Spindrift (34 page)

“I've put Dr. Cruz on a different task. He's working with Marty to devise some means of clearing away all that frozen CO
₂
from the crater vent. That should keep both of them occupied for quite some time. And we've got reasons why we shouldn't trust Marty…ah, here we are.”

Tucking his pad beneath his armpit, Harker pulled open a storage locker. Within it hung several coils of nylon rope. “Stack everything over there,” he said, nodding toward a nearby bench as he unloaded the coils and began handing them to Emily. “The rest of the climbing gear should be…”

“Next compartment. I checked the inventory, too.” Emily looked at Ramirez askance. “Always thinks he knows everything and no one else does.” She carried the ropes over to the bench. “So what is it you think we need to talk about, love? Or don't we already know.”

“Just a sec…” Harker consulted the pad again, then bent to open the drawer Emily had indicated. “Yes, here we are,” he said, pulling out a large, stainless-steel case. “Tool kit. Just what the doctor ordered.” He handed the case to Ramirez. “Take it over there. I'll inspect it later.”

“You haven't answered my question,” Emily said. “What do you…?”

“Doesn't it seem strange that the captain went along so easily with your suggestion that we dispatch a survey team?” Harker wasn't talking to her, but rather to Ramirez. “After all, Rauchle all but ruled out the possibility that there's anything down there of any interest. They're completely obsessed with the starbridge.”

“I thought Jorge and I made our case rather well…”

“And so you did.” Harker shut the drawer, then stood erect and continued to move down the row, studying his pad once more. “But Rauchle is the man in charge, after all, and Sir Peter…”

“Peter Cole is a horse's ass.” Ramirez couldn't keep the edge from his voice. “He hasn't had an original thought in his head in twenty years. And Rauchle likely built his rep on Kaufmann's work, if I read him correctly.”

“You probably have. And I agree with you about Cole. He and Lawrence got to where they are now because of social class and little else. But the two of them are working together, and since Rauchle is on their side…”

“So what are you getting at?” Emily pointed to another cabinet. “Expedition rations, in here.”

“I know, I know.” Harker regarded the pad with puzzlement, as if trying to understand something he'd found there. “I just think it's rather…well, convenient…for Lawrence to find a way to get three troublemakers off the ship.”

Emily peered at him. “You're not suggesting…?”

“What do you think this means?” Harker held out the pad for her to examine. “This line here, see? ‘B4-128C—LRC.' Never seen that before.”

“Makes sense to me,” Ramirez said. “I mean, there's no love lost between Tobias and me, that's for certain. If he wants to…”

“That's the long-range com platform.” Emily ignored Ramirez as she stepped closer to Harker to peer over his shoulder at the pad. “Thoughtful of someone to send one with us. It'll help us establish a direct link between you and the ship once you're on the surface.” Turning away from them, she began to walk down the row of cabinets, reading aloud the serial numbers from each drawer, “B4-127A…B4-127B…B4-127C…here it is.”

She stopped in front of a cabinet, slid it open. Within it was another equipment case. “Heavy sucker,” Harker murmured, grunting with the effort as he pulled it out and placed it on the floor. Opening it, they found a large instrument, its antenna neatly collapsed and folded against its top surface. “Never used one of these before,” he added. “Guess I'll have to study the specs before we…”

Emily snapped her fingers as if in sudden inspiration. “You know, this gives me an idea. We're going to be in contact with
Galileo
, of course, but not continually.”

“No?” Ramirez looked at her. “Why not?”

“Because its orbit will periodically take it around the other side of Spindrift,” she said. “Which means that they'll have to reestablish contact with us every few hours.” She glanced at Harker. “When that happens, maybe we can tap into another com channel without Lawrence knowing what we're doing.”

“So we can monitor what's going on up here while we're on the ground?” Harker nodded. “Nice idea…but that means we'll have to get someone here to cooperate with us.”

“Arkady will do it.” Emily smiled. “He doesn't have any particular love for Ian. After all, the whole bollocks with the LCP breakdown will fall on his head once we get back to Earth. If I can get Arkady to piggyback an active signal to the downlink for the backup flight recorder…”

“Tell me the details later.” Harker closed the LRC case, picked it up, and moved it aside. “Just get it done. If we can have that particular ace up our sleeve, the better I'll feel about all this.”

Surprised, Ramirez turned to gaze at him. “Not having any reservations, I hope.”

“I've been having reservations about this mission since before we even left Earth,” he said quietly. “Now I'm just trying to shave the odds a little more in our favor.”

JANUARY 8, 2291—EAS
MARIA CELESTE

“E
veryone strapped down? Suits zipped up?” Although she turned her head to look back, her helmet's faceplate prevented Emily from seeing the passengers seated behind her. Both Ramirez and Cruz answered in the affirmative, though, and she didn't need to ask Ted if he'd secured his harness or sealed his flight suit, so she touched the
MIC
switch on the com panel above her head. “
Galileo
, this is
Maria Celeste
. Requesting permission to depart.”

“
We copy,
Maria.” Arkady's voice came through her earphones. “
Permission granted. Ready to disengage on your mark.
”

“Roger that,
Galileo
. Mark in T-minus thirty.” Emily switched over to internal power, then initiated the primary ignition sequence for the main engines. A quick glance at the idiot lights on the environmental control panel told her that all hatches were secure and cabin air pressure was nominal. Flipping the switch that would retract the docking collar, she heard a hollow thump above and behind her. She reset the comps and loaded the new programs. All safety and rescue systems were on standby; with luck, none of them would be needed.

Emily glanced at the chronometer. Ten seconds left. Time enough for one last detail. Briefly raising her faceplate, she kissed the fingertips of her glove, then gently touched the small medal of St. Christopher she'd attached to a discreet place just above her control yoke. She'd given up on Catholicism a long time ago—or at least it'd been many years since she had last attended Mass—but this was one small ritual she'd maintained ever since her first solo. From the corner of her eye, she saw Ted quietly observing her. He'd seen her do this before; as always he said nothing, instead maintaining a respectful silence. She flexed her fingers within her gloves, took a deep breath, then grasped the yoke.

“
Maria
to
Galileo
,” she said. “Mark. Disengage.”

Another thump, a little harder this time, as the docking cradle opened on either side of the shuttle, allowing the spacecraft to float free. “
Disengagement complete,
Maria,” Arkady said. “
You're on your own.
”

“We copy,
Galileo
.” Through the forward cockpit window, Emily watched the service module as it slowly drifted away, surrounded by a thin halo of frozen oxygen that had broken away from the docking collar. She pulled back on the yoke, and the RCS fired, lifting the shuttle away from the starship. Now she could see
Galileo
in all its immensity, a giant spindle shoved one-fifth of the way through an enormous torus. Its hull was illuminated by red and green formation lights, and mellow radiance came from the windows of the hab module, but otherwise the ship was cloaked by the shadows of interstellar night.

A brief, almost undetectable shudder as the shuttle passed through the periphery of the Millis-Clement field. She felt herself rise slightly within the confines of her seat. “We're in the clear,
Galileo
,” she murmured. “Go for deorbit burn.”

“
Roger that,
Maria.
Got you on our scope.
”

Emily twisted the yoke to the left, firing thrusters to execute a barrel roll. Like a dancer performing a deft pirouette, the
Maria Celeste
twisted around on its axis, realigning itself within its new sphere of orientation. Through the cockpit windows,
Galileo
veered sharply away, the starship disappearing beneath the belly of the shuttle until it was replaced by the vast, dark curvature of Spindrift.

“Firing mains on the count of three,” Emily murmured as she laid her right hand upon the thrust bars. “One…two…three…” She eased the bars upward; a faint rumble from behind them, then she was gradually pushed back in her seat as the shuttle's twin nuclear engines ignited. Spindrift seemed to move closer, gradually but inexorably. She counted silently to ten, then pulled the bars back three-quarters. “Deorbit burn complete. We're on our way.”

“
We copy.
” Arkady's voice had become scratchy with static; in a few minutes,
Galileo
would be out of direct line of sight with the shuttle. “
Have a good flight. We'll be in touch again soon.
Galileo
over.
”

“Thank you,
Galileo
.
Maria Celeste
over.” Until they reached the ground and
Galileo
's orbit brought it over the local horizon, this would be their last radio contact with the ship until after they landed.

“Nice job, Emcee.” Harker gave her a brief smile, then loosened his harness and turned to look back at Ramirez and Cruz. “How're you two holding up?”

“Fine. Just fine.” Cruz's voice was tight, as if he was holding his breath.

“Couldn't be better.” By contrast, Ramirez sounded no more concerned than if he was enjoying a rickshaw ride through Tranquility Centre. “Just glad I took your advice about skipping breakfast.”

“Helps prevent motion sickness,” Harker said. “Besides, until we get back, we're on a liquid diet. You don't want to be pinching a loaf when you're on EVA for eight hours.”

“Thank you for that image.” Ramirez sighed. “Just what I need to take with me where no man has gone before.”

“No pun intended, of course,” Emily murmured.

“An obscure cultural allusion, my dear.” Turning back around, Harker typed a command into the comp. Side-looking radar painted a wire-frame image of Spindrift across the screen; midway up the northern half of the central meridian, a tiny red spot blinked amid a maze of hills, craters, and crevices. “There's Larry. Want me to lock on?”

“Be my guest.” Emily engaged the autopilot, then reached between her knees to withdraw a squeeze bottle from its sling. Pulling out its straw, she had a sip of water. A double beep from her console told her that
Maria
's navigation subsystem was locked on to the probe's transponder. If she cared to do so, she could program the shuttle to land on its own, without any manual guidance on her part. Not that she'd ever do that, of course. What fun was it to be a pilot if you left everything to the comp?

“How long till we get there?” Cruz asked.

“About an hour, more or less.” Emily recapped the bottle, placed it back within the sling. She hesitated, wondering whether she should reiterate what had already been said during the mission briefing. A little repetition couldn't hurt. “I know you've heard this before, but let's go at it again. This is my ship, so while we're in the air, I'm in charge. Once we're on the ground, though, and the three of you have gone EVA, it's Ted's mission. That means you listen to everything he says. If he tells you to do something…”

“Then we do it.” Ramirez's voice affected a tone of boredom. “Got it. Understood.”

“Jared…” Emily loosened her harness, then half turned in her seat so that she could look him in the eye. “Look, you've received…what, ten hours of suit training at Tycho Centre? If you got in a fix back there, there were a dozen people to come to the rescue.”

“None of us had any mishaps during training.” Cruz became defensive. “And may I remind you that I've been EVA before? Twenty-six hours logged on Mars…”

“This is different. As Ramirez said, we're going where no one has gone before. If you run into any problems, you won't have anyone to count on but each other.”

“Except you, of course,” Ramirez added.

“Wrong,” Harker said. “Her job is stay put in the shuttle. Under no circumstance is she to leave the ship. Even in the most dire emergency.” He reached over to pat her arm. “Emily here is our lifeline. Without her, none of us go home.”

“Which means that, once you set foot on Spindrift, you're under Ted's supervision.” Emily looked at Cruz. “Don't assume that this is like Mars, because it isn't.” Then she glanced at Ramirez. “And, as I told you, we don't have the luxury of having a second shuttle able to come to our rescue. Once we're on the ground…”

“We're on our own.” Sobered, Ramirez nodded. “All right, I understand.”

“Yeah, sure…same here.” Cruz paused. “But, look…if there's nothing down there, then why…?”

“C'mon, Jorge.” Ramirez shook his head. “If you really think that, then why are you with us?”

Cruz didn't respond. Emily turned back around in her seat. A glance at the comp screen told her that her first chance to touch down at the landing site was coming up in less than a minute. “Right,” she murmured. “Glad we got that settled.” Tightening her harness again, she reached forward to switch off the autopilot. “Fasten your seat belts, gentlemen. We're going in.”

 

Landing on Spindrift presented its own special challenges. With no atmosphere and an escape velocity of only .6 kilometers per second, it was much like landing on the Moon, only in a slightly higher gravity. Emily locked down the wing ailerons, useless in the airless environment, and made the final approach relying almost entirely upon the RCS and the vertical landing thrusters.

What precious little light the asteroid received from the Sun was no help to her. Even after she switched on the floodlights, all she could see was a dark, rock-strewn landscape, with little sense of height or dimension. Keeping a sharp eye on the eight ball, she had Harker call out altimeter readings and didn't lower the landing gear until they were only sixty meters above the ground, when she was sure that she wouldn't have to abort the descent.

“Fifteen meters,” Harker said. “Ten meters…nine…eight…seven…”

The thrusters kicked up a cloud of fine grey powder that swirled within the floodlights and clung to the panes of the cockpit windows. Emily gently inched back the thruster bars; a bead of sweat rolled down her forehead and stung her left eye, but she didn't dare take her hands from the controls.
C'mon,
Marie
…we can do it, baby…

“Six…five…four…three…”

She pulled the bars to horizontal position, then grasped the yoke with both hands and, with one last nudge, hauled it to neutral. A half-second sensation of falling, then a gentle bump beneath her feet as the skids made contact with hard surface.

“Goal,” Harker said. “And the crowd goes wild at Wembly.”

“Score one for the English team.” Emily killed the engines, then quickly checked the cabin instruments. No loss of internal pressure, no indications of fire or short circuits. “All safe and secure. We're down, gents.”

“Nice. Very nice.” Behind them, Ramirez slowly let out his breath. “I had only one cardiac event…well, no, make that two…”

“Cynic. I'll have you know that you've just met the best pilot in the European Space Agency.” Harker grinned, then formally offered his hand. “Congratulations. This may have established some sort of record.”

“Call Guinness when we get home.” Emily let out her breath, then shook his hand. “At least it'll give the lads at the pub something new to argue about.”

Now that they'd landed in one piece, she didn't have to worry about regulations; she grasped her helmet with both hands, moved it counterclockwise until it snapped loose from the collar ring of her flight suit, then dragged it off her head. Despite the warmth supplied by the cabin heaters, she felt cool air touch her forehead and the nape of her neck. She pushed a strand of damp hair away from her face as she looked at Harker. “Well?”

“Well what?”

“What do you mean, what?” She nodded toward the cockpit windows. “We're here, aren't we? I got you where you wanted to go. What do you think we were going to do, have a picnic?”

“She can't be serious.” Cruz was about to remove his own helmet; he stopped short of unlocking it.

“She's serious.” Harker unsnapped his harness and stood up, ducking his head to avoid the instrument panel. “Our itinerary calls for sixteen hours EVA, max, in two walk-outs. That may sound like a lot of time, but it isn't. Don't count on taking any naps.”

“I wasn't, but…” Ramirez fumbled with the clasp of his harness. “Pardon me, but do you have any idea where we're going?”

Emily reached down to the keyboard, punched in a couple of commands. A lidar map of the landing site appeared on the screen, with two red markers distanced about two centimeters from each other. “There's Larry,” she said, pointing to the one at the top, “and here's us. All you have to do is find Larry, then follow his tracks to the vent. I'll feed the coordinates to your suits' direction finders once you've put 'em on.”

“See? Piece of cake.” Stepping between Cruz and Ramirez, Harker made his way toward the aft deck. “Time to put on the long johns. Gentlemen, if you please…?”