Karen reached out and grasped his space-suited arm, but the padding was so thick she couldn’t tell if he felt her reassuring squeeze. You’re our only hope to get out of here, Ramis.
Ramis took an unsteady step. The MMUs held him back momentarily, adding to his inertia. He turned to face the Kibalchich and bent his knees, planting his feet firmly against the metal hull of Orbitech 1.
Karen caught herself holding her breath.
“Do not worry,” he radioed to her.
Ramis pushed off and drifted out into space toward the distant Soviet colony.
Chapter 30
AGUINALDO—Day 39
Dobo rushed into the laboratory, red-faced and short of breath. Sandovaal looked up from what he was doing and growled. “This had better be important, Dobo.”
Sandovaal released the red grips of the micro-waldoes he used to guide the nucleus-sized needle tip into a cellular mass. On the holotank image in front of him, an electron micrograph showed his work surrounded by a dashed bull’s-eye pattern. Without his guidance, the tiny needle slewed off to the side of the target.
“I thought you knew by now not to disturb me. You could have ruined this entire series.”
Rising from the lab bench, Sandovaal wiped his hands on his white apron. He was annoyed, but not overly so. The experimental grafts had been successful, and Dobo’s entrance served to release the tension in his neck—yelling at someone always made him feel better.
Dobo shifted his weight from one foot to another, as if standing on a hot plate. “It is about Ramis! Orbitech 1 has decided to allow him … I mean, Ramis has asked the Orbitech director for permission to—” He gulped a deep breath.
Sandovaal tapped his fingers together. “Well, out with it!” He waved for his assistant to take a seat. “Is Ramis in trouble again?” Sandovaal eased himself into his chair, which was far more comfortable and lower than the lab bench.
Dobo could barely keep his excitement to himself. “He is going to Jump from Orbitech 1 to the Kibalchich!”
Sandovaal straightened in his chair. His long white hair fell into his eyes, and he flipped it away with such force that it dropped back into his face again. “What nonsense are you talking about?”
“It is true! Ramis has volunteered to cross the distance and see what has happened to the Soviet colony—”
“A hundred kilometers by Jumping?” Sandovaal snorted. “If he is only a little off course he will float forever! No, he will probably carry air tanks with him for maneuvering. Hmmm, I thought his journey in the sail-creature would make him grow up.”
“Ramis is ready even as I speak. Orbitech 1 is broadcasting it over the ConComm.”
Sandovaal rocked forward in his chair and sprang up to pace across the room. He punched up the Aguinaldo communications center on the holotank. A man’s face came into focus, startled at Sandovaal’s override.
“What is this nonsense about Ramis Jumping?” Sandovaal said.
The face in the holotank blinked at him. Behind him, the nerve center of the Aguinaldo went about business as usuaclass="underline" safety operations in the zero-G core, housing emergencies, micrometeorite drills. “We are monitoring the Orbitech 1 transmissions over ConComm, Dr. Sandovaal. They are beaming us a view from outside their colony. Ramis has attached himself to some sort of wire and will secure it to the Kibalchich once he completes his journey.”
Sandovaal raised his hands and shouted at the communications officer. “Now I know the Americans are insane. They have so polluted their bodies with pizza and nachos that my wall-kelp must have sent them over the brink.”
The officer’s image faded, and was replaced by a starry view outside Orbitech 1. Dobo leaned forward to mutter to him. “I believe the Americans are using a new type of wire. It is very dangerous, I think.”
“New type of wire?” Sandovaal turned away from the holotank, raising his bushy eyebrows. “A hundred kilometers of wire? Do they have enough material to make a wire that long, or a place to store it?”
The holotank’s picture rotated around Ramis, taking in the giant Manned Maneuvering Unit strapped to his back and resting on a small orange canister mounted to the colony’s surface. Trailing from the canister, a thin Day-Glo orange strand was barely visible against the colony, enhanced for the broadcast. The image focused on the strand, and a voice started describing the wire in English.
“That is the stuff they make clothes out of!” Sandovaal made a deprecating sound with his lips. “I thought they could only draw that out a few kilometers a day.”
As the explanation grew more detailed, Sandovaal frowned and leaned forward in his seat. “Turn the volume up.” The footage took on the air of a documentary, with only Ramis’s breathing to punctuate the background as the broadcaster’s voice continued. It seemed rehearsed. At least the Americans would leave a good record of the efforts they had made, in case they did not survive.
Sandovaal strode to the holotank, squinting. “Magnify the image, Dobo. There, where it connects to Ramis’s suit.” Seconds later the weavewire filled the holotank; the sharp image warbled at the edges with the intense magnification.
Sandovaal’s voice rose imperceptibly. “Do a data search, Dobo—request all information Orbitech 1 will give us about how they draw out this fiber of theirs.”
Poking his finger into the hologram image, Sandovaal tried to touch Ramis. “And make a note about those tactile-response holotanks. Times like these are when it is worth putting the damned things together.”
Sandovaal traced the thin orange line from a belt around Ramis’s waist. Another space-suited person floated in and out of the recorder’s view. The narrator’s voice grew quiet as another voice came over ConComm. “I am ready, Mr. Brahms.”
The holotank swelled with the vision of Ramis. He squatted on Orbitech 1’s surface with his knees bent deep. The bulky MMUs looked as though they were going to make him topple backward.
Then Ramis sprang from the hull. The holocamera followed him as he receded from the colony. The view swung down for a parting shot at the unit reeling out the weavewire. A space-suited figure stood by the mechanism, stroking its surface as if it were alive.
Sandovaal remained quiet, staring into the holotank. The fiber seemed mystical to him.
“Dr. Sandovaal?”
Sandovaal waved Dobo quiet. A full minute passed before he whispered, “I must speak with Yoli Magsaysay.”
The dato did not share his enthusiasm. Sandovaal blew his nose and spoke slowly, controlling himself. His impulse was to explain again, as if to an uncooperative child. But he knew that would annoy Magsaysay more than anything.
“The weavewire is the key, Yoli. I did not know they could produce useful quantities of the stuff. But apparently this is a new discovery. We must have this weavewire—it is the only way.”
Magsaysay studied him before answering. “The only way, Luis? That sounds like a dangerous assumption from the outset.”
Dobo relaxed beside Sandovaal, and thankfully kept his mouth shut. Magsaysay drummed his fingernails on the table and continued. “We are doing well now, are we not? Your projections show a sufficient distance between ourselves and starvation. This weavewire is the only way for what?”