Death on Venus by Ben Bova

“Copy you ready for transfer, Captain. Hesperos main airlock is cycled, outer hatch open and waiting for your arrival.”

“Activate trolley,” she commanded.

“Activating.”

I felt a very slight tug on my tether, and then all of us were moving toward the distant Hesperos, accelerating now, sliding down the long Buckyball cable like a small school of minnows flashing across a pond. Hesperos seemed to be coming up at us awfully fast; I thought we’d crash into her, but I kept silent. Sometimes you’d rather die than make an ass of yourself.

Sure enough, the trolley smoothly decelerated, slowly coming to a stop as the seven of us swung on our tethers like a trained team of acrobats in a silent ballet until we were facing down toward Hesperos. I marvelled that we went through the maneuver without bumping one another, but Rodriguez later told me it was simple Newtonian mechanics at work. My respects to Sir Isaac.

The trolley stopped about ten meters from the open airlock hatch, with us hanging by our tethers with our boots a mere meter or so from Hesperos’ hull. As we had done in the virtual reality simulations, Duchamp unhooked her tether and dropped to the hatch, her knees bending as her boots hit the hull soundlessly.

She stepped into the airlock, disappearing into its shadowed depth for a moment. Then her bubble helmet and shoulders emerged from the hatch and she beckoned to me.

“Welcome aboard, Mr. Humphries,” she said. “As owner, you should be the first to board Hesperos. After me, of course.”

THE END

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