brightness. He kicked feebly and as hard as he was able, guiding with his good hand.
Water. More water. Water forever. Reddish in the sunlight.
He burst through the surface, coughing and vomiting, andbreathing at last. The sea lay around him. It writhed and climbed, with no horizon. It was like something from a Canberra swords-and-pirates story he had watched as a child; he was a sailor trapped in a final maelstrom. He stared up and up. The water curved around and closed above his head. His seascape was a bubble, perhaps five meters across.
With orientation came something like rational thought. Ezr twisted, looked down and behind him. No sign of pursuers. But maybe it didn’t matter. The water around him was stained with his own blood; he couldtaste it. The cold that had slowed the flow of blood and numbed some of the pain was also paralyzing his legs and his good arm.
Ezr stared through the water, trying to estimate how far his air bubble was from the outer surface. The water on the sun side did not seem deep, but… He looked down and back toward what had been the forest. Through the blur and the flow, he could see the ruins of the trees. Nowhere was this water more than a dozen meters deep.I’m out of the main mass. His bubble was itself part of a free droplet, drifting slowly across North Paw’s sky.
Drifting downward, by some combination of microgravity and the sea’s collision with the cavern roof. Ezr watched numbly as the ground came up around him. He would hit the lake bed, just off the lodge’s moorage.
When it came, the collision was dreamlike slow, less than a meter per second. But the water swept swiftly around him, spraying and streaming. He hit on his legs and butt and bounced upward, sharing space with a tumble of jiggling, spinning blobs of water. All around him was a clacking sound, a mindless mechanical applause. The stone casement of the seawall was less than a meter away. He reached out, almost stopped his spin. Then his bad shoulder touched the casement, and everything disappeared in a blaze of agony.
He was gone for only a second or two. When consciousness returned, he saw that he was about five meters above the seabed. Near him, the stones of the casement were covered with a line of moss and stain, the old sea level. And the clacking applause… he looked across the seabed. He could see them in their hundreds, the stabilizer servos, pursuing the same sabotage that had set the sea to marching.
Ezr climbed the rough-cut stone of the seawall. It was only a few meters to the top, to the lodge… to where the lodge had been. There were recognizable foundations. The stubs of wall frames still stood. But a million tonnes of water, even moving slow, had been enough to sweep the place away. Here and there, rubble swayed up, snagged in the deeper wreckage.
Ezr moved from point to point, using his good hand to climb across the ruins. The sea had settled into a deep layer that hugged the forests and climbed the far walls of the cavern. It still roiled and shifted. Ten-meter blobs of water still coasted across the sky. Much of the sea might eventually pool back in the basin, but Ali Lin’s masterpiece was destroyed.
Things were getting fuzzy and dim; he didn’t hurt as much as before. Somewhere out there in the drowned forest, Tomas Nau was trapped along with his merry men. Ezr remembered the triumph he had felt when he saw them sinking into the trees beneath the water.Pham, we won. But this wasn’t the original plan. In fact, Nau had somehow seen through them, almost killed them both. Nau might not be trapped at all. If he could get out of the cavern, he could track down Pham or get to L1-A.
But the fear was far away, receding. Ribbons of sticky red water floated around him now. He bent his head to look at his arm. Marli’s wire gun had shattered his elbow, opening an artery. The previous wound in his shoulder, and the torture, had created a kind of accidental tourniquet, butI’m bleeding out. Logically, the thought was cause for frantic alarm, but all he really wanted to do was let loose of the ground and rest awhile.And then you die,and then maybe Tomas Nau wins.
Ezr forced himself to keep moving. If he could stop the bleeding… but no way could he even take off his jacket. His mind drifted away from the impossible. Grayness crept in around the edges of his mind.What canI do in the seconds I have left? He picked his way across the wreckage, his vision narrowed down to the ground just centimeters from his face. If he could find Nau’s den, even a comm set.At least I could warn Pham. There was no comm set, just endless rubble. The fine woods that Fong had grown were all kindling now, their spiral grain shattered.
A naked white arm reached from beneath a crushed armoire. Ezr’s mind stumbled on the horror and the mystery.Who did we leave behind? Omo, yes. But this limb was naked, glistening, bloodless white. He touched the hand at the end of the arm. It twitched, slid around his fingers. Ah, not a corpse at all, just one of those full-press jackets that Nau favored. An idea floated up from the dimness,Maybe to stop the bleeding. He tugged on the jacket sleeve. It slid, caught, and then floated free. He lost his grip on the ground, and for a moment it was a dance between himself and the jacket. The left sleeve slit open, forking down through the fingers. He slipped his arm along its length and the jacket closed from fingers to shoulder. He pulled the fabric across his back, and fit the right side loosely around his mangled arm. Now he could bleed to death, and no one would see another drop.Tighten the fabric. He shrugged it snug.Tighter, a real tourniquet. He slid his left hand down the cover of his ruined arm, squeezing agony from the flesh beneath. But the full-press fabric responded, stiffening. Far away, he heard himself groan with pain. He lost consciousness for a moment, woke lying lightly on his head.
But now his right arm was immobilized, the full-press sleeve at maximum tension. Such a painful extreme of fashion, but it might be enough to keep him alive.
He drank from drifting water, and tried to think.
There was a querulous mewing sound behind him. The sky-kitten slid into view, settled onto his chest and good arm. He reached up, felt the trembling body. “You in trouble too?” he asked. His words came as croaks. The kitten’s great dark eyes peered back at him and it burrowed deeply at the space between his chest and left arm. Strange. Normally, a sick kitten would go off and hide; that had caused Ali lots of problems, even though the creatures were tagged. The sky-kitten was soaked, but it seemed alert. Maybe, “You came to comfort me, Little One?”
He could feel it purring now, and the warmth of its body. He smiled; just having someone to listen made him feel more alert.
There was a thutter of wings. Two more kittens. Three. They hung above him and meowed irritably as if to say, “What have you done with our park,” or maybe “We want dinner.” They swirled around him, but didn’t chase the little one from his arms. Then the largest, a rag-eared tom, swooped away from Ezr and settled on the highest point in the ruin. He glowered down at Ezr, and began grooming his wings. The damn creature didn’t even look wet.
The highest point left in the ruin… a diamond tube almost two meters across, surmounted by a metal cap. Ezr suddenly realized what he was looking at: a tunnel head in Tomas Nau’s den, most likely a direct route to L1-A. He coasted up the hill to the metal-topped pillar. The tom hunkered down, reluctant to move out of Ezr’s way. Even now the creatures were as possessive as ever.
The control lights on the hatch glowed pass-green.
He looked at the big tom. “You know you’re sitting on the key to everything, don’t you, fellow?”
He gently disengaged the littlest kitten from his jacket, and shooed them all away from the hatch mechanism. It slid back, locked itself open. Would the little stupids try to follow? He gave them a last wave. “Whatever you may think, you really don’t want to come with me. Gun wire hurts.”
The Attic grouproom was crammed with extra seating; there was scarcely room to maneuver around the edges. And the moment Silipan turned off the zipheads’ comm links, the place turned into a madhouse. Trud dived away from the reaching arms, retreated to the control area at the top of the room. “They reallyreally don’t like to be taken off their work.”
It was worse than Pham had thought it would be. If the zipheads hadn’t been tied down, he and Trud would have been attacked. He looked back at the Emergent. “It had to be done. This is the core of Nau’s power, and now it’s denied him. We’re taking over all across L1, Trud.”
Silipan’s stare was glassy. There had been too many shocks. “All over L1? That’s impossible…. You’ve killed us all, Pham. You’ve killed me.” Some alertness returned; no doubt he was imagining what Nau and Brughel would do to him.
Pham steadied him with his free hand. “No. I intend to win. If I do, you’ll survive. So will the Spiders.”
“What?” Trud bit his lip. “Yeah, cutting off support will slow Ritser. Maybe those damned Spiders will have a
