Spindrift

by Allen Steele

  “Can’t wait,” Cruz said. “Doesn’t look so hard. Took you only ten minutes.”

  Had it been that quick? He could have sworn that his descent had taken three times as long. “It isn’t, but don’t rush,” Harker said as he untied himself from the rope. “Those steps…ifyou can call ’em that…are tougher than they look. Emcee, you copy?”

  “Still here.” Emily’s voice was a little more faint, but at least they had radio reception. “I had to boost the gain, but you’re coming in.”

  “Good to know.” Harker watched as the rope was dragged upward, its end bouncing lightly across the ramp plates. “Any word from Galileo?”

  “Negatory.” A pause. “If I hear from them, what do I tell Ian?”

  “That I’m resting and can’t be disturbed.” He let out his breath, wishing that he could rub his eyelids. If only that were true. This was his second EVA in less than ten hours; on the Moon or Mars, ESA protocols would’ve called for a twelve-hour break between excursions. He didn’t have that luxury, though. “When we get back, you and me are going to have some serious bunk time.”

  “Hey, we don’t need to hear this.” Cruz had pulled the line the rest of the way up and was helping Ramirez fasten it around himself. “Some of us aren’t so lucky.”

  “You’ve got a dirty mind.” Harker grinned. “I was talking about catching up on my sleep.”

  “Yeah, uh-huh. Sure you were.”

  Harker didn’t reply. No sense in rubbing it in. Instead, he took a moment to walk over to the second hatch. Aside from its orientation, it looked much the same as the one above—four triangular metal sections that met in the center, with circular lockplates in each one, along with their corresponding finger holes—but on closer inspection he noticed something else.

  Recessed within the wall to the left of the hatch was a small panel. Located at shoulder height and shaped somewhat like a chevron, it was divided four ways, forming a quartet of four-sided buttons. Something appeared to be inscribed within each button; he peered more closely at them and discerned vertical rows of fluid, almost Arabic-looking, script.

  An alien language. Harker felt something run down the back of his neck. No telling what it meant, but he suddenly realized that he was looking at something no other human had ever seen before.

  The hell with Lawrence, he thought. I’ve got to see what’s behind this door.

  “I’m on the rope,” Ramirez said. “Ready down there?”

  “Just a sec. Hold on.” Turning away from the hatch, Harker started to head back to the ramp. Something caught his eye that made him stop dead, something he hadn’t noticed before.

  A fine layer of dust lay upon the floor. Coal black and powdery, it was obviously regolith that had drifted down from the surface sometime before. His footprints were visible within the dust…but among them were scuff marks, broad and oval, between the hatch and the bottom of the ramp.

  Harker stared at them for a moment before he finally let out his breath. “Don’t mean to rush you, Jared,” he said, “but there’s something down here you might want to see.”

  Ramirez took a few minutes to study the tracks, taking care to avoid disturbing them while he used Cruz’s camera to take pictures. “Hard to say for sure,” he said at last, “but my guess is that whoever left them behind wasn’t bipedal.”

  “How do you figure that?” Harker gazed down at the alien footprints. “They all look alike to me.”

  “Not quite. Look closer.” He pointed to a set of four tracks that lay a little apart from the others, less than a half meter from the bottom of the ramp. “See? The two up front are a little wider than the ones in back…like they carry most of the weight.” Then he moved over the trail that preceded them, bending over to shine a flashlight on them. “And look how unevenly these ones are arranged. Left, left…right, right…left, right…left, right…like someone came off the ramp, stepped aside for a moment, then walked over to the door.”

  “Someone?” Cruz stood on the other side of the footprints. “You mean something, don’t you?”

  “No, I meant someone.” Ramirez straightened up. “The sooner you get past the idea that whoever left these behind are some sort of monsters, or whatever else you may think they are…”

  “Don’t patronize me.”

  “Then use your head, and I won’t.” Ramirez turned toward Harker. “And I wish you’d been a little cautious. If you hadn’t stomped around here so much, I might have been able to tell more. As it is, I can only hypothesize from what little I’ve found here.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” Harker held his temper in check. Whenever I start to like this guy… “So what else have you been able to hypothesize? If that’s not too much to ask, that is.”

  His sarcasm was lost on the astrobiologist. “A little, but not much,” Ramirez said, turning his light so that its beam slowly traveled from the ramp to the nearby hatch. “Quadrupedal gait…an average distance of about sixty centimeters from one footprint to the next…oval impressions, with no clear marks around their edges…I’d say whoever came through here moved on four legs and wore a pressure suit of some sort.”

  “How do you figure that?”

  “You think they went outside naked?” Ramirez walked over to the door to inspect it once more. “Not only that, but he or she…perhaps both, if they’re asexual…is taller than we are. At a guess, I’d say…oh, just a little more than two meters.”

  “From the height of the panel, right?”

  “Correct. And from the diameter of this hatch. If it leads to an airlock, then it shouldn’t be any larger than it needs to be, in order to conserve internal pressure.” Ramirez shined his light on the panel. “Can’t read the inscriptions, of course,” he continued, reaching up to it, “but if we surmise that this controls the…”

  “Hold it!” Harker darted forward to grab his wrist. “Let’s not get carried away here.” He pulled Ramirez away from the panel. “Emcee, have you been listening to all this?”

  “Roger that, Ted.”

  “Good. Very good.” Feeling his heart hammer in his chest, Harker nervously regarded the panel and the adjacent hatch. If I had any common sense, he thought, I’d quit now, while I’m still ahead. But his curiosity was greater than his fear. He swallowed, and went on. “We’re about to make an attempt to open the second hatch. If we get cut off, for any reason…”

  “Proceed with the mission.” Emily was more calm than he was. Either that, or she was hiding her anxiety. “Six hours. If I don’t hear from you by then, I’ll return to Galileo and fetch a rescue party.”

  “That’s my lady.” All right, the backup plan was in place. Harker let go of Ramirez’s wrist. “Go on. Give it your best shot.”

  “Thank you.” Ramirez hesitated, studying the panel for a moment. Then, very deliberately, he laid his right forefinger upon the panel’s top left button and pressed it.

  Nothing happened. “All right,” he said, “let’s try this one.” He pushed the one to the top right.

  Again, no response. “Maybe this hatch is inactive,” Cruz said.

  “I doubt it. The vents are still operational. And those footprints look fairly recent.”

  Harker pointed to the hatch lockplates. “Maybe they’re like the ones up top? We have to turn them in the same combination as before…”

  “No.” Ramirez stepped back from the panel, as if to distance himself from the problem in order to solve it. “This was clearly designed to be opened by one person alone. You can’t do that and use the panel at the same time. Those plates are there for…”

  His voice trailed off. “Emergency use?” Harker asked.

  “Yes. Exactly. But if there hasn’t been an emergency, then the normal way to use this would be…” He paused. “Yes, of course. Like this…”

  Raising both hands, Ramirez pressed the top two buttons simultaneously, then immediately pressed the bottom two.

  Harker felt a faint vibration beneath the soles of his boots. Startled, he
stepped back; the vibration suddenly ceased, and he looked around in time to see the door suddenly open, its flanges smoothly retracting into the wall.

  “Eureka!” Cruz yelped.

  Harker let out his breath. “Nice trick,” he said. “How did you figure that out?”

  “The trick is, you’ve got to think like someone with four hands.” There was a note of self-satisfaction in Ramirez’s voice as he stepped away from the panel. “Door’s open, gents. Let’s go see what…”

  “Not so fast.” Standing a little apart from the others, Cruz stared up at the ceiling far above. “I think we’ve got a problem.”

  Harker walked over to join him. Peering up through the well at the center of the spiral ramp, he felt his heart skip a beat. The surface hatch had shut, sealing them inside.

  “Oh, hell. I don’t like the looks of this. Emcee, do you copy?” No reply; he raised his voice. “Maria Celeste, this is survey team. Please respond.” He waited a moment, but heard only the fuzz of carrier-wave static.

  “Let me try.” Raising his left wrist, Cruz touched the controls of his suit radio. “Maria Celeste, do you copy?” He waited a moment, then looked at Harker. “No go. Hatch must be blocking our transmission.”

  “Figured this would happen sooner or later.” Harker noticed that the safety line was still dangling from the ramp where they’d left it. Walking over to it, he gave it an experimental tug, found that it was still firmly attached. “At least it didn’t sever the rope. A little good news. But I’d like to get that hatch open again.”

  “Don’t count on it. Least not while this is open.” While Harker and Cruz were talking, Ramirez walked over to the hatch. “My guess is that they’re set to operate in synchronicity,” he continued, peering inside. “The one up there won’t open unless this one is shut, and vice versa. At least if this is what I think it is.”

  Harker followed Ramirez to the hatch. Their helmet lamps revealed a darkened chamber, its interior about twice the size of one of the staterooms aboard the Galileo. Although its walls, floor, and ceiling were made of the same dull grey metal as the door, it was otherwise featureless, save for gridlike apertures along its ceiling and, on the far wall, another circular hatch identical to the one they’d just opened. As before, a chevron-shaped panel was set within the wall next to the inner hatch.

  An airlock, no doubt about it. And if that were so, then Ramirez’s conjecture was entirely logical. If it didn’t make sense for the airlock to be opened unless the surface hatch was shut, then the control panel would necessarily operate both at once. In that way, internal atmospheric integrity would be preserved.

  By much the same token, there had to be some way of opening the airlock while the outer hatch was shut. And Harker wanted to open the surface hatch again before they went any farther; he didn’t savor the notion of being trapped down there without any sure way of getting back out again. Besides, Emily was probably in a panic; he needed to let her know that they were all right.

  The panel seemed relatively easy to use. All they had to do was figure out the correct combination that would open the surface hatch. Yet, when he glanced around, he saw that Ramirez had already ventured into the airlock.

  “Hey, get out of there,” Harker said. “We need to…”

  As abruptly as it had opened, the airlock’s door shut. Harker caught one last glimpse of Ramirez before the flanges closed behind him.

  “Jared!” he yelled, as once again he felt the strange tremor beneath his feet. “Jared, can you hear me?”

  For a moment, he caught Ramirez’s voice in his headset—“…going down…”—and then his signal faded out.

  “What happened?” Cruz came up behind him, grabbed his shoulder. “Where’s Ramirez?”

  “In there!” Helpless with frustration, Harker slammed his hand against the closed hatch. “Goddamn idiot! He walked into that before…!”

  “What the hell was he…?”

  “Okay. All right.” Feeling sick at his stomach, Harker reached out to prop himself up against the wall. Deep breaths. Take deep breaths. He shut his eyes for a moment, trying to calm down. “All we have to do is figure out how to open the door, get him back out of there.”

  “I’m not sure, but I think it’s more difficult than that.”

  “What do you mean?” Harker looked around; Cruz was standing close to him, his helmet lamps glaring through Harker’s faceplate. “What’s more difficult? If it’s just a matter of opening the airlock door again…”

  “It’s not just an airlock. That’s what I’m trying to tell you.” Cruz stared at him, his eyes wide. “Didn’t you feel that vibration?”

  Harker pushed Cruz aside, blinked against the retinal afterimage of his helmet lights. Suddenly, everything fell into place. The tremor he’d felt before the hatch opened, and again after it shut. The interior of the compartment, the way that it was laid out. How Ramirez’s last transmission had faded so quickly.

  “Oh, God,” he muttered. “It’s an airlock, sure…but it’s also a lift.”

  “An elevator. That’s what I’m thinking, yes.” Behind his faceplate, Cruz’s expression became ashen. “Then how do…how can we…?”

  “Like you said. The same way we got it to open before.” His legs unsteady, Harker walked over to the control panel. This should be easy enough; he’d seen what Ramirez had done before. Push the two top buttons at once, then the two lower buttons. If they were right, and the airlock also functioned as a lift, then they’d know whether he’d made the correct guess when he and Cruz felt the vibration that had tipped them off in the first place.

  And yet…

  His hands wavered in front of the control panel. If he did this, or at least as immediately as his instincts told him that he should, he wouldn’t be able to open the surface hatch again. Which meant that he wouldn’t be able to resume radio contact with the shuttle. And that meant Emily wouldn’t know what had happened to them. Or what he was about to do.

  Damn! Although he was half-tempted to let Ramirez fend for himself, the fact of the matter was that, as expedition leader, he was responsible for the safety of his team. And while Captain Lawrence might have abandoned Ramirez, Harker couldn’t see himself making that same sort of cold-blooded decision. Jared Ramirez might be a fool, but Harker couldn’t simply cut him off.

  “Sorry, Emcee,” he whispered. “You’re just going to have to be patient with me.” And then he touched the buttons in what he hoped was the correct sequence and waited for the door to open again.

  FOURTEEN

  JANUARY 8, 2291—SPINDRIFT

  When the hatch closed behind him, Ramirez was caught by surprise. He’d just entered the airlock when Harker started to say something—“Hey, get out of there, we need to…”—yet as he turned to respond, he felt a sudden jolt…

  And then the room began to fall.

  The descent was so swift, so unexpected, that he lost his balance. Pitching forward, Ramirez barely had time to throw up his hands before he hit the floor. There was a red-hot jab in his left wrist; he yelped and rolled over on his side.

  “Jared!” Harker’s voice in his headset, fading with each passing moment. “Jared, can you hear me?”

  “I hear you!” he yelled. “I’m going down!” Clutching his sprained wrist, he struggled to his knees. For the first time, he saw that the hatch had shut. Perhaps he’d tripped a hidden sensor, or maybe the weight of his body on the floor was the reason. Whatever the cause, the result was just the same.

  “Ted!” he yelled. “Can you hear me?”

  Nothing within his headset save for static. Yet the room was far from silent. He became aware of a low rumble that seemed to come from all around him. At the same time, it seemed as if he could see a little more clearly—within the metal walls, whorl-shaped patterns of light were slowly glowing to life—even as his faceplate began to fog over. As the rumble grew louder, he raised his right hand to his faceplate; his fingertips left transparent streaks across the surface.


  The airlock also served as an elevator, pressurizing as it descended. And that wasn’t all. Flecks of black dust began to rise from his overgarment; as if caught within a miniature dust devil, they spiraled upward toward the ceiling. Electrostatic scrubbers, just like those at Dolland. Whenever this thing finally came to a halt, his suit would be thoroughly decontaminated…

  So when was the ride going to end? Ramirez climbed to his feet. The roar gradually subsided; as it did, his faceplate became clear, save for a few smudged fingerprints. The compartment was pressurized, yet he could still feel a vibration beneath the soles of his boots. He was still going down…but how much farther? And how deep had he descended already? A few hundred meters? A few thousand? He had no way of knowing.

  Ramirez was a lifelong atheist. His adherence to religious beliefs ceased about the same time his mind’s eye opened to the enormity of the universe; there was no way any deity could be responsible for everything science had demonstrated was the result of natural forces. Despite his disdain for the supernatural, though, he found himself praying: Oh, God, please get me out of this one. I don’t want to die down here alone…

  And then the elevator stopped. Its arrival came as a quick, violent thump that threw him against the wall. He winced as pain shot through his left arm again. Nothing broken, but he’d need to see Jones once he returned to Galileo.

  If he returned, that is…but the abrupt halt seemed enough like an answered prayer that he was able to entertain such a notion, if only for a second. All right, I’m down, he thought. Now let’s see if I can get out of…

  A hollow rasp from behind him. Turning around, Ramirez watched as the pie wedges of the airlock’s aft hatch—forgotten until that moment—slowly retracted into their slots. Light from within the compartment fanned out across a tiled floor, dimly illuminating a wall about two meters away.

  Ramirez took a deep breath. Then, having no other place left to go, he stepped into the unknown.