Pestilence, Page 2

we will have to do is alter to orientation so that the abandoned pods are between the living half, and the Sun; and keep them there until… well, for an long time?”

  Andrew looked doubtful. “Then do we have the fuel?”

  Alisha answered. “If we had a week I could tell you exactly; if we had a few days I could be confident. Right now it’s impossible to say for sure, but if I have to make a guess; then maybe enough?”

  Andrew nodded, “I expect there are a hundred and one other problems, but are there any we need to worry about now?”

  “I don’t think there are any that we’re not already facing. The single most serious problem is that at our periapsis with the Sun we could be exposed to temperatures anything up towards a hundred degrees centigrade: far beyond what was ever imagined for the array. There are thousands of parts that would be exposed to such a level of scorching heat that their manufactures would not have ever accounted for. We could begin to melt? And if anything does fail,” She added. “No one could go outside to rectify the problem. If the heat didn’t fry them, the cosmic rays will microwave would.”

  Andrew sighed. “So what’s the recommendation; a slow lingering death or a hot and unpleasant one?”

  Mathew gave a weak smile. “If we accept the downside, it’s feasible?”

  Alisha nodded. “Taking for granted that we will be testing the design limits of almost every component on the station there is one other problem… The side of the abandoned area facing the Sun will heat up and expand at a vastly different rate to the side facing away. At worst we could loose hull integrity. We can’t predict how that will happen, but if we start now we can re-assemble unused parts of the station as sunshades to mitigate the effect; but whatever we do it’s probable that the temperature will rise uncomfortably?“

  Andrew looked at Matt. “I’m concerned with the fuel; I don’t want for us to end up drifting?”

  “As Alisha said, without knowing how much we will need for maneuvers that we may or may not require is a question I can't give you answer to?”

  “So you think there won’t be enough fuel?”

  Mathew shrugged. “I have no idea, but at some point: if we don’t meet up with Earth, we’re going to run out anyway?”

  Andrew sighed again. “The whole idea is pointless if we can’t rendezvous with Earth at the end?”

  “All I can say is there should be sufficient,”

  “That’s not the answer I wanted,” muttered Andrew

  “No,” Matt replied softly

  “Is there any way we can rig up alternative propulsion?”

  “Alternative?” Alisha thought for a moment. “I… I suppose we could do something with compressed air, but its effect would be miniscule in comparison, and whatever we do were depleting our own reserves.”

  Andrew looked at her expectantly. “If we were desperate?”

  “Over an extended period it… I don’t see any reason why not, but air is not something we have an abundance of?”

  Andrew looked at them. “It’s not much, but maybe it’s enough; at the very least we’re taking back control over our future.”

  At first the gathering listened in stunned silence, then before Andrew had finished, the questions began. At first it was the guests raising their voices, then: ignoring the discipline, crewmembers added to the shouting. Mathew stood: his back against a wall, thankful that he wasn’t in the commander’s position.

  “Are we safe Matvey?”

  The voice took him by surprise, and he turned his head. “Yulia?” he said softly.

  The smile she had worn faded, and she looked at him confused. “Why did you call me that?” she said in a low and questioning voice.

  “I… I’m sorry, I thought it was your name?”

  “How?”

  “How, I… I checked?”

  She was obviously annoyed. “You checked up on me?”

  Mat looked about them; he didn’t want to be overheard. “I’m sorry; it was wrong. I should not have.”

  “And what else did you find out?”

  “I don’t know?”

  “You don’t know; what kind of an answer is that?”

  “A truthful one; all I found out is that you are frequently you’re your husband?”

  “There’s a reason for that.”

  “I know.”

  She looked at him surprised. “And what else?”

  “That he is known to Interpol?”

  Now she seemed curious. “What for?”

  Matt decided he shouldn’t share everything in case she told her husband. “I couldn’t find that out. I didn’t have the clearance?”

  Her displeasure seemed to ease: she looked at him searching for something, until at last the smile returned, but it was a weary smile. “Then you are correct; it was my name, but that was along time ago.”

  “I’m sorry; truly I didn’t mean to pry. I just want… I just want us to be friends?” It sounded so stupid, and he wasn’t sure why he had said it?

  The smile became genuine. “The sun; it will be dangerous?”

  He didn’t want to frighten her. “We don’t intend it to be.”

  “But you have not answered my question; are we safe?”

  “Nothing about our situation is safe, but what we are about to do should end our isolation sooner?”

  “I hope it will not end completely?”

  “No,” he said quickly, “Maybe that was a bad choice of words; If all goes well then we’ll be within reaching distance of Earth sooner than if we do nothing.” Mathew saw her husband approaching.

  “Then Matvey I will believe you,” she said softly.

  The man looked at her. “Believe what?”

  “The officer was just assuring me that we can trust their decision, Pyotr.”

  The man looked at Matt in a hostile way. “You will have a harder time assuring me with just words.”

  Matt couldn’t work the man out: last time they had met he had been overfriendly; now he seemed unfriendly. In fact there was a lot about him that didn’t gel with what Matt had found out about him. Even though Yulia called him by the Russian version of his name, he wasn’t Russian: he did have a lot of Russian contacts, and when Matt had run the name through the Interpol criminal watch list, it had flagged him as suspect. The website didn’t give away too many details: but whatever his record, the man was exceptionally rich and had some very bad friends. Matt tried to look sincere. “Every decision we take is for the good of the station, and all of us aboard.”

  Peter had the look of someone who took everything as a lie. “Of course you would say that whatever the truth.”

  Mathew had been indifferent to the man, but now he took a firm dislike “I can guarantee you that I have no desire to die, so you can take or leave my word; but I have no intention of placing myself in a situation where that could be the inevitable outcome.”

  Peter looked at Yulia, and then back to Matt. “A wise man would stick by that sentiment. I suggest you think deeply on it: in all your future decisions.” He reached out to grip the woman’s upper arm tightly.

  Matt saw her mouth tighten a little; he was obviously hurting her, but she didn’t make a sound as Peter almost dragged her away. Matt stared after them as the thought came into his mind; if there was man capable of murder aboard Earthrise, it was that one.

  Mathew stayed well away from any place where he could accidentally bump into the woman: it wasn’t difficult, as preparing the array took almost every waking hour, but she occupied many of his sleeping hours.

  It wasn’t that he felt intimidated by Peter: he was, and he had cause to be; the man was big enough to look after himself, and if he was on the Interpol watch list he was not the kind of person you probably wanted to make an enemy of, but the main reason he kept clear was because of Yulia herself. Matt was sure Peter had deliberately hurt her in front of him as a kind of warning, It had worked, Matt could accept danger for himself, but he didn’t want to put her in harms way.

  The
re was a feeling of raw tension as the St Louis fired its main engine and put them on course for their encounter with the Sun. Too less of a curve and they would be drawn down onto the boiling surface; too great and they would cross over Earths orbit and career into space, wasting the irreplaceable resources to get back.

  With the exception of those for scientific purposes, all viewing ports on the Earthrise were positioned so that they never had a direct view of the Sun, and after all the best sightseeing had been of Earth. As day followed day, more and more crew and guests logged onto the arrays monitors trying to see any change in the Suns shape, but there was no change. Whatever the image; ultra violet or infrared, none of them showed any growth in size.

  The days passed, sails and panels were relocated; and at last the Sun began to grow.

  Work recommenced on making available more hotel rooms. There hadn’t really been a need, other than to occupy idle hands until the sexual tensions aboard the Earthrise got to a point where it could no longer be ignored: suddenly people wanted privacy rather than shared accommodation.

  There had been a fluctuating imbalance between the sexes on the station; at first with the need for construction workers it was mainly civilian males. Once a section of the hotel was completed and female service workers arrived, the proportions changed. As more technical crew arrived the balance tipped towards males again: that was made worse by the arrival of the guests, and so it had been when Earthrise became isolated,

  Andrew was placed in an unenviable position. The contracts of each and every staff member made it clear that while on Earthrise there would be no