“No!” He pushed back in his seat. “I can’t let you do that.”
I was halfway out the door. “It’s not as dangerous as it looks,” I yelled at him.
And damned sure less dangerous than doing nothing.
“No! You stay here. I’ll go.”
We both knew he didn’t mean it. In his defense, I’d argue that he thought he did, but I couldn’t see Alex climbing outside an aircraft under any circumstances. Even on the ground I don’t think he’d have tried it. Moreover, he didn’t know what to do.
“It’s okay,” I said. “I can handle it.”
“You sure?”
“Of course. Now, listen: When the pods reactivate, these two lamps’ll go on. But don’t do anything until I’m back inside.” I was trying to hold the door open against the wind. “If anything goes wrong-”
“What?”
“Nothing. Never mind.” He’d have no way out.
One section of the tether was midnight blue, composed of strips of the most expensive blouse I owned. I sighed and climbed out the door. The wind howled. I wasn’t really prepared for it, I guess. It caught me and ripped me off the fuselage and tossed me partially outside the envelope. My weight came back and my lower limbs felt like a bag of bricks. The skimmer was still going up, and it dragged me behind it.
I suddenly became aware that I was dangling several thousand meters in the air.
I hadn’t thought things out very well. The tether was wrapped around my waist instead of under my arms, and when it snapped tight it knocked the wind out of me. I needed a minute to recoup. Then I began to haul myself back up the line, hand over hand. The drag was horrific, but I’d been smart enough (or lucky enough) to make the tether no longer than I had to. Had I been tossed completely outside the bubble, I’d not have been able to do it.
As I climbed, the antigrav field took hold of my hips and legs again, and my weight went away. I grabbed a tread, got onto it, and tried to catch my breath. I now had access to the underside of the aircraft. It hadn’t been pretty, but I was there.
Each of the pods had an access panel. What I would have liked to do was open both panels and reconnect the control leads to the terminals. The forward pod was within easy reach. But the one toward the tail would be impossible to get to because the tread didn’t extend that far. And I couldn’t just float back there because of the wind. Nor would my tether have been long enough.
It was getting progressively harder to breathe. A darkness was beginning to gather around the edges of my vision. I took the key from my pocket, handling it carefully so the wind didn’t blow it away, and punched the purple button. Both panels opened.
In the forward compartment, I could see the loose cable. It was simple enough: I hung on to a strut with one hand and reconnected it. (I’d brought the wire cutters in case I had to splice.) There was nothing I could do about the rear pod.
When it was done I closed the panels.
We were still going up, of course. We passed through another cloud, and for the moment I couldn’t see anything except cumulus.
When we cleared I climbed back into the cabin, fell into my seat, and pulled the door shut. “I’ve only got one light,” he said.
“That’s because you’ve only got one pod,” I replied. “It should be enough.”
He hit the button and the status lamp glowed green and we got some weight back. The rate of ascent began to slow. The rear of the skimmer went up, and the nose dipped. That figured since the tail still weighed nothing. Gradually we nosed over and continued to rise more slowly until we hit apogee. Then we began to fall.
“Okay.” I reset the black box to zero.
“What are you doing?” he asked. We were looking straight down at the ocean.
“Preventing a crash. If we jiggle it a bit on the way down, turn it on, turn it off, we won’t hit too hard.”
“We’re going to crash again?” he asked.
“Probably,” I told him. “But the air’s going to feel better.”
We drifted down the sky. Alex clapped a shaky hand on my shoulder and told me I’d performed like a trouper. Made him proud.
The Patrol appeared and moved alongside. The bay got closer, but only slowly.
We were descending like a leaf, while the Patrol encouraged us and told us to keep at it. My heart settled back inside my ribs, and color returned to Alex’s cheeks.
Alex tried to manage things to keep us out of the water, but the position the aircraft was in prevented any kind of maneuver except up and down. Forty minutes after we’d begun to fall, we hit the surface. But unlike last time we slipped gently into the waves. It was nice and gradual, and the people in the rescue vehicle actually cheered.
FIFTEEN
We have solved every major scientific problem except the one that matters most. We still die too soon. I propose to set a worldwide goal that a child, born before this decade has ended, may look forward to a life span counted in centuries.
- Juan Carillo Counsel General, Aberwehl Union, 4417 C.E.
I can tell you that your perspective changes on a lot of things once you get the idea that somebody’s out to kill you. It’s bad enough, I suppose, if you’re caught up in a war, and they want to take you out because you’re wearing the wrong uniform. But when the situation comes down to where you’re a personal first-name up-close target, you just don’t sleep so well anymore.
I was scared. I wouldn’t admit it, especially since Alex was describing me to everybody he knew as a daredevil. “You should have seen her climbing around out there,” he told Fenn. And Windy. And one of the guys I was dating. And probably every client within range. And everybody else who touched base with us over the next couple of days. “She was outstanding.”
Oh, yes.
In any case, that was how, for the second time in two weeks, we went into the ocean. Well, into Goodheart Bay, actually. But that’s a technical point.
We came out of it okay. Rescue pulled us from the water. The power went off in the new skimmer, and it headed for the same neighborhood where the other one was.
We filled out another round of forms, answered more questions, probably made the patrol’s list of people to look out for. One of the Rescue guys suggested that next time we drive over water, if we’d let them know in advance they’d keep a unit ready.
It was too much for Universal, Alex’s insurance company, which informed him he was henceforth persona non grata. Me, I went down to Broughton Arms to buy a scrambler. I gave them my link, and they ran the record. When it cleared, I picked up a small nickel thirty-volt Benson. It was efficient-looking, shaped, of course, like a pistol, capable (according to the manual) of putting somebody on the ground for a half hour or so by knocking out his circuitry.
Scramblers could, of course, be manufactured to resemble comm links or compacts or virtually any other kind of metal object. But my philosophy is that if someone has a weapon pointed at him, he should know about it.
Fenn lectured us again. “I wish you’d stop the nonsense,” he told us. “Either stay home, where you’re safe. Or clear out altogether until we settle this matter. Don’t you have anything planned that would get you away from here for a while?”
Actually we did. But eventually we’d have to come back. And there was no reason to believe that Fenn would be any closer to a solution in six days or six months. The problem the police have is that there are almost no crimes. So when one happens, they’re more or less at a loss. I doubt they can resolve anything unless they happen to be in the neighborhood when the lawbreaking happens, or the perpetrator makes the mistake of bragging to the wrong people. Or does something equally stupid.
“I have a couple of specialists,” he continued, “who aren’t doing a great deal at the moment. It might be prudent if I assigned them to look after you. But you’d have to abide by their judgment.”
Alex made a face. “You mean bodyguards.”
“Yes.”
“That’s really not necessary. We’ll be fine.”
Speak for yourself, big fella. Fenn looked at me. Personally, I’d have felt more comfortable with a cop at my side. But I took Alex’s lead. “It’s okay,” I said. “I’ll be careful.”