monitors; the devices themselves were not operating.
“Hucs?” he called out. “Hucs?”
Only silence answered him.
Memory was the core of a spider web; Alex was on the outer thread. He followed the silken strands, careful not to fall off into the bottomless depths of insanity.
Something had hit the asteroid. His parents had been outside, on the surface.
“Mom! Dad!” he called out weakly, not expecting them to answer. “Help!”
He tried to move his head, but there was something stopping him; he remembered, the security receptacle encased his head in protective foam, leaving just enough room for him to breathe.
Moving his hand, he drew it up and tried to rip the solidified foam from his head, but it was too hard. He had to activate Hucs; the computer must have gone off-line. Flicking his hand over the control switches brought no results. The power must have shorted.
Feeling around for the manual override, a panic set in, causing his heart to trip-hammer in his chest. The override, when he found it, produced no effect either. The entire TAHU was dysfunctional.
A scream welled in his throat, his brain rebelling against the claustrophobia that was constricting him. Out in the vastness of empty space, he was trapped, immobile.
Images swarmed through his mind. Voices. He heard voices.
Some time had passed between when the unknown quantity impacted Macklin’s Rock, and when Alex regained consciousness. How much time?
There had been those voices. Calling to him. He had refused the summons, but not because of any conscious decision on his part; he had not been ready.
Ready for what?
He closed his eyes, even though that did not change his view, and thought hard, concentrated. There was the sense of a lightness in his memories. Lightness, or light, or… He didn’t know. The universe was laid open for him like an annotated atlas. Time-space had no meaning in that light.
No. That wasn’t right. Time had meaning; space had meaning; but past the light—yes!— past the light, time-space had no meaning. Past the light.
Past.
Future.
There were no such things. He rejected them.
No, something rejected them for him.
Because he was not ready.
Ready for what?
He was beginning to feel dizzy from lack of oxygen. The override did not produce any electricity in the TAHU, although it should under any normal circumstances. Unless whatever hit them had disconnected the solar connectors from the TAHU’s battery core.
He had to restore power, or he would die. He recalled the emergency procedures drilled into him before his parents and he undertook the journey to Macklin’s Rock. In the event of an accident, the security receptacle was supposed to have enough life support to sustain him for eighteen hours; more than enough time for rescue to arrive from the Mining Orbiter.
He didn’t know how long he had been out, but if the oxygen level was any indication, then he didn’t have much longer to go. Perhaps eight or ten hours.
There was a sudden thought-flash in his mind. The power of it overwhelmed him.
He remembered:
Sol was laid out in his mind in its entirety, like a map on a table, or the 3D hologram of the solar system in the space museum back home on CS-3.
A chorus of voices, like angels, like devils, began to sing. It was a haunting-melody, a riveting accompaniment to the images that presented themselves in his mind.
He remembered an image of Jupiter, the massive gas giant with the large red spot, coming toward him at incredible speed. It had been in his field of vision for less than a second, growing larger from a small dot to something that covered his entire field of view, and then racing past him, out of sight. The intensity of the song dimmed. Like voices buzzing in the background. The rumble of a crowded hall on Canada Station Three.
The song grew stronger, more intense.
Empty space for more than a half an hour. As the song crescendoed, he saw Saturn, its rings of gas particles forming a perfect
“Hucs?” he called out. “Hucs?”
Only silence answered him.
Memory was the core of a spider web; Alex was on the outer thread. He followed the silken strands, careful not to fall off into the bottomless depths of insanity.
Something had hit the asteroid. His parents had been outside, on the surface.
“Mom! Dad!” he called out weakly, not expecting them to answer. “Help!”
He tried to move his head, but there was something stopping him; he remembered, the security receptacle encased his head in protective foam, leaving just enough room for him to breathe.
Moving his hand, he drew it up and tried to rip the solidified foam from his head, but it was too hard. He had to activate Hucs; the computer must have gone off-line. Flicking his hand over the control switches brought no results. The power must have shorted.
Feeling around for the manual override, a panic set in, causing his heart to trip-hammer in his chest. The override, when he found it, produced no effect either. The entire TAHU was dysfunctional.
A scream welled in his throat, his brain rebelling against the claustrophobia that was constricting him. Out in the vastness of empty space, he was trapped, immobile.
Images swarmed through his mind. Voices. He heard voices.
Some time had passed between when the unknown quantity impacted Macklin’s Rock, and when Alex regained consciousness. How much time?
There had been those voices. Calling to him. He had refused the summons, but not because of any conscious decision on his part; he had not been ready.
Ready for what?
He closed his eyes, even though that did not change his view, and thought hard, concentrated. There was the sense of a lightness in his memories. Lightness, or light, or… He didn’t know. The universe was laid open for him like an annotated atlas. Time-space had no meaning in that light.
No. That wasn’t right. Time had meaning; space had meaning; but past the light—yes!— past the light, time-space had no meaning. Past the light.
Past.
Future.
There were no such things. He rejected them.
No, something rejected them for him.
Because he was not ready.
Ready for what?
He was beginning to feel dizzy from lack of oxygen. The override did not produce any electricity in the TAHU, although it should under any normal circumstances. Unless whatever hit them had disconnected the solar connectors from the TAHU’s battery core.
He had to restore power, or he would die. He recalled the emergency procedures drilled into him before his parents and he undertook the journey to Macklin’s Rock. In the event of an accident, the security receptacle was supposed to have enough life support to sustain him for eighteen hours; more than enough time for rescue to arrive from the Mining Orbiter.
He didn’t know how long he had been out, but if the oxygen level was any indication, then he didn’t have much longer to go. Perhaps eight or ten hours.
There was a sudden thought-flash in his mind. The power of it overwhelmed him.
He remembered:
Sol was laid out in his mind in its entirety, like a map on a table, or the 3D hologram of the solar system in the space museum back home on CS-3.
A chorus of voices, like angels, like devils, began to sing. It was a haunting-melody, a riveting accompaniment to the images that presented themselves in his mind.
He remembered an image of Jupiter, the massive gas giant with the large red spot, coming toward him at incredible speed. It had been in his field of vision for less than a second, growing larger from a small dot to something that covered his entire field of view, and then racing past him, out of sight. The intensity of the song dimmed. Like voices buzzing in the background. The rumble of a crowded hall on Canada Station Three.
The song grew stronger, more intense.
Empty space for more than a half an hour. As the song crescendoed, he saw Saturn, its rings of gas particles forming a perfect
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