Part 36 (1/2)

”I'm fine,” I said.

”Okay. If you feel ill or anything, let me know.”

We put both pressure suits behind trees, well away from the house. ”It's not an appropriate way to show up,” he said. ”We don't want to scare our host.”

”I suppose that makes sense.”

The front door looked as if it had been yellow or orange before the color faded. It had probably matched the shutters and would have given the place a faerie-like appearance. The door was about the same size as a door back home. And the house's dimensions generally could have accommodated human occupants.

Alex looked around. ”All right,” he said. ”Now listen, Chase. I want you to do what I say.”

”Okay.”

”Get behind that tree over there. Stay there until I call you.”

”Alex-”

”Do what I say. If there's a problem here, get back to the lander and leave. You got that?”

”Alex, whatever happens, I'm not going to leave you here. What are you so worried about?”

”Just bear with me.” He gave me an encouraging smile. ”Now, get behind your tree.”

I saw no imminent danger. Even the alien with the books seemed unlikely to attack. Scream and run into the woods, maybe. But, despite the claws, I couldn't imagine its coming after us. That was naive, I suppose. But that's where my instincts were. I picked a tree and got behind it.

When I was safely out of the way, Alex turned back to the door, knocked on it, and stepped back a few paces.

I listened to the insects and the surf and the wind in the branches.

Lights came on in the front room. And another one over the door, outlining Alex. The door opened.

The creature stood behind it. He looked down at Alex with large golden eyes that were almost gregarious. The thing had feline features, and was only slightly taller than he was. If there was anything disquieting about the occupant, any sense of implied threat, it went away when it closed the book, tucked it under one arm, raised its left claw in greeting, and said something something in that high-pitched voice. It sounded almost like in that high-pitched voice. It sounded almost like h.e.l.lo h.e.l.lo. I wanted to go over and introduce myself.

First contact, baby.

Then Alex did a strange thing: He took the wrist lamp out of his pocket, snapped it on, and pointed it at the Martian. A moment later, he turned and sprinted away. Behind him, the cottage erupted.

The ground and the tree shook with the force of the blast. I pressed myself against the trunk. Burning chunks of wood crashed into the trees. When it was over, and heavy smoke was boiling out of the hole in the ground where the cottage had been, I looked for Alex. He was flat on the ground. Unmoving. Branches and bushes behind him were burning.

I ran to him, expecting the worst. But he raised one hand and waved me back.

I dropped at his side. ”I'm okay,” he whispered. His clothes were burned, and in fact one sleeve was on fire. I scooped up some dirt and threw it against the flames until they went out. His face was blackened.

He got to his feet, and we stumbled away.

”What happened?” I asked.

”Chase,” he said. ”Get back where you were. Keep your scrambler ready.”

”What-?”

”I'm all right.” He turned on his link. ”Belle-” His voice shook with sudden emotion. He was trying to hold back tears. ”We have a problem.”

Belle's voice cut through the night. ”What's wrong, Alex?” ”What's wrong, Alex?”

”Chase-” He sounded as if he were choking. ”Chase is dead.”

My first reaction was that something had hit his head during the explosion. When I opened my mouth to ask him what the h.e.l.l was going on, he waved frantically at me to stay quiet.

I did.

”I'm burned,” he said. ”Going to try to get back to the lander. Not sure I can.”

”Can I do anything, Alex?”

”No. I wish you could, Belle. Chase was just outside the building when it blew, G.o.d help her.”

He broke the connection. Then he was walking toward the smoking ruin and calling my name. ”Chase-” His voice broke, and he sobbed. ”Chase, I told you to wait for me, didn't I? I told you-” He picked up a rock and threw it high into the trees. Then he sank to his knees and burst into tears.

He was good. I'll give him that. He could have had a career with the Seaside Players. He was still down, still gasping, when someone walked past me, never saw me, and strode up behind Alex. ”Mr. Benedict, I believe?”

The guy was small, middle-aged, with a congenial smile. He wore a StarCorps jacket that was two sizes too big for him, and he struck me as a man you'd be more likely to find in a library than in a forest.

Alex stood, stared at him with empty eyes. ”You killed her, you son of a b.i.t.c.h.” He stared at the wreckage. ”Why?”

The congenial smile widened. He produced a blaster and replied in a gentle voice: ”I'm sorry about all this, Mr. Benedict. Nothing personal, you understand. It's strictly business.”

”Business?” Alex took a step forward. But the weapon was pointed at his head. Not that it would have mattered with a blaster at that range.

”I'm sure she was a nice lady. Pity, sometimes, what we have to do to get by.” He shrugged.

”You speak Standard,” Alex said.

”Yes.”

”Who are you? How do you happen to be here?”

”I'm Alex Zakary.” He was looking closely at Alex, examining him. ”We have the same first name, don't we? But excuse me, you said you were burned. How badly? You seem well enough.”

”Did you plant the bomb?”

”Yes. I'm afraid I'm the culprit.”

”Why?”

”It's my profession, Mr. Benedict. I am am sorry. And I regret the loss of your a.s.sistant, but she really wasn't very bright. Though I suppose we shouldn't speak ill of the dead.” sorry. And I regret the loss of your a.s.sistant, but she really wasn't very bright. Though I suppose we shouldn't speak ill of the dead.”