by Eric Flint
The main support gave forth a musical chime as the last portion of it was severed. Whips stopped and evaluated the situation. One more cut on the other side, and then I can unfasten the rest with less destructive approaches.
“Whips, can you move the next box closer?” Hitomi asked. “We just emptied the last one.”
“Down in a second,” he answered. He inactivated the laser cutter and put it down safely on the upper wing before he let himself slide down to the ground, using his two long side-arms to grip and slowly ease him over the edge; when you massed as much as he did, even short falls were to be avoided.
He did his usual grab-slide-grab walk to the loading area, and tossed aside the empty box. A quick movement wrapped his arms securely around the next crate, and he was able to use his rear gripper-pushers to help drag it up the ramp. “This one’s heavier than the last,” he muttered. His griptalons hooked into the top and pulled it off, and he lifted his body to get a glimpse of the inside. “Oh. Dried and smoked capy. No wonder. That’s a lot of meat.”
“Thanks, Whips!” Francisco said. “These go in the red-marked storage areas, right?”
“You got it, Francisco,” Whips agreed. He snagged one of the broadfrond-wrapped packages before he headed back down the ramp; as an omnivore with a marked preference for meat, this kind of thing was his favorite snack.
Feeding the woodsmoke-flavored meat to his grinders a little at a time, Whips clambered back onto the damaged wing of Emerald Maui and resumed cutting.
It took about an hour to finish. He felt the universal tool in its wrench configuration suddenly exhibit more resistance, and knew he’d reached the last few turns; the stress was torqueing the bolt in its threads. “Hitomi, Francisco, you both still inside Emerald Maui?” he called.
“Yes,” Franky answered. “We are resting right now, on one of the cases.”
“Okay, stay there. I’m almost about to finish this, and when I do the jet engine will fall straight down. I don’t want anyone getting hurt.”
“Okay, Whips, we’ll stay here. Can we watch through the port?”
“Of course you can. Let me know when you’re there, then I’ll do the last few turns.”
“Wait…okay, we’re both at the port!”
Whips gripped the wrench tightly in both arms and pulled. The bolt turned grudgingly, a faint screech and vibration warning Whips that they were deforming and stripping the threads. He winced, his engineer’s instincts jabbing at him, even as he reminded himself that it didn’t matter, they weren’t going to be using that hole for anything again.
Without warning, the wrench swung around, there was a sharp snap! sound, and the heavy engine assembly plummeted with a thud into the mound of soft dirt that had been placed to catch it. “Done!”
“Our engine?”
“It’s out. We’ll have to get one of the excavators to haul it to our work area, but I think it’s all intact.”
“What, you can’t carry it home yourself?” Sakura’s voice asked over the link.
He gave a hooting chuckle. “I might drag it a little ways, but no, it’s way more than I could really carry. If Maddox wants to—”
White, harsh light suddenly flared behind him, so bright that the daylight looked dim and he had dark, dark shadows standing out before him; the protective ports of Emerald Maui had gone black in automatic response.
Slewing around, Whips shuttered his eyes to slits to see a massive, brilliant streak of light brighter than the sun curve down and across the sky; there was another flare visible over the rim of the horizon, and then the sky was clear, with a whitish trail marring the blue above.
“What the hell was that?” Campbell’s voice demanded. “Whole forest lit up!”
“Meteor—biggest I’ve ever seen,” Whips said. He triggered a query to the SC-178 satellite in best position to observe the area. “Wonder if it hit anything.”
The satellite responded immediately, giving a clear image of the area.
Whips blinked. It looked like a bullseye, with rings around it.
Rings that were expanding.
“Oh-oh,” he heard himself say, then commanded the software to perform some quick estimations.
He looked at the results. “Screaming Vents,” he whispered. “Everyone,” he began quietly, then triggered a full emergency alert. “Everyone, listen! That meteor must have been huge. We have incoming waves that are…ten meters, maybe higher.”
There was an explosion of color from the forest; dozens, hundreds of the quadbirds were taking flight, heading away from the impact point.
“Mother of God,” Campbell said. “Get back here now.”
“No time,” Whips said, feeling a sense of terrifying unreality washing over him as he realized the full situation. “We’d never get to either of the columns in time. There’s…five minutes, maybe less, before it gets here!”
“The kids—”
Whips looked around. “The only chance is for us to ride it out in Emerald Maui.”
“You’ll have to throw off the mooring ropes,” Xander said. “Don’t make Emerald Maui have to fight against the water, it’ll lose.”
“Right,” Whips said.
“Whips, what was that? What’s happening?” Hitomi was standing at the base of the ramp, looking in the direction of the impact, where the white trail was slowly twisting. Was there a wrinkle on the horizon already?
“Hitomi, Francisco, get back inside the shuttle now,” Whips said. “Choose one of the acceleration couches and strap in. Strap in right, like we were taking off.”
“¿Qué?” Francisco asked, a touch of fear in his voice. “What is happening?”
“A big, big wave is coming and it’s probably going to wash us out to sea,” Whips said, as he slid quickly off the wing again. “It’ll be fine if you’re strapped in, so hurry!”
“Do what Whips says, Francisco,” Sergeant Campbell’s voice said over the omnis. “You too, Hitomi. He’s in charge there. Do exactly what he says.”
The two swallowed visibly, but ran back up the ramp.
Whips turned and got all three arms around the jet engine. Digging his grippers into the soil, he heaved, yanking it a meter towards him. Stretch and pull, another meter, though his support segments were complaining.
“Whips, what do you think you’re doing?” Laura said after a moment.
“Trying to save our chance to send a distress call,” he answered.
“Don’t be stupid!” Sakura snapped.
“I’m watching. If the waves look like they’re getting too close—”
“—Then it might be too late,” Laura interrupted. “Get inside that shuttle, now.”
“Only a few more meters to go,” he said, stubbornly hauling on the heavy engine.
“Whips, you will need time to secure that damned thing,” Campbell said emphatically. “You can’t have it banging around inside the shuttle when those waves hit!”
He felt his hide ripple in chagrin. He hadn’t thought of that, and Campbell was right.
But still, there might be enough time. He knew where the holdfasts were, and there were securing lines right there, and…
“Whips, your responsibility is for Hitomi and Francisco,” Laura said, and her voice was hard and cold. “You will not take a chance on leaving them alone in Emerald Maui!”
Sky and Vents, she’s right, and I can’t argue it. With a hooting groan of frustration, Whips let go and whirled around, squirming toward the fore end of Emerald Maui. He hit the quick-release hooks on the mooring lines, all five of them in sequence, then headed towards the ramp as fast as he could go. Vents, I almost forgot. He sent another command to the shuttle, and saw the outrigger-wing and the tail-vanes reconfiguring, folding up, melding as closely as they could to the hull.
In the distance, there was a vague hissing sound, and he glanced over with one eye, to see water streaming away from them, towards the horizon—a horizon that didn’t look quite right anymore. “Oh, crap.”
&n
bsp; The water level was actually dropping; he remembered that this happened sometimes on Earth, but he’d thought that a floating continent wouldn’t show that kind of effect. As he reached the loading ramp it dawned on him; this was, compared to the floating continent, a local event.
Water could recede. And it could come back.
Or, a part of him thought in calm horror, the part of the continent that’s now above water might just snap off in time to be hit by the wave and dragged across the rest of it.
“Are you both strapped in?” he shouted up the ramp. Even as the two called back “Yes!” he was triggering the ramp to raise and seal. Was the front airlock…no it was still open! He sent another command out, saw that one closing too.
Have to strap myself in fast. The external monitors now showed the approaching wave, something that might well subside to invisibility, a ripple, in a hundred kilometers or so, but not now, not yet, and with the massive skirt of the pseudo-continent to guide and raise and focus it…
He gave another Europan curse as he realized that Emerald Maui had never had any of its hold-downs configured for Bemmies, unlike LS-5. He began feverishly dragging out the straps, rehooking and distributing them for his very inhuman body shape.
There was a rumbling whisper in the air now, and the water was rising back to the shore. Rising over the original shoreline, foaming around Emerald Maui’s keel. “Get ready, Francisco, Hitomi!”
He had one line fastened across himself, but there were two more to go. The water rose swiftly, streaming around the aft part of the ship, making a rippling fountain where it struck the mostly-circular casing of the removed jet engine.
Whips ground his interior masticatory array in frustration as the engine began to slowly move under the pressure of the water. So close. Just five more meters and it’d be inside.
But there hadn’t been time, and while Whips yanked the next securement line tight he admitted that to himself. He’d have been maybe to the base of the ramp before the water started to hit, and then…
The light dimmed, and his gaze snapped towards the porthole. Francisco looked too, and screamed.
A massive green-and-white-and brown cliff of water towered above Emerald Maui, blocking out the brightness of sun and sky.
Whips twined all three of his arms around the third securement line and gripped hard. “Hold on!”
And then the world spun and whirled and heaved as the tsunami smashed down on Emerald Maui.
PART 3
POSSIBILITIES
Chapter 18
Sue Fisher leaned back in the bath, luxuriating in the hot, soapy water and the fact that after tomorrow she’d have seven glorious days off. Orado Station had gone back to the old routine in the months since Outward Initiative had staggered its way into the system, and she happily embraced routine after that disaster.
Seven days would be more than enough to go planetside, visit Mom and Dad and maybe her brother if he wasn’t somewhere on the other side of the world by then, and hit the beaches before going inland. She’d already talked with her friend Kate about doing some mountain-climbing in the middle of the week. And some nightlife afterwards sounded real fun.
She chuckled to herself. “Boy, sounds like I’ve planned a lot of work for my vacation,” she admitted, and stretched a bit in the water—that stayed in place courtesy of the carefully-controlled spin of the station providing a good ersatz version of gravity.
There were, of course, fun things to be had in her job, apart from the long, slack periods that let her catch up on all the reading and viewing she might want—fun things like the letter she was reading through her retinal display. One of the fast couriers had brought back the latest edition of The Journal of Interstellar Spaceflight, which featured the final version of “Analysis of an in-flight malfunction of a Trapdoor drive system: implications for the structure of Trapdoor space and the potential for self-reinforcing resonant field disturbances,” which was the long-winded title of the article she had authored with Numbers.
The letter was from Dr. Helen Glendale, current Director of the Board of the Interstellar Flight Foundation, which published the JISF. Dr. Glendale—a sidewise descendant of the Dr. Glendale who had been instrumental in the initial colonization of Earth system way back when—expressed her reaction to the paper:
“…a startling set of claims bolstered by some solid theoretical and practical research. The Kryndomerr Resonance is an invaluable discovery in the purely scientific sense; all the reviewers agree that this discovery is almost certain to provide us with insights into the actual nature of Trapdoor space and, perhaps, higher-order spaces beyond it.
“In a more practical vein, of course, this discovery will undoubtedly save countless lives. On the basis of this paper a detailed Industry Safety Bulletin was prepared and immediately dispatched to all colonies and relevant organizations. We already—”
ERRRT! ERRRT! ERRRT! ERRRT!
Sue froze; reminiscing about the prior disaster and involved as she was with the letter, she thought for a moment she was flashing back to the earlier alarm.
Then it penetrated. Another emergency alert?
She lunged to a stand in the tub, comfort forgotten as she hit the drain and dry control. Hot air blasted from the side vents, scouring the water from her body and her hair; she ran her fingers through the shoulder-length brown waves and they dried swiftly, even as she triggered the connection to Orado Port’s AI control.
A shiver of déjà vu sent goosebumps chasing themselves across her body even in the hot-air blast, hearing the received transmission.
“Mayday, Mayday, Mayday,” it began—and like that other time, the words were not those of a controlled automated system or the self-assured confidence of the command crew of a vessel, but the exhausted, frightened, but somehow victorious sounds of a living human at the end of their endurance but not of their hope. “Orado Port, this is LS-42, lifeboat off of Outward Initiative, out of Earth. If anyone can hear this…please send help. We are out of food. Multiple systems failed. Mayday, Mayday, Mayday…”
LS-42? One of the lifeboats arriving now? It should have arrived months ago, if it was going to come at all! “Orado Port, what resources do we have in that area?”
“The nearest vessel to LS-42 is a manned construction and mining vessel, the Bill Williams. The nearest official Orado vessel is the OIS Zenigata.”
“Do either of them have a good intercept vector for LS-42, and if so, how long until they can reach the lifeboat? Or would I be better off taking Raijin?”
Orado Port could calculate all the variables involved faster, really, than Sue could possibly have spoken the question; it was more programmed courtesy than anything else that made the system wait for her to finish the query before answering it. “If you pilot Raijin with your customary skill, you would arrive with emergency supplies approximately thirty-one hours before Zenigata could intercept and forty-seven hours before a best-case maneuver by the Bill Williams could bring them in range.”
So much for the vacation, she thought with a touch of ruefulness—but only a touch. This was what she was employed for, and no one would kick about her having to reschedule in this situation. “Transmit to LS-42: Mayday received, LS-42. Help is on the way. Emergency Watch Officer Susan Fisher, Orado Port. Repeat message until you get an acknowledgement or I have arrived at LS-42, whichever comes first. Who’s the medical officer on watch?”
“Doctor Haven, but he is not cleared for emergency flights at this time. Doctor Ghasia has been alerted.”
She nodded. Buriji Ghasia…he’s good enough. And almost as small as Carolyn Pearce, so that would help in the transport area. “I’m getting ready. Can you make sure Raijin is loaded with food, clean water, and medical supplies, as well as basic repair materials?”
“Already underway,” Orado Port replied. “Do you intend to undertake a tow?”
“Advice? You can run the numbers a billion times faster than I can.”
“Bill Williams will bri
ng them in faster than you could manage the tow. Raijin could be used to transport critically ill patients if it was necessary to do so faster than the tow could manage, but the OIS vessel has a good infirmary on board so this may not be necessary.”
She grimaced, looking at a secondary display of data she hadn’t read in months. “But it might be, at that. Given the passenger and crew complement and the known supplies on that ship, they should all have starved to death at least two months ago.” She stared at the faint moving dot in another display. “I don’t know how any of those people could be alive now.”
Chapter 19
The stench was the first thing that struck Sue as the airlock door finally opened, a smell that combined the worst features of sweat, bad breath, mildew, and rot. She coughed, almost gagged before her nanos cut in and damped the reaction, and hesitated for a moment at the threshold. Modern ships and space stations had highly advanced filtration and atmosphere reclamation systems which were designed to remove even the worst odors from the air and leave it with only the faint background scents that had been determined to make air smell “fresh.” Even Outward Initiative, cut to pieces by its own Trapdoor field, multiple systems failing, had mostly cleansed the stench of smoldering insulation and other damage by the time it had arrived in Orado.
What that implied about the conditions in LS-42 was horrific.
“Hello?” she said.
The interior lights of LS-42 came on, low, and Sue sucked in her breath, even in that miasma.
In some ways, it wasn’t as bad as she had feared. Despite the smell, the cabin wasn’t strewn with rotting litter. But what was there was still heart-wrenchingly, nauseatingly bad.
The majority of the acceleration seats were occupied, by what looked like half-mummified corpses. Dressed mostly in the simple two-piece ship undergarments, ribs and hips and shoulder bones jutted out under skin somehow both slack and taut. Most of them had their eyes closed, but though they seemed either unconscious or dead, there was no sign of relaxation; the faces were lined, even with the skin tighter against the bones, with fear and exhaustion.
