We can have it all

50

Mark Jacobs let the hydraulic pressure rise against the piston. The shining steel slug moved forward into the cylinder, and Jacobs watched the pressure indicator scroll upward as the kg/sq cm rose toward the liquification point of the captured hydrogen. This was the forty-seventh time he'd gone through the process, and every time he felt his palms grow wet with nervousness. The snaking hoses that led away from the pressure pump to the fuel storage tanks had been checked and rechecked each time the procedure was completed, but it still made him nervous. Jacobs was well-versed in the theory of statistics, and he knew the first rule: if there exists any chance of a disaster occurring, no matter how slight, it will happen if the procedure is repeated often enough.

Although a liquid hydrogen leak would cool itself as it expanded, a hydrogen-rich atmosphere was not pleasant to contemplate. Any spark—ANY spark—would set it off. The only good thing was that if it happened, Jacobs wouldn't be in any condition to worry about it. He tried to console himself with the thought that he wouldn't suffer from horrifyingly disfiguring burns.

He watched the kg/sq cm scroll to liquefication and held the pressure to let the piston and cylinder coed. Then he opened the valve and saw the hoses stiffen with the liquid hydrogen. The piston crept forward as the hydrogen rushed through the hoses to the tanks. The pressure dropped, and Jacobs began to breathe again.

Outside the DropShip, Parker Davud had crews excavating the landing pads and thruster ports. The pads were easy compared to the difficulty of digging all the way under the ship's ovoid body to open the venturi. Finally the workers resorted to tunneling under the DropShip to reach the openings, which permitted Davud to squirm through to inspect the conic thruster exhausts. They seemed undamaged by the landing, although the number five cone showed some distortion.

Inside the hull itself, Goodall supervised the placement of the Locust's medium laser in the fusion generator. The other techs had salvaged enough tritium from the coolant water of the Locust's core to initiate fusion if enough heat could be applied. The magnetic containment bottle was ready. Now it was only a matter of throwing the switches, which were, at the moment, in Mark Jacobs' pocket. He had insisted, and reasonably so, that all circuits be absolutely dead while he generated the liquid hydrogen. The only assurance he would accept was to have all the switches with him until fueling was complete. Even then, he demanded that the area be swept for pockets of hydrogen before they went any further. The more fuel he created, the more paranoid he became. As did they all.

Sagiri Johnson took over the dismantling of the Locust, though there was little of any value still on the 'Mech. The machine guns and ammunition were stowed aboard the DropShip, although the vessel itself had plenty of inherent firepower. They would also keep the medium laser or at least the guts of it, onboard the ship. The three-meter-long barrel would remain where it was, at the request of the Tetatae. They wanted to keep the Locust as a reminder of what they had been through and as a visible symbol of their legend fulfilled.

Takuda had granted their request, as long as the Tetatae let the humans salvage all usable equipment.. He did not know what he and his people would face on Far Country, nor did he think it a good idea to leave the Tetatae with advanced technology they didn't understand. All it would take was for one of them to figure it out to unleash a chaos they could probably not control. The fusion core would be the last thing they would shut down. It would remain in the Locust, mainly because it would not be of any value. If the DropShip's core failed, two cold power plants wouldn't do its passengers and crew any good.

The refugees continued to work on the DropShip, now re-named Noah's Ark, until the supervisors reported that they were ready. All systems had been checked and re-checked. All reparable damage had been repaired. The fusion generator was up and functioning, the fuel tanks were full. It was time to load.

But what to take? There was no telling what kind of environment they would face or whether they would find anything edible on their new homeworld. Yet they didn't want to upset a functioning ecosystem by introducing alien species. They chose carefully those plants and animals that seemed most benign. Choosing plants was easy enough; it was the animals that proved difficult. They decided to take neither fish, nor fowl, nor beasts. If they found any of those on Far Country, fine. If not, the humans would just live without them. But insects and worms were another kind of problem. Any vegetation they took would require pollination and fertilization, for which they would need the bugs and stuff. The "two of each kind" idea proved more difficult than anyone at first imagined. DEST members, techs, and humans scoured the fields and woodlands for insects that crawled, burrowed, and flew. For days they wandered about with thin mesh nets in hand, leaping after any tiny thing that often flitted maddeningly away.

But finally the task was accomplished. Without a biologist on the team, the refugees had needed to observe the plants they wanted to take to learn what kinds of insects played around them. That also took some time. They'd also had to catalog and store the specimens, tucking them safely away for the journey. The plants also had to be fed. They had to be watered. Tessarak's people even claimed that they had to be sung to sleep at night.

Jacobs and Davud collaborated on the Ark's navigation. Lacking a true navigator, they were making it up as they went along. The huge surface of Far Country was an easy target, but since it was pointless trying to choose one point over another, they simply picked the center of the mass and hoped for the best. The general coordinates of the proposed landing zone were plugged into the computer and then checked for three consecutive days. The computer would get them somewhere within the center of a hundred-kilometer circle. After that it would be up to Davud and Jacobs to get the ship down.

The loading doors swung shut and sealed. Personnel doors were closed and dogged down. Checking for leaks, Davud let the pressure rise inside the hull. He held the pressure there for a full ten minutes; there was no decrease. The hull was sound. He started down the computerized check list.

"Inertial guidance?"

"Check."

"Initial firing sequence?"

"Check."

All computer systems and back-up. Landing hydraulics. Secondary firing system. Primary thrusters. Directional vanes. Everything checked. Davud touched the internal commlink panel. "Now hear this. Now hear this. Noah's Ark prepared for liftoff in five minutes. All personnel to stations." The last order was unnecessary. The crew and refugees were already securely strapped into, their flight stations.

Davud took a deep breath and began the countdown firing sequence. Fuel valves were opened and checked. Green board. Ignition sequence was checked for the last time. Green board. He rocked the landing legs to help break the vacuum under the Ark. Everything still green. He watched the clock scroll backward as the sensor panels came on line. In the adjoining seat, Jacobs was opening the engine ports. One last diagnostic of the systems. Green board.

"Ten, nine, eight, seven, ignite initiators, six, five, open fuel outlet ports, four...."

"We have ignition."

"... three, two ..."

"Full burn."

"... one. Power valves open."

"Power valves open. Green board."

Flame blasted the ground away from the venturi mouths, creating great chunks of sod and stone under a white-hot cloud. The Ark trembled as the thrust from the six engines struggled to break the legs free. "Liftoff!"

Davud thought he could hear cheering from the personnel bays as the Ark drifted slightly in its rise above the surface, though still without enough thrust for rapid acceleration. Then the power began to take hold, and the DropShip lifted on a pillar of flame many times as tall as the ship itself. With a shattering roar it climbed straight into the sky and vanished from the sight of those on the ground below.

At the forest edge a kilometer away, the Tetatae watched the fire rise into the sky. The humans, those who came from the sky with fire, had gone again in the same way they had come. Someday they might return, but that would be another legend.

Beneath the Ark as it passed westward, gaining altitude with every millisecond, the circle of the planet grew rapidly smaller. The ship's navigator and commander were too busy watching their destination to see the circles of fire that outlined the enclaves or the smoke that hung over them. In the great open plain of the Usugumo, the Javelin and Panther stalked each other.