“Not if we can’t shut down the power. There’s not enough time.”

She was unbuckling. “How about hitting them with a wrench?”

“They’d probably blow on the spot. There’s a safer way.”

She followed him out into the passageway and down the stairs. “What? Do these things have a self-destruct mechanism?”

“More or less. All we have to do is cut in the jump engines prematurely. Before they’re ready. That’s instant overload. Do you have the disk?”

“What? How do you mean?”

“Blow it up, Kim. Come on, let’s go.”

He meant the intercept disk, the one with the Hunter recordings. She stopped to snatch it out of her room. “Get your commlink too,” he said.

There were a few other items as well that she’d have liked to save, but it didn’t look as if they’d have time to pack.

“Didn’t you say there was a safety feature?” she asked.

“I’ve already overridden it.” They were hurrying down to the first level.

“How do we do it without getting killed?”

“From the lander,” he said. “But we have to make this fast.”

They retrieved Emily’s body. Then Solly led the way to the launch bay and stopped in front of a control board. “Never had to do it this way before,” he said, typing in a command. Two hatches opened in the lander, one to the cockpit, the other to the lander’s cargo hold. They secured Emily in cargo and climbed into the cockpit. Solly took the pilot’s seat, and began hitting switches. Power came on. Then he turned and looked at her with a pained expression. “I forgot something,” he said. “Sit tight. I’ll be right back.”

He squeezed her wrist and climbed out.

She watched him dash across the launch bay and out into the corridor. What could have been so important that—?

The hatch closed and clicked. She looked out across the empty bay. “Solly?”

The engine changed pitch again.

She tried to raise him on the commlink. “Where are you, Solly?”

The connecting door between the launch bay and the corridor swung shut. A ferocious fear gripped her. “Solly!”

“Kim.” His voice came from the link. “Kim, I’m sorry.”

“No!” she shrieked at him. “You can’t do this–”

“I’ve no choice, Kim. Listen to me—”

“I don’t understand.”

“I can’t detonate Hammersmith from the lander.”

“But you said—”

“I lied. I’m sorry, I lied. If I hadn’t you’d have insisted on staying, and I couldn’t allow that.”

“Then back off. Let the Patrol do this. They can blow the thing to hell.” She was trying to get the door open so she could get out of the lander but red lights were blinking, telling her the air pressure outside had begun to drop. Everything was sealed.

“There isn’t time, Kim. They’re not going to attack an Institute ship on our say-so. The thing’ll get away. It’ll go home with the Hammersmith and they’ll know where we live.”

“Please, Solly,” she sobbed. “Don’t do this.”

The lander was moving beneath her, slipping its moorings.

“I can’t fly this thing, Solly.”

“You don’t have to. The initial launch will get you clear. Then just tell the computer to take you to the Patrol. Or wait for them to pick you up.”

“Solly, I don’t want to live without you.”

“I know, babe. Always have.”

She banged her fists against the hatch. “No, Solly. No no no no—”

“Goodbye, Kim. Don’t forget me.”

She squeezed her eyes against the flood of tears. Engines surged. The launch gear clicked and whined. Then the lander dropped and she was out among the stars.

Another voice broke into the cockpit. The Patrol. “ Please advise, lander,” it was saying. “What’s going on?”

“Don’t do it, Solly,” she screamed. “I’m coming back. Lander, take me back to the Hammersmith.”

But a brilliant flash illuminated the cockpit. And she heard the Patrol voice saying “Holy God.”

Kim was barely aware of being retrieved by the Patrol. They gave her something to calm her down. They assigned a female officer to stay with her until the trank took effect, and Kim fell into a nightmarish sleep in which Solly was alive and well and talking to her as if nothing had happened, but she knew he was dead, knew it was only a reprieve until she returned to the real world.

She had flashes of being carried on a stretcher, of getting into the lift at Sky Harbor, of being loaded into a flyer.

The real world, when she got back to it, consisted of white sheets, an uncomfortable pillow, and Matt Flexner. And the impression that somebody else was standing behind him.

“How’re you feeling, Kim?”

There were blank spots in her memory. She recalled the lander, but not how she’d got on it. She recalled finding Emily, but not how they’d tracked her down. She knew that Solly was gone. But that knowledge was attended by a general numbness.

“Okay,” she said. “I’m okay.”

“You want to tell us what happened?”

The person behind him came abruptly into focus. Canon Woodbridge. Casually dressed in black slacks and a gray pullover. She hadn’t seen him since the night they’d launched the Beacon Project. He came forward, essayed a smile, pulled up a chair, and said hello.

Kim returned the greeting. Then: “Solly’s dead, Matt.”

“We know. How did it happen?”

“Where are we?”

“Friendship Hospital. You’re okay. You’ve been released.”

“There’s something out there. Celestials.”

Woodbridge looked at her for a long moment. “What happened?” he asked. “Where did Emily’s body come from?”

Everything was coming back now, although details still eluded her. “She was left behind,” she said.

“Where?”

“Alnitak.”

“Where?” demanded Woodbridge.

“It’s one of the stars in Orion’s Belt,” said Matt.

She could see the pulse in Woodbridge’s throat. “Please explain what happened, Kim,” he said, in a surprisingly gentle voice.

She described everything. She explained that they were trying to find out where the Hunter had gone. She told them how they had intercepted the broadcasts between the Tripley mission and an unknown vessel, and she showed them the disk. She described the object that had come in pursuit, and how Solly had gone outside to get rid of it. “But it didn’t work,” she said. “Something got on board. And it tried to take us over.”

“Kim,” said Matt, “are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” she said. “It’s in the ship’s record.”

“There’s not much left of the ship’s records,” he said softly.

Of course. Her mind was still at quarter speed. The Hammersmith had died. And Solly with it.

“It doesn’t matter at this point,” said Woodbridge. “Whatever happened, it’s over.”

“You need to warn people about the Alnitak region,” said Kim. “Probably about that whole area. Quarantine it. Keep them away.”

Woodbridge frowned. “I don’t see how we can do that.”

“Why not? These things are malevolent, Canon.”

“That’s why we can’t do it. Look—” He turned the chair around, moved it closer to the bed, crossed his arms over its back, and braced his chin on them. “It’s not that we wouldn’t if we could. But we’ve no way to enforce any such stricture. Not even with Greenway registrations, let alone with anybody else’s ships.”

“Then issue a warning.”

“What do you think would happen if we did that?” He lowered his voice, suggesting he was taking her into his confidence.

“Every private vessel with long-range capability,” she said, “would immediately go out there.”