Glass Sky
Page 25
He’s dead. I fumbled too long with the patches. There was too much blood.
Jie started back towards the base.
***
Jie found both airlocks still dark. Not unexpected. They’d be turning internal systems on sequentially, making sure everything worked. Jie sat down to wait and somehow managed to doze. When he looked up again he saw a LED’s green glow.
“Sharon?” he said, using the local frequency.
Nothing, other than the obvious invitation to enter.
‹Earthcon? What do you think?›
‹We don’t have com yet, › said Earthcon. ‹They’ll likely power up the computers last. But we think you should go inside. Good luck.›
Jie squeezed into the airlock and tapped the pressurize button. A yellow light came on and the screen read “cleaning cycle error.” Not surprising given the state of the dome. He triggered the cleaning cycle bypass, and air flooded in. What will I find? Rajit dead? Their fragile home damaged beyond repair? Beyond survival? Horror movie visions of a dark, ruined interior filled his head.
He stepped into sterile brightness. Sally’s suit hung on the wall next to four empty hooks. He twisted off his helmet and the world jumped into focus. Dust caked him so thickly that it obscured the GBOP logo on his sleeve. He peeled off the suit, turning the fabric inside out, breathing through his nose. Don’t inhale anything below a micron. Too many horror stories. Weird cancers that resist gene therapy. Autoimmune diseases.
Naked, he shuffled into the hive, like a dying patient heading for lab results. Sally was slumped in one of the chairs, head down, medical kit spread on the table next to her. Rajit lay on the floor, lips caked with dried blood. Networks of capillaries had burst across his face, leaving islands of furious purple. His eyes were closed.
‹Oh, no,› said Jie.
‹Jie!› Sally leapt up, nearly knocking over her medical supplies. She bounded over, hugged him, and then kissed him square on the lips. ‹I was trying to wait until Earth…› she laughed. ‹But given the circumstances…› She kissed him again, for much longer this time.
Rajit turned his bulging bloodshot eyes towards them. “Apparently I owe you my life,” he coughed. “What a rookie mistake.” He coughed again. “I miscalculated my angular momentum.”
Chapter 32
SALLY EMERGED WITH a heaping bowl of porridge. “Three scoops for Sharon, three for Rajit, three for Sally, and two for Jie since he’ll be eating a proper lunch.”
For four days the crew had stayed inside, inspecting every subsystem in the base while Rajit recovered from his injuries. But now Rajit had been declared fit for light duty, and he, Sally, and Sharon faced 12 hours on the surface, trying to claw back the receding schedule. They’d be sipping lunch through a tube. And Jie – he’d dine in the greenhouse on fresh fruit off the vines.
I’m glad I don’t have to go back out there.
Jie shifted over to make room for Sally, but she took the extra chair on the other side of the table instead of sitting next to him. She ignored his attempt at eye contact. Not unfriendly. Just aloof. That kiss the other day sure didn’t go very far. Jie decided to let it rest and turned his attention to the television. Penguins waddled, light entertainment to kick off the day. Everyone felt enough pressure already without more grim news from Earth. Just yesterday, Tania Black had been on, explaining how she was willing to risk a severe hurricane season to give the lunar team a chance to finish their work.
The penguins faded. Incoming call.
“I have no idea,” said Sharon.
Tetabo Molari’s dark face appeared, and next to him, the wrinkled Nishad Singh. The colorful wooden masks of Molari’s Urumchi office were a stark contrast to the bedraggled fabrics of the hive.
“Tetabo,” said Sharon. “This is unexpected.”
“I’ll get right to it,” said Molari. “We’re sending the Earth return vehicle on the next cargo drop. And your replacement crew on the launch after. In a few weeks, you’ll be going home.”
I’m going home? Home!
“Is that a good idea?” Sharon’s voice rose an octave. “Rajit’s fine. And I thought Jie was irreplaceable. Right, Jie?”
“I…” While Jie tried to formulate a reply, Molari reached out of frame and came back with a donut. Jie glimpsed a forested urban park through the windows behind him. Blue sky filled the gaps between the surrounding office buildings. In two weeks, I could be back there. I could step out of my door with Cheng, and walk into sunshine. “Who… who taking over for me?” Jie asked.
Awkward silence as the message bounced to Earth and back.
“We’ve been training one of the backup astronauts how to use the nanolab,” said Molari. “He’s not as skilled as you, Jie, but he’s got talent. And you’ll be able to guide him from Earth.”
“You trained somebody fresh?” Jie felt panic fluttering in his chest, like the first time he’d experienced low gravity. He looked from Molari to Singh, but the time delay made it impossible to read their emotions. “I have fifteen years of experience. At least send another nanoengineer. You would not send a brain surgeon after a two month training.”
Stop arguing, said the voice in his head. Let somebody else sit in the workshop, hoping the wall doesn’t develop a hole. I’ve done my part.
But the other voice, Cheng’s voice, did not agree. If you leave now, Dad, you’ll place my future in the hands of an amateur. This is about more than just you.
For a moment the voices battled for supremacy. “I’d like to finish this,” said Jie. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to replace me. I very good at what I do. I’ve already gone through the lunar learning curve. And I’m making progress.”
“It’s not your nanolab skills that are the issue,” said Singh. “We can’t use you outside, Jie, and with Rajit injured, the mass driver construction will fall even further behind schedule.”
“Of course we’re behind schedule,” snapped Sharon. “The electromagnet mounts weren’t drilled properly.”
Rajit nodded. “Average variance is 2.5 millimeters. Can’t you get them made in China?” Rajit broke into a coughing fit. Jie cringed. This isn’t helping.
“We had to give the Americans something to do,” said Molari. “Would you rather they designed the control systems? I’m sorry. China and the US run this project. They made the call to bring you back. I’m just the contractor.”
The screen blanked. Sharon hunched over her oatmeal. The morning’s cautious optimism had vanished like air in a vacuum.
“It’s ridiculous,” said Sally. “Jie, you’ve had more low gravity experience than any trainee. And you saved Rajit’s life. Why can’t you go outside?”
Because it scares me to death. A shiver ran down his back. That’s not really a reason, is it? He spat out the words before he had a chance to change his mind. “I will come out today. Help you get back on schedule. A break might clear my head. And I can still do a few hours research in the evening.”
Sharon appraised him, lips pursed. She nodded. “It would help a lot.”
Jie pushed over his bowl of porridge. “One more scoop, please.”
***
As Jie was suiting up at the airlock, the ceiling speakers came to life. “Jie, this is Earthcon. I’m sorry, but we’ve got orders to keep you in. Your research is too important.”
Jie snapped his glove into place. “If I’m so important, why are you sending me home?”
A long delay. “Sorry, Jie. We can’t risk you getting killed.”
“And I can’t risk you sending me back and ruining mission. So, how you stop me?”
“We’ll turn off airlock power,” said Earthcon.
“Fine,” said Jie. “I’ll sit here then. No work gets done today.” Sally squeezed his leg and gave him a thumbs-up. Jie felt a warm glow in his chest. He smiled at her, but she quickly looked away. He twisted on his helmet, and after Sharon did a safety check, he stepped into the airlock. The power stayed on. He hit the depressurization butto
n.
‹Jie, my name is Fungli,› said a voice inside his helmet. ‹I’ll be your support today. Let me know if you have any questions.›
‹Thanks, Fungli.›
Jie felt surprisingly exhilarated to be on the surface again, as if having agency in the decision to come outside had loosened the moon’s grip on him. Where the moon had felt dangerous and uncaring four days ago, he could see now that it was also a place of beauty. The sun had crept another 40 degrees around the horizon, shuffling light and shadow to paint a whole new landscape in a hundred shades of gray. A tropical storm on Earth was a spiraling ghost against the Atlantic’s dark night. Brilliant stars seemed to light the way to the end of the universe.
The other crew members joined him, and the four of them climbed into the rover. Sharon drove. She raced across the flat landing field following a well-worn track to where the mountain dropped off more steeply. For a moment it looked as if they’d launch into space, but she tapped the brakes just as they hit the edge. When Jie opened his eyes, they’d skidded expertly onto a road. It had been freshly torn out of the hillside, a descending line fringed with fans of dark rubble. In the distance, where the road terminated, a mining truck moved in robotic rhythm, highlighted against the impenetrable blackness of the valley beyond.
“We finished the road two weeks ago,” said Sally. “Now we’re digging out a platform to hold the material refineries and nanofactories that’ll supply the mass driver base. Where ‘we’ is mostly the remote drivers at Earthcon.”
“You’ve done a lot of work,” said Jie. Twelve hours out here will go a long way to clearing my head.
Sharon parked the rover on a flat area ten badminton courts in size. Stacked neatly on one side were silver boxes full of supplies from Earth. Jie was stunned to see just how much equipment had arrived already. Sharon hoisted a box onto her shoulder, and Rajit and Sally followed suit. “Be careful,” Sharon warned. “They’re eighty kilos each. They feel light, but they have more mass than you do.”
Jie hauled a box onto his shoulder, wobbling for a moment as he tried to find his balance. The great mass driver ramp stretched steeply up the hill they had just descended, as if it had been scraped out of the soil with a giant ruler. They formed a line and plodded up one side of it, following a footpath worn into the dust. Twenty of the mass driver’s electromagnets had been placed so far, coils of wire resembling old-fashioned life preservers. They were tied together by ceramic scaffolding to give them rigidity and alignment. When the whole thing was completed, each magnet would fire in sequence, pulling the Nanoglass-filled payloads through the central holes like bullets through the barrel of a rifle. The structure had an eerie, skeletal beauty, as if some mechanical leviathan had died long ago and left its vertebrae stretched up the hillside.
Jie had visions of a load of Nanoglass spraying into a rainbow cloud as its container slammed against the inside edge of a magnet. “How do you keep payload centered?”
“Every tenth magnet is for steering,” gasped Rajit. He coughed, then pointed at the magnet they were passing. Instead of the normal coiled wire donut, this one was made of six sections mounted at 60 degree increments around the central hole, like a six piece pie with a hole cut out of the center. “Each wedge is an independent electromagnet. We have to prevent resonant oscillations of course, so we use the eigenvalues of the covariance matrix to calculate the velocity ellipsoid.”
“Umm. OK.” Jie shook his head to loosen the bead of sweat wandering towards his eye. Hopefully they’d sit soon so that the suit’s heat-exchangers could dump some of their excess energy into the ground.
“The last 50 meters of the track are entirely steering magnets,” continued Rajit. “They widen in diameter, like a musket. We can vary the launch vector by seven degrees. Velocity can vary as well, giving us two degrees of freedom.” He laughed, a raspy sound that decayed into a cough. “Obviously, that’s not nearly enough to solve an arbitrary celestial mechanics calculation. But if …”
“Thanks Rajit,” Sharon cut in. “We’ll finish the lesson when we’ve got our calculus references handy.”
“The math’s not that hard,” grumbled Rajit. “Jie’s kid could probably do it.”
They dropped their boxes beyond the last magnet, laying out the contents on white plastic sheeting. “How are you doing, Jie?” Sharon asked.
“I’m good,” said Jie. “You can stop watching me so carefully. Rajit is the one who has accidents.”
Sally giggled.
Sharon showed Jie how to snap together the paper-thin ceramic scaffolding. While they were doing that, Rajit and Sally placed the next electromagnet, pinning its struts to the ground with self-tapping screws, then lining it up using the hilltop guidance laser. Precision was critical. The electromagnets would apply a staggering 100 Gs to accelerate their Nanoglass payloads to the 3-kilometers-per-second lunar escape velocity. The slightest misalignment would rip the driver apart.
Jie took another moment to admire the view. Across the valley only the backlit ridges were visible, pencil lines of light separating the starry blackness above from the starless one beneath. For a brief moment he felt the pull that had caused adventurers of old to abandon their families and set sail across the seas. What wonders lie down there? This whole beautiful terrible world was theirs alone, to explore from this tiny foothold. Even here, just a few hundred meters from the base, most of the soil had never seen footprints.
“Beautiful isn’t it,” said Sally, looking up from where she and Rajit were working. Music flooded Jie’s helmet. Opera. ‹I’ve switched us to a private channel,› she said. ‹We need to talk. I’m sorry if I’ve been distant.›
‹Yeah. You’ve been avoiding me since Rajit’s accident. Since we kissed.›
‹I like you, Jie. A lot. But this is my career and relationships get messy in such small groups. I have to stay professional. At least until we get home.›
Jie dug at a patch of undisturbed ground with his toe. Tiny divots pockmarked it, like a hail-damaged car, the result of endless bombardment of pollen-sized meteorites. ‹If you’re worried about sex, I can live without it,› Jie said. ‹I’ve had a kid – leprous monks get more action than new parents. Just don’t feel you can’t be my friend. I really need a friend here.›
‹In that case, can I watch Cheng’s swim meet with you next week? I know how much you want to be there. Popcorn at the hive television?›
Jie groaned. ‹Are you that hard up for entertainment? Watching nine-year-olds is overrated – unless they’re yours.›
‹I like Cheng,› said Sally. ‹Besides, there’s nothing else happening. The lunar soccer league is cancelled that night. We’re short players again.›
Chapter 33
UNBIO CO2 SUMMARY
August 7, 2050. Confidential.
As of the July UN Climate Summit, UNBio has a new mandate to protect the effectiveness of the L1 shield by reducing anthropogenic CO2 emissions below absorption levels. To support this mandate, UNBio has provided industrial and agricultural targets to member nations.
***
Ruth, carrying two tall glasses of iced coffee, threaded her way through fashionable University of Colorado students. Beananza was the type of coffee shop that the big chains had been trying to emulate for a hundred years, with eclectic art on the walls and tattooed hipsters behind the counter: the kind of people that you wanted in your circle, just to prove how edgy you were. Ruth – in too-tight knee-pants – fit right in. Tania felt as if she’d stepped 20 years into the future and forgotten to update her wardrobe.
“Catch.” Ruth pushed the cup across a mosaic of colorful tiles. “This coffee is superb. And it comes from Saskatchewan instead of a cloud forest.”
“Well, it’s not really coffee, if that’s what you mean,” said Ruth. “They genetically engineered poplar trees to produce coffee beans. If Canada wasn’t so uncool, it would be all the rage already.”
Tania sniffed, then sipped tentatively. “Mmmmm.” Rich, bitter, and sweet all at once, with just a hint of something wintry. Poplar? Maybe. She had no idea what poplar tasted like, but if she were to imagine a flavor…
They chatted for a while. Friend stuff. But Ruth was clearly itching to say something. “I’ve got news about Ethiopia,” she finally announced.
“I thought you’d given up on that,” said Tania. The mysterious land-survey papers she’d found in the truck were the last thing on her mind. Just one of life’s mysteries: like the barista’s love of forehead piercings, or how her omni vanished, only to show up in plain sight on the kitchen table 30 minutes later. She tried to match Ruth’s obvious enthusiasm. “What did you find?”
“A Cayman Islands company called Terillium Holdings transferred 150 million dollars through the Ethiopian Central Bank three months ago. They’re a hedge fund, so international finance rules require them to report large transfers. And get this, they listed the reason as land purchases.”
“That doesn’t mean anything,” said Tania. “Lots of land changes hands.”
“Not in Ethiopia it doesn’t,” said Ruth. “As far as we could find, this is the largest Ethiopian land purchase since the reporting rules changed ten years ago. And it gets even better. Terillium Holdings also bought desert land in Uzbekistan and Peru.”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” said Tania. “Why would anyone be hoarding desert?”