Chindi

Hutch was also outside, on the hull of her ship. She said so, twice. He checked the time. Only a few minutes away now. Of course, there was no way to know whether she was being exact. Usually when people use an expression like we’ll be there in an hour and a half, there’s a certain amount of loose change in either direction.

“Hutch,” he said into the commlink, “I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you.” He gri

The flat level buzz of the universe came back. If you listen closely, the old song lyric went, you can hear Betelgeuse.

“I’m still here, Tor.”

Hutch’s voice again, electrifying in its imminence, as though she sat behind him, or behind one of the ridges.

“Hutch, can you hear me yet? Tell me if you can hear me.”

“You’re only a few seconds away now. I wish you could talk to me.”

As do I.

The ridges out on either side of the exit hatch were low. Barely ripples in the rock. But he selected a spot that seemed the highest place, although he could almost have seen over it. He walked to it, shook his head, and climbed it. The Memphis should be straight ahead. Somewhere beyond the front of the chindi. Beyond where the ridges meet. Somewhere.

He waited patiently, shielding his eyes from a nonexistent glare. There was movement off to one side. But it was only a spray of dust. A micrometeor.

And then: “I love you, Tor.”

Well, that last was good news anyhow.

THERE WAS A subtle change in the transmission, in her voice, informing him he was on the downside of the Doppler. “Good-bye, Priscilla,” he said.

He stayed on his feet, wishing that a stray rock would take him, remove any need for decision on his part. Get it over.

She’d been right. Nothing in the chindi had been worth his life. It might have been worth dying for in some obscure philosophical sense. But only if someone else did the dying. When Pete and Herman and the others had lost their lives it had seemed brave and noble, making the ultimate sacrifice for the ultimate cause. Opening a window through which the species could at last get a sense of its neighbors.

But the presence of Priscilla Hutchins on the Memphis underscored why it was better to live.

HE WENT BELOW again, and wandered back to say good-bye to Wolfie.

The corridors that had once seemed so broad and spacious now crowded him. The werewolf waited in the dark. Another creature far from home.

Lost travelers.

He stood gazing at it by the light of his wristlamp. The implications of what Hutch had said about the chindi’s velocity had begun to make sense, and he was feeling even more isolated. While he stood facing the image he realized why the chindi had never jumped, why it traveled at high speed. And he began to sense how truly old the ship must be.

George had hoped, when they’d first discovered it, that they’d be able to engage its crew in a dialogue. Hello, we’re from Earth. Where are you folks from?

“How are you doing, Wolfie?” Hutch had thought he was someone’s idea, somewhere, of the ruler of the universe. Tor gazed at the image for several minutes. It did look rational. And serene. One might even say it possessed a touch of majesty.

If anything is made in His image, it should reflect reason. Anatomical design seems hardly relevant.

“I never believed in You,” he said. “Still don’t.” He switched off the light. “Good-bye, Wolfie. I won’t be along this way again.”

Its eyes seemed to have become visible.

He backed toward the door. “If you could see your way clear to help, though, I’d be grateful.”

HE TOPPED OFF his tanks, probably for the last time, and set them aside. The cell was near exhaustion. Best course now, if he wanted to drag things out, was to stay in the dome until the lights went off. Figuratively, of course, since everything that could be turned off was off. But he should wait it out here until life support shut down and the air started to go bad. Then switch to the tanks.

That was what he should do. It might be easier to end it. But he did not believe he could bring himself to deactivate the suit.

He was still relatively young, and he loved the sunlight. He had a sudden vision of the Memphis pulling up alongside and finding him dead. Of Hutch in tears, inconsolable, clasping him to her breast. Regretting the lost time they might have had together.

Odd. There was a degree of satisfaction in that.

Hutch continued to speak to him, her voice carried by the relay. He knew it was hard on her. But it would have been hard even if he’d been a stranger. It wasn’t easy standing around watching someone die.

Well, whatever happened from here on, he wasn’t going to turn out his own lights. You wouldn’t find Vinderwahl pulling the plug. No, ma’am.

“Tor.” Her voice again. She sounded far away now. “We have an idea that might work. Better than the other one. Hang on.”

Another idea. He hoped they weren’t trying to raise the chindi’s chief engineer.

Ten minutes later, life support failed. Fans stopped. The humming in the walls stopped. He turned on a lamp and was surprised to see that it still worked. It was dim, but it worked. No point in conserving. He left it on and sat quietly until the air in the dome started feeling heavy, until it reminded him of his washroom adventure. And then he tugged on the e-suit, co

He turned the lamp off and went back up through the exit hatch.

Chapter 34

There is in every true woman’s heart a spark of heavenly fire, which lies dormant in the broad daylight of prosperity; but which kindles up, and beams and blazes in the dark hour of adversity.

AT ABOUT THE time power was shutting down in Tor’s pocket dome, the McCarver and the Longworth reported they were on the way, and bringing lots of cable and co

For Alyx, it was becoming unbearably exciting. When Hutch excused herself because she had to start preparing Dogbone for the operation, she volunteered to go along.

“You sure?” asked Hutch, while Nick suggested it was dangerous.

Was she sure? Alyx was begi

“I hope so,” said Hutch, “But we’ll have help.”

If it looked far too massive to accelerate to any appreciable velocity, it was pretty small to walk around on. This wasn’t like going into the moonbase at 1107. Or even onto the chindi.

It struck her as a far more u

Lovely.

Hutch pushed herself gently out the door, crossed the void, descended smoothly onto Dogbone, turned, and waved. Easy as pie. The woman should consider a career in dancing.