“The day after tomorrow,” Djuro answered promptly.
“Good. Get in touch with the others, have them meet us at the airfield at—when’s sunrise?”
Djuro pulled out his data lens, glanced sideways into its depths. “Five fifty-six.”
Heikki closed her eyes, trying to remember the weather tables she had studied on the journey to Iadara. The normal morning turbulence usually burned off within two hours of sunrise. “Have them meet us at the hangar at eight; we’ll plan to take off at nine.”
Djuro nodded. “You’re the boss, Heikki.”
“I know it,” she said, but to empty air. She sighed, not entirely displeased, and reached again for the workboard, recalling the map. It shouldn’t be too bad a flight, she thought, and started for the workroom.
CHAPTER 5
The two Iadarans were waiting at the airfield, just outside the entrance to the control tower in the fitful shade of a canvas awning. The same hot wind that tossed the canvas up and sideways, snapping it against its grommets, sent little swirls of dust across the hard-metalled field. Heikki saw Nkosi pause, assessing its course and strength, then nod to himself and go on.
Alexieva lifted her hand in greeting as they approached, but did not otherwise move. Sebasten-Januarias, who had been squatting on the paving to her right, rose easily to his feet, Firster coat resettling in folds around his thin body. He wore the headscarf, too, spilling loosely across his shoulders, and Heikki saw Alexieva’s grim face shift slightly, unreadably, as the younger man came forward to greet them. Oh, Christ, Heikki thought, not that trouble again.
Nkosi had seen that change of expression, too, and nodded to both Iadarans. “Let’s get the pre-flight, Jan, shall we?” he said, and drew the younger man into the building in his wake.
“Is this everything you need?” Heikki stared at the single metal strapped crate that sat at Alexieva’s feet.
“My mapping console and my disks,” Alexieva answered. “I figured you’d have anything else I wanted.”
Let’s hope so, Heikki thought. I wouldn’t want to rely so obviously on the kindness of strangers. She said aloud, “Load it with our stuff, then, and we’ll start loading the jumper.”
Alexieva obeyed without speaking, and perched herself and the crate on top of the equipment already piled on the ho-crawl’s tow. Heikki glanced at Djuro, who said, “I’ll bring the jumper around to the ramp.”
“Coward,” Heikki said, under her breath, and surprised a wry grin from the little man. She swung herself into the cab of the ho-crawl and turned it cautiously toward the access road, one hand on the brake to compensate for the drag of the tow. In the side mirror, she could see Alexieva balancing on top of the crates, and wondered why the guide had chosen such an awkward position. But then, the woman seemed uncomfortable around other people; Heikki shrugged to herself, and concentrated on bringing the ho-crawl and its tow to a stop alongside the waiting ramp. It was ready for use, locking legs down, conveyor belt already pointing into the sky at what looked to be the proper angle. Heikki smiled, and cut the engine. Its shrill whine faded, to be replaced by the deeper pulse of the jumper’s multiple power plants as it nosed its way out of the hangar. Heikki swung herself out of the cab again, pulling her cups over her ears, and saw Alexieva wince at the growing noise.
“Get in the cab,” Heikki called, and pointed broadly. The other woman frowned for a moment, then did as she was told. Heikki walked out onto the hard-metalled strip, squinting a little from the dust and the sun, and stood hands on hips, watching the big machine’s approach. Djuro handled it well, for all he was not primarily a pilot—probably better than I could, she admitted. He had only two of the engines going, the baby nacelles at the end of each wing, but even so the power they developed was more than he needed just to pull the machine along the ground. Heikki could hear the notes of stress under the engines’ steady beat. She could just make out Djuro’s face behind the windscreen’s tinted glass.
The jumper was coming in a little crooked. She pointed to her right, then, as the machine corrected its course, nodded approval and gestured for him to keep coming. Djuro was already slowing before she signaled the stop; the machine slid neatly into place with its belly hatch directly opposite the loading ramp. Djuro shut down the engines—Heikki could almost hear relief in the dying sound—then popped the canopy and slid down the jumper’s side without touching the recessed handholds.
“What do you think, Heikki?” he asked, and there was a note of pride in his voice.
“The ship or the docking?” Heikki asked, and beckoned for Alexieva to come out of the ho-crawl. Then she relented. “They both look pretty good, actually. What’s the interior volume like?”
“See for yourself,” Djuro answered, still smiling, and started up the side of the ramp to unlock the belly hatch.
Heikki stood for a moment, staring up at the jumper. It was a standard six-engined biplane, of a design long renowned for its stability as a survey platform and—not incidentally—for its ability to survive a crash landing. It was not a fast machine, by any means, but it was both efficient and practicaclass="underline" it would more than do, for this trip.
Djuro had the hatch open now. Heikki swung herself up the ramp after him, leaving Alexieva standing silent on the metalled ground behind her, and ducked through the hatch into the belly of the ship. The work lights were on, casting a dull orange light through the empty space, and a solid wedge of light fell into the hold from the clear-roofed pilot’s bubble.
“What do you think?” Djuro said again, out of the shadows.
Heikki took her time answering, turning slowly on her heel to survey the compartment. It was a standard set-up, with anchor points for equipment and crew fittings jutting from the beige-padded walls.
“Looks good,” she said. “Let’s get our stuff aboard.”
She and Djuro had fitted out similar craft a hundred times before, and Alexieva proved more than willing to take orders. They had all the crates aboard by the time Nkosi and Sebasten-Januarias returned from the control tower, and were already fitting the first of the control consoles into place against the forward bulkhead. With two more pairs of hands, the rest of the procedure went quickly, the other consoles, the main and secondary sensor suites, the topographical scanner, Alexieva’s maps, even the seats and padded benches that would double as bunks slotting into place with expected ease. When they had finished, Heikki stood for a moment, surveying the changed cabin, and then nodded to herself.
“It looks good,” she said aloud. “I think we’re ready, boys and girls.”
Sebasten-Januarias let out a cheer, quickly suppressed. He looked at Nkosi instead, and said, “Do you want to lift on hover, or will you fly her out?”
“Fly,” Nkosi answered instantly. “Why waste the chance, when we have all this space just waiting for us to use it?”
He did not say, did not need to say, that the heavy jumpers were notoriously less stable under the restricted power of the two variable-function engines. Heikki nodded her approval, and seated herself at the master console. It was set almost against the bulkhead separating the pilot’s bubble from the main compartment, so that both pilots had to squeeze past her to reach their seats. However, the position gave her an unimpeded view of the other consoles, and of the projection tank laid out on the floor of the compartment. When that was lit, it would give her a realtime image of the terrain in range of the jumper’s scanners. She ran her hands across her equipment, watching the checklights flicker, and slipped on the filament mike that would be her link with the rest of her crew.