He had the satisfaction of seeing Tayma lifted from the ocean, of hearing cheers behind him, of watching her apparently glide through the air toward the beach.

But the currents were pulling him out to sea. And he was tired. God help him he was tired. Needed to get onto a physical regimen. Take better care of himself. Would do that when this was over.

He closed his eyes and tried to rest. Just for a few moments.

It occurred to him to turn off the lightbender so they could see him. He fumbled at the control on his wrist, but it was hard to find.

Hell with it. She had goggles. He closed his eyes and thought about Kellie as the water closed over him.

WHIT WATCHED TAYMA come gently down at the edge of the surf. The line fell after her, a longer cable than had been visible a moment before. Then he heard Julie trying to raise Digger on the circuit. Silence roared back. “Where’d he go?” Julie demanded.

It was all happening too fast.

THERE’D BE ENOUGH air left in the hard shell covering his face to keep him alive for a couple of minutes, to keep the water out of his lungs. As long as she could find him quickly.

Find him. “Digger,” she said, terrified, “if you can hear me, shut off the lightbender.”

No answer.

“Whit—?”

“Look where you were before, Julie.”

Where the hell was that?

“—Straight out. More to your right.”

She was wearing goggles by then, hanging out the airlock again with a fresh piece of cable, searching frantically for a sign of the swimmer. While she looked, she secured one end of it and dropped the other into the water. But there was nothing.

“Do you see him?” asked Whit.

“Not yet.” He’d gone under. “Bill, try the sensors.”

The water looked quiet. She saw no indication of anything splashing around.

“Negative,” said Bill.

The goggles weren’t doing any good under these circumstances. “Do we have anything on the hull that will pick up sound?”

“Sure. Antenna’s up forward, atop the hull.” He showed her.

She recalled a story her father had told her. How Hutchins had been on foot one night looking for a lander that they’d parked and lost, and she’d found it by having someone call it and yell so she could listen for the sounds. “Okay, get as low as you can. Just over the waves.”

“I’ll put her down on the water.”

“No.” That could kill Dig. “Keep some space.”

She grabbed a wrench and a strip of electrical cable out of the equipment bin and hustled through the airlock. “Bill,” she said, “shut down the lightbender.”

There was a brief change in the sound generated by the power grid. “Done,” said Bill. “Lot of wind out here.”

Whit shouted a warning, thinking the vehicle had become visible by accident. “It’s okay,” she told him.

“You can’t do that.”

She had drawn the attention of every native in sight. “I don’t have time at the moment, Whit.” She climbed out onto the ladder and quickly hoisted herself onto the hull. The antenna was a few paces forward. “Bill, is this thing going to work if I rip it off and throw it in the water?”

“I’m optimistic it will. What are we going to do?”

She used the wrench to pry it loose, disconnected it, and connected the cable. Then she pitched it over the side into the ocean. “Is it working?”

“It is functioning. What good will it do?”

“I want you to listen up, Bill.” She opened her channel to Digger. “Okay, Bill, if you can hear this through the receiver, give me an angle.”

“I’m listening, Julie. But I do not hear anything.”

She rapped the wrench on the link. “Can you hear it now?”

“Negative.”

“All right. Got a better idea. Tie me in with the Jenkins library.”

The Goompahs along the beach were pushing and shoving. Some were starting into the water, others were running off in all directions. Well, she was sure beating hell out of the Protocol.

“Done,” said Bill.

“Okay. Let’s have the 1812. Lots of volume.”

“Which movement did you want?”

“The part with the cannons. Fire off the cannons.”

It exploded, drums, guns, bugles, and cavalry charges. It thundered across the water, and of course she was only listening to a rendition from her wrist unit. It would also be filling Digger’s shell.

“You’ll deafen him.”

“Can you hear it, Bill?”

“Yes.” The lander moved forward, a bit farther out to sea. Slowed. Edged sideways. Retreated a bit. “He should be right below you.”

“Have you found him?” asked Whit. “You’re getting half the town out here.” The lander was being buffeted by the wind, and hundreds of Goompahs poured onto the beach.

“Can’t help that.” She dropped into the water, kicked down, and heard the muffled chords of the overture. She swam toward the sound and saw his shimmering form ahead. A leg. She found his knee and juggled him while she decided which end was up. Hard to tell in the green depths. Then she got hold of his vest and headed for the surface. Meantime she switched off the lightbender. And she could see him. His eyes were closed, his skin was gray, and he looked not good.

“Bill,” she said, “kill the 1812.”

She got in front of him, caught the control on his left wrist, and the safety on his right shoulder, and shut off the e-suit.

He didn’t look as if he was breathing.

“Bill, reactivate the lightbender. And set down in the water. Try not to sink.”

The lander vanished again, save for the open hatch. She and Digger were visible from the beach. Another shock for the home folks.

“Julie, I’m reluctant to put the lander in the water. I can’t see where you are.”

“It’s okay. We’re clear.”

“Julie,” said Whit, “do you have him?”

“I’ve got him.”

“How is he?”

She heard the lander touch down, saw the water press down. It looked as if a ditch had opened in the sea. “Can’t tell yet.”

“Is he alive?”

“I don’t know.” She looped the line around his waist, wrapped it around the hatch, and secured it so he wouldn’t sink. Then she scrambled into the airlock, stayed on her knees, and dragged him in behind her.

He had a heartbeat, but it was faint. She started mouth-to-mouth.

IT WAS AN up and down day for the Goompahs. They’d been inspired—there was no other word for it—by the miraculous rescue of Tayma. But then the lander had appeared, a sleek gray thing floating in air, and then the humans had shown up, first Julie, and then Digger, both coming out of nowhere. Whit knew that the human physiognomy spooked the locals, but he’d hoped that, under the circumstances, they would adjust. They didn’t. They howled and either ran or stumbled off the beach. A few stopped to help Tayma, who looked completely disoriented. In the end all had retreated to what could only be described as a respectful distance.

Whit stood watching the piece of airlock and lander’s interior, rounded off by the open hatch hanging above the waves.

“Got a pulse,” said Julie.

“Is he okay?”

“I think so. Is this the way you guys always behave?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “I’m new in these parts. By the way, when you get a chance, you might want to close the hatch.”

She looked out at him, and the spectacle narrowed and vanished.

That brought another series of grunts and pointing from the Goompahs. Tayma, meantime, supported by a half dozen friends, limped away.

HE WAS BREATHING again. It was shallow, and his pulse was weak, but he was alive. She called his name, propped him up and held her hands against his cheeks and rubbed them until his eyes opened. He looked confused.

“Hi, Digger,” she said.

He tried to speak, but nothing came.

“Take your time,” she said.

He mumbled something she couldn’t make out. And then his eyes focused on her and looked past her at the bulkhead. “What happened?” he asked finally. “How—here?”

“I pulled you out of the water.”

“Water?” His hands went to his clothes.

“What’s your name?” she asked gently.

“Dunn. My name’s Dunn.” He tried to sit up, but she pushed him back down. “She okay?”

“Tayma? She’s fine. You saved her.”

“Good. Thanks, Kellie.”

“Kellie? Do you know who I am?”

“Kellie,” he said.

“No. Kellie’s with the Hawksbill. Try again.”

ARCHIVE

(From the Goompah Recordings,

Savakol, Translated by Ginko Amagawa)

I’m no public speaker and I don’t like being up here. If you want to know what happened today at Barkat Beach, I’ll tell you what I saw, or what I thought I saw. And I’ll leave you to draw your own conclusions about explanations.

I went because I’d heard the keelots were going to be there, and that they would perform the kelma. I went with Quet. We were standing near the front, close to the water.

They went through the ceremony without any problems, and Tayma started out into the ocean. She was praying as she went, and had gotten about ten or fifteen paces when something began to chase her. I don’t know what it was. Something in the water but we couldn’t see it.

She didn’t notice it, but just kept going. We were yelling for her to look out, but she probably thought we were trying to persuade her to come back.

We could see it was going to catch her, and everybody screamed louder. A few cleared out. What happened next is hard to describe. But there was a big fight and then a window opened in the sky. ”

On the surface near Hopgop.

Friday, December 5.

MARGE AND JULIE descended beside the rainmaker they’d brought down the previous night, ready to go to work.

They’d rehearsed often on the way out, and they fell to with a minimum of wasted effort. The rainmaker was already centered among the eight trees that would serve as moorings. Marge did a quick measurement among tree trunks to determine a flight path for the helicopter. When she was satisfied she had it, she released the anchor cables. Julie meantime dropped a feed line in the stream, attached it to a set of four sprinklers, and inserted the sprinklers in the ground around the chimney. Then she connected the line to the pump.

Next they attached the cables to the trees, arranging the slack so that, when the time came, the chimney would be able to rise evenly to a height of about ten meters. Then they disconnected the vertical lines that held the package together. And that was it. It looked like a wide, sky-colored cylinder, made of plastic, open at top and bottom.