Someone yelled in Russian, and dogs were barking. Guys wearing parkas and goggles drove toward them in a couple snowmobiles, waving what looked like machine guns. Sameer and Taylor nodded and ran into their path. A moment later, the guards opened fire—but wildly, in random directions, because Sameer had done something to confuse them.

“Watch out!” Patricia shouted. “Don’t make them shoot their own fuel t—” But she couldn’t make herself heard over the gunfire, the engines, the yelling, and the dog pack.

Toby was already running toward the massive drill, crafting a transmutation-of-metals spell. Meanwhile, Diantha was marching toward the drill as well, a look of total determination on her beautiful sun-drenched face. A bullet caught her in the side, and she keeled over.

Patricia ran and crouched next to Diantha, who was bleeding like a fountain and panting. “Hang on,” Patricia said. “Looks like the bullet went clean through. But I’m afraid it hit an artery. Hold tight.”

“Don’t waste time on me,” Diantha said. “The mission. Focus on the mission.”

Patricia kissed Diantha on the mouth, while her hands groped for the hole that was gushing blood. She found the artery and painstakingly, clumsily, repaired it. A bullet sliced past her face. She broke the kiss and said, “Tell me the truth. Did the Tree talk to you, at all?”

Diantha said, “That’s a terribly rude question, especially at this juncture.”

A shout. Sounded like Toby. “It’s all down to you now,” Diantha said. “Make them feel the fury.” Diantha passed out.

Patricia looked up, keeping Diantha’s head cradled in her lap. Sameer and Taylor had done such a good job creating confusion, she couldn’t see what was going on. Snow churned through the air, in big tidal waves, and a huge dog, like a Husky, sprinted in front of Patricia and then tumbled head over heels. The sound of gunfire was near continuous, like the loudest white noise ever.

The wall of snow cleared a little, and Patricia saw a body facedown in the snow, wearing an Eltisley scarf.

“No, no, no,” Patricia muttered. She stood up. She could still fix this, she had to.

The attack on the Pipeline had lasted maybe ninety seconds. The longer this went on, the more bullets flying in wild directions, the greater the chance of a disaster that would be visible from space.