When the survivors were aboard the copter, Torkel leaned in the open door to yell at the pilot.
“You tell them at SpaceBase that I said this volcanic eruption is part of a plot to undermine our investigation and to kill a member of the board. And you get them to send out ground transport as soon as possible. Get it to the volcano site! We’ll meet them there! Tell them that my father, Dr. Whittaker Fiske, is out there and it’s vital we rescue him. Absolutely vital!” The pilot began lifting off and Torkel jumped down and backed off slightly, but repeated himself, yelling through cupped hands. “Tell them we’ve gone ahead to rescue my father. They’re to follow us!”
The pilot gave him a thumbs-up signal and waved him away from the rising aircraft.
They all watched as the copter whisked away, disappearing into a maelstrom of wind, ash, and smoke. Giancarlo released Yana abruptly when it was out of sight, and she fell to her knees. As she rose, she gingerly worked her shoulder to be sure Giancarlo’s enthusiasm hadn’t wrenched muscles. As near as she could tell, she was still in good functioning order-at least for now.
Without so much as an eye blink, Torkel tossed her one of the packs he had been filling.
“Grab the rest of those ration bars, Maddock,” he ordered.
She didn’t mind. It gave her the chance to get something in her own belly. She couldn’t fault the survivors, but she sure hoped they didn’t believe the crap Fiske had been shoveling in their ears: that she was “in league with the perpetrators,” “had caused all these unnatural phenomena.” Trouble was, she thought with a snort, those poor devils were shocked enough to believe every word. Rather ungrateful of them, though, especially when O’Shay had made it plain that she was the only reason the copter had been able to land to pick up their wounded. Whatever! Torkel had turned them against her sufficiently to banjax her one chance of getting free. Free-and she had a private grin-to foment riot and rebellion back at the SpaceBase, or even with all those dangerous allies she had joined forces with.
She hoped they were all right at Kilcoole. Then Giancarlo brought her back to the present with a shove in the direction of the valley filled with blistering mud and smoking ash. Torkel was leading, then Ornery with Giancarlo behind her: not exactly where she preferred him, but she was in no position to make requests, was she?
Although there were still safe places to walk where the mud hadn’t yet spread, Yana wondered how far in toward the volcanic site they could get, where the damage was fresh and the flow still boiling hot. If the planet decided to set off its new volcano again, they would be right under it. Actually, she thought, smiling to herself, the planet was doing such a complete job of dividing and routing the “enemy,” that she wouldn’t mind going under to such an admirable opponent.
“We’ll be okay,” Torkel said to no one in particular as he trudged forward. “But Dad won’t if we don’t reach him soon.”
His voice was still taut with anxiety, though it projected less heart-wrenching filial devotion than it had when he had spoken to the survivors. Yana wondered why he was really risking their necks-but the answer was fairly obvious. Torkel was a pretty good company spy and a fair administrator, but he was not a creative scientist like his father, and without the elder Fiske, he was not apt to carry the same weight in the corporate structure. Of course he wanted to find old Whittaker. He was once again protecting his interests.
She was thinking about that as she kept a close eye on where she was putting her feet. She tried not to cough in the ash-laden, sulfury-smelling smoke. She hadn’t had her lungs healed just to mess them up again inhaling this sort of crud. She tore off a piece of her shirttail and tied it across her mouth. The others did likewise, but cloth was a flimsy filter against the thickly laden wind, unlike the protective masks the company would have issued if such conditions had been anticipated.