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Our Inconstant Sun

It’s easy to think of the Sun as something eternal, unchanging. And from a perspective at the bottom of Earth’s protective blanket of atmosphere, the day star does appear as an unchanging disk of light moving across the sky from east to west. Yes, from time to time it appears to be devoured and regurgitated by some unseen entity, resulting in darkness in daytime, but as humans began to observe the movements of the other celestial bodies in the sky, they began to realize that it was in fact the Moon moving before the Sun and casting a shadow. As a result, it became possible to predict eclipses and avoid the panic that had previously accompanied these events.

It was only when Galileo trained a telescope upon the Sun that it was discovered that, far from being a perfect disk of light, it is in fact marred by dark patches, which we call sunspots. Over time, it was discovered that these sunspots follow regular patterns, and by the beginning of the Space Age, it was understood that these markings are magnetic storms caused by kinks in the Sun’s magnetic field, and they appear dark only in comparison to the rest of the solar disk.

It was also the Space Age that made sunspots and their effects in the solar neighborhood of more than abstract scientific interest. Even before the development of modern radio astronomy, there was an awareness that sunspots had effects on the operation of telegraphs, as witnessed the famous Carrington Event. Even more markedly, radio transmissions were affected by changes in the charge states of the upper atmosphere both as a result of the Earth’s diurnal cycle and the Sun’s much longer sunspot cycles.

But as human activity began to move beyond the Earth’s atmosphere, it became increasingly necessary to take solar activity into account. Even the relatively primitive satellites of those first years could be affected by space weather, and the more sophisticated microminiaturized components only became ever more vulnerable unless they were specifically hardened against system-generated electromagnetic pulse from charged particles in the solar wind.

In retrospect, the first decade of human spaceflight was incredibly lucky. That was a period of relatively low solar activity, often called the Years of the Quiet Sun. It helped that those early flights, particularly those which went beyond Earth’s protective magnetosphere, were of relatively short duration, which reduced the odds that crews would be exposed to elevated radiation.

All that changed with Zond 12, which was returning from an aborted attempt at a lunar landing when a major solar flare occurred. The thin-walled Soyuz spacecraft was little protection against the charged particles streaming toward the Earth-Moon system, and while the cosmonauts were able to reduce their radiation exposure somewhat by reorienting their spacecraft to put the service module between themselves and the Sun, it may well have only delayed the inevitable. Instead of dying immediately of life-support failure or radiation sickness, the cosmonauts survived to die some years later of leukemia and other cancers.

Although the Soviet space program sought to keep this disaster under wraps, enough information leaked out that NASA undertook a major redesign of the Manned Venus Flyby spacecraft to ensure that the astronauts would be protected against all but the most severe of solar storms. In the following years, as long-duration lunar missions developed into permanent moonbases, radiation shielding was always a consideration. While the Apollo Lunar Module might be adequate for a two or three day stay on the lunar surface, stays stretching into weeks or even months should have some form of shelter, even if it was nothing more than a space large enough for the astronauts to sit, covered by a protective blanket of lunar regolith.

With the development of actual settlements on the Moon, it became customary to bury all structures under a layer of regolith. With an expanded presence on the Moon, it became possible to use more extensive excavating equipment and to actually build within mountain ranges and the rim walls of craters, as well as inside lava tubes and other types of natural lunar caverns.

But even with this natural protection, it is necessary to remain continually aware of space weather and the hazards it poses to both humans and machines. Even with the extensive use of robotics, it is still necessary for human beings to suit up and make EVA’s on the lunar surface to do things robots cannot. And travel between settlements invariably involve a measure of exposure to potential radiation hazard. As a result, we keep a careful watch over the activity of the Sun, and issue watches and warnings as necessary, much as terrestrial weather forecasters issue tornado and severe storm watches and warnings.

Even within the largest of settlements, we have shelters to provide a measure of safety against the strongest of solar storms. With adequate warning, we can suspend operations that expose personnel to unnecessary hazards, and if necessary, withdraw into these areas deep under the water reservoirs which provide additional shielding.

—- Ursula Doorne, PhD, Leland Professor of Astronomy, Kennedy University Tycho, notes for an article on solar weather in the Space Age.

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Narrative

As If Things Aren’t Bad Enough

Spruance Del Curtin looked up at the big analog clock on the wall of the DJ booth. He still had half an hour left before he could sign off and head down to Innsmouth Sector. He was really tempted to play Van Halen’s “Hot for Teacher,” just to hear the line about the clock being slow.

On second thought, he did not need to draw attention to the fact that he was clock-watching right now, and especially not with that song. He hadn’t forgotten the time he’d ended up with one of the pilot-astronauts after his hide over an on-air wisecrack about his teacher before playing it. And I didn’t even know Sid was sweet on her until Ken Redmond hauled my ass down to his office and bawled me out.

And it seemed like Ken would never quite let him back off the naughty list. If anything, this new assignment that had him doing liaison work between Engineering and IT seemed to make it worse, since now he had two bosses he needed to watch his step around.

That was when he noticed a commotion outside. Yes, it was Ken, coming down the corridor at a fair clip, and from the look of things, something was very wrong.

And then the door was opening and Ken was stuffing a piece of paper in his hand. Actual paper, not a text message.

As soon as Sprue saw the NOAA headers on the message, he had to take a deep breath and recover his composure. No wonder Ken had torn it right off the printer and run it over here. Up here on the Moon, solar storms were one of the biggest dangers, right there with explosive decompression and hypercapnia.

Just a few days ago the Sun had “tossed a hairball,” pilot slang for a Coronal Mass Ejection. At least that one had been on a part of the Sun away from the Earth-Moon system, so it shot harmlessly into deep space. Which was a good thing, considering it was an X-class, close to the Carrington Event in power.

Thankfully the latest one was much weaker. However, it was aimed almost directly at them, and would soon be bathing Farside in dangerous hard X-rays and charged particles. Which meant that they had to get the warning out now to all the outlying habitats to suspend all EVA’s and re-route all travelers to shelter.

Now the big question would be whether everyone here in Shepardsport would need to retreat to the solar storm shelters under the settlement’s water reservoirs. Not only would it disrupt all work in progress except essential life-support activities, it would also mean the pilots and spaceport personnel who were avoiding contact with the rest of the settlement’s population could not maintain their quarantine.

What would that mean for everyone?

Maybe we’ll be lucky and the energy levels will be low enough that we won’t have to take shelter. But even as that thought came to him, Sprue knew he was whistling in the dark.

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Narrative

A Little Bit of Good News

Peter Caudell was just settling into his office to review some new designs when there was a tap on the door frame. He looked up to find one of the guys from Medical standing there.

“Just wanted to let you know, that guy down at Schirrasburg has tested clean. Apparently he just picked up an ordinary stomach bug.”

“That’s good to know. So when do they reopen their spaceport? I’ve heard they’re having some supply problems down there.”

“They were ready to open it back up tomorrow, but Johnson wants them to wait three days and test him again. Apparently that test has a higher false-negative rate than the big brains like.”

Peter didn’t like the news — he had some friends stuck over there, and they’d been talking about basic stuff running short. Bad enough that there’d been a fight over a roll of toilet paper that left both guys in the brig for the night, and rumint said certain women would put themselves out for a vacuum-sealed packet of coffee.

However, he could also understand the need for caution. Even ordinary diseases like the common cold would sweep through an entire settlement every time it showed up. He remembered more than one incident from his first stay up here, back when he had new-minted gold wings and the Roosa Barracks was just “the moonbase.”

“Let them know that we’ll be ready to resume shipments as soon as we’ve got the all-clear.”

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Narrative

The Weight of Knowledge

Spruance Del Curtin would’ve liked to continue his text conversation with Chandler Armitage. However, there’d been no way to prolong it when he had an air shift to do.

And there was also the problem of broaching the subject he really wanted to discuss. Especially now that he’d been moved into a position where he actually knew what those data sets represented, Dr. Doorne had reiterated even more strenuously the absolute importance of information security.

Which was a completely reasonable requirement if her concern was that he’d go blabbing to all his buddies so that they’d be suitably impressed with the Important Work he was doing. He was no statistician, but he could see some very dangerous trends in those numbers. Implications that could very well create the very panic they were working to forestall.

On the other hand, it was a very different matter to be discussing it with Chandler, who was a naval aviator and a pilot-astronaut with enough background to actually understand what he was looking at, instead of just getting scared by those numbers and freaking out. But if someone were to gain access to his text records, they’d just see that he’d broken security and never notice or care about the qualifications of the person on the other end of the connection.

Which meant he needed to sit tight for the next three and a half hours, doing his air shift as if nothing were at all out of the ordinary — well, other than the fact that they were trying to keep a pandemic off the Moon. Once he got off shift, he could head down to Innsmouth Sector and talk to Chandler face to face — or at least as close to it as was possible with a sheet of moonglass between them and separate air circulation systems.

Maybe he’d better check and make sure whatever system transmitted their words didn’t have a record function. Damn, but it would be embarrassing to have a long talk with Chandler, and then discover every word of it was recorded and could be used to hang him out to dry.

Hadn’t one of the really early space station crews gotten into trouble because a conversation they’d assumed to be private was captured by the on-board recorders and was subsequently transmitted back to JSC for examination?

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Under a Shadow

Although Lou Corlin understood why Brenda Redmond had insisted on being the only one to take her friend’s situation to Medlab, he really wished she’d let him join her. It wasn’t like he was a little kid who needed to be protected from potential fallout. He was a legal adult, and he was accustomed to shouldering adult responsibilities.

Still, once Brenda had made that decision, he pretty much had to respect it. She hadn’t completely shut him out of the loop — she’d let him know that higher-ups on Medstaff were looking at the situation, which indicated that she hadn’t gotten into immediate trouble. But she’d made it clear to him that she wanted him to stay out of it from here on out, if only to protect him from any possible fallout.

So here he was at the station offices, having finished his air shift, listening to the Timeline Brothers cracking jokes and generally cutting up. The Alternative Lunch was both alternative music and alternate history, and today’s book was about a world in which space exploration stopped after the early lunar landings instead of consolidating those gains for a push to Mars. Needless to say, the Timeline Brothers pretty clearly considered the whole idea ridiculous. Why would either the US or the old USSR put all that much money and effort into building a space infrastructure to go to the Moon, and then abandon it all?

Except he recalled something Cather Hargreaves had said when talking about their ur-brother’s narrow escape and its historical significance, which only made sense if one presupposed that such a world did indeed exist. Lou knew that Cather and his family listened to Shepardsport Pirate Radio pretty often, even if it wasn’t exactly a station in good odor with command over at Grissom City. What would Cather think to hear those remarks?

As Lou came out to the front office, he noticed Cindy Margrave gathering up her belongings. She was usually out by the time he’d finished the handoff and logged his final set of songs, but today she must’ve had to deal with something at the last minute and was running late.

“How are things going?”

“As well as they can, given the situation.” Cindy was trying to sound positive, probably from the habits of working here, even if she was now off duty.

“Want to walk to the dining commons together and talk?”

Cindy hesitated, then agreed that, given they both worked here, it would probably pass muster as professional rather than personal.

After a little shop talk, Lou finally broached the subject more directly. “How’s things going with Amy?”

Cindy glanced away, a momentary visual flinch. “We’re in contact, but they still won’t let her have her phone back. Everything’s coming through someone at that makeshift orphanage of theirs, like they don’t trust her to communicate directly.”

“And they’re probably acting like you should be grateful they allow her to communicate at all with someone who’s under a Writ of Expulsion.” Lou might not work in the newsroom, but he was all too aware of the political situation.

“Ain’t that the truth.” Cindy was definitely shedding her professional receptionist persona and letting her teenage self back out. “I don’t think the people running that place appreciate the idea that one of their charges has connections. They don’t dare completely cut her off from the outside universe, but they sure want to make sure only things that make them look good get out.”

“Color me shocked.” Although Lou wasn’t usually much for sarcasm, right now it seemed appropriate.

Then he switched back to a more serious tone. “So how are her folks doing?”

“Not well. Apparently her dad didn’t make it, and even if her mom pulls through, she’s going to need a lot of regeneration. And that’s assuming she can even get it, and they don’t just go here’s your wheelchair, here’s your prosthetics.”

“Which means that in either case, she’s not going to be in any shape to take custody of her children for a long time, and with things in such complete chaos, there’s no way to get in contact with extended family unless they’re right there in Houston.”

“Which they aren’t, as I understand. She’s got grandparents somewhere in Kansas or Nebraska, but that’s assuming they haven’t succumbed to that virus. Even if travel weren’t pretty much shut down right now, there’s no way they’d be sending children off to stay with elderly and vulnerable family members. So it looks like she’s going to be stuck indefinitely, with the staff being as crazy controlling as Brenda’s afraid her friend’s parents are.”

“Not a good situation. But at least it sounds like she’s alive and healthy, and this thing isn’t sweeping through that place like a prairie fire through dry grass.”

Cindy admitted that it did appear that way, as long as the staff wasn’t fabricating responses in an effort to conceal a far worse situation. In any case, they were approaching the entrance to the dining commons. It was probably best for them to enter separately, since they’d probably sit with their own friends and family.

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Narrative

A Promised Meeting

Getting back to Shepardsport had proven harder than Chandler Armitage had anticipated. He’d been supposed to fly straight back, but just as he was heading down to do the final checks on his lander, he’d gotten the word that he was needed to take some parts and supplies out to a minor outpost that had experienced a critical failure. Yes, they did have backup systems, but those systems are like a spare tire on a car. They’re designed to carry you far enough to get your primary systems repaired or replaced, no more.

At least the people at the outpost had the necessary skill sets to do the repair on their own, so the delivery was just a matter of using a robot to set the boxes out on the lunar regolith. The settlers had send their own robot out to retrieve them, and all communication had been via radio. Neither Chandler nor his pilot had needed to get out of the lander, let alone enter the outpost’s habitat.

In the old days — had it only been a few months? Already it felt like an eternity ago — they probably would’ve been welcomed inside, maybe even fed supper and invited to stay overnight to rest. Most modern outposts had a sufficiently elastic oxygen budget that they could extend hospitality to the occasional visitors. It wasn’t just a matter of building in redundancy to absorb shocks, although that was an important engineering principle. There was also the human factor, the need to make connections with the larger world at a personal level, not just voices on a speaker and images on a screen.

A problem that remained even now that he was home — or at least as much home as this settlement could ever be. He still felt homesick for his native New Hampshire, and wondered what had become of his mother when President Flannigan had cracked down on the Granite State’s resistance to his policies against clones and replaced her with a governor of his own choosing.

It always comes back worst when I’m not busy. He considered that thought. Normally he would have plenty to occupy himself. Not just his professional duties, overseeing the maintenance of his lander, keeping himself up to date on training and his secondary specialty, but also social activities here or in whatever settlement he was visiting.

But the current crisis meant that last was no longer an option. He understood why it was necessary for the pilots to stay down here, away from the rest of the settlement. Hell, some of the scuttlebutt he was hearing from his old flying buddies from his carrier days was downright terrifying. But the loss of his usual diversions made it altogether too easy to brood.

On the other hand, he did have some unfinished business to take care of. Although he’d been raised in a regular family — or as regular as a family can be when one parent is a senior politician — he appreciated the importance of astronaut lineages among his clone-brothers who’d grown up in the NASA clone creche.

Yes, there was Spruance Del Curtin’s text. Might as well see if he was where he could talk about whatever the data was that was bothering him so much.

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Narrative

Disappointment

At least we’re doing this privately. Brenda Redmond still felt like a kid called to the principal’s office, sitting in Dr. Thuc’s private office in the back recesses of Medlab.

The older woman gave her a sad look, the sort Brenda had come to associate with an authority figure who had expected better of you. Maybe it had been a mistake to bring her concerns about Robbie Sandberg’s situation here to Medlab.

At least you didn’t drag Lou Corlin or his family into it. As far as anyone here will know, you came here entirely on your own initiative, based on your friendship with Robbie.

“Ms. Redmond.” Dr. Thuc kept her voice level, professional, even if her eyes could not quite hide her attitude about the situation. “I have looked over the information you gave Dr. Gorman. I agree that it is concerning, but there are very strict standards for what qualifies as cause to believe that a person is in immediate danger that justifies what would normally be a breach of privacy. After talking with the judge advocate general at Grissom City, we’ve agreed that there simply is not enough evidence in this one brief and admittedly disorganized message to conclude that we are dealing with a situation that involves actual risk of domestic violence, as opposed to teen angst about difficulties with adult authority.”

Brenda swallowed hard. No. I will not burst into tears. I will not sulk or pout. I will not behave like a thwarted child. I’m a grown woman and I have a reputation to uphold, as a mother, as an Air Force officer’s wife, as a DJ at Shepardsport Pirate Radio.

But she could feel her lower lip wobbling, the tears of frustration welling up in the corners of her eyes. Dammit, it was so unfair, that some bureaucratic hoop she couldn’t quite get through was making it impossible to find out whether Robbie was safe, or if the very act of trying to contact her could put her at risk of her parents’ irrational hatred of clones.

She took a deep breath. It required a major effort of will to force her voice into the professional tones she would use on the air while reporting a solar storm warning. “Then what evidence would you need to see?”

Was that the hint of a smile on Dr. Thuc’s lips, a shadow of regret? “You know I can’t tell you that, Ms. Redmond.”

Brenda had expected that answer. Given the situation, her question could very well be interpreted as, what do you need to see so I can fake it? never mind that she’d actually meant how can I present the evidence better?

However, Dr. Thuc wasn’t finished speaking. “However, it may be possible to arrange for contact to be made by a neutral individual, someone who is less likely to arouse the ire of her parents. If that enables us to ascertain her situation, we can determine how to proceed.”

“Thank you.” The words sounded so forced that Brenda felt she had to repeat them, to try to get some genuine emotion in them. “Thank you so much.”

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The Russian Perspective

From: Vitali Grigorenko <vigrigorenko@imkosmos.ru>

To: Autumn Belfontaine <ambelfontaine@nasa.gov>

Subj: Academician Voronsky

You are correct in being concerned about the reliability of the reports of Academician Voronsky having sequenced the genome of the diablovirus. Neither of the publications you cite are in any way considered reliable sources within the Russian Empire.

However, inquiries to the life sciences department here at Gagarinsk have resulted in rumint of some preliminary reports on such a project. While it appears there is evidence of some success, it would be very easy for non-experts to grossly over-estimate or under-estimate the significance of these successes in practical applications against the current crisis. As a result, it would be best at this point in time to avoid any public report of these results.

That being said, I would strongly advise you to keep open channels of communication with your own settlement’s life sciences people. They may be able to help you to form a clearer understanding of the significance of information as it comes in, or make available to you materials from the journals and other resources in their specialties.

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Routes Forward

As soon as Brenda Redmond received the text from Dr. Thuc, she could tell it had to be bad news. I need to talk to you, stat. was not a good sign.

Could she be in trouble, just for asking whether it was possible for anyone in Medlab to check on Robbie’s location? Although she hadn’t considered her inquiry unreasonable, old memories lingered from childhood. She’d caught two teachers in a row who were very close to retirement, and who had rather old-fashioned notions about the proper bounds of children’s curiosity. Both of them also considered public humiliation an excellent aid to memory.

But there was no time to dwell upon the past, not when she needed to focus on the present situation. Which meant finding the necessary fortitude to present herself at Medlab, mentally prepared for whatever response she received.

At least this message hadn’t come through in the middle of her air shift at Shepardsport Pirate Radio. However, receiving it while she was supposed to be helping teach a class was awkward in its own way. No, her senior teacher was not pleased that she should be summoned away, and clearly considered it to be something she’d brought down upon herself.