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The engineer blushed.  I . . . er . . .  he said,  I ll just go and check the buggy.
He got up quickly and walked to the vehicle.
 He rescued us. Gail turned to Rhiannon.  Now tell your aunty Gail how
you feel, she added gently.
Rhiannon shook her head, as if to clear it.  I feel like shit.
 Not unreasonable, under the circumstances. Gail helped Rhiannon to her
feet. She called out to Drew:  We re going for a wander. Yell if you get the
buggy fixed.
Drew waved absently from underneath the engine cowling of the vehicle.
Gail turned away.  Come on, she told Rhiannon.  Let s go somewhere where
we can get your head together.
They began to walk through the trees. After a few minutes Rhiannon said,
 Gail. I m so scared.
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 I know. Gail nodded but remained silent, trying to draw Rhiannon out a
little more.
After a few minutes broken only by the crunching of their footsteps over
the rough ground, the hissing of the wind prowling through the trees and the
distant cries of animals, Rhiannon stopped.
 I really think . . . I mean . . .  She hesitated.  I can t put it into words. I don t
think I ve ever felt anything so strongly in my life.
 As this fear?
Rhiannon nodded.  As this fear. Somewhere inside me I know I m going to
die here. She uttered a short, humourless laugh.  If what you say is true then
I might already be dying.
 Both of us might be: we came into contact with enough spores to ground a
commodities freighter.
 Yes, but I was breathing them in, Gail. I was breathing them in!
 You remember that?
Rhiannon resumed a slow walk through the jungle, pushing aside branches
and ducking beneath tangles of undergrowth. The glimmering light of the
jungle played about her body, outlining her in a flickering glow.  Yeah, she
said slowly.  I remember. I remember what I did, but I don t remember why.
It s like . . . it s like . . .  Abruptly she punched a fist into a nearby treetrunk.
 I can t put my finger on it. It s like someone was telling me what to do.
Like if you have a conversation with someone about something and they re
a good enough speaker so you re convinced of what they say at the time,
but afterwards you realize you didn t really understand enough to convince
anyone else.
Following behind Rhiannon, Gail frowned.  You know a lot about the Arti-
fact, don t you?
Rhiannon s voice lightened:  What, me? Bimbo of the year?
 Don t give me that. I know you. I know the way your head ticks.
Rhiannon shrugged.  All right, I ve boned up on it since my last visit. I
wasn t going to but it got interesting. The Artifact is so old and we know so
little about it . . . it could represent anything . . . it could be anything. The
possibilities are endless.
 Like life, really.
 Very philosophical.
 Why thank you my dear. Gail s foot turned on a piece of uneven ground
and she did a slow-motion swan dive. As Rhiannon helped her to her feet, she
pulled at a stubby piece of metallic tubing which projected from the ground.
The tube came away and Gail saw it was the barrel of a laser drill. She hefted
the device thoughtfully, before flicking the power switch. A tiny LED glowed
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strongly.  What do you know  it s got power. She switched off the device and
clipped it to her belt.  Still scared? she asked.
 I m thinking about it. Rhiannon sniffed, wiped her nose with the back of
her hand.
Gail made gagging noises.  Ten thousand years of human civilization and
we still haven t come up with a substitute for the handkerchief.
Rhiannon grinned. She began to giggle.
Gail was on the point of joining in when the jungle parted in front of them
to reveal a clearing. In the clearing was a grave. Sitting on the headstone was
a woman whose arm was swathed in bandages. Standing beside her was a
dapper man in a cream suit that looked as if it should have been mothballed
several centuries ago.
 Who re the fashion casualties? Rhiannon whispered. The humour in her
voice sounded to Gail like it masked relief at seeing normal people.
Without turning the dapper man said,  I prefer to think of us as transcending
mere fashion. Now he turned, holding out a crumpled square of cloth to Gail.
 I believe you said something about needing a handkerchief?
Gail studied the man closely.  Did you know your hands are purple? she
asked with a perfectly straight face.
The man sighed, stuffed the handkerchief back in the top pocket of his suit
and offered his arm to the woman.  Allow me to introduce myself: I am the
Doctor and this is my companion, Professor Bernice Summerfield.
 Benny. The woman held out her uninjured hand in greeting.
Without taking the hand Rhiannon peered around Bernice.  Who died? she
asked.
The Doctor gestured around the wreckage-strewn clearing with one purple-
stained hand.  The expedition suffered a slight . . . er . . . mishap.
Gail s expression clouded.  So did ours. There s been a terrible accident. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]