“Yeah,” Andria said. She faced the front again, and gestured at the portal that was projecting a topographic map of the Dessault range from the Grand Triad in the west across to the Institute valley in the east. It looked like the cloudscape of some gas giant, with the tips of the mountains poking through as various fast-moving stormbands streamed past them. “We’re running the fifth simulation now. The genuine meteorological patterns allowed us to refine the behavioral algorithms. I don’t think the old software would have coped with the real thing. Even now, I’ve still got doubts. This is a lot more complex than we ever thought.”
“All we can do is give it our best shot. Have you got all the manipulator stations on-line?”
“Yeah.” Andria’s hand tapped at one of the screens on her table. It showed the stations scattered across the Dessault range linked together by thin red lines. The main communications relays were handled by masers, set up at high altitude on remote pinnacles, and protected by force fields. Samantha had always been skeptical about how they would hold together in the midst of the superstorm, but short of laying armored cables right across the range they had no choice. It was one of the reasons they’d established the control center on Mount Idle, where they had direct line of sight with Mount Herculaneum. They were also far enough south to escape the direct blast of the storm when it came.
“How’s Zuggenhim Ridge?” Samantha asked.
Andria grinned knowingly, and pulled up the telemetry. “Sweet. You did a good job.”
“Thanks. And the observation team?”
“Ours? They’re not going to make it; they’re still a couple of hours from the glacier ring. It’s down to the navy people now. Do you think they can land up there?”
“I don’t know. They think they can. We just have to wait and see.”
“There’s no way we can do this blind.”
“You’re going to have to draw up a contingency for that just the same.”
“Yeah right,” Andria declared sarcastically.
“Shame Qatux stayed with Bradley. We could do with that kind of brain-power to help us out right now.”
“I don’t think even a Raiel would be any use to us now,” Andria said.
Both the Barsoomians turned to face them. The shadows thinned out inside Dr. Friland’s hood, allowing green eyes to gaze down on Samantha. “Did you say a Raiel is on Far Away?”
Samantha looked up to the tall Barsoomian; for some inexplicable reason she felt guilty, as if she’d been concealing the fact from them. “Yes. It’s traveling with Bradley Johansson. I don’t know much about it; this is all secondhand gossip from Adam’s team.”
“It must not come to harm.”
Samantha took in the control center with an impatient gesture. “We’re doing our best.”
“Short-wave signal,” Andria announced. “Strong one. Coming from the west.”
“Adam’s team,” Samantha said. “Is it for us?”
“Hang on.” Andria touched several icons on her screen.
***
They turned into Stakeout Canyon just after midnight. It had been a long smooth run from Stonewave, directly south across the wet desert, then around the western flank of Mount Zeus. The massive volcano had become visible in the late afternoon as the layer of fog finally began to dissipate. Bright sunlight shining in level from the horizon had illuminated the vast naked lava fields as they rose out of the flat glistening landscape. They were too close to catch a glimpse of the summit seventeen kilometers above, although they did catch the occasional sparkle along the crest as its fractured ice band reflected the dying sun. The flashes faded away soon enough as the sapphire sky bled down to violet before quickly turning black.
Rosamund turned on the jeep’s headlights, creating long shimmering strips of light across the bare rock. The vehicle had been custom made in Armstrong City, fitting a smooth composite ellipse over a standard Toyota four-by-four pickup chassis. Air flowed unbroken over its low-friction paintwork, making it virtually imperious to the winds. It was designed to anchor itself to the ground if it was caught in the open when the morning storm arrived, with four big screws underneath that could wind themselves deep into the hard sands of the wet desert.
Paula sat on the bench seat in the back. If she hunched right down she could see between Rosamund and Oscar and out through the narrow band of windshield. She’d slept away most of the journey through the afternoon, coming awake in sudden bursts to witness a near identical landscape each time. As they progressed, the slope of Mount Zeus had grown larger along the horizon until it became a barrier across the world. Now in the dark it was completely invisible while the stars twinkled directly overhead. The drone of the diesel engine filled the interior along with the metallic clanking of the hyperglider trailer they were hauling along, making conversation difficult. Not, she imagined, that Oscar and Rosamund had been trying to say much to each other. The two other jeeps were following them across the wet desert; Wilson and Jamas in one, while Anna and Kieran brought up the rear.
She fumbled around on the cushioning to find the bottle, and sipped at the mineral water. For once it didn’t make her want to gag. In fact, she realized just how thirsty she was. She finished the bottle and sat up a little straighter. Just about every muscle in her body was aching and debilitated; it was all she could do to hold herself upright. Her headache translated every slight jolt into a flash of burning light somewhere behind her eyes. She shivered, though she didn’t feel quite as cold as before.
“Where are we?” she asked. The weak croak of her own voice surprised her.
“Hey!” Oscar turned around, a big smile on his face. “How are you feeling?”
“Not good.”
“Oh.” The smile faded. “We’ve just started to turn into Stakeout Canyon.”
“Right.”
Paula woke up when the jeep braked to a halt. She hadn’t realized she’d fallen asleep again.
“This is it,” Rosamund announced. “Midway between Zeus and Titan. We tether them here.” She twisted around in the seat to give Paula an entreating look. “I know you didn’t leave the cab to kill Adam. Have you got any idea which of them it was?”
Paula could barely remember their names. “No. Sorry, not yet.”
Rosamund gave a disgruntled sigh, and opened the door. “Let’s go.”
Oscar looked at her for a long moment, then pulled a penitent face and followed Rosamund out into the calm night.
Paula stayed in the back of the jeep for a while. It rocked about as the hyperglider trailer was unhooked; there was a lot of loud talk outside punctuated by the occasional curse as they prepared the drill for the tether cable anchor. She drank some more water, mildly pleased that she no longer felt cold. Warm humid air was gusting in through the open door, but that wasn’t it. The icy claws gripping her bones had relinquished their grip. She still coughed from time to time, but she really didn’t feel as though death was so close. Best yet, her headache was easing. There was a medical kit lying on the backseat next to her. She recognized it as the one Adam had been using in the Volvo. There were plenty of pills and applicator refills that would deal with her headache, but she chose a packet of rehydration salts and mixed them into a bottle of plain water, taking her time to swirl the powder around until it was all dissolved. It tasted foul, but she forced it down.
That simple action just about exhausted her. When she heard the loud grinding whine of the drill she shuffled up into the driver’s seat and took a look out into Stakeout Canyon. The ubiquitous sand and gravel of the wet desert had been scoured away here, revealing the solid lava foundation. Their three unique wind-resistant jeeps had parked in a simple triangle, their headlights shining on the hyperglider that had been rolled out of its trailer. Its cockpit canopy was open, and a faint glow shone up from its small console. Oscar was standing at the side of it, peering in as he ran the last set of diagnostics. Wilson, Jamas, and Rosamund were all clustered around the big harmonicblade drill as it sank another five-meter-long segment of carbon-reinforced titanium into the ground; the fourth of ten. The anchor pole sprouted slim horizontal malmetal blades of its own; once all the segments were locked together they’d telescope outward, helping to embed it farther. It was the second of three anchor struts that together would secure the tether cables against the phenomenal force exerted by the storm. In theory, they could hold the hyperglider on the ground in case the pilot underwent any last-minute surge of doubts. A common enough occurrence, apparently. Watching the three men trying to be civil to each other as the pole was spun down into the dark lava, she was very glad she wasn’t going to be flying in the morning. Anna and Rosamund were securing the tether drum into its recess in the nose of the glider.