Hautbois topped the final giant dune before the cable. Ahead Robin could see the land rising unbroken. She estimated the distance to the welcoming darkness between the strands at about a kilometer.

"Buzz bomb to the right," Chris called out. "Don't go down yet! It's still a long way off." Robin found it, banking around the eastern side of the cable, perhaps a thousand meters high.

"Back over the dune," Cirocco ordered. "I don't think it's seen us yet."

Hautbois wheeled, and in a few seconds the seven of them were prone together on the far side.

All of them but Robin.

"Get down, you silly idiot! What's the matter with you?"

She was on her knees, leaning forward, her hands almost touching the sand.

She could not make them move. The sand seemed to writhe before her eyes. She could not make herself reach out and touch its loathsome heat, could not press her belly to it and await the arrival of the wraiths.

A great weight fell on her, and she cried out. She screamed when she felt the sand press against her, then began to vomit.

"That's good," Hautbois said, easing up enough to allow Robin to turn her head. "I wish I'd thought of that. All that moisture will keep them away."

Moisture, moisture ... Robin heard only that word on a conscious level and quickly blocked everything but that thought. The sand was wet. Wet would keep the monsters away. Sweat, weep, spit, vomit ... any of those things were suddenly the smart thing to do. She hugged the sand and thought about how wonderfully wet it was.

"What's the matter? Is she having a seizure?" Cirocco called out.

"I think so," Hautbois said. "I'll take care of her."

"Just keep her down. It still may not see us."

Robin heard the sound of a buzz bomb high and far away. She turned her head enough to see it come into sight over the edge of the dune, still at altitude. It turned sharply, showing a swept-wing profile, and began to come toward them.

"That's that," Cirocco said. "Everyone stay low. It's not at a good angle to hurt us."

They watched the buzz bomb in growing doubt until it became clear that the creature was not going to make a low pass. It cruised over them at five or six hundred meters, going much more slowly than Robin remembered from the last time.

"That thing looks odd," Gaby said, daring to sit up a little.

"Never mind that," Cirocco said, standing to scan the air. "It's going to come back around. Gaby, keep a watch for more, and the rest of you start digging. I'd like a wide hole two meters deep, but I'd settle for one. It's going to be tough in this sand. Throw some water around before you dig. Oh, and if anyone has even the slightest urge to pee, do it now, don't be shy. It's useless in your bladder." Cirocco stopped talking when she saw the look on Robin's face and realized the condition of the younger woman's pants was not intentional.

Robin had disgraced herself. She thanked the Great Mother that none of her sisters was here to see it, but it was small consolation. These six were her sisters now, for the duration of the trip and probably beyond.

But things are never so bad they cannot get worse. Robin appreciated the truth of that principle when she tried to move and found she could not. Hautbois's statement-certainly meant as a facesaving out for Robin-had come true; she was paralyzed.

For a moment she thought she would surely lose her mind. She was sprawled bonelessly, face down, on the hateful sands of Tethys, a surface she feared so much that she had possibly betrayed the whole group by her inability to touch it. But instead of insanity, she achieved a fatalistic detachment. Mindless, serene, she heard the sounds of frenzied activity and understood little of it. It was no longer important if a wraith emerged beneath her and tore her apart. There were grains of sand and the taste of vomit in her mouth. She felt a trickle of sweat run down her nose. She could see a few meters of sand and her own arm extended across it. She listened.

Cirocco: "Since they can't get too close to us, they have to use some kind of medium-range weapon. They used to chunk rocks, but in the last ten years they've used some kind of spear thrower or bow and arrow."

Chris: "That sounds bad. We're not going to get much cover in this sand."

Cirocco: "It's good and bad. They were pretty mean shots with those rocks. They're built ... well, you haven't seen them, and they're hard to describe, but they were very good at throwing rocks. But they're basically cowardly, and they had to get in pretty close to throw them. With the arrows they can stand farther back."

Hautbois: "Now tell us the bad news, Rocky."

Cirocco: "That's it. The good news is that they're lousy shots with arrows. They can't aim them. But they'd rather stay back and take potshots."

Gaby: "They make up for it by shooting a lot of arrows."

Hautbois: "I knew there'd be something."

There was the familiar staccato roar of a buzz bomb some distance away.

Gaby: "I still say there's something weird about that creature. I can't make it out, but it looks like a swelling on its back."

Hornpipe: "I see it, too."

Cirocco: "Your eyes are better than mine."

For a time there were just the sounds of breathing and occasionally the rustle of someone crawling over sand. Once Robin felt someone brush against her leg. Then Hornpipe shouted a warning. Something fell to the sand in Robin's range of vision. She had been staring at her thumbnail; now she shifted her eyes and looked at the intruder. It was a thin shaft of glass, half a meter long. One end was notched, the other buried in the sand.

"Anybody hit?" It was Cirocco's voice. There were a few negative replies. "They just shot those in the air. They must be behind that dune. In a while they'll get up the nerve to look over it, and they'll get a little more accurate. Get your slingshots ready."

Shortly after that Robin heard the twang of the Titanides' weapons.

Chris: "I think you hit that one, Valiha. Oops! Those were closer."

Cirocco: "Damn it, look at Robin. Can't we do anything about that? It must be hellish."

Robin had heard the last flight of arrows hitting the sand, felt a few grains rain on her legs. It was not a matter of importance. She heard more slitherings, and a hand grasped the arrow she had been looking at, pulled it out, and tossed it away. Gaby's face appeared, a few centimeters from her own.

"How are you making it, kid?" She took Robin's hand and squeezed it, then stroked her cheek. "Would it be easier if you could see things better? I can't think of any way to protect you, or I'd use it for all of us."

"No," Robin answered, from a great distance.

"I wish ... shit." Gaby hit the ground with her fist. "I feel helpless. I can imagine how you must feel." When Robin made no answer, she leaned close again.

"Listen, do you mind if I take your gun for a while?"

"I don't mind."

"Do you have any of those rocket slugs left? With the explosive tips?"

"Three clips."

"I'll need them, too. I'm going to try to pot a buzz bomb if it ever gets down low enough. You just hang on and try not to think of it. We're going to make a dash for the cable pretty soon."

"I'm all right," Robin said, but Gaby was gone.

"And I'll take you," Hautbois said, from behind her. She felt the Titanide's hand come around her and briefly touch her cheek, which was wet. "Do not begrudge the tears, little one. Not only is it good for the soul, but every drop protects us all."