Lifeline

But then she remembered a time in Colorado, back when she had lived in Denver, before moving to the Center for High-Technology Materials in Albuquerque. A ski slope—Breckenridge?—where she and Ray had spent one spring day schussing down black diamond runs. The sky was impossibly blue, the ground white from a late spring snow; she and Ray laughed as the lifts pulled them up, when Karen realized she had forgotten to pull the tips of her skis up.… She found herself facedown in a clump of snow underneath the chair lift. Because she hadn’t been paying attention, a simple act had turned into disaster.

This time, if she let her attention lapse and released herself at the wrong time, Karen would suffer a lot worse than a faceful of snow.

She could make out the outer wheel’s grainy surface, even small pits from micrometeors. She rotated her body around to point her feet directly at the station.

The dolly slid above composite spokes and support struts as it followed the weavewire to the Kibalchich’s hub. Overhead, the mirror looked flat and glistening, reflecting an image of the torus back onto itself.

Above her, a streak of Day-Glo orange marking the end of the weavewire zipped through space. One hundred yards to go! she thought. She had only time enough to draw in a breath before she hit the station. The suit disconnected from the pulley apparatus, and she collapsed to the hub, absorbing the shock with her feet. She wasn’t sure if the magnetized soles would keep her in place. She remembered to reach up and catch the dolly support before it rebounded back along the nearly frictionless cable.

“Dr. Langelier, be ### and to #### …”A voice broke in and out of coherence as she turned about, her directional antenna sweeping the space where Orbitech 1 hung.

Her hand encircled the central graphite rod. It was too large for her fingers to fit around, but it served to stop her from drifting.

Karen drew in short, laborious breaths and closed her eyes, gripping the rod. If she let go she would be out in space right now where no one could reach her. She’d have only a handful of hours of air, even at one-quarter pressure.

She swung her antenna in the general direction of Orbitech 1. “I’m here,” she said. “Have you heard anything from Ramis?”

Silence. Then, slowly, “No. Didn’t he say he was going to be there to help you?”

It was her turn to ponder.

After her eleven-hour journey, she wanted to be inside—any place that had walls and a floor and a ceiling. She could find Ramis. He had found his way inside by himself; she could do the same.

Karen clicked at her mike. “Orbitech 1, I’m going to find one of the access hatches into the Kibalchich. A full report will follow.” Karen clicked her receiver off. She didn’t need anything from them. She could make her own decisions. She had left Orbitech 1 because of people always telling her what to do, when to do it, and how to do it.

Karen started to shimmy along the support rod, searching for a way to get inside.

Chapter 41

AGUINALDO—Day 44

Big Brother Moving Company.

It was precisely what Luis Sandovaal felt like as he prepared for the trip to Orbitech 1. This would not be just a desperate test flight, as Ramis had made. In his own typical style, Sandovaal would make this a grand procession.

He ran one hand through his shock of white hair, making it stand straight up, then surveyed all the extra baggage they would need to ensure their return, plus Ramis’s. Magsaysay had insisted on that part. It had been the only way Magsaysay would even consider allowing Sandovaal to go; even then, the dato was reluctant.

Dobo had just returned from Mass, and Sandovaal put him to work. Since finding out he would be making the journey to L-5 with Sandovaal, Dobo had attended Mass twice a day. Sandovaal couldn’t understand his assistant’s actions—they had even less time to waste than usual.

Sandovaal squinted at the tanks nurturing the sail-creature embryos. The air smelled raw and wet, but Sandovaal did not notice. The thirty-six embryos nestled in the quiet sanctuary of one of the glass-enclosed wall-kelp alcoves were their only hope of returning from Orbitech 1. Sandovaal had no way of knowing how well the Americans had cared for the tiny embryos Ramis had brought with him, and the boy wasn’t enough of an expert to tell for himself. But the embryos would take years to reach maturity; Sandovaal was bringing mature nymphs.

He and Dobo would have time to instruct their American counterparts on how to nurture the next generation of sail-creatures and make them available for sails, in case they ever wanted to come to L-4. Magsaysay didn’t think they would.