Archiwum
- Index
- James Fenimore Cooper Oak Openings (PG) (v1.0) [txt]
- Foster, Alan Dean Icerigger 1 Icerigger
- 052. Darcy Emma James Family 01 Rozbitkowie
- James Axler Deathlands 051 Rat King
- James Fenimore Cooper Jack Tier, Volume 2
- James Axler Earthblood 02 Deep Trek
- James Axler Deathlands 065 Hellbenders
- James P. Hogan Giants 3 Giant's Star
- 063. James Julia Prywatna wyspa
- Curwood James Oliver Władca skalnej doliny
- zanotowane.pl
- doc.pisz.pl
- pdf.pisz.pl
- epicusfuror.xlx.pl
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no energy being emitted. In fact, I perceived little from the station at all.
My sixth sense encompassed the building's exterior, but stopped blind at the
doorway... as if the world ended there, and the station's interior was part of
some other reality. A pocket universe like the research center in Drill-Press.
I wondered if even the Balrog knew what lay inside the building. It might be
as blind as I was. Or perhaps the moss knew exactly what the station held and
wanted to keep it secret; the spores never missed a chance to spring a
surprise on lesser beings. The Balrog had a childish fondness for catching
people unawares... unless there was some deeper motivation for the moss's
actions. Zen masters also loved springing surprises, in an effort to shock
students out of conventional patterns of thinking. As one sensei famously
said, "Sometimes a slap is needed for a newborn child to breathe."
Kaisho Namida had been a student of Zen. The Balrog had certainly jolted her
out of conventional ways. Were the spores trying to do the same with me not
startling me for the fun of it, but doling out disorienting shocks in the hope
of Waking me up?
"Just for the record," I told the Balrog, "my form of Buddhism isn't like
Zen. We prefer the slow but steady approach...without undue surprises. Trying
to achieve enlightenment in a single lifetime is considered needy."
For a moment just a moment I imagined the Balrog laughing.
I reached the station before the others: swam ashore, pulled myself above the
waterline, and lay on the beach letting my clothes dry as I waited for Festina
and the diplomats. Drying didn't take long the nanomesh channeled excess H2O
molecules to the surface of the fabric, then formed a seal to prevent drops
from seeping back in. I sloshed most of the moisture off with my hands. Muta's
predawn air did the rest.
The station's front doors were only a stone's throw away, but I made no
effort to enter. Better to wait for Festina I couldn't help notice thatpretas
clustered thickly on the beach, but not a single cloudy particle ventured
nearer than ten meters to the building. Those that got close moved on quickly,
as if the proximity made them nervous. In fact, every cloud within range
seemed anxious or outright afraid; their auras fluttered with agitation. Were
they worried our group would cause trouble inside the Stage Two installation?
Or did they fear that something in the building might be disturbed by our
arrival and cause trouble foreveryone?
Such questions would be answered in time. Meanwhile, I experimented with ways
to get around in my low-mobility condition: crawling stomach down, sitting up
and going backward (bouncing along on my rump), trying to walk upside down on
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my hands (impossible because my limp legs flopped around too much to keep my
balance), rolling lengthwise, various ungainly sideways maneuvers....
At last, I paused for breath. Lying on the sand, breathing deeply, I
considered other means of locomotion... like asking the Balrog for help. My
alien parasite had spectacular powers. On Cashleen, the spores had formed that
mossy carriage to whoosh me through the streets of Zoonau... and the navy's
files were full of similar incidents, including a time on the planet Troyen
when the Balrog picked up the entire royal palace and used it as a battering
ram against a mass of soldiers. If the Balrog could telekinetically move a
building, why couldn't it move me?
But I knew that wouldn't happen not on Muta, where the Balrog had gone to
great lengths to hide its presence. Yes, the spores could construct glowing
red carriages... and perhaps they could lift me into the air, or teleport me
instantly to another continent. But they wouldn't; not here. They'd do nothing
out of the ordinary unless their actions could be concealed from the outside
world. The Balrog might amuse itself under my skin, romping through my tissues
and reshaping my brain; but it wouldn't miraculously restore my half-amputated
leg. That would give away the game to...
To whom? Thepretas?
Or to whatever waited inside the station? Wasthat the threat the Balrog hid
from?
Pity I couldn't see into the building. In the meantime, I watched the horizon
brighten and let myself fall asleep.
I woke as Festina and the diplomats became visible to the naked eye. They
walked along the beach, all three glum and apprehensive right up to the point
where the Bumbler chirped to indicate it had sensed something interesting.
Me.
I lay on the outermost edge of its scan. Festina soon realized the little
machine was reporting a human body sprawled in front of the station. She set
off at a run, leaving the others behind... but she slowed to a casual jog when
I waved to show I was alive.
The fear that had blazed through her aura shifted to beaming relief... then,
because she was Festina Ramos, the relief darkened to suspicion. When she got
within earshot, she yelled, "How the hell did you end up here?"
"I swam. Saved you the effort of carrying me."
"We thought you'd been attacked by Rexies."
"I was." I reached down and raised my left leg with my hands showing her the
stump. "One Rexy wouldn't leave without having a bite."
Festina swallowed hard. "Do you want me to look at your wounds?"
"Better not. The nanomesh closed up around the damage. You wouldn't want to
open things and start new bleeding."
Festina's eyes met mine. I'd spoken the literal truth the uniformhad closed
up around the damage, and shewouldn't want to start new bleeding but Festina
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was smart enough to grasp what I'd left unsaid. The nanomesh couldn't have
plugged the spurt of a major arterial rupture; that had to be the work of the
Balrog. Festina realized there must be some reason I didn't want to talk about
the spores now that we were close to the station. She knew how circumspect the
Balrog had been since we'd landed on Muta. Besides, she may have thought I was
equivocating to hide my condition from Li and Ubatu... who'd hurried to join
us and were now close enough to hear.
"You look pretty damned comfortable," Li grumbled at me. "Must be nice, not
having to walk all night."
I said, "Must be nice, being able to walk at all."
Li glared at me, but held his tongue. Ubatu, unable to speak, also remained
silent beneath the bandages swathing her face... but her eyes, peering out
between strips of gauze, glinted like black diamonds. I was still alive, and
therefore still a prize to be seized for Ifa-Vodun. Perhaps even now she was
praying to the Balrog trying to project her thoughts to say, "Great mossy loa,
come ride me, comeheal me." I couldn't be sure that was what she had in mind;
but her aura showed ferocious hunger, fierce to the point of obsession, as she
gazed fixedly at me.
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