This Old Rock (7 page)

She strode off toward the camp, her path lit by a helmet
light. The robots, presumably invisible now, followed. He patted a device in
his pocket; he had an answer for those, but now was not the time to reveal it.

David judged the distance to the shuttle. He didn’t dare use
the infrared to talk now; Liz would pick that up in her helmet and immediately
know what he was doing. Would she suspect? Had she left a guard? The best
strategy would be to approach the shuttle in an unthreatening way. His box with
the bomb was a standard sample box, and should be recognized as such.

He waited until she was halfway to the camp, then got up and
walked as calmly as he could to the shuttle. He opened the standard infrared
channel for robotic interface and positioned his body so the beam would not
carry to Liz or his own radio relay setup, he hoped.

“Hello. I’m David Levi. I have some samples to go to the
lab.”

“Mr. Levi. Please do not enter the shuttle; you are not
authorized. I have notified Captain Avonford of your presence.”

“David!” Liz screamed. “I thought you were at the camp. What
are you doing at the shuttle?”

“I changed my mind,” he said, using the radio channel from
his suit. He took two more steps closer to the shuttle, reaching the right
landing gear. “I really wanted to see you again, Liz.” He turned away from the
shuttle, triggered the switch, and set the sample case down as carefully as he
could. He started running toward Liz, not daring to look back. Five… four…
three… two… one…

The blast wave almost knocked him over. Now he looked back
and watched the shuttle topple to the ground. Back to square one, he thought.
He turned back toward Liz and stood motionless, trying to figure out what to
say. She would probably be upset.

A sudden sting in his arm told him just how upset.

••∞••

Liz had skimmed along the regolith toward David, wanting to
believe him, wanting to get him and get out of here. But she’d been deceived.
Should have had the robots tranquilize him earlier, she thought. But she’d held
back. Maybe there was an explanation that made sense. Once he was in her arms
again, surely he would listen to reason. He had run toward her; she could see
the light on his helmet bob up and down with each long stride. Surely they
could still sort things out.

The blast took her totally by surprise and she watched in
horror as the shuttle toppled to the ground. There was no second explosion and
its navigation lights stayed on. The port light created a pool of red on the
lava and showed the crumpled side of the vehicle in high relief.

Liz brought herself to a halt.
Take him down,
she
sent to the hovering robots. Talk about closing the barn door after the horse
escaped.

Liz, Ned. Are you okay?

I’m fine. He got the shuttle before I got him. Can you
get another one down here?

We’ll have to try, won’t we? The port manager and I’ve
got it in works, but it looks like an hour to fuel and check out and four
hours—make that four point three—down to the surface where you are. That’s
collision time, I’m afraid.

Her heart skipped a beat and a knot suddenly tightened in
her gut.
Chaos, try to shave ten minutes off that somewhere, will you?

I’ll try my best. Do you want me to tell Cyan?

So it’s down to this, Liz thought. What would Cyan Mutori
do? A word from her now, and the full power of the beam could be thrown against
the planetoid, possibly breaking it up, possibly pushing it away. But that
diversion would also throw the impactor off profile, perhaps irretrievably so.
Damn Peal! There was no margin, none.

Not just yet. See where you get on the spare shuttle.

Are you sure, Liz?

It could mean the difference between probably living and
probably dying, for both her and David. But it could also be the difference
between carrying out her mission with certainty, and leaving humanity’s
greatest project to chance. She’d wanted to be the big fish in the small pond,
to have the big decisions. Well, this was one that would echo through the rest
of history.

Yes, I’m sure. Ned, if it doesn’t work out… It’s not your
fault. But get that damn shuttle here!

It’s been on its way since you asked. Everything
optimized for minimum time. Good luck. Ned out.

Liz looked up at the oncoming planetoid and its halo of gas,
rising high over the eastern horizon. It would not, if she remembered the
simulations correctly, quite reach the zenith from her location. In the last
minutes, it would begin plunging back down to the horizon. Then a hypersonic
detonation wave would jet out above her and the blast wave would roll over the
horizon at the local speed of sound, some twenty minutes later.

Human beings had voluntarily gone to their deaths before,
for a big enough cause. She had not ever quite thought of herself that way. All
told, she would rather not. But one of the things that human beings were about
was will. We were out here because of will, she thought.

Liz, Cyan. What’s going on down there?

Liz sighed. It hadn’t taken her long to find out.

A small delay. He’s tranked now. I’m going after him.

Wait.

You are stranded!

Maybe. Cyan, am I still in charge? Is it my call? You
know what is at stake. This situation is my responsibility, and I have chosen
to keep the Project on profile. On our friendship, please honor that choice.

Wait—much longer, this time, than required for just the
light speed delay.

I understand what is at stake. If it were my
responsibility, I would, I hope, have the courage to choose as you have. But we
will do everything we can short of affecting the project to get you out of
there. The net has been launched; it should arrive three hours before impact.
The planetoid will still be half as far away as the moon is from Earth. If
everything holds, it should get enough delta-v to just graze Martin’s
atmosphere. Roche forces will pull the planetoid apart, but the net may hold it
together for a while. We can’t tell whether it will be captured or not—too many
uncertainties.

You’re giving me some hope, anyway. Between that and the
relief shuttle, I’m going to assume I’ll make it,
Liz answered.

Liz had kept walking as she talked. David’s helmet light
glowed softly, nearer and nearer.

When she got there, that was all there was—the helmet light.

Where’s David?
she asked the robots.

The one designated “Alpha” answered.
We have a command
authority conflict
.

“Chaos!” Liz struggled to regain her temper.

Cyan, could you reset the command authority override on
my robots? David has pulled another fast one on me.

Wait, agonizingly long.

Done. Use the prefix “Sunbeam” if you have any more
problems.

Thanks.

To the robots:
Sunbeam. Where’s David?

Mr. Levi is proceeding on foot to the lake. He apparently
has a trank antidote.

No kidding! Keep him in sight. I’m following.

Liz, Cyan. We can still boost the net a little more.

Chaos, Liz thought. Why couldn’t they just let the decision
stand?

No, Cyan. Thank you, but no. The whole thing’s chancy and
the last thing I’d want is to screw up the Project and get killed.

Wait.

Liz!
Judi Lalande broke the quiet.
In one hour, we
can no longer accelerate the net. Martin’s moon is getting in the way.

Yes, Judi, Liz here. I understand. I may end up seeing
this explosion first hand. You know what? I’m not scared. It’s like letting go.
Liberating in a way. What will happen will happen. I accept that.

Silence. It gave her a momentary chill. Would they respect
her wishes? She tried to contemplate her humiliation if they did not and the
Project got screwed up. Much better to die a martyr. She smiled to herself.
Risky behavior was nothing new to her, and here it was, the ultimate. Triumph
or die. No. Triumph and die. Glory.

As if floating on air, Liz started running towards David.
There was still time to grab him and at least get away from Martin, she
thought. But if not, glory.

She stopped bouncing and opened a radio channel to David.

“David. What’s going to happen is going to happen. There’s
nothing more that anyone can physically do. The net is on its way; we should be
able to see the intercept. It may work. Meanwhile there’s a crewless shuttle on
its way to take us off. It may get here in time even if the net doesn’t work.
There’s no point in running from me anymore.”

“I can’t believe you.”

Liz looked up into the sky and asked for a reticular circle
where the net was. It floated in front of her eyes at infinity, a faint red
circle. There, in its center, was a tiny spider web. “David, believe your own
eyes then. Look up. In Ursa Major, a little left of Mizar and Alcor, there’s a
faint, tiny web.”

It grew even as she watched. Liz touched the net. Forty
minutes until impact. Even without additional boost from the Project projectors,
the device was traveling at a hundred and thirty kilometers a second.

Maybe too fast, she realized. She looked at the projections;
ninety percent of the net cords were predicted to fail on impact. Would the
remaining ten percent be enough? Things would stretch, of course.

David materialized from the dark into the glow of her helmet
light. “You planned it this way, didn’t you! You all did.”

Liz didn’t bother to answer that. He was here; that was all
that counted. “Let’s get to the shuttle rendezvous.”

David caught up to her and they both turned towards the dark
sky standing side by side. “When?”

“Thirty minutes for the net impact, about three hours for
the main event and the shuttle landing.”

Wordlessly, they returned to the landing field.

The net zoomed by overhead, moving at the apparent rate of a
high-altitude aircraft or a satellite; but it was much farther away and moving
much faster. As it approached the planetoid, its angular rate grew less and
less; a trick of perspective, Liz realized. The net now moved almost directly
away from them. It would have been better, she thought, if it could have hit
the planetoid from the side, but this would be almost as good. It only had to
slow it a little, just enough for Martin to move a little further from under
it.

The net vanished, invisible against the glowing gas
surrounding the planetoid.

It happened slowly. The planetoid slowly split into two,
then three, then five pieces. Some of them seemed to be drifting off to the
right, others not at all.

Liz, Cyan…

I saw, Cyan. It looks like part of it is still going to
hit.

Wait.

Yes. There was a small delay on the shuttle trajectory to
let the net go by. It will be very close. Be ready to run for it. In the
meantime, perhaps you would wish to settle whatever you need to settle. I’ve
opened the net back up to David.

She didn’t think they would make it.
Thank you, very
much, Cyan, for everything. Thank you.

Two hours, forty minutes. A message to Mom, of course.
To
Captain Katherine Avonford on whatever starship she may be flying to wherever.
Mom. You’ve probably heard what happened off the media. By the time you read
this, I will have become so much interstellar gas flowing out of the Lacaille
9352 system. Perhaps we will run into each other. I’ll say something general
about how I feel about this—it’s not really bad at all. I’ve let go. I’m
accepting it, at peace with it, even in a strange way, looking forward to the
experience. I always wanted to be important, to make a mark, to be remembered.
But I’d rather have stayed around for the party. I forgot how so many of
history’s legends bought fame with their lives. Martyrdom isn’t worth it. Tell
everyone that. Martyrdom isn’t worth it.

And to Hilda.
I made a mess of it, Sis, but I got it
done. Enjoy the physics.

And to so many others.

She looked at David, silent, concentrating on his own
good-byes.

Five minutes. Death hurtled towards them. It was huge now, a
constellation of comets with a single coma falling toward the horizon, visibly
moving, passing what brightest stars still shone through its vapors. One by
one, they slipped below the horizon.

Time to impact?

The first contact has occurred.

A sudden glow lit the horizon. Then a ghostly curtain began
to spread from some point below it, like an aurora, but a thousand times
brighter. Jets of debris and gasses tangent to the globe of Martin at the
impact point moved at tens of kilometers per second.

Heart in her throat, she sent a last message to Cyan.
I
guess this is it. Thanks for trying.

Wait.

Hang in there, Liz. The shuttle’s almost down and it will
take several minutes for the blast wave to reach you. But be ready for five
gees flat on your back in the airlock.

Shuttle on approach, be prepared to board.

She looked up and the deep blue of its jets lanced down from
the sky. She reached over and grabbed David.

“Time to go.”

“Go yourself. It’s hopeless.”

“Come on, we’ve got to try.”

While David lingered in awe of its horrible beauty, Liz
grabbed his arm and gave it a tug.

“Come on! Run for the shuttle!” It settled down fifty meters
from them, its hot exhaust flapping their Martin suits.

She felt David pull her hand loose. “Go,” he told her. You
can’t save this place, you can’t save me.” And he pushed her towards the
shuttle. “Just go!”

It was futile, they both knew it. Regardless, Liz focused.
She could not give up completely. How close could she come to getting away?