HUTCH WATCHED HORRIFIED as the forward section of the Wendy Jay melted.

“What are we going to do?” demanded George.

They were all there, standing helplessly in the shadow of the lander, Nick staring at the screen with his eyes wide, Alyx pale and desperate, George clenching and unclenching his big fists. He looked from Hutch to his link, got back on it, tried again to raise Kurt, his voice fueled by desperation.

“There might be more of those things,” said Nick. “Waiting to jump us.”

Hutch shook her head. “I think there’s only one.”

“How do you know?” demanded Nick. “How in God’s name could you possibly know?”

“Whatever attacked the Condor must have gotten blown up with the ship. We were there for a considerable time afterward and nothing bothered us. That tells me they only come in singles.”

“If it’s the same kind of critter,” said Nick.

The Wendy was a mass of showers and fountains and sprays. Her hull, like fine dust, like hot springs, like Old Faithful, squirted off in every direction, forming haze and mist. Gradually the clouds flattened, spread out, rounded off. Engulfed her.

Tor was back on the link, his voice pitched high. “Hutch, do you have any ideas?”

“I think I know what it’s doing,” said Nick. “It’s making a replacement. A new stealth. A satellite.”

Hutch saw it, too. Even inside the cloud, in the uncertain light, she saw the first faint outline of the diamond core. “Bill,” she said, “let me see the schematic again. Rear section, C Deck. Where Tor is.”

It appeared on-screen.

“Hutch—” Alyx looked from her to the lander. Let’s get started. We can’t just stand here.

But there was no use going until we figure out how to do this. Just waste time.

She studied the alignment of the Wendy’s storage bins and cabinets. Most were built directly into the bulkheads. It would be almost impossible to cut one out while retaining its integrity.

“Come on,” Nick said. “Let’s move. At least we can get Kurt out.”

Kurt’s dead. Don’t you understand that? Kurt never had a chance. The overhead probably opened up on him, and before he even knew he had a problem he was dead.

“Getting cool,” said Tor.

George looked frantic. “The ship’s losing its definition,” he said. “It’s coming apart.”

“Nanotech?” asked Alyx.

“Yeah. Has to be.”

Nick looked at Hutch. “When it hits the engines, will it explode?”

“Probably.”

George looked at her, pleading.

And Hutch thought she saw a way. “Washroom,” she said. It was a cubicle, set out from the bulkhead. Storage shelves on both sides.

They looked at her, puzzled.

“Hutch.” Tor’s voice seemed to come from far away. “The Klaxons have stopped.”

“Nick.” Hutch was trying to think whether it could be done. How it could be done. “Go to the bridge. There are two drawers beneath the main console. The right one has some ram tape in it. Get it.”

Nick started to ask why, but thought better of it and hurried off.

Then she signaled George and Alyx to follow her. “We’ve got to get some gear together,” she said.

ZERO GEE WITH the lights out. It was cooling off, not a lot, but enough to suggest what was to come. The ship was absolutely silent save for a rustling in the bulkhead. Like loose paper getting blown around. When he put his hand to it he could feel a slight vibration.

“There’s a noise in the walls,” he told Hutch. She acknowledged without comment. He imagined something gnawing on the ship.

Until two weeks before, Tor had never been in serious personal danger. Now it was happening a second time. He was terrified, and he kept thinking it wouldn’t be so bad if he wasn’t frightened that his nerve would break, that he’d begin screaming for help. He tried again to raise Kurt, but there wasn’t even a carrier wave from the captain’s link.

“Listen, Tor.” Hutch again. “We’ll be over in a couple of minutes. We’re going to get you out.”

“How are you going to do that?” he asked, wondering whether she’d lie to him, do anything to keep his spirits up. He remembered the way heroic characters always died in the sims. Just prop me up against the gun, Louie. I’ll hold the pass until you get clear. What he wanted, maybe even as much as getting rescued, was to look good.

“There’s a washroom in there. Find it. When I tell you, I want you to go into it.”

“Into the washroom?”

“Yes. We’ll be there as quickly as we can. We’re going to come in through the emergency airlock and down the tube. I’ll let you know when we’re ready to start the cut. When I do, make for the washroom.”

He understood. “My God,” he said.

“It’ll work.”

“Going to get cold.”

“Yes, it will. You have any blankets available?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think so. This area seems to be all artifacts. Old pots and statues.”

“All right. You’re going to have to take off some clothes, too, before we’re done.”

It seemed like a strange time for a joke, but he said nothing.

NICK WAS WAITING with the ram tape when Hutch, George, and Alyx returned to the launch bay. They were carrying go-packs, spare restraining harnesses, e-suits, air tanks, a fifty-meter length of cable, a wrench, and a pair of shears.

She took the tape, thanked him, and hefted it in her hand. Did anybody have any experience with a laser cutter? They all smiled politely and looked at one another. “I need a volunteer,” Hutch said.

Nick shuffled his feet. “You’re my man,” she said. She showed him the tool, turned on the power, activated the laser. She produced a marker, looked around, and found an empty cabinet. She drew a line along one side of its frame, and sliced cleanly down the line. “You want to try?”

He nodded.

She turned it off and handed it to him.

He thumbed it on.

“When the lamp’s green it’s ready,” she said.

The lamp turned green, and he pressed the trigger. The laser appeared, a long blade of ruby light. “You can step up the intensity.” She showed him how. The light changed color. Brightened. “But this should be adequate.” She readjusted to the original setting.

He looked at it and took aim at the mutilated cabinet.

“No sudden motions. Resist the urge to press down. The laser does the work.”

He cut off a long strip of metal and she told him congratulations, he had just graduated.

Now she explained what she intended to do, laid out their instructions, and provided Nick with a pair of grip shoes.

Everybody got an e-suit. They strapped on air tanks, activated the fields, and began breathing from the tanks. Hutch started the decompression procedure, checked their communications, and pulled on a vest. She threw the ram tape into it, attached the wrench and the shears to her vest, which would remain outside the Flickinger field, and threw the loop of cable over her shoulder. She put her go-pack into a backseat and got a second cutter for herself.

She ran through a checklist in her mind, picked up an extra e-suit, and laid it into the backseat of the lander. “I think we’re ready to go,” she said.

Nick and Alyx climbed in with her, and she started the engine. George backed off to give the vehicle room. She brought the Wendy schematic up on one of the auxiliary screens.

When the chamber had gone to vacuum, the launch door rose. Thumbs-up to George. He returned the gesture, and they eased out into the night just as one of the Wendy’s forward sections seemed to break loose, rather like a globule of mercury, and drift away.

Nick made a noise deep in his throat.

Hutch moved deliberately, arcing out and approaching the Wendy from the rear. Nick pushed forward in his restraints as if to make the lander move faster, but he said nothing. Amidships, the hull appeared to be going through contractions, a woman experiencing the final stages of birth. A cloud of crystal flakes exploded and blew off.