Rick was driving when there was a beep, and the hexapod’s communication panel lit up. A display flared: ANSWERBACK 23094-451.

“What the hell was that?” Rick said.

Danny slumped in the passenger seat next to him. “Turn that thing off.”

“I can’t. It’s just doing this shit on its own.” Rick began to wonder: was somebody trying to talk to them? Maybe it was Drake. But then the panel went quiet again. He had a feeling, though, that Drake might know where they were. If so, what would they do if Drake found them? The gas rifle would have no effect on a human of normal size. Karen walked alongside.

“The radio’s acting funny,” he said to Karen.

She shrugged.

The terrain trended upward at a steep angle. They came to a low cliff, and the walker climbed it. At the top of the cliff they made their way around a bunch of sedge grass, and came to a rock. “Stop!” Rick said. He advanced toward the rock; he had seen something under it. Something black and shiny. “It’s a beetle hiding under there,” he said. “Erika, what kind?”

Erika focused her attention on the beetle. It was a Metromenus, the same kind they’d seen when they’d first arrived in the micro-world.

“Be careful,” Erika said. “They have a nasty spray.”

“Exactly,” Rick said.

“What’s up?” Karen asked him.

“It’s a chemical war out there. We need chemical weapons, too.”

“We don’t need it,” Karen said to him. “We’ve already got the benzo spray.” She lifted the spray bottle out of her pocket-the self-defense compound that she had made in the lab, which she’d hoped to show to Vin Drake. But when she squeezed the pump, nothing came out. It had been used up spraying the centipede.

Rick was determined to reload the bottle with spray. He crept ahead with the gas rifle, took aim, and fired at the beetle. The needle penetrated the beetle’s shell. There was a muffled explosion, and the beetle shuddered and sprayed chemicals around in its death throes, until the air reeked of acids.

Erika assured them there would be a lot of spray left in the beetle. Rick put on his mad scientist outfit: the rubber apron, the goggles, and the gloves, and he went to work.

First, he flipped the dead beetle over on its back. Next, with his machete, he began tapping around on the jointed segments of the abdomen, looking for an opening.

Erika gave him advice. “Cut between segment six and segment seven. Lift the sclerite plates off-gently.”

Rick sliced into the beetle, working the blade along a joint between segments, then pried with his machete, lifting up the armored plates. They came off with a tearing sound, revealing fat. He started cutting into the fat carefully.

“You’re looking for a pair of chemical sacs at the base of the abdomen,” Erika explained, kneeling next to Rick. “Don’t burst a sac or you’ll be sorry.”

Rick lifted out a football-shaped organ, then another one. These were the chemical sacs. They were closed-muscles clenched them shut. Following Erika’s instructions, he cut the muscle, and the sac began to leak liquid. It stank.

“That’s benzo,” Erika said. “It’s mixed with caprylic acid, a detergent. That helps the chemical stick to surfaces, which enhances its power as a weapon. Don’t get it on your skin.”

It pleased Karen to see Erika interested in something, for a change. Erika had gotten so quiet, so depressed. At least this would distract her.

Rick collected the liquid in a bottle and screwed on the top. Then he handed it to Karen. “There you go. For your protection.”

Karen wondered at Rick. He certainly had energy. She should have thought of collecting more chemicals herself. Rick seemed quite skilled at this business of getting along in the micro-world; he even seemed to enjoy it. It didn’t make her like Rick Hutter any better, but, somewhat to her surprise, she found herself glad to have him along on the journey, anyway. “Thanks,” she said to him, stuffing the bottle back in her pocket.

“Don’t mention it.” Rick took off his outfit and stored it away, and they resumed their upward climb.

The land grew impossibly steep. It went almost vertical, and they arrived at the base of an endless cliff. The cliff ran upward as far as the eye could see, an expanse of bubbly volcanic rock draped with lichens and hanging moss, and dotted with clumps of uluhe ferns. There seemed to be no way around it.

“Damn the cliff, full speed ahead,” Rick said.

They made sure the equipment was tied down, and then Rick jumped in back with Erika, and tied himself in. Karen drove. The truck’s feet stuck to the rock beautifully, and the truck moved upward. They made excellent speed, gaining altitude fast.

But the cliff just seemed to go on forever.

The day was coming to a close, and they didn’t know how far they had come, or how far they had to go. The battery readout showed that the power had been draining steadily; the vehicle had only about a third of its battery power left.

“I think we should bivouac on the cliff,” Rick finally said. “It might actually be safer than anywhere else.”

They found a ledge and parked the truck on it. It was a lovely spot, and it looked out over the valley. They ate the last of the katydid steaks.

Danny spread out some things in the back of the truck, where he intended to spend the night. His arm was clearly swollen. It felt bloated and lifeless. It didn’t seem to belong to him anymore, but had become a dead weight.

“Oooh,” he whispered. He clutched his arm and made a face.

“What’s the matter now?” Rick Hutter said to Danny.

“My arm just popped.”

“Popped?

“Nothing. Just a noise in my arm.”

“Let’s have a look,” Rick said, bending over Danny.

“No.”

“Come on. Roll up your sleeve.”

“It’s fine, all right?”

Danny’s left arm had remained paralyzed, and it hung in the sling. The arm had packed the shirt sleeve, giving the sleeve a bulging, taut appearance. The shirt was filthy, too. “You might want to roll up your sleeve to let your skin get some air,” Rick said. “That arm could get infected.”

“Go away. You’re not my mother.” Danny stuffed a rag under his neck as a pillow, and curled up in the truck bed.

Darkness fell over the Pali. The night sounds rose up again, the cryptic noises of insects.

Rick settled down in the passenger seat. “You sleep, Karen. I’ll stay up.”

“That’s all right. Why don’t you sleep, Rick? I’ll do the first watch.”

They both ended up wide awake, keeping watch in smoldering silence as Erika and Danny slept. The bats came out, and squeals and echoes sounded near and far, crisscrossing the sky, as the bats plucked moths and other flying insects from the air.

Danny stirred. “The bats are keeping me awake,” he complained. But soon they heard him snoring.

The moon climbed high over the Manoa Valley, turning the waterfalls into silver threads falling into emptiness. Around one of the waterfalls an arc of light glimmered. Rick stared at it: what was that light around the waterfall? The light seemed to shimmer, change.

Karen had noticed it, too. She pointed the harpoon at it. “You know what that is, right?”

“No idea.”

“It’s a moonbow, Rick.” She touched his arm. “Look! It’s a double moonbow.”

He hadn’t even known moonbows existed. Here they were, travelers in a dangerous Eden. It would be just his luck to be stuck in Eden with Karen King, of all people. He found himself glancing at her. Well, she was beautiful, especially in the moonlight. Nothing seemed to keep Karen down for long, nothing seemed to defeat her. Karen King made a good partner for an expedition, even if they didn’t get along personally. She did not lack courage, that was for sure. It was just too bad her personality was so unruly, so contrary. He drifted off, and woke later to find that Karen had fallen asleep against him, her head nestled on his shoulder, breathing gently.