While they sat wearily around the campfire, breakfasting on the leftover creature meat, Hutch announced that more news had come down from Wendy.
"Not good, I take it," said MacAllister.
"Not good. We've lost a day or two," said Hutch. "The tides are rising along the north coast. Because of Morgan. There are mountains up there, but there's a possibility the water will break through onto the plain."
"A couple of days?" said Kellie.
"We've still got plenty of time."
"They think if it breaks through, it'll go all the way to the tower?" asked Nightingale.
"That's what they're saying."
"We need to hustle up," said Chiang.
The short days were beginning to work on them and they debated whether they should try to switch back to a twenty-four-hour clock and simply ignore the rising and setting of the sun.
Embry advised it would not be a good idea, that their metabolisms would try to adjust to local conditions. "Anyway," she added, "I doubt you want to be walking around down there in the dark."
They had only about seven hours of sunlight left when they finally got moving.
"You'll come out of the snow line later today," Marcel told them. "Looks like relatively easy going from that point on."
"Okay," said Hutch.
"Oh, and you've got another river to cross. A wide one this time. You'll get to it toward the end of the day." "Any bridges?" "Ho, ho."
"Seriously, can you guide us to the easiest crossing point?" "You like wide and slow or narrow and fast?" "We need a place where we can wade." "Can't tell from up here." "Make it wide and slow."
Chiang didn't care for MacAllister. He treated Kellie and Hutch as if they were lackeys and gofers, persons whose sole purpose was to make the world comfortable for people like himself. He ignored Nightingale altogether. He behaved well enough toward Chiang, although there was a degree of condescension that probably was not personal but rather reflected the editor's attitude toward everyone.
Even the gas giant became a target for him. While the others thought of the approaching juggernaut with a degree of awe, MacAllister took to referring to the world by the full name of its discoverer. It became Jerry Morgan at first, and eventually just plain Jerry.
"Well, I noticed Jerry was pretty bright last night."
And, "I do believe Jerry's become a crescent."
Chiang understood that the great man was frightened, maybe more so than the rest of them because he had a reputation to protect, and he was probably not sure how he'd hold up if things got worse instead of better.
The snow was thinning out, and they began one by one to discard their snowshoes.
They'd broken back out onto a broad plain. It was rolling country, marked by a few scattered trees and occasional patches of thick shrubbery. Toward midafternoon, two autumn-colored bipeds that seemed to be constructed exclusively of fangs and claws tried a coordinated attack from opposite sides. They'd been hiding behind hills and charged as the company passed. But the lasers drove them off and caused MacAllister to observe that these primitive life-forms were no match for somebody with guts and a good weapon. He looked meaningfully at Nightingale, and Hutch had to step between them again.
Tough fibrous grass pushed up through the snow, which by midday disappeared altogether. Purple and yellow shrubbery appeared, with thick stalks and wide, flat-bladed leaves that looked sharp enough to draw blood. They passed through a tree line, and the sunlight faded behind a canopy of branches and leaves. Eight-legged creatures scrambled up the trunks, and Nightingale once again regretted that there was no time for inspection.
They were small and almost invisible against the woodland background, with backs that resembled walnut shells, and triangular heads. They had antennas and beaks and mandibles that twitched constantly. He noted that, when he approached them, the antennas swung in his direction. Some hurried around to the far side of a convenient tree, out of his sight. One simply withdrew into a shell, like a turtle, and clung unmoving to thick bark. When Chiang approached, it fired black spray at him. In the direction of his eyes. It splattered against the e-suit.
Startled, Chiang fell back and went down. "You were lucky," said Nightingale, helping him up. "We don't know these creatures at all. It's a good idea not to be deceived by appearances. If you see something that looks like a chipmunk, don't assume it'll behave like one."
"We need to keep moving," said Hutch. "No time for admiring the critters."
Some of the trees were hardwoods, very much like oak and maple. Others had soft fleshy stems and short prickly branches. Bulbous purple fruit hung from them. Hutch broke off a sample, scooped out a small piece, killed her field, and tried it. She looked pleased. "Not bad," she said.
But when Chiang asked to share she shook her head. "Let's give it a while. See what happens."
They were pushing through heavy undergrowth when Chiang almost walked off the edge of a crag. The ground simply vanished underfoot. At first he thought he was going into a hole, but the bushes opened up, and he was looking down about six meters onto a scrabble of hard rock and tough-looking greenery. MacAllister grabbed his arm and, after a nervous moment while they struggled for balance, hauled him back.
"That's two we owe you, Mac," said Kellie. It was the first time anyone had used the shortened form of his name without derision.
The land became increasingly rough, scarred by gullies and ravines.
The earlier problem of getting MacAllister down some of the descents recurred. They tried using cable, but it was thin and smooth, hard to hold on to. And tying it around his waist and using it to lower him down an embankment offended his dignity.
Hutch looked around at the vines that snaked up tree trunks and hung out of the branches and tried to pull one loose. The vine resisted, and it took all of them to drag it out of the tree. When they had sufficient length she cut it, and MacAllister, by then covered with bruises and ready for any kind of solution, consented to use it. It worked fine. He could hang on while they lowered away, and even assist the operation. When the ground finally flattened out, in mid-afternoon, he threw the vine away, but Hutch retrieved it, coiled it into a loop, and draped it around one shoulder.
Chiang noticed that MacAllister was no longer volunteering to drop back in order to allow the rest of the party to move ahead more quickly. Instead, he silently endured whatever indignities he had to, and worked hard to maintain his pace.
They stopped at a pool, hidden among trees and rocks. "What do you say," suggested Hutch, "we take a break and clean up a bit?"
Kellie was already pulling her blouse out away from her body. "I'm for it," she said. "You guys clear out and build a fire. But guard the trail."
"What if you get in trouble?" asked Chiang.
She laughed. "My clothes'll be able to go for help."
The men retreated. Hutch extracted a small piece of leftover meat and threw it into the water to see if anything would happen. When nothing did, she took up the sentry's position. Kellie shut off her field and wrapped her arms around herself for warmth. Then she took a deep breath and removed her jumpsuit. "What've we got for pneumonia?" she asked.
"Same as usual," Hutch smiled. "Coffee."
The place looked safe. Consequently, in the interests of saving time. Hutch handed her the soap and a washcloth, laid out two towels and another washcloth, put her own weapon on a rock by the water's edge, removed her gear and her clothes, and waded into the water. It was frigid.
"Nothing like a brisk dip," Kellie said through lips that were chattering so badly she could barely get the words out.
An icy wind rippled the surface.
"Polar bear nudie club," said Hutch.