The Valiant - Michael Jan Friedman [107]
Brace yourselves , he thought.
They looked at each other as they slid into their shock bunks, needing no wordssilent or otherwiseto communicate their feelings. Whether they survived or not, whether their temperamental dampers held or failed, they had fought the good fight.
They had discovered a strength in themselves that few members of their species ever came to know.
Neither Gardenhire nor any of the others had a single regret.
Then they punched through the surface of the bay. The impact sent rattlings of pain through the navigators skeleton, despite the gelatinous padding that lined his bunk. For a moment, he wondered if they might have hit something more than watersome submerged spine of land, perhaps.
Then he craned his neck to look out the observation portal and saw silver bubbles clustering around them like living seacrea-tures, enveloping them in an intricately woven cocoon of oxygen-rich atmosphere.
Slowly, feeling for injuries all the while, Gardenhire emerged from his bunk. One by one, the others did the same.
Everyone all right? asked Williamson, who looked a little dazed.
Santana felt his jaw. Could have been worse.
Daniels kneaded his neck muscles. You can say that again.
How far down are we? asked Coquillette.
The navigator checked his control panel, but his screen was blank. I wish I could say. We must have lost external sensors when we hit.
OShaugnessy looked out the portal. Who needs external sensors? Id say we have five meters of water above us, tops.
And were rising, Williamson added, his eyes closed in concentration as he made the judgment.
Gardenhire concentrated as well and came to the same conclusion. Their mantle of bubbles was dissolving, abandoning them, and the waves above were getting closer. Finally, with an effervescent bounce, the pod broke the surface of the bay.
Look! said Santana, pointing to the portal.
The navigator looked through the transparent plate, which was dappled with prismatic droplets. In the distance, past a stretch of undulating blue water, he could see the rocky coastline they had managed to avoid. From here, it looked friendly, even inviting.
I want to get out, Coquillette said suddenly.
Daniels grinned. Me too.
Gardenhire considered it. There might be jagged rocks just under the surface, or a school of carnivorous sea monsters. But he knew how much the others wanted to leave the pod, because he wanted to leave it also.
Lets get a little closer to shore first, he advised, running contrary to the current of enthusiasm.
Despite their urge to leave their artificial womb behind, the others agreed to do as the navigator asked. By then, working in concert had become almost second nature. They got the pod skidding through the waves rather easily and came within twenty meters of shore.
At that point, even Gardenhire couldnt stop them. They pried open the hatch cover and spilled out into the waterfirst Coquillette, then Daniels, then Williamson and Santana. Gardenhire was about to come out too when OShaugnessy gave him an unexpected shove.
As the navigator was immersed, he found that the water was warmer than it lookedso warm, in fact, that they were all inclined to linger in it. Gardenhire felt like a kid again, splashing and getting splashed, feeling the sun and the waves wash away weeks of tension and fear.
He wished Tarasco had lived to see this. He wished, at the very least, that the captain could have seen the fruits of his sacrifice.
Finally, the navigator and his comrades got too tired to splash anymore. They struck out for shore with long, easy strokes, tugging the pod along in their wake. That is, five of them did.
OShaugnessy chose to try to glide above the waves. But then, as Gardenhire had learned from weeks of sharing a pod with the man, OShaugnessy could be something of a showoff.
Table of Contents
CHAPTER One
CHAPTER
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
Book Two
CHAPTER
CHAPTER