Lifeline

What was taking Dobo so damned long? Sandovaal fidgeted and tried explaining further.

“Once the electrodes are implanted in the sail-creatures’ cysts, I can apply the same pressure to each one and steer them all as a group. The effect is the same as having one vast sail. The additional sail-creature nymphs we are carrying will provide more than enough means for us to return—unless the blasted American colony eats them or something.” Sandovaal felt annoyed—back to normal after that dangerous flirt with emotion.

Magsaysay sighed and turned to face him. “I know you think you must go to Orbitech 1 to get the weavewire for our own use. But we could likely use MMUs to get over to the Orbitech 2 construction site. Ramis proved that Jumping is possible, though it is not as efficient for transporting supplies.” The dato pursed his lips. “At least this way you will be able to bring Ramis back. But I do not want your confidence to blind you to danger.”

Indignant, Sandovaal drew himself up, though Magsaysay stared out one of the viewing windows. “I am a big boy, Yoli. I know how to take care of myself.”

“You are too crusty sometimes.” The voice came from behind him. Sandovaal whirled to find Dobo and his wife in a tête-à-tête.

“What!” Sandovaal squinted at Dobo, but he and his wife stood preoccupied, holding hands like juveniles. When Dobo failed to look at him, Sandovaal snorted and turned back to President Magsaysay.

Magsaysay suppressed a smile. “This has greater implications than just bringing back the weavewire, Luis. You are going to determine if we should continue these trips, bring the colonies together.” He hesitated. “I never thought I would see the day this would really happen.”

“This trip will never be an everyday occurrence,” Sandovaal said, wondering if Magsaysay was trying to lessen his accomplishment.

“Maybe not now, but it will happen. I assure you.”

“That is not my main concern. If we do not get moving, the sail-creatures will die before we reach Orbitech 1.” He snapped at his assistant. “Dobo! Finish kissing her and let us get out of here!” Sandovaal pulled on his helmet.

Dobo dabbed at his wife’s face with a tissue. Sandovaal started to admonish his assistant again, but realized that Dobo couldn’t hear him with his helmet on.

Sandovaal grumbled to himself and started checking his suit status. The anti-radiation treatment he had taken was already making him queasy, or maybe it was just anxiety about the long journey.

Minutes later a voice in his helmet transceiver interrupted him. “Dr. Sandovaal, are you ready?”

Dobo stood by the airlock, fully suited. At the other end of the room, his wife forced a smile. Sandovaal grunted something meant to be unintelligible and met Dobo by the airlock. “Well, what are you waiting for?”

As the airlock door swung shut, Sandovaal forced himself to wave. The holocameras would be recording all this for the daily intercolony broadcasts, suitably embellished with the appropriate Filipino patriotism. At least he had managed to avoid being present while the bishop blessed his space suit.

Magsaysay stood outside the chamber with his hand on the shoulder of Dobo’s wife. She held her chin up high, proud. Sandovaal felt a twinge of guilt that he had yelled at his assistant—it might be the last time that either of them saw the Aguinaldo. Dobo remained silent, much to Sandovaal’s relief.

The external door cycled open and left them staring at empty space. Outside, three techs moved forward, outfitted with compressed-air tanks for maneuvering. They steered Sandovaal and Dobo by the arms toward the waiting sail-creatures.

The magnitude of the fragile mosaic became evident to Sandovaal as they drew near. The delicate wings, extending scores of kilometers, could not withstand much more than the solar photon pressure that would push them on their journey.

A glimmer of light brought Sandovaal’s attention to the array of wires connecting the sail-creature bodies. With them, the sails would be somewhat limited in their ability to turn, but the increase in weight the array of creatures could carry more than made up for the limitation. Ramis’s trip had been by the seat of his pants; by comparison, this one would be a walk in the barrio.

Two of the techs turned and jetted off with Dobo to one of the central sail-creatures. Sandovaal allowed himself to be taken to the other. The cavity in the core of the creature widened like a womb, into which the techs inserted him. Sandovaal tried to cooperate and help them, but he soon lost his temper and yanked his elbow away from a too-persistent tech.

Before he pulled his helmet inside the organic darkness, he looked up at the universe; the Aguinaldo’s huge silvery cylinder; the broad, fragile wings of the sail-creature.