“The snow has a crust,” said Samantha. “That might have been enough to keep it in place. When you got here before, Jake, did you see any prints of any kind? Anything to indicate anybody else, anything else, might have been here?”
“No,” he said. “I didn’t see anything unusual.”
“Okay.” She looked down at Otto. “I guess that’s all we can do here. You guys ready to roll?”
The spotlights atop the lander were in their eyes now. Jake turned them off. He and Tony picked up the pallet, and they started back down the slope. The cabin lights looked warm and comfortable.
* * *
JAKE HAD A hard time keeping his balance while he helped carry Otto. Moreover, a sudden wind that blew up behind them didn’t make things easier. “Maybe,” he said, “your buddy is trying to help.”
Samantha let the remark pass without comment.
The steepest part of the descent came during the first ten minutes. Samantha led the way, testing the ground as she went, warning Tony and Jake where the going was especially slippery. About halfway down, Tony’s feet went out from under him. Denise grabbed hold of him and the pallet but only became part of the general spill. All three plus the body went tumbling.
“What happened?” asked Mary, speaking from the Venture. “You guys okay?”
“Just a minor accident,” said Samantha. “We’re fine.”
They put Otto’s body back on the pallet and started again. And they got a break: The wind eased off.
* * *
FOR THE LOCATION of the shelter, Samantha picked a strip of flat land along the edge of a grid on the opposite side of the planet, not far from the south pole. “Denise,” she said, “you stay with the ship.”
The grids themselves did not seem to be laid out in any discernible pattern. There were hundreds of them, scattered randomly around the globe. The one Samantha chose was not special in any way. It was about average size, a square block of ground approximately ten kilometers on a side. She’d based her decision on two factors: It was an easy place to bring the lander down. And they had visibility in all directions.
Moving the shelter down required three flights. The first two carried the exterior shells and interior necessities for four cubicles. Brandon Eliot took over, with Samantha to assist, and the four structures were assembled and connected when Jake got back with the final load. “How’d you get it done so quickly?” he asked.
Brandon shrugged. “All you have to do is attach a generator to the packages. Turn it on and the modules assemble themselves.” Two would provide sleeping quarters, and the third one gave them a pair of washrooms. All three connected to the fourth—the largest—which functioned as an operations center/common room/dining area.
The third shipment brought chairs, tables, cots, and general supplies, much of it packed in plastic containers. Brandon, assisted by Jake, connected air and water tanks, an AI, and installed the mechanicals. Tony filled the water tanks. They placed a radio antenna on a nearby hilltop and an imager on the roof of the operations center. And they added some outside lights, so the base would be visible. “We want to be sure nobody gets lost,” Samantha told Jake.
When they finished, they staggered inside, closed the hatches, pumped air into the structure, turned off their Flickinger fields, stacked a few empty containers, and collapsed into the chairs and cots. The ops center had two large windows. The grid outside glittered in the starlight. It was just after 8:00 P.M. ship time, and Brandon’s automated kitchen provided a round of meals.
They congratulated Brandon on the quality of the food. But Jake suspected that what really fueled a generally happy mood was being sheltered from the cold, dismal climate. “All we need,” said Tony, “is a fireplace.”
“What’s next?” asked Mary, as they finished eating.
Samantha could barely contain her excitement. “We have the same pattern of signals that Jake thinks got a reply from whatever’s out there. We’re going to try to take that a step further.”
“In what way?” asked Brandon.
“Let’s talk about it tomorrow when we’re awake. But I think right now it would be a good idea to crash—”
* * *
JAKE HAD TROUBLE sleeping. He kept waiting for something to happen. When nothing did, he got up and wandered into the ops center. Light snow was falling. Someone was seated in the dark. He wasn’t sure who it was. “Awake?” he whispered.
“Hi, Jake.” It was Samantha.
He sat down beside her. “I wonder how much snow we’ll get?”
She smiled. “We don’t care now. The shelter’s up and running.”
He watched the flakes drifting against the Plexiglas. “I’ve been thinking about your theory.”
“That the atmosphere is alive?”
“That it’s a global creature of some sort. Is that really what you meant?”
“I think that’s a possible outcome.”
“Just one of its kind?”
“Yes. Probably.”
“How does it reproduce? Like an amoeba?”
“My guess would be that it doesn’t.”
“It would have to, wouldn’t it?”
“Not really. The thing might not age.”
“That can’t be right.”
“Why not?”
“That would mean it’s been out here alone for millions of years.”
“Maybe hundreds of millions.”
“My God, Samantha. If that were true, it would be deranged. This thing actually seems pretty friendly.”
“Jake, if we’re right, it’s probably always been alone. Even when it had a sun. It’s not hard to understand why it might appreciate some company.”
* * *
HE WOKE IN absolute darkness. There was a window, but he couldn’t see it. Where the hell were the stars? He got up and turned on a light. The window was covered with snow.
Samantha was gone. He checked the time. Four hours had passed.
He sat back down and stared at the window.
What the hell was going on?
He pulled on the Flickinger gear, let himself into the lock, and closed it. The lights came on. He activated the field, and, when decompression was complete, pushed on the outer hatch. It moved slightly. But there was resistance on the other side.
He let go and stood staring at it.
He couldn’t resist laughing. The life-form that Samantha had talked about was standing out there holding the hatch shut. Hello, World Sentience. How are you?
All right. What had happened, of course, was that they’d had more snow than anticipated. It was up over the windows and now it was blocking the exit. He pushed on the hatch again, this time with a more determined effort. It moved, and some flakes fell into the air lock. Another shove produced still more flakes.
He tried to pull the hatch shut, but the snow blocked it. It was a bad moment: Until he could close up, he couldn’t retreat back into the shelter.
He heard a woman’s voice. It was muffled. Then his link activated. “Who’s in the air lock?” It was Mary.
“I am,” he said.
“Jake, what are you doing in there?”
“I’m stuck.”
“Stuck? What happened?”
“Take a look at the windows.”
He scuffed more snow out of the way, kicked it into the chamber, and pulled on the hatch again. After a moment and some more tugging and kicking, it closed. “Holy cats,” said Mary. “Are we buried?”