Their suit radios could talk to Lark from here. “Lark, how are you doing?”
“Hi, Dad, Henry. I can see you on the feed from the probe-cam. Wish I was out there with you.”
“Yeah, like we’re here on purpose,” Kyle said.
“You’ve got a better view of Styx than I ever had, except for a few minutes EVA. I’m looking forward to climbing down.”
“Yeah, I plan on taking Shooter down.”
“We’ll climb. Shooter’s dead. Besides, I want to walk the Styx.”
“What’s so exciting about the Styx? It’s actually pretty boring. Kilometers of stems and leaves, and then more kilometers of stems and leaves. Sometimes there’s a flower.”
“Yeah, well, galaxies are clusters of pretty damned boring stars. Sometimes there’s a nebulae. Styx is cooler than you think, Dad. I was on my way to some flowers that look bigger and seem to direct the stem float in the forest. That’s new behavior. I think the vines are responding to the system getting colder.”
Kyle didn’t want an argument. He wasn’t a total idiot about the Styx. “Well, they use energy—metabolism—lots of it, right? That’s how they’re supple even out here, and how the water and broth don’t freeze.”
“No kidding. But up towards the middle there’s more activity. More flowers, and I think even color. Styx is changing. I just know it. Whatever’s changing above me will grow down to Pluto. I want to get higher.”
“How about we get lower first? Like back to Pluto?”
“Jeremy says you’re being way too cautious.”
“Jeremy?”
“There’s a bunch of kids here now. In virt. Tourists. I’m really glad Paul thought of this. The worst thing was being so alone; it’s so boring to be still. I’m getting cramps too.”
Oh. “Stay safe.” The round cage of supplies rose over the edge of a leaf, its circle of probes bobbing like fishing net floats. “I better go.”
There were too many camera perspectives, and too many helpers. The basket tangled hopelessly one stem over. Kyle frowned. “Now I see how she got caught. Maybe I should quit being mad at her.”
Henry stared thoughtfully at the supplies dangling just out of their reach. “I’ll belay you.”
“Great.”
“You’re the young strong buck.”
Kyle grunted, mimicking a baboon.
Henry held the rope as Kyle pushed the basket away from its vine trap and spread the probes out again. It was almost freefall—he went down at a drifter’s pace. “Okay—that’s as close as it’s coming tonight.” Kyle retrieved the sleeping habitat from the basket, tucking it under one arm. Henry reeled Kyle back slowly.
It took an hour to figure out how to wrestle the habitat into shape and anchor it. Unfolded, it was a long sheet of metallic fabric anchored between two stems. Henry plugged it into a stem, into the blue oxygen tube. The habitat bucked and waved, sucking in the air, expanding as it warmed the gas. Layers of skin filled one by one—living space, stored atmosphere, insulation, a shell thickening into a walnut shape.
The setup looked fragile. They climbed in, waiting until sensors told them the habitat held pressure enough to unsuit. As he lay down, Kyle imagined the anchoring creepers growing away from each other as they slept. He didn’t really care. Being out of the constant breathing motion of the suit was wonderful.
Six hours later, Calvin woke them with lyrics from the ancient Sound of Music, “Climb Every Mountain.” It was ridiculously inappropriate. Kyle wanted to throttle Calvin.
*
Four long climbs and three uneasy sleeps later, they were halfway there. Lark spent part of each day telling jokes. Tourists fed them to her, and she fed them in turn to Kyle and Henry. It kept her engaged.
Kyle hated most of the jokes.
He was surprised that he liked talking to the networks. The attention helped him forget aches in his muscles. The audience was a focus and a safety net. He took small risks, and on breaks he talked astronomy. Lark did voiceovers for the audience, telling them about the creepers. She talked to the team on Kiley3. She talked constantly—to Kyle, to Henry, to the announcers. She even took to calling the Christy and Little Siberia base staff “Tourists.”
Kyle worried about Henry. His face was red with exertion and spider veins showed up on his nose and face in thin red lines. Henry refused to talk much to anyone except Lark and Kyle. It bothered Kyle.
There was no night or morning; Pluto’s six and a half hour day barely noticed the sun. Kyle counted time in sleeps. This was their fifth sleep. “Henry? How come you’re so quiet?”
“Seems like no one’s business how we’re doing.”
“They’re helping. I’m grateful Lark’s got so many people to talk to. At least we can move. She’s shut up in that bubble.”
“She’s always done all right by herself.”
“I could have spent more time with her.”
“How’s it going to feel if all these people watch us fail?”
Kyle swallowed. “You’ve always been an optimist. We won’t fail. We’re halfway there.”
“Half our time’s gone. We should stop less.”
“Can you do that?” Kyle was bone tired. Henry looked like he was going to have a heart attack any moment.
“If we don’t make it, I don’t want to live afterwards. This would be a good last thing to do.”
“We’ll make it.”
“If you get there, and I don’t, be careful how you get Lark out. You’ll need to use a traditional blade—no lasers or anything—near the bubble.”
“You said that when we were loading the basket.”
“We should practice next stop, so I know you know how to do it.”
Kyle stayed awake a long time, thinking about Henry’s words. He started tired the next day. They hit a clump of new creeper, thin stems twining around the wide one they followed. Kyle caught his foot, and pitched forward, tangling his arm and wrist in rope as he fell. He slid, feet dangling in empty space, pulling Henry backward so Henry needed both hands to hang onto the creeper while the rope pulled tight from his waist-clip.
Kyle floated free, his suit hissing urgently, venting oxygen to match his heart rate. He held the rope with two hands, twisting his feet up in an acrobat’s move, straining to get a toehold on the stem. He felt a snap and give in his lower back, an instant tightening of muscle. He grunted with the pain.
“Whoa there,” Calvin said. “You all right?”
“I . . . I don’t know.”
Henry managed to twist around and grab the rope, holding on to the creeper with his legs. He pulled, hand over hand, slowly reeling Kyle in until their hands touched and he could pull him up onto the stem. Kyle panted, wanted to scream. He couldn’t be hurt. There wasn’t time. When he tried to step ahead of Henry, he slipped again, catching himself, grimacing. His back was on fire. He didn’t dare burn the small store of painkillers in the suit’s med supply for a twisted muscle.
It meant Henry had to lead—Kyle walking behind him. The full med-kit was in the basket, inaccessible without a complete stop. Kyle chewed his lip and followed Henry, building up a swing that allowed him to move through the pain.
Calvin started talking in worried tones an hour out, telling the men the doctors thought they should stop. Henry ignored him, leaving Kyle no choice but to follow. Henry went on forever. When they stopped, he collapsed across a vine and stared out at the forest.
After a while, Kyle noticed that Henry was sleeping in his suit.
Kyle sat and worried, watching the older man. Lark had a feed from the camera probe that followed them everywhere, and she spoke. “He often takes naps, Dad.” She sounded sad.
“I shouldn’t have let him come. I should have brought someone else.”
“Henry wouldn’t have stayed. He’d have followed you.”
“Suriyah could have stopped him. She’s a force of nature.” He didn’t mention that Suriyah had thought this was a crazy journey.
“It’s ok
ay, Dad. Just let him sleep for a little while. I think I’ll sleep too.”
“We have to move again pretty soon, honey, or we won’t get to you in time.”
Her voice was small and cheerless. “How’s your back?”
“It hurts. But not as much as losing you would hurt.”
“I hope we all make it.” It was the first time Kyle had heard Lark openly doubt success.
Kyle stared at stars, picking out constellations. Even eight hundred klicks up, the stars were faintly blurred. In Pluto’s thin gravity the atmosphere reached way up, thinning very slowly.
There were few other humans this far away from Sol. He knew it was harshly cold, but he was sweating and the suit’s movement was a constant irritation. He found the sun, no brighter than Venus from Earth, and imagined the billions of people that populated the inner planets and ringed the Earth and Mars. He’d always wanted to make his mark, to be remembered. He wanted to do it by finding something unique in the heavens.
Early returns based on “local” watchers indicated their rescue would be heavily touristed. In fact, he thought wryly, ratings would do better if they died. Not how he wanted to be remembered. The thought pushed him into waking Henry.
The next three climbs Kyle led again, painkillers making him woozy. They moved too slowly. Lark had about sixteen hours of air left, and they were twenty kilometers away, making just over a kilometer an hour. Calvin mentioned that their ratings were going up. Kyle cussed at him. “Now, now,” Calvin said, “I’ll have to edit that out. It must be the meds talking.”
“It’s a nightmare talking. We’re never going to make it.” Kyle kept pulling, looking behind him for Henry.
The psychologist, Dr. Gerry, broke in. “Sure you will. We’re all pulling for you.”
“Too bad you’re not really here.”
“Yes we are. One step at a time. We’re there.”
“Talk to Lark. Maybe you can do some good there.” Kyle flicked off the sound and brushed aside a leaf that was blocking his view.
“Don’t . . . do . . . that,” Henry said.
“Do what?”
“Don’t turn them off. You need them to get you to Lark. Lark’s not on this direct path. You’re going to have to cross stems a few times. They can help you with that.”
“Us.”
“You. I’m slowing you down too much.” Henry’s breath was labored. “Can’t get this close and not make it.”
“No.”
“You’ll be faster.”
“And if I fall off again? Scotch my back?”
“I can’t go any further. You were right to want to leave me.”
“I wouldn’t be this far without you.”
“You won’t get there with me. Save Lark. I’ll . . . I’ll just wait here.”
“Can you take stims?”
Henry was quiet for a long time, still climbing. Kyle wished he’d talk. “You’re coming. You have to.”
“The last thing I have to do is get you to Lark. Slow down, I’ll unhitch. I can call up the habitat.”
“I’m the one that keeps tripping. You saved me last time I fell.”
“Move faster. Maybe I’ll keep up.”
“You’ll keep up—you’re on a rope.”
Henry collapsed when they stopped for a rest. His heart rate showed that he was still alive, but he didn’t respond to Kyle’s voice. Playing possum? Kyle didn’t know.
He demanded the supply basket. He closed his eyes while he waited for it, counting time.
Calvin was screaming his name. He blinked. He floated five meters from anything. Damn.
“Where . . . what happened?”
“You passed out. Hang in there. The supply basket is almost there.”
“Like I’m going anywhere.” He checked. The rope was still attached. He tugged. It was tight. The basket was rising up from below him, the probes rising and falling as someone on the ground adjusted course to meet him. When the basket reached him, he struggled to find the medical kit. He pulled it out. As one hand emerged with the med-kit, weight inside the basket shifted. The open door hung down. Whoever was running the remote probes corrected the wrong way, exaggerating the shift. A long knife fell away first, tumbling slowly past, a soft glint along the blade showing as his head turned towards it, touching it with light from his helmet lamp. He tucked the med-kit under his arm and reached for a strap on the habitat as it came towards him. He snagged it, the bulk causing him to turn over, facing away. He twisted, holding the med-kit and the habitat. He needed to close the door. He was floating down, with no ability to move fast. Kyle tried to snag the extra rope with his foot while it went by. The coil fell across his toe, and he pulled his knee in to bring the rope to where he could grab it with a spare finger. It slipped off his boot and floated away. Next, the extra suit passed him two meters away.
Lark’s pressure suit.
He tucked the habitat between his knees and reached, tried swimming for it. His rope stopped him.
He stared after the suit for a long time. “Calvin?”
No answer.
Of course not, he’d turned off the audio. “Calvin—track the damned suit.”
“We are tracking it.”
Well, he had the two most immediate things, but now he’d have to carry them. He left the collapsed habitat between his legs, tied the handle of the med-kit to the rope with a butterfly knot, and pulled himself back. The rope was attached to a creeper. Henry was anchored above him with his small belt rope, still out cold.
Kyle tied the med-kit to Henry’s rope. He expanded the bulky habitat and plugged it into a vine. For once, there was a good cross-section of vines nearby to hang it on. He pulled Henry inside, and collapsed next to the older man, panting. He had ten minutes to do nothing but think while the habitat pressurized. An hour had passed—Lark had fifteen hours left before she’d start running out of air.
He was so tired he could barely get Henry’s helmet off.
Henry’s vitals looked ragged. He checked with the med-team, and they agreed. Exhaustion. The verdict: no stims. So he’d lost Lark’s carefully modified Tourist suit to retrieve stims, and then decided not to use the stims, at least for Henry. He looked up, toward where the bubble had to be.
Henry’s face was white, peaceful. Kyle touched him, rolling him gently back and forth. Henry’s eyes fluttered open, and a slow smile touched his mouth. “I must have passed out again.”
“Something like that.” Kyle filled Henry in. “I don’t think I have time to go after the suit. I’m going after Lark. You’ll be safe here. I’ll come back with Lark. The suit she has will get her here. The habitat will keep her alive while I go after her suit. If that doesn’t work—if it’s gone—we’ll just have to go down the slow way while we figure something else out.”
“Huh?”
“Creepers are growing down, right? Almost a klick a day. We’ll be the first humans to live off broth for two hundred days.”
Henry shook his head. “Never make it. The habitat won’t survive that long.”
“We all have suits. Little Siberia can send us supplies. There’s no more Adventure suits, but maybe they can modify something else to tap the vines.”
“Go get Lark. Lemme sleep.”
Kyle picked his own helmet back up, jammed the stinking thing back on. “Yeah, okay.” He didn’t have any choices. “Sleep well.” He fed the stim-pack into his suit’s auto-med reservoir, asked for and received a dose. He watched Henry put his helmet back on, made sure he was secure, and then breached the hab and stepped back into the cold river Styx.
“Calvin—where’s Lark’s suit?”
“Snagged. Down. Kyle—it went two klicks down.”
Time was against him. He cursed the basket, cursed the damn vines, cursed Henry, cursed his back. “Show me.”
“You can’t get there from here by yourself. Not unless you trust the winds to send you after the suit if you dive for it. We don’t recommend that.”
What Lark did
n’t have was the modified siphons. There wouldn’t be any way to get broth or water or anything into her. All he had to do was get her to the habitat.
He started out fast. Henry’s early words about running a marathon came back to him, and he slowed down. But he needed to make over two klicks an hour to have any time to spare. “Lark be safe . . . Lark be safe.” He thought about Henry. “All be safe . . . All be safe.
“Play music for me.”
“Huh?” Calvin sounded sleepy.
“Calvin—don’t you sleep?”
“Not until you get to Lark.”
“Thanks. Play me some music. I need some rhythm to keep going.”
“What do you want?”
“Hell I don’t care. Something with a beat.” He looked around. “Got some African drums?”
“I’ll find some.”
Every two hours he stopped for fifteen minutes rest and more stims, doing the equivalent of vine-sprinting in between. The drum beats helped. His back still hurt. It became a familiar pain, something that kept him awake and aware, gave him a tie to his aching body. Every step was hard.
Lark wasn’t answering. The team said she was asleep, exhausted. So many days of living in one place, in a pressure suit, were taking their toll. Four hours passed.
Calvin started peppering him with questions about Henry. A thought crossed Kyle’s mind.
“How is Henry? I haven’t seen his med-reads for hours.”
“We cut you off from everything but you and Lark and us. Don’t want to distract you.”
“Damn it.” Surely Henry was all right. All he had to do was stay in the habitat. Had he checked Henry’s water supply? But he’d plugged the habitat into the vine.
The networks had no control over the suit-to-suit-radio. He called to him. No answer. “Calvin, show me Henry’s med readings!”
“You don’t need the distraction. Talk. You need to talk so we know you’re still with us. Your med feeds could be showing better, buddy.”
Kyle babbled about the time the feeder jammed completely just after the Styx got to Pluto, when a river of vines threatened to overrun Little Siberia. Henry and others had clambered out onto the surface. They’d fed vines back to the Hoytether™ trellis and set them climbing back toward Charon. Suriyah had stayed out there with him the whole time. Everyone else took turns. The story didn’t seem to be coming out quite in order. Thinking about Henry wasn’t right; he should be thinking about Lark. Why was she still silent?
Cracking the Sky Page 17
