Energized Read Free Page A

was always with practical questions. About pressure suits, their related gear, and how soon anyone would come after them if comm should break down.…
    Fair enough. Knowing the limitations and vulnerabilities of the equipment could save a person’s life. Although Gabe wished he could share the excitement of discovery, the rocks were not going anywhere. Maybe Newbie would lighten up after he got more comfortable with his equipment.
    They glided past the infrared telescope. Good, Gabe thought, we’re halfway there. About all he understood about IR astronomy was that hot objects emitted infrared, so you wanted your infrared instruments kept cold to minimize their own intrinsic thermal noise. Behind its sunshield, Phoebe was about as cold as anywhere in Earth’s neighborhood ever got. The ’scope’s cryocooler, powered by the base nuclear reactor, kept the IR sensor colder still.
    He slowed or stopped whenever a surface feature caught his eye, but even a cursory look said most of these rocks were yet more carbonaceous chondrites and silicates. Two bits of stone he could not immediately identify went into his sample bag, for tests back at the station.
    He was curious about this tiny world, even if there was no point in discussing it.
    Isotope dating of previous samples said Phoebe was more than four billion years old. So why did it still exist? Its desiccated, rocky crust was not that impressive as an insulator. Had it always followed the orbit in which it had been discovered, swooping inside Earth’s own orbit, Phoebe’s ice would have sublimated long ago, its rocky remains dispersed into a short-period meteor shower. Of course if it had always followed that orbit, the Near-Earth Object Survey would have spotted Phoebe years earlier. Or Phoebe would have smacked Earth before anyone even knew about death from the sky.
    So: Phoebe had had another orbit, an orbit more distant from the sun. Planetary astronomers had yet to work out Phoebe’s original path and what planetary close encounter might have sent Phoebe diving at the Earth. Gabe guessed there was a Nobel waiting for whoever figured it out.
    As the Earth waned and the landscape faded into darkness, he had Oscar project a topo map on his HUD. The blinking red dot had them most of the way to the green dot representing the stranded bot. Pits and ravines, ridges and rocky jumbles leapt out of the map image. He tugged his tethers once, twice for reassurance.
    â€œLet’s stop for a minute,” Gabe called. New Earth was imminent, and Newbie was in for a treat. “Watch the limb of the planet.”
    Earth’s crescent became the thinnest of arcs, then disappeared.
    A pale, shimmering arch—part rainbow, part oil slick—emerged from the darkness. Phoebe’s sunshield. The free-flying Mylar disk that hovered above Phoebe warded off the sunlight that might yet boil away precious ice as boots and robot tentacles and, eventually, mining operations scraped through the insulating surface layers. The shield’s sun-facing side reflected most of the light that hit it. What little sunlight penetrated the shield—the bit they could see—was scattered by the backside’s granular coating.
    For an endless moment the arch, large but faint, was the brightest object in the sky. Then the trailing edge of the shield, too, slid into the Earth’s shadow, abandoning the sky to stars like chips of diamond.
    Now the sole clue to Earth’s presence was a hole in the star field. Even with eyes fully adjusted to the darkness, from this altitude Gabe could not spot any city lights. He could pretend that all was well below, that the world was not divided between energy haves and have-nots.
    â€œShow’s over,” Gabe said. He switched on his helmet lights. An instant later, Thad activated his own. “Pretty cool, though, don’t you think?”
    Thad only grunted.
    â€œSo, Thad. What were you making in the