Orbit Unlimited by Poul Anderson

Author:Poul Anderson [ANDERSON, POUL]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Tags: Science fiction
ISBN: 978-1-4976-9430-9
Publisher: Open Road Media
Published: 2011-09-14T16:00:00+00:00

6

At the bottom of the promontory they were below the clouds, and the Cleft had merged with the general mountainscape. This continued its fall toward the coastal plains, but the trend of peaks and valleys, ridges and ravines, was not visible to a man afoot. For timberline merged with the clouds, in the form of gnarly little trees, and soon the forest enclosed him. He could gauge his rate of descent by an aneroid – or by the quickness with which the trees became tall, the temperature rose, and his head felt stuffy. From patches of meadow he could see alps, remote above the leaves, their highest points vanishing into the sky. He could note how swiftly the livers ran and how deep their gorges were carved. But otherwise he knew only the forest.

If the boy had made it thus far, he would surely have lost his way in a few minutes. The searchers hung yet another beacon bracelet in a tree, checked compass and pedometer, and started off in a spiral. Not that they could maintain the pattern to more than the vaguest approximation, in that broken and overgrown country.

Eventually they must halt, for supper and sleep. Since, luckily, the weather didn’t threaten rain, this involved little more than heating some food and inflating the sleeping bags. After placing a sentinel cell on a log to sweep the area with its beams, they lay down. Svoboda tumbled into unconsciousness.

A buzz awoke him. For a moment, disoriented, he thought it was the sentinel, then realized it was only his wrist-watch alarm. He didn’t want to get up. However tired, he had slept badly. Muscles and head ached, his brain was clogged with half-remembered evil dreams. He unglued his eyes. Thirst made his mouth abominable.

‘Here.’ Coffin handed him a canteen. The older man was already dressed. His clothes were rumpled, his chin unshaven, the flesh seemed melted from his bones. But he moved with feverish energy and excitement tinged his voice. ‘Hurry up and get functional. I’ve something to show you.’

Svoboda drank deeply, splashed water on his face, and crawled from the bag. His lungs toiled. According to the barometer, they were now at five Terrestrial atmospheres. Since carbon dioxide was denser than oxygen or nitrogen, it would have an even larger density gradient. He tried to control the hyperventilation it induced, but couldn’t do much for the headache and mental fuzziness.

Clad, he went over to Coffin, who sat on the ground by a portable rack in which were several test tubes and a miniature electronic box with four dials. An ovoid yellow fruit, a cluster of red berries, a soft tuber, and a few varieties of nut were spread on the ground before him, together with some ampoules. Svoboda couldn’t interpret his expression. Hope, eagerness, gratitude, awe?

‘What’ve you got?’ Svoboda asked.

‘A food testing kit. Haven’t you seen one before?’

‘Not like that. I’ve seen Leigh drive around in his lab truck, checking plant and meat samples. Though not for a long time, come to think of it.

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