Lifeline

Chapter 62

PHOENIX—Day 72

Cliff Clancy rubbed his palms together. His eyes shone with excitement. “Ready, Duncan?”

Duncan McLaris took an instant to whisper, “What if I’m not?”

“Ha, ha—funny man,” Clancy said.

“Shouldn’t we put our suits on or something?” McLaris asked. He remembered clambering into an unfamiliar space suit once before, watching Stephanie Garland to make sure he completed all his checks properly, helping Jessie into an oversized suit. Diddy, it’s too big!

“If these engines don’t fire like they should, all the suits in the world aren’t going to make one whit of difference. May as well stay comfortable.” Clancy shifted his position in the deceleration seat. “My suit always smells like dirty socks anyway.”

“Huh?” When Clancy did not answer, McLaris checked the straps on his seat. He pulled in a lungful of the stale air. Clancy kept his eyes on the monitor that displayed the countdown. An hour before, Orbitech 1 had stopped pulling in the weavewire, allowing the yo-yo drift in, but keeping the slack taut for the backward blast of the braking engines.

McLaris felt helpless, dependent on a dozen different people, any one of whom could destroy everything with a careless mistake. He knew all too well how easily people could make mistakes. A crew would be waiting to receive them outside Orbitech 1, ready to salvage or rescue—though if the engines failed, neither operation was likely. If nothing else, the “reception committee” would get a grandstand seat to watch the Phoenix plow into the shuttle bay.

Clancy cracked his knuckles, as if to distract himself from nagging doubts about the hydrogen rockets he had helped install.

McLaris didn’t react, though the noise increased his own anxiety. In his mind he kept playing over possible scenarios of his upcoming reunion with Brahms. Would the man greet him with a handshake, or with an execution squad?

Less than three months ago he had stolen the Miranda.

Ten percent of the Orbitech 1 population had been sent out the airlock in a reduction in force. Much had changed.

He tried to keep his mind open, optimistic—both deeds had been done, McLaris had suffered for it, and no doubt Brahms had suffered for his own actions. That was the past. If they wallowed too much in the past, they would never find their future. Now, with the Phoenix from Clavius Base, and the Filipino delegation arriving at Orbitech 1, he could sense an entire new era about to burst forth—a second stage for human civilization.

Surely Brahms could not hold anything against McLaris for so long.

A voice came from over the ConComm. “Phoenix, this is Orbitech 1. We have you at two hundred fifty miles. Begin your deceleration now. You have a ten-second window.”

“They’re right on the money, Clifford.” Shen’s voice came over the open circuit. “Do it.”

“There are going to be a lot of fireworks in five minutes if this doesn’t work.” Clancy moved to punch at the screen, ready to override the computer-driven command if ignition was not accomplished.

Hydrogen-oxygen rockets kicked in just as he reached out.

McLaris felt as if he were being squashed by a giant hand—months of lunar gravity had deteriorated his stamina for undergoing acceleration. He rolled his head to one side, and it pushed against the deceleration seats they had mounted on the “ceiling.” Clancy continued to stare straight ahead, trying to fix on the control monitors. His face seemed drawn back in a weird mask, a grin twisted all out of proportion by the pull of gravity.

It took an effort to breathe, but somehow Clancy grunted out a comment that McLaris heard even over the roar of the engines.

“Nothing’s gonna stop us now!”