Echo. Part 39

"Probably not."

"What are the chances?"

"I don't know, Alex. But I suggest we leave it here. Come back for it later. With a bigger carrier."

"I'm tempted to try. But I hate to just walk away from it."

I waited for him to change his mind. He didn't.

"All right," I said. "Let's see what we can do."

We dragged a table into the street and set it beside the lander. Then we carried the painting out and lifted it onto the table. Carefully.

We checked the wrapping again. When we were satisfied, we looped the cable around the entire package. "We'll have to secure it to the treads," I said. "There's nowhere else."

"Okay. Whatever it takes, Chase."

I explained how we'd do it. He agreed, and I went into the lander and sat down at the controls. "Ready, Alex," I said.

"Go ahead."

I turned the antigravs on and lifted just off the ground. About two meters.

"That's good," he said.

"Belle," I said, "can you hold us right where we are?"

"I've got it." Her voice was in its warning mode. Her voice was in its warning mode. "But be advised that remaining aloft in a stationary position in this gravity is a severe drain on the fuel." "But be advised that remaining aloft in a stationary position in this gravity is a severe drain on the fuel."

"Okay."

"I suggest you proceed with dispatch."

I got out of the seat, went back to the airlock, and climbed down the ladder. Alex gave me a hand and grunted. "Need to watch what you eat," he said.

Ha-ha.

Part of the package lay within the antigrav containment field, so it didn't weigh as much as it had. But it was still heavy enough, and in any case it was awkward to handle. We began tying it to the underside of the treads, front down. It was tricky, and the situation wasn't helped by an approaching storm that started kicking up some wind. Suddenly, Alex was telling me to look out and don't drop it and he almost lost it himself once, which somehow made him even more convinced that it was just a matter of time before the thing got blown away.

A couple of times, he looked at the sky. Lightning rippled through the clouds. "Chase," he said, "when we're in the air, can you keep clear of the bad weather?"

"I don't know. You want my honest opinion?"

"Of course."

"The smart thing to do would be to take the painting back inside and wait the storm out."

I heard him sigh. Then he was on the circuit. "Belle, can you give us a reading on the storm? How long's it going to be in the area?"

"Probably all night, Alex. It looks like a major system."

He turned a withering eye on the art gallery. "Let's clear out," he said. "We'll just be careful."

We walked around the package, tugging on it, tightening it, a.s.suring ourselves it was secure.

Belle gave me a second warning: "We are burning excessive amounts of fuel." "We are burning excessive amounts of fuel."

"Okay," Alex said, signaling he was ready to board. But the lander was floating too high.

"Belle," I said, "come down one meter. Carefully."

She brought the vehicle down. There was a bad moment when the wind caught us, and I thought it was going to drive us into the buildings. But Belle reacted superbly and held it steady while we scrambled up the ladder and through the airlock. Alex closed the hatch, and I fell into my seat. "Up, Belle," I told her. "Let's go."

THIRTY-FIVE.

When I hear people speak of talent or capability, I know they're really thinking about timing. Being in the right place at the right time. If one can do that, and you know when and how to smile, greatness lies ahead.

-Va.s.sily Kyber, first inauguration address The wind had picked up substantially, and I should have tried harder to dissuade Alex from leaving. Should have, but I didn't. I don't know whether it was because I didn't want to spend any more time in that G.o.d-forsaken place. Or I didn't want Alex to think I was being too negative about the project. Or whether I didn't want to turn into a coward. In any case, the wind caught us as we rose. Fortunately, it didn't become a problem until we were clear of the buildings, but it did did blow us all around the sky. Alex commented that it was worse than he'd thought, and I knew immediately I'd made a mistake. But I had to live with it then because I couldn't go back down without demolishing the package. blow us all around the sky. Alex commented that it was worse than he'd thought, and I knew immediately I'd made a mistake. But I had to live with it then because I couldn't go back down without demolishing the package.

"Windy," he said.

"Yes, it is." I was trying to sound as if it was nothing out of the ordinary.

The package quickly became a sail.

"Everything okay?" Alex asked, as we rolled out toward the sea, then rolled back in again.

"Yeah. We're all right."

I couldn't see Alex, who was behind me because of the broken seat, but I knew his grip on the arms of his chair had tightened. He wouldn't talk much. As conditions worsened, or rather as his perception of them grew clearer, he'd just hang on and try to look as if he weren't at all worried. That was how his mind worked: Don't scare the pilot.

We kept rising, and I was hoping we'd get above it before the painting got damaged. Or worse.

"Chase," said Belle. said Belle. "The cargo is creating a severe problem." "The cargo is creating a severe problem."

"I know."

Belle is not above letting me know that I've done something she doesn't approve of. She does that by falling silent when a response would seem to be called for. Which is precisely what she did.

"You think we should go back?" said Alex, finally.

"To be honest-" I knew he was watching, a.n.a.lyzing my reactions so he could figure out how much trouble we were in.

"Yes?" he said.

"We have no way to land without damaging the package."

"Forget the package."

And I realized I was trying to sound n.o.ble. "Alex," I said, "with or without a painting hanging from our treads, I wouldn't recommend going near the ground. We're safer up here."

"Okay. Onward and upward, babe."

We continued to roll back and forth. The painting had become loose. We listened to it bang into the treads every few seconds. Conditions meantime got progressively worse as we climbed. We got driven one way, then another. We got tossed on our side. We rode up one set of air columns and down another. We got rolled over, and even turned upside down. "This thing could use bigger wings," I said.

Belle's lamp came on. There was a small screen at my left hand. She used it when she wanted to tell me something that she didn't want the pa.s.sengers to hear. I don't think she'd ever used it before when Alex was the only other person in the vehicle. "We are burning fuel," "We are burning fuel," it read, it read, "at an unacceptable rate. Our effort to maintain headway and stability against the wind is draining us." "at an unacceptable rate. Our effort to maintain headway and stability against the wind is draining us."

"Orbit?" I asked, keeping my voice down.

"Not a chance."

Rain burst over us. Then, almost immediately, it was gone.

Belle broke in again, using audio: "If you're concerned about the artwork, you may be worrying for no reason." "If you're concerned about the artwork, you may be worrying for no reason."

"I can guess why."

"I'm sure you can. It has certainly suffered major damage." She showed us a picture. Part of the wrapping had broken loose and spilled out into the sky. Worse, the rear section of the package was crumpling, was being pushed against the treads' support frame. She showed us a picture. Part of the wrapping had broken loose and spilled out into the sky. Worse, the rear section of the package was crumpling, was being pushed against the treads' support frame.

"Unload it," said Alex.

"We-" It was as far as I got: A gust hit us. Even Belle yelped. The lights went out, and the antigravs shut down. Suddenly, our weight was back. The ascent died, and we began to fall.

Backup power came on. We got lights, but they were dim. The engines came back, sputtered, whined, gasped.

And the automated voice-not Belle's-spoke: "Main power is no longer functioning. Please shut down all nonessential systems. I am trying to restore zero gee." "Main power is no longer functioning. Please shut down all nonessential systems. I am trying to restore zero gee."

I started turning off everything in sight. Control lamps, navigation lights, sensors, climate control, airlock systems, monitors.

"Chase-?" said Alex.

"We've got too much drag."

"Get rid of it."

"Doing that now."

I retracted the treads. If we got lucky, the package would break away. Or at least it might jam into the hold. Anything to get it away from the wind.

I found myself hanging on, counting off the twelve seconds that the retraction system needed to store the treads and close the doors. The control lamps were off, so I wouldn't get a signal that the maneuver had been successfully completed. Or not. But normally when the doors close, you can hear them. There's a very distinct chunk chunk when they lock down. when they lock down.

The count went past twelve and on to about fifteen, but we got no chunk chunk.

Still, I had gotten some some control back. control back.

"Okay?" Alex asked.

"Getting there." The wind continued to hammer us, but it had lessened. I was actually able to maintain course. Almost. "I think we're all right," I said.

A few minutes later, the power came back, and we were able to take a look at the underside. The doors were more or less closed, but the frame had crumpled. We were dragging it and a sizable piece of the protective covering, but if it was creating maneuvering problems, at least it was no longer playing the part of a sail.

It put Alex into a somber mood. "I'm sorry about all this," he said. "That was as dumb as anything I've ever done."

"Alex," I said, "you asked for an opinion, and I told you it would probably be all right. There's plenty of blame to go around."

I should confess that, when I started putting this memoir together, I'd intended to leave this sequence out. After all, you want a narrative that makes you look good. That's the whole point of doing the d.a.m.ned thing.

But a year or two earlier, when I was writing the account of our hunt for the Seeker Seeker, I was faced with a similar decision. Alex advised me to tell the whole story. "Once you start making stuff up," he'd said, "everything becomes suspect. Do it as it happened. Let some other idiot write the fiction."

THIRTY-SIX.

It is a natural reaction, when a shadow comes at us out of the darkness, a thing we do not know and cannot grasp, to run. And if we cannot run, we will kill it, if we can. Nothing is more certain. Nor should it be.

-Vicki Greene, Wish You Were Here It was ironic. After the gaslit city, followed by three more days of riding in orbit and seeing nothing other than abandoned habitations, we would probably have given up and gone home. But that crazy a.s.sa.s.sin had been sent out to stop us. So there was something to be uncovered.

It was the middle of the night, ship time, when everything changed. I came half-awake, decided I was cold, and had started to pull the spread over my shoulders when Belle's voice asked softly whether I could hear her.

"Yes, Belle," I said. "What's the problem?"

"There are people on the ground. Live ones."

That woke me up. "Where?" I said. "How many?"

"Looks like five. Possibly more. They're in boats."

They were indeed.

Two dories floated on a river in bright sunlight. They were manned by fishermen, using nets and traps. Unquestionably human. We scanned the countryside: It was hilly, mostly gra.s.sland with a few trees. A kilometer or so upriver, a cl.u.s.ter of huts, sheds, and piers, surrounded by a wall of trees, occupied the west bank.

Two hours later, we were overhead in the lander. A third boat had joined the first two. The occupants stood up as we pa.s.sed, shielding their eyes from the sun. Then they all began paddling furiously for sh.o.r.e.

The river was wide and calm. Nine hundred kilometers to the south, it would empty into an ocean.

"Well," I said, "let's hope they're friendly."

Alex nodded. "Stay inside until we know."