Part 8 (1/2)

”It was,” Sandor said. ”We're going down.”

A foam-capped mountain of blue-green water climbed ahead of the drone. It crashed with an impact I almost felt, but I thought I had caught a flash of green.

8.

The ceiling dome had gone dark when the drone broke up. After a moment it was spangled again with those new constellations. The dead s.h.i.+p, immense and high overhead, was a fire-edged silhouette against the Milky Way.

”You saw it!” Casey shouted at Sandor. ”Something green. Something alive!”

Frowning, Sandor shook his head.

”I saw a brief greenish flash. Probably from some malfunction as the drone went down.”

”It was green,” Casey insisted. ”Aren't they landing anybody to take a look?”

”No time for that.”

”But if the island is alive-”

”How could that be?” He was sharply impatient. ”We've seen the whole planet dead. Whatever killed it killed the drone before it ever touched the surface. The captain isn't going to risk any sort of contact.”

”If she would let us land-” Casey waited for Pepe and me to nod. ”We could radio a report.”

”Send you down to die?” Sandor's eyes went wide. ”She cares too much for life. She would never consider it.”

”Don't think we care for life? Tell her we were cloned to keep the Earth and humankind alive. But tell her we were also cloned to die. If we must, I don't know a better way.”

Sandor took us to meet Captain Vlix, and translated for us. Our visit was brief, but still enough to let me glimpse a spark of humanity beneath her gleaming crimson scales. I don't know what he told her, but it caught her interest. She had him question us about Tycho Station and our lives there.”You like it?” Her huge green eyes probed us with a disturbing intensity. ”Life without nanorobs?

Knowing you must die?”

”We know.” Casey nodded. ”I don't dwell on it.”

”I must admire your idealism.” A frown creased her crimson scales. ”But the science staff reports no credible evidence of life on the planet. I can't waste your lives.”

”We saw evidence we believe,” Casey said. ”In that last second as the drone went down. Considering the stakes, we're ready to take the risk.”

”The stakes are great.” Her eyes on Sandor, she frowned and finally nodded her red-scaled head. ”You may go.”

There were no s.p.a.ce suits to fit us. That didn't matter, Casey said; s.p.a.ce gear had not saved the pilot who boarded the derelict. With Sandor translating, the service robots showed Pepe how to operate the flight pod, a streamlined bubble much like the slider that had brought Sandor to the Moon. He shook our hands and wished us well.

”Make it quick,” he told us. ”Captain Vlix expects no good news from you. No news at all, in fact, after you touch down. Our next destination is still under debate. None looks safe, or satisfies everybody, but we can't delay.”

Pepe made it quick, and we found the island green.

Rising out of the haze of dust as we dived, the shallow sea around it faded from the blue of open water through a hundred shades of jade and turquoise to the vivid green of life. The island was bowl-shaped, the great caldera left by an ancient volcanic explosion. Low hills rimmed a circular valley with a small blue lake at the center. A line of green trees showed the course of a stream that ran through a gap in the hills from the lake down to the sea.

”Kell?” Sandor's voice crackled from the radio before we touched the ground. ”Navarro? Yare?

Answer if you can.”

”Tell him!” Casey grinned at Pepe as he dropped our slider pod to a wide white beach that looked like coral sand. ”It looks a lot better than our pits in the Moon. No matter what.”

Pepe echoed him, ”No matter what.”

”Tell him we're opening the air lock,” Casey said. ”If we can breathe the air, we're heading inland.”

Pepe opened the air lock. I held my breath till I had to inhale. The air was fresh and cool, but I caught a faint acrid bite. In a moment my eyes were burning. Pepe sneezed and clapped a handkerchief over his nose. Casey smothered a cough and peered at us sharply.

”Can you report?” Sandor's anxious voice. ”Can you breathe?”

Casey coughed and blew his nose.

”Breathing,” he gasped. ”Still breathing.”

I thought we were inhaling the pathogen. I hadn't known the pilot who died on the derelict, or the millions or billions it had killed. I felt no personal pain for them, but Pepe and Casey were almost part of me. Iput my arms around them. We huddled there together, sneezing and wheezing, till Pepe laughed and pulled away.

”If this is death, it ain't so bad.” He jogged me in the ribs. ”Let's get out and take a closer look.”

We stumbled out of the lock and stood there on the hard wet sand beside the pod, breathing hard and peering around us. The sky was a dusty pink, the suns a tiny red moon eye and a bright pink spark. The beach sloped up to low green hills. Perhaps half a mile south along the beach, green jungle covered the delta at the mouth of the little river. Pepe picked up a sc.r.a.p of seaweed the waves had left.

”Still green.” He studied it, sniffed it. ”It smells alive.”

My lungs were burning. Every breath, I thought, might be my last, yet I always stayed able to struggle for another. Pepe dropped the handkerchief and climbed back in the slider to move it higher on the beach, farther from the water. He returned with a portable radio. Casey blew his nose again, and started south along the beach, toward the delta. We followed him, breathing easier as we went.

The little river had cut its way between two great black basaltic cliffs. Casey stopped before we reached them, frowning up at the nearest. I looked and caught a deeper breath. The summit had been carved into a face. The unfinished head of a giant struggling out of the stone.

”Sandor!” Casey walked closer, staring up at the great dark face. ”It's Sandor.”

”It is.” Shading his eyes, Pepe whispered huskily. ”Unless we're crazy.”

I had to sneeze again, and wondered what the dust was doing to us.

Sandor called again from the s.h.i.+p, but Pepe seemed too stunned to speak. A rope ladder hung across the face, down to the beach. Black and gigantic, gazing out at the sky, lips curved in a puckish smile, the head was certainly Sandor's.

”We're okay.” Rasping hoa.r.s.ely into the phone, Pepe answered at last. ”Still breathing.”

Walking closer to the cliff, we found a narrow cave. A jutting ledge sheltered a long workbench hewn from an untrimmed log, a forge with a pedal to work the bellows, a basket of charcoal, a heavy anvil, a long shelf cluttered with roughly-made hammers and chisels and drills.