"You're the one I'm to ask about transport?" Steve Margolies asked, looking perplexedly at the big woman.
"Eat first," Clodagh said hospitably, and handed him a bowl before filling a bigger one for Bunny to take to Adak. "You need good food after that stuff at the river, and for anything else you want to do."
Steve dragged a tired hand across his face as if he had only just remembered an essential like eating. He accepted the bowl and found a spot to sit, then took a good look around the room.
"Frag!" Steve Margolies exclaimed, his eyes wide with astonishment. "Look at Frank. He's petting that cat."
"Sure, it's fine exercise for his fingers," Clodagh was saying matter-of-factly. "Everyone knows animals are good for distressed folk."
Bunny was grinning, too, as she carried the stew bowl out the door on her way to Adak.
Despite the lid to keep the heat in, she had to walk carefully to keep from spilling the stew. It would keep hot long enough, however, for her to make a few short stops on her way to Adak's.
She slipped in at her own place, where she traded her soaked and stiffened hide boots for her breakup muckers and put on a kettle of food for her dogs. She looked in at Moira's window. The cousins and the dogs must have come and gone again, for Seamus was sitting large as life by the stove, shoveling Moira's soup and bread into his face. Moira was busy cooking. Now that Bunny knew that Seamus had made it back okay, she could continue with an easy heart.
Passing Maloney's again, she was greeted by Dinah's unhappy howl. She would pet and reassure the dog on the way back. Right now, not only was Adak's stew cooling but also a clever dog like Dinah might try to have first grabs at it. So she simply clucked reassuringly at the dog and kept going.
Six or seven snocles sat parked outside Adak's shed, but they had not been cleaned, serviced, or fueled, and were still covered with melting slush, water, and mud. Inside, Adak, headphones over his ears and microphone at his lips, was hunched over the radio. Bunny slid into a chair beside him and shoved the stew in his direction. He looked a little startled to see it appear in front of him, but accepted it without question. Lines were etched deeply into his face and his eyes looked hollow, but his whole body was taut with nervous energy. Early breakup and a new volcano a-borning might be considered catastrophes, but the end result was that today had produced the most excitement Kilcoole had seen since the first expeditionary team had been lost in a tsunami down on the southern edge of the ice pack.
"Well, I'm sorry about that, SpaceBase," Adak was saying with a certain amount of agitation, "but until the next hard freeze, the snocles aren't reliable as transportation for a trip clear out there. Over." He managed to spoon some stew into his mouth. "Oh, sure and they'll run on the snow, that's not the problem. The problem is the rivers, you see, and if you don't believe me, you can ask yer lads as got fished out of them today. Over.
"Is that so? Well, I'm sorry to hear that, too. It's a shame about Dr. Fiske's shuttle crashin' and to be sure we do understand the urgency and all. Over." He hurriedly ate some more.
"No, of course flyin' over it is impossible if the ash and smoke are as thick as you say. My suggestion would be to get yourself some of them crane-copters and have them hoist the snocles to the edge of the affected area and then see if the snocles'll drive at all in the ash. You're still going to be havin' the same problem with slushy going as we have here though. Over.
"The rivers of course, man! Petaybee has more rivers and lakes than you can shake a stick at, and who knows which ones are thawin' this early? Normally the high country would stay frozen longer, but a volcano, now, that's a chancy thing. I'm not a scientific man like yerself, but it seems to me such a thing would warm the country considerable. Over.
"Like I said, air-hoist a snocle to where O'Shay picked up the wounded. I'll wager Yana Maddock can drive it even if your two officer lads don't know how. Over.
"They what! When? How'd you find out? Uh-very well, over.
"Yes, then, I do see the urgency. Look here, I'll try to get some of the local folk on it in the meantime. The point is, machinery just doesn't do awfully well in some of the conditions we have hereabouts right now. That's why we use animals. I'll get back to you. Right. Over."
"What," Bunny asked impatiently, "was that about Yana?"
"Well, seems O'Shay radioed for help as soon as he was airborne and the other copter passed him at the halfway point. He was almost to SpaceBase when they radioed back that they were bringing in the rest of the survivors, but that Fiske, Giancarlo, and Corporal Levindoski overpowered Major Maddock and forced her to go with them into the flow area to look for Dr. Fiske. The higher-ups are that frantic to be after them, but the ash would clog any machines they got and it's not that good for the beasts either."
"I'll bet the curlies can do it, if anything can," Bunny said staunchly. "They were bred for sand and snow back on Earth, and they can close off their nostrils if they need to, and their eyes have a protective lid."
"Maybe so," Adak said, taking a slurp of stew. "Hard to figure why anybody'd want to risk a good curly to go after some company bigwig, though."
Chapter 15
Gun in hand, Yana held off Giancarlo, Torkel, and Ornery until the wounded were loaded. Torkel had relented enough to help, while Ornery and Giancarlo stood by, glaring malevolently at Yana. The last thing O'Shay did before he slammed the door shut was to fling out a red-and-white-striped rectangle. Picking it up, Yana identified it as an emergency rations pack and blessed the pilot's thoughtfulness. The four remaining survivors of the expedition were suffering from shock, and the high-energy rations would do much to revive them.
"If he thinks that's going to save him from a court-martial, he's got another thing coming." Giancarlo snorted as the copter lifted off. To Ornery-eyes he barked, "Don't just stand there, Levindoski. Commandeer that pack. We'll need those supplies on our search and rescue of Dr. Fiske and his party."
"Uh-uh," Yana said. "Not so fast, Colonel. You're not commandeering shit just yet. These folks need to chow down first." She pointed to the nearest survivor, a gaunt-faced man whose pocket nametag was half burned off. "Connelly?" she said, reading what was left. "Why don't you distribute? You'll want the yellow ones-they'll replace electrolytes and boost your energy levels."
Keeping one eye on her and the gun she held, Connellyretrieved the sack. With a pang of pity Yana saw that he was sufficiently fatigued so that it took him three yanks to break the labs, and half the bars and drink packets spewed over the ground. She stepped back and motioned for the others to help.
"Wait!" Torkel cried with a tinge of desperation. Yana turned to him. His eyes, watching the survivors scoop up the supplies, reflected a struggle with his emotions for the sort of control and charm that had always been a hallmark of his command personality. "Yana, please be reasonable. You know we're going to need those…"
"Torkel, if I was you I'd shut the frag up," Yana said, waving the gun at him. "You didn't exactly cover yourself with glory trying to take the copter away from the wounded and you're not improving things by trying to prevent the distribution of emergency rations to these survivors. As for me, I ate a while back."
Connelly, who had been handing the packets out to the others, contemptuously threw four at Torkel's feet. "Sorry, buddy. Didn't know you'd missed your bloody lunch."
"It's not that," Torkel said, wisely leaving the packets alone for the moment. "She's distorting this incident to make us look bad in your eyes, hoping you'll aid her."
"Which you are now doing by eating those rations," Giancarlo said sternly. "If you value your careers, you'll listen to Captain Fiske here and cooperate with our mission."