Chindi

Conditions hadn’t changed when they arrived finally at the exit hatch. George sank against the ladder, grateful for something to hold on to. Alyx also grabbed hold and breathed a sigh of relief.

Ten minutes from the Slurpy. He looked up at the hatch, squirreled away in its airlock. The metal gleamed in the torchlight, showing no sign that it had been cut through twice, and twice repaired. “There’s what happened to the link,” he said. “Tor, maybe we should get out now and not wait?”

Alyx was nodding yes. Let’s waste no time.

Tor hesitated, then reached inside his vest and produced the cutter.

LEFT TO HIS own devices, Tor would have known not to remove a hatch during a maneuver. But he’d stopped thinking and instead developed a conviction that they had to get outside before they went into the Slurpy. Simple enough. It couldn’t be too bad out there. And anyhow, he knew Hutch would be nearby with the lander, and he had to give her a chance to pick them up.

He climbed the ladder to the hatch, activated the cutter and touched it to the metal. (Would the maintenance crew on chindi at some point get a

The metal blackened and began to flake away. And while he cut he thought about Hutch, coming to bail him out again. And he promised himself when they were off the Memphis, when this whole goofy business was done and they weren’t caught anymore in a space of a few hundred square meters, when she was free to walk away from him if she chose, he would tell her. Tell her everything. How he still felt like an adolescent in her presence. How his voice tended to fail. How he woke up sometimes at night from having dreamed about her, and how his spirits sagged to discover none of the dream had been true.

Stupid. To get so caught up over one woman.

He completed the cut, shut off the laser, reached up, and pushed. The piece gave way and was torn from his grip and his hand slammed hard against the side of the hatch. He cried out and fell off the ladder.

He crashed into George and Alyx, who were trying to catch him, to break his fall, and they all went down.

George swore. “What happened?”

Tor’s hand was bruised, but, he thought, not broken. “Must have got above the damping field,” he said, trying to flex it. “Whacked it pretty good.”

Then he noticed Alyx biting her lip and holding on to her ankle.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Twisted it.”

The hatch was, at least, wide-open. Stars blazed through the opening he had made. But within a few minutes they went dark. A wind blew through the passageway, and a few snowflakes drifted down on them.

THE CHINDI INSERTED itself smoothly into the snowstorm. No tossing around there, Hutch thought. The vessel was too massive.

But she had a carrier wave again from George. “Hutch, are you there? Can you hear me?”

“I’m here. What kind of shape are we in?”

“Hatch is open. It’s snowing like a son of a bitch.”

“I know. Stay inside. Wait one, I’ve got another call. Bill?”

“Hutch, the chindi has just shut down its thrusters. Present velocity will result in rendezvous with fu

“No more tweaks?”

“One more firing will be necessary. But it will be slight.”

“Okay. George, you still on the circuit?”

“We’re here.”

“All three of you?”

“Yes.”

“Does it look possible to do the pickup?”

“It’s a blizzard. How good a pilot are you?”

“Bill, can you get a reading on the wind near the chindi?”

“Forty to sixty, gusting to a hundred. Winds in a circle. Tornado style.”

“Okay. Time to see what we can do. George, I’ll be there in a few minutes. You guys be ready to go. But stay inside until I tell you.” She was fortunate to have a lander, and not a shuttle. The shuttles were boxier, not designed for atmospheric flight. The lander would provide more control.

She’d dropped farther behind when the chindi went into the storm, and trailed the big ship by twenty kilometers when the blizzard closed over her. The sky went dark, and large fat flakes splatted onto the viewports. But the wind was moderate, not as bad as she’d expected, and she wondered if she was going to get lucky.

“Be careful,” said Bill. “Winds will intensify as you proceed. They are weakening somewhat overall but are still close to hurricane force near the mouth of the fu

Her screens indicated the fu

“That’s it,” said Bill. “Chindi will now be taking fu

The lander rose on a sudden stiff gust. Another flurry spattered across the windscreen.

“Big doors opening below the chindi,” Bill said. He tried to give her an image. It was hard to make out precisely what was happening, but the two objects, the chindi and the fu

Bill began a

The wind was picking up.

THE STORM HOWLED around her. Pieces of ice pounded the lander, rattled the hull, and cracked the passenger-side view-screen. Hutch activated her e-suit and reduced air pressure in the cabin to prevent a possible blowout. She retracted ante

“Maybe you ought to back off until it comes out the other side,” said Nick. “If you try to take them off in this, you might kill everybody.”

She’d been hoping that the winds would be less violent above the chindi. The big ship would be between her and the mouth of the fu

“Hutch,” said Bill, “the operation appears to be in its last stages. The ring has been attached.” He was referring to the fu

“Acknowledged,” she said.

“It may not wait until it is clear of the storm to accelerate.”

“I hear you.” She kept her voice level and was pleased with herself when Nick commented that she was too gutsy by half.

She wasn’t. Hutch was adrift in a sea of apprehension, but George had left her no options. She was coming to resent people who played hero and took chances that in the end put her on the chopping block.

All her instincts warned her that Bill was right, that the chindi would come out of the storm accelerating, and it would keep going. She’d been a pilot too many years. She knew how ships operated, and even if this thing was a total unknown, it still functioned within the laws of physics and common sense. There were no more bottles or packages coming in or going out, so that part of the mission, whatever it was, had been completed.

It was a massive vehicle. To accelerate out of the storm and then settle back into orbit when they had apparently completed their business here would waste fuel. She was going to get them off now, or she’d have to wait until they got to wherever the next destination was.

Damn you, Tor. George would not have persisted had Tor not thrown his weight into the argument.

Something hammered the hull. The lights blinked and went out.

“Portside transactor down,” whispered Onboard Bill. “Switching to auxiliary.”

Power came back.

“Negative other damage,” he said. “Rerouting data flow. Replacement will be necessary.”

Something else hit them, and the lander shuddered.

Nick’s voice: “I guess we didn’t plan this very well.”