Beekman indicated his agreement. "The higher they can take the lander, the better our chances," he said.
"We have to know in advance," continued Drummond, "how high they can go so we can plan the insertion."
"We have no way to determine-"
"Marcel, it would be a considerable help."
"I don't really care how much help it would be. There's no way to find out. Assume they can make ten thousand. And proceed accordingly."
Drummond looked pained. "You're sure? We can't have them do a test run when they get to the lander? If we knew what we were dealing with-"
"We can't do a test run because to make the test valid, she'd have to exhaust the spike. That would mean a very hard bounce going down."
"How about a computer simulation?"
"The data stream from the lander is very likely going to be unreliable. Let's just make the assumption at ten thousand and get it done. Okay?" He was trying to keep the irritation out of his voice but not having much luck.
Drummond sighed. "This is becoming a speculative exercise, Marcel."
"Of course it is, John. We can do only what we can do. What about getting the shaft away from the assembly and aimed in the right direction? Can we do that?"
"Yes," he said. "We have to turn it around. I can't see that it'll be a problem. But it will be a delicate maneuver.
"You have only four vessels. One of them can pour it on-"
"The Evening Star."
"The Evening Star" said Beekman. "But it's still only four ships trying to wrestle a four-hundred-kilometer-long shaft onto a vector. Without breaking anything. That's the real risk. Put any strain at all on the shaft and it's going to snap and that'll be the end of the project. But we can do it."
"All right, then." Marcel felt better than he had since the quake. "Let's make it happen. John, I want you to help set up the timetable. We've got a couple of systems designers coming over with the people from the Star. Use them as you need them. Get Bill to coordinate with the AIs in the other ships." He looked over at Beekman. "How about our welder?"
"We've got one. Name's Janet Hazelhurst. She spent a few years doing orbital construction until she got married. Says she knows what it's about, but it's been a while and she'll step aside if we have anybody better. She claims, though, that she can do whatever has to be done."
"Do we have anybody better?"
"No, Captain, we do not."
"All right. Let's hope she's a good teacher. Assign forty volunteers to her and have her show them the fine points of welding. Get them started right away."
"Who's going to do the instruction on the e-suits?"
"Miles Chastain is on Zwick. He's a good man, and I'm sure he'll help. We'll get him over here right away." Marcel checked his notes. "Gunther, we're going to need some clips to hold the net together. Do we have a metal worker?"
They had two. One was a retiree from Hamburg, the other a Chinese entrepreneur. Marcel brought them in and explained what was needed. Could it be done?
How much time did they have?
Three days. Tops.
Yes. It should be sufficient. But they would need help. Marcel assigned them a couple of world-class physicists as gofers.
And they would need metal. Lots of metal.
That could be a problem. Starships did not carry much expendable metal.
Bill broke in: "Captain, the people from the Evening Star have been assembled in the Bryant Auditorium and await your pleasure."
Marcel acknowledged. "Let's go say hello to our volunteers."
Within the hour, teams were going through Wendy, compartment by compartment, dismantling side panels from beds, wall sections, and anything else that was metallic. In the meantime, the retiree and the entrepreneur began to jury-rig their equipment. It was a challenge, but they would, by God, make it happen.
At about the time Beekman's bed was being taken apart, all four superluminals left orbit.
Canyon's commlink vibrated. It was Chastain. He brought the image up. The captain was seated in the cockpit. "August," he said, "in case you're wondering, we're headed out to the assembly. You might be able to get some good visuals."
"Yes," said Canyon. "I've done a few interviews on it. I'll tell you, Miles, I wish it had turned out to be an alien ship. It's a long piece of metal, but it's still just a piece of metal."
"I know. I've also received a request from Captain Clairveau on Wendy. They're still working on ways to bail out their people, and they want our help. So I'm putting Zwick at their disposal."
"Good," said Canyon, thinking how well that would play. UNN to the rescue. "But why do they need us? What do they want us to do?"
"I don't have the details." He glanced at the time. "There's a briefing in four minutes. I'll pipe it in. You might want to inform Emma."
Canyon nodded. However the scenario went, it couldn't help but translate into a huge boost in the ratings. Who out there would be so jaded as not to watch?
Janet Hazelhursf took control of her volunteers in the Bryant Auditorium. They were required to sign a document holding Trans-Galactic harmless in the event of misadventure. When that had been accomplished, Captain Clairveau of the Wendy Jay talked to them about the dangers of the situation. "We hope that you won't have to go outside," he said. "I want to emphasize that your training is precautionary only."
Janet noted that some of the volunteers looked disappointed to hear it. That, she thought, was an encouraging start.
"If you do have to go out," Clairveau continued, "we'll do everything possible to minimize the risk. But to be honest, it'll be in your hands. The real danger arises because of your lack of experience in what we'll be asking you to do. You'll be functioning in a zero-gee environment, and you'll be using lasers.
"The e-suit that you'll be wearing will be comfortable. It'll keep you warm, and it is almost foolproof. But it will not withstand a laser, so we'll expect you to be careful. We're going to show you how to use the lasers, how to weld, and how to do it in zero gee. And how to do it safely. You'll have an opportunity to practice under zero-gee conditions inside the ship. You'll do nothing for the next three days except practice."
Clairveau was tall, good-looking, confident. Janet was inclined to trust him. "As you know," he continued, "Morgan's World is getting close. That means there'll be some debris floating around out there. Rocks. Dust. Ice. Who knows-
"We'll have sensors on the lookout constantly. But there's no way to be absolutely safe. Consequently, if any of you want to rethink doing this, we'll understand."
A few did.
"I have people at home who depend on me."
"I'm sorry. I wanted to help, but I didn't think it would be like this."
"I have kids."
"Sometimes I have a problem with heights."
Most stayed.
Janet was newly widowed. Not that she minded. Her ex had always been something of a bore. He'd had no imagination, had spent a lifetime watching himself portray Robin Hood and George Washington and Leonidas at Thermopylae (except that in his version the Spartans won), and his idea of a romantic evening out consisted of having dinner at the lodge with his buddies.
She'd considered not renewing every time extension came up. But she'd never taken that fatal step because her husband had loved her. He'd remained faithful, God help her, and had always remembered birthdays and anniversaries. They'd had two good children, and he had been an exemplar of a father. She could not have failed to renew without devastating him, and there was no way she could have brought herself to do that. So she'd stayed with him, bored and yearning for excitement, through all those long years.
Everyone thought they were an ideal couple. / wish my George were more like your Will. Will had even retained his good looks, although the smile had lost some of the old electricity. When an undetected aneurysm killed him, she'd mourned for an appropriate period, and then boarded the Evening Star, as she told her friends, to try to get past her loss.