by Eric Flint
The monster seemed to coil back down into the water, and then made a tremendous lunge upward. But its fanged jaws snapped shut at least thirty yards behind the cart. Which was now, I noticed, perhaps a thousand feet up in the air, supported by nothing more than a shimmering . . .
Whatever.
Apparently sensing my puzzlement, James Watters shook his head. "Oh, stop worrying. It's the Bifrst Bridge. Hasn't collapsed once since they built it."
"'They' being who?" asked Rowen.
"The Aesir, who else." Watters pointed at finger at the big redhead guiding the goats. "That's Thor, by the way."
I leaned back against the high walls of the huge cart. "Naturally. Who else? I suppose it'd be too much to ask for a drink?"
Watters and Spivey—Thor too, he must have overheard me—burst into riotous laughter.
"In Asgard?" howled Dryck. "You must be joking!"
Sheila and I looked at each other; then, simultaneously, shrugged.
"Not so bad, then," she said.
[TO BE CONTINUED]
Eric Flint is the author of many novels and some short fiction. He has also edited a number of anthologies.
Dave Freer has written a number of novels and short stories.
Andrew Dennis has co-authored books with Eric Flint. This is the first time the three have worked together.
To see Eric Flint's works sold through Amazon, click here
To see Dave Freer's works sold through Amazon, click here
To see Andrew Dennis' works sold through Amazon, click here
To read more work by these authors, visit the Baen Free Library at: http://www.baen.com/library/
INTRODUCING:
Stories by new authors
Storm Warning
Written by Robert Cruze
Illustrated by Rita Reed
"Honey, it's late. Come to bed." Madison Kurchowsky shot a pleading gaze at her husband, who was sitting at his workstation in his boxers. But he was too involved with the task at hand to notice.
"Just a few more minutes," Leland replied. "I'm checking the purity of the latest run."
Lee and Maddy Kurchowsky were entrepreneurs who owned and operated a solar-fusion smelter in the sun's corona, where they produced an incredibly durable superalloy known as "battle steel," or, more commonly, "B-steel." Since it was originally created for a military contract, the name stuck, even though 90 percent of the battle steel produced was used in civilian applications. Producing B-steel wasn't very complicated with the right technology, enough raw materials, and a big enough fusion furnace. Lee provided a top-of-the-line smelter and a massive nickel-iron asteroid that the smelter was grafted to; the sun provided the furnace. He and hundreds of other solar smelters ventured into Sol's hellish corona to make their fortunes or break their backs trying.
And there had to be a human presence because smelting was more art than science. Even with the AI breakthroughs over the past few centuries, no machine had the "touch" needed to tweak a smelter to turn out high-grade B-steel. Until enough data was collected for a machine to learn, the job was up to humans. The risk was great, but the potential for profit was even greater.
Lee gazed at the figures scrolling across the screen. Months of tweaking had finally paid off. "Maddy? You're not gonna believe this. According to the numbers, this latest sample puts the purity up about three percentage points. You know what that means?"
"You'll finally come to bed?"
Lee shook his head and grinned wickedly. "Insatiable vixen. No, even better. We'll be in the ninety percentiles for purity. We'll almost double our return. Plus, I got some really good data off this batch."
Realization struck home, and Maddy's eyes widened. "Um, honey . . . I checked the books earlier. The last slug we sent out paid off what was left of our initial operating costs and balanced out this month's overhead."
While Lee knew metal, Maddy knew finance and organization. She was able to keep things running and keep creditors off their backs while he churned out product. When it came time to talk to investors, Lee always let Maddy do the talking. Her business savvy caught their pocketbooks, and her delicate-boned, Celtic-goddess looks caught their eyes. Lee, on the other hand, looked more suited to chasing a mammoth on a stretch of prehistoric tundra, which sometimes caused people to underestimate his intelligence—a mistake Lee was more than willing to capitalize on. The two of them had made a perfect partnership in business as well as marriage. The marriage end had been extremely successful, and they had two lovely daughters to show for it.
The grin on Lee's face grew even bigger. "Sweet Jesus! We're profitable! And it's gonna be a helluva profit, too! Best of all, I might have just enough data to tweak an automated smelter."
In addition to turning a profit, Lee's other goal was to help develop an automated smelter so people wouldn't need to risk their lives. It looked like both goals were now in reach. Maddy's eyes narrowed, and she grinned mischievously. Her voice became low and sultry. "This calls for celebration. Now get your hairy carcass over here so we can celebrate!"
A piercing alarm stopped Lee halfway to the bed. He snarled at the cruelty of the universe and turned on the wallscreen. A message scrolled across the screen, and a narrator spoke in a cheerful, sexless voice. "—Coronal Mass Ejection Warning has been issued by the Solar Weather Service. You are located in the projected damage path. Our positioning system indicates that this facility is too close to the damage path to relocate. All personnel are advised to evacuate immediately. The projected escape window is forty-five minutes—"
"Forty-five minutes! That's cutting it way too close. What in the hell's wrong with those SWS morons—"
"Lee!" His wife glared at him from beside the bed. "Dress now; bitch later."
He nodded grudgingly and reached for his pants. Maddy was already dressed. She had started dressing the instant the alarm sounded. Ten years of Solar Guard training had left its mark on his wife, and Lee was intensely grateful for every ounce of conditioning the Guard had imprinted on her lizard-brain.
Her face calm, but her eyes intense, she casually tossed him a shirt and a pair of socks to urge him along. While he finished dressing, she tracked down the kids.
"House: occupant search! Locations: Katrina and Shelby."
The bedroom door slid open and a wide-eyed nine-year-old girl hurried in.
"Change search params. Location: Katrina."
"Katrina is in her bedroom, sitting at her comm, mistress," the habitat's computer answered in an even cheerier tone than the wallscreen.
"Understood. Preflight pinnace for emergency evacuation." She turned to Shelby. "You stay here with Daddy. I'm going to get your sister, then we'll get out of here, okay?"
"Okay." Her voice was shaky, but her eyes were steady—Maddy knew she could depend on her younger. Now her elder, on the other hand, was a different matter entirely.
* * *
Maddy walked into Kat's room and found the fifteen-year-old chatting on the comm. Kat turned around with the startled look of someone caught in the act. The look quickly changed into one of adolescent defiance.
"Mother! What are you doing here?"
Maddy took a quick look and saw an adolescent boy's face on the comm screen. "We have to go Kat. Now."
"But Roger and I were talking! Why do you always have to do this—"
"Kat! I said now!" Her mother's voice brooked no argument. "We're under a CME Warning. Didn't you hear the alarm?"
"Yeah, but I shut it off because I couldn't hear what Roger was saying."
Maddy cringed internally, and her mind conjured a brief fantasy of her daughter being dressed down by Chief Hughes on the Deadly Sin of Overriding Safety Equipment.
"Say good-bye to your friend. We have to go."
Kat exhaled Sigh Number Twenty-Two (the "Why Must You Ruin My Life" sigh), and turned back to the screen.
"I have to go, Roger. I really like you."
"I really like you, too," Roger cooed back.
Ma
ddy saw where this was heading. So, she simply slapped the disconnect.
Kat shot her a glare icier than nighttime on Europa. "Mother!"
Unperturbed, Maddy returned the glare with a calm, determined stare. "Roger lives in a nice safe habitat orbiting Mars, and doesn't have to worry about becoming component atoms in the immediate future. Which reminds me: this call is coming out of your allowance, along with any others to young Roger. Our FTL long-distance isn't cheap, and you didn't ask permission first. Now move!"
Without further protest, Kat stood up sharply and stomped out of the room. Maddy shook her head. How can she pout that much and not dislocate her jaw?
* * *
While Maddy was fetching Kat, Lee stopped the plasma draw on the magnetic bottle and started the cooling cycle to form a slug. After it cooled, the slug would be fitted with a set of impellers, a shield generator, and a small guidance computer. Then it would be shot out into space for collection. The slug would be only 75 percent complete, and most buyers balked at nonstandard-sized slugs. Lee would be lucky to get half the price of a full slug. Still, he needed to get something fired out to the collection point and sold. Until the insurance company paid off, that slug was the family's sole source of income.
He downloaded the facility's computer contents to a database on the family pinnace. Every electronic memory of the Kurchowsky family, from tax records to birthday cards, got backed up—along with all the documentation on his smelting techniques. Even if they had to start over, they wouldn't have to begin completely from scratch.
Lee mentally kicked himself for bringing his family here. He knew the sun was a deadly place to live and work, and he knew that old Sol Invictus had no patience or mercy for careless dilettantes. Yet Lee also knew that as long as he and his family maintained a healthy respect for this unforgiving environment, solar smelting was no more dangerous than asteroid mining in the Belt—and Belters felt safe bringing their families. In fact, the sun held far less danger than the icy outer planets. When operating at several million degrees Kelvin, a couple degrees difference one way or the other was meaningless; but at close to absolute zero, that same difference could mean life or death. A degree or two warmer or colder could completely change a material's properties, and, at that level of cold, substances behaved just plain weird. But all those facts and statistics were no comfort to him now.
Lee vowed that, if they survived, he'd never bring his family back here. He hoped that, with the data he'd collected, maybe no one else would have to come back either.
He looked up in time to see Maddy hustling a pouting Kat into the bedroom.
"Okay, kids," Maddy began, "we've got forty minutes left on our evacuation window. We're going to do this just like the drills we have. Now you know why we have evacuation drills. All the supplies we need are in the pinnace, so let's go down to the boat bay."
Kat nodded assent. Once she realized what was happening, Kat cooperated without a complaint and didn't balk at all about leaving most of her possessions behind.
Shelby pitched a fit. Even though she barely acknowledged the existence of most of her toys, they suddenly were all precious, dear, and irreplaceable.
Maddy laid down the law. "Now you listen to me, Shelby Anne Kurchowsky. Toys can be replaced, but people can't. Get your butt moving right now!"
Shelby shot a quick, pleading look at Kat, who returned it with a stern glare. Defeated, the nine-year-old relented sullenly, sporting a prominent pout that put her sister's to shame. That settled, they made their way to the boat bay in the basement where the Dodge Sunglider busily preflighted itself.
Seconds after they boarded, the alarm sounded again.
This time a different voice came on, a voice that sounded at the tail of adolescence. "CQ, CQ, CQ. This is S77GTC, SunWarn Station Seven. Listen carefully, we've got an increase in solar activity, so forget the window SWS gave you. You folks only have a fifteen-minute evacuation window, so you really gotta get moving. I'd say keep it at a minimum of three hundred gees, people."
It looked like SunWarn, the group of amateur comm operators that monitored the solar weather, must have overridden the SWS, as they were empowered to do in emergencies. In a situation like this, the Solar Communication Commission would back them to the hilt. Since the times of prespace Earth, "hams," as they referred to themselves, had rendered assistance during emergencies. When bureaucracies failed, as they almost always did, hams kept the lines of communication open. Their technology had evolved from crude radio-frequency modulators to quantum resonance transceivers, but the ethos remained the same. In times of trouble, hams would be the first to offer their help.
Maddy's eyes widened. "My God. Half the people in the area will need to redline to hit that."
Lee's stomach clenched with worry. "How about us?"
"We can do three-fifty. The last time I had it overhauled, I upgraded the impellers."
Lee nodded and went back to his own console. Maddy ran down the checklist, and brought systems online. When she attempted to bring the engines up, the onboard systems blocked her and scolded her in an annoyingly pleasant voice.
"Warning: the engine requires twenty-five more minutes of preflight diagnostics—"
"OVERRIDE!" Maddy yelled. She almost shouted "belay that!" Old habits die hard. She remembered one more of Chief Hughes's Deadly Sins: The Sin of Not Overriding Safety Equipment When Needs Must.
While the engines spooled up, she generated a shortest-time course to MSD at maximum emergency acceleration. Contrary to what she told Lee, she'd actually push 390 gees—forty gees beyond the manufacturer's stated "redline." In addition to her SAR duties in the Guard as a pinnace pilot, Maddy did a tour as a pinnace test pilot and knew exactly how far above the manufacturer's specs she could push a ship. The pinnace would need another expensive overhaul afterward, but that was the least of her worries. She was worried that some crucial component might fail at the edge of the envelope. All it took was a single, slightly off-spec part, or one too close to the end of its service life . . .
Wisely, she decided not to mention that little detail to Lee.
Lee was busy, too. He submitted an insurance preclaim. The claim was set on a dead-man's loop and tied to the smelter's comm system. The claim was stored in a digital vault aboard a Venus-orbiting satellite, with a constant carrier backtracking to the house. The instant contact was lost with the facility—when it was vaporized by the ejecta—the preclaim would go active and submit itself to the provider. Of course, if the smelter miraculously survived and remained inhabitable, or if it turned out to be a false alarm, he'd either have to send a desubmit message before shutting down the carrier, or contact the provider directly to stop them from processing the claim. If he didn't, he risked stiff penalties for insurance fraud. He could even face criminal charges.
Also, he remembered to make reservations at the Mercury Motel Six. It was all their limited budget could afford, but at least they'd have warm beds to sleep in. He had just picked out a suite when Maddy announced, "Looks like we're ready to go. Hang on, this might be a bit bumpy."
She opened the bay doors and used the reaction thrusters to ease the pinnace out. The facility was oriented so the "roof" was attached to the asteroid, and the "basement" was pointed out toward space.
Lee looked at an overhead viewscreen, and gazed at the false-color image of the photosphere above. It still had its healthy, even appearance in spite of the gathering magnetic forces that conspired to hurl gigatons of plasma out into the void. Strangely, that made it seem more sinister, and he shuddered with unease. The image slid away when Maddy rotated the pinnace and increased thrust.
Once clear, Maddy boosted power to the pinnace's shields and closed the distance with the edge of the facility's shield. Although she wanted to hurry, she knew this phase had to be done with great care. If they were in normal space, it wouldn't be a problem, but with the fury surrounding them, a shield was under incredible stress. The two shields needed time to interpose with each other
, much like a small soap bubble squeezing its way out of a larger one. If done carefully, both bubbles go on their merry way, but too much force would pop one or both bubbles. Whatever object lost its shield would be instantly destroyed by the full fury of Sol's corona. She was sorely tempted simply to shut down the smelter's shield, but that would have voided their insurance claim and ruined them financially.
Several tense seconds passed while the pinnace slipped out, but once it was clear of the other shield, Maddy, in the archaic lingo of her profession, "kicked the tires and lit the fires." With the impellers engaged, the pinnace accelerated toward the relative safety of open space. Maddy kept a careful eye on the status displays—particularly the impeller display and the compensator display—but everything remained "in the green." Lee opened his mouth to say something, but she squelched him immediately.