The Spheres of Heaven (tmp-2) by Charles Sheffield

Author:Charles Sheffield [Sheffield, Charles]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: sf
ISBN: 0-671-31969-8
Publisher: Baen
Published: 2001-03-19T05:00:00+00:00

* * *

He couldn’t recall anything in his life as frustrating as the next four hours.

The waves had moved the Mood Indigo as far as they could, until the ship was firmly grounded halfway along the river valley. The ship was now in no danger, but unfortunately it had not been moved quite far enough. Friday had no way to leave it and survive, as long as the waves remained big enough to lift a suited man and smash him on the rocks.

He fidgeted and fretted, doing all the possibly useful and time-consuming things that he could think of. The airlock, if and when he finally got to use it, was positioned above the waterline. He made sure that it was ready to use as soon as the waves subsided enough. Supplies, he might need supplies. He packed enough concentrated food for a week into a small backpack. Water was available, there was even too much of it, but an empty bottle might come in handy. Yes, and he mustn’t forget a translation unit — one that he hoped would perform a sight better than the piece of junk he had tried on the witless bubble-brains.

It was slow work, moving about in a ship that had been turned through ninety degrees so that walls became floor and floor became a wall. The occasional super-wave thumped and pummeled hard enough to be worrying. Even so, he had done everything that could be done in less than an hour. Then it was a long, infuriating wait, with another worry: Night was approaching on Limbo. He could certainly spend thirteen hours of darkness on board the Mood Indigo , but he just as certainly didn’t want to. He had not been able to coax an enhanced picture out of the battered imaging equipment — that sort of thing was one of the fat oaf Rombelle’s few talents — but by staring out of a port until his eyes ached he believed that he could make out minute black dots moving near the two buildings on the shore. Sizes at such a distance were deceptive, but he guessed at something maybe a meter high. Midgets, if they were built like people. But the dots that he saw seemed much longer than they were tall.

Three more hours and it would be dark. He couldn’t bear to wait any longer. The waves seemed smaller, and once he got close to the buildings on the shore they would surely present no danger. He clambered awkwardly into the lock. Operating it when everything was turned through ninety degrees was not easy, but finally he had it open and could look sideways and down at the water below.

Smaller they might be, but the waves still hit the hull of the Mood Indigo with frightening force and speed. He guessed the peak-to-trough distance as three meters. Much bigger than he’d thought when staring out of a ship’s port. But that was only here, near the ship. Ahead, by the buildings on the shore, the waves damped down to one-third the size.

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