worse than no company at all. She was alone.
Except she wasn’t.
There was another presence in the module. It wasn’t dead, but it wasn’t really alive either. Awareness is a matter of technical definitions and predetermined perceptive capability. Consciousness is something entirely more abstract.
The Molimon was aware of her presence but could not talk to her, could not provide reassurance or comfort. It was aware of the damage which had occurred, of Mr.
Reuschel, of the falling temperature and absence of light. It had detected the leak at the far end of the module and continued to monitor the rate at which air was being lost. It was aware of everything around it. That was the job it had been assigned to do. That was the job it did well.
Until now. It knew that the environment in which it operated had undergone an abrupt and drastic change. There was damage and destruction everywhere. Nothing was functioning within assigned parameters and try as it might, the Molimon could not restore anything to normal.
That was because it had suffered considerable damage itself. A pair of memories were gone and an IOP processor had been popped by the force of the explosion. Two molly drives had stopped spinning. Efficiently, effectively, the Molimon distributed the responsibilities of the damaged sectors among the components of itself that continued to function. It was wounded, but far from dead.
Internal communications continued to operate, allowing the Molimon to send details of the damage it and the module had suffered to Command Central. So far there had been no response. No doubt Central was concentrating on assessing the damage to those components and parts of the station that were unable to report on themselves. Knowing that the Molimon could take care of itself, Central would take its time responding.
Having reported the damage and requested instructions on how to begin repairs, the Molimon sat and waited for a reply. It could not wait long. If no instructions were forthcoming, it would have to shut itself down while battery power remained, thereby preserving its programming and functions until full external power was restored. This caused it no concern. Anxiety was not part of its programming. It had no concept of unconsciousness. Shutdown was merely another state of existence. There was nothing to be concerned about, since all systems within the module were fully redundant.
It was aware of the damage to the hydroponics module only in purely quantitative terms: the absence of light, of heat, of equipment functioning efficiently and according to plan.
Supervising the hydroponics environment was but one component of its mission, and it could not bring anything back on line until power was restored. Knowing this, it completed its observations, allotted them a sector on one of its still functioning mollys, and made a complete record of the situation. Programming now called for it to commence an orderly shutdown while sufficient reserve power remained for it to do so.
It did not. Unexpectedly, an important component of the module still functioned.
Hedrickson studied the readouts and listened to the human static that filled his headphones. The various speakers were angry, frustrated, anxious. He worked at the console unaware that he was gritting his teeth. They were starting to hurt, but he didn’t notice the discomfort. Just as he did not immediately take notice of the hand that came down on his shoulder.
“How’re we doing?”
Pushing the phones off his ears, he leaned back in the chair and stared dully at the monitors. “It’s slow. Real slow. The corridor’s a mess. They’re clearing it as fast as possible, but they can’t use heavy tools in there or they’re liable to hull the tube.”
“Doesn’t matter, if they’re working in suits.” Cassie’s gaze flicked over the readouts. The figures were not reassuring.
“They’re afraid any explosive decompression might weaken the tube’s joints to the point where they could snap. Engineering already thinks that the initial explosion may have compromised structural integrity where the corridor at-taches to the module’s lock. If that goes, we could lose the whole thing.” Hedrickson’s tone was leaden, tired, indicative of a man who needed sleep and knew he wasn’t going to get any. “How’re the Maceks taking it?”
Cassie Chin shrugged helplessly. “Tina’s in shock. They took her down to the clinic and put her under sedation. Iwato’s watching her closely. I think he’s pretty worried about her.”
“Damn it. What about Michael?”
“Couple of the riggers volunteered to stay with him. They had to lock down the main bay to keep him from going out in a suit.”
Hedrickson’s fingers drummed nervously on the console. “How much do they know?”
“They’ve figured out Amy’s in there somewhere. They know the lights are out and the heat is going, that the AV lines are down and that no one inside is responding to queries through the board.”
The engineer exhaled slowly. “Do they know about the leak?”
“No.” Cassie stared at him. “That I couldn’t tell them. Nobody else is up to that either.
They’ll find out when the crew goes in. There isn’t much hope, is there?”
“I’m afraid not. The rescue specs are working like maniacs, but even if the leak doesn’t get any worse, the air in there’ll be gone before they can cut the door. Morrie Reuschel was engineer on duty when it happened. We haven’t heard from him. If he’s that bad hurt, then the girl…” His words trailed off into inaudibility, foundering in despair.
“The only communication we have with the module is via its independent Module Lifesystems Monitor. It says it got wanged pretty good, but you know how much redundancy those suckers have built into them. It took stock of its losses and shifted all necessary functions to undamaged components outside the module. That’s the only reason we have some idea of what’s going on inside. One boardline survived the damage, so we’re still getting reports.”
The woman frowned. “But there’s no power to the module.”
“The section there is operating on standard multiple battery backup.”
“I know.” She leaned curiously over the console. “But it shouldn’t be. It’s designed to render a report and then shut itself down when it loses primary power, to preserve programming and functions. Something else is wrong. Has it requested repair instructions yet?”
“I would imagine.” Hedrickson checked a readout. “Yeah. Right here. Haven’t been sent out, though.”
“Why not?”
“Central’s dealing with more serious damage elsewhere.”
Chin straightened. “Instead of cycling through shutdown the way it’s supposed to, it keeps requesting repair instructions. There’s got to be a reason.” She thought furiously.
“Can you override Central from here?”
Hedrickson frowned at her. “I think so, but you’d better have a damn good reason for messing with prescribed damage-control procedure.”
“As a matter of fact, I don’t have any reason at all. But it seems as if the Molimon does.
If it’s internal diagnostics are functioning well enough to tell you what’s wrong, can you send it the necessary instructions on how to fix itself?”
“Just so I’ll have something to tell the board of inquiry, why bother?”
“I just told you: it’s got to have a reason for not shutting itself down.”
Hedrickson looked dubious. “You’ll take the responsibility?”
“I’ll take the responsibility. See what you can do, Karl.”
The technician bent to work. Cassie stood staring at the wall. Halfway around the station the darkened, leaking module swung precariously on the end of its connector tube, to all intents and purposes dead along with everything it contained. Except for one semi-independent device, which was disobeying procedure.
Computers do not act on whims, she thought. They respond only according to programming. Something was affecting the priorities of the Molimon unit that supervised the hydroponics module. But it couldn’t proceed without human directives.
Sometimes you just had to have faith in the numbers.
The darkness and gathering chill did not trouble the Molimon. It was immune to all but the most extreme swings of temperature. Reserve power continued to diminish. Still it did not commence shutdown.
Information on how to affect necessary repairs finally began to arrive. Gratefully, the incoming instructions
