Spinneret

And five minutes later, they had their first casualty.

"How does it feel?" Hafner asked as he carefully removed Carmen's left boot and felt the skin below.

"About like a twisted ankle always feels," she snorted, tight-lipped with pain and anger. "Damn. Of all the stupid times to fall over my own feet."

"Better now than later," Hafner countered. "It'll be easier to get you down to the flyer from here."

"I'll be all right." She struggled to her feet and eased some weight onto her left foot. She managed not to wince, but she didn't leave the weight there long, either.

"Uh-uh." Hafner shook his head. "Nothing seems broken, hut you're not going to be walking on that foot for a while, let alone climbing mountains." His eyes swept the group; settled briefly on Perez, then moved to one of the soldiers. "Sadowski, help Miss Olivero back to the flyer and stay with her."

"Yes, sir." The man stepped forward and put his arm around her waist.

Reluctantly, Carmen shifted her grip from Hafner's arm to Sadowski's shoulder.

"All right. But keep your radios on, okay? I want to hear what you're doing."

"Sure," Hafner nodded. He waited until the two of them had taken a few steps downslope before turning and starting up again.

They climbed for another half hour in relative silence, most of the conversation between Hafner and his assistant, Al Nichols. The technical jargon was a

sliver of sunlight broke the horizon, and with the official coming of day Perez felt his step lightening, raising his spirits along with it. A southerly wind began whispering at his back, as if Astra had noticed the tiny band and was offering her help. At this rate they'd be at the summit in no time—

He almost bumped into Hafner as the geologist abruptly stopped. "What's up?" he asked, his growing contentment changing to irritation at the near-collision.

Hafner turned, and the look on his face made Perez's eyes narrow. "What's wrong?"

"Don't you feel it?" Hafner shot glances at the other three, now grouped around them. "Don't any of you feel it? We're light—we're too light."

"We are climbing a mountain—" Perez began.

"Al—stopwatch," Hafner cut him off. He dug a heavy-looking hammer from his pack and was holding it in front of him and a few centimeters above his head by the time Nichols had the watch ready. "This is just about two meters up; Astra's gravity is about three percent under Earth's"—he tapped his wrist calculator—"so it should take about point six five seconds. Ready; on one: three, two, one."

Perez had never paid much attention to things like this; but even to him the hammer's fall looked somehow wrong. Nichols's slightly choked report merely confirmed it: "Point eight two."

Someone swore gently. "Try it again," Hafner said. "Three, two, one."

This time it took point eight five second to hit the ground.

"You must have calculated wrong," one of the soldiers suggested.

"No," Nichols said. His eyes were darting everywhere, squinting when he faced south into the wind. "No, I checked his numbers. For it to take point eight second to fall, it'd have to start three meters up. We're not making an error that big."

"Broken stopwatch, then," the soldier persisted.

"Or maybe the wind is affecting it," Perez offered. "It's been picking up for the last few minutes."

Whatever the revelation was, it hit Hafner and Nichols simultaneously. "Damn,"

Hafner breathed. "We'd better try it again, Al—and then get the hell out of here."

He dropped the tool again; it hit the ground point eight nine second later.

"All right, everyone; down the mountain," Hafner ordered, his voice sharp with apprehension. "Move."

They moved. Perez hadn't realized just how strong the wind had become until he started pushing through it, and it scared him more than the falling hammer had.

"What's going on?" he yelled over the gale in his ears.

"The gravity around here is decreasing," Hafner shouted back, his words barely audible. "Maybe even goes to zero someplace upslope. All the air's shooting up the mountain and out into space!"

Perez's heart skipped a beat. "But that's impossible."

"So is a planet that eats shelves and bulldozers," Hafner retorted. "Save your breath for ru

Swallowing, Perez tried to increase his speed. This can't be happening! he thought wildly—but he knew full well that that was nothing but emotional wish-making.

He could feel the bounce in his feet now, the extra time it took to come down from a ru

At his hip his radio buzzed. Fumbling it out, he thumbed up the volume and pressed it against his ear.

It was Carmen, calling on their general frequency. "—down the mountain; repeat, the wind here is coming down the mountain, not up." There was a moment of silence. "Peter, did you copy? I said—"

"I heard you," Hafner's voice cut in, his panting just barely audible. "It doesn't make sense—wait a minute. Everybody; hold it a minute. Hold it!"

They came to a disorganized stop, crouching down against the wind. "Who's got a good throwing arm?" Hafner called.

"Wilson? Here—take this." He handed one of the soldiers his hammer. "Now throw it—as far as you can—toward the flyer."

Wilson straightened, braced himself momentarily against the wind, and threw.

The hammer arced into the air toward the distant silvery shape below; reached its peak and started to fall—

And slammed straight down with blinding speed, disappearing into the ground where it landed. Even through the gale Perez heard the crack of its impact.

"What—?"

"Forward again—carefully," Hafner ordered, his voice grim. "Don't get too close to the hammer. Carmen, get this and get it right; I may not have time to repeat.

There's a zone of high-gravity surrounding us—I don't know how wide—that's got us trapped in here. We're losing air fast. Whatever we've got here must be pretty important for a defense this wild to be set up around it."

"Peter, listen to me." Carmen's voice sounded odd in Perez's ears. The first sign of asphyxiation? "I can bring the flyer in there and pick you up. Just hold on another few minutes."

"No! The way the hammer fell—must be a hundred gees or more in there. You'd never make it."

The group had stumbled to within sight of the hammer-dug hole now, and the hurricane wind had cut back to a stiff breeze. Perez's mind felt somehow sluggish, and it took him several seconds to realize that that was bad: less wind implied less air. Beside him, Hafner stooped and picked up a pebble. He lofted it ahead of them; it slammed to the ground a millimeter from the late hammer. "Everyone on the ground … right here," the geologist ordered, breathing heavily. "There may be some … air leakage from … other side. No moving, no … talking. Save your strength."

Perez dropped awkwardly to the ground, positioning himself with his feet pointing upslope. Directly above him the sky was markedly darker than it had any right to be. Against it, Olympus's cone looked unreal, the side not directly sunlit almost black. Beneath him, the ground seemed to vibrate, and he almost laughed. An earthquake on top of everything else? Madre Astra, you work much too hard just to kill a few poor humans.

The thought faded. Closing his eyes, Perez listened to the breeze and waited for the end to come.

"Peter! Cris! Anyone!" Without taking her eyes off the group lying motionless on the ground, Carmen slapped the radio selector switch. "No response, Colonel. I don't know whether they're dead or just unconscious, but I can't wait any longer.