The Bolo was moving even as John flung himself into the command chair and slapped controls that webbed him in. The Bolo pivoted with a ponderous, yawing movement, then started forward. They picked up speed. Rapidly. The ride grew rough, got rougher, and was soon nearly unendurable.
“We’re running at emergency speed,” John flung over one shoulder, “so it’s gonna be a little bumpy. Rapier, get me aerial feed, stat.”
“Launching aerial drone.”
The forward data screen came to life with a dizzying blur of motion as the drone’s camera raced skyward. Chilaili and Kestejoo gasped. The stink of terrified Tersae hung on the air.
“Posting orbital feed from the Darknight to Lateral Two. The Darknight has had the war party in continuous view. Superimposing over Elin Olsson’s geological maps.”
The data screen above Bessany’s right shoulder flared into life, showing Elin’s familiar maps. A small red blob appeared on it, marking the location of Icewing Clan’s males.
“Carter here,” the shuttle pilot’s voice crackled over the speaker. “Outbound with two full canisters of analog and two of those yellow smoke bombs. I’ve got extra sealant, too, just in case.”
“Roger and good work,” John said crisply. “Home in on the signal from Rapier’s aerial drone. We’ll get in as close as we dare, then send Chilaili and Kestejoo forward with the analog. Rapier, get me Dr. Collingwood. They’ll have left Eisenbrucke by now. Try Seta Point.”
“Call initiated.”
Less than one minute later, an exhausted voice came on the line. “Alison Collingwood.”
“Lieutenant Colonel Weyman. We’re outbound to deliver analog to—” He paused, flung a question over his shoulder. “Chilaili, how many males are in that war party?”
“Twenty times eight.”
“—a hundred sixty adult males. Can we dose ’em in the open or do they need to be in a confined space?”
“Confined is a lot more certain.”
“Damn. I was afraid of that. Rapier, analyze those geological maps. See if you can find a good-sized cave somewhere near that war party.”
“At once, Commander. Located. There is a smallish cavern located two point nine kilometers southwest of their present location. If the map is accurately marked, it should be adequate to hold them.”
“Elin’s maps are accurate,” Bessany put in. “Trust me on that.”
“Locate the entrance with that drone, Rapier, so we can guide ’em in.”
“Yes, Commander.”
“How far away are we? From the war party?”
“Seventy-five point zero one kilometers. At maximum sustained sprint speed of one hundred forty-eight kilometers per hour, it will take point five zero six hours to reach the war party. This will give us less than fifteen minutes to convince the war party to drop weapons, reach shelter, and administer the analog.”
“That’s not enough time!” Bessany gasped. It had taken a full hour’s exposure to safeguard the females and children—and even that was no guarantee, since Chilaili had blocked the Oracle’s release valve.
“It’s all the time we’ve got,” John snarled. “Rapier, how many Tersae can you cram into your cargo holds, based on Kestejoo’s size?”
Chilaili’s voice quavered out, “Kestejoo is smaller than males born to Icewing Clan.”
“Thank you, Chilaili,” Rapier responded. “If we emptied all cargo holds, I might be able to put sixty males inside my war hull, but I do not believe it will be possible to empty them in time. The Navy shuttle could hold the same number, although it would be cramped. Lieutenant Carter could flood her craft with the analog from one canister, while rising up out of the neurotoxin wave front. Carter could keep them in orbit, if necessary, until their tissues have fully absorbed the analog. The other canister can be discharged in the cave.”
“Good plan, Rapier. Damned fine plan. How deep is that cavern?”
“Unknown, Commander. Depth is not indicated, only lateral dimensions.”
“John,” Bessany said, wincing as a bad jounce jarred her teeth together, “Elin’s original data files contain 3-D imaging. I know she did some subterranean mapping in 3-D, I just don’t know how extensive it was.”
“Contacting Seta Point,” Rapier said at once.
Two minutes later, Elin Olsson was gasping into Seta Point’s transmitter, clearly having run all the way. “This is Elin Olsson.”
“Lieutenant Colonel Weyman here. Rapier’s transmitting one of your geological maps with a particular cavern marked. Do you have a 3-D image of this region?”
“I’ll have to drag out my data files. I’ll be back.” They could hear the slap of her feet as she ran. There was a ghastly, endless wait, then the sound of a door crashing back reached them and Elin said, “Got ’em. Let’s see which area you’ve marked.” Another, shorter pause followed. Then she said, “Oh, God, that’s right at the edge of my test zone. Let me drag out the downloads I made . . .” They waited yet again, while human and Tersae fear sweat mingled to form an acrid, metallic stench. Then Elin gasped out, “Got it. Yes, I have a 3-D rendering. I’m sending it now.”
Seconds later, a new image flickered to life on Lateral Three. The cavern was small in cross-section, as seen from above in two dimensions, but it ran deep. Really deep. And it narrowed wickedly at one spot, where they might be able to erect a barrier to lower the amount of neurotoxin that got in. Bessany’s breath sobbed out in wild relief. “It may be deep enough, John. And look, we can rig a barrier of some kind, there, at that narrow spot.”
“We’ll try it,” John said grimly. “Dr. Collingwood, do you have any indications on the persistence of this neurotoxin?”
“No, I’m afraid not. The samples we’ve worked with haven’t shown any sign of degrading.”
“God alone knows how long that stuff will persist, then. At least we had Lundquist crank out mass quantities of that stuff. I want every shuttle en route with canisters to turn around and rendezvous with me. We may need to keep Chilaili’s entire clan dosed for weeks to come. Hell, maybe months. If it persists long enough, we may have to evacuate the whole clan off-world.”
A sobbing sound broke from Chilaili.
Kestejoo, when she translated, just moaned, beak clacking softly in distress.
“Commander,” Rapier asked abruptly, “how soon after ordering me to rendezvous at the winter nest did you hear my approach?”
“Within seconds.”
“Then I dare not come any closer than four kilometers to the war party unless a way can be found to muffle the sound of my approach. We cannot afford to excite them into firing on me, since we would never persuade them to lay down their weapons in time, afterward. Sooleawa anticipated this problem, in fact, when she brought the snowshoes to Chilaili. I am calculating possible alternate routes.” Silence fell again, stretching Bessany’s nerves taut. “Possible alternate route located.” A green line appeared at a tangent to the racing red line of their current trajectory. “By routing through this valley, we can use rock walls to reduce the distance the noise will travel and bring us to within two point five kilometers. This will add three point zero five minutes to my transit time.”
“Do it. It’ll shave time off the final dash Chilaili and Kestejoo have to make through deep snow.”
“Changing course.”
The view on the forward data screen swung dizzily, then they were charging ahead on the new line, which still flashed green ahead of them and changed to red as they followed the new course. “Rapier, get Carter on the horn again,” John said tersely.
The speaker crackled. “Carter here.”
John relayed the altered plan.
“Sixty adult Tersae?” the pilot responded. “It’s a good thing I’m still stripped for emergency running, isn’t it? We’d never have fit ’em all in, otherwise.”
“Roger that. I’m transmitting the rendezvous point, Lieutenant. We’ll meet in a valley two-and-a-half klicks from the Tersae war party. You’ll need to approach low and fast. Can you get in without being spotted?”
A grim chuckle reached them. “I can outrace the devil, Colonel, but God alone knows if I can sneak up on an armed Tersae war party. Okay, I’ve got the map—jeezus, that’s wicked terrain. I’ll swing around at treetop level and come in from the far end of the valley. That’ll at least put me lower than the ground, relative to their position.”
“Roger, that sounds like the best shot we have. See you at the rendezvous point.”
“That’s a rog, Colonel. Carter out.”
The command compartment fell tensely silent as Rapier crashed through the rugged terrain at top speed. How long could the Bolo maintain this pace without straining his engines? Bessany had no idea. They literally leaped across narrow ravines, moving so fast, falling was never an option. Larger valleys forced them to dodge and weave, but Rapier seemed to have laid out his course in advance, using Elin’s terrain maps as a guide, for their speed never faltered and they remained steadily on schedule as kilometer after kilometer churned away beneath his treads.