They pulled her to the shore and out of the water, haulingher to the flying machine.
Tally’s lungs felt full of water and smoke. She couldhardly take a breath without a wracking cough shaking herwhole body.
“Put her down!”
“Where the hell did she come from?”
“Give her some oh-two.”
They flopped Tally onto her back on the ground, whichwas thick with the white foam. The one who’d carried herpulled off his bug-eyed mask, and Tally blinked.
He was a pretty. A new pretty, every bit as beautiful asPeris.
The man plunged the mask over her face. Tally foughtweakly for a moment, but then cold, pure air surged intoher lungs. Her head grew light as she gratefully sucked itdown.
He pulled the mask off. “Not too much. You’ll hyperventilate.”
She tried to speak but could only cough.
“It’s getting bad,” another figure said. “Jenks wants totake her back up.”
“Jenks can wait.”
Tally cleared her throat. “My board.”
The man smiled beautifully and glanced up. “It’sheaded over. Hey! Somebody stick that thing to the chopper!
What’s your name, kid?”
“Tally.” Cough.
“Well, Tally, are you ready to move? The fire won’t wait.”
She cleared her throat and coughed again. “I guess so.”
“Okay, come on.” The man helped her up and pulledher toward the machine. She found herself pushed inside,where the noise was much less, crowded into the back withthree others in bug-eyed masks. A door slammed shut.
The machine rumbled, and then Tally felt it lift fromthe ground. “My board!”
“Relax, kid. We got it.” The woman pulled her mask off.
She was another young pretty.
Tally wondered if these were the people in the clue.
The “fire-bug eyes.” Was she supposed to be looking forthem?
“Is she going to make it?” a voice popped through thecabin.
“She’ll live, Jenks. Make the usual detour, and work thefire a little on the way home.”
Tally looked down as the machine climbed. Their flightUGLIES 179followed the course of the river, and she saw the firesspreading across to the other shore, driven by the wind ofits passage. Occasionally, the craft would shoot out a goutof flame.
She looked at the faces of the crew. For new pretties,they seemed so determined, so focused on their task. Buttheir actions were madness. “What are you guys doing?”
she said.
“A little burning.”
“I can see that. But why?”
“To save the world, kid. But hey, we’re real sorry aboutyour getting in the way.”
They called themselves rangers.
The one who’d pulled her from the river was calledTonk. They all spoke with an accent, and came from a cityTally had never heard of.
“It’s not too far from here,” Tonk said. “But we rangersspend most of our time out in the wild. The fire helicoptersare based in the mountains.”
“The fire whats?”
“Helicopters. That’s what you’re sitting in.”
She looked around at the rattling machine, and shoutedover the noise, “It’s so Rusty!”
“Yeah. Vintage stuff, a few pieces of it are almost twohundred years old. We copy the parts as they wear out.”
“But why?”
180 Scott Westerfeld“You can fly it anywhere, with or without a magneticgrid. And it’s the perfect thing for spreading fires. TheRusties sure knew how to make a mess.”
Tally shook her head. “And you spread fires because . . .”
He smiled and lifted one of her shoes, pulling a crushedbut unburned flower from the sole. “Because of phragmipediumpanthera,” he said.
“Excuse me?”
“This flower used to be one of the rarest plants in theworld. A white tiger orchid. In Rusty days, a single bulbwas worth more than a house.”
“A house? But there’s zillions of them.”
“You noticed?” He held up the flower, staring into itsdelicate mouth. “About three hundred years ago, someRusty figured a way to engineer the species to adapt towider conditions. She messed with the genes to make thempropagate more easily.”
“Why?”
“The usual. To trade them for lots of stuff. But she succeededa little too well. Look down.”
Tally peered out the window. The machine had gainedaltitude and left the firestorm behind. Below were endlessfields of white, interrupted only by a few barren patches.
“Looks like she did a good job. So what? They’re nice.”
“One of the most beautiful plants in the world. But toosuccessful. They turned into the ultimate weed. What wecall a monoculture. They crowd out every other species,UGLIES 181choke trees and grass, and nothing eats them except onespecies of hummingbird, which feeds on their nectar. Butthe hummingbirds nest in trees.”
“There aren’t any trees down there,” Tally said. “Just theorchids.”
“Exactly. That’s what monoculture means: Everythingthe same. After enough orchids build up in an area, therearen’t enough hummingbirds to pollinate them. You know,to spread the seeds.”
“Yeah,” Tally said. “I know about the birds and the bees.”
“Sure you do, kid. So the orchids eventually die out,victims of their own success, leaving a wasteland behind.
Biological zero. We rangers try to keep them from spreading.
We’ve tried poison, engineered diseases, predators totarget the hummingbirds . . . but fire is the only thing thatreally works.” He turned the orchid over in his hand andheld up a firestarter, letting the flame lick into its mouth.
“Have to be careful, you know?”
Tally noticed the other rangers were cleaning theirboots and uniform............