RECOVERED LOGS: CHARACTERISTICS OF CORAL - 6

Coral Convergence is the name of the phenomenon that attracts Coral to itself. The means and method by which this is accomplished remain unknown, but are suspected to be related to many of the anomalous, miraculous properties of Coral. The phrase 'spooky action at a distance' has been referenced several times in relation to this.

When Coral is separated from other Coral organisms, it will attempt to rejoin those organisms. Coral organisms do not maintain structures for self-propelled movement, but remain motile regardless. Coral is capable of remaining airborne for extended periods of time, despite lacking glide structures, and despite possessing significant enough weight to be drawn to the ground by gravity.

The more Coral is present in the environment, the stronger the Convergence effect is. While it has never reached a level considered to be dangerous outside of corresponding increases in risk of Surging, it is still notable.

This phenomenon is also one of the causes of Coral Density. While artificially increasing the density of Coral in a space is possible, it has to be done by placing Coral under pressure. If pressure exceeds the Convergence effect, then ceasing the pressure will cause a burst. As this is usually achieved by a container being breached, this usually results in a brief Surge that causes an explosive burst.

2.2

It took the better part of four days for the drillship to make it to the surface. A lot of that, admittedly, was me being perhaps a little overcautious. However, considering the time, resources, and effort I'd devoted to this project, I hadn't wanted to lose it, and I definitely hadn't wanted to accidentally alert the PCA

So, careful it was. The drillship moved slowly, chewing through a few hundred metres at a time before stopping and checking its surroundings with low powered ground penetrating radar and sonar. From there, I'd change its course, aim for the softer earth if there was any, and repeat. Occasionally I'd wait a bit longer or go a bit earlier, and I'd vary the distance a little bit, too, all in the name of not creating a completely predictable pattern just in case someone did happen to be picking up on any quakes or vibrations I was causing.

It was a reasonable concern, especially with Ice Worm floating around somewhere. The absolute last thing I needed right now was Ice Worm deciding that the drillship was a threat.

To that end, I sent the drillship quite a far distance sideways before I sent it upwards.

It had been the dead of night when the drillship breached the surface, but nobody would have thought that if they saw the sky at that time.

From a glance, one could have assumed that the sky was burning, with shifting waves of red and orange stretching from horizon to horizon, casting the vast sheets of ice below into a baleful glow. The thing is, that assumption wasn't that far from the truth.

That was Coral, most of it dead, some of it inert, a very small portion surging, and a miniscule amount of it still active, sustaining the wave of immolation that swept through Rubicon's skies.

It was the mere remnants of the Fires of Ibis, a trifling, meagre glimpse of that all-consuming wave of blazing power. It had lingered for over two decades already, and chances are, it would stick around for decades more.

The scene brought a tinge of melancholy to me, seeing the all too literal aftermath of Nagai's decision, and knowing that it was entirely possible it would end up happening all over again.

But I'd spent more than enough time thinking about that matter, and so I pushed it aside for the moment.

That wave of fire was floating through the upper edge of the mesosphere, breaching quite a distance into the thermosphere at times. At that distance, the presence of the Coral within was nothing more than the barest whisper in my mind, noticeable only because some of it was surging and some of it was burning. There was nothing I could do about that, not right now.

So, instead, I focused on the ice fields.

First thing I found out?

There's not a lot happening in the ice fields.

That wasn't very much of a surprise to me. It had been a cold, desolate place before the Fires of Ibis, and it was only colder and more desolate now after the Fires obliterated all the greenhouse effects from Human industries on the planet. The Grids, the massive superstructures that stretched across the planet like, ironically enough, coral reefs, were concentrated mostly on the continent of Belius and other non-polar landmasses.

Well, mostly non-polar. The northern pole had a long extension that actually stretched down quite significantly, covered in ice most of the way. That was where I currently was. A small portion of the planetary landmass, in total.

But that, combined with the vast sheets of stable ice, had made it an attractive prospect for the spaceport regions of the planet. Institute City was built out here precisely because it was out of the way, the 'reception' zone for the massive industrial complex that spanned the rest of this world. There were dozens of spaceports and refuelling stations out in the ice fields, Bertram being the biggest.

The thing is?

Institute City had been out of way, but it had been supported by the the rest of the planet. They'd built multiple intercontinental cargo launchers just to keep up the full needs of the city, after it had been planned. When the Fires of Ibis happened?

Most of those were wrecked.

None of them were in a state to continue operations- and Institute City had been buried alongside the Vascular Plant regardless. All the civilian facilities that could have kept the place self-sustaining no longer existed.

The ice fields were almost completely abandoned now. Only the PCA maintained a watch here, and that was only because the PCA had known the location of Institute City. Their watch was limited at best, since they didn't want to give the game away, but nobody else was looking regardless.

Surviving out here was too much effort, for what was apparently no reward at all.

On Belius, at least, you'd have the cover of the Grids overhead. In the ice fields, if the PCA noticed you? No cover from the satellites over here.

With all of that combined?

There wasn't actually a lot for me to do up here. Plenty of bases, sure, but the big ones were certainly being watched. Even if I had a reason to go after them, which I didn't because it wasn't like I was currently in need of supplies, that would have called down the PCA.

I couldn't even stay up here forever, either. The drillship didn't have much in the way of emissions outside of active sensors, but it still stuck out like a sore thumb in most other ways. The longer it was up on the surface, the higher the chance there was of a stray satellite picking it out. The storm of fire overhead was a blessing in that regard, at least. It... blocked visuals and most other sensors... quite nicely.

...

Hmm.

You know... that sounds like an opportunity.

If I remember correctly, and I do because I don't forget things anymore, then there were a number of smaller outposts out in the ice fields. Most of them had just been communications relays, nothing of any real importance, but still useful. They were a secondary communications line mostly, but still tapped into the network at large.

Were they still active? Maybe. Maybe not. It could go either way. The Fires of Ibis had prompted significant geographical changes on account of burying an entire fucking city and the Vascular Plant alongside it, so who knew about those smaller places...

But still, it was worth a shot, and I was reasonably certain that most of the damage was... 'localised'. Quotation marks required.

I pulled up a map from one of the computers in Institute City.

If I was right, and that was fair game at this point, then... one of the ice shelves near the drillship looked to be roughly the same as one from before the Fires. A bit more... droopy, melted and refrozen if I was guessing correctly, but roughly the same.

If they were the same, then the closest station... actually wasn't that far away. I'd want to turn the drillship about thirty degrees to the right and head off... about thirty four kilometres. The drillship was surprisingly fast, but that trip was straight line distance, and didn't account for the uneven terrain. It was mostly ice, snow, and a bit of rock, so it wasn't the worst slowdown that could be experienced, but even so...

That was going to be several hours.

Would the flame cover last me that long?

...

Harder to judge, there. Especially with a lack of long-term data to judge against. Taking into account what I knew about the Coral Convergence phenomenon and therefore considering the entire volume of the fire storm as a whole rather than any individual parts...

If I got lucky, I'd have about five hours to get there, get in, and get out. The storm wouldn't be completely gone by then, but the bulk of it would, and the bulk of the obscuration with it. I'd shave an hour off of that for margin of error because I really didn't want to risk the PCA.

So, four hours.

I... could make that trip. It would just mean being rather less careful with the constant checking. And probably also stopping a bit further away and letting the MTs and maintenance drones close the rest of that distance, since a giant mount of displaced ice would be quite the clue that something had been there.

The ice fields saw a pretty constant stream of snow, so those tracks would vanish within the week on their own, at least.

Well, if nothing else, I could just have the drillship bury itself somewhere out of direct line of sight. Keep an eye on the sky and start up again when the storm passes through once more.

Yeah, why not?

I sent the commands, and off the drillship went.

I found the place in just under three and a half hours. That was a pretty good time, in my opinion. Good news; it was still mostly intact. Better news; it was still operational.

Best news? I couldn't detect anybody nearby. The station was on auto, and it had been for a while judging by the buildup of ice around the place.

I had a window here, and I was going to use it.

The drillship surfaced completely, and then the back of it opened up. I didn't deploy everything, just one of the MTs to open up space and then ten of the maintenance drones.

The MT wasn't actually useful here. It wouldn't have even fit inside the building. I just needed it out of the way.

The drones, though? They were great. They could be surprisingly zippy for their size.

The next twenty minutes would have been nail-biting and nerve-wracking if I'd had either nails or nerves, but I didn't, and that was great.

The drones arrived at the front door in three minutes, and breached the electronic lock after one more. It was fairly old, a solved model already, so that was no surprise. Once they were in, they took another two minutes to make a beeline to the important parts of the building; the antenna, the relays, the computers- all of that.

With direct access to the physical components, it only took them ten minutes to breach the security on them. Sixteen minutes down, and the storm was beginning to look uncomfortably thin.

The moment I had control of the computers, I disabled as much of the other security measures as I could. The facility did have functions that would let it act as a warning station if it was set up for that, but lucky me, it currently wasn't. I set it all up for remote control, had my drones put everything back where they'd found it, and then had them skedaddle out the door, locking it up behind them. That was eighteen minutes, then fifteen seconds to get them all put away in the drillship again.

I set the drillship digging, putting it a few dozen metres below the ground, where a casual scan wouldn't take notice of it.

I wouldn't be able to send the drillship too far off, not without breaking contact with the station. That was fixable in the future, at least.

Right now, though?

I had some information to go through.