The Galaxy, and the Ground Within by Becky Chambers (best novels in english .txt) 📕

offset by flashes of flame. The debris had grown thicker, and chaotic though it was, the longer Speaker looked, the more she began to see shapes. Angles. Jagged edges. The occasional glint of shattered photovoltaic blue.

‘Satellites,’ Speaker said. ‘It’s the satellites.’

Roveg stepped forward beside her, his many pointed feet tapping the ground. His voice came out a whisper. ‘It’s all the satellites.’

Day 236, GC Standard 307

SHELTER

Received message

Encryption: 0

From: GC Transit Authority – Gora System (path: 487-45411-479-4)

To: Ooli Oht Ouloo (path: 5787-598-66)

Subject: URGENT UPDATE

This is an urgent message from the Emergency Response Team aboard the GC Transit Authority Regional Management Orbiter (Gora System). As both standard ansible and Linking channels are currently unavailable, we will be communicating via the emergency beacon network for the time being. We ask that you leave your scribs locked to this channel until proper communications are restored.

This is an emergency. Please shelter within your ships, homes, or any other reinforced structure until you receive an all-clear message from the GCTA. Habitat domes may not provide adequate protection against large debris that survives reentry.

Please prepare to continue sheltering for at least one GC standard day.

At this time, the Goran satellite network is experiencing severe cascade collisions and orbital destabilisation. As this unexpected event is still developing, we cannot provide full details as to the nature of this system failure. However, we are working closely with Goran Orbital Cooperative representatives in orbit to assess the situation, and our joint agencies are working as fast as possible to provide you with more detailed information.

As the Goran Orbital Cooperative is likewise unable to access standard comms channels on the surface, the GCTA will be handling public updates for as long as necessary.

We do not yet have an estimate as to when an all-clear will be possible. We are asking all travellers to anticipate a delay of approximately one GC standard day. We understand this will cause major disruptions to travel plans, but launches and landings pose extreme risk in current conditions. Any attempts to travel to or from the Goran surface at this time will result in an immediate suspension of your pilot’s licence and possible confiscation of your vessel by the GCTA (provided your vessel remains intact).

Thank you for your patience. We are all in this together.

ROVEG

Roveg returned to his shuttle as fast as his legs would carry him. The hatch shut behind him, and he felt profound gratitude as he heard it thud into place. He stood motionless in the airlock, unsure of what should come next. He’d never been in a situation like this. He was aware that all civilised life ran on machines and constructs. Such things were the bedrock of his work, and he knew this truth well. But possessing the intellectual knowledge that infrastructure can break was a far cry from watching it break in real time. He didn’t know what to do with that.

Even so, the orbital calamity still in progress wasn’t the thing making him quietly panic – or at least, not the primary thing. No, the thought making his frills twitch and his spiracles widen was:

Am I going to be late?

‘Friend,’ he said loudly. The AI was everywhere and there was no need to yell, but shouting seemed the only reasonable thing to do under the circumstances. ‘I need to make some calculations.’ There was no point in telling the AI this. It wasn’t a command, or a question. A non-sentient model would take nothing away from the statement other than the fact that one of its computational programs would soon be running, which, in turn, would mean absolutely nothing to a utility without an agenda of its own. Roveg wasn’t talking for Friend’s sake. He was stating his intent, voicing the first step in an actionable plan. He hurried down the hall toward the control room, passing windows as he went. Through them, he could see the sky burning. A chunk of metal was briefly visible before being swallowed in the heat of its own freefall.

‘Friend, please shade the windows, maximum opacity,’ Roveg said. Friend obliged, and the plex windows shifted into a pleasing bedtime purple. The ambient lighting adjusted as well, increasing its warmth. Roveg flexed his thoracic legs in approval as he moved down the hall. It was enough to know something awful was going on. He didn’t need to look at it.

Status panels leapt to life as he entered the control room, readying themselves for his instructions. ‘Friend, please access our current travel route.’ At his command, a star chart filled the display, drawing his course in a neat brushstroke of pixels. The small yellow light that represented the Korrigoch Hrut was three-quarters of the way to its destination. ‘Please calculate our arrival date if we were to leave Gora one – no, two – standard days from now.’ The emergency alert had stated only one day, but better to be over-prepared than under.

The yellow light zipped along its course, and a series of numerical dots displayed themselves alongside (unlike language, math was something Roveg always preferred to do in Tellerain; his brain disliked translating numbers). Their results were calculated, and Friend delivered the conclusion: ‘At our current rate of fuel consumption, the altered departure date would result in an arrival time delayed by five days.’

Anxiety ran laps through Roveg’s body. He’d meticulously planned this trip to allow for a three-day buffer zone before his appointment, in case of any mishaps (plus time to rest and breathe and summon some courage). Three days had seemed generous, at the time. But now Friend was telling him he was at risk of being five days later than planned. Five days would mean he’d miss his appointment entirely. ‘How does a two-day delay result in a five-day difference in arrival time?’ he asked, trying (and failing) to keep his voice from shaking.

‘A delay at Gora is likely to cause a further delay at Bushto,