[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
lip, he tried afresh. This time he did not quite approach disaster. Jets afticker, the boat staggered
drunkenly over the moonscape.
The ice cliff' loomed nearer and nearer. He saw its fragile loveliness and regretted that he must cut a
swathe of ruin. Yet what did any natural wonder mean unless a conscious mind was there to know it? He
passed the lowest slope. It vanished in billows of steam.
Onward. Beyond the boiling, right and left and ahead, the Faerie architecture crumbled. He crossed
the palisade. Now he was a bare fifty meters above the surface, and the clouds reached vengefully close
before they disappeared into vacuum. He squinted through the port and made the scanner sweep a
magnified overview across its screen, a search for his destination.
A white volcano erupted. The outburst engulfed him. Suddenly he was flying blind. Shocks belled
through the hull when upflung stones hit. Frost sheathed the craft; the scanner screen went as blank as the
ports. Danzig should have ordered ascent, but he was inexperienced. A human in danger has less of an
instinct to jump than to run. He tried to scuttle sideways. Without exterior vision to aid him, he sent the
vessel tumbling end over end. By the time he saw his mistake, less than a second, it was too late. He was
out of control. The computer might have retrieved the situation after a while, but the glacier was too
close. The boat crashed.
"Hello, Mark?" Scobie cried. "Mark, do you read me? Where are you, for Christ's sake?"
Silence replied. He gave Broberg a look which lingered. "Everything seemed to be in order," he said,
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
"till we heard a shout, and a lot of racket, and nothing. He should've reached
us by now. Instead, he's run into trouble. 1 hope it wasn't lethal."
"What can we do?" she asked as redundantly. They needed talk, any. talk, for Garcilaso lay beside
them and his delirious voice was dwindling fast.
"If we don't get fresh fuel cells within the next forty or fifty hours, we'll be at the end of our particular
trail. The boat should be someplace near. We'll have to get out of this hole under our own power, seems
like. Wait here with Luis and I'll scratch around for a possible route."
Scobie started downward. Broberg crouched by the pilot.
"-alone forever in the dark-"she heard.
"No, Alvarlan." She embraced him. Most likely he could not feel that, but she could. "Alvarlan,
hearken to me. This is Ricia. I hear in my mind how your spirit calls. Let me help. Let me lead you back
to the light."
"Have a care," advised Scobie. "We're too damn close to rehypnotizing ourselves as it is."
"But I might, I just might get through to Luis and . . . comfort him.... Alvarlan, Kendrick and 1
escaped. He's seeking a way home for us. I'm seeking you. Alvarlan, here is my hand, come take it."
On the crater floor, Scobie shook his head, clicked his tongue, and unlimbered his equipment.
Binoculars would help him locate the most promising areas. Devices that ranged from a metal rod to a
portable geosonar would give him a more exact idea of what sort of footing lay buried under what depth
of unclimbable sand-ice. Admittedly, the scope of such probes was very limited. He did not have time to
shovel tons of material aside so that he could mount higher and test further. He would simply have to get
some preliminary results, make an educated guess at which path up the side of the bowl would prove
negotiable, and trust he was right.
He shut Broberg and Garcilaso out of his consciousness as much as he was able, and commenced
work.
An hour later he was ignoring pain while clearing a strip
across a layer of rock. He thought a berg of good, hard frozen water lay ahead, but wanted to make
sure.
"Jean! Colin! Do you read?"
Scobie straightened and stood rigid. Dimly he heard Broberg: "If I can't do anything else, Alvarlan, let
me pray for your soul's repose."
"Mark!" ripped from Scobie. "You okay? What the hell happened?"
"Yeah, 1 wasn't too badly knocked around," Danzig said, "and the boat's habitable, though I'm afraid
it'll never fly again. How are you? Luis?"
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
"Sinking fast. All right, let's hear the news."
Danzig described his misfortune. "I wobbled off in an unknown direction for an unknown distance. It
can't have been extremely far, since the time was short before I hit. Evidently I plowed into a large, um,
snowbank, which softened the impact but blocked radio transmission. It's evaporated from the cabin
area now. I see tumbled whiteness around, and formations in the offing . . . . I'm not sure what damage
the jacks and the stern jets suffered. The boat's on its side at about a forty=five-degree angle,
presumably with rock beneath. But the after part is still buried in less whiffable stuff-water and COZ ices,
I think-that's reached temperature equilibrium. The jets must be clogged with it. If 1 tried to blast, I'd
destroy the whole works."
Scobie nodded. "You would, for sure."
Danzig's voice broke. "Oh, God, Colin! What have I done? 1 wanted to help Luis, but 1 may have
killed you and Jean."
Scobie's lips tightened. "Let's not start crying before we're hurt. True, this has been quite a run of bad
luck. But neither you nor I nor anybody could have known that you'd touch off a bomb underneath
yourself."
"What was it? Have you any notion? Nothing of the sort ever occurred at rendezvous with a comet.
And you believe the glacier is a wrecked comet, don't you?"
"Uh-huh, except that conditions have obviously modified it. The impact produced heat, shock,
turbulence. Molecules got scrambled. Plasmas must have been momentarily present. Mixtures,
compounds. clathrates, alloys-stuff formed that never existed in free space. We can learn a lot of [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl rafalstec.xlx.pl
lip, he tried afresh. This time he did not quite approach disaster. Jets afticker, the boat staggered
drunkenly over the moonscape.
The ice cliff' loomed nearer and nearer. He saw its fragile loveliness and regretted that he must cut a
swathe of ruin. Yet what did any natural wonder mean unless a conscious mind was there to know it? He
passed the lowest slope. It vanished in billows of steam.
Onward. Beyond the boiling, right and left and ahead, the Faerie architecture crumbled. He crossed
the palisade. Now he was a bare fifty meters above the surface, and the clouds reached vengefully close
before they disappeared into vacuum. He squinted through the port and made the scanner sweep a
magnified overview across its screen, a search for his destination.
A white volcano erupted. The outburst engulfed him. Suddenly he was flying blind. Shocks belled
through the hull when upflung stones hit. Frost sheathed the craft; the scanner screen went as blank as the
ports. Danzig should have ordered ascent, but he was inexperienced. A human in danger has less of an
instinct to jump than to run. He tried to scuttle sideways. Without exterior vision to aid him, he sent the
vessel tumbling end over end. By the time he saw his mistake, less than a second, it was too late. He was
out of control. The computer might have retrieved the situation after a while, but the glacier was too
close. The boat crashed.
"Hello, Mark?" Scobie cried. "Mark, do you read me? Where are you, for Christ's sake?"
Silence replied. He gave Broberg a look which lingered. "Everything seemed to be in order," he said,
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
"till we heard a shout, and a lot of racket, and nothing. He should've reached
us by now. Instead, he's run into trouble. 1 hope it wasn't lethal."
"What can we do?" she asked as redundantly. They needed talk, any. talk, for Garcilaso lay beside
them and his delirious voice was dwindling fast.
"If we don't get fresh fuel cells within the next forty or fifty hours, we'll be at the end of our particular
trail. The boat should be someplace near. We'll have to get out of this hole under our own power, seems
like. Wait here with Luis and I'll scratch around for a possible route."
Scobie started downward. Broberg crouched by the pilot.
"-alone forever in the dark-"she heard.
"No, Alvarlan." She embraced him. Most likely he could not feel that, but she could. "Alvarlan,
hearken to me. This is Ricia. I hear in my mind how your spirit calls. Let me help. Let me lead you back
to the light."
"Have a care," advised Scobie. "We're too damn close to rehypnotizing ourselves as it is."
"But I might, I just might get through to Luis and . . . comfort him.... Alvarlan, Kendrick and 1
escaped. He's seeking a way home for us. I'm seeking you. Alvarlan, here is my hand, come take it."
On the crater floor, Scobie shook his head, clicked his tongue, and unlimbered his equipment.
Binoculars would help him locate the most promising areas. Devices that ranged from a metal rod to a
portable geosonar would give him a more exact idea of what sort of footing lay buried under what depth
of unclimbable sand-ice. Admittedly, the scope of such probes was very limited. He did not have time to
shovel tons of material aside so that he could mount higher and test further. He would simply have to get
some preliminary results, make an educated guess at which path up the side of the bowl would prove
negotiable, and trust he was right.
He shut Broberg and Garcilaso out of his consciousness as much as he was able, and commenced
work.
An hour later he was ignoring pain while clearing a strip
across a layer of rock. He thought a berg of good, hard frozen water lay ahead, but wanted to make
sure.
"Jean! Colin! Do you read?"
Scobie straightened and stood rigid. Dimly he heard Broberg: "If I can't do anything else, Alvarlan, let
me pray for your soul's repose."
"Mark!" ripped from Scobie. "You okay? What the hell happened?"
"Yeah, 1 wasn't too badly knocked around," Danzig said, "and the boat's habitable, though I'm afraid
it'll never fly again. How are you? Luis?"
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
"Sinking fast. All right, let's hear the news."
Danzig described his misfortune. "I wobbled off in an unknown direction for an unknown distance. It
can't have been extremely far, since the time was short before I hit. Evidently I plowed into a large, um,
snowbank, which softened the impact but blocked radio transmission. It's evaporated from the cabin
area now. I see tumbled whiteness around, and formations in the offing . . . . I'm not sure what damage
the jacks and the stern jets suffered. The boat's on its side at about a forty=five-degree angle,
presumably with rock beneath. But the after part is still buried in less whiffable stuff-water and COZ ices,
I think-that's reached temperature equilibrium. The jets must be clogged with it. If 1 tried to blast, I'd
destroy the whole works."
Scobie nodded. "You would, for sure."
Danzig's voice broke. "Oh, God, Colin! What have I done? 1 wanted to help Luis, but 1 may have
killed you and Jean."
Scobie's lips tightened. "Let's not start crying before we're hurt. True, this has been quite a run of bad
luck. But neither you nor I nor anybody could have known that you'd touch off a bomb underneath
yourself."
"What was it? Have you any notion? Nothing of the sort ever occurred at rendezvous with a comet.
And you believe the glacier is a wrecked comet, don't you?"
"Uh-huh, except that conditions have obviously modified it. The impact produced heat, shock,
turbulence. Molecules got scrambled. Plasmas must have been momentarily present. Mixtures,
compounds. clathrates, alloys-stuff formed that never existed in free space. We can learn a lot of [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]