exchange.
“Let me explain the sled’s workings,” Skar said.
“Why? You’re doing fine.”
“I must leave you, my friend. The sled—”
“If you step off this thing, I’m stepping off it, too,” Cyrus said.
“That does not make sense,” Skar said. “You must warn your home system of the Kresh. I wish to aid you in that.”
“Are you tired of living?”
“No. That is not—”
“I didn’t think you soldiers believed in suicide.”
“Why do you attempt to belittle my sacrifice?” Skar asked.
“Work the sled,” Cyrus said. “Ask me philosophical questions once we’re down.”
The antigravity sled shook even worse than before. The heat under Cyrus’s foot became unbearable. He switched feet again. Skar adjusted the controls. Whatever he did made it worse. Smoke began billowing out of the antigrav plate. The machine lurched, and lurched again, taking them down faster.
“It cannot handle two of us, not at this velocity,” Skar said.
“Burn it out. Make the bastard work for its death.”
Skar stared at him through his bubble helmet. At last, the soldier shrugged. He adjusted the controls, and Cyrus nearly shouted at the heat burning through his sole.
The smoke intensified, and the next lurch almost threw him off. Then, moment by moment, the smoke went from black to gray to whitish, and then it became a trickle. The heat dissipated, and a grin spread across the soldier’s face.
“I’m eating up battery power,” Skar explained. “We may not have enough juice to land.”
Cyrus watched the mountains, and then concentrated on one range in particular, the one closest to them. A huge zigzagging crack showed the valley beside it.
“I can steer for a time,” Skar said. “Do you have any suggestions?”
What made the most sense ? Then Cyrus had it. “Yeah,” he said. “If you see any primitives—humans—land near them.”
“You wish to land near a clan on the uplands?” asked Skar.
“Exactly,” Cyrus said.
“I can see nothing from this height.”
“I realize that. So steer for the plains.”
For the next few minutes, they floated down toward the surface. The sled lurched again, and a high-pitched whine began. It told Cyrus they were farther down then he realized, deep in the atmosphere. Clearly, the sled didn’t have long to live.
The mountain range, seemingly underneath them, shifted to the left. The same thing happened with the deep valley.
“How far away from the mountains do you wish to be?” Skar asked.
“Two days’ march, I guess,” Cyrus said.
The antigravity sled began swaying back and forth like a swing. The trickle of smoke increased, and it became black-colored again. If the sled gave out, they were dead. It was as simple as that.
“Too bad we couldn’t have landed the needle-ship,” Cyrus said.
“We live,” the soldier said.
Something about that, or the way Skar said it, struck him as funny. Cyrus threw back his head and laughed. Yeah, he lived all right. Despite everything, this was just plain cool. He rode an antigravity sled down from space. If he couldn’t enjoy this, then what could he enjoy? The aliens had shot their ship to pieces and he was still alive. Screw them, anyway.
“Are you well?” Skar asked.
Cyrus looked down at the nearing red plains. He spied a field of boulders and then tall, spindly grass. “I’m great!” he shouted. “We’re going to make it, my friend. We escaped from High Station 3 and we reached the damn planetoid. I don’t know about you, but I think that’s fantastic.”
“The odds were against us, certainly,” Skar said.
“We’re going to win,” Cyrus said, as fierce resolve beat in his chest. “We’re going to warn Earth. I don’t know how, but I know I’m not quitting, ever. If we can jump off orbital wreckage and land here on the surface—”
The antigravity sled gave the worst lurch yet, and it dropped.
“What just happened?” Cyrus shouted.
“You cursed us,” Skar said. “You
“Let me explain the sled’s workings,” Skar said.
“Why? You’re doing fine.”
“I must leave you, my friend. The sled—”
“If you step off this thing, I’m stepping off it, too,” Cyrus said.
“That does not make sense,” Skar said. “You must warn your home system of the Kresh. I wish to aid you in that.”
“Are you tired of living?”
“No. That is not—”
“I didn’t think you soldiers believed in suicide.”
“Why do you attempt to belittle my sacrifice?” Skar asked.
“Work the sled,” Cyrus said. “Ask me philosophical questions once we’re down.”
The antigravity sled shook even worse than before. The heat under Cyrus’s foot became unbearable. He switched feet again. Skar adjusted the controls. Whatever he did made it worse. Smoke began billowing out of the antigrav plate. The machine lurched, and lurched again, taking them down faster.
“It cannot handle two of us, not at this velocity,” Skar said.
“Burn it out. Make the bastard work for its death.”
Skar stared at him through his bubble helmet. At last, the soldier shrugged. He adjusted the controls, and Cyrus nearly shouted at the heat burning through his sole.
The smoke intensified, and the next lurch almost threw him off. Then, moment by moment, the smoke went from black to gray to whitish, and then it became a trickle. The heat dissipated, and a grin spread across the soldier’s face.
“I’m eating up battery power,” Skar explained. “We may not have enough juice to land.”
Cyrus watched the mountains, and then concentrated on one range in particular, the one closest to them. A huge zigzagging crack showed the valley beside it.
“I can steer for a time,” Skar said. “Do you have any suggestions?”
What made the most sense ? Then Cyrus had it. “Yeah,” he said. “If you see any primitives—humans—land near them.”
“You wish to land near a clan on the uplands?” asked Skar.
“Exactly,” Cyrus said.
“I can see nothing from this height.”
“I realize that. So steer for the plains.”
For the next few minutes, they floated down toward the surface. The sled lurched again, and a high-pitched whine began. It told Cyrus they were farther down then he realized, deep in the atmosphere. Clearly, the sled didn’t have long to live.
The mountain range, seemingly underneath them, shifted to the left. The same thing happened with the deep valley.
“How far away from the mountains do you wish to be?” Skar asked.
“Two days’ march, I guess,” Cyrus said.
The antigravity sled began swaying back and forth like a swing. The trickle of smoke increased, and it became black-colored again. If the sled gave out, they were dead. It was as simple as that.
“Too bad we couldn’t have landed the needle-ship,” Cyrus said.
“We live,” the soldier said.
Something about that, or the way Skar said it, struck him as funny. Cyrus threw back his head and laughed. Yeah, he lived all right. Despite everything, this was just plain cool. He rode an antigravity sled down from space. If he couldn’t enjoy this, then what could he enjoy? The aliens had shot their ship to pieces and he was still alive. Screw them, anyway.
“Are you well?” Skar asked.
Cyrus looked down at the nearing red plains. He spied a field of boulders and then tall, spindly grass. “I’m great!” he shouted. “We’re going to make it, my friend. We escaped from High Station 3 and we reached the damn planetoid. I don’t know about you, but I think that’s fantastic.”
“The odds were against us, certainly,” Skar said.
“We’re going to win,” Cyrus said, as fierce resolve beat in his chest. “We’re going to warn Earth. I don’t know how, but I know I’m not quitting, ever. If we can jump off orbital wreckage and land here on the surface—”
The antigravity sled gave the worst lurch yet, and it dropped.
“What just happened?” Cyrus shouted.
“You cursed us,” Skar said. “You
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