Part 28 (2/2)

Smith, Benny and Joan sprinted through the lightening undergrowth, Joan being virtually carried along between the other two. 'John!' she panted. 'You rescued me!'

'We're not out of the woods yet,' Smith gasped. 'Still-'

'Is it me, or are we slowing down?' Bernice asked.

They all looked down. Beneath them, the humus was slipping away from their feet.

A great wind rose against them, and suddenly they were pus.h.i.+ng to make headway, the air around them as thick as treacle. A buffeting hurricane of leaves and twigs thundered by.

Smith swung his umbrella in a slow arc and the handle caught around a tree branch a few feet ahead. He pulled on the umbrella itself and managed to haul them forward a little way, the wood stretching and creaking with the effort.

Bernice got a hand on the umbrella, too, and helped to pull.

'They've got us again, John.' Joan's voice was calm and strong. 'Promise me one thing. Don't give them what they want, even if it means my life. They've told me what they intend to do with it. Do you understand? Don't be unfaithful to who you are. Promise me.'

'They're not going to - '

'Promise me!'

'Yes, I promise. I love you.'

'I love you. Thank you for coming back for me.' The umbrella started to stretch.

Bernice made a mighty effort. She slapped a hand forward, and worked her way up the shaft, hand over hand.

She managed to get hold of the tree itself and hauled herself past it.

She tumbled down a slope on the other side, free of the force. She scrambled quickly back up the bank. Supporting herself against the tree, she poked her head over the ridge.

It was like being hit on the back of the head with a hammer. The force grabbed her skull and tried to haul it off her shoulders. 'Doctor!' she called. 'Get down here!'

She reached out a hand, but Smith and Joan were still clinging on to the umbrella and each other. Joan began to slip from Smith's arms and his fingers grew white on the umbrella handle.

'No...' he said, despairing.

And then he was torn from the umbrella.

Smith and Joan shot off backwards towards the dome, the umbrella spinning after them.

Bernice watched as they went. Hoff and August caught them neatly by the dome and threw them inside. Then the force that had captured them was switched off, and all was quiet again in the forest.

'Do you think you're dealing with children?' August pulled Smith to his feet.

'Children would be better behaved,' Joan told him. She smiled proudly at the aliens.

'John came to rescue me, against all the odds.'

'We have similar ethics, then.' August let go of Smith and motioned to Hoff. The gruff alien grabbed Joan and secured her to one of the benches. 'We both look after our own. Where are Serif and Greeneye?'

Smith glared at him. 'The first is dead. The second we've taken prisoner. I'll swap him for -'

'No. If you had the stomach to harm him, that would have been your initial strategy.' He picked up the scanner again and checked the readings. 'You're swamped with the kind of radiation we've learnt to a.s.sociate with the Pod. It's not on you, but you do have it hidden somewhere.' He pointed to Joan. 'Our offer still stands. Give us the Pod and she lives. Go and get it.'

Smith looked into August's eyes. 'If she's hurt, there will be nowhere in the cosmos that you can hide from me.'

August inclined his head. 'I believe you. One hour.'

As Smith left the dome, he caught sight of the expression on Joan's face. Pride and quiet determination. He paused for a moment, then, imperceptibly, he nodded to her.

When he'd left, Hoff turned to August, his eyes closed in grief. 'Serif too...' he whispered. 'This trip has been costly.'

'They'll both be avenged.' August patted his shoulder. 'Before we go, we'll reduce this world to ashes.'

The others were waiting in the forest, sitting in a great circle in a clearing, too shocked or nervous to make their way home. Alton had started a fire and Hutchinson was staring into it morosely. Anand and Tim were talking in whispers, going over Tim's adventures.

'The thing is,' Tim was saying, 'I thought that I knew how Rocastle was going to die. The Pod told me. But he blew himself up to kill Serif.'

'Then that means that the future's wide open. We can change it,' Anand whispered.

'Isn't that wonderful?'

The other boys were huddled together, some of them sobbing, others just slowly calming down, ridding themselves of the tension and the fear of death that had been with them for the last few hours. It didn't help that Greeneye was tied to a tree near by, under the watchful gaze of Alexander and Hadleman. After he woke up, the prisoner had started shouting threats and curses, but after a while, these had changed into pleas and requests for food. Once it was certain that he wasn't going to get any, he slumped into an angry silence.

The sky overhead was getting lighter. It had been a warm night, but they were all ready to welcome the dawn.

'So,' Alexander broke the silence. He'd been looking at Richard and wondering if he should tell him. He mustn't do that. The only thing he could do was to enjoy every moment they had left. 'Does anybody know any good stories?'

'Oh, shut up,' muttered Hutchinson.

'You shut up,' Tim told him.

'You can't tell me that, bug.'

'Yes I can, and don't call me bug.'

'Who thinks' - Hadleman raised his voice - 'that Tim should shut up? Raise your hand.'

No hands appeared.

'And who thinks that Hutchinson should shut up?' A lot of hands appeared.

'There. Tell us a story, Tim.'

'It doesn't work like that,' Hutchinson sighed wearily. 'I'm his Captain, so I can tell him to shut up.' There was a murmur of discontent around the circle. Hutchinson looked up, suddenly bemused. 'What?'

'I think...' Hadleman picked up the red sphere that Smith had left with him and stood up. Alexander watched him worriedly. He'd advised Richard not to hold on to the Pod, to leave it by the fire. Now he was throwing it lightly from hand to hand. 'I think that democracy will soon be everything. You lads just got your first vote. If the balloon goes up this year, or the next, maybe the generals will finally realise that, in the end, a soldier fights for his conscience. He isn't an animal to be herded to the slaughter.'

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