Larry Niven - The Trellis

“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 full 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 okay, 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.