"Marcel, you need to get some rest." Worry lined Beekman's eyes.
"I'm all right," Marcel said. Too many things were happening just then.
"There's no point exhausting yourself. Do that and you won't be there when we need you." Marcel had slept only intermittently during the past few days, and it had always been a jumpy kind of rest. "There's nothing more for you to do at the moment. Why don't you get off the bridge for a while? Go lie down."
Marcel thought about it. The various elements of the extraction were going forward, and maybe he'd become little more than a kibitzer anyhow. "Yeah," he said, "I think I will." He propped his chin on his hands. "Gunny, what have we overlooked?"
"We're in good shape. For the moment, there's nothing more to be done." He folded his arms and stood waiting for Marcel to retire.
Embry was sitting up front in the pilot's seat, listening to the occasional crackle of conversation between the ground, Marcel, and Augie Canyon, who was interviewing Randy Nightingale. They sounded, she thought, in surprisingly good spirits, and she wondered how that could be.
Wildside had completed its movement, with the other three vessels, to a rendezvous near the assembly. Sitting in an empty ship while it fired thrusters and changed course had underscored her solitude. AIs were AIs and God knew she worked with them on a regular basis, as any practicing physician did. But somehow the voices that diagnosed a spinal problem or suggested a rejuvenation procedure were fundamentally different from an intelligent superluminal that made all its own decisions and on which she was the only passenger.
The message light blinked and an unfamiliar female face appeared on one of her screens. "Embry?" She was wearing an Academy arm patch.
"Yes. What can I do for you?"
"Embry, my name's Katie Robinson." Her diction was precise, and Embry wondered if she'd had theatrical experience. "We're about to leave Wendy. We're coming over and will be there in a few minutes. I'd like you to pack a bag. Get all your belongings. We're going to bring you back with us."
"May I ask why?" said Embry.
"Because we're going to remove your life support."
They arrived within thirty minutes and went directly to work. There were eight of them. They went down into the storage bay and stripped most of the metal from the bins, containers, cabinets, storage units, and dividers. Then they came topside and went through the compartments and the common room, doing much the same sort of thing.
Katie helped her clear out her own quarters. When she was finished they repeated the process, taking most of the metaclass="underline" the bed panels, the lamps, a foldout table, a built-in cabinet. They thanked her, apologized for the inconvenience, loaded everything into their shuttle, including her, and left.
The trank hadn't worked. Kellie listened to the sound of distant tides-they had finally camped near Bad News Bay-and watched Jerry Morgan, a vast swollen moon, sink toward the hills. The eastern sky had already begun to lighten. Hutch was their sentry, and her slim form leaned against a tree, just beyond the fire's glow.
She gave up finally, pulled herself into a sitting position, and wrapped her arms around her knees.
"Did you love him, Kellie?" The voice startled her. It was MacAllister. He was lying with his back to her, but he rolled over now. His face was in shadow, and she couldn't make out his expression.
"No," she said. And, after a moment: "I don't think so."
"I'm sorry." He sat up and reached for the coffeepot.
"I know," she said. "We're all sorry."
He poured a cup and offered her some. But she declined. She didn't really want to put anything in her stomach.
"Sometimes," he said, "I think life is just one long series of blown opportunities."
She nodded. "You know what I really hate," she said. "Leaving him here. In this godforsaken place."
"It's no worse than any other, Kellie. He'll never know the difference."
She felt empty. "He was a good guy," she said, biting down a wave of anger and tears. Suddenly the grief rose in her, and she couldn't contain it. She clamped her teeth together and tried to hold on. MacAllister took her in his arms. "Let it come," he said.
Hutch was talking to someone. Kellie had collected herself, tamped down the storm, and was feeling drained. She pour herself some water.
Hutch stiffened. Lifted her arms in frustration. Kellie knew the gesture, and it raised the hair on her scalp.
The conversation ended, and Hutch strode swiftly into the ring of the campfire. "Let's move, folks. We're down to our last day." She knelt beside Nightingale and gently shook him.
"That can't be right," said MacAllister. "They told us we had until tomorrow night."
"They've changed their minds. Come on, we have to get rolling."
Mac needed no further prompting. He was searching for his toothbrush. "How far do we still have to go?" he asked.
"Thirty klicks," she said. "Give or take."
"In one day? We'll never make it."
"Yeah, we will."
"Hutch," Mac said privately, "it's not as if we're going to get there and you can turn the key and start the damned thing. How long's it going to take to get it up and running? Assuming we can do it at all?"
"A few hours," she admitted.
He looked at the approaching sunrise and rubbed his feet. "Then we have to get back to the tower and recover the capacitors. By what time?"
"Late tonight. Around midnight."
He held out his hands helplessly. "We need to go to Plan B."
Nightingale was watching while he tried to pull himself together. "What's going on?" he asked.
She explained.
"I'll be with you in a minute." He limped down to the creek to wash his face in icy water and brush his teeth. Mac went with him.
"You okay?" she asked Kellie.
Kellie was fine. Kellie would never be better. "You and I are going to have to do a sprint," she said.
"I know," said Hutch.
"We'll have to leave them."
"Mac's already been suggesting that."
The tides were loud in Bad News Bay. They came out onto a promontory and looked out over the water. It was a vast inland sea, the far shore lost in the distance.
"Ground gets rough to the south," Marcel told them. "Angle off your present course and head southwest for about a kilometer. There's a small lake. Circle the lake and keep going, same direction. It looks like easier country."
"Okay."
Far below, the bay was peaceful. Gulls skimmed along the surface, and Hutch saw something that looked like a large turtle basking in the rising sun.
They turned and faced each other. "We'll wait for you here," said Nightingale.
Hutch nodded.
Kellie was looking from one of them to the other. "We'll be back as soon as we can."
They had checked with Marcel. They were on high ground, and should be safe from the tides.
The four of them walked together along the rim until they found an open area that would be wide enough to set the spacecraft down. "Since time's pressing," Hutch said, "we're going to go to the tower first. Then we'll be back for you."
Kellie looked down the face of the cliff. "Don't wander around in the dark," she added.
"We won't."
Mac shook himself and rubbed his spine against a tree, not unlike an elephant, Hutch thought.
"I have to tell you," he said, "I love this plan. Anything that gets me off my feet." He extended his hand and his voice softened. Became personal. "Good luck, ladies."
Kellie pushed past the hand, embraced him, and planted a large wet kiss on his lips. "You're a jerk, MacAllister," she said. "But you're worth saving."