"Well," said Hutch, "we're not exactly out of the soup. The jets will give us some power, enough to get around down here. But-"

"They won't be enough," said Kellie, "to get us off-world. For that we need the spike."

"The problem we can expect," said Hutch, "is that after all these years the capacitors will be degraded. Seriously degraded. We need the capacitors at full capability to run the spike."

"You mean," asked MacAllister, "we can't use it to get into orbit?"

"That's correct."

"Then what have we been talking about?"

Hutch gazed down at the Star lander. "What we need," she said, "is a fresh set of capacitors. Any idea where we might find them?"

The engine compartment of the Wildside lander had been thoroughly fried. But the Evening Star's boat was a different story. It lay wedged in the chasm like a giant black-and-white insect. "Marcel," Hutch said, "this thing's big. How much do the capacitors weigh?"

There was a long pause. Then: "Uh-oh."

"Give me the uh-oh."

"On Deepsix, 43.4 kilograms. Each." Damned near as heavy as she was.

It wouldn't be practical to haul them overland. "We'll pull them out," she said, "and leave them in the tower. Come back for them after we get Tess up and running."

"That won't work, will it?" asked Beekman. "Can you operate the lander without capacitors?"

"Once we convert the water, sure. We just won't have much lift capability."

Marcel broke in: "Good news, folks. We've located Tess."

"How far?"

"Looks like 175 kilometers, give or take. We figure you've got about twelve days to get there. Maybe eleven. Eleven Maleivan days." Eleven nineteen-hour days.

"That doesn't sound far," said MacAllister. "A couple of us ought to be able to cover that in short order."

"It wouldn't be a good idea to stay here alone," said Hutch.

"Why not? I can't walk 175 kilometers."

"You stay here, you'll probably get eaten."

He looked uncomfortable. "Leave me a weapon."

"When are you going to sleep?"

"We've got plenty of time," said Chiang, helpfully. "You'll be able to make it."

"Think about the big cat," said Nightingale.

"Okay," he said. "Point taken."

She turned her attention to the chasm. "If that's settled, let's collect the capacitors and get on the road."

The capacitor compartments looked accessible. It was just a matter of climbing down to them.

"There's another possibility," said MacAllister. "How about trying to fly it out?"

"It's jammed in sideways," said Hutch.

"You've got an AI. It's not as if anybody would have to be on board when you made the effort."

Kellie's expression implied that she agreed.

It was conceivable. If it wasn't wedged too tight, the thrusters might break it loose. Maybe they could bring it out, land it in front of the tower, climb in, and go home.

But it did look tight. Had to be tight.

The ship's prow was angled down about ten degrees.

MacAllister saw her reluctance. "Why not?" he persisted. "If we can make it work, nobody has to risk his-or her-life climbing down and prying open engine compartments." The use of the feminine pronoun was pointed. He was reminding her who was in charge and who, therefore, should take any such risk.

"What it would probably do," said Hutch, "is rip the roof off the cabin."

"What's to lose? If we can't get it out, we don't care whether the cabin's secure, do we?"

Kellie shook her head. "Fireball time," she said. "Crunch the cabin, split the fuel tanks, everything goes up. Including the capacitors."

"Even if we try to ease it out?" said Nightingale.

"We can try it," said Hutch finally. She got the Evening Star duty officer on the circuit, and told him what they wanted to do.

"You sure?" he asked.

"No," she said. And then: "Yes. We need your assistance."

The duty officer spoke to the lander AI: "Glory, can you hear me?"

"I hear you, Mark."

"What is your status?"

The AI ran off a series of numbers and conditions. On the whole, Hutch thought, the damage might not be as serious as it looked. There was some broken circuitry, which meant control problems. Maybe they could replace them with parts from the other lander. Maybe they could fly it over to Tess and use the two to make a fully functioning spacecraft.

The AI reported that thrusters were okay, and there was lift. "Although there seem to be balancing problems."

"That's because it's on its side," said Kellie.

The vehicle weighed probably eight metric tons.

"Glory," said the duty officer, "the next voice you hear will belong to Priscilla Hutchins. I want you to code her. Do what she says."

"I will comply, Mark."

"Go ahead, Hutch," he said. "She's all yours."

"Glory, this is Priscilla Hutchins."

"Hello, Priscilla."

"I want you to engage the lifters and raise the nose until I tell you to stop."

They heard metal grind against the chasm wall. Snow broke loose and fell to the bottom. A piece of rock let go, and the lander slipped deeper into the trench.

"Glory, stop," she said.

"Priscilla, I do not have freedom of movement."

"Try firing the rockets," said MacAllister. "That should break it loose."

"Break it, period," said Kellie. She leaned over and looked down. "We could try to cut away some of the rock."

Nightingale made a face. "It would just slip down farther. If it changes its position, we might lose access to the capacitors."

He was right. The best chance lay in the original idea: Collect the capacitors, then get the other lander. But it would have been so good, so elegant, to ease the spacecraft out into the open.

Chiang must have seen the hesitation in her face. "It's your field of expertise, Hutch. Call it."

MacAllister looked to heaven. "God help us, we're in the hands of the experts. I think you ought to direct the AI to pour it on, stake everything on one roll of the dice. Get it over with."

Below the spacecraft, the walls dropped away, gradually narrowing until they sliced down into the snow. Anyone falling would become a permanent feature of the crevice.

"No," she said. "Glory's our ticket out of here. We need to take care of her."

"I'll make the climb," said Chiang.

She could see he was uncomfortable with the idea. Hutch herself had no love for precipices. But MacAllister was right: It was her responsibility, which she'd have happily ducked had Chiang looked a bit more confident. "It's okay," she said, trying to put steel into her voice. "I'll do it."

She hoped someone, possibly Kellie, would try to argue her out of it. Chiang nodded, relieved. Was she sure? he asked.

"Yeah," she said.

Kellie tossed a rock over the side and watched until it dropped silently into the snow at the bottom. "That's a long way down, Hutch."

Thanks, Kellie. I really needed that. But she bit down on the comment.

Nightingale studied the situation. "We'll just lower you and bring you back up," he said. "No way you can fall. You'll be safe as long as the lander doesn't give way at the wrong time."

"That should reassure her," said MacAllister.

Hutch began by asking the duty officer to confirm that she retained verbal control over the AI. While she was doing that, Kellie and Nightingale retreated to the tower and returned.with two long pieces of cable. Hutch tied one around her waist and handed it to Chiang. She kept the other one looped and gave it to Kellie. "Toss it down when I tell you," she said.

Marcel broke in. "Be careful."

MacAllister surprised her. He looked genuinely worried, but she wondered whether he was afraid she'd fall into the pit before retrieving the capacitors. "I don't think this is a good idea, Priscilla. There's no need. Just tell the AI to put the throttle to it."

She was touched. "Just hang on to me," she told him.