Launching
was smoother than he expected, after spending so much time on
his back, reweaving the guts of the shuttle's systems. Lucas took
the shuttle above the level of the treetops and turned all his
attention to the instrument panel. The first few test maneuvers
were slow and gentle. Wide turns, ascents and descents, easing
into the thrusters, stabilizers and attitude jets.
So
far, so good. He winced when beads
of sweat trickled into his eyes. More nervous than I thought,
I guess.
He
doubled the altitude, pointing the nose into an eighty-degree
angle. The stabilizers shuddered, then smoothed. The engines rumbled
smoothly. Every light on the instrument panel stayed green without
a flicker.
Down
again, banking steeply to the left to circle the campsite. Not
a complaint from either engines or controls. Lucas listened to
the whistling of wind past the shuttle ports.
That's
odd.
Was
it too loud? Should there be that much resistance, that many cracks
and protrusions in the shell to catch the wind?
His
head snapped forward. Lucas nearly bit his tongue, then realized
the shuttle had dropped. He estimated two meters.
The
shriek of the wind changed tone, ending with a bang that shook
the shuttle. Air moved up from the rear compartment, cold, with
suction like a vacuum had opened.
Half
the lights on the panel blinked off, then back on. The other half
turned orange and stayed steady.
The
shuttle tipped left when the stabilizers died without warning.
The indicator lights on the panel stayed green.
Can't
trust anything, Lucas decided. He
focused on the viewport and gripped the attitude stick in one
hand, his other hand splayed over the buttons that controlled
the engine and thrusters.
More
sweat beaded into his eyes during the elongated time between the
shuttle dropping and touchdown. He did it all by feel, listening
to what his body told him, and ignored the lying messages of the
control panel and indicator lights. He watched the trees and then
the ground grow closer in the viewport and concentrated on the
feel of gravity to know what was straight and tell up from down.
When
he cut the thrusters, the shuttle dropped again, maybe half a
meter. Lucas turned off the power and sat staring out the viewport,
listening to his heart slow to a normal pace, sweat filling his
eyes like tears. His hand wouldn't loosen from the stick. His
other hand lay limp on the now-dead control panel. If he tried
to lift it, he knew it would shake.
I
hate machines.
Kay'li
pounded on the hatch controls, opening it from the outside. Lucas
forced himself to move, turning to meet her as she scrambled inside.
Her fear smelled sharply sweet and she clung to him, soaking up
his fear stink and sweat.