Tension dragged at Bessany's nerves.
She and John Weyman had pulled off their face masks, despite the bitter cold, stuffing them into pockets for this critical meeting. Bessany glanced at her brother-in-law and read tension in the set of his jaw. He kept his hand hovering near his side arm, without actually resting his fingers on the grip.
"John," she said in a low voice, "I don't have the words to thank you enough. I wish . . ."
He glanced down into her eyes, surprise dawning in his own. "You wish what?"
She swallowed hard. "That I'd listened to you, that day. That I'd met you first."
A look of mingled pain and pleasure ran through his eyes, shadowed eyes that had seen entirely too much of the former and not nearly enough of the latter. Speaking very softly, he said, "So do I." He pressed her gloved fingers in his and added, "Maybe we can start being friends?"
She nodded, scarcely trusting her voice. "I'd like that," she managed, blinking back wetness. Then Chilaili appeared through the drifted snow, accompanied by a taller, more gracile Tersae, and Bessany jerked her attention back to this critically important first meeting. She recognized the Tersae with Chilaili at once, having watched on John's hand-unit viewscreen as Chilaili greeted this individual. This was the akule, the Tersae who would know more about the Ones Above than any other in Chilaili's clan. There were subtle differences in the shape of his beak, the patterns on his fur, the color of his eyes that marked him as belonging to another bloodline, an outsider who had adopted Icewing Clan out of love. Chilaili looked short beside the taller, slimmer Kestejoo—and short was not an adjective Bessany had ever associated with Chilaili before.
The Tersae were quite near before Bessany realized the akule was trembling. A sudden wave of pity swept through her, driving away Bessany's own nervousness. She was facing an unknown alien; he was facing a devil, moments after losing his god. Chilaili paused three long paces away and spoke quietly, in her own language. Bessany caught some of what the katori said, but Rapier translated directly into the tiny receiver tucked into her ear.
"Kestejoo, these are the humans who saved our clan. This is Bessany Weyman and the nestmate of her life-mate, John Weyman. The humans' metal ogre, their Bolo, answers the commands of John Weyman."
Kestejoo trembled more violently.
"Bessany Weyman," Chilaili switched to Terran standard, "John Weyman, this is Kestejoo, akule to Icewing Clan."
Bessany had long since learned the proper Tersae greeting from Chilaili. She had worked hard during the last several hours on pronunciation. She took one step forward, holding out her hands, and murmured the ritual greeting. "May the ancestors smile upon you, Kestejoo."
His pupils dilated with shock. He darted a swift, terrified glance at Chilaili, who made a little head-bobbing motion, then he took a slow step forward and stretched out his own hands. They shook like leaves in a high wind. Behind her, Bessany sensed more than saw the sudden tension coiling through her brother-in-law, but Kestejoo merely touched her outstretched palms with his own and whispered the greeting in return. His voice was deep, pleasant to the ear, and the pads on his palms and fingertips were surprisingly soft. Far softer, in fact, than Chilaili's, which belonged, after all, to a seasoned huntress.
"I am sorry," Bessany said carefully. "I do not speak your words well. I will ask Chilaili to speak our words to you."
She had to listen closely to catch the answer, due in part, she suspected, to slight dialectic differences that gave Kestejoo a different accent. "I will honor your words and listen carefully."
Rapier's translation in her ear helped.
Kestejoo spoke again, more rapidly, and Chilaili translated. "We must stop our clan's war party, but they have traveled more than a day's march ahead. It will be difficult to catch them."
John stepped forward, causing Kestejoo to flinch slightly, despite nearly a meter difference in their heights. "We have a machine that can take us to them much faster than any of us can run through snow. We will take you close, then let you walk ahead, to meet them alone."
Chilaili translated and Kestejoo nodded. "Yes. That would be best. Where is this machine?" he added, glancing toward the forest.
John pulled out his comm link. "Rapier, how close are you now?"
"Within three kilometers, Commander, due south."
Kestejoo rolled one worried eye toward the voice emerging from the comm link.
"You're the xeno-ecologist," John glanced at Bessany. "Do we hike out to meet Rapier or bring him in close enough to terrify the entire clan?"
"Let's bring him in. It's one thing for Chilaili to tell the clan that we're willing to form an alliance; it's another thing entirely to see a Bolo up close and personal and not have it shoot at you."
Her brother-in-law gave her a wan smile. "Mmm, yes, I see your point. All right, Rapier, join us, please."
"At once, Commander."
"Perhaps we should go to a small clearing near here?" Chilaili suggested. "I would not want the little ones to panic and run off the lip of the ravine when the Bolo comes."
"Why don't you just have them come up after Rapier gets here?"
Chilaili nodded gravely. "Yes. We will do this." She turned to Kestejoo and translated.
A few moments later, a distant rumble and a sound like popcorn in a kettle reached them, rising rapidly in volume as the immense Bolo came crashing through the forest. The sound of splintering trees rose to a wild crescendo. The earth shook under Rapier's mighty treads, then the top of his war turret appeared above the trees. Powerful muscles in Chilaili's arm, hardened by years of hunting, bulged as she gripped Kestejoo's wrist, preventing him from bolting.
The akule was trembling wildly, pupils dilated in terror as Rapier ground down trees like kindling. His prow emerged through a white spray as snow-covered trees went down in front of him like a weirdly reversed wake behind an oceangoing ship. Rapier's guns bristled ominously against the dazzling, sunlit sky.
The Bolo came to a halt five meters away, a beached battleship on moveable treads.
"May the ancestors smile on you, Kestejoo, Chilaili," the machine boomed—in Tersae.
Kestejoo let go a strangled, wildly terrified sound, then stared at Chilaili when she returned the greeting. "May the ancestors smile on you, Bolo Rapier." She turned to Kestejoo then and spoke too rapidly for Bessany to follow the words. Rapier translated into her earpiece.
"The machine has acted with great honor since the day I first saw it, Kestejoo," she was saying in a low, urgent voice. "It could have destroyed our war party at any time after they left the nest, without even showing itself, but it has not done so. You see, it does not fire upon us."
"It—it is so—I had not dreamed so vast a thing could—" Kestejoo paused, panting visibly. "And the Evil One Above wanted us to fight such a thing?"
"Yes," Chilaili said gently. "He did. Come, Kestejoo. Come and meet the Bolo machine."
She drew him forward on trembling legs. Bessany stayed back, giving John the high sign, as well. They watched in silence as Chilaili led the akule toward the Bolo's treads, which towered above even the Tersae. As Chilaili touched the Bolo and coaxed Kestejoo to do the same, John murmured, "Now there is a brave man."
Bessany nodded. "Extremely."
It took them ten minutes, but Chilaili coaxed the rest of the clan out into the snow, to meet the Bolo. Cries of terror lifted and some of the little ones clung to their mothers, but Chilaili got them all to the top of the bluff. The Bolo greeted them softly, speaking Terran standard and allowing Chilaili to translate, which surprised Bessany until she realized Rapier was taking no chances that anyone would recognize his voice as the same one which had come through the Oracle.
Touching the Bolo's treads became a weirdly poignant ritual, enacted again and again as the clan came forward in faltering groups of two and three. Sooleawa walked past Bessany at one point, leading two little ones by the hand. She dipped her head infinitesimally in greeting as they passed, meeting Bessany's eye with a long look of wonder. By the time the last of the clan had completed the ritual, even Kestejoo had begun to lose the worst of his fear. Bessany was actually starting to feel good about this—
"Commander," the Bolo said urgently, startling cries of fear from the watching crowd. "I am receiving transmissions from Units of the Line across Thule. Oracle signals have been traced from fifteen locations, responding to some sort of coded burst from a far-orbit source. Explosions on one of the smaller moons were detected seconds after the transmission. There has been a massive, planetwide neurotoxin release. The nearest neurotoxin release will put Icewing Clan's war party in the wind dispersal pattern within forty-five minutes."
Blood drained from Bessany's face. "Oh, my God." She felt like somebody had just punched her. Then the full implications of Rapier's words hit home. "John!" She clutched his arm in both hands. "That war party has the only adult male Tersae left on this whole goddamned world! Without them, the gene pool is too small to sustain the species!"
John was snarling into his comm link, "This is Lieutenant Colonel Weyman! Emergency priority! We need an airdrop of neurotoxin analog as fast as you can rendezvous! Carter, scramble your butt now!"
He was already running toward Rapier, shouting over one shoulder, "Bessany, get Chilaili and Kestejoo into the command compartment with us. It's gonna be one hell of a jolting ride. They'd be bashed to death in that cargo hold."
Chilaili was staring at Bessany in deep shock. "Tell me it is not true?" she whispered, voice breaking with agony. At her shoulder, Sooleawa was gulping in visible distress, having understood the Bolo's words perfectly.
"It's true," Bessany said roughly. Tears stung. "There's no time, Chilaili! If you and Kestejoo can't persuade those males to lay down their weapons and let us give them the analog . . ."
The katori whirled and gasped out the dire news. Screams and wails rose on the frozen wind. Several older Tersae actually collapsed in the snow, moaning and tearing at their head-fur. Sooleawa broke from the group and ran, vanishing down the path that led to the living cavern. Above them, Rapier's voice boomed into the icy air, speaking in urgent Tersae.
"Icewing Clan, if it can be done, we will save them. Chilaili, you must come now."
Chilaili dragged the stunned Kestejoo forward, shoving him bodily onto the ladder. Sooleawa reappeared, screaming, "Mother! Wait!" The girl was running through the shocked clan, carrying something that looked like oddly shaped snowshoes. She had brought two sets. "You will need them, Mother, to move quickly through deep snow! And you'll have to go on foot, partway, or the war party will fire on the ogre!"
Chilaili hugged her daughter hard as Bessany shoved Kestejoo up the ladder rungs; then they were all climbing toward the command compartment. Both Tersae had to suck in their bellies and scrunch their shoulders to fit through the command hatch, but they made it. John pushed them hurriedly toward the observation couches as they tumbled down the ladder. There were, thank God, three of those couches. Bessany's half-swallowed her slight frame. The Tersae barely fit, wedged in like ticks in a narrow crack. John snapped restraints in place on all three couches and shouted at Rapier, "Go! Go!"
The Bolo was moving even as John flung himself into the command chair and slapped controls that webbed him in. The Bolo pivoted with a ponderous, yawing movement, then started forward. They picked up speed. Rapidly. The ride grew rough, got rougher, and was soon nearly unendurable.
"We're running at emergency speed," John flung over one shoulder, "so it's gonna be a little bumpy. Rapier, get me aerial feed, stat."
"Launching aerial drone."
The forward data screen came to life with a dizzying blur of motion as the drone's camera raced skyward. Chilaili and Kestejoo gasped. The stink of terrified Tersae hung on the air.
"Posting orbital feed from the Darknight to Lateral Two. The Darknight has had the war party in continuous view. Superimposing over Elin Olsson's geological maps."
The data screen above Bessany's right shoulder flared into life, showing Elin's familiar maps. A small red blob appeared on it, marking the location of Icewing Clan's males.
"Carter here," the shuttle pilot's voice crackled over the speaker. "Outbound with two full canisters of analog and two of those yellow smoke bombs. I've got extra sealant, too, just in case."
"Roger and good work," John said crisply. "Home in on the signal from Rapier's aerial drone. We'll get in as close as we dare, then send Chilaili and Kestejoo forward with the analog. Rapier, get me Dr. Collingwood. They'll have left Eisenbrucke by now. Try Seta Point."
"Call initiated."
Less than one minute later, an exhausted voice came on the line. "Alison Collingwood."
"Lieutenant Colonel Weyman. We're outbound to deliver analog to—" He paused, flung a question over his shoulder. "Chilaili, how many males are in that war party?"
"Twenty times eight."
"—a hundred sixty adult males. Can we dose 'em in the open or do they need to be in a confined space?"
"Confined is a lot more certain."
"Damn. I was afraid of that. Rapier, analyze those geological maps. See if you can find a good-sized cave somewhere near that war party."
"At once, Commander. Located. There is a smallish cavern located two point nine kilometers southwest of their present location. If the map is accurately marked, it should be adequate to hold them."
"Elin's maps are accurate," Bessany put in. "Trust me on that."
"Locate the entrance with that drone, Rapier, so we can guide 'em in."
"Yes, Commander."
"How far away are we? From the war party?"
"Seventy-five point zero one kilometers. At maximum sustained sprint speed of one hundred forty-eight kilometers per hour, it will take point five zero six hours to reach the war party. This will give us less than fifteen minutes to convince the war party to drop weapons, reach shelter, and administer the analog."
"That's not enough time!" Bessany gasped. It had taken a full hour's exposure to safeguard the females and children—and even that was no guarantee, since Chilaili had blocked the Oracle's release valve.
"It's all the time we've got," John snarled. "Rapier, how many Tersae can you cram into your cargo holds, based on Kestejoo's size?"
Chilaili's voice quavered out, "Kestejoo is smaller than males born to Icewing Clan."
"Thank you, Chilaili," Rapier responded. "If we emptied all cargo holds, I might be able to put sixty males inside my war hull, but I do not believe it will be possible to empty them in time. The Navy shuttle could hold the same number, although it would be cramped. Lieutenant Carter could flood her craft with the analog from one canister, while rising up out of the neurotoxin wave front. Carter could keep them in orbit, if necessary, until their tissues have fully absorbed the analog. The other canister can be discharged in the cave."
"Good plan, Rapier. Damned fine plan. How deep is that cavern?"
"Unknown, Commander. Depth is not indicated, only lateral dimensions."
"John," Bessany said, wincing as a bad jounce jarred her teeth together, "Elin's original data files contain 3-D imaging. I know she did some subterranean mapping in 3-D, I just don't know how extensive it was."
"Contacting Seta Point," Rapier said at once.
Two minutes later, Elin Olsson was gasping into Seta Point's transmitter, clearly having run all the way. "This is Elin Olsson."
"Lieutenant Colonel Weyman here. Rapier's transmitting one of your geological maps with a particular cavern marked. Do you have a 3-D image of this region?"
"I'll have to drag out my data files. I'll be back." They could hear the slap of her feet as she ran. There was a ghastly, endless wait, then the sound of a door crashing back reached them and Elin said, "Got 'em. Let's see which area you've marked." Another, shorter pause followed. Then she said, "Oh, God, that's right at the edge of my test zone. Let me drag out the downloads I made . . ." They waited yet again, while human and Tersae fear sweat mingled to form an acrid, metallic stench. Then Elin gasped out, "Got it. Yes, I have a 3-D rendering. I'm sending it now."
Seconds later, a new image flickered to life on Lateral Three. The cavern was small in cross-section, as seen from above in two dimensions, but it ran deep. Really deep. And it narrowed wickedly at one spot, where they might be able to erect a barrier to lower the amount of neurotoxin that got in. Bessany's breath sobbed out in wild relief. "It may be deep enough, John. And look, we can rig a barrier of some kind, there, at that narrow spot."
"We'll try it," John said grimly. "Dr. Collingwood, do you have any indications on the persistence of this neurotoxin?"
"No, I'm afraid not. The samples we've worked with haven't shown any sign of degrading."
"God alone knows how long that stuff will persist, then. At least we had Lundquist crank out mass quantities of that stuff. I want every shuttle en route with canisters to turn around and rendezvous with me. We may need to keep Chilaili's entire clan dosed for weeks to come. Hell, maybe months. If it persists long enough, we may have to evacuate the whole clan off-world."
A sobbing sound broke from Chilaili.
Kestejoo, when she translated, just moaned, beak clacking softly in distress.
"Commander," Rapier asked abruptly, "how soon after ordering me to rendezvous at the winter nest did you hear my approach?"
"Within seconds."
"Then I dare not come any closer than four kilometers to the war party unless a way can be found to muffle the sound of my approach. We cannot afford to excite them into firing on me, since we would never persuade them to lay down their weapons in time, afterward. Sooleawa anticipated this problem, in fact, when she brought the snowshoes to Chilaili. I am calculating possible alternate routes." Silence fell again, stretching Bessany's nerves taut. "Possible alternate route located." A green line appeared at a tangent to the racing red line of their current trajectory. "By routing through this valley, we can use rock walls to reduce the distance the noise will travel and bring us to within two point five kilometers. This will add three point zero five minutes to my transit time."
"Do it. It'll shave time off the final dash Chilaili and Kestejoo have to make through deep snow."
"Changing course."
The view on the forward data screen swung dizzily, then they were charging ahead on the new line, which still flashed green ahead of them and changed to red as they followed the new course. "Rapier, get Carter on the horn again," John said tersely.
The speaker crackled. "Carter here."
John relayed the altered plan.
"Sixty adult Tersae?" the pilot responded. "It's a good thing I'm still stripped for emergency running, isn't it? We'd never have fit 'em all in, otherwise."
"Roger that. I'm transmitting the rendezvous point, Lieutenant. We'll meet in a valley two-and-a-half klicks from the Tersae war party. You'll need to approach low and fast. Can you get in without being spotted?"
A grim chuckle reached them. "I can outrace the devil, Colonel, but God alone knows if I can sneak up on an armed Tersae war party. Okay, I've got the map—jeezus, that's wicked terrain. I'll swing around at treetop level and come in from the far end of the valley. That'll at least put me lower than the ground, relative to their position."
"Roger, that sounds like the best shot we have. See you at the rendezvous point."
"That's a rog, Colonel. Carter out."
The command compartment fell tensely silent as Rapier crashed through the rugged terrain at top speed. How long could the Bolo maintain this pace without straining his engines? Bessany had no idea. They literally leaped across narrow ravines, moving so fast, falling was never an option. Larger valleys forced them to dodge and weave, but Rapier seemed to have laid out his course in advance, using Elin's terrain maps as a guide, for their speed never faltered and they remained steadily on schedule as kilometer after kilometer churned away beneath his treads.
Bessany realized she was gripping the armrests of her observer's couch so hard she couldn't feel her fingers. When she tried to move her hands, they refused to budge. So she savaged her lip instead and stole a worried glance at the Tersae beside her. Chilaili's expression was ghastly. If the Ones Above had appeared at that moment, Bessany devoutly believed Chilaili would have ripped their furry heads off their stocky necks with her bare hands.
Bessany would have helped. Gladly.
A whole planet poisoned. A whole sentient species wiped off its snow-covered face.
Then they were skidding through the final turn, running down the last leg of the wriggling green line. Rapier dropped speed to a relative crawl to reduce the noise he was making. The Bolo navigated around stands of trees, rather than plowing straight through them. The angle of the command compartment shifted, tilting as Rapier descended a precipitous slope. They jolted their way toward the valley floor, descending at a spot shallow enough to let them enter without Rapier having to blast a ramp out of the walls with his guns—doubtless one reason the Bolo had chosen this particular valley. The aerial drone running ahead of them came to a halt above a narrow crack in the earth, then sank slowly down into the fissure, revealing the entrance to the cave they'd chosen.
"All right, people," John muttered, "there's the entrance. Looks big enough to get 'em through, thank God. Chilaili, you need to decide which members of that war party will shelter inside Carter's shuttle and which ones will have to take their chances in the cavern."
"We will place the oldest males inside the shuttle," Chilaili answered at once. "The younger ones have been damaged more intensely. We cannot afford to rely solely on the bloodlines of hotheaded, suicidal youngsters. The Evil One Above did his work well," she added bitterly. "I have seven sons who will shelter in that cavern. The youngest three have already killed two of their older brothers in senseless challenge . . ."
Bessany bit her lip, needing the sharp flare of pain to control her unsteady breaths. Then a long, low blur raced across the viewscreen, startling a gasp from Bessany and both Tersae. A Navy shuttle settled to earth at the upper end of the valley. Carter had made it without a single shot fired. Bessany started breathing again. Maybe, she chanted under her breath, maybe . . .
Rapier ground to a halt less than two meters from Carter's shuttle. The pilot was already out of her craft, holding two carrysacks with the precious canisters. "Everybody out," John barked.
Bessany fumbled with unfamiliar restraint catches. A swift glance at the chronometer sent her pulse skittering. They had twelve minutes to save a species.