Cal called the McCandless and wished them luck. So did Michael. So did the others, one by one. Just be careful, they were saying. If the lights start to go out, get clear.
The images were numbing. There were faces at all the ports, and they were all terrified. I saw a line of black symbols on the gray hull. One was clearly intended to represent a comet. The others were apparently French characters from an ancient time, utterly unlike the alphabet we use today. “What does it say, Belle?”
Belle took a moment. Then: “Auric Federation. And below that, the Intrepide. The Auric Federation was an alliance of worlds that existed briefly during the fourth millennium. It came into existence during a politically unstable time. And it dissolved after less than a century.”
“Incredible,” I said. We were looking at the strangest find we could ever have come across, living artifacts.
Nobody said much, not anyone on the Belle-Marie, not the voices from the other ships. The Intrepide's image grew clearer. And, finally, we were looking at it close-up.
Michael called to assure us that the mission couldn't be in better hands. “If it can be done,” he said, “Dot will see to it.”
Suddenly we were looking at the inside of the McCandless airlock. The inside hatch was open, but Dot and Melissa were both in pressure suits. Dot was wearing an imager and a jetpack. “Thought you might want to watch,” she said. “Okay, Melissa, let's do it.”
Melissa walked out of view and returned a moment later with the extra pressure suits. They were tied together with a cable. Two of them, we knew, were small size flex, which meant they could be adapted for kids. She helped load them into the airlock. A light came on. We could no longer see anything except the suits and the outside hatch, but we understood that Melissa had shut the hatch and stayed on the bridge. Dot's hand appeared and pressed the START pad. “Depressurizing,” she said.
It was crowded in there with the suits, which began to drift off the deck. Melissa had shut down the AG. I had my doubts whether Dot and five other people could fit into the airlock.
The process was interminable. While it went on, we also watched the feed from the McCandless scopes, a riveting view of the ancient vehicle. It was difficult to be sure, but it looked no more than about thirty meters away.
I kept staring at the Antares, remembering how the Alpha had grown transparent. Had been gone so quickly.
Then Dot opened the airlock hatch, leaned outside, hooked the cable to a clip, and tied the other end around her waist. She pushed off, stringing out the pressure suits behind her.
The Intrepide opened its airlock. Dot crossed between the ships and landed smoothly beside the open hatch. She climbed in, and, one by one, removed the suits from the cable and pulled them inside with her. When she had them all, she untied the cable from her waist and attached it to the hull. It was apparently magnetized.
Then she squeezed into the airlock and closed the hatch behind her. Again, there was the long wait while the lock pressurized. Two minutes later she stepped into the interior and looked into the faces of the passengers. People who'd been born thousands of years ago. Some were in tears, others cheered, a woman tried to hug Dot but couldn't get her arms around the suit. Then a guy in uniform appeared. The captain. Average height, blond hair cut close, looking vastly relieved.
She removed her helmet and he said something, which was, I'm sure, along the lines of “Thank God.”
Dot looked at the captain and pointed at the suits. “Quick,” she said.
She didn't need a translator. The captain took over. You, he was saying. And you. Put on the suits.
The people he indicated, two women, three, came forward. Everybody else backed away. Made room.
“I count about forty people,” Dot said.
“Dot.” Melissa's voice. “Ready when you are.” I learned later that Melissa was a medical assistant. That this was her first off-world flight.
“This isn't going to end well,” said Alex.
“Damned StarCorps,” I said.
Dot showed them the flex suits, and they quickly decided on two small girls to wear them. One looked like the child we'd seen in the portal.
Another uniformed man appeared. Probably a flight attendant. He produced a sixth pressure suit. There were some efforts at communication, which included smiles, clasping of shoulders, Dot waiting while they decided who would go. Another woman. The choice brought some tears, and a lot of hesitation. She was young and frightened. And she resisted. No, I'll stay where I am. Stay here. Or maybe, Stay with you. In any case, she didn't want to go. More tears flowed.
Dot tried to show them that time was a factor. Make your call, and let's get started. They settled finally on a fourth woman, tall, dark hair, looking vastly relieved.
While they struggled into the suits, somebody did introductions: Lisa, young, maybe nineteen, trying hard not to look scared; Julie, middle-aged, brown eyes, reluctant to leave a male consort; Rowena, with black hair and lips pressed tightly together, not entirely sure she wanted to do this; and Michelle, the replacement.
The captain's lips formed questions, and we knew what they were. What the hell is going on? Where are we? But he didn't waste much time with it.
Back in the McCandless, Melissa, who'd been quiet, just trying to stay out of the way, whispered, “Please, God.”
Dot turned back to the passengers. The two girls had gotten into the flex suits. People around them were lowering their helmets into place. They both looked pale, scared. A tall, outwardly calm guy with a hairbrush mustache, probably their father, was talking with them, trying to reassure them. The girls were maybe twelve and nine. Sisters, I thought.
“We've got two younger children,” said Dot, indicating two who weren't much more than toddlers, a boy and a girl. But they weren't going to fit into the suits. “I'm. not sure how to handle them. Anybody have any suggestions?”
Michael's voice: “Think you can get the lander into the cargo bay?”
“We'll figure something out,” Shara said, speaking to the entire squadron. “Next time, we'll be ready for them.”
They clamped down the helmets, and Dot ran a quick check. She tried to reassure the captain with a smile and by squeezing his arm that, whatever happened, someone would be back. “We'll get you clear,” she said. Then she spoke to Melissa. “Okay, love, on our way.”
Dot indicated that the kids should go into the airlock, and put her own helmet back on. The father kissed each of them as they passed. Then he squeezed Dot's arm and said something to her. He knew she couldn't hear him through the helmet, and wouldn't have understood the language if she could, but the message was clear enough. The captain shook her hand, and she joined the two girls. They looked terrified and relieved and anxious to be out of there. Both had brown eyes. The younger one was trying to talk, and she suddenly started back toward her father. But he shook his head and smiled and said something to her. Go with the nice lady. There was room for only three more adults in the airlock. Julie stepped aside. The others looked briefly at one another, and crowded in.
“I'd, like to have them put Julie into the lock as soon as we leave,” she said, “so she could cross as soon as we're out of the way, but I can't talk to anybody.”
“You're doing fine,” I told her. “Just keep moving.”
The inner hatch closed. It was clearly not designed for six people. No one could move. The girls looked up at their rescuer. The older one smiled. Probably responding to an encouraging grin from Dot, which of course we couldn't see. “You okay?” I asked Dot.
“Yes. I wish Cal would get here.”
Alex never took his eyes from the display. And we heard Melissa again: “Hurry up.” She was talking to the outer hatch, which remained maddeningly, solidly, in place.
“I'm not sure,” said Shara, “that taking the kids from their father was a good idea.”
“Why not?”
“They should not have come off until he was ready to accompany them.”
“But if it goes back under,” I said, “it would be almost seventy years-”
“Not to them, Chase. They'd be together.”
