CHAPTER 22

"Okay, stay calm," I say. "Stay calm." I can't see anything at all.

"Why not be calm, question?" — He doesn't have eyes. Of course he didn't notice.

"You equipment quiet now. My equipment still working." His generator is independent.

"I bungle in the darkness, feeling my way around the lab. Where's the ladder to the control room?"

"Left. More left. Continue…yes…reach forward…" — "Amaze. Humans helpless without light."

"Off in one corner of one panel, there's a small red LED. Definitely glowing, though not very bright."

"Instead of flat-panel displays, this section has physical buttons. The light is from a button. Obviously I push it."

"The LCD display comes to life. Some highly pixelated text appears: 100%." Battery exists.

"A little switch, covered by a plastic safety shield. Labeled 'Batt.' I lift the shield and flick it."

"Dim LEDs light up the control room. The smallest screen comes to life. 'Loading Operating System…'"

"TROUBLE." Emergency power, battery 100%, Sabatier offline, chemical absorption limited, temp control offline.

"How long until orbit decays, question?" — "I…don't know." — "Work fast."

"Machines break. Show me. I fix." — "First I need to find it." Rocky slumps. "You not know where ship parts are?!"

"I crawl into the storage space. My arm hurts. Must be access panels in here somewhere."

"Rocky! Are there any doors in here?" — Taps. "Six small doors." — "Six?! Ugh."

"One by one, he leads me to each door. Behind the fourth door, I find it."

"It's a lot smaller than I expect. Two thick pipes with shutoff valves. Labeled fuel and waste."

"A dark liquid drips out. It feels slimy. Probably oil — any liquid will do, won't corrode the pipes."

"It smells awful. I wince and bury my face in my arm. The fuel line smells like rotted food."

"Is natural smell or chemical smell?" — "Rotted food. Astrophage doesn't normally have any odor at all."

"Astrophage can't rot—OH NO! OH GOD NO!" Wipes hand. Wriggles out. Climbs ladder to lab.

"I smear some gunk onto a glass slide and shove it in the microscope. Grab flashlight from drawer."

"I look through the eyepieces and my worst fears are realized. 'Oh God.'"

"The generator isn't broken. Taumoeba ate all the Astrophage. We have no power because we have no fuel."

"We're dead in space. We're stuck here forever." — "Not forever," Rocky says. — "No?" I perk up.

"No. Orbit decay soon. Then we die." — The clock is ticking. Not forever. Just a while.

"I spend the whole next day examining fuel lines. Same everywhere: Taumoeba and Taumoeba poop."

"I have Astrophage on my side — approximately 216 grams remaining. Keep it safe on your side."

"I make new engine. Taumoeba turn Astrophage into methane. React with oxygen. Make thrust."

"The ship gets less than 800 meters per second. Can't escape Adrian's gravity, let alone reach Blip-A."

"I clean and sterilize. Remove all Taumoeba. Make tiny fuel tank. Seal airtight. Give back. Power restored."

"I get back into the dormitory and put the generator in our airlock. Rocky cycles the airlock."

"Two claws get to work right away. A third points to my bunk. 'You sleep.'"

"You tell me humans need 8 hours every 16. You no sleep 31 hours. Sleep now." — "A hard day's night…"

"Whoa!" I shoot bolt-upright. "The beetles!" — Rocky drops the generator in surprise.

"Each beetle is self-contained and sealed. 120kg of Astrophage each. No Taumoeba inside!"

Rocky waves all arms. Ryland waves both arms. Good good good!

"No!" Rocky taps divider. "EVA dangerous. Sleep first. EVA next." — "All right, all right."

"Rocky presented me with a sealed generator. I installed it. Ship power back on without a hitch."

"This doesn't seem like a good idea anymore," I say. "Do task," Rocky replies mercilessly.

"Adrian reflects its pale-green light. Then drifts off. Shows up again twelve seconds later."

"The Hail Mary is still spinning. Thrusters are dead — full of Taumoeba poo. Centripetal force at nose."

"The beetles are stored in the nose. No tether points. If I fall, centrifuge flings me into space."

"I quadruple-check the tethers. Four of them. I may look like space Spider-Man. Who cares?"

"The beetle hatch. Designed to be blown off by pyros. But I need it intact — for the interstellar medium."

"Interstellar medium: one atom per cubic centimeter. At near-c, relativistic mass makes it lethal."

"As soon as I unscrew the first bolt, it slides down the slope of the nose cone and falls away."

"Use third han—hmm. Get beetles. I make new screws." The five-armed assumption hits the wall.

"Every 90 minutes we touch the tippy-top of the atmosphere. Slow down a bit. Dip deeper next pass."

"Plastic parts would melt in Rocky's air. A lump of Astrophage kept things at 96°C — safe for plastic."

"Two hours to disassemble Paul and understand most of how he works. Five claws at once."

"Working with Rocky is like having the world's best engineer from 1950 on the ship with me."

"He jerry-rigged the spin drive to be activated by audio remote. Eridians use sound, not radio."

"George stays unmodified. Before I set out I send George on his way with all my findings and Taumoeba."

"John, Paul, and Ringo evenly spaced in a ring around the hull, engines angled 45° from centerline."

"A rectangle of missing hull plates. Black scorch marks on the neighboring panels. Some warping."

"Dead Astrophage have water. Heat → hydrogen and oxygen. Oxygen and heat → burn marks. Good theory."

"He holds three identical control boxes in three claws. A fourth taps the readout. All beetles ready."

"I strap myself into the command chair. This next bit is going to be uncomfortable."

"I rotate the crew compartment 180 degrees. This time everything is battened down — no chaos."

"After 10 seconds, 6 g's. I can barely breathe. The skin of my face stretches away from my cheeks."

"You are not healthy!" Rocky squeaks. "Undo this. We make new plan." — Ryland shakes head.

"The tunnel gets dimmer and dimmer until eventually it's all black."

Black. Ryland out cold. Rocky alone with three control boxes — stabilising the ship.

"I wake up. My arms float freely. Only my restraints keep me in the chair. Rotation: zero."

"Beetles hard to control. Correction: Beetles easy to control. Ship powered by beetles hard."

"It actually feels great to be back in zero g. Less stress on my body. Aching everywhere as a rule."

"All systems okay. Nothing damaged further than before." Some things still bad. But survivable.

"What is next action, question?" — "Now I do math. Thrust duration, angle, to get back to your ship."

"150 million kilometres to the Blip-A. Three modified beetles as engines. Math time."

"Now I do math. A whole lot of math. Thrust duration, angles. To get us back to the Blip-A."

"Good." — Rocky waits in the ceiling. Always patient when the human does the human work.

Taumoeba ate the fuel. But beetles, Rocky's hacks, and Ryland's math pulled them back from the void.

"Now I do math. A whole lot of math." Two survivors. Three beetles. One impossible journey.