JoAnn and Shara were talking quantum theory or something when the conversation suddenly went quiet.
“What’s wrong?” Shara asked.
“It’s starting. Gotta go.”
The Grainger floated serenely among the stars. Nothing seemed to have changed. I could hear Shara breathing beside me, staring out through the wraparound. “Even if it works,” she said, speaking neither to me nor the microphone, “I’m not sure I’d trust it.”
“I can understand why,” I said.
“We’ll need more than a single trial to convince anyone. To convince me, for that matter. But let’s get past this first and see what we have.”
A faint glow appeared along the Grainger hull. And brightened. We could see what appeared to be stars inside the ship. It was becoming transparent. Then the light faded. And, finally, there was only the field of stars.
Thirty
Theory indicated that if everything went as expected, they would return within minutes. Or maybe seconds. We held our breath.
Richard started another countdown on the auxiliary screen. “Shut it off,” I said.
“I’m sorry, Chase. I was only trying to help.”
“Just leave it alone.”
Shara was holding tight on to the arms of her chair. I sat there looking out at the night, watching for the silhouette of the giant ship to reappear. Please, God. “We should do this more often,” said Shara.
“You want some coffee?”
“No. Not at the moment.”
We sat, listening to each other breathe. We didn’t really know if, when the ship reappeared, we’d be close enough to see it. The vehicles that got tangled in the warp tended to maintain a direct course, so we could assume it would come back along that same vector. But it was possible that it would be several million kilometers away. Which meant that the news might come by radio.
“Chase.” Richard’s voice. “I am scanning for it. Nothing so far.”
“Okay,” I said. “Thanks.”
“Do you wish to receive periodic reports, Chase?”
“No,” I said. “Just let me know if you see something.”
I moved farther to port as a safety precaution, but otherwise maintained the same course and speed. I know this makes no sense, but my natural tendency was to assume the Grainger would show up in the same position relative to us that it had held when it went under. But the minutes dragged on, and no lights appeared.
I began to notice that the sounds in the Casavant were a bit different from what they were in the Belle-Marie. The engines had a different tone, somehow more masculine, more inclined to growl. I heard more beeps and boops from the electronics than I was accustomed to. And the ventilators put out a louder hum.
“Come on,” whispered Shara.
The chairs squeaked.
“I have it,” said Richard. “It’s on course, range approximately six thousand kilometers.”
“Beautiful,” I said. “Open a channel to them.”
“Done, Chase.”
“Nick, we see you. Welcome back.”
We got nothing but static.
“Nick, answer up, please.”
Shara was frowning.
Still nothing.
“Nick,” said Shara. “Say something!”
“It must be at a considerable distance,” said Richard. “I can’t see any lights.”
“Nick!” Shara again. Her voice tight with mounting desperation. “Are you there? Come on. Say something.”
“Belt down, Shara,” I said. “Their power may have gone down. Let’s go find them. It shouldn’t be a problem.” I switched over to Richard. “Are we getting any kind of radio activity at all from them?”
“Negative, Chase. I will let you know if I detect anything.”
“Try the AI.”
“I already have. That’s also negative.”
“Not good,” said Shara. “We’ve got to get them off before it goes under again.”
We sent a message to the SRF, informing them of the situation.
We had a reply within the hour. From Lynn Bonner, chief of the SRF presence on Skydeck. “Chase, do not take any unnecessary risks. Determine as best you can what has happened and report to us before taking any action.”
The Grainger was still showing no lights when we pulled alongside. I moved in closer than was comfortable. But I wanted to be within a couple of minutes of the Grainger. Just in case. Shara was getting out of her seat to head for the lander when a second message arrived. It was from John Kraus: “Exercise extreme caution. What is the current situation?”
I sent a picture of the dark ship. “No response yet. We are going over now.”
“No,” said Shara. She got up and shook her head. “You stay here. I’ll let you know what’s going on.”
“Forget it.”
She paused in the hatch, turned, pointed an index finger at me. “Stay here,” she said.
I had no wish to go with her and get into a vehicle that had become so unpredictable. “You can’t go over there alone.”
“Chase, we need somebody here on the radio. To keep in touch with John.”
“Richard can relay anything we need to send. We don’t know what’s happening, and you may need help. Anyway, I suspect I have a little more experience with starships and pressure suits than you do.”
We climbed into the suits and added wrist lamps and jet packs. We were so close there was no point taking the lander. I picked up a cutter to ensure we didn’t get stuck somewhere.
We left the Casavant and floated across to the Grainger airlock. Usually, when you touch the hull of a ship, especially a big one, you can feel the power. There are engines and compressors and monitors and a thousand other devices that support life. This one felt dead. Shara looked at me with her eyes wide as I pressed the pushpad beside the outer hatch. The pushpad is supposed to work even in the case of a power failure. And it did. The hatch clicked, and I pulled it open and stepped inside. It was dark, and there was no artificial gravity. “Careful,” I said. Shara joined me, we closed up, floated off the deck, and switched on our lamps.
The airlock began to pressurize.
“That’s good,” said Shara. “At least they’ve got some power.”
“It’s the backup system,” I said. “Not sure there’ll be much else.”
The inner hatch opened into a passageway. Into three passageways, actually. One ran directly ahead across the ship; the others went fore and aft parallel to the hull. No interior lights came on.
I didn’t trust what I was seeing, so I motioned Shara to leave her helmet in place while I removed mine. But the air was okay. I called out both names. “JoAnn.
“Nick.”
Shara, her helmet now off, joined in: “Anybody there? Hello—Where are you guys?”