Chindi

He hesitated. “Twenty minutes. Maybe a little bit more.”

Ahead, she could make out the chindi. “Yuri,” she said “I’ve got visual contact.”

“Acknowledge.”

“Are you still watching it?”

“Yes.”

“Can you see Tor?”

Hesitation. “Yes. He’s outside. Near the hatch.”

“Okay, Yuri. There’s a possibility.”

“Hutch, what possibility?” He sounded as if he thought she might try to crash the thing.

“Je

“Approximately seventy kilometers per hour.”

It sounded possible.

“Hutch, you are approximately seven minutes from engine shutdown.”

She looked over at the go-packs. “Je

“Won’t work,” Je

“That’s not so good,” Hutch said.

“You would bounce once and continue on your way.”

“If there were a way to get the tanks to him…”

“The tanks, like your parts, would keep traveling. You are not going to attempt this, surely.”

No, she wasn’t.

“Hutch.” Tor sounded excited: “I can see your lights.”

“Just a little while now,” she said. Her brow was damp and she had to wipe sweat out of her eyes. She took a drink of water, still trying to get the taste of vomit out of her throat, and then turned on her e-suit. “Je

“Complying.” The AI hesitated, and Hutch could almost hear her sigh. The chindi was still hard to make out, not much more than a shadow moving among the stars.

“Fuel at one-eighth,” said Je

Hutch gave the controls back to the AI.

“I advise against this procedure,” said Brownstein.

She was thinking how to handle four go-packs. “I know, Yuri,” she said.

“I’m aware that you do. My advice is for the record.”

She couldn’t do anything to get ready until the gee forces subsided. But that wasn’t going to take long: The fuel warning lamp began to blink.

“Hutch, are we going to be able to manage this?” Tor’s voice, sounding worried.

She removed a pinger from the console and clipped it onto her harness. “Yeah, we’re fine. But listen, you’re going to see the shuttle sail past without stopping. Don’t worry about it. I won’t be in it.”

“You won’t? Where’ll you be? What’s going on?”

“Range 360,” said Je

“I’ll be coming in by go-pack.”

“Hutch, why…?”

“I’ll explain later. It’s going to be okay, Tor.”

The chindi’s bulk was expanding across the stars. She could make out the propulsion tubes now.

The lamps went bright red, and the engines shut down. End of the line. She opened the i

“Okay.” The gee forces had gone away. She climbed into the backseat where she had more room, pulled a go-pack over her shoulders. At a standard one gee, it would have weighed nine kilograms.

She strapped a second go-pack onto her belly, was pleasantly surprised to discover it fit nicely, and that it could probably be fired without damaging any vital parts. As long as she didn’t move too much.

She used a five-meter length of cable to tie the remaining two go-packs together, and looped the loose end over her shoulder.

She struggled over to the hatch, feeling like a mover. Even though she was in zero gravity, the go-packs were awkward to handle. She squeezed through and bumped out into the night.

THE CHINDI WAS a large dark mass dead ahead. Its propulsion tubes, four dully reflective rings, were pointed in her direction. She activated the pinger, which would home in on Tor’s radio signal and allow her to head directly for him. She used her attitude control to aim her feet at the chindi, and thereby, more or less, the nozzles of the two go-packs. Satisfied she was on target, she hit the green buttons simultaneously. The go-packs fired their thrusters and she felt a gentle backward thrust. The shuttle began to move ahead.

The unit she’d tied on to her belly tried to go sideways, but she quickly straightened it and held it in place.

“It’s working,” she told Brownstein.

“Hutch,” he replied. “Remind me not to travel with you again.”

“Best traditions of the service,” she said.

“Right. Make sure you don’t whack into the thing’s ass end.”

“I’m slowing down.”

“One would hope. You have the extra pair of go-packs?”

“Sure.”

“The way we read it, if you use both sets, at the very best you’ll still be doing thirty klicks when you hit the hatch.”

“That’s not so good.”

“No, it isn’t. Hutch, this is not going to work. You try to set down at that pace, and you’ll bounce all the way to Vega.”

Some of that must have spilled over onto Tor’s cha

She wasn’t entirely sure.

Chapter 37

“Dr. Livingstone, I presume.”

TOR LISTENED WITH growing horror while she explained. Coming in too fast. Going to pass overhead. No way to slow down. Don’t know what else to try. “I could go up one of the propulsion tubes.”

“I don’t think that would work.”

“I wasn’t serious.”

He was standing beside the exit hatch. Everything seemed absolutely still. A peaceful night under the stars.

“I’m out of ideas,” she was saying.

“Are you still braking?”

“Yes. Using two packs. Got two more when these give out. But I don’t think they’re going to be enough.”

Tor looked back, over the flat ground between the ridges, past the distant arcs of the thrusters, trying to see her. The shuttle’s lights had grown brighter, but of course she wouldn’t be visible out there anywhere. “Do you have enough air for yourself?”

“Yes. Sure.”

“You’re certain.”

“Did you want me to go back?”

They both laughed, and it was as if a wall had broken inside him, and he recognized it was over. And when he had done that, when he’d resigned himself that he wasn’t going to survive, he laughed again. “I’ll wave as you go by.”

Hutch was silent.

“How fast will you be traveling when you get here?”

“About thirty klicks.”

“And you’ll be here in….?”

“Thirteen minutes and counting.”

Thirty klicks. It wasn’t all that fast. He felt a flicker of hope, and almost regretted it. Resignation seemed better. “Maybe there’s still a way to do it,” he said.

“How?”

“You’d take some lumps.”

“How? What do we do?”

“Hold on a few seconds.”

He dropped down the exit hatch, switched on his lamp, and ran toward First and Main.

“What?” she demanded.

“I’ll explain in a minute. Let me see first whether it’s feasible.” He charged past the werewolf, feeling for the first time that his air was getting a bit close. He pulled up at the Ditch. The cable still hung down to the lower decks.

He started hauling it up. There was more of it than he remembered, but that was good.

“I don’t want to rush you, Tor, but if you’re got something, you’d better make it quick.”

“Try to get low. I’m going to toss you a rope.” He heard her laugh again. But this time the sound sent a chill up his spine. “I’m serious.”

“Do it,” she said. “I don’t have anything better.”

There was a lot of cable. Almost a hundred meters. It was strong stuff, and he tried to loop it around his shoulder as it came out of the hole but there was too much to keep in order. And it seemed to go on forever.