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XXIV

Good fortune is less a product of talent or energy than it is a matter of timing. Being at the right place when the watermelon truck flips. This is how promotions happen, and how fortunes are made. Arrive at the intersection a minute behind, when the police are on the scene, and everything is undone.

— Gregory MacAllister, Lost in Babylon.

Hours to breakup (est): 63

Kellie looked down at Bad News Bay and sucked in her breath. The entire lower coastline had gone underwater, and the cliff top along which they'd walked was now not much more than a promontory.

"What do you think?" asked Hutch. She was referring to the diagnostic, and not the state of the bay.

"I don't know why the Al is disabled. Probably general degradation."

"Okay. What else?"

"We've got problems with temp controls. Onboard communications are okay. Capacitors are at max, but we've only got twenty-one percent That's all they'll take, apparently. Sensors are out. Forward dampers are down. We're getting a warning on the electrical system."

Hutch made a face. "Not imminent shutdown, I hope?"

"Negative."

"Okay. When we get time I'll take a look at it. We've got plenty of spare parts on board."

Normally, the pilot would run the diagnostic herself, but normally the AI would be operating the spacecraft. Hutch was busy.

Kellie ticked off a series of other problems, mostly minor, others potential rather than actual. "We wouldn't want to do a lot of flying in this buggy. But it should get us to the tower."

Hutch leveled off at two thousand meters, informed Marcel's surrogate they had no sensors, and with her help set course. The surrogate asked whether there was any chance they could ride this lander back to Wendy? As it was at the moment?

"Negative," Hutch said. "We can lift off and set down. We can even hover for a bit. But take it to orbit? That's not going to happen."

Kellie took a minute to call Nightingale. "How you guys doing?" she asked.

"Okay."

"Good. We're overhead." Then, to the surrogate: "Allie, do we have time to pick up the rest of our crew?"

She nodded and throttled up. "Negative. The plain is flooding as we speak. Lots of water."

In the illumination cast by Jerry Morgan, the countryside was ghastly. Kellie saw the area where Chiang had died, and thought she could pick out the spot where the hovercraft was located. They soared over the dragonfly river.

Marcel came on the circuit. "Hutch," he said, "there's a lot of water cascading into the valley. A lot. The tide keeps getting higher, and a long section of ridge has simply collapsed."

It would continue to do so as Morgan moved across the sky. To the south, they saw roiling smoke.

"Volcano," Marcel said. "They're erupting all over the globe tonight."

"What's the situation at the tower?"

"The water hasn't gotten there yet in any quantity. But it won't be long. Run your afterburners."

"Afterburners," said Hutch. "Aye." A joke, of course. She was already at maximum thrust.

Marcel continued: "The tower's in a wide plain. There's a funnel of sorts that empties into it from the north. The water's coming through the funnel. When it hits the plain, it spreads out a bit. That's kept us out of the soup. But it won't contain things forever."

"Any guesses on time?"

"How long's it going to take you to get there?"

"Twenty minutes."

"It might be enough," he said. "You'll want to hit the ground running."

"Mac."

"Yes, Priscilla."

"Mac, be careful. We'll be back as quickly as we can." "We'll be waiting." "You and Randy'll be okay?" "We won't be if you don't get those batteries." "Capacitors, Mac."

"Bear with me. I was never much of a technician. But by all means go get them. We'll leave a light on for you here."

Marcel came up again. "Hutch." And she read everything in his voice, all the futility and despair and exasperation that had been building for days. "You might as well break it off. Go back and-"

"What do you mean, break it off?"

"Just what I said. You don't have time to do this."

Kellie cut in. "Goddammit, Marcel, we can't just break it off. We've got nowhere else to go here."

"We're working on a backup plan. Forget the capacitors."

"What's the backup plan?"

"It's complicated."

"That's what I thought," said Kellie. "Give it to me in a couple of words."

"We're going to try to take you right out of the sky."

"You're what?"

"Pick you up in flight. I can't explain now."

"I'm not surprised."

"We're building a device that might work."

"Marcel," said Hutch, "what's your level of confidence in this scheme?"

He apparently had to think about it. "Look. Nobody's ever tried anything like this before. I can't promise success. But it's a chance."

"Right." Kellie stared at Hutch. "Go for the tower."

Hutch agreed. "I think we better get the capacitors." She leaned forward in her chair as if she could urge the spacecraft to more acceleration.

"Hutch-" He sounded desperate.

Kellie shook her head. Get there or nothing else matters.

They were already at full throttle, had been since leaving the river.

"How much time do we have?" asked Kellie. "Before the water reaches the tower?"

"The tower's getting its feet wet now."

"How deep? How bad is it?"

"It's deep enough. You simply don't have time for this."

"We're out over the plain," said Hutch, "and we don't see any water yet."

"Take my word for it."

"We're going to look, Marcel. We'll let you know."

Kellie went private. "We're not over the plain, Hutch," she said. They were in fact passing over forest and ridges.

"We're only a couple of minutes away." Hutch went back to Marcel. "If it looks at all possible, we're going to try it."

"I wish you wouldn't."

"I wish we didn't have to. Now tell me about the water: What are we going to see? Waves? A gradual rise? What?"

"There's a wave on its way. Actually, a series of waves, running close together."

"How far are they? From the tower? How high?"

"High enough to submerge the capacitors. They're at ground level, right?"

"Yes. On a table."

"They're probably already in the water."

"Any chance we can beat the waves? Any chance at all?"

"You've got about fifteen minutes."

They were ten minutes away. Give or take. "Okay, Marcel. All or nothing."

"Speaking of which: You're off course. Come twelve points to port."

Hutch moved the yoke to the left, and watched the guidance indicators. "Okay?" she asked.

"Yeah," he said despondently. "Looks fine."

Kellie listened to the steady roar of the jets and watched snow-covered ridges sweep past.

"We did a minimum charge," Hutch told her. "That means there's a possibility we may have to install the new capacitors before we can get off the ground. That could get interesting. You might take a look in back. Make sure we have everything close to hand in case we have to do the connections."

"We going to do this in the backseat?"

"If things get tight, yes. We won't take time to remove the onboard capacitors. Just pull the connectors. We'll load the new ones in back as best we can, tie them in, and get the hell away. So we'll need electrical cable and wrenches ready to go."

Kellie went back and began laying everything out.

The lander passed over the last line of hills and came out over the plain. They picked up the snow cover and the ground became ethereal, a spectral countryside of glistening trees and silver-etched shadows. Then the tones changed, and they were over water.

It looked shallow. Shin-high, knee-high. They could still see ground shrubbery. Kellie reported everything ready in the backseat.