Chapter Three: COLD AS ICE
Moira hated the cryostasis pod. In training she'd had to go on three separate runs, one for a day, one for a week, and one for ten days, and each time she was safely defrosted, she'd felt cold for hours afterwards, even though the system was supposed to warm you up before it woke you. Physically, she had been at the correct temperature each and every time.
But the cold persisted, and she couldn't tell if it was real or imagined.
Built by combining human and mamono knowledge, the device used a scripted arcanomatrix, and projected a stasis field within its coffinlike housing, while powerful refrigerants were used to chill the now quantum locked subject down to absolute zero. The cold made the stasis "spell" function more efficiently, and both were maintained by the unit's built-in RTG. In theory, the device could keep a subject preserved indefinitely, as long as it had power.
Still, that didn't make it any less unnatural.
If she was being honest with herself, Moira's biggest fear involving the device was being frozen, something going wrong, and either waking up while still trapped in the stasis field, yet fully conscious, or being defrosted once the unit's power ran out, which could take centuries…
Weighing both possibilities, she couldn't decide which was more terrifying.
And that was in the face of the mountain of evidence that proved cryostasis was a safe, effective method of preservation for a stranded traveler, or even as a potential shortcut for the inevitable boredom of future interstellar travel, until faster drives became available.
The young skeleton kept mulling over the inevitable action she would eventually have to take, when her radio chirped: "Before you go to sleep, we have some tasks the team needs you to complete."
Over the next few hours, Moira found herself barely comprehending the tasks the team back at Earth had assigned to her. She fully understood each intended effect of what she was doing on its own. But combining all of the tasks together made her feel like they'd instructed her to practically rebuild the Icarus' entire drive section! Still, their plan made sense, given the limited resources she had available.
First, they'd had her venture back out onto the hull, and after scavenging what few shattered pieces of the drive rings remained attached, she'd managed to assemble one (somewhat) complete ring. It was mounted where the number one ring had once stood, and was too small by almost a third of its original diameter, but it was a complete ring in the most important sense: that it could confine and circulate exotic matter.
Next, they'd had her upload a program to the FTL control computer, and run cables directly to the jury-rigged ring, confirming that it could load and circulate exotic matter from the meager reserve she had left.
Then they'd had her wire the ansible, the damaged FTL, and the rescue beacon systems together. It made sense once she'd finished. The undersized drive ring could never propel the Icarus' shattered hulk home, but it could generate a false gravity signature, creating an artificial gravity pulse that resembled a small moon for fractions of a second.
The pulses were then modulated and encoded to carry data in a simple repeating pattern, containing a message in binary code: "SOS XFV 01 ICARUS ALIVE"
If a ship approached in normalspace, the remaining sensors would repeat the signal using the rescue system radio, and trigger it to activate its triangulation function, thus making locating the ship easier.
Finally, the system she had assembled would use the ansible to transmit a simple message containing the registration and identity of the ship that did ultimately find her, as well as the stellar coordinates that ship's own locating system was reporting relative to herself as a sort of fail-safe. It wasn't perfect, but it would give an arriving rescue vessel a far smaller, much more reasonable volume of space to search in the event the last system she'd had to rig up was activated between when she was initially found, and when rescue finally arrived.
The last thing they'd had her rig up was a way for the shortwave radar and remaining thruster systems to maneuver what was left of the Icarus around or away from any of the numerous pieces of cometary debris that populated the Oort Cloud. Both she and the engineers knew this could force her even further into deep space, but installing some spare visual cameras as limited star trackers ensured she'd return to the same relative position as when the system was activated.
While the deployed solar panels were of little use this far from the sun, they did provide a larger radar cross section for any incoming or passing ships to find, so she was grateful the team had chosen to deploy them. After all, every little bit helped, even if in the darker corners of her mind all of her efforts felt like a forlorn hope.
And now, after putting it off for as long as she could, it was time.
The skeleton sighed deeply to herself as she finished up her shower. The long hours of assembling the various systems a rescuer could use to locate her had taken their toll, and even if she was going to "sleep" for an indeterminate amount of time soon, it wasn't the same. You came out of cryostasis in pretty much the same condition that you went in, so she wanted to face her uncertain future clean, well-fed, and well-rested, at the very least.
Her pilot suit had gotten extremely ripe from all the exertion of turning the Icarus into a lifeboat, and was in the cleaning machine, and while there were shipsuits available, she didn't feel like getting dressed, so she finished drying off, and just went straight to brushing her teeth. She'd eaten enough rations, and drank enough water that she felt satisfied, and with an eight-hour rest period behind her, she was as ready as she was going to be.
Only one last thing to do.
"Mom?"
"Oh, my baby! Moira, are you ok?"
"Mom, I'm alive. I'm lost in space, but I'm alive."
"This almost makes it worse, you know. I know you're alive, but I can only hear your voice."
"Mom, I almost wish I had listened to you last year…"
"I know, I almost do too. But at the very least, you've made history. My little girl is famous!"
"Mom, it's not really that great. So what if I was first? I haven't returned yet, so it doesn't count."
"But you'll be in this stasis-thing until you're found, right? And since you've got my genes, we will see each other again."
"I know Mom, but, I'm scared. Cryo is… cold. Very cold."
"I'll wait for you. As long as it takes. If your father was still alive, he'd say that he was proud of you. And I am too."
"Thanks. I love you Mom."
"Love you too, Moira."
With that bit of conversation leaving a lump in her throat, Moira made her way to the suit cleaner, and waited the last few minutes until it signaled it was finished. Pulling the garment out, she inspected it for damage before draping it over one arm, and grabbing a spare suit liner from a shelf next to the cleaning machine.
From there, she made her way down to the habitat deck, and from there to the cryostasis unit. Even when deactivated, the thing caused fingers of ice to run up her bare spine. But there was no helping it, and she knew she'd go mad within the first week if she resisted, and stayed awake. So she began the procedure, checking that the device's liquid mana reserve was full, and ensuring the refrigerant lines were intact, before letting it run a diagnostic. While the diagnostic ran, she placed her pilot suit into a suit cradle beside the pod, and folded the liner neatly, before setting it on top of the chair bolted to the deck beside it.
Let's get this over with.
Diagnostics completed, the cryopod beeped, while the transparent lid swung upwards, releasing internal pressure with a hiss. Warm mist flowed over the edges, and pooled on the floor before dissipating, smelling faintly of spearmint. With a last look around, Moira ran her hands through her shoulder-length hair, and rippled the bony growths that ran up the sides of her torso. While her arms and legs from the knees and elbows out resembled a human arm, they were covered in a stiff growth that made the limb look like a cross between a normal limb, and bare bone, and that made attaching the sensors the pod needed to monitor her vitals tough to attach.
With a faint grumble, she climbed into the pod, and settled her rear into the custom cradle. The sensor probes for her forearms and shins had nanoscale needle pads to allow them to adhere, but it made them noticeably itch.
Not that that'll be an issue for long… She though morbidly.
The ones on her sternum, abdomen, hips, and shoulders at least didn't itch nearly as bad. The smell of the refrigerants was strong now, a faint odor of chemical overlaying the mint. The pod had already been programmed, so all she had to do now was hit the big green button by her right shoulder, and after she settled the final sensor lead onto her forehead, she did just that, and reclined into the remaining plates that contoured to her body.
Here goes absolutely nothing…
The pod activated with a low grumble, and an automated voice sounded.
Stasis mode: Triggered Wakeup.
Duration: Not set.
Please press the activation button to confirm.
One more button press, and the pod activated.
Please lay back, and relax.
Stasis engaging in five, four, three, two, one.
There was a not-flash, and Moira felt her mind shutting down. It was like going to sleep, except you couldn't shrug it off. Her eyes slid shut, her hearing grew indistinct, her breath stilled in her lungs, and she knew no more.
Once the stasis field around the subject stabilized, the cradling panels dropped down to the bottom of the pod, leaving the young skeleton suspended as if in zero gravity. Then the refrigerant flowed in, and covered her entire form completely, the bluish liquid already pre-chilled, and as soon as the pod's interior volume was full an external observer would have heard a faint crackling us the outermost layers of it began to freeze. Within twenty minutes, the entire pod interior was at near absolute zero, while the refrigerant continuously recirculated in a jacket closest to Moira's body.
Her long wait had begun.
