Hiro Yamanaka looked at Brown without expression and entered a command into the control console. The screen in front of him flashed red and printed out the message, command unacceptable. insufficient tolerances. Yamanaka said nothing. The helicopter continued to hover in the same spot.
“We have fifty centimeters, maybe seventy-five, between the blades and the wall,” Brown thought out loud. “In another two or three minutes the biot will be safe under the overhang. Let’s go to manual and grab it. Now. No mistakes this time, Tabori.”
For an instant a dubious Hire Yamanaka stared at the balding, bespectacled scientist sitting in the seat behind him. Then the pilot turned, entered another command into the console, and switched the large black lever to the left position. The monitor flashed, in manual mode. no automatic protection. Yamanaka gingerly eased the helicopter closer to the wall.
Engineer Tabori was ready. He inserted his hands in the instrumented gloves and practiced opening and closing the jaws at the end of the flexible arm. Again the arm extended and the two mechanical mandibles deftly closed around the jointed snail and its shell. The feedback loops from the sensors on the claws told Tabori, through his gloves, that he had successfully captured his prey. “I’ve got it,” he shouted exultantly. He began the slow process of bringing the quarry back into the helicopter.
A sudden draft of wind rolled the helicopter to the left and the arm with the biot banged against the wall. Tabori felt his grip loosening. “Straighten it up,” he cried, continuing to retract the arm. While Yamanaka was struggling to null the rolling motion of the helicopter, he inadvertently tipped the nose down just slightly. The three crew members heard the sickening sound of the metal rotor blades crashing against the wall.
The Japanese pilot immediately pushed the emergency button and the craft returned to automatic control.