‘WARNING! LETHAL RADIATION! GRAVE DANGER! LETHAL RADIATION! WARNING! LETHAL RADIATION! GRAVE DANGER!’
‘Computer, cut the alarms!’ I shouted, but the sound rang in my ears for some time. ‘Mary, what’s happening?’
‘Quiet!’ she shouted.
Mary and Chan were deep in conversation and the spolding targeting device was spinning across the heavens. An asteroid or moon came into view, the crosshairs zeroed-in on it and within less than a minute of having arrived, we’d spolded again.
Pathfinder juddered to a halt in under a second.
‘WARNING, RADIATION HAZARD, WARNING, RADIATION HAZARD!’ shouted the computer.
‘Cut the warning, computer,’ I barked. I guessed “radiation hazard” was marginally better than the original “lethal radiation”. I hoped so, anyway.
‘What’s the rotation?’ asked Anna.
‘Three hours!’ said Chan.
‘Get us behind it,’ shouted Mary.
The whole ship was tossed about with rapid jet movements. The red flashing lights, which accompanied the computer’s warnings, finally ceased.
‘Behind it,’ said Chan.
‘Matching orbit to rotation,’ said Anna.
‘Matched,’ said Chan.
The manoeuvres ceased and we sat, breathing heavily, motionless in space, above a large asteroid or small moon. Its rocky, cratered surface seemed so close and was strangely lit by two nearby stars somewhere behind us. The yellowy-orange 91 Aquarii could be seen in the distance beyond the moon.
‘Okay,’ said Chan. ‘The moon’s between us and the gas giant. We’re safe here. I feel sick though.’
‘What happened?’ asked Bill. ‘I feel odd too.’
‘Gas giants sometimes have massive radiation fields surrounding them,’ said Anna. ‘We were unlucky.’
‘Are we hurt?’ asked Stroya.
‘Check the dosimeters, Bill,’ I said and he unstrapped, pulling himself through the craft, checking the radiation detectors which were dotted around in crucial locations.
After checking the first three, he said, ‘Wow! Glad you girls got us out of there as quickly as you did. We got an annual Moonbase dose of radiation in just those few seconds.’
‘We’re okay then?’ asked Stroya, concerned because we’d discovered they had a lower tolerance to some radiations than humans.
‘Should be,’ Bill said. ‘You wouldn’t want to do that too often though.’
‘I’m not feeling so hot either,’ said Mary.
‘Nor me,’ said Anna. ‘Could it be the radiation?’
‘Don’t know,’ I said. ‘I’m feeling exhausted.’
‘Has to be the dose we just received,’ said Bill. ‘You okay?’ he asked Stroya.
‘Think so,’ the alien said.
‘Think I need to lie down,’ said Mary. ‘Is our orbit stable?’
Bill disappeared aft and returned with some pills for us. ‘Take two of these each. They’re potassium iodide. They are not really for this type of radiation but shouldn’t harm us and could help. I’m developing a headache too.’
‘Yes, the orbit’s fine,’ said Chan swallowing the tablets. ‘Not sure I will keep these down.’
‘We won’t get hit by the gas giant’s radiation again if we take a break?’ I asked.
‘No. We’ll continue to be in the moon’s shade,’ said Chan.
‘Okay, let’s take a break. See if we can sleep it off and get a fresh start in the morning.’
∞∞∞∞∞∞∞
I felt a hand on my shoulder and woke. ‘Mark, wake up,’ said Bill, shaking me gently. His brow was covered in sweat.
‘What is it, Bill? You look rough.’
‘William’s dying. The radiation!’
‘William?’ I asked.
‘My entity. He tried to divide and couldn’t. He’s going to exit me. Doesn’t want to die inside me. How’s yours?’
I made contact with my ent. He wasn’t sick. He’d shielded behind the titanium plate in my skull when the alarms sounded. Our conversation didn’t last long. He suggested waking the others. With Tosh not being on board, there was no one to operate to remove dead entities so they needed to get out while they had the strength.
I hit the intercom. ‘Everyone into the communal area, please. Now,’ I said.
‘Why are you sweating?’ I asked.
‘William says he’s tapping my vitality to hold on.’
Anna, Chan and Mary looked pale and exhausted.
‘How are your ents?’ I asked.
‘Mine’s dead,’ said Anna. ‘Left me twenty minutes ago and I left her in my quarters.’
‘I still have mine, but she’s sick,’ said Chan.
‘Mine too,’ said Mary.
‘Listen,’ I said. ‘They have to leave us. If they die inside, they’ll decompose and could kill us. You need to ask them to leave.’
Chan burst into tears. ‘I don’t want her to die.’
‘She’ll be hearing this conversation,’ I said. ‘Mine was protected by the metal plate in my head but he’s adamant that yours all need to leave you. They mustn’t die in your heads. He says there is nothing we can do.’
I could imagine the trauma. Years of sharing my mind with my ent had caused a massive dependence. I watched as Chan and Mary’s entities left their hands. Chan’s was in a bad way, it had gone milky and grey. Mary’s wasn’t so opaque, nor Bill’s which he placed on a writing mat attached to the wall. Chan and Mary brought theirs over too. How sad.
More importantly, without their ability to enhance our intellect, what effect would that have on our plan to leave the 91 Aquarii system. Although I had a good general knowledge of the navigation and spolding systems, I was no Mary.
‘Right,’ I said. ‘You all look sickly. Return to your quarters and let’s finish the sleep period. Meet up here again at eight, ship’s time and we’ll assess our situation.’
On the writing pad, I could see that only one entity was still moving. Mary collected it and headed for her cabin. ‘I can’t let her die alone,’ she said.
∞∞∞∞∞∞∞
We were all refreshed, but despondent. All but I had lost something much closer to us than even a family member. Our entities were part of us, knew us through and through. My biggest fear was how we were going to get out of the spolding jam. Would we be able to perform the maths involved?
‘The trouble is, Mark, that we cannot get a good look at other star systems while we’re in this rapid orbit,’ said Mary. ‘The moon revolves every three hours so our orbit is also three hours. The rest of the cosmos is moving across the sky so rapidly that we can’t get a fix on a planet, let alone get it into the spolding crosshairs.’
‘Any other moons further away from the gas giant?’ asked Bill.
‘Two, but they will not protect us any better than this one,’ said Anna.
‘But would the others allow less of an orbital speed so that we can select a target?’
‘The largest moon would still require a twelve-hour orbit,’ said Chan. ‘It’s better, but not by much.’
‘What about if we were in orbit behind it, but took a stationary position behind one side and used it for protection until we reached the other side?’ I asked. ‘Would that allow us six hours stationary to use the equipment?’
‘Now,’ said Mary, ‘why didn’t I think of that?’
‘I’m sure we all know the answer to that question, Mary,’ I said.
‘Yes, the thought processes all seem a little – what should I say – muddied?’ said Mary.
‘Would you like to try that?’ I said.
‘Yes,’ said the astrophysicist. ‘Anna, target the larger moon.’
The calculations were made, the crosshairs aligned and we entered hyperspace for just two seconds.
‘WARNING, RADIATION HAZARD, WARNING, RADIATION HAZARD!’ shouted the computer.
‘Computer, cut the warning!’ I shouted.
‘Get us behind it!’ said Mary.
Anna’s fingers were flying over her console; she grabbed the joystick and we were thrown about in our harnesses as she threw the ship into some violent manoeuvres around the large moon. The red flashing lights stopped. We were safe again.
‘Mark,’ said Anna. ‘Can I borrow your ent so that I can work with the computer on the star charts?’
I’d not been without him for more than a few seconds since I’d returned from the moon after the Moonstruck expedition. It was weird allowing him to leave me for an extended period. Made me realise what the others were experiencing. He emerged from my hand and I watched as Anna’s long fingers made contact and he vanished into her body.
I felt lost. I was now just a poor, unenhanced human.
‘Thanks,’ Anna said and began poring over the star charts.