“It will. That’s good. It helps us.”
“To a point it does. But suppose it goes too far?” Rebka turned toward E.C. Tally, who was still staring at the aft display—probably longing for his lost beetlebacks. “E.C., would you do me a calculation? Suppose that the spin rate of Marglot goes on increasing. How long before the centripetal acceleration at the equator is equal to the surface gravity?”
“The calculation is rendered more complicated than you might expect, because the change of spin rate of Marglot continues to accelerate. The reason for that, I presume, is the planet’s rapidly spinning inner core—which, as I noted at the time of my first arrival in orbit around Marglot, is the source of the planet’s anomalously high magnetic field. That core is coupling now to the planetary mantle, and that in turn to the outer crust. To estimate the coupling constants—”
“Could we have a number, E.C., rather than a dissertation?”
“Certainly. The purpose of my comments is to explain that there must be uncertainty in my answer, since the future spin rate is itself uncertain. However, my best estimate is that centripetal and gravitational forces at the equator will be equal fifteen hours from now.”
“So in fifteen hours, and probably a lot less because of the internal deformations, Marglot will come apart. Lumps of the planet will be thrown out into space. That will start in the plane of the equator. And Nenda, you are flying this ship—”
“—smack on the equator. Wrong place to be if there’s fireworks.”
Darya had been watching her own assigned display, one that looked out and down from the ship. She said, “There will be fireworks, and in a lot less than fifteen hours. It has started. Look ahead.” They were approaching the night side of the planet. Beyond and beneath the ship the darkness was illuminated by a orange glare. “Volcanoes, and lava flows.”
Nenda said calmly, “Maybe I should take us outta here right now.” As he spoke, a long tongue of flame leaped skyward in front of the ship. A smoking juggernaut of rock ten times the size of the Have-It-All shot past, still glowing bright red.
“Maybe you should.” Hans Rebka was equally casual. They spoke so softly that probably no one but Darya could hear either man. “There’s already large-scale planetary deformation. It can only become worse, and the equatorial region is absolutely the wrong place to be.”
“So we wanna be outta here. I hear you.” Nenda turned and shouted, “Grab a hold of somethin’ firm again. Orbital thrustors comin’ on—now.”
He did something that Darya could not see, but she felt the upward surge. The ship shook with its worst spasm yet. Vibrations seemed ready to tear it apart. Her knees buckled, and she clung for her life to the metal post.
“Snow and ice residue in the firing chambers.” Hans Rebka had fallen to his knees behind Nenda’s chair. “They don’t like that at all.”
“Nor do I. Let’s hope it’ll boil outa there in a minute or two.”
Darya, struggling to remain on her feet and watch her assigned display, saw the image of Marglot visibly shrinking. The upward thrust continued and the ride gradually became smoother. The possibility of continued life no longer seemed unthinkable.
Nenda went on cheerfully, “Well, unless something else happens we have it made. We’re on our way to orbit. That was a lot easier than I expected. Once I’m sure we have orbital velocity I’ll take us out beyond one of the poles. Safer to watch the show from there, all the junk will be flyin’ out round the equator.”
A show it was certainly going to be. The ship was ascending faster and Darya could see a substantial fraction of the entire planet. The swath of violent volcanic activity was spreading, growing wider while she watched. Far away from the equator, rocks like ruddy sparks emerged in shotgun volleys from the riven surface. Each one had to be at least as big as a house. If any were to hit the Have-It-All, Nenda’s optimism wouldn’t mean a thing.
Julian Graves came wandering on unsteady legs from the aft part of the ship. “What is our status? During that last convulsion I felt sure that we were doomed.”
“Nah. Rattled us up a bit, that was all. We’re in fine shape. The hard part was gettin’ enough speed to take us to orbit. We have that, so everythin’ else is easy.”
“If we have reached orbital velocity and we are free to maneuver, why are we not heading at once for the Bose node entry point?”
“Too dangerous. The Bose node is close to Marglot’s equatorial plane. We got to wait ’til the planet’s spin-up is over before we can head for the node.”
“I see. Very well. I rely on your judgment as captain. I will pass the word to the others. Everyone has held the station you assigned, but all are wondering as to our fate.”
“Tell ’em the worst is over. They can sit back and enjoy.”
Graves glared but said nothing. He went staggering away along the corridor, supporting himself against the metal walls and grabbing at the stems of missing light fixtures.
“That was a lie.” Hans Rebka was back on his feet and once more standing behind Louis Nenda.
“Not all of it. We are at orbital speed, and I am takin’ us toward the pole.”
“You know what I mean. It’s not dangerous to head for the Bose node. That’s half a million kilometers away and it’s nowhere near the equatorial plane. Chances of our being hit are negligible.”
“Could be. You proposin’ to go to Graves back there an’ tell on me?”
“No.”
“Thought not. You’re as nosy as I am. How often do you get to see a whole planet fly apart? But what’s causing it, that’s what I’d like to know.”
“Maybe we can answer that.” Hans Rebka turned to Darya. “Do you remember what we were told by Guardian of Travel about the middle of Marglot?—though of course, we didn’t know at the time that it was Marglot.”
It was a struggle for Darya to think back. Their hours on Iceworld seemed years ago. “Isn’t there some sort of vortex in the middle of Marglot? A big one, once used to change the rotation rate.”
“Used once, and used again. That’s what’s happening now. The question is, where will all this end? What will be left of Marglot if the spin rate keeps going up?”
“I don’t give a toss what happens to Marglot, though I admit I want to watch it go blooey.” Nenda swiveled his chair to face the other two. “I’ll give you another question. I don’t trust the universe when it starts arrangin’ things for my convenience. But just when we need it, Marglot speeds up its spin rate—in time to give us the added outward push we need to ascend to orbit. How come?”
Darya didn’t think that Nenda expected an answer, but Hans Rebka was nodding. “We’re not looking at the case of a benevolent universe, and this isn’t coincidence. We owe our good luck to Ben Blesh.”
“He froze to death on Marglot.”
“I don’t think so. He found his way back to Iceworld. Remember, Darya, we had the option of returning there? He did it. And now, from Iceworld, he is controlling events within Marglot.”
“So he saved our asses? Pity we’ll never get a chance to thank him. You believe that something Blesh did is responsible for all that? Sooo-eee.”
All that. Nenda’s gesture included everything outside the Have-It-All, but one feature dominated everything else. The ship had spiraled out and out and up and up, until Darya found herself looking down at Marglot from above. She could span the whole sphere with one hand. Except that it was not a sphere.
Marglot had become a fat ellipsoid. While parts of the world still showed the pristine white of undisturbed snowfall, a broad central belt glowed red and was shot through with sulfurous yellow flames. Marglot was developing its own planetary ring, a disk of hot ejecta expelled by violent vulcanism.