“Volcanic eruption prediction is not an exact science. However, the reports you have in front of you detail our findings.”

“How did we miss it, Science Officer Joshlyn?” Moon Marshal Tinalla asks.

“Not miss so much as miscalculate, Marshal. Our seismometers detected minor vibrations; however, a sudden change occurred—”

“How long have we got?”

“A week, maybe two at most. Pressure on the rock increased rapidly, gas emissions accelerated, and we need to go in now,” Science Officer Alana states.

“In?” Incredulity suffuses the Marshal’s face. “You intend to go into an active volcano on Juturna’s nearest moon?”

“Yes, to depressurise Bolcán’s magma chamber, decreasing its energy.”

“Won’t the sudden change in pressure cause an immediate eruption?”

“We foresee some fluctuations, yes, and we have prepared for such an eventuality; both of us will work in unison, drilling and then releasing the pressure with a timed set of explosive charges.”

“You are attempting a geo-caesarian?”

“Similar, but from the inside out. It is the only course of action.”

“Very well. Godspeed to you both.”

 

Ignea’s subsurface is predominantly a liquid rock. As the shuttle flies overhead, molten lava lakes are visible below, snaking across the terrain like thready tapeworms carving their insidious way through a host organism. Gas pockets and depressions are many. Volcanic plumes perforate the air, creating an explosion of colour in a perverted rainbow.

The belching volcano rises like a hulking scraerkroik 9,706m above the terrain. Alana stares and imagines it preparing to spew its foulness onto the landscape. Yet, despite the monstrous association, there is a terrible beauty in this unstable environment.

The shuttle hovers.

“Check your respirator and helmet interface one more time.”

“Done,” Alana responds.

Joshlyn throws his sister a half-smile. “Magma mapping is complete. I’m sending it to our suits. Carbon and tungsten suit levels are operational. Life support systems online. Good to go.”

Alana nods.

Joshlyn looks at her. “First or second?”

“First.”

Despite the unpredictable heat and unnerving silence, the familiarity of rappelling into a volcano soothes her nerves. Alana moves downwards, slicing through the sulphur-laced gases that eddy in her path. Purplish-black hues in the rock add to the eeriness as she tapers in towards the wall as she descends. She secures herself to the second rope, releasing it from the shuttle.

She becomes more conscious of the growing heat surrounding her. A quick check of the temperature level shows an increase, and although expected, Alana senses fresh beads of sweat forming on her face. “I’m down, secured—126m below ground level. Your turn.”

“On my way.”

She waits.

“In position. Let’s begin,” Joshlyn’s voice, loud and clear, is followed by Alana’s assent.

Touching her hands to the misshapen rock dislodges volcanic crumbs. Depressions and bumps feel alive, pulsing beneath her fingers. Primitive. Drawing a steadying breath, Alana removes a drill from the basket, inserting a small drill bit before boring a series of holes along the rock. Wall walking at a steady pace, she places a series of hooks.

Joshlyn does the same; his voice trills in her ear. “Together.”

“Together, brother,” she whispers back.

Alana wades through a sea of silicone polymers slurping and glooping around her waist as she navigates its viscousness. The push and pull slow her movements. Yet, strangely, it is an odd and not unpleasant sensation, almost serene.

They position the altered tungsten carbon-coated charges grid-like to create new fissures. Reinforced coating shielded their increased heat resistance properties. Changing to a boring bit, Alana drills beneath the lava at an angle, steadying herself with each hook as she moves to the next position.

“Entry points complete,” Alana confirms, waiting for Joshlyn to respond.

“Complete, moving to the next phase,” her brother informs her.

“Ready here.”

“Commence positioning sequence,” he instructs.

“Affirmative.” She takes the long-handled grippers, picks up one charge, and positions it in the drilled hole. She fills the section. “Charge positioning sequence is complete.”

“Same here. Prepare for extraction,” Joshlyn tells her.

“Affirmative.”

The rumble is low. Then the tremor comes. A magma ripple forms, and although the shift is slight, it propels Alana to steady herself by grabbing a second hook.

“Joshlyn.” Fear colours her voice.

“Almost at the shuttle.” Her brother’s strained voice reverberates in her head.

“Leave. When you’re in position, blow the charges.”

Silence.

“Joshlyn?”

Silence.

“Answer me, Joshlyn!”

“Alana, I’m—”

“Joshlyn, there’s no time.” Her voice crackles. “Go, go now.”

 

Alana empties the basket and pulls herself into it. Rivulets of sweat course down her body. Her visor fogs—clears—mists again. Gazing at the blurry orange river beneath her feet, she closes her eyes, visualising Juturna’s waterfalls and mountain peaks instead of the volatile death rising inexorably towards her.

Her tears fuse with her sweat, and a sob wracks her body as an incessant whining hum punctures her thoughts. She pictures her brother’s face and can almost hear his voice.

“Alana, jump!”

Alana’s eyes fly open. It is her brother’s voice.

“Jump. Now!”

Alana leaps, her hands clawing for purchase.

“Hold on!”

The shuttle speeds up, shooting upwards; Alana dangles from the bay door.

“Levelling in a few, I’m heading to you.”

Once she is back on the shuttle, Joshlyn speeds up. “This will be close,” he mutters through gritted teeth.

“Distance?”

“Almost in position. Get ready to begin the detonation sequence on my count.”

“Primed and ready,” Alana confirms.

“3…”

“2…”

“1. Detonate.”

 

Thunderous sounds perforate the air—fiery clouds careen across the sky. Hot rock fragments hurtle, bombarding the shuttle as it vibrates from an onslaught of shock waves. Joshlyn monitors the incoming data. “Magma pressure levels rising… rising… still rising….” He jerks his head in her direction.

Alana covers his hand with hers, exerting a welcome pressure.

“Dropping… dropping… drop is continual.”

Moments tick by. Joshlyn’s eyes never waver from the panel. He emits a harsh breath. “Magma pressure stabilising.”

“We did it,” Alana whispers as she stares at the shuddering volcano.

It heaves, struggling to survive. Soon, it would still. But for how long? Alana wonders.