Lu plopped himself into his chair, one hand dangling between his knees, the other automatically laying itself across the communications keypad. He pushed the pad away with a grimace.
Too soon, he told himself. It’s just too soon to try again.
Not one of his transmissions to Jay or Cor had raised an answer since they’d walked out the door together, and a traitorous, ghost thought was starting to believe none of them ever would.
The wind outside was kicking up again. It whistled around the dome like it was calling the rain to come and play. Trail gurgled as if in answer. Lu knew that soon he’d have to check the cloth swaddling her waist again. The thought sent a sudden hard wave of nausea through him and he had to turn away and looked at the wall instead.
This is all wrong. He rubbed his forehead. I’m the hardware man. I keep the base systems up and running. I don’t take care of flipped-over natives or … His gaze strayed to the hatch …. organic monstrosities.
Whatever process Trail had woken up down there had not gone back to sleep yet. It was getting increasingly difficult for Lu to force himself to go down the ladders to see what had changed since the last check. He’d dutifully set up a trio of cameras and they were storing images in his data boxes, but protocol and his job dictated that he go down there himself.
Lu wished suddenly that he was Cor. She was the one trained to deal with living systems. She was the one who knew how to make friends and think on her feet. He just knew wires and gears and the laws of inorganic behavior.
I wish you’d come back. He directed the thought through the dome and toward the building storm. I wish you’d come back and get us all out of here and back to someplace that makes sense.
One more day, he promised himself. Just one more day and I’ll give it up. I’ll send out the emergency flare and have somebody come get us … me.
One more day, maybe two, and he’d find the strength to really believe that he was alone in this forsaken place. One more day, maybe two.
12—Aboard the U-Kenai, 10:04:56, Ship Time
“She stood up straight before him, and she said ‘I know you.’”
Fragment from The Apocrypha, Anonymous
“THIS IS GETTING to be a habit.”
Her voice hurt him. Everything hurt him; the mattress against his back, the light against his eyelids, his pulse in his wrists.
If die now, there’ll be no more pain. The thought drifted through his numb mind and he was too exhausted to either choke it off or pursue it. It just hung there.
There was a pressure against his neck and he screamed. After a moment, it subsided to the level of all the other pain. Lethargy seized hold of him slowly.
Thank you, he thought as his consciousness slid into darkness.
Eric came awake all at once with his heart in his mouth. When he saw his own cabin surrounding him, he collapsed back on the bed, weak with relief.
Not a dream. We made it out. The thought gave him the courage to try sitting up all the way. It wasn’t too difficult. The blinding pain had subsided to a dull headache, which he could cope with.
Eric stood carefully, finding his balance was a little tricky, but he managed it. He walked to the door without staggering and opened it.
Arla sat in the common room. Slices of real breads and meats lay on plates in front of her, along with a jug of something that steamed. Eric surveyed the feast. It looked like over half his luxury stock. He sank down onto the sofa and she slid a plate of meats toward him. His stomach rumbled. He folded a random selection of meat into a slice of unleavened bread and devoured it, stopping only to swig down some tea.
Arla watched him with her air of wry amusement. “How are you feeling?” she asked.
“Almost well, I think.” He looked toward the closed view wall and all around the common room. “Do you know how Adu managed to find us?”
“Us?” Arla said incredulously. “You were the only one who needed finding. I was along to help pull you free.”
Eric felt himself begin to stare. “I thought … I thought …”
“That because my Lord Teacher had been captured that this despised one must have been also?” She gave a sharp laugh. “Not so, my Teacher. You did a better job at hiding me than at hiding yourself.”
“Did I?” he asked the tabletop. “One more idiot action.”
He waited for an acid reply that did not come.
“What has happened?” she asked.
Eric ran both hands through his hair. “The Rhudolant Vitae are the ones the Words call the Aunorante Sangh. I have met the Aunorante Sangh, Stone in the Wall dena Arla Born of the Black Wall, and I, Teacher Hand kenu Lord Hand on the Seablade dena Enemy of the Aunorante Sangh was promptly captured and stuffed into a box for dissection.”