Тим Пауэрс - Bugs and Known Problems

"You are a bad fairy," the boy said. "Good fairies don’t use the sorcerer’s voice."

Damn you, Arthur C. Clarke. "Any sufficiently advanced technology…"

Just then, the shaft shook more violently, and Gavin dove forward as he watched the polyethylene rupture under his feet. He heard the hiss of gas-driven emergency shut-off valves closing, and knew in an instant that the homunculus—and the boy—were trapped.

"This just got really bad," Gavin said. "The plastic’s a great insulator, but with a rupture, it’s going to get cold down there—quick. I don’t know if the gases are sealed inside either. Is there an emergency override to open the shutoff valve on your end?"

"We designed these before I had Jonah," Hope said. "We weren’t figuring anyone would be in them for any reason. The ceiling clearance was actually designed for the homunculi if we needed to do maintenance, and there are thin wires woven in to detect breaks. The locks don’t deactivate until the electrical connection is restored and/or the gas sensors don’t pick up anything but nitrogen, CO 2, and oxygen. Well, trace amounts of methane, obviously—we didn’t want a fart to shut down the ventilation."

"The problem is, the longer we’re sealed off, the more carbon dioxide we have—and less oxygen," Gavin said. "The rock that’s poking through and the gases won’t be as thermally conductive as, say, water, but it’s still going to get cold in here."

Gavin examined the rupture more closely. A liquid rivulet in the fissure outside the plastic seemed about to form a droplet, but as the rivulet approached the break in the plastic, it evaporated into a haze.

"I’ve got liquid methane or ethane evaporating down here," Gavin said. "It’s not a lot, but it’s definitely getting in. The evaporation’s making the air colder too."

"I radioed Scott," Hope said. "He’s closest to our heavy tools, but he’s still got to get into his suit and drag them over. The truck’s broken down right now."

I’m not sure we have that kind of time.

I could extract oxygen, maybe, if we had water or ice.

It’d drain my power pretty quickly, but I could use the battery to heat my carbon-fibers—which probably wouldn’t be enough to keep the kid alive anyway.

Gavin made his way back to the door and found a rupture worse than the one nearest Jonah. A gap in the rock had opened several feet below the opening, and he could see a liquid swirling and wisping into gas beneath the shaft’s plastic. He tapped his fingers together.

"Spectrometer," he said, and a pale blue circle with a sample area label appeared in the center of his view. Given the homunculi’s original expeditionary purpose, they’d been outfitted with an array of test equipment. Below him, he found ethane rather than methane evaporating in the cavity near the door. Gavin knew that ethane was heavier than air, and would remain trapped in the cavity. Methane would’ve floated up to fill the shaft, killing Jonah.

"How long until Scott gets here?" he asked.

"Thirty minutes, maybe," Hope said. "The suit, the airlocks—"

"It’ll take another ten to fifteen minutes to get through that hatch with hand-tools," Gavin said. "The temperature’s dropping by about a degree a minute, and I’ve got hydrocarbon gases evaporating in from several breaks in the shaft. Jonah didn’t bring his respirator on his adventure to find his friends, nor did he bring his electric coveralls."

"Gavin, you’ve got to—" Hope said, but a sob caught in her throat. It was easy to be a calm, collected astronaut when it was her own life at stake, or that of another rational adult—one who’d volunteered to accept the risks. Her child was a different story.

He looked down at his tiny hands and up at the 8-inch-thick plastic safety door.

"What can I use ?" he whispered.

"Yourself."

It wasn’t Hope’s voice this time, but Lori’s, that came through the radio.

"Remember the early days of lithium-ion batteries?" she asked. "Cell phones, laptops—"

"I wasn’t born then, Lori," he said. "Neither were you."

"Well maybe it pays to be a history buff," she said. "They used lithium-ions with other metals in the anodes rather than straight lithium because they were more stable and could be recharged. They still had problems though, especially with cheap knock-off batteries with bad separators. Sometimes the batteries would catch fire or explode. They were prone to thermal runaway. Our batteries have a gel electrolyte now, but they’re pretty much the same design, Gavin."

"Good thing we have top-notch separators, right?"

"Lithium’s still unstable, and if you connect the cathode and anode directly—"

"It would catch fire, but I’d probably just burn up inside the—" Gavin said, then paused. He looked down at the hydrocarbon gas pool building under the break near the door. "Oh. I’m just the detonator."

"I can be there in one minute’s flight," Lori said. "I’ll have to go in and pull the kid out once the hatch is breached."

"Hope," Gavin said, "this is your call. We can wait for your husband, and risk gas filling up this shaft while the temperature drops. I don’t think Jonah will get hypothermia, but he may run out of air. We might get another tremor, too."

Gavin waited.

"What’s the worst thing that can happen if you blow the door?" she asked.

"The worst thing is that I don’t actually blow it, and maybe the tunnel around the opening collapses. As long as Jonah stays around the corner, there’s almost no risk of shrapnel."

"Shrapnel?"

"Well," Lori said, "if we wait too long, the methane and ethane concentrations mean you’ll get a fireball inside the shaft also. You pretty much have to do this now or not at all."

"No," Hope said. "No no no. Wait for Scott. He’ll get here, and we can get my baby in a respirator, and—"

She stopped talking, as though her attention had been taken by something on another channel. Gavin thought he might’ve lost his radio connection.

"Lori?"

"Yeah," Lori said, "I’m here, but you might only have me on the ship’s internal."

"Scott says there’s a fissure outside the toolshed," Hope said finally. "The frame on the airlock split and the inner door won’t open. The safety circuit won’t allow it."

"Can he pull the circuit and hotwire it?" Lori asked.

"I think so," Hope said, "but it’s going to take time."

"Hope—" Lori said.

"Okay," Hope said. "Do it. I’ll put on my respirator and get Jonah’s. The air’s going to get pretty foul."

"I’m flying to Greenhouse 3 now," Lori said. "I’ll take the other respirator in with me."

Gavin walked back to where Jonah sat huddled in the shaft.

"Hey buddy," Gavin said. "Sorry about all the bad fairy tricks earlier. You passed the test. We’re going to let you into the fairy kingdom, okay?"

"I don’t feel good," Jonah said. "My head hurts."

"Yeah," Gavin said. "We can fix that in a minute. My friend Princess Lori is going to come show you where the gate to the fairy kingdom is."

"Really?"

"Really," Gavin said. "I just need one favor from you."

"What?" Jonah asked, eying him with renewed suspicion.

"I need you to pull my wings off. I don’t have the strength to do it at that angle."

"Why?"

"Honestly," Gavin said, "it’s so I can open a door for you. Don’t worry—they’ll grow back. It’s fairy magic."

Gavin turned. Either the kid would do it, or he wouldn’t.

After a moment, he felt a tug in the bubble box.

Error R999— came up in his display —catastrophic damage to—

"Yeah," Gavin whispered, "I know."