“Probably,” she said. “We should be able to determine where it’s jumping to. And we’ve attached a transmitter to the hull so we can track it.”
She turned off the TRANSMIT and looked at Alyx. “What do you think?” she asked.
“Of him?” She studied the frozen image on the display. “He’s very serious.”
“Yes, he is that.”
“I wouldn’t want to spend a long trip cooped up with him. Give me George anytime.”
“I’m sorry about that,” Hutch said.
“I know. I saw what happened. You did what you could.” Her eyes were glazed, and Hutch had to listen closely to hear. “How long’s it going to take to get Tor off?”
“I don’t know.”
“The air supply in the dome is dependent on power cells. Or one power cell, I don’t know which.” She looked worried. “He has a spare. I don’t know what kind of time limit…”
“About six days to a cell,” said Hutch, gently.
She nodded. “I’m going to sleep now. If that’s okay.”
And she was out.
Mogambo came back: “You sound uncertain about tracking the chindi. What’s the level of probability that we’ll be able to find it again?”
How could she know? “We don’t have enough information at present, Professor. Once it jumps, we should be able to spot the destination.”
When he came back, he looked grim. “Hutch, I hope you understand what’s at stake here. We can’t afford to let this thing get away from us. I’m assuming we’re still in touch with, uh, what’s-his-name? Camby? the artist? Anyhow, I want to be patched through to him.”
“His name’s Kirby,” she said. “And may I ask why?”
While she waited for the reply, she opened a channel to Tor. “How you doing?”
“Okay. I’m back in the dome.”
She could barely hear him. “Everything all right? Other than the obvious problem?”
“Everything’s all right. I’ve got food, water, and air.”
“And power’s okay?”
“I’ve got exactly one day before I have to switch cells.” He went away for a moment. “Twenty-two hours, actually.” Which meant about a week total time left before power ran out.
Hutch set a clock to keep track. “Okay. We’re watching the chindi. As soon as we figure out what it’s doing, I’ll get back to you. Meantime, Professor Mogambo wants to talk to you.”
“Really? Why?”
“Don’t know. Be careful what you agree to.”
A CONVERSATION THAT breaks for ten minutes between responses takes a while. Hutch suspected that Mogambo wanted Tor to spend his remaining time doing as much exploring and reporting as possible. Before he got rescued. Or his air ran out.
She was close to the Memphis now. Nick came back on the circuit to try to revive her flagging spirits, and then Bill appeared in a corner of her navigation screen.
“It’s still accelerating,” he said.
Hutch wondered how long the chindi would need to achieve jump status. The Memphis required about forty minutes for her fusion engines to power up the Hazeltines. But the chindi? With all that mass? Who knew? It might take a couple of days. “Do we know yet where it’s going, Bill?”
“I think you’re going to get lucky. It looks like a local star. RK335197.”
“Thank God. We can use a break.”
“It’s going to wind up in the boondocks, though. Ninety-seven A.U.’s from the central luminary.”
That was odd. “Are you sure they aren’t going somewhere else? Another star farther out?”
“There’s nothing else along that vector, Hutch. Unless it’s leaving the galaxy.”
“How far’s 97?”
“Close. Forty-two light years.” Three days’ travel time.
“All right,” she said. “As soon as I get back we’ll take off after it. Maybe we’ll get even luckier and it’s only going somewhere in this system. Have you looked into that possibility?”
“Of course.” Bill sounded miffed. “If it’s got a local target, I can’t imagine what it is.”
The launch doors opened for her, and she slipped in to dock. Then, taking advantage of the light gravity, she carried Alyx up to her quarters and put her to bed.
As soon as she got back to the bridge, they set sail after the chindi.
“HE WANTS ME to look for a way to disable it,” said Tor.
Nick snickered.
“How did he want you to do that?” Hutch asked.
“Find the engine room. And carve it up with the cutter.” Signal clarity was getting weak. The chindi was pulling away from them.
“Do you know where the engine room is?”
“I have no idea. I don’t think he understands how big this thing is. I’d probably need a bus to get to the engines.”
“Does he realize that you could wind up blowing up the ship?”
“He doesn’t think cutting a few wires, or whatever, would constitute a serious danger.”
“Shows what he knows.”
“I tried to tell him the ship’s just too big to find anything like that. Even if I knew where to look.”
“—And he said…?”
“That I have an obligation to try. He says engines are big and they’re at the rear and how could I miss? Hutch—”
“—It’s okay. I’ll talk to him.”
“Whatever. I have no plans to cut wires on this thing.”
“That’s prudent, Tor.”
“Any idea yet where I’m headed?”
“Yes, actually. If it goes where we think it will, it’ll be about a three-day flight. When it arrives, we’ll be right behind it and scoop you off.”
“Good,” he said. “I’m counting on you.”
Still, why was the chindi so far off course? Ninety-seven A.U.’s out from the sun. That was twice as far out as Pluto was. And then some.
“HUTCH, I HAVE calculated its jump point, assuming common Hazeltine architecture and adjusting for mass.”
“When?” she asked.
“Eight hours, seventeen minutes from now.”
“Okay, Bill. Thanks.”
“Do you wish to coordinate our own transition with theirs?”
She thought about it, and decided there was nothing to lose. “Yes. Sure. We want to get this over as quickly as we can.”
“Very good.”
“Keep us in cruise for now.” It would be accelerating away from them at a substantial rate but there was no help for that. They’d be okay as long as they could keep it within sensor range. She signaled Nick. “You have the conn.”
“Me? What do I do if something happens?”
“Tell Bill to run.”
She went down to her quarters and began composing a message to the Academy reporting George’s death.
TOR SAT IN the dome and resisted calling the Memphis. He wanted very much to hear a human voice, but if he called over there, Hutch would answer up, and he wanted her to believe he was doing fine, didn’t need any help to get through this, wasn’t at all affected by the vast emptiness around him.
He left one lamp on. He’d tried sitting in the dark, anything to conserve energy, and decided he’d lose his mind if he couldn’t see. He was still trying to come to terms with the loss of George when the commlink sounded.
“How you doing?” Hutch’s voice, bright and optimistic. Almost. She wasn’t quite actress enough to carry it off.
“I’m good. Can’t beat the accommodations here.” Outside his windows the chamber was of course pitch black. Darker than he remembered. “I keep thinking about George.”
“Me too.” Her voice caught. She took a moment. “I hope he thought it was worth it.”
He couldn’t miss the bitterness. She was blaming him. But he let it go. “If he hadn’t come aboard, hadn’t made the effort, Hutch, he’d have spent the rest of his life regretting it.” He thought about what he wanted to say next, hesitated, and continued: “He died doing what he wanted to do. It’s probably as much as anybody can ask.”