"Pressure good, opening airlock."

Adrian brought his hand down on the key that opened the inner hatch.

The clank of the portal opening was followed fast by the thumping of multiple pairs of stiff, heavy boots and the clunking of armored limbs as they accidentally bumped into walls and other people in a confined space.

"Another day, another dollar," said Kevin, rubbing the back of his neck.

"So they tell me." Adrian got to his feet and arched his back in a prolonged stretch. The team had gotten good enough at managing their suits that he no longer had to hover around them each time they returned.The snapping of catches and various, wordless, relieved noises drifted up the central corri-dor. He knew how they felt. He was really looking forward to the end of this run. Terry Wray in particular was becoming a bigger pain in the ass all the time, despite her good looks. For the past week she'd been running back and forth, asking them both for the story of how the base was found over and over, until finally Kevin said to her, "Ms. Wray, you're sounding less like a media face and more like a lawyer all the time."

"What an interesting choice of words, Mr. Cusmanos," she had replied mildly.

After that, Kevin's normal good humor had started to fade, and Adrian had found himself engaging in the unhealthy and unproductive hobby of marking time until the run was over.

The radio beeped. "This is Venera Base calling Scarab Five and Scarab Fourteen," said a woman's voice. Adrian blinked at the speaker grill. That wasn't Tori at flight control. That was Grandma Helen.

Kevin touched the Reply key. "This is Scarab Five. Receiving you, Venera Base."

"This is a recall notice. Five and Fourteen, you are to return to base immediately."

"What? Why?" The questions were out before Adrian re-membered whom he was talking to.

"You'll hear all about it when you get back up here." Dr. Failia sounded grim. "Get your people back and get in the air." A soft popping underscored her voice.

Adrian looked at his boss. Kevin sat there, a coffee cup held in both hands. His fingers tightened convulsively, denting and redenting the plastic, making the popping noise. Kevin stared at the radio, but Adrian felt positive he didn't see it.

"We're on our way up, Dr. Failia," said Adrian, not taking his attention off Kevin.

"Good. Venera Base out."Kevin still just stood there, crushing the cup and letting it go again.

Adrian's confusion quickly bled away into cold concern.

"What's going on?" asked Adrian softly.

Kevin shook himself and tossed the cup into the garbage. "We'll find out when we get back up, won't we?" He looked at the floor, the chair, the window, but not at Adrian. "You'd better tell the passengers." Kevin settled himself back in the pilot's chair.

That was no answer, but what could Adrian do? "Right, okay."

As he sidled and shuffled his way down the scarab's narrow central corridor, he realized that the sounds of a team getting out of their suits had silenced. He was not surprised to see them, all in their various stages of unsuiting, standing still and staring at him.

Adrian sighed. "I take it you all heard that? We need you in your couches, please, so we can get in the air."

"Can we get any kind of information here?" asked Peachman.

"There's nothing I can tell you." Adrian spread his hands.

"I'm sure there'll be a full briefing when we're back on base. If you'll just fasten yourselves in, please."

"Surely, there must be something-" began Peachman, half to Adrian, half to his teammates, looking for their support.

"I'm sorry," said Adrian. He was. He didn't know what was going on either, and he wanted to. Probably more than any of them did. Recalls did not happen unless something bad did.

Hatch's expression caught his eye. She was looking at him, speculatively, as if she were trying to guess what was going on inside his head. Kenyon, on the other hand, was watching Hatch as if he were worried about what she'd do next.

But she didn't do anything except bend over and start snap-ping the catches on her boots. Wray bent over next to her and murmured something Adrian couldn't hear. He heard the reply, though."I'm sure you'll get to interview everybody soon enough. Now, shouldn't we do what we're told?" Dr. Hatch gave one of her brainless smiles and started stripping out of the stiff, white, undersuit that covered her everyday clothes.

Tourists. Adrian left them to it and headed back to the pilot's compartment. For a moment, he didn't see Kevin, because Kevin was almost doubled over in his chair, with his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands, and his fingers twined through his thick hair.

"Kevin?"

Kevin straightened up instantly at the sound of his name, but he couldn't wipe the pallor from his face.

"What is it?" Adrian sank into his own chair. "What's hap-pened?"

Kevin shook his head. "I don't know any more than you do." He swiveled his chair around to face the primary controls. "Let's get the preflights done, okay?"

Adrian didn't move. "Look, if we're headed back into trou-ble, I want to know."

Kevin poked at a few keys, getting readiness displays up on the screens.

"You're not headed into anything."

"But you are?"

"Did I say I was?" Kevin scowled at the control panel. "Quit pushing, Adrian. Just do your job."

"You helped, didn't you?"

They both jumped. Hatch stood in the entranceway, her face serious, her eyes probing.

"Dr. Hatch, please, get into your couch," said Kevin. "We're under a recall and we've got to leave now."

"But you did help?" she said.

Kevin reared out of his chair. "What the hell do you care? You and yourtourist friends were right, and you showed us all up. Fine. Take the headline and be happy. But if you want to gloat, do it on Mother Earth with your art buddies. This is my ship. For the next five hours I'm still in charge and I'm telling you to get in that cabin and out of my way!"

She didn't move. She stayed right where she was, as if she meant to stare Kevin down.

"I am sorry," she said finally. Then, she turned away and climbed through the door into the starboard couch bay.

Kevin sat back down, shaking.

"What was she talking about?" demanded Adrian.

"Don't start," said Kevin.

"Come on, Kevin-"

"No!" he roared. Adrian reeled back. He'd heard Kevin yell before, at incompetence, at carelessness, but not like this, not this empty, lost rage.

"I'm sorry," Kevin whispered. He cleared his throat. "I'm sorry. Let's get out of here, okay?"

"Yeah, sure." agreed Adrian.

They ran through the preflights mechanically, with no com-ments or bantering. Adrian kept his eyes on his instruments. He didn't want to look at his boss. He didn't want to see what was eating the other man.

Something sure was. Something huge.

Finally, Kevin turned the radio on Venera Base. "Venera Base, this is Scarab Five."

"We have you, Scarab Five," came back Tori's voice. "Condi-tions are go for your launch."

"Good to hear, Venera." Kevin's response was flat, auto-matic. "That lightning cleared up?"

"Clear as crystal," answered Tori. "For Venus anyway.""Thank you, Venera." He switched the radio over to the next channel.

"Scarab Fourteen, this is Scarab Five. Are you go for launch?"

"Ready whenever you are, Scarab Five," Charlotte Murray, Scarab Fourteen's pilot, told them. "You got any idea what this is about?"

For a moment, Adrian thought Kevin was going to be sick. "None, Charlotte. Listen, we're good to go here too. How about you follow us up?"

"Okay by me," said Charlotte. "Let's do the drill. Scarab Five, are you go?"

"We are go, Scarab Fourteen." Kevin gave Adrian the nod.

"Engaging wing." Adrian thumbed the button on the wheel stem that raised the wing. The roof camera showed the rack lift and spread, stretching the skin wide. The indicator light shone green and Adrian slid the inflation control up to Full. The wing inflated slowly. Scarab Five shifted uneasily until it finally lost contact with the ground and began its gentle rise toward the clouds.

Kevin pulled the wheel forward with one hand and pressed in the two keys that engaged the flight engines with the other. The flight engines were tiny things, mostly for guidance and stabilization. The wing provided the lift in the dense atmo-sphere, and once they reached them, the 360-kilometer-an-hour winds in the cloud layers provided the speed.

Kevin eased the wheel forward to angle the wing for a little extra lift. He probably wanted to get as far away from the vol-cano wall as possible, as soon as possible. Beta Regio never failed to make Adrian nervous. Too many outcroppings, too many weird corners.

Today, though, it didn't bother him half as much as the dead, gray look on Kevin's face. He was not here. His hands were flying the scarab without his head. This was not good.

"Flying a little sluggish, do you think?" asked Adrian to try to draw him out.

Kevin nodded. "A little. Might be some grit in the works. How do the diagnostics look?"Adrian's gaze swept the instrument panels and screens. "Everything's green and go."

"All right, let me get a little more clearance from the wall. We've got that big shelf coming up." He pushed the wheel down and away, dropping them, swinging them wide, without waiting, without looking.

Without seeing Scarab Fourteen on the monitor.

"Pull back!" shouted Adrian.

The radio crackled to life. "Scarab Five, get-"

WHANG!.

The whole scarab shuddered and swung wildly to the right. Stunned, Kevin gripped the wheel and pulled back, trying for height.

"What happened?" cried Adrian. A sick creaking sounded through the roof. "We got a critical failure in the wing joints!" Adrian glanced down at the roof camera. The cage around the right wingtip was crumpled in. The scarab lurched and leaned right.

"It was an accident!" Kevin hauled the wheel left. That worked, sort of.

The scarab stabilized for a moment but then slowly slewed right and down.

"Okay," said Adrian under his breath. "We're going back down." He hit the radio key. "Scarab Fourteen, Scarab Four-teen, are you there? Come in, Charlotte..."

Nothing. No answer. Adrian punched the keys for the sweep cameras in the scarab's belly to scan the ground. All he saw was the broken landscape, crisscrossed by the tracks of old lava flows and the glowing rivulets of fresh ones.

"They're not answering," he said sharply. Kevin didn't seem to notice.

Kevin pulled the wheel back and left. The scarab started a shallow dive, dipping a little to the left as it curved gently around.

He heard screams, shouted questions, more creaks and strains. Too much noise, too many possibilities. Oh, Holy God, too many ways to die."Deploy chutes," ordered Kevin.

Adrian slapped the key and saw the red message glowing next to it.

"We don't have the chute! The hatch is nonresponsive."

Too many ways to die. If one of those creaks was the hull. If they landed too hard on their belly and a rock bit through, if the joints and seals that were moaning all around them gave way...

Something overhead groaned. Then, something snapped.

The right half of the scarab dropped, dragging everything with it. The world rattled and clattered and clanked. Voices swore. Somebody screamed again. The straps bit into Adrian's shoulders.

Oh, Holy God and Mother Creation, I don't want to die!

With a hiss, the outside airbags deployed. The scarab banged against the side of the mountain, bounced back, rat-tling them all like dice in a tin can, and headed down.

"No response!" shouted Kevin, wrestling with the wheel.

Adrian grabbed the copilot wheel and threw all his weight behind it. It didn't budge. "Nothing!" No steering, no way to get away from the rocks, the sharp rocks that could cut right through them, let in the poison and the pressure...

A bang, and Adrian's body bounced hard against the straps. He bit his own lip to keep from screaming. The scarab's rear quarter hit the volcano wall with a sickening crunch and settled slowly on a drunken angle, head down, right rear corner stick-ing up.

Adrian didn't try to move. He just sat still, listened to his heart hammer, and watched the thousand red lights shine on the panels.

But it was quiet again, and he was alive.

"Everyone okay?" called Adrian, half to the intercom, half to the air.

Answers tumbled over themselves, but it sounded like the team in the couches had weathered it all right. Better than Scarab Five itself had, that was for sure.Better than Kevin, who sat blinking at his controls.

"Kevin? Boss?"

"It was an accident. It was an accident," he whispered hoarsely. "I didn't. Oh, God." He stared out the window.

Adrian followed his gaze. In the distance, maybe a couple of hundred meters, it was hard to tell, Scarab Fourteen snuggled against the side of a rough foothill, as if it were attempting to crawl inside the rock. Its treads were crushed. Its hull wasn't the right shape anymore.