But they weren’t decelerating and they should be. If that didn’t change, they were on a one-way trip out of the solar system. A year would see them passing the orbit of Pluto. Two and they’d be through the Kuiper belt. A century would pass before the Nixon would reach the Oort cloud as a lifeless tomb carrying the corpses of ninety people who’d died long, long before. The stars were millennia beyond that.
But the aliens…
What kind of civilization had built something that could traverse those distances? She couldn’t imagine. And why had they come, stopped at Saturn, and then left again? Even less fathomable. Her mission was supposed to bring back answers to those questions. Now she wasn’t absolutely sure she’d be able to bring back her crew.
Fang-Castro looked around the table. Crow looked impassive, as usual. No, more like implacable. The man was not happy. She didn’t blame him in the least. Bad enough having an accident that killed someone, bad enough for it to be their chief engineer. Bad enough that it left them adrift, at least temporarily, without propulsion.
Worse that it was Becca Johansson. Fang-Castro had come to genuinely like her. Totally different cultures, totally different upbringings, but they’d both grown up to take no nonsense from anybody, to follow the facts where they led, and to never, ever yield unless they had to.
Martinez—the chief of operations, or head handyman, take your pick—Francisco, the exec, and Darlington rounded out the group in the room. Darlington was not involved in the discussion, but was recording it: he’d insisted on carrying through with it, and Crow had asked Fang-Castro to allow him to do it.
They all turned as Wendy Greenberg walked into the room. She looked flustered. “I’m sorry I’m late, we wanted to pull the latest out of the engines and out of Nav.”
She took the empty chair and Fang-Castro nodded and said, “All right, let’s begin. It’s oh-nine-hundred, October 28, 2067. It’s one day after midcourse flip-over and the heat exchanger accident that shut down our propulsion system and killed Chief Engineer Dr. Rebecca Johansson. A full report on that death will be filed later. I’ve instructed Mr. Sanders Darlington to fully document this meeting.”
She looked around at everybody, then continued, “Dr. Greenberg… Wendy… I do appreciate the situation you’ve found yourself in. I understand your people have been working nonstop to understand the situation and figure out what we’re going to do about it, and you may not have reached any final conclusions, yet. Tell us what you know, because we are looking at a number of critical decisions that need to be made very soon.”
“Let me start with a quick review,” Greenberg said. She touched her slate and looked at it. “Yesterday, when we had Reactor 1 up to eighty percent output, we suffered a side blowout in Heat Exchanger 1 below the slot nozzle about three-quarters of the way outward on the nozzle boom. We’re still investigating the cause of the blowout, but we registered a control anomaly in one of the heaters in the vicinity of the blowout before it occurred. We were in communication with Dr. Johansson over how to deal with the anomaly when the blowout occurred.
“At 1:17 P.M., ship’s time, Dr. Johansson’s service egg was struck directly by a large slug of radiator melt, several hundred kilograms, traveling at tens of meters per second. Essentially all onboard systems—power, propulsion, communication, life support—were instantly disabled or destroyed. The impact threw the egg away from the ship at substantial velocity. Mr. Darlington’s egg was also struck by escaping melt, but the damage was less severe and Mr. Martinez brought him safely into the hangar bay.”
She touched her slate again, scrolling. Greenberg had had a taste of the same drugs that were smoothing out Darlington.
Greenberg continued. “As soon as Engineering registered the blowout, we initiated an emergency full shutdown. We dropped partitioning baffles into HE1’s melt reservoir, which were successful in slowing and eventually stopping the hemorrhaging of radiator melt into space. We were able to recover much of the melt using the procedures we developed after the first radiator test in Earth’s orbit. We still lost a few tons of metal, but that’s well within our reserve allowance for the heat exchanger system, especially in our new situation. Which brings me to the measures we are currently recommending.”
Fang-Castro said, “Excuse me, but for the purposes of this record I would like to insert that all evidence shows that Dr. Johansson was killed instantly upon impact. Accordingly, we concentrated our efforts on containing the damage to the ship rather than recovering her damaged egg. A trajectory for that egg has been calculated and has been entered into our ship’s records, as a contingency in the unlikely event that there should someday be the possibility of a recovery.” To Greenberg, she said, “Go ahead, Wendy.”
“Yes. At this time we don’t think we can repair the breach in the heat exchanger wall. It’s right below the slot nozzle, which is a very precisely designed and controlled assembly. We can’t patch the hole without altering the behavior of the nozzle in that area and, as we’ve seen previously, the radiator ribbon system is challenging to control and even more difficult to model. We don’t feel comfortable that we can repair this section without risking a major failure on start-up.”
She looked around the table, and then spoke directly to Fang-Castro: “Fortunately, this should not be necessary. With only one functional reactor, we do not need the entire capacity of the heat exchanger-radiator system. We think we can wall off the heat exchanger and terminate the slot nozzle just inboard of the damaged section, which will still leave us with seventy percent capacity on that side. We plan to make the same modification to the undamaged HE2 system to keep performance symmetric. That still leaves us with the capability to dissipate a hundred and forty percent of the entire output of Reactor 1. That’s pretty much it for the moment.”
“So we won’t be going out to the Horsehead, or wherever,” Fang-Castro said. “How long before we’re up and running again?”
“I can’t give you a good estimate, yet,” Greenberg said. “I don’t think a week. The heat exchangers need to cool down enough that we can work on them. While we’re equipped to make these kind of modifications, it’s not something we ever had to do in the field.”
Fang-Castro turned to the exec: “Mr. Francisco, what does Navigation tell us?”
“Ma’am, the good news is that we’re in no immediate danger. When we can get power back, we’ve got enough reserves in our water tanks that we can still make a rendezvous with Saturn. We could even return to Earth directly if we had to, although it would be slow and life support might be stretched very thin.”
“And the bad news?”
“The bad news is that we’re still outward bound at full velocity, so we’re going to overshoot Saturn’s orbit. Every day without propulsion adds fifteen million klicks to our overshoot. We won’t be able to make a direct rendezvous with Saturn. We’ll fly on past, bring the ship to a full halt, and then fly back to Saturn.”
“And we have the reaction mass for that.”
“Yes, but we don’t have unlimited amounts. Flying that second leg from beyond Saturn back in, the maximum velocity we can achieve is around twenty-five kilometers per second and still stay within our mass budget. The way Nav figures it, every day of overshoot costs us nearly a week on the trip back in. What it comes down to is that we’ve already lost almost two weeks on our arrival time and every additional day that we’re in free fall delays our arrival at Saturn by another week.”
Fang-Castro nodded. “Our ETA was February 15. Another week’s downtime, Dr. Greenberg, moves that out to, hmmm, April, days after the Chinese are projected to arrive. That’s not really acceptable.”