Echo

TWENTY-NINE

He pulled the trigger. The thing screeched, raised two claws, and pounded the earth. It looked around, picked up a rock, and hurled it against the hull. It did everything except freeze.

Alex reluctantly reset. For lethal.

“You can do that,” I said, “but if it works, we’ll have to kill the cub, too.”

He looked at me. “You have a better suggestion?”

“Not really.”

The cub’s face appeared in one of the viewports. Mom saw it and got even louder. “All right,” said Alex. “Maybe we can manage something.”

“Good. I knew you’d come up with an idea.”

“But set for lethal. Anything goes wrong, we take the thing out.”

“If we can.”

“Yes. Well, let’s hope we don’t have to find out.”

“So what do we do?”

“First we have to take out some of the wall. The hole has to be big enough for the creature to get through. And save the questions for later. Let’s just do it. But keep out of sight.”

Fortunately, the cutters are almost silent. There was an electronic murmur, and the beast looked our way a couple of times. But it was too busy to be bothered or distracted.

So we widened the hole. When we were satisfied it was big enough that the animal could get through, Alex called Gabe.

“Yes, Alex?” he said.

“Cover the viewports.”

“Why do that?” I asked.

“We have to make her forget where the cub is.”

“I don’t think—”

“Just stay with me a minute.”

Filters dropped over the ports, and the cub’s face was gone.

“Okay, Alex,” said Gabe. “It’s done.”

“All right, Chase. Now we have to distract it.”

“Distract it? You mean where we wave at it and it comes over here and has you for dinner while I go to the lander and shoo the cub?”

“That’s close. I don’t think the dinner part’s a good idea, though.”

“Chase.” Gabe’s voice had gone up a notch. “It’s gotten upset. The cub.” In the background, I could hear squeals and shrieks.

That wasn’t hard to figure out. It couldn’t see its mother anymore.

“It might also be getting too much oxygen,” said Alex. “Gabe, can you alter the mix? Give us the same atmosphere in the cabin as there is outside?”

“It’ll take a few minutes.”

“Do it.”

“Complying.”

“Also, record the noise.”

“Say again, please.”

“Record the racket. If you can, get me two or three minutes’ worth of the pup screeching.”

“Will do.”

The mother was back hammering on the hatch, this time with a large rock.

“Gabe,” I said, “other than screeching, what’s it doing?”

“It’s beating on the airlock and trying to yank your chair out of its clamps. It also found the cookies and is now going through the storage cabinets.”

“Okay,” said Alex, “let me know as soon as you have the recording.”

“Will do,” said Gabe. “One other thing: The cub may break something and strand us on the ground.”

“What do you recommend?” I asked.

“I am sorry to say this, but the logical course would be to kill it.”

“How would we do that?” asked Alex.

“Decompress the cabin,” I said.

“Suffocate it.”

“Yes. Of course that’ll upset the mother still more.”

“I guess so. Chase, how much air does the lander have? In a worst-case scenario.”

“I’m not sure that’s the worst case. But we could go on breathing for about two days.”

He looked at the cub’s image. A lot of fur and large round eyes. It bore a strong resemblance to a terrestrial panda.

Alex took a long, deep breath. The cub was back in the cockpit. It sat down in the right-hand seat and was staring directly out of the screen at us. “I almost think it knows we’re here.”

“Alex, we don’t have a lot of time.”

“Alex,” said Gabe, “do you want me to decompress?”

“We won’t kill it unless we have to.”

“Gabe, can you imitate the mother?”

“I think so.”

“Do it. Make noises at the rear. Try to get her back near storage again.”

“Okay. But be aware—”

“I know. It could get out of hand at any time.” Alex started removing his helmet. “What are you doing?” I demanded.

“In a minute.” He got the helmet off and now was climbing out of his suit.

“Alex—”

He held up both hands. Be patient. I watched him take an exploratory breath, inhaling slowly, smiling, signaling that it would be okay.

“Alex, I don’t want to have to carry you back to the lander.”

His link was attached to a silver chain that he customarily wore around his neck. He removed it. “I’ll need yours, too, Chase.”

“My what?”

“Your link.” He laid the chain on the ground and started climbing back into the suit.

Mine was embedded in a bracelet. I sighed, took off my helmet, and tried the air. It was thin. Like standing on top of a mountain. And it had an odd scent. But I got out of the suit, removed the bracelet and handed it to him. Then I wasted no time getting the suit back on.

He fiddled with it. Set it so he could control his own link with it. “Okay.” He was speaking through the link in the helmet again. “I think we’re in business.”

“Glad to hear it.”

The creature was standing looking helplessly up at the hatch. Something flew past, screeched, and settled into the trees.

Alex returned the bracelet. “Hang on to it,” he said. “We’re going to need it.”

“What are we doing?”

“In a minute.”

“Alex,” said Gabe, “I have three minutes of the cub’s noise.”

“Start transmitting.”

“Complying.”

Alex turned the volume down on the silver chain so the whimpers and sniffles and shrieks couldn’t be heard outside. “That’s good,” he said. “Perfect. Put it on a loop and keep it coming until I tell you to stop.”

“Okay.”

“Chase,” he said, “keep out of sight.” He carried the link to the back of the room and disappeared into the corridor.

“It may have gotten bored,” said Gabe. “Hey, pup. Get away from that!”

I didn’t want to ask what was happening. Most of the gear would not have been especially vulnerable, as long as the thing didn’t have a branch to swing. Except maybe the yoke. But even if the yoke got broken, I thought I could manage. At least enough to get us into orbit.

“Stop!” Now it was Gabe who was screeching.

“What’s going on, Gabe?”

“It found me. It’s pulling at me.”

“Give Belle access to the controls. Just in case.”

“Will do. She’s just coming into range now.”

“Okay.”

“This thing must like black boxes.”

Abruptly, something behind me whined and sniffled. It sounded like the pup, but it came from the direction Alex had taken. It was barely audible.

It was, of course, the link. I didn’t see him, but wherever he was, he’d turned up the volume. Then the noise stopped.

I looked out at the creature. It hadn’t reacted. Hadn’t heard.

Alex came back. He had the chain, but the link wasn’t in it. “I think we’re all set, Chase.”

“Where’d you put the link?” I asked.

“Out back. In one of the rooms at the rear.” We stationed ourselves near the hole in the wall, where we could see the mother. “You ready?”

I pulled the scrambler out of my tool belt and set for lethal. “Okay,” I said.

He asked for my bracelet. Set it to pick up the signal from the lander. “It’s a lovely piece of jewelry.”

“Just do it, Alex. Hurry.”

He pointed at a mound of snow on the far side of the room. “We get behind that.”

“Okay.”

“If it comes after us, we take it down. No hesitation. And no second thoughts later.”

“Let’s go,” I said.

“Gabe, where’s our cub?”

“It’s in Chase’s seat. It seems to have calmed down a bit.”

“Okay. Good. If it starts to get upset again, play the MacIntyre Symphony. Loud. Okay? Crank up the volume as much as you have to. I don’t want Mom to hear her cub.” He switched on the bracelet link. “Ready?”

“Go.”

He turned up the volume on my bracelet, and the pup’s cries, yowls and sniffles and shrieks, filled the building.

The creature turned.

It hesitated. Looked up toward the empty viewport, bared a long set of fangs, and howled.

Then it came running in our direction.

Alex and I didn’t need any prompting. We ran for the mound of snow and ducked behind it as the mother roared in through the hole. Alex increased the volume in the other link, the one planted in back, and shut off mine. I’m not sure what Mom was doing because both of us were hiding behind the snow. But I could hear the cub’s cries and yelps coming from that back passageway. The creature stomped around a bit, apparently confused. Then it let out a roar and charged to the rear. I stuck my head up just in time to see it vanish through the door. We scrambled for the exit.

The outer hatch was, of course, still closed. Alex leaped onto the ladder and pushed the panel that should have opened the airlock, but nothing happened.

No time to monkey around. I tossed him my cutter. He switched it on and started to burn his way in.

“Hurry, Alex,” said Gabe.

I wanted to scream at him to shut up for a couple of minutes. Stop distracting everybody. But I said nothing.

Then he was back: “Mom found the link.”

“Okay.”

“And shut it off.” Probably tromped on it.

We were still cutting our way into the lock when the creature came out of the polygon. She saw us and snarled and bared enormous teeth and went into a kind of loping gallop.

The whole wide world knew we were not going to get the hatch open in time. “Chase.” Alex glanced over his shoulder as I aimed the scrambler. “Don’t shoot. Get on the ladder.” He grabbed one of the rungs himself.

I climbed on beside him. “Gabe,” he said. “Lift off.”

Nothing happened.

“Gabe, take us up.”

Still no response.

“Belle,” I jumped in. “Take us up. Quick.”

“Working on it, Chase. It’s a little more complicated from here.”

“There’s a time factor,” I said.

The ground fell away, and I saw saliva flying from Mom’s lips as she made a desperate grab for us. But we were out of reach. All she could do was stand down there and throw branches and rocks at the trees.

It was hard to imagine our little panda growing up to look like that.

“Not too high,” said Alex. He was trying not to look down as the forest dropped below us.

I picked out a hilltop and told Belle to make for it. “Take it slowly. No sudden stops or turns.”

“Have no fear, Chase.” Easy for her to say. She wasn’t dangling on a frozen rung over the treetops.

The hill was far enough to be safe but close enough that the mother could reach it in a few minutes. We descended into the forest again. We broke off more branches, and we both came away with scrapes and cuts. But we were down.

We finished putting the hole through the outer hatch, got into the airlock, and pushed the pad to open the inner door. The pup was dazed, but okay. It didn’t especially want to cooperate, but it didn’t like us very much. So when we got inside, it took its first opportunity to get out.

The outer hatch was going to remain useless for the rest of the voyage. That wasn’t especially good, but it was a minor inconvenience compared to what might have happened.

We were getting ready to lift off when Belle mentioned that Mom had arrived. She and her pup were standing at the edge of the forest, watching us. I couldn’t resist waving.