That was one hell of a non sequitur.
Yes wasn’t what Rikki wanted to hear. No was hardly credible. Ignoring the question wasn’t an option. Blake settled on, “Carlos certainly thinks so.”
A sniff said he had taken too long to answer. So was Rikki’s funk about Li?
After the third microsat was deployed, returned to the world’s day side, Blake called, “Endeavour, this is Discovery. We’re ready to go in.”
“Copy that.” In a softer voice, Dana added, “Take care, Discovery.”
“Always,” Blake said. “Discovery, out.”
With a blast of their main drive he shed velocity. The shuttle trembled at the first wisps of atmosphere. He swung left, then right, getting a feel for the bite of the shuttle’s control surfaces. Lower and lower they plunged, and the tremor became a quiver became a bone-rattling shudder. The leading edge of their wings glowed a dull orange.
Nothing about their descent was quite what he expected. The atmosphere was shallower than over any world where he had ever flown, because of Dark’s high gravity. The pressure varied more rapidly with altitude, for the same reason. His laser altimeter started talking nonsense again. His backup altimeter was useless, still calibrated for atmospheric pressure above Mars.
He had radar and eyeballs. They would suffice.
His controls kept refusing to act as his instincts expected: pressure-gradient differences again. He put the craft into a steeper dive, pulled out of it, banked left, then jinked back right. Tearing through experimental banks and turns, he began to get the feel of his craft and this world.
“If you do a barrel roll,” Rikki said, “I’ll divorce you.”
Blake had to laugh. This was fun. “No rolls,” he agreed.
The world became flat. Plains as colorless as charcoal stretched in every direction. To the west he glimpsed a great crevasse. From the topo map compiled on orbit, that was a river canyon.
The gravity wore at him, just sitting—and it was worse for Rikki.
At about eight thousand meters, the shuttle broke through a thin, uniform layer of white. Ice crystals spattered off the canopy. Cirrostratus, he wanted to call the formation, too ignorant of weather processes to even guess if Dark and Earth would share cloud types. Maybe Antonio would know.
They had slowed enough to be out of comm blackout. (Under Earth conditions, he reminded himself.) He gave radio a try. “Endeavour, this is Discovery. Do you read?”
“Good to hear from you, Discovery,” Dana said. “Though to judge from the ionization trail behind you, someone enjoyed the ride too much.”
“Negative,” Blake said. “Just the proper amount.”
“No, Dana, you were right,” Rikki said.
A blue-and-green dappled expanse was straight ahead of them. The inland sea was long and skinny, with a slight bend at its midsection. Except for the color it reminded Blake of a summer squash.
But the sea was a lot bigger than a summer squash. If his mental arithmetic was correct, the sea covered an expanse bigger than Lake Superior. Two of the many bays that dimpled the seacoast had to be bigger than cities. Radar indicated depths to eighty meters. Most of the lake bottom failed to return an echo; the center must be far deeper.
Blake said, “Endeavour, we have a beautiful afternoon. We’ll do a quick flyover, then set down at our first landing zone.”
“Copy that,” Dana said.
Exploring the area they crossed a great chasm. They soared along a mountain chain that must rival the Andes. Dark was…magnificent. Reveling in the stark beauty and the freedom of flight, swooping through the empty skies, time got away from him.
By the time he circled back to the sea, the sun, about to set, almost kissed the waters. (“It’s Plato,” Li’s astral projection scolded.) The star, by whatever name, sent its rays almost parallel to the ground. The light cast the weathered, snow-capped mountains east of the waters into stark relief. Broken ground and boulder fields extended almost to the toffee-colored beach.
“I have to set us down near the shore,” he said.
“Is that a problem?”
“Only for the morning. We’ll have a long walk to the caves.”
She said, “A walk by sunlight, in fresh air. I’ll take it.”
He brought them in low and slow, paralleling the coastline. As near to the cave mouth as he dared to land, he engaged drive deflectors and—gingerly, still getting the feel of this gravity—set down. The faint rattle of pebbles against the shuttle’s underbelly was his imagination, of course; the drive exhaust had fused sand and loose rocks into place.
“Endeavour, he reported, “Discovery has landed.”
“Copy that,” Dana said. “And it’s about time you finished joyriding.”
“You’ll have your turn,” Blake said.
“Yeah, yeah. Enjoy your evening. Endeavour, out.”
“Discovery, out,” he responded.
He read the ground temps with IR sensors. Still hot. He got out Mars-style breather masks and lobbed one over his shoulder to Rikki. He checked the IR sensors. He and Rikki admired the fiery sunset sparkling off the waters. He checked the IR sensors. They marveled as the apple-green sky faded to something closer to olive. He checked the IR sensors. He reached overhead with both arms, tap-tapping on the canopy till Rikki kicked the back of his seat. She checked the IR sensors.
When, at last, sensors showed they could safely exit the shuttle, the wind had kicked up. The sun had half-vanished beneath the sea. Two moons hung overhead, and the waves lapped to within several meters of their landing skids.
“Are you ready to make camp?” he asked.
“Sure,” she said. “Ready, in any event, for an air mattress.”
“Mask on?” he asked.
“Mask on.”
“Releasing the canopy,” he advised her, and then did. To the wailing of the wind, louder with each centimeter that the gap widened, the canopy receded into its stowage in the hull.
Grit pelted him. The air was cold, and it refused to fill his lungs. He slipped on his breather mask, then gloves. He shouted over the wind, “Stay put.”
He hung the boarding ladder outside, hooked over the rim of the cockpit. Leg muscles screaming, he stepped down the three rungs and onto
