Within a Sheltering Darkness

By Alan Havorka

  On a planet known as Mirrus, a people living in endless night send out a sailing ship on a dangerous journey, whose mission is understood in full only by the Mirrans' ruling authorities, and by one man aboard. That man reveals to the crew this much: Their voyage will take them to the waters of the DevilsEye. There, twenty-one years b

• Language: English
• Publisher: Darkly Press, LLC
• Release date: Apr 4, 2023
• ISBN: 9780979484933

Book preview

Table of Contents

Table of Contents

Foreword (Recommended Reading)

Map

Mirran Character List and Definitions

Dedication

BOOK I – Transition

Chapter 1: Alexander Boten

Chapter 2: Departure

Chapter 3: The Mirrans

Chapter 4: Sanctions

Chapter 5: Upon the Winds

Chapter 6: Arrival

Chapter 7: In the Gaze of the DevilsEye

Chapter 8: Landfall

BOOK II - Harbinger

Chapter 1: Contact

Chapter 2: Fluency, and Understanding

Chapter 3: Desidomone

Chapter 4: Barnable and Beyond

Chapter 5: Before the High Tribunal

Chapter 6: Crossing

Chapter 7: Disaster

Chapter 8: The Temple Adjunct

Chapter 9: Forbidden

BOOK III –  Renewal

Chapter 1: Awakening

Chapter 2: Return to the Adjunct

Chapter 3: Remembrance

Chapter 4: Inquest

Chapter 5: To the Highlands

Chapter 6: At the Mirran Stone

Chapter 7: Aftermath

Coda

Postscript

Appendix A: Recommended Reading, Continued

Appendix B: Assumptions (Optional Reading)

Appendix C: Cassini Dancer Moons

Excerpt from the pending novel Shadows, Forward

About the Author

Foreword (Recommended Reading)

This work is divided into three sections: Books I, II and III.

Book I, covering the start of Alex Boten’s journey, also contains sections of letters, journal entries, ship’s log pages, newspaper clippings and so on. Where ship’s log entries appear in Book I, not all entries are shown, and those that are shown are not always shown in their entirety. Only those portions relevant to the story are included.

If the reader approaches those sections with the mindset of a researcher (or even a detective) searching for those tidbits of information which frame an understanding of the more important matters transpiring in the background, that reader should enjoy the author’s intended effect.

The said items originate from—and the rest of the novel is primarily set in—a world called Mirrus, which has many aspects disorientingly different from Earth. These aspects will be made manifest during the course of the story. However, understanding a few basics will be useful to get one started.

The culture in which these events take place has never seen daylight. They have fire (including oil-fired lanterns) by which to see, but they are in a perpetual night. A more detailed discussion of the ramifications of this perpetual night will be found in Appendix B, labeled Assumptions. However, the briefest and most salient points are these:

Those wanting a fuller background to understand references to measuring time and distance, and to understand how the Mirran language is handled, should see Appendix A: Recommended Reading, Continued. However, said references do not need to be understood to follow the story.

Map

Mirran Character List and Definitions

Dedication

To missionaries everywhere, accidental and otherwise

Thanks to:

My sister Pam, whose editing skills, wisdom, and willingness to help were hugely important, and whose enthusiasm and praise came at a critical time.

Carolyn, for persevering when it seemed rational to direct energies at something more tangible, or at least more probable.

Bill, whose editor’s eyes caught so many mistakes in the additions made after Pam’s pass.

Janet, for seeing in this work something worth pursuing.

And Gerry. What can I say.

Special thanks to Dr. Roberta M. Humphreys of the University of Minnesota, whose simple question at the end of Astronomy 101 began it all, decades ago.

And my final thanks for the best Ghostwriter in the business. I’ve given up trying to figure out what parts are yours and what parts are mine; we are one.

BOOK I – Transition

Book I, Chapter 1: Alexander Boten

S

een from space, Earth seems like a delicate, floating ball. He had read it more times than he could count, heard it in person from nearly a dozen fellow astronauts. But Alex Boten could never see it, himself. To him, Earth seemed every bit as rock solid from orbit as it did when standing on the rocky scrabble of the high desert of New Mexico.

Maybe from the moon, he thought. Maybe at that distance, with Earth reduced in the field of view, maybe then it would seem to float. But not from here. He watched Earth slide by beneath him, slow, steady and firm, as the shuttle nudged into the docking port of the Hermes orbiter. Hermes 7. He liked the sound of it, the mythic connotations. But soon, and for the next nine hours, he would be in the Command Capsule, dubbed Sirocco. Who was the genius that came up with that name? If they were set on a wind theme, how about something quirky, like Dust Devil? Or at least with more character. Maybe NorEaster. Well, maybe NorEaster would be too ominous. There was certainly nothing ominous about a name like Sirocco. It was nice, safe, bland.

The docking clamps engaged. The hiss of primary equalization began, and then faded. Through the shuttle window, he looked to the left and down, to the spiny framework of the Hermes guide tower—aimed squarely, even menacingly, down to Earth. He smiled. It had been an uncomfortable image for the public, ever since Hermes 6 became the first of the series to point like a gun at the earth. And there should be no mincing of words; a gun it appeared to be, and a gun, in point of fact, it was. It was a dangerous gun, in the minds of those who did not understand its concept, or who doubted the physics of it, or who simply figured that somehow, sometime, something would go wrong. The image was a frightening one. Maybe not a gun, thought Alex. Maybe a sword. A sword of Damocles, ever hanging over their heads.

He laughed out loud. Damocles, not Hermes. They should have named the project Damocles. Rub it right in the critics’ faces.

The softer hiss of secondary equalization kicked in. Unbuckling himself, Boten pushed off and drifted weightlessly to the hatch, grabbing the handhold and hitting the com switch.

Ready to open hatch, Hermes. Please advise.

After a brief pause, the reply came: Copy that. Hold for clearance.

Waiting for the final clearance, he pondered the precious few points in the testing that had divided him, test personnel, from the mission crew personnel—a hair’s breadth, a whisper.

There was always Hermes 8, and 9. But the margins would keep getting narrower, the competition more acute, as the final prize approached. Hermes 7 was merely attempting to pass through the Earth as if it were not there. Hermes 8 was slated to span interplanetary distances, though staying in the solar system. Hermes 9 would be the big one, launching the capsule with no receiving tower. If that could be done successfully, there would be no limits. No pesky fuel concerns. Not even nuisances like the speed of light to hinder sudden, limitless exploration. The dawn of the post-Euclidian era. The competition for that mission would be unimaginable.

Commander Boten, you’re clear. Hatch locks released. Sliding the portal aside, Alex peered into the Commons chamber. Then he slid through the narrow passage, his helmet held out ahead of him, and greeted the men preparing to depart. Hammond was fully disconnected, and the two techs were just beginning to swarm over Janus.

No surprises, Alex, reported Hammond. They pushed the alternate shutdown test into your list. And they cancelled the speed test on the new chipset for the MainCom. But that’s about it.

"Cancelled the speed test? Any word on why?"

Nary a peep. But you can bet the ground unit tested way slow, and they don’t want it on the books as a shipboard shortfall.

God forbid there should be any hint, said Alex, that anything is less than nominal.

Nominal? laughed Hammond. It’s budget time, Alex boy. Nominal is failure for the next few weeks.

As the technicians made the final adjustments to Janus’ suit, Boten floated over to the window. The view here was better; you could see the entire length of the Hermes Launch Gantry. The launch rail’s aspect drew its bead across miles and miles of empty ocean. When the time for actual launch came, both the launching and receiving towers would be above empty ocean. It was the Agency acquiescing to public outcry: Entrance and exit points both over uninhabited, low risk areas. But it was just one more example of the politicians being unable to grasp the concept. There was no entrance into Earth, and no exit. The whole point of Hermes was that anything between the launch and receiving towers, be it Earth, or just thousands—even millions, or billions—of miles, was simply bypassed.

You okay, Alex? asked Hammond, drifting up beside him.

Yeah, he said, not looking away from the window.

Any change on your dad?

Boten didn’t reply at first. But after a moment, he turned to Hammond.

No, he said, offering a slight smile. My sister’s with him now. I’m shuttling right back down to Earth after this shift, so I can go out to join her. We’ll both stay with him. Death watch, thought Boten. He thought of Abbey, sitting alone with their father, watching him fade. Alex had been offered an opt-out for this shift. He probably should have taken it. But this might be his last shot at being in the capsule before the launch. Boten’s mind drifted, to the comfort of the bustling testing and checklist routines, and then back to the long, awkward silences he would share with his sister at their father’s side. Waiting.

Kathy going with you? Hammond asked.

No, said Boten, snapping back to the here and now. No, she doesn’t need any of that right now. She’ll be home with the morning sickness, and all the rest of it.

Is she doing OK? The first one’s gotta be the toughest.

She’s a trouper, Boten said. She’s gotten used to handling the chaos in our lives since I made the Hermes team. And… it’s not going to be that long, until he goes. Not nearly.

Hammond looked away, cursing under his breath. He had wanted to be comforting, but he was just making it worse. He watched Janus slide out through the hatch to the shuttle. The techs were ready to prep Boten.

It’s not that bad, Alex said. He hasn’t even been conscious for two days now. It’s not like he’s suffering.

One of the techs called out: Captain Boten?

In a minute, Hammond snapped, and then turned back to Alex. If she wants some help, or just some company, she should have Suzanna come over. She’s just going nuts around the house with the kids gone to college, anyway. Do them both some good.

Thanks Alex said, slipping past him to the fitting stand so the techs could begin coupling the connections to his suit. I’ll mention it to her.

Hammond slid out, into the shuttle, and the portal closed. During the connection prep procedure, the techs were fully absorbed in their work. There was no one for Alex to talk to. His mind drifted back, to when he had last been with Abbey in the hospital.

There’s no point in your being here ‘round the clock, he had told her.

I don’t have anywhere to be.

Alex stood at the foot of the bed, staring down at her as she sat at the bed’s side.

You’re thinking… what? he asked. That he’ll come out of it?

Maybe. Maybe for a moment. Just for one or two… lucid… moments.

And if, by some miracle, it happened? If he woke up?

She looked up to him, and sighed.

There’s a lot to say, Alex.

But none of it’s new. So what will you say, Ab? What will you ask him? Will you ask him why he was the way he was?

She had no reply, and he pulled up a chair next to her.

Maybe you were right all along, she conceded. Maybe there are some questions… that you just… don’t….

Laying his hand on hers, he had felt a strange coldness to her skin. It was like she had been absorbing the death around her.

But maybe, she insisted, softly, "maybe there are some questions that just have to be asked."

And if you get your chance? If you ask him the kind of question you were always smart enough not to ask? What do you think he’ll say? ‘Gee, Abbey dear, I guess you’re right. I shouldn’t have been such a…’ Alex let the thought trail off, while Abbey fiddled absently with the lines that kept the old man hydrated, and breathing, and monitored.

He came back from the memory, to the here, to the now. The techs connected the last of Alex’s lines, the lines that kept him cooled, and breathing, and monitored. Without speaking to them, Alex moved into the capsule.

Although the Hermes 7 mission called for a two-man crew, and most aspects of testing called either for the mission crew or a pair of stand-ins to be in the capsule, some procedures mandated only one person. So, for this round of testing, Alex Boten sat alone in the Captain’s seat. The capsule was snug and utilitarian; the controls, simple. The complexities of the Hermes project were much more on the physics side, in the Main Event Generators of the Launch and Reception Gantries. There wasn’t much piloting to do. Hammond had taken to referring to the command compartment as the cargo bay.

In fits and bursts, various segments of the launch routine would be enacted, running various subsystems through their paces.

After four hours, the power to the main systems in the Launch Gantry was activated. The Tube was live, if only at one twentieth power. Looking forward through the main window, everything looked normal. Very Newtonian. Very Euclidian. Not like it would later in the day, when the power levels would be eased up. Then the frame-dragging would begin, and the entire length of the Gantry would seem to take a twist. The twisting would be imperceptible at first, but gradually would become alarming, as if the whole structure were approaching an inevitable stress collapse. And then, for the crew of the actual launch, running the system to even higher power, it would twist on. The Earth below would join in on the twisting, into absurdity and beyond. It would be then that the anti-nausea meds in their systems would do their part. Hermes 2 through 4 had all been launches through open space, with nothing between the Launching and Receiving Gantries. Hermes 5 had been the first to aim at passing through an intervening barrier, and during the two thirds power-up run, her crew had been the first to feel the effect of staring into something substantial, something more than the starless black of near-Earth orbit. It’s one thing to see a thin, wiry Gantry spin into a corkscrew point. It’s quite another to have a broad, flat expanse of grid-painted metal seem to be swirling down a bathroom drain. It was a moment her crew wouldn’t soon forget. Nor would the luckless techs that were honored with the job of cleaning out the inside of the mission crews’ helmets.

Sirocco, we have an upload for you.

Houston, I copy that.

Alex, we’re going to go off-book for a bit here.

Boten grimaced. Houston, if we’re going off-book because of the software you’re uploading, then I’ll wager Mark Grossman’s nearby.

One moment, Sirocco.

Boten watched the progress meter on the upload. Sixty-five percent, seventy percent, eighty-five percent.

Good morning Alex.

Marky, what kind of bug-ridden crap are you sending me?

My, we are testy today. Absolutely no known flaws.

"Whoa. ‘No known flaws’? You’ll need a chainsaw to trim that hedge. What’s the story?"

No big deal. We just brought in some new programming modules, a handful of functions, from a new contractor. The code looks clean, but I haven’t had a chance to run it through all the test eventualities I’d like to.

So you want me to do it, in orbit? What part of Double-Delphi Procedure calls for that little maneuver?

Gentlemen, announced Grossman to the Control Room, "I think we have a first here. An astronaut actually requesting stricter adherence to D-D Protocol."

Yeah fine, Boten laughed. "Put this voice com on a disc so I can always have a remembrance of the moment. But you’re saying we’re going off-book during an orbital test? And Jiggs has OK’d this?"

Down on Earth, Bob Jiggs smiled from his place on the Nest, a ten-foot diameter circle, raised one tall step above the main floor near the back of Hermes Mission Control. The Nest gave him a good view of the other eight work islands. Each of those islands was a semicircle of workstations, monitors clustered in the middle, each oriented so the specialists assigned to them had a more-or-less direct line of sight to the large Mission Status Board. The Mission Board was high on the wall, at the front of the room. The layout was a version, both scaled back and improved, of the early space launch control layout.

From his console at Launch Control Programming, Grossman waved and pointed to Jiggs. Reaching down, Jiggs switched the Com line from LCP to the Nest. Yes, Alex. Roger on that off-book orbital test. Launch Control Programming is significantly behind schedule. A full live-system test will do a lot to close the gap.

So in the interests of pulling the estimable Mr. Grossman’s ample butt out of the fire… and here Mark Grossman gestured a message via Jiggs, which Jiggs declined to translate verbally to Alex, …we just plug in the code and run it. And we pretend we didn’t, by declaring it off-book.

Double-Delphi Protocol does allow a specified amount of testing activity, in non-event conditions, to be performed off the books.

"We pretend we didn’t do it."

Yes Alex, we pretend we didn’t do it. Jiggs swiped his hand from his brow back across his bald head, deftly skimming over the headset, and bringing his hand to rest on his neck. I don’t recall you complaining when Physiology had you skip the third-order disorientation drill two weeks ago.

Okay, Jiggsy. Lighten up. If I didn’t have the chance to yank Mark’s chain from time to time, what joy would I have left in life?

Did I get a confirmation of download completion?

Sorry. Revised program upload at one hundred percent.

Load and run, Jiggs said. He stood, his tall wiry frame boosted by the raised Nest, dominating the hive of activity before him. Let’s roll.

Over the next several hours, Jiggs and Boten took the Hermes 7 complex—Command Capsule, Launch Gantry, and the Receiving Gantry orbiting opposite—through its paces. Among the milestones in that testing were power-ups to fifteen, twenty-five, and sixty percent power. Since visible distortion begins around forty-four percent, Boten engaged his helmet after the twenty-five percent phase. During the tests, the following irregularities were diagnosed:

Among the problems not diagnosed at the time were:

Sirocco, said Jiggs, sixty percent. We’re showing back-up ventilation engaged.

Roger, Control, I have that. Also engaged are backup for Com3 and… the controller for Electrical Bus 5. Checking into it now.

Jiggs switched off the line to the Hermes. Talk to me people. I assume we are not looking at a simultaneous triple failure.

Can’t be, Head of Systems muttered, scrolling through his displays. Got to be a monitoring error. Some single sensor system misreading all three.

Or, said Jiggs emphatically. Slipping his hand into his shirt pocket, he grabbed the single hard-coated square of nicotine gum, and popped it into his mouth.

At the Systems island, Chuck Monroe turned to him, then nodded. Or Apollo 13. A catastrophic mechanical, in close enough proximity. What do the techs say?

Hermes Launch Tower, please report, Jiggs rattled off. Do you feel any vibrations?

Negative.

Any unexplained sounds.

Negative, sir.

Check the view. Any floating particulates or debris, expelled gasses, liquids.

No indication here that anything happened. Or is happening. Will continue to monitor, Houston.

Sirocco, Jiggs said calmly, we’re leaning towards thinking you’ve got a monitoring systems error. Anything on your end to contradict that so far?

No, Cappy. That’s the only thing that makes sense to me. You want me to power down?

Jiggs looked to Systems. At Systems, Jack Cromwell leaned over to Chuck and spoke, shaking his head. Chuck leaned back in his chair slowly. We could, Bobby. But the more we start messing with the systems, the harder it’ll be to backtrack later.

Alex? Jiggs again. He hesitated. How would you feel about doing a live orbital diagnostic?

That’s fine, Bobby, Alex came back at once. I don’t want to be up here all day and all night trying to put the pieces back together. Let’s put this puppy to rest. I’m starting with the Main Electrical Diagnostic.

That’s my boy, Jiggs said. Cutting the line to the Sirocco, Jiggs called over to LCP: Marky, we sent up a pile of new code a little while ago. And we’ve got a pile of new problems now. You have anything to say to me?

Checking, Control. But I’m not seeing any commonality. This new programming code should only be touching one of the affected systems. But I’m still checking.

Then Jiggs noticed the new kid at Telemetry waving tentatively, but without looking up from his monitor. Telemetry? If you have something for me, I’m ready to see it.

Printing to screen, Control, the kid reported, then hustled over to the Nest and stood next to Jiggs. He began explaining the onscreen document that appeared there. This is a list of what just went out. And here’s the list of systems monitored by Electrical Variance Mod 345-31. All the affected systems are routed through there.

And lots of others, Jiggs said. This module also tracks a lot of systems that we don’t have any problem reports on.

I know. I know. But the whole module wouldn’t have to be bad. It could be a partial failure. Wait a minute. This is Re-Entry Nav. And this, this is Com6. Are those systems even active?

Jiggs flipped on his line to the Sirocco; it was in use. CapCom, I need Boten. Who’s he on with?

Physiology, sir. Heart and respiration are up.

Yeah. Ain’t everybody’s. Ask medical if it can wait. If he isn’t hyperventilating, I want him.

Ten seconds later, Boten was on the line. What’s the word, Cap?

Alex, would you activate your RE-Nav for me? There was no response. Sirocco, do you copy on RE-Nav activation?

Copy that, Houston. You want me to activate Re-Entry Navigation? Bobby Jiggs, is there something you want to tell me?

Jiggs smiled. Steady, Alex. I don’t want you to use it. We’re just looking for a status check.

Roger that. Activating Re-Entry Navigation now… wait a minute… RE-Nav offline, backup engaged. Okay gentlemen, speak to me.

Sirocco, we may have a possible commonality here. Fault reports may be bogus. Continue monitoring systems while we review. Jiggs switched the Sirocco back to CapCom. You have a way of testing this? One that doesn’t involve Alex Boten ripping out half of the Sirocco’s guts?

I need to isolate this from the affected systems. But then it’s just a matter of sending a ‘Test’ command. Half an hour?

Jiggs winced. We’re sitting at sixty percent. Try to trim that time.

Boten stared out through the main window, to the corkscrew Gantry that defined The Tube, and to the strangely twisted swirl of Earth beyond. Just think of it as looking through a funhouse mirror, the physicists had told them. Baker was the quantum geek who thought up that one, as best as Boten could recall. Well, welcome to the funhouse. His eyes flashed between the distorted swirl before him, and the banks of lights—most still green, but way, way too many red—on the panel before him. His eyes went back to the swirl. With the earth constantly sliding beneath him, the swirl seemed in constant flux. It seemed to be deepening. He looked to the Main Effect Power meter. Steady, at sixty-two. He looked back to the swirl. It still seemed to be deepening. He picked a point on the edge of the window, and sited it. Waiting, waiting. The distortion was unchanged.

CapCom, this is Sirocco. If Bob Jiggs isn’t on a coffee break or anything, you think I might talk to him?

Sorry to leave you hanging, Alex. We think we have it.

Glad to hear it. You can make my day if the solution starts by stepping down the MEP.

I think that’s for the best. I want to get a replacement module installed before going any further.

Hardware, thought Boten. That lets Marky off the hook.

Give us another fifteen minutes, to confirm we’ve got the problem identified, Jiggs suggested.

Looking at the distortion down The Tube, Boten answered, I’ll be here.

Book I, Chapter 2: Departure

A

fter twenty-five minutes, Jiggs confirmed to him: It was, indeed, a bad sensor module.

We’ll go ahead with a power-down. The only thing, said Jiggs, is that with that bad module, we can’t be sure of the status of the systems it’s monitoring. We’ll just need to have you run a few extra steps before effecting ME power down. Uploading procedures for you now.

Download complete. OK, this looks pretty straightforward. But have somebody at Andrews draw me a bubble bath, OK? I’m gonna need to unwind after all this.

Roger that bubble bath, Alex. You’ve earned your paycheck today.

Extending Inhibitor Bars, One through Four, now. I suppose if none of this crap ever happened, all we ever would have needed would have been a Hermes 1.

Boring, boring. Sirocco, I still show your Inhibitors retracted. Is there a problem?

Evidently, Control. Reinitiating extension.

The Inhibitor Bar status on Jiggs’ screen showed no change. He flipped off his line to the Sirocco. Systems? Quick summary: Launch Sled, Inhibitor System, Contingent Functions. My screen, in forty-five. Telemetry, confirm for me: That bad module doesn’t have any connection to the Shutdown Inhibitor Rods. He flipped the line to the Sirocco back on. Looks like we are No-Go on the Inhibitors. Do you concur, Sirocco?

Affirmative. They won’t move due to a red light on coolant temperature.

Sirocco, I am reading green, repeat, condition green, on Main Power Coolant.

Affirmative, Mission Control, I am reading the same thing, on my Coolant Systems Display. The problem is, Main Computer is showing red on coolant.

Jiggs switched his screen to a slave display of Boten’s. Okay, Alex. I see what you’re seeing. The list from Systems of possible systems problems that could interfere with Inhibitors came up on Jiggs’ screen. Seventh item on the list was excessive Main Coolant temperature. He looked over to Telemetry; the kid shook his head ‘No’. Alex, I’d like to put all shutdown procedures on hold briefly. Do you copy?

Copy, Control. I would concur. Keep me posted as you work through this. He knew a final answer would likely not be coming soon; this was not a situation for which they had been drilled.

Mark? said Jiggs. I’m sending over the last thirty seconds of coolant telemetry. I’ll meet you at your station. By the time the display came up on Mark’s screen, Jiggs was at his side at Launch Control Programming.

Coolant Temp by Time, Jiggs announced.

Both lines on the graph, though significantly different, were identically labeled as Main Coolant.

Main Computer reading is triangles, ventured Grossman. And circles are the direct coolant system readings?

You got it.

Main Computer is showing no delta.

None that I can see, said Jiggs.

Grossman touched the blue triangle furthest to the left, closest to the scale. What is this? Five Sixty-What? What’s the exact figure?

CapCom? said Jiggs. Give me Sirocco. A moment later, the static level in his earpiece jumped slightly. Sirocco, how are your systems holding up?

Everything’s steady, Control. Over.

"I’d like you to check your coolant temp. Main Computer reading of Main Coolant temp."

Now that’s very, very steady, Con. Thank you for noticing.

What is the exact reading?

5-6-3, Control.

Grossman plopped down into his chair, cursed angrily, and began pawing through his documentation for the freshly uploaded programming code.

Roger on 5-6-3, Alex. Looks like this one’s Mark’s baby. Extending Launch Inhibitors is assumed to ‘up’ the heat levels, so there’s a lockout if the coolant is already too high. Mark’s trying to figure out why your MCom is reading this spurious 5-6-3. Once we resolve that, we should be able to proceed with shutdown procedure as listed. Suggest you spend this time reviewing the balance of those procedures, over.

Control, are you monitoring Coolant Temp? Actual Coolant Temp?

Sorry, Alex, Jiggs said, hustling back to the Nest. I was AWOL for a bit there. OK, I see it now. You’re up in the 550 / 555 range.

Unless Marky can get his code straightened out in the next ten minutes… fifteen tops… then the real reading is going to top 560, and those rods are going to stay put.

Understood, Alex. I will be back to you very, very quickly. Jiggs walked quickly by Grossman’s station, tossing off: I want a prelim, A-sap. Turning back, he added, Don’t make me wait. That brought him to the Head of Systems. Chuck, I see only two options here, once we cross 560. Either we fire up to one hundred percent, so the coolant systems go to full and drop the temps—or else we squirrel in a procedural bypass to hyper-circulate that coolant.

"Those are both viable, if we convince the MainCom to ignore this phantom 5-6-3."

Jiggs looked back at Grossman, flipping through his sheets.

Let’s consider that a given. So, if Main Computer is reading true: We fire up, or we improvise. Am I missing an option?

Chuck Monroe dropped his chin onto his chest, puffing out his jowls. Nope. That’s it, as I see it. Normally I’d say fire up.

But not now, Jiggs finished, with a leading tone.

Going up to one hundred makes me nervous, without knowing what’s actually happened so far. Get an answer out of Grossman, and I’ll give you a firmer recommendation, Chuck offered. Jiggs raised an eyebrow. Chuck shook his head: Full power-up, versus tinkering with an unknown instability—live, at… he looked to his monitor, …sixty-one plus percent? His eyes met Jiggs. OK. I vote power up, Chuck said. Jiggs nodded and headed back to Grossman. But that’s prelim, Chuck called after him. I want answers before we proceed.

Jiggs waved to him without looking back. As he came up beside Grossman, he announced: Let’s dance, Marky.

Okay, Mark said, sweating now. I think I’ve got it here. The contractor didn’t have the new simulator for the coolant input, so I okayed a patch, for use only….

Jiggs’ hand went calmingly onto Mark’s shoulder. Condense, Mark, he said gently.

"Sirocco’s MainCom is being directed to assume Main Coolant temp. Based on a formula—Main Power level, for how long. Once we stayed at sixty percent long enough, a 5-6-3 reading was automatic. Jiggs. How long have we been at sixty percent?"

We’re at sixty-one plus change. Maybe fifteen minutes.

It’s going to jump any time now. It’s due to refresh its values.

"CapCom? Sirocco, now. Alex, watch your Main Coolant temp. MainCom Main Coolant. We’re expecting a jump to…" he twirled his fingers over Mark’s papers, and Mark punched some numbers into his keypad.

5-7-5 Mark whispered.

…575. Copy that?

I copy, 5-7-5. Mission Control?

Go, Sirocco.

"Might that be… 5-7-4?"

Mark sat down, and sped the numbers into his keypad again. Then he leaned back and looked up to Jiggs; he held up his left hand, with thumb folded in.

"Roger that, Alex. Correct target number is 574. So I see you’re reading it, there. Jiggs returned to the Nest. OK Sirocco, here’s the scoop. Your MainCom readings on coolant temp are bogus, but the whole system’s too hot to shut down now. With me so far? Over."

Absolutely, Control.

We haven’t even started looking into a bypass to allow you to manually overcool the system, but I have to tell you I don’t like the curve.

Boten watched his coolant temperature, the real coolant temperature, creeping higher.

I’m with you, Control. I don’t want to be looking over my shoulder while I’m trying to bottle-feed this thing. That leaves us with pulling up the coolant level within system parameters.

That’s the route I’m more comfortable with, Alex. You OK with going to one hundred percent? Jiggs asked.

Thought you’d never ask. Is that bogus reading going to stay at 574? Or is this programming problem going to be nipping at our heels the whole way?

Will advise on that before we proceed, Sirocco. Suggest you start reviewing final leg power-up procedures. Jiggs switched off his line. Pulling open his pencil drawer, he looked at the half dozen pieces of nicotine gum scattered there. He slid the drawer shut, and moved back down to Grossman’s station.

Checking it now, Cap, Mark said. "It definitely is an issue. The same formula applies to the whole curve. It only kicked in at sixty because we idled there for so long tracking down that bad module. It will kick in at one hundred also, if we stay there long enough. Looks like… excellent. Our coolant margin is the broadest at one hundred percent, and the formula reflects that. We can sit at… and here he leaned back in his chair and smiled. Cap, we can hang at one hundred percent for nearly an hour before those Inhibitors lock up again."

Finally, said Jiggs on his way back to the Nest, a margin we can live with. CapCom, put me on. Sirocco, how about some good news?

If that’s all you’ve got, hit me with your best shot.

Everybody’s favorite Director of Software is just feeding through some numbers to me… OK. Fifty-three minutes. Think you can handle a ten minute shutdown over fifty-three minutes?

If I can, it’ll be my first success of the day.

Scuttle that, Sirocco. None of this is your fault. Multiple unrelated failures. This is the sort of thing you can’t predict on paper. It only happens in use. This is why you’re up there. Wrong phrase, thought Jiggs.

Knew there was some reason I was up here, thought Boten. Are we Go for one hundred percent power-up procedures?

Roger that, Sirocco. Begin your safety checks.

For the next seven minutes, Boten took the controls, step by step, through every procedure to prepare for the final phases of power-up. Then he eased the Hermes 7 station up through sixty-five, seventy and eighty percent power.

Sirocco, your outer hull is developing static charge.

Compensating, Control. Charge dropping… dropping…. Nominal charge. Pushing up to eighty-five percent power. From time to time, Boten looked down to what he knew, intellectually, was Earth. But it no longer bore any resemblance to Earth. He had only been scheduled to go to sixty percent. Fortunately, procedures called for a full regimen of anti-nausea meds on runs that involved any power-up of the Gantry. Ninety percent.

Software says your MainCom should read coolant temperature dropping to… 5-2-9. Any time now.

Monitoring, Houston. Ninety-five percent power-up. The distortion began to change. No longer seeming flat, it seemed to stretch away from him—as if the center of his field of view were at the tip of a long cone, with him on the inside, near the base. The Tube is forming, Control. No change in MCom. My actual Main Coolant temp is bobbling around 475. But MainCom reading of Main Cooling is not, repeat not, budging.

Reading you, Sirocco, said Jiggs, with a perfectly level voice. Showing Gantry power at one hundred percent. He began gesturing in tight measured motions to Grossman, and used his other hand to grab two nicotine gum squares from the pencil drawer, as he continued. While we wait for those MainCom values to refresh, let’s check environmental conditions down The Tube, beginning with particulates. CapCom, passing Sirocco over to Physics. Jiggs switched off his line. He popped the squares into his mouth. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mark Grossman starting to move toward him. He held up his hand, gesturing ‘Stop’. Still not shifting his gaze, he whipped his hand into a pointing gesture, downward, roughly to Mark’s station; he held the pose. Mark moved back to Launch Control Programming, and resumed reviewing the code documentation. Eventually Jiggs pulled his hand back down to the edge of his desk. He paused, and then moved down to Grossman.

I don’t know, Grossman said. It should have reset by now. There’s something else going on. Something I don’t understand.

Jiggs’ eyes locked on his. Can you get me back in control of the Sirocco?

Not fast enough. Not fast enough for a normal shutdown.

Jiggs nodded, and continued to nod as he processed the idea. There’s no way to go back to the original programming. It was more statement than question.

No way. Not with the program locked in an operation

Okay then, Jiggs said, moving toward the Nest. Systems, I want options. System shutdown, without Inhibitor Rods.

On your screen, said Chuck Monroe, coming up behind him. They climbed the riser together.

Why, Chuck, said Jiggs in mock surprise, pulling up his own chair to the front of the work surface. You don’t trust Mark’s abilities. He began scanning the onscreen document.

He’ll sort it out, said Chuck. But not in time. I think he’s just realizing he’s got himself into a rat hole.

At least… Jiggs said distractedly, his finger sliding down along the screen, …Operational Planning… won’t bully him into outsourcing any more… programming code. Here, he said, tapping the screen. This is the one. The closest thing to a good alternative.

I can’t see you going any other way, Chuck concurred.

Hmm. But every plan has to have a backup. Get ready for the screaming to start. Thanks Chuck. Jiggs spat his wad of gum into his wastepaper basket, and flipped his main audio line to Global. Listen up, people. I want Hermes Gantry personnel ready to scrub for possible EmEvac. I want Armed Forces alerted for possible tracking.

Alex Boten’s mic crackled to life: Jiggsy, no way am I gonna cut and run, and watch this whole tower melt.

Captain Boten, said Jiggs with a smile, "You will do whatever Mission Control instructs you to do. Fortunately for both of us, Emergency Evac is not in our immediate futures. However: Enough of this project has flushed down the crapper in the last two hours that I’m not taking any more chances. EmEvac is now our official backup plan, and it will be activated at such time as the Mission Controller sees fit. Now if