David couldn’t help smiling. “Ours, huh?”
Ernie nodded. “Yeah. It’s out there, we just need to go and get it. With this.”
David pursed his lips, head tilted as he scrutinized Ernie’s plans. “How does it work?”
“Crazy. Absolutely, fucking, batshit crazy. That’s what you’d have to be to fly that thing.”
John held forth on Ernie’s idea, leaving no lingering doubts as to his opinion. “I told you not to bother him with it. It’s too dangerous.”
Ernie’s ears turned a little pink, but he set his jaw. “What other ideas have we got?”
The other members of the council waited for David to respond.
David looked at John. “He’s right. Let’s hear him out – we’ve got nothing else right now.”
Ernie cleared his throat and shot a glance at John, who still seemed far from convinced. He couldn’t argue with David though – he had nothing better to offer.
“The spinning and tumbling is a problem,” Ernie said, “but any problem can be solved by applying a little engineering.” He called up a diagram on the big screen. “This purpose-built lander can handle the acceleration and maneuverability required to land on Opportunity. You’ll notice the design isn’t streamlined for atmospheric flight –” He ignored a snort from John and continued. “– instead optimized for rapid construction and vacuum performance.”
Ernie displayed an angular machine built from metal framing. Studded with thrusters it contained four spherical objects, presumably fuel tanks. Near the center sat a square box with windows on all surfaces and a docking port on top. Four large rectangular boxes surrounded the central one.
“It’s no beauty, but it’ll do the job. These here,” he said pointing to the rectangular structures, “are cargo bays. They’ll carry the starter packages containing bots, assemblers, and feedstock. Once deployed on the surface, they’ll build an array of thrusters to slow the asteroid’s rotation and nudge it off course.”
“Are those chemical thrusters?” David asked, leaning forward.
“Yep. Simple stuff, hypergolic fuel. They can’t go wrong, just mix the fuel and they fire.”
“And there – that’s the cockpit?” David asked, pointing.
“Uh huh. We’ve –”
“Wait a minute,” Josh spoke up. “Are you telling us someone needs to fly that thing manually?”
Ernie nodded and spread his hands. “There’s no time for anything else.”
“But what about those fancy new fabricators?”
“There are limits to those, for now. The shuttle and starter packages are easy, because they come designed already from Earth. We just built the fabricators, loaded the designs and out they came. But there’s no existing design like this we can use. This we must do the old-fashioned way, and fast. If we work hard, we can get the hardware together, but the software to automate it – there’s no way to write that in time.”
A stunned silence followed Ernie’s words.
“So who –?”
“I’ll do it.”
Everyone turned to David. He shrugged. “There’s no one else.”
A somber mood permeated Haven like a physical thing, a humid air hanging over their daily lives. Everyone understood their chances of stopping Opportunity were low.
David walked through the forested wild lands in the early morning, looking for solitude. He needed to think. The birds stayed quiet even though the first rays of the morning sun slanted through the main windows.
Because most of them are dead.
He realized his thoughts had turned dark, but struggled to summon the will to stop them. David sighed and sat down on a knoll with a view out to the forests beyond the window.
Let’s get it all out. Let’s see just where your treacherous black thoughts will take you.
The birds aren’t singing because they’re dead.
They’re dead because of you.
All of those people who died, died because of you.
Grace.
She died because of you.
David scrubbed a hand across his face as that last thought stabbed his heart.
Because you were weak when they needed you to be strong.
Because you let Carla live when you knew she couldn’t be trusted.
It’s all your fault.
He sucked in a deep breath as he let the misery of his self-blame wash over himself.
It’s Africa all over again. You killed the wrong people, the people you were supposed to protect.
He froze as he connected the dots and saw his reality turn the full circle.
Africa. Serendipity.
He’d done it again.
David knew the others wouldn’t be happy if he blamed himself, so he had no intention of letting on. He’d suffer his punishment in silence, as he had before.
Redemption.
That had been his way out last time, dedicating his life to the Tau Ceti project, sacrificing happiness on Earth. Doing good for all mankind. That felt right, like he had atoned for his sins.
Again, he had another chance, but now he had a family, responsibilities. Should he do this? Should they instead put their efforts into building more shuttles, digging more bolt holes? What chance did they really have to shift an asteroid, anyway?
David grabbed a handful of soil, letting the sandy loam trickle through his fingers as he wrestled with his demons. The asteroid mission beckoned. Not only would a successful outcome be the best possible for the colony, he might redeem himself once more, by risking all. Then, perhaps, he could live with himself.
No one else could do it. Would he be doing it for them, or for him? His fist clenched down on his handful of dirt.
For them. Always for them.
Mind made up, he stood and brushed the soil from his fingers, casting aside the self-inflicted pain.
That’s how it worked before. Focus on the task, pay the price.
Redemption.
“It’s not safe,” John said. “I should know, I’m an engineer.”
David narrowed his eyes. “Are you an aerospace engineer?”
John looked aside. “I’m more of a generalist. You know that.”
“And Ernie?”
John flushed. “That’s not the point. What he’s come up with is the best we can do, I admit it. But it’s still a death trap.”
“Show some faith.”
“This has nothing to do with your piloting skills. You’re the best we’ve got.”
“Thanks … I think.”
John said nothing, glowering.
“You know I have to do it,” David said. He knew John’s uncharacteristic pessimism was because he worried about him, but they both understood they had no choice. John just wouldn’t admit it yet.
John nursed his beer and examined the ceiling. “It isn’t true, you know.”
“What isn’t?”
“That you’re the only one who can do this.”
“Elizabeth has never flown a real spacecraft. Joyce backed up Vasily on the Inspiration, but she’s not up to this.”
“I know. Not them.”
“Then who?” David asked, already knowing what he would say.
“Franz.”
David pursed his lips, thinking. John had suggested a path he didn’t want to contemplate. But still … “I’ll think about it.”
John looked at him, eyes wide. “You will?”
David smiled, knowing he had caught John off guard, countering his prepared arguments before he could get started. “Yes. Be careful what you wish for.”
After a time he realized he must be dreaming. Carla, again. He couldn’t get her out of his head, awake or not. He understood his feelings for her were wrong, that he felt obsession, not love. But even though she was a bitch, even though she hurt him, he kept coming back for more.
He didn’t even know why anymore.
The dream faded and his sluggish consciousness realized something else: he was waking up. And that meant … it m
ust be time. His time in stasis must be over.
His eyelids seemed to weigh a thousand tons as he fought to open them. A flash of white, then another and another as he blinked his way back to life. He recognized a hospital room. White ceiling. White walls.
A familiar face swam into view. Veronika. He remembered, she had been the original colonist, the doctor.
“Yerk.”
“Here,” she said, pushing a bulb of water to his mouth. “Drink.”
He gulped, water splashing his cheeks.
Veronika wiped his face with a soft cloth. “Your mouth was dry. Try now.”
“You,” Franz said, his tongue feeling strange in his mouth. “You’re still alive.”
Veronika smiled. “Look good for a hundred and fifty, do I?”
Franz nodded, lost for words.
Veronika’s smile faded. “It’s only been a month, Franz. We woke you early.”
His confusion must have shown in his eyes.
“David will be here soon, to explain. You’ll need another half an hour to recover from the anesthetic, so you’re thinking clearly.”
Franz nodded, then wished he hadn’t as his head swam. “OK.”
Veronika checked his vital signs then placed the water on his nightstand.
“I’ll leave this here for you. Wait for David.”
Franz dined alone in the pavilion. No one else seemed interested in eating with him, although to be fair, mid-afternoon most people would be busy with whatever they did during the day.
No doubt getting ready to flee from Doom. Sorry, Opportunity.
The corners of his mouth twitched in an aborted smile.
Searching for ways to avoid having an opportunity rammed up their asses.
David had explained, as promised. He’d given Franz a data pad; shown him the grainy video of Opportunity tumbling in space.
Less grainy by the day.
He’d explained the plan, shown him the lander design. Franz understood. David wanted to commit suicide in a heroic attempt to save the world. And he wanted Franz to join him.
“What’s in it for me?” he’d asked, and David’s lips had thinned as he regarded him. David didn’t trust him, he knew. If they didn’t need him, he’d still be on his way to the future.
“Forgiveness,” he’d replied. “A release and a full pardon. You can rejoin us now, rather than waiting for a century.”
“I might be better off waiting,” Franz told him. “There’s not much here for me, anyway. In a hundred years people might’ve forgotten me. And I’ll have a better chance of being alive.” He’d enjoyed watching the expression on David’s sanctimonious face when he said that. “Unless you are thinking of leaving the stasis chambers unprotected? Is that your plan to get rid of us? Execution by asteroid?”
David shook his head. “No. If you say no, you’ll go back into stasis and we will take your stasis chamber to our underground shelter. You’ll be safe there.”
“So you say.”
But it gave him food for thought. If the asteroid couldn’t be stopped, would he be safe?
Maybe. Maybe not.
He had his pride to consider too. David had issued a challenge. If he refused, would he be able to convince himself it hadn’t been just to save his own skin? Would I do that?
Franz surveyed the few people sharing the pavilion with him. None wanted to meet his gaze. They all hate me. They blame me. If I did this thing, would they forgive me? Could I redeem myself?
He thought about it, trying to understand, trying to decide. Redemption. A powerful, powerful thought. Then he realized, he wasn’t the only one.
No, not by half.
One other wanted the same thing. A light went on in his head and a plan began to form.
“There’s good news and bad news,” David said. He’d tracked down Ernie and his little group of engineers. “First the good news. After looking at your plans, I think we can make it work.”
“Yes!” one engineer said. The others just looked at him and his ears turned pink. “I just meant –”
David held up a hand. “It’s OK, I know you want to do something. We all do. That’s the good news. We have to go, so we’ll build the lander and take it to Opportunity. I’ll take it down and land it and we’ll push Opportunity out of the way.”
“And the bad news?” Ernie asked.
David smiled. “The bad news is, your idea is so good I want two landers.”
Ernie sucked in his breath. “We’ve got four weeks. We’re pretty sure we can do one in that time, but two …” His voice trailed off and his eyes grew distant. David waited while he did the sums in his head.
“Well,” he said, pushing his cap back and scratching his head, “building two won’t be twice as long. We’ve already got the design nutted out, we just need to fabricate twice the parts …”
“We can split the team,” someone suggested. “One to fabricate and two other teams to build the landers.”
“Remember when we built the rocket to rescue John?” someone else put in. “We can work like that again.”
A collective groan arose from the others as they remembered the long days.
Ernie nodded his head as he looked at his team. David noticed he turned away before they could see the mist in his eyes.
“We’ll do it,” he told David.
“Good enough,” David replied. He looked to the little cluster of engineers. “Unlimited pizza and coffee,” he said, eliciting grins. “Count on it.”
Ernie raised his eyebrows. “Well, I guess we’d better get to it.” He turned to the rest of his team. “You guys wanna sort out who’s doing what?”
That brought a burst of conversation that quickly migrated to the old-fashioned whiteboard on the wall as they debated how they would run the project.
“Thanks,” David said. “Your team is getting a reputation for pulling the fat out of the fire.”
Ernie shrugged. “That’s what we do. You’ve probably already figured out they like working like this.”
“Nothing like a deadline for some drama, huh?”
“Something like that.” Ernie turned his head to look at them. “Plus they think this is the last hurrah for the real engineers. After this, it’ll all be fabricated stuff, none of this bolting parts together by hand.”
David nodded. “I think there’ll always be plenty of call for their kind of work. Things don’t always work like they ought to. We’ll always need duct tape.”
A grin split Ernie’s face and he clapped David on the shoulder. “You know, deep down there might be an engineer in your soul trying to get out.”
David managed a smile. “Maybe. For now, I’ll stick to flying the stuff you make me.”
Ernie nodded. “Fair enough.”
David turned to go, but Ernie stopped him, his smile fading. “You didn’t say why we needed two.”
David paused. “Because we need two shots at this, just in case.”
Ernie said nothing for a long moment. “You don’t think you’ll survive this, do you?”
David shrugged. “I’m going to be landing a jury-rigged spacecraft on a tumbling asteroid. There’s no training simulators and no one’s done this before. What could possibly go wrong?”
Ernie pressed his lips together. “And if you fail?”
“Then we try again.”
“We?”
David paused for a heartbeat before answering. “Franz.”
Ernie’s face said it all. He shook his head, but David couldn’t tell if he disagreed or just found the idea distasteful.
“Send him in first.”
“We’ll see,” David replied, knowing full well he’d already seen all he needed to see. He had no doubts.
Franz would be the backup.
“No! No, I won’t do it!”
Elizabeth didn’t quite stamp her foot, but wished she could. David, John, and Nathalie had come to discuss their plans, and what they were saying did not please her one bit.
“It’s
for the best, Lizzie. We need you to do this.” John tried to look apologetic, but she knew he wasn’t the least bit sorry.
“You need me! Who else can navigate? Who will be the backup pilot?” She turned to David. “Tell them! Tell them I need to go!”
But David shook his head. “It’s the way it needs to be, Elizabeth. We need somebody to take command of the shuttle. Someone who can pilot it in an emergency. Someone who can look after the others. That’s you.”
“But you need a navigator.”
David put a hand on her shoulder, and she shivered at his touch. “Hope can navigate. I can back her up. So can Franz.”
“And what about coming back? What if you both –” she bit off her words, realizing what she’d almost said. “What if someone is needed to navigate back?”
“We’ll be OK, really,” David said, gripping her shoulders with both hands. “Please, Lizzie. I need to know someone I trust will look after the children. You’ve always been that person for me, and for Grace.” They both looked down at the mention of her name, and Elizabeth felt a lump in her throat. This wasn’t fair. She knew it and so did David. They both understood they hadn’t much choice, either.
She looked up and gripped his arms with her own. “OK. I’ll do it. For you.”
David nodded, and the relief she saw in his eyes lifted her own burden. He really does trust me that much. He really does.
“I should come with you.” Joyce Abramovich’s blue eyes locked on David’s. “You need a navigator.” She spread her hands, raising an eyebrow.
“And you are without doubt the best we have,” David said. “But Hope can navigate now, and Franz and I can back her up if we’re needed.”
“Still, I should go. I want to help. I need to help.”
“And you will.” David shifted his posture. Once he’d been as comfortable as a man could get with Joyce, but they’d both suffered the loss of their life partners, and their emotional wounds were still raw, fresh. “There’s another job I’d like you to take on. In a way, it’ll be more difficult.”
Serendipity Page 24