Jack McDevitt - The Devil's Eye

"Oh. Well, there was nothing I could do about that."

I touched the toggle. "I'm going to shut you down, Doc."

"It won't work."

I tried it, pulled it into the position marked DISCONNECT AI.

"Chase, this is what is known as a special situation."

"You're taking us back?" asked Alex.

"Of course. I suggest you sit back and allow this special situation to run its course. It will be best for everyone."

"We've got the guns," I said. Alex was looking out the window, trying to see what the ground looked like. "No. We don't know that we have them all. Anyhow, once we land on the plateau, we'll be stuck there again." "What do you suggest?" "Can we disable it?" "I've already tried." "I mean the skimmer." "You want me to crash it?" "I'm open to a better idea." There was storage space behind the backseat. I opened it, but it was empty. "Have to use the scrambler," I said. "That is not a good idea," said Doc. "Then turn control over to me."

"I'm not able to do that."

I took out the weapon, went digging through the cockpit until I found the hardware that housed Doc. I checked to be sure the scrambler was on paralysis mode, aimed it at the hardware, and pulled the trigger. "Doc?"

"I'm still here."

"I'm not surprised." I found a lightning icon that provided a setting to shut off the aircraft's power. "What do you think?" I asked. Alex looked down at the ground. "Leave it on." "Unless you want to go back, or jump, it's all we have." "We'd lose antigrav, too, right?" "We've got wings. We might be able to glide in." He thought about it for a long minute. "Doc," I said, "can you take us lower?"

"Negative, Chase. My instructions will not allow me to do that."

"I assume these instructions take effect if you are hijacked?"

"That is correct."

"You can't pretend otherwise, I guess?"

"No. I would do it if I could."

"Okay," said Alex. "Kill the power." "Doc," I said, "if I shut down the power, will I still be able to control the flaps and rudder?"

"I can arrange that."

"Do it. Let me know when it's done."

"It's done, Chase."

"Okay." I pushed a finger against the pad below the lightning icon. "Doc, are you sure you can't help us?"

"Chase, I would if I could."

"Okay."

"I'd really prefer you not do this."

"Me, too."

"Before you act, be aware that we are in rugged country. Chances of survival are not good even if you don't die in the crash."

"I know, Doc. Thanks." I pressed. The lights in the cabin flicked off. Doc's lamps went out. The engine died. And I had my weight back. We began slicing down.

Antigrav generators are usually equipped with an auxiliary power source. I tried to restart it. Unfortunately, somebody hadn't maintained it. I got a few burps out of it, enough to slow our descent. Then it died again. The real problem wasn't even the lack of power so much as the fact I couldn't see the ground. Couldn't see anything. We could have been about to touch down, or about to fly into a mountain. We could have been in somebody's basement. I wrestled with the yoke, fought the wind, started doing profanities, looked for lights somewhere. Anywhere . Where was Callistra now that I needed her? The problem with antigrav vehicles is that they don't carry enough wing and tail to allow you to glide properly if the engines fail. I had wings, but they weren't very good at keeping us aloft. "Chase-" said Alex. "Doing the best I can." "I see lights." "Where?" "Over to the left." They were not moving. Houses, probably. I started to turn. Started breathing again. They were important because they let me know more or less where the ground was. We swung to port in a long, slow curve. My angle on the lights was changing, of course. They were rising as we went down. Then they vanished. Alex grunted. "What happened?" "Mountain." I pushed the yoke right and held my breath until they reappeared. Coming fast. I wanted to bank toward them, to keep them in sight, but I was afraid of the mountain. Had no idea where the damned thing was. So I kept straight on. They passed off the port side, and I was headed back into the night. "I'd guess we'll be down in about two minutes," I said. "Okay." It was a long, quiet run, with only the sound of the wind against the wings. Then we blasted into something. I was thrown hard against my harness. There was a rush of fresh air. Then darkness took me.

When I came out of it, I was hanging upside down. "You okay, Chase?" Alex's voice startled me. I'd felt alone. "Chase?" "I'm here," I said. "You?" "I'm here, too. Nice landing." "That's right." I'd forgotten. "We're down." I heard him struggling to release his harness. "Are you all right, Alex?" Lights were approaching. A truck, kicking up a cloud of snow, was visible through a wall of trees. "I think so." "Okay. Stay put for a minute. Help's on the way." The front of the aircraft was gone. A cold wind was blowing snow and debris in on top of us. Alex released himself and climbed down as the truck stopped. I heard a door slam. And voices. The truck lights revealed broad, flat ground beyond the trees. "Not bad," said Alex. "Looks as if you hit the only patch of forest in the neighborhood." I was hurting in a few places, but nothing seemed to be broken, so I released my harness and lowered myself to the ground. Our rescuers were bundled up in jackets. There were two of them, and they both wore hats pulled down over their ears. A man and a woman. The man called out: "You people okay in there?" I guess I was staggering around. Alex was on the ground. They got me out to the truck. Then they went back in for Alex. It took a while. When they finally came out they were holding him up. "He's all right,"

said the woman. "But we wanted to be sure before we moved him."

Their names were Shiala and Orman Inkama. Orman was the operational director for the otherwise-automated energy-distribution site whose lights had shown us where the ground was. They took us back to their quarters, which were located in a flat gray building perched beside a field of collectors. They applied medications to cuts and bruises and told us how lucky we were. Orman wanted to take us to Barikaida, where there was a medical facility. But it was a long ride, and since neither of us was seriously damaged, we settled for showers and robes. We had no clothes, of course. We explained how we were sightseeing in the area, and Orman said he'd drive back to the scene of the crash to try to recover our bags. But there'd been no easy way to bring our gear from the plateau. "We didn't have anything with us," Alex explained. "But if you could take us into Barikaida tomorrow, that would help." So we slept in the robes, me in the guest room, Alex on the sofa. In the morning, everything I owned hurt. Shiala cooked a big breakfast, commenting on how few visitors they got in that part of the country. Then they gave us some clothes. Orman's were a bit big for Alex, but I fit reasonably well into a blouse and slacks. Shiala's shoes were too big, though, and Krestoff's boots were a mess. Nevertheless I had to stay with them. Orman took us out to the pad, and we all climbed into his skimmer. There was a party atmosphere running by then. Orman explained how many times he'd had rough landings himself. "Though nothing like what you folks did last night." Shiala laughed and insisted it was true, that Orman was the worst pilot in the world. He didn't trust AIs, though the truth was he just loved to fly himself. "By the way," he said, "we reported the crash for you." Uh-oh. "Thanks," said Alex. "They said they'll be out this afternoon to take a look and do the paperwork."