"Well, it looks as if they're sending down tourists."

"What?"

"You got it. They must be crazy."

"Don't know anything about it. I'll contact their captain."

She was getting another signal. "I'll get back to you, Marcel." She punched in the new caller. "Go ahead."

"Ground party, this is the pilot of the Evening Star lander. We would like to set down in the area."

"Not a good idea," said Hutch. "It's dangerous here. There are wild animals."

There was no response for almost half a minute. Then: "We accept responsibility for everyone who is on board."

"What's going on?" she asked. "Why are you here?"

"I'm carrying two journalists who would like to visit the tower."

"I don't believe this," she said. "The tower is dangerous, too. It could fall down at any time."

There was a new voice, a baritone with perfect diction: "We've been warned. It's on record. So you need not concern yourself further."

"May I ask who's speaking?"

"Gregory MacAllister," he said. "I'm a passenger on the Evening Star." He implied a merely at the beginning of the sentence, which in turn suggested modesty by someone who was in fact a great deal more than merely a passenger.

Hutch wondered if this would turn out to be the Gregory MacAllister. "I don't think you understand," she said. "We are formally designated an archeological site. You're in violation of the law if you land."

"What section of the code would that be, ma'am?"

Damned if she knew. There was such a law. But she had no idea where to find it.

"Then I think we'll have to continue as is."

She switched to another channel. "Bill, tie me in to the Evening Star. Get me a command channel if you have one."

Bill replied with an electronic murmur and then told her none was available. "There's only one main link,"he said.

"Put me through."

She listened to a series of clicks and a chime. Then: "The Evening Star welcomes you to first-class accommodations on voyages throughout the known universe." The voice was female. "We feature luxurious cabins, a wide range of international cuisines, leading entertainers, three casinos, and special accommodations for parties. How may we serve you?"

"My name's Hutchins," she said. "I'm with the landing party at the dig. I'd like to speak with someone in command, please."

"I'm fully authorized to respond to all requests and complaints. Ms. Hutchins. I'd be pleased to help you."

"I want to talk to the captain."

"Perhaps if you explained your purpose in making this request-"

"Your captain has put some of his passengers in danger. Would you please put me through to him?"

There was a pause, then barely audible voices. Finally: "This is the duty officer. Who are you again?" A human being this time. A male.

"I'm Priscilla Hutchins. The archeological project director on Deepsix. We have a team on the ground. You people have sent down some tourists. And I wanted you to know that there are hazards."

"We have tourists on the surface?"

"Yes, you do."

"I see." A pause. "What kind of hazards?"

"They could be eaten."

Still another delay. Then: "Do you have some sort of authority I should be aware of?"

"Look. Your passengers are approaching a protected archeological site. Moreover, it's an earthquake zone, and somebody could get killed. Please recall them. Or send them somewhere else."

"Just a minute, please."

He clicked off the circuit.

The lander pilot came back: "Ms. Hutchins, we are going to set down near the tower. Since it seems to be snowing, and I assume visibility isn't any better on the ground, please clear your people away for the moment."

"They're directly overhead," said Kellie.

Hutch called everyone into the tower. "Stay inside until they're on the ground," she said. Then she switched back to the lander. "Are you still there, pilot?"

"I'm still here."

"Our people are out of the way. You're clear to come in. If you must."

"Thank you."

Marcel came back on: "Hutch."

"Yeah, what'd they tell you?"

"You know who's on board?"

"Gregory MacAllister."

"Do you know who he is?"

Now she did. This was Gregory the Great. Self-appointed champion of common sense who'd made a fortune attacking the pompous and the arrogant, or, depending on whom you listened to, simply those less gifted than he. Years before she'd been in a graduate seminar with a historian whose chief claim to fame was that he'd once been publicly chastised by MacAllister. He'd even put an account of the assault up on the screen and stood beside it grinning as if he'd touched greatness. "Yes," she said. "The only person on the planet who could bring church and science together. They both hope he dies."

"That's him. And I hope he's not listening."

"What am I supposed to do with him?"

"Hutch, management would not want you to offend him. My guess is that it'll be your job if you do."

"How about if I just feed him to the big cat?"

"Pardon?"

"Let it go."

"I think it would be a good idea to treat him well. Let him look at whatever he wants to. It won't hurt anything. And don't let him fall on his head."

The snow had grown heavier and become so thick MacAllister didn't see anything until moments before they touched down. He got a glimpse of the other lander, and of the tower beyond, and then they were on the ground, so softly he barely felt the impact. Wetheral had the personality of a pinecone, but there was no question he was a competent pilot.

The man himself turned around in his seat and studied them momentarily with those sad eyes. "How long," he asked, "did you folks plan on being here?"

"Not long," said MacAllister. "An hour or so."

The snow was already piling up on the windscreen.

"Okay. I have a few things to take care of. Make sure you activate your e-suit before you go out, and we want you to keep it on the entire time you're here. You can breathe the local air if necessary, but the mix isn't quite right.

"The captain also directed me to ask you both to be careful. There've been wild animal sightings."

"We know that," said MacAllister.

"Good. There's a great deal of paperwork involved if we lose either of you." He said it without a trace of irony.

"Thank you," said Casey.

They went through the airlock and climbed down out of the spacecraft into the storm. "To do the interview correctly," MacAllister said, "we're going to want to wait until it subsides." Ordinarily, heavy weather provided great atmosphere for interviews. But in this case the tower was the star of the show, and people needed to be able to see it. "Wetheral, how long before this blizzard lets up?"

The pilot appeared in the hatch. "I don't know, sir. We don't have a weather report."

"Seems as if it might be a good idea to get one."

"Won't be one for this area," he said seriously.'He looked around, shook his head, and came down the ladder.

The archeologists' lander was dead ahead. It was smaller than the Star's vehicle, and sleeker. More businesslike.

A woman materialized out of the driving snow. She wore a blue-and-white jumpsuit and he knew from the way she walked it was Hutchins. She was trim, built like a boy, and came up almost to his shoulders. Her black hair was cut short, and she looked unfriendly. But he shrugged it away in his usual forgiving manner, recognizing anger as a natural trait exhibited by females who didn't get their way.

"You're the mission commander, I take it?" he asked, extending his hand.

She shook it perfunctorily. "I'm Hutchins," she said.

He introduced Casey and Wetheral.

"Why don't we talk inside?" Hutchins turned on her heel and marched off.

Delightful.

They clumped through the snow. MacAllister studied the tower while he tried to get used to the e-suit. He should have been cold, but wasn't. His feet, clad in leisure shoes, sank into the drifts. But they stayed warm.