“I’ve got to go now,” she said, turning to Diego. “They’ve taken my snocle, but I think you and Steve should get the first ride to Kilcoole you can.”
“Maybe the major can get one for us from her buddy, that Fiske guy,” Diego said, not understanding.
Bunny shook her head even as she pulled away from him. “No. If the major was okay, my snocle would still be here.”
“I’ll come with you.” Diego still didn’t get it.
“I have to go on foot. You’d freeze.”
“Nah, it’s warm today. I-”
“No. Meet me later. Bring Steve and we’ll introduce him to Clodagh. I got to go before they catch me, Diego. Bye.”
She didn’t hear whether or not he returned her goodbye as she ducked between the buildings, behind piles of unassembled equipment, her white and gray rabbit-fur parka blending with the snow as she circled around to the river and headed back toward Kilcoole. There, she would pick up Charlie’s dogs and go somewhere: Sinead’s old trapper’s cabin, maybe, the one Sinead had lived in before she had hooked up with Aisling. The PTBs wouldn’t know the location of that one.
She hoped Diego would tell Yana what she had done, and then she realized that what she had told Diego was true: Yana wasn’t okay. That redheaded captain, the nice one, either hadn’t been able to help her or hadn’t been as nice as he seemed. All the more reason she needed to get back to the village and try to get help. Behind her she heard more shuttles landing and smelled the fumes from the hot housings on the spacecraft as they touched down. There were so many of these company people with their machinery and equipment and all of Intergal’s resources. The company men acted as if her people had to do anything they said, and for the first time, she was scared that they might be right.
She didn’t run: running attracted attention. She tried to move with the rhythm of the wind and the snow, except that today the snow wasn’t blowing, it was melting. Diego was right. It was a very hot day. She shed her parka as soon as she thought she was safely out of sight of SpaceBase and the river road.
She could hear the roar of the snocles on the river; an altered sound now, sort of muted, wet, splashy, accompanying the sound of the engines and the swish of snocle skis on ice. The day was really very warm. Warmer than it ever got even during the middle of the short Petaybean summer, when most of the snow was gone and it was no longer necessary to have a fire in the house. But how could that be? Actual breakup usually didn’t come for weeks, and then usually gradually, a crack in the ice one day, a soft spot the next, and then the ice began to move. Never was it this hot so early in the season.
In the distance, the sound of an explosion was muffled but audible. She wasn’t surprised. She had seen the explosives loaded in corps snocles setting out from Kilcoole in a northerly direction earlier in the day. They claimed to be “exploring,” which meant they were blowing sores on the face of the planet.
Though the explosion sounded distant, the shock waves made the ground beneath her feet shudder.
Her boots were made of hide, suitable for dry snow. She had another, waterproof pair she wore for early and late winter, but she hadn’t thought about changing into them yet. She could have used them now. The soft moosehide soles of her boots were soaking up icy wetness from the melting snow. If she didn’t reach Kilcoole by nightfall, when, despite the unseasonable warmth of the day, the temperatures were likely to drop below freezing again, her feet would freeze. Maybe she should have stuck closer to the river. But she thought that it would be quicker, and safer, to cross-country to where Uncle Seamus was ice-fishing. She planned to ride the rest of the way home with him.
A breeze blew against her, but it was a warm breeze, soft and friendly. She took off her hat and mittens and stuffed them in her parka pocket, unbuttoning her outer sweater as she walked.