, it could rip the hatch door off. And if we lost hull integrity, we couldn’t use IST. I wouldn’t try it.”
“Well, that’s our best bet at the moment. We have about…” He looked at Jitters who flashed fingers. “We’ve got four minutes,” Alvarez said.
“There’s another problem,” Parker said. “Without being able to seal the hatch, there’s no way to re-pressurize the service shaft.
“Leave it without atmosphere.”
“That’s not the point. It’s York. Without re-pressurization, she can’t come back onboard through the service shaft.”
“And it’s not safe for her to be out there if we start the engines?”
“Right,” said Parker. “The only way it’s going to work is if we take out the combustion chamber and reinstall it from the outside. Even then it’s going to take some modifications to make it fit.”
“I thought you needed someone inside the service shaft to install it.”
“Not exactly. This way isn’t ideal, but it’s doable.”
“Parker, I don’t get this double-talk. You told me one thing earlier, and now I’m getting the whole story. I know I’m not a space-architect, but I’m getting a little tired of surprises. We’re running out of time. Whatever you’re going to do, do it now. Alvarez out.”
Alvarez punched the comm button. Then he placed his hands by his sides and willfully unclenched his fists.
“Sir, I think we’ve found our hiding place,” Thomson said. “There’s a small asteroid. We should cross its orbit in the next couple of minutes. If we could attach ourselves to its side, I think we could avoid the blast. It should block us.”
Alvarez looked on Thomson’s console screen and located the asteroid. “How fast is it moving?”
“It’s slow, in a similar orbit as ours.”
“Good work,” Alvarez said. “Now all we need…”
Alvarez found Sarge’s insignia on the comm console. “Sarge, I need your help.”
“Awaiting orders, sir.” Sarge’s military formalities always sounded genuine.
“I’m sure you have a handle on our gear manifest. What’s onboard that has its own propulsion system—tools, equipment, anything?”
Sarge took a moment. “We have space suits, the propulsion table that York and Parker are using, and maybe a few other small items. Why, sir?”
“None of that’s going to work. We need to move the ship just a few meters. But none of those have enough kick. Shouldn’t we have impact cannons onboard somewhere?”
“Like you said earlier, this is search and rescue. Novos catalogues those as mining equipment. No certs in bringing those.”
“Keep looking. Alvarez out.” He was scrambling for ideas. There was nothing one man could do. The solution needed cooperation, delegated action. He couldn’t scratch the mental itch. He was missing something obvious. His mind wanted to loosen-up, to go passive. Maybe the numbness would subside, he told himself. Maybe he could think. But the timer was counting down. There was no time to recover.
“J-j-just under two minutes, sir.”
“Parker, what’s your status?” Alvarez said over the comm.
“We’ve got the chamber loose, and York’s out with me. We’re attempting to put it back in place.”
“You don’t have time for that now,” Alvarez said. “We have to move to plan B. Tether the combustion chamber to the ship. Seal the hatch and get yourselves back in the cargo bay. You’ve got less than two minutes.”
Parker didn’t acknowledge, undoubtedly overwhelmed by urgency.
“Sir, how can we move with engines offline?” Thomson said.
“We’re out of time. The main thing right now is to seal the ship and get everyone inside. We can’t leave the doors wide open for whatever that object transmits. If we’re able to move, it won’t be with engines.”
The helm was silent. Alvarez felt them watching him. Waiting for some cue.
“One minute, sir,” Jitters said.
Alvarez felt a slight bump as if the ship hit something. Then there was a grinding screech. Alvarez got on the comm. “Parker, where are you?”
“Inside. York and I are both in the cargo bay, about to go through decontamination.”
“Did you hear that sound?”
“Yes, after we closed the bay door. It seemed to come from outside.”
Alvarez turned to Thomson. “What do you have?”
“There are too many birds in the sky. With this asteroid belt, our sensors are useless. We’re blind.”
“Keep searching,” he said. He gripped the console. He
felt light-headed and dizzy, like being in an uncalibrated PTU at Novos. The floor moved beneath him. He looked up. The stars in the vid-feed were drifting. His sensations weren’t totally psychosomatic. The Constance was moving. And it was accelerating.
There was a crackle over the comm. “Everybody hang tight.” It was Brennen.
“Michael, what are you doing?” Alvarez said.
“I’m saving our butts. I’ve attached the shuttle to the cargo bay door with the robotic unit. We’re tethered now, and I’m attempting to move the Constance in front of the approaching asteroid. Brace for impact.”
Alvarez thought about instructing Brennen, but realized he was doing the one thing that might save them. Brennen didn’t take orders anyway.
“Thirty seconds,” Jitters said.
“Do you have visual?” Alvarez asked Thomson.
He nodded. On the view screen appeared a chunk of frozen rock growing larger by the second.
The vid-feed changed, showing the shuttle hanging like a parasite from the bay door. Attempting to match speed and course with the asteroid, the shuttle’s jets burned blue.
The screen flickered. The asteroid was closer, but its approach seemed to slow.
“We’re going to hit it,” Thomson said.
“That’s our goal,” Alvarez said.
“I mean it’s going to be rough. Inertial dampeners are offline,” Thomson said.
Alvarez started to ask why he hadn’t been informed but realized he should have known; on every ship he had commanded, the inertial dampeners were integrated with the primary engines. It had to be that way. The computer used data from the main thrusters, combined it with proximate sensory data, and reversed the polarity of the IST generator to create small distortions in space-time.
Alvarez tried to get his mind back on track. They were without dampeners and were about to impact the asteroid. “When there’s no way around a problem, you go straight through it,” he whispered.
Jitters spoke the countdown. “F-f-five. Four. Three.” The Constance jolted. Jitters fell to the floor. Others grabbed chairs and workstations to stay upright.
