Because there will likely be hell to pay … even if you’re right. Especially if she happened to be right, because she couldn’t explain what she thought she might see. From the logical point of view, one of three things could happen. The artifact could pass through perihelion untouched, which, from the data and observations she’d gotten from Chris, seemed the most likely. Or it could be torn to bits by the combination of heat and solar gravitation. Or it could literally fly into the sun, although that seemed highly unlikely, if not impossible, given the increasing rate of speed at which the artifact was traveling.
As she sat there waiting, she thought about his last message, and especially about what he’d said about becoming a pilot. He’d just said how he’d felt, but he’d never said much about his feelings before, and he’d emphasized how much he wanted to tell her things in person. And the last lines …
She smiled, a smile that faded too soon as she considered where he was and where she was.
At 2323 UTC, for what seemed the hundredth time, she asked, “Marcel, what is the best estimate for the time of perihelion?”
“At present and anticipated rates of speed, perihelion will occur at 0143 UTC on December second.”
“The current distance?”
“It is calculated at three million kilometers.”
“At 0100 UTC, train the main optical array on 2114 FQ5.”
“That time is booked, Dr. Wong-Grant.”
“Make it a priority override.”
“That is so noted.”
Meaning that you’re really on the hook.
Alayna fixed herself another cup of coffee and tried to sit down to wait. She had two sips, and then stood up. “Make the time for focusing on the artifact at 0030. We don’t want to miss what will happen if the artifact speeds up more than calculated.”
“That is noted. The main optical array will focus on the artifact at 0030.”
Alayna had more coffee. She walked to the aeroponics bay and checked the system. Then she checked the cargo lock seals.
When she came back to the COFAR control center, she composed a message to her father, reassuring him that she was indeed physically safe. Not necessarily occupationally safe, but that’s your own doing. She revised the message several times, then finally sent it.
Waiting was hard.
Finally, a little after midnight, she began to study the images from the solar array, but could not detect any sign of 2114 FQ5, although it was little more than a solar radius away from the sun.
“Can you enhance 2114 FQ5 on the solar array display?”
“Image is enhanced and enlarged.”
With the enhancement, Alayna could see a white-edged point, seemingly less than the radius of the sun away from either the edge of the solar disk or the point of perihelion. “It’s moving faster.”
“2114 FQ5 is now traveling in excess of four hundred kilometers per second.”
Four hundred? That was even more than she’d imagined possible for the artifact. “How far is it from perihelion?”
“One million one hundred thousand kilometers.”
Alayna frowned, mentally calculating. More like forty-five minutes to perihelion. “We’d better put the main array on it now.”
Almost a minute later, another image appeared on the screen wall, this one displaying the full solar disc.
“Highlight 2114 FQ5.”
A tiny dark point circled in white showed above the disk, as Alayna expected since the artifact had approached from the beginning with an inclination of some forty-three degrees to the plane of the ecliptic. She really couldn’t see it move, except if she looked away and then back, it did appear fractionally closer to the sun. She couldn’t tell if the two Sinese ships were still in position around the artifact.
“Marcel … are there any ships close to the artifact?”
“There is an indication of one object.”
Alayna nodded. The uncrewed remote. That made sense.
Rather than stare at the barely moving point, she studied the image provided by the solar array. For the first time in days, it appeared as though the magnetic flux lines were … different, not twisted, but somewhat thicker, and there were definitely more of the multi-fractal mini-granulations along the edges of the flux lines.
As the time passed, so slowly, it seemed to Alayna, her eyes went from one display to another. The display with the largest change was the one showing electromagnetic effects not visible to the eye in shimmering silvered blue. In one section, the magnetic lines bordering the regular granulations were not only thicker but appeared to be raised from the surface of the photosphere, as opposed to those bordering granulations farther away. The extreme ultraviolet telescope display showed the same differential, except in brilliant yellow-green.
Alayna picked up the light pencil she almost never used. “Marcel, there … is that near, will it be anywhere close to directly below the point at which 2114 FQ5 is at perihelion?”
“No, Dr. Wong-Grant. That area of activity is one hundred and eighteen thousand kilometers from the point of perihelion, even taking into account solar rotation.”
So much for that idea. Except she had the feeling that she was missing something, but she couldn’t come up with it. You’re tired, and you don’t think your best when you’re tired. The only problem with that was that the sun and the Solar Express could have cared less that she wasn’t thinking at her best.
At just before 0035 UTC, perhaps six minutes before the artifact would likely be at perihelion, a thin filament of plasma erupted from the area Alayna had noted, climbing away from the photosphere faster than any filaments or prominences she had seen or studied. “Can you calculate the speed of the prominence?”
“The calculation indicates a speed in excess of thirty-five hundred kilometers per second.”
Thirty-five hundred kps … that’s one of the fastest ever. While most prominences and magnetic loops didn’t extend as far as a single solar radius, a few had been observed extending as far as three … and the artifact was well within that range.
The minutes dragged as she watched the solar prominence climb toward the artifact—and slash seemed the only word for the thin filamentlike extension that seemed to move so slowly, yet was anything but slow. Then she could see a faint glow surrounding the artifact. From the main array image, her eyes went to the series of solar array images, including one that showed a massive swelling of matter lifting away from the nominal surface of the photosphere. That’s going to be—it is—a coronal mass ejection!
“There’s an incipient CME at the base of the solar prominence. There’s going to be a flare.” They didn’t always go together, but Alayna knew there would be both this time. “Keep an additional separate record and track it. Also track the intensity.”
“Additional records being compiled.”
Then, improbably, through the center of the filament flare, if only visible in false color on the display showing nonvisible electromagnetic radiation, came an intense beam that struck the artifact. In turn, the artifact flared an intense greenish-purple on the false color screen, and for a moment the displays of all screens blanked.
Alayna froze, then blinked, too stunned even to think.
“Signal overload on all systems.”
It took Alayna an instant to order, “Reset and resume tracking.”
Almost two minutes passed before the images reappeared. There was no sign of the alien artifact. On the false color screen, stretching from the base of the photosphere through where the artifact had been and farther from the sun was an immense mass of material—the largest coronal mass ejection Alayna had ever seen.
The artifact … it’s just gone … was that a solar laser or particle beam? Or something else? “Did you get a record of that beam?”
“There is a record.”
“What was it?”
“A concentration of high energy particles.”
“In effect, cosmic radiation. Is that certain?”
“The discharge lasted a microsecond.”
Enough for certainty. “And the explosion?”
“The detectors and sensors registered a sharp burst of high energy particles, along with UV and X-rays.”
“More than the solar flare?”
“The intensity was similar. The duration was similar to that of the high energy particles.”
“Where is the CME headed? Directly toward Earth?”
There was a long pause before the AI responded. “Earth will be on the fringe of the CME’s path.”
“What’s its intensity?”
“The intensity cannot be measured. It is in excess of anything recorded.”
Shit! Since the Carrington Effect was likely an X-45 and several past CMEs—that had not come close to Earth—had exceeded X-50, the CME/flare she was looking at likely was a Z class. “Are the notification procedures in the system?” Alayna sincerely hoped they were. Looking them up and trying to go through them by hand would take forever, but Earth had less than a day before that CME would strike its magnetosphere … and with the power she’d seen, even a glancing blow could be crippling if satellite and Earthside power and comm systems weren’t shielded. More crippling. Some satellite systems might already be gone. The odds were that thousands of electrical transformers would be destroyed, melded into slag in places by the currents generated by the solar superstorm, especially in nations still relying on power lines for power distribution. She shuddered to think of the even greater effect if Earth had been in position to take the full brunt of the solar storm.
“The procedures are in the system. You will need to input the data.”
“Call them up on one of the screens, and we’ll do that.” Another thought crossed her mind. “Do we have communications?”
“The backup transmitter is now online. The main transmitter will require repair and replacement of several modules.”
“Is the relay satellite operable?”
“You will have to route transmissions through L2. The lunar polar satellite is inoperable. L2 is operating on its backup system.”
“And we were on the fringe of that energy burst?”
“That is correct.”
“We need to get on with the notifications.” She leaned forward. “But keep the arrays on the sun for now.”
Once Alayna had sent out the emergency notification of the oncoming CME, as well as a notice to the Foundation that she’d preempted some of the booked time on the main and solar arrays in order to be able to provide information pertinent to the solar superstorm, she just sat in front of the console. Abruptly she had another thought. What about Chris? While she hoped his fusionjet had been given extra shielding because of his mission, she didn’t know.
She immediately began a message to him.
Dear Chris,
I hope this gets to you in time. A solar flare and some unidentified phenomenon interacted with the Solar Express to create an energy burst and a massive coronal mass ejection …
Should you mention shielding? She shook her head. He either had it or didn’t, and his fusionjet had already been bombarded with UV and X-rays. But when the CME hits his ship …
There’s no sign of anything remaining of the artifact, but there might be small pieces somewhere. I have my doubts. The reason for this hurried message is that the CME could play havoc with electronics if they’re not turned off or properly shielded. Just in case they’re not, I thought you’d like to know. I’m guessing that you have several hours from when I’m sending this for the CME to reach you, but I don’t know how long it will take for this to get to you.
I’ve enclosed a few images, but I don’t want to take time to find more or choose from what we have, and a quote will have to wait.
Do take care, as you can.
She sent the message, worrying whether it would get to Chris in time and hoping it wouldn’t be necessary, that his ship was shielded enough that the radiation blast wouldn’t affect him, and fearing that it wasn’t.
For several moments, she sat there. She felt drained … exhausted, but she wasn’t in the slightest sleepy. All that adrenaline … She also wanted to know just what had happened. And why!
The largest solar flare and associated CME on record, at least from what the COFAR observations showed, in addition to an inexplicable line of … something … strong enough to destroy an indestructible object, and the only causes she could think of were either an incredible coincidence or an equally unbelievable property of the artifact—something that had only evidenced itself in the increased speed of the artifact … until the last few instants.
She looked at the real-time images of the sun, but now what showed was the solar prominence flowing in a gigantic loop, rising out of what appeared to be a sunspot. She focused the image more tightly on the comparative darkness of the sunspot … studying the twisted flux lines at its edge. There was something different …
“Marcel … would you highlight the multi-fractal mini-granulations around the sunspot at the base of the prominence?”
She looked again. There were more … but many seemed to be fading as she watched, disappearing far more quickly than was anywhere close to normal. “I’d like to see the images just before the prominence erupted, and then just before the flare occurred.”
After a moment another set of images appeared on the screen wall.
There was something about the way the mini-granulations were arranged. More like the way they aren’t arranged.
“Are you finished with the optical arrays, Dr. Wong-Grant?”
“Oh, yes. Return them to normal operations for now. If you can’t transmit the images and data, then store it and transmit when you can.”
“Returning the arrays to programmed operations.”
Alayna found that her eyes were blurring … and she was suddenly exhausted. Is there anything else you have to do? If there was, she couldn’t think what it might be. Then, she realized one other thing.
“Marcel. Track the CME. Shutter all sensors and electronics at the first sign of its approach. That is an override.”
“Understood. All sensitive electronics will be taken off-line and shuttered prior to arrival of CME.”
The CME shouldn’t arrive in the vicinity of Earth before she woke, even at the unprecedented speed it was traveling, but it was far better to be cautious.
She yawned … and yawned again.
“I need to get some sleep.”
Marcel probably agreed, Alayna thought, but the AI didn’t comment on such statements. She headed toward her quarters, half wondering what she’d overlooked.
76
RECON THREE
2 DECEMBER 2114
The shriek of the ship’s alarm and the full illumination of the control area instantly jolted Tavoian out of an uneasy sleep.
“I’m awake! Report!”
AN UNIDENTIFIED RADIATION SOURCE AT 0031 UTC HAS DAMAGED COMMUNICATIONS AND NAVIGATION SYSTEMS.
“How could—” Tavoian broke off the croaking words of his inquiry, then cleared his throat and asked, “How bad is the damage?” The entire ship was supposed to have been hardened with extra shielding.
NO VITAL COMPONENTS WERE DAMAGED, BUT THE SENSOR DETECTION ELEMENTS NEED TO BE REPLACED AND THE RELAYS RESET.
“We have no navigation radar and lidar until that’s done?”
THAT IS CORRECT.
Tavoian almost asked what idiot engineer designed the system until he realized the problem. A series of systems that had to detect extremely faint signals of all sorts but also receive high powered signals at close range had to be both robust and sensitive, and sometimes, apparently, as had just happened, the combination was simply overpowered by a burst of radiation so powerful that it burned out the sensors that were supposed to detect and take the system off-line. In a way, Tavoian reflected, the sensors had done their job, if not quite in the manner they had been designed to do it … or perhaps in the backup mode.
“Where are the replacement detection ele
ments?” He hoped that the designers had made access to them easy. He could have dug out the hardcopy manual, but since the ship’s AI was operating, it was definitely easier to ask. “And where’s the panel where I need to replace them?”
THE REPLACEMENT ELEMENTS ARE IN THE EMERGENCY SPARE PARTS LOCKER IN THE AFT OF THE PASSENGER COMPARTMENT. THE ACCESS PANEL TO THE DETECTION BYPASS SYSTEM IS THE ONE OUTLINED IN GREEN ON THE BULKHEAD TO THE RIGHT OF THE CONTROL COUCH.
They couldn’t have made it much easier. Let’s see if replacing the elements is as easy as finding them.
The hardest part of the repair, Tavoian discovered, was determining which element went where, because the elements were the same size and shape, and only the symbols on the side, which was in an almost unreadable form of optically recognized lettering, at least theoretically optically recognized, made it difficult to determine which fit into which slots. As a result, the comparatively easy repair took more than a half hour.
ALL COMMUNICATIONS AND NAVIGATION SYSTEMS ARE OPERATING WITHIN ACCEPTABLE PARAMETERS.
Tavoian didn’t like that phasing. “How much is their capability reduced?”
NO MORE THAN TEN PERCENT.
“What caused the problem?”
A BURST OF HEAVY MIXED RADIATION. IT INCLUDED GAMMA RAYS, UV RAYS, X-RAYS, AND COSMIC RAYS.
“All together in one burst?”
THE SENSORS RECORDED THAT BEFORE THEY WENT OFF-LINE.
“How much penetrated the shielding?”
THERE WAS MINIMAL INTRUSION INTO RECON THREE.
“Minimal? How minimal?”
THE APPROXIMATE DOSAGE IN THE CONTROL AREA WAS POINT FIVE SIEVERT.
Tavoian winced. That was about half of the total career exposure that would disqualify him from any other long-range trips for the rest of his time as a pilot. “What about other radiation? Was it a solar proton event?”
IT WAS SIMILAR TO A SOLAR PROTON EVENT. YOU SHOULD REMAIN IN THE CONTROL AREA FOR THE NEXT SIX HOURS OR UNTIL NECESSARY.
Solar Express Page 40