"We think we found the missing pieces, by the way."
"You mean the mountaintop?"
"And the north side of the cliff. They're a group of hills about twenty klicks east. It's all a big river valley now. Most of the granite is covered by forest."
"So that means-"
"It came off a very long time ago. At least a thousand years. Probably a lot more." She paused. "Okay, if you're ready, I'm going to take you in."
"We're ready."
"There's plenty of room to set down," Mira said.
"Doesn't the cloud bank ever go away?" asked MacAllister. He meant the one that shrouded the mountaintop.
"We don't have any records that go back more than a few weeks," said Mira. "But it's been a permanent feature during the time we've been here. Several of the other peaks in this area are the same way."
She provided a course correction. Hutch slowed and eased into the clouds.
"Doing fine," Mira said. "No obstructions ahead. You're two hundred meters above the rock."
The mist grew dark.
Hutch turned on the spike. The seat pushed up slightly against her spine. She continued to reduce airspeed, lowered her treads, and put the thrusters into vertical mode.
Snow began to fall across the windscreen, and they picked up some interference.
Mira's voice disappeared in a burst of static.
Hutch switched to another channel and recovered the transmission.
"You're now approaching the lip of the plateau," Mira said. "You've got plenty of clearance, so there's nothing to worry about. Give me a descent rate of five meters per second."
Hutch complied.
Thunder rumbled below them. "Thirty seconds to touchdown, Hutch."
She watched them tick off on her counter, fired the thrusters, reduced airspeed to zero, and drifted in.
"Priscilla," asked MacAllister, "what happens if we lose radio contact?"
She was too busy to answer.
"No problem," said Kellie after a moment. "We just go back up. Sky's clear overhead."
"Fifteen seconds. Go three-quarter spike."
They dropped slowly through the mist. And touched down.
Hutch resisted the impulse to take a deep breath. She looked out through the side window but couldn't see more than a few meters into the fog. "Mira," she said, "thanks."
"My pleasure. I'll notify Marcel."
The four superluminals, directed by the Star's AI, assumed their positions along the assembly, in each case drawing up at one of the four locations marked with yellow dye, facing the asteroid. The smallest of the four, the Zwick, halted approximately thirty-eight kilometers from the rock. The others were spaced over the next 332 kilometers, Wildside second in line, followed by the Star, which could generate far and away the maximum thrust of the group, and finally, Wendy.
The positioning of the ships had been the most difficult part of the problem for John Drummond and his team. Posted in a shuttle drifting across the rocky surface of the asteroid, he went over his numbers one last time and found everything in order.
Janet Hazelhurst sat beside him to provide technical assistance to the Outsiders. And Miles Chastain, the skipper of the media ship, was in a shuttle roughly midway between the Star and Wildside, prepared to come to the assistance of anyone who got in trouble. Other shuttles were strategically placed to help. Each person who had gone outside was being tracked by one of the attending vehicles, which would immediately sound an alarm if anyone drifted away, or if any indication of distress or undue difficulty showed itself.
With so many inexperienced people trying to perform their work in a hostile environment, it seemed inevitable that someone, somewhere, would get hurt, would walk off and try to go into orbit, or would slice off somebody's foot with a cutter.
The e-suits were reliable. They would not shut off in a vacuum unless one knew a very complicated protocol. They were not subject to leaking. And they handled life support very effectively. Nevertheless,
Drummond remembered his own experience outside, and he was worried.
Wildside, empty save for the onboard Outsider team and its AI, drew alongside the assembly, its nose pointed forward, and stopped where its sensors detected a yellow splotch of dye. The dye marked the site that Wildside would take up during the operation, and it also marked Alpha, the target shaft.
Bill rotated the vehicle until its underside snuggled within centimeters of the assembly. Its cargo airlock opened and a two-person team emerged. Wearing dark lenses, they selected an unmarked shaft and cut eight pieces from it, each about six meters long.
They returned to the Wildside with them. They put two inside the ship for future use and set six in place on the hull directly adjacent to the Alpha shaft. This would be, in Janet's welding terminology, their filler.
They changed the settings on their lasers, substituting a heat beam for the cutter. They turned the beams on the filler. Sparks flicked off. The metal began to glow, and then to melt. Working quickly, they welded the filler to the hull, using scoops and riggers and other makeshift tools. Under Janet's watchful eye, they combed the now-pliant metal into place, creating saddles and links in the way they'd been shown.
One of the welders, whose name was Jase Power, commented that he thought the work was pretty professional. That drew cautious agreement from Janet. "You've got a career, Jase, if you want it. When we get home, I'll be glad to provide a recommendation."
When they'd finished preparations to make the attachment, they retired inside the ship, and the Al withdrew to a safe distance.
"What can you see?" Marcel asked Hutch. "What's out there?"
"Fog," said MacAllister.
"We can't see anything from here," said Hutch. "The mist is too thick." The visibility was about five meters.
"Okay. Let's talk about where you are. You already know the moun-taintop is sawed off. You're on the eastern side, fifty meters from the edge. That's to your rear. I don't need to tell you not to go that way.
"One side of the hexagon looks as if it juts out a little bit over the precipice. That's on the north, where the sheer face is. Did Mira show you? Four thousand meters or so straight down. So if a floor gives way or you walk through a door without looking, you could get a godawful surprise. I suggest you stay away altogether from the north side. Okay?"
"We'll be careful," Hutch said.
"The structure is directly ahead of you. Just follow the lander's nose. About thirty meters." He hesitated. "We think we've put you down immediately outside the main entrance. Look for a set of steps. Bordered by low walls."
Hutch acknowledged.
"Good luck," he said. "I'd appreciate a visual link when you have a minute. And I'll be back with you shortly."
Hutch activated her e-suit, pinned a microscan on her vest, and turned it on. "Anybody want to come?"
"Not me," said MacAllister. "I've had enough walking for this trip." He had the grace to look embarrassed. "This is a game for younger folks."
Kellie volunteered, but Hutch signaled that was not a good idea. "If you and I are both out there, and something happens, there's nobody left to fly the lander. So you have to stay. You can go in after I get back, if you want."
"I guess that leaves me," said Nightingale.
"Unless you'd rather not."
"No." Nightingale was reaching for his vest. "To be honest, I wouldn't miss it." He picked up one of the harnesses. "Do we need air tanks? We're up pretty high."
"No," said Hutch. "The converters'll work a little harder, but that's okay. They'll be fine."
They took lasers, plastic bags, and notebooks, and inserted them into their vests. They picked up backpacks, into which they could put artifacts. She strapped a lamp onto her wrist, spotted the rope she'd carried through the forests, and looped it over one shoulder. "You never know," she told Kellie.