He turned just in time to see Shooter lurch a few meters lower in the thinned-out net of stems that surrounded it. The ends of an arm dangled from above. Kyle had a rope tied to the marble. He pulled himself along it, fast, letting the vine he had been working on swing back towards Lark. It flapped out above the marble, safely out of the way. The door was free. By the time he got there it was swinging open.
His hand took his daughter's hand.
She was almost dead weight. Her boots flopped against the side door as he pulled, but her hands were gripping. He held her under one arm and looked inside. A backpack sat by her chair.
“Bring the backpack?”
“Yes.”
“Are you okay?”
“Weak.”
“It's going to take her a little while to learn how to move normally,” Calvin said.
“How long?”
“We don't know. Some experts say not until she gets out of the suit. Calvin says she's feisty enough to recover faster.”
Kyle talked to Lark. “Can you put your legs around me?”
She used to do that when she was a kid. He tucked his arm under her butt so she was sitting against his waist at the side, and she put her arms around his neck.
Well, he had one hand free. Now what? He shifted Lark to the front of him, sat on the stem he had climbed up, and slid. It was slower than walking—the suit material dragged wrong against the stem. The risk was real—if he wore out the suit material there was no fixing it up here. He stopped them, trying to think of a better way. Henry would think his own way out of a problem.
“Sit on a leaf, Daddy.”
It worked. He cut off a long thin piece of leaf, and tied it between his legs and up around his waist. He felt like he was wearing a diaper. The surface was slicker on the creeper stem. It held up until just before they got down to the first big knot, when the leaf shredded under him and he carried Lark to the knot, walking carefully, afraid that he'd launch them into space. Lark switched around to his back and he climbed carefully over the tangle of stems and vines. Cramps were making her whimper.
On the other side, he cut another leaf. He said, “The leaves are a good idea, honey.”
“I know the Styx.”
It took five hours to get back to the habitat. Lark gained more ability to move, and her hold on him was less tenuous. She still couldn't stand or climb on her own.
When they reached the habitat, it was empty. Kyle had been afraid he'd find Henry dead in the habitat. Or that Henry had left his suit for Lark and jettisoned himself into vacuum and death. The empty habitat was unnerving. He stuffed Lark into the habitat without repressurizing it, leaving her in her suit. He went out and refilled his suit's reservoirs, and sloshing full of sweet broth and water, he ducked back into the tent. Now he pressurized it and peeled Lark's suit off of her. It actually stuck to her calves, ripping layers of skin off so they looked raw. He took his own suit off, and fed Lark on broth and water. She drank more than he expected.
“Where's Henry?” she asked.
“I don't know. Calvin, will you tell me yet?”
“Nope. Sleep.”
Kyle barely got the words “damn you” out before he was, in fact, asleep.
* * *
The next thing he noticed was the habitat shaking. Lark was able to help him get her suited. She only screamed twice, once for each raw leg. They depressurized, and Henry tumbled in the door, carrying the suit he'd modified for Lark.
“You went all the way down there?” Kyle asked.
Henry sounded weak. “Someone had to do each thing. I knew you had the brains to get her safely.”
Kyle grinned. They repressurized and stripped out of their suits. Lark poured herself into Henry's arms, finally looking energetic. Henry looked very proud of himself. His smile was bigger than usual. Kyle stole a peek at Henry's vitals. His blood pressure was way too high, his respiration was shallow and fast. “Sleep, Henry.”
Eight full hours later Kyle opened his eyes. Lark was crying, looking down at Henry.
“He's not moving,” she sobbed.
“Calvin, what have we got for Henry?”
“Sleeping. Maybe in a coma. He might have had a stroke. We can't tell from here. Doesn't matter—the verdict is he can't possibly make it. Down will be at least half as hard as up.”
Lark crawled over to Kyle and cried in his lap. Kyle patted her head and found he was crying too. Ideas and condolences and tributes started coming in. Kyle turned off his radio; Henry would prefer silence. Besides—he wasn't dead. But how were they going to get him down?
“Remember when you sat on the leaves?” Lark said.
“Sure.”
“Do we have rope?”
Kyle winced, thinking of the supply basket. “Calvin, do we have rope?”
Calvin's voice. “They refilled the basket.”
Lark's backpack had a better knife in it. She led Kyle out to cut off whole leaves. “These are bigger than I needed to get down the stem,” Kyle said.
“They're not for you. They're for Henry. They'll cushion him,” Lark explained. “We're going to use the spaces, not the stems.”
“Huh?”
“To climb up, you had to use the stems. To climb down, we can do better. We're almost weightless, right? We tie Henry between us. We wrap him in leaves to cushion him if we screw up.”
“Hell with leaves, let's use the probes. They didn't have the strength to carry us up, but they could carry Henry down. Then we can use your idea, but we won't have to worry about carrying Henry.”
He was rewarded with a rare touch from Lark. “I want to come back,” she said.
“Both marbles are busted.”
“Climb back.”
“You want to do this on purpose ?”
“There's things I need to know about what's happening here. Besides, the real tourists will need guides.”
“What real tourists?”
“There are ten climbers on the next ship. Hundreds wanted to come—they had to do a lottery.”
“We're leaving.”
“Justine Jackson is coming here.”
“I'm content to watch her.”
“They're paying a premium.” She named a figure.
She could pay for her own school! “Do I have to climb these things again?”
“You're being requested.”
Kyle grumbled. Calvin laughed at him. He and Lark rigged Henry carefully in place of the supply basket. They charged his suit with water, oxygen, broth. Kyle tied the med-kit to his back and tied the basket and its other contents to the vine. It would grow home.
Shooterwould grow home too, to be stripped for salvage. It wouldn't do to leave its diminished fleck of antimatter loose in the sky.
Henry beat them down by two days. He was at the table when Lark came in for her party wearing the yellow dress. Suriyah must have fussed over the table for hours; everything was perfect.