Part 8 (1/2)

A leopard can't change his spots.

Allen was still alive when I reached him. Just. He had the papers and disks still gripped tightly in one hand. The other was weakly flipping the wheel of an old cigarette lighter he had managed to take from a pocket. The lighter sparked but every time it caught alight the fitfully gusting wind would blow it out.

Allen sagged back on to the ground as I knelt beside him. His breath rattled ominously. I knew what that meant. Lung damage. His chest was covered with blood, more speckled his lips. He managed to press the sheaf of papers into my hand.

His voice was a sigh, more of a cough. 'Do you understand ... do you understand?'

I nodded helplessly. I had no idea what Allen was talking about. The columns of data on the papers meant nothing to me.

'Get data to NASA.' 'What if I -'

Allen grabbed my jacket, pulled me closer. Where did his strength come from? The stink of blood on his breath made me want to be sick.

'Is same. Data. Is same as ... so long ... has been there all time. In front of faces. I walked on it; never guessed ... tell Raelsen ... the Mahser Dagi ...

the Doomsday Mountain ... tell Raelsen we were both right ... Ararat is key ... Mahser Dagi is door.'

Allen suddenly s.h.i.+vered, coughed blood. 'The flood. The flood is come! Oh G.o.d, save us all; the Day of Judgement is come!'

Allen fell back against the ground, his grip on my jacket weakening. As he fell his fingers opened. A piece of rock slipped out. I recognized it as his lucky charm - his moonrock - which he carried with him everywhere.

I began stuffing the papers into my jacket. I had no idea what to do with them. A voice in my head was still telling me a leopard can't change to run, to leave the papers and disks, the others in their tents, just run away and save myself.

I dithered. Probably that was what saved my life. If I had run Tammuz would undoubtedly have shot me down. The soldiers arrived then. I looked up into a ring of guns and unsmiling faces, black shadows in the silver moonlight. Tammuz said nothing, merely held his hand out.

As if from a long way away, I heard myself speaking. The anger in my voice surprised even me. 'You realize you've started an international incident?'

Tammuz sighed. He pointed his gun at me. 'Only if the news gets out.'

I swallowed. Why had I opened my stupid mouth? One squeeze of Tammuz's finger and it was all over.

Tammuz waited.

After a moment I handed over the papers. Tammuz nodded his thanks, told me to stand up.

I looked back at Allen. Reached over to close his eyes. As I did so I scooped up Allen's good-luck charm - his piece of moonrock - and slipped it into my pocket.

I stood up.

Tammuz still had his gun pointed at me. I waited for him to put it down. He didn't. He c.o.c.ked it.

He was going to - Tammuz indicated my pocket with the gun. Very slowly, I took out the moonrock. Tammuz nodded. 'This is significant?'

I shrugged. 'It was his lucky charm. It's from the moon.' Tammuz signalled to a soldier. He unstrapped a Geiger counter from his equipment belt and ran it over the rock. My heart leapt again then. But there was nothing. Just the ordinary background radiation count. This rock Tammuz nodded. He unc.o.c.ked the gun, but kept it pointed in my direction. 'If the rock comforts you, you may keep it.' He told me to lead the way back to camp.

The next morning broke damp and foggy. I had not been punished, as I'd expected, but merely left in my tent to think things over. Looking at Allen's empty bedroll beside me gave me ample opportunity for that.

Shortly after daybreak one of the soldiers opened the tent and told me to come out.

Denton, Tanner and Schofield were already sitting around the campfire drinking coffee. I poured a mug and drank thirstily.

I looked around for Tammuz.

'He's not here.' Denton shoved back her hair. Her face was streaked and blotchy, her eyes bruised from knuckling away tears. So it had been her crying last night. Not Tanner. I had twigged she and Noorbergen were close. I wondered how close.

'What's he up to?'

Denton shook her head without speaking.

I stared around at the others. Schofield looked all of his fifty years this morning. His white hair was in disarray and he had not shaved. He sat hunched over by the fire, an uncomfortable position, but one which he hardly moved from. Denton seemed to have withdrawn into herself as well.

At least she talked. Sometimes. Of the three Tanner seemed the most together. She had got it out of her system the previous night. Now she was, despite an obvious lack of sleep, definitely the one most alert.

'Jim's body is over there by the others,' she whispered. 'I saw it this morning when I ... you know ... went for a wash.' She bit her lip, sipped coffee, looked sideways at me. 'How did he ... what happened last night?'

I told the story of Allen's death in short, widely s.p.a.ced sentences. When I finished there was silence. Tanner poured me another mug of coffee.

'Hungry?'

I nodded.

'There's some toast and bacon on the hotplate by the fire.' The toast was cold, the bacon charred. I was not surprised. I ate three platefuls, then had to run behind some rocks in defiance of a watching soldier to be sick.

Afterwards I felt much better. I killed the horrible taste in my mouth with more coffee. While I drank I tried to get my thoughts in order. Allen must have had a reason for doing what he did. Astronauts are subject to the highest degree of mental and physical training to cope with unexpected emergencies. In this century there was no one to help you if your oxygen tanks blew while you were three days from splashdown. No. Allen wouldn't - probably couldn't - have just gone off the rails as it appeared he had last night. So there must be a reason.

I watched the soldier pacing and waited until he moved a few yards away.

'Does anyone else understand the significance of Jim's data?' I asked quietly.

Denton sniffed, shrugged. 'What do you mean?'

'It's just that last night he was so ... adamant those papers and disks had to reach NASA. And yet when I reached him he was trying to b.u.m them. As if whatever information they held was so important it should be destroyed rather than be allowed to fall into the wrong hands.'

Tanner shuffled into a crosslegged position. 'People do weird things when they're scared, Jason. Jim was scared. And he had been shot. It probably doesn't mean anything.'

Was she right? I thought about it. 'You're probably right.' I wasn't entirely convinced. I drank some more coffee, then voiced the question that was on all their minds. 'So ... what are we going to do now?'

Schofield answered first, without changing his hunched position. 'Speaking for myself I am going to do exactly what Tammuz wishes. I'm too old to fight a war.'

Tanner put down her coffee mug. 'And what if he decides to kill the rest of us?'

'We're all in G.o.d's hands now.'

Tanner laughed. It wasn't a nice laugh. 'You do what you like,' she said quietly, after the soldier whose gaze had been caught by her laugh got bored and looked away. 'I'm for getting out of here.'

Schofield shrugged his hunched shoulders - his last contribution to the conversation.

'Right. Sure. That's real applaudable.' Denton put down her own mug. 'But last time I looked no one here was able to leap tall buildings at a single bound or run faster than a speeding bullet.'

Tanner scowled. Her voice was quiet but deliberately cutting. 'There's no need for sarcasm.'