"Damn, Nancy, are you getting big!" Goldberg exclaimed, helping the awkward Dawson to her feet, both ladies grunting like teamsters. Dawson' s clothes no longer fit, and she was draped with loose furs and hides. Makeshift robes shifted indelicately as Dawson gained her feet. Above a pair of men's space boots rose the twin pillars of her bare white legs, sharply-muscled and covered with fine red hair. A tangle of pelts attempted to cover her heavy-boned frame and distended belly. Her freckled, coarse features were sunburned. An explosion of fiery red hair shot from her head.
"A pregnant cave woman!" Goldberg hooted.
"Don't tease, Pepper!" Dawson pleaded. "You ain't no bargain."
"Thank you," Goldberg replied with exaggerated sophistication, posturing a lean body that had been made hard and wiry by unending work.
"Let's haul this bear bait up to the tents," Dawson said, eyeing the opportunistic hunter. "Can't leave it here."
"I stink," Goldberg whined, putting the cleaned fish into a basket. They walked uphill to the tent circle, where the odors of wood smoke and leather blended flagrantly. Fenstermacher, laboring with strips of precious hide, sat on the ground next to the cook fire. He struggled to stitch two strips together, binding them around a wooden frame.
"Brat's awake," Fenstermacher grumbled, concentrating on his work. "She's making noises. Already makes more sense than her old man, but what ain't smarter than a Marine?"
"Thanks for watching her, Winnie," Goldberg said, putting the fish next to the fire and taking a dipper of hot water. After washing the scales from her hands, Goldberg leaned into one of the tents. Honey lay on her back, nestled in furs, playing with her toes. Goldberg leaned over and grabbed the brown infant, saddling it on her hip.
A layer of clouds scudded darkly overhead, threatening more rain. They had already seen one ferocious storm. Goldberg draped a plush nightmare skin over Honey's back. The baby clung tightly to her mother.
"I can't believe Shannon is letting you use those hides to build a boat," Dawson said. "What a waste."
Fenstermacher squinted in concentration, a length of rawhide in his mouth. He mumbled something obscene.
A monotonous thumping drifted across the clearing; Tookmanian and Schmidt still labored at the forest's edge, their axes arcing in the sharp light. Uphill from the tents, near the gushing springhead, sat Chief Wilson, his ample bottom firmly planted on a stump carved into a chair, a dweller ax at his feet. Buccari and Shannon stood with him, gesturing with sweeping motions. Tonto, Buccari's ubiquitous companion, perched on a fallen log.
"Hey, Chief," Goldberg shouted, "I'm tired of women's work. All we do is sew and clean fish."
Wilson and Buccari turned. Shannon was already facing the women, his eyes affectionately on Dawson. Wilson was wet with perspiration.
"Too damn bad, Goldbrick!" Wilson snapped. "I don't know what to say. Here!" He reached down and grabbed the ax, throwing it at Goldberg's feet. Tonto' s head jerked upwards. "Take my job and chop and haul those logs. I'll be happy to do a little sewing. Yeah! And after I get some sewing done, I'll still have time for my other job. Yeah! Real man's work—cooking!"
"Whoa, Gunner! Easy does it," Buccari interjected. Her auburn ponytail, streaked from the sun, twitched across her shoulders. "Goldberg wasn't trying to make trouble."
"Hrmmph," Wilson snorted. "She never tries to."
"You hit Chief Wilson at the wrong time, Pepper," Buccari said. "Be patient. You have a baby to take care of, and Dawson' s not in shape to do much of anything. Give it time."
"Sure, Lieutenant," Dawson jumped in. "Gosh, Chief! Didn't know you'd lost your sense of humor, or we would've been extra special nice to you, just like we usually are."
"Pick on someone your own size, Dawson!" Wilson snarled.
"That's more like it," Dawson replied. She winked at Shannon, put her arm around Goldberg's back and gently pushed her up the hill.
"Come on, Trouble, let's go see how the guys are doing," Dawson said. The two ladies continued walking, leaving the tent clearing. Goldberg shifted the baby to her other hip and readjusted her furs as they walked into the forest toward the quarry where most of the men were hewing rocks. Large-boled trees and thick underbrush lined both sides of the climbing path.
"The bitch!" Goldberg spit.
"Pardon me?" Dawson replied. "You can't—"
"Bullshit! Who's she to tell us to be patient!" Goldberg snapped. "She's the boss man. An officer! She has no idea what it's like for us."
"Come on, Pepper! Enough," Dawson replied.
"She's not one of us. She doesn't know what it's like to be treated like a woman! We get all the crap jobs, and she gets to be king shit!"
"Slow down, Goldie. You're not making sense." Dawson grabbed her large belly and inhaled.
"I'd like to see her pregnant. That'd get her off her high horse…the bitch."
"Pepper! That's not right!" Dawson stopped. "We're lucky she's strong. You wouldn't want her job, not even for a ticket home. She's got all of us to worry about! And how would you like to try and tell these muscleheads how to act? You think that's easy? She's doing it! And they listen to her. She's the boss!" Dawson belched.
"She outranks everybody. They have to listen," Goldberg rebutted.
"Nonsense! If Buccari showed even the slightest weakness, they'd run over her like dogs. It'd be the law of the jungle, and you know it." Dawson hiccoughed.
"But—" Goldberg started to say.
"Nobody got us pregnant but ourselves!" Dawson interrupted, hiccoughing again.
"Didn't know you could get pregnant by yourself," Goldberg retorted.
"You know what I mean. The law's on your side. Until you get pregnant. And then the responsibility's all yours. You take the consequences. Right? Give Buccari credit for not getting pregnant. Give her a lot of credit. I bet she's been having a tough time."
"Nobody would have her. It'd be like humping mud…frozen mud."
Dawson laughed. "That wouldn't stop these Marines. She's smart and she's gorgeous, and you know it. You're just jealous." Goldberg started crying, and so did Honey.
"Come on, Pepper," Dawson said softly. "I'm sorry, but it's just not fair to pick on Buccari." Dawson pulled Honey away from her mother.
"You're right," Goldberg sobbed. "But I'm tired of being cold and dirty. I'm tired of cleaning fish—of eating fish. Oh, Nancy, we're never going to be rescued."
"Oh, Pepper," Dawson said. "Who knows? But getting down on Buccari isn't going to help matters. She needs our help." She put an arm around Goldberg's shoulders and pulled her close. Goldberg stiffened, but the embrace was irresistible; the fetus kicking in Dawson' s womb became a shared sensation, and Goldberg's short arms moved reluctantly around Dawson' s tall waist.
Dowornobb and Kateos flew as loading crew for the fuel-staging flights. They were on the fourth and final leg of the last staging flight, prepositioning barrels of fuel for subsequent search flights. Scientist Lollee was the pilot and Et Avian the copilot. Their destination was a large, steep-sided plateau that Lollee had been to once before—four years earlier.
"Et Silmarn told us about flying creatures that live in the mountains along the river," Kateos said. "Mountain flyers. Have you seen them?" Kateos leaned over the backs of the pilots. Dowornobb slept on the floor of the passenger compartment.