"We'll make it," I said. I turned back to my crew
Siegel was already protesting. "Why are Reilly and Willig on fire control-?"
"Because you can carry more than they can, that's why. You'll get your chance, Kurt. Just not today. Now, move!"
He looked hurt, but he moved.
He was right about one thing, though. He was better qualified to handle the weaponry if we were attacked. He was stronger and he was faster. But if the worms came up from the nest and attacked us while we were trying to get to the pickup pod, they'd go first for the ones firing the guns.
Like it or not, I had to make the decision. Who was expendable? And who could be trusted not to panic?
The answer was obvious.
Reilly and Willig were more expendable than Siegel, Locke, Lopez, or Valada, for the simple reason that they could stand in one place a lot better than they could run.
When it first hatches, the stingfly is smaller than a gnat. It must feed within three hours or it will die; it must also feed before it can mate.
The stingfly mates after every feeding. It lays its eggs immediately and must then feed again. Every time it feeds, it grows. The larger a stingfly is, the more mates it attracts. Adult stingflies have been found as large as bumblebees.
The stingfly feeds and breeds continually until it dies. The life span of the average stingfly in a Chtorran mandala is usually less than a week.
—The Red Book,
(Release 22.19A)
Chapter 25
"Let it go!"
"If you can't stand the heat, stay out of the firestorm."
-SOLOMON SHORT
The pod came floating down like an angel. Beautiful and graceful-Glinda the Good never made such a welcome appearance.
We watched it first on radar, then on video. The telephoto view revealed it first as a glowing presence behind a pink veil-gradually, as it descended, it became clearer and ever more distinct. It was a round thing-bright and glimmering. It hung suspended from its triple chutes like the gondola of an aerial tram.
The operator guiding it was obviously a pro. He circled the pod overhead in ever-contracting circles, using sharp tugs on the guidelines and small puffs from the module's cold-rockets to stay within the target cone.
"He'd better land close," Reilly said. "That muck is thick. It's going to be a slog."
"Even worse, we're going to have to tiptoe through it-aren't we?" Valada looked at me, worried.
"I don't know," I replied after a bit. The thought was frightening. "I don't know what tenants do when everything has been pinked. Nobody does." They were all looking at me now.
Siegel spoke first. "You're the expert, Captain-what do you think?"
"I honestly don't know." I could see by their faces that wasn't good enough. "I can speculate… there's no need for tenants to swarm when there's food everywhere, maybe the dust lets them feed as individuals… on the other hand, tenants don't think, they just react to stimuli. The question is, can they be triggered when there's big drifts of pink all over the ground?" I rubbed my unshaven chin uncomfortably. I knew they wanted a decision, not a lecture.
"Look," I said. "We're going to be suited up. Hoods, O-masks, everything. Let's just everybody try to get to the pod as fast as possible. It'll be close enough."
Reilly grunted skeptically at that. The map view on his display showed the projected landing area as a wide ellipse that trembled uneasily as it tracked the pod's descent and extrapolated the locus of possible landing points. I could see why Reilly was skeptical. The ellipse still covered too wide an area. It quivered and shrank as we watched. Finally, it turned into a bright red X that bounced around the map for a few moments, until it finally overcame the last of its indecisiveness and stuck itself to one location on the display. Shit-it wasn't close enough.
A moment later, the module struck the ground. It hit hard, bouncing twice on its springs and sending up a great pink cloud. The thick dust muffled most of the impact of its landing. Even so, we felt the shock within the van. The chute harness came popping off the top of the vehicle even before it had finished settling into the pink sludge; the great silk canopy puffed and rolled and finally collapsed in upon itself, coming to rest halfway up the slope. "The pod is green," said the voice from above. "Go!"
"We're on our way!" I shouted back and popped the hatch.
"Uh-oh-" said Locke. He pointed toward the screens. The worms had felt the impact too. They had interrupted their feeding to cock their eyes sideways and upward. As we watched, they abandoned their feast and began pushing their way up through the tunnels.
"Shit," I said. "Willig, Reilly! We're gonna have company! Come on-everybody go! Now! Now! Now!" I pushed them out the door one after the other. Willig and Reilly were first; Willig staggered momentarily under the weight of her cold-rocket launcher, and for a second I feared I'd made a terrible mistake, but she recovered herself quickly and took her position without complaint. She gave me a quick thumbs-up signal. I couldn't see her expression, but she had to be enjoying every moment of this. At least, I hoped she was.
The rest of the team lunged out after them. Everyone was carrying at least two heavy eases-specimens, samples, memories, everything. I was carrying the black box autolog of the mission. In their O-masks and hoods, they looked like golems. Once into the pink, they turned into snowmen or teddy bears. The stuff was waist-deep in places-and gooey. They crunched heavily across the slope like determined mountaineers.
I was the last one out. I punched the van's self-destruct switch and armed it, then tumbled out after them.
The pod was forty, maybe fifty meters away-a short dash for anyone under normal conditions, but these weren't normal conditions. The dust was thick, it was syrupy, and it was developing a hard, brittle crust. Every step was an effort. Everything was hidden. You couldn't tell what you were stepping onto-rock or root or slippery earth. It was like trudging through a blanket of ghastly red phlegm.
Further along the slope, it became even more dangerous. There were thick patches of ivy-like kudzu under the pink. The individual leaves were waxy; they slipped and slid across each other like plates of soap. If you weren't careful with your footing, you ended up flat on your face-or your fanny. More than one member of the team added a skidmark to his or her track. Twenty meters into it and I could feel my heart pounding from the exertion of trying to run through this mess carefully. The sweat was dripping into my eyes, rolling down my neck and arms.
It was a mess. The squad was spread haphazardly across almost the entire distance between the van and the rescue module. Willig and Reilly had the worst of it. They were bringing up the rear.
"Come on," I called to them. "You can make it-"
"Keep going!" Willig shouted back at me. I could see she was having trouble keeping her balance. Shit. The worms were still in the tunnel, and I already knew how this was going to end.
I hadn't even had time to complete the thought when the first of the worms came bursting out of the grove. It stopped for a moment, hesitating just long enough to catch its bearings-the moment stretched out forever-and then it came roaring straight down toward our line. And behind it came the other two. Reilly was already bracing himself to fire. Willig looked a little unsteady, but I wanted to drop my burden, the autolog cases, the memories, everything, and run to help her, but I knew I couldn't. There wasn't time. Shouldn't. The logs were more important. Besides, there were two of them, there were only three worms. If each of them got off two shots-
The worms came slashing down the slope, chttrrrrrring the whole way, waving their long mantis-like arms over their heads like battle flags. Their eyes were blinking furiously against the clouds of dust they raised.