Resurgence hu-5

by Charles Sheffield

  “Got to make this quick.” Hans Rebka cut him off. It occurred to Sinara that the two men were competing in the briefing. “Thirty seconds more and the two of us have to be out of this airlock so you can cycle it. Remember, the shallow entry angle will expose you to much more debris on the way in. On the way out, just pick the best path—”

  “—an’ don’t worry about bein’ met. J’merlia will make sure that the Have-It-All is there waitin’ to pick you up.”

  “That’s it, you two.” Lacking an intercom, Julian Graves had to stand at the inner door of the airlock and shout. “Out of there, so we can cycle the lock. And the three of you—good luck.”

  Rebka and Nenda left reluctantly, nowhere near as fast as Graves would have liked. He was waving them on as the inner door closed.

  As the outer door began to open with a hiss of escaping air, Teri Dahl said to Sinara, “Did you notice the way that Captain Rebka was staring at us? I didn’t like it at all.”

  “I know what you mean. I’ve seen men with that look before. He had an expression on his face as though he wanted to screw us.”

  “That’s it exactly! But what a time and what a place for it! In an airlock, in our suits, twenty seconds before we’re ready to leave the ship. I’d heard that men from the Phemus Circle are sex-mad, but this is crazy.”

  “Hey, you two should worry.” Torran Veck was laughing. “He was looking at me in exactly the same way. There was a touch of it in Louis Nenda, too, if you watched him closely. You are reading it wrong. It was lust, all right—only they didn’t want to jump your bones, they want to be us. They want to go after Ben Blesh, too, so bad you could see it hurting. I think it’s the reason for Hans Rebka’s existence. If there’s trouble, he wants to be in the middle of it. But we’re the lucky ones. We get to go.” He reached out to take Sinara’s arm in his left hand and Teri’s in his right. “Come on. Ten seconds to their ignition. Let’s make sure we’re out of here before that.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  The price of rescue

  They did not wish to change their precisely calculated velocity vector, so the push to take them outside the Have-It-All’s airlock was a gentle one. Sinara, Torran, and Teri drifted slowly away from the hull, keeping pace with it. The tiniest thrust from their suit jets could take them back into the air lock.

  And then that was no longer true. The Have-It-All was gliding ahead, increasing speed as though it intended to plunge into the broad disk of debris. Within half a minute, Sinara could see another change. The ship was turning, thrusting itself away from the dangerous whirlpool and beginning the long drive out to and around the far-off bulk of the gas-giant M-2. She watched the pale-blue exhaust of relativistic particles until the wake of the Have-It-All’s drive faded to nothing against the background of stars.

  She, Teri, and Torran hovered in space with only each other for company. Except that they were not hovering. They were heading for the danger zone of Marglot’s remains, a kilometer closer every few seconds.

  Inside a ship you could feel a sense of security, no matter how threatening the situation. You were surrounded by older people, experienced people who had seen a thousand dangers and found a way to live through them. That sense of security, false as it may have been, vanished when you had no protection but your suit and were exposed to the enormous openness that made up even the smallest planetary system.

  As they approached the whirlpool of matter that had once been Marglot, Sinara’s feeling of discomfort increased. She steered her suit close to Torran and Teri, and noticed they were edging toward her.

  “Still a long way to go.” Teri’s voice came over the suit radio. “Two and a half thousand kilometers to the nearest piece with a long-range radar reflectance. Seventeen thousand to Ben, according to his beacon.”

  That was half a day’s journey, given the slow speed at which they were closing in on him. Their suits could pick up his distress beacon, but not his vital indicators. The Have-It-All, despite its distance, could monitor those, and Sinara had access to that information if she wanted it. She did not ask. Nor, she noticed, did Teri or Torran.

  Half a day’s journey, but not a second of it in which they could afford to relax. Sinara had proof of that when her suit’s collision avoidance radar gave a loud beep and a great boulder rushed silently past. It appeared and disappeared so fast that her eyes scarcely had time to register its presence.

  “I guess I was an optimist.” If Teri felt nervous, she hid it well. “The belt of debris is wider than I thought, and our long-distance radar registers only big fragments. Some of the really huge lumps in the belt must still be colliding and fragmenting and ejecting parts of themselves. Look out! Here’s another!”

  This one was smaller, but Sinara saw it coming. She had time for a sudden spurt to the right, placing herself well out of harm’s way.

  “Seems as though Julian Graves was right.” Teri had made the same sideways jump. “If we were as big and massive as the Have-It-All, that lump of rock wouldn’t have missed.”

  “It wouldn’t have hit you,” Torran said. “It would have cleared you by at least ten meters. We don’t want to go hopping around if we can avoid it. We could lose our original velocity vector.”

  “It wouldn’t matter. We can pick up the signal from Ben’s suit, and home in on that.”

  “Not if it cuts off, we can’t.”

  That had unpleasant implications which Torran did not need to spell out. Ben’s suit had ample power for the distress beacon. The signal would be lost only if the suit itself was damaged by impact. Ben’s chances of surviving in that case were slight.

  Torran said suddenly, “Something’s wrong. My inertial guidance system shows me shifting away to the right.”

  Sinara checked her own monitor. “Not just you. All of us. It’s a change of direction, but we’re not heading off course. E.C. Tally predicted this, and he allowed for it in his calculations of our original vector. The most massive chunks of Marglot still have a hefty gravitational pull, and we are responding to one. Unless there are chaotic effects which Tally couldn’t anticipate—”

  A rattle on her suit like hard hail cut her off in mid-sentence. It took a few moments to realize that she was being bombarded with small particles. They must be low-speed, because her suit remained intact.

  “Lucky this time.” Teri Dahl had been hit by the same volley of space-gravel. “If that lot had been travelling twenty or thirty times as fast, we would be riddled.”

  “That’s bound to happen as we get farther in,” Torran added. “I don’t know about you, but I’m recording Doppler velocity readings that are all over the place. We have material approaching us at ten kilometers a second, other stuff receding at the same speed. If we keep on as we are, we won’t stay lucky. Something fast will hit us. Help me out, the two of you. Look for an object ahead that holds its distance from us—the bigger the better, but the main thing is a good match to our velocity vector.”

  It was a frightening ten minutes, with two more storms of low-speed gravel and pebbles, until at last Teri said, “Got one, I think. Azimuth eighteen, declination minus twelve.”

  Torran added, “And just about zero relative velocity. Seems perfect. Let’s go take a close-up.”

  The fragment was several hundred meters across, a rough ellipsoid rotating slowly about its shortest axis. They could tuck in close behind it and be shielded from everything in the forward direction. There was still the danger of a hit from behind, but those fragments should be arriving at a lower relative speed.

  “Not too close,” Teri warned. “I’m reading a temperature of five hundred degrees. This is one hot rock.”

  “A piece of Marglot’s deep interior, by the look of it.” Torran was using his suit’s light to study the surface. “See the bubbles from out-gassing into vacuum? But I think that phase is over.”

  “This is only a temporary hiding place,” Sinara said. “Once we are close to Ben we’ll have to risk open space again.”
<
br />   “If you can call it open space, when it’s this big a mess.” Teri had turned to keep watch behind them, relying on the other two to warn her if she came too close to the rock. “What I’m seeing is more violent and more random than it was. Everything from sand grains to molten planetoids, all with higher speeds. But for the moment, we take what we can get.”

  Sinara said to herself, And after the moment, when we are close to Ben? But she saw no point in starting a discussion with so few facts.

  The three of them huddled as close to the shielding rock and to each other as they could get. After a silence that seemed to last forever, Torran said, “It’s no good. We’ve been holding off, all of us, but I have to know. I’m going to call the Have-It-All and make sure that Ben is still alive. If he’s not, we’ll have to make a tough call. Do we risk dying, trying to pick up Ben’s body? Or do we leave him where he is, hang in behind this lump of rock, and hope to ride it all the way out through the debris belt to safety?”

  Teri said, “You know what Ben would say. The same as we were taught in survival school. Unless you propose to eat it, a dead body is worth only the cost of its chemicals. But my bet is that Ben is alive. Call the Have-It-All and find out—if you can. They may be out of range, or they may be screened from us.”

  Sinara heard the query signal in her suit. It was loud to her, but would it be strong enough to be picked up by the Have-It-All? The ship should be a million kilometers away, perhaps already shielded by the great bulk of M-2.

  For another three minutes it seemed her worries were justified. Sinara’s suit, tuned to the ship’s frequency, offered nothing but static. At last she heard, faint and scratchy and barely intelligible, Hans Rebka’s voice: “Ben Blesh is alive, but unconscious. He’s weaker, but not much. Blood pressure sixty-five over forty, pulse forty-two. Why didn’t you report in before? We’ve been picking up your beacons and vital signs, and that was all.”

  “Nothing to say. We’re fine, all three. We found a rock to hide behind. It shields us.”

  Sinara recognized in Torran’s laconic reply an echo of Hans Rebka. It was probably happening to all of the survival specialists. They were picking their heroes and imitating them. So who did Sinara herself sound like now?

  Torran went on, “Don’t expect to hear from us again until after our rendezvous with Ben. We’ll have our hands full.”

  “Don’t expect to hear from us for a while, either. We’re ready to loop around M-2. Tell us when you know your outbound trajectory.”

  When, not if. Boundless confidence in their survival, which Sinara did not share. But at least the suspense would not go on much longer. The signal from Ben’s suit indicated that he was less than a hundred kilometers away. In four more minutes they had to leave the shelter of the rock and make an exact velocity match with Ben.

  Teri was already drifting away to Sinara’s right, with Torran following her. They wanted to take a peek around the edge of their shield before venturing out into the open. Sinara turned to look back the way they had come. They were now so deep in the belt of debris that the stars beyond were hidden. All she saw was a sea of moving fragments, some white-hot, some glowing a dull brick-red. Without the aid of her collision avoidance radar she would have no idea of their distances—they could be moving mountains, kilometers away, or fist-sized fireballs close enough to reach out and touch. There would be many others, too dark to see and most dangerous of all.

  Sinara turned again and saw Torran gesturing to her to join them.

  “We’ve had a good free ride,” he said, “but it won’t work much longer. Closest approach of this rock to Ben will be more than ten kilometers. We’ll have to fly free.”

  “Can you see him?”

  “Not his actual suit. His signal shows he’s floating along in the middle of a big mass of rubble and boulders. It must all have been thrown off the surface of Marglot together. He’s had partial shielding from all the other junk out here. It explains why he’s still alive at all—I couldn’t understand how anybody could float free for so long and not get zapped a hundred times.”

  Teri added, “We should be so lucky.”

  “We may not be. We’ll stay sheltered here as long as we can, and once we reach Ben we can hide in among the same cluster of rocks. But first we have to get there. That gives us an open space run of more than ten kilometers.”

  “Together, or separately?” Sinara had moved close to the other two. It was a trade-off. Travel alone, and you tripled the odds that one of you would get through to help Ben. You also tripled the odds that one of you would be hurt on the way.

  “Together.” Teri and Torran spoke at once. Torran added, “If I get whacked, I like the idea that you two might be close enough to do something about it. And if we all get whacked—well, we tried. I’d say our present position is close to optimum for a move. I’m biggest, so I should go first. You two follow behind me in line, and stay as close as you can.”

  Sinara realized very well what Torran was leaving unsaid. By taking the lead position, he was partly shielding her and Teri—and increasing the probability that he would be hit himself.

  She noticed that he was not heading straight for Ben’s suit beacon. Instead, Torran was following a clump of materials with zero radar Doppler shift. Since it was moving ahead of them, it provided some protection. Even so, the rattle of lower-speed gravel and pebbles on her suit was non-stop. One lump of rock, fist-sized or bigger, cannoned off the back of her hardened suit helmet with enough force to make her ears ring.

  She heard a grunt from Torran, then, “All right back there?”

  “Doing fine.”

  “We’re about ready for another course change. Hold your breath. This will be the last one, and I don’t see any way to shield us.”

  He veered away, and in the moments before Sinara followed she could at last see their target. The rocks and rubble formed an untidy splotch of black against the ruddy background of Marglot’s remains. Somewhere inside that mess floated Ben Blesh.

  Torran had increased his speed, diving in on an all-or-nothing approach. Sinara did the same until he said, “All right. Time to turn and decelerate—hard!”

  She saw the front of his suit, briefly, until her own suit’s rotation sent her feet-first toward the floating pile of rock. The backpack on her suit whined in protest as it was called upon to exert maximum thrust. Her proximity radar added its warning, as four hands grabbed her.

  “Picture perfect,” Teri said. “One for the record books.” Then, “Torran! You’ve been hit!”

  The left shoulder of his suit showed a fist-sized bulge of black sealant.

  “You mean, you weren’t?” He held up his right arm, to show two more dark patches. “I was pinged three times, but only the one on my shoulder got all the way through past my skin. I compressed that area of my suit to stop the bleeding, but one of you will have to dig out the pebble once we’re back aboard the Have-It-All.”

  Was he understating his injury? Out here, Sinara had no way to tell. But he certainly wasn’t letting it stop him. She and the others pawed their way through the untidy pile of space rocks, using their suit headlights. They followed Ben Blesh’s signal and paid little attention to the heat of the rocks.

  When they finally came to Ben he seemed like just another misshapen lump of gray space debris. His knees were lifted up toward his chest, his head bent forward, and his arms were folded. Sinara, with Teri’s help, eased Ben’s head back far enough for her to peer in through the faceplate.

  “Hemorrhaging around his eyes. He went through high acceleration somewhere along the way.”

  “Think that’s why he’s unconscious now?”

  “It’s only part of the reason. There were impacts, too. Look at the lower half of his suit, and at his right side. The transport vortex must have returned him to the surface of Marglot just when the whole planet was coming apart.”

  Teri said, “He should never have left the Have-It-All, so soon after his treatment.”


  “If he hadn’t, not one of us would be alive.” Torran ran his gloved hand over Ben’s rib cage. “Any response? That should hurt like hell.”

  “Nothing. He’s under deep.”

  “That answers one question. He won’t be able to help by flying his own suit. We’ll have to tow him.”

  “Why go anywhere?” Teri said. “This is just a horrible jumble of rocks, but it did well for Ben.”

  Sinara was still examining the unconscious figure. “Depends how long it would take us to reach a place where we might be picked up. Ben’s condition is stable, but how long are we talking about if we hang in here? Torran, do you have our vector?”

  “Close to it. We’re talking forty hours, give or take five. That would bring us to a point far enough out of the main plane of debris for Julian Graves to agree to pick us up. Can Ben stand that?”

  Sinara said, “I don’t think that’s the issue. If we leave here, we’re sure to need some fancy jumping and dodging to avoid being hit by debris. I said Ben seems stable, but I think those kinds of acceleration would kill him.”

  “That settles it. Teri, do you agree? We stay?”

  “We stay. Sinara?”

  “We stay.”

  For forty more hours. That was going to feel like eternity. Arabella Lund had made the point during survival training: “If you want to learn what a person is really like, arrange to be with her in two special situations. The first is when you have to make rapid decisions based on pure instinct. The second is when you are forced to spend a day or two together, with nothing to do but wait.”

  Sinara had seen Torran and Teri in the first setting. Now she would have a chance to observe them in the second. Within the first couple of hours both of them became restless. First they calculated and re-calculated their velocity vector, estimating the earliest time that they might hope to be picked up. After that they went wandering around, wasting—in Sinara’s opinion—suit fuel. They explored the jumble of rocks and fragments surrounding them, moving large pieces to provide better protection from incoming debris.