Engines Of God

Carson's voice broke through the stillness. "Any luck, Hutch?"

"No," she said. "I'm in the neighborhood—"

"Okay. I think we're out of time up here. I can hear them coming."

She did not know what to say.

"I'm going to take Janet down the stairway."

The stairway. It wouldn't work. Probably wouldn't even support their weight. "Don't do it, Frank," she said.

"I'm open to suggestions. We've got maybe ten minutes. At best."

Her lungs heaved. The forest went on forever, trunks and underbrush and roots pushing up through the soil and deep grass and rocks and cane plants.

"Frank."

"Yes?"

"Say something to me. Loud."

"What do you mean?"

"Talk to me."

"Hello."

"Louder."

"Hello."

"Shout it, damn it."

"HELLO!"

"It might work." Jake could not have been attacked unless something got into the shuttle, or he went for a walk. In either case, a hatch, at least, had to be open. Most likely, the cockpit canopy. "Frank, switch to the shuttle's cha

She broke contact and listened.

Nothing.

But it was somewhere up ahead. Had to be.

Frank Carson understood that once he left the wall they were dead. Even if he made it down that impossible stairway, they would have no chance. Hutch would not be able to get to them with the shuttle.

Consequently, he bellowed into the commlink. Sometimes he called her name. Sometimes, "SHUTTLE, ONE TWO THREE." Sometimes, "GODDAM, WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?"

He had stationed himself ten meters in front of Janet. There was still life in the pulser, so they could put up a fight. Ahead, he heard the sound of crustacean claws on rock.

"What's going on?" Janet's voice. She didn't try to move.

Carson explained, in as few words as he could.

"No way off?" she asked.

"No."

"Where's Maggie?"

There was no way to soften it. "Dead," he said. He described how it had happened.

He listened to her breathe. "Little bastards," she said. "Do we have another pulser?"

"No."

She struggled to her feet. Fresh blood welled out of the packing on her ankle. She sorted among broken branches, and picked up one that she could handle.

Carson began talking to the shuttle again. "WE COULD REALLY USE HELP, HUTCH."

Janet stationed herself directly below the opening in the overhang. "If they get here before she does," she said, "I'm going to follow Maggie."

Hutch was fording a stream when she heard it. A whisper, far off, carried away on the wind. It sounded like: " — Bitch." She broke into a run.

Carson understood the simple ferocity of a beast looking for its di

Whatever this was about, he was pleased to discover that they hesitated when he showed himself. And there was another piece of good fortune: the brachyids were no quicker on this battered surface than he was. He watched them come, climbing over broken concrete, sliding helplessly into cracks and crevices. One fell off the wall.

He stood adjacent to the stairway. Parts of a handrail had survived. He heard wings, and a large dark-green bird settled on it. The handrail trembled. The bird watched the crabs with interest. Its head bobbed, in the ma

"Where are your relatives?" asked Janet.

Moments later they heard a sharp meaty crack from below.

Last hope of retreat down the stairway was about to go by the boards. Janet looked at him. "You sure we want to let ourselves get cut off?"

He didn't reply.

"We could go sit on it. Climb to the upper level. They couldn't follow us up there."

"The damned thing would collapse. Let's give Hutch more time."

They waited. And eventually the crabs came.

Carson stood with legs braced, the pain in his left ankle pushed into a corner of his mind. They covered the ground before him, a dark horde he could not hope to stop. Nevertheless, they slowed, hesitated, somehow knowing what was coming. When the leading edge had drawn to within a meter, he pointed the weapon at them. They stopped.

He watched.

The moment drew itself out. And finally, as if a signal had been given, scalpels came erect and they swept forward.

The pulser's warning lamp blinked on. He pulled the trigger and played the beam across them, knowing he could not take time to kill them individually. Hurt large numbers, he thought, hoping that would be enough to drive them back. They squealed and blackened and crashed together, like tiny vehicles.

They fell back, and the weapon died.

Janet moved close to the edge of the wall. "Okay," she said.

"Hey." Hutch's voice.

"Go ahead."

"I need more noise. I can hear you. The shuttle's right here somewhere."

Carson grunted. "It's a little late, Hutch."

"Talk to me," she raged. "Come on, Carson."

He roared her name to the stars. "It's too late," he cried. "It's too goddam late."

"That's good," said Hutch. "Keep at it."

Carson stayed where he was, hoping to intimidate the creatures. He followed Janet's example, and found a branch. He broke off the smaller limbs, and hefted it. When he was satisfied, he joined her. They stood close together.

Carson liked to think of himself as a man of the world. He had taken sex where he could find it, had enjoyed his passions, had been honest with his women. He was not given to sentimentality. Nevertheless some of those women lingered in his affections. Two or three, he might even have settled down with, had circumstances been different. But never in his life had he experienced so strong a rush of emotion, of love for another human being, as he did in those desperate moments, with Janet Allegri, atop the wall in the harbor city.

Hutch's lamplight silhouetted the shuttle, silvered it for all the world to see. Its cold metal hull gleamed, and with desperate joy she thought how it sheltered power she had never appreciated. The cockpit canopy was up, and Carson's profanity spilled out of it in erratic bursts.

"Okay, Frank," she said. "I've got it."

"Good. Move your ass."

It occurred to her that if Jake had been taken inside the ship, it might still be inhabited. But she had no time to monkey with details. She sprinted across the glade, leaped onto the ladder, and was relieved to see that the cockpit, at least, was empty. "On my way," she said into the commlink.

"Keep giving me a signal, turn on the lamps, and don't forget where you're supposed to stand."

She ignited the engines, drew the canopy down, and slammed the door to the cargo section. Checklist. My God, it was hard to ignore old habits. But she had no time for a checklist.

"Negative," said Carson. "All bets are off. The crabs are pushing us to the end of the wall. How far away are you?"

She lifted into the air. "I'll be overhead in two minutes." She locked the DF on Carson's signal, swung around, and hit the burners. The landing gear warning lamp blinked at her: the treads were still down. Leave them that way. The shuttle rolled over a sea of silver-tinged foliage. Look for the hole.

Maggie's hole.

She reached behind her into the supply cabinet for a fresh pulser, and laid it on the seat beside her.

Carson and Janet were defending themselves with sticks. Carson clubbed and jabbed the creatures until the wood shattered. Janet swept large numbers of them over the side. But it seemed hopeless, and they had already exchanged a final questioning glance, looking down the side of the wall, when lights blazed overhead.