“Scoops deployed,” said Bill. “All systems are on-line. We are ready to take on fuel.”
It wasn’t of course an ordinary snowstorm. This was a storm with large slurries and slushes, with water ice and sleet particles.
“Slow to storm rate plus four zero,” she said. Storm velocity plus forty kilometers per hour.
She overheard Alyx comment that the storm was beautiful. She was right.
The Memphis was near the top of the Slurpy, planning to cross only a narrow section, to come out of it with her tanks full after two hours. If she went through the middle of the orbiting fuel station, slowing down sufficiently to play it safe, the chindi could well come around again before she got clear and plow into her rear.
She found a section of the storm front that seemed relatively tranquil and directed Bill to take them in.
The light turned gray. A blast of wind hit them, and a sudden burst of hail rattled across the hull.
“Incredible,” said Bill. “I never thought I’d see anything like this.”
Visibility faded to a few meters. Wet flakes oozed onto the viewports and the two imagers. “We need wipers,” she told the AI.
The winds buffeted them, and then subsided. Sometimes the immediate environment was dead still, and they saw only white veils of mist. The snow swirled over them, and gobs of half-frozen ammonia sploshed across the hull. Their lights played against shadowy forms, insubstantial creatures of the night.
The Memphis could completely refuel in a single pass. Maybe two at most. But the chindi had far more extensive requirements. It would take a lot of power and a lot of reaction mass to get all that rock moving. It might need a couple of weeks to top off its tanks. She wondered how long it had been here.
“We are doing nicely,” said Bill. “Tanks should be full within the anticipated time.”
WHEN THE REFUELING was completed, Hutch took them higher until they cleared the Slurpy. Bill reported that the chindi remained in orbit.
Over the next few hours they settled in just behind and above it. George began wondering aloud what the chindi would do if the Memphis placed itself directly in its path.
Hutch knew a run-it-up-the-flagpole idea when she heard one. “We don’t want to do that,” she said.
“Hutch, couldn’t we do it in a way that would involve no risk? Just keep our engines running. Maintain enough distance.”
“No, George. It’s really not a good idea.”
“Where’s the risk?”
“For one thing, they’ve shown a tendency not to notice us. At some point, they’re going to accelerate. We wouldn’t want to be in their way when they do.”
He sank into a chair. “Tor, what do you think? Would you be willing to take a run across their bow?”
“It’s not up for a vote,” said Hutch.
“I agree with Hutch,” said Tor.
George switched to his most reasonable tone. “Hutch,” he said, “I wouldn’t want to force you to do anything you don’t want to, but I have to remind you—”
“It’s your ship, but I’m responsible for its safety, George.”
“I can relieve you. Then you won’t have to worry about it.”
Hutch shook her head. “You can’t do that in midflight unless you have a qualified replacement.”
“Who says?”
“It’s in the rules.”
“What rules?”
“Regulations for Ships’ Masters.”
“I don’t see how that binds me.”
“It binds me.” She sat down beside him. “Look, George, I know how you feel about this. I know how much you want to make contact with these guys. But I think a little patience is in order.”
“What do you suggest?”
“For now, we only have two alternatives. Watch and wait, or—”
“—Or what?”
“Go home.”
His eyes locked on her. “That’s out of the question.”
“I agree. So let’s just sit tight for the moment.”
“You know,” said Nick, “it’s possible that the reason they don’t answer is that there’s nobody over there.”
“How could that be?” rumbled George.
“Automated ship,” said Hutch.
“What?”
“It might be automated. Run by an AI.”
“But surely even an AI would respond.”
“Depends on the programming. Don’t forget that AI’s aren’t really intelligent.” Somewhere, deep in the ship, she thought she heard Bill sigh.
George shook his head. It was a cruel-world shake. Defeated, he settled back and closed his eyes.
Tor said, quietly, “But it might be time to take the plunge.”
“Meaning what?” asked Alyx.
“Go over and knock on their door.”
George, without opening his eyes, nodded solemnly. Yes. That was the way to go.
“No,” said Hutch. She wished Tor would be quiet. “That’s extremely dangerous. We don’t know anything about what’s in there. This thing is connected with the destruction of two ships.”
“No,” said George. “We don’t know that. Those attacks were carried out by robots. This is different. We’ve had a chance to look at it. The ship. Do you see any sign of weapons?”
Alyx shook her head. “I think Hutch is right. I think we ought to go slow.”
“You’d be putting your lives on the line,” said Hutch.
“But it doesn’t put the ship in danger,” said George. “It seems to me we can take whatever other risk we deem appropriate.” He glanced at Nick and Tor. “Am I right?”
He was right.
“This is what we came for,” said Tor. “If we have to go up and ring their bell, then I say let’s do it. Alyx, you can stay here with Hutch if you want.”
“Tor, this is not a good idea.” She saw something bordering on disappointment in his face. And it hurt.
Nick had been studying the inside of a coffee cup. Now he looked up. “Hutch,” he said, “may I ask you a question?”
“Sure.” She was losing.
“Why is the Memphis not armed? Why isn’t there a single armed ship in the entire fleet of superluminals? There are, what, twenty-some of them now. And not a weapon to be found. Why is that?”
“Because there’s never been anybody to shoot at, I guess. There has never been a threat.”
Nick flashed his reassuring funeral director’s smile. He’s-gone-to-the-sweet-bye-and-bye. Everything’s-going-to-be-fine. “Isn’t it also because we believe that anybody smart enough to develop interstellar travel isn’t going to be hostile? I’ve heard you say that yourself.”
“That’s so,” Hutch said. “It’s what we assume. It’s not something you bet your life on.”
“You also suggested these guys went in, found the body of the second occupant, and buried him. That doesn’t sound very fearsome.”
“But it’s guesswork, Nick. The reality is we just don’t know. And even if they’re not hostile, what happens if the chindi takes off while you’re knocking on the door?”
Nick frowned. “I don’t know,” he said. “What happens? I assume it wouldn’t be good.”
“Bye-bye,” said Hutch.
Chapter 22
Like one, that on a lonesome road,
Doth walk in fear and dread,
And having once turned round, walks on,
And turns no more his head;
Because he knows a frightful fiend
Doth close behind him tread.
— SAMUEL T. COLERIDGE, THE RIME OF THE ANCIENT MARINER, VI, 1798
TOR HAD NEVER thought of himself as being particularly brave. Not physically, and not in any other way. He’d avoided trouble whenever he could, had no taste for confrontations, and had quietly walked away from Hutch when she’d told him to. So he’d been surprised to hear himself take George’s side of the dispute. Right. Let’s go. I’ll do it with you, George. How can you be so cowardly, Hutch?
Utterly
out of character. He was horrified when Hutch caved in. “Okay,” she’d said. “Do what you think best. If you get yourselves killed, I’m sure everybody will be impressed.” She’d looked directly at him, and he understood what she meant.
But that wasn’t the reason he’d done it. Well, maybe he had thought she’d lose respect for him if he backed away. But it was also true that he cringed at the thought of their all riding back with their tails between their legs. That certainly would have been the end of it with Hutch. Still, he told himself, it wasn’t why he’d gone front and center. George had devoted his life to this. He was a decent guy and he deserved his chance. If Tor hadn’t ridden in with the Marines, Hutch would have persisted, and George, remembering that he’d been fatally wrong before, would have caved in.
So now Tor was standing beside the lander, listening to Hutch lay out the ground rules, getting ready to do something he really didn’t want to do.
WHAT ABOUT WEAPONS? They had three laser cutters. Beyond that they were reduced to an assortment of knives and forks.
“We shouldn’t need them,” George maintained.
Somehow, Alyx managed to look down at him. “You said something like that once before.”
“Come on, Alyx. These people are in a starship. You really think they’ll behave like savages?”
“Still,” said Tor, “it’s not a bad idea to be prepared. Just in case.”
George looked at Hutch. Hutch shrugged. “Your call.”
“Okay,” he said. She gave him two of the cutters, keeping one for herself. “Are you coming?” he asked.
“Reluctantly.”
“I don’t want you doing anything you don’t want to do.”
Well, that was a laugher. “It’s best if I go.”
He looked relieved, and she wondered if, left to himself, he wouldn’t stay put.
“When we see them,” he said, “follow my lead.”
Nick and Tor nodded. George smiled at her. It was going to be okay. Have a little faith. And there was, as always, something in his manner that won her respect. Everything would be okay as long as Hockelmann was in charge. “What else,” he asked, “do we need to think about?”
“They might leave orbit,” said Hutch. “With us on board.”
“How great is the risk?”
“I’d say it’s substantial. But if they do decide to take off, we should get some warning. They’ll probably shut down whatever’s causing the blizzard. Although we might have a hard time detecting that in time for it to do us any good.”
“What about when they turn on their engines?” asked Nick. “It seems to me that would be an easy way to know—”
“The engines are running now,” she said. “They’ve been running since we got here. They’re just not generating any thrust at the moment. What I’d expect to happen when they get ready to leave is that we’ll see a spike in energy output.”
“And we can pick that up?” asked Tor.
“Oh, yes. Bill will read it right away. If it happens, if we hear Bill give us the warning, we break for the lander. Right?” She looked hard at George.
He nodded. They all nodded.
“It doesn’t matter what we’re doing, we clear out immediately.”
“Are you sure about the spike?” asked George. “After all, this is an alien ship.”
“Engines are engines. I don’t see anything down there that implies advanced technology. Other than that they don’t seem to have Hazeltine pods.”
“They’re probably concealed in the terrain,” said Tor.
“What are you suggesting about the pods?” asked Nick.
“That they may have something better. But there’s no point worrying about that.”
“What are Hazeltine pods?” asked Alyx. She was standing outside the launch bay.
“They focus the energy generated by the jump engines and make transdimensional flight possible. They’re located fore and aft on the Memphis.”
They buckled on the harnesses that would generate their e-suits, and picked up their air tanks. Hutch did a quick inspection. Satisfied, she opened the lander hatch, and they climbed in.
THERE WAS NO way they were going to talk Alyx into going over to the chindi, hammering on the door, and waiting around to see what would open up. She was glad to see Hutch had no enthusiasm for it either, but she wished that the captain had not agreed to join the landing party. She didn’t much like being left alone.
The three males all had their testosterone in gear, and it seemed as if they’d learned nothing from the deaths of their colleagues on the Condor, or at the hands of the savages at Paradise. Or for that matter from the death of the captain of the Wendy Jay. They were all talking about how they owed it to the victims to push ahead. But enough was enough. They had discovered the chindi, and the Retreat, and that was where the glory lay. There’d be no shortage of people who’d want in on this. And as far as she was concerned, that was fine. Let somebody else go knock on the door.
More infuriating still, she knew exactly what they thought about her. She was, after all, a woman. Keep your head down and let the menfolk take the chances. Wouldn’t want you in the line of fire, and all that. They were willing to make an exception for Hutch. After all, she was the captain. And even in her case, they thought she lacked courage. But they were willing to accept her because they felt more comfortable when she was there. And if the pieces didn’t quite fit together, that didn’t matter.
Damn.
Alyx was willing to put her life on the line in a good cause, if the odds were reasonable. But this, in her view, was just damned foolish. She could see both sides of the argument. And she knew George had expected more of her, had wanted her to go along with the game, to lend support. But life was sweet, and the fact that the chindi remained silent was ominous. They are not going to be waiting for us with the local chowder and marching society.
Scientific breakthroughs were nice, and especially one of this magnitude. But she had no interest in sacrificing herself on the altar of science or anything else. After dinner, when they’d been getting ready to go down to the cargo bay, she made it a point to take Hutch aside and tell her that she was absolutely right, that if George and the others wanted to throw their lives away, it was their call, but she should not let herself get talked into anything foolish.
Hutchins had given her a quick smile in return. It was perfunctory, and served to mask whatever she was feeling. Then Alyx had watched them troop out, the four of them, headed below. And she’d asked Bill to blink the Memphis’s lights again, and send over George’s greetings. Bill had complied, but the chindi remained distressingly nonresponsive.
“Hutch,” she said over her private channel, “I hate to bring this up…”
“It’s okay.” They were sitting in the lander, three Scouts and a reluctant den mother, waiting for the cargo bay to depressurize. “If something happens, Bill will take you home.”
“How will he know?”
“Just tell him. He’ll accept your command.”
It occurred to her that Hutch was showing a lot of trust in her judgment. “If you get inside,” Alyx said, “leave the imager on. Or something. So I can see what’s happening.”
“I will. And listen, Alyx, there’s probably nothing to worry about.”
Right. Sure. We do stuff like this every day.
Heywood Butler, the horror king, would have loved this situation. And she found herself conceptualizing the plot for him. The heroine remains behind while the landing party goes over. But they drop out of sight over there, and something else comes back.
A chill worked its way up her spine.
THE MOONSCAPE PASSED slowly beneath them.
Hutch had timed the rendezvous to coincide with the chindi’s departure from the storm. They had pictures of its docking facilities, but everything was closed up and there was no trace of a launch-and-recovery capability other than a couple of hatches. She moved the lander in close and touched down briefly, to see whether th
e ship would respond. She blinked lights and requested, in English, permission to come aboard.
“Not very friendly,” grumbled George.
“Do you want to rethink breaking in on these folks?” Hutch asked.
Well, minds had been made up. So George and his colleagues had no difficulty coming up with seven or eight reasons to go ahead. She sensed that, individually, none of them wanted to do so. But a group mentality had taken over.
So in the end, she circled back to the topside area, intending to use as their entry point the small round hatch between the two low ridges. It was an arbitrary choice, or maybe she selected it because it was well away from the launching and docking sections. In a more quiet neighborhood.
“I’ll secure as best I can,” she said. “If the thing starts to move after we’re out on the surface, get back inside in a hurry. I make no guarantees that it’ll be possible to wait for anybody.
“Now, answer a question for me. After we knock, and nobody comes to the door, what are we going to do?”
George looked as if he’d been giving the matter considerable thought, as doubtless he had. It was, she thought, the most likely outcome. “If they don’t answer, we are going to draw the obvious conclusion.”
“Which is?”
“That nobody’s home.”
“I see.” Hutch’s eyes narrowed. “So then we are going to…” Her voice trailed off, inviting him to finish.
“…look for a way to open the hatch ourselves.”
“Okay. What happens if there is no manual?”
“Hutch, we can’t just let this thing go away. One way or another, we have to get into it.”
“Which means…?”
“…if we have to we’ll cut our way in.”
“Cut our way.”
“Yes.”
“That presents a danger to the occupants.”
“Surely we can do it in a way that opts for safety.”
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