Shivered at that thought, and it wasn’t because of the cold outside the shuttle.
“Lieutenant, science crew is clear. We’re going to move some of the gear before we take the tractor down the ramp.” Chief Patel’s voice came in clear.
Reminded me how much I’d missed good equipment. Comm at McClendon had been scratchy, off-freq; and that had been when it worked. “Stet. What’s it like out there?”
“Vacuum with heavy grav.” Patel’s tone was wry.
“Take care.” Things fell faster and harder in twenty percent stronger gravity. Just hoped that all the specs for the gear had taken that into account. “What’s a good estimate for off-loading time?”
“Hard to tell, sir. Judge another two stans, no more than three once we get the portables up for the team.”
“Thanks.”
Accessed the comm again. Navigator Control, this is Porter Tigress. Off-loading proceeding. Estimate three stans to liftoff.
Tigress, understand three stans to liftoff. Please keep Control informed.
Control, stet.
No way I wouldn’t let Control and ops know. While I waited for Patel to finish unloading and for the crew to set up the first units of the portable base for the science team, with their largely self-contained atmospheric pressure and recycling systems, I went back to directing the im-agers to pick up as many unique views as I could. Had to use low-intensity lasers to get even outlines in the darkness. The towers and the city—if it had been that—rose out of the eons-old gray ice. Almost looked as though it had been fresh-built, then abandoned. Also looked alien, not like I would have expected. The proportions were all wrong, but not any way I could have described. Color was off the same way. Could have been an effect of the light-enhancers, or maybe time had changed the color, but I didn’t think so.
Kept thinking about the power loss on the descent. With an atmosphere, power loss on descent wasn’t as critical. Without one, like now, power loss on ascent or descent was a problem. Began to run diagnostics on the power system between my efforts at catching images.
After half a stan, I’d run every test I could think of— that I could do planetside. Results confirmed momentary power loss, so momentary that it almost hadn’t been there. But it had.
Problem was that shuttle one couldn’t be inspected, not on Danann. Too many microtronic and nanotech components. So how did I get back with a lift profile that provided enough power before something blew?
Ran a profile of standard lift pattern, then identified the most vulnerable section, assuming a one-grav baseline. Danann wasn’t, but most techs wouldn’t have the equipment to make that kind of mod. If I used everything, and cut back on the internal grav, I could get us to midorbital velocity well before standard. That might do it.
Sat back in the couch… thinking. Did I want to try?
What was the alternative?
Shuttle couldn’t be repaired planetside, not if what I thought had been gimmicked had been. Taking it apart to discover that would leave it grounded— permanently. Whole mission would be compromised—and if the captain had to deal with one shuttle lost to sabotage, how could they risk the other one to carry the heavy loads? If I got shuttle one back, claiming guts and dumb luck, Morgan might suspect I knew more, but he wouldn’t be able to prove it.
Whole thing pissed me off. Chance to find out about the only aliens—or alien ruins—we’d ever found, and someone was trying to stop the whole expedition. Didn’t know whether it was politics over who got the technology or politics over religion. Didn’t much care. Just knew they weren’t going to blow the expedition by disabling or destroying any shuttle I was piloting.
If someone had rigged the shuttle for power failure, they’d want it where the shuttle couldn’t recover or be recovered. I went back and recalculated an ascent profile. Ought to work. I shook my head. It would work just fine if nothing went wrong—and Morgan would call me a torch jockey then. I’d still ask for an inspection. Tell him I’d worried about the turbulence that wasn’t.
I didn’t do as good a job on getting the rest of the images for the science types still on the Magellan, but they’d have enough to study.
Wasn’t that long—or didn’t seem that long—before PateFs voice came over the shuttle voicelink. “Sir, everything’s off-loaded and clear. Be another fifteen before we’re buttoned up.”
“Thanks, chief.” After a moment, I added, “Chief… coming down was a little rough in places. We’ll be using a higher-powered ascent because of the higher grav here. I won’t be able to hold the internal grav at one. So make sure you’re all secured.”
“Thanks for the heads-up, sir.”
I began the prelaunch checklist—longer and different for a lift out of a gravity well.
“We’re clear and secured, sir.”
“Stand by for liftoff.”
Finally, before I powered up, I made a last check of the area around shuttle one. The science team had used the tractor to tow all the equipment and the portaquarters practically to the edge of where the towers were—a good kay away. Local west, I figured. Their portaspots were the only real light on Danann.
Navigator Control, this is Porter Tigress, commencing ascent and return this time.
Porter Tigress, Control, cleared to orbit and return.
“Chief… crew ready?”
“Ready, sir.”
“Commencing liftoff.” Took a slow deep breath, then took the internal gravs off-line. Every erg of power went to the drives. Shuttle exploded off the ice. No air, so no backblast for the team below. They were well clear anyway. Felt like one of the alien towers was pressing down on my chest. Kept pressing… Pressing.
Five kays AGL, ten… twenty…
Kept watching through the pressure.
… Fifty… hundred…
Just a little more… a little more.
Half the mass-weight vanished.
Amber flashed across the boards. Left converter had gone off-line. Not blown, just off-line, with no way to get it back. Dropped the power to the max for one converter.
Porter Tigress, Porter Tigress, interrogative status. Interrogative status. Morgan again, an edge to his words even through the links.
Control, wait one. Kept my voice level. Didn’t know what the frig my status was. Quick check showed we had enough power left in the right converter and enough mass left in the steering jets to adjust course to make the Magellan. I’d done it well enough that we were almost direct on, anyway. Control, Porter Tigress, status is amber, on course for return as planned. Slower and later, but we’d make it.
Tigress, Control confirms return course. Morgan sounded worried and pissed.
Whole inside of my armor was damp—stress sweat— by the time I had shuttle one cradled in bay two and the outer locks were closed.
“Clear to disembark, chief.”
“Yes, sir… could you tell me what happened?”
“We lost power. We’ll have to check out why.”
“Yes, sir…”
I unstrapped slowly. Sweat had puddled in my boots. Helmet in hand, I dropped out of the pilot’s hatch.
Morgan was waiting outside in the bay. Didn’t even wait for me to say a word. “What happened? Why did you overboost? You could have blown the whole shuttle, the whole expedition.”
“I didn’t overboost, Commander. My lift was within all safety parameters, sir. I certainly couldn’t help it if the left converter dropped off-line.”