"I know." She closed the notebook.

"What's going on? Is somebody putting pressure on us?"

"Corporate is concerned that one or more of Jacobi's people may refuse to leave by the deadline. They want to make sure nobody gets killed."

Helm's temper flared. "That's a goddam joke, Melanie. They might try to bluff, but you can be damn sure none of them wants to be there when that wall of ice and water rolls over the site."

"That's not all." Truscott looked worried. "I talked to their pilot. She says something big is happening, and it sounds as if they may be cutting it too close. We've picked up some of their traffic which implies the same thing."

"Then send them a warning. Remind them what's at stake. But for God's sake, don't back off now. Do that, and we'll never be rid of them. Listen, Melanie, we can't just go on forever like this. The climate here is hard on equipment, and the goddam stuff isn't much good to start with. We put a hold on this operation, even for a couple of days, and I won't guarantee everything's going to fire in sequence." Casey raised an eye, but Helm ignored him.

"Can't help that." Truscott rearranged herself, signaled that the interview was over. "We'll comply with our instructions."

When she was gone, Casey grinned. "That stuff isn't top of the line, but it's not really coming apart."

"A little exaggeration is good for the soul. You know what's wrong with her, Mark? She doesn't know the difference between what management tells her to do, and what they want her to do. Caseway's covering his ass, just in case. But he wants the job done. If this thing doesn't go on schedule, Truscott's not going to look so good. And neither am I."

"So what are you going to do?"

Helm stared out the window. The sky and the ice pack were the same color. "I don't know. Maybe I'll make her a good manager in spite of herself."

Truscott knew Helm was right. The son of a bitch wasn't worth the powder to blow him to hell. But he was right. She had known it herself, had always known it. They won't move voluntarily. They will have to be pushed off.

Damn.

She punched Harvey's button. "When you have a minute," she said.

ARCHIVE

PROJECT HOPE

Phase One Projections

We estimate that nine hundred million tons of ice will be melted at either end of the globe within the first sixty seconds after initial detonation. Reaction to heat generated by nuclear devices will continue at a high level in the south for an indeterminate period, based on our ability to ignite the subsea volcanoes. Best-guess projections are as follows:

(1) Earthquakes up to 16.3 on the Grovener Scale along all major fault lines within 50 degrees of both poles;

(2) Tsunamis throughout the Southern Sea. These will be giant waves, unlike anything seen on Earth during recorded history. In effect, large areas of the sea will simply leave the basin and inundate the land masses, penetrating thousands of kilometers.

(3) Rainfall, even if not abetted by the insertion of snowballs, will continue for the better part of a year. It will remain at a high level for ten to fifteen years, before stabilizing at a global mean approximately 35 % higher than the current standard.

It needs to be noted, however, that the presence of volcanoes in the south polar area, joined with our lack of experience in operations of this scale, and the variables listed in Appendix (1), have created a situation which is extremely unpredictable.

(lan Helm)

The snowball tumbled slowly through the sunlight, growing in his screens. Lopsided and battered, it dwarfed his tug. One end looked as if a large piece had been knocked off. Big son of a bitch, this one. Navigation matched its movement, brought him in over scored white terrain. It stabilized, and the scan program activated. Jake Hoffer slowed his approach, his descent, and chose the contact point. About midway along the axis of rotation. There. A sheet of flat, unseamed ice.

He watched the readings on his status board. He was, in effect, landing on a plateau whose sides dropped away forever. Quraqua rolled across the sky. The moon rose while he watched, and the sun dropped swiftly toward the cliff-edge "horizon." The effect inevitably induced a mild vertigo. He buttoned up the cockpit, sealing off the view, and watched on the monitors. The numbers flickered past, and ready lamps went on at a hundred meters. Moments later, the Jack Kraus touched down with a mild jar. The spikes bit satisfyingly into the ice.

Lamps switched to amber.

The realignment program took hold. Sensors computed mass distribution and rotational configuration, and evaluated course and velocity. The first round of thrusters fired.

Four hours later, he was riding the snowball into its temporary orbit around Quraqua.

Within a few weeks, he and the other tug pilot, Merry Cooper, would begin the real bear of this operation: starting the two-hundred-plus pieces of orbiting ice down to the planetary surface, aiming them just as he was doing now, by digging in and dragging them toward their targets. Once that final descent had begun, they would use particle beams to slice them into rain. It pleased him to know that this massive iceberg would eventually fall as a gentle summer shower on a parched plain.

His commlink beeped. "Jake?"

He recognized Harvey Sill's gravelly voice. "You're five-by, Harvey."

Jake switched to visual. Sill was giving directions to someone off-camera. Usually, the station chief's post in the command center was quiet. But today there were voices and technicians and activity. Getting close.

Sill scratched his temple. "Jake, are you locked onto two-seventeen?"

'"Two-nineteen."

"Whatever. You got it?"

"Yes—"

"Okay. I want you to drop it."

Hoffer leaned forward, adjusted his gain. "Say again."

"I want you to put it into the Southern Sea. The Yakata."

That couldn't be right. "Harvey, that's where the Academy people are."

"I know. Insert it sixteen hundred kilometers south of the Temple site. Can you do that with reasonable accuracy?"

"I can." Hoffer was horrified. "But I don't want to."

Sill's expression did not change. "Do it anyway."

"Harvey, it'll kill them. What have you guys done over there, lost your minds?"

"For God's sake, Hoffer, it's only one unit. Nobody's going to get hurt. And we'll see that they get plenty of advance warning."

"You want me to cut it up?"

"Negative. Insert it as is."

Jake was breathing hard. "Suppose they don't get everybody out? Or can't? Son of a bitch, this thing's a mountain. You can't just drop it into the ocean."

"They're underwater, goddammit. They'll be safe enough."

"I doubt it."

"Have you got something smaller, then?"

"Sure. Damned near everything we have is smaller."

"Okay. Find something smaller and do it. Don't forget we'll lose a lot of it on the way down."

"Like hell. Most of this bastard would hit the water. Why are we doing this?"

Sill looked exceptionally irritated. "Look, Jake. Those people are playing mind games with us. Right now, it looks as if they'll stay past the deadline. We're sending them a message. Now please see to it."

Hoffer nodded. "Yeah. I guess so. When?"

"Now. How long will it take?"

"Hard to say. Maybe ten hours."

"All right. Keep me posted. And, Jake—?"

"Yes?"

"Get us a decent splash."

The Temple of the Winds lay half-buried in ocean bottom, a polygon with turrets and porticoes and massive columns. Walls met at odd angles and ran off in a confusion of directions. Staircases mounted to upper rooms that no longer existed. (The stairs were precisely the right size for humans.) Arcane symbols lined every available space. Arches and balustrades were scattered everywhere. A relatively intact hyperbolic roof dipped almost to the sea floor, giving the entire structure the appearance of a turtle shell. "All in all," Richard told Hutch as they approached on jets, "it's an architecture that suggests a groundling religion. It's cautious and practical, a faith that employs gods primarily to see to the rain and bless marriages. Their concerns were domestic and agricultural, probably, in contrast to the cosmology of the Knothic Towers. It would be interesting to have their history during this period, to trace them from the Towers to the Temple, and find out what happened."