One minute later—Na-Yeli flies a holding pattern in the green regions of strange detractors that are coming and going, closest to the Diaphragm Gate—the probes return, but their measurements do not include extreme soundscapes. To the contrary, it’s relatively quiet out there, and their readings closely match the ones from their previous pass-through: an atmosphere of 89% N2, 10% O2, traces of noble gases, and the usual high amount of metal particles—in particular, Cu, Ni, Al, and Si—while the pressure is quite a bit higher at 3.78 bar. Yet that’s nothing neither she nor the Moiety Alien cannot take. The problem is the temperature. It’s a sweltering 1313 ºK in there, which will burn them all to a cinder.
The anti-speakers she so carefully kept are useless. What they really need is a top-of-the-line cooling system and a triple-staged heat pump, which she most certainly doesn’t want to fabricate from scratch here. A ping from her alarm settings warning her that their outer magnetic field has dropped below 60% reminds her why. There’s nothing to it, but go back to the Core and see if they can get enough material together for a sufficiently efficient heat pump. If she weren’t so taut with fear and adrenalin, Na-Yeli would curse Murphy and all the other bringers of bad luck. Just as she thought they were doing okay, considering the horrifying circumstances. Inner system and Faraday cage functionality are up from 68% to 70% as they repair damage quicker than it happens. Now, she redirects repair units to the exoskin. Then again, a couple of nasty hits, and they’re done for. And the Moiety Alien has become dangerously quiet.
And now they have to go back.
Back through the ever-changing areas of strange detractors, the false-green-colored semi-safety predicted by strange attractor savants. —this is not as bad as it looks— the communication AI signals —the hypersounders now have a pretty good sense of the place, and their predictions of the strange attractors are getting better—
“Every second in here is one too long,” Na-Yeli says, as she turns them all around for the trip back to the Core through the other half of the Strange Hail layer, “as it clearly shows that not only Murphy does play dice, but relishes it, as well.”
Na-Yeli goes as fast as she can, not afraid to waste some energy as she should be able to recharge her batteries in the Core. Typically, as they make their way back, the healthy readings of the superconducting exoskin go up while those of the inner systems go down before settling again, as damage inflicted and repairs are more or less running at the same rate. For the third time since they entered here, Na-Yeli feels a short, sharp stab of pain, as if an infinitely sharp razor has just cut right through her body. And in a sense, that’s precisely what it is.
However, she is an enhanced human being with hyperactive biological repair systems. As long as the Strange Hail doesn’t cut the nerve connection that regulates her heartbeat—which reminds her: she should make a pacemaker as backup if and when they get back to the Core—or makes too large holes in her brain (surprisingly, small ones are not only much less damaging, but also much faster to repair). A large hole straight through her heart, though...
The return trip, on the other hand, is much more exhausting. On their way to the Doom Bells diaphragm, she was in the zone. Taut with stress, but in a good way, as the die was cast, the Rubicon crossed, the Gordian knot cut. They were committed and would either make it or die trying. The fierce adrenalin flow—she suspects KillBitch is surreptitiously enhancing it—made her feel intensely alive, while her brain—she reckons LateralSys is somehow optimizing her analytical thinking—was running at full throttle, as in control of everything as was possible under the circumstances. All magnified by the acute focus on the goal: they would either make it, or not. But fate refuses to be binary and throws them a third option.
Deep in her mind, she knows that they have to get back alive, then regroup, recuperate, and repair for a new effort. But now her razor-sharp focus is dulled by disappointment; almost there, but not quite yet. So close, and still so far away. Taking a step back is never as energizing as taking that leap of faith.
So, while she still concentrates like crazy, she’s more aware of the irritating details, the little wrong things. As tranquilizers surge through her body while it’s repairing the damage of her third direct hit, she’s not ignoring the pain and minor malfunctions but experiencing them in an irritating manner. As the health stats of the three systems go up and down, the drops worry her more than the rises encourage her. On the return trip, her glass of hope is definitely half empty.
But she grinds her teeth, even as the Moiety Alien has succumbed to total immobility. As if sensing her mood, the communication AI tries to raise her spirits.
—notice how the strange attractors get redder and better defined, and so do the strange detractors— it signals —the hypersounders are slowly grokking the strange hail—
“Fat good that does us,” Na-Yeli says with a vicious snarl, “we’re going back.”
—we’re still alive; we might make it and come back to fight another day—
“Clichés, clichés.”
—quite often, these are true—
“What do the hypersounders think?” Na-Yeli decides to change the subject.
—intellectually, they know they’re in tremendous danger but don’t quite feel it like we do— the communication AI signals —compared to their initial existential angst, it’s nothing, they say. so they handle this as an extremely urgent yet interesting problem, throwing all their resources toward solving it—
“Got to admit, they’re doing a bang-on job.”
—they know it’s imperative. they also experience strange areas of absolute stillness, where all sound suddenly disappears. mind you, zero decibels is as deadly to them as one-hundred-and-ninety-four decibels for us—
“The same way we don’t like a vacuum,” Na-Yeli says, then realizes who she’s talking to, “at least, I do.”
—if boredom would hurt, a vacuum would be painful to me—
Na-Yeli cuts off the chitchat before it becomes too distracting. Well, their systems seem to fight off the damage, as they’re fluctuating between 50 and 70%. They are closing in on the Core’s Diaphragm Gate. Then Murphy strikes. The green detractors—areas of minimal Strange Hail—in front of them disperse and are replaced by a large, red attractor—an area of maximal Strange Hail. Na-Yeli sees that they’re going too fast to avoid it; it appeared so quickly. Moving even quicker—powered by the fear of instant death—Na-Yeli orders the autopilot to take them through the Core’s Diaphragm Gate and settle in their previous orbit, but then in retrograde direction (so maybe then they’ll move in the other timeline direction, maybe back to a time when the mountainous strangelet balls are still intact, Na-Yeli never surmised she would welcome them back), in case she doesn’t make it through that monstrosity in one piece.
There is no way around it; they have to go through it. She aims their craft at—what she hopes is—the red attractors’ thinnest segment, and in they dive.
Pain, immense pain...
System healthy stats dropping like flies...
Strikes in her body, heart, and brain...
Red in her eyes, red in her veins, red in her soul...
She’s passing out. Her last thought: at least I gave it all I got.
Author’s note: maybe I misled you and Forever Thrilled is not 25 parts but only 5. Can Na-Yeli & Co survive this? And even if they do, how can they get through this ultimate deathtrap again? Many thanks for reading, and stay tuned to see if there will be a Part 6…