Ramis watched the creature out the window plate and thought about the process, the right and wrong of it. Sarat had had no choice. It knew nothing of the people who would be rescued by its sacrifice. It could never turn back, could never come back inside to play in the zero-G core of the Aguinaldo. The creature’s course had been set. Sarat had no future except to become a dead and drifting sail, used up, battered about by the solar wind.
Ramis rubbed his fingers on the window plate, but the coated quartz showed no smudges.
“What we want to do is this, so pay attention, boy.” Sandovaal rapped on the surface of the holotank with his old-fashioned pointer stick. The image in the tank jiggled, then focused again into a diagram of the Earth-Moon system.
Magsaysay spoke up. “Luis, Dr. Panogy should be explaining this. She is the Aguinaldo’s celestial mechanics—”
“Too long-winded,” snapped Sandovaal. “Ask her what time it is and she will tell you the history of timepieces, starting with sundials. I will explain just enough so as not to confuse the boy.” He turned his attention to Ramis. “Now. When we release you from the Aguinaldo, you will turn the sail so that it faces the Sun, taking the full momentum of solar photons. Never mind what that means.”
“I know what it means,” Ramis muttered, but Sandovaal did not hear him.
“You will then be moving ‘backwards’ in orbit, relative to the Aguinaldo. In about three hours, this will provide enough braking to slow you from our orbital velocity at L-4 down to three kilometers per second. You must then turn your sail edgewise. This will help you drop like a stone toward Earth, skim past it at a distance of about an Earth radius, and then head back up to where you started.”
On the holotank a dotted blue line appeared, tracing Ramis’s planned trajectory. “But while you have been going down and coming back up, the Moon, L-4, and L-5 will have continued in their own orbits. By the time you return to the starting point, L-5 will be there instead of L-4.”
Ramis studied the diagram. “So I am just killing time by going down to Earth? Waiting for the other points to change position?”
Magsaysay watched Ramis, looking troubled, but Ramis ignored the dato, keeping a calm expression on his face. Sandovaal tapped his fingers on the polished tabletop. “Correct! Think of it as being on a merry-go-round. You are on one horse, which is the Aguinaldo. You hop off the merry-go-round, wait for the next horse to pass by—which is the Moon—and then hop back on when the third horse comes into position. That is Orbitech 1.”
“But how long is all this going to take?” Magsaysay stared at the dotted blue line.
“Nine or ten days, depending on how accurately the boy can maneuver with the sail. We cannot leave him out there longer than absolutely necessary—his suit and the sail-creature’s exoskeleton will not provide much protection from solar radiation.”
Ramis remained silent for a moment, glancing around the empty chamber. The room was large, dominated by a long meeting table surrounded by unoccupied chairs. Overhead, shadows of pedal-kites and playing children crossed over the skylights. Ramis set his mouth. “And Sarat must die in the vacuum.”
Sandovaal faced him with a puzzled expression. “What?”
“Sarat,” Magsaysay said quietly, “is Ramis’s name for the creature. In the core it was his … pet—a plaything. It will die, now that the metamorphosis has taken place?”
“That is correct.” Sandovaal blinked his eyes at Ramis, as if wondering at the relevance of the comment.
Ramis swallowed. “Then, how long will Sarat live?”
“We cannot implant you too soon—the creature’s physical structure is still hardening, you see, forming a rigid sheath to keep the ‘cargo’ in place. But the timing will be close.”
“You already told me that. I want to know how long Sarat will live!”
Sandovaal switched off the holotank, letting the images fade back into the murk. As the lights came up, Ramis watched Magsaysay nod to Sandovaal. Sandovaal pursed his lips.
“The sail-creature might die after a week, or possibly longer. We have too little data to be confident. However, we will provide you with hormone injections that you can use to induce nerve reactions, so you should still be able to move its sails. If the sail ceases to respond before you reach Orbitech 1, you will not be able to tack. And then you will be trapped.”
Magsaysay’s shoulders sagged and he started to speak up, but Sandovaal cut him off. “It will be close, but it is still possible. I am confident.”
The president did not look greatly consoled. He turned again to Ramis, as if pleading with him to change his mind. Ramis stood, his face expressionless as he pushed away from the meeting table. “Thank you, Dr. Sandovaal.” He strode from the room.
AGUINALDO—Day 15
Sandovaal’s eyes widened at the recording. He whispered to Magsaysay. “Who else knows of this?”
The dato switched off the holotank and sank to a cushioned chair. “The control room crew and the ConComm personnel. I have decided to keep this quiet until—”
“Until the boy leaves?” snapped Sandovaal. He fidgeted in his chair. “Has Clavius Base seen this?”
Magsaysay dismissed the question with a wave. “Yes, yes. They have refused to make further ConComm broadcasts to Orbitech 1—their equivalent of severing diplomatic ties. But it is a useless gesture, meaningless, because it will not solve the problem. People are still starving on Orbitech 1, still dying.”
Sandovaal thought for a moment. He said slowly, “What are you going to do, Yoli? Still send the boy over—to a bunch of savages? From that announcement it sounds as if they would rather eat Ramis than welcome him.”
“All the more reason why he must go!” President Mag-saysay raised his voice, then fell silent, tapping his fingertips together. It sounded to Sandovaal as if the dato was rationalizing things to himself. “Ramis will still insist on going, even after he learns of this.”
AGUINALDO—Day 16
The wall-kelp vats were usually deserted—the unpleasant smell deterred the curious. Thick foliage thrived on the bath of reflected light from the crescent Earth and the gibbous Moon that swept by every ten minutes with the Aguinaldo’s rotation. Ramis came upon President Magsaysay there by accident.
In the past two days Ramis had spent much time staring out the window plates, ignoring other people. Magsaysay had gone out of his way to spend time with him, but Ramis had made it clear that he wanted to be by himself, to think. He was concerned about Sarat.
But now, when he entered the chamber to be alone, Ramis saw the dato staring out the greenhouse window plate, squinting at the image of Earth. The crescent was like a cupped hand, immersed in thick smoke. Ramis felt a deep pang grab at his heart and he thought briefly of his brother, on Luzon. Salita, are you still alive?
Engulfed by shadows, Magsaysay looked thin. In the years since the death of Ramis’s parents, the dato had tried to treat him like a son. But Ramis was a loner, very independent. Maybe it was because of Magsaysay’s advanced age, or his position of power, but he had never filled the void that was left.
But now, when Magsaysay thought he was unobserved, Ramis saw how distraught he seemed. He looked old.