Something had been nagging at Terry, and though he wanted to push it aside, he knew suddenly that it was the reason he had consulted Tristan about an event he’d vowed he would ignore. “Tristan . . . is it possible that with both of us it could be precognition?”
Tristan paused a long time before answering. Finally he said, “That thought did occur to me when you told me how real it seemed. I’d be lying if I said it hasn’t occurred to Jessica; it’s the main reason why hearing of your experience would upset her. But Terry, if it was a viewing of the future, there is absolutely nothing you can do about it beyond what is already being done. Fleet is taking every possible measure to detect the approach of an unauthorized ship. You have to let go of it, and take things as they come.”
“That’s not true,” Terry said, acknowledging the thing he had not wanted to admit to himself. “Fleet can’t do anything more, but me—I can’t just dismiss what I sense. I have to stay alert all the time and try to judge whether the future has arrived, just as Jessica does.”
Tristan nodded. I did not want to lay that on you, but since you see it yourself. . . .
It could be years! Terry thought. An intruder might come tomorrow or not until he was an old man, and he would never be able to relax his vigilance.
~ 26 ~
Setting out for planet Five, Terry was both more confident and less so than on Picard’s first mission—more sure of himself because he’d had some experience with command, yet at the same time worried because conditions would be a great deal harsher than on Three and Four and landing might prove difficult if not impossible. Five was a gas giant with many moons about which little was known. The strong gravitational forces surrounding it would make navigation tricky; the AI was programmed to handle it and he had flown near such planets on previous exploration missions, as well as near Saturn during his training tour on Titan . . . but you never knew just what to expect in that sort of situation.
Unlike Three and Four, the moons of Five were not potential landing sites for prospectors. They were covered with ice several kilometers thick, and it would take a major expedition with heavy equipment to reach whatever valuable minerals they contained. They were, however, of interest to science, as it was likely that at least some of them had liquid oceans—and possibly primitive forms of life—beneath their icy crusts. That had proved to be the case in many other solar systems. So any ship that approached one of them would be a Fleet explorer and its captain would obey an off-limits notice picked up from orbit. It was important to place the transmitter in the optimum location for local reception as well as for warning Shepard.
Picard spent several days in the vicinity of Five gathering information about its moons—their gravity, composition, temperature, atmosphere, and so forth—a routine task for explorer missions in which Terry had considerable experience. All this data could have been obtained remotely, of course, if there had been a base installation within the solar system; but explorers, by definition, went to solar systems not previously surveyed, so Picard was equipped to gather it directly and through the use of small unmanned probes controlled by its AI. The captain’s job was to evaluate it and judge which moon was the most likely candidate for closer investigation.
Many of the moons were too small to be worth considering; others were too distant from Five to have enough tidal heat for liquid water to exist. Two were actively volcanic, which meant not only extreme peril on the surface but a real possibility that a sensor station would be engulfed by lava in the not-too-distant future. Of the few good possibilities, Terry chose the third most distant moon from the planet, designated Five-C. It had a noticeable small but level plateau sheltered by mountain ridges; a station placed there, surrounded by colored markers, would be sure to attract the attention of any explorer team that orbited it.
On the fifth morning, ship’s time, after their arrival at Five, he moved Picard into low orbit above Five-C and checked out the shuttle for landing. Everyone wanted to go to the surface; both Mikaela and Drew had had turns at staying behind and neither wanted to be left this time. Zuri had to go, since she was the only member of the team capable of testing the transmitter after it was placed. Terry was torn. It would be a dangerous surface expedition and he felt it was his place to lead it, but on the other hand, what if some problem arose aboard Picard? Their lives depended on its presence, and orbiting a world near a massive giant like Five was not as routine as orbiting small isolated planets like Three and Four. If the AI failed to maintain a stable orbit only he would be able to correct it, whereas Mikaela was an expert shuttle pilot. Balancing the risks, he decided to stay aboard himself and let her make the landing.
Nevertheless, it was with some misgivings that he watched the shuttle depart. As captain he was, after all, responsible for whatever happened during the mission whether he was present or not, and that was more unsettling to think about when he was merely supervising than when he was in personal control. He was hooked into the crew’s comm link, of course; he would be aware of everything that happened and could give orders as necessary. But from orbit he could not actually see what was going on.
He decided to report to Shepard an hour ahead of schedule so as not to miss anything on the local comm while he was transmitting. As on previous trips, he had been making routine status reports four times a day. Because of the long time delay in radio communication at this distance from Maclairn, conversation was impossible; he expected no reply beyond the simple “Roger, Picard, your status acknowledged,” from the comm technician on duty, which would arrive over an hour later. But he knew Captain Vargas was following the reports closely. “I am now orbiting the third moon of Planet Five,” he stated. “Lieutenants Orlov, Larssen, and Kifeda are enroute to the surface. Expect a supplemental report when the sensor station has been placed.”
Zuri reported to him continuously on the shuttle’s progress and the view of Five-C from above. “There’s so much glare from the ice that we can’t see details,” she said. Although this far out from the sun its light was dim, reflected light from Five added to it; they would have to adjust their helmets to filter it once they stepped onto the surface. “We’re over the landing site now . . . there’s a good level spot near a tall ridge, with no visible fissures. . . .”
Terry held his breath. “Altitude five hundred feet . . . two hundred . . . touchdown! Not even a jolt, Captain.”
“Congratulations to Lieutenant Orlov on a smooth landing,” Terry replied. He’d had no doubts about Mikaela’s skill, but anything could happen on a world as unlike habitable planets as this one.
The placing of the sensor station went well, the only difference from previous deployments being the use of deep spikes to keep it from slipping on the ice. He verified reception of its transmission once Zuri had activated it, while Drew sprayed orange markers in a wide circle, the color penetrating deep into the ice. Mikaela reported that she was heading back to the shuttle to begin the checklist for liftoff.
“Everything checks out fine, sir,” said Zuri finally. “We’re done here—” Abruptly, to Terry’s dismay, her words were cut off by an ear-splitting roar—not mere static, but surely a sign of something very, very wrong.
“Zuri!” he cried out, knowing as he did so that she might not have survived whatever had made such a sound. “Drew! Mikaela! What the hell is going on down there? Talk to me!”
For several minutes there was silence. Then Drew’s voice came over the comm, so unsteady that it was hard to make out the words. “Oh God, an earthquake . . . the earthquake set off an avalanche, the most god-awful sound—”
“Report your status, Lieutenant!” Terry ordered, realizing that this was not a time to slip into informality. An earthquake? It was certainly possible; the gravity of Five could easily create seismic activity on its moons, though he had seen no sign that quakes were frequent on this one.
“Captain, there’s been a violent quake,” Drew stated, his voice still shaky. “We were thrown to the ground, and then there was an
avalanche, a huge mass of ice came off the ridge nearest us onto the shuttle—”
“The shuttle?” Terry froze. “Was it damaged?”
“I don’t know, sir. It’s covered by the icefall.”
“Can you clear away enough for it to lift off?” They had to, Terry knew, yet without shovels or any other tools. . . . “The heat from the engine ought to melt enough ice for it to free itself,” he said, hoping this was true.
“You don’t understand, sir—it’s buried, buried deep. There’s no way we can get to it. And Mikaela’s inside.”
~ 27 ~
“Oh, my God.” He shouldn’t have sent his crew to the surface without him, Terry thought in despair. It was intolerable that they were facing death while he was safe in orbit. . . .
And then in the next moment he realized that it was by miraculous good fortune that he was the one aboard Picard. Because he might be able to land it. As far as he knew no ship as large as this had ever been landed on ice, but it shouldn’t be impossible. The ice shell was more than a kilometer thick; the danger lay in slipping, not breaking through. And there was no time to waste, because the oxygen supply in their tanks was limited and they couldn’t reach the spares. He didn’t let himself think about Mikaela.
“Is Lieutenant Kifeda all right?” he asked Drew.
“I’m here, sir,” Zuri replied. “I’m trying to restabilize the sensor station—it was dislodged by the quake but not damaged.”
“Why hasn’t Lieutenant Orlov reported? Comm transmission wouldn’t be affected by the ice cover, would it?”
“The shuttle’s tipped over. She’s out of her spacesuit so she hasn’t got her helmet comm, and I guess she can’t reach the main board.”
“Well, sit tight, lieutenants,” Terry said. “I’m coming down to get you.”
There was another silence. Finally Drew said, “You mustn’t do that, sir. It’s too risky—even if you can manage to land that big ship, there may be aftershocks.”
“I suppose there may be,” Terry agreed, “but there’s no alternative.”
“The alternative is for you to head back to Maclairn without us, Captain. The ship is needed; Fleet can’t afford to lose it. And you are needed. We’re not—Zuri and I are agreed on that, and Mikaela . . . we’re not even sure she’s alive.”
“That’s not an option,” Terry declared. Surely they knew that a captain didn’t desert his crew—not ever, under any circumstances. “I’m coming for you. But it will take another orbit to get low enough to land. You’ve got to do exactly what I tell you to make your oxygen last.”
“I don’t see that there’s much we can do to use less of it, sir,” Drew protested.
“Yes, there is. I was trapped in a cave on Maclairn and my mentor taught me how.” He wasn’t sure how much mind training the crew had had beyond managing pain and controlling their temperature; had he been successful in lowering his metabolism only because he was psi-gifted? Certainly that had helped him absorb Tristan’s instruction.
The cold should help. Their suits would keep them warm enough to survive, but they should maintain as low a body temperature as possible short of hypothermia; they did know how to do that. But the trick of directly controlling metabolism—that had been shown to him telepathically, and for them, telepathy didn’t yet work on a conscious level. And besides, he hadn’t enough psi experience to communicate from orbit.
While pondering this, he was simultaneously commanding the AI to descend. There was, thank God, no atmosphere to create friction; it wouldn’t have to be done as gradually as on the planet where he had previously landed an explorer. But it was nevertheless necessary to lose momentum—far more difficult with a big bulky ship like Picard than with a shuttle. And he would have to lose the last of it at the exact point where his crew was waiting. To achieve this he would have to take manual control.
“Drew, Zuri,” Terry said, with effort maintaining a calm tone. “Spread the tarp the sensor station was wrapped in and sit down on it. Then don’t move your muscles and don’t talk. Relax as you did for mind training—remember what Aldren showed you about pain, how it felt to let go when you knew more pain was coming. Remember the mind-pattern on the wall, visualize the colors, how they blended, how they moved. . . . With all the power he could muster he silently projected the image from his own memory, and the memory of what he’d received from Tristan and passed to Kathryn. . . . Telepathy worked better for concepts than for conversation over distance, Corwin had said; maybe not for him, but he had to try.
“Lower your body temperature,” he ordered aloud, “and slow your heart. This is what we were trained for, the reason they taught us mind skills to use in dealing with emergencies. This is part of what Maclairn is doing for the rest of humankind—giving people control over their own minds and bodies. And teaching them how to help each other by sharing minds, as we’ve all been starting to do. If we can make contact, I’ll show you. . . .”
“Mikaela and I shared our minds,” Drew burst out, “And now she’s . . . oh God, Terry—”
They had slept together, Terry recalled—perhaps more than once. That would have enhanced their telepathic ability not only with each other, but with everyone; possibly they were no longer merely latent telepaths. “Reach out, Drew!” he commanded. “If she’s still alive she needs you—you can reach her if you relax completely and call to her silently. . . .”
It might be mere wishful thinking, but he sensed that Drew had grasped this. Terry’s tension was lessening as he gained control of his feelings and attempted to follow his own advice. “I’ll be in comm blackout in a minute or two, around on the back side of the moon,” he warned. “Don’t panic and stay very still. Just keep on relaxing, so your body won’t use too much oxygen.”
On the second orbit, by this time on powered descent, Terry spotted the bright orange markers they had placed around the sensor station, which fortunately had been out of the path of the avalanche. Drawing a deep breath, he switched to manual control and felt Picard begin to drop. There would be no second attempt if it missed the target area; unlike a shuttle, this ship was too heavy to reverse direction so close to the ground and he was now committed to either a soft landing or a crash. What if he came too close to where they were sitting? The ice gleamed in the weak sunlight and he shuddered at the thought of setting down on a slippery surface from which he might or might not able to lift off again. Even the liftoff from Maclairn had been iffy. . . .
But this was his ship. He had restored it to life and had been given command of it; surely it wasn’t his fate to lose it now.
“I’m about to land,” he told Drew and Zuri. “Stay where you are unless it looks like you’re going to be hit—you probably haven’t enough oxygen left for any exertion. I will bring tanks to you.”
Putting on more power, he maneuvered over a small ridge and let Picard settle. Plumes of steam rose around it as its thrusters touched ice, blinding the camera that fed his viewscreen; he realized that he would see nothing until it was too late to make any adjustments in the angle at which the ship came to ground. At the last minute he became aware that he had not been relying on sight in any case; his inner sense, the same sense he used for remote viewing, had shown him where to set down. There was a brief jar, and then no more movement than the reactive shaking of his hands.
He recalled, vividly, the image that had occurred to him his first morning on Maclairn when the sight of Picard on the ground had made him think of a beached whale.
The ship seemed solidly grounded; there was no trembling of the deck as he struggled into his spacesuit and ice boots. He got two oxygen tanks out of the storage locker and went through the airlock onto the frozen surface of Five-C.
The gravity was slightly higher than one g, which was helpful in keeping his footing on the slick ice. Drew and Zuri were some distance away; he was closer to the avalanche than to them. The shuttle was indeed buried beneath it, tipped onto its side; he could make out the shape. And as he walked, he got an
idea.
“She’s alive!” Drew called as he approached. “I—I tried to reach Mikaela in my mind like you said, sir,” he added as Terry helped Zuri change her oxygen tank. “And I know she’s there, I don’t know how I know, but I’m sure. Only she’ll die! We can’t just leave, and let her die.”
“No,” Terry agreed. “How accurate are you with that laser cannon we installed, Lieutenant?”
“I did all right in the simulator, sir. Why?”
“I’m thinking that with it set on low power, we might blast some of the ice off the shuttle.”
“We can’t see it well enough,” Drew protested. “There’s nothing to aim for; we’d never locate the hatch. We could destroy the ship.”
“That’s a possibility. But it’s the only chance we have of getting Mikaela out.”
“I might kill her,” Drew whispered in horror. “If I estimated wrong, I might literally shoot her with it.”
“Yes. But as you said, she will die for sure if we do nothing.”
They made their way back to Picard, which was fortunately positioned so that the beam could be directed toward the shuttle. “I’d do this myself,” Terry said gently, “but I’ve had no training at all in fire control. It has to be you, Lieutenant Larssen.”
Drew nodded. Terry powered up the ship and channeled power into the beam. Taking the controls, Drew aimed, hesitated for a moment, and then fired. The blue glare of the laser reflected by the ice nearly blinded them; when it faded, they could see that a small section of the shuttle’s hull was exposed. It was not near the hatch, however. “Try again,” Terry ordered. “We know its orientation now.”
“I’ve got to be careful not to fuse the hatch,” Drew stated grimly.
“Aim high. The ice above it will melt and fall away in chunks,”
Drew complied. On the third try the hatch, now near the top of the hull rather than on the side, appeared to be accessible. They rushed toward it; nearly stumbling as they ran. Only one person at a time could enter the airlock, and Terry commanded the others to wait while he climbed down into it; he did not want Drew to find Mikaela’s body if the oxygen inside had run out.
The Rising Flame: Box Set: Defender of the Flame + Herald of the Flame Page 17