Strangers

were - the place would cave in, bringing everything above down with it. But even if the mighty stone chambers could contain and withstand the blast, no one who tried to take refuge on this level would survive. Not even an alien lifeform of great adaptability could reconstitute itself after being vapotized in a nuclear heat and reduced to random atoms.
        Nuclear pain.
        He would not be able to survive it, but he would prove that he had the nerve to contemplate and endure it. Only a fraction of a second of blinding agony. Not bad, actually. In fact, not as bad as vigorous and drawn-out beatings with a leather strap or with a Ping-Pong paddle that had been drilled full of holes to increase the sting.
        Still holding the second nuke by its straps, Leland smiled down at the changing numbers on the first bomb's digital-display clock, which was already counting toward Ragnarok. The nicest thing about backpack nukes was that, once armed, they could not be disarmed. He did not have to worry that someone could undo his work.
        He entered the elevator and rode up to the second level.
        

        
        Carrying Marcie, Jorja crossed directly to Jack Twist and stood beside him, looking up at the ship cradled on trestles. Although the collapse of her memory block and the inrushing recollections had more or less prepared her for this sight, she was overcome with an awe as powerful as that which had seized her in the troop transport, when the astounding truth had first been revealed. She reached out to touch the mottled hull, and a shiver - part fear, part wonder, part delight - coursed through her when her fingertips made contact with the scorched and abraded metal.
        Whether following her mother's lead or acting on an impulse of her own, Marcie reached forward, too. When her small tentative hand pressed against the hull, she said, "The moon. The moon."
        "Yes," Jorja said immediately. "Yes, honey. This is what you saw come down. Remember? It wasn't the moon falling. It was this, glowing white like the moon, then red, then amber."
        "Moon," the child said softly, sliding her tiny hand back and forth across the flank of the vessel, as if she were trying to clean off the mottled film of age and tribulation and, thereby, also clean off the clouded surface of her own memory. "Moon fell down."
        "Not the moon, honey. A ship. A very special ship. A spaceship like in the movies, baby."
        Marcie turned and looked at Jorja, actually looked at her, with eyes that were no longer out of focus or turned inward. "Like Captain Kirk and Mr. Spock?"
        Jorja smiled and hugged her tighter. "Yes, honey, like Captain Kirk and Mr. Spock."
        "Like Luke Skywalker," Jack said, leaning forward and pushing a lock of hair out of the girl's eyes.
        "Luke," Marcie said.
        "And Han Solo," Jack said.
        The child's eyes blurred out of focus. She had returned to her private place to contemplate the news she had just received.
        Jack smiled at Jorja and said, "She's going to be all right. It may take time, but she'll be all right because her whole obsession was a struggle to remember. Now, she's begun to remember, and she doesn't need to struggle any more."
        As usual, Jorja was reassured merely by his presence, by his aura of calm competence. "She'll be all right - if we can get out of here alive and with our memories intact."
        "We will," Jack said. "Somehow."
        

        
        A rush of warm emotion filled Dom when he saw Parker. He embraced the stocky artist and said, "How in God's name did you wind up here, my friend?"
        "It's a long story," Parker said. A sorrow in his face and eyes said, better than words, that at least part of the story was bleak.
        "I didn't mean to get you so deep in this trouble," Dom said.
        Looking up at the starship, Parker said, "I wouldn't have missed it for the world."
        "What happened to your beard?"
        "When this kind of company's coming," Parker said, gesturing at the ship, "they're worth shaving for."
        

        
        Ernie moved along the side of the starship, staring, touching.
        Faye stayed with Brendan, for she was concerned about him. Months ago, he had lost his faith - or had thought he'd lost it, which was just as bad for him. And tonight he had lost Father Wycazik, a blow that had left him hollow-eyed and