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my belly. Otherwise I won't have the strength to watch you fall."
"Even if we should spot another body of land," asked Co-lette du Kane, "how do
you propose reaching it?" September worked on his oatmeal while he considered
her question.
" You said yourself that walking on this ice is damned tough even with
makeshift aids," she continued doggedly. "Since there's nothing within easy
walking distance, any trek we try will measure in the kilometers. This may be
swell for you, but I'm not built for cross-country hiking.
And father would never make it."
Du Kane started to protest, but she raised a hand and smiled.
"No, father. I know you're willing, but corporate direc-torship doesn't inure
one to much physical hardship."
"Something more corporate directors should note," said September, putting down
the empty container.
"Despite what you may think, young lady, I don't relish trying such a hike
myself. We'll have to try and rig up some kind of sled. Maybe we can break
loose a torn section of hull. If we could sharpen some long branches to a good
point, maybe tip 'em with metal, we might kind of pole our way along. Be slow
and ugly, but better than walking. Not exactly the Intercity Central on
Hivehom, but we ought to be able to take along most of our supplies."
"The weather would have to hold," said Colette thought-fully. "I don't know if
I could take another night like the last, and out on the bare ice."
September looked troubled. "I've no way of knowing that myself, Miss du Kane.
It's not a pretty thought. And if an-other of those snaggle-toothed nightmares
happened onto us, why, we'd be just so many cold hors d'oeuvres.
"One thing's for sure, though. We wouldn't be any worse off than we are in
sitting here. And at least we'll be making some sort of progress toward the
settlement."
"But what if someone should send over a rescue shuttle?" put in du Kane
plaintively.
Ethan surprised himself by answering.
"It's most unlikely anyone would think to search the surface for survivors,
sir. If they did, they'd have the whole planet to choose from. Not much chance
of picking us out against this ice, us with no power, nothing casting. But if
by some wild chance someone did come looking for us and did find the wreck,
they'll assume we've started off toward Brass Monkey. They'll trace us back
along, the most likely routes. We can leave silts. At least we know it's
somewhere to the west."
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Well, he said to himself, a bit startled, you've just articu-lated your own
probable demise, Mr.
Fortune. Father a sad end for the fair-haired young sales genius of Malaika
Enter-prises, hmmm?
That's right, go ahead and shiver. Tell your-self it's the cold.
"Like it or not, we're on our own, as the young fella says," September added.
Ethan heard himself speaking again. "There is one other possibility, of
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course." Even September looked startled.
" His people might decide to come looking for us." From his corner Walther
glared back at him.
"Not a chance," the little kidnapper spat. "They're not that imaginative.
We're as good as dead right now. All thanks to him." He looked at September
with bitter hatred.
"There's enough rough metal around," the big man replied easily. "You can cut
your throat any time you want to."
"Or yours, maybe?"
September just smiled slightly. "You're welcome to try, any hour of any day
you choose. One way or the other, it would be a solution of sorts for you,
wouldn't it?
"Right now, though," he said briskly to them all, "I think we should all take
a little stroll around the chunk of dirt we've run up against. It's not very
big, but it's home. For another day, at least. Besides, most of you haven't
been outside. It's time you started getting used to the kind of country you'll
be spending a long, long time with."
There were no arguments, not even from Colette. It was Ethan who noticed the
obvious problem.
"Wait a minute. We only have four sets of ice goggles."
It was true. Both Williams and the kidnapper were without the vital pair of
protective lenses.
The teacher, however, had his own solution.
"I don't need them, Mr. Fortune. That's why I gave mine to you." He dug under
his coat, showed
Ethan a tiny black case. Carefully shielding it from the steady breeze that
blew in past the bent door, he crouched over. When he stood again, he was
squinting.
"I wear protoid optical contacts." Ire put the case away. "The ones I'm
wearing now are high-glare configuration. They're supposed to be used for
intensity sunbathing. I don't expect to be doing much of that, but they should [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]