Tomorrow. To Boone, it seemed that the hours dragged on beyond measure. Yet then, when at last the new day had come, he found himself almost regretful—dreading the things he knew that it must bring; fighting down an ever-growing tension.
Because he knew in his heart that he wasn't going to take it. Not with Eileen's life perhaps at stake; not with Hyperion's ice-shell beckoning.
Somewhere, somehow, he'd find a way....
There was a final routine with the medmen. They pronounced him sound, turned him over to the guards.
Then the ship slowed, hovered. Gravving down through the great Thelema airlocks, it settled to the ramp.
Flanked by two guards, Boone strode from the lift-shaft.
Schilling stood outside. Coolly, he extended documents to Boone's captors. "A temporary order for release of your prisoner to my custody for pre-hearing consultation, gentlemen."
The guard in charge checked through the papers, then stepped back. "He's all yours, Mister."
Schilling led the way to a surface carrier without speaking.