Charles Sheffield - The Spheres of Heaven

“Maybe. But do you know a better place?”

“I’m looking for one.” Chrissie had been rummaging, and she pulled out of a supply case one of the maps that Elke Siry had prepared from the orbital images. “Look, here’s the Malacostracan encampment. There’s where we came ashore. So here” — she placed her finger on the sheet — “is about where we must be now. What I’m suggesting is that we go back to the shore and find the stream channel. It doesn’t show on this image, because the plants grow right across and cover it. But from our point of view, that’s good. We can head upstream , and we’ll be hidden from anybody who flies over looking for us.”

“Suppose they use radar? That sees right through a canopy of vegetation.”

“Then they’re too smart for us, and we’re cooked. But if we can get far enough into the highlands, way over to the east, we should find all kinds of places to hide. You can see that the ground looks like a great mixed-up jumble of bare screes and rocks and cliffs.”

Tarbush was bending over the map and seemed less than enthusiastic. “So we go there — uphill all the way. And then we do what?”

“Wait. We send periodic signals from our suit radios until Deb or Danny calls us back. Until that happens the only danger will be if the Malacostracans triangulate on our signal and it leads them to us.” Chrissie was digging into the big supply case. “We need to take enough food and water to last for a few days. And I want something comfortable to sleep on. I’m getting sick of living inside this suit. Medicines, too, just in case. It’s going to be quite a load.” She glanced over to Tarbush, who was still frowning down at the image. “Come on, don’t make me do this all by myself.”

Tarbush slowly folded the map, rose, and walked across to where Chrissie was picking out an assortment of boxes and packages. He looked wistfully around him. Not a sign of Scruffy, and they dared not hang around to look for her. He decided to remain silent on one other point. The decision was made, and it wouldn’t help Chrissie’s peace of mind to point out to her what she had apparently not noticed. That the region of the image where they proposed to go had been marked, in Elke Siry’s precise and careful hand, Badlands.

By dawn, Chan and Deb were ready and waiting. They would have left, preferring to wait on the beach for Friday Indigo rather than pent up and restless on the seabed. But Dag Korin vetoed any such move.

“Smash on the rocks trying to get ashore, and then how much use would you be to anybody?” Korin was red-eyed and pale. He went on, “You take your marching orders from Dr. Siry. She’s been monitoring weather and sea state all night long. When she says the breakers are down to a reasonable size and it’s safe to walk through them, you leave. We’re all willing to take risks, but I won’t lose people if I don’t have to.”

It was a logical order, though not an easy one to follow. Chan and Deb donned their suits and went to the airlock; and there they stayed, hour after endless hour, listening to Elke Siry’s ominous pronouncements on surface weather.

Two hours before noon, Chan placed a call to the ship’s main control area. “General Korin,” he said, as soon as the General’s image appeared, “Friday Indigo was quite specific with us. We have to meet him at midday. He didn’t say what would happen if we weren’t there, but the Mallies can probably destroy this ship any time they want to.”

Korin sniffed and traced with his forefinger the pattern of scattered droplets of water that beaded the desk in front of him. “This place is doing a pretty good job of disintegrating without any help from anybody. What’s your point, Dalton?”

“Deb Bisson and I ought not to wait any longer. The wind has dropped and the waves are less. We should risk a landing.”

“Dr. Siry?” Korin turned to someone out of the camera’s field of view.

“Wind velocity is close to zero,” said Elke Siry’s voice.

“So why not—”

“But there’s still a strong sea-swell. I would estimate that the breakers are well over two meters.”

“Everywhere on the shoreline?”

“No. I am referring to the place where our party is to meet Captain Indigo. It’s better farther south, on the inlet where the Mood Indigo was lifted ashore.”

“Very good.” Korin turned back to Chan and Deb. “Give it a shot. Try to the south if you have to, and if it’s too rough—”

“General.” Elke Siry’s voice broke in. “I recommend against any such attempt. The chance of being caught in an undertow—”

“Thank you, my dear,” Korin said mildly. “Not your call, I’m afraid.” He spoke again to Chan and Deb. “I don’t need to tell you what to do. You’re no use to anyone dead. If it’s too rough, wait in deeper water, head more to the south, or come back. I’m not going to second-guess you.”

“Yes, sir.” Chan cut the connection at once. Deb was already heading for the lock. She said, “Once we’re in the water, if he changes his mind he won’t be able to tell us about it. Come on.”

They waited impatiently while the lock filled, then opened the outer hatch and dropped together to the seabed. Their landing stirred the fine bottom silt into an opaque cloud.

Deb’s voice carried faintly to Chan’s helmet. “Set your suit’s inertial guidance unit for fifty meters due east. The sediment will die down by then. We’ll be able to see each other, and I’ll take us from there.”

Chan paced steadily forward into darkness, keeping the yellow arrow in his helmet display exactly in line with the green one. When the guidance unit had reduced to zero distance, he halted. He turned on his helmet lamp, and saw only gray opacity.

“Deb?” His voice vanished to nothing, as though he stood alone in an empty universe. “Deb, I can’t see a thing.”

“Nor can I.” She sounded close by. “Visibility was fine when I brought Friday Indigo to the Hero’s Return .”

“It must be the storm. The wind has died down, but the water here is shallow enough for the swell to disturb the bottom mud. How far are we from the shore?”

“Three to four kilometers. We’re on the coastal shelf so it will be shallow all the way in. We can’t be far apart now, but if we keep moving independently we’ll get separated. Stand still. I’m going to walk in a spiral pattern until we meet.”

Chan waited. It seemed a long time, standing rigid and hearing only the sound of his own breath, until Deb’s hand was grasping his arm. His helmet display told him that it had been less than three minutes.

Deb said, “So far so good,” and without releasing her grip she moved until they were visor to visor. “We hang on to each other and use just my suit’s inertial navigator. I’m going to angle us south of east. That will bring us ashore too far to the right, but Elke says the waves will be less there. Once we’re on land we can walk back north to meet Indigo.”

“Let’s go.” Almost before he spoke, Deb was moving away across the sea floor. She didn’t need Chan to tell her that Friday Indigo’s deadline was less than an hour and a half away.

It was difficult to walk fast across the silty seabed. Chan had reset his own helmet distance indicator, and before they had moved half a kilometer he knew they were in trouble. He held Deb’s arm and forced her to halt.

“This won’t do. We’ll never make it in time.”

“I know. But there’s nothing we can do about it. We have to keep going and hope that Indigo won’t mind that we’re late.”

“There’s another answer. I talked to Liddy Morse, and when they first went ashore they rose up to the surface and used their suit jets from there.”