You should be prepared for substantial acceleration. Grey calculates that we must endure over two normal gravities within a few more seconds.
A vast hand mashed Killeen into the floor. It grasped his chest and would not let him breathe. Toby lay pale and drawn on the other side of the compartment. “Shibo…” he got out, but no more. She lay still and white.
Time slowed to a plodding succession of painful heart thuds. Killeen’s sensorium seemed filled with wet sand.
Hollow, drawn-out thumps and pops reverberated through the compartment. He tried to reach for Shibo’s hand. Even with his motored right arm his fingers could not crawl across the slight space between them.
This acceleration is partly gravity and partly centripetal. As we rise, the gravitational component lessens as the inverse square. The centripetal fraction, however, is constant and—
Killeen moved his lips soundlessly. “How… long…”
I estimate from observation (not that Grey is any use in this—she is really quite spotty in her recollections) that the object touches down into the atmosphere roughly every twenty minutes. We should experience less than two gravities for one-quarter of this period, as we swing up. That will occur in about five minutes. However, we face a worse problem before that. In fact, the effects are becoming apparent.
Killeen’s ears popped.
We are leaving the atmosphere.
It was hopeless. His arms were leaden logs. He could not reach his helmet to twist the screw-seal. And he did not know if the rugged treatment of the last few days had kept the O-rings intact.
Wind whistled through the compartment.
The shrill sound came from hair-thin seams in the wall.
For a long moment as the immense hand continued to squeeze him, Killeen could think of nothing. Then he marshaled his thoughts and let a pointed, simple message sit solidly in the forefront of his mind.
A strumming answer came. Cloudy, diffuse, as if it issued from several throats at once. The Cyber’s voice.
Yes. We will try.
Something slapped against the outside skin of the Cyber. A sticky blue glob oozed out along the seam lines. The whistling died. An acrid smoke rose from the blue fluid. Killeen knew it was some internal pap the Cyber used. It gave off a foul odor. He fought an impulse to cough and retch. But the seams held. The screech of escaping air died away.
The immense weight now lessened. Killeen could turn his head a fraction and see the screen wall.
Outside, the Skysower stretched up into blueblack emptiness. He was looking along the great chestnut-colored length of it. Shrubs nearby were flattened against the rough bark. The wind’s high bowl tore fruitlessly at them.
Skysower was a great cable stretching into the steadily darkening sky. Ebony laminations reached along it. Ash-blond segments like cross-struts connected these into a grid. They hugged the woody curve of the bark and the fierce gale could find no edge to pry them up.
The solid, implacable roar made their compartment vibrate like a living thing. Its hammering ferocity rose. Killeen wondered how long even the Cyber’s strength could hold it moored there.
Suddenly the noise muted as though someone had thrown a switch.
We are exceeding the speed of sound, I believe.
Along the towering length Killeen saw thin hickory-colored edges rise. They were like ailerons, sculpting the air. Long, strumming notes came through to Killeen.
It appears to be guiding itself like a giant flying wing. Net acceleration is lessening as we rise into the upper atmosphere. The structure is relaxing.
Pops and creaks rang out.
“I… what’s…” Toby got out between clenched teeth.
“Hold on.”
“Besen…”
“She’s quick.” Killeen tried to fill his voice with reassurance. “She’ll get away from that fight.”
Shibo’s wound was worse. He tightened her bandage but working against the heavy acceleration made him clumsy. The systems damage worried him most. He wished he could tell Toby something to relieve the anxiety he read in the boy’s face. He had no idea where they were going.
If the Cyber can cling to this for another fifteen minutes we may be able to leap off. Then we will be one-sixth of the way around the planet’s equator and quite beyond the dangers of the other Cybers.
“Yeasay,” Killeen managed to say. “And we’ll slam into the ground.”
True, our total acceleration downward will be considerable, about 2.4 gravities. But at the optimum moment, as the tip hovers over the surface, we can in principle simply step off, with only a net sidewise velocity. Then perhaps the Cyber can fly us to safety.
Such theoretical events seemed far away compared with the cycling of Shibo’s indices. Her face was untroubled and chalk white.
Outside, the last haze of blue faded into hard black. Nearby stars bit brightly at his eyes. Molecular clouds gave their gauzy wash to the vault.
Killeen’s thoughts came like thick syrup. The immense hand that pressed him to the floor had eased for a while. Now it leaned harder. His chest ached with the effort of breathing. He wondered distantly how long their air in the cramped compartment would last.
We shall be in high vacuum for about eight minutes more. I believe you can survive easily.
But Arthur did not feel the gathering ache that spread from his chest and into his arms and legs. Much more of this and Shibo would lose consciousness—which might not be a bad idea, except that Killeen did not know what they would have to do to survive. If the Cyber failed…
He could no longer afford the luxury of speculation. Living was labor enough. He turned his attention to the increasing effort of forcing breath into his lungs. His heart thudded in slow, tortured beats.
He grasped with leaden fingers for Shibo. A slight labored heave told him she still breathed.
