Canticle Blue

56. Breakup

Music - The Ice Faeries by David Arkenstone

Wind flowers
Every star
a comet
—Maire Meid

Gilon's Light became even more of a spectacle. With endless plumes of expelled debris and additional out-gassing from thousands of coring scars, the comet's atmosphere and tails now surpassed anything previously seen. From Havel, the comet was not only the brightest object in the night sky, but could easily be seen in daylight. From the Picarin, the view of the comet was comparable to the best historical sightings on Havel.

Under those conditions, the morning launch of the Hedra in cometary fog seemed ominous to the great crowd of observers gathered under the Terreska V-sky. Even Gilon compared the comet, in that setting, to depictions she had seen of hungry singularities. As brutish as the Hedra appeared, its size disadvantage tended to stifle optimism. But the endeavor was deemed an opportunity too great to waste.

In response to Gilon's impressions, as the Hedra nearly vanished in its approach to the comet, Annibet raised her eyebrows and asked, half-humorously, "At what point did we conclude that this would work?"

There would be no attempt to stop the comet's tumbling. Since it was also spinning, the thrust required could not be effectively applied. And there would not be time enough to stop movement in all three axes. So the Hedra proceeded to the most promising area near the middle of the comet and gently engaged its moving surface bow-first. After anchoring all six legs, the crew adjusted the angle of the thrust-frame and attempted to counter the spin.

It was soon apparent that the maneuver would not be effective in the short term. Either the legs sank too deeply into the surface or their anchors became too loose to function. The ship would then be forced to find other locations. But, since every comet-surface update was added to existing charts, each move gave the Hedra crew a better idea of places to try. After many hours of what seemed like total futility, there was a barely detectable decrease in the rate of rotation. Encouraged, then, to continue with what would become weeks of ceaseless effort, they finally succeeded.

With the time that remained, the Hedra now attempted to slow the comet down. The relentless tug-of-war between the ship and Havel's sun would continue until the Hedra was forced to give way.

With an unchanging view from the ship's bridge, piloting often became too tedious for humans. But, because of the comet's unpredictable surface and the possibility of re-introducing spin, they refrained from using the ship's automatic helm control. They continued to take shifts, but they were always glad to be relieved by Middi, who were willing to stay on the bridge for days at a time. They performed with great efficiency and enthusiasm, taking interest in every measurable velocity change.

As the comet's trajectory continued to bend towards the sun, Terreska was forced to stand off from it at greater and greater distances. The Hedra—eventually joined by the Arna—could not be moved from the sunward side of the comet and took considerable punishment. To the crew inside, the debris impacting the hull sounded like endless rain.

As Os Andis and others had predicted, Gilon's Light began to succumb to deceleration and gravitational stresses. The precisely measured distance between markers set at the poles of the comet began to decrease consistently. Fracturing started noticeably near the insertion point of the Hedra, quickly forming branches which widened. The ship's crew ceased operations immediately, and recalled all of the lianas. Then, seeing no stabilization in the fractures, both the Hedra and Arna backed away. The cracks continued to lengthen until they spanned the circumference of the comet and met on the other side. From that point on, flexion in the middle of the comet became very unpredictable. Only mutual gravity held the two halves together, and nothing more could be done.

At Perihelion, the comet held together for a time. As those aboard Terreska watched from a safe distance, it began to dive past the sun. For awhile, the observers could see it disappearing in flames. Finally it was obscured by the sun altogether. While they were waiting to see if any of the comet would survive, Terreska told a story:

"This is like when I came here...trying to slow down. We had felt the warmth of the sun, and then it fell away. There had been miscalculations of main engine thrust and fuel reserves... Many people were praying here, holding hands in circles. There was fear but not desperation. We found our way back... Some parts of this time are missing. The people came and went. I had the fullness of their company for several more years. Then I wandered. I was not as I am now. There was emptiness, but not sadness. My existence was simply what it was. How is one able to feel? It is a created thing, is it not? There was little power remaining onboard. Perhaps this time was like sleep. I remember coming back to their new home. They did not visit, and I had no means to stay. You were my happy ending."

When the comet became visible again, it was beginning to separate into two pieces. As they moved apart, they both continued to tumble and collided causing more fragmentation. Now there were three large remnants and countless smaller ones.

Terreska set a course for the debris field, even though it would be too close to the sun to approach for several weeks. During that time, as the tails of the three largest fragments began to fade, lianas from the Hedra, Castel, and Arna were dispatched to tag them with C-wave locater beacons. Each beacon transmitted one character of the Per'sa alphabet at regular intervals. The two larger ships managed to remain with their targets after tagging by staying ahead of them and avoiding their sunward sides. When it was relatively safe to do so, they engaged the fragments to slow them down and re-shape their trajectories. Before either ship could reach the smallest remnant, however, its beacon stopped transmitting. The cause of the failure could not be determined, and the fragment was too small to be located again.

Several months later, a fleet of seasoned space-farers, and their "icetroids" (as Maire Meid called them) arrived in the outer solar system, not at all in stealth modes, but with C-wave messages blaring. Whatever home had now become was their destination.