Resurgence

“And we need 9.43 or better. It won’t do. We’re still more than twelve percent short.”

“I don’t understand something.” Darya Lang had been sitting silent. “Seems to me we’re missing out on something huge. What about all the equipment associated with atmospheric flight? There are the air-breathing engines, the extensible wings, the stabilizers, and the landing gear.”

E.C. Tally was nodding. “Most of the landing gear is also needed for an air-breathing power takeoff. However, if we were to dispense with the rest, we would achieve a further mass reduction of two percent of our original. This would bring us to a final velocity of 8.44 kilometers a second. However, the consensus seems to be that we should not readily abandon a capability for atmospheric travel. Captain Rebka is worried that we may need to fly atmospheric for other reasons.”

“I am. Keep going, E.C. You still haven’t mentioned the beetlebacks.”

“They are on my list of relevant facts. They move slowly, perhaps because the snow is hindering their progress. But they do move, and groups of them are still converging on our location. Given their possible role in the destruction of Marglot, it is difficult to believe that they come to do us anything but harm.”

“So we may have to take a short hop. After that, maybe we burn our bridges and get rid of the Have-It-All

’s engines for air travel. There’s one more thing we need to sort out, an’ maybe it’s the main reason I wanted us to meet.” Nenda looked around at the others. “This isn’t a deal where we all get to pick, an’ everyone has their personal preference. We’re in one ship. Somebody has to make the call: if we fly, when we fly, how we fly. Some of you have been in trouble as often as I have—maybe more. You know you don’t run emergencies by committee.”

Darya said at once, “Take me out of the decision-making loop. I like to sit and think for a year before I make up my mind.”

“You made your mind up about that quick enough. But all right.”

Hans Rebka said, “I’m not like Darya, I can make up my mind fast. But I don’t know this ship the way you do, Nenda. I don’t know what it will and won’t do, when you can change your mind, how you can cut corners. This one has to be yours. The rest of us can listen, and maybe make suggestions. But calling the shots must be your job.”

“I was afraid you would say that. I don’t like it much, but I know I’d like anythin’ else a whole lot less.” Nenda stood up. “All right. I’ll say when. Meanwhile, we hold on to the equipment to fly atmospheric. Everythin’ else goes.”

He paused. The door of the conference room was history, ripped off its hinges and thrown overboard by Archimedes. Now Torran Veck and Teri Dahl stood in the opening, the lower part of their suits still caked with frozen snow.

“You got problems? We’re busy here.”

“No problems with the runway and the engines.” Torran Veck took a step forward. “They’re not perfect, but we’ll have a hard time doing better. There’s something else going on that we don’t understand.”

“Join the club.”

“When we arrived at Marglot, we thought it was tidally locked to the gas-giant M-2.”

“It was. It still is. This just isn’t a Hot Pole anymore, because everywhere is cold.”

“You don’t need to tell us that. It’s seventy below outside. And Marglot isn’t tidally locked to M-2. Its rotation rate is changing.”

* * *

Nenda didn’t believe it. Hans Rebka didn’t believe it, Darya didn’t believe it. Nobody believed it, until they saw the evidence.

That came from above, and it was not obvious at once to human senses. Outside the ship it was night, the sky was clear, and stars were visible. The sensors of the Have-It-All—those few that remained—made a series of observations and fed them to the ship’s computer. Within microseconds, a precise calculation was completed. The computer reported:

The rotational period of Marglot when the Have-It-All arrived at this system was measured to be 39.36142 standard hours, with a variation of one unit in the final digit probably caused by planetary internal activity. The rotational period as measured in the sequence of observations that was just completed is 14.388 standard hours.

“Marglot ain’t tidally locked any more?”

That is correct.

“It’s in free rotation relative to M-2. How the hell can that happen?”

Nenda was talking to the group around him, but the computer answered: There is no mechanism described in our data banks which can account for such a thing.

E.C. Tally added, “Nor in mine.”

The computer had not finished. The same sequence of observations that provides a new value for the rotation period also shows that the rotation rate is still increasing, by 0.0644 radians per hour per hour.

Tally shook his head in a human gesture of bewilderment. “I do not understand that, either.”