"I guess . . . it's dropped twenty degrees . . . in the last hour," Terry Sickle's voice was almost lost in the shriek of the wind that buffeted the two men as they inched their way up the last yards toward the hut on the narrow rockshelf called Halliday's Roost.
"Never saw snow falling at this temperature before," Carnaby brushed at the ice caked around his eyes. Through the swirl of crystals as fine as sand, he discerned the sagging outline of the shelter above.
Ten minutes later, inside the crude lean-to built of rock slabs, he set to work chinking the gaping holes in the five-foot walls with packed snow. Behind him, Terry lay huddled against the back wall, breathing hoarsely.
"Guess . . . I'm not in as good shape . . . as I thought I was," he said.
"You'll be OK, Terry." Carnaby closed the gap through which the worst of the icy draft was keening, then opened a can of stew for the boy. The fragrance of the hot meat and vegetables made his jaws ache.
"Lieutenant, how you going to climb in this snow?" Sickle's voice shook to the chattering of his teeth. "In good weather, you might could have made it. Like this, you haven't got a chance!"
"Maybe it'll be blown clear by morning," Carnaby said mildly. He opened a can for himself. Terry ate slowly, shivering uncontrollably. Carnaby watched him worriedly.
"Lieutenant," the boy said, "even if that call you picked up was meant for you—even if this ship they're after is headed out this way—what difference will it make one way or another if one beacon's on the air or not?"
"Probably none," Carnaby said. "But if there's one chance in a thousand he breaks this way—well, that's what I'm here for."
"But what's a beacon going to do, except give him something to steer by?"
Carnaby smiled. "It's not that kind of beacon, Terry. My station's part of a system—a big system—that covers the surface of a sphere of space a hundred lights in diameter. When there's an alert, each station locks in with the others that flank it, and sets up what's called a stressed field. There's a lot of things you can do with this field. You can detect a drive, monitor communications—"
"What if these other stations you're talking about aren't working?" Terry cut in.
"Then my station's not going to do much," Carnaby said.
"If the other stations are still on the air, why haven't any of them picked up your TX's and answered?"
Carnaby shook his head. "We don't use the beacon field to chatter back and forth, Terry. This is a Top Security system. Nobody knows about it except the top command levels—and of course, the men manning the beacons."
"Maybe that's how they came to forget about you—somebody lost a piece of paper and nobody else knew!"
"I shouldn't be telling you about it," Carnaby said with a smile. "But I guess you'll keep it under your hat."
"You can count on me, Lieutenant," Terry said solemnly.
"I know I can, Terry," Carnaby said.