“Not without knowing how big their tanks are. Or how long they’ve been at it already.”
“Look,” said Tor, “suppose it did take off with some of us on it, what course of action have we? You said earlier we’d be able to follow it, right?”
“I said maybe.”
“Okay. So there’s a chance. How confident are you?”
“Depends on the technology. If they do things differently from the way we do, it could be a problem.”
“But if it uses Hazeltine technology, and it jumped, you could follow it to its target, and take us off there. If worse came to worst.”
“Maybe. We’d probably have no trouble finding the destination. But if it’s a long jump, you could run out of air before you got there. If it’s a short jump, we still have to find you within the confines of an entire solar system. It’s by no means a lock.”
“The air tanks,” Alyx reminded them, “only have a six-hour supply. That’s almost no margin at all.”
“I know,” said George. “But we can substantially improve that margin.”
“I’ve been thinking about that, too,” said Tor. “The whole business of having to run outside every few hours for a fresh pair of tanks would slow us down in any case.”
“And,” Alyx said to George, “your suggestion is…”
George raised both arms, a cleric revealing the divine truth. “Tor’s pocket dome.”
“My thought exactly.” Tor was beaming. “We set it up over there and use it as a base. It gives us the opportunity to penetrate deeper into the ship. And we can move it from place to place as we go.”
Hutch made a rumbling sound in her throat. “Tor, the dome has its limits.”
“What limits? It recycles the air. It can go forever. As long as we don’t put too many people inside.”
“It needs power cells.”
“Once every few days. I have two cells. They’ll give us six days each. When one goes down, I’ll send it over for recharge.”
“Well,” said Alyx, “you could put a transmitter on the hull. That way, if it took off, you’d be able to find it in the target system.”
“That’s what we’ll do,” said Tor.
“Wait.” Hutch was sitting in front of a glass of lime juice and a lunch that she hadn’t yet touched. “You’re assuming whatever jump it makes will be to a system close by. But suppose it heads for the Cybele Nebula. We’d need eighteen days to find you. At a minimum. Anything like that happens, and you’re dead.”
George shook his head. She was worrying for no reason. “If we judge by the positioning of the stealths, the flights have all been relatively local.”
“What about acceleration?” asked Alyx. “Won’t you get banged around if the thing takes off?”
“That’s a point I hadn’t thought of,” said Tor. “Acceleration. If it does go, the people inside might not survive.”
“You’re probably okay on that score,” said Hutch. “They have artificial gravity, which means they probably also have some form of damping field.”
“What’s that?” asked Alyx.
“We have one, too. It negates inertia. Most of it, anyhow. Keeps you from getting thrown around when we accelerate or make a hard right.
“That doesn’t mean, by the way, if the thing starts to move while you’re over there, that you shouldn’t get your back to a wall or something, okay?”
“Hutch?” Bill’s voice. They all turned to look at the wallscreen, but no image appeared.
“Yes, Bill.”
“The damage to the outer hatch on the chindi is repairing itself.” A picture blinked on. “It’s gradually filling in.”
“Nanotech again,” said Tor.
Alyx looked as if she were trying to make up her mind about something. “Hutch,” she said, “we know there’s a degree of risk. But I think what we’re trying to say is that we’re willing to accept that. Now why don’t we move on and figure out what we do next?”
That took George by surprise. “I didn’t think,” he said, “that you wanted anything to do with the chindi.”
She colored slightly. “I didn’t much like sitting by myself while you guys took all the risks.”
“Look,” said Tor. “Let’s set up over there for forty-eight hours. Then we’ll pull everybody out. And that’ll be the end.”
“No matter what?” asked Hutch.
“No matter what.” He grinned at her. “Unless by then we’ve established relations with the crew and we have an invitation to dinner.”
“Forty-eight hours,” said Hutch. She held out the cutter. “If you’re to have any chance of getting picked up when the trouble starts—and it will start—I’m going to have to stay with the Memphis.”
“Okay.”
“But I don’t want to be left wondering what’s going on in the chindi. We’ll use Alyx’s idea and put a transmitter at the exit hatch. And we’ll add a relay. That should make local communication a little easier.”
ALYX CHECKED HER tether. She was in the middle between Tor and George. They were all down on the rocky skin of the chindi, looking up at Hutch, who was watching them through the windscreen.
The cargo hatch opened and they unloaded the pocket dome, air tanks, two power cells, and a few days’ supply of food and water. When they’d finished, they waved, Hutch waved back, wished them good luck, and lifted off. Alyx watched the lander turn and move in the direction of the Memphis, which looked very small and very far away.
Alyx had never dreamed when she set out on this mission that it might actually come to something. The Society had always been more of a social organization than anything else. They’d sent people out to look at places where sightings had occurred, but everyone understood it was a game, it was a fantasy they all indulged. This trip had gone off-Earth, but she’d still thought of it as a party, as a break in her routine, a vacation with a few old friends. Yet here she was standing on the hull of an alien vessel. She was frightened. But she also felt more excited than she had at any time in the last ten years.
She didn’t wholeheartedly support Tor’s idea to set up a base. She’d have been satisfied to come over and put her head inside just so she could say she’d been here. Been part of the team that went on board the chindi. Carried the transmitter. She knew what that would be worth in publicity when she got home. But more important, she knew how it would make her feel about herself.
Tor was carrying the pocket dome, George had the compressed air tanks and some water containers, and Alyx was carrying the food. Even though there was no gravity on the outside, the packages were clumsy, and Alyx lost her grip at one point and had to watch while a parcel of frozen sandwiches drifted away.
George led them across the surface, the regolith, whatever one would call the rocky exterior of a starship. They walked between the ridges that bordered either side of the hollow, and stopped before the hatch. As Bill had warned them, it was sealed.
There was no evidence whatever that a hole had been cut through the hatch only the day before.
George handed the cutter to Tor, who patiently sliced another opening. He lifted the piece out and let it drift away. While they waited for the heated rock to cool, Alyx took the transmitter out of her vest and secured it just outside the hatch.
“Try not to go around too many bends down there,” said Hutch, from the lander. “They smother the signal.”
“Okay.”
“One more thing. If this thing does start to move, it might not seem like a lot of acceleration inside. But out on the hull, there’ll be no stat field.”
“No what?” asked George.
“Stat field. Anti-inertia. To keep you from getting thrown around when the thing takes off. What I’m trying to tell you is that if it goes, things might seem okay inside, as if you’re not moving very fast, but if you try to come out through the hole, it could rip your head off. Okay?”