AOZORA

In a way, it reminded him of the morning briefing. When Houston uploaded daily schedules for all, and the commander went over them, checking everything. The big differences were that there was no Houston, not anymore, and Newman was making it up on the fly. Oh, and they were also doing the briefing in space, with one member attending from an enormous distance.

Astronaut Fuller was far away enough that he didn’t see the ISS anymore, and barely felt the magnetic disturbance that the station left in Earth’s field. He’d have turned back if not for the voices of the crew left behind. He could tell somewhat the direction from which they spoke and thus guess where the station was.

Also, based on entry and exit times into eclipse, it was not too difficult to compute his position. Over a thousand kilometers now ahead of the station.

‟Okay, I want more options. The supplies will last longer, but they’re not infinite.”

‟We’ve spotted a few satellites crossing over,” Radanovich said, awkwardly pointing at the plastic sheets strapped on his torso.

Shuko could see that they were degrading slowly. His chunks of ice had vanished first, before Commander Newman’s mashed vegetables and Baranov’s cotton. It didn’t seem to make a difference, since he still felt no hunger whatsoever.

‟If that works, we may cannibalize them for plastics, but that’s not going to get us much. I’m assuming metal is not edible, since we didn’t even make a dent on the ISS while sleeping,” Newman said.

‟Or we don’t eat while sleeping,” he interjected.

‟Good point, Shuko.”

‟Tiangong,” Fuller’s voice came from ahead.

‟The CSS, you mean,” Baranov countered.

‟Potayto, potahto.”

It was kind of funny that, even though they used some presumably organic internal radio that didn’t use sound, the feeling inherent in the expression came across. He’d tried speaking Japanese, and the resulting “sound” was unrecognizable by the other four. He knew Russian, and Baranov’s speech was more or less understandable even if incomplete, but Newman’s attempts at French were more like hissing than any recognizable words.

Obviously, there were layers of translations going on in their brains.

‟It’s on an elliptic orbit, slightly under what the station used to be,” Shuko noted.

‟Unless they re-boosted like us.”

‟If they did not, that station will be gone in a year,” he warned.

‟The right question is: did they get changed like us?” Fuller asked.

‟No idea. We need to check that,” Newman noted.

‟It’s going to be a needle in a barn problem.”

‟I can probably improvise something,” he offered.

‟Like?” Baranov asked.

‟I know the orbital parameters, and if they haven’t moved… have a good guess at where it will be, relative to us. Our orbit is slightly different now, but I can look at Earth and try to adjust.”

‟You can do that?” Newman asked, sounding surprised.

‟I’m good at mental math. Geometry, calculus, all that. Try doing a square root in your head, Juliana,” he said.

‟I concede the point,” she replied.

‟Of course, it is going to take time. Hmmm, do we have notebooks that do work in space?”

‟Yaytsev?”

‟Nothing is supposed to be space-rated, but who knows.”

‟Okay, next point…”

NEWMAN

She knew she was trying to find work to do. The big problem in space was boredom, and Houston used to make sure their respective agendas were always filled, because idleness was as much a threat to the station as a mental illness, like depression.

It might be less dangerous, as they no longer relied on a fragile shell of steel with an atmosphere to survive, and the main vulnerability of the ISS was no longer a factor. But it was still a threat because once they moved out of emergency mode like they’d been running for the last forty or so orbits, they’d have too much time thinking.

Assuming their brains were not modified so that they were immune to real depression. Which was a depressing thought in itself.

Too much still depended on unknowns. Unknowns about their changed biology, unknowns about the suppression field…

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Cataloging their resources was a good short-term goal, but there was only so much to be done with the station. The SCC was another target, and a good one. They might find anything there.

She still wanted more options, and thus, she’d put the two Russians on brainstorming ideas to go back to Earth. If their supplies were too short, they would have little choice but try to go down, before they starved.

Assuming they starved. But she knew biology too much to assume they did not need inputs. Even the small “biospheres”, carefully designed on Earth, were not stable without inputs over the long term. It took a planet to have a stable ecology.

So while the two Russians were chattering to the side – and she tried to ignore them – as their voices came out clearly, and Shuko was doing math wizardry with orbits, she simply chatted across the void with their “scout”.

‟It’s a bit lonely out there because there is nothing to see around. Except for the odd batch of hexagons. And what looks like wildfire.”

She looked at the edge of the darkened Earth below and saw what she assumed Frank was talking about.

‟We’re heading over the West Coast, I think,” she answered.

‟It is late August. Still the season of fires. And I doubt anyone will be able to fight them.”

‟The only lights that we can see now.”

‟Save for storms. We haven’t seen many these last orbits. Think it’s related?”

‟We don’t know how much this field affects everything. Apart from shutting down modern technology.”

The tint of laughter in Frank’s voice was recognizable.

‟Those Paris accord targets are going to be very easy. Satellite cross-orbit… I’m trying to track it.”

‟We have lots of satellites around. Shuko says we’re very just under the main constellation for Internet access.”

‟And if you keep mentioning me, I’ll take longer,” the Japanese injected.

‟Sorry.”

‟It’s funny. Mentioning anyone’s name seems to immediately raise your awareness of the chatting,” Frank noted.

‟There is probably some deep-seated mechanic at work there… Frank.”

‟Eh. It could be useful if there were more Spaceborne around.”

‟We might get three more. Depending on what happened with the Chinese,” she said.

‟Whoa, a large batch of hexagons. I can see them growing, I think. Ware blue,” he warned.

She couldn’t see them yet, so she had time.

‟Why hexagons, though?” she asked.

‟Stable configurations? They are not entirely regular, even when it was the original vanguard of the zone.”

‟Well, you don’t cover a sphere with hexagons. Even with holes in the mesh, it couldn’t be perfect ones.”

‟What’s curious is that, even though the suppression is all over the place, the blue plumes appear only through those,” Frank noted.

‟Excess energy? Venting… something?”

They both stayed silent for a while, as the announced sea of blue finally became visible. The immersion was for maybe two or three minutes before the massive block of hexagons receded. She thought it might cover the entire continent. Or at least half of it. She noted hexagons popping off as they receded.

Energy weather. Life is strange now.

‟Any sign of hunger yet?”

‟I don’t think I have a stomach to make noises,” Frank replied.

AOZORA

‟Got the gist of it, I think. I’ve even tried to figure out the delta-V we need to apply, and some orbital options.”

‟Good. Since Yaytsev says he’s finally starting to get some hints of fatigue, we’ll get started after a sleep period, and as soon as Frank returns,” Newman replied.

‟I’m not that hungry,” Fuller replied from the depths of space.

‟The plan is that three of us go there, while two remain at our base. That way, we can orient ourselves on your voices if we have problems finding the station back.”

‟Food?” Radanovich asked.

‟Good point, Ivan. We’ll carry some stuff in one of those aluminum insulation bags. It does not seem we need tons, but even if we make it within a couple of days, it’s better to be prepared.”

‟So, who?” the Russian asked.

‟Me, you, Shuko. Frank and Yaytsev will keep watch. After the expedition, we’ll start making a rotation for sleep periods so that we always have someone up and watching. We can’t have an on-off with just Yaytsev doing a watch alone while all four of us sleep,” the commander announced.

‟I can make myself busy,” Baranovich replied.

‟It’s better that way.”

‟ISS registering better,” Fuller announced.

‟You’re coming in fast,” Shuko noted.

‟Got plenty of flex. It’s easier to maneuver in space if you don’t need to rely on the rocket equation and conserve fuel.”

‟As long as you brake before hitting the station,” Newman replied.

Sleeping in space was a strange sensation, notably with four eyes that didn’t close. You strapped yourself to what must be cold metal instead of getting into a sleeping bag and then tried to wish yourself to sleep. It helped that some tiredness had come back, and Shuko found himself suddenly snapping awake, not remembering having fallen asleep.

His first nap in space had been peaceful, but this time, he found himself swimming or streaking across a space filled with endless blue. As if Earth had been consumed by the hexagons and replaced by a void vaster than space itself, blue lines like cosmic strings crisscrossing the whole universe as he drifted endlessly into the void, lacking any magnetic flux to even orient himself.

It should have been terrifying, but he found the dream oddly… neutral.

By comparison, the wake-up offered him a perspective quite unique, as the station streaked between two massive plumes of blue on both sides of its orbit, tracing a trajectory almost perfectly aligned with the pseudo-aurorae.

‟Space shouldn’t be that way,” he said.

‟I agree,” Baranov replied.

‟First?”

‟Yes. The rest are still sleeping. I’ve readied your provisions for the expedition.”

‟Good.”

‟We’re beginning the orbit you targeted,” the Russian said.

‟Very good. Maybe I’ll have to wake up Ivan again, then.”

Baranov’s mirth was coming across better.

‟Wait until he is in a position to wake you up.”

The ISS was slowly receding. Maneuvers by the cargo and crew ships usually took longer than that, but then, they always used the least amount of fuel when near the ISS.

Shuko was leading, as he had the equations and direction still fresh in his mind. The idea was to get close to the expected orbit, then try to feel the magnetic flux disturbances that would indicate the possible presence of the three-parter Tiangong, the “Palace in the Sky”. Then they’d adjust and rendezvous with their objective.

Commander Newman and Cosmonaut Radanovich were trailing him at horrifying close distances, at least for space. A hundred yards. They all flexed relatively softly, and Shuko was starting to get a better feel of how much performance their unique mode of propulsion afforded.

Fuller had reported that the longer it went, the better he got, both in precision and raw power. Precision could be attributed to growing adaptation to their new bodies, but Newman thought that power could be linked to photosynthesis – or some similar mechanic – filling up internal batteries. Shuko hadn’t fully felt the magnetic effects for the few orbits after the first shutdown, but since they left the station and remained mostly outside, it was assuredly much easier to go around.

Regardless of the “fuel” for their magnetic abilities, they were accelerating at a steady clip that would have made any self-respecting space agency jealous. One that he had underestimated, and could throw all of his painstakingly estimated maneuvers off.

Being too fast in space was a weird problem to have, Shuko thought.