With so many inexperienced people trying to perform their work in a hostile environment, it seemed inevitable that someone, somewhere, would get hurt, would walk off and try to go into orbit, or would slice off somebody's foot with a cutter.

The e-suits were reliable. They would not shut off in a vacuum unless one knew a very complicated protocol. They were not subject to leaking. And they handled life support very effectively. Nevertheless,

Drummond remembered his own experience outside, and he was worried.

Wildside, empty save for the onboard Outsider team and its AI, drew alongside the assembly, its nose pointed forward, and stopped where its sensors detected a yellow splotch of dye. The dye marked the site that Wildside would take up during the operation, and it also marked Alpha, the target shaft.

Bill rotated the vehicle until its underside snuggled within centimeters of the assembly. Its cargo airlock opened and a two-person team emerged. Wearing dark lenses, they selected an unmarked shaft and cut eight pieces from it, each about six meters long.

They returned to the Wildside with them. They put two inside the ship for future use and set six in place on the hull directly adjacent to the Alpha shaft. This would be, in Janet's welding terminology, their filler.

They changed the settings on their lasers, substituting a heat beam for the cutter. They turned the beams on the filler. Sparks flicked off. The metal began to glow, and then to melt. Working quickly, they welded the filler to the hull, using scoops and riggers and other makeshift tools. Under Janet's watchful eye, they combed the now-pliant metal into place, creating saddles and links in the way they'd been shown.

One of the welders, whose name was Jase Power, commented that he thought the work was pretty professional. That drew cautious agreement from Janet. "You've got a career, Jase, if you want it. When we get home, I'll be glad to provide a recommendation."

When they'd finished preparations to make the attachment, they retired inside the ship, and the Al withdrew to a safe distance.

"What can you see?" Marcel asked Hutch. "What's out there?"

"Fog," said MacAllister.

"We can't see anything from here," said Hutch. "The mist is too thick." The visibility was about five meters.

"Okay. Let's talk about where you are. You already know the moun-taintop is sawed off. You're on the eastern side, fifty meters from the edge. That's to your rear. I don't need to tell you not to go that way.

"One side of the hexagon looks as if it juts out a little bit over the precipice. That's on the north, where the sheer face is. Did Mira show you? Four thousand meters or so straight down. So if a floor gives way or you walk through a door without looking, you could get a godawful surprise. I suggest you stay away altogether from the north side. Okay?"

"We'll be careful," Hutch said.

"The structure is directly ahead of you. Just follow the lander's nose. About thirty meters." He hesitated. "We think we've put you down immediately outside the main entrance. Look for a set of steps. Bordered by low walls."

Hutch acknowledged.

"Good luck," he said. "I'd appreciate a visual link when you have a minute. And I'll be back with you shortly."

Hutch activated her e-suit, pinned a microscan on her vest, and turned it on. "Anybody want to come?"

"Not me," said MacAllister. "I've had enough walking for this trip." He had the grace to look embarrassed. "This is a game for younger folks."

Kellie volunteered, but Hutch signaled that was not a good idea. "If you and I are both out there, and something happens, there's nobody left to fly the lander. So you have to stay. You can go in after I get back, if you want."

"I guess that leaves me," said Nightingale.

"Unless you'd rather not."

"No." Nightingale was reaching for his vest. "To be honest, I wouldn't miss it." He picked up one of the harnesses. "Do we need air tanks? We're up pretty high."

"No," said Hutch. "The converters'll work a little harder, but that's okay. They'll be fine."

They took lasers, plastic bags, and notebooks, and inserted them into their vests. They picked up backpacks, into which they could put artifacts. She strapped a lamp onto her wrist, spotted the rope she'd carried through the forests, and looped it over one shoulder. "You never know," she told Kellie.

"You look like Jack Hancock," said Kellie, referring to the popular adventurer-archeologist of the sims.

They opened up, and Hutch looked out, saw nothing but fog, and climbed down the ladder. Nightingale adjusted the temperature in his suit and followed. Kellie asked them not to fall off the mountain. Then she shut the airlock behind them.

The cold hardscrabble ground crackled underfoot. The air was absolutely still. Snow continued to fall.

Hutch felt alone. Nightingale had never been much company, and now he rambled on about the general gloominess of the place, how difficult it was to see anything, and how easy it would be to walk into a ditch. He was right about the visibility. The mist pressed down on her, squeezed her, forced her to look inward because she could not see out.

Kellie had asked at one point whether anyone believed in an immortal soul. Certainly Hutch didn't. The world was a cold mathematical machine that produced hydrogen, stars, mosquitoes, and superluminal pilots without showing the slightest concern for any of them. But now, as she stumbled through what might be her last hours, it was painful to think that if she got unlucky she could end in the bosom of that monster in the sky, her atoms floating in gray soup for the next few billion years. If you're there, she murmured to no one in particular, I'd love some help.

"There's a wall," said Nightingale.

"I see it." It was flat, plain, a little more than shoulder-high. The surface was rough against her fingertips. Probably granite.

They saw the steps Marcel had described and were surprised to discover they were close to human dimensions. Beyond, Hutch could see an entrance. If there'd been doors, they were missing. The entrance and the interior were piled high with snow and earth. Tough bristly shrubbery grew on both sides of the threshold.

Nightingale took the lead. His manner suggested it would be best if he were in position to confront any potential danger. In this environment, where vision was so limited, she doubted it would matter much who was standing where. She also thought it unlikely there'd be any large predators up here, for the simple reason there was probably no prey. And she guessed Nightingale had come to the same conclusion.

They passed through the entry into a wide corridor. The walls were plain, undecorated, unmarked in any way. The ceiling was comfortably high. They switched on their lamps in an effort to dispell the general gloom. But the fog reflected the light back into their eyes, so they shut them down again.

Small animals scattered before them. It was hard to get a good look at any of them, but Hutch heard wings and saw something that looked like a white chimp. A segmented creature with a lot of legs scuttled into a side corridor.

There were rooms off either side, partially illuminated by windows. The chambers were quite large. Most could have comfortably accommodated groups of fifteen or more. They were empty of any kind of furniture. Long paneled strips overhead might have been artificial lighting devices.

"It feels as if it's been here a long time," she told Marcel, showing him a picture.

The cross passages were equally devoid of special features.

Unlike the tower, which had seemed timeless, as if its builders had meant it for the ages, this structure, despite the granite, gave the impression of being a government make-do. A temporary construction.

They explored side corridors, passed more doorways and bare cubicles of varying sizes, filled only with whatever leaves and dirt had blown in. Most of the doors were missing. A few hung open; others were shut tight. No knobs or latches were visible. "Electronics," said Nightingale, examining one. "Looks like a sensor."