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Chapter Eight




Nathan called Joshua the next morning and invited him and Vessani back to the ship to review and sign the contract. They met in the B Deck mess and drank Beany coffee fresh from the bulb while reviewing and amending the contract language.

Joshua pushed back against the fifty-fifty split, which Nathan had expected, and the two haggled for a while until they agreed to sixty-forty in the clients’ favor. Nathan was happy with the result, since he’d expected more resistance from Joshua, and the young man also seemed pleased, having just negotiated a more favorable arrangement.

The three of them filled out and signed the contract’s various pages, though Joshua wrote “to be provided after signing” in a lot of the boxes, which Nathan let pass without comment. He would have preferred to receive all the information up front, but he could understand their desire not to share anything critical until the contract was signed and they were underway. It wasn’t until Vessani pushed forward a folder that he did speak up.

“What are these?”

“Amendments.” Vessani flipped open the folder and handed Nathan the first sheet.

Nathan took it, cleared his throat, and read the brief text.

“‘The crew of the Neptune Belle will return the confiscated left-hand hard-suit glove belonging to Vessani S’Kaari.” He set the sheet down. “That’s awfully specific.”

“There’s more.” She handed him the second sheet, and Nathan skimmed over it.

“You put the right-hand glove on its own page?”

“Joshua told me to be as detailed as possible, and to list each item clearly and separately.”

“Fine. Whatever.” Nathan set the sheet down and was about to sign it when she handed him a third piece of paper. He took it with a frown and read over the brief text. “And another sheet for your thermos.”

“I really like that thermos.”

“Do you just want all your stuff back?”

“Yes.”

“Then why don’t you just say so? Give me those.” He leafed through the pages, then pulled out one near the middle. “I’ll sign all of them except for this one.”

“Why not?”

“Because I ate the food bar yesterday.”

“You going to buy me a replacement?”

“If it’ll make this process go any faster!”

“I’m sure we can forgo that page,” Joshua cut in diplomatically, taking the sheet back.

“It wasn’t even that good,” Nathan muttered as he signed each amendment separately. He then slipped his pen back into one of his jacket’s inner pockets. Aiko took the new sheets and inspected them before slotting them into the contract folder.

“Everything’s in order,” Aiko said after checking the documentation.

“Congratulations, Mr. Cotton.” Nathan extended his hand. “You’ve got yourself a ship.”

“Wonderful. Though, please call me Joshua. I imagine we’ll all be quite familiar with each other by the time we’re finished.”

“If you like.” Nathan settled back in his chair. “Now then, where exactly are we headed first?”

“A habitat called WC-9003,” Vessani said.

“That sounds like a temporary tag reserved for unexplored megastructures.” Nathan pulled out his Almanac and looked it up. The entry was almost completely empty. “Yep. Uncharted.”

“From the perspective of the Solar Almanac,” Joshua said.

“But not to locals like me,” Vessani added, her ears perking up.

“Okay, but how do we know this is the right place?” Nathan asked. “You grew up low-tech, right?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“Which means your people haven’t left the habitat in millennia. What are we basing this destination on? The Almanac doesn’t even have a surface map, just a few blurry telescope pictures. Is there something in the entry I’m missing? Maybe an update in a new edition?”

“No, nothing like that.”

“Then what makes you certain this is the place?”

“Easy.” Vessani flashed a sly smile. “The habitat is a windowed cylinder, which means nearby structures are visible in the night sky, and one of them is quite distinct. A dark red ring. I remember seeing it through my mother’s telescope.”

“Vessani and I were eventually able to identify the ring habitat,” Joshua explained. “It’s a nasty place called the Sanguine Ring. Danger level eight out of ten.”

“An eight?” Nathan’s eyes widened.

“Apparently, the Almanac Association lost a few ships in its vicinity.”

“I hope you don’t expect us to go there!”

“Oh, no. Perish the thought. We simply used its position to narrow our search. After that, it was a simple matter to identify all nearby windowed cylinders.”

“We were then able to eliminate all the other locations except WC-9003,” Vessani continued. “That’s our target, and I’m sure the Black Egg is still there.”

Nathan stared down at the fuzzy image of the windowed cylinder, then slowly began to nod.

“So, when we get there, what’s our play? Are you expecting us to swipe the Black Egg?”

“Nothing so dramatic.”

“We’ll ask to see it,” Vessani said. “I used to live there, remember? I should be able to get us in without too much fuss.”

“Okay, but then what? How will this Black Egg lead us to the relic?”

“It reacts to the presence of pentatech.”

Any pentatech?” Nathan asked doubtfully. The Black Egg would be priceless beyond belief if that were true.

“No, just one particular object.”

“Okay, but how do you know this object is pentatech?”

“You’re full of questions, aren’t you?” Joshua gave him a coy smile.

“I like to be prepared. Can you really blame me?”

“Of course not. The truth is, Vess and I don’t know for certain it’s pentatech.”

“But you have a good reason to believe it is?”

“We do.”

“It goes back to the Black Egg,” Vessani explained. “Its reactions grow more intense on a regular interval, reaching a peak once every seventy-one years.”

“I discussed the details of the Black Egg’s reactions with Anterus vaan Kronya,” Joshua said, “and we came to the conclusion the relic is on an elliptical orbit around Sol.”

“Aha!” Nathan’s face lit up with understanding.

An elliptical orbit strongly implied the object was something damaged during the Scourging of Heaven, blasted out of the Pentatheon’s meticulously laid orbits by some great cataclysm. The solar system was almost totally devoid of objects—natural or otherwise—that orbited Sol in pronounced ellipses. The Pentatheon had seen to that during the Age of Communion, clearing the solar system of random debris.

“And so,” Joshua continued, “we propose using the information we can glean from the Black Egg to triangulate the relic’s position. As luck would have it, we’re quite close to its once-every-seventy-one-years peak in activity, which should give us the best opportunity we’ll have in our lifetimes to track it down.”

“Okay.” Nathan rubbed his chin. “That’s all well and good, but how are we going to get what we need out of the Egg? Are the locals able to commune with it?”

“Not to the degree we need.”

“Then it seems your plan has a hole in it.”

“Yes, I suppose that’s something we should discuss.” Joshua leaned in, resting his forearms on the table. “I had originally intended for us to pick up Anterus so he could commune with the Black Egg on our behalf, but . . .” He spread his upturned hands apologetically.

“We need to hire a replacement.”

“Quite,” Joshua agreed, then raised an eyebrow. “I suppose this makes Saturn our first stop?”

“Perhaps.” Nathan paused in thought, then snapped his fingers. “Actually, I might have an alternative. There’s a Saturnian cleric Aiko and I have worked with in the past. He might be just what we need.”

“You don’t mean Rufus, do you?” Aiko asked.

“I do.”

“Wasn’t he a little . . . combative the last time we parted ways?”

“I’m sure he’s cooled off by now.”

“If you say so.” Aiko shook her head. “Man, is he going to be surprised to see us!”

“The cleric’s name is Rufus sen Qell,” Nathan said. “He’s the best man I know for this job. We should be able to find him in the Habitat Belt, on Faelyn’s Grasp. He’s doing missionary work there.”

“He’s from Qell?” Joshua noted with a half smile. “That’s quite a prestigious monastery, if I’m not mistaken.”

“And he’s got a real gift for communing with old tech.”

“What about him as a person? Is he dependable? Trustworthy?”

“I’ll personally vouch for his character. You won’t be disappointed.”

“Then it sounds like we have our replacement expert. Anything else you’d like to know?”

“Not at the moment.” Nathan pushed away from the table and stood up. “Aiko will show you to your rooms and help you get settled. We’ll take care of our preflight checks, then get underway once your luggage is secured.”

“Wonderful,” Joshua said, rising along with Vessani. “Though we require only one room, thank you.”

“One?”

Joshua gave him a faint, knowing smile.

Nathan glanced from the dapper engineer to the roguish catgirl and back.

“Really?”

Vessani put her arm around Joshua and leaned her head against his shoulder, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Okay, then,” Nathan said with a shrug. “One room it is. Who am I to judge?”


“I never grow tired of this sight.” Joshua gazed down at the retreating view of both Neptune and the shell band that girdled it.

“Eh. Been there. Seen that.” Nathan shrugged his shoulders and turned in the pilot seat. Joshua had expressed an interest in watching their departure from the cockpit, and Vessani had joined them shortly after that.

“It’s amazing when you think about it,” Joshua said, looking up. “Did you know the shell bands shouldn’t be able to hold their position, given what we currently know about them?”

Nathan gave him a doubtful look.

“No, it’s true. If the bands were nothing more than the passive support structures we’ve seen, they should fall right into the gas giants.”

“But . . .” Nathan shook his head. “I mean, they’re rigid, aren’t they? Like a ring around your finger.”

Joshua let out an involuntary snort, then quickly covered his grinning mouth.

“What?” Nathan crossed his arms. “Did I say something funny?”

“Sorry, sorry.” The engineer held up an apologetic hand. “I didn’t mean anything by it. Your remark just caught me by surprise.”

“They are rigid.”

“True, but not that rigid.”

Joshua composed himself and looked up, smiling. Not a mean or condescending smile, but an expression of excitement at the topic, and his eyes were filled with the same gleeful energy.

“Certainly, they’re immense and solidly built,” Joshua began, his smile growing as he dug into the topic, “but think about what they are for a moment. A shell band is basically a giant bridge without endpoints or supports hanging over a crushing death chasm. Gravity is tugging on every point, and there’s nothing solid for the load to be routed to. Can you imagine the force generated by all that mass being dragged down into the planet’s gravity well? I understand, and to a certain degree sympathize, with the common misconception that the bands are just really big rings for really big fingers, but the truth is they’re nothing like that.”

“Okay, fine,” Nathan replied indifferently, but then thought better of it and decided to urge the engineer on. It never hurt to show interest in a passenger’s field of study. “But then how does it stay up?”

“We don’t know!” Joshua’s eyes gleamed with barely contained excitement. “But I came across some fascinating theories during my studies on Saturn. The one I favor the most theorizes that there actually are supports holding up the shell bands. We just can’t see them.”

“Why?” Nathan asked, confused. “Are they invisible or something?”

“No, no. Nothing so dramatic.”

“Then where are they?”

“The only place they could be.” Joshua gestured to Neptune with an open hand. “Inside the shell bands!”

“What?” Nathan shook his head, now even more perplexed. “I don’t get it.”

“Allow me to explain,” Joshua began, his tone making it clear how much he was enjoying this discussion. “According to this theory, the shell bands are active support structures, which makes a tremendous amount of sense to me. To clarify, a passive support structure is what everyone is familiar with even if they don’t realize it. A house, for instance, being held up by the passive characteristics of the materials used to build it. Nothing special, right?

“An active support structure has a moving component. In this case, it’s believed the floor of each shell band is hollow, composed of countless tubes that run the full circumference of the structure.”

“Tubes for what?”

“The ring’s supports. Imagine for a moment these tubes were filled with a material that isn’t holding position over the planet, but instead is rotating at stable orbital speeds. Or rather, slightly faster than a stable orbit demands. A ring of orbiting material, or ‘orbital ring’ for short. What does that produce?”

“Umm?”

“An outward force!” Joshua exclaimed with bright-eyed glee. “A force pushing the shell band away from the planet, acting in opposition to the pull of gravity. Factor the two together, and suddenly you have a system in equilibrium! No super-rigid materials required!”

“Huh. You don’t say,” Nathan remarked, trying to wrap his head around the concept.

“And there’s more!” Joshua wagged a finger, grinning. “There’s evidence the many chandelier refineries along the underside also play important roles. If we take this theory a step further, we come to the conclusion the orbital rings should be a superconductor of some kind, magnetically pushing the shell band rather than rubbing against it, with all the wasteful friction and heat that entails.”

“Okay. But how do the refineries tie into that?”

“Because the Pentatheon built to last. Energy might have to be added to or removed from the orbital rings to maintain optimal stability, and the refineries have access to near limitless energy thanks to the gas-giant atmospheres. They’re the most obvious tool available to adjust the speed of each orbital ring over time, and there’s another piece of evidence hinting at their involvement.”

“Which is?”

“Refineries will occasionally vent reactor plasma for prolonged periods. Almost as if they double as giant fusion thrusters put in place to help maintain each shell band’s equilibrium!”

“Funny you should mention that.” Nathan gestured to Aiko. “We were almost caught in a refinery flare once.”

“Came out of nowhere and nearly vaporized us,” Aiko added.

“Which was probably the shell band making a minor stability correction,” Joshua said.

“You could be right.”

Nathan had never given much thought to how the shell bands worked. The megastructures were simply there, ever-present and immutable, but Joshua seemed to view reality through a different lens. It was the difference between asking what a thing could do and understanding why it could do it.

He glanced over to Vessani, who leaned against the cockpit’s back wall near the passenger jump seats.

“Is he always like this?” Nathan asked.

“Not always, but often.”

“You understand all that?”

“Not one bit,” she replied in an almost dreamy manner.



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