The soldiers who’d come into the chamber were pulling a dolly. None of the EUVL components weighed more than two hundred pounds, but the soldiers also had a stubby blue cylinder, not an air tank, connected by a coil of line to a slender, blackened nozzle. The welding torch.
Ruth said, “You have to be careful how you take it apart!”
“Doc, anything that’s not on our trailer in fifteen minutes gets left here.”
“You can’t just cut the cooling lines, we’ll never fix—”
“Fifteen minutes.”
“I can minimize the damage,” D.J. said. “Let me show them where to cut and I’ll pull as much wiring as I can.”
“Sure,” Young answered. Already one soldier was helping the other, Dansfield, fit a heavy welder’s mask over his helmet.
Ruth hesitated, arguments swarming her brain. The third component — the power supply and computerized electronics— was tied to the others only by a bevy of cables, easily yanked. Unfortunately the second unit — cooling system, fans and filters — was connected to the first by several heavy-duty pipes. If they hacked through those lines, they would lose most of the coolant and badly contaminate the decon system. But better that, she supposed, than to risk damaging the laser optics in the first component by smashing the bolts free.
She seized her laptop. Todd was gathering up the CD-RWs and D.J. had zipped the case of vacuum wafers into his chest pocket. Ruth bustled into the air lock, Todd close behind.
There were still so many tests and refinements necessary before they had a dependable vaccine, more than anyone ever could have accomplished within the limits of their air supply.
They’d probably run through the whole process fifty times. They needed days, even weeks, and she closed her eyes and cursed herself.
The rationale for preliminary checks had been sound, but they should have stopped as soon as they were sure they had the essentials. Maybe they could have finished refueling at Sacramento International before the jets rose over the horizon.
Ruth had honestly thought she was beyond pride, beyond anticipating her place in history — yet the temptation to be first had been too great. Temptation and weakness.
She’d never completely escaped her fear as they worked— there were too many reminders, the clinging skin of her suit, the weight of her pack and the cramping discomfort in her shoulder — but she had used her diaper standing right there among five men and thought little of it, spellbound, possessed.
Now she prayed to God that there would be a place and time for her to lose herself again. Not for her own sake. Not ever again for her. The millions of people left in the world didn’t deserve to starve and fight through the next thousand years because of her selfishness. Shouldn’t that count for something?
Please please please. The litany was her heartbeat.
“This is Dansfield, I’m lighting up—”
She looked back. Stupid. Three of the four men behind her in the hermetic chamber had turned outward, and she saw Iantuano’s lips part in surprise at her reaction. Then her gaze shifted naturally to the fourth man, a kneeling shape, just as the welding torch in his hands spat out a holy blue-white flame. She flinched.
Please God.
Afterimages clung to her eyes. “Todd,” she said, “will you double-check the trailer? I’m going to look over what’s left in here and then we can triple-up on each other, okay?”
“Sounds good.”
“Let me help.” That was Cam, jacking his radio back in without permission. Ruth paused, afraid for him, but surely Young wouldn’t object now that Leadville knew everything.
His scarred, broad features had swollen between his nose and mouth, though the extent of it was tough to judge because the interior of his faceplate was flecked with dry blood, thickest over the bottom half. Beside Cam, low in the wheelchair, Sawyer blinked up at her with a frightened chimpanzee grimace. No doubt he’d also looked at the welding torch.
“Why don’t you give that guy a hand?” she asked, motioning outside the lab where a soldier was lashing equipment onto the trailer. “We can’t afford for anything to fall off.”
“Right.” Cam turned and trotted after Todd, leaving Sawyer in the middle of the floor.
Ruth strode alongside the counter, regarding the jumble. If there was room, if they had a fleet of trucks, they would leave nothing except the chairs and desk lamps. But other items didn’t matter, picoammeters, a signal generator—
She was standing in Corporal Ruggiero’s blood.
She clenched her fist and kept moving, although she angled back from the counter to walk on clean tile. Then her gaze lowered again with the same reflex curiosity that had nearly blinded her.
The puddle had smeared when they dragged Ruggiero from the room, a broad trail now turning black and sticky.
Captain Young was in the far corner again, where he’d gone after each interruption, standing over the prisoners with another Special Forces soldier as a third man wrapped more tape around the prisoners’ legs. They were already immobilized. Why bother?
Ruth fumbled for her radio control, careful not to drop her laptop and unwilling to set it down.
“—or own fault. Otherwise you’d be riding back with us.”
“You can’t just leave us here.” Hernandez. They must have plugged his radio in.
“I can’t bother keeping an eye on you or messing around with an extra vehicle,” Young told him. “I’m sorry. We’ll tell them where to find you.”
“What if they don’t get here in time?”
“You have almost two hours. And you can survive for almost two more after that before you really start to hurt.”
“Not if we suffocate in these suits.”
“We’ll leave you a knife,” Young said. “You should be able to get everybody up and moving in ten, fifteen minutes.”
Longer than that. But Ruth didn’t say it. The Marines would need to be very cautious to avoid cutting open their suits, and now she realized why the soldier with the tape was looping it around their shins and knees instead of reinforcing the bonds at their feet. More surface area meant more exacting surgery.
“Wait.” Hernandez spoke faster now. “You know Timberline has the best chance at putting together a bug that really works. If you take this technology to the breakaways—”
“Good-bye, Major. Good luck.”
“—you’re playing with more lives than you—”
Young knelt and yanked Hernandez’s jack himself, as the soldier with the tape leaned over. He also held a folding knife. They cut Hernandez’s wire and then did the same to the other three Marines, irreparably muting them.
It was a mercy, giving Hernandez and his squad a chance, and it was smart. Ruth approved. If Young had executed them, he couldn’t expect any better for himself if things went bad.
Leaving them here to be rescued was also, she thought, a calculated move to draw away some of Leadville’s forces.
* * * *
More than fifteen minutes passed before they were driving — the EUVL components barely fit through the air lock one at a time — but Young held up until the last piece was aboard the trailer.
Their shadows were small and huddled beneath them, the noon sun suspended near its highest point.
Dansfield led off in the ’dozer, Trotter kneeling on the roof on the operator’s cage with one of their two assault rifles, and Olson stood behind him on the bulldozer’s body. The five civilians and four remaining Special Forces crammed into the jeep and among the tightly packed gear on the flatbed, Sawyer and his wheelchair wedged into the back. Iantuano sat on top of an EUVL component with the second rifle.
Newcombe had disabled the pickup with three pistol shots, both driver-side tires, the radiator. They’d also dumped most of the equipment they’d brought here, keeping the remaining air tanks and the pressure hood — and Ruth noted that among the abandoned gear were the gas cans Young had sworn he’d use to destroy the lab machinery if Leadville pressed too close.