Five knots under a drizzle of methane.
Holding tight to a lifeline, Maureen scanned the grayish haze for the stretch of black, rocky islands. If her calculations were correct, they were at least two miles east of the archipelago, but she couldn't be certain. They could be closer.
"Slow down, John," she warned.
"If we lower the sails more, we'll lose too much maneuverability."
"If we run aground, we'll sink."
John grunted. "But we're not on the same course as the previous time. For you, I mean. We're clear from the reef, aren't we?"
"We should be, but with so little visibility, I have no idea how much we drifted. Besides, there could be low-lying rocks that I'm not aware of because…"
"We're not on the same course." John sighed in surrender. "Alright, lower the sails a bit more, but ask the kids and Don to come up here with us. I want as many eyes as possible on the water."
"Methane."
"Yeah, whatever."
A few minutes later, they were all on the hull, staring through a thin curtain of rain, while John managed to keep them moving at two knots. It was slow, but Maureen feared that even at this pace, any rock could inflict terrible damage to the hull. It wasn't as if they could haul the Jupiter out and put it in a dry dock to make repairs, not here. So she was staring intensely at the methane fog when her fears materialized. A solid dark wall appeared out of the haze on their starboard.
"CLIFFS!" she screamed.
"Sails up. NOW!"
John's order sprang everyone into action. Maureen grabbed the winch and hauled the sail with Penny's help, Don and Judy doing the same on the second mast.
"Why aren't we veering?" Judy yelled.
Maureen shuddered as she looked at the flapping sails with horror. John was putting all his weight on the wheel to force the Jupiter to turn but they were drifting closer and closer to the peak.
"Brace for impact!"
She heard John's warning a second too late. A jolt shook the ship and Maureen hit the deck. She was rolling down the hull fast, trying to grab at anything on the wet, sleek surface, when fingers clenched around her wrist.
"Gotcha!" John grunted.
Her legs dangling in the void, Maureen struggled to catch her husband's arm with her other hand.
"What do I do with the wheel?" Judy called.
"Nothing! Just keep," John croaked, coughing hard between the two words while he and Don hoisted Maureen back onto the hull.
Maureen felt weak with relief. Not only was she safe but the ship was still moving. They had to check for leaks fast. There was no time to waste. She pushed Don away and rose on all fours.
"I'm fine," she said when a painful, sucking sound from her left caught her attention.
John was curled up on his side, his visor full of condensation. Maureen cursed at the sight of a light blue liquid leaking through a crack in his helmet. It wasn't just liquid methane dripping on his visor. Under this temperature and pressure, oxygen liquefied instantly. Her breath froze. Liquid oxygen and oil didn't mix. She looked at his hands. How long ago had he lubricated the winches?
A fit of coughing hit him hard.
"Dad, hold your breath. Mom! We need to get him inside, quick!" Judy urged, waving at Don to replace her at the wheel.
"I don't know how to pilot a boat!" he protested.
"Just keep us away from the cliffs," Maureen told him as she and Judy dragged John toward the hatch.
"Careful!" Maureen urged as she and Judy removed John's helmet, the metal parts creaking. "Please, be very careful."
"It's okay, Mom. I've got him," Judy said as she placed an oxygen mask on her father's face.
The Jupiter hit a wave. Maureen pressed a firm hand to John's chest to keep him from rolling over. There was a wheezing sound when he breathed, but his lips were starting to regain some color.
Maureen closed her eyes and inhaled deliberately. He was okay. They were okay. She didn't need to stress out. Catching the high tide was the critical parameter. Now that they were afloat, they had nineteen days before the lightning struck again. Nineteen days to figure out where on this planet the ring's main power source was. They didn't need to rush anymore. They could get some rest, think about all their options.
An alarm beeped.
"No, no, no! He's crashing! Why is he crashing?" Judy screamed as she scrambled to remove John's com pack.
Maureen cursed. There was a tiny bit of green inside the gash on John's left side. At once, she rushed to the back of the infirmary to retrieve a pair of pliers.
"The toxic seaweed?" Judy gasped as she began chest compressions. "Stay with me, Dad! Mom! Take over!"
Her throat tightening, Maureen followed her daughter's instructions while Judy retrieved items from her cupboard. She came back with a syringe and stabbed the needle into John's thigh. All his vitals on the screen jumped back to life. John opened his eyes as Judy placed the oxygen mask back on his face. His eyes darted all over the room for a few seconds. Maureen squeezed his hand.
"It's okay," she stammered. "It's okay, you're fine."
"No, he's not, Mom. Don is O, like Harris. Only Will is B, but he's just a child. He can't give him enough blood to completely offset the poison. We need to get Dad to the Resolute ASAP."
Maureen forced herself to exhale deeply. They had to sail up the ring to find the lightning. It could take them a week… She looked down at John. His eyes were glassy, and he was lying motionless. The paralysis had already settled in, quicker than for Don the last time.
"We need her to sail the ship again," Judy said.
"I know."
Some minor fluctuations, different causes, but in the end, the same effects, Maureen pondered the situation as she strode down the corridor toward the airlock. It wasn't even ironic. It was fate. Harris's life was somehow cosmically entangled with theirs for the better and especially for the worse.
Clenching her jaw tight to control a mix of rage and despair, she deactivated the force-field John had installed to keep the beast in, and opened the door.
"Will you help?" she asked after explaining their situation, including how she knew about Harris's knowledge of sailing, which she hoped would prove that she was saying the truth, no matter how difficult it was to believe. Time travel existed.
Harris stared back at her without animosity, without indignation, without anger. Without anything, Maureen realized as she waited for the unreadable woman to answer.
"Of course," Harris replied, her tone neither soft nor hard, but the corner of her lips twitched upwards as she wiggled out of the airlock, free.