She’d dropped farther behind when the chindi went into the storm, and trailed the big ship by twenty kilometers when the blizzard closed over her. The sky went dark, and large fat flakes splatted onto the viewports. But the wind was moderate, not as bad as she’d expected, and she wondered if she was going to get lucky.
“Be careful,” said Bill. “Winds will intensify as you proceed. They are weakening somewhat overall but are still close to hurricane force near the mouth of the funnel.”
Her screens indicated the funnel had collapsed into a narrow ring as the chindi closed with it. The big ship’s forward thrusters fired again, a quick burst.
“That’s it,” said Bill. “Chindi will now be taking funnel head aboard.”
The lander rose on a sudden stiff gust. Another flurry spattered across the windscreen.
“Big doors opening below the chindi,” Bill said. He tried to give her an image. It was hard to make out precisely what was happening, but the two objects, the chindi and the funnel head, seemed to be merging.
Bill began announcing ranges to the chindi. Twelve klicks. Eight.
The wind was picking up.
THE STORM HOWLED around her. Pieces of ice pounded the lander, rattled the hull, and cracked the passenger-side view-screen. Hutch activated her e-suit and reduced air pressure in the cabin to prevent a possible blowout. She retracted antennas and scopes and everything else that she could get under cover, leaving only the sensors exposed. Those she could not do without. Fortunately, she was still close enough to the Memphis that she was able to retain communications, though the quality was poor. One of her four sensors went down, and her screens lost some of their sharpness.
“Maybe you ought to back off until it comes out the other side,” said Nick. “If you try to take them off in this, you might kill everybody.”
She’d been hoping that the winds would be less violent above the chindi. The big ship would be between her and the mouth of the funnel, and she thought she’d get some protection. Maybe that was so, but it was still pretty windy out there.
“Hutch,” said Bill, “the operation appears to be in its last stages. The ring has been attached.” He was referring to the funnel, which had collapsed into a collar. “Engines are revving up. Departure is probably imminent.”
“Acknowledged,” she said.
“It may not wait until it is clear of the storm to accelerate.”
“I hear you.” She kept her voice level and was pleased with herself when Nick commented that she was too gutsy by half.
She wasn’t. Hutch was adrift in a sea of apprehension, but George had left her no options. She was coming to resent people who played hero and took chances that in the end put her on the chopping block.
All her instincts warned her that Bill was right, that the chindi would come out of the storm accelerating, and it would keep going. She’d been a pilot too many years. She knew how ships operated, and even if this thing was a total unknown, it still functioned within the laws of physics and common sense. There were no more bottles or packages coming in or going out, so that part of the mission, whatever it was, had been completed.
It was a massive vehicle. To accelerate out of the storm and then settle back into orbit when they had apparently completed their business here would waste fuel. She was going to get them off now, or she’d have to wait until they got to wherever the next destination was.
Damn you, Tor. George would not have persisted had Tor not thrown his weight into the argument.
Something hammered the hull. The lights blinked and went out.
“Portside transactor down,” whispered Onboard Bill. “Switching to auxiliary.”
Power came back.
“Negative other damage,” he said. “Rerouting data flow. Replacement will be necessary.”
Something else hit them, and the lander shuddered.
Nick’s voice: “I guess we didn’t plan this very well.”
“I’d say that’s about right.”
She had reacquired the chindi. It was still several kilometers in front of her.
The wind died off, then hit her with renewed fury. It rolled her over, and she tumbled through the storm. Fans cut off and came back. Her status screens flickered. She could hear Nick saying something but was too busy wrestling the controls to worry about it.
“Hull integrity still secure,” said the onboard AI.
Hutch got the vehicle under control.
“Hutch, let it go.” Nick was trying to order her back, using a stern male voice.
The clatter against the hull was getting louder. Another of her sensors gave way. The chindi’s image faded to a spectral outline.
Starboard engine was beginning to overheat.
She turned on her running lights. The storm battered her. The lander dipped and rose, and the slush chummed against her. Nick had finally gone silent.
Then the wind slacked off, and she discovered she could control the spacecraft. And below, her lights reflected off the great dim bulk of the chindi.
THEY’D BACKED AWAY a few paces from the exit hatch. Outside, the storm howled and snow poured down into the interior. “Not as bad as we thought,” Tor said.
Alyx managed a laugh. She was leaning against the bulkhead, her left leg lifted gingerly off the ground.
“Hutch,” Tor asked, “can you do this?”
“Got you in sight. I’m about three minutes away.”
“Okay. We’re ready to go.”
“We’re going to want to make this quick. How’s the weather where you are?”
“Snowing a trifle.”
“No time, Tor. How’s the weather?”
Chastened, he said, “Blizzard conditions.”
“Wind?”
He went up the ladder and stuck his hand out. “About forty. Maybe a bit more.”
“All right. I’m coming up from the rear.” Pause. “But I’m not going to try to set down.”
“Okay.”
“Come out one at a time. I’ll get as close as I can.”
“We’ll be here.”
“Airlock’ll be open. You’ll have to climb in as opportunity allows. Be careful. Keep in mind you’ll be moving into zero gee. Don’t walk off the hull, or let yourself get blown off. If that happens, I may not be able to find you.”
“Okay.”
“At forty I’m going to be having a problem with control.”
“We know. Hutch, you have any idea when this thing’s going to move out?”
“Probably imminent. Just keep it still for a few more minutes.”
“We’ll do what we can.” He looked down at George and Alyx.
“You go first,” said George. “You can help Alyx.”
“I’m not going to need any help,” said Alyx.
Tor nodded. “Neither one of you guys is in very good shape. George, you’re out first.”
They’d begun to detect vibrations in the hull a few minutes before, and they were becoming more pronounced. He climbed down the ladder and got out of the way. “Okay,” he told George. “If anybody does get blown off, just get on the circuit and keep talking until we find you.”
George nodded and started up. When he reached the top, Alyx put a foot on the bottom rung and squeezed Tor’s hand. “Good luck,” she said.
Tor kissed her. The fields flashed.
George put his head outside and quickly pulled it back in. “It’s a bit brisk out there.”
“Any sign of her?”
“No.” He looked again. “Negative. Nothing. Zero.” His voice was loud. “But I can’t see more than a few meters.”
“Okay. Keep down until you see her.”
THE WIND WAS strong but it was a long way from hurricane force. Either the sheer bulk of the chindi was providing some protection, or the storm was weakening.
Hutch reactivated her scopes and put her map of the chindi’s surface on the display, marked the location of the hatch, brought up the sensor readings on the terrain immediately below, and overlaid it on the map.