Ishtar Rising (Book 2) - Michael A. Martin [9]
“I hope Dr. Saadya recalls that I suggested he do just that before this fiasco started.” This time the voice belonged to Lieutenant Commander Corsi, who sounded extremely unhappy. Soloman was content not to be the target of the security chief’s clearly audible anger.
He noticed that the numbers had begun drifting again. His eyes felt as though they were about to launch from his head like a pair of photon torpedoes. “I’m not quite sure what I should be improvising, Commander Gomez.”
“If we all knew the outcome in advance, Soloman,” Stevens cut in, “then it wouldn’t be improvising, now, would it?”
Soloman knew that his people weren’t noted for their real-time improvisational skills. They were far more comfortable with laying out and following carefully planned, methodically executed lines of code.
But he could also see that he was rapidly losing control of the numbers. He felt certain that even the basic mathematical shapes and outlines would soon elude him. At least two more critical force-field nodes were in imminent danger of becoming unstable, threatening a lethal chain reaction.
“So much detail,” he said as the numbers took wing. It took a moment for him to realize that he had spoken aloud.
“Don’t sweat the details, Soloman.”
Soloman’s head throbbed painfully as the numbers on the screen continued dancing away, seeming almost to mock him. “This entire project is details, Fabian.”
“No situation is completely about the details. There’s always a bigger picture, if you look carefully for it. Try to think outside the numbers.”
Hadn’t Lense told him nearly the same thing? But hearing Stevens repeat the doctor’s words made them no more comprehensible. His head pounding, Soloman glanced once more at the paired Bynars, who were immersed in the dataflow that seemed about to wash them both away.
He watched them from outside the digital stream, he realized, much as a human might.
Waves of pain coursed through his skull, making him wonder if his efforts to keep up with his paired brethren were finally beginning to kill him, as Dr. Lense had warned, even without an actual three-way organic datalink.
Ground Station Vesper shook and rumbled again, as incalculable pressures sought release from far beneath the Venusian crust.
Pressure, Soloman thought, kneading his crumpled brow. Somehow, I must release the pressure.
Seized by a sudden inspiration, Soloman released the specifics of the numbers from his attention, allowing them to sail away like ships passing over some abstract mathematical horizon. Think only of the bigger picture.
Closing his eyes, he stood, leaning forward across his console to maintain his balance as the planet continued its intermittent lurching and bucking. Then he fixed his gaze upon 1011 and 1110, whose attention had been attracted by his sudden movement. The Bynars looked askance at him, their dark eyes hooded beneath their smooth, pale brows. Soloman noticed then that even Paulos and the trio of human technicians had paused briefly in their labors to look in his direction, their curiosity and hope as evident as their fear.
“I believe I may have found a solution,” Soloman said, the pain in his skull still oscillating like a pulsar. It took all the effort he could muster to keep himself from resuming his fruitless chase of the force-field parameter figures.
The Bynar pair appeared to be about to make a tart response when Paulos chimed in, stepping on their words. “We’re listening, Soloman. We don’t seem to have many good alternatives left. Or a lot of time either.”
Soloman nodded, struggling to master his own rising fear. Tapping his combadge, he said, “Commander Gomez, I will require your assistance, as well as that of the da Vinci. But everything will have to be done quickly….”
Chapter
4
“Two of the equatorial force-field nodes just failed,” Stevens reported. “The rest of the network seems to be trying to compensate, but there’s a time-lag while the Bynars reinterpret the atmospheric models and decide which of the remaining active nodes to reinforce, and by how