Dubbed “the dean of Canadian science fiction” by The Ottawa Citizen, Toronto’s Robert J. Sawyer is the author of the Hugo Award finalists Starplex, Frameshift, Factoring Humanity, and Calculating God, and the Nebula Award winner The Terminal Experiment. His story from the DAW anthology Sherlock Holmes in Orbit won France’s top SF award, Le Grand Prix de l’Imaginaire, and his story from the DAW anthology Dinosaur Fantastic won Canada’s top SF award, the Aurora. Rob’s latest novel is Hominids, the first volume in his “Neanderthal Parallax” trilogy. His Web site at www.sfwriter.com has been called “the largest genre writer’s home page in existence” by Interzone.
Riggers
by Michael E. Picray
SOLAR SAIL RIGGERS, APPRENTICES SOUGHT
The factory ship Inner Space is offering apprenticeships to qualified candidates interested in working toward their certification as Master Riggers. The first portion of the program will take place on Earth, followed by extensive, hands-on training aboard ship. Transport to and from Earth will be provided.
A commitment to four years working as a rigger for the Company is required. We pay top wages, offer a complete benefits and bonus package, and provide the highest standards in safety. Apply at your local employment office or contact Human Resources, ExtraTerra Corp.
The Solar Sail Factory Ship Inner Space cruised ten million miles above the plane of the ecliptic. If a rocket were launched nearly straight up from the North geographic pole of the Earth, it would have hit the Inner Space right in the center of its wheel spokes, where the main zero G factory works were located. Radiating outward from this center body was the structure that supported the solar sails. The ship’s wheeled shape seemed to be rolling through space as it spun to maintain the stability of the structure, and to keep tension on the fabric of the sails.
On the far side of the sun from the Inner Space, a sunspot formed. The opposing magnetic fields formed a loop between them that ran across the neutral line, thus achieving stability. As the sunspot rotated toward the Earth, the magnetic environment changed and the loop twisted, creating a shear that pointed along the neutral dividing line. The change in the magnetic field caused a filament suspended above the surface of the sun to collapse. Seconds later a solar flare, formed by a tremendous explosion of gases and solar material, and heated to one million degrees Celsius, leaped into the lower heliosphere at nearly 1800 kilometers per second, toward the area commonly known as inner space. At this temperature, electrons were stripped from component atoms and sent spaceward as ionized particles, accompanied by gamma rays and X-rays. A shock wave from this explosion raced across the intervening space.
On Earth, the solar weather forecasters sent out a general warning that a Coronal Mass Ejection, a CME, had occurred and applied their formulas to project the exact path of the Solar Particle Storm. The Solar Sail Factory Ship Inner Space was centered in that path in four dimensions. A specific warning was sent.
But aboard the Inner Space a small resistor in the electronic tracking system of the Main Radio Antenna Array, after working faithfully for nearly fifteen years, failed. Since the highly directional array still functioned within defined parameters, the redundant systems did not kick on-line and take over tracking. At a distance of ten million miles it doesn’t take much variance to miss a target. The highly-directional antenna array still functioned, but it was no longer pointed at the Earth.
Master Rigger John “Cap” Hardesty, senior rigger aboard the Inner Space, released the stay-brake. Centrifugal force began to act on the bright silver two-seat creeper’s boxy shape, and slowly began pushing it out Radial Arm Three’s guide wire toward the rim of the sail. At the same time, an automated weight began its journey out Radial Arm Eleven, providing the balance so necessary to the stability of the structure. The grabber-gears attached to the undercarriage of the creeper were crawling along the radial with agonizing slowness, metering its speed, keeping it from flying out to the rim and being flung into space. The seat next to Cap’s held Apprentice Rigger Bob “Ace” Harley.
“I’ve been aboard for two months,” Harley was saying, “and this is the first time I get to go out on the sails.”
Cap responded, “When I first came aboard, I lived to come out here.” He reached a hand forward and tweaked the tension adjustment on the Alpha set of clamps. They had a tendency to expand and drag as the friction heated them. Then he leaned back in the driver’s seat. “I got over it.”
Cap’s adjustment of the clamps required Harley to lean into his own control panel and loosen the forward set of grabbers so that they operated smoothly and didn’t bind on the cable. Cap watched him fuss and fidget with them, first turning the knob the wrong way and tightening, then nearly losing the wire as he loosened them too much. Although Cap saw everything, he said nothing. The kid had to learn, and hands-on experience was still the best teacher.
“Why don’t you like going out anymore?” Harley asked.
Cap continued to look out the port, listening to the muted ticking sound as the grabber-gears meshed with the radial track. Eventually he spoke. “What do they tell you kids these days when you come up here? What do they tell you about the dangers?”
“Well, they tell us that radiation can kill us, but everybody knows that.” Harley thought back to his orientation training. “They tell us that working here is safer than being a farmer on Earth, that we’ll get less radiation than the farmer will. Oh, and they tell us to listen to you when you tell us how to do things so we don’t get hurt.”
Cap nodded his head. “That’s about what I figured.”
Harley looked startled. “Did they lie to us?”
Cap’s face acquired a grim smirk. “No. They didn’t lie. They just left out a few things. Like they probably used the words ‘on average’ when they told you that bit about the farmers and the radiation, didn’t they? What they told you is absolute truth, as far as it goes. Those radiation risk estimates they told you about are based on increased rates of cancer. But if you get zapped out here and die quickly, you’ll never have a chance to get cancer. You won’t even be a statistic.
“How do you think you got your job? Did you think we were building an addition to the factory and needed extra riggers?” Cap’s voice sneered, and then became hard and flat. “You are here because the guy you replaced isn’t, and I’m here to tell you that he didn’t get old and retire. I’ve been up here on rotation with Beta-partners for five years and I’m the senior rigger. What does that tell you? It should tell you that up here we live until we die, and that’s all we expect.” He paused. “They told you about Beta-partners, didn’t they?”
Harley looked confident. “Yes, sir. A Beta-partner is your opposite number so that you can rotate back to the Earth to rebuild muscle tone and bone mass, and therefore not become debilitated by working for extended periods in space. The Company can employ you longer that way and it spends less in training costs, allowing them to pay us more. I haven’t met my Beta-partner yet.”
Cap nodded his head. “You probably never will. You’re up, he’s down, with no overlap. You’re a smart kid. You know about redundancy in space systems? Your Beta is also your spare, your replacement if something happens to you. There is one advantage to the system for you, though. It allows you to get out of the radiation up here for a while.”