Did a sob answer his deliberately impersonal words? He decided not to ask. Dayan went about her tasks as competently as always.
The truth came out as he slipped a cable off his shoulder and began uncoiling it. Under low weight and Coriolis force, it writhed from him like a snake. He heard her voice gone high and thin. “Rico, I’m afraid.”
Astounded, he could merely say, “We don’t dare be afraid.”
“Not for me.” She caught his arm. “For you, darling.” Her free hand jerked toward the wheel. “I’m remembering how Al Brent must have died.”
“That was long ago and far away.” Six thousand years and light-years. Not enough to grant forgetfulness.
Her tone firmed. “Let me go first. We can better spare me.”
“No.” He shook his head, unseen by her within the helmet. “I’ve had much more open-space practice. We stay by the plan we’ve rehearsed.”
“But if you are — caught —”
“I won’t be. If somehow I am, you return at once to the boat and take her back. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” she said after a moment. “Forgive my foolishness. It’s just that I love you.”
“And I you. Which is another reason I cannot let you lead.” Maybe she visualized his grin. “Besides, allow me my machismo.”
She laughed shakily and embraced him. Their helmets clinked together.
The cable, a thin and flexible strand stronger than any steel, floated in an are. He used the molecular bond attachments to stick an end to the front of her suit. She fixed the other end to the back of his. When he leaped free, she waved, then stood waiting, a soldier’s daughter.
He activated his drive unit and curbed his outward flight. The next few minutes would be touchier than rendezvous and docking had been. Though turning speeds this near the hub weren’t great, they were opposed; the space between units was narrow; the angular momenta were gigantic. He lost himself in the crossing, as a man may lose himself in battle or a storm at sea or the height of love. Not reckless by nature, he still found in unavoidable danger the fullness of life. The blood sang in him.
His mind stood aside, wholly aware, coolly gauging and governing.
He drew near a spoke, fifteen meters from the axle, and adjusted vectors until the eight-hundred-meter length was steady in his eyes. He edged inward. He swung his body around. His boots made contact. The impact was slight. He must have matched velocities within a few centimeters per second. Excellent! He took half a minute to stand triumphant among the marching stars.
Peering back, he verified that the cable was not fouled. He reached around, undid it from his suit, and attached it to the spoke. “All clear, Hanny,” he called. “Are you ready?”
“Yes, oh, yes.”
“Jump.”
The line began to straighten as her mass moved offside. He caught hold and pulled, hand over hand. Draw her in. He felt how she used nudges of drive to counteract drift. Good girl, grand girl. Probably she could have made it safely on her own, as he did. But why take a needless risk? Whoever met the wheel while flying would spatter through space in chunks. He was better trained.
That was why he had elected to walk from the boat, rather than flitting directly. The first engineers to come, led by Alanndoch, must duplicate his transit. But they were young and — well — Maybe they could rig a net for those who followed. And eventually they’d have a shuttle from Envoy, for easy passage between wheel and hull.
That’s if we find any reason to do the work. His exultation congealed.
Dayan arrived. He hugged her, one-armed, and gathered in the cable. They’d want it again later. Lateral weight here was about one-twentieth g, though Coriolis force complicated movement.
Dayan went to the entry port. “Uh-oh,” he heard.
“What?” He got the strand back on his spacesuit and joined her. She pointed. “This is not an airlock according to plan,” she said.
“No.” He examined the hinged metal box that had been added in front, the traces of welding and hand tools. Cautiously opening the door, which faced spinward, he saw through murk that the box was a chamber barely adequate to accommodate a man. The door was airtight. When dogged shut, it could be opened with a single turn. A tube fastened at the rear seemed to have been a battery-powered lamp. An inscription was painted on the inside of the door. He had acquired enough Kithish to read it: