Quickly, a lone dot started down one rope. Nikki sucked in her breath ... blue flame flickered around the engine that had quit working. The fire danced in the wake of the blimp for a second, then created a sheen all around the large gas bag. A split second later, the entire bag was one large yellow fire, falling faster than the pilot could go down the rope.
The crew were running for the burning blimp before it hit the ground. Still, it engulfed Rhynia in middrop. Nikki stuffed her fist in her mouth, bit back her scream. "If only Daga and I had never opened the box. If only we hadn't made the mountain disappear."
"Then the Colonel wouldn't have the box to make those mountains disappear," Kat said, nodding toward the beautiful white ramparts. "The computers were already headed south when we got here, when you and Daga opened that box. All this was gonna happen, Nikki. The only question was: Could we fight back? We've got the box," she said, tapping the pack on her back. "Maybe we've got a fighting chance. That's what Rhynia died for. Now we've got to make it happen."
Kat struggled to her feet, or foot. Nikki offered her a shoulder to lean on; Kat used it for support as they hobbled toward the skeleton of the blimp. The fire was dying out; only the carbon composite framework still smoldered. The mechanics and the copilot stood watching. The seven of them stared at the wreckage; somewhere under it was the body of their pilot. "Let's open that damn box and show those bloody computers what happens when you mess with a blimp crew," the copilot said through tears.
"Think we're close enough?" Nikki asked.
"Only one way to find out," Kat said.
Nikki felt one corner, found the spot, and pressed it. A small crack appeared around the middle, just as it had the first time. She probed the other end; a second catch let go.
The box didn't open. They used their fingers. They tried knives. Nothing would pry the lid up.
"We've come all this way, and it's a dud!" a mech cried.
* * *
Ray took Kat's call; she spat it out fast. The blimp was wrecked; the box wouldn't work. Like a good commander, he spoke the calming words he knew he had to, that they expected of him.
Inside, he was crumbling.
"Lek," he ordered, "check with Dancer. Are any of our computer friends familiar with the damn box?"
Lek was back far too quickly. "Sir, some of them might know about it, but they didn't bring that data south with them. It's locked away somewhere in those mountains."
Ray allowed himself a moan. "To get there from here, you got to be there first. Kat, afraid you're on your own. See if Nikki remembers anything more about the day they fired it off."
"Will do, sir. Uh, we haven't heard anything for a while. Does hitting this thing's physical side do any good?"
"Harry's out blowing rock piles. It's helping," Ray said, trying to jack up hope without adding more pressure.
"Then we'll make this thing work, sir. Count on us."
"I know I can." Ray tapped off, wondering if a barely teenage girl could find a way to open the damn box. Trying not to wonder if the box came with only so many shots, and it was all used up.
It was raining hard; the wind lashed them. Jeff figured the first hurricane must be hitting Refuge. He hadn't looked at Harry's overlay to see how high the fourth or fifth hurricane would get. After they blew the next rockbed they'd head inland.
There were now three on each team. Harry drilled. Jeff poured explosives. Annie was halfway back with the spare horse and another load of the starman's best boom stuff. His commlink came alive. He listened, then shouted at Harry, "Dancer says the Pres is edging around the Provost! Using the weak spots we've created to hit him on two sides, not just one!"
"Good physics. Exert pressure on the full surface of the medium," Harry answered, pausing in his drilling to wipe rain from his face. "Hope the damn computer is obliged for our help."
Annie led the horse up the gentle slope toward him. Clothes dripping, hair bedraggled, her face still lit up in a beautiful smile as she approached Jeff. He leaned forward to kiss her. She accepted it, then broke away far too soon to hand him the loaded horse's reins and take his now unburdened one.
"How much farther?"
Jeff pointed. "Maybe another thirty holes."
"One more load," she estimated. "Lil wants one more, too," she said, leading the horse downhill.
"You could ride it, you know," Jeff called after her.
"The poor thing's exhausted. And won't we be needing it to carry all we've got to the last rock? I can walk."
"Ow!" came from uphill. "That hurts!" Zed shouted.
"What hurts?" Lil called from where she poured explosives.
"I don't know. I got this rash on my hands."
Jeff eyed Harry. "You got one, too?"
"A bit. Nothing to worry about. This damn drill is blowing hot rock all around. Bound to irritate a guy's skin." Jeff ignored the holes he needed to fill, stepped off the distance to his old friend, reached for his hands.
"Don't touch me," Harry cut him off. "If I've got nanites, you don't want them. You stuff holes. Apparently it hasn't figured out that's as dangerous as the drilling."
"Harry!"
"Don't Harry me. If we have to, you'll drill when I can't. Right now I still can. Stuff those holes, kid."
Jeff swallowed. He couldn't argue with Harry. Hell, Harry had won every argument they'd ever had. Still. "I can't just stand here and let whatever's happening ..."
"Whatever's happening is happening. You got a magic wand that'll change these damn computers, wave it. For now, we suffer whatever they think to pass along to us. Let's get a move on. It's learning too damn fast for my liking. Besides, maybe if we put the Provost out of business, the Pres won't know what to do with the nanos I've picked up. Move, kid" Jeff moved.
* * *
Nikki tried to think. Daga would know. Oh, God, how she wanted to talk to Daga. Daga always made her laugh, no matter what trouble she was in. Nikki wanted to laugh, to make all the troubles go away. Ma said you had to take care of yourself, that you were responsible for what you did. A baby wasn't. A woman was. What do you want to be, a baby or a woman?
At the moment, Nikki would very much like to be a baby, a cute little bundle that people were always glad to take care of.
But babies didn't make messes like she had.
Nikki walked slowly around the box. It wouldn't open. Why not? They'd pushed the places that opened it that time on the hill. Nikki tried to remember what it had been like surrounded by her friends. A warm summer day. Getting warmer. The sun had seemed close enough to touch. Here, high in the foothills of the mountains that raised like a white wall ahead of them, it was so cold Nikki kept a blanket wrapped around herself.
Nikki touched the box. It was cold. Not freezing cold, but cool. Like it had been when she and Daga first picked it up. "Help me close the lid." Two mechanics leaned on it. The lid slid down the fraction of an inch. There wasn't even a click as the tiny crack around the midsection disappeared.
"What are you thinking?" Kat asked.
"It was cold when we started walking. Daga found it in a cave. Then the morning sun warmed it. I remember it felt pleasantly warm when I touched it. When it opened."
Kat nodded. "I've had it wrapped in that backpack since we got it. Let's leave it out in the sun for a while."
Nikki looked up. Thin clouds obscured the sun, leaving her chilled. How much sun did the vanishing box need?
Mary prowled the wall. For the riot police, she had good words. For her marines leading them, she urged caution. "We've got all the firepower we need. No need to flash it around. See over there on the factory. That's Du and his sharpshooters. Anyone takes a potshot at you, they'll get 'im."
For herself, she had nothing. What she wanted to do was stand on the ramparts and scream at the people to go away. We have nothing for you. We're just as destitute as you. There's plenty of land that won't be flooded. Why stay around here?
She didn't. She knew better.
Inside they had food, though the servings were already pretty skimpy. They had shelter against the rain and cold, though the sewers were already backing up. They had leaders to help them believe that somehow this would all come out right. Strange, Mary never considered herself a little ray of hope. Still, that was what she saw in the eyes of the wall details as she talked to them and from the grandmothers as she circulated around the living quarters.
And that was what she felt around the Colonel. Somehow he would fix this. Even as she felt it, she knew it was half dream, half wish. Hell, she'd damn near killed him once. What made her now want to root for him, believe in him while he took on something so much bigger than she and her tiny platoon? She guessed that was what you called leadership.
Mary's eyes wandered over the crowd huddled in the rain outside the wall. Do you have a leader? Is there someone giving you hope? Outside, a fight broke out. People stepped back, made a hole for the two fighting men. A big man pummeled another hardly half his size.
"Stop that!" Mary shouted. "You out there, stop them!"
Eyes with no purpose looked up empty at her. The bigger man smashed the smaller down into the mud. Took something off him and stomped away, leaving the other bleeding into a reddening puddle. No one did anything.
Purpose. Meaning. Order. Leadership. That was what Mary gave those beside her on the wall. "That's why you're here," she snapped to the troops around her. "To keep that shit out there away from your families. Any questions?" There was none.
Mary continued her inspection of the troops on the wall as the unseen sun slipped lower in the sky.
Ray sat with the kids while the doc gave them a thorough going-over. "You draft these kids into your war, they sure as hell get a physical. You, too, Colonel. You're transferring from a desk to a whatever it is you think you're gonna do, I want to have a good look at you."
Ray went along, partially to keep the doc happy, partially to spend time with the kids, but mainly because he had nothing else to do. He'd played nearly every card he had. He would not lay the last one down ahead of time. Whether this would be another Roarkes Drift or Alamo would be clear soon enough.
The kids were quiet- no racing around, no shouting. They sat in the clinic's chairs playing finger games.
"My mommy doesn't say anything," Rose told the boys.
"My grandda is so worried," David gave back. "I wish it would stop raining."
"My ma and da take turns putting on those silly things and standing out in the rain on the wall," Jon offered. "I think they'd rather go home."
Slowly Ray tried to explain what was happening. He drew blank stares from the kids. "A com-uter? Is that like an ogre?" Jon asked.
"Something like one," Ray admitted. "And it is blowing the rain and weather at us," he improvised.
Jon and David blew as hard as they could. "It must be very big," Rose concluded.
Gently, as he might his own child, in images more than truths, Ray told the kids what he wanted them to do. "Like in the cave?" Rose said. "But that was a nice old man," David pointed out. "And I liked him," Jon insisted.
"This time it may be different. I'll need you to do what I do, say what I say. And keep saying it, even if I start saying other things. Could you do that for me?"
All three children slowly nodded their heads. "My grandda likes you." "So does my da and ma." "I think my mommy would like that." Rose was the last, and maybe the only doubtful one. "Are you sure it's an ogre?" she insisted.
"Very much like one," Ray said, rising to go.
"I hope you know what you're doing," the doc whispered angrily as Ray passed him at the door.
"So do I, Jerry. So do I.Ray's commlink buzzed as he walked down the hall, reflecting on the children's view of things. It was Kat. "Sir, I think we've got the vanishing box charged. It's late up here, and I doubt we'll get another shot before dark. Have our priorities changed since we left? Should we wait until tomorrow?"
"Damned-if-I-know" was not an acceptable answer. The Pres's capacity to scramble their DNA had been the number one priority when Kat launched. At the moment, the Provost's nanos were eating Harry and Zed alive; taking out a major chunk of his resources might help them. But taking out any northern target now might give both of them a night to reflect. Might they come up with a counter, a defense, a workaround?
Dithering was not a command quality Ray approved of. "Lek, ask Dancer where the President's DNA scrambler is." Of all his computer allies, Dancer was the only one he trusted. Of course, he was also the one who'd set them up for the hurricanes.
"Boss, I think I got some good scoop from Dancer." Ray's wrist unit showed a tiny map of North Continent, zooming down to the towering range that separated plush south half from arid north. Ray passed the map through to Kat. "That one," he said.
"Sir, that's target twelve, the lowest priority. You trust the data?" Kat asked, the skeptical analyst to the end.
"It's the best we got, Midshipman. Execute your attack."
"Stand by."