I had to think fast. I had to think faster than I ever thought in my life, and generally I like to explore my way around a problem, looking at it from all angles. But the air left for Gramps and Clair could be measured in minutes now, and mine wasn't much more.
I said, "What are you worrying about? George and Harry and the other boys will have that thing rigged up in a couple of hours, sure. We'll give those guys in both domes a little bit of hell. Won't be a one left alive." I tried to make the butterflies remain in my stomach, to have them go anyplace but in my voice. It almost didn't work.
Clair and Gramps looked at me like I might be crazy or something, and I raised a gloved finger up and tried to line it up in front of my mouth to tell them to shut up.
Gramps said, "George and Harry?"
"Of course. They found it half an hour ago, and now they're setting it up. Just a matter of time, so relax."
I squatted down on my hands and knees, making the gesture for silence again. I found a jagged little rock and started to trace lines in the powdery pumice. It was messy, but they could understand it. I wrote:
GO TO THEIR OLD DOME AND GIVE UP. YOUR AIR WONT LAST. THEY WON'T KILL. SCARED. QUESTION YOU ABOUT WEAPON. REMEMBER WHAT GEORGE & HARRY SAID ABOUT WEAPON BEFORE, BUT PLAY A LITTLE DUMB. LEAVE REST TO ME.
I waited while I saw them reading it, then I rubbed it out. Clair shook her head. Her eyes told me plainly enough that she didn't want to die, but that she'd rather die out here with me than otherwise.
Gramps looked like he would rather be sitting someplace comfortable with his guitar, but he was trying to smile a little.
I crouched and wrote again, just three words: