Engines Of God

The atmosphere read out as hydrogen, methane, nitrogen, with substantial amounts of ethane, hydrogen cyanide, ethyl-ene. Distance from the central world was 650,000 kilometers. Period of revolution: 13 days. Diameter: 5300 kilometers. Surface temperature: -165 °C, at the equator. Surface gravity:.37. Orbital period: 11.14 days. Age: estimated 4.7 billion years, with an error factor of ten percent. The system was twelve A.U.s from the sun.

They watched an ice volcano erupt in the southern hemisphere. Snow was falling over one of the oceans, and a nearby coastline was whipped by heavy rain. "The rainstorm might be two-hundred proof," said Angela. "There's a lot of ethanol down there, and the temperature's about right." She gri

Carson found what he was looking for in the south, about 20 degrees below the equator: a vast plain cluttered with plateaus. "Here." He tapped the screen. "Here's where we want to set up."

With Hutch's help, Drafts disco

"Tell me about the communications," Carson asked as they rounded the gas giant early in the afternoon of their third day. They would go into orbit around Delta at breakfast time.

Hutch set up one of the cameras for his inspection, opened the tripod (which they would anchor into the ice), and attached a sensor cluster. "We put the cameras on the ground, around the target. We'll launch two comsats. If the cameras see something, they'll transmit pictures to the comsats, which will send a hyperlight alarm to Point Zebra. The satellites are enclosed in convex casings. No right angles."

"What triggers the cameras?"

"A sudden and substantial increase in electrical activity, or in temperature beyond that normally encountered. Each camera has its own sensor system, and will operate independently. If something does happen, we should be able to get pictures."

"How about ordinary electrical storms? Won't they set it off?"

"Angela says lightning will be infrequent here, and quoted pretty good odds against normal phenomena triggering the sensors. If they do," she shrugged, "too bad. Somebody will come out for no reason."

"Somebody will come outT' This wasn't exactly the kind of alarm system Carson had in mind. "Won't they be able to tell when they get the pictures at the Point?"

"They won't get any pictures. The pictures are stored in the satellites. All that'll happen is an alarm will go off."

"Why not send the pictures?"

"Can't. Hyperspace communication requires a lot of power. We just can't generate enough for complex transmissions unless we plan to hang around ourselves and use Ashley's power plant. So we do the next best thing: we send a beep."

Fine, Carson thought. Every time there was an electrical storm, they would have to dispatch a ship. "I can't say I care much for this arrangement," he grumbled. "How safe will the cameras be if an event occurs?"

"Hard to say, since we really don't know what the event is. They have to be close to the target area, within a few hundred meters, for the short-range sensors to work. If we back it up farther, and go long-range, they'll pick up too much stray activity, and then we will get a series of false alarms."

"Okay."

"One other thing. If the kind of action we're looking for develops, there'll be a lot of electricity in the atmosphere, and the transmissions will get scrambled. In that case, the satellites will not get the pictures."

"So package in a delayed broadcast, too."

"I've done that. We will also record everything at ground level. Redundant copies everywhere. So if anything survives, we'll have a record." She was proud of her work, and had expected Carson to notice. But he still seemed preoccupied. "I've tried to shield the equipment as best I can," she continued.

"Okay," he said. "Good."

"You'll want to send someone out in a couple of years to replace this stuff. It's not designed for this kind of mission, so it won't last much beyond that."

"I know," he said. They both understood that such a backup flight would be unlikely.

They pinpointed a target area on a broad, snow-covered plain between a mountain range and a swamp filled with nitrogen and hydrocarbon sludge. The plateaus that had drawn Carson's attention were scattered across an otherwise flat landscape. It looked like a piece of the American West, covered with ice, and bathed in the pale red light of the distant sun.

They settled on a group of four mesas which lay within an area approximately sixty kilometers on a side. Each was already roughly rectangular. (The group had been chosen primarily for that reason.) The smallest comprised an area of about six square kilometers, the largest about a hundred. Carson would have given much to find four mesas at the corners of a square, but nature had not provided, not on this world, nor on any other in the system. He was as close as he could get.

They pla

"They won't look much like Oz," said Terry.

"Sure they will," said Janet. "When we're finished with them, they'll be all straight lines. No curves. Like the cube moons."

"And you think it's the straight lines that matter?"

"Yes," she said. Right angles. It always comes back to right angles. "You know what? Maybe it's just a matter of creating a design that doesn't appear in nature. We were talking about doing some crosscuts. Making it fancy. But that might not matter."

Carson was uncomfortable that no one on board had experience using the big pulser. "We might end by shooting ourselves down," he said.

They installed the mount for the particle beam projector in the cargo area of the shuttle. Janet looked at it uncertainly and gri

Hutch tried to visualize the way the operation would work. They would have to fly the shuttle at times almost on its side in order to get a good target angle out the cargo door. "I hope none of us falls out," she said.

They loaded the pod modules on board, and filled several spare air tanks. There'd be no opportunity to cycle air from this environment if things went wrong. For that reason, Carson, who was now thoroughly persuaded to play it safe, brought along enough for a month.

"Why so much?" asked Drafts.

"Shuttle might break down," Carson said. "We could get stuck there."

Hutch didn't like the shuttle. It was boxy, not very aerodynamic, not good for atmospheric flying. It would be a bumpy ride. And slow. And she was not entirely confident, despite what she had told Carson, of her ability to handle it. "I hate to tell you this," she said, "but this is a shoebox with wings. You'd be better off if you could get Angela to pilot the thing. She's used to it, and she's the best there is."

"It can't be that hard."

"You want to bet your life on it?"

Carson looked at her, and smiled his approval. "Thanks," he said.

He took Hutch with him to the bridge, where Angela was examining displays of the target area. "We'd like to have you fly the shuttle," he said without preliminary. "Hutch tells me it's likely to be difficult to handle, and she says you're pretty good."

Angela studied him for a long moment. "Is that what you want?" she asked Hutch. She wore a light brown ship's jacket, with Ashley's logo, a sail against a circle of stars, displayed prominently on the left breast.

"Yes. I think it would be a good idea."

"Then I'll do it." Hutch thought she looked as if she had something on her mind. "Of course the shuttle's cramped. And four people will crowd the ground station."