by Devin Hanson
If he wasn’t in a race against a storm, he would make his way around the panels in the section and disconnect them one by one. With the damaged panel isolated, he could then make the repair in relative safety. A single panel only produced enough juice to give him a jolt if he touched a wire; not harmless, but no worse than licking a battery.
As it was, there was no time for that. It would take hours to disconnect everything, fighting against the wind every step of the way. There was another solution. The enamel of the habitat did not conduct electricity. If he broke all contact with conductive material, he could normalize his suit with the current and perform the repair without having to cut the flow of electricity.
It was madness to attempt it in the gale. He would have to untether himself from the safety cables. If an unexpected gust of wind hit him at the wrong time and he touched one of the panel supports, he would be dead before he knew what had happened.
“I’m going to have to do a hot bridge,” he reported over the radio. “It looks like meteorite damage cracked the enamel and interrupted the bus connector.”
“No way,” Millicent barked. “You don’t have the tools or the time to do a proper repair on that.”
“Could you get the panel section online?” the Section Chief asked.
“Sec C,” Millicent shouted, “there’s no way anyone could do a hot bridge in this wind!”
“Damn it, Nicks, we need that section working! That damaged bus is cutting our power intake down by a quarter!”
“Out of the question,” Millicent barked. “Harding, stand down, and that is an order. I don’t care what this piece of shit says, no one under my command is committing suicide for a repair.”
“I’ll have your license, Nicks. This is my habitat. I don’t care what your procedures are on Nueva Angela, here we take our duties seriously!”
“Then get over here and do it yourself,” Millicent sneered. “I’d love to see you try and keep your balance without an anchor cable. And if you threaten me again, I’ll play this recording back to your superior. You’ll be scrubbing swirl filters in aquaponics for the rest of your natural life.”
Jackson felt his knees go wobbly with relief. Thank God his chief had his back.
“Now, see here, Nicks, I… what’s that?”
A sudden bloom of light caught Jackson’s eye and he twisted around to stare up at the sky. The usual deep blue was ribboned with clouds from the storm. The sun was hanging a little lower in the sky than he was used to seeing on Nueva Angela, but there was a second point of light, to the left of the sun. For a moment, it matched the sun for brightness, and then it winked out.
“What the hell was that?” Millicent asked.
“Sec C,” Jackson said hopefully, “I think I can isolate the panel section. There’s a snap switch not far from my location. It won’t fix the short, but we should be able to get the rest of the sector on line.”
There was a pause, and Jackson held his breath hopefully.
“Fine. Do it and get yourselves secure. Wharton, see to your crew. I’ve had enough of this.”
The radio popped as the section chief disconnected from the circuit and Millicent blew a sigh. “Christ, what an asshole. Hold on, Harding, I’ll be at your location in two minutes.”
The radio cracked again as someone new joined the channel. “What did you two do?” Wharton demanded.
“Nothing,” Millicent grunted. “We’re almost done with our repairs.”
“Wasn’t nothing,” Wharton growled. “The section chief sounds like you shoved a spanner up his ass. I didn’t bring you along to make me look bad, Nicks.”
“Maybe somebody should,” Millicent shot back. “He wanted my man to perform a hot bridge in this wind.”
“What, the new guy?”
“That has nothing to do with it. It’d be suicide for anyone to try.”
“Shit.” Wharton muttered something incoherent. “Well, hurry it up. I don’t like the look of these clouds.”
“Get inside then,” Millicent said. “We can take care of this.”
“You didn’t hear the Sec C, Millie. You may be okay with burning bridges, but I think I’ll do as I’m told.”
“Suit yourself, Wharton.”
Jackson saw Millicent struggling up the cable and waved a hand over his head. “I see you, Chief. There are two snap switches we need to throw. One of them is about ten yards further on down the safety line from where you are, the other is on the far side of the panel cluster.”
Millicent paused and lifted her head up. “I see it. Stay safe, Harding.”
Moving carefully, Jackson started the slow crawl through the panel supports toward the snap switch. Wharton’s comment about the clouds drew Jackson’s gaze out beyond his immediate surroundings. The clouds towered over the habitat, dark orange and flickering with lightning.
Nova Aeria was like a fleck of dust lost in titanic, slow-moving waves. Jackson was glad they had made repairs to the prop first. At the speed the wind was blowing, the habitat needed every bit of motive force to keep ahead of those clouds.
He put his head down and concentrated on hurrying through the supports. It was tempting to unhook himself completely and just make a dash for the switch, but it would only take a fraction of a second for a sudden gust to rip him free and send him flying through the air. Despite the time it was taking him, he made sure to always keep one carabiner locked around a strut or a post.
The panels did help cut down the wind, though, and he made relatively good time. In the open corridors between panel clusters, the wind was funneling into directed, howling currents strong enough to pick an unanchored man up and throw him.
Jackson looked up when he reached the switch and was shocked to see a wall of cloud was only a kilometer away. The churning surface was blotchy with lower-atmosphere compounds, angry oranges and sullen reds.
“Oh my god,” he breathed.
“Focus, Jackson,” Millicent said tightly. Her breath was coming hard. “We have to get the switches flipped. Pay attention to that first.”
Focus. Jackson bent his head down to the task at hand. All he had to do is keep to the three Fs and everything would be okay.
The housing for the snap switch was in the open, in the corridor between the panel cluster he was in and the next one over. Jackson transferred his carabiners to the safety cable and stepped out into the corridor. Wind tore at him and he lost his balance. Before he could catch hold on a panel support he was tumbling down the corridor, half-tangled in his safety lines.
His carabiners reached a vertical post and he was yanked to a halt. The integrated harness in his suit dug into the flesh on his shoulders and waist and he gasped at the sudden pain.
“Jackson! Are you okay?”
“Fine, Chief,” he groaned.
Shakily, he dragged himself back around until he was on his knees facing into the wind. If he kept close to the ground, the wind was easier to move against. Meter by meter, he clawed his way back toward the switch.
At the edge of his vision, the angry wall of cloud was sweeping closer.
His radio crackled to life as a general broadcast overrode his local loop with Millicent. “What is going on out there! You extras need to get inside immediately!”
“Nearly complete,” Millicent grunted. There was a heavy clunk and Millicent released a pent up breath. “Done! Harding, how is your switch?”
“You’re still doing repairs?!” The voice sounded near panic. “There’s no time for that! Chief, get your crew secured, we’re dropping the ballast!”
Jackson reached the switch. The housing was flush with the surface of the enameled floor. He grasped the handle and hauled upward, his aching, tired arms trembling with the effort. The casing pulled upward reluctantly, revealing the heavy lever within.
“Jackson, stop what you’re doing and secure yourself!” Millicent shouted.
“I’ve almost got it!”
Jackson reached down into the cavity and grabbed the lev
er. Wind shrieked about him, dragging at him and trying to throw him back down the corridor. He braced his legs and twisted the lever, throwing his body weight behind the effort. For a moment, it seemed like the switch wouldn’t turn, then it released abruptly and the spring-loaded plates of the snap switch yanked apart with a loud clank.
“There,” he gasped. “I got it. I–”
The habitat surged beneath him and a sudden, crushing howl of wind slammed him to the ground. The breath was knocked out of Jackson, and he flung his arms reflexively around the protruding switch casing. The wind was a solid weight bearing down on him. He saw the plastic curve of his helmet viewport flex and bow under the torrent and he squeezed his eyes shut.
Then, as suddenly as it had come, the wind was gone. The gale winds channeling through the corridor was all but gone as well, only a slight tugging against his suit told him there was any wind at all.
“Chief, Millicent, are you okay?” Jackson struggled to his feet, gasping after the air that had been punched from him.
Millicent coughed. “I’m here. I’m okay. Laud, you there?”
“Safe and sound,” Laud replied. “Inside, like any sane person.”
“Good man,” Millicent gasped out a rough chuckle. “Damn, but I thought I’d never have to do that again.”
Awkwardly, Jackson climbed to his feet and pushed the switch housing back into place. “I got the switch flipped,” he reported. “That panel cluster should be isolated now.”
“To hell with the cluster,” Millicent rasped.
Jackson coughed a laugh and looked around for the wall of cloud. There was nothing to see. He stood and peered over the edge of the habitat. Far below them, almost a kilometer away, the white-streaked upper edges of the cloud waves were diminutive with distance. The streaks of the cirrus clouds were a lot closer than they had been a moment before.
“What happened?” Jackson asked.
“The ballast was dumped. Several tons of liquid carbon dioxide was released all at once and we shot upward. We’re well above the storm now. It will take weeks for the habitat to gather enough carbon dioxide to sink back down to normal cruising altitude.” Millicent sighed. “Come on, let’s get back inside.”
Jackson turned and started making his way around the panel cluster to where Millicent was. Without the gale-force winds hammering at him, it was almost pleasant. If his suit didn’t smell like fear sweat and if he wasn’t completely exhausted, he would have enjoyed the walk.
He turned the corner and came into view of Millicent. He raised his arm to wave and the quality of the light changed. That wasn’t unusual; with the clouds constantly moving in front of the sun and passing by again, the light had been flickering all day. This was different, though. The light didn’t just dim, it turned a ruddy orange.
Jackson tilted his head up and had to bend his back to get the top edge of his helmet out of the way. The cirrus clouds ran in parallel courses, north to south. Streaking across them at right angles were clouds of smoke trailing behind brilliant points of light.
There was a thunder-clap of noise as a sonic boom rushed by them. Inside the habitat, sirens woke into sudden, wailing life.
“Brace for impact!” Millicent screamed.
CHAPTER
TEN
The biggest hurdle for creating a viable and stable civilization on Venus was the acquisition of bulk building materials. The aerogel habitat cores provided the lighter-than-atmosphere lifting force, but that didn’t obviate the need for materials to build living quarters from.
There were two options. One, mine the planet’s surface. This was categorically out of reach as a viable method. Even if one were to overcome the crushing pressure, the inferno temperatures, and the constant geological activity, you would still have to somehow get all that material back off the planet’s surface. The fuel to produce the requisite lift couldn’t be manufactured in a reasonable time frame, and the vehicles would have to be specially produced on Earth and shipped to Venus at ruinous expense.
That left the second option: capture passing asteroids with remote-operated shepherd drones and nudge them into stable orbit around Venus. Orbital refineries caught the asteroids and broke them down into their component elements. Steel and nickel were the bulk of the material recovered, but there were stony asteroids with water ice and more exotic elements to be found as well.
Asteroid mining provided all the bulk material the growing colony needed. Specialized compounds and organics still had to be shipped from Earth, but the vast majority of the building material was created on-site. It wasn’t a perfect solution. Slag and refinery waste had to be jettisoned to the planet’s surface, lest it clutter the orbital lanes. Accidents happened, though rarely, and the risk was accepted as a necessary evil to building the colony.
Jackson cowered against the safety line, mind blank with fear. He had seen first-hand the damage a few fist-sized pieces of refinery junk had caused the habitats. These white-hot boulders tumbling through the atmosphere were a hundred times larger. If one of them hit the habitat, it would rip right through without slowing.
“Jackson,” Millicent called to him, her voice urgent, “you have to transfer your carabiners to something solid.”
Of course. If the line were severed, he wouldn’t be connected to anything. He was only a few steps away from the nearest panel support, but it took a strenuous effort of will to unlock his hands from around the safety cable and transfer the carabiners.
Once he was safe, he hid beneath the shield of the panel, as if the flimsy sheets of glass and silicone would do anything to stop a meteor. It didn’t block his view of the smoking trails streaking through the atmosphere around them.
“Why aren’t we moving?” Jackson cried. “We need to get away from here!”
The habitat lurched under his feet and he cried out involuntarily. They were hit! Frantically, Jackson locked is gaze on the nearest clouds, watching to see if the habitat was going to begin sinking. If enough damage was dealt to the aerogel core, the delicate structure would implode and the habitat would suddenly be forty tons of steel without anything holding it up.
Another impact shuddered under his feet, but still the habitat remained floating. Clouds were rotating about; someone had finally gotten the habitat pointed away from the meteor shower.
Jackson clutched the support and watched the meteors streaking by. Some of the boulders were the size of a skimmer and tumbled by with roaring sounds before exploding into a cloud of molten shrapnel.
There was a rattling screech that went by a few meters to Jackson’s left. A hail of gravel ripped through the panels, smashing them to flinders, and left a trail of destruction five meters wide and thirty long before petering out.
Jackson was beyond fear. He was frozen in animal terror, both hands clamped around the support with painful intensity. At any moment, he expected to be struck by a meteor or for the habitat to sustain catastrophic damage and plummet out of the sky.
At the edge of the habitat, a prop was struck by a meteor and exploded in coruscating showers of sparks. One of the blades hummed by overhead, another buried itself into the roof of the habitat.
This was destruction beyond anything Jackson had heard of. Once, in the early years of the colony, a habitat’s aerogel core had been breached by a fire and the habitat had vanished. That had been the first, and last, habitat to have been destroyed. No habitat had ever been exposed to a full meteor storm like this, though.
How had it happened? Normally when a refinery dropped its refuse, it was planned and scheduled months in advance, and all the habitats moved well away from the drop zone. He remembered the flash of light he had seen in the sky. Had that been a refinery exploding?
Millicent shouted something over the radio that Jackson couldn’t make out through the rumbling roar of passing meteors. He leaned out from the shelter of his panel just in time for the habitat to be struck. The roof bucked beneath his feet, knocking him sprawling. Only the carabiners locked around
the support kept him in place.
Down the slope from him there was a brief wash of flame as the exposed air flashed into ignition. The habitat listed drunkenly, five or six degrees off level.
Jackson picked himself up. The meteor had torn through a section of habitat a hundred meters from where he was standing. The ragged edges of the tear glowed red and trailed smoke in the breeze. The meteor had torn a breach some twenty meters across through the top layers of the habitat, taking who knows how many lives with it.
He stared at the drifting smoke. Beneath his feet, he felt the tremors as bulkheads slammed shut, sealing off the exposed sections of the habitat.
Movement next to him made him flinch. It was Millicent, climbing uphill toward the breach, her safety lines loose about her waist.
“Chief?” Jackson croaked.
“There will be people inside that need rescue!” Millicent cried. “We have to hurry!”
Unlatching himself from the stability of the panel support was the hardest thing Jackson had ever done in his life. The safety line was still taut, which mean the end was secured somewhere, but the meteor shower was not over. At any moment, the habitat could be struck again, perhaps tearing the line and sending Millicent and himself tumbling off into empty space.
Or he could just be struck directly and killed instantly. Or the cores could be compromised and the whole habitat could fall into the crushing inferno fifty kilometers below.
He forced his hands to unclasp the carabiners from the support and transfer them over to the safety line. Fear would not solve anything. Jackson clung to the safety line, his fingers painfully tight. What happened to sticking to the Three Fs? Fasten, Foresight, and Focus. These were the three keys to survival outside the habitats.
Millicent had thrown the first of the Three Fs to the wind, figuratively speaking. She had rushed ahead without having her carabiners secured. If the habitat was struck again, she could lose her grip on the line and die. But she would also reach the breach minutes faster than if she had to stop every twenty meters and step her carabiners around the posts. Was she showing foresight? Any survivors stuck on the wrong side of the locked bulkheads would have to hold their breath and hope an emergency station was nearby. If they couldn’t find one, they would suffocate on carbon dioxide.
