room, building to building, but time outside was
limited—especial ly when the wind blew. It blew a lot, roaring, squealing past,
separat ed from her only by the wall of the
Dome.
She was beginning to feel
claustrophobic.
“This is nuts,” she said
to herself as she pushed the power button on her laptop, which whirred to life.
There were other taxing conditions. Water was available by the
acre, but it was in the form of ice. The energy necessary to
convert it to liquid then warm it enough so it wouldn’t freeze
tender skin was costly. As a result, showers were to be taken in
two minutes or less. Two minutes! That wasn’t enough time to get
wet as far as Sarah was concerned.
The computer finished its
warm-up, loading all the necessary programs. Sarah moved the mouse
and clicked on an icon. A new program loaded, filling the screen
with the JPL logo and the words Cryobot
Simulations 2.3. She pulled two joysticks
from the table and set them on either side of the computer. Sarah
reminded herself that she was not playing a video game but training
for a mission. In a few days, she would be seated at a table in the
Dome, guiding the large cryobot through the ice and into a lake
that no one had ever seen.
She would be at the controls, performing
every move under the scrutiny of several pairs of exacting,
demanding eyes. Millions of dollars of equipment and thousands of
hours of work rested in her ability to manipulate the joysticks
just the right way. “No pressure,” she muttered.
As she thought about the
watchful eyes, one pair of eyes pushed to
the forefront, eyes that gleamed with intelligence and sparkled
with kindness; eyes that revealed a no-nonsense attitude but were
still quick to laugh. Dark eyes made light by something she had not
been able to identify.
Sarah worked with the
brightest minds in the world. The JPL and Caltech were bastions of
brilliance. Knowledge, skill, and superior intelligence did not
intimidate her. She saw it on a daily basis. But Perry Sachs was somehow different. In some intangible
way, he exuded—what? A rare confidence? That was true. A refreshing
honesty? Again true, but still not on target. She shook her head.
Whatever quality had caught Sarah’s attention, its definition
remained a few inches out of reach. Whatever it was, it was
real and . . . endearing.
The program began to run. The display was
similar to a commercial jet’s instrument panel except altitude was
measured in negative numbers, speed was measured in centimeters per
hour, and orientation included displays for vertical as well as
horizontal bearings. Other virtual gauges indicated interior and
exterior temperatures, “nose” heat—the temperature of the heating
element that would melt the ice below Hairy—and a half dozen other
instruments. The program was designed to create problems at random.
So far, the program had won every contest, something she wasn’t
willing to admit to the others.
The descent was the easy part of the
“flight.” Hairy would melt its way down through layers of ice until
it punctured the boundary of ice and liquid water. Then the
difficult task of controlling the device began. She advanced the
program until it was seconds away from breakthrough. That was the
hard part, the challenge no one could anticipate. It was where she
always failed.
No one knew what to expect. Did Vostok have
currents? Surely it did. The temperature difference between surface
water and deep, near-thermal water would move the water in a
circular fashion, the warmer rising, the colder sinking. But there
could be other factors yet unanticipated. It was in the unknown
that danger lurked. There was the excitement and the frustration of
field science. No matter how well one planned and practiced, the
unexpected could blindside the most prepared. She was determined to
be ready for anything and everything.
I wonder what kind of
preparations Perry’s been making? she
thought. There’s no doubt he’s
thorough. She
limited—especial ly when the wind blew. It blew a lot, roaring, squealing past,
separat ed from her only by the wall of the
Dome.
She was beginning to feel
claustrophobic.
“This is nuts,” she said
to herself as she pushed the power button on her laptop, which whirred to life.
There were other taxing conditions. Water was available by the
acre, but it was in the form of ice. The energy necessary to
convert it to liquid then warm it enough so it wouldn’t freeze
tender skin was costly. As a result, showers were to be taken in
two minutes or less. Two minutes! That wasn’t enough time to get
wet as far as Sarah was concerned.
The computer finished its
warm-up, loading all the necessary programs. Sarah moved the mouse
and clicked on an icon. A new program loaded, filling the screen
with the JPL logo and the words Cryobot
Simulations 2.3. She pulled two joysticks
from the table and set them on either side of the computer. Sarah
reminded herself that she was not playing a video game but training
for a mission. In a few days, she would be seated at a table in the
Dome, guiding the large cryobot through the ice and into a lake
that no one had ever seen.
She would be at the controls, performing
every move under the scrutiny of several pairs of exacting,
demanding eyes. Millions of dollars of equipment and thousands of
hours of work rested in her ability to manipulate the joysticks
just the right way. “No pressure,” she muttered.
As she thought about the
watchful eyes, one pair of eyes pushed to
the forefront, eyes that gleamed with intelligence and sparkled
with kindness; eyes that revealed a no-nonsense attitude but were
still quick to laugh. Dark eyes made light by something she had not
been able to identify.
Sarah worked with the
brightest minds in the world. The JPL and Caltech were bastions of
brilliance. Knowledge, skill, and superior intelligence did not
intimidate her. She saw it on a daily basis. But Perry Sachs was somehow different. In some intangible
way, he exuded—what? A rare confidence? That was true. A refreshing
honesty? Again true, but still not on target. She shook her head.
Whatever quality had caught Sarah’s attention, its definition
remained a few inches out of reach. Whatever it was, it was
real and . . . endearing.
The program began to run. The display was
similar to a commercial jet’s instrument panel except altitude was
measured in negative numbers, speed was measured in centimeters per
hour, and orientation included displays for vertical as well as
horizontal bearings. Other virtual gauges indicated interior and
exterior temperatures, “nose” heat—the temperature of the heating
element that would melt the ice below Hairy—and a half dozen other
instruments. The program was designed to create problems at random.
So far, the program had won every contest, something she wasn’t
willing to admit to the others.
The descent was the easy part of the
“flight.” Hairy would melt its way down through layers of ice until
it punctured the boundary of ice and liquid water. Then the
difficult task of controlling the device began. She advanced the
program until it was seconds away from breakthrough. That was the
hard part, the challenge no one could anticipate. It was where she
always failed.
No one knew what to expect. Did Vostok have
currents? Surely it did. The temperature difference between surface
water and deep, near-thermal water would move the water in a
circular fashion, the warmer rising, the colder sinking. But there
could be other factors yet unanticipated. It was in the unknown
that danger lurked. There was the excitement and the frustration of
field science. No matter how well one planned and practiced, the
unexpected could blindside the most prepared. She was determined to
be ready for anything and everything.
I wonder what kind of
preparations Perry’s been making? she
thought. There’s no doubt he’s
thorough. She
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