Ponter shook his head. “Yes, but the most sophisticated decontamination unit ever built is the one at the portal.”

“Then let’s get you there,” said Reuben.

“We must clear everyone out of the mine and the quantum-computing chamber first,” said Ponter. “We can’t risk me infecting anyone else.”

“Let me call a travel cube,” said Mary, and she began speaking into her Companion.

But Reuben touched her arm. “Who would fly it here? We can’t risk exposing other Neanderthals.”

“Then—then we’ll carry him there!” said Mary.

“Ce n’est pas possible, ” said Louise. “It’s kilometers away.”

“I can still walk there,” said Ponter.

But Reuben shook his head. “I want to get you processed as fast as possible. We don’t have the hours it would take.”

“God damn it!” said Mary, her fists clenched. “This is ridiculous! There has to be a way to get him there in time!” And then, suddenly, she hit upon it. “Hak, you’re the most experienced Companion here. Surely you can talk Ponter through driving a travel cube?”

“I can access the procedures and explain them, yes,” said the voice from Ponter’s forearm.

“Well, hell!” said Mary. “We passed a stack of them on our way here. Let’s go!”

They quickly reached the stack of stored travel cubes. There was a cylindrical control unit next to the stack, and Ponter did something to it that made a forkliftlike affair lift up the top cube and place it on the ground. The cube’s transparent sides swung upward.

Ponter straddled the right-front saddle-seat, and Mary took the one beside him; Reuben and Louise scrambled into the back. “All right,” said Ponter, “Hak, tell me how to drive this contraption.”

“To activate system power, pull out the amber control bud,” said Hak through his external speaker.

Mary looked at the control cluster in front of Ponter. It was actually much less cluttered than the dashboard of her own car; the travel cubes had far fewer convenience features. “There!” she said. Ponter reached forward and pulled out the bud.

“The right-hand lever controls vertical movement,” continued Hak. “The left-hand lever controls horizontal movement.”

“But they’re both up-and-down levers,” said Reuben, confused.

“Exactly,” said Hak. “It is much easier on the driver’s shoulder joint. Now, to operate the ground-effect motors, you use the cluster of controls between the levers—see them there?”

Ponter nodded.

“The big control sets the rotational velocity for the main fan. Now…”

“Hak!” snapped Reuben from the back. “We don’t have much time. Just tell him what buttons to push!”

“All right, Ponter,” said Hak. “Clear your mind, and try not to think. Just do precisely what I say. Pull out the green control bud. Now the blue. Grasp the two levers. Yes, good. When I say ‘go,’ pull the right-hand lever fifteen percent of a circle toward you and simultaneously move the left-hand lever five percent. All right?”

Ponter nodded.

“Ready?” said Hak.

Ponter nodded again.

“Go!”

The travel cube lurched violently, but it did rise from the ground.

“Now, push in the green bud,” said Hak. “Yes. Move the right-hand lever back as far as it will go.”

The cube sped forward, although it was listing badly to one side. “We’re not level,” said Mary.

“Do not worry about it,” said Hak. “Ponter, pull the right lever back one-eighth of a turn. Yes, now…”

It only took a few minutes to get out of Saldak Center, but it was still a long way to the mine—and it was bloody complicated operating a vehicle that could fly. Mary had never believed it on TV shows when ground controllers were able to talk passengers into landing planes after the pilots had passed out, and—

“No, Ponter!” said Hak, his volume high. “The other way!”

Ponter pulled the horizontal control toward him, but it was too late. The right side of the travel cube slammed into a tree. Ponter and Mary pitched forward. The control sticks collapsed into the dashboard, like telescopes being put away, apparently a safety feature to prevent them from impaling the driver. The cube tumbled over onto its side.

“Anybody hurt?” shouted Mary.

“No,” said Reuben. And, “No,” agreed Louise.

“Ponter?”

There was no reply. Mary turned to face him. “Ponter? ”

Ponter was looking down at the Companion implant on his left forearm. It had obviously smashed into something. He opened Hak’s faceplate, which clearly took some force to do; it had been deformed by the crash.

Ponter looked up, his deep-set golden eyes moist. “Hak is badly hurt,” he said—Christine providing the translation.

“We’ve got to get going,” said Mary gently.

Ponter looked for a few more seconds at his damaged Companion, then nodded. He twisted, then pushed the starfish-shaped door control, and the side of the travel cube popped open. Reuben hauled himself up and out, then dropped to the ground. Louise climbed out next. Ponter easily lifted himself out of the front compartment, then he gave Mary a hand exiting. Then Ponter turned his attention to the exposed underbelly of the travel cube. Mary followed his gaze and could see that the twin fan assemblies were horribly mangled. “It’s not going to fly again, is it?” she asked.

Ponter shook his head and made a rueful “look at it” gesture with his right arm.

“How far are we from the Debral mine?” asked Mary.

“Twenty-one kilometers,” said Christine.

“And where is the nearest working travel cube?”

“A moment,” said Christine. “Seven kilometers to the west.”

“Merde, ” said Louise.

“All right,” said Mary. “Let’s start walking.”

It was getting quite dark—and they were out in the middle of the countryside. Mary had seen enough big animals here during the day; she was terrified to think of what creatures might come out at night. They trudged through the snow for perhaps ten kilometers—five hours of walking in these difficult conditions. Louise’s long legs tending to put her out in front.

Overhead, the stars were out—the circumpolar constellations that the Barasts called the Cracked Ice, and the Head of the Mammoth. They continued on, farther and farther, Mary’s ears feeling numb from the cold, until—

“Gristle!” said Ponter. Mary turned. He was leaning against Reuben. Ponter held up his hands, and—

Mary felt her heart flutter, and she heard Louise let out a horrified sound. There was blood on Ponter’s hands, looking black in the moonlight. It was too late; the hemorrhagic fever, with its artificially accelerated incubation time, had taken hold. Mary looked at Ponter’s face, wincing in expectation of what she’d see, but, except for a startled expression, he looked fine.

Mary moved quickly over to Ponter, and braced his other arm, helping to hold him up. And that’s when she realized that it wasn’t Reuben who was helping Ponter stand; it was Ponter who was helping Reuben.

In the dim light, and against his dark skin, Mary had missed it at first: blood on Reuben’s face. She hurried over to him, and almost threw up. Blood was seeping out from around Reuben’s eyeballs and ears and running from his nostrils and the corners of his mouth.

Louise was over to her boyfriend in two long strides, and started wiping the blood away, first with her coat’s sleeve, then with her bare hands, but it was now coming in such profusion that she couldn’t keep up with it. Ponter helped Reuben down onto the snow, and the blood splashed loudly against the whiteness, seeping deeply into it.

“God,” said Mary softly.

“Reuben, mon cher…” said Louise, crouching in the snow next to him. She placed a hand gently on the back of his head, no doubt feeling the stubble that had grown today.

“Lou…eese,” he said softly. “Darling, I—” He coughed, and blood welled out of his mouth. And then, as Mary knew he always did when he said the magic words, Reuben switched to French: “Je t’aime. ”