The Second Moon

Fate can be harsh, but sometimes the moons happen to align

Rian groaned, cursing the piercing sound that invaded his consciousness. “Shut that damned thing off,” he growled.

The sound cut off, and the words “TIME TO GET UP” no longer blazed across his field of view. Lya mumbled a few words and rolled over. Now, as he increasingly did, Rian cursed those clever folks who decided to ban autonomous AI. If they had lost the fight, he could have slept as late as he liked. Alas, he’d be dragging his own sorry ass out of bed once again.

Rian blinked and rolled to the other side, but his eyes were now open. Progress. His implant adjusted to the motion, and the morning newsfeed slowly crawled across a panel that appeared to hover just in front of his wall, scrolling sideways along it (as he hadn’t made it to a sitting position yet).

The Trash Haulers had lost another football match. Grown beef prices were down, so he mouthed an order – it’d be steak tonight. Next page. Interesting: the asteroid that had nailed Stillix’s small moon a year back continued to leave its footprints in a reduced axial tilt. That was expected, but it seemed the optimistically-named Sylvania region of the planet was about to come into its own. Fewer storms, clearer skies, and bright sun weren’t a temporary boon after all: the cheap areas of the planet were starting to get cheap power, too. And cheaper food. That really was good news. It almost made up for Rian having to get up and brush his teeth. Almost.

Rian groaned softly and rolled to his feet. He dressed quickly, and took care of his morning hygiene, then sat down at the table for “bacon” and eggs, still trying to digest the impact of the boon for his small planet. Lya joined him, still in her pajamas. He smiled. She was first to speak, “So, Rian, hear about the news on the tilt? Scientists say it’s sticking – fewer storms and more sun, baby. Good for our property values too – Stillix just went up 10 spots on the list of best places to live! The lower power prices we thought we’d reach in ten years? Here by summer!”

Rian nodded. “Yeah, I read it too. Pretty fantastic news. Though I guess technically it’s less money for Nu-Solar.”

Lya rolled her eyes. “Always the pessimist. They’ll always need power, and they’ll always need you. And if not – I’ll take care of you.”
An empty promise: Lya was a hostess at a lovely little corner theater. More than enough for Basic Allocation, but it was scarcely going to pay the mortgage. The couple had splurged on an honest-to-God ranch house, not a year after the flight to Stillix. But Rian laughed. “I know you will.”
Still, the news kept running through Rian’s head on the car ride to the power plant. But the newsfeed had little more to add that he didn’t already know, and work wasn’t far. In only minutes, Nu-Solar’s grounds came into view, the image of bright Helios rising over Stillix’s horizon dominating the grounds. It had become a familiar, comforting sight.

Rian stopped for a coffee on the way to his desk, but found his boss waiting there first, a pained expression on her face. “Mrs. Hendrix?”
The tall, dark-haired woman frowned, smoothing her hands on her pantsuit. “Rian, sit down. Please. I’m sorry, but there’s no easy way to put this. The new power coming online in Sylvania and our increased output mean… your project isn’t required. I’m sorry, Rian. But I have to let someone go. That is, I have to let you go.”
~
Rian wrenched his thoughts from that day months ago to the present, to the mug in his hand, to the empty one that sat beside it, its sour smell now lost to his nostrils. Above it, he saw faces laughing, the faces of strangers that out loud he called friends, sharing their own bitterness about the rail industry, the government, and the latest round of layoffs that just so happened to affect one Rian Fallon. It wasn’t a pleasant sight, if he were going to be bitterly honest, the kind that would have earned the disapproving look Lya had given him on the way out the door. But Rian had been working hard to adjust to his new circumstances, from the small apartment, his kids’ run-down schools, and Lya’s longer hours as a teacher’s aide to the ribbing he’d been getting from the tougher, earthier crowd that had taught him the ropes at Star-Lev. But now Star-Lev, who had paid him less and worked him harder, had let him go. It felt like the cheap beers and the blunt sympathy of former colleagues were his only real shelter from self-judgment tonight.

A voice dragged him away from his thoughts a second time. “Fallon!”

He raised his eyes to the pressed carbon board, the flashing cheap neon, and the long row of taps. The buzz of the Thursday night bar crowd filled his ears once again. Scraggly, weathered cheeks and a broad nose filled his vision. “Cheers, Ostrand.”

The weathered cheeks crinkled into a smile that was just visible through Ostrand’s beard. “You’re falling behind, Fallon. No wonder they canned you.”

Rian lifted the mug to his lips. Earlier this evening, the foamy stout seemed bitter. Stripes sold a few decent beers: this wasn’t one of them. But it went down smoothly now. “Somebody has to make you look good, Ostrand. God certainly never did.”

Ostrand laughed to acknowledge the point, then thrust his own mug up against Rian’s, spilling some of the contents of both, before downing it. He was a good enough man, once you learned his language. There were no compliments among this crew, ever. But before Rian ever thought to ask for help in moving a container or deciphering the new load instructions, Ostrand was reliably there. “We’re two of a kind, then.”

Beside him, Goran spoke up. “Two punchable faces, no doubt, but you’re nothing like that bastard Everard. You catch him preaching about pulling for the Star-Lev family with pink slips still in his paws? Pathetic.”

Ostrand patted Rian on the shoulder. “It’s a special feeling when sleaze like that pushes you out the door, but why the long face? You’ve got two months of drinking on full pay, and six months of Standard after. We’ve all been there. Good times, once you get used to the idea.”

Rian shrugged. “A man oughta work, you know? I moved my family for Star-Lev, and I was just starting to get this place.”

Goran groaned, and his eyes rolled upward. “Everard get to you, after all? Fuck him

Ostrand, mug now empty, had to settle for a fist bump. “We gotta push iron, so we make the best of it. You make a thing of it, though, and the corporate types own you. Thirty hours a week? Sure, but they ain’t ever getting me. Waitress, bring the next!”

Rian said nothing; he just sipped his stout. This time, it did leave a bitter taste on his tongue. A cheer went up around the bar: the Trash Haulers had just scored a goal.

Ostrand and Goran turned to the screen and began to argue about whether the Railers would turn this one around. Rian indulged in a small, rueful laugh – he wasn’t truly invested in either team, but he suspected the Railers fans were in for a disappointment. He glanced behind him to read the rest of the bar’s reaction and found a pair of cool blue eyes studying him.

The owner of those eyes was a thin woman with straight brown hair that just reached her jaw. She wore a blouse and overcoat that matched the trousers just visible on her legs beneath her table. The chairs and table were tall compared to the barstool, allowing Rian to meet those eyes at an even level. Thin lips curved into a faint smile as she noticed his attention, and they parted to speak. Rian could not make out the words against the noise, so he patted Ostrand’s shoulder and announced that he’d be back in a few. Ostrand nodded, and then his attention was already back on the game.

The head holding those blue eyes cocked slightly to the side, and then the lady gestured to the chair beside her. Rian, intrigued, took the seat.
“My condolences on your predicament, Fallon,” she said.

“It’s not so bad, as my friends have been trying to convince me. But you have me at a disadvantage – you must have overheard my name, but I don’t have yours.”

The lady smiled again, slightly, then pushed away a plate of food, leaving her drink in place. “You can call me Vesna. But there’s no need to be modest. You worked hard, you put yourself into your tasks, and no one saw your value. Now you’re on Allocation. You’re bruised about it and your colleagues are jealous. Is that about right?”

Rian shrugged. “I worked hard at this job, learning how to tune the machines properly, maintain them, figure out when they were wrong—and I thought I was finally getting it down. Then again, I thought I was good at my previous job too. In hindsight, so much of it was show: babysitting automation that didn’t really need it.”

Vesna nursed her beer for a moment, a stout that looked darker and sourer than what Rian had left at the other table. She paused for a moment, as if to relish the taste, then jabbed a finger at him. “And you liked that? The challenge.”

Rian raised an eyebrow. “Yes, I suppose so. I mean, we’re all trying to get good at something, right? Ostrand and Goran are viciously competitive at bowling. I figure: why not get good at something useful.”

Vesna laughed, a harsh sound – like a cough. “No wonder they didn’t like you.”

Rian bristled, then pushed his chair back and took to his feet. “You too?”

Vesna shook her head and lifted a hand, waving away the accusation. She gestured back to the chair. “No, but I needed to know something, and now I know it. Look at me – I’m here alone, and hardly one to look down on someone’s social problems. Tell me, what do you know about Starshot? Any details?”

Rian blinked, then eased himself down into his chair. “Starshot? Similar to Star-Lev, where I worked, except it’s looking to use railgun techniques to get freight into orbit. It’s cheaper than rockets for payloads that can handle it, but limited. Most goods can’t take the acceleration. And even when they can, you still need to catch them on the other end. But it’s a small outfit. No big customers.”

Vesna grinned knowingly. “No publicly announced ones. But the O’Neill cylinder the First Founders are building? They want to use Starshot for the parts the belt-miners aren’t ready to make. So, I have a problem: I need more people, the kind who are willing to work on something the AIs haven’t all figured out yet but who don’t want to run the show. Know anyone like that?”

Rian’s eyes flew open wide. “Ma’am, I just might.”

Vesna took a sip of her beer, then looked him up and down again, appraisingly. “Even if it means forfeiting months of vacation?”

Rian stretched out his hand, catching hers for a shake. “Definitely.”

Lya would be pleased. Probably.
~
Vesna paused, her darkened eyes sweeping the room. Techs, engineers, accountants, managers: it was a small group, diverse in function, and all of them were working on the project that was supposed to save the company. Each waited for the words they dreaded to come. Then she spoke, her words coming slowly and wearily, “I’m very sorry. The Founders’ Alliance has rejected our proposal. They don’t believe we can deliver it on time, or at a competitive price. We don’t have a better pitch to offer. We’re going to have to let you go.”

Rian lowered his eyes, letting the buzz of his colleagues wash over him. All of them had worked long hours for the past months, the kind that Goran would have skewered him for considering, and that even Lya (who had enthusiastically endorsed the job) had begun asking pointedly about.

The worst part was that Rian had seen it coming. His department was the one trying to build the railgun and the catch mechanisms. The trajectory of the payloads was outside of his purview, but even he knew the lower acceleration they were now being asked to support was going to make the trajectory harder to plan, especially given the moons’ gravity. So Rian asked the question he had been holding for weeks, now that there was nothing to lose by not asking. “Vesna, have we tried everything? Have we tried planning the launches around the moons’ positions, so that the knee of the trajectory is high up, and determined by when we launch?”

Jadnah, responsible for negotiating that part of the contract, shook her head. “That’s the very problem making our lives hard. The two moons’ cycles have changed, but it looks like they’re settling on an oscillating pattern that repeats every year and a half. We can’t wait months for the right window. The AIs are clear on that.”

Rian raised an eyebrow. “You shouldn’t have to. All you need is to map the center of gravity between them and the planet. That oscillates in a predictable pattern, and it’s pretty high up. The moons might move around a bit over the year, but their center of gravity spirals in a small window. You just aim relative to that.”

Jadnah rolled her eyes, but her partner, Thoman, bit his lip for a moment, then jumped in. “I think Rian’s right. We’ve got multiple catch points we need to hit accurately, but the gravity boost would help a lot.”
Vesna’s eyes fixed on Rian. “Explain.”

Rian shrugged, trying to ignore the fact that all eyes in the room were squarely on him. “If the payloads are more fragile than we hoped, we have to send with lower velocities. But that means gravity acts on them for a longer period of time, which could pull them away from the target trajectory we want—and a slower shot has more arc to it. But if we time it right and use the moons, the gravity doesn’t pull us from our target—it stabilizes our aim.”
“Plus, if we know all our shots have to go through that region anyway, we could put a catch relay. A little more expensive, but it makes the destination trivial to hit for this project – or any other we want to take.”

Vesna’s eyes turned to Thoman. “He’s right. The Lagrange point doesn’t oscillate much, and it’s incredibly useful. What we gain by putting a catch and relay system there would pay twice over in terms of the size of catch net we’d need on the cylinder. I can’t believe the AIs didn’t raise this. They were still treating the moons’ patterns as unstable. They’re not, anymore.”

The buzz grew louder as folks in the room shared their own opinions with the people they sat by. Vesna cut it short with a gesture. “So this has legs? If we had to put another proposal together fast?”

Thoman nodded. “Yes, Ma’am, I think it does. We’ll need some time to run the sims, but the concept of using the new gravitational patterns is sound. We didn’t think of it, and the AIs didn’t suggest the idea.”

Vesna offered a curt nod, and a thin smile. “In that case, let’s run with it. You have one week to make the pitch. Jadnah, tell the Founders we have an optimization to make. Thoman, Sora, and Medhi, we have a long night ahead. Rian, you too – I hope you don’t have any plans this week.”

Rian nodded. “I’ll make the time, Ma’am.”
~
The longest week of Rian’s life was coming to an end. Simulation after simulation had shown failed deliveries, incorrect speeds, or poor catch tolerances. There was an answer—there had to be! But so far, the team had been unable to prove it, and that proof was exactly what the pitch needed. And that pitch was due in the coming morning, in about six hours.

Sora, despite the dark bags under her bleary eyes, had fists clenched in excitement as the current simulation ran. It showed a small green cone rising from Stillix, reaching toward the Lagrange point where the gravitational forces converged. The green was because, so far, the package was staying within bounds. But then, it had reached the Lagrange point in the last sim too, which wasn’t—quite—enough. “Come on. Come on…”

The issue was that the Founders were willing to support a Lagrange catch apparatus in Phase 3, but only if Phase 2 already succeeded, which meant that Starshot needed to land the payload in the single catch apparatus where the O’Neill cylinder would be built—on the first try. And in the thousand catches after.

The simulation showed the package still green to the Lagrange point, but Rian heard a groan as the cone shifted to yellow just past, arced correctly to the catch point—where the collision was displayed in red.

Thoman swore. “Dammit, still too hot. We’re stabilizing the shot… but the arc is still too flat. If we turn the gun higher, we either hit below the target or at the wrong angle. This is about the best we can do.”

Rian’s eyes widened. “On this end, yes, but what if you raise the catch power budget by 20%?”

Sora shrugged. “Then we’re fine, but the Founders explicitly said they won’t have enough solar in place for that.”

Rian grinned, though his heart began to beat faster. He’d worked on this problem at Nu-Solar, and he knew just how to do it. “We can beam it in. It’s a little more expensive, but we’ve saved so much on the launcher that it shouldn’t break the bank. We can catch it further out!”

Thoman winced. “That’s a great idea, Rian, if you’d had it yesterday. But we don’t have the time to gen the data.”

Rian shook his head. “We already built one of these at Nu-Solar. The data already exists, and thanks to the Disclosure Act, it’s public. Scoot.”

Rian stepped over, offered a few commands to the AI, took a deep breath, and announced, “Go.”

Thoman started at him for another long moment, shook his head, and returned his eyes to the screen. It was Rian’s turn to silently whisper encouragement to the sim. Still green. Still green. Past the Lagrange point. Still green… and caught!

Suddenly, there was a single clap behind Rian. He and his colleagues turned to see Vesna standing with her hands clasped together. Then once again, she offered a slow clap. “Well done, team. Well done.”
~
Rian stepped through the door to see Lya waiting in her bathrobe. At 10:00AM, when she was supposed to be at the school. She looked tired, as if she had been up waiting, but her voice was alert, excited. “Well?”

Rian ran forward and wrapped her in his arms. “They signed, Lya! They actually signed!”

Lya sighed. It was the sound of relief. “Then I’m happy for you. For us. I know how much this meant to you, how much you needed to be a part of something. The children will be happy for you too. You’ve been too busy to help Janie with the English paper or to play catch with Cenn.”

Rian placed his hand on his wife’s arm. “I know. I’ll – I’ll still be busy, but there will be time for that. I promise.”

Lya leaned on the hand. “Good. I’ll hold you to it. So, worth it?”

Rian nodded, with no hesitation. “I feel needed. And do you know how much this contract is worth?”

Lya raised a dark eyebrow, exposing her liquid brown eyes. “I have a feeling you’re going to tell me. But you know we need you here, contract or no.”

Rian smiled at the reassurance, though it was unnecessary: he was already practically glowing with exultation. “Thank you, Lya. I couldn’t have done this without you. But I never explained quite how big this was. That flat you were eyeing, when we got this one? The one with the holo and the double-sized walk-in shower? Yours, if you still want it.”

Lya pushed him back, to meet his eyes. Her own were startled and incredulous. “Rian, are you sure? It’s…”

Rian stretched his hands out, as if to measure some enormous sum. “You would not believe the size of the contract we signed today. And I’m in the inner circle of stockholders. What do you think of 2% of a $10 billion dollar valuation?”

Lya’s mouth fell open. “Holy…”

Rian grinned. “Yeah. What do you say to dinner at Cheyenne’s tonight? You can order anything you like.”

Lya’s glowing eyes made all the early frustration worth it, as she mock drawled, “Well, if you’re not too busy…”