What about the others?

Perry was in deep shock — more than just physical, if Rebka was any judge — and he was standing there like a robot. But he was tough. He could walk, and he would walk. On the other hand, he could no longer help anyone else, and without the use of his hands he would have trouble scrambling up the rock face. His arms hung loose at his sides, burned to the elbows and useless as rolls of black dough. The pain from them would be awful as soon as the first shock faded. With any luck that would be after they were all in the Summer Dreamboat.

Darya Lang would certainly need assistance. Her foot was scalded no worse than Perry’s forearms, but she was far less used to physical suffering. Already she was weeping with pain and shock. Tears were running down her grimy, dust-coated cheeks.

Finally there was Geni Carmel. She did not need physical help, but emotionally she had been destroyed. She hardly seemed to realize that the others were there, and she would find it hard to cooperate in anything at all.

Rebka made the assignments automatically. “Councilor Graves, you help Geni Carmel. I’ll assist Commander Perry if he needs it. J’merlia and Kallik, Professor Lang needs your aid. Help her, especially when we begin to climb.”

And now we’ll see just how tough Perry is, he thought. “Commander, we can’t go any farther this way. Can you suggest another route to the ship?”

Perry came to life. He shivered, stared down at his burned forearms, and lifted his right hand tentatively away from his body. He pointed to the left side of the outcrop, moving his arm as though the limb had become some alien attachment.

“Last time we were here, we came down a watercourse. It was all rocks, no muddy surface. If we can find that maybe we can follow it back up.”

“Good. You lead the way.”

As they skirted the deadly patch of boiling mud, Rebka looked up to the top of the rock. It was no more than forty meters above them, but it seemed an impossible distance. The watercourse was not steep. A fit man or woman could scramble up it in half a minute, but Perry would take that long to ascend the first few feet. And that was too slow.

Rebka moved forward from the back of the group and put his hands on Perry’s hips.

“Just keep walking. Don’t worry about falling, I’ll be here. If you need a push or a lift, tell me.”

He took one backward glance before Perry began to move. Julius Graves was coaxing Geni Carmel along, and they were doing well enough. J’merlia and Kallik had given up the idea of helping Darya Lang to walk. Instead they had seated her on Kallik’s furry back, and the Hymenopt was struggling up the incline with J’merlia pushing them from behind and encouraging Kallik with a selection of hoots and whistles.

The surface beyond the outcrop was shaking with new violence. Rebka saw the aircar that they had arrived in tilt and collapse. A pall of black smoke swallowed it up, then came creeping steadily toward them.

One thing at a time, he told himself. Don’t look back, and don’t look up.

Rebka focused all his attention on helping Max Perry. If the other man fell, they would all go with him.

They struggled on, stumbling and scrabbling over loose pebbles. There was one critical moment when Perry’s feet slipped completely from under him and he fell facedown toward the rock. He groaned as his crippled hands hit the rough surface and their burned palms split open. Rebka held him before he could slide backward. Within a few seconds they were again scrambling up the uneven path of the watercourse.

As soon as Perry came to the easy final steps, Rebka turned to see what was happening behind. Graves was wobble-legged, close to collapse, and Geni Carmel was supporting him. The other three were still halfway down and making slow progress. Rebka could hear Kallik clicking and whistling with the effort.

They would have to manage on their own. Rebka’s top priority had to be the starship. Was it in working order, and did it have power for one final flight to orbit? Perry had moved over to the Summer Dreamboat, but he was simply standing by the closed door. He raised his hands in frustration as Rebka came up to him. Without working fingers he had no way to get inside.

“Go tell the others to hurry — particularly Kallik.” Rebka jerked open the port, suddenly aware of how small the ship was. Perry had told him it was more like a toy than a starship, but the size was still a nasty shock. The interior space was not much more than that of the aircar.

He went across to study the controls. At least he would have no trouble with those, even without help from Kallik or Geni Carmel. The board was the simplest he had ever seen.

He turned on the displays. The power level was depressingly low. Suppose it took them only halfway to orbit?

He looked at the chronometer. Less than an hour to Summertide. That answered his question. It was damned if you do, damned if you don’t. As the others came squeezing into the ship, he prepared for liftoff.

Darya Lang and Geni Carmel were the last ones in.

“Close the port,” Rebka said, and turned back to the controls. He did not watch them do as he said, nor was there time for the long list of checks that should have preceded an ascent to space. Through the forward window he could see a sheet of flame running steadily across the surface toward them. In a few more seconds it would engulf the ship.

“Hold tight. I’m taking us up at three gee.”

If we’re lucky, he thought. And if we’re not… Hans Rebka applied full ascent power. The starship trembled and strained on the ground.

Nothing happened for what felt like minutes. Then, as the firestorm ran toward them, the Summer Dreamboat groaned at the seams, shivered, and lifted toward Quake’s jet-black and turbulent sky.

CHAPTER 22

Summertide

Ten seconds after her foot plunged into that boiling black mud, Darya Lang’s nervous system went into suspended animation. She did not feel pain, she did not feel worry, she did not feel sorrow.

She knew, abstractly, that Max Perry was burned worse than she and was somehow leading the way up the rocky slope, but that much effort and involvement was beyond her. If she remained conscious, it was only because she knew no way to slip into unconsciousness. And if she traveled up to the ship with the rest of them, it was only because Kallik and J’merlia gave her no choice. They lifted and carried her, careful to keep her foot and ankle clear of the ground.

Her isolation ended — agonizingly — as they approached the ship’s entry port. Darts of pain began to lance through her foot and ankle as Kallik laid her gently on the ground.

“With apologies and extreme regrets,” J’merlia said quietly, his dark mandibles close to her ear. “But the way in is big enough for only one. It will be necessary to enter alone.”

They were going to put her down and ask her to walk, just when the pain was becoming intolerable! Her burned foot would have to meet the floor. She began to plead with the aliens, to tell them that she could not bear it. It was already too late. She found herself balanced on one leg in front of the hatch.

“Hurry up,” Max Perry urged from inside the ship.

She gave him a look of hatred. Then she saw his hands and forearms, blistered and split to the bone from contact with rough stones and pebbles during the ascent of the rock. He had to be feeling far worse than she was. Darya gritted her teeth, lifted her left foot clear of the ground, grabbed the sides of the doorframe, and hopped gingerly inside the ship. There was hardly room for the people already there. Somehow she managed to crawl across to the ship’s side window and stood there on one leg.

What should she do? She could not stand there indefinitely, and she could not bear the thought of anything touching her foot.