Resurgence

CHAPTER FOURTEEN Iceworld

After a thousand planetfalls one more should have little to offer, even if it happened to be in a different arm of the galaxy.

Hans puzzled over his own reactions. He had landed on objects ranging in size from minor planetoids to monster worlds twice the diameter of Iceworld. So why the feeling that this was a new experience?

He looked ahead to the broad curve of the planet, felt the pulse of the Savior’s drive, listened for the whistle of air on the ship’s hull, and knew the answer. Anything the size of Iceworld ought to be a massive object, well able to hold on to an atmosphere. This place wasn’t massive, and the surface was utterly airless. The ship was descending through hard vacuum, riding a drive operating at only a fraction of full power.

The more Hans thought about Darya’s plan, the less he was persuaded that it could work as easily as she suggested. Accept that the world a few kilometers below the ship was hollow. Assume that somehow they would be able to penetrate the featureless exterior and reach the interior. But now consider that interior. A world with a diameter of seventy-eight thousand kilometers had a volume of two hundred and fifty trillion cubic kilometers. The old “needle in a haystack” image didn’t begin to describe it. You could wander a space that size for the rest of your life, and never come close to what you were looking for—even if you knew what you were looking for.

Which, as even Darya readily admitted to him in private if not in public, she did not. She was hoping to find sentient Builder artifacts similar to those they had met inside worlds of the Orion Arm. They had been able to communicate with them, even if the information provided was usually cryptic enough to be more baffling than useful.

Last night’s whispered session might have ended in sexual frustration, but it had also produced a positive result. Darya and Hans were more at ease with each other now than at any time since his arrival at Upside Miranda Port. Both of them were keeping a close eye on Lara and Ben.

Not that Ben would be easy to miss. As the Savior descended, he hovered at Hans’s shoulder. Was he going to shout, “Right. Now it’s my turn,” the moment that the ship touched down?

Not quite that bad. As soon as the Savior made contact, feather-light on the frigid surface (courtesy of the autopilot—Hans had learned his lesson), Ben said, “Exit stations, but hold it there. This is a totally alien world. We look, and then we look again before we leap.”

The landing site had been selected with as much care as possible, given an almost total lack of information. The most promising areas were the nodes, regularly spaced in a triangular grid on the surface and connected by narrow lines of what seemed to be the same material. It made sense to land on top of a grid patch, since they were composed of familiar Builder materials. If Darya were correct, the Savior could then generate an electromagnetic field inhibitor which would allow an individual, or even the whole ship itself, to sink into the unknown interior of Iceworld. On the other hand, those grid areas were also the places where the probing laser had produced a flash like orange fire. Maybe it made more sense to land on the cold and inert spaces between the grid points.

Hans had made the decision—perhaps the last decision he would be allowed to make until they left Iceworld. They would bring the Savior down on the frozen plain, just a couple of kilometers from the edge of a grid patch. They would keep the drive in full stand-by mode. In a few seconds it could propel the ship forward onto the nearby grid point area, or loft it at high acceleration back into space.

Until touchdown, everyone had been in full suits and in Emergency Mode position. At Ben’s order to take up exit stations, Lara moved to stand by the airlock. She did not walk so much as float. Hans estimated from the response of his own body that weight on Iceworld was just a few hundredths of the inter-clade standard. Walking would be easy, running impossible. Let’s hope they wouldn’t need the latter.

The view on all sides did nothing to suggest danger. Iceworld appeared as a black, featureless plain with a horizon so far away that it showed as a ruled straight line below which no stars were visible. The temperature sensors in contact with the surface failed to report any value whatsoever. The surface conductivity was so high that the ship’s instruments could not offer a measurement. The whole exterior of Iceworld formed one giant superconductor. That solved one possible problem that had occurred to Hans while they were still in orbit. No matter how slippery the surface might be, a walking person could gain a firm footing through an electromagnetic field in the extremities of the suit.

They watched and waited, expecting nothing and seeing nothing. It was Lara who at last said, “Well?”

There was more than a suggestion of “What are we waiting for?” in her tone. Hans would have ignored her while he watched all the instruments through a second and confirming set of negative readings, but Ben glanced at Hans, shrugged, and said, “We’re in no hurry. However, I authorize you to cycle the lock and step outside. One step. Then we wait and see how your suit readings run.”

Lara was cycling the inner door before Ben finished speaking. The hard vacuum on Iceworld made it in effect an exit into open space. The Savior’s cameras in the airlock and outside recorded Lara’s passage through the inner door, then there was a brief wait while that door closed and the outer one opened with a puff of air condensing to ice crystals. As Lara appeared, Hans at once referred to the monitors that provided all-around surveillance of the surface. He still sat in the pilot’s chair, his hands instinctively hovering over the controls, but there was no reason to take action. Everything remained calm and dark.

“One step, and all’s well.” Lara was equally calm. “Are you receiving the readings from my suit?”

Ben nodded, then apparently realized that Lara had no video feed from inside the ship. “Yes, we’re receiving. Everything is nominal.”

“I’m testing the surface traction, and it’s adequate. Walking should be easy. Should I test my suit’s cancellation field?”

“No. Definitely not. For one thing, you are not above a grid point area, so we would expect nothing to happen. On the other hand, if it did, the last thing we want is for you to sink down alone through the surface. When we penetrate the interior, we all do it together.”

“Then I request authorization to take trial steps on the surface.”

“Very well. You should move directly toward the grid point, which is at thirty degrees to the right of your present suit vector. But wait for word from me before you begin.” This time Ben had not looked at Hans before giving his answer. Now he said, “Captain Rebka, I am going onto the surface also.” Before Hans could object, Ben added, “This is not a matter for discussion. I will follow Specialist Quistner, but well behind her. You will move the Savior to keep up with us, and the ship will at no time be more than ten steps away from me.”

Which if you get in trouble might as well be ten lightyears for all the good I can probably do you. Hans said, “Very well. Ten steps away from you until you give other instructions.”

As Ben Blesh vanished through the inner door, Darya motioned to Hans to turn off his radio transmitter and moved to place her suit helmet into contact with his.

“Hans, what does he think he’s doing?”

“He’s afraid that Lara is handling everything, and he won’t get his share of the action. Don’t worry. Give him a few more years, and he’ll be willing to offer his share to anyone who’ll take it.”

“He could be putting two people in danger instead of one.”

“That sounds more like my line than yours. But so far, Iceworld doesn’t seem to offer enough danger for even one. I hope you are right about the interior, because I’ve never seen anything deader than the outside. Here he comes. I have to turn my transmitter back on.”

Ben was emerging from the outer lock to stand by Lara Quistner. He waved, knowing that Rebka would be watching on the monitors, and closed the lock door. As Ben turned away, Hans instinctively operated the lock door again and set it to its widest opening. Ben did not seem to notice. He said, “All right, Lara. Go ahead.”

Her suited figure, illuminated by one of the Savior’s outside searchlights, headed away from Ben Blesh and the ship. The plain on which she moved reflected no light, so that she appeared to walk on nothing. Ben waited until she had taken at least fifty steps, then followed. Hans in turn allowed ten paces, then eased the bulk of the Savior after Blesh’s suited figure. The delicate balance of gravity and thrust would have been difficult for a human, but the autopilot made it child’s play. Hans was free to attempt the difficult task of keeping his attention on three things at once: Lara Quistner, moving in a straight line toward the invisible grid patch; Ben Blesh, following; and the view all around the Savior provided by the ship’s monitors.

Hans wondered if Ben realized that Lara was steadily increasing the distance between them. Probably not. The view from within a suit was never all that good. Hans could tell what was happening, because his vantage point at the Savior’s controls placed him much higher. If what Darya had told him last night was true, Lara wanted the feeling that she was exploring a new world alone, without Ben’s authority to follow and annoy her.

Whatever the reason, it was still a damn fool thing for her to do and Ben needed to know about it. Hans was about to send word on what was happening when a flicker of light caught his peripheral vision.

It was the faintest gleam of blue, a dust devil far off to the right that ran across the plain and was gone before you could be sure you saw it at all. Staring in that direction, nothing was visible but the black-hole light-absorbing surface of Iceworld. Hans had no idea how far away the flicker had been. He looked across at the readings from the ship’s scanners. They had not reported any signal at all.

Imagination?

People did not accuse Hans of an excess of imagination—quite the opposite. Was he letting the spooky silence and dark of Iceworld get to him?

“Ben, and Lara. Do you realize that Lara is getting farther ahead?”

“I don’t think that’s true.” Lara sounded confident and a little too cocky. “I think I’m holding a steady distance. This is interesting. When you get close enough and can look at things from close to a grazing angle, you actually see the edge of the grid point area. It glows a pale green.”

Ben said at once, “Lara, I am in charge of this exploration party. I don’t want you to go any closer, no matter how interesting you think something is. Stay right there until I catch up. That is an order.”

An order from Ben, which Lara surely didn’t wish to hear. She said, “Very well,” but the signal from her suit gave Hans an accurate range-rate reading. She was moving as fast as ever. The edge of the circular grid patch was no more than a hundred meters in front of her.

Hans didn’t want to get into the middle of a two-person power struggle, but he had no choice. If Ben was to serve as chief of the party, he must know what was going on.

“Ben, I’m holding the Savior a steady ten paces behind you. But Lara hasn’t stopped. The distance between you is still increasing.”

Another flash of blue distracted him during his final words. This time it came from the left, brighter than the last one. He could follow its trace, beginning well behind the Savior and rippling along a straight line that led toward the grid point boundary. Or to Lara? It was impossible to say.

Hans turned off his radio and leaned across to Darya. “Did you see it?”

“Yes.” Darya was in the co-pilot’s seat. “What is it?”

“I hoped you could tell me.” Hans turned his radio back on and kept his voice calm and dispassionate. “This is Captain Rebka. Professor Lang and I are detecting some kind of unknown activity on the surface. Senior Specialists Blesh and Quistner, I strongly urge both of you to return at once to the Savior. I then propose that we lift off and hold a safe altitude until we know what we are dealing with.”

“Captain Rebka, what is the nature of the activity?”

Wrong response. When you think there might be danger, you run first and ask questions later.

Hans said, “It resembles a blue will-o’-the-wisp or dust devil, similar to what we noticed from orbit in the track of our laser.”

“I saw it!” Lara had finally halted, maybe fifty paces from the grid patch. “Ben, it ran right past me on an angle and merged into the green around the edge of the grid. Where the blue met the green I saw a kind of rainbow burst of light. Could you see it from where you are?”

“I saw nothing. Lara, back up and return to the Savior. At once. That’s an order!”

But Ben was not following his own instruction. He was still moving toward Lara. Under Hans’s control, the Savior crept after him.

Lara laughed. “Ben, you are overreacting. You must be receiving the readings from my suit. You can see for yourself, everything is nominal and there’s nothing to worry about.”

“That’s not your decision to make. Lara, if you don’t go back to the ship at once you’ll be in big trouble.”

“All right, Ben, I’m on my way.” Lara’s suit faceplate reflected light from the Savior as she turned. “But you are making a big deal out of nothing. We are here to explore, not to ignore anything interesting that we see.”

She was moving toward the ship, but the range-rate reading told Hans that she was in no hurry. At her speed it would take minutes to reach the Savior. Hans’s fingers itched to hit the sequence that would boost them to orbit at maximum acceleration.

He resisted the temptation, leaned back, and concentrated on the banks of readings from both Lara’s suit and the ship’s all-around sensors. As she said, everything in her immediate vicinity registered no change. However, that wasn’t true of the edge of the grid point area a hundred meters beyond her. Instead of its previous absurdly low temperature of 1.2 kelvins, one spot now failed to report any temperature reading at all. That was impossible. When energy was delivered to a place—and even the blue dust devils must contain some energy—the temperature at that point had to rise. It could not possibly go down.

Hans felt his skin crawl. “Ben, Lara. I’m seeing surface changes near the edge of the grid patch. Get back to the ship—now.”

Even as he spoke he realized his mistake. If anything could keep Ben Blesh outside, it would be a direct order to return from Hans Rebka.

Predictably, Ben said at once, “The responsibility for bringing us in is mine, Rebka, not yours. Lara, if you don’t get a move on, I’ll come and drag you back.”

Hans saw another gleam of light. It was the reflection from Lara’s faceplate. Instead of answering, she had turned her head to look behind her. She said, “This is crazy. Captain Rebka, you’re seeing things. I’m a lot closer to the grid than anyone else, and I notice no change there at all.”

While she was still speaking, one of the displays of the Savior lit so brightly that it cast a flickering blue shadow onto the controls at Hans’s fingertips. He looked, in time to see another line of fire, bigger and brighter than the first two, racing like a blue fuse across the surface. It rippled well wide of the Savior, cleared Ben Blesh and Lara Quistner, and ran on to the edge of the gridded area. Hans saw a flare of light and a semicircular arc of rainbow colors standing up from the dark plain of Iceworld.

This time the flash was so bright that neither Lara nor Ben could miss it. Lara gasped and stood rooted, at the same time as Ben began to move.

“Not that way!” Hans could hardly believe his eyes. Ben was heading toward Lara—away from the Savior—into possible danger. Hans’s survival instincts told him to boost the ship away from the surface at once, but he continued to follow Ben.

Ben shouted, “Lara! MOVE!”

It had the right effect. She jerked into motion, starting to run across the smooth plane of the surface. As Hans had predicted, real running in such a low gravity field was impossible. Lara strained toward the ship with the agonized slow-motion action of a woman fleeing in a nightmare.

Behind her, the place where the last dust devil had met the edge of the grid had come alive. A set of concentric hemispheres of blue light grew, reached a size of a few meters, and vanished. At the same time, a layer of dense blue mist emerged from the same center and rolled toward Lara.

The fog did not show on the range-rate sensor, but Hans did not need any help to compare speeds. Unless Lara could move faster there was no way that she could reach the Savior before the fog lapped around her feet and calves. Ben was in a different situation. He could turn around and make the ship before the layer of mist reached him—if only he had the sense to act immediately.

He didn’t turn. Worse than that, Hans realized that Ben was still moving toward Lara. The man was crazy. What was he hoping to do, grab hold of the blue fog and wrestle it away from her?

Ben’s hopes and intentions did not matter. He was fifty paces from Lara when the mist reached her and rippled around her lower legs.

She at once stopped running. Hans heard a gasp, a startled scream, and then nothing.

“Lara!” He, Darya, and Ben were shouting in unison.

She did not answer. She stood for a few seconds, motionless. And then Lara was screaming again, and she was shrinking. She did not move, she did not topple, she did not sway. She simply sank into the blue surface layer, slowly and steadily. To Ben, limited to the quality of image provided by his suit, it must seem as though Lara drifted down to and through the surface of Iceworld.

Hans, employing the superior sensors of the Savior, knew better. As the different sections of Lara’s body came to within a few centimeters of the glowing layer of blue, they fractured and fragmented and turned to powder. As that happened, the sensors showed her body dropping in temperature. She was ice—she was as cold as liquid air—she was liquid helium, just a few kelvins above absolute zero. Finally, the instruments could not provide values.

Lara’s disintegration formed a hypnotic sight, but the warning of a different danger forced Hans into action. The layer of blue mist had paused when it reached Lara. Now it was moving again, sweeping toward the Savior. Long before it got there it would meet Ben, who stood as silent and motionless as if the tide of blue had already drained him of life and heat.

“Ben! Into the ship.”

Ten quick steps would do it, then they could head up and away to safety. Ben was moving now, but he was like a zombie. Long before he reached the Savior, the fog would roll up to and over him. Already it was no more than thirty meters away, and what had at first been a gentle ripple forward now seemed like an irresistible advance.

Certain death for Ben and escape for Hans and Darya? Or possible death by impact for Ben and an uncertain fate for Hans and Darya? There was no time to work out the odds, but Hans refused to lose another crew member.

“Sit tight.”

That was for Darya, inexplicably trying to stand up from the seat next to him. Hans hit the controls and boosted the Savior—not away to the safety of orbit, but straight forward. The ship accelerated at four gees and scooped Ben Blesh into the maw of the airlock’s open outer door. The clang as his body hit the back of the lock sounded through the whole ship.

What Hans would have liked now was an instant switch from forward motion to upward motion, but the ship’s inertia and the laws of dynamics did not permit that. Although he could alter the direction of thrust in a fraction of a second, until that change took effect the Savior continued to move forward. Forward, toward the edge of the grid point. Forward, toward the deadly blue mist that had crumbled Lara to dust and swallowed her body, and forward toward the pulsing spheres of blue light beyond.

Hans was pinned back in his seat by four gees of acceleration. It took all his strength to keep his hands in place on the controls. The Savior was turning and rising. The ship would clear the layer of blue fog. But they were not rising fast enough. The aft end, where the main drive was located, would pass through the spheres of blue at the edge of the grid patch.

Hans waited for an impact. He felt nothing, but he heard a change in the sound of the drive. A moment later the crushing force on his body lessened. The Savior was losing power. He called for Emergency Mode thrust, which ought to override any other command. Instead of punishing acceleration, the drive turned off completely. Hans felt himself in free fall, dropping with the ship toward the featureless surface.

He braced for an impact that might kill or maim. It never came. Falling in the light gravity of Iceworld, the Savior hit the ground, bounced, then hit again and skidded along the surface.

Hans glanced at the control read-outs. The hull had not been breached. All life-support systems showed normal readings. In principle the inside of the Savior was still the safest place on the planet.

Hans did not believe that for a moment. Something had touched the lower part of the ship, and seconds later they had lost the drive. Every other part of the ship might be equally vulnerable. He glanced across at Darya to make sure that her suit was fully closed.

“Come on.”

“Where?” But she was already standing up.

“Outside. We lost power, and I don’t know why. Until we know what happened I think we’ll be safer on the surface.”

How safe was that? Hans did not know, but already he was cycling the inner door of the airlock. It did not matter that all the air would be lost from the interior of the ship. When they came back in—if they came back in—air could be replaced.

The inner door was open. Hans had never closed the outer one, and he pushed Darya toward it.

“Go ahead.”

“Ben—”

“I’ll help him.” I lost one crew member, but I’m damned if I’ll lose another. “You go outside, make sure the outer door is clear.”

Hans was exposing Darya to an unknown risk, and she surely knew it. The surface could be even more dangerous than the Savior’s interior. She went without another word.

Hans moved to where Ben’s suited figure lay sprawled by the wall of the airlock. After the first impact as the Savior scooped up his body, Ben had then felt another four-gee force as the ship tried to rise toward orbit. Unlike Darya and Hans, he had not been cushioned in a well-designed seat.

The suit tell-tales showed that its integrity had been maintained. That was good, but had Ben survived the multiple shocks? Hans leaned over and shone the head beam of his own suit into the faceplate. Ben’s eyes were open, and the pupils contracted as the light struck them.

Alive.

Hans had no time to ask for anything more. He scooped up the suited body and headed for the outer door of the airlock. It was a three-meter drop from there to the surface, but—thank Heaven for low-gravity planets—he jumped and landed without difficulty.

Darya was waiting. She at once pulled him away from the ship. He did not resist. The flat plain of the grid patch, which had before been dark as the grave, was illuminated now by a faint blue.

Twenty paces from the Savior, Darya paused. Hans, still carrying Ben’s body, turned. At first sight the ship was just as it should be, standing at an odd angle on the smooth surface. But a line of blue flame licked at the outside of the hull, right down at ground level. The flame was not moving. The Savior was. While Hans and Darya watched, the whole hull sank downward slowly and steadily as though being absorbed into the surface of Iceworld.

Ignoring Darya’s cry of warning, Hans took a couple of paces back toward the ship. Once you were close enough you could see what was really happening. Just above the pale blue line of flame, the hull of the Savior was fracturing, cracking, turning to powder, and vanishing.

Logic said that they ought to turn and run, but to where? Hans could see that the whole grid area had become edged with blue light. He and Darya could move no more than a hundred meters or so in any direction without passing across that blue barrier. He turned to stare again at the Savior, and noticed a change. The lower half of the ship was gone, and the dust that it had become was slowly spreading outward. Already the outer edge smudged the surface five meters away from the vanishing hull.

Hans stared upward. Somewhere in the sky, hundreds of millions of kilometers away, the Pride of Orion would be monitoring their status. They should receive everything up to Hans’s order to Darya to head for the airlock. Since then there had been no time for spoken messages, but the beacon would automatically send out its signal for as long as it existed.

That existence would be for only a few more minutes. The chance of anything from the Pride of Orion arriving in time to help Darya, Ben, and Hans was a flat zero.

Hans brought his attention back to their surroundings. Another meter of the Savior had vanished, and the dust that the ship had been was oozing closer. It might be harmless, but that was not a risk they could afford to take. The boundary of the grid area was still alight with an ominous blue.

Hans took a deep breath. “Darya?”

He knew what they had to do. He just wanted to hear her voice.

“I’m here, Hans.”

“We can’t stay where we are. I screwed up, and I’m sorry. I thought the surface would be safe. I was as wrong as I could be.”

“We all were.”

“The ship is done for. We can’t go up. There’s only one thing left.”

“Hans, I know that. I know very well what we have to do.” She produced a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “This is my fault, not yours. I’m the one who wanted to come here, and I’m the one who said I wanted to see the interior of Iceworld. If I’m lucky, I’ll get my wish.”

It was an odd definition of luck, but Hans understood. The powdery layer had advanced to within a few meters of their feet. He said, “No point in waiting. Let’s hope we were right about the destabilizing field. I’m going to turn mine on now.”

“Me, too. Hans, I hope I’ll meet you on the other side—wherever that is.”

“You have to. Remember, you promised me there would be a better time? You can’t renege on that.”

Hans raised his gaze to the upper edge of his suit’s faceplate. He glanced in turn at each element of the control sites that would cause his suit to generate a cancellation field. The suit’s sensors, tracking his eye movements, turned the field on.

He had time for one more moment of worry. Would the field’s active radius be enough to include Ben, whose body Hans was still holding? If not, what would happen to both of them?

And then there was no time for either worries or actions. The weak gravity of the planet seemed to vanish. Hans was in freefall, still holding his burden, dropping down through the deadly surface of Iceworld and on toward the unknown interior.