A Deepness in the Sky Part 26

It was an afternoon that Hrunkner Unnerby would never forget. In all the years he had known Victory Smith, it was the first time he'd seen her come close to losing control. Just past noon the frantic call came over the microwave communications link, Sherkaner Underhill breaking through all military priorities with word of the kidnappings. General Smith dumped Sherkaner from the line and pulled her staff into emergency session. Suddenly Hrunkner Unnerby went from being a projects director to something like. . .like a sergeant. Hrunkner got her tri-prop on the flight line. He and lower staff checked background security. He wasn't going to let his General take chances. Emergencies like this were just the things that enemies like to create, and when you're thinking that nothing matters but that emergency, then then they strike at their true targets. they strike at their true targets.

The tri-prop took less than two hours to make it from Lands Command to Princeton. But the aircraft was no flying command center; such things were beyond current budgets. So the General had two hours with only a low-speed wireless link. That was two hours away from the command and control hub at Lands Command or its near equal at Princeton. Two hours to listen to fragmentary reports and try to coordinate a response. Two hours for grief and anger and uncertainty to gnaw. It was midafternoon when they landed, then another half hour before they reached Hill House.

Their car had scarcely stopped when Sherkaner Underhill was pulling the doors open, urging them out. He caught Unnerby by the arm, and spoke around him to the General. "Thanks for bringing Hrunkner. I need you both." And he walked them across the foyer, drawing them down to his den on the ground floor.

Over the years, Unnerby had observed Sherkaner in various tricky situations: talking his way into Lands Command in the middle of the Tiefer War, guiding an expedition right through the vacuum of the Deepest Dark, debating trads. Sherk didn't always win, but he was always so full of surprise and imagination. Everything was a grand experiment and a wonderful adventure. Even when he failed, he saw how the failure would make for more interesting experiments. But today. . .today Sherkaner had met despair. He reached out to Smith, the tremor in his head and arms more p.r.o.nounced than ever. "There has to be a way to find them. There has to be. I have computers, and the microwave link to Lands Command." All the resources that had served him so well in the past. "I can get them back safely. I know I can."

Smith was very still for a moment. Then she moved close to him, laid an arm across Sherk's shoulders, caressing his fur. Her voice was soft and stern, almost like a soldier bracing another about lost comrades. "No, dear. You can only do so much." Outside, the afternoon was moving into overcast. A thin whistle of wind came through the half-opened windows, and the ferns sc.r.a.ped back and forth on the quartz panes. A dark green gloom was all that filtered down through the clouds and the shrubbery.

The General stood with her head close to Sherkaner's, the two just staring at each other. Unnerby could almost feel the fear and the shame echoing back and forth between the two. Then, abruptly, Sherkaner collapsed toward her, his arms wrapping her. The soft hiss of Sherkaner's weeping joined the wind as the only sounds in the room. After a moment, Smith raised one of her back hands, gently motioning for Hrunkner to leave.

Unnerby nodded back at her. The deep carpet was littered with toys-Sherkaner's and the children's-but he was careful where he stepped and managed a silent exit.

The twilight quickly became night, as much a product of the gathering storm as the setting of the sun. Unnerby didn't see much of the weather, since the house command post had only tiny, beetling windows. Smith showed up there almost half an hour after Unnerby. She acknowledged her subordinates' attention, then slid onto the perch next to Hrunkner. He waggled hands at her questioningly. She shrugged. "Sherk will be okay, Sergeant. He's up with his graduate students, doing what he can. Now where are we?"

Unnerby pushed a stack of interviews across the table toward her. "Captain Downing and his team are still here, if you want to talk to them yourself, but all of us"-all the staff that had come up from Lands Command-"think they're clean. The children were just too clever." The children had made fools of an efficient security setup. Of course, they had lived with the setup for a long time, knew Security's habits, were friends of the team members. And till now, the external threat had been a matter of theory and occasional rumor. It all worked in the cobblies' favor when they decided to go for a jaunt.. . .But that security team was a creation of General Victory Smith's own staff. The team members were smart people, loyal people; they were hurting as much as Sherkaner Underhill.

Smith pushed the reports back at him. "Okay. Get Daram and his team back in the loop. Keep them busy. What's new with the search reports?" She waved the other staffers close, and she herself became very busy.

The house command post had good maps, a real situation table. With the microwave link, it could double for the command center at Lands Command. Unfortunately, it had no special advantage for comm into Princeton. It would be several hours before that problem was cured. There was a steady stream of runners moving in and out of the room. Many were fresh from Lands Command, and not part of the day's debacle. That was a good thing, their presence leavening the fatigued dispair that showed in the aspects of some. There were leads. There was progress. . .both heartening and ominous.

The chief of counter-Kindred operations showed up an hour later. Rachner Thract was very new to his job, a young cobber and a Tiefer immigrant. It was strange to see someone with such a combination in that post. He seemed bright enough, but more bookish than deadly. Maybe that was okay; G.o.d knew they needed people who really understood the Kindred. How could traditional values go so wrong? In the Great War, the Kindred had been minor schismatics within the Tiefer empire, and secret supporters of the Accord. But Victory Smith thought they would be the next great threat-or maybe she just followed her general suspicion of trads.

Thract laid his rain cape on the coatrack and undid the pannier he carried. He set the doc.u.ments down in front of his boss. "The Kindred are up to their shoulders in this one, General."

"Why am I not surprised?" said Smith. Unnerby knew how tired she must be, but she seemed fresh, almost the usual Victory Smith. Almost. She was as calm, as courteous as at any staff meeting. Her questions were as clever as always. But Unnerby saw a difference, a faint distraction. It didn't come across as anxiety; it was more like the General's mind was somewhere else, contemplating. "Nevertheless, Kindred involvement was only a low probability this morning. What has changed, Rachner?"

"Two interviews and two autopsies. The cobbers who were killed had been through plenty of physical training, and it doesn't look like athletics; there were old nicks in their chitin, even a patched bullet hole."

Victory shrugged. "It's been clear this was a professional job. We know there are domestic threats, trad fringe groups. They might hire competent operators."

"They might, but this was the Kindred, not the local trads."

"There's hard evidence?" asked Unnerby, relieved and a little ashamed by the feeling.

"Um." Thract seemed to consider the questioner as much as the question. The cobber couldn't quite decide where Unnerby-a civilian addressed as "Sergeant"-might fit in the chain of command. Get used to it,sonny. Get used to it,sonny. "The Kindred make a big thing of their religious roots; but before now, they've been careful about interfering with us domestically. Covert funding of local trad groups was about their limit. But. . .they blew it today. These were Kindred professionals. They went to great trouble to be untraceable, but they didn't count on our forensic labs. Actually, it's a test one of your husband's students invented. See, the ratio of pollen types in the breathing pa.s.sages of both corpses is foreign; I can even tell you which Kindred base they launched from. These two hadn't been in-country for more than fifteen days." "The Kindred make a big thing of their religious roots; but before now, they've been careful about interfering with us domestically. Covert funding of local trad groups was about their limit. But. . .they blew it today. These were Kindred professionals. They went to great trouble to be untraceable, but they didn't count on our forensic labs. Actually, it's a test one of your husband's students invented. See, the ratio of pollen types in the breathing pa.s.sages of both corpses is foreign; I can even tell you which Kindred base they launched from. These two hadn't been in-country for more than fifteen days."

Smith nodded. "If it had been longer, the pollen would be gone?"

"Right, captured by their immune system and flushed, the techs say. But even so, we still would have figured most of this out. You see, the other side had a lot more bad luck today than we did. They left behind two living witnesses. . . ." Thract hesitated, obviously remembering that this was not not an ordinary ops meeting, that for Smith the usual definition of operational success might count as catastrophic failure. an ordinary ops meeting, that for Smith the usual definition of operational success might count as catastrophic failure.

The General didn't seem to notice. "Yes, the couple. The ones who brought their children to the museum."

"Yes, ma'am. And they are half the reason why this thing blew up in the enemy's face. Colonel Underville"-the domestic ops chief-"has had people talking to them all afternoon; they are desperately anxious to help. You've already heard what she got from them right away, how one of your sons brought down an exhibit and killed two of the kidnappers."

"And that all the children were taken alive."

"Right. But Underville has learned more. We're almost sure now.. . . The kidnappers intended to steal all your children. When they saw the Suabismes' little ones, they a.s.sumed those were yours. There just aren't that many oophases in the world, even now. They naturally a.s.sumed the Suabismes were our our security people." security people."

G.o.d in the good cold earth.Unnerby gazed out the narrow windows. There was a little more light than before, but now it was the actinic ultras of security lamps. The wind was steadily picking up, driving sparkling droplets across the windows, and bending the ferns back and forth. There was supposed to be a lightning storm tonight.

So the Kindred screwed up because they had too high an opinion of Accord security. Naturally, they a.s.sumed that someone someone would be with the children. would be with the children.

"We got a lot from the two civilians, General: the story these fellows used when they walked in, some turns of phrase after things blew up. . .The kidnappers didn't intend to leave any witnesses. The Suabismes are the luckiest people in Princeton tonight, even if they don't see it that way. The two that your son killed were pushing the Suabismes away from the children. One of them had unholstered an automatic shotgun, and all its safeties were off. Colonel Underville figures the original mission was to grab all your children and leave no witnesses. In fact, dead civilians and lots of blood was fine with their scenario, since it would all be blamed on our trad factions."

"In that case, why not leave a couple of dead children, too? That would also have made the getaway easier." Victory's question was calm, but it had a distanced quality about it.

"We don't know, ma'am. But Colonel Underville thinks they're still in-country, maybe even in Princeton."

"Oh?" Skepticism seemed to war with hope. "I know Belga clamped down awfully fast-and the other side had its problems, too. Okay. This will be your first big in-country operation, Rachner, but I want it done arm-in-arm with Domestic Intelligence. And you'll have to involve the city and commercial police." The cla.s.sic anonymity of Accord Intelligence was going to get badly bent in the next few days. "Try to be nice to the city and commercial people. We don't have a state of war. They can cause the Crown a world of trouble."

"Yes, ma'am. Colonel Underville and I are running patrols with the city police. When the phones are set up, we'll have some kind of joint command post with them here at Hill House."

"Very good.. . .I think you were ahead of me all the time, Rachner."

Thract gave a little smile as he came to his feet. "We'll get your cobblies back, Chief."

Smith started to reply, then noticed two small heads peeping around the doorjamb. "I know you will, Rachner. Thank you."

Thract stepped back from the table, and a brief stillness spread through the room. The two youngest of Underhill's children-maybe all who were left alive-walked shyly into the room, followed by the head of their guard team and three troopers. Captain Downing carried a furled umbrella, but it was clear that Rhapsa and Little Hrunk had not taken advantage of it. Their jackets were soaked and drops of rain stood on their gla.s.sy black chitin.

Victory had no smile for the children. Her gaze took in their soaked clothes and the umbrella. "Were you running around?"

Rhapsa answered, more subdued than Hrunkner had ever heard the little h.e.l.lion. "No, Mother. We were with Daddy, but now he is busy. We stayed right by Captain Downing, between him and the others. . . ." She stopped, tilted her head shyly at her guard.

The young captain snapped to attention, but he had the terrible look of a soldier who has just seen combat and defeat. "Sorry, ma'am. I decided not to use the umbrella. I wanted to be able to see in all directions."

"Quite right, Daram. And. . .it's right that you brought them here." She stopped, just staring at her children for a quiet second. Rhapsa and Little Hrunk were motionless, staring back. Then, as if some central switch had been tripped, the two swarmed across the room, their voices raised in a wordless keen. For a moment they were all arms and legs, scrambling up Smith, hugging her like a father. Now that the dam of their reserve was broken, their crying was loud-and the questions, too. Was there any news about Gokna and Viki and Jirlib and Brent? What would happen now? And they didn't want to be by themselves.

After a few moments things settled down. Smith tilted her head at the children, and Unnerby wondered what was going through her mind. She still had two children. Whatever the bad luck or incompetence of this day, it was two other young children who were stolen instead of these. She raised a hand in Unnerby's direction. "Hrunkner. I have a request. Find the Suabismes. Ask them. . .offer them my hospitality. If they would like to wait this out here at Hill House. . .I would be honored."

They were high up, in some kind of vertical ventilator shaft.

"No, it's not a ventilator shaft!" said Gokna. "Real ones have all sorts of extra piping and utility cabling."

There was no rumble of ventilator fans, just the constant whistle of the wind from above. Viki concentrated on the view straight above her head. She could see a grilled window at the top, maybe fifty feet up. Daylight shone through, splashing this way and that down the metal walls of the shaft. Here at the bottom they were in twilight, but it was more than bright enough to see the sleep mats, the chemical toilet, the metal floor. Their prison got steadily warmer as the day progressed. Gokna was right. They'd done enough exploring back home to know how real utility cores looked. But what else could this be? "Look at all the patches." She waved at the disks that were sloppily welded here and there on the walls. "Maybe this place was abandoned-no, maybe it's still under construction!"

"Yeah," said Jirlib. "All this work is fresh. They just tack-welded covers on the access holes, maybe an hour's work." Gokna nodded, not even trying to get the last word. So much had changed since this morning. Jirlib was no longer a distant, angry umpire to their disputes. He was under more pressure than ever before, and she knew how bitterly guilty he must feel. Along with Brent, he was the eldest-and he'd let this happen. But the pain didn't show directly; Jirlib was more patient than ever before.

And when he spoke, his sisters listened. Even if you didn't count that he was just about an adult, he was by far the smartest of all of them.

"In fact, I think I know exactly where we are." He was interrupted by the babies, stirring in their perches on his back. Jirlib's fur was just not deep enough to properly comfort, and he was already beginning to stink. Alequere and Birbop alternated between caterwauling demands for their parents and nerve-racking silence, when they pinched tight onto poor Jirlib's back. It looked like they were returning to noise mode. Viki reached out, coaxing Alequere into her arms.

"Where is that?" asked Gokna, but with no trace of argument in her voice.

"See the attercop webs?" said Jirlib, pointing upward. They were fresh, tiny patches of silk that floated in the breeze by the grill. "Each type has its own pattern. The ones up there are local to the Princeton area, but they nest in the highest places. The top of Hill House is just barely high enough for them. So-I figure we're still in town, and we're so high up we must be visible for miles. We're either in the hill district or in that new skysc.r.a.per at City Center."

Alequere started crying again. Viki rocked her gently back and forth. It was the sort of thing that always cheered up Little Hrunk, but. . .A miracle! Alequere's wailing quieted. Maybe she was just so beaten down that she couldn't make healthy noise. But no, after a few seconds the baby waved a weak little smile at her and twisted around so that she could see everything. She was a good little cobblie! Viki rocked the baby a few more seconds before she spoke. "Okay. Maybe they just drove us around in circles-but City Center? We've heard a few aircraft, but where are the street noises?"

"They're all around." It was almost the first thing Brent had said since the kidnapping. Slow and dull, that was Brent. And he was the only one of all of them who had guessed what was happening this morning. He was the one who dropped away from the others and lurked in the dark. Brent was grown-up-sized-riding that exhibit down on top of the enemy could have crippled him. When they were dragged out through the museum's freight entrance, Brent had been limp and silent. He hadn't said anything during the drive that followed, just waved when Jirlib and Gokna asked him if he was okay.

In fact, it looked like he had cracked one foreleg and injured at least one other, but he wouldn't let them look at the damage. Viki understood. Brent would feel just as ashamed as Jirlib-and even more useless. He had withdrawn into a sullen pile, and then-after the first hour in their present captivity-had begun to limp around and around, tapping and ticking at the metal. Every so often he would plunk himself down flat, like he was pretending to be dead-or was totally despairing. That was his posture just now.

"Can't you hear them?" he said again. "Belly-listen."

Viki hadn't played that game in years. But she and the others imitated him, sprawling absolutely flat, with no grasping arch at all. It wasn't very comfortable, and you couldn't hold on to anything while you did it. Alequere hopped out of her arms. Birbop joined his sister. The two ticked from one of the older children to another, prodding at them. After a moment, the two started giggling.

"Sh, sh," Viki said softly. That only made the giggling louder. How long had Viki been praying for spirit to return to these two? And now she wanted them just to be quiet for a bit. She shut them out of her mind and concentrated. Hunh. It wasn't exactly sound, not for the ears in your head, anyway. But all along her underside she could feel it. There was a steady background hum. . .and other vibrations, that came and went. Ha! It was a ghost of the thrumming life you felt in the tips of your feet when you walked around downtown! And there! The unmistakable burring of heavy brakes making a fast stop.

Jirlib was chuckling. "I guess that settles that! They thought they were so clever with that closed cargo box, but now we know."

Viki rose to a more comfortable position and exchanged looks with Gokna. Jirlib was smarter, but when it came to sneakiness he had never been in a cla.s.s with his sisters. Gokna's reply was mild, partly to be polite, partly because the appropriate tones would have sent the babies back into hiding. "Jirl, I don't think they were really trying to hide things from us."

Jirlib shifted his head back, almost his "brother knows best" gesture. Then he caught her tone. "Gokna, they could have gotten us here in a five-minute drive. Instead, we were on the the road for more than an hour. What-"

Viki said, "I think that may have been just to evade Mother's security. These cobbers had several cars running around; they switched us twice, remember. Maybe they actually tried to get out of town, and saw that they couldn't do it." Viki waved at their quarters. "If they have any sense, they know we've seen way too much." She tried to keep her voice light. Birbop and Alequere had wandered over to the still-sprawled Brent and were picking his pockets. "We could identify them, Jirlib. We also saw the driver and the lady down in the museum loading area."

And she told him about the automatic shotgun she'd seen on the floor at the museum. An expression of horror flickered across Jirlib. "You don't think they're trads, just trying to embarra.s.s Dad and the General?"

Both Gokna and Viki gestured no. Gokna said, "I think they're soldiers, Jirl, no matter what they say." In fact, there had been lies on top of lies. When the gang appeared at the videomancy exhibit, they'd claimed to be from Mother's security. But by time they dumped the cobblies here, they were talking like trads: The children were a horrible example for decent folk. They weren't to be harmed, but their parents would be revealed as the perverts that they were. That's what they said, but both Gokna and Viki noticed their lack of fire. Most traditionalists on the radio positively fumed; the ones Viki and Gokna had met in person got all torn up just at the sight of oophase children. These kidnappers were cool; behind the rhetoric, it was clear that the children were just cargo. Viki had noticed only two honest emotions under their professionalism. The leader was truly angry about the two that Brent had squashed. . .and every so often, there was a hint of distant regret for the children themselves.

Viki saw Jirlib flinch as the implications. .h.i.t home, but he remained silent. Two shrieks of laughter interrupted his grim introspection. Alequere and Birbop weren't paying any attention to Gokna and Viki, or Jirlib. They had discovered the play twine that Brent kept hidden in his jacket. Alequere hopped back, drawing the twine out in a soaring arc. Birbop jumped to grab it, ran in a quick circle around Brent as if to trap him round the legs.

"Hey, Brent, I thought you had outgrown that stuff," said Gokna, a forced cheeriness in her teasing.

Brent's answer was slow and a little defensive. "I get bored when I'm away from my sticks 'n' hubs. You can play with twine anywhere." For what it was worth, Brent was an expert at making twine patterns. When he was younger, he'd often roll onto his back and use all his arms and legs-even his eating hands-to wrap ever more complicated patterns. It was the sort of silly, intricate hobby that Brent loved.

Birbop grabbed the tip of the rope from Alequere and raced ten or fifteen feet up the wall, nimbly taking advantage of every grasp point the way only the very young can. He wiggled the rope at his sister, daring her to try to drag him down. When she did so, he jerked it back and climbed upward another five feet. He was just like Rhapsa used to be, maybe even a bit more nimble.

"Not so high, Birbop, you'll fall!"-and Viki was sounding just like Daddy now.

The walls stretched up and up above the baby. And at the top, fifty feet above them, was the tiny window. Behind herself, Viki saw Gokna start with surprise. "Are you thinking what I am?" Viki said.

"P-probably. When she was little, Rhapsa could have climbed to the top." Their kidnappers weren't as smart as they thought. Anyone who had looked after babies would know better. But both the male kidnappers were young, current-generation.

"But if he falls-"

If he fell, there would be no gymnet base web, not even a soft carpet. A two-year-old might weigh fifteen or twenty pounds. They loved to climb; it was as if they sensed that once they got big and heavy, they'd be stuck with climbing stairs and making only the most trivial jumps. Babies could fall a lot farther than grown-ups without serious injury, but long falls would still kill them. Two-year-olds didn't know that. A simple suggestion would send Birbop off for the window at the top. The chances were good that he would make it. . . .

Normally, Viki and Gokna would jump into any wild scheme, but this was someone else's life.. . .The two stared at each other for a moment. "I-I don't know, Viki."

And if they did nothing? The babies would likely be killed along with the rest of them. There could be terrible consequences whatever they chose. Suddenly Viki was more frightened than she had ever been before; she walked across the floor to stand under the grinning Birbop. Her arms reached up as if with a life of their own, to coax the baby back down. She forced her arms down, forced her voice into a light, teasing tone. "Hi, Birbop! Do you think you can carry the twine all the way to that little window?"

Birbop tilted his head, turned his baby eyes upward. "Sure." And he was off, scuttling back and forth from weld patch to pipefitting, upward and upward. I owe you, little one, even if you don't know it. I owe you, little one, even if you don't know it.

On the ground, Alequere squawked outrage that Birbop should have all the attention. She jerked hard on the twine, leaving her brother dangling by three arms from a narrow ledge twenty feet up. Gokna scooped her off the floor and away from the twine, and handed her to Jirlib.

Viki tried to shake off the terror she felt; she watched the baby climb higher and higher. And if we can get to the window, then what? And if we can get to the window, then what? Throw out notes? But they had nothing to write with-and they didn't know just where they were or where the wind might carry a note.. . .And suddenly she saw how one thing might solve two problems. "Brent, your jacket." She jerked her hands, waving for Gokna to help him take it off. Throw out notes? But they had nothing to write with-and they didn't know just where they were or where the wind might carry a note.. . .And suddenly she saw how one thing might solve two problems. "Brent, your jacket." She jerked her hands, waving for Gokna to help him take it off.

"Yes!" Gokna was pulling at the sleeves and pants almost before Viki finished talking. Brent stared in surprise for a second, and then he got the idea and started helping. His jacket was almost as big as Jirlib's, but without the slits down the back. The three of them stretched it flat between them and sidled this way and that, trying to track the lateral movements of the high-climbing Birbop. Maybe, even if he fell. . .It was the sort of thing that always worked in adventure stories. Somehow, standing here holding the jacket, it seemed absurd to imagine such success.

Alequere was still screeching, struggling to get out of Jirlib's grasp. Birbop laughed at her. He was quite happy to be at the center of attention, doing something he normally would have gotten whacked for. Forty feet up. He was slowing. The foot- and handholds were scarce; he was beyond the main ventilator fixtures. A couple of times he almost lost the twine as it slipped from hand to hand. He gathered himself on an impossibly narrow ledge and leaped sidewise up the remaining three feet-and one of his hands snagged the window grille. An instant later, his body was silhouetted in the light.

With only two eyes, and those in front, babies almost had to turn around to see behind themselves. Now for the first time, Birbop looked down. His triumphant laughter choked as he saw just how far he had come, so far that even his baby instincts told him he was at risk. There were reasons parents didn't let you climb as high as you wanted. Birbop's arms and legs clamped reflexively to the grillework.

And they couldn't persuade him that no one could come up to help him, and that he could get down by himself. Viki had never imagined that this would be a problem. On the occasions that Rhapsa or Little Hrunk had escaped to unholy heights, neither had any trouble getting back down.

Just when it seemed that Birbop was in a permanent state of paralysis, his sister stopped crying and began laughing at him. After that, it wasn't hard to persuade him to thread the twine through the grillework and then use it as a kind of pulley to support his descent.

Most babies came on the idea themselves, sailing downward on play twine; maybe it went back to some animal memories. Birbop started down with five limbs wrapped securely around the descending strand and three others braking the ascending strand. But after he had descended a few feet and it became clear how smoothly the play twine worked, he was holding with just three arms-and then two. He bounced off the walls with his feet, flying downward like some pouncing tarant. Below him, Viki and the others hopped around in a vain effort to keep their makeshift net under him. . . and then he was down.

And they had a loop of play twine extending from the floor to the window grille and back. It glowed and twitched as it released stretch energy.

Gokna and Viki argued about which of them would do the next step. Viki won that one; she weighed under eighty pounds, the least of any of them. She pulled and swung on it while Brent and Gokna ripped the silk lining out of his jacket. The lining was dyed with red and ultra splotches. Better yet, it was constructed of folded layers; cutting it along the st.i.tching gave them a banner that was light as smoke, but fifteen feet on a side. Surely someone would notice.

Gokna folded the lining down to a neat square and handed it to her. "The twine, you really think it'll hold?"

"Sure." Maybe. The stuff was slick and stretchy, like any good play twine-and what would happen when she stretched it all the way?

What Brent said comforted her more than any wishful thinking: "I think it will hold. I like to hang things in my designs. I took this from the mechanics lab."

Viki took off her own jacket, grabbed the homemade flag in her eating hands, and started up. In her rear view, the others dwindled into an anxious little pattern around the "safety net." Lot of good that would do if someone as big as her fell. She swayed out and in, bouncing step by step up the wall. Actually, it was easy. Even a full-grown adult wouldn't have trouble climbing a vertical with two support ropes-as long as the ropes held. As much as she watched the twine and the wall, she watched the doorway down below. Funny how she hadn't started worrying about interruptions until now. But success was so close. It would all be for nothing if one of the goons chose now to look in on them. Just a few more feet . . .

She slipped her forehands through the window grille, and hoisted herself close to the open air. There was no room to perch, and the grille bars were too close-set for even a baby to sneak through-but, ah, the view! They were at the top of one of the giant new buildings, at least thirty stories up. The sky had become a tumbling overcast, and the wind swept fiercely past the window. Her view downward was partly blocked by the shoulders of the building, but Princeton spread before her like some beautiful model. She had a straight view down one street, could see buses, automobiles, people. And if they looked in her direction. . .Viki unwrapped the jacket liner and poked it through the grille. The wind almost pulled it from her grasp. She caught hold more firmly, tearing the fabric with points of her hands. The stuff was so flimsy! Gently, carefully she pulled the ends back, tied them in four separate places. Now the wind spread the colored square out from the side of the building. The fabric snapped in the wind, sometimes rising to cover the window, sometimes falling against the stonework below her view.

One last look at freedom: Out where the land met the overcast, city hills disappeared in the murk. But Viki could see enough to orient herself. There was a hill, not quite so high as the others, but with a spiraling pattern of streets and buildings. Hill House! She could see all the way home!

Viki sailed down from the window, gleeful out of all proportion. They would win yet! She and the others pulled down the sparkling twine, hid it back in Brent's jacket. They sat in the gathering dimness, wondering when their jailers would show up again, arguing about what to do when that happened. The afternoon got awfully dark and the rain started. Still, the sound of fabric snapping in the wind was a comfort.

Sometime after midnight, the storm tore the banner free and lost it in the darkness.

THIRTY.