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managed to pick up the microphone, hesitated, then opened the line: “Valley Forge to Berkshire. You still there, Neal?” he asked.
    “YES. BARKER?”
    Lowell’s lips twisted. “No, this is Lowell.”
    “. . . UNH, WHAT’S THE TROUBLE, LOWELL?”
    “Seem to be experiencing some kind of problem with the main coupling.”
    Neal seemed to register thought, then
    “. . . UNH, MIGHT BE YOUR INTERFACE IS OFF THE AL.”
    “Well that’s what we figured it probably was. We’re going ahead and setting it right now.”
    “WE’LL BE GETTING BACK TO YOU. JUST AS SOON AS WE CAN. AAH, LOWELL . . .”
    “Yeah.”
    Neal’s voice grew concerned.
    “. . . EVERYTHING OKAY OVER THERE . . . ?”
    “Oh . . . yeah, okay. Everything’s A-okay.”
    “WE’LL WAIT TO HEAR, BUDDY.”
    “Roger!” Lowell got up and, holding his thigh in pain, moved to the auxiliary control room. He dropped into a chair and spoke into a microphone: “Drone One, Drone Two, Drone Three, please report immediately to the main cargo area.”
    Through the screen he saw a drone working on the ship’s hull. At the message, it retracted its manipulator and proceeded toward the hatchway.
    Beyond the drone, the huge antenna revolved. Just past it gleamed the forest dome, and farther in the distance, Sequoia, Northwest Coniferous still orbited alongside. Drones labored on her hull like tiny ants. Her domes were gone.
    With the message to the drones delivered, Lowell struggled back to Main Control. Coming through the door, he heard Neal’s voice again . . .
    “ ‘BERKSHIRE’ TO ‘VALLEY FORGE’ . . . ?”
    “Yeah, yeah.” Lowell said impatiently.
    “COME IN ‘VALLEY FORGE.’ ‘BERKSHIRE’ TO ‘VALLEY FORGE.’ COME IN ‘VALLEY FORGE,’ ”
    went on insistently.
    “ ‘BERKSHIRE’ TO ‘VALLEY FORGE.’ COME IN ‘VALLEY FORGE.’ COME IN . . . ‘BERKSHIRE’ TO ‘VALLEY FORGE.’ ”
    “Valley Forge to Berkshire. Come in, Berkshire.” Lowell’s voice betrayed his pain.
    “HOW’S IT DOING, LOWELL?”
    “It’s not going too well. I’m afraid we’re going to have to torch those pins.”
    “WELL MOVE ON IT, BUDDY. DARKNESS IS COMING UP ON YOU. THREE . . . THREE TWO ZERO . . . ONE.”
    “Right, we’ll try our best.”
    “BOYS HERE GETTING ANXIOUS FOR HOME.”
    “Right, I understand.”
    “COMING INTO DARKNESS AT THREE . . . THREE TWO ZERO . . . ONE. BLOW IT ANY OLD WAY YOU CAN, LOWELL. BIG BILLY WANTS TO GO.”
    “We’re tryin’.” Lowell lifted his thumb from the microphone switch and the line went dead. In the sudden, eerie silence, Lowell stood for a moment, motionless.
    For seconds he continued to hover over the console. Suddenly he began punching switches, following the same pattern that Barker had used earlier.
    A voice from Sequoia came over the speaker, telling of bombings of other domes in space with their cargoes of forests.
    “YELLOWSTONE REPORTS FINAL JETTISON. ARCADIA, BLUE RIDGE, GLACIER, MOJAVE REPORT FINAL JETTISON . . . UNH, WE’VE GOT A HOLD ON ‘VALLEY FORGE.’ ”
    “RIGHT!” A second voice confirmed.
    Lowell let out his breath, and turned to ease himself down in front of Main Control console.
    For a moment, staring at the maze of buttons, switches, readouts, and displays, a panic seemed to take him. He grew faint. He almost fell, then steadied himself and took two or three deep breaths. His hand moved out, wavered. He flicked a switch tentatively. Then he flicked another.
    Blood was dripping, drop by drop, onto the rubber flooring.
    Below deck, three drones were filing along in a row, headed, as Lowell had ordered, for the main cargo area. Delicate yet substantial, when they moved their complex hydraulic systems emitted subtle, barely audible hissing sounds. Their feet, shod in rubber, made faint squeaks on the metal floor.
    Lowell thought of them, and knew that he must see them soon. But now, he turned once more to Main Control and punched coordinates into the main gyro control.
    A screen lighted up .