Engines Of God

"Okay. Hutch?"

"Yes?"

"I'm looking forward to that di

"Me, too."

She retreated back through the shrubbery, and looked down. It was a healthy jump, about five meters. But she saw only one crab.

She sat down, swung round, and hung by her hands. The thing below began to move. She pushed away from the wall, and let go. The fall took an ungodly long time. While she dropped, she held the lamp away from her body, where it was less likely to get broken or cause injury. She was aware of the wind, and the smell of the woods, and of filtered moonlight.

She hit harder than she'd expected, rolled to her feet, and, without wasting time looking for the brachyid, took off.

The route they had blazed was to her right, uphill, but she thought it wise to stay off it for a while. She chose a parallel course, and resolved to cut over when she was safely away from the area. She had decided she would give the little bastards full credit for military capabilities.

There was no sound of pursuit.

"I'm clear, Maggie," she said into her commlink. "And on my way."

She did not run all out. Something had happened to Jake. Keep that in mind. But time pressed. She hurried on, and plunged through blinds and into vegetation that she might otherwise have avoided.

Gradually, she angled uphill, expecting to find the trail.

She didn't. She reached the top of the ridge without knowing where she was. Son of a bitch.

She'd missed it. Gone right past it.

Don't panic. She called the wall. Pause. Give her a chance to regroup. "Maggie?"

"Here. How's it going?"

"Still moving. I'm okay."

"Be careful."

"I will. How are you doing with the tree?"

"Slow. The range is a little long."

"Stay with it. I'll keep you posted."

Five minutes later, she stumbled across blackened shrubbery. Okay. This was the way they had come. But the trail barely existed, and her notion that she could sprint back to the shuttle vanished. She realized how little attention she'd paid coming out. And they'd made no effort to mark their passage. No one had considered the possibility of a problem getting back; after all, at worst, it would only be necessary to home in on Jake's signal.

She made several wrong turns. Each time, she retraced her steps and conducted a search. At one point, she came out of the woods and found herself looking across open, moonlit water. The collapsed bridge they'd seen from the air lay in the shallows like a sleeping dinosaur.

The tree did not fall.

Maggie had cut completely through the trunk, but it only leaned to one side, hopelessly tangled in the web of branches. Leaves and broken wood rained down on her, and some went over the side and took the long plunge to the forest floor.

But the canopy was as solid as ever.

"What now?" she asked Carson. She had exhausted her pulser. Only Hutch's weapon remained. She took it out of her belt.

Carson surveyed the trees. "Over there," he said. Cut that one. It was the same width, but about four meters farther out. At the extreme limit of the weapon's range. "Get that one, and they might both come down."

She looked at him unhappily.

"It's all we've got, Maggie."

She crept to the edge, and reached out. Get as close as possible. She pulled the trigger.

Hutch had no idea where she was. There were no stars to guide her. No landmarks. Nothing. She saw no sign of their previous passage, no hill or tree that stirred memory-She had triangulated on Maggie's link, which sent out a continuous signal. That told her where she was in relation to the wall, and allowed her to estimate generally where the shuttle should be. It was in this area somewhere. But where? She worried that she had already passed it, that it lay behind her.

"Look out."

The trunk tilted toward them. That shouldn't have happened: Maggie had angled the cut away so it would fall in the other direction. But instead it came down slowly in a cacophony of splintering wood. She scrambled back from the edge. Twigs and leaves and vines came with it. The trunk slammed into the wall, and the entire structure shuddered. The general tangle fell across Maggie, a vast leafy net, knocking her off her feet. Branches cracked and the trunk kept rolling until it slipped clear and started a long, slow descent into the abyss. And Maggie reali/ed with horror that she was going with it.

She was dragged relentlessly toward the edge of the wall. She tried to free herself. Find something to hold onto. But everything seemed to be going over the side.

The world was filled with broad flat leaves and a terrible grinding sound. She heard Carson calling her name. And it occurred to her that she was not going to find out about Oz. Not ever. Nor why the Quraquat had identified the Monument-Makers with death.

Made no sense.

The tangle paused, balanced high over the forest floor, allowing her a final glance at the sliver of moon. Mercifully, it was too dark to see how high she was.

Sorry, Hutch.

"Hutch." The voice was frantic.

"Go ahead, Frank."

"Maggie's dead."

The words hung on the night air. Her eyes slid shut. She had left the lake front, and was struggling through flowering plants and oversized ferns. Utterly lost.

"Hutch? Did you hear me?"

"Yes," she said. "How? What happened?" It did not seem possible. Maggie had been fine. Was too smart—

Carson told her. His voice was thick with sorrow. "I found her pulser," he added. "She dropped it."

"You're sure she couldn't have survived?"

"Hutch, she went over the side." Pause. "Did you get to the shuttle yet?"

"No, Frank. God help me, I have no idea where I am."

"Okay." Carson's voice was gentle. "Do what you can. We've got a hole now. You can get in when you get here."

In the dark, she stared straight ahead. "Out," she said quietly.

Janet had slept through the disaster. Carson looked at her. She seemed unchanged, and her pulse was steady. He sat beside her, grief-stricken. Her eyes fluttered and she touched his wrist. He smiled. "We're doing fine," he said to her unspoken question.

"Can I help?" He had to lean close to hear.

"Not now. Later, maybe." She drifted back to sleep.

Carson buried his head in his hands.

Truscott was listening to several of her passengers outline the future assignments they were expecting when they got home, when Harvey, wearing an irritated frown, asked if he could speak with her in private.

"We've lost contact with the landing party," he said.

That should be no cause for concern. Commlinks failed. "How long?"

"Last check was due forty minutes ago."

She thought about it. "It's a little early to push the button. What do you think? Equipment failure?"

"Unlikely. They would have to be aware of it, though. And the shuttle has several communications methods available. Morris is worried."

"Last status was—?"

"Still on the ground. Carson and the Academy team went off somewhere to look at ruins. They left Jake with the shuttle."

"When were they expected back?"

"Before sunset. It's been dark there for over an hour."

She leaned against the bulkhead. "What options do we have?"

He looked at her. "I hoped you might be able to think of something."

Hutch was back out on the shoreline, looking at the downed bridge. Here, at least, she had a decent idea which way she wanted to go. But once in the woods, there was no guide. No way to check her course. And she could pass within ten meters of the shuttle and fail to find it.

West. It was toward the west.

She started off, striving to remain within sight of the water.

Earlier, nothing had seemed familiar. Now, she felt as if she'd been everywhere. She moved with frustrated abandon. The brachyids she had feared so much at the begi