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“Hutch says cooperate, but they are not to set foot on the surface. If they do, they will be prosecuted. She says they’ve been warned.”

“Okay. Tell them we’ll help where we can. Don’t mention the pickups.”

“Good,” she said. “I think that’s prudent.”

BLACK CAT REPORT

Thanks, Ron. This is Rose Beetem in the skies over Lookout. At the moment, we can’t show you the cities of the Goompahs. They’re under a heavy cover of rainstorms. I have to report to you that we have been asked not to land on the planetary surface, because of the Noninterference Protocol, and we are adhering to that request.

But we expect to be able to follow the action on the ground as the situation develops. Meantime, it is late evening over the Goompah cities, which are concentrated on a relatively small landmass in the southern hemisphere. What you are looking at now is the rim of the omega. It is just rising, and, as you can see, it is an incredible spectacle.

Avery Whitlock’s Notebooks

It is hard not to conclude that my entire life has been a prelude to and a preparation for this moment. If we do not succeed here, nothing else I’ve done will have mattered very much.

— December 12

chapter 45

On board the Jenkins.

Sunday, December 14.

“WE’LL BE LEAVING orbit in thirty minutes.” Kellie’s voice came over the speaker from the bridge. She’d resumed command of the Jenkins.

They were running through the night beneath the cloud. The Intigo was on the daylight side of the globe, approaching evening. In a couple of hours, when it rotated beneath the omega, and the ship had withdrawn to a safe distance from Lookout, they would put Digger’s plan into effect and see whether the Goompahs could be persuaded to head for the high country. They’d have the night and much of the following day to get out of town. Then, at about midafternoon the omega would impact the far side, weather conditions would worsen, and the event would begin.

The projectors were in place, and the chimneys were up. Clouds were spreading out from T’Mingletep on the south to Saniusar in the north.

The situation was promising. The omega would, as predicted, hit the wrong side and spend the bulk of its fury before the cities of the Intigo rotated into its path.

Moody and dark and silent, lit by only an occasional flicker, it had almost completely blotted out the stars. The Goompahs could no longer see it, but the crew of the Jenkins knew. Digger hated looking at the thing. There was a tendency on the ship to walk softly, to hold one’s breath, and to speak in low tones, as if a little noise might draw its attention.

The plumes reached well past Lookout and lost themselves in the dazzle of the sun. On the surface of the threatened world, seas had become rough, in anticipation of the onslaught. Around the Intigo, the weather had grown cold and wet.

On the Jenkins, as they counted down the last few minutes, they talked about the ongoing debates over enhanced intelligence, about a report from Hutch that clouds did not survive their encounters with their hedgehogs, about an assassination attempt in the NAU Senate, about a new teaching system designed to bolster lagging literacy scores. The approaching omega was the elephant in the room, the thing no one mentioned.

The promised celebration of the marriage between Kellie and Digger never really happened. They’d had a few drinks and exchanged embraces all around, but that was about it. Maybe it seemed inappropriate after Collingdale’s death, or maybe nobody really wanted to celebrate anything until they had the results on Lookout.

“Daylight coming,” said Kellie.

The sun rose over the rim of the world, and the omega dropped down the sky behind them and receded below the horizon until only the plumes remained visible, great dark towers soaring into the heavens.

“Good riddance,” said Marge.

“Next time they want somebody to wrestle one of these things,” Digger said, “they’re going to have to find somebody else.”

“Twelve minutes to departure,” said Kellie. “Lockdown in eight. Anybody needs to do anything, this would be a good time.”

Digger felt an enormous sense of relief to be putting some distance between himself and the omega.

Julie commented that she was having the time of her life, and they all looked at her as if she’d lost her mind. “Well,” she said. “I haven’t been around as long as some of you guys have, but if things go well, or even if they don’t, I expect this will be the high point of my career. How often do you get involved in something that really matters?”

Mouths of babes, thought Digger. He was jiggling a puzzle on his monitor. Find your way out of the maze.

They were over ocean. Daylight sparkled off a few clouds, and he saw land in the north. In a little more than an hour it would be getting dark along the Intigo. Their last peaceful night.

Digger gave up on the maze—he’d never been good at puzzles anyhow—and headed for one of the acceleration couches. It felt good to lie down, punch the button, and feel the harness settle over him. The others laughed at him. “Anxious?” asked Whit.

“You bet.”

“I guess we all are.” Julie took one of the chairs; Marge, the other couch. Whit settled in beside Julie. “Congratulations,” he said.

She smiled. There was a touch of innocence in it, and Digger couldn’t help thinking again how young she looked. When they wrote the history of these proceedings, he suspected she’d get left out, pretty much. Collingdale would be seen as a hero who’d sacrificed himself to turn the cloud aside. He still didn’t have the story from Kellie, but he suspected something else had been at work. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have been so quiet. But it was okay. You always need heroes.

Marge would rank up there, too. And Jack, the first victim. That brought a rush of guilt. Killed by the stupidity of a colleague. If the historians ever got the truth, old Digger wouldn’t look very good.

Bill’s voice broke in. “Marge, Kellie asked me to pass the current weather report along.”

He wondered why it mattered at that point.

“What’ve you got, Bill?” she asked.

“There’s a storm system building to the west of the Intigo.”

“That’s just what we want, isn’t it?” said Digger. He glanced over at Marge and gave her a thumbs-up. “An assist for the little lady,” he said.

She frowned. “Maybe not. Bill, what kind of storm?”

“Electrical. I’d say the isthmus is going to get heavy rains tonight.”

Digger didn’t like the way she looked. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “Why is that not good news?”

“Think about it. How are you going to send signals to the projectors you’ve been planting all over the isthmus? During an electrical storm?”

Uh-oh.

“Isn’t it a bit late in the season for thunderstorms?”

Marge shrugged. “Don’t know. We’ve haven’t really had a chance to look at climatic conditions here. In any case, they could be starting to feel the effects of the omega.” The plumes had been burrowing into the atmosphere for a couple of days.

It didn’t bother Julie. “I don’t see that it makes that much difference,” she said. “The thing isn’t going to hit the cities anyhow. So even if they don’t get out, they’ll probably be okay.”

“That’s not so,” persisted Marge. “The omega is going to kick up a very large storm. Think maybe tornado-force winds around the planet.” She looked at Digger with frustration. “I don’t know. We just don’t have enough experience with these things.”

She released her harness and went back to one of the stations and brought up an image of the Intigo. “The cities are all at or close to sea level. They’re going to get high water. Maybe even tsunamis. If the population doesn’t get to high ground, the losses are going to be substantial.”

“Well,” said Julie, “what about this? We can use the landers. They’re still down there. Load the broadcast program into the landers now while conditions are good. Pick out four locations covering the eleven cities and have Bill move the landers. Right? One in each spot. Then when the time comes, just broadcast from the four sites. We can watch the storm and try to pick the best time for each.”

“Sounds okay to me,” said Digger. “I don’t see any reason it wouldn’t work.”

Marge’s expression never changed. “I don’t think so,” she said.

“Why not?” asked Digger.

“The landers are on Mt. Alpha at the moment.”

“Where?” asked Whit.

“It’s a mountain near Hopgop. Nice safe place. Nobody could get near it on foot.”

“—And?”

“They’re lashed down. To protect them from the winds. They aren’t going anywhere.”

“Well,” said Julie, “I guess we didn’t think this one through the way we should have.”

“We can’t release them from here?” asked Digger.

“They’re just ordinary cables tied to trees.” Marge looked uncomfortable. “Sorry. It didn’t occur to me we’d need them again before this was over.”

Julie took a deep breath. “It’s out of our hands then. Whatever happens, happens. We’ve done everything we can.”

Whit looked squarely at Digger. No, we haven’t. But he didn’t say it.

“Two minutes,” said Kellie. “Marge, you need to belt down.”

Digger had no idea where the isthmus was. There were too many clouds. The planet looked so big. Surely that little stretch of land with its cluster of cities would get by okay.

Whit was watching him, waiting for him to say something.

Digger sighed. “I’ll go down,” he said. “I can use the landers and run the signal from the ground. As opportunity permits.”

Julie stared at him. “Have you lost your mind?”

“Kellie,” he said, “hold off on departure.”

“Why? We’ll lose our window.”

“You’re going to need another one.”

“I’ll go with you,” Whit said.