BILL COMPLETED BREAKING down the filings Hutch had collected on the chindi, and she forwarded the results to the Academy for analysis.
Nick spent most of his time on the bridge with her. He admitted that when this was over, he would never leave the ground again. “I don’t think I even want to fly,” he said.
Hutch was thinking the same thing. After they got back, she was going to find a nice quiet apartment and spend the rest of her life in wind, rain, and sunlight.
Traffic came in from Mogambo’s Longworth announcing an “imminent arrival,” which was in fact still more than a week away, and directing the Memphis to stay clear of any alien site until they were on the scene. Well, he was already a couple of days late with that demand. There was at present a ninety-minute delay in round-trip transmission time, so she wasn’t faced with a give-and-take conversation. Interstellar distances occasionally had their advantages.
A second message, a few hours later, wanted an explanation for her silence, and requested a detailed report on the Retreat. Hutch responded with a message stating that she’d relayed the request to the head of mission. Which she then did.
“Hutch, how much does he know?” asked George.
“About the chindi?”
“Yes.”
“He knows it’s there.”
“But he doesn’t know what we’ve found?”
“No. He doesn’t know we’ve been aboard at all.”
“Good. Let’s keep it that way.”
“Sure. Why? I mean, you’ll be out of there by the time he arrives, anyhow.”
“Hutch, you obviously don’t understand how these things work. Once he hears we’ve penetrated this thing, he’ll start issuing statements. Taking over.”
“But he’s not even here.”
“He doesn’t have to be. He’s a major player. What am I? A guy who made some money on the market.” He broke off for a minute, talking to one of the others. Then he was back. “I know it seems paranoid, but just do it for me, okay? Don’t tell him anything.”
Okay. He was right, she decided. She’d felt the same way, although she hadn’t thought it out. But she’d instinctively held back a running description of events on the chindi, information she would ordinarily have passed along. Maybe it was important who got the credit, because Herman and Pete and Preach and a lot of others had died, and this was why, this was the event people would remember when they’d forgotten Columbus and Armstrong and Pirc.
“I tell you what I’d like,” George said. “I wish we could get as much time here as possible, but that an hour before Mogambo shows up, the chindi would take off. Preferably just as he pulls alongside.”
“Talk to the captain over there. Maybe you can arrange it.”
“We’re working on it. By the way, we found something interesting.”
“What’s that?”
“A small amphitheater, we think. With electronics. And seating. Chairs are just the right size for us. Well, maybe a little small. But it has power. We think if we can figure out how to get it running, we may get some answers. Tor’s working on it now.”
“Tor? What’s Tor know about it?”
“As much as any of us.”
“If you do get something,” she said, “record it. The signal’s not strong enough for me to do it at this end.”
ACTUALLY, IT LOOKED simple enough. There were twelve chairs spread well apart in two rows with an aisle down the middle. The arm of one of the chairs at the front opened up, and inside was a pressure-sensitive plate, a couple of push buttons, and a semitransparent red disk that Tor thought might be a light sensor.
“What do you think?” asked George.
“It’s got power,” Tor said. “Put your hand on it. You can feel it.”
George touched it and nodded. “Let’s try it, okay?”
They took three seats in the front row left, with Tor on the aisle. When they’d indicated they were ready, he selected the larger button, a black square, and pushed it. The door closed and air flowed into the room. Not breathable. Relatively little oxygen, but air all the same.
He tried the smaller one, which was round and emerald-colored. It lit up. The power levels increased. Lights came on around the chamber, and dimmed. The room faded, became transparent, became a field of stars and rings, and they, with their chairs, were afloat in the night!
“Tor.” Alyx’s voice was very small, and she reached over and took his hand. There was really nothing particularly outré about the technology, nothing they hadn’t seen before. Yet having the chindi come suddenly to life was unsettling.
“I’m here, Alyx.”
“What’s going to happen?”
“Showtime. You should be right at home.”
The long arc of a planetary ring curved away into the stars. It glittered white and gold until, far out in the night, a shadow fell across it. He turned in his chair, looking for the source of the shadow, and saw behind him the vast bulk of a gas giant. It was not either of the Twins. Its skies were dark, restless, with churning winds and streaking clouds and electrical storms everywhere.
“Look,” said George. To the right.
There was a small moon. Actually, it was hard to be sure about size, because there was nothing against which to make contrasts. But it was probably only a few hundred meters long. It was a barbell of a world, thin in the middle, misshapen and swollen at either end. At first he couldn’t make out why George was interested in it. Then he saw the ship beyond. It was sleek, exotic, different. Light poured out of a single line of ports, and there was movement inside! The vessel seemed to be tracking the moonlet.
“What is it?” asked Alyx.
“Don’t know,” George whispered impatiently. “Watch.”
The ship was closing. It got within a few meters, and a hatch opened. A figure appeared, silhouetted against the ship’s internal lights. It was wearing a pressure suit.
The moonlet was tumbling, but the ship had set itself so that it maintained the same aspect.
The figure launched itself from the airlock. A tether trailed behind. It approached the rock, using a set of thrusters, a go-pack, but a larger, more ungainly version than the ones he was accustomed to. It slowed, and stopped. A second figure appeared, carrying a rod. There was a sphere at the upper end of the rod, about the size of a basketball, and there was something mounted on it. A bird’s image, he thought.
“What is it?” asked Alyx.
Tor tried pressing the plate and was gratified to discover he could exercise some control over the environment. He could bring the ship and the moonlet closer, he could change the angles, he could withdraw and watch from a distance. He could even swing around the area to get a look at the neighborhood. Four moons could be brought within his field of view. All were in their second quarter. One exceptionally bright satellite had oceans and continents, rivers and cumulus clouds. A bright sun dominated the sky.
“Can you increase the magnification?” asked George. “It would be nice to get a better look.”
Tor brought the two figures in as close as he could. They wore helmets. They were humanoid. But beyond that he couldn’t see what manner of creatures they were.
A second tether unfurled, and the second spacewalker, still carrying the rod, joined the first.
“What are they doing?” asked Alyx.
Tor was baffled. He saw nothing unusual about the moonlet. The pressure suits reminded him of the kind that humans had worn during the early days of the lunar missions. They were large and clumsy, with enormous boots and tool belts slung around their middles. Symbols were stitched on their sleeves.
“The thing on the sphere,” said George. “It looks like a hawk.”
More or less. Tor thought it was a bit stringy for a hawk, but it was avian and decidedly predatory.