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〃No … just give the flitter number。 It's on the family list。〃
〃Bandon field；〃 Ronnie said。 〃Permission to land and refuel； number 002413。〃
〃Permission denied。〃 The flat； almost metallic voice conveyed no interest in negotiation。 Ronnie stared at the puter display。 He had never heard of a civilian field refusing permission to land and refuel。
He repeated his original call； and added that they were low on fuel。
〃Permission denied；〃 the voice said again。
〃Override that；〃 Bubbles said from behind him。 〃Put in 'Landsman 78342' and see what happens。 That's Father's personal code。〃
Ronnie poked at the screen； and hit the orange override button； but the voice repeated the same statement with the same mechanical lack of expression。
〃Can we make Calloo from here？' asked George。
〃Just barely；〃 Ronnie said； with a glance at the fuel readout。 〃And I don't see why we should。 This is Bunny's flitter； and Bubbles just gave us the internal authorization number。 If it won't accept it； something's wrong。〃
〃We don't want to land if something's wrong；〃 George said。 Then； 〃What could be wrong？ What's on this island； anyway？〃 He turned to Bubbles。
She frowned thoughtfully。 〃Well。。。 the landing field； maintenance station； and the family's lodge … no resident staff； though …〃
〃There's a lodge here； too？〃 Ronnie asked。 〃Then why did you tell me to program for Whitewings？〃
〃We wanted to be out of everyone's reach。 This is too close … it's the first place they'd look。〃
Ronnie looked out the canopy。 Heavily wooded islands lay scattered in odd shapes across the sea。 Bandon； the puter readout told him； was a half hour ahead。 He could see its distinctive shape beyond the nearest island。 Calloo； the northernmost of the chain； lay far to their right。 〃We ought to find out what's wrong；〃 he said。 〃We'll go on to Bandon and take a look。〃 They could still make Calloo； he thought； if they had to； and if they found out something important； Bunny might forgive their disappearance。 With the vague notion that he was being careful； Ronnie let the flitter drop lower and skimmed just above the forest； following the contours with care； then made a low approach across the sea between that island and Bandon； edging past a smaller island not quite in his path between them。 He did not look outside； concentrating instead on his instruments。 If he dipped too low； the flitter's automatic safety overrides would lower the plenum and convert it to an airboat。 That could be most embarrassing。
George saw the danger first。 〃Look out！〃 he yelled。 Ronnie looked back at him； wondering what kind of game they were playing back there； Raffa yelped； peering out the starboard side。 Then he saw it； just before it struck； an odd shape trailing a line of orange smoke。 The flitter jerked itself out of his control； bouncing up and sideways； and a good half of the readouts went red； something snarled angrily in its power section； a sound that spiralled up into a painful whine and then stopped abruptly。
Ronnie grabbed the controls back； felt the ominous mushiness； and went into the emergency landing sequence he had never expected to use once past his piloting exam。 Would they make it to land？ The airspeed readout； like all in that bank； was dead； the white beach and green trees ahead moved nearer too slowly。 Behind him； no one spoke。 George clambered forward； disturbing the flitter's precarious balance； and dropped into the other forward seat。
〃I think it was a signal rocket；〃 he said calmly； as if continuing a casual conversation。 〃All that red smoke。。。〃
〃She's nose…heavy；〃 Ronnie grunted。 〃And the hydraulics are shot。 Use that big foot on the floor； not your mouth。〃
Whatever George did made no difference； the flitter sank towards the waves。
〃Brace up； you girls；〃 George said to the back seats； Raffa was the one who said； 〃Brace up yourself； Gee … we're trying to get the raft out〃
Ronnie tried once more to pull the nose up； but the flitter shivered all over like a nervous dog。 Flitters don't stall； he remembered being told； but they crash all the same。 It occurred to him that even if they made it to land； he might simply crash head…on into the lush forest。 Could he maneuver at all？
Altitude； then maneuver； he remembered。 But he had no altitude。 He tried； the flitter slewed sideways； but answered sluggishly。 He could parallel the coastline and those trees。。。。
〃George … there … those people … 〃 Ronnie did not look； he had to keep the flitter in the air as long as he could。 George leaned to see； then grunted； as if it were a marvel。
〃Damn near naked；〃 he said。 〃But armed。。。。 I think that's the launcher he hit us with。〃
Ronnie put all his strength into willing the flitter not to crash into a lump of trees nearer shore than the rest。
They were down； and not dead … at the moment； that was all he cared about。
His hands ached； his ears rang； his whole body hurt。 But they were alive； and out of the flitter … which now looked far too small to have held so many people and so much fear。 Bubbles and Raffa； with far more gumption than he would have expected； had unloaded everything useful from the flitter。 The survival raft and all its provisions； the scuffed but whole duffles。
〃Never pays to buy cheap luggage；〃 George said； in the tone that had won him the nickname 〃Odious；〃 as he brushed the sand off his and hoisted it to his shoulder。 〃e on； now； Ronnie … give the girls a hand； can't you？〃
Ronnie glared at him。 He looked； the odious George； as he always did … fresh； creased； polished to a high gloss。 Not a hair of his dark head ruffled； not a smudge。 He looked like that on horseback； and even when he fell off he never looked rumpled or dirty。 He looked like that on mornings after； and on hot afternoons on parade。 It was unfair； and his brother officers had done all sorts of things to ruin that polish … but nothing worked。 〃Dip the odious George in shit；〃 some senior cadet had said their first year； 〃and not only wouldn't it stink； it'd take a shine。〃
Now； on the sandy beach after a flitter wreck； Ronnie thought he knew what he looked like。 He said nothing； but picked up two of the remaining duffles； staggered a bit； then dropped them。
〃What now？〃 asked George。
〃The beacon；〃 Ronnie said； clambering onto the flitter。 He wished he could remember how he'd gotten out of it。 〃We need to signal for a pickup； unless you plan to swim back to the mainland。〃
〃You gave it to me；〃 Bubbles said。 She looked worried。 〃You don't remember？〃
He didn't remember。 He crouched on the Bitter's canopy； suddenly aware that he was not functioning in some important way。 He looked around； blinking。 The sea； the sand； the trees： he remembered that。 They'd crashed the flitter； and whoever owned it would be furious。 Who had crashed the flitter？ They weren't designed to crash easily and he and George were both good pilots。 He looked at the flitter itself； at the large hole in the engine section； the scorchmarks black on the outer skin。 〃What happened？〃 he said； knowing it was a stupid question； though it was all that occurred to him。
〃Damnation！〃 George's voice； closer。 〃He's concussed； he doesn't know what's happened or … c'mon； ladies； we've