"Negative, Chase. My instructions will not allow me to do that."
"I assume these instructions take effect if you are hijacked?"
"That is correct."
"You can't pretend otherwise, I guess?"
"No. I would do it if I could."
"Okay," said Alex. "Kill the power." "Doc," I said, "if I shut down the power, will I still be able to control the flaps and rudder?"
"I can arrange that."
"Do it. Let me know when it's done."
"It's done, Chase."
"Okay." I pushed a finger against the pad below the lightning icon. "Doc, are you sure you can't help us?"
"Chase, I would if I could."
"Okay."
"I'd really prefer you not do this."
"Me, too."
"Before you act, be aware that we are in rugged country. Chances of survival are not good even if you don't die in the crash."
"I know, Doc. Thanks." I pressed. The lights in the cabin flicked off. Doc's lamps went out. The engine died. And I had my weight back. We began slicing down.
Antigrav generators are usually equipped with an auxiliary power source. I tried to restart it. Unfortunately, somebody hadn't maintained it. I got a few burps out of it, enough to slow our descent. Then it died again. The real problem wasn't even the lack of power so much as the fact I couldn't see the ground. Couldn't see anything. We could have been about to touch down, or about to fly into a mountain. We could have been in somebody's basement. I wrestled with the yoke, fought the wind, started doing profanities, looked for lights somewhere. Anywhere . Where was Callistra now that I needed her? The problem with antigrav vehicles is that they don't carry enough wing and tail to allow you to glide properly if the engines fail. I had wings, but they weren't very good at keeping us aloft. "Chase-" said Alex. "Doing the best I can." "I see lights." "Where?" "Over to the left." They were not moving. Houses, probably. I started to turn. Started breathing again. They were important because they let me know more or less where the ground was. We swung to port in a long, slow curve. My angle on the lights was changing, of course. They were rising as we went down. Then they vanished. Alex grunted. "What happened?" "Mountain." I pushed the yoke right and held my breath until they reappeared. Coming fast. I wanted to bank toward them, to keep them in sight, but I was afraid of the mountain. Had no idea where the damned thing was. So I kept straight on. They passed off the port side, and I was headed back into the night. "I'd guess we'll be down in about two minutes," I said. "Okay." It was a long, quiet run, with only the sound of the wind against the wings. Then we blasted into something. I was thrown hard against my harness. There was a rush of fresh air. Then darkness took me.
When I came out of it, I was hanging upside down. "You okay, Chase?" Alex's voice startled me. I'd felt alone. "Chase?" "I'm here," I said. "You?" "I'm here, too. Nice landing." "That's right." I'd forgotten. "We're down." I heard him struggling to release his harness. "Are you all right, Alex?" Lights were approaching. A truck, kicking up a cloud of snow, was visible through a wall of trees. "I think so." "Okay. Stay put for a minute. Help's on the way." The front of the aircraft was gone. A cold wind was blowing snow and debris in on top of us. Alex released himself and climbed down as the truck stopped. I heard a door slam. And voices. The truck lights revealed broad, flat ground beyond the trees. "Not bad," said Alex. "Looks as if you hit the only patch of forest in the neighborhood." I was hurting in a few places, but nothing seemed to be broken, so I released my harness and lowered myself to the ground. Our rescuers were bundled up in jackets. There were two of them, and they both wore hats pulled down over their ears. A man and a woman. The man called out: "You people okay in there?" I guess I was staggering around. Alex was on the ground. They got me out to the truck. Then they went back in for Alex. It took a while. When they finally came out they were holding him up. "He's all right,"
said the woman. "But we wanted to be sure before we moved him."
Their names were Shiala and Orman Inkama. Orman was the operational director for the otherwise-automated energy-distribution site whose lights had shown us where the ground was. They took us back to their quarters, which were located in a flat gray building perched beside a field of collectors. They applied medications to cuts and bruises and told us how lucky we were. Orman wanted to take us to Barikaida, where there was a medical facility. But it was a long ride, and since neither of us was seriously damaged, we settled for showers and robes. We had no clothes, of course. We explained how we were sightseeing in the area, and Orman said he'd drive back to the scene of the crash to try to recover our bags. But there'd been no easy way to bring our gear from the plateau. "We didn't have anything with us," Alex explained. "But if you could take us into Barikaida tomorrow, that would help." So we slept in the robes, me in the guest room, Alex on the sofa. In the morning, everything I owned hurt. Shiala cooked a big breakfast, commenting on how few visitors they got in that part of the country. Then they gave us some clothes. Orman's were a bit big for Alex, but I fit reasonably well into a blouse and slacks. Shiala's shoes were too big, though, and Krestoff's boots were a mess. Nevertheless I had to stay with them. Orman took us out to the pad, and we all climbed into his skimmer. There was a party atmosphere running by then. Orman explained how many times he'd had rough landings himself. "Though nothing like what you folks did last night." Shiala laughed and insisted it was true, that Orman was the worst pilot in the world. He didn't trust AIs, though the truth was he just loved to fly himself. "By the way," he said, "we reported the crash for you." Uh-oh. "Thanks," said Alex. "They said they'll be out this afternoon to take a look and do the paperwork."
We lifted into the air while Alex and I pretended that nothing had changed. We laughed and joked, and I wondered how long it would take the authorities to figure out who had been in the crash. We crossed a river with a waterfall. The Turbulence. The land was broken at that point into a vast cleft, and the river fell almost a kilometer into lower country. "It is," said Orman, "the highest known waterfall. Anywhere." Well, Alex and I both knew of a few bigger ones, but we kept our peace. They were surprised that tourists, as we claimed to be, knew nothing of the Turbulence. (The name applied both to the river and to the waterfall.) "Well," I said, "we were just drifting through. We're from Rimway." And that seemed to settle it. They both said "Oh," as if Rimway tourists came through all the time and they routinely knew nothing about the place they were visiting.
They dropped us off at a clothing store. We all went inside, and Alex reminded me to switch over to the corporate account we'd opened when we first came to Salud Afar. "That was farsighted," I told him. "We didn't know what we were getting into," he said. He had a hard time not looking pleased with himself. But we developed a quick problem: We couldn't get clear of our benefactors. Shiala wanted to follow me around and help me shop. "We shouldn't take too long," she said, "if we're going to get back before Wash comes." "Wash is the guy doing the investigation of the crash?" "Yes, Sara," she said. (We'd given them false names.) "He's very good." Alex, left alone by Orman, found out that trains left regularly. "Another due out in two hours," he whispered to me when he was able to get me alone. Meanwhile, I'd gotten some clothes and two pairs of shoes.