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Objectionable? One step and he would have his long arms on the most
objectionable human he had ever met. Two more steps and they would be over
the side into the sea.
But then I might never know how it came out.
He thought about finding himself conscious in the kelp's vast reservoir of
awareness. He shared Keel's revulsion to that end. Damn! And I couldn't
help the old man! Gallow owes us for that!
A shadow passed across Twisp, bringing an immediate coolness from the breeze
that tugged at him. He thought it just another cloud but Gallow gasped and
something touched Twisp's shoulder, his cheek -- a long and ropy something.
Twisp looked up into the base of a hylighter then, seeing the long, dark
tentacles all around, feeling them grab him. Somewhere, he could hear
screaming.
Gallow?
A flawless voice filled Twisp's senses, seeming to come at him along every
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nerve channel -- hearing, touch, sight . . . all of him was caught up in that
voice.
"Welcome to Avata, fisherman Twisp," the voice said. "What is your wish?"
"Put me down," Twisp gasped.
"Ahhh, you wish to retain the flesh. Then Avata cannot put you down here.
The flesh would be damaged, very likely destroyed. Be patient and have no
fear.
Avata will put you down with your friends."
"Gallow?" Twisp managed.
"He is not your friend!"
"I know that!"
"And so does Avata. Gallow will be put down, as you so quaintly phrase it,
but from a great height. Gallow is no longer anything but a curiosity, no
more than an aberration. Better to consider him a disease, infectious and
sometimes deadly. Avata is curing the infected body."
Twisp grew aware then that he dangled high in the air, wind blowing past him.
A
great expanse of kelp spread out far below him. A sudden feeling of vertigo
tightened his chest and throat, filled him with dizziness.
"Do not fear," the flawless voice said. "Avata cherishes the friends and
companions of beloved Scudi Wang."
Twisp slowly twisted his head upward, feeling the ropy tentacles holding him
tight around the waist and legs, seeing the dark underside of the bag that
suspended this twining mass.
Avata?
"You see what you call hylighter," the voice told him. "Once more Avata
spawns in the mother-sea. Once more there is rock. That which humans
destroyed, humans have restored. Thereby, you learn from your mistakes."
A great feeling of bitterness welled up in Twisp. "So you're going to fix
everything! No more mistakes. Everything perfect in the most perfect of
worlds."
A sense of laughter without sound permeated Twisp then. The flawless voice
came light and cajoling: "Do not project your fears upon Avata. Here is only
the mirror that reveals yourself." The voice changed, becoming almost
strident.
"Now! Here below you have your friends. Treat them well and share your joys
with them. Have not Islanders learned this lesson well from the human errors
of the past?"
If war does come, the best thing to do will be to just stay alive and thus add
to the numbers of sane people.
-- George Orwell, Shiprecords
The forward bulk of Vashon was close enough in the darkness that Brett could
pick out the lights of the more prominent structures. He sat beside Scudi in
the control seats of the foil, hearing the low-voiced conversations behind
him.
Most of the Shipclones had been deposited on the outpost amidst the fearful
and chastened Green Dashers. The task of feeding all those newcomers had
become a primary problem. Only a representative few of the people from the
hyb tanks remained in the foil. The Clone called Bickel stood close behind
Brett, watching the same night view of their approach to Vashon.
That Bickel would be one to watch, Brett thought. A demanding, powerful man.
And large. All of these Shipclones were big! This amplified the food problem
in a daunting way.
Someone came up from the rear of the cabin and stopped near the big Shipclone.
"There will be a lot of debriefing once we get there." The voice was Kareen
Ale's.
Brett heard Twisp cough at the rear of the cabin. Debriefing? Probably.
Some of the old routines still had value. Twisp's experience in the grip of
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the hylighter must be added to all of the other new knowledge.
. . . beloved Scudi Wang.
Brett glanced at Scudi's profile outlined in the dim lights from the
instruments ahead of her. Something filled his breast at the very thought of
Scudi.
Beloved, beloved, he thought.
The twin lane of blue lights that marked Vashon's main harbor entrance loomed
dead ahead. Scudi dropped the foil down onto its hull.
"They'll have medical people waiting for Bushka," Scudi said. "Better get him
back to the hatch."
"Right." Ale could be heard leaving.
"Is that land just beyond the Island?" Bickel asked.
Brett shuddered. The newcomers always sounded so loud!
"It's land," Scudi said.
"It must be at least two hundred meters high," Brett said. He had to remind
himself that neither this newcomer nor Scudi could see the land mass as
clearly as he could.
The foil was into the enclosing arms of Vashon's harbor then. Brett popped
the cabin emergency hatch beside him and leaned out into the wind, seeing the
familiar outline of this haven he had known so intimately. That other time of
intimacy with this place seemed to him now eons in the past. His position in
the foil's control cabin gave him a commanding view of the approach -- the
rimlights, Islanders racing to grab the foil's lines as Scudi backed the jets.
The hissing of the jets went silent. The foil rocked and then was snugged
against the bubbly at the dockside. Scudi turned on the cabin lights.
Familiar faces looked up at Brett -- Islander faces he had noticed in passing
many times. And with them came the old familiar stench of Vashon.
"Whew!" Bickel said. "That place stinks!" [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]