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31

“I am struggling to understand this as well,” Bjorn said. He’d been hovering over one of the Thubans, pulling up every file they could find on the Tanaan operation. “There are immense quantities of energy involved, both in production and storage. The stable 115 isotopes are created by a pair of particle accelerators which encircle the planet along its equator. The isotopes are collected and transported to containment facilities at the mid-latitudes. Production is managed from operations centers at the poles. Isotope distribution is strictly controlled due to the substance’s gravitational potential.”

“They’re activated by applying power, right? I assume that means antimatter.”

“The reactors are beneath the surface at each pole, adjacent to the production control complexes. Based on what we can see, I do not believe they are the proximal cause. A reactor accident would be devastating, but localized. The effects would be blindingly obvious.” He pointed to an interactive map of the planet, or what was left of it. “You can see their containment fields are still intact. This was caused by something else.”

“Sure. Of course.” I nodded blankly, having no idea of what I was looking at. “Could it be as simple as a natural disaster, like a volcanic eruption?”

Bjorn looked at me as if I had grown a third eyeball.

“Hear me out. Geologists on Earth have figured out that a good-sized piece of the continent I come from is sitting on top of a dormant ‘super volcano.’ If it ever blows, they think it would turn most of North America into ash. Could that be what’s happening here?”

He shook his head. “Tanaan is geologically lifeless. No tectonic activity, no subduction zones, no volcanism. That is why it was chosen for 115 production.”

“Their current predicament would suggest otherwise,” I said tartly.

He stared at the cauldron roiling Tanaan’s surface. “Quite.” Bjorn tapped at his chin, obviously troubled. “There had to be a catastrophic subsurface energy release. Something self-sustaining. Something that would propagate.”

“Something with enough juice to melt the interior, turn all that inert rock into magma.”

“That is what troubles me. For this to have happened so rapidly suggests tremendous energy, enough to cause the planet’s interior matter to rapidly change states.”

“You mean from solid to liquid?”

“Or to gas. This cannot simply be an artificially created volcanic event, though it is also that. It implies a sudden loss of mass density, enough to alter the planet’s gravitational potential. That would also account for the shearing effects along the equator. Tanaan no longer has enough gravity to hold its remaining mass together.”

“Am I right that it would’ve had to occur deep beneath the surface, like near the core?”

“That would be my estimation, otherwise I believe the effects would be more localized.” He paused. “Do you recall our discussion of other, more exotic, energy sources?”

My eyes widened. “Zero point. Feynman’s lightbulb.” Enough untapped quantum whatever-it-was to boil oceans. Or rock.

Bjorn clenched his jaw, possibly the most emotion I’d ever seen from him. “That would explain a great deal.” He turned to Chummy. “Have you received any communications from the surface facilities?”

The Thuban nodded. “Production control. Both stable enough to evacuate.”

“Do they require our assistance, or do they have enough vehicles to evacuate themselves?”

“South complex evacuating. North need help.”

“What of the mid-latitude processing stations?”

Chummy shook his head. “Most gone. Distress signals all individuals.”

Watching Tanaan’s rapidly deteriorating condition on screen, I could imagine the chaos on the surface. The ground was collapsing beneath them, swallowing up entire complexes. Those who escaped had gathered on whatever high ground they could find, judging by where all the calls were coming from. “We need to get the survivors off the planet. The commodore said we could send the drop ships we saw down in the hangar. Is that still viable?”

Chummy studied the shattered planet on screen. It was filled with clusters of pulsing amber icons near the processing stations. Each represented an individual call for help. There were hundreds of them. Conditions down there would be dangerous as hell, but if their drop ships were made for combat . . . 

“Affirmative,” he finally answered. “Can hold thirty Th’u’bans each. Most signals Reticulan, drop ship hold perhaps twice as many.”

That would be a good start, but any Thubans we sent to the surface were going to have their hands full. “Have your medics triage on scene. Critical injuries are the first to go, if they think the patient can survive long enough to get them up here. Any minor injuries have to stay until the next ship lands.”

“Agree,” Chummy said. “What will Med Corps vehicles do?”

I’d been thinking of a plan for them, but needed Bjorn’s expertise. I pointed at the massive fragments of Tanaan that had separated from the surface, finding their own orbits as the planet crumbled beneath them. “There’s still a lot of active signals coming from those shards. Can a Class III ship land on something like that?”

“It would be difficult, but not impossible.”

“Then we have a plan.” I clapped my hands and raised my voice for everyone to hear. A dozen Thuban heads snapped up in surprise as their translators scrambled to keep up. “We’re sending the drop ships to the surface clusters. Med Corps transports will go to the orbiting fragments. The most critical cases get brought here, the rest go to the civilians. Keep any fast-movers on standby for transporting victims to Med Corps hospitals. We start with the largest concentrations of distress signals, and move on from there.”

***

Now that we had a plan, things came together quickly. Chonk helped his fellow Thubans prioritize where to send their drop ships, while Bjorn and I started dispatching Med Corps rigs. We had over thirty individual craft on the move, with more on the way, and it was a sight to behold. Thuban traffic controllers were all asses and elbows as they kept everyone from running into each other on their way to the surface.

I watched as the drop ships left the hangar one by one, each a few seconds apart before zipping away for different parts of the planet. Getting our ambulances moving was a little more delicate, and something of a crash course in orbital mechanics for me. Nothing traveled in a straight line, and so our dispatch priorities went to those ships in the best position to intercept the orbiting clusters of emergency signals. It was a complex ballet that could have easily fallen into chaos, but the Thuban controllers had a lot of practice in keeping mass formations from flying into each other. Within half an hour the hangar deck was empty and every Med Corps rig was on its way to a rock which had once been part of Tanaan.

Now would come the hard part. We’d be receiving patients soon and could get overwhelmed in short order.

Bjorn would manage the logistics. Each arriving ship would need to turn around quickly for its next run, and he was in a far better position to handle that. I grabbed Chonk and had him lead me down to the maintenance hangar and our makeshift emergency ward.

The hangar was cleaner than expected, which was a welcome surprise. I’d expected it to look like an auto repair shop, but its brightly polished floor sparkled from the overhead glow panels. Whatever equipment they normally used here had been put away in storage racks along the back wall. Three hundred beds had been brought in, filling the hangar in neat rows. The only other sign this place was meant for maintenance was a Thuban drop ship tucked away in a far corner, missing some panels.

Two spaces on the floor had been left open, each a massive rectangular section marked with orange borders. Chonk explained those were lift elevators. They’d bring the arriving craft directly up here from the flight deck with our patients.

A team of medics waited for us, mostly Thubans from the ship’s complement. A half-dozen Med Corps types were with them, a mix of Reticulans and Gliesans, which I hadn’t expected. “We came from the Union outpost,” the lead Gliesan explained. “Many of our clan work on Tanaan.”

“Your kind is working there? Maybe you can help us understand what happened, keep more from being hurt. Do you know what they were doing?”

The Gliesan’s mandibles clicked. “Excavation for a hardened test site, deep underground. Construction was largely complete. We do not know its exact purpose.”

I turned to the senior Reticulan medic. “Do you know anything about what they were building?”

“I do not,” he said, rather stiffly. If he was going to have a problem taking orders from the new girl, he’d have to get over that real quick.

“Come on,” I said. “Given what they do here, even I can hazard a few guesses.”

The Gray was unmoved. “My knowledge is limited to medical matters.”

I ignored him and addressed the group. “First off, you can call me Mel. I’m the on-scene commander until somebody who knows better tells me otherwise. We’re not going to bother with other names because I’ll forget them.” They weren’t a particularly emotional group and I wasn’t concerned about hurting feelings.

“Our first transport from the surface should be arriving soon; expect thirty to forty patients on each run. Medics on the drop ships are doing a hasty triage on scene, and we’ll respond based on how they’re tagged when they arrive. We do not have time to second-guess the guys on scene. Anyone down there who is ambulatory and not in obvious distress is going to the civilian transports outside, so we’ll be receiving the most critical patients.” I focused on the Thubans. “Those who are at imminent risk of death will go upstairs to your ship’s surgeon.”

I surveyed the group. “Most of our victims will be Reticulan or Gliesan. From the distress calls we’ve received and the conditions on the surface, expect a lot of crush injuries and burn victims. If there’s anything peculiar to your kind that doesn’t get covered in training, now is a good time to inform the rest of us.”

One of the Reticulans spoke up. “Given the nature of production and research activities on Tanaan, we should be prepared for radiation poisoning as well. If the accelerator coils have been breached, there would be a considerable release of ionizing radiation. Reticulans generally respond well to iodide-based prophylactics.” He waved to a trio of containers and opened one. “We have brought as many as could be spared from the outpost clinic.”

The crates were filled with shiny new rectal probes. Of course. I grabbed a handful and tossed them into my trauma bag, and had the others do the same.

A Thuban spoke up. “Sick bay has blood plasma. Broad spectrum. Can tailor platelets for race.”

I glanced over at Chonk, who looked pleasantly surprised. Somebody had listened to him after all.

The Gliesan started clicking his mandibles again. I couldn’t make it out at first, then the translator caught up: “Hyperbaric.”

“You mean positive-pressure oxygen?”

More clicks. “Yes. Our exoskeletons protect against heat and radiation damage.”

If it didn’t cook their innards first. If they survived the initial burns, their shells would still be severely weakened. “Where I’m from, we used silver nylon dressing for wrapping burns. Do you have something like that?”

Both Thuban and Gliesan translators seemed to have trouble at first. The lead Reticulan spoke up. “Yes. You mean element 47. We have a polycarbonate wrap plated with 47. It is quite effective for protecting against skin toxicity from radiation.”

Now the others understood what I’d been asking for. “Have that,” the Thuban said. “Much in sick bay.”

That made sense. Burn supplies were something a combat ship probably needed plenty of. “Okay, platelet-rich plasma and ‘47’ wraps. Whatever they can spare, get it down here.” Two of the Thubans took off running for a nearby lift.

“In the meantime, what about this hyperbaric oxygen therapy? We’re on a spaceship, I imagine there’s a way to rig that.”

“Is so,” Chonk said. He pointed to a row of heavy doors along the hangar wall. “All compartments adjacent to hangar spaces pressurized. Can control individually.”

“Awesome. Let’s get those set up. Any Gliesan burn victims go straight to those rooms. In the meantime, everybody get into their exposure suits.”

It was starting to feel like we might actually be able to get this under control. A warning siren began to wail as one of the big lift elevators began to recede into the floor. Our first transport had arrived.


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Framed