“So what is? I didn’t get the feeling from listening to you that you were expecting danger on Iceworld.”
“Then that’s a failing on my part. The leader of a party should always expect danger. I hope Ben Blesh’s survival training included that detail. Don’t worry, I won’t be relaxing too far. But Ben’s actions are not what most concern me. My big worry is Lara.”
“Lara? She’s not the bossy one. And you just told me that she was doing a perfect job.”
“She was, and she is. But from what you told me, as soon as we arrive on Iceworld she will feel that she has to prove she’s as good as Ben Blesh—and maybe better. It’s when people want to prove themselves that they do silly things and get into trouble. My job will be to spot any show-off action ahead of time. If I don’t, the hardest task will be to prevent Lara from starting something.”
“I understand.” Darya eased away from him. “Hans, my hardest task right now is to prevent you from starting something. You mustn’t feel rejected, but this isn’t the best time and place.”
“Will there ever be a better one? It’s been more than two years.”
“I’m aware of that. Maybe more aware of it than you are.”
Darya did not suggest, as he knew she had every right to, that their two-year separation was the result of Hans’s own efforts to overturn the repressive government of the Phemus Circle. She had not pointed out that any visit by her to him would have been blocked by that same government. She had never criticized him for pursuing a lost cause. For herself, she had not left Sentinel Gate for as much as a single day, and if at any time he had made the effort to come and see her, she would have been ready and waiting.
Any time but now. The bunk creaked as she rolled sideways off it. Hans felt a hand exploring his face in the darkness, tasted a soft kiss on the lips, and heard a whispered, “There will be a better time. Goodnight.”
Hans was alone again. He drew in a deep breath and told his body to relax. He repeated his own mantra: When you have something to do, do it. When you have nothing to do, sleep. When you have something to do, do it. When you have nothing to do, sleep.
Sometimes, repeated mantras are not enough. Sometimes, self-discipline fails. Hans remained awake. He stared into the darkness and imagined possible dangers on the surface of Iceworld. Half an hour later, his mind remained blank and he was still as far from sleep as ever.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Iceworld
After a thousand planetfalls one more should have little to offer, even if it happened to be in a different arm of the galaxy.
Hans puzzled over his own reactions. He had landed on objects ranging in size from minor planetoids to monster worlds twice the diameter of Iceworld. So why the feeling that this was a new experience?
He looked ahead to the broad curve of the planet, felt the pulse of the Savior’s drive, listened for the whistle of air on the ship’s hull, and knew the answer. Anything the size of Iceworld ought to be a massive object, well able to hold on to an atmosphere. This place wasn’t massive, and the surface was utterly airless. The ship was descending through hard vacuum, riding a drive operating at only a fraction of full power.
The more Hans thought about Darya’s plan, the less he was persuaded that it could work as easily as she suggested. Accept that the world a few kilometers below the ship was hollow. Assume that somehow they would be able to penetrate the featureless exterior and reach the interior. But now consider that interior. A world with a diameter of seventy-eight thousand kilometers had a volume of two hundred and fifty trillion cubic kilometers. The old “needle in a haystack” image didn’t begin to describe it. You could wander a space that size for the rest of your life, and never come close to what you were looking for—even if you knew what you were looking for.
Which, as even Darya readily admitted to him in private if not in public, she did not. She was hoping to find sentient Builder artifacts similar to those they had met inside worlds of the Orion Arm. They had been able to communicate with them, even if the information provided was usually cryptic enough to be more baffling than useful.
Last night’s whispered session might have ended in sexual frustration, but it had also produced a positive result. Darya and Hans were more at ease with each other now than at any time since his arrival at Upside Miranda Port. Both of them were keeping a close eye on Lara and Ben.
Not that Ben would be easy to miss. As the Savior descended, he hovered at Hans’s shoulder. Was he going to shout, “Right. Now it’s my turn,” the moment that the ship touched down?
Not quite that bad. As soon as the Savior made contact, feather-light on the frigid surface (courtesy of the autopilot—Hans had learned his lesson), Ben said, “Exit stations, but hold it there. This is a totally alien world. We look, and then we look again before we leap.”
The landing site had been selected with as much care as possible, given an almost total lack of information. The most promising areas were the nodes, regularly spaced in a triangular grid on the surface and connected by narrow lines of what seemed to be the same material. It made sense to land on top of a grid patch, since they were composed of familiar Builder materials. If Darya were correct, the Savior could then generate an electromagnetic field inhibitor which would allow an individual, or even the whole ship itself, to sink into the unknown interior of Iceworld. On the other hand, those grid areas were also the places where the probing laser had produced a flash like orange fire. Maybe it made more sense to land on the cold and inert spaces between the grid points.
Hans had made the decision—perhaps the last decision he would be allowed to make until they left Iceworld. They would bring the Savior down on the frozen plain, just a couple of kilometers from the edge of a grid patch. They would keep the drive in full stand-by mode. In a few seconds it could propel the ship forward onto the nearby grid point area, or loft it at high acceleration back into space.
Until touchdown, everyone had been in full suits and in Emergency Mode position. At Ben’s order to take up exit stations, Lara moved to stand by the airlock. She did not walk so much as float. Hans estimated from the response of his own body that weight on Iceworld was just a few hundredths of the inter-clade standard. Walking would be easy, running impossible. Let’s hope they wouldn’t need the latter.
The view on all sides did nothing to suggest danger. Iceworld appeared as a black, featureless plain with a horizon so far away that it showed as a ruled straight line below which no stars were visible. The temperature sensors in contact with the surface failed to report any value whatsoever. The surface conductivity was so high that the ship’s instruments could not offer a measurement. The whole exterior of Iceworld formed one giant superconductor. That solved one possible problem that had occurred to Hans while they were still in orbit. No matter how slippery the surface might be, a walking person could gain a firm footing through an electromagnetic field in the extremities of the suit.
They watched and waited, expecting nothing and seeing nothing. It was Lara who at last said, “Well?”
There was more than a suggestion of “What are we waiting for?” in her tone. Hans would have ignored her while he watched all the instruments through a second and confirming set of negative readings, but Ben glanced at Hans, shrugged, and said, “We’re in no hurry. However, I authorize you to cycle the lock and step outside. One step. Then we wait and see how your suit readings run.”