the rope. On the return arc, the soles of his boots made contact with the stone. He let them brake by friction. It rattled his teeth, but it practically stopped his swinging. The next touch, on the next sway of the pendulum bob—which was himself—came slow and easy. He got his footing and stood among his friends.
Immediately, Eva released more rope. Hanging loosely now, it couldn’t haul him back if the car should suddenly rise. He sank to the rock and spent a minute sweating, panting, and shuddering.
He noticed Bill crouched at his side. “Are you all right?” the other man babbled. “Lord, what a thing! You might’ve been killed! Why’d you do it? We could’ve held out till—”
“You’re okay?” Dan croaked.
“Y-yes. That is, the Lochabers are sick, but they ought to recover fast.”
Dan crawled on hands and knees to Mary. “I came for you,” he said, and held her close. Dazed, she responded only with a mumble. He let her go, rose, and conferred with Bill.
Taking in still more line, they secured bights around bodies at five-meter intervals. Bill would go first, he being in condition to help Eva; next came Ralph; then Mary (as he made her fast, Dan thought what an odd and deep intimacy this was); finally Dan himself, who could best endure the maximum oscillation.
The remnant of the task proved simple. Eva raised the car, at the lowest possible rate, until one by one the four on the rope dangled free in the sky. She continued to rise till they were in calm air. Thereafter she left the vehicle again at hover and winched them in.
Though reduction helmets were always on hand, she depressurized the cabin on the way back to Moondance. The Lochabers sat half asleep, half in a faint. Eva called the station medic. He said the highlanders should stay in the guesthouse till they had regained enough strength for a flight home; but on the basis of Bill’s account, he didn’t think that would take long, nor that treatment need consist of more than bed rest and nourishment.
Dan spoke little. He was sunk in thought. Directly after landing, he prepared to take off again.
When he had cycled through the lock, he found Eva on hand. The quarters were a dormitory with kitchenette and mini-bath—cramped, austere, and relieved only by windows that gave on a view of lake and forest, but they could never be opened to the breeze that sang outside. Eva had drawn a chair into the narrow aisle between rows of bunks. Ralph lay at her left, Mary at her right. The siblings were in pajamas, propped up on pillows. Nearby stood a vase of triskele that the visitor must have brought. The room had grown vivid with the goldenness of the blossoms, pungent with their summery odor.
Dan halted. Eva had been crying! She’d washed her face afterward, but even though she seldom wept, he knew the traces of it upon her.
“Why hello, stranger,” Ralph greeted. His tone was a little mechanical. Both the Lochabers already seemed well on their way back to health —and less than happy. “How did your expedition go?”
“Successful, I think.” Dan’s gaze went to Mary and would not let itself be hauled away. Her hair was molten amber across the pillows and her eyes like the heavens about High America. She smiled at him; but the smile was uncertain, even timid.
“How are you doing?” he said, 99 percent to her.
“We’re coming along fine.” She spoke so low that he had to strain to hear her in this thin air. “Thanks to you.”
“Oh, that wasn’t much.” Curiously, he didn’t blush. Rather, he felt the ghost of a chill.
“It was plenty.” Ralph’s words came firm. He, too, was a leader. “Damn few men could have done what you did, or would have dared to risk their necks like that.”
“I did try to talk him out of it,” Eva said in a dulled voice.
“A heroic action,” Ralph went on. “You saved us several extra hours of suffering. Please don’t think we’re ungrateful. Still, we can’t help wondering.
Immediately, Eva released more rope. Hanging loosely now, it couldn’t haul him back if the car should suddenly rise. He sank to the rock and spent a minute sweating, panting, and shuddering.
He noticed Bill crouched at his side. “Are you all right?” the other man babbled. “Lord, what a thing! You might’ve been killed! Why’d you do it? We could’ve held out till—”
“You’re okay?” Dan croaked.
“Y-yes. That is, the Lochabers are sick, but they ought to recover fast.”
Dan crawled on hands and knees to Mary. “I came for you,” he said, and held her close. Dazed, she responded only with a mumble. He let her go, rose, and conferred with Bill.
Taking in still more line, they secured bights around bodies at five-meter intervals. Bill would go first, he being in condition to help Eva; next came Ralph; then Mary (as he made her fast, Dan thought what an odd and deep intimacy this was); finally Dan himself, who could best endure the maximum oscillation.
The remnant of the task proved simple. Eva raised the car, at the lowest possible rate, until one by one the four on the rope dangled free in the sky. She continued to rise till they were in calm air. Thereafter she left the vehicle again at hover and winched them in.
Though reduction helmets were always on hand, she depressurized the cabin on the way back to Moondance. The Lochabers sat half asleep, half in a faint. Eva called the station medic. He said the highlanders should stay in the guesthouse till they had regained enough strength for a flight home; but on the basis of Bill’s account, he didn’t think that would take long, nor that treatment need consist of more than bed rest and nourishment.
Dan spoke little. He was sunk in thought. Directly after landing, he prepared to take off again.
When he had cycled through the lock, he found Eva on hand. The quarters were a dormitory with kitchenette and mini-bath—cramped, austere, and relieved only by windows that gave on a view of lake and forest, but they could never be opened to the breeze that sang outside. Eva had drawn a chair into the narrow aisle between rows of bunks. Ralph lay at her left, Mary at her right. The siblings were in pajamas, propped up on pillows. Nearby stood a vase of triskele that the visitor must have brought. The room had grown vivid with the goldenness of the blossoms, pungent with their summery odor.
Dan halted. Eva had been crying! She’d washed her face afterward, but even though she seldom wept, he knew the traces of it upon her.
“Why hello, stranger,” Ralph greeted. His tone was a little mechanical. Both the Lochabers already seemed well on their way back to health —and less than happy. “How did your expedition go?”
“Successful, I think.” Dan’s gaze went to Mary and would not let itself be hauled away. Her hair was molten amber across the pillows and her eyes like the heavens about High America. She smiled at him; but the smile was uncertain, even timid.
“How are you doing?” he said, 99 percent to her.
“We’re coming along fine.” She spoke so low that he had to strain to hear her in this thin air. “Thanks to you.”
“Oh, that wasn’t much.” Curiously, he didn’t blush. Rather, he felt the ghost of a chill.
“It was plenty.” Ralph’s words came firm. He, too, was a leader. “Damn few men could have done what you did, or would have dared to risk their necks like that.”
“I did try to talk him out of it,” Eva said in a dulled voice.
“A heroic action,” Ralph went on. “You saved us several extra hours of suffering. Please don’t think we’re ungrateful. Still, we can’t help wondering.
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