Part 50 (1/2)
She took it from him and tucked it carefully into the breast pocket of her jumpsuit so that the fuzzy asterism formed a decoration. ”My award for valour,” she remarked. ”If we succeed tonight, I may cherish it for ever.”
He lifted his gla.s.s to her and drank.
”In the Milieu,” she said after a time, ”the edelweiss plant grew wild only in high mountains. In the Alps.”
”It's the same in the Pliocene.” He drained his gla.s.s and poured another. ”And a somewhat perilous memento, as it turned out. Fortunately for me, young Jasmin Wylie is a wretched shot with a Matsu carbine.”
”You found the Monte Rosa expedition!”
”It wasn't difficult. I tried to be circ.u.mspect in my observations, but it's obvious that I was expected-and unwelcome. I confess that I decamped without attempting to probe the markswoman's motivation. Did the shoot-to-kill order come from Aiken Drum?”
”I-I'm afraid it was Hagen's decision. The King concurred, however. He's determined to have the aircraft.”
”Let him have them.”
She was surprised. ”Don't you intend to oppose the salvage operation?”
”Why should I? You must rea.s.sure Hagen and the King, tell them that I don't intend to revisit Monte Rosa in the foreseeable future.” His shadowed eyes held an enigmatic glint. ”Nevertheless, I'm glad to have been able to bring you the flower.”
The realization was upon her with spine-chilling suddenness.
”You brought it back with you on the d-jump.”
”My first effort. Completely enclosed in my gloved hand, of course, which is almost cheating. But one must begin somewhere. Perhaps you'll pa.s.s the information along to my son.”
Harderharderharder MORE thrust MORE energy Od.a.m.n/ d.a.m.n ...
Elizabethlinkcreative/coerciveafferentQUICKLY!
IseeyesNOW ... okaythankG.o.dalmostlosthim ... Bring up the brainstem input again. He's all right for moment with bypa.s.s.
(Sleepbabysleep).
JesusG.o.d let's get out ...
They looked down at the small body, pale now against the white white coverlet, the chest rising and falling almost imperceptibly. ”There's no more pain,” Elizabeth whispered. ”But he almost slipped away from us, Marc. We went too far, pushed too hard.”
”But it worked.”
”Yes,” she said dully. They rested for a long time, not speaking.
He said, ”There's still the torc-circuitry cutoff-the moment of truth. And then the boost to operancy.”
She covered her face with her hands, deep in self-redaction.
When she lifted her head the lines of strain about her mouth and brow were erased but desolation looked from her eyes. Her voice was calm. ”Marc, I can handle the abscission-but not the boost. Your energies exceed my capacity in this conformation.
I'm too finely tuned in the redactive mode, and Brendan needs brute thrust to break free of the latency.”
”Let me take the executive, and we can do it.”