It was a logical order, though not an easy one to follow. Chan and Deb donned their suits and went to the airlock; and there they stayed, hour after endless hour, listening to Elke Siry’s ominous pronouncements on surface weather.
Two hours before noon, Chan placed a call to the ship’s main control area. “General Korin,” he said, as soon as the General’s image appeared, “Friday Indigo was quite specific with us. We have to meet him at midday. He didn’t say what would happen if we weren’t there, but the Mallies can probably destroy this ship any time they want to.”
Korin sniffed and traced with his forefinger the pattern of scattered droplets of water that beaded the desk in front of him. “This place is doing a pretty good job of disintegrating without any help from anybody. What’s your point, Dalton?”
“Deb Bisson and I ought not to wait any longer. The wind has dropped and the waves are less. We should risk a landing.”
“Dr. Siry?” Korin turned to someone out of the camera’s field of view.
“Wind velocity is close to zero,” said Elke Siry’s voice.
“So why not—”
“But there’s still a strong sea-swell. I would estimate that the breakers are well over two meters.”
“Everywhere on the shoreline?”
“No. I am referring to the place where our party is to meet Captain Indigo. It’s better farther south, on the inlet where the Mood Indigo was lifted ashore.”
“Very good.” Korin turned back to Chan and Deb. “Give it a shot. Try to the south if you have to, and if it’s too rough—”
“General.” Elke Siry’s voice broke in. “I recommend against any such attempt. The chance of being caught in an undertow—”
“Thank you, my dear,” Korin said mildly. “Not your call, I’m afraid.” He spoke again to Chan and Deb. “I don’t need to tell you what to do. You’re no use to anyone dead. If it’s too rough, wait in deeper water, head more to the south, or come back. I’m not going to second-guess you.”
“Yes, sir.” Chan cut the connection at once. Deb was already heading for the lock. She said, “Once we’re in the water, if he changes his mind he won’t be able to tell us about it. Come on.”
They waited impatiently while the lock filled, then opened the outer hatch and dropped together to the seabed. Their landing stirred the fine bottom silt into an opaque cloud.
Deb’s voice carried faintly to Chan’s helmet. “Set your suit’s inertial guidance unit for fifty meters due east. The sediment will die down by then. We’ll be able to see each other, and I’ll take us from there.”
Chan paced steadily forward into darkness, keeping the yellow arrow in his helmet display exactly in line with the green one. When the guidance unit had reduced to zero distance, he halted. He turned on his helmet lamp, and saw only gray opacity.
“Deb?” His voice vanished to nothing, as though he stood alone in an empty universe. “Deb, I can’t see a thing.”
“Nor can I.” She sounded close by. “Visibility was fine when I brought Friday Indigo to the Hero’s Return.”
“It must be the storm. The wind has died down, but the water here is shallow enough for the swell to disturb the bottom mud. How far are we from the shore?”
“Three to four kilometers. We’re on the coastal shelf so it will be shallow all the way in. We can’t be far apart now, but if we keep moving independently we’ll get separated. Stand still. I’m going to walk in a spiral pattern until we meet.”
Chan waited. It seemed a long time, standing rigid and hearing only the sound of his own breath, until Deb’s hand was grasping his arm. His helmet display told him that it had been less than three minutes.
Deb said, “So far so good,” and without releasing her grip she moved until they were visor to visor. “We hang on to each other and use just my suit’s inertial navigator. I’m going to angle us south of east. That will bring us ashore too far to the right, but Elke says the waves will be less there. Once we’re on land we can walk back north to meet Indigo.”
“Let’s go.” Almost before he spoke, Deb was moving away across the sea floor. She didn’t need Chan to tell her that Friday Indigo’s deadline was less than an hour and a half away.
It was difficult to walk fast across the silty seabed. Chan had reset his own helmet distance indicator, and before they had moved half a kilometer he knew they were in trouble. He held Deb’s arm and forced her to halt.
“This won’t do. We’ll never make it in time.”
“I know. But there’s nothing we can do about it. We have to keep going and hope that Indigo won’t mind that we’re late.”
“There’s another answer. I talked to Liddy Morse, and when they first went ashore they rose up to the surface and used their suit jets from there.”
“That was in a calm sea. If we try that close to shore we’ll be smashed to pieces.”
“Not if we wait for the right wave, and ride in on it.”
“We’re lost in the multiverse, and you want to go surfing ? All right. Tell me what to do first — and don’t let go of me.”
“Increase your suit’s internal pressure by ten percent. That will inflate you enough to carry you up.”
Chan followed his own advice. His ears popped as the pressure increased, and a few seconds later he felt his feet lift clear of the bottom ooze. As he rose the water became clearer. Faint green light bled in from above. He could see Deb at his side, her suit bulging larger than usual. Their heads broke the surface at the same time.
It was full daylight under a yellow-green overcast of cloud. In Limbo’s low gravity the heavy-water sea heaved slow and sluggish, like thick, dark oil. Chan and Deb had emerged in the trough of a long, smooth wave which slowly lifted them until they could see across the whole expanse of rolling water. Before they started the descent into another trough they saw, a few kilometers to the east, the white breakers that marked the presence of an invisible shore.
“Low thrust at first,” Chan said. “Otherwise you’ll tend to drive yourself under. Bony told me that it’s better to push too soft than too hard.”
He released his hold on Deb and they began to experiment. It took a few tries to reach a setting of suit jets that carried them up and down the watery slopes rather than plunging straight into and through them. Then the time for experiment was over. Life became a roller-coaster ride across the heaving surface, with one eye on the clock and the other on the approaching shore.
Just outside the line of breakers they halted in unison and stared at the beach. Chan said, “Elke was an optimist. Three-meter waves or more. I’ll give it a try first.”
“Did you ever do this before?”
“No.”
“Well, I did. Legacy of a wasted youth. And Indigo wants to talk to you, not me. My job was to bring you ashore. If I get hurt it’s no big deal to him. Watch closely.”
Before Chan could argue she was away, driving her hard-inflated suit across the water like a giant surfboard. Beyond the line of the first breaking wave, she paused. Five waves passed. As the sixth wave began to arch and build, she turned and flew laterally across the weft, riding along and into the curl for what seemed like minutes. At the last moment she vanished into the foam. She must have deflated her suit in that same instant, because after a hair-raising delay Chan saw her rise from the spray and walk forward to the dry shingle.
It looked easy. Chan did his best to imitate her. He jetted to a point close to where the waves began to swell, and waited. For what? He wasn’t sure, but Deb must have seen something different in each one. Five waves swelled, reared, and broke. Finally he became impatient and drove into and along the curl of the sixth one.