Alder's World Part One: Mass 17 (10 page)

“Our best odds are to get
down to the surface before the cloud
…”
He paused. Someone was crying audibly over the
intercom. He looked at Elana for support but she only nodded for
him to go on.
“
Once on the
surface we would have the ability to gather new resources. Maybe
even do a bit of terra forming. Lieutenant Harshaw
has
…”
The crying was steady.
Whoever it was was sitting close to the microphone. Alder waited,
hoping Elana would step in.
“
Look.” He said finally,
“
I know you
’
re scared. I
know this is crazy but this ship is being crushed to death.
It
’
s been dying since the
explosion. Maybe it
’
s hard to
imagine us not being a ship
’
s
crew anymore but we
’
re not.
We
’
re survivors on a rescue
mission and this plan is our best chance of survival.” He
paused.
“
I did the math. This
is our best chance. I
’
m
sorry.
”

He turned away from the
table. Pilton picked up after a long pause.
“
So
that
’
s it then. I
don
’
t want to do anything
hasty. Alder says we
’
ve got
some time. Let
’
s talk this
through.”
He went on but Alder
wasn
’
t listening. Elana had
risen and come over to him.

“Good job.”
She whispered, sliding and arm around him and
gripping him tightly by the waist.

He sighed.
“
Someday
we
’
re going to reach a point
in our lives where you tell me good job for doing something I
enjoyed doing.
”

“I hope so.”
She smiled up at him.
“
It had to be you Sam. You
don
’
t ever try to sell
anybody on an idea. You just say it like it is. It makes hard
things easier to hear.
”

The conversation about the
plans was continuing around the table but Elana led Alder to the
observation port. There were waving sheets of sparks in the
darkness.
“
Do you see those
little sparks out there Sam? I know those are specks of dust
hitting the shield. I know there are more of them than there were a
week ago, but it doesn
’
t tell
me anything. It
’
s just a
fact. When you tell me there will be more and more of those sparks
until they overload our system, I believe you. Facts
won
’
t save us Sam. Belief
will save us. And you make people believe.
”

Sam nodded.
“
It
’
s easier being a scientist.
”

Elana
’
s response was
cut short by Captain Pilton.
“
Alder? Alder? You said you
’
d done the math. Some of the crew are wondering, does that
mean you know our likelihood of survival if we attempt the
landing?”

Alder ducked his head as
if ducking the question.
“
It
’
s just a guess
sir.
”

“But you know the odds?
You can give us some idea?
”

Alder hesitated but
everyone in the room was fixed on him.
“
Sir, when you asked me to run a
test of all the solutions on the table; waiting for rescue,
attempting to leave orbit, only one showed any significant odds of
success and that was landing.
”

“But the numbers Alder.
What were the numbers?
”

“Mbaka fully reviewed
my
…”

“The
numbers!
”

Alder cleared his
throat.
“
I predict a 20%
chance of success with a margin of error plus or minus ten
percent.
”

Elana
could have had her office designed any way she liked. Back on
League Prime during the years of endless discussions and analysis
of every detail of the Duster
’
s design, she more than any of the other staff had been given
free rein to design her space. While all of the medical staff were
qualified to speak about psychological health with any of the
staff, Elana was expected to know, understand, and steer the mental
competency of hundreds of the most brilliant minds in the galaxy as
they faced years of unpredictable challenges. All of the science of
the last hundred years had not replaced the roll of intuition in
the job of psychologist. Elana
’
s job was to understand and shape how people felt about the
universe around them.

She had chosen an open,
slightly shapeless space, a little more than three meters on a
side. She
’
d had it colored in
light blues mostly with some greens and reds. The shape was
controlled slightly with balls and tendrils of hand blown glass. It
would have been gaudy if not comfortably lit. The impression as she
and Com Tech Reilly sat facing each other was that they were in the
secluded corner of a larger space. Whether it was the window booth
of a cafe or an underwater grotto you could never be
sure.

Over time, her urge had
been to darken the colors. She felt, as much as anyone the strain
of the ridiculously long flight.
She
’
d started telling Pilton
that they needed to turn around after year eight; only in private,
of course. She was tired. The crew was tired. The ship was aging.
Again and again he
’
d
asked.
“
Will they still
follow me?”
Every time
he
’
d listened earnestly to
her reply, assured her that he
’
d turn around before the morale situation got critical, and
gone right on pushing further and further out.
“
Just think how elated
they
’
ll be when we turn
back.”
He
’
d say to her.
“
We can
relieve any pressure in a moment by announcing
we
’
re headed back.”
And so they
’
d gone on and Elana had kept the colors at the same bright,
steady hue in her room.

The silence between her
and Reilly was lengthening. Reilly was a very predictable woman who
made her bi-annual psych appointment with one of the other doctors
every six months and went back to her post in communications. There
had been a lot of extra visits to the psychologist, or the tanks
recently, but it didn
’
t seem
in profile for Reilly. Elana let the silence stretch. Reilly was
petite with black, straight cut hair that was slowing being
infiltrated by single bright white strands as the years
passed.

“It
’
s funny you
know.”
Reilly started at last.
“
You
wouldn
’
t think that
you
’
d be thinking about the
past at a time like this. It feels strange; everyone talking about
what day we
’
re all going to
die like that
’
s the most
important thing but
…”
She
drifted off again, distracted.
“
Did you know Carol and I were friends before the
ship?”

“Yes. I remember.
University of Antarctica wasn
’
t it?”
In
Elana
’
s line of work you
always said,
“
I
remember
”
and not,
“
I looked at my notes before you
came in and saw that you and Carol Pakerson went to the same
school.
”

“Yeah. Only snow skiing
left on Earth.”
Reilly grinned
ruefully.

“You were listening on the
radio when she died.
”

Reilly
didn
’
t respond. She looked
away.
“
Carol wanted to go to
deep space so bad. Telling her she was going to get eaten by space
bugs would not have slowed her down. Even as a freshman
she
’
d drag us all up to watch
the transit platform whizz over. It was in a transpolar orbit and
would fly over every ninety minutes. Sometimes, if they had a big
load coming up from Earth, they
’
d drop that thing down really low. You could see all the
spars and solar panels. The one around Earth is something like six
kilometers
across. It looked like some
kind of ant whizzing by above the aurora. It was really something
to see.
”

She paused again. There
were tears pushing at the corners of her eyes.
“
Some nights it was just she and I.
I used to follow her everywhere. My mom had died just a year or two
before I got there. I guess Carol was kind of a big sister to me.
Anyway, we
’
d lay up there, on
the platform over the air control tower wrapped in thermals, our
breath steaming, waiting for that stupid platform and
she
’
d tell me about deep
space; just stuff she
’
d read.
She used to go on about every new planet that anyone found,
didn
’
t matter where; ice ball
around Tenni, lava soaked hell planet somewhere else. I
don
’
t think
I
’
d ever thought about going
into space before Carol. My mom was a power plant technician. Back
then, it was still a big deal even to go to the moon. People only
went up for honeymoons and vacations.

“
Anyway, when Carol found
out about the Solo project, she put in for a transfer to League
Prime that hour.”
She scowled.
“
I
can
’
t even remember agreeing
to go with her. I just was there somehow, submitting my paperwork.
I didn
’
t have any family
closer than Carol so I guess it made sense. We finished our degrees
out there and were first in line for candidate selection.
‘
We
’
re going on the first ship kiddo.
’
She told me.
‘
The very first ship.
’
She was like that. She said
we
’
d get on the first ship
headed for deep space and here we are. Except.”
Her eyes teared up fully and her face changed.
“
Except
she
’
s not here.
She
’
s dead and it just me. I
just came because she told me I should. I
don
’
t want to be here
anymore. Everyone keeps talking about fix this and do this so we
don
’
t die and I keep
thinking,
‘
I
don
’
t care. This is
wrong.
’”
She met
Elana
’
s eyes for the first
time, tears streaming down her face. The years had shed off of her
and she was a lonely, teenager again.
“
I
don
’
t want to be here. I want
to go home. Please, can
’
t I
please just go home?
”

There
was no argument. Well, there was a lot of argument; cold weld, or
fusion threading; unpowered stress loading or pressure fields.
There were hundreds of arguments everyday about every aspect of the
task ahead but none, not one, about whether or not the landing was
necessary.

It made Alder
uncomfortable. Part of the scientific process was rigorous
examination of the evidence, occasionally even a painful public
vetting, but no one had questioned him. They came to him like he
was some sort of prophet.
“
Alder, if we route the plasma conduits directly to the hard
point, will it improve our odds?”
“
Alder, will the weight distribution negatively impact our
chances?
”

He kept waiting for
someone anyone to corner him, berate him for his stupidity, and
give a dozen better options. Even a dozen worse options would have
been better than this. Why didn
’
t anyone even try?

At least they were busy.
Thirty days had just vanished. It seemed like there were more tasks
than people. The remains of the gamma ray pulse generator and a
couple plasma wave guides had been jury rigged into a working
nuclear fuel enrichment furnace. New control software was being
written for the strange flight they were about to take. Everywhere,
struts were being taken down from here and welded in place there.
Someone had gotten the bright idea to make mesh harnesses for the
livestock. Alder was sure some of the crew were getting more sleep
than he was, but it sure didn
’
t seem like it. Everyone seemed to be everywhere at all
hours. They all had to be exhausted. If he had to put a number to
it, Alder would have guessed that Ronald Midbits was probably
getting more sleep than any three of the crew.