Andy's Fan-Fiction Archive

TERRITORY
By
Deb2

Timeline: On way to New Pacifica
Author's E-Mail: grey@chattanooga.net

AUTHOR'S NOTES:
Hello, everyone, Matchmaker, my first posting, was a short, humorous piece that wrote itself. Territory isn't. It's an action/adventure with smatterings of humor and some romance. (How could there not be romance, given the characters?) Thaw Devon as you wish, whenever you wish, just so long as she's fully recovered by early to mid summer of the same year.
Many, many thanks to Vicky and Linda, who directly aided me, helping keep the characters *in* character. Thanks also to the participants of the fanfic writers' chat; comments from the logs have influenced the direction Territory took.
In order to avoid being influenced by others' stories, I've read very little fan fiction while working on my own. So, while you enjoy (I hope) Territory, I'll catch up on the rest. Tough job, huh?
Territory is fan fiction, written purely for the fun of it. No copyright infrigement intended.
Comments to grey@chattanooga.net
Deb2 (my college nickname, inadvertently revived by Vicky)

CHAPTER ONE
BARRIER

Alonzo looked down from the last of the low mountains they'd crossed. It sloped gently to a broad valley. Stands of trees were scattered throughout a lush, velvety grassland. Alonzo could see what was apparently a herd of some grazing animal. Toward the south, the trees thickened into forest. Northward, more grass-land, fewer trees. The horizon was so distant it made his eyes hurt. And away to the west, where he wanted to go, a haze he'd come to recognize as mountains. It was beautiful.
Bisecting the valley, north to south, was a river. A wide river. The trees on the banks didn't begin to hide it. From horizon to horizon, the river flowed placidly onward.
It wasn't on the map.
Alonzo grinned wryly. Given the source, why should the maps be accurate? He scanned the landscape once more before heading to the ATV. The river hadn't moved. Well, it had, but not in any way to benefit them. He shook his head, dismayed at the turn his sense of humor had taken.
Everyone had been in great spirits the past few weeks. They were enjoying good weather, good terrain, and plenty of food. They'd seen no one except the occasional Grendler. Even the Terrians were quiet.
Alonzo didn't relish breaking the news to his companions. But, there was no point in delaying. They weren't going to make the 25 klicks Devon was shooting for. The best thing would be to find a nice spot and camp.
John's initial response to Alonzo's call was a growl. The pilot had reached him by contacting Magus, who'd caught up to him just long enough to deliver the message. He had no way of avoiding the call. What did Alonzo want, anyway? If it was important, he should be talking to Adair.
"Okay, 'Lonz, what do you need?"
Alonzo raised his eyebrows and grinned. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad, with Danz playing straightman. "A boat."
"Come on, Solace, quit kidding around. What's up?" Danziger demanded irritably.
The pilot/scout lost the grin, but repeated the request for a boat. "We have a problem. There's a river between us and New Pacifica."
"Yeah? How far from us?" John's attitude changed abruptly. Delays were becoming a way of life, but that didn't make them welcome.
"Seven miles, give or take. I'm standing at the top of the last of the foothills, looking out over the plain, just like on the map. Only, running from north to south, as far as I can see in either direction, is the river. It's wide. Has to be deep."
"Depth makes no difference. These vehicles aren't amphibious. What's Adair say about it?" He could see her toward the rear of the caravan. Judging by her bouncy walk, she didn't know yet.
"I haven't talked to her. I'm not sure I want to be the bearer of bad news."
"Um. You want me to tell Adair?"
Alonzo grinned. "I was hoping you'd see it that way." "Hey, you're not out of this," warned Danziger. "It's going to be aconference call, buddy."
Devon watched Uly & True playing a game, the goal of which was evidently to gain and maintain possession of a square of orange cloth. They were like puppies, tugging & twisting at the prize. And like puppies, the kids sometimes growled at each other.
It was strange how VR was losing its appeal for them. It was even stranger that Devon felt no inclination to stop True & Uly from "arguing", especially since Uly was sometimes pulled off his feet by the larger and stronger True. Julia, backed up by Yale and Bess, had convinced her that rough and tumble was necessary for Uly's emotional and mental health, now that he was physically well.
Devon reflected on this. She felt comfortably maternal. They'd been on the road long enough for her to feel at home, as if trekking across an unknown wilderness was how it had always been. She noticed John waiting up ahead. An automatic smile enhanced her already radiant face.
"Hey, Adair," he greeted. He tapped his gear. "We've got trouble."
"Alonzo?" Devon settled her set in place as Danziger nodded. She was none the less lighthearted. Some trouble was to be expected: problems arose, problems were solved. She looked at John. *Most* problems were solved. "Alonzo? What have you found?"
He'd been tricked. "Danziger--"
"Yeah, tell us what's going on," said John, his guileless tone causing Devon to flick a doubtful glance in his direction.
Alonzo would get him back. But on to the matter at hand. "Devon, we won't make 15 miles today. We won't make another seven."
"Please come to the point, Alonzo," said Devon. "There's a river about 11 miles from last night's campsite. We can't cross it, and from where I am, I don't see any way to avoid it."
"There can't be!" she protested. She looked suspiciously at John. "Is this a joke?"
Danziger shrugged. "If it is, it's Alonzo's." "It's no joke, Devon. The river may not be on the map, but it's certainly on the planet."
She sighed. "You'd better find us a suitable campsite. Bear in mind we may be there a while." Already Devon Adair was sketching out plans.
She repeated her statement on the mountaintop. "There can't be!" The river ignored her denial and continued flowing across the Edenites' intended path. Devon stood, hands on hips, eyes fixed on that river. How much time would this cost them? A breeze carried the scent of growing things. In other circumstances, Devon would have relished the wind and the way it felt on her face. Today, it simply annoyed her that she had to pull strands of hair out of her mouth from time to time.
Several members of the Eden group had accompanied her. Devon and John may have viewed it as a reconnaissance mission; the rest were sightseeing, scattered across the slope. Morgan and Alonzo had remained with their leader. The politician was seeing to his own interests; the pilot was keeping an eye on the politician.
"What is it, then?"snided Morgan. "A mass hallucination?" Devon ignored him, as he ignored Danziger, who'd given him a warning with his eyes.
"It looks like we detour north." she said. Danziger shook his head. "We need to check it out, first. There's no guarantee the river doesn't cut back east somewhere up north. We'd be boxed in."
Alonzo settled himself on the ground. He wrapped a blade of grass around his fingers. "That might not happen for hundreds of klicks." He tossed the mangled grass away and stretched out on his back, head cradled in his hands. Blue sky. Now what did that remind him of? Correction, who did that remind him of? The pilot smiled inwardly. Man, he had it bad; getting around this river could add months to their travel time, and he didn't care. That would be extra time with Julia and no need to decide between her and the stars.
Morgan may have felt optimistic or he may have felt contrary: he said, "It may 'cut back' to the west." He looked at Devon. "You know, we can't keep calling it 'the river'".
John snorted. "All right. Let's name it. How about Danziger's River?"
Morgan stood open mouthed. "That's not what I had in mind," he said peevishly.
Danziger was enjoying himself. "Yeah? What did you have in mind? 'Morgan's River'? You've already got Morganite named after you."
"No, not Morgan's River--"
"Martin's River!"
"No. If you'd shut up for a minute--" Danziger put on an exaggerated expression of surprise. "Don't tell us you're willing to share the glory! 'Bess's River'".
"Not Morgan's or Bess's River," insisted the politician. He could think quickly if need be. He could get out of this without looking the fool. "Alonzo found it--'
"Leave me out of this," came from the grass. Devon had grown tired of the bickering. "Naming it doesn't matter. Crossing it does."
John and Morgan looked at her, then at each other. "Adair's River," said John.
Morgan, seeing a way to save face, agreed. Alonzo added his vote. And Devon stared at her namesake unhappily. "I really don't want geographical features named after me."
Morgan took the opportunity to get in a little dig. "It's named after Uly."
Uly, once told, was delighted with 'his' river.
Alonzo had found a hollow in the hillside about four miles upslope of the river. A copse of trees on the southern side provided shade. Otherwise, it was open and grassy.
Devon was pleased at how well everyone took the news of another delay. A lot of ground had been covered in the past three weeks: 315 miles, crossing what Yale termed "an ancient mountain range, reminiscent of the Applachians of North America." They'd taken no rest days, breaking camp each morning and setting up a new one each night. The break in travel was actually welcomed by most of the group, who, infected with Devon's optimism, expected to be packing up and moving on in four or five days.
But not everyone. Danziger had pointed out that the river could go on for hundreds of miles in either direction. He'd met Devon's suggestion they build a raft with a jerk of his thumb toward the Transrover. Baines fell in line with Danziger. Yale also doubted they'd quickly resolve the situation; he felt John was likely right, plus some of the Edenites might not put wholehearted effort into finding a way out of this paradise. Devon couldn't dismiss Yale's opinion as she did Danziger and Baines's.
She sounded out John on the subject. "I can only speak for myself, Adair, but I've never seen any place to beat it. Of course, this planet holds a lot of surprises, so the valley might look like "Paradise" and be "Hell". I intend to make it to New Pacifica. Can't guarantee I'll stay. If this is as good as it looks, I may come back."
"I've never pictured you as a farmer, Danziger," said Devon. She was unexpectedly upset by his statement.
He smiled, gazing out on the plain, oblivious to the look on Devon's face. "I wouldn't farm."
She regained control of her features. "What, then? Are you going to become a mountain man and live off the land?"
Danziger frowned at Devon's tone. "No." He pointed. "See that black blur off to the right?" She didn't. He stood behind her so she could sight down his arm. Devon found herself having difficulty seeing the blur. She found she was in no hurry to focus on it.
"See it?" he murmured. "They're getting closer," he added, gently "steadying" her with an arm around her waist.
Devon suddenly grew uncomfortable. She was not in command of the situation, Danziger was. "Oh, yes, there they are." She freed herself. "I don't know how I missed them before." Devon put a few feet between Danziger and herself, and crossed her arms over her chest. "Does this have anything to do with your returning to 'paradise'?"
"Yeah. Yes,it does." Devon had adopted "Rich Leader" mode. Okay, fine. He adopted "Hired (resentful) Help" mode. "Those are grazing animals. I'd be a rancher." John headed purposefully toward the vehicles. He stopped and wheeled around. "Incidentally, Adair, the entire ops crew *is* calling it Paradise." The mechanic continued on his way, got a job to do, ya' know.
Julia had unobtrusively observed the 'encounter'. "Devon!" she called, motioning her over. Devon obliged, and spent the rest of the afternoon going over Julia's findings regarding the biosystem of the area. Actually, it was interesting.
Bess sat in the grass, arms wrapped around her knees. She was crowned with True's version of a daisy-chain. The little girl, in an unusually feminine mood, had given one to every woman in the camp except Julia, and she was working on that one. The doctor had scanned the blooms and pronounced them harmless.
"I wish this was New Pacifica," Bess said. "It's the most beautiful place we've been, isn't it, Morgan?"
He grudgingly conceded it was. He was happier in the mountains; a person couldn't see so far. There was at least the illusion of protection from the vast unknown. Sometimes Morgan could see infinity in Bess's eyes. Maybe that's why she liked open spaces so well. He'd come to the conclusion that she'd never be content at the stations.
"We ought to stake a claim," she mused. "Remember what happened the last time we tried that?" Morgan's hands began to tingle at the thought.
Bess playfully shoved Morgan to the ground. "Oh, Morgan, I don't mean a mining claim." She lay next to him, propped on her elbows. "I mean a homestead claim. We could build a house in the cove where the camp is. We could claim the whole valley, and raise...horses or whatever passes for horses on G889."
Morgan stared at the sky. If he stared long enough, he fancied he could sense the rotation of the planet. "Cattle would be more lucrative."
"There's plenty of room for cows, and sheep, too, if you want them." Bess tickled his nose with a grass stalk.
He rubbed the tickle away absently. The homestead idea was actually a pretty good one. "We could raise chickens, Bess, and have real eggs! Have you ever eaten a real, fresh egg?"
"No, Morgan."
"At the election party for Robert R. Russell, we were served deviled eggs. I ate three of them. Well, one and a half; the eggs are cut in two."
"I know what deviled eggs are, Morgan." She tickled his nose again.
"Bess," he began, crossly.
"Yes, Morgan." She leaned over him so closely he could barely focus. "We could raise children, too, Morgan."
"Yes, this would be a good place for children." He grabbed her hand, inprisoning the grass stalk. "But this isn't a good place to start on them."
"Oh? How about a little practice?" Bess smiled one of her special smiles.
"Bess," he said in exasperation, grabbing her other hand, which was also intent on tickling, tho' not his nose.
"About a mile from camp, there's some real tall grass, almost up to my shoulders."
"There is?"
"There is," she confirmed.
Morgan disentangled from Bess and sat up. He smiled. "Sounds interesting."
One thing he could say for this planet: it had the most rewarding effect on his wife.
That night, the scouting party was chosen. John Danziger 'assumed' he'd be part. He was. Alonzo was also pretty much a given. They ended up drawing straws to determine who among the remaining candidates would go. Cameron and Denner won.
They would leave early the next morning. Months of practice had made preparation for journeys thru the wilderness second nature. Men and women who'd spent their lives pampered by the magic of technology now packed, lifted, and tied baggage with grace, if the smooth movement of physical labor can be called 'grace'. They'd learned each other, knew the weaknesses and strengths of each, and worked together with the efficiency of an ant colony.
Ants, however, don't feel the pride this group did. Magus sat slightly apart from the others, observing the camp as it settled down for the night. She'd always liked working with her hands--she looked at them in the fading sunlight. The nails were clipped short. That was nothing new. Magus had never worn them long; they got in the way. She turned her hands palm upwards. The callouses *were* new. Probably everyone in the camp had calloused hands. Soft palms were worse than useless in this place. The memory of ropeburn caused her to wince. She'd thought, as a drone on the stations, that she was familiar with manual labor. She laughed. *No one* on the stations had any idea what spit-on-your-hands-and-get-a-good-grip work was.
Magus liked the planet. At least, parts of it she liked. This valley, for example. It was like a dream. The increasingly planet-wise bit of herself knew it could be a bad place to winter without solid, climate controlled shelter. The same planet-wise bit speculated on the possibility of building a satisfactory cabin. What information Yale couldn't provide, they could learn by trial and error. They could do it.
She watched her campmates. It was hard to believe any of them, except maybe Bess, could have survived under these conditions. But now, if they couldn't get across Uly's River, if they never reached New Pacifica and reestablished communication with civilization, they'd do just fine here. It was amazing how much they'd changed. Magus rubbed her own arm, still unused to the firmness of the muscle. Her legs looked great, and her butt wasn't bad, either. The most unexpected improvement in her figure was the 'lift' lifting and carrying had given her breasts. Julia said that was the result of building up the pectoral muscles of the chest. Every woman in Eden Advance had been similiarly affected. As a whole, they looked really good, even without makeup and hairdressers.
Too bad there was such a limited selection of men. Devon and the scouts were going over the details of their trip. There appeared to be some disagreement.
Magus drifted to the campfire, joining most of the others. That was another thing she liked about this planet. The fire, or maybe the camaraderie it evoked, was something she'd miss. Humans were meant to sit around fires, with dogs at their feet. Magus had always enjoyed the petting zoo as a child. Her favorite dog was the beagle, with its long, soft ears. She used to daydream about owning a dog.
"Adair, it's summer. There's plenty of edible plants in the area," said John.
"That doesn't mean it's safe for you to stay out until you locate a ford," she argued. "Go north for a week, return to camp, a fresh crew follows the trail north,--"
"How, Adair? How does this fresh crew follow our trail?" "One of the original members can go. You, I think. That way you won't miss anything." She glared at him. "The fresh crew will have a trail to follow, and can cover more ground in a week, then return."
"You want us to keep yo-yo-ing back and forth over the same ground? That's a waste of time. Adair, sometimes I don't think you've learned a thing on this planet," Danizger cried in disbelief. "We go out, we stay out until we know one thing or the other."
"You could be gone for weeks," Julia pointed out. Danziger gave her a remarkably dirty look. "Yes," he said to the evidently smooth-brained doctor. "We could." He looked at Alonzo. Alonzo was conveniently talking to Walman.
Cameron didn't know why they were discussing this. Once out, they could stay as long as necessary. First chance he got, he'd mention it to Danziger. No, the chance might not come for hours, as stubborn as those two were. He whispered to Denner; she passed the message to Alonzo. Cameron wandered over to the remains of supper, followed by the other two. They picked at the white-root 'bread' Bess had cooked up, three pals innocently snacking.
"Okay, what?" asked Alonzo quietly. "How long do y'all want to stay out?" he asked in reply. Denner and Alonzo glanced at each other. She shrugged. Alonzo said, "However long it takes."
Denner protested. "Hey, that could be weeks. You think I want to be the only woman alone with you three for weeks?"
Cameron and Alonzo were stunned. Huh? "Then again..." she said, a wicked twinkle in her eye. She looked both men up and down, then shifted her focus to John and checked him out. "Monday," nodding toward the big blond, "Tuesday," tapping Alonzo on the shoulder, "Wednesday," to Cameron; another nod toward Danziger, "Thursday," and then all three cracked up.
"Actually, men," she said sweetly, "None of you stand a chance." She returned to the original subject. "As for the trip, we need to stay out as long as we need to stay out."
In agreement, the three headed back. "Tuesdays and Fridays, did you say?" kidded Alonzo.
She elbowed him in the ribs.
When they reached the fireside, Alonzo spoke. "Do we have anything to say about this?"
Devon and Danziger both looked surprised. "Yes, of course," said Devon. She hadn't realized the others felt they were being excluded. She had assumed John spoke for all of them. This assumption remained until Alonzo spoke again.
"John, we can talk this over later, and I'm sure you'll see it our way--"
Danziger stood ramrod straight, suspicious. They'd decided something behind his back.
"--we think Devon's right."
John was not amused. He felt strongly that they should stay at the job until it was finished. He felt strongly that those in the scouting party should be supporting him. He felt strongly that he should break a neck or two.
"Alright, Devon. You win. One week. Seven days, and we turn around." Danziger glowered down at the woman. "Is everything settled?"
Devon smiled a cool, official smile, growing calmer as Danziger grew angrier. "Yes. I think we've covered everything." She nodded at the reasonable trio. "Thank you," she said pleasantly.
"Fine," spat Danziger. He turned on his fellow scouts, and gripping the arms of the two men, persuaded them--and Denner--to accompany him to a more private spot on the other side of the Transrover. A big-eyed True crept close enough to overhear.
"What was that all about?" Danziger growled. He released his friends and stood glaring at them.
Alonzo spoke. "John, once we're out there, how can they enforce the seven day limit?" He rubbed his arm. Good thing John was his friend.
Danziger's mouth dropped open. He closed it enough to grin, teeth gleaming in the moonlights, and ran a hand through his hair. "Man," he said admiringly, "Man, that is pure genius. Why didn't I think of it?"
"The operative word here is 'genius'," replied Cameron sourly. He'd have a bruise on his arm.
"Who did think of it?" asked John. He decided to let that little insult slide.
"Cameron," said Denner.
Cameron smiled cockily.
"Good going, Cameron," praised Danziger, punching him in the arm in that playful way men do.
True, seeing that there was to be no excitement, crept away, back to the fire where Magus was telling a story about a little house on a prairie.
"Thanks," said Cameron, rubbing the sorer-than-before arm. He thought it wise to leave before John congratulated him any more. "I'm going on to bed. We've got a lot of territory to cover tomorrow." He looked at Alonzo and Denner. "You guys?"
"Hey," said Alonzo, "You get Wednesdays and Saturdays! This is Thursday." 'Lonz smiled charmingly at Denner, and indicated John with the slightest tilt of his head.
She rolled her eyes and stalked off. Well, she'd brought it on herself. This would be one long trip.
"'Night, John," said Alonzo cheerfully, and he went to find his Julia, leaving a puzzled Danziger alone in the moonlights. He stuck his hands in his pockets and walked around to where he could see Devon and the others.
True was there. He'd have a valid reason to join them. Devon was there. That woman was such an idiot. 'She needs me even more than True does,' he thought, startling himself. Danziger wondered where the thought came from. He tried to dismiss it, but that was like trying to hold 33 apples underwater at the same time. It just kept surfacing.
He leaned against the machine, watching the group. Soon, John went on to bed, where he didn't sleep until long after True had slipped in and gone to sleep herself.

CHAPTER TWO
PARADISE

DAY TWO by the river
The scouts left later than intended; Danziger had overslept, and True hadn't bothered to tell anyone that he wasn't getting ready to go. She figured that if he was still asleep, in spite of the noise around camp, he must need the rest. She was right, but her dad was annoyed with her. He was embarrassed at having held up departure. John hid his discomfort by growling and grumbling at everyone. Devon thought he was still angry at being overruled by Alonzo, Cameron and Denner. True's daddy should have been pleased his little girl was looking out for him: Devon would have suspected something if the stubborn mechanic had been pleasant, or even acquiescent.
Those who remained in camp caught up on repairs of all kinds: machines, garments, tents, whatever. Anyone helping Bess in the 'kitchen' caught up on gossip. An unspoken rule banned talking behind a person's back. It was a lot more fun to talk about someone in his/her presence, so they could offer a rebuttal.
Bess and Julia took advantage of the lay-over to concentrate on a little project of interest to the whole group. On the far side of the mountains, Walman and Magus had dug up a tuber rather like the potato. Julia pronounced the 'white root' not only edible, but an almost perfect food. It had been easy to find on the lower slopes of the mountains, tho' scarcer in higher elevations. Here, white-root was abundant. There were two problems with the plant: it had the shelf life of manna and was, well, bland. The resourceful Earthborn woman managed to improve the flavor, but had discovered no method of preservation. Within days of harvest, a tuber became rank and gray. Dr. Heller and Bess were determined to find a way to keep the vegetable wholesome; the nutrition supplied was too valuable to lose when the group moved out of its range, or the season ended.
'Paradise' was easily the most enjoyable part of the journey so far.
The four scouts were missed, of course. They reported in several times a day. If there were no problems to report, there was no progress, either. Mostly the grass was cropped short, or there were paths worn by the moving herds, but these paths didn't necessarily accomodate the vehicle. The grasslands weren't quite as easily traversed as initially supposed--some of the grass was tall and thick. Alonzo had made a crack about needing a scythe, piquing Uly's curiosity and triggering a lecture from Yale.
Herding animals fled from the DuneRail. The scouts were astonished at how great a distance the beasts could detect them. Danziger and Alonzo on foot crept closer, but even with the jumpers, it was impossible to get a good look. Quadrupeds, of varying sizes and colorations, was as specific as the scouts could describe them. Cameron stated, as he sat cleaning his boots late the first afternoon out, that at least three different species were fertilizing the immediate area.
Whenever feasible, they *did* follow the trails. If there was a way across the river, the animals would know.
As Danziger had said, food was plentiful. Plenty and variety, however, aren't synonyms. In fact, the four enduring the hardships of sweet smelling grass, balmy breezes, heartstoppingly beautiful vistas, and run-ins with the occasional meadow muffin were better off than those in camp. The tart, vining berries they'd first encountered several weeks ago became more common, as did the low bushes which produced a chewy red pod.
"White-root again!" complained Uly, catching the aroma of supper on the boil. He thumped his 'Terrian' staff on the ground.
Devon frowned. "Uly, do you remember winter camp?" Uly nodded humbly. His contrite expression told Devon there was no need to pursue matters further. He remembered; they all remembered having to eat the same thing every meal and leaving the table hungry.
His mom knelt to eye level with him and smiled forgiveness. "I know it gets tiresome, Uly. But you don't want to hurt Bess's feelings, do you?"
Uly played his part in the ritual and gave the obligatory shake of the head.
Devon rose, patted him on the back, and dismissed him with another smile.
True had stood fast next to her friend, a staunch ally in the face of insurmountable odds. Uly looked at her, screwing his face up in disgust. She gestured a 'come on' with her head and the two kids trotted to the edge of camp. A tree, probably twisted because of a storm, grew with the trunk parallel to the ground for several feet before turning upwards. Uly had christened it the "Sitting Tree". They were making for it, not surprisingly. Once she was certain they were out of *Ms. Adair's* earshot, the mischievous girl muttered, "White *rot*."
Devon and Julia looked over at the children, enjoying the music of their laughter.
DAY FOUR at the riverside
Yale approached Devon at the fireside. She sat alone, watching Uly throw rocks at nothing in particular. True was sitting on a crate near him, listlessly tossing pebbles into a circle of stones she'd built for that purpose. Her mouth was set unhappily, lower lip protruding just a bit. She missed her dad.
The tutor sat next to his former charge, sighing contentedly as he settled himself in the chair.
"Look at him, Yale," said Devon in a slightly awed voice. "Did you see how far he pitched the last rock?" She glanced at Yale only long enough to ascertain he had, and returned to admiring her son. "He's been doing this for nearly half an hour."
"G889 has been good for the boy," said the old man. "On the whole, it's been good for all of us. Except Eben." Devon didn't take her eyes off Uly as she spoke. "Yale?"
"Yes, Devon?" He sensed a subject change. "Do you think Elizabeth was right? *Will* the planet reject us?"
"I can't say, Devon. This is not the world we left behind. The rules, so to speak, are different."
Devon furrowed her brow in dissatisfaction just as she had as a child.
"In this world, two plus two does not always equal four," he explained. Yale pointed a finger at the healthy boy throwing rocks simply to burn off excess energy. "Wouldn't you agree?"
The frown was replaced by a smile. Devon looked fondly at Yale. He'd seemed unfathomably wise to the girl; the woman's decisions and opinions were colored by this. She knew him to be careful and precise in reaching conclusions. Yale would not be optimistic without reason.
"We were told that New Pacifica was the area humans could most likely survive," he said.
"Yes," agreed Devon, wondering where this would lead. "We were not told about Uly's River." "No," she agreed again.
"If New Pacifica is more hospitable than our present location, it must be paradise, indeed."
Devon waited for him to complete the thought. Yale scanned their surroundings, appearing to soak up each bird song, every shade of green in the landscape; he inhaled deeply, savoring the clean scent of the air. The old cyborg yawned. The sunset caught his eye. "Isn't it a pity," he said finally, "that the CommDish is there, and we are here?"
"We have to make it to New Pacifica," insisted Devon. She was taken aback by *Yale* falling under the spell of the valley.
He reached out and clasped her arm reassuringly. "We must. There is no question of that. And we will, Devon."
Devon and Yale were silent together. One by one, members of the family completed chores or put away other diversions and joined the circle. The places, defined only in their minds, where Alonzo, Danziger, Cameron and Denner belonged remained empty. Morgan fed the fire, using enough green wood to set up a fair amount of smoke. Smoke, they'd learned, discouraged insects.
True drifted over to her dad's space. She sat cross-legged, plucking at what little grass had survived her previous attacks. Devon was stupid if she thought Dad would turn around after seven days. The general chatter died down, and Magus began telling more of her boring prairie story. True pulled a tuft out by the roots and tossed it toward the fire. She'd rather be listening to one of her dad's ghost stories.
DAY FIVE by the river
Morgan wanted to surprise everyone. He had stumbled upon a grove of 'tree-strawberries' not four miles from the camp. He'd tucked a mesh bag inside his shirt, picked up his VR gear and headed out. Baines had given him a disdainful look and made a comment about grown men playing in VR; Morgan ignored him. At lunch, Baines would eat his words. Hopefully, they would adversely affect the taste of the fruit provided by Morgan Martin.
VR wasn't needed today. Old-fashioned daydreams occupied the brave forager as he fought his way thru the (scanty) underbrush. Bess would be delighted. And he could well imagine the expressions of appreciation and gratitude on the faces of his other campmates. He saw them circled together, stuffing themselves with strawberries after a tasteless meal of whiteroot. The kids would have juice running down their chins. His imagination provided whipped cream for the berries. Morgan's mouth watered.
He stopped to survey the area. Yes, he was right on course. That big tree with the purplish vine climbing it was one of his landmarks. Just 20 minutes or so, and he'd be there. Morgan strode on.
Ouch.
Insect? Venomous spider?! Tiny G889 version snake!?! No, just a thorn. He'd brushed against a bush. Morgan inspected the plant carefully. It was covered with briars. "Lucky it got me only once," he said to himself, pulling the 1/2 inch thorn from his leg. His pants had prevented it from doing more than just scratching his knee. "Better keep my eyes open," he muttered.
Within a hundred meters of the thornbush, Morgan became aware he was being followed. He turned, expecting the kids, or Baines, maybe, wanting to embarrass him. A canine type animal was looking at him. Its mouth was open, and it definitely had canine type teeth. It aimed its muzzle at the sky and howled. Wonderful, G889 wolves.
The gear was on in seconds. "Bess." Nothing. "Bess, answer. I have a small problem here." Nothing. Morgan began to back slowly away. The animal watched him, but remained in place.
"Magus?"
"Yale?"
"Devon?"
It had to be his gear. Great, nonfuctional communication equipment when he really needed to communicate. Why? Why him, why now? Morgan ran. The beast, joined by another, followed at a leisurely pace.
Morgan leaned against the tree, trying to remain on his feet. The numbness in his leg was spreading. His knee wouldn't bend on command. Once again he fumbled for his gear.
"Bess? Bess? Devon, Yale, anybody, I really need some help here, guys. Those wolf-things are a lot closer and I am not in any condition to outrun them. Get Walman out here, he can beat 'em in the head with a club or something." He laughed weakly and sank to the ground, injured leg extended. It didn't hurt. Thank God, it didn't hurt.
But it didn't function, either, and the animals settling themselves in a rough circle around him threw Morgan into a panic. "Oh, God, no, get me out of here! Please, God, get me out of this, and when I get back to the stations, I'll be at church whenever the doors are open, I promise." He dragged himself over to a potential weapon, a fallen branch. It came apart in his hands. Rotted. The smell of humus revolted him. Right now, everything about this place revolted him, the majestic trees, the sunlight dappling through the leaves, the wolf-things patiently waiting for him to die. 'How many are there? Will there be enough of me to go around?' No, don't think like that! Morgan looked around for anything else which might work as a weapon. He had to keep those things away long enough for someone to find him. It was only reasonable they be looking for him, either because they were receiving him, or because he hadn't checked in for hours. Probably. He found nothing. Not even rocks.
He tore at the tiny hole the thorn had left in his pants. The fabric held. He tried his gear again. "Bess, please," he quavered. He took a breath and calmed his voice, altho' the rest of him was primed with adrenaline. "Bess, please respond. I know I can't be out of range." Morgan realized he hadn't activated the transmittor. Maybe that had been the problem all along! But it wouldn't explain his not receiving them. And Bess would have tried to raise him by now; she'd mentioned needing him for some chore or another. He turned the transmittor, and the recorder, on and began speaking. If they could hear him and he couldn't hear them, okay, talking would help calm him down. If they couldn't hear him, at least he could leave some last words for Bess. He didn't think those things would eat the gear. Yes, some last words for Bess. And the others, but Bess was the only one that mattered.
"I, uh, I really would like to see you all again. All of us together, enjoying ourselves, like at the wedding, remember? Bess, you were so beautiful..."
One of the beasts arose and walked toward him. "...so beautiful. You know, I always hoped our little girl would look like you. The boy I wanted to resemble me, of course. I never said much about a family, but you know, Bess, I wanted to firmly establish myself, set us up so that the kids would never have to worry about anything. I wanted to send them to the right schools, have them meet the right people, make contacts early in life that would help later..."
The animal was obviously gathering itself for an attack. Morgan closed his eyes. "Bye, Bess. I love you," he whispered. He thought it amazing that he felt so calm now that death was right here. He heard a thunk, and a yelp, and the wolf-thing was on him. Morgan had time to realize he wasn't going to scream before the darkness.
Shortly after his escape from camp, Bess *had* attempted to contact her husband. Anger at being ignored prompted her to stomp off into the woods after him, certain he'd be nearby. Julia came, as she wanted to check out some promising vegetation in that general area. Baines came as bodyguard. And because he wanted to witness the show.
Bess's continued attempts to reach Morgan failed. Worry replaced anger as the distance from camp grew. Even Baines was concerned. He reached Magus on gear and asked her to home in on Morgan's set.
"He's nearly 3 1/2 klicks to the northwest of you," she said.
"Thanks. We'll keep in touch." Baines flipped back his gearscreen and looked at the two ladies with him. "We'd have never found him."
"You said he was headed this way!" accused Bess. "He was! He must have changed direction. Maybe he doesn't want to be followed," Baines defended himself.
Bess turned, hair flinging prettily as she did, and headed north.
"This way." The man took the lead, walking northwest. The women fell in behind.
Bess glared. Julia clasped her hand. "I'm sure he's alright."
Something howled, too nearby, and directly ahead. Bess jerked her hand from Julia's and began running in the direction of the howl. Baines cut in front of her.
"Together," he said, drawing the pistol he carried. "I lead."
Bess grabbed his shoulders and spun him around, then pushed. "Then you better stay in front," she said sharply, her Southern accent strengthening as it always did when she was upset.

CHAPTER THREE
RESCUE

DAY FIVE
Heaven. Must be. That blinding light. It was abruptly replaced by a face. Morgan snapped back to reality. This was no angel peering down at him. Morgan struggled to sit up. The man helped him prop against a tree. Trees, trees, trees. "There are just too many trees!" Morgan complained aloud.
The bearded man raised his eyebrows. "Forest." Morgan looked around. "Where are those animals?" They were gone, except the one over there with the arrow sticking out of it.
"Gone. Where'd the thorn scratch you?" The man had a knife. Morgan thought it wise to answer. "Here, just above the knee. I pulled it out."
Despite Morgan's assurance the thorn was gone, his rescuer cut through the trouser leg, exposing the area. The skin around the wound was a shiny white. He prepared to cut into Morgan's leg. As he worked, he tersely explained, "The tip of the thorn remains embedded. The toxin causes paralysis."
Morgan braced himself and looked away as the blood began to well. Then he looked back, wondering. "It doesn't hurt." He turned away again. "I don't feel a thing." Except nausea.
"You will."
"Is, ah, is the toxin fatal?"
"No. Being eaten is." He rationed his words as if they were in short supply.
"I...I thought that might be what they wanted." Morgan looked at the man. He was rather small, shaggy haired, and dressed in leather. Thank God for small favors, he didn't smell. "My name is Morgan Martin. You've saved my life. Thank you." The woodsman showed him the knife, bloody, with a small black dot near the tip. "That was poisoning me?"
He nodded, and appalled Morgan by wiping his knife blade on Morgan's pant leg. "Give me your shirt."
"What?"
"For bandages."
Morgan complied. "As I said, I'm Martin Morgan. And you are...?"
"Van Helsing," he replied. He began cutting strips from the back of the shirt.
"Mr. van Helsing, I really am grateful you came along when you did. Without your help, I hate to think what would have happened. If there's anything I can do for you--"
"Shut up."
Morgan was startled. He was working on a blistering, yet tactful, retort when he realized van Helsing was listening to something in the distance. Morgan immediately thought of the animals. Hungry animals. He picked up a strip of former shirt and began bandaging his leg. As soon as the woodsman relaxed, he asked about them.
"They prey on victims of the thorns. They'll run from any attacker."
"They didn't run from me," declared Morgan. "They prey on victims of the thorns," was repeated with no change of tone or rhythm.
Morgan instinctively sucked up, encouraging the other man to demonstrate his greater knowledge. "So these animals live in packs?"
"No. In pairs. The baying attracts others." Van Helsing checked the bandage. It suited him, evidently, because he polished his knife with the remains of Morgan's shirt.
"And you heard them and got curious?" "I sometimes take their dinner." He watched the sunlight on the knife blade.
Morgan involuntarily drew back. Van Helsing noticed. He smiled (didn't he?), sheathing his knife. "Only the herbivores."
Morgan attempted to recover. "Well, of course, I mean, I didn't think you were, ah,---"
"Cannabilistic." Again, the semi-smile. "Some are." He nodded northwards.
"Oh? Penal colonists? I'm not surprised." Morgan stopped suddenly. Almost certainly, his rescuer was a penal colonist. The man stared expressionlessly at him. The bureaucrat smiled weakly and shrugged. If he'd been so equipped, he'd have tucked his tail and cringed away. "Not that everyone here is a criminal. No doubt some were framed, or...whatever... Well, we're headed west, anyway." Morgan remembered his gear. He attempted contact again, and received no response again. An uncomfortable thought of the scouts chanced by. "How far north?"
The man looked at him. "What?"
"The cannibals," Morgan elaborated. "How far north are they?"
"Five or six weeks."
Morgan said, "Oh." He'd expected a less subjective unit of measure.
They sat silent for a time, Morgan apparently absorbed with 'repairing' his gear and van Helsing listening to the woods. He would advance a few steps toward any scavenger which ventured out of cover. It would disappear, silently.
"How *did* you come to be here, Mr. van Heslin?" Morgan's curiosity overcame his cowardice and good sense.
"I followed the baying."
"No, I mean, on G889."
Van Helsing looked steadily into Morgan's eyes, raising the hairs on the bureaucrat's neck. "I earned my passage." He picked up his longbow and stood. "Your companions are near." With that, he disappeared into the forest. There was a quiver of arrows on his back. Morgan noted that van Heslin was not a tall man.
DAY FIVE by the river. DAY FOUR scouting.
John was dozing in the shade. He'd have first watch tonight. So, he'd flattened a bed of sorts in the calf-high grass, and stretched out for a short, mid-afternoon nap before they moved on again. Travel today was easy. They were taking what was evidently a major thoroughfare in the herding community. It was free of grass, for the most part. The earth was beaten solid. The DuneRail really ate up the miles.
"Danziger."
He reluctantly opened an eye. Cameron was dangling a set of gear at him. "There's a problem at camp."
Danziger was on his feet, immediately alert. He seized the gear and roughly set it in place, asking, "Is True okay?" as he positioned the eyescreen.
"She's fine, it's not her. It's Morgan," replied a contemptuous Cameron, flipping his 'screen down.
Magus was there, seriousness personified. She was answering someone else. "Julia doesn't know. She said he's stable. They're on the way back to camp now."
"Magus, what's going on?" cut in Danziger. "Morgan said he got stuck by a poisonous thorn. A man calling himself van Heslin rescued him. Shot the animal wanting to eat Morgan, and cut the thorn out."
John recalled his conversation with Devon. Yeah, it looked like there were some hellish aspects to this paradise. "How far from camp?"
"An animal wanted to eat him?" asked Denner at the same time. Well, it did make sense there'd be predators around. All the herds would attract them. At least, that's what she'd learned in school. Herbivorous animals usually were eaten by carnivores. She wondered anxiously *where* in the food chain humans were, if an animal wanted to eat Morgan. Maybe Morgan was wrong. But if he was right...she suppressed the urge to whirl around, to check behind her.
Magus answered, "Morgan called it a wolf. Julia wants to dissect it, so Walman and Matazl are bringing it back."
"How far from camp, woman?" repeated Danziger impatiently. "A little less than 2 1/2 miles," was not an encouraging response. The scouts shifted uneasily.
"What about the man, what's he have to say for himself?" demanded John. He went strictly audio and began checking the DuneRail in preparation for the trip back.
"Morgan's the only one to see him. He came out of the woods, saved Morgan, and went back into the woods before Bess and the others showed up."
Alonzo rephrased Danziger's question. "Well, what does Morgan say about him?"
"Not much. Last time Baines checked in, he said the feeling was coming back in Morgan's leg, and he's hurting pretty bad. About all he's told us is, van Heslin is a bearded man, wears leather, is armed with a bow and arrows, and is familiar with the flora and fauna of this area. I'm not sure how much credence you can give it, tho'; Baines also said Morgan was talking about elves."
"Elves? As in, pointy ears and wings?" Alonzo laughed. "Elves don't have wings," muttered Cameron. Magus shrugged. "Baines said Morgan has been talking about *elves*."
"Sounds like he's out of his head," opined Danziger. "Could be caused by the poison," suggested Magus. "That's the consensus here."
"Yeah. That, or maybe Morgan's encountered another intelligent species on this uninhabited world," said Denner.
"We've tossed that idea around, too. They'd be primitives, judging by the weapons," said Magus.
"Bow and arrows? That's primitive, alright." Danziger agreed.
"Yep. And he's dressed in leather. If he isn't a native--or an elf--he's probably a penal colonist and he may have been here for a long time," affirmed Magus.
"I was thinking the same thing myself," said John. "Not necessarily," said Alonzo. "He might just not have access to any other weapons or clothes. Grendler's have gotten scarcer since we entered the mountains. We haven't seen *any* for about two weeks."
"Or he could be some psycho playing Robin Hood," added Cameron.
Satisfied the 'Rail was in top condition, Danziger repositioned the 'screen and went to video. "Magus, is he alone?"
She pursed her lips, hesitating. "We don't know, John. There's been no sign of others, but then, we didn't know he was around, either."
Denner and Alonzo climbed into the vehicle at John's signal, anxious to be headed home. Cameron wasted no time taking his place riding shotgun. Danziger would drive; he intended to push the DuneRail as hard as it would take.
"We ought to make it back in three days," he estimated. Magus agreed. "That's what we thought. Just don't burn out the DuneRail. Don't take any chances."
John dropped back to audio and settled into the driver's seat. The 'Rail started perfectly, and they were on their way to camp.
Cameron had an idea. "Hey, this isn't some trick of Adair's to get us to turn around, is it?" he asked hopefully.
Magus was momentarily confused. "No, of course not." The confusion evaporated. "You guys weren't coming back in 7 days, were you?"
Alonzo, Denner, and Cameron replied with variations of "Sure, we were," in tones which revealed the truth. Magus grinned in spite of the seriousness of the situation.
Danziger's mind was on True. "Those kids will need to be watched constantly, Magus. Constantly. Keep a real close eye on them, especially True. She's a little too brave for her own good, sometimes."
"Yeah, I know. She comes by it honestly," Magus replied. "Yale's looking after both kids right now."
"Where's Adair in all this?" The mechanic was surprised she hadn't put in her two cents yet.
"She's maintaining contact with Baines," said Magus. "I guess she wants to know immediately if Morgan has anything else to say about van Heslin."
"Or if they are attacked," said Alonzo. "Yeah, I guess that's possible." Magus didn't seem happy with that idea.
"It doesn't look like van Heslin would save Morgan's life and then attack them. Especially if he's alone," argued Denner.
"We don't know he's alone," Alonzo pointed out. "He could have talked to Morgan, got information from him about us, and reported to his buddies. We don't know."
Danziger pushed the 'Rail harder. The conversation around him faded, drowned out by his own thoughts. Three days, at the very best. He was three days away from True.
BASECAMP
By the time they had Morgan back in camp, the paralysis was gone, and feeling was back; van Heslin was right: it hurt. Morgan was torn between "taking it like a man" and "milking it for all it was worth". The decision was made for him: he passed out. The doctor brought him around and administered an analgesic after what Morgan considered an interminable examination. He had no interest in how the toxin had been produced by the interaction of enzymes in his own body with enzymes in the thorn. He'd risk the possible interaction with any drugs, if it meant relief.
Devon was peeved when she came into the tent. The entire camp was alert in the same sense a rabbit is alert. The scheduled guards had been augmented by volunteers. Yale had the kids practically on leashes. *She* had questions for Morgan. Julia had barred her, Devon Adair, from the Med-tent until she was satisfied with his progress. On her way to inspect the animal, the good doctor had kindly granted Devon a few minutes with the patient. Morgan wanted sympathy. Devon was more concerned with Walman, who'd gone searching for the stranger, alone, without consulting her. Her head hurt. She was worried about the scouting party. She needed someone to bounce ideas off, and he wouldn't return for several days.
"How's the patient?" she asked, forcing a pleasant expression.
Bess smiled. "He'll be fine. Julia gave him a painkiller, and I think it's helping. Isn't it, Morgan?" She squeezed his hand.
He smiled at her, a practiced "poor me" smile. She recognized it, and wisely reacted as Morgan wished. Sometimes Bess controlled Morgan by letting him think he was controlling her. "He's still in some pain. The stock is getting low and Morgan didn't ask for a full dose." No, he'd asked for enough to put him out. But only a fool tells everything he knows. Bess Martin was no fool.
"We all have to make sacrifices, Bess," he said. "Someone else may need it." He looked to Devon and smiled wanly.
Devon returned the smile, mildly amused in spite of everything. No matter what, Morgan could be depended on to be Morgan. "I'm glad you're alright. Are you up to answering some questions about the man in the woods?"
"Van Heslin. Of course, Devon. I'll help out any way I can." he replied generously. "What do you want to know?"
"Are you certain 'van Heslin' was alone?" "I didn't see anyone, but the way he disappeared into the woods, I..." Morgan reflected on what had happened. "Well, he said he found me because *he* sometimes eats what the wolf-things run down, so I'm inclined to think he was alone."
Devon thought that might be so. "He had only the knife and bow as weapons?"
"He had arrows for the bow, of course." "That goes without saying, Morgan." Devon rubbed her temples. Prior to Morgan's misadventure, she'd been lying on her cot, easing a headache out of existence. Supplies *were* low; no one asked for help with minor pain these days. She posed another question. "Does he know how to cross Uly's River?"
'I should have asked him!' thought Morgan. Aloud, he said, "He didn't mention the river. I didn't think to ask him. Devon, I am sorry."
"You had other things on your mind, like staying alive," said Bess quickly.
"That's true," Devon conceded, inwardly agreeing with Morgan's assessment of himself. "Now, Walman is wandering around out there, tracking him. Do you think he's in any danger?"
"No. Walman's a great poker player, but he's not much of a tracker."
Bess and Devon exchanged a look. Bess said gently, "What about Walman? Is he in danger?"
"Maybe from the briars. Not from van Heslin, judging from my experience. I never felt threatened by him." Much. "But I do think if he'd wanted to meet anyone he wouldn't have left." Morgan winced. It was genuine. The fire in his leg was now more of a campfire than an inferno, but pain is pain.
"What about those dogs?" Devon demanded. Walman and Matazl had lugged the dead one back to camp. Julia was studying it alone, much to the disappointment of the kids.
"Well, they aren't actually dogs," Morgan began pedantically, pushing himself up on his elbows. "They're cowardly creatures, stalking only much smaller animals or those which have been poisoned by the thorns. Unlike wolves or genuine dogs, they don't live in packs, and don't hunt together. And Walman is armed." Morgan paused. "His gear is working?"
"Yes, his gear is fine. He's contacted us twice so far." 'In two hours time, out in the woods by himself, tracking a man who probably is completely at home in the woods. He's picking up John's bad habits.' She looked disgusted.
Morgan misread it. "Devon, I didn't just pull their natural history out of the air." Elaborated a bit, perhaps. "Van Heslin told me, and he strikes me as a man who won't waste the breath to lie. He's not much of a conversationalist."
"What? Oh, yes, I see." Devon nodded, causing her headache to reassert itself. She cut short the interview. "Thank you, Morgan. I'll talk to you again later. You need your rest. You went thru an ordeal out there."
"It's like I said before, we all have to make sacrifices. Feel free to disturb me if you need to," he said nobly. He lay back down carefully.
Their leader smiled another thanks and left. She just didn't feel like coping with Morgan Martin.
"Morgan, honey, I don't think she was doubting you," Bess said gently. "Devon's got a lot on her right now."
He winced again.
"Morgan?" Bess stroked his forehead. "If you're in a lot of pain, I can ask Julia--"
"No," he said, "supplies are getting low." He looked up at his beautiful wife. She was as kind as she was beautiful, and as wise as she was kind. He couldn't believe God had given him such a woman.
God! Morgan remembered his promise. He wondered if God expected him to keep a promise made under such circumstances, under duress, in fact. Bess would say yes. Morgan sighed. She had a closer relationship with the Almighty than he did, and might be right. But Yale would be impartial; Yale could clarify things. Later. Devon was right, Morgan needed his rest.
Devon found Yale comparing maps of the region. He was trying to find discrepancies that might reveal where changes had been made. She looked over his shoulder as he worked, not speaking for the moment.
"We'll certainly need to double the guard, Devon," said Yale. It seems his thoughts had digressed from the maps.
"I know," she replied wearily. "Morgan thinks he'll avoid us, but I'm not taking that for granted."
"Magus has contacted the scouting party. They are returning," he said, "but it will take at best three days for them to reach camp, and until then, half of us will stand guard duty on any given day."
Devon pinched the bridge of her nose, which had no effect on the headache. "Communication was Walman's responsibility," she muttered. She took a breath and sighed. "Do you think we can trust True to help on daywatch?"
"Devon!" Yale, shocked, turned to look at her. He studied her face for humor and found none. "Devon, the situation is certainly not that desperate. We aren't traveling. Teams will have sufficient rest between shifts. And we do have a functional perimeter alarm." He took her hands in his own. "Devon, are you alright?"
She smiled weakly, grateful for Yale's stability. "I wasn't serious. I'm okay. A little worried, overstressed, maybe. The scouting party, out there..."
"A little worried," repeated Yale. The tutor smiled warmly. "John will be fine, Devon. He won't allow anything to prevent their return to us. To you, Devon."
Devon blushed. Altho' the growing affection between John and herself was generally suspected in the camp now, she still felt it was inappropriate. A leader, to her mind, was impartial, except where family was concerned. John was not family. A quick mental image bounced into her head, a sepia-toned photograph from the late nineteenth century, she and John, Uly and True, and John, Jr in her lap. Devon stifled a laugh.
She just wanted to go somewhere private and quietly have a breakdown. How had that man become so important?
Yale looked at her quizzically. She shook her head very slightly, and extricated her hands.
"I'm worried about *all* of us, Yale, and particularly the scouts. *All* of the scouts."
"As you say, Devon," humored Yale. Things weren't the same here as on the stations. Social barriers crumbled, a luxury for those who didn't have to struggle to survive. He couldn't quite understand her aversion to falling in love. Details were sketchy, but he seemed to remember it being a most pleasant experience.

CHAPTER FOUR
REACTION

DAY FIVE evening by the river
BASECAMP
The prior weeks of easy, unthreatened travel had spoiled Eden Advance a bit, and they overreacted to the knowledge of others in the area. Paranoia was taking hold within the group. Baines had evidently developed an obsessive/compulsive need to check the perimeter alarm. No one went anywhere alone; even the men adopted the buddy system when nature called. People were very careful not to startle anyone else, after Bess nearly filleted Walman along with the "fish" provided by True, Uly, and Yale.
As she picked at her supper, Devon reflected on how van Heslin was affecting them. If his treatment of Morgan was indicative, the man was cut from the same cloth as the Elder; however, Baines, Magus, Walman and even Bess didn't think that one incident reason enough to rule out his being another Gaal. They chose to assume he was dangerous, and acted accordingly. Foolhardily, in Walman's case. If Walman had managed to track down van Heslin, and was right about him, likely *his* body would have been dragged home with an arrow thru it. The rest of the camp looked to their leader, and she looked to Yale.
Yale advised a moderate approach. It would be unwise to provoke the man; and it would be unwise not to take precautions. The cyborg thought searching useless; they'd known nothing of van Heslin until he revealed himself, and quite possibly they'd never see him again. Also possibly he'd feel threatened if hunted, and seek to remove the threat, especially if he had a family.
Devon was certain van Heslin was familiar with the area. If he couldn't tell them where to cross the river, he could give them an idea of its course. Yale was probably right about searching for van Heslin. She'd be alarmed in his place. But, would he come to them? Morgan was right. If van Heslin wanted to meet them, he wouldn't have left. Devon twisted the thoughts over and over in her mind.
The campfire gathering that night in no way evoked 'camaradarie'. In the twilight, Julia tapped the bottom of her cup and absently stared at the flames. The animal, which resembled a hyena more than a canine, was edible. She'd know of times when they'd have wolfed it down without question. Full stomachs may have changed that; she herself didn't want to find that thing on the table. There was no telling what *it* found edible. She shuddered, bad memories stirring.
Uly and True sat at Yale's feet, playing tic-tac-toe in the dirt. The cyborg had convinced Devon the children would be less frightened if they knew what was happening. The kids he'd advised to be quiet, lest Devon change her mind.
Devon rose, wordlessly taking command of the gathering. The others fell silent. Aside from Magus, who was nervously braiding and unbraiding stalks of grass, all present looked expectantly at Devon. She made eye contact with each of them, reinforcing the unity of the little group while giving herself time to think.
"I suppose you're all wondering why I called this meeting," she joked, and they chuckled or groaned. Devon took a deep breath and began going over what everyone already knew. "Late this morning, Morgan encountered, from all indications, another penal colonist. Julia thinks that Morgan will recover fully within a few days; it seems that once the source of the toxin is removed, the body neutralizes the remaining toxin. Regarding the man who rescued Morgan, he calls himself "van Heslin". Van Heslin appears to be alone, he is armed with primitive weapons, and is apparently not hostile. Walman found no trace of him."
Several Edenites murmured, but only Magus spoke aloud: "He is *apparently* not hostile?" She looked up from the braiding, challenging Devon with her eyes.
The stare was disturbing. Devon prudently did not respond to it. "Yes. But I am certainly *not* interpreting that to mean he's friendly. As Morgan pointed out, he'd have stayed if he wanted to meet us."
"What about that dog?" asked Baines irritably. Walman had taken 'his' MagPro and left him standing there buck naked. Or so it seemed.
"Yeah, doc, what'd you find out?" seconded Mazatl. "Julia?" said Devon, relieved to yield the floor. Dr. Heller's first remark was a correction. "It's more hyena than canine, and that only superficially. The internal structures are quite different. For example, alongside the salivary glands are sacs of 'anti-venom', for the lack of a better word. This permits the animal to feed on other animals which have been poisoned by the thorns. It fits with what Morgan said about their hunting methods."
"Amazing," commented Yale. "Generally in such an arrangement, both parties benefit. I wonder what the plant gains." He looked speculatively at Julia.
"I don't know. Fertilizer, maybe." "That 'anti-venom': do you think it might counteract koba stings?" asked Baines.
"I don't know," repeated Julia.
"You don't know. Overeducated chromotilt and you don't know," muttered Baines, picking at the doctor in lieu of Walman.
Julia glared at him. It was just under the surface, then, bias against chromotilts. Did he speak only for himself? "Mr. Baines," she replied politely, "in order to determine the effectiveness of the 'anti-venom', I need a fresh sample of the venom. Perhaps *you* should antagonize a koba." She smiled.
Except for Yale and Devon, the campers, particularly the children, were watching the show with great interest. Devon was disturbed by the conflict. She thought they'd overcome the prejudices born in the stations. Months of literally depending on each other to survive had forced them to see the person, not the status, or the background.
"That's enough!" she said firmly. The look she gave Julia and Baines was one Uly recognized. He studied the reactions of the chastened grownups. Wow.
"Thank you. Julia, is there anything else you want to add?" The doctor shrugged and offhandedly replied, "It's edible." The consensus, if expressions meant anything, was, "Thanks, but no thanks, please pass the whiteroot."
"I believe," said Yale, wisely changing the subject, "you recovered the arrowhead, Julia?"
"I gave it to you!" she said, pushing hair behind her ear. Her tone was concerned and defensive.
"Ah, so you did." He smiled and pulled a folded bit of canvas from inside his shirt. Carefully, the tutor unfolded the bundle. Yale knew how to get and hold attention. After all, he taught children.
The children he was currently teaching stood up, game forgotten and soon scuffed out of existence as they watched Yale's hands. "Move back, Uly, True; you are not the only curious ones here," he said gently. If only they found their day to day lessons as fascinating!
"And here it is," he announced, seeming for all the world a magician. He tilted his palm so that the arrowhead caught the firelight. The glimmer and sheen made the artifact seem more jewel than weapon. "It appears to be a form of obsidian. The edges are razor sharp," he warned, passing it, nestled in the canvas, to Devon.
"The tip has been broken off," she observed. "It was lodged in a 'rib' on the left side of the chest," explained Julia. "The arrow entered the right side, slicing through the corresponding bone."
"It wasn't poisoned?" asked Mazatl, taking the offered bundle and studying it, shifting the stone. The arrowhead was a beautiful thing in the firelight.
"No," replied Julia. "As sharp as it is, I guess that isn't necessary."
As the small piece of obsidian made the rounds, the group wondered about its beauty, its source, and if van Heslin had fashioned it himself. All agreed that Grendlers weren't built to handle bows and arrows. Upon its return to him, Yale rewrapped the arrowhead and gave it to Julia. The kids hadn't been allowed to touch it; they kept the disappointment unspoken, mindful of Yale's advice.
The group sat in silence again, reluctant to separate. Julia began tapping her cup, realized how loud it sounded, and stopped. Uly yawned; True nudged him in the ribs, knowing they'd both be sent to bed if an adult thought one of them was sleepy. That was another reason she missed her dad. She stayed up later than Uly, when Dad was home.
"The only thing certain is that we don't know only one person is out there," mused Devon, thinking out loud.
Mazatl disagreed. "I think it's certain we have got to find that man. If he's dangerous we need him where we can see him--"
"Or dead," interjected Magus with a heartless practicality that caused Devon to cringe inside.
Mazatl nodded his agreement and continued. "--if he isn't dangerous, you, Devon, said we need his help crossing the river."
"And just how do we tell the difference? Do we just walk right up and ask him if he's dangerous?" asked Julia.
"Try to be more constructive, will you, Julia?" griped Baines. He began tapping his empty cup, coldly regarding Julia.
Julia sat up straight, clutching her own cup much tighter than need be. "It's a legitimate question! It *is* a point we must consider! How can we know for sure he is or isn't a threat?"
"Keep it down, Heller," Walman recommended from the dark. Bess's voice from the shadows scattered them. "Y'all make real good targets sitting around that fire."
They regrouped outside the light, huddling closer and speaking in hushed tones. Bess's use of the word 'targets' had spooked them. Yale shooed the children bedward.
Devon missed Danziger. His often negative input served to focus her thinking. She rubbed her forehead. Devon could feel the eyes of 'her' people.
"Everyone, we have endured a very trying day. The wisest course is to post guards, and get some sleep. Things will be clearer in the morning."
After the group dispersed, Devon stood for a time at the door of her tent. Yale joined her, a silent companion. Suddenly, she laid a hand on his arm.
"Yes, Devon?" he asked softly.
"What's happening to us, Yale? We've faced worse than this, and stood together. This bickering...it's getting out of hand, it's malicious, stronger than during our first weeks on G889. I thought we'd outgrown our station prejudices."
Yale squeezed Devon's hand. "A number of our group hope to return to the valley. A few don't want to leave at all. And now, van Helsin. He is a fly in the ointment. So, we take our frustrations out on one another. At least, that is what I think."
"Do you want to return to this valley, Yale?" "I would not be adverse to establishing a colony here," he said honestly. When Devon made no reply, he said goodnight.
She remained outside and missed the conversation between Uly and True after they'd been tucked in (a ritual which True tolerated, and made sure they were well aware she was simply tolerating). Yale, preparing for bed himself, heard clearly only because he'd come to quiet the whispering kids, and stopped, listening.
"We don't *how* to make bows and arrows," Uly protested. "We can find out," insisted True. "When we find that man, we can get him to teach us."
Uly's reply was doubtful. "I don't think the Terrians want us to find him."
"The Terrians?" True was intrigued. Yale heard the sheets rustling as she sat up. "Why not?"
"I don't know," said the boy. "But they don't want us to find him. And they won't let us stay here, or come back, either."
"Then why didn't the Terrians stop us from coming here in the first place?" demanded True.
Uly was slow in answering. "The Terrians didn't expect him to let us know about him, or something. They thought he'd hide or run away."
"Why?" encouraged the girl. This was almost as good as one of her dad's stories.
"I don't know," Uly said matter-of-factly. "Maybe they thought he'd be afraid of us." Sheets rustled again as the boy's imagination kicked in and he sat up in excitement. "Or maybe, maybe he's a ghost, and he drowned in the river years and years ago--"
"No, he got eaten by the hyenas!" suggested True. "Yeah!" agreed Uly. "And he didn't really save Morgan's life, he just took over his body--"
"Children, it is time to sleep," announced Yale. "And ghost stories are not conducive to restful nights."
The kids settled down, each continuing to silently add to the tale. They'd talk about it tomorrow.
Yale pondered what he'd heard. Was it entirely the boy's imagination? Probably not. He decided to tell Devon in the morning. She needed to sleep.
SCOUTS
Darkness didn't stop the scouts. The path was clear, beaten relatively smooth by millions of hooves. Denner and Cameron dozed in the back, jarred awake whenever the 'Rail hit a rough spot. Alonzo rode shotgun. Or MagPro, as Cameron had joked when 'Lonz took over the job.
The pilot smiled grimly. The adrenaline rush was long gone, leaving determination. Funny, how, in a place he'd never intended to be, doing what he'd no idea he could do, or how to do it until he did, that he felt more in control of his life than ever. Alonzo looked at the stars. The twin moons outshone many of the lesser magnitudes tonight. Too bad. Stars, he thought, are meant to twinkle. It takes planetary atmosphere to bring them to life. Hey, that's pretty good. Gotta remember it, use it on Julia.
Julia was something else he hadn't planned on. Danziger wasn't much company. He concentrated on the machine, listening for anything he shouldn't hear. If John was right, the DuneRail was good for another hour and a half at their present speed. Then they'd stop for a while, letting the engine cool down. Alonzo's body looked forward to the rest. He himself wanted to keep going.
Night insects chirped and chirred happily. Eden group called them 'crickets'. Devon, of all people, had owned a pet cricket as a child. He'd have thought the Adairs would own dogs or cats. They could afford them. But, a very young Devon Adair had been fascinated by the idea of crickets being lucky. She decided she couldn't go to sleep without the sound of a real cricket, so her folks had gotten her a (unbeknownst to himself) sterile male.
The night was uncomfortably cool when the mechanic finally, and unwillingly, brought the machine to a halt. The team crawled out, stretching. Danziger inspected the 'Rail meticulously by Luma-lite while the others set up the tent. No one mentioned building a fire. They hardly spoke at all.
Cameron contacted Eden Advance. Morgan was better. Walman had returned at dusk with no news. There was no sign of anyone outside of 'family'. True was fine; she was with Devon. As for the elves, Morgan had explained that van Heslin reminded him of an elf: he was a small, slender man. Seemed to be a penal colonist. Morgan was almost certain he was alone.
The scouts slept three (or unintentionally, four) at a time. They were exhausted and slept soundly in spite of the chill.
BASECAMP
DAY SIX thru DAY NINE by the river
Devon was wrong. Things were not clearer in the morning. 'Things' weatherwise could hardly have been more obscured. Sometime before dawn, clouds had barreled in, cramming as many as possible into one space. A good number of the clouds were forced so close to the surface, they were in danger of becoming fog.
The rain began a few hours after the unseen sunrise. It rained. Steadily. It rained with a 'water-torture' persistence. There was no wind; evidently, this was to be the weather of the day, unchanging in tempo or strength.
Yale spoke to Devon briefly first thing in the morning. He emphasized the possibility of Uly's imagination being solely responsible for the past night's conversation. However...
"If the Terrians are involved in this, it complicates matters further," finished Devon. She wrinkled her brow, thinking.
"When Uly wakes, speak to him about it." She did. She allowed the kids time to eat, then sat them both down on the cot across from hers.
True glanced over to Uly, questioning him with her eyes. He shrugged. Probably they were in some kind of trouble again. It was a lot easier to get in trouble here, where his body did pretty much what he wanted it to. Or maybe they weren't in trouble at all; maybe Morgan had died in the night.
"Uly, I want you to think very hard, and tell me the truth," began Devon.
True carefully set her features on 'neutral'. Her mind raced as she tried to think of anything they'd--or she'd--done lately which would displease Devon. It was harder to narrow things down with her. Little stuff her dad would ignore, Uly's mom blew all out of proportion.
"You aren't in trouble," she assured them, belatedly. "Uly, have you been in contact with the Terrians recently?"
The boy looked over at his 'lightning stick' by the door, and back to his mom. "No, not really."
"Yale heard you talking about van Heslin last night. He thought you said the Terrians didn't want us to talk to him."
"Oh, they don't," agreed Uly. Pensivefully he added, "I don't know why."
Devon felt rather uneasy. "If you haven't been in contact with the Terrians, how do you know they want us to stay away from him?"
"I just know. Sometimes they just tell me things." "In dreams?"
Uly shrugged. "I guess so. But not like Alonzo's dreams. I just know how they feel, sometimes."
Devon wasn't comforted by his explanation. Her son's link with the Terrians puzzled her. The boy's unquestioning acceptance of the change in himself was not shared by the mother.
"They want us to go away from here, now," Uly volunteered. "Now? Since we know about Mr. van Heslin?" "Sort of. They really don't want us to be here, anyway." "But they didn't stop us from coming here." "That's what I said," said True, feeling, well, a bit jealous, maybe. Left out. After all, she'd been part of last night's conversation. "They figured the guy in the forest would hide."
"Hide?" repeated Devon. She looked from one child to the other.
"I think so." Uly wrinkled his brow in a manner quite like his mother's. Yale smiled. "The Terrians *assumed* he'd stay far away from us. He's supposed to be afraid of other people, or something."
Devon pondered, much as Yale had the night before. Her boy did have a very creative mind, a trait common to Syndrome children. "Are you certain the Terrians told you this?"
"Sure, Mom," replied Uly. "Who else would?" "She wants to know if you made it up," said the older and more perceptive True, unwisely. Even more unwise was her disgusted expression. Too late, the child settled the neutral mask back into place. Devon's expression was not neutral.
"No, Mom, I didn't make it up! We have to leave, soon. And we have to leave Mr. van Heslin alone."
Devon and Yale silently consulted one another. "Alright," said Devon. "But let's not say anything about this to the rest of group. Okay? Not until after John and Alonzo and Cameron and Denner get back." She looked at True, who was rubbing at a spot on her shirt. "True?" The girl sulkily raised her head. Devon smiled warmly. "We'll just keep it secret for now. That's only fair."
True brightened, and nodded. They could tell the scouts over gear, but if agreeing with Devon would get her out of trouble, sure, let's keep it secret.
As it turned out, True was subjected to a gentle lecture from Yale later in the day. He agreed she was a lot more grownup than other 10-year-olds, but explained she needed to mind what she said and did. It made some adults uncomfortable to have a child speaking to them as if they were the same age. Funny how the tutor's reasoning made her feel more ashamed than her dad's yelling.
During the night, the temperature rose and the rain gave way to heavy mist. The guards sat together in the middle of camp, facing the compass points. Patrolling was worse than useless. By what passed for dawn, the rain was back, harder than before and just as steady. It was a more unpleasant day. The saturated ground refused to absorb the water, which pooled most inconveniently. The group switched around people and things, leaving the moisture resistant and seldom used items in the water-carpeted tents.
Eden Advance huddled miserably, enduring the confinement, passing time by viewing VR programs or playing cards, easing the tension by biting each others' heads off. Yale repaired Morgan's defective gearset and presented Bess with the farewell recording her husband had made; she viewed it several times, then tucked the tiny disc away for safekeeping. Morgan recounted his adventure with remarkably few embellishments. It didn't change much from one telling to another. And another. And another.
It wasn't raining *hard*. It was raining constantly. As the day progressed, the temperature became quite warm. Inside the tents was almost as damp as outside. On the third day, with the exception of the children, the group ignored the wet and went about their business. Most shucked as much clothing as was decent. The kids remained inside, bribed with all the VR they could stand.
News from the scouts wasn't encouraging. The weather was slowing them down a lot. If what they'd met with so far was any indication, it would be five, maybe six days 'til they'd be home.
On the fourth day, the rain moved out, pushed by strong winds. Two tents went over, and the wind scattered most of the contents throughout the camp and beyond. Everything was recovered, but all was not salvageable.
Devon, balancing on a tussock of grass, looked about her. She noted the state of the camp and its inhabitants. The wind, destructive as it was, had cooled the air. Now, in the calm, the temperatures again climbed, and the humidity increased. Devon wondered if the moisture gluing her clothes to her skin was perspiration or condensation. She snorted. "So much for Paradise."

CHAPTER FIVE
REUNION

SCOUTS
DAY SIX thru DAY TEN
Dawn came late in the overcast morning, but it still came much too soon for the exhausted bodies. Breakfast was cold and inadequate. Denner attended to some personal matters immediately before heading on and found a whiteroot plant. She pulled it up, losing the larger tubers which snapped off and remained in the ground. The rest would make nourishing, if tasteless, snacks on the way. A quick check with home: nothing had changed.
Cameron drove. He, Denner and Alonzo had "mutinied", refusing to ride with the sleep-starved Danziger. So, Cameron drove while John slept, probably dreaming of revenge. Denner rode shotgun. Alonzo simply watched the clouds. They weren't a real concern. The 'Rail had plenty of stored power, enough to get them home. The leg he'd broken ached before wet weather. He rubbed it, as if easing the pain would hold off the rain.
They were making good time, following their trail back. The path was grassier now. The DuneRail bounced more, but it purred right along. Cameron slowed a bit.
"Look over there," said Denner. She was pointing westward, across the plain. "Here it comes."
Alonzo leaned to see around Danziger, who'd awakened with a start when Denner spoke. "Rain," the pilot said. A drab gray curtain was slowly moving eastward.
"Just what we need," growled John. "Just what we need." He scanned the area. "Stop the 'Rail, I'm driving."
Danziger was more reckless than Cameron, likely because he wouldn't bloody his own nose if the vehicle was damaged. Mr. Fixit, thought the erstwhile driver. Still, the displaced man had to admit, the mechanic was better behind the wheel. The ride was smoother in spite of increased speed.
The rain gracefully enveloped them. Visibility dropped to a few hundred feet. John slowed, begrudging every minute it cost.
They drove on in the steady rain, stopping infrequently and for as short a time as possible. The only excitement for the day was entirely unwelcome. Upon reaching another stretch of packed clay, Danziger had increased speed. Shortly thereafter, the DuneRail had hit a small rock and slewed around until the southbound vehicle was facing east. The big mechanic leapt out of the 'Rail to check for damage and himself slid, coating his side with sticky red mud.
John drove more carefully the remainder of the day. At dusk, they set up camp. First thing after the tent was up, Denner changed to her spare clothes. The men half-heartedly teased her as they put on dry clothing; she refused to leave the shelter and stood with her back to them, while they counted out the days of the week. The wet garments were draped on a line strung across the tent.
The next day's journey, and the next, was an ordeal. The nonamphibious nature of the DuneRail forced the scouts to detour several times. Danziger's temper grew shorter with every barrier. He managed to alienate his three companions by midday.
Rain was replaced by wind the fourth day. It was a mixed blessing, drying the ground, but sometimes gusting and pushing at the 'Rail. By evening, the trail was impassable only in the lowest spots. The rest was sodden earth and mud; not pleasant, but acceptable. They plowed on, sometimes slogging on foot thru mud to lessen the weight of the 'Rail. The scouts were grimy, tired, sick of the abundant whiteroot, sick of each other, and sick of G889.
It took six days to return to camp.
DAY 11
BASECAMP
The scouting party called ahead to let the others know approximately when to expect them. True pestered Magus to distraction; repeatedly the anxious girl asked if they were in sight yet. She asked one more time than Magus could stand. The irritated woman handed True the jumpers. "Here, you look for them!"
True smiling, snatched the jumpers and started to climb the hillside. "Thanks!"
Magus grabbed the girl's arm. "Stay here with me," she commanded. "You don't need to be up there in the open."
"Okay," True complied readily. She began scanning an arc from the northwest to the river's edge. In this case, at least, Danziger's daughter was the most conscientious lookout in camp. Concern and need for her father kept her attentive. Her perseverance did pay off, of course. A more mature part of the girl knew the scouts didn't return any sooner because she was watching, but the child part still believed in magic. She *felt* that checking for them sort of guided the scouting party home safely.
True stood, jumpers to her eyes, smiling broadly. She didn't say a word. The DuneRail might vanish if she did. Magus noticed the smile.
"Do you see them, True?"
"Uh-huh," replied the girl. "Right there!" She thrust the jumpers in Magus's general direction and sped toward the travellers. Magus nearly dropped both MagPro and jumpers.
The frustrated guard's shout of, "True! True Danziger, get back here!" alerted camp. Walman sprinted after the kid. Uly's intent to follow was thwarted before he took three steps. His mom's quiet, "Ulysses," froze him.
"I bet it's Mr. Danziger and the rest of them, don't you, Mom?" asked the boy, carefully distracting her.
It really wasn't necessary. Over gear came a chorus of delighted greetings. The relief was tangible.
Ten minutes later, the DuneRail arrived in camp. The Eden group was whole again. Hugs were shared, the reunited members drawing comfort from the touch. Alonzo and Julia shared a promising kiss between them; Cameron stepped up for his turn with the pretty doctor, prompting a laugh and a kiss on the cheek from her. He feigned a dejected posture. "That's all?" he said.
Alonzo reached for him, lips in an exaggerated pucker. Cameron straightened and, 'midst general laughter, escaped to the fringes of the group.
True had fallen and skinned the heels of her hands. She was angered almost to the point of tears by her clumsiness. Her father's sympathy caused one tear to escape; the girl bit her lip and dared any more to slip down her cheek. The usually independent tomboy clung to Danziger, arms around his neck, injured hands palms upward. True unintentionally helped both Devon and her dad out of an embarrassing situation. Not embracing would appear awkward; embracing would *be* awkward. Devon smiled up at John.
"We've missed you," she said. She patted True's arm. "Haven't we?"
"I'm glad to be home," Danziger replied. He hugged his daughter tightly. "I've missed all of you, too."
They stood together, neither willing to admit there was a lot more to say. John focused his attention on his daughter. True sensed the tension and became uneasy. She flexed her hands experimentally. She winced.
"Julia needs to look at those hands," suggested Devon, too firmly.
"Good idea, Adair," retorted Danziger. "Excuse me, please." He eased his way through the knot of people and deposited True at Julia's feet; the chromotilt immediately shifted into doctor mode.
Devon stood uncertainly where he'd left her. She was an unusually capable woman--an unusually capable *person*--skilled in dealing with all kinds of people in all kinds of situations. The fact Eden Advance was successfully walking across a continent proved that. Leadership and decision-making were as natural to her as breathing.
Sometimes, John Danziger complicated both.
Julia pronounced the wanderers healthy, except for skin irritation caused by staying wet for too long. They gratefully bathed, dressed in fresh clothing, and had an early supper with the family. Denner sparked a round of laughter when she said, in absolute sincerity, "It is so good to get back to civilization!"
The mechanic checked out the vehicles. There was apparently no damage to the TransRover, but the ATV had suffered because of the wind. He set to work on it because True wanted to help. At twilight, the Danzigers put away their tools and joined the others near the fire.
The little group practically glowed. Circumstances had not changed: Uly's River still barred the way west, the added worry of inaccurate maps still nagged them, and a wild man still roamed the forest. But they were all together, safe.
The arrowhead was examined by the scouts. Alonzo studied it for a long time. Something about it...what? Finally the dreamer passed the object back to Devon. Whatever 'something' was, he was having as much success pinning it down as he would have rolling fog up like a blanket. Danziger encouraged Morgan to repeat his story. Morgan had actually grown tired of it, and stripped the tale to its basics. The scouts asked questions, but nothing new was uncovered. Nothing new was decided. The guards handed their weapons to the next shift and went on to bed. It wasn't late, but they were tired. Those free to do so followed them.
True fell asleep as her father told one of the ghost stories she'd missed. He gently fingered a braid of straight blonde hair. Funny, how the humidity which coiled his own hair into tight ringlets caused True's to hang limply, straighter than ever. His little girl slept in a thin shirt and shorts, without covers, and still her head was wet from sweat.
John stretched out on his own cot. He'd never missed a night's sleep due to heat until G889. He lay awake, eyes closed uselessly, listening to the night creatures. Something True had said before she crawled into bed bothered him. He'd mentioned finishing up the work on the ATV and starting to search for the mystery man. His daughter had shaken her head. "The Terrians won't like that. They want us to stay far away from him."
"Where'd you get that idea?"
"Uly."
"Devon didn't say anything about it." "We've been keeping it a secret, so the rest don't get worried. But only until you get back."
"Who is 'we'?" Probably the kids.
True hesitated just a second. "Devon and Yale and me and Uly."
"That so? Huh."
Julia was also awake. Alonzo slept next to her on the relatively cool tent floor. Their private reunion had been unhampered by the temperature. In a short time, the rhythm of his breathing lulled her to sleep.
~~Alonzo crouched in a spotless white corridor, carefully opening a panel. He pulled it from the wall slowly, silently. Once inside the shaft revealed, he replaced it, secure enough to hold until he kicked it out. There was room to wriggle thru on his belly, feet first; suddenly, the passage widened. Alonzo turned and crawled on his hands and knees, and counted the branching passages. Eleven. This was it. Again on his belly, he squirmed to another panel. It was a bit more difficult to open; he persisted and caught it as slipped from its frame. Out, into the room, heels clicking on the floor. Here, this one. He unlocked the drawer. Inside, a bewildering matrix of chips and conduits. Painstakingly, Alonzo cut away one particular little electronic sensor. He replaced the drawer, locked it, and...
Alonzo stood next to a cot in which a slender young man slept. He picked up the pillow in the floor and carefully placed it over the man's face. It was so automatic, like he was watching someone else.~~ 'I'm dreaming,' he thought, and woke.
The pilot got up and wandered out for a drink. Outside, the dream dissolved as if moonlight was a solvent. Baines, on guard again, nodded at him. Alonzo saluted him with the cup of water.
The Terrians hadn't contacted him in over a month. Now this, and it was weird. He couldn't remember how, but the dream was different. It was gone, leaving only a feeling of urgency.
DAY 12
BASECAMP
The sun came up gloriously, monarch in a cloudless sky. It stretched out its rays, touching the mountaintops, the plains, the creatures of the plains. It caressed the Eden camp, embracing each member tenderly, holding fast to each. Yes, it was going to be another hot day. All day long.
Devon approached Alonzo before breakfast, and asked to speak with him privately. A little beyond camp, she stopped, faced him and got right to the point.
"When was the last time you heard from the Terrians?" The pilot himself wasn't sure. Last night? He told Devon the truth, but not all of it. "I haven't been on the Dreamplane in weeks. Why?"
"Uly." Devon lowered her voice, tho' no one was within hearing. "Yale overheard him talking with True the day van Heslin saved Morgan's life. The Terrians evidently have some connection with the man."
"Yeah? The Terrians have some connection with everyone we've met on G889, except the ZED. I think it's normal."
"I wasn't aware of a link with Elizabeth and Bennett." Alonzo shrugged. "Okay, Devon, the Terrians have a connection with almost everyone." He grinned conspiratorially. "You haven't told anyone else, have you?"
Devon folded her arms across her chest and stared at the ground as if a Terrian was due to pop up. "No. It may simply be Uly's imagination. I need you to contact the Terrians and confirm what he's told me."
"Whoa, wait a minute!" demanded the pilot-cum-dreamer. "Do you expect me to jump right in, walk up to the nearest Terrian and ask, 'Hey, do you know a guy named van Heslin?'"
"Well, I--I suppose not," she said to the ground, "but you can contact them, find out *something* about the situation. What kind of connection they have with van Heslin, and how it affects us."
Alonzo thought for a moment. "Just what did Uly have to say?" he asked cautiously.
Devon looked up at him. "Uly feels they don't want us to find him, and they want us to leave. He doesn't know why."
"And you want me to find out *why*," Alonzo deduced. "If you can, yes," Devon said reasonably. "Yeah. Yeah, it sounds like something we need to know." They walked farther from camp, Alonzo leading. It was wasted effort. The pilot received no more response than if he'd been trying to contact the stations.
Danziger, shirtless in the heat, was fiddling with the mysterious innards of the ATV. He caught Devon's eye as she and Alonzo returned to camp, but said nothing and continued with his work. Devon fully expected him to say something at breakfast. She couldn't imagine True not telling John about Uly's warning. The mechanic didn't bring it up--no one did--and he went right back to work after eating.
Devon felt oddly put out. She'd mentally gone over the inevitable confrontation with him several times, and had developed some very convincing arguments in favor of waiting until they knew more before seeking van Heslin. The woman joined Bess and Julia on the 'whiteroot preservation project' for a short time, leaving them when Yale brought her a new map he'd draw up. She retired to the privacy of her tent, sat at the table to study Yale's latest cartographic masterpiece, and began chuckling to herself. The walls of each inhabited tent were rolled up to admit any breeze that chanced by. Privacy, indeed.
The temperature continued to climb. Dr. Heller grew concerned; they'd arrived in autumn, survived winter, and had Devon not fallen ill, would have enjoyed spring; would the summer be so hot as to make parts of G889 uninhabitable? Specifically, this part? It wasn't yet midmorning. The temperature was 92 F., the humidity was 87%. After the fifth person complained of a headache, Julia checked everyone for signs of heat exhaustion, a condition she'd studied but never expected to diagnose. She concluded that they were in more danger from the heat than from a possible maniac who likely wasn't anywhere near them. Still, the doctor expected to hear arguments against going to the river, at least from the nonaquatic members. Only she, Devon and the Martins could swim (Morgan having acquired swimming licenses as soon as his status in the hierarchy permitted). Yale pointed out that the air would be cooler near the water, so there was no opposition. Most of Eden Advance, damp cloths draped over their heads, trudged down the hill, zig-zagging from shade to shade. Julia paid close attention to Yale and the children. Yale was old, and the children were too active.
Devon reluctantly stayed at camp. If True had said anything, if John had any questions...she left her map and brought him a cup of water. "Hi."
Danziger looked up her through a few stray curls of hair. His hands were greasy, and he futilely tried to blow the hair out of his eyes. Tossing his head back didn't work, either.
"I thought you might like some water," she said unnecessarily, offering him the cup.
"Thanks." He accepted the water and drained the cup. Devon noticed a canteen on the seat of the ATV. She picked it up and shook it. Nearly empty.
"I'll refill this for you."
"Yeah, thanks." John watched her walk away. Actually, he watched a certain portion of her walk away. Devon was wearing shorts. She almost never did, but it was nearly 100 in the shade. He turned back to his machine, flushing a bit. Evidently, the heat was getting to him.
All too soon, bare legs stopped inches from him. "I'll leave this here," she said, placing the dripping canteen back in the ATV.
John looked up through his hair again. "Appreciate it." Another ineffective toss of the head. Devon impulsively reached down and pushed the curls back. Her own action startled her. How long did she stand there, fingers caught in the damp blond hair? Only a second or two, surely. Slowly, trying to hide her selfconsciousness, she pulled back the willful hand and let it drop to her side.
His face was unreadable. Sweat trickled down, along his neck, and his chest. Devon abruptly stepped away, mumbling about getting back to the map. She started toward her tent.
"Devon."
She stopped and turned around, not knowing what to expect. John closed the distance between them, taking two steps where she'd needed four. "Thank you," he said softly.
Devon looked a bit confused. For what? Pushing his hair out of his eyes? "You're welcome."
John hesitated. He had to say something, offer some explanation, anything plausible. "I really appreciate your looking after True for me. It really means a lot, having someone I can trust taking care of her."
Devon grinned up at him, back on solid ground. "I know exactly what you mean, Danziger."
He grinned back. "Yeah. Well, I'm about finished with the ATV. Got to get back to work." The grin vanished as soon as he turned his back.
The mechanic took up his tools; as he worked, he silently berated himself. He shook his head, remembering her delicate fingers. Thanks, Adair. Thanks for reminding me I'm Danziger and you're Adair. Almost, just almost, he'd thanked her for 'being Devon'. No telling what she'd have read into that. John pinched a finger and instinctively stuck it in his mouth, grease and all. Yeah, right, thanks for being Devon. Thanks for dragging us across a continent. He scowled at her, studying that useless map. Thanks for wearing those shorts and little else. He picked up a rag and wiped his mouth, then his hands, and checked the injured finger. Blood blister. Thanks, Adair, for helping me keep my mind on my work.
John leaned his head against the little vehicle. Baines, listlessly passing on his way to scrounge for lunch, spoke. "Hey, man, is the heat getting to you?"
Danziger lifted his head and smiled crookedly. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess it is."
The ATV was repaired early in the afternoon. John ate a quick lunch--the heat killed his appetite, but his body needed fuel--and told Mazatl he was going on a test run. Mazatl thought it strange Danziger bothered with gear on a test run, but figured he was being cautious because of van Heslin. Had to be. He also took a MagPro.
John returned at dusk. Once away, he'd informed Camp that he would take a look around, see what he could see. Devon was livid. She'd torn into Danziger for making an 'unauthorized search'; he'd turned off his gear. Mazatl knew Devon had made a mistake using the word 'unauthorized'; he pointed it out to her.
The hot, irritable woman snapped at him. "Danziger has no business out there. He has no idea..." She pursed her lips, then said patiently, "Uly feels that the Terrians don't want us searching for van Heslin."
This put a different face on the matter. Maybe John should have talked it over with Devon first. Stationside, Mazatl had scoffed at ESP and the paranormal, alarming his relatives with his lack of respect for the spirits. Here, he'd seen too much weirdness; it seemed that there was no paranormal. And there certainly were spirits. The ops man accepted Uly's 'feelings' as readily as data from Yale's files. "Yeah? Why?"
"Uly doesn't know. This morning, Alonzo attempted to contact the Terrians and clarify the situation. They didn't respond."
Mazatl neatly folded the cloth he'd been using to wipe the sweat off his face and neck. "I'll talk to John, tell him what Uly said."
John figured that if the diggers didn't want him out there, they'd let him know. No Terrians erupted to prevent his snooping around. He kept searching, and found absolutely nothing. Finally, hot and tired, with nightfall approaching, the frustrated man returned to camp.

CHAPTER SIX
AUTHORIZATION

DAY 12
BASECAMP
Baines was puzzled by the intensity of Adair's anger at Danziger; Mazatl enlightened him. They agreed it was best not to question Devon about her little revelation; probably Yale knew as much about it as she did, so the men waited for him to return to camp. They allowed him time to recover from the upslope trudge before asking him if he could elaborate on the Terrian/van Heslin thing. The cyborg suggested it be discussed during supper, as the matter was of concern to the entire group. He did tell them what Devon had not: they weren't welcome in Paradise.
When Danziger returned to camp, he found the group digesting both the meal and the message. Why did the Terrians want them to keep away from van Heslin? What kind of maniac was he? Why weren't the Terrians responding to Alonzo? Since the Terrians didn't want the Edenites in the area, just what were the borders of 'in the area'? Which way should they go? It seemed unlikely they'd be permitted to backtrack. What if they got boxed in? They could lose months.
Devon and Yale initially sheltered Uly from the questions, but the boy enjoyed telling what he knew, and then some. Most of the travellers realized he was embroidering a bit, in spite of his mother's efforts to keep his imagination in check. Eden group shifted its collective attention to Alonzo, obviously expecting him to shed some light on the situation. Alonzo had to fend for himself. He could get to the Dreamplane, but no one answered him. This didn't satisfy anyone, and they muttered among themselves, rehashing the whole mess. Those among them who wanted to settle in "Paradise"--after New Pacifica was readied for the colonists, of course--were genuinely disappointed. Alonzo sat in silence and wondered if the unresponsiveness of the Terrians and the unusual dream were related, but he kept the thought to himself. Perhaps he was a bit like True, not superstitious, but fearing deep inside that once the words were out, they'd become real.
True scolded her father for sneaking off. Since he didn't mention already knowing what Uly said, neither did she. No point in getting into trouble you could avoid. Devon, it appeared, had gotten into trouble by not telling everyone sooner. People were mad at her. Morgan was really upset because he'd been first to meet van Heslin. True could understand that; Morgan felt like she did when Uly took over a game she'd made up, adding new rules and stuff. It wasn't fair.
The girl yawned, then glanced at her dad to see if he'd noticed. He was busy eating and listening to the discussion. True pulled her knees to her chest, wrapped her arms around her legs, remained in that position only long enough to feel the sweat accumulating wherever her skin hit skin, and unwound herself. She flung belly down on the grass. It was cool. Yale would know why. He always answered her questions; he didn't make a fuss about it, or make her feel like a kid. Yale was a good teacher, really. If you had to have lessons, a personal tutor was the only way to go. Even if he was someone else's tutor. Uly sure could be a know-itall sometimes. Like now. True rested her head in her hands, elbows digging into the soil, and looked at Uly. The little boy was basically holding court, the toy lightning stick a scepter. That would make Yale his counselor, and Devon the queen mother. The queen mother was speaking now, and, since everyone else had gotten quiet, True abandoned her musing in favor of listening.
"Therefore, tomorrow," Devon was saying decisively, "we'll begin stocking up on those vegetables and fruits we can preserve. The vining berries can be dried...? she looked to Bess, who nodded and added "And the pods". Devon thanked Bess and continued 'briefing' the group. "It's likely that van Heslin will avoid us; if he approaches anyone, please do nothing to alarm him. Do ask him about the river. If anyone sees him, and he does not approach, leave him alone." She stared pointedly at John, then surveyed those in attendance. "If we aren't perceived as a threat, he may grow curious and come to us."
Danziger snorted. He figured the man had had plenty of time to 'grow curious'; he'd come within 2 1/2 miles of camp, probably closer, before they knew about him. Van Heslin didn't want anything to do with them. Good, except he *had* to know more about the area than they did. His ability to disappear proved that. It didn't occur to John that he himself, stationborn and bred, might not be much of a tracker.
"All materials and supplies we don't need day to day can be packed," Devon said. "We don't know how long the Terrians will allow us to stay. I think it prudent to be ready to move out on a moment's notice."
Everyone agreed with her on that.
"Needless to say, there will be no more active searches for van Heslin. Agreed?" Once again she surveyed the group. They, in turn, discreetly and not so discreetly, looked from her to the mechanic seated off to her left.
"Agreed," said Danziger. He wasn't sure what an inactive search was, but figured he could work it out before morning.
Julia spoke up. "Bess and I will continue our preservation research. Whichever direction we go, we have to eat."
"Thank you. I appreciate all the time and effort you're putting into the project. Both of you."
"I think we may be getting close." "That's good, very good. Thank you, Julia." Devon smiled and focused her attention on wrapping up the discussion.
Alonzo put his arm around the doctor. "For one breathless moment, I thought you meant you and I may be getting close," he murmured.
Julia interlocked her fingers with his. "We may." "I would certainly appreciate all the time and effort you can put into the project," he promised.
The pretty doctor blushed, a pretty blush wasted in the moonlights. She was no prude; at the stations, Julia had indulged in her share of encounters. But that's all it had been, indulgence, simply using a man. But Alonzo was so different. Being with him was important. He really wasn't the best lover she'd known; he was, however, the man she'd stay with even if he wasn't a lover at all. Julia smiled into Alonzo's eyes. But he was. She freed her hand and started away, saying something about reviewing the days' research before turning in.
Cameron and Baines exchange knowing glances. "Yeah, research," Baines said under his breath.
Sure enough, in a short time, the pilot trailed after her.
Morgan and Denner stood first guard during the night. The others slept, some sooner, some later. Almost all eventually woke during the night and pulled blankets over their cots. Bess slept soundly because her husband covered her when he returned to the tent for a jacket. Devon placed extra covering over her son, tenderly smoothing the wrinkles and folds. He stirred, halfwaking and observing that it smelled like rain, then slipped back to his little boy dreams.
Devon stood just outside her tent, wrapped in a reflective blanket, inhaling as deeply as her lungs permitted. The air did carry the scent they'd learned to associate with rain. She regarded the sky apprehensively. A few starry patches twinkled, and light from the larger moon was diffusing thru the clouds. Just a shower, then. Surely there weren't enough clouds to bring a downpour. As Devon turned to go back to bed, she remembered: weather tended to run west to east on G889. The woman walked the few paces needed to view the plain across the river. Clearly visible were stars at the horizon. Clouds obscured a good part of the sky, but not enough to worry about. She hoped.
"Adair," rumbled from just behind her, startling her. Devon had learned long before G889 how to stifle the reflex, giving an appearance of calm and control which often caused business associates to reevaluate the strength of the beautiful woman. So, poised on the outside and with butterflies on the inside, Devon answered.
"Yes, John?"
"About this afternoon..."
What part of this afternoon? Several of the butterflies iced up and plummeted to the pit of her stomach.
"...I guess I should have said something about leaving." "Yes, you should have," she agreed, all trace of butterflies gone. John did owe her--and the entire group--an apology.
"Yeah, well. Guess I'll go on back to bed." He headed toward his tent.
"You're not on guard?" asked Devon, sounding as if he should be, feeling dissatisfied with his 'apology'.
Danziger held his arms outstretched. "Do you see a MagPro, Adair?"
"No. Then what are you doing out here?" He dropped his arms to his sides and laughed. "Adair. Are you going to bawl me out for 'unauthorized urination'?" John shook his head and walked back to his tent, chuckling.
Devon felt the red creeping up her cheeks. She retreated to her cot, tempted to pull the covers over her head. Why was she so embarrassed? She tried, unsuccessfully, to work up an anger. Devon did pull the covers up over her head, just for a minute. She heard a few raindrops hit the tent roof. The dreaded rain gradually increased to a steady patter and lulled her to sleep.
DAY 13
BASECAMP
The sun rose just as brightly as the morning before. It shone just as unchallenged in a cloudless sky, but the air was considerably cooler. Sleeves and long pants would be the attire for the day. Wonderful.
Devon stepped out into the invigorating breeze...and stopped in her tracks. Every other member of Eden Advance, save Yale, was lined up in front of her tent. She looked around, bewildered. Uly and True were whispering and snickering; Bess shushed them. John was at the tail of the line, Baines at the head. All stood at rigid attention, now that the kids were quietened.
"What is going on?" she asked slowly, suspiciously. Out of the corner of her eye, Devon saw Yale carefully not laughing. His lips were composed, but his eyes gave it away.
Baines stepped forward. "Request authorization to take a leak, Ms. Adair," he said smartly.
Denner immediately stepped forward, and snapped out, "Request authorization to go pee, Ms. Adair."
Magus repeated Denner word for word, but Walman asked for 'pissing permission'. Julia asked for 'urination authorization'. They got only as far as True, who asked brightly if she could 'do number one' before Devon ran shouting to the end of the line.
"John H. Danziger!!"
"Looks like she's pissed, Danziger," quipped Alonzo. "She used your full name."
Danziger left his place in line and ran behind Yale, who'd given up not laughing. Eden Advance had given up not laughing. Devon, who realized joining the fun was by far the best course, chased Danziger from one end of the camp to the other, screaming his name, throwing things at him (which would slightly complicate packing later that day), and, eventually catching him. The kids blocked his way, waving their arms to herd him in another direction. In an effort not to run them down, John tripped over his own feet. Devon fell over him. She quickly, if not gracefully, righted herself and scrambled to her feet.
"John Danziger..."
"You caught me, Adair. I was getting kind of winded, so actually I'm 'relieved'". He cracked up at his own joke.
Devon snorted in disgust. She wiped her hands off on her pants and strode purposefully toward the area of woods designated latrine. "You'll have to excuse me," she said in an exaggeratedly haughty manner, "but I have some personal matters to see to." The queenly woman paused when she reached Yale. "I appreciate your not taking part in that...that practical joke."
"You are quite welcome, Devon, but you misunderstand. I am no longer a young man and chose not to wait for authorization."
Eden Advance as a whole was invigorated by the change in temperature, and set about packing and storing as Devon had suggested. Altho' she'd evidently enjoyed the joke as much as any of them (except maybe John), they were making up for it by 'asking how high on the way up when she said jump'.
Foraging teams went out after lunch, briefed again by Devon on encountering van Heslin. One member of each team was armed. Danziger thought the latter eliminated the need for the former, but didn't bother to argue with Devon about it. If she thought van Heslin would come near them when he saw the MagPros...maybe she'd reached the same conclusion he had, that the man wouldn't come near them under any circumstances. Not alone, anyway.
Morgan buried the latest attempt to preserve whiteroot. It was an unpleasant chore. He packed the earth down on the gray mess as firmly as possible, as if it might crawl out of its grave, then stabbed the shovel into the ground and leaned on the handle. The former bureaucrat stared off into the distance, hands calloused, nails dirty and broken. There was, he admitted reluctantly, a satisfaction gained from even menial chores well done. The Level 4 Morgan Martin would never have lowered himself to wield a shovel. The Level 4 Morgan didn't have the strength to do the job, physically or otherwise. He sighed. If he'd known then what he knew now about his own abilities, he'd have been at least a Level 6. At least. It was such a loss. He had so much to offer. There was so much to take!
Bess hollered at him. She and Julia wanted to get going. The deeper tubers were larger and rather woody, so they ate the smaller ones close to the surface. Julia wanted to see if the woody tubers could be dried and ground into a flour. Alonzo was coming along to carry the gun, and Morgan was coming to carry the shovel. And use it, no doubt; Flyboy couldn't dig up whiteroot without slicing thru half of them. They spoiled fast enough whole.
He pulled the blade from the ground and tossed the shovel up and out a bit, catching the handle at its center of gravity. Good old Level 4 would have cut off a toe trying that.
Danziger joined them on the way back, to Bess's delight. Here was an extra pair of hands to carry extra bags of fruit. She detoured their party to a tree-climbing berry vine they'd bypassed on the way out in favor of lower, bush-climbing cousins. It was laden with fruit from blossom to overripe and all stages between. Bess showed John how to strip the ripe berries off without damaging them and gave him a few tips about recognizing overripe, undesirable ones. She beamed encouragement, patted his arm and said, "That's good, John, that's really good."
"What you ought to do, John," suggested Morgan, "is pull the vine closer to the ground so we can reach those berries."
"That's a good idea," admitted Danziger, and he did, grasping the branch favored by the vine and tugging it downward.
The team scattered around and began picking. Morgan chose a spot near the mechanic, who limited his one-handed berry picking to those he wanted to eat. John figured out almost immediately why the overripe ones were undesirable.
"So, any luck?" asked Morgan quietly. He continued to gather berries, eating the very best, of course.
"What do you mean?"
"Did you see any sign of van Heslin?" "No active searching, remember?"
"We've been traveling companions for several months now, John, and I know you wouldn't let a little thing like that stop you." Morgan looked sideways at him.
Danziger regarded him silently for a moment before replying disgustedly, "Not a thing. The ground's soft-" he demonstrated by jabbing his heel in the dirt-"so there'd be prints."
"Hmm," said Morgan sagely. "You know, I bet we never see him again."
"Maybe not. But if we do, I'd want it to be on our terms."
Devon's foragers had a bit of an adventure. In a patch of woodland, while gathering samples for testing, they were surprised by a pair of kobas. The kobas, evidently foraging themselves, rummaged thru the sack of vegetation True had put down so she could 'help' Walman keep an eye out for van Heslin. When the little girl went back for it, one animal was emptying the sack, sample by sample, throwing away most of them, and passing a chosen few to its partner. True peered through the leaves at them, clapped her hand over her mouth to stifle the laughter and slipped away to find Uly. She motioned for him to follow. He crept up and stared wide-eyed at the dangerous little critters who were so adorably engrossed in scattering three hours' work hither and yon. Probably no one else would have known about the kobas if Devon hadn't clomped thru the underbrush, calling for her son.
The pair of thieves looked up, quickly distributed their haul evenly, and sped off for the denser woods.
Devon grabbed both children by an arm and hurried them in the opposite direction, sending Walman back for the bag while simultaneously scolding the kids. The team returned to camp earlier than planned.
Julia tested their pickings late in the afternoon; nothing in True's bag was edible. Uly and True couldn't understand Julia's surprise. She knew about the kobas. It only made sense that the kobas took the good stuff.
Baines sat in the shade, methodically liberating what Yale called 'burrs' from his pant legs. Yale had given a mini-lecture, informing him that burrs were seeds, and that 'cockleburrs' were the inspiration for velcro. Baines didn't feel exactly honored to have been chosen as transport for the things. Removing them was tedious. They had to be pulled off one at a time. The same barbs that hooked fabric sometimes hooked skin, never deep enough to bleed, but leaving his fingers sore nonetheless. Julia had asked him to collect them--the burrs, not his fingers--in a jar; with his luck, they would not only be edible, but delicious. Well, *he* wasn't gathering any more burrs. He'd show Julia or Bess or anyone else the patch--from a distance.
Magus was in charge of the evening meal, Baines noted. That was alright; she wasn't an artist like the Earthress, but she was coming right along. The stationborn tech looked around for Bess. He snorted. Bess was too good for Morgan, even if she was born on Earth. She was a fine-looking woman, a genuine pleasure to watch, but it wasn't her looks that made her too good for that bureaucratic ass. No, Bess was just naturally classy. She was born with class, not like Devon, who'd learned it. Yeah, there was a difference.
Ouch! Baines studied his finger. Some of the barbs were breaking off. He chewed at them, a thoughtful expression on his face. Bess sashayed from her tent to the kitchen. Her classiness, the tech decided, was to the bone. Devon Adair's was more like a veneer, something she'd bought. Not that she wasn't a good person. And she was almost as easy on the eye as Bess. Baines pulled more burrs off. Most of them were in that jar for Dr. Heller. Baines grinned. One advantage to G889--no ugly women. Every last female he had to look at was good-looking, and a couple of them were undeniably beautiful. There weren't enough to go around, however. Bess and Julia were taken, and Devon would be if Danziger wasn't such a coward. Adair evidently had the hots for him; why didn't John *do* something?
There she was, heading over to him now. Needed to talk business with him, no doubt. Danziger would just keep fiddling with that headset. Like yesterday, fiddling with the ATV. And she'd walked right up to him in a nearly deserted camp. She could've walked up stark naked and Danziger would have kept working on the ATV.
John needed to realize this was a whole new world with a whole new set of rules.
"Any luck?" asked Devon. When John replied only with a questioning expression, she elaborated. "Come on, Danziger, you can't expect me to believe you didn't look for van Heslin."
"I agreed not to, didn't I?"
"And that makes a difference?"
"You calling me a liar, Adair?" he demanded incredulously. Devon leaned against the tree. "No, John, I'm not," she said firmly. And, in a casual tone, "So, did you see any indication of humans other than ourselves?"
"Nah. Nothing. You know, Adair, if it wasn't for the arrow, I'd think Morgan made it all up."
"No. No, he's out there."
"He could be watching us right now," said Danziger, scanning the landscape. "Hiding in those woods."
"I can always count on you for reassurance," said Devon wryly.
"Sure thing." Danziger grinned. "By the way, I hear you almost let my kid get koba'd."
"Uly, too. You know, if kobas weren't so dangerous, it would have been a charming scene." She faced John and said pensively, "They appear to be remarkably intelligent."
"And remarkably poisonous. Nasty little bastards," he reminded her bitterly. Danziger would never forget O'Neill's dying out there in the desert, leaving him alone, with the responsibility of taking the body back. It had been a false death, but the shock had been real.
"Supper's ready," called Magus. She'd picked up Bess's habit of announcing to all within shouting distance that it was time to eat. One day, a Grendler or something would show up at the table.

CHAPTER SEVEN
VISITOR

DAY 14
BASECAMP
Danziger rubbed his eyes. Dawn. He looked forward to a few hours sleep after shift change. He noted Bess, his watch partner, manfully shouldering the MagPro. He grinned. Nearly four hours ago, she'd come out to relieve Morgan. Actually, Danziger felt safer with Bess at his back. That woman had a sixth sense. Came from living on the surface all her life, he guessed. She was planet-smart. The open spaces which in the beginning had the rest of them cowering, overtly or otherwise, never fazed her. She'd seen sky, and vast expanses of land. She'd seen it on Earth, protected only by an ecosuit, and here on G889, the little Earthgirl danced where they, the stationborn, stumbled.
John stretched, shaking his head. Waxing poetic. It *must* be the lack of sleep. He wandered to the side of the TransRover and leaned his weapon against it. He popped the lid of one of water barrels, dipped a convenient cooking pot in, and poured the cold water over his head.
It worked. Danziger shook his head vigorously. He wiped the water out of his eyes with his sleeve, and dug a stray couple of drops out of his ears. As John reached for the MagPro, he heard Bess calling softly. From the tone of her voice, she was repeating the call.
He picked up speed, dog-trotting in her direction. Yes, definitely, he was glad Bess was the Martin at his back. Silhouetted against the brightening sky was a man astride a horse.
"Van Heslin," muttered Danziger, drawing up even with Bess. "I imagine so," returned Bess calmly. Danziger strode toward the man, telling Bess over his shoulder to get "the others". She backed away cautiously several feet, turned and walked rapidly into the heart of camp.
The horseman backed away. John stopped. "Who are you?" the mechanic demanded. "What do you want?" "Van Helsing. *You* have been seeking me." He spoke so softly Danziger could barely hear him. The voice was even, almost toneless. Disinterested.
"Yeah," said John. He spoke loudly, to ensure the others heard. "Van Helsing." Morgan had screwed up the name. "Yeah, we've been looking for you."
Baines and obligatory MagPro materialized at the mechanic's side. A detached part of Danziger figured the man must sleep with the thing. Walman, Cameron, Magus soon followed. Bess returned with Morgan, who now carried the weapon.
Their visitor had staged his entrance well. They were looking into the brightening sun. His features were hidden, as were any weapons he carried.
Walman disarmed Morgan. He and Baines moved out on either side of the stranger, as if thinking with one mind. Danziger stepped forward again. Van Helsing moved back. He seemed intent on allowing no one to approach closer than 10 meters.
Devon joined them, squinting against the sunrise. "Mr. van Helsing, I'm Devon Adair, leader of Eden Advance."
The slight inclination of the shadow's head was his acknowledgment.
Devon continued forward. Van Helsing backed up. "Adair, what do you think you're doing?" Danziger grabbed her by the shoulder, pulling her against himself.
She grasped the barrel of the MagPro. "What do you think *you're* doing? We need this man's help. Are you planning on shooting it out of him?" Devon pushed it--and John--away in disgust. "Mr. Van Helsing, I apologize for the--the reception."
He didn't respond.
Devon shielded her eyes with her hand. The sun was higher; it impossible to look at the rider. She felt unexpectedly defensive. "We've met some nasty characters here. It's made us a bit distrustful."
"I understand." His voice was soft and pleasant. "We'll be having breakfast shortly, if you'd care to j--" "At gunpoint? No." He added, "Thank you." Edenites glanced at one another, relieved at the refusal. Something about the man raised one's hackles.
"Sir," began their fearless leader, "we pose no danger to you."
No response.
"We crashed on G889 several months ago. We're making our way to our original destination, New Pacifica--"
"Evidently not."
"Granted, we have been camped here for a short time--" "Fourteen days." He bit it out with an impatient bluntness, the first emotion they'd heard in his voice.
Danziger's thoughts raced. Van Helsing had been aware of the Edenites at least since they'd camped. John wondered just when he'd begun keeping tabs on the group. Did he have allies? Where? The mechanic scanned the horizon, concentrating on the shadowy mountains.
"I assure you, we had no intention of camping anywhere longer than overnight. Our maps are inaccurate--,"
"Government provided?"
"Ee..yes," Devon admitted, tho' she was strangely reluctant to do so. "We knew nothing--"
"Yes," observed van Helsing.
Devon swallowed her growing annoyance with the man. She glanced at Danziger; he stood between her and the group, wary, but in control. The last thing they needed was for him to act impulsively. The woman turned back to van Helsing and tried again. "In retrospect, yes, I'd say we were naive; it was foolish to trust them. But we are here, and we will be on our way just as soon as we know where to cross..."
She stopped, irritated by van Hesling. She had the distinct impression he had yawned.
Morgan, distressed by Devon's amateur fumblings, pushed past her. The man was even more reticent than he'd been back in the woods. Morgan stopped about six feet from the horseman, slightly to the north so he wouldn't be looking into the sun. The man shifted, but he didn't back away. Morgan felt encouraged.
"Mr. Van *Helsing*," said Morgan carefully, "I'm usually better with names, the circumstances must have muddled my mind--"
"No doubt," said Van Helsing.
A polite, diplomatic chuckle issued automatically from the station bureaucrat. "I must apologize for confusing--"
"Accepted."
Morgan was no more pleased with the interruptions than Devon had been. He did know how to deal with them, tho', unlike Devon. It was just that the people behind him weren't schooled in the intricacies of diplomatic relationships. Morgan was intentionally allowing Van Helsing to establish dominance, and surely Bess could see that, but the camp...they wouldn't know. He'd have to endure the humiliation for the good of the group. Morgan tried again.
"We need your help, Mr. van Helsing. We need your guidance." An entire statement, whole, complete! It was met with silence for several heartbeats.
"Babes in the wood," observed Van Helsing. Several of the male travelers glanced at the women, then warily back to the horseman. They'd misunderstood the allusion. Devon had not.
"Alright, yes, we *are*," she said. "We need guidance." "Exactly," agreed Morgan heartily. "This is new to us. We've learned a great deal on the way, but we have so much further to go, and so much more to learn."
"Go," he said, as if giving permission. "Leave my territory."
Two sentences. Granted, they were short, but there were two separate sentences. Morgan felt he was accomplishing something. Van Helsing just needed the right handling. "Of course! As soon as we know how to cross the river!"
"Build rafts."
Morgan blinked. Van Helsing looked serious. "That *is* a possibility, but we were thinking more along the lines of... fording the river."
Baines, from his southern vantage point, could see no weapons on the man or the horse. He slowly raised the jumper for a closer look. "Uh-huh," he said under his breath. A quiver was secured to the saddle, directly in front of the rider's leg. Evidently Van Helsing was left-handed. And it appeared he had only the most primitive weapons.
Van Helsing offered another solution. "Head South." He looked directly at Baines, who was more to the Southeast. The technician lowered his jumper and very deliberately repositioned the MagPro. Van Helsing turned his attention back to Morgan.
By now, every adult except Yale had gathered to witness the exchange between Morgan and the mysterious van Helsing. The latter spoke softly; no one in the group risked even a whisper, lest anything be missed.
"South," repeated Morgan. "That will be considered, but the way North appears to be much more suited to our vehicles. Even if it were a longer distance, the smoother terrain--"
Van Helsing leaned over toward Morgan, the only real movement he'd made so far. "Northward, the river runs east to west," uttered so softly only Morgan heard. He sat upright.
"It runs east to west," repeated Morgan, for the benefit of the others. "Down out of the mountains. Of course." He motioned, signaling a desire to move closer to the horseman. The man stiffened, then leaned over again. Morgan spoke very softly, hoping van Helsing could hear. "What about the cannibals?"
"North of the river."
Morgan stepped back, nodding. He'd hoped van Helsing would deny they existed. Morgan had nothing else to say. He looked at Devon and shrugged.
"Van Helsing," she said.
His silhouette once again acknowledged her with a nod. Devon couldn't see him clearly for the glare. She walked slowly to Morgan, gauging the effect it had on the horseman. He backed away, reestablishing the distance of approximately ten feet.
"Devon," said Morgan softly, putting up a warning hand. She felt like she was like trying to capture a wild animal. This man was nothing like Gaal or Shepherd's flock, so far as approaching other humans went. Whether he feared them or abhored them, he wasn't interested in their company. Devon decided to consider that in his favor.
"Mr. van Helsing, our maps are inaccurate. The river isn't even on them. If you could just give us any information you have about the area,--" she pleaded.
"Follow the river South."
Devon tried again. She rephrased, offered explanations, offered payment (at which he laughed aloud, an incongruously merry sound); she attempted to reason with him; his response didn't vary. Build rafts, or follow the river south. Morgan fared no better. Danziger's entry into the discussion caused van Helsing to turn and ride away. Devon vetoed stopping him or following. Even so, only the possibility of being led into an ambush stopped Danziger and Walman.
Danziger was still mulling the name over, examining it from all sides, as it were. Van Helsing. It was an unusual name. He was certain he'd heard it before. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
"Yale," he called.
The older man said something more to the children, probably about being realistic concerning horses, smiled, and answered Danziger's summons. "Yes, John. May I be of some assistance?"
"Yeah, thanks." Danziger crossed his arms and tilted his head to one side, eyes narrowed. "Does the name 'van Helsing' mean anything to you?"
"Van Helsing?" echoed the older man. "Yeah, Morgan got his name wrong. 'Van Heslin' is 'van Helsing'."
"Indeed." The tutor considered briefly. He smiled and gently chided Danziger. "John, a teller of ghost stories such as yourself should not have to ask about 'van Helsing'. Have you not read Dracula?"
Danziger stood very upright as the realization hit him. "Doctor van Helsing. The vampire killer."
"I can search my files for other references, if you wish." Danziger shook his head. "Naw. Don't worry about it. Thanks, anyway." He strode away, feeling sheepish.
Yale stood, a finger over his lips, thinking. His curiosity had been piqued.
There was, of course, but one topic of conversation at breakfast. They reviewed everything about van Helsing from his savage appearance to his aristocratic disdain for them. A number of the 'socially disadvantaged' Edenites were rather ashamedly gratified to see Devon treated like a slow-witted child. Nothing personal; just amusing to see one of the elite experiencing what they had all their lives.
Uly and True ran the topic of horses into the ground. They'd seen from the safety of camp a gigantic animal, all but breathing fire. In truth, van Helsing rode quite an average horse, 15 hands high; the man's small stature made the animal seem larger. That didn't matter to the kids; a horse is a horse, and for most of the day, so were they, galloping and prancing throughout and around camp.
Among the adults, the excitement of van Helsing's visit wore off by midmorning. Foraging was limited to the immediate vicinity of home. Most effort was given to preserving what they already had: peeling and slicing the vegetables suitable for drying; culling out the underripe or overripe berries; and splitting some of the tart pods. Bess wasn't sure whether they'd dry completely if left whole. Those who weren't risking their lives foraging sat around a canvas sheet piled with berries, putting the good ones in a pan, and tossing the bad ones over their shoulders. Some of the best were popped into mouths. Uly and True galloped by from time to time to get a handful from the culled pans. They didn't take too many at once, lest they be forbidden to take any.
Devon suggested the topic of van Helsing be dropped until later. It was interfering with people's concentration. Some jobs would have to be done over, especially in the berry culling. She'd emphasized her point by pouring a 'culled' pan out on the canvas sheet. The topic was dropped.
Baines, Danziger, and Walman rigged a dehydrator of sorts. The device was placed centrally in a tent. Whatever could be used as a rack or tray for the food, was. It worked. By evening, the camp smelled wonderful. Bess, Magus and Denner passed out samples of the raisin-like dried berries, which were sweeter, and samples of the split pods, which were, to put it mildly, tarter. Bess, Magus and Denner kept this to themselves. They were greatly amused by the reactions of their companions.
Cameron acted as if nothing unusual was happening to his salivary glands. Maybe he'd gotten a mild one. Maybe he just didn't want to alert the others, since he was first. Danziger, Walman, and Mazatl spit the stuff out; they'd been 'greedy' and taken large pieces. Everyone else managed to swallow it, tho' a few tongues seemed to momentarily forget their role in the operation. The kids had sensed something was up. They didn't eat any until after all the adults had, and then they nibbled off tiny bites. The pods were pretty good that way.
"It's quite astringent," commented Yale, blinking. "Quite!" agreed Devon. She rubbed her jawline. Alonzo cleared his throat. "That's powerful stuff!" Bess, Magus and Denner kindly gave their friends all the water they could drink.
"Well," chirped Bess cheerfully, "shall we eat supper?" "Is it safe?" Morgan snapped.
His lovely wife took his hand. "Oh, Morgan. Would we do something like that again?"
Still, only Bess, Magus and Denner ate with no qualms whatsover.
DAY 14, EVENING
BASECAMP
As the sun sank lower, so did the mood in camp. By the time the stars were out, Eden Advance was tense, alert. With no distractions, van Helsing dominated their thoughts. The children were put to bed. Several of the adults sat together in the dark, idly watching the bugs flying around the few lights scattered just inside the perimeter. The Edenites called them 'moths', altho' there were several unrelated species and none of them resembled what an entomologist would call 'moths'.
"The man's hiding something," Danziger said. "Of course he's hiding something, he's a penal colonist!" Morgan sounded exasperated.
Yale spoke. "His crime could be anything from offending a member of the Council to murder."
Magus shuddered. "Gaal," she muttered. "Yeah," said Danziger. "We're better off assuming he's a murderer."
This was seconded by most of the group. Yale said thoughtfully, "He does not appear psychotic, or even particularly dangerous. With Gaal, there was always a feeling of mistrust."
Danziger jerked around and faced the tutor. "Are you saying you trust this guy?" It wasn't quite a shout, but it did bring Devon out of her tent. She scolded John for disturbing the children and settled herself next to Yale.
"No, John, that isn't what I meant at all. Gaal was too eager to befriend us, thereby arousing suspicion. Yes, he had been isolated for a very long time, but such extreme isolation usually results in the desire to maintain a distance from others." He looked at those seated around him. "Are you familiar with the story of Robinson Crusoe? The novel is based on the experiences of an actual man, marooned alone for years. He returned to his island after finding life in civilization unbearable."
"And because Van Helsing is unfriendly, he's trustworthy?" asked Baines doubtfully.
The general consensus was "no".
Dr. Heller offered a reason for van Helsing's aloofness. "He may fear us as possible vectors."
"Yes," agreed Yale. "That could very well be it." "'Vectors'?" echoed the pilot. "V-e-c-t-o-r-s?" It sounded like the doctor's 'vectors' had nothing to do with direction.
"Disease carriers," defined Julia. "Like mosquitoes." "Yeah? Yeah, that makes sense," said Alonzo. "But he was exposed to Morgan's blood," Bess said. "And maybe it made him sick," suggested Danziger. He smiled at Morgan. "Think so, buddy?"
"How should I know?" Morgan answered sourly. Walman repeated Danziger's statement. "He is hiding something. It may be his past, or it may be something else. He certainly wants us out of his 'territory'." He looked at the others meaningfully.
Agreement murmured through the group. Baines put forth a theory. "Where'd he get that horse? There may be a whole herd of them in these grasslands. And we could use them."
Devon cut short the chorus of agreement Baines' comment had started. "Feeding them--assuming they exist--would present a problem if we encounter more desert." Not 'when', as she'd thought before learning the maps were misleading.
"But we could use them until then and release them where they can forage," said Magus.
"I didn't see any manure out there a horse would've produced," said Cameron.
"You didn't see any manure, period, or you wouldn't have kept stepping in it," observed Alonzo.
"Y'all are assuming we can persuade Van Helsing to tell us where they are, and how to get them, and how to tame them, and how to make bridles, for that matter," Bess pointed out.
"Yale has the specs for bridles and saddles," said Magus. Yale and Devon attempted to halt the discussion on the pros and cons of horses and their procurement--not to mention what they'd make the saddles and bridles from--but it grew louder and more heated as it progressed, until a barefoot Uly wedged his way between Devon and the cyborg, asking eagerly, "We're getting horses? Mom, can I have one of my own?"
Sudden embarrassed silence. The adults, for the most part, became fascinated by the flames. Sheepishness descended like a cloud of gnats. Danziger, who'd sat amused and not joined an argument over imaginary horses, laughed tiredly. He was rescued from a collective glare by True. She placed a small hand on her dad's shoulder and demanded to know, "What's going on?" If Uly was getting a horse, she was getting a horse. No ifs, ands or buts.
"True, you're supposed to be in bed," said Danziger. "Uly's up," replied the ten-year-old, who still held on to the childhood fantasy of fairness in life.
"Uly is supposed to be in bed, also," said Devon, giving her son a look.
"But what about the horses?" whined Uly. "Yeah," said True, knowing instinctively that there is strength in numbers, and with whining kids, the whole is much greater than the sum of its parts.
Danziger pulled his girl in for a quick hug. "We don't know that there are any horses," he said gently.
"Van Helsing has one," said Morgan. He could whine with the best of them, having had ample practice.
Devon and John stared him silent.
"Come on, Uly, back to bed," said Devon as she rose to escort him back to their tent. "Good night," she said. "It's been an eventful day. We all need to get some rest." Which, in effect, was telling the others to go to bed, also.
Devon tucked her son in. She lay her hand atop his head, marveling at the serenity and contentment being with her little boy gave her, even in the most uncertain of times. A lock of his hair wrapped around her finger. Her thoughts drifted maternally, and Devon remembered how unsure she'd been when first nursing him, afraid he wouldn't get enough nourishment. An ancient nurse had told her to let Uly hold her finger when she fed him. The tiny fist grasped tightly, loosening when his belly was full.
"He's really old," said Uly.
"What?" The newborn Uly vanished into memory as Devon tried to follow the nine-year-old's line of thought.
"Mr. van Helsing. He's really, really old." Devon smiled. "Morgan thinks he's about thirty-five or forty; that isn't old, Uly. Yale is nearly twice that age."
Uly frowned. "He's old, Mom," he insisted. "He's older than Yale, or Alonzo, even. He's the oldest person I've ever seen."
"Do you think maybe he's a sleep-jumper?" Uly considered this for a moment. "I don't know. I guess he could be. But I don't think so. He doesn't feel like Alonzo."
"Oh. I see," said Devon. 'Feel like Alonzo'? What was her child sensing? Was this another gift from G889? She didn't understand Uly's relationship with the Terrians, or what they'd done to him. Were still doing to him? She gave Uly's curls one last stroke. "Good night, Ulysses Adair."
Devon kissed his soft, smooth cheek. In another nine years, he'd be shaving. She wondered if the future nine years would go as quickly as the past nine years. Devon blinked back tears as she prepared for bed. Her son would be the first Syndrome child to have need of a razor. What a ridiculous thing to cry over.
Uly watched the roof of the tent as it breathed. He knew it was the wind, but it looked like it was breathing. He sighed. His mom *didn't* see. She didn't understand. Mr. van Helsing was older than Alonzo, but like Yale was old. Uly rolled his eyes. He himself didn't understand how he knew this. He just did.
Sometimes, being part Terrian was a pain.

CHAPTER EIGHT
REAPPEARANCE

DAY 15
Van Helsing's second visit was not staged to impress or intimidate. Shortly after sunrise, he simply rode down from the southeast in full view of whomever happened to look that way. Mazatl, pulling guard duty, spotted the rider first and announced, "He's back."
Danziger joined the guard several yards beyond the perimeter, as did Baines and Walman. "Looks like he's a morning person," noted the mechanic.
The remaining Edenites abandoned their morning activities and gathered to watch van Helsing's approach. He halted some distance away, so far off those without visual aids couldn't be sure he was the man from yesterday. For that matter, even thru the jumpers, his face wasn't recognizable altho' it was clearly visible. Yesterday it hadn't been. This was the first real look at the man anyone except Morgan had gotten.
Devon stood hands on hips, waiting for their visitor to act. True and Uly trotted up to her. She acknowledged their presence with a preoccupied flash of smile and clasped Uly's hand.
"I don't think he'll come down here," said the boy. "You may be right, Uly," replied his mom. Was her son using Terrian senses, or plain common sense? "Do you have any idea why?"
Uly shrugged. "I guess he's just scared." The boy wrinkled his nose. "I don't think he likes us very much."
Those were conclusions anyone could arrive at. Devon felt relief at her son's inability to provide more information.
"I don't like *him*, either," pronounced True. She crossed her arms defiantly and stared daggers at the distant horseman. "I don't like the feel of him."
"Like father, like daughter," observed Devon. The people around her were beginning to shift restlessly. Two visits in two days was unsettling. Danziger, Mazatl, Baines and Walman, off to themselves outside camp, were talking. Devon didn't like the looks of that private little conference. She released Uly's hand and shooed him and True into Yale's custody. True's first impulse was to balk; however, Devon's wary expression was reflected by almost all the other adults, and the little girl had second thoughts.
"Morgan," Devon summoned.
He nodded, an interesting combination of self-importance and dread on his face. Morgan wasn't stupid; he'd expected Devon to enlist his aid in dealing with van Helsing. That he was capable of a task the others were not, pleased him. That he didn't really know van Helsing, and dealing with the woodsman might be lifethreatening, did not please him. The bureaucrat stuffed his fear into a dark little corner of his mind and joined Devon at the front.
"I don't think he's coming any closer," she said, indicating van Helsing with a tilt of her head.
"Yeah. I can't say I blame him," said Morgan. He looked at Danziger and gang, armed with MagPros and the handgun Danziger had appropriated. "Not with General Patton and the 3rd Army waiting for him."
Devon smiled grimly. "Exactly. Let's go." Morgan raised his eyebrows--he'd expected more time to prepare, more discussion--but followed Devon. She deliberately avoided the knot of men, afraid van Helsing would perceive any contact with them as a threat. Danziger and crew would act on their own, if necessary. She'd have to trust their judgment.
Danziger was not happy with Adair's decision. Just walking right up to that guy, unarmed, with Morgan for protection, was a foolhardy move. Send Morgan alone; van Helsing evidently liked him. A few words, and the men headed out, attempting to flank the stranger as they had yesterday morning. They were not successful. Van Helsing's location made it impossible to get as close as yesterday and still remain under cover.
Alonzo made his way to Bess. She was plainly anxious. He squeezed her arm. "Hey, it's okay. The old man isn't going to hurt anyone," he said quietly.
Bess looked up at the pilot hopefully. "Did you dream last night?"
"No. Not *last* night." Alonzo's face was solemn. The earthgirl regarded the handsome man. Alonzo wouldn't quite meet her eyes. "What's wrong?" she demanded, in a maternal voice that made him feel like whatever was wrong was his fault.
He shook his head. It was hard to lie to Bess; she gave the impression of knowing you were. He gazed at Morgan and Devon, halfway to the horseman. Maybe that's how she bore living with Morgan. "I don't know," Alonzo mumbled, then more surely he added, "But I do know that he won't hurt us."
Bess didn't question Alonzo further. He must be pretty confused, because he certainly was confusing her. Sometimes, what the Terrians dreamed at him was hard to translate, but once Alonzo had figured it out, he'd tell them. She smiled a greeting at Julia, who smiled in return as she approached them.
"Got it," stated the doctor triumphantly, raising the diagloved arm.
"I really don't think you'll get a chance to use the 'glove, Doc," warned Alonzo. "Not on van Helsing, anyway." He said to Bess, "She has an obsession with that thing."
"Just as you have an obsession with ships, Alonzo," Julia shot back, unaware the aside to Bess was intended as humor. "Probably you're right. I won't get to examine him today. But if the opportunity comes, I want to be ready. I don't think he'd wait for me to get my diaglove."
"She's right, Alonzo," said Bess.
Before he could reply, Julia gripped his arm. "They've reached him."
The Edenites tensely watched the encounter, passing the available jumpers from one to another. Yale's cyborg eye served him well. His hearing had no such augmentation; that hardly mattered, as both Devon and Morgan were adjusting their gear. Cameron, peering thru jumpers, announced, "Get your gear ready, they're going to transss...what do they think they're doing?!"
"It appears van Helsing has asked them to remove their gear and they've complied," replied Yale, not answering Cameron so much as informing the others. He watched Devon take Morgan's gear and place both sets on the ground about 30 feet from van Helsing.
Alonzo again reassured Bess. "It's okay, he's just a little paranoid. Wouldn't you be?"
"Yeah." Suddenly she brightened; she risked a glance at the pilot and said, "You know, as primitive as he's been living, I bet he's uncomfortable with technology."
Julia fingered her diaglove. "Primitively", she corrected absently, flexing her gloved hand.
Bess realized Julia hadn't meant anything. Still, it hurt, maybe more because it wasn't intentional. The Earthgirl excused herself and walked over to Yale. Bess felt a sort of kinship with the old cyborg; he was stationborn, but he *was* a cyborg, thus 'different'. Also, he shared her strong belief in God, even if he wasn't Catholic. Yale was awful smart. 'Awfully' smart.
Yale didn't feel 'kinship', but felt no prejudice toward the woman, either. No doubt she sensed it. The tutor had accepted his role as spiritual leader humbly--evidence that he was suited for the position--and from time to time he and Bess discussed their beliefs. She'd surprised him greatly once, when he'd mused aloud, wondering what the Terrians would think of the inevitable missionaries. Bess had looked at him wide-eyed and stated what to her was obvious: "They don't need our religions; they have the same Creator, but every species has its own relationship with God."
Bess planted herself next to the him on the side the kids weren't. Yale assumed it was because, with his eye, he could keep the wife apprised of the situation. "I've seen nothing to indicate hostility on the part of van Helsing."
She didn't speak. She stood tensely, flushed, breathing a bit harder than normal. Yale said, "Your Morgan is a very clever man. He has diplomatic skills which are invaluable."
Bess readily agreed, tho' a bit sharply. "I know. Thanks for noticing."
Yale divided his attention between the three in the distance and the young woman at his side. "Are you upset, Bess?"
"A little nervous. Can you get a good look at them?" She had no desire to explain the true reason for her agitation, even to Yale. He'd think she was taking the grammar lesson too seriously. *She* thought she was taking it too seriously. The potential danger to Morgan must be making her hypersensitive.
"A reasonably good look. Van Helsing *is* savage in appearance. His hair and beard are quite unkempt. The leather apparel is well made, however. The man appears to be calm. Perhaps 'detached' is a more accurate term. Morgan also appears to be at ease. Devon, less so. Van Helsing is, as best as I can determine, speaking only with your husband."
"Maybe he doesn't like women," suggested Magus. Yale nodded. "That might be, although he did speak with Devon yesterday morning. Today, Morgan appears to acting as gobetween; it seems van Helsing will not respond directly to Devon; I've yet to see him even look at her. Morgan is apparently repeating Devon's statements."
"Morgan thinks he's about 35 or 40," Bess commented. "Indeed?" responded Yale. "I would say he is a man of indeterminate age. So much of his face is obscured."
"Do you think he might have been born here?" Magus, Yale, and the kids turned to Bess. "I know he told Morgan he'd 'earned his passage', but we don't have any proof of that. Maybe he's trying to scare us by making us think he's a dangerous criminal. Alonzo and Julia and I were talking about his making them get rid of their gear. If he was born here, he might not have seen a lot of stuff, so...he might not be sure what is or isn't a weapon." Her little audience looked at her expectantly, even Yale. His silence made her wish she'd kept her mouth shut. "Elizabeth and Franklin got to G889 over 50 years ago. Van Helsing could have been born here."
"So?" said Cameron, who'd caught the last of her statement. "For one thing, he wouldn't be a penal colonist," Magus retorted.
"That certainly makes *me* feel better. When he shoots an arrow thru my body, I'll have the consolation of knowing I've been murdered by a first generation native, not a criminal."
"I didn't say he *is* a native, I said he could be." Bess looked to Yale for support. "So he wouldn't know a whole lot about technology."
"You have made a good point," encouraged Yale. "We may yet encounter adults born on the planet having little or no experience with technology we take for granted."
Bess smiled. Yale was nice. She figured he was so smart, he didn't need for other people to feel stupid. Maybe some of that would rub off on Morgan.
Yale returned to his narration of the scene in the distance, keeping some observations--Devon's reactions--private. Van Helsing persisted in speaking solely with Morgan. Devon's stance told her old friend she was restraining anger. Morgan was looking a trifle uneasy.
Morgan *was* less sure of himself than yesterday. Van Helsing had remained motionless as they neared him, then abruptly spoken.
"Unarmed," he said.
"Yes," agreed Devon. "We want you to see that we mean you no harm."
"Foolish." And van Helsing spoke no more to Devon until leaving; he didn't even look at her. The demand they get rid of their gear was obeyed without question. Morgan endured van Helsing's unreadable stare while Devon disposed of the gear.
"Alright," she said upon returning, "we're beyond pickup range." It was a waste of breath.
"You haven't left," he said in Morgan's direction. Devon informed him, "We are preparing to. It may take a few days; we'll have to scout the best route. I'm sure you've noticed the TransRover is a large vehicle."
Van Helsing made no reply. He stared at Morgan, his face as animated as a statue's.
"We could be on our way sooner if you would give us some information about the area," Devon reasoned.
As before, van Helsing kept his eyes on the man. "We can't just pick up and leave," ventured Morgan. "God knows what kind of obstacles are waiting in that forest." Live ones with teeth, perhaps?
Van Helsing tilted his head east. "That's forest." "It is, and we sent scouting parties ahead to find the clearest paths," said Devon.
"Sometimes we backtracked. The scouts didn't always do the best of jobs," added Morgan.
The man nodded.
Devon considered her next move. For whatever reason, van Helsing would not speak directly to her. Fine, she'd humor him. "Morgan, does he know the extent of the forested land?"
Morgan was tempted to retort he wasn't a mindreader. But he was in this case, so far as knowing Devon's intentions, and he acted as an 'interpreter'. "Do you know how far we'd be traveling thru woodland?"
"Yes."
"How far?" Had van Helsing meant that as humor? Provocation? Or was he literal-minded to an extreme?
"At best, four weeks. At worst, never." "Not how long, how far," specified Devon. "He tends to measure distance in travel time," said Morgan quietly to her.
"But is that the travel time of a group like us, or him, alone?"
"Can you give us an estimate in units of spatial length? Miles or kilometers," he hurriedly added, lest the answer be given in inches or light years.
"Straight thru, 300 klicks."
"But we aren't likely to be traveling straight thru," Morgan pointed out.
"500 klicks. More."
"Once we're thru the forest, will we be able to cross the river?" Devon spoke as if giving dictation.
Morgan repeated her word for word, feeling ridiculous. "If you wish."
Devon closed her eyes in frustration. Communicating with van Helsing was like threading a needle in the dark. "Ask him if he'll prepare a set of directions or a map highlighting the major land formations and any obstacles we need to avoid."
"Will you draw up a map or directions which will help us get thru the woods as rapidly as possible? With the vehicles."
Van Helsing was silent. His gaze glided over the camp. Morgan looked back to see if something was happening there, like Danziger playing hero again. Nothing, just Eden Advance watching the show. Van Helsing tilted his head, Terrian-like, evidently studying the vehicles.
Devon stared as stonily at him as he had at her. The man was an enigma. His hair and beard were wild, uncut, uncombed, yet clean. The clothing fashioned from animal skins was immaculate; the jacket was decorated with tiny shells or bits of carved stone. Or Terrian bones, like Gaal? She couldn't tell exactly. Van Helsing wore boots laced 'round the calves like the Grendlers' boots; unlike theirs, his were neat, the lacing plaited cords of three different shades of green. Made from vines, perhaps.
The quiver suspended from the saddle was as carefully made as the clothing, no doubt filled with arrows even more carefully made. The saddle, the bridle--maybe Danziger was right. Either van Helsing was exceptionally resourceful, or he wasn't alone. Not always.
"I've considered your plight," van Helsing said to Morgan, who thought he heard a hint of sarcasm spicing the monotone. "Tomorrow, we go south."
"'We'?" cried the two Edenites together. Devon asked, "You intend to come with us?"
Morgan 'interpreted' almost before she finished. "You're coming with us?"
"I know the land. No backtracking." Morgan was not at all sure he wanted him in their party. Devon was quite sure she didn't.
"Just like that, tomorrow?" asked Morgan, receiving a nod in reply. "Not at dawn?" he complained wearily.
"Alright. Early, but not dawn." Van Helsing guided his horse back a few steps. He trapped Devon in a cold stare. "MagPros are projectile weapons."
Morgan looked at Mazatl, some distance from them, armed with a MagPro. He knew Danziger and Walman were poised for the attack, too. "I guess that's his way of saying we really *aren't* unarmed." The interpreter turned and watched their self-appointed 'guide' galloping away. Maybe he needed to pack.
Half an hour after they'd reached van Helsing, they were walking back to camp, and he was riding into the wooded hills.
The guards closed in on the diplomats, escorting them. John demanded to know everything.
"We leave tomorrow," said Devon, decisiveness ringing in every word.
"What?" Danziger cradled his MagPro in the crook of his elbow and grabbed Devon's arm, forcing her to stop and face him. Morgan didn't break stride; he felt trouble brewing.
"We're heading south tomorrow," repeated Devon. There was no question she meant it. There would be no arguments, no votes. She attempted to pull free.
Danziger responded by tightening his grip. He looked directly into her eyes. "Adair, have you noticed what lies to the south? *Dense* forest. The TransRover can't get thru. The *DuneRail* can't. We'll have to carve our way." He released her.
"Van Helsing will direct us," Devon replied; she managed to keep the defensiveness out of her voice. "We will have to clear a path in some areas, that's true, and it will mean limited progress at times." She folded her arms across her chest and regally surveyed the crew gathering around. They were as eager as Danziger to learn what had happened. Some, no doubt, would be as receptive. "It'll be hard work, but I have every confidence we can handle it." Devon turned to John again. "I'm sure you agree."
The mechanic frowned. "Adair. He will direct us? The same man who refused to give us a clue about the terrain has been talked into coming along as our guide?"
"He volunteered."
Danziger shook his head. The expression on his face clearly indicated John's feelings about the 'volunteer'. "You want this guy with us?"
"No. But I don't see that we have any other choice." "Cutting through those woods'll take months," Danziger said. "Van Helsing believes we can be at the ford in four weeks, if all goes well. The colony ship will probably arrive before we're prepared, as it is. We leave tomorrow, shortly after dawn. I suggest everyone get ready to roll." She strode away, taking her own advice.
"You're right, Danziger," said Mazatl. "He is a morning person."
John angrily thrust the MagPro at the guard and stalked off. The vehicles needed to be checked.
Alonzo caught Devon as she was entering her tent. "Hey." "What is it, Alonzo?" She was short with him, angry at van Helsing, at Morgan, at Danziger. She was angry at Devon Adair.
"We're alright. The old man won't betray us." Alonzo overlooked her rudeness. He understood it.
"Thank you," she replied curtly.
"Sure thing," responded 'Lonz. He quickly left Devon before she thought to ask questions he couldn't answer.
'The old man'. Uly had said last night van Helsing was old. And now Alonzo. Eden group's two links with the Terrians agreed on something ordinary senses denied.
"Julia!" Devon called.
The doctor was with her in seconds. "Yes, Devon, what is it?"
"Have you attempted to get any readings on van Helsing?" "He hasn't come within range," Dr. Heller replied, slightly lifting her still diagloved arm. She was curious about Devon's interest. Had she noticed something about him? "Why? Does he seem unwell?"
"When you scan Alonzo, how old is he, according to the readings?"
"Twenty-five to thirty. Why?" The astute doctor answered her own question. "You want to know van Helsing's age."
"I'd like to, yes. But the diaglove can't tell us." She nibbled her bottom lip thoughtfully. "Can you adjust it to discern actual chronological age?"
"I'd rather not try. Too risky." Julia sat on the cot. "Is there any equipment we can adapt?" "None that I know of. Perhaps with Yale's help, I can put something together."
"Please do."
"Devon, why are you interested in his age?" "The more we know about him, the better," she evaded. "Don't you agree?"
"Of course." Julia didn't press for the truth. Devon was under a lot of strain. The weight of the responsibility Adair'd taken on showed plainly on the woman's beautiful face. "Devon, Alonzo trusts him. I know, it doesn't make sense, but..."
Devon smiled briefly in appreciation. "Yes, he told me. The 'old man' is harmless."
Julia ventured a question. "Has Uly said anything about van Helsing?"
"He *feels* that the man is older than Alonzo. He *thinks* van Helsing is afraid of us and that he doesn't like us."
Julia pushed a stray lock behind her ear. Devon seemed to be increasingly troubled by Uly's bond with the Terrians.
"I'll talk to Yale," she said.
Thanks to Devon's foresight, Eden Advance was already prepared to leave. The most time consuming task was the dismantling of the dehydrator. It had served them very well, and would be reassembled when another chance came. The failure to preserve white-root nagged at Bess. The plant was more abundant and grew more lushly where it wasn't shaded. Whatever else they'd encounter in the woods, they'd find lots of shade.

CHAPTER NINE
SOUTHWARD

EVENING OF DAY 15
Julia pulled the band from her hair, releasing it from the ponytail. She leaned forward from the waist and rubbed her head, enjoying the feeling of liberation. "To quote Devon, 'it's been an eventful day'." When she received no response from Alonzo, she straightened up and looked at him. "Alonzo?"
He was sitting on the cot, forearms resting on his thighs, hands dangling. He appeared to be engrossed in something on the floor.
"Alonzo, are you alright?" Dr. Heller knelt beside him, gently lifting his head until their eyes met. She leaned close for a kiss, which he returned, but his mind was elsewhere.
Julia sat back on her heels. "Alonzo," she said firmly, "what's wrong?"
"Nothing's 'wrong'," he answered impatiently. First Bess, now Julia. "A couple of Terrians dropped by early this morning."
"Did you discuss van Helsing?"
"Yeah." He gave a snort of laughter. "Nothing else. They want us to leave. Van Helsing...he...I don't know."
Julia kept silent while the dreamer composed his thoughts. "He's...I don't know, he's..." Alonzo rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands and murmured, "Julia, he's different."
"Old?"
"He's old, but that's not it. *I'm* old." Alonzo paused, searching for words. Terrian 'phrases' warbled and trilled through his mind; they wouldn't translate. "Van Helsing isn't dangerous, but he is."
"You could say that about anyone, Alonzo. John, for example. Threaten True and he is very dangerous."
"No, Julia, that's not it...van Helsing isn't dangerous to us, to me or you, or anyone in particular. But he's...bad news for humankind."
Julia restated Alonzo's interpretation so that he could correct her if she'd heard wrong. "Harmless to individuals, but dangerous to the whole?"
Alonzo furrowed his brow, trying to understand, himself. "He won't hurt us, I've known that since I first saw him. He's the one who could get hurt. And if he does, everyone loses."
"No one here is going to hurt him without reason," Julia said reassuringly. She stroked the back of his neck.
He pulled away, shook his head. "Julia, it's deeper than that!" he said harshly.
Julia, rebuffed, sat back. Evidently the much touted 'women's intuition' had been chromotilted right out of her. She went back to what she knew and studied Alonzo's face. He looked tired. "Did you learn anything else?" she asked gently.
He focused on the real world, on Julia. The concern in her eyes elicited a warm smile. She cared more for him than anyone else he'd known. The love she gave was the most valuable thing he had, he'd ever had, something to be cherished, something to be protected...
His expression changed abruptly. Julia rephrased her question, realizing Alonzo *had* learned something important, maybe something that would clarify this mess. "What did you find out?"
"Julia," he said wonderingly. "The Terrians are *protecting* him."
~~Alonzo crouched in a spotless white corridor, carefully opening a panel. He pulled it from the wall slowly, silently. Once inside the shaft revealed, he replaced it, secure enough to hold until he kicked it out. There was room to wriggle thru on his belly, feet first; suddenly, the passage widened. Alonzo turned about and crawled on his hands and knees, and counted the branching passages. Eleven. This was it. Again on his belly, he squirmed to another panel. It was a bit more difficult to open; he persisted and caught it as slipped from its frame. Out, into the room, heels clicking on the floor. Here, this one. He unlocked the drawer. Inside, a bewildering matrix of chips and conduits. Painstakingly, Alonzo cut away one particular little electronic sensor. He replaced the drawer, locked it, and...
Alonzo stood next to a cot on which a slender young man slept. He took the pillow from the floor and held it over the man's face until the struggling ceased. As efficiently as with the sensor in the drawer, Alonzo removed a tiny disc from the underside of the man's upper arm. In the tiny white bathroom, he repeated the procedure on himself. It was more difficult; he was left-handed, cutting with his right hand. An unexpected splash of his blood on the basin sickened him. He leaned his forehead against the cool mirror for a moment and then continued his task. The identity discs were switched, the wounds were sealed. He stripped to the skin, stuffing his garments into the laundry hatch and replacing them with fresh ones from the cabinet. Alonzo pinned the collar studs in place. The reflection...something odd...~~"This isn't me," said Alonzo. "I'm dreaming again."
He jerked himself awake. The sudden movement also jerked Julia awake.
"Alonzo?"
He absently rubbed the underside of his left arm, stray bits of dream slipping out of memory. It left a sense of urgency, as had its predecessor, and added a feeling of confinement.
"Alonzo, what is it?" Juila asked, the concern of the woman outweighing the concern of the doctor. "Terrians?"
"No, no Terrians," He smiled at her and lay back down. "My arm went to sleep." Alonzo kissed her forehead.
"Umm," she replied, snuggling next to him, returning to the sleep she'd not completely abandoned.
The disturbing dream was gone. The dreamer forced himself to lie still, listening to the insects, the wind, Julia's breathing, his own heartbeat. He felt that he must escape, that time was running out on him. No mistakes, no second chances.
DAY 16
Van Helsing showed up closer to noon than dawn, causing even Morgan to grow impatient. The guide was riding one horse and leading another, a laden pack animal. He came closer to the camp than previously, so far as they knew. Morgan and Bess met with him. Morgan left his wife several meters from the man and went on alone. Van Helsing nudged his horse toward Bess, causing Morgan a great deal of concern. He hurried back to his wife. After all, it might have been a long time since van Helsing enjoyed feminine company. Bess hadn't moved, but stood uneasily half-smiling at the guide.
"This is my wife, Bess," introduced Morgan nervously, wondering if the emphasis he'd put on 'my' would offend van Helsing.
The woodsman looked her over. Bess was accustomed to men looking her over, and recognized lust when she saw it. She most certainly didn't see it now. The dazzling young woman relaxed, and beamed at her husband. Danziger looked at his vehicles with more desire than van Helsing showed for her. Morgan, though not as observant as his wife, realized she was a curiosity, an intellectual diversion, if anything.
"You're earthborn."
Bess nodded, smiling. "Yes! How did you know?" "You know how to walk."
Morgan resolved to compare the women's walks to see if he could tell a difference. It seemed more likely that van Helsing had learned Bess was an Earthress by eavesdropping. Even more likely was Bess having an adverse reaction to Morgan's research.
"Thank you," said Bess, flattered, confused more than a little. Van Helsing didn't acknowledge her; she'd been dismissed.
"Travel southeast, along the woods' edge. By dusk, you'll be between two arms of the forest. In the eastern arm is a dead tree, towering above the others. Meet me there about an hour after dawn."
That was all. He left at a leisurely pace. This was to be the routine van Helsing followed day after day, giving directions, describing a meeting place and informing them who was to meet him, and riding on. When the woods were denser and progress slow, he'd meet more often, changing the directions as necessary; when the woods thinned to a parklike scattering or they crossed one of the unexpected 'pastures', putting to flight any grazers which happened to be there, he'd lengthen the time between meetings until the woods began to be woods again. Once, they traveled two days without sight of him. Van Helsing always showed when and where he'd said, arriving shortly after the appointed liaison.
And, as far as most of Eden Advance was concerned, the liaison could have been consulting an oracle, or reading tea leaves for direction. They never saw van Helsing except in the distance, and that, rarely. The guide tolerated the presence of only the Martins, Devon, and, inexplicably and much to the technician's consternation, Baines. He spoke only with the Martins and Baines. Devon had mixed feelings about the snub; she resented it, but his apparent pleasure in slighting her was reassuring, the most human thing about him. Baines' feelings were crystal clear: he didn't like being a member of van Helsing's 'inner circle'. Van Helsing unnerved him, always speaking softly and in a disinterested monotone. And he volunteered practically no information; you had to ask, and had to phrase it just right.
Morgan repeated the instructions to Eden Advance. Most of the group, after two weeks in one place, were ready to move. Some did look back with reluctance, hoping New Pacifica was as beautiful as Paradise had been--with less rain.
Walman felt relief to be on the road again. The nomadic life appealed to him. He drove the ATV, scouting, not for the best route, but for possible ambush. Alonzo insisted they were in no danger from van Helsing. Okay, maybe not, but it would be stupid to let their guard down completely. Even Yale agreed. He'd noticed something interesting about the pack horse: it was a gelding. So, horses were plentiful enough *somewhere* that all of them weren't needed in the gene pool. That could mean more humans. Walman almost regretted scout duty. The walking conversation was bound to be good.
Danziger manned the Transrover. True was in the back with Uly, talking about horses again. If they got back home, she'd never be satisfied with a cat. Despite his efforts to maintain a frown of disapproval in case Adair showed up, John smiled as he remembered True's insistence on a real cat right after waking from cold sleep.
"John!" a man's voice called from right outside the cab. "Yeah, Morgan, whaddya want?" Danziger responded, not attempting to keep the irritation out of his voice.
"Can I talk to you, just for a few moments?" "Okay. I'm listening."
"Do you mind if I ride in the cab?" Morgan asked sourly. "Fine with me," replied Danziger. "If it's okay with Magus." He winked at her.
She grinned broadly and leaned around John for a clear view of Morgan. "Sure, I don't care."
"Thanks." He walked alongside a few seconds before asking, "Aren't you going to stop so I can get in?"
"Nope. We aren't going that fast." Morgan gave him a black look, then disappeared toward the rear of the TransRover.
Magus snickered. "That's mean."
"Yeah," agreed Danziger in satisfaction. He'd have purred if equipped to do so.
Not even panting, rather to the 'mean' driver's disappointment, Morgan appeared at the passenger side door. He pulled his way in, crawled over Magus after losing a staring contest with her, and wedged himself uncomfortably between two potential pickers with him as pickee. He'd endured worse situations.
"Okay, Morgan, shoot."
"If the vehicles weren't in a state of perpetual decay, I would," he said.
"Ooooo," ooooed Magus, sounding insincerely intimidated. "Guess I'd better make sure they always need repairs," said John.
"Danziger, can we drop the kidding? I want to ask your opinion on something."
"*My* opinion?" echoed the mechanic in genuine surprise, looking at Morgan to see if he was serious.
"Yes," the man affirmed, meeting John's eyes briefly before addressing the TransRover's console. "We have our differences and will all of our lives, that's a natural consequence of our differing backgrounds, but over the past months, I've learned to respect you; you're an intelligent man, and a fair man; you weigh circumstances carefully before coming to a conclusion."
"I'm flattered," Danziger lied. Yeah, I'm intelligent enough not to be swayed by pretty words, particularly yours. "Come to the point, man."
"This following van Heslin--"
"Van Helsing," interrupted Magus.
"Thank you," the politican said, favoring Magus with a dirty look before returning to his conversation with the console. "I'm not completely at ease with this. He *did* save my life and all, but...he gives me the creeps."
Danziger was again surprised by Morgan. "You don't seem to have any trouble talking to him."
"Talking to difficult people is my job. Was my job. No, it still *is* my job, as long as 'van' is around. I know how to...be charming, how to ingratiate myself, just as you know how to fix a flat tire."
"You don't like him," observed John. Morgan nodded solemnly. "Me, either. Don't trust him. None of us do."
"Except Alonzo and Uly," amended Magus. "I'm not saying they like the guy, but they both insist he's harmless."
"I don't know," said Danziger doubtfully, "Sometimes 'Lonz has problems with translation. He's not real specific. And Uly's a great kid, but he has too much imagination and he is a kid."
Morgan lowered his voice confidentally, as if someone outside the cab might overhear. "There was no negotiation yesterday. None. Zilch. Van Helsing *told* us, in no uncertain terms, he would lead us out of here. Devon had no input in the decision."
Danziger chewed on that for a few minutes. No wonder Adair was steamed. Van Helsing had usurped control. And here they were, following a wild man into the woods. They'd probably end up felling enough trees to build a raft which would support the TransRover. "We'll have to keep an eye on him."
That will be impossible, thought Morgan. "How? Plant a beacon on him?" he asked sarcastically.
Danziger and Magus both turned to Morgan. Good idea.
DAY 18
During the first days of travel, they offered him clothing more suited to the hotter temperatures than the leather he wore. Van Helsing flatly refused it, as if he knew they'd sewn a tiny transmitter into the shirt. His resistance to heat was greater than theirs, but when the days were smotheringly oppressive, even he wore as little as modesty allowed.
They'd camped at the edge of the grassy area, almost in the woods, and could proceed no further until the way was cleared enough for the Transrover. The day was hot. Thank God, it wasn't especially humid. Progress thru the forest was slower, but it was nice under those trees. Magus figured the men exerting themselves in the woods were cooler than she was. Idly, she scanned the area. Well, how about that? Van Helsing was riding slowly along the far side of the meadow. She focused in closer on him.
He wore only a pair of shorts. Maybe he'd traded with Grendlers, which was unlikely if his professed aversion to them was real, or maybe he'd found a cargo pod himself. Magus snorted in contempt. If van Helsing had found a cargo pod, he'd not tell them. Could he have sneaked into camp and stolen them?
"Whatcha looking at?" asked Denner. She suddenly found herself holding the jumpers.
"It's our faithful guide."
Denner scanned out and located him. "He doesn't usually come this close to camp."
"How do you know?" challenged Magus. "Just because we don't see him, doesn't mean he isn't there."
"Yeah, but I'd prefer to think he isn't." She paused thoughtfully. "He's got a really nice body."
"Well, yeah, I suppose he has."
Denner lowered the jumpers and looked at Magus incredulously. "You suppose? Let's get a second opinion. Hey, Julia!"
The doctor turned from her work; she was trying to design the chronologically accurate scanner Devon had requested. It was frustrating. She was a doctor, not an engineer. Yale graciously helped when she asked. With access to his files, given sufficient time, Julia would be able to produce the device. It might be long after van Helsing was gone, however. Julia abandoned the task, glad for a reason to leave it.
"Is something wrong?" She took the jumpers Denner offered and looked across the meadow. "Van Helsing?" Julia turned back toward camp, looking for Devon. "How long has he been there?" Devon wasn't within sight. Neither were the children or Yale. They'd probably sought refuge in the forest; it was unlikely any of them were inside one of those stifling tents.
"Not more than ten or fifteen minutes," replied Magus. "Take a good look at him," suggested Denner. "What do you think of him?"
Dr. Heller scrutinized van Helsing, realizing this likely would be as close as she'd get to actually examining him. Van Helsing was slender, but his musculature was still impressive. He rode gracefully, a beautiful creature, head high, back straight, stomach flat, the man's physique flawless so far as she could tell. His skin was unmarred by scars or blemishes of any kind. If the hair and beard were groomed, he'd probably be an attractive man. "He's a remarkable physical specimen."
"Is that your professional opinion?" asked Magus. The doctor lowered the jumpers and seriously replied, "Yes, it is."
Magus grinned. "Denner likes him." "I didn't say I liked him, I said he has a good build." Magus continued her teasing. "You said he has a really nice *body*."
Julia shrugged. "I don't see that it makes any difference. He won't permit physical contact." She raised the jumpers again and watched as he moved alongside the woods. He guided his horse toward the trees, then unexpectedly turned it to face them. The hair on the back of Julia's neck bristled. There was no doubt in her mind that he was looking directly at her. Given the distance between them, she'd be one of three tiny figures, not discernable as a particular person. Only, Julia felt that he knew exactly who she was. She felt he could see her better than she could see him. It was eerie. It was unreasonable, paranoid, actually. Dr. Heller slowly lowered the jumpers. Van Helsing disappeared among the trees.
DAY 18, THE NIGHT OF
Devon woke with the distinct impression of being watched. Easing herself to her elbow, she looked at Uly's cot. He was there, dimly visible in the moonlights, his sheet wadded up at the foot of his bed. The child slept soundly in spite of the heat. He wasn't the source of her apprehension.
She pushed back her own cover and swung her feet to the floor, catching sight of a shadow directly across from her. Devon sat perfectly still, holding her breath and widening her eyes as if that would improve her night vision. The shadow remained motionless. Devon gripped the edges of her cot. With a quick movement, she was standing between the intruder and Uly. From there, the shadow was discernable as a man sitting on his haunches, a bow lying in front of him.
"Van Helsing," Devon whispered.
He inclined his head once. With catlike grace, the man unfolded, leaving the bow on the ground.
"What do you want?" demanded the mother. Van Helsing soundlessly crossed the few yards separating them, easing past Devon without touching her, and stood at the head of Uly's cot. Devon tensed, a call for help aching in her throat. Only her son's certainty of van Helsing's harmlessness kept it from breaking free. She watched the woodsman intently, trembling, ready to lunge at him at the least provocation, armed only with her love for her child.
Devon tightly clenched her fists as the guide reached out and almost brushed Uly's cheek before curling his fingers and drawing back. "Changeling," he murmured.
"What do you want?" repeated Devon, unable to keep the angry tremor out of her voice.
Van Helsing retrieved his weapon. His every move appeared to be choreographed.
"Are you a 'changeling'?" she whispered. He tilted his head, mimicking the Terrians; whether from respect or scorn of them, Devon couldn't say. "No."
"What are you doing here?"
On his way out of the tent, he answered her in a barely audible voice. "Testing your security."
Devon followed him within seconds. Van Helsing was nowhere in sight. She anxiously scanned the meadow before squinting uselessly at the woods looming around them. Why was he testing their security? Were there others like him out there? It wasn't logical for him to warn them against his *own* intrusions. He'd had to cross the perimeter alarm, evade the guard, and slip past the women's tent to reach hers. Baines or Danziger would be on duty. Neither was inclined to sleep on the job.
Tomorrow morning, she'd discuss the situation with the group. For now, she needed to be with Uly. The 'changeling', van Helsing had called him. The stranger was aware of Uly's difference. Devon longed to talk with van Helsing. He could have so many answers.
DAY 19
The guide's late night visit with Devon did not improve their relationship. Van Helsing ignored her and he ignored any questions Morgan or Bess put to him about Uly or 'changelings'. He nodded when the discussion on beefing up security was related. If they understood him right, van Helsing didn't expect to encounter other people while in his territory, but he'd not expected to encounter Eden Advance, either. After they'd left his land, who knows? Settlements existed in the west.
Bess's offer of a small pouch of dried berries (the pouch, of course, outfitted with a transmitter) was declined. No one was surprised. She asked him about edible vegetation. He told her they should fend for themselves. Devon and the Martins were exasperated. On the walk back to camp, they let off steam, cursing their guide and developing theories about him.
"It's kind of funny, in a way," concluded Bess. "He's so arrogant. He sits there on that horse, wearing clothes made out of animal skins--"
"When he wears them at all," Morgan broke in. "Yeah, that's what I'm getting at. He's a savage and he lords it over us. And we let him!"
"It's temporary," Devon reminded her; the tenseness in Devon's voice revealed she was biding her time. "We'd better humor him. He can teach us a great deal, but I feel he'll do it on his terms."
"Teach us?" doubted Morgan. "Dragging information out of him is like pulling teeth. He begrudges every syllable of every word."
"He didn't have to show us how inadequate our security is," said Devon. She wasn't defending van Helsing; she was stating a fact.
Morgan snorted. Testing the security system? *Of course* he was. That's why he was crouched almost naked in Devon's tent in the middle of the night.
From time to time, Bess offered the guide other foodstuffs; Van Helsing continued to refuse them. No one even saw him eat, though he was known to forage and to be a skillful hunter. Van Helsing didn't waste arrows. Baines had seen him take a bird out of the air, first shot.
He didn't accept what the Edenites offered and he didn't share what he had. When the lone man brought down a two hundred pound 'ruminant', he took what he wanted and dumped the carcass down a ravine.
Cameron observed this thru jumpers. Scavengers had stripped the animal before he reached the edge of the gorge. Cameron was furious. Good meat, wasted. Van Helsing had intentionally destroyed it. Van Helsing had absolutely no concern for the Eden group. All the man wanted was to get them out of *his* territory.
DAY 20
The doctor had, in the first few days of travel, made several attempts to examine him. She accompanied the Martins until Morgan 'asked' her not to, since van Helsing kept his distance and gave only the barest of directions when he saw Julia. Then, on her own, she tried again. Julia found him sitting cross-legged in one of the numerous meadows that pocked the forested land, stripping threadlike veins out of grass blades, ignoring the locks of hair blown across his face by the hot wind. Doctor and glove managed to get within 30 feet of van Helsing before he jerked his head up. Before Julia could speak, he had risen and nocked an arrow in the bowstring; he held the bow lowered against his leg. Had he been waiting for her? Julia thought maybe she'd sprung a trap.
"I...uh...I'm Julia Heller. The doctor." Julia smiled reassuringly. "You've seen me with Morgan and Bess."
The man lifted his head, flaring his nostrils. "I..." she thought better of telling him she was alone. "We're concerned about you, living out here like this," she soothed, very slowly moving one step closer.
He stood, frozen. Julia noticed his rapid breathing and the tenseness of his muscles. "I just want to make sure you're healthy," she explained gently. She slowly raised her gloved arm. "This is a diaglove; it's a medical instrument. It is not a weapon."
Van Helsing hadn't taken his eyes off her face. His face was expressionless, the eyes flat and cold. But his body, to the doctor's astonishment, told her he was scared. Alonzo and Uly said he wouldn't hurt them; so, was the readied arrow a bluff?
Dr. Heller decided to demonstrate the harmless diaglove on herself. "Look," she said, activating it. Then she screamed, because an arrow shivered in the ground less than an inch from her foot. Julia stepped back, shutting off the glove. She knew he hit where he aimed. Van Helsing had another arrow ready, and the bow raised.
"Go," he advised.
"Alright," Julia said with all the calm she could muster. She backed away slowly. "I'm going. I won't bother you again."
She kept her word. By the time Dr. Heller made it back to camp, she'd pretty much recovered from the incident. She logged her misadventure and waited for Alonzo's return.
CHAPTER TEN
NIGHTMARES

DAY 20, THE NIGHT OF
Julia rubbed Alonzo's back, marveling at how the human body could be so beautiful. Knowing how it worked, what was contained by the smooth skin enhanced her wonder. She ran her hands along his shoulders, kneading the muscles as the pilot forced to play lumberjack sighed with contentment.
"I encountered van Helsing today," Julia began. Alonzo tried to look over his shoulder at her. He grunted as the effort tightened up sore muscles, and resumed the more comfortable position. "Yeah?" Van Helsing wasn't something he'd expected Julia to bring up. "He must be enlarging his social circle."
"*I* initiated contact."
In spite of protests from his overworked body, Alonzo pushed himself up and faced Julia. He was much too pale. Anger and concern vied for precedence in his eyes. "Julia, that is not an intelligent thing to do. He's dangerous."
"You've repeatedly insisted he's harmless." "I've never said he won't defend himself, Julia." "I thought the Terrians are protecting him," she shot back. She decided not to mention the arrows. Alonzo could be unbearably cocky when proven right.
"They are, Julia, but they are not his bodyguards! We don't know this guy, so the less we have to do with him, the better. He won't attack us unprovoked, but we don't know what might provoke him. He's probably crazy."
"No," stated Julia firmly. "He's not insane." She remembered the flat, cold eyes. Van Helsing was, if anything, too sane.
Alonzo inhaled. He slowly released the breath. "No, he's not. He's scared. That's worse."
"That is the impression he gave me," agreed Julia in a somber tone. "It surprised me. Based upon our previous encounters with him, I assumed intense emotions were foreign to him."
"Think he's a chromotilt?"
"That's not likely."
Curiosity prompted a question from Alonzo. "How'd he react?" "He wasn't happy to see me," said Julia honestly. 'Lonz gave a short, mirthless laugh. "I'll bet. How close did you get to him?"
"Not more than 10 meters. The encounter lasted less than five minutes," she added, anticipating the next question. "Van Helsing didn't try to harm me," Julia insisted. And he hadn't; his intent had been to scare her.
Alonzo sighed. "Please just leave van Helsing alone, Julia. Okay? Just stay away from him." Concern had won the battle.
"I will."
"Will you?" Alonzo whispered, eyes sparkling. It was time to kiss and make up, even if there hadn't been much of a fight.
"Pleasant dreams," Julia wished him some sweet time later. She was happily exhausted. Falling to sleep would be easy tonight. The questions and worries of the day were no longer chasing each other through her mind.
"Dreams?" responded the drowsy man beside her. "I don't dream."
"Then I'll dream for both of us."
Alonzo chuckled. "You've been talking to Bess too much. 'I'll dream for both of us'."
~~Alonzo stood next to a cot on which a slender young man slept. He took the pillow from the floor and held it over the man's face until the struggling ceased. As efficiently as with the sensor in the drawer, Alonzo removed a tiny disc from the underside of the man's upper arm. In the tiny white bathroom, he repeated the procedure on himself. It was more difficult; he was left-handed, cutting with his right hand. An unexpected splash of his blood on the basin sickened him. He leaned his forehead against the cool mirror for a moment and then continued his task. The identity discs were switched, the wounds were sealed. He stripped to the skin, stuffing his garments into the refuse hatch and replacing them with fresh ones from the cabinet. Alonzo pinned the collar studs in place. He checked the mirror and saw...
Stars. Hard, bright stars. The ship purred around him. Alonzo left the viewport and walked thru unfamiliar corridors, counting the way to his quarters. Boots rang on metal, a hollow sound. Someone behind him coughed. Alonzo turned, half-waved a greeting to the stranger, a soldier.
He found the assigned cabin/cubicle, dropped his duffle bag on the floor and stretched out on the bunk. He lay there, staring at the low ceiling. After a short time, shouts and the sound of running feet drew him back out into the corridor. Alonzo joined the race for the viewport. The shocked voices of his comrades faded into silence for him, just as the destruction of the station had been silent. He stared, then bolted, his hand to his mouth and forced his way clear, running, hoping to reach the toilet before the vomiting began.~~
"It's the dream again," he thought with relief, and intentionally took himself out of it.
Three dreams. So, disabling the...disabling what? It had worked, and that was good, but--. Alonzo clenched his teeth together. What had worked? Something, he'd done it, everything went exactly as he'd needed it to.
The frustrated dreamer sat up, hugging his knees to his chest, head resting on his forearms, and attempted to recall the dream. The sense of urgency and confinement was gone, replaced by an anguish which threatened to suffocate him. Alonzo held his head up, breathing deeply.
"Oh, God," he said tensely, staring at the tent ceiling. "Oh, God, please, no more."
Julia reached for him, clasping his hand. Alonzo squeezed her hand so tightly she cried out and wrenched it free.
"You said you'd dream for both of us, Julia," he reproached her.
She sat up, alarmed. "Terrians?"
"No Terrians. Stars. It's not the dreamplane. But it doesn't feel like what I remember dreams feeling like."
"Seeing stars could indicate a desire or a compulsion to return to space. You *are* a pilot."
"Not in the dream."
"Alonzo," Julia said, covering his hands with her own, comforting him but protecting herself, "can you remember any more of it? Obviously this dream was a very disturbing experience. And you don't dream normal human dreams. It may be repressed memories surfacing."
"Then I'd remember being a pilot, Julia. I've always been a sleep-jumper. And nothing in my past could make me feel like-- like...I've lost everything."
"Do you recall any details?"
Alonzo shook his head. "No. It got so bad, I just left. I wanted out."
"You left of your own volition?" she asked intently. "You chose to stop dreaming?"
"Yeah. I realized it was the dream again--." He slipped his hands from under Julia's and gripped her arms as if to shake her. "Again, Julia. I've had the dream before."
"Are you certain?"
"Yes. I've had the dream before."
"And you ended it when you wanted to?" "Yeah."
"Is this a lucid dream? Do you control any other aspects of it?"
"If I could control what happens, I'd arrange an entirely different emotional residue."
"Alonzo, maybe you should let the dream play itself out. Maybe you should make an effort to remember it. Once this is out in the open where you can deal with it, there's a good chance the dream will no longer recur."
She didn't realize what she was asking him to do. The 'emotional residue' had been greatly reduced, but Alonzo couldn't forget how strongly he'd been shaken upon waking. How would he be affected if he bore with the dream and remembered?
DAY 21
They'd come to realize the journey south wouldn't be as difficult as it had seemed from Paradise. The forest, as expected, was dense enough to necessitate some clearing or detouring, which cost time and patience. However, the forest was not solid; an aerial view would reveal a speckled pattern of woodland and grassland, the woods predominant. That same view would also reveal the irregularity of the terrain: there were unexpected steep hills and occasional ravines or gorges cut by streams. Avoiding these ate up a lot of travel time. On particularly frustrating days, 15 kilometers got them four or five kilometers further south. Eden Advance meandered across the landscape, sometimes at the river's edge, and sometimes miles away, always following its course south. As the scouts had when traveling north, they made use of the animal trails across the grasslands, and to a lesser extent, thru the forest.
Hunting was good, and easy enough that Morgan brought down a hoofed creature of a size to feed them for three days. It wasn't edible. It grazed on vegetation poisonous to humans, and the poison tainted the animal's flesh. Danziger and his 'gang' acted like Morgan knew the thing was inedible when he shot it.
That night, in the privacy of their tent, Bess convinced her crestfallen husband that the other men were irritable because they lacked meaningful female companionship and were jealous because *he* didn't. She brushed aside his protest that Alonzo had Julia, reminding him Julia was a chromotilt, so she wouldn't be passionate, and maybe that's why Alonzo fell for her like he did: she was a constant challenge.
Next morning, the gang was disappointed to discover their quips and comments rolled off Morgan like water off a duck's back.
DAY 22
Baines scrunched his shoulders up and tucked his head down, looking for all the world like an indecisive turtle. He'd jammed his hands deep into the pockets of his jacket, but his fingers were still cold; the man stood shivering miserably in the rain. Cold front, Yale said. They either burned up or froze. Baines thought nostalgically of the even temperatures of the stations.
He was waiting for van Helsing. Morgan and Devon had been the morning crew. Their guide had named Baines as next contact, early in the afternoon. Baines, alone. Van Helsing had said the tech could bring his gear, which surprised everyone, and gave Baines some comfort.
The tech spat on the ground in disgust. This was the third time ol' 'van' had used him as go-between. Baines fervently hoped they wouldn't be needing the guide much longer. If he could figure out a way to make van Helsing mark him off the liaison list--without endangering himself or the others--he would do it. The man never failed to set Baines's nerves on edge. He was just plain creepy.
A twig snapped and Baines whirled around, searching for van Helsing. He'd materialized maybe 20 feet from the tech, riding one horse and leading the pack animal stripped of its burden. Baines shuddered. How? Van Helsing on foot could have sneaked up and cut his throat, but how did he get so close with horses?
Van Helsing wore a hooded cape much more appropriate for the weather than Baines' jacket and cap. The two men silently regarded one another for a few minutes, during which the tech realized his feet were wet. His socks were squishy.
"Get on," said van Helsing, tugging the saddleless pack animal forward.
"I can't ride a horse!"
"Learn."
"Bareback? How do I get on?" Baines had a dark, heavy feeling he was going to learn, like it or not.
"He's small. Jump, pull yourself up and swing your leg over. This one is extremely docile."
"I think I'd rather drop down on him from a tree," said Baines sarcastically.
Van Helsing shrugged.
"Where are we going?" asked Baines, stalling for time. He didn't expect an answer.
"Hunting."
Baines raised his eyebrows. "Hunting? Hunting what?" He remembered a story about a man who hunted other men, just for the challenge.
"Horses."
Baines hesitated a moment longer, then after a couple of false starts, he managed to seat himself awkwardly on the horse's back. The patient animal stood quietly during the ordeal. Van Helsing showed Baines how to hold the reins, and they slowly rode through the wet forest, pushing past dripping leaves. Soon, tho' not soon enough for Baines, they reached a narrow trail kept clear by wandering herds. The tech engaged the audio transmitter of his gear once he felt confident enough to pry one hand off the reins.
Riding wasn't all that bad, after a little while. The most uncomfortable part of it was, the horse's back had been wet, and now the seat of Baines's pants was. He really missed the ergonomic chairs and complicated consoles of his chosen profession at times like this. Homesickness settled in with the rain, each drop seeming to increase its intensity. Baines sighed loudly. He nearly fell off the horse when van Helsing turned and assured him, "We'll see them soon. They aren't far."
"Horses?"
"Horses," confirmed van Helsing, pointing to a revolting collection of manure disintegrating in the rain in the path directly ahead of them. "Fresh," he observed.
Baines really didn't care to learn any of this. Yeah, it would make a great story to bore his grandchildren with, but right now he was wet, chilled, uncomfortably straddling an extinct animal, and riding thru *fresh* manure.
"Where did they come from? The horses, I mean." "Earth, of course. Parallel lifeforms appear to be the rule rather than the exception, but two identical species developing on two different planets isn't going to happen."
As van Helsing seemed unusually approachable, Baines risked another question. "You have any idea when, or how many and how they got here?"
"When? As long as I've been here, at least. I've seen as many as 20 or so together. How they got here, your guess is as good as mine." The monotone gave way to vehemence. "No doubt the Council is behind it. Soulless bastards!"
Baines was astonished. He, like the rest of Eden Advance, had come to think of the guide as emotionless, an automaton whose one purpose was to see them out of its territory.
"We don't think much of the Council, either," he said carefully.
Van Helsing made no reply.
"They tried to blow us up."
The woodsman said nothing. He did turn and momentarily favor Baines with an honest-to-God inquisitive look.
Yale stroked his beard, pondering the 'conversation' relayed over the tech's gear. There could be a great many reasons for van Helsing's evident animosity toward the Council. Assuming it was real, Dr. Heller could be in danger if her past became known to him. It was unlikely the subject would come up, but Morgan did tend to prattle on. On the other hand, if the man was an agent of the Council--there was no indication he was, but there was no indication he wasn't--well, if he was acting for the Council, it was imperative Eden Advance...deal with him. The question was, how to determine van Helsing's allegiance. The cyborg recalled Julia posing basically the same question: how do we ascertain whether or not the man is hostile? Alonzo and Uly's input served only to muddy the waters.
No one else was interested in figuring out van Helsing's motives just then. Eden Advance was interested in the horses. Each person listened intently on gear; the cold rain kept them in camp, huddled in groups of three or four, with nothing more pressing to do than wait for any transmission from Baines and play cards. Mostly, they heard rain and the sloppy sounds associated with horses walking thru mud. Danziger, short of sleep due to the previous night's 'volunteer' guard duty, grew impatient and stripped off his headset, telling True to wake him if anything significant came thru. He stretched out on his cot and almost at once dozed off.
Baines abruptly shouted, "Hey, guys, you've got to see this!" He flipped the screen out and gave the Eden group its first look at a herd of horses. Resolution left something to be desired; still, they could see about a quarter of a mile distant, 12 or 14 animals grazing in a narrow strip of grassland. It was 12 or 14 times as large a herd as any of them had ever dreamed of seeing. Baines' outcry attracted the herd's attention. Most went back to grazing, frequently lifting their heads to check the potential predators. One abandoned dinner altogether and alertly watched the two men.
Van Helsing sat staring at Baines. Baines was excited enough not to care; he shot answers back to the group as fast as they asked the questions. How many? What color? (from Uly). How many would he be bringing back with him? Did he want some of them to come and help capture the animals? Did they appear healthy? Most of Baines's answers were, "I don't know."
The tech, completely out of his element, looked to van Helsing for help. Van Helsing turned his own horse around and started back the way they'd come.
Baines trailed after him. He had no choice. The pack horse followed van Helsing. "Wait," Baines protested. "Aren't we going to get a few of them, or something?" He nudged the placid animal into a slightly faster walk, coming abreast of van Helsing.
"How?"
"I don't know, you're the expert here!" Van Helsing grinned, white teeth gleaming thru the beard. He laughed shortly. "Those are *wild* horses." He laughed again and urged his horse into a mud-slinging trot.
Baines rode no faster. He--all of Eden Advance, but especially he--had been made the butt of a joke. They could use those horses and van Helsing knew it. So, he'd taken a man out in the rain and shown him the herd to taunt them. Baines ground his teeth in frustration. The questions and demands from camp annoyed him; he jerked off his gear and crammed the set into his pocket.
DAY 24
True scuffed at the leaves, exposing the black earth beneath them. She was bored, not because she had nothing to do, but because what she wanted to do was not what she was doing. It was way too early for lessons; they'd just had breakfast and hadn't had time to explore. Yale was droning on and on. Uly, perched on a fallen tree, swung his feet idly, drumming his heels unrhythmically against the log. A few minutes before, True had been drumming her heels, then Uly copied her. She'd dropped to the ground and begun clearing the humus away with her feet. Yale was talking about it, the humus. How a forest was a 'selfsustaining ecosystem' unless you cut all the trees and stuff down. She'd thought it absurdly obvious that a treeless forest wasn't a forest. But the tutor wasn't finished and went on to talk about humus and its importance. Couldn't have a forest without trees, couldn't have humus without trees, couldn't have a forest without humus--of course not! True gave a particularly vicious kick to the ground and dug up a many-legged, slender little monster. She screamed and leapt back onto the log. Uly peered down at the creature writhing in the dirt. Yale, unperturbed, used a stick to gently guide leaves back onto the thing.
"Come, children, we'd best find another site for our studies," he said prudently. "On Earth, insects and arthropods often protected themselves with venomous bites or stings. This little fellow may have similar means of defense."
True balanced along the tree, followed by Uly, until Yale, with a beckoning finger, silently commanded they jump to the ground. The disturbed bug-thing was a couple of meters away now. There was no reason to keep walking on the upward sloping trunk, except it was fun. Still, Yale expected obedience with the assurance of one able to exact obedience, if need be. He was nice, but tough. True instinctively flexed her knees as she landed on the soft earth. Uly did, too. The girl knew she'd bent her knees because it made landing easier, but she didn't realize her action was reflex. So, to True Danziger, Uly was copying her. Again.
The older child exhaled wearily. What her great-great-great grandmother would have called a 'switch' brushed True's face. Vengefully, she broke it off, a two foot length of narrow branch covered with leaves. One by one, the girl plucked them and dropped them to the forest floor. They could make humus early. She glanced at Uly to see if he was still copying her. He wasn't, she noted with...dissatisfaction. He wasn't *yet*, she amended, nurturing the nasty mood acquired before she and her dad had even left their tent.
True Danziger wanted to search for horses. Her father had laid down the law about that, much as Devon had laid down the law about hunting for van Helsing. Yeah, and Dad had hunted for him anyway. True mulled it over. Her dad was her boss, just like Devon was her dad's boss. Um. Not quite. Devon was the leader, and leaders give orders just because they wanted to...the bright little girl held the naked branch upright and shook it, watching the tip wiggle. They gave orders because they wanted to keep people from getting hurt. Just like parents gave orders to kids to keep *them* from getting hurt.
"Hey, neat!" exclaimed Uly, breaking into True's rationalization. He ran ahead of Yale to a sapling and broke off a branch for himself, which he began stripping as rapidly as he could.
True released another carefully measured sigh. She'd known all along he'd be a copycat again. Didn't he ever think of anything himself?
"I'm not sure you children need to be playing with those, especially in that manner," said Yale. He anticipated a sword fight, and these 'swords' could leave a painful welt. "One of you might accidentally strike the other--or me," he injected with a smile, "and inflict an injury."
"You think we'll get hurt," translated the Quadrant girl. She screwed up her face in the resigned contempt of a child who knows better than the adult advising her. Another sigh, dramatically delivered, and True pitched her toy to the ground.
"How could we get hurt with a little stick?" protested Uly, his face a milder version of his best friend's. He loosely held either end of the branch and twirled it around.
"Uly," said Yale patiently.
The boy looked up at his teacher, sighed softly, and dropped the branch.
"As late as the mid 21st century, children were punished with switches such as these. It wasn't uncommon for the child to be instructed to choose the switch his mother or father would use as the whip." Yale observed True and Uly as his words brought unpleasant images to the kids' minds.
"They got whipped?" gasped True, eyes wide. Sure, her dad had popped her on the rear with his hand when she'd been too little to reason with, but he'd never hit her hard and certainly never with a weapon.
Uly stared down at the switch. He squatted and picked it up again, feeling the tip. He remembered learning about real whips and how fast the free end could be going when it made contact with something. "People hit their own children with these things?" He dropped the branch again, this time with no reluctance.
"In the distant past," soothed Yale. He'd meant to make an impression; had he possibly misjudged how strongly his students would be affected? "We've long since realized inflicting unnecessary pain on children is barbaric and actually not very useful."
"Tell my dad," muttered True. At the shocked look on Uly's face, she hurried to explain. "He's spanked me a couple of times, when I was real little." Like eight. "But he just hit me with his hand. And not hard."
"When a child is very young, a pat on the bottom does help him or her develop self-control."
"Can we talk about something else?" whined Uly. He'd never been hit by anyone, and found True's revelation unsettling. The boy would see Mr. Danziger differently now. Uly didn't doubt Mr. Danziger loved True, but he'd hit her. Wonder why? She must really have made him angry. He'd ask her later.
"My dad didn't hurt me," insisted True, reading Uly's expression correctly. "Do you think he'd actually try to *hurt* me?"
Uly shrugged. He turned to Yale. "Is school over for today?" The wise old man considered. "Yes, I believe we've learned enough for today." He fondly patted the boy's shoulder.
"Too much," muttered True, retrieving her bad mood. She'd nearly lost it to Uly's heartfelt concern.
The trio made their way to camp, the children unusually quiet. Yale gently guided them, a hand on the back of each. Within sight of camp, True twisted away from him.
"I've got to take care of personal matters," she explained. At his nod, she darted off to the privacy of some nearby bushes.
Uly and Yale continued on.

CHAPTER 11
JUST CALL ME PAULINE...

DAY 24
True needed to take care of personal business again. Only, she couldn't. If she'd been a boy, no problem, but girls aren't as conveniently equipped as boys. And there was no room on the ledge to settle comfortably near the ground.
She sniffled. Crying wouldn't help anything. Screaming hadn't, either. The little girl leaned against the steep ravine wall, wishing she had Uly's Terrian ability to pass thru the earth. Her shoulder blades dug against the wall. True closed her eyes. Looking down was scary, a drop of twenty or thirty feet, she guessed, before there was a gradual enough slope to climb, and beyond that, the meadow where the horses had been. From the top, only a few feet higher than her reach extended, it looked like a person could find plenty of hand and toeholds. Climbing down hadn't looked hard, but one of the bushes she'd used for a handhold had uprooted and gone tumbling into the trees below. True thought she'd probably used up all her luck for the next ten years when she didn't follow the bush down. Now, after what had to be *hours* of screaming, the girl was sure she had. No one had heard her.
"I'm scared," she admitted. "I don't like being scared." Talking made her feel better. True decided God must be listening to her. "All I wanted to do was see the horses. No, that's not exactly true," she hurriedly admitted. "If I'd just wanted to see them, I wouldn't have tried to climb down to them." She paused, eyes still tightly closed. "I don't think I want a horse anymore."
God didn't reply. True felt less scared, but she'd feel a whole lot better if He'd do more than listen.
"I just want to go home! I want to see my dad! Make him find me, okay? He's the big guy with the curly blond hair. He'll really be mad, but I deserve to be punished. He can even whip me if he wants to," offered the girl.
It was so quiet. True wished God wore gear, so she could really talk to Him. The thought made her smile in spite of her situation. If she'd worn her own gear, someone would have found her by now, so it didn't matter if God had any or not. She was the one who'd left her set behind.
The growing ten-year-old body, evidently intent on procuring fuel for continued growth even when in grave danger, signaled an empty stomach. True felt altogether miserable. Everything was wrong. She was hungry, she had to pee, her legs and arms were getting tired, and her screaming ability was greatly diminished.
A twig snapped above her. True looked up to see one of those wolf things of Morgan's looking down. She choked out a hoarse cry. The animal backed away. It couldn't have reached her, but that didn't make her any less apprehensive. True kept looking upward, minute after dragging minute. Her neck began to ache. She was getting angry. That was better than scared.
"Get me out of here!" she demanded. "Alright."
True's mouth gaped open. "God?" she asked softly. "No." Van Helsing peered over the edge at her. "Help me up, please," True pleaded, automatically using the puppy dog eyes which melted her father and every other male in camp except Uly.
The man disappeared for a few seconds. He reappeared, lying on the ground, and stretched down for her. True inched one arm up the ravine wall; van Helsing motioned for her to reach for him. She did, determined to appear careful, not scared. He grasped her forearm and motioned for her other arm. True bravely reached up and van Helsing held her securely. True grabbed his arms, viselike.
"Slowly," he said, beginning to draw her to safety. True wasn't interested in taking her time. She needed to relieve herself badly; it would be terribly humiliating if her body took over. The girl stood on tiptoe, her weight bearing down on a stone which supported a good part of the ledge. The stone rocked loose, sifting dirt down the wall before stone and ledge fell away. True didn't scream. She stared at van Helsing, too stunned to feel frightened. He held her tightly by the arms as she dangled in the air. His expression was unchanged; True didn't understand. She could die, and even if van Helsing didn't like her, she was just a kid, and he should be worried, especially since her life was in his hands.
"Walk up the side," he instructed. True clenched her fingers around his arms, digging her nails into the skin. Van Helsing flinched, she noticed. He drew her carefully upwards; the girl managed to get her feet against the wall and did walk up the side as he'd said, a few steps. Then he swung her up and over the edge, releasing her before she let go of him. Her nails raked grooves along his forearms. True landed on her knees, scraping them a bit, scrambled to her feet and raced off into the woods.
Relying on Uly's assurance Van Helsing wouldn't hurt anyone, True controlled the desire to get away and returned to him in a few minutes. She watched from behind a tree as he slowly rose from a sitting position, then inspected the scratches on his arms, wiping the blood away barehanded. A whistle brought his horses to him; he withdrew a length of cloth from the pack and wrapped it around his arm, withdrew another cloth and bound his other arm. True ventured out into sight; at her reappearance, the man paused with the bandage half completed.
"I had to go to the bathroom," she stated with pretended confidence.
Van Helsing returned to binding the scratches. Blood seeped thru to stain the cloths.
"I'm sorry about your arms."
He glanced at her and nodded awkwardly, using his teeth to aid in securing the ends of the bandage.
"Want me to help?" offered True. She automatically stepped toward him. His backing up puzzled her, made her uneasy.
"Okay, do it yourself." The girl occupied herself with trying to clean the debris from her hair, all the while studying van Helsing. He *was* weird, just like everyone said, maybe even weirder. Maybe living on planets did that to people. No, Bess was one of the least weird people she'd ever known, if you didn't count marrying Morgan against her. Maybe van Helsing was kinda mad at her for scratching him. True checked her fingernails and immediately scraped the revolting skin bits from under them. Yuck. She couldn't wait to tell Uly.
"They're expecting me back at camp," True announced. She considered it a safer thing to say than, 'I'm lost'.
Van Helsing seemed to be ignoring her. He moved some of the stuff on his horse to the pack animal, like the quiver and the bow. The small man worked quickly, with an elfin gracefulness that entranced the girl in spite of herself. He moved away so that the horses were between them when True clasped her hands behind her back and diffidently approached. She wanted to see if he left footprints and felt a trifle let down to find he did.
He stepped back from his horse and gestured toward it. "Get on."
"Really?" True didn't attempt to keep the excitement out of her voice.
Van Helsing nodded, face blank. True found that annoying. He'd saved her life and now was going to let her ride his favorite horse and he didn't seem to care one way or the other. She frowned. His unresponsiveness was nerve-wracking. A person had no clue as to what he was thinking.
"Get on," the expressionless man repeated. The girl did, placing her foot in the stirrup and lifting herself into the saddle as if it were a long-standing habit. *That* should impress him. She wished the stirrups had been adjusted so she'd be more sure of herself. "What's his name?" True reached for the reins. Van Helsing kept them.
"His?"
"The horse's," explained True, nudging the animal with her knees. Its only response was a flicked ear.
"She has no name." The woodsman began walking, leading the mare which bore an embarrassed little girl. The pack animal followed.
True's face grew red. She was glad van Helsing had his back to her, and that he didn't like to talk. This was one part of the adventure she'd keep to herself after getting back to camp. Slowly the color leached out of her cheeks, leaving her pale beneath the tan. What if he didn't take her back to camp?
Those at camp were preparing to resume the trek southward. The absence of most of the men meant extra work for everyone else, without exception. Most worked without grumbling. Morgan, however, was rather irritable.
"Get True to help if you can't do it yourself! Come on, kid, don't you ever think?"
Uly immediately set out to find True. It got him away from Mr. Martin. The boy looked in the Danziger tent, one of the few still standing, one which True should have been dismantling. She wasn't there. He methodically checked from one end of the camp to the other, weaving around the half-crew of Edenites breaking camp, then tried to raise her on gear before saying anything to any of the adults. He'd last seen his friend about a half-hour ago, right after the lesson. Uly made a beeline for Yale.
"I can't find True, and we were too close to home for her to have gotten lost."
Yale agreed. "Perhaps she is still playing in the forest." The tutor reached to position the eyescreen on his gear.
"I already tried that." Uly squinted up at Yale. "Maybe she didn't answer me on purpose."
"That is a possibility," Yale responded. Especially given her unpleasant mood this morning, he thought. "True?"
Uly watched anxiously, dancing from foot to foot. Bess joined them, alerted by the concern on the boy's face. She raised her eyebrows.
"True, do you hear me? True?" repeated Yale. He flipped the 'screen back, but maintained an open audio channel.
"How long has she been missing?" asked Bess quietly. "Half an hour at the most," replied the old cyborg. That child; in half an hour's time, True Danziger could get into more trouble than Uly could in a full day. Yale smiled and ruefully shook his head.
"She can't be far off, then," Bess said, relieved. "You know, I'll bet she's with John. Don't you think so, Uly?"
Uly hated to disagree with an adult; it was too close to disrespect. However, he said, "Mr. Danziger gave us strict orders never to go around where they're clearing trees. So did my mom."
Bess sort of shrugged. "Well, we are talking about True." Eyescreen back in place, Yale contacted Walman. Eden Advance had learned the surest way to get a message to Danziger was thru someone who actually wore gear.
"No, she's not here, not in sight, anyway. We'll look around for her. If that kid hears us calling, she'll run home."
"Let us know if you find her," requested Yale. "Yeah, sure." Walman laughed. "We probably won't have to if Danziger gets ahold of her. You'll hear him hollering for miles!"
"Yes," smiled the cyborg. He broke the connection and turned rather wearily to Bess. "I suppose we'd best begin a search of our own." Yale strode to a more central location and called the group to him. Of the men, only Morgan and Yale were present. Julia was the only woman missing; she'd accompanied the 'lumberjacks'.
Most of them were annoyed at True. She knew better than to wander away by herself. They divided the area around camp and split off into pairs. Uly tagged unhappily along with Devon and Yale, aware that he was the only person really worried about the missing girl.
True was hungry. Her belly rumbled from time to time, increasingly insistent on being filled. True stubbornly said nothing to van Helsing about it. She said nothing even when he paused and dug up a spindly little whiteroot, and her mouth watered like she was one of those Pavlof dogs Yale talked about. As they travelled slowly along, van Helsing peeled the tuber with the knife he wore in his belt.
Although she could and did avert her eyes, the girl couldn't block off her nose; True had never realized how good a raw whiteroot smelled. Her stomach gave a gurgling shout. True began 'singing' to hide the sound. Her abused vocal cords weren't up to the job.
"Quiet," the guide said bluntly, cutting his eyes at her. True obeyed. She'd have obeyed the look alone. Van Helsing cut the root into half inch thick slices. He offered one to True at arm's length. She had to stretch to reach it, clutching the horse's mane in one fist.
"Thank you." The whiteroot was crunchy; the juice ran down her chin and she wiped at it with a dirty hand, making a bigger mess. "Are we close to camp?" she ventured.
"No."
"You are taking me back to camp, aren't you?" "No."
True hid her apprehension; she demanded hoarsely, "Where *are* you taking me?"
"The next meeting place."
"Oh. Oh, that's okay." It made sense, sort of. The peculiar man offered True another piece of whiteroot. He continued to give them to her one at a time; only two were left when she realized he wasn't eating. True wiped her hands on her shirt and lied about being full. Still, he offered another, holding it out to her until she said, "No, I don't want anymore."
"You're still hungry."
True gently stroked the horse's neck. "I don't want anymore." She jerked her head up and looked directly in the man's eyes. "Why aren't you eating? Is it poisoned or something?" she demanded, frustrated that he didn't recognize her effort to be considerate of him.
He blinked; just for a second his expression changed. True wasn't sure what she saw before the impassivity returned. Van Helsing dropped his arm and looked at the remaining slices in his hand. "No. But you're still hungry."
"Aren't you?" asked True.
The woodsman let the two last ovals of whiteroot fall to the ground. Without a glance at the little girl, he started on again, taking them deeper into the forest.
True interlaced her fingers with the mare's coarse mane. She didn't look up as they proceeded onward.
"She's been gone three hours," said Devon. "Where can she have gotten to?"
Bess removed a crumbling leaf from Devon's hair. In their crisscrossing of the woods, the Martins and the Adairs had crossed paths and were taking a short break. They sat or leaned against trees in a fairly clear patch. Morgan, who kept nagging everyone--in person or via gear--to look out for those toxic thorn bushes, was a leaner. His periodic warnings had prevented Mazatl's repeating Morgan's mistake, but Mazatl had no intention of telling Morgan. It wasn't that he was ungrateful; it was that he wouldn't be as grateful as Morgan thought he should be.
"Who knows about that kid? She's probably back at camp, playing in VR, while we search this wilderness--" Morgan slapped impatiently at an insect on his sleeve "--and provide a quick snack for a gazillion bugs!"
"No, if True was home, she'd contact us," defended Uly, tugging at his headset.
"I'm not so sure. Her father is pret-ty mad at her," argued Morgan.
"Oh, yeah. You might be right, Mr. Martin." Morgan smirked.
Bess shot her immature husband an effective 'not another word' look. Devon folded her sweaty, itchy arms across her chest and glared at him, as displeased with the man's reminder of the insects as his words to Uly. Yale chose to ignore Morgan. The cyborg sometimes wondered why God had inflicted Morgan Martin on Eden Advance.
Devon's gear demanded attention. John Danziger appeared on the 'screen, face flushed. Devon's heart went out to him. She wanted to comfort him, to hold him close. She could tell the men had found no sign of his daughter.
"Anything, Adair?" tho' he knew the answer was 'nothing'. "I'm sorry, no. John, I'm sure we'll find her soon," Devon assured him confidently.
"Has anyone checked back at camp?" burst in Uly. "Hey, Sport," said Danziger. "Cameron's there now." The frown on Uly's face prompted John to add, "Hey, don't worry! We'll find her before long."
It was wonderful to be sitting flat on the ground. True stretched her legs out straight and leaned back on her hands. Being on a horse for a long time wasn't much fun, yet.
"How long does it take to get used to riding all day?" she asked casually, still attempting to befriend the strange little horseman.
"I don't know."
Danziger's kid rolled her eyes. Well, at least it was an answer. Usually he ignored what she said or told her to be quiet. True carefully observed van Helsing, never taking her eyes off him. She'd decided to pretend the man unstrapping the load from the pack horse was an enemy agent who didn't know the young girl he'd kidnapped was actually a well-trained spy. Any little detail might be important. Anything, however insignificant, could be the key to unlocking the secret.
She wasn't exactly afraid of him now and hadn't been for a while. He was an odd one, alright, but he wasn't actually hostile or anything. They'd been together all afternoon and van Helsing hadn't said a word that wasn't in response to something she'd said except "Get on." He hadn't eaten. He hadn't changed his expression except that one time. He *had* gone into the bushes once, leaving her alone with the horses, free to climb off and run away. Maybe he'd wanted her to.
The horses cropped the sparse grass in the little glade van Helsing had brought them to. The glade was dappled with sunlight. Its most beautiful feature was a pool from which flowed a tiny stream. G889 version ferns grew in the dampness. Live things that had rolled off leaves and plopped into the pool when the humans arrived were crawling back onto the leaves. True didn't notice them; she was studying van Helsing, if that was really his name, watching him as he squatted and brushed clean a flat rock before laying the leather bundle on it. The guide opened the bundle, removed a square of cloth, and rolled the bundle up again. The cloth he left at the pool's edge; from the greenery there, van Helsing selected a handful of the ferns and carried them back to the flat rock.
"Wash," he said, pointing at the rag. True hesitated. She wanted to see what he'd do with the leaves, which might be hard to do with her back to him.
"You're filthy."
True plodded to the water, angling around so she could watch him at least part of the time, and picked up the 'washcloth'. She dipped it in the pool and sucked in her breath. "That's cold!"
"Yes. And wet." Van Helsing spread the leaves on the rock. "You're kinda fanatic about being clean, aren't you?" the girl said, steeling herself before scrubbing her face with the icy rag.
"Some would think so." With precise motions, he slit the fleshy center rib from one of the leaves.
"Bet you don't like the Grendlers." "No." Van Helsing dissected another leaf. Danziger's daughter carefully washed her arms, 'ouching' softly and intentionally when the water stung the scratches acquired during the day. No reaction from her companion. "What about the Terrians? They *live* in the dirt."
Van Helsing looked up at her. He shrugged and went back to his task.
True soaked the cloth again and attacked the grime on her legs, saving the scraped knees for last. She was shivering now. Some of the heat from a few days before would have been welcome. "Do you ever go on the Dreamplane, like Alonzo?" she chattered.
"No. Not like Alonzo."
The chilled girl inspected herself, eliminating the few spots she'd overlooked first time around. "Do you know which one is Alonzo?" True asked in the most offhand tone she could.
"Sit in the sun," he directed, pointing with his knife. She chose to stand in the sun so as to see what van Helsing was doing. "I mean," the girl rattled on, taking advantage of the fact that 10-year-old kids sometimes don't know when to shut up, "do you know our names? Do you know who I am?" True held the washcloth up and inspected it in the sunlight so van Helsing would think she was just talking. "Weird," she muttered.
He rose, clutching the leaves tightly, and looked at True with those flat, disinterested eyes. The eyes bothered True. When the eyes weren't visible, van Helsing was easier to deal with. When he looked at her so steadily, True found it difficult to remain a well-trained spy. She couldn't look away and might get nervous again.
The man came just close enough to give her the pencil-like leaf ribs, much as he'd offered the whiteroot. True took them.
"What're these for?"
"Antiseptic."
True looked at van Helsing questioningly, then gingerly daubed at one of her smallest injuries, just in case it burned or something. There was no burning; in fact, the plant's juice was immediately soothing. She happily painted every scratch or scrape within reach. A few were hard to get to, but van Helsing refused to help her.
"Afraid of getting germs?" she asked scornfully. He didn't respond. True shrugged and limberly finished applying the herbal antiseptic herself. Van Helsing sat down and leaned against a tree, eyes closed; it looked like he intended to remain in the glade for a while. True wandered around, inspecting the ferns and the little creatures living among them; she picked up a rock flecked with sparkles and made the sparkles flash in the sun for a time before pocketing it. When she glanced at the man resting against the tree, he always looked like he was asleep, but True doubted he was.
Eventually, her eyelids began to droop. She didn't want to sleep at all and hit on the idea of plunging her arm as deep as she could in the pool. That worked, waking her up completely. The washcloth was dry now, so it made a pretty good towel.
"Why did you do that?"
True jumped. She whipped around and stared at van Helsing, who was watching her, an undeniably curious look on his face. For a moment, the girl thought about not answering, just like he'd been not answering her all day. During her short hesitation, van Helsing evidently recovered from his lapse of disinterest. The familiar nothingness returned to his features.
"I don't want to sleep," True stated firmly. Van Helsing closed his eyes and settled back against the tree.
True sat at the edge of the pool. She pulled her legs up and inspected her greenish knees. Julia would be interested in the 'antiseptic'. In a few minutes, True had the now shriveling ribs wrapped in the washcloth, and the little bundle in her pocket. She turned her attention back to van Helsing. The girl stared at him. You sure couldn't see much of his face. How could he stand all that hair, especially on his face? True unbraided her own hair, used her fingers as a comb, and braided it again.
"You need to do something with your hair," she observed. "Cut it or comb it or something."
Van Helsing showed no sign he'd heard her. True sighed. "You don't like me, do you?" she said under her breath.
"True," he said, opening his eyes. "Is that a yes, or my name?" she demanded belligerently; she'd not intended he hear the first question.
Van Helsing didn't reply. He simply trapped her in his gaze, and as the little girl stared back at him, into those impossibly expressionless eyes, she became convinced Uly was right: van Helsing was *old*.

CHAPTER TWELVE
DECEPTION

DAY 24 LATE AFTERNOON
After several hours with no sign of True, Devon voiced the possibility the girl had encountered van Helsing. Whether that was good, bad or indifferent, Devon wasn't sure. "She may be with him now."
Yale nodded gravely. "She may be." He cast his eyes in Morgan's direction, as did the others gathered at the water tank.
Cup already at lips, Morgan sucked down the contents before speaking. What were they all looking at him for? Just because he could talk to the man, it didn't mean they were confidants. The government liaison swiped his mouth with the back of his hand and pronounced doubtfully, "I don't know. He's real funny about human contact."
Magus agreed. "I can't imagine our 'faithful' guide allowing even a child near him."
"I don't believe he'd leave her alone in this wilderness," said Devon. She headed for the semi-reassembled comtent, certain her conclusion was right, and, for once confident he'd answer, called Danziger. "John!"
His image leapt onto the monitor almost immediately. The assurance in Devon's voice raised his hopes. "You got her?"
"I'm sorry, John, no," she replied, and before he could say anything, rushed on. "But we think she may be with van Helsing."
Morgan caught Magus' eye and mouthed silently, "We?" "Van Helsing." Danziger's face clouded. "Come on, Adair, if he saw her, he'd go the other way."
"I don't think he'd allow her to come to any harm. And by 'with him', I don't necessarily mean in close proximity; he can keep his distance. True is likely to prefer that."
"Okay, so why hasn't he brought her home? Looks like he'd want to get rid of her as fast as he could."
Devon glanced at Yale, uncertain. The cyborg offered a reason. "Given van Helsing's desire to restrict contact, he won't bring her to us; he's more likely to take her with him to this evenings' meeting point." Those in the comtent began nodding to each other, murmuring agreement.
"Yes," said Morgan softly, tapping an index finger against his temple. "That does sound exactly like something he'd do."
"And if he hasn't seen her, we can ask for his help," suggested Bess. "I bet he could walk right up to her in the dark."
"Yeah," said John, every ounce of suspicion he felt for van Helsing evident in the one word.
Alonzo stressed, "Van Helsing won't hurt True." "That doesn't mean he'd help her, 'Lonz," Danziger replied. Devon spoke firmly. "Baines is the scheduled liaison. A few of us will accompany him, but *we will not* approach the meeting point itself. I think we need to get started."
"On my way," said Danziger, and apparently he was. Devon straightened up and rotated her shoulders, trying to ease the tension in her neck muscles. True *had* to be with the guide. She'd be relatively safe with him. But if True was still alone, van Helsing could probably find her easily. Devon wished he'd accept gear for just such emergencies.
"I'll notify Baines, and the others," said Yale. Devon flickered a smile at him, then grinned. "John has probably beaten you to it."
Baines reached the appointed place--a grove of fruit trees loaded with greenish-yellow globes--and waited. He'd arrived early, hoping with the others that van Helsing had True and was already there. The tech saw no sign of the two. His gear was ready. He anxiously scanned the surrounding woods. Behind him, out of sight among the trees, were Devon, Morgan, Cameron and Danziger. They'd considered Dr. Heller as one of the team. Morgan had pointed out van Helsing's aversion to her seemed especially strong. Julia and Alonzo silently agreed with him.
As always, Baines worried that he might be in the wrong place. Van Helsing had never failed to show up, but eventually one of the chosen Edenites was going to misunderstand the directions and descriptions. Or had they already and the guide found them anyway? A movement off to the left interrupted his thoughts.
"There she is!" he exclaimed, forgetting his gear for a moment, then transmitting to everyone: "She's with him!"
Danziger burst into sight and raced thru the darkening woods toward Baines. It barely registered on him when he turned his ankle; he regained his balance and continued running pell mell across the forest floor. The man couldn't slacken his pace. He caught up with, and passed, Baines, who'd pointed out True with van Helsing a short way off.
Van Helsing halted his animal and stood motionless. John panted onward, side hurting. He slowed only after reaching them, and snatched his daughter off the horse as van Helsing adroitly moved away, still holding the reins. Danziger felt relieved that his girl wasn't riding double with the guide.
"I'm okay, Daddy," said True, squirming out of his arms. The way he was gulping in air, he didn't need her weight on him. "I'm not hurt or anything."
Danziger knelt beside her, breathing deeply, not yet able to speak. His heart pounded from stress, both physical and emotional. He inspected his daughter; at camp, he'd have Julia examine her thoroughly. To his layman's eye, True-girl looked fine. She certainly didn't look like a kid who'd spent most of the day lost in a wilderness. Her hair was too neatly braided and her face clean. True's clothes *were* a little dirty and there were a few bruises and scratches on her arms and legs. Skinned knees seemed to be the major injury. They and the scratches were discolored. John rubbed gently at the edge of one small scratch, first with a dry finger and then with the finger moistened with dad-spit. The discoloration remained.
True squelched the urge to jerk her arm away in disgust. Her dad was going to be mad enough as it was. "He gave me some leaves to clean the scratches with. They stained my skin."
"Yeah?" managed Danziger. He looked up at van Helsing. Van Helsing was watching the forest, eyes darting, head held slightly back. John felt sure the woodsman knew the location of every member of the group anywhere near them.
Van Helsing effortlessly mounted his horse. He sat in absolute silence, watching as first one, then another and another person came into view. It seemed he anticipated where each would appear, turning to gaze in that direction before John or True realized anyone was there. By the time Danziger was breathing normally, Baines, Morgan, Devon and Cameron stood in a rough semicircle about 25 feet away. With Danziger no longer panting, the only sound was the impatient whickering of the mare, eager to leave.
John was saved the indignity of thanking van Helsing by the man's observation immediately before obliging his horse: "You're appallingly careless with your offspring."
However much True wanted it to, Danziger's relief at her safe return didn't overpower his anger at her having disobeyed him. She winced in anticipation of the coming parental storm. The kid dreaded being alone with her dad; she knew that look, a patient, deceivingly placid look.
At present, tho', True was the center of attention for all of Eden Advance. Dr. Heller was puzzled, then delighted when True presented her with the herbs and explained what they were. Mr. Martin said something about her having cost them a day's travel time; True noticed Bess elbowing the man, but she also noticed just about everyone else nodding and muttering things like "That's right." Uly just grinned; he stood right inside the medtent door, clutching his lightening stick and grinning.
Julia's exam showed no damage to the child other than the scratches--evidently something in the plants did indeed aid healing--and several small contusions on her arms. The bruises were troubling: their pattern was consistent with handprints. The doctor gently turned the child's arms, studying the pattern again. The bruising had been caused by being held very tightly and the damage indicated True had been suspended by her arms. Julia tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, hesitant to voice her suspicions. The doctor smiled at Danziger and stepped away from True. John immediately filled the space.
"How'd you skin your knees?" he asked. "I fell down," replied True. She twisted her leg around to reveal a long, shallow scratch. "There's a lot of ways to get hurt out there." She examined her arms. "I didn't know I had so many cuts and stuff."
"Stuff," echoed John. "Like these bruises?" Julia caught Devon's eye. Devon realized there was more to this than was readily apparent. The look on Julia's face made her wary. Both women turned back to the Danzigers.
True touched one of the bruises experimentally. The realization of how close she came to dying hit home and the little girl grew very pale. Danziger would have known something was wrong even if she hadn't blanched. The way she held her body, the way she breathed told him.
"What happened, True-girl?" he asked intently, louder than he'd meant to.
True wasn't shaken enough to forget the upcoming punishment, which was bound to be considerable, and saw a way out, or at least a way to put it off. The girl continued to scrutinize the small bluish marks on her arms, avoiding her dad's eyes.
Danziger sat next to her on the cot and said remorsefully, "It's okay, True. I didn't mean to yell; I'm not blaming you. But you have to tell me how you got those bruises."
"I don't think he meant to hurt me," she almost whispered. "Meant to hurt you?" repeated John dangerously. "True, what happened out there?"
True shook her head, still not meeting her father's eyes. John wrapped his arms around her, stroked her hair, murmured bits of comfort. He maintained a facade of calm for the sake of his daughter. It was plain True was fighting tears. Devon gently dispersed the family. They understood the need for privacy; still, their concern drew them back together several feet away. Devon gave Bess charge over Uly with a tilt of her head.
Devon quietly asked Yale, who'd stayed at her side, to join the others as a voice of reason. He raised his eyebrows at her choice of words and cast a glance at Julia. The doctor looked soberly back at him, her lips a thin line. She shook her head slightly. The wise old tutor left them. Devon, Julia, Alonzo and the Danzigers remained in the medtent.
Only the Danzigers could hear what they said to one another. They seemed oblivious to anyone else. Devon felt like a Peeping Tom; she'd have slipped outside, dragging 'Lonz and Julia with her, if Julia hadn't given her 'forewarning'.
Alonzo felt the tension radiating from the women on either side of him. He tried to take Julia's hand and found she was concealing a sediderm. What was going on? Julia caught his eye and gave a slight nod toward the Danzigers. Alonzo's eyebrows shot toward his hairline. Did she expect True to get hysterical?
True was rubbing her arms like that would erase the bruises. The little girl kept her head lowered; she mummbled something which Danziger repeated, concern and bewilderment mingled in his voice.
"You don't want me to go after him?" The tent became quiet; the sound of True rubbing her arms was clearly audible.
"True-girl," asked John calmly, enveloping her hands in his own, "what happened that I would want to 'go after him'?"
"The cliff," she replied in a very small voice. True still kept her head down.
"The cliff. What cliff? What happened there?" "He held me over the edge!" Technically, it wasn't a lie. Alonzo's eyes widened. A slight movement at his side drew his attention to Julia; the doctor was ready to pounce on Danziger. Did she actually think John was going to need sedating? He looked at Devon, who stood wide-eyed herself, momentarily mesmerized by True's statement. Awareness of Alonzo's gaze snapped her back to normal.
"Julia, can you confirm that?" Devon asked. The small group, True included, looked to Dr. Heller.
"It is possible," she admitted.
John didn't speak. His face said van Helsing was a dead man. John began rocking True as if she were tiny. He could have lost her. He could have lost her to another madman.
"Van Helsing didn't torture that kid," insisted Alonzo thru the shirt he was stripping off.
Julia pushed her hair behind her ears. "Alonzo, even if we disregard True's story, the nature of the contusions clearly indicates she was suspended *by her arms*. The pattern further indicates she was suspended by either a woman or a small man."
"Plan on opening up a detective agency on the side?" She closed her eyes in frustration. "A competent doctor must be observant and must be able to reach a valid conclusion based upon what is observed." Julia opened her eyes and stood hands on hips regarding the dreamer. "Van Helsing must have done it."
"Van Helsing had to *touch* her to leave those marks," argued Alonzo. He bunched the shirt up and threw it toward the far corner. "He won't let anyone get within six feet of him! Something happened, yeah, but I can't see him torturing the kid just for kicks, not if it meant touching her. Can you? Honestly?"
Julia shook her head.
DAY 25
True's conscience bothered her and she'd slept fitfully, which meant Danziger's sleep was interrupted by her restlessness as well as his anger and desire for revenge. A lack of rest amplified the forbidding expression he wore to breakfast. He shoveled in whiteroot mush and 'antelope' steaks without tasting anything. He grunted a wordless response to Devon's greeting. Eden Advance avoided Danziger as much as possible. He didn't notice. He didn't see the sidelong glances or hear the conversation of the others, conversation carefully omitting yesterday's events.
True's story was common knowledge. The group divided itself into three factions: Alonzo, Uly (who, to Devon's embarrassment, had been caught eavesdropping) and Morgan didn't believe van Helsing had intentionally harmed the girl, and tho' Alonzo and Uly stopped short of calling her story a fabrication, Morgan did not; Julia, Devon, Bess and Yale were unsure; the remaining Edenites chose to believe True. Baines refused to return to the grove.
"I am resigning my commission," he stated, the hard look in his eyes causing even Devon to back down.
Morgan and Alonzo took his place. Morgan perversely wasn't apprehensive. He more or less drafted the pilot, telling him that when it came to talking to van Helsing, it looked like they were the only ones with the b--uh, guts. (Morgan saw no reason to invite more abuse from the 'gang' by putting himself on a par with Loverboy Alonzo in *that* area).
Van Helsing had spoken to Morgan once Alonzo moved back, hadn't mentioned yesterday, hadn't acted differently at all. He'd not responded with the least flicker when Morgan warned him about Danziger. In frustration, genuinely concerned for the guide's safety,(van Helsing had, after all, saved his life) Morgan had cried dramatically, "He's out for blood! Your blood!"
The horseman had speared Morgan with a flash of his eyes, startling the stationman almost into wetting his pants. "Is he?" van Helsing had bitten out, contempt quite plain. The man's anger had infected the mare and she'd pawed the ground and tossed her head before rearing up, looming monstrously over Morgan.
He'd screamed and run, not stopping until reaching Alonzo, and then he literally fell into the pilot's arms. A glance over his shoulder reassured him: Van Helsing was gone. Morgan definitely preferred the inscrutable van Helsing.
Camp was broken and they were ready to travel when the two men returned. The slow trek thru the woods resumed. True was secured in the TransRover until further notice. Danziger strode alongside, sometimes impatiently stopping to allow the vehicle to catch up. He walked alone, as unapproachable as the man he wanted to 'thank'.
Although John walked by himself, he wasn't alone in his opinion of van Helsing, or Adair's idiocy in still trusting the woodsman's directions. Magus, Cameron and Matazl followed the TransRover grimly. Walman drove the 'Rover, tight-lipped, fiercely protective of True. His occasional glances at her, meant to be encouraging, made her nervous. Denner rode with them; she'd impulsively given the little girl a quick hug and offered her shoulder as a pillow so True could nap. True thanked her and declined. All the attention was kinda nice, but it was also kinda stifling.
Morgan, once with Bess and once with Devon, reluctantly contacted van Helsing twice more prior to Eden's settling for the night. Van Helsing maintained a greater distance than usual from them; that suited Morgan just fine. The guide constantly surveyed the woods and remained on horseback. Bess pitied him. His normal arrogant disinterest had worn thin in spots; the anxiety revealed worried her.
DAY 26
It was his tenth day as their guide; van Helsing showed up with his beard closely trimmed and his long hair braided. When Morgan and Devon reported this, the men voiced suspicions he wanted a woman. The only women he permitted near were Bess and Devon. He seldom spoke to Bess, and never to Devon. But he was such an odd character, he may have wanted any of them. *Any* of them, stressed Danziger, man, woman or child.
Baines increased his resolve never to act as liaison again.
In private, Yale asked Devon about the 'E 2' tattoo. After a moment's reflection, Devon replied, "I didn't see one, and his neck was clearly exposed." She demonstrated by gathering her hair in a ponytail at the base of her skull. "Yale, were all convicts branded?"
He stroked his beard. "So far as I have been able to determine, yes. And if our guide lacks the insignia, he is not a convict."
"Then what is he? Who is he? Is Bess's theory right? Has the Council been sending people here long enough that van Helsing was born on G889?"
Tensions eased gradually. The forest began to thin out again, and they covered a lot of ground, working off the anger-energy and beginning to function as one rather than three. Air-clearing arguments along the way replaced silence and grumblings. Morgan, in the interest of peace, diplomatically allowed that True may have misinterpreted things and wasn't knowingly lying. He smugly kept to himself a suspicion that the kid was walking the fine line separating the whole truth and just enough truth. He'd done that professionally and wasn't fooled by amateurs. John and Devon 'discussed' Adair's decision to permit van Helsing to remain their guide. She felt they had no choice. Her open resentment of the fact appeased Danziger. By nightfall, the only serious rift in the group was between the children. Bess brought the subject up to Devon and to John, separately. Both dismissed it, seeing True's grounding as interfering with the kids' straightening things out.
Eden Advance relaxed, more or less, around the smoky campfire. It was too warm to have one and too buggy not to. The larger moon hadn't risen yet and the smaller had set already, so the stars shone thru wherever the trees weren't. John relented; he let True join them. Uly rose, told his mom and Yale goodnight, and went on to bed. Devon watched him walk away, his narrow shoulders slumping. She consulted Yale with a look. The tutor slowly shook his head. Bess caught Devon's eye and smiled sympathically. She then regarded True who sat next to her dad, knees drawn up against her chest. And John, who either hadn't noticed Uly leaving, or saw no significance in it.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAMP

DAY 27
Uly waited until they were out of sight of camp. "Liar," he accused. He glowered at the slightly taller girl. The certainty in his expression made her acutely uncomfortable.
"I am not!" she denied. This wood-gathering excursion wasn't turning out right. Their first chance to talk in days, and Uly wasn't at all excited about hearing her adventures.
"Liar. You lied about his hurting you," the boy insisted. "*No* *I* *didn't*," True said, punctuating her statement by shoving Uly after each word.
He didn't fall like he was supposed to. He balled his hands into fists while steadying himself. "You did, too, and *you* know it!"
"Were you there?" demanded the girl, clenching her own fists. She could beat the stuffing out of that skinny brat, given the chance.
Uly took a step forward; the children were so close, it was difficult to focus, much less throw a punch. "I didn't have to be there to know you're lying."
"Oh, yeah," retorted True. "I forgot. You're part Terrian. You're not a real human anymore."
"At least I'm not a liar," declared Uly. He was surprised by True's words.
True flung herself forward, propelling both of them to the ground. Uly pinched her thigh, hard, causing her to pull away enough for him to free himself and launch his own attack.
Alonzo stumbled upon the 'confrontation'. He didn't interfere. This had to be Uly's first fist fight. The kid fought with vigor and determination and enthusiasm, but absolutely no skill. True had more of an idea what she was doing. Alonzo grinned. She was losing.
Until blood was spilled, the pilot let the kids alone, staying out of sight. Uly somehow managed to bloody True's nose; the shock of it froze the boy long enough for an enraged little girl to land a good one in return. Uly abruptly plopped on his rear, blood pouring from his own nose.
"That's it, break it up!" Alonzo called, placing himself between the two erstwhile combatants.
His presence reenergized them. They jumped to their feet, one on either side of him, spitting and threatening each other like cats. Neither dared cry or admit pain. Alonzo circled with them. He held his hands in front of the kids to 'separate' them, aware this show was for his benefit. Alonzo was amused. If he hadn't shown up, the kids'd probably be running home.
The demand 'break it up' had alerted Baines and Mazatl. The men trotted up. Both, of course, immediately gravitated to the bloody and dirty kids.
"What did we miss?" asked Mazatl of Alonzo, who shrugged. Baines didn't see it exactly that way. "We gotta get these kids cleaned up. Devon'll be so mad, she'll need sedating."
"Man, they're just kids and neither one is really hurt," said Alonzo. "Can't say you're a kid if you haven't gotten at least one bloody nose, can you, Champ?" he asked Uly.
Devon's darling, curly-headed angel was using his shirttail to soak up the blood. Part of him agreed wholeheartedly with Mr. Solace, altho' he hadn't thought of it that way before. Uly nodded his head vigorously. Another part of him wished he hadn't moved; his face hurt.
True, mopping her own face with her bandanna, said contemptuously, if somewhat nasally, "You haven't ever had a bloody nose before? What a baby!" She started toward camp, only to have Baines stop her with a firm grip on her shoulder.
"Come on, Solace, use your head! How's Devon going to react? This is *Uly* bleeding all over his shirt."
"Yeah," honked True. "His mommy will panic." She gave Uly an exaggerated look of pity. "Poor baby. Uly Adair is such a baby."
"True Danziger is a liar," said the boy evenly, answering the unspoken question, 'what started the fight?' All three men and the two children thought it a valid reason to resort to physical violence, if you were a kid. Devon wouldn't.
Alonzo, in spite of a good idea what Uly thought True lied about, and his own agreement with the boy, felt it his duty as a grownup to remind the kids it is not a good idea to accuse someone of lying. "You called True a liar?"
Uly regarded him with somber eyes, one of which was getting puffy. It would be impossible to hide the fight from Devon if her child showed up with a shiner. "Yes."
"That's a pretty serious charge."
Uly didn't reply. He looked at True. The bandanna formerly holding her hair out of her face was now sopping up blood and her hair was adorned with leaves and twigs. Her shirt was streaked red. Even her shorts had a few spots on them. A big purplish bruise marred her left thigh. That's where he'd pinched her. She looked awful. The Syndrome kid felt a glimmer of pride as he surveyed the damage he'd inflicted on his best friend. In his gut, Uly realized he'd experienced a rite of passage, tho' he was unfamiliar with the concept.
Automatically, he grinned, blood still dripping. He pointed at True. "You oughta see yourself!"
Danziger's kid glared at the rich brat. Did Uly think he looked any better? "This is how you're supposed to look after a fight. Don't you know anything?"
Uly hadn't expected her to stay mad. They had fights--uh-uh, they had disagreements all the time. He blotted at his nose again. It wasn't bleeding nearly as much as a few minutes ago. Maybe getting beat up had hurt her feelings. No. Being called a liar had. But she was. She knew it. Still, maybe he had been wrong to come right out and accuse her like that, without giving her a chance to explain or anything. Uly twisted his mouth around uncomfortably. "I'm sorry I called you a liar, True," he said truthfully.
She looked doubtful.
"Hey," said Baines, "he apologized." He leaned close and said just for her to hear, "You had to beat up on him to get him to, but it worked."
True thought this over, then smiled graciously at Uly. "Yeah, well, okay. I'm sorry I beat you up so bad."
"I thought it was kinda fun," Uly said. "Getting beat up is fun?" responded True in disbelief. Uly shrugged. "Sure. I was supposed to die before I turned nine," he explained.
Alonzo sneaked into camp and fetched Dr. Heller, who hid her diaglove and assorted tools of her trade after he told her what was going on. The nosebleeds had almost stopped by the time she got there.
"I can't possibly erase all signs of the fight. We can't waste the supplies on minor injuries."
"Can you make them look less beat up?" worried Baines. "Maybe like they fell or something."
Julia inspected the kids visually. She pushed back the obligatory flyaway strand of hair and sighed. "Let's get them cleaned up."
Devon reacted much as Baines predicted. At the sight of her son, she exclaimed, "Uly?" as if she wasn't sure. "Uly, what happened? Are you alright? Your eye! Your shirt is soaked in blood!" She scooped her son into her arms and whirled around, nailing Julia in place with a glance. "What happened to my son?"
"True punched me in the nose," Uly said matter-of-factly. "True!" reproached Danziger. He'd suspected as much, and figured Uly had punched True in the nose in self-defense. The mechanic struggled to maintain a disapproving mien.
"He hit me first!"
"What?" Devon mouthed soundlessly. She gripped her boy more tightly. He squirmed. "You're hurting me, Mom. My ribs are kind of sore." Uly hopefully asked Julia, "Do you think I might have cracked ribs?"
"Cracked ribs!?" repeated Devon as Dr. Heller said, "No chance. The children are fine. A week from now, all signs of the incident will be gone."
"Uly threw the first punch?" John asked incredulously. Devon didn't hear Julia. She heard Danziger and agreed with his disbelief. Uly was still trying to wiggle out of her arms, which had developed the constrictor-like tendency to clutch him tighter when he moved. The woman zeroed in on True.
The scruffy little bully was daubing at her nose from time to time. At least, she hadn't gotten of it unscathed. Uly *had* tried to defend himself. Uly hit first? Ridiculous.
Eden Advance gathered like iron filings to a magnet. True looked at Uly. "Well, not really," she admitted. "You struck my son?" Devon asked the little girl. How dare that tomboy take advantage of her son's small size and frailty! She'd certainly have a word with John Danziger about controlling his wild little hellion. The mama strode toward Danziger, causing the recently pummeled Uly some unnecessary discomfort.
"Mom," he said uselessly. The boy had stopped trying to break free and switched to the 'dead weight' tactic, arms dangling at his sides.
John gripped his daughter's shoulders. "True, you're a lot bigger than Uly, a lot stronger. You could have hurt him."
Devon didn't like having someone say aloud what she'd just been thinking. Uly wasn't that much a weakling. He was younger so of course he was smaller.
True looked from her dad to Uly to her dad. "He thought it was fun!" she declared.
"Now, True," began John.
"He thought it was fun?" repeated Devon, giving her son a confused look. Uly nodded.
"That's what he said," Alonzo confirmed. "They're just kids. Kids fight."
Devon raised an eyebrow at the pilot. "You witnessed the fight?"
Alonzo smiled charmingly. He sensed potential trouble here, but he'd smiled his way out of trouble before Devon was a gleam in her daddy's eye.
"You were there?" rumbled Danziger darkly. The smile lost some of its luster. It was wasted on John, anyway. "I saw part of it. Hey, I stopped them before they got hurt!"
"Before they got hurt? Alonzo, both children are covered in blood!" declared Devon. "And that bruise on True's leg--" Devon stopped short as it dawned on her that Uly probably caused it. She eased her son to the ground and looked appealingly to Yale. The old tutor smiled and took Uly by the hand.
"Let's get you into some fresh clothes, Ulysses," he said sternly, and he led the boy away.
Devon sighed and assessed the situation. True was checking the ugly black and blue evidence of Uly's self-defense. Danziger was dividing his attention between Alonzo and herself, listening to the pilot's rationalization for letting the kids fight at all, and glancing her way to gauge her reaction. No doubt he'd take the opposite viewpoint, regardless of which she took. Devon sighed again. She lightly laid a hand on John's forearm, an action which drew his complete attention and signaled to Alonzo her desire to speak.
"Don't you think True would feel better in some clean clothes?"
No, Danziger didn't think clean clothes would make True 'feel' better. That was peculiar female 'reasoning' no amount of logic could shake. So, John shrugged and directed his girl, who so far didn't show any signs of female reasoning, to change and remain in the tent until further notice.
True slowly made her way to the tent, hampered by the limp she'd developed just for the occasion. Bess and Denner exchanged conspiratorial smiles, then Denner caught up with the child, offering to help. A peek at her dad's face and the girl reluctantly refused. She certainly didn't need any help, but it would've been fun to tell Denner about the fight. That was probably what Denner was thinking, anyway. Hey!
"Let's make a deal," suggested True softly. "You tell me everything that goes on here; you know, what my dad and Devon have to say, and I'll tell you everything that happened this morning."
Denner's mouth fell open. "You are one smart kid," she laughed. "We'll see."
True lay back on her cot, grounded. Tent arrest, again. Once they got on the road, it would be TransRover arrest, again.
Uly had received a thorough talking-to from both his mother and Yale. Devon thought him adequately sorry for his behavior. The old tutor rather had his doubts about the 'young man' feeling sorry about the fight; the resulting discipline, perhaps. Uly was free to wander about, itching to talk about the fight, how exciting it was, and all, but the person he usually shared things with was his mom. She wouldn't understand. It would be great to talk to Mr. Danziger, but since his daughter was involved, he probably wouldn't be too excited about it. Yale would either scold him again or go into a boxing lecture. Mr. Solace was there. Besides, they were all busy packing up to leave. Mr. Martin? Uly wondered if he'd ever had a bloody nose.
"Several," replied the man, struggling to unknot a rope lashing the shovel to the TransRover. Why couldn't Bess have said something *before* he'd tied the shovel in place? Another whiteroot failure. He personally saw no reason to bury it since they were breaking camp. "That was Vic Green's way of asking for help with the weekly history tests."
"I like history," bounced Uly. "I'm good at it. You must be, too, or that guy wouldn't have wanted you to help him. Did he want you to help him cheat?"
"Yes, as a matter of fact, he did. And you're right, Uly; history is one of my strong points."
"It's kinda fun, isn't it? I mean, you can imagine all kinds of things, like being a knight or a pirate!" Uly clutched an imaginary sword and battled an imaginary foe.
Morgan stopped worrying at the knot and considered the brat waving his arm around. In light of who was raising him, Uly was a pretty good kid. A little bit like himself, maybe, just the littlest bit. They both had vivid imaginations. The childless bureaucrat smiled, receiving a huge grin in return. "I used to pretend I was Alexander the Great, or Julius Caesar. Do you know who they were?"
"They were kings, thousands and thousands of years ago," said the boy, continuing his swordfight, adding clashing noises which got on Morgan's nerves.
"Actually," said Morgan, "they were emperors, a couple of thousand years ago."
"Emperors are better than kings, aren't they?" Evidently his foe was vanquished. Uly stopped fencing, nimbly scrambled onto the TransRover bed and began swinging his legs.
"They have a good deal more power." Morgan attacked the knot again. It responded to his efforts this time.
"Do you know as much history as Yale?" "I very seriously doubt it," replied Morgan, flattered by the boy's sincere question. "But I do know a whole lot more than the average person."
"If you didn't, Vic Green wouldn't have hit you in the face," reasoned Uly, eliciting a chuckle from Morgan as he pulled the shovel free.
The man glanced around, then leaned close to the boy. "I hate to admit it--" he looked around again-- "but since we've shared this particular experience, I feel that I can trust you--I *can* trust you to keep this just between us?"
Uly, eyes wide, nodded solemnly. Mr. Martin didn't kid around with him like the other guys. But if he was going to tell him a secret, that sort of made them buddies, didn't it?
"Vic Green," Morgan whispered, "is short for Vicky Green." "Oh," Uly whispered back. "I understand. Some girls are really good fighters."
"Want to help me bury the latest white-root mess?" Uly wrinkled his nose and jumped down. "I don't think so. Bye, Mr. Martin." The boy escaped.
"Bye." Morgan began plodding toward the remains of the 'kitchen'. It was probably a good thing Uly had run off. Morgan already regretted telling him about Vic Green, and if the kid *had* agreed to help, Morgan might have told him Vic was 12 at the time: four years younger than his victim.
Eden Advance stayed on the move later than usual. They'd had plenty of practice, so setting up camp in the growing darkness was only an inconvienence. They were in a parklike area now, with far fewer trees around them and even fewer in the distance. Uly's River flowed nearby. Only the rocky banks had prevented their pitching the tents closer. According to Morgan, they were to follow the river thru the grassland for several kilometers. The next few days' travel would be easy.
But, the season was midsummer, and out from under the trees, it was hot; the sunset brought little relief. Most of Eden Advance sat at the riverside, less than a quarter mile from camp, scattered in Luma-lit little clumps or not so well lit couples, perched on rounded boulders. Yale had brought a chair and appeared to have dozed off with Uly sorting pebbles and cobbles by size at his feet. The rush of the water and the murmur of voices mingled indistinguishably, punctuated by the slap of hand against insect on bare skin.
True was sulking in the muggy tent; Walman had guard duty and was taking it too darn seriously, in her opinion. Did he think she'd try to run off in the dark? Van Helsing was out there! A stab of conscience veered her mind off on another course. She concentrated on the solitaire game in the floor before her.
Danziger sat alone, trying to relax. He hated keeping Truegirl penned up, but he'd told her she was grounded and wasn't going to go back on his word. He wished he'd come up with something else. A feminine shriek caught his ear. Bess. She and Morgan, off to themselves. Be going to bed soon. John rubbed his chin, absently aware of the raspy sound of hand against stubble. He could go on to bed himself. A stray thought, originating more in the vicinity of the loins than the brain, flashed an image of a soft, sweaty, wonderfully ardent Devon wrapped in his arms. Ardent Adair. Danziger shook his head to dislodge the picture. He swallowed, the imagined feel of belly against belly lingering.
"Hi. Mind if I join you? Yale's asleep." Speak of the devil! "No, no, have a seat, Adair." Devon hesitated. Adair? Apparently John was more upset by the fight than he'd admitted. She remained standing. "I...I really don't know what to say, I never expected the children to come to blows."
"You never expected *Uly* to," Danziger corrected. "No. No, I didn't. I've not raised him to settle disagreements with his fists."
Devon was silhouetted by the smaller moon. It looked like a halo. John snorted. "Devon, kids fight. It's normal." He added sarcastically, "True has been raised never to settle a disagreement without them." And then he smiled at the disdain creeping across Devon's face. He boldly circled his hand around her ankle and tugged. "Sit down, Devon."
She sat, eyeing him suspiciously. "I take it that was a feeble attempt at a joke."
"Yes, it was a joke. Devon," he said in exasperation, "normal, healthy kids hit other kids from time to time, especially boys. Uly is a normal, healthy boy. The little Champ got hit, he hit back. You should be happy about it." Danziger paused to allow Devon the protest he knew she'd make.
"Happy? Is this another joke?"
"No. Think, Devon! Uly's been changed by the Terrians, right? Do you ever wonder if you're losing him to them, maybe he's more Terrian than human? I know you do, it's written all over your face. You'd make a lousy poker player, Adair. Think about it. Remember Gaal and his bone necklace? Terrians don't strike their own kind, woman. Uly and True beat each other bloody!" Danziger leaned closer to Devon, staring into her beautiful eyes and said quietly, "Ulysses Adair is a normal, healthy, human boy."
Devon's lips parted slightly. John could smell the pleasant tang of redpod on her breath. "I hadn't thought of that," she said wonderingly. "John. You're right." Her arms wrapped around him and into his shoulder she muffled, "You're right."
Danziger returned the hug. It would embarrass Devon if he didn't. He held the woman against him, delighted with the way she fit in his arms. Like she'd been custom made. Too soon, her embrace loosened and he followed suit, hugs between friends having limits and all.
Side by side, the two sat listening to Uly's River. When the Martins strolled hand in hand back to camp, Devon glanced up at John and smiled. "I don't know what she sees in him."
"I know what he sees in her," rumbled John. Devon slapped his leg and innocently explained, "bug."
Julia and Alonzo wandered past, wishing them goodnight. Denner, flanked by Baines and Matazl, sang out a cheery, "Good night, sleep tight!" as the trio headed back to the tents. Her blessing woke Yale, who rose and stretched, covering a yawn with his flesh hand. The old man admired Uly's rock collection as best he could in the Luma-lite, asked the boy where his mother was, and followed him to her, stepping much more carefully than the agile nine-year-old.
"It's beautiful here, isn't it, Yale?" asked Devon. "Oh, yes. There is much beauty on G889, don't you agree, John?"
Danziger agreed. "Yeah." He had a feeling Yale meant Devon in that 'much beauty'. The old cyborg didn't miss a thing.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN
REVENGE

DAY 28
When John cupped his hands to his mouth and shouted for van Helsing, the last thing he expected was a response. He'd been venting anger more than seriously offering a challenge, using scout time to bellow for the nasty little sadist.
Van Helsing materialized, on foot for a change, too close for comfort. What did he do, walk on air? Come thru the ground like the diggers? Baines and Devon had talked about the guide's fastidiousness and now he was near enough that Danziger could see for himself. No way van Helsing would move thru dirt.
John left the ATV and strode toward the woodsman, who backed away. John plowed on, wordlessly. Van Helsing seemed to prefer silence and what was there to say, anyhow? After several yards of Danziger advancing and van Helsing retreating, the guide halted. He tilted his head Terrian-like, then raised it and appeared to sniff the air. His eyes were flat and indifferent when he turned them to John. The expression didn't change as John charged him.
If the men had been more alike physically, Danziger would have ended up an unconscious mess bleeding into the humus. As it was, his longer reach provided a slight advantage which surprise at van Helsing's agility almost negated. The small man was *fast*, fast and strong. He didn't strike out at Danziger, and easily evaded most of the big mechanic's punches. When John managed to connect, van Helsing didn't seem to feel them like he should have. A couple of times John found himself face down in the dirt, having been tripped. Van Helsing's politely waiting as he got to his feet was salt in the wound. The smaller man acted as if it were a game, drawing nearer, then dancing away, taunting Danziger.
The woodsman liked teasing people, did he? Taunting and tormenting, he liked doing that? Danziger eased back, slowly, watching van Helsing's reaction; van Helsing didn't pursue the panting man. John stopped a few meters away, half bent over, hands on thighs, upper body propped up by his rigid arms. He sucked in air. Van Helsing was breathing harder, but he wasn't winded, and he stood lightly, regarding Danziger, who imagined he knew how a mouse felt confronted by a cat. John's breath came in angry gasps; with exaggerated care, he straightened up and pushed a hand thru sweaty, tangled hair. He forced himself to breathe normally and moved a few feet closer. Deliberately imitating van Helsing's softly and efficiently, he delivered a very good shot at John, who tasted blood. His lip was split, and a tooth or two felt wobbly. Oddly, this made Danziger more confident. He'd been ticked off by van Helsing's indifference. Now the woodsman was mad, responding in a normal manner. John busted his knuckles open on van Helsing's chin. It was well worth it. This time, the woodsman lost his balance.
John flung himself down at van Helsing. He abruptly found himself airborne, then lying on his back, trying to get his breath. The back of his head hurt. Must have hit a tree root or rock. He lay still, eyes closed, wincing with each breath. He thought he heard the other man approach. Probably checking out the damage.
And then it was van Helsing's turn to be tossed. Danziger struck as quickly as a snake, instinct guiding him. He rolled, forcing the other man to the ground, hoping sheer weight would keep him there. He stared down at his adversary. The man was pinned securely. Agility couldn't compete with mass, not without leverage. John squeezed the skinny forearms, devoutly wishing his hands were around van Helsing's neck. Killing him was a real temptation. Danziger squeezed harder. He had nearly convinced himself they didn't need this guide any longer.
Both men heard and felt the snap. Van Helsing cried out in pain. John was surprised. He was pleased and grew careless, underestimating the woodsman.
Van Helsing flipped Danziger against a tree five feet away, in spite of the bmpete with mass, not without leverage. John squeezed the skinny forearms, devoutly wishing his hands were around van Helsing's neck. Killing him was a real temptation. Danziger squeezed harder. He had nearly convinced himself they didn't need this guide any longer.
Both men heard and felt the snap. Van Helsing cried out in pain. John was surprised. He was pleased and grew careless, underestimating the woodsman.
Van Helsing flipped Danziger against a tree five feet away, in spite of the broken arm. The impact stunned him. He blurrily watched the injured man stumble away. By the time John could stand, van Helsing had disappeared.
"I guess a combative nature runs in the family," commented Dr. Heller while scanning Danziger, who held a damp cloth pressed to his mouth.
He set his jaw and stared straight ahead, ignoring Julia's attempt to bait him.
"Concussion. It could certainly be worse. That thick skull of your's does have advantages." Nothing. The doctor looked up from the readouts.
John was in no mood for levity. In fact, his mood was so defensive as to be offensive. He'd driven back to the caravan, located Julia, and guiding the ATV alongside her, asked for medical attention before Devon called him on the carpet. Eden Advance halted. John looked pretty bad, blood, dirt and sweat. The curious and concerned Edenites wandered over, considered Danziger's return glare, and walked away. The story would come out sooner or later.
Even True was hanging back, tho' not entirely of her own volition. She'd leapt out of the TransRover and sped to her father the second the vehicle stopped. He'd winced a half-smile at her from behind the compress.
"Back to the TransRover, True-girl," Danziger said indistinctly.
"Are you okay, Dad?"
"Yeah. Cuts and bruises. Doc'll fix me up." "You picked a fight with van Helsing, didn't you?" Julia had paused in her work and Danziger sat silent, both startled by the accusation in the girl's tone.
"Back to the 'Rover," was repeated, and True unexpectedly obeyed with no argument.
Arms crossed, Devon watched Julia attend the elder, but apparently no more mature, Danziger. She was taken aback. It had never crossed her mind that he could get near van Helsing, much less close enough to attack him. John didn't look badly hurt. Devon stalked over to the doctor and her patient.
"Devon," acknowledged Danziger.
"How's van Helsing?" she demanded. "Thanks for your concern, Adair."
"You're a big man, John, a good deal bigger and stronger than van Helsing. Is he badly injured?"
Danziger bristled. "He walked away. Think I'd leave him hurt?"
"Yes, I do." Devon replied. "I think you'd derive a vengeful satisfaction from it."
A denial would be lying. Danziger grimaced as Julia gently lifted the compress. "Abused True." He looked at Devon, disgusted. "I have to look out for my kid. You should understand, Devon."
The woman sighed. She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to abort a heat headache. "I do, John." How could *she* say anything to him about going off the deep end for one's child? "Are you sure van Helsing is alright?"
Danziger nodded. Julia was messing with his lip; he took her hand to still it so he could talk. "He's fast. Greased lightning. Could hardly touch him."
"What puzzles me," said Julia, pulling free and continuing her work, "is how you were able to get within half a kilometer of him."
"He couldn't have, unless van Helsing let him," said Alonzo, coming up behind the mechanic. The dreamer absently massaged his aching wrist. "That was a mistake, John, a serious mistake. We need the old man."
"This cut on your lip needs to be closed," the doctor said. A change of subject struck her as wise.
"You've managed to synthesize more dermaglue?" asked Devon. "Uh, no." Julia pushed the lock of hair behind her ear. She inhaled deeply. "I'll have to take a few stitches."
John sat up ramrod straight. That did not sound good. His head pounded in protest of the sudden movement.
"It's a simple procedure. There is anesthestic, you'll feel nothing, and in about a week, I'll remove the stitches." Julia smiled apologetically. "There will be scarring, however."
Devon didn't say much to John, except to agree with Alonzo that attacking van Helsing was a mistake. They had no way of knowing how he'd react. Uly assured her he wouldn't hurt them, or try to get even or anything, but Devon knew the man could kill them in their sleep, one by one, if he wished.
Alonzo inherited the ATV. Both Danzigers were secured in the TransRover, out of trouble. Eden Advance was on the road again, or more correctly, on the beaten trail again, following a wide, packed-clay, animal highway. An open grassland dotted with trees rolled southward, divided by Uly's River meandering thru it. Herds, descendents of the original trail makers, fled from the strangers. Heat shimmer gave the landscape a surreal appearance. 'Lonz pushed his damp hair back. A dip in the river would feel good. He smiled. Maybe skinny-dipping with a certain pretty doctor. Yeah, he needed to relax. Alonzo let his thoughts drift, lacing memories with fantasies.
He was jerked back to reality by a twinge in his forearm. The pain rapidly diminished to a dull ache, like a pulled muscle. That's probably what it was; in the life they lived now, injuries seemed to generate spontaneously. Everyone in Eden Advance found mystery cuts and bruises, usually in the evening when there was time to sit and notice minor pains. They made a game of it sometimes, talking to each other, then walking away with a casual, "Do you know you're bleeding?"
The pilot stopped and raised the jumpers to his eyes. Parkland extended as far as the naked eye could see, gradually sloping south and west. Brought into view with the jumpers was a smudge on the horizon: more woods.
Alonzo ceased his slow survey of the area. Horses. Only a few, seven or eight, but definitely horses. Two foals. If they could capture young animals...Yale would know how long horses had to stay with their mothers.
EVENING 28
Morgan and Devon waited together nearly half an hour for van Helsing. At dusk, with the sun almost gone, Morgan suggested they return to camp. Devon disagreed, feeling her presence could be deterring the guide. She retreated to the shelter of a huge tree distant enough to obscure her gender, even in the glow of Luma-lite.
Nervous and fretful at first, Morgan grew concerned. This *was* the right place. Four trees with oval, fuzzy undersided leaves, one squat tree so heavy with inedible fruit that its branches touched the ground, the whole little copse on the banks of the river. There weren't that many trees in the area now.
"This has got to be the right place," muttered Morgan, pacing from tree to tree like he expected agreement from them.
Danziger, Mr. Hero, Mr. Roar Like a Lion voice, Think Like an Amoeba brain, had probably scared van Helsing away for good. Or beat him up so badly the poor, arrogant, little guy was clinging to life, alone, out in that wilderness. He might even be dead from injuries Julia could have easily treated. Danziger claimed van Helsing 'walked away', but, hey, he wasn't going to say, 'oh, yeah, I killed our guide, our one hope of getting across the river.'
An hour and a half after they'd left to meet van Helsing, Devon, light blinking like a giant firefly, trudged thru the dark, and told Morgan she didn't think the man would show up. Morgan bit his tongue to keep from making a remark about her deductive powers.
DAY 29
MORNING
"True's so grounded, Mr. Danziger won't even let me talk to her!" complained Uly.
Devon absently laid a finger across her lips. Uly screwed up his face and waited for his mom to finish poring over one of Yale's new maps. They were mapping the area as they went. Uly thought that was stupid, because the Terrians didn't need maps, and the Terrians weren't going to let any more humans here.
"He's not even letting her out to go to the bathroom!" Devon frowned.
"Why does he keep grounding her, it punishes me, too." "Uly," Devon warned.
"It's not fair!"
"Ulysses!"
The mom-look hit right on target. Uly left Devon alone, abjectly dragging his lightning stick on the way to a lonely breakfast.
Morgan and Bess waited for van Helsing half an hour that morning. He didn't show. They'd not really expected him to. The bureaucrat was frustrated. He viewed the position of 'chief intermediary' as quite important, carrying with it a certain amount of prestige. Morgan angrily kicked a tree and, with Bess's support, hobbled back to camp.
Devon questioned John again; the mechanic sullenly admitted the woodsman probably had a broken arm, but he seemed unharmed otherwise. When Alonzo learned of van Helsing's 'probable' injury, an eerie feeling crept up his spine. He thoughtfully massaged his forearm. Were the Terrians connecting him and van Helsing intentionally? If they were, judging by van Helsing's reactions to him, the link was one way.
The group decided to continue following the river south. More than a few of them hoped they'd seen the last of the guide. They were relieved to be using their own judgment again. Travel was easy, slowed only by the need to avoid overheating the vehicles and the people. Julia checked everyone periodically and was pleased to note that they were acclimating to the high temperatures. Part of that was no doubt due to learning how to protect against heatstroke. Part was due to the adaptability of the human body.
Julia pondered the situation and the people coping with it. Thriving in it. She felt that, as a doctor, she was unusually appreciative of the difficulties Eden Advance was overcoming.
"We really are an extraordinary group." Matazl, the only person within earshot, turned and ventured an uncertain, "Are you talking to me?"
Julia smiled. "Yes," she decided.
He paused so the doctor could catch up with him. "Tell me," said Julia, clasping her hands behind her back and assuming a professorial air, "You're ops crew; will you be returning to the stations?"
"I don't think I can," Matazl replied after a minute's consideration. He gazed around at the green expanse shimmering in the heat and the blue infinity above them. "Life is hard here. Life on Earth was hard for thousands of years. The struggle to survive as part of the Earth is what shaped us. Our bodies and minds and spirits are meant for--." He shut up; the scientific doctor wouldn't understand his philosophy.
Julia rushed in before the conversational gap became awkward. "You're right. We need the challenge. When we first arrived, I examined every member of this group thoroughly. Now-- take you, for example. A physican comparing your vitals from then with vitals taken today would conclude they were from two different men." She gestured to include the entire group. "We've all experienced similar improvement!"
"Do you want to go back home?"
The doctor smiled, well aware her answer was corny. "We haven't reached 'home', yet."
Maybe the woman *did* understand mankind's tie to the Earth. Walman trotted to them, up to no good. Attentively watching were Denner, the Martins and Baines; Walman had drawn the short straw, so to speak, and was sent ahead in the heat. Matazl greeted him. Julia scolded him for unnecessary exertion. Before saying a word, Walman drank from his canteen, then emptied it over his head.
"Bess and Denner want to know what you two are talking about that's got Doc so excited." A quick mopping of his face, and Walman continued, looking slyly at Matazl. "Anything Alonzo needs to know?" He cast his eyes at Julia. "Or not, maybe?"
Walman (and friends) thought Matazl would catch on, and they could have a little harmless fun at Julia's expense. The chromotilt doctor, however, was adapting to life among the likes of Walman and friends.
Earnestly, she replied, "I was telling Matazl what a magnificent body he has."
Walman stood there with his mouth hanging open. The man with the 'magnificent' body walked off shaking his head, his hands in an 'I don't know these people' position.
Julia continued onward, a smug little smile on her lips, from time to time emitting a chortlelike sound.
Van Hesling had evidently dropped out of their lives. The group moved south with the river, making good time, without a sign of the woodsman. Morgan kept an eye out for him, almost wistfully, walking apart from the others sometimes, just in case. It crossed his mind to go back and search for the poor little guy, but that really wasn't practical, it was...well, it just wasn't practical.
In a few days, they reached Alonzo's smudge on the horizon, now a forest which grew denser by the kilometer. Here they camped, under the trees just enough to take advantage of the shade. Once again, Eden Advance sent out scouts.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN
RETURN

NIGHT 32
~~Stars. Hard, bright stars. The ship purred around him. Alonzo left the viewport and walked thru unfamiliar corridors, counting the way to his quarters. Boots rang on metal, a hollow sound. Someone behind him coughed. Alonzo turned, half-waved a greeting to the stranger, a soldier.
He found the assigned cabin/cubicle, dropped his duffle bag on the floor and stretched out on the bunk. He lay there, staring at the low ceiling. After a short time, shouts and the sound of running feet drew him back out into the corridor. Alonzo joined the race for the viewport. The shocked voices of his comrades faded into silence for him, just as the destruction of the station had been silent. He stared, then bolted, his hand to his mouth and forced his way clear, running, hoping to reach the toilet before the vomiting began.
Alonzo skidded to a halt and doubled over the toilet. The violence of his illness left him shaking, exhausted. Trembling, he rinsed his mouth, washed his face and hands. He carefully cleaned the floor, the commode, the sink. The jumpsuit wasn't soiled. He changed clothes anyway, then sat on his bunk. He sat and stared at nothing.
A panel of five officers stared complacently at him. He lowered his eyes. Manacles immobilized his hands. Cuffs attached to the chair encircled his ankles. Alonzo breathed slowly.
"Corporal Brian Charles Lee."
The man standing next to Alonzo jabbed him with a baton and he looked up, disoriented.
"Corporal Brian Charles Lee," the voice repeated. Prodded by the guard, Alonzo stood, struggling to balance. I'm dreaming again.
Another jab from the baton encouraged him to regain his equilibrium.
Julia said, stay with it. Stay with a court martial? If I'm executed in this dream, will I die?
"Corporal Lee, care to join us?" a gray-haired officer asked sarcastically. "Your sentence should be of some interest to you." Chuckles rose up from behind Alonzo.
He inhaled deeply and assumed a military posture. The original speaker resumed. "Corporal Brian Charles Lee, you are found guilty of the sabotage of Station 0119-tw, the destruction of Project Eliot, and the deaths of 183 men and women. Given the highly confidential nature of Project Eliot, it is only fitting that your punishment entail confidentiality. You are hereby sentenced to life on the ninth planet of the G88 system."
Corporal Lee/Alonzo stood straight, face blank. Alonzo's mind raced. What was this? Did this mean he felt imprisoned on G889?
The speaker continued in a conversational tone, "We're uncertain of its habitability. You'll help us determine if human life can be sustained for any useful length of time." The man sighed theatrically. "I'm sorry to inform you that what data we have is not encouraging."
Alonzo's guard released the leg irons. He used the baton to guide 'Lonz/Lee into and down the hall. At the fourth right hand side door, the guard stopped. He opened the door and prodded Alonzo inside.~~
Inside was the Dreamplane. A lone Terrian warbled a question. Did he understand the journey? Alonzo, himself once across the threshold, did not understand. The Terrian whistled and trilled disappointment.
"What are you trying to tell me? The dreams, they're the journey?" Into his subconscious?
The Terrian tilted his head and slowly righted it. He warbled mournfully. Yes, dreams are journeys. But Alonzo's lack of understanding meant trying again.
Alonzo sensed these dreams, so grounded in the human world, so alien, were difficult for the Terrians. He would have offered an apology, but forgiveness was also alien to the Terrians. Speech does not undo action. "Maybe if the message was in another setting it would be easier."
The Terrian told him that the message didn't exist except as it was and slipped into the ground.
Alonzo woke. Julia was right. The dream was wisping away, but he felt relaxed. There was a reason for the dreams and the Terrians were involved.
One-hundred-eighty-three. The number, whatever it meant, was wrong. Should be a little over seven hundred.
DAY 33
Another gray, malodorous candidate for school cafeteria menus everywhere huddled malevolently in the same once white pail its predecessors had occupied before interment. No matter what Bess did with whiteroot, boiled, dried, dried and ground, treated with this potion or that elixir contributed by Julia, within four days it deteriorated into: Tapioca from Hell. Morgan, by virtue of being married to Bess, was charged with its disposal. He hoisted the pail, shouldered the shovel, and tried to think unpleasant thoughts about his wife.
His gear inconveniently sounded. With a martyr's sign, Morgan set the whiteroot down and responded.
"Yes, Mr. Baines?" he said wearily. "Morgan, I just saw van Helsing."
"What?" Morgan slowly lowered the shovel to the ground. "Where are you? Is he alright?"
"I'm about three kilometers east, southeast. Have Denner get a fix on my signal, and get out here."
The bureaucrat reasoned van Helsing took precedence over garbage detail and immediately ran for the comtent. "Is he okay?" Morgan repeated testily.
"As far as I can tell, he's okay. The man won't let me near him," said Baines. "I'm *real* torn up about that," he added.
"You can see him now?" Morgan cried. His excitement drew the attention of Denner and Yale. "Can you see his arm?"
"What is it?" the tutor asked.
"Baines found van Helsing. Lock onto his signal, if you don't mind," commanded Morgan brusquely.
"Barely; he's riding in some fairly open woods, keeps going over the same area. Either he's looking for something or waiting for someone. Like you."
"Listen, Baines, I don't want to keep harping on the same subject, but *how's his arm*?"
"I think it's bandaged. Looks like he's holding it close to his body."
"It probably isn't healing properly," complained Morgan. "The man needed medical treatment the day Danziger broke it for him."
Devon joined them, as did Julia and Alonzo. Denner attempted to brief them as Morgan anxiously urged the doctor to grab some medical supplies and come with him.
"Van Helsing won't let me near him," said Julia. "Remember?" "He was healthy then; an injury would change his mind." "I think--" began Yale.
Julia shook her head. "Not necessarily. The man seems to have a phobia--"
"Of course he has a phobia! He's scared of *us*, and Danziger didn't help matters--"
"Excuse me," Yale tried again.
"Morgan, I think he's frightened by technology. Gear, the diaglove--"
"Excuse me!" Yale demanded loudly. He smiled at the resulting silence. The tutor spoke to Morgan. "I have Baines' location. You'd best be on your way."
Devon advised, "I don't think you should go unarmed. Get the sidearm from John."
Morgan nodded impatiently. Armed? What for? Van Helsing wouldn't hurt him. Probably wouldn't. His horse might. Morgan flushed as he realized that if there was any real danger in this, he'd be burying the whiteroot.
The boss lady wasn't finished. She lightly touched Morgan's shoulder. "Be careful."
He blinked. "Yes, of course." He stood straighter. "I'll be fine, Devon," he assured her awkwardly. Devon's open concern sort of threw him.
Van Helsing was still there. Baines pointed him out, and Morgan peered thru the jumpers at the horseman. Van Helsing didn't look in their direction. With a mix of resignation and conceit, the bureaucrat headed in *his* direction.
Baines and Julia watched. Van Helsing backed away, out of sight in the trees. Morgan disappeared a few minutes later. The two waiting Edenites regarded one another doubtfully.
Morgan plodded thru the woods. He'd left his gear behind, of course. Why hadn't he put a beacon in his pocket instead of the pistol? He shuddered. The pistol hidden in his shirt was useless. The first indication van Helsing meant to kill him would be an arrow in his chest.
"Stop!" rang out from somewhere ahead. Without a thought to do anything else, Morgan stopped. He couldn't have moved if he wanted to. The voice wasn't really familiar. It *was* van Helsing, but so loud, his voice sounded distorted.
The man and horse appeared sixty or seventy meters away, half hidden in the trees and underbrush. Slowly they drew nearer, the man constantly scanning the area. No closer than thirty meters, they halted. Van Helsing stared at Morgan a short time, then resumed searching the woods.
His hair was unkempt again. Well, the man could hardly braid it with one hand. And, as Baines said, he was favoring the bandaged arm. The woodsman cradled it against his body. Julia could probably still do something for him, and if van Helsing didn't want the doctor near, Morgan was willing to follow her instructions. It would certainly be better than nothing.
"H-how's your arm?" he called.
Van Helsing flicked a glance downward. Morgan shifted his weight tensely. He'd rehearsed this scene over and over in his mind; having the other player present complicated the matter.
Morgan flattered himself that he recognized duplicitous behavior; granted, he'd missed it in Gaal, but the ordeal of adjusting to planetary life had nearly overwhelmed him. After months here, the old abilities were again operating at optimum capacity. True had left something out. Was it safe to ask van Helsing about it? Surely the man found Danziger's reaction to his keeping the girl safe puzzling, to put it mildly.
The bureaucrat preened nervously a bit, smoothing down the nonexistent jacket. Morgan wasn't aware old habits were in action until his fingers reached to straighten the tie matching the jacket. Self-conscious, he pushed his hand back to his ponytail as if that was what he'd intended all along. After minor throat clearing, Morgan spoke again. "Several of us feel that True--the little girl--misled her father concerning your...day with her."
There was a momentary pause in the survey of the woods. Morgan saw no other response. He licked his lips and continued. "Danziger believes the bruises on her arms resulted from some kind of...abuse, mishandling, something of that sort." A nervous laugh slipped out. "And so he broke your arm, an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, you know. Perfectly understandable reaction, if you think about it, considering Danziger's temperament. He's one of those 'shoot first, ask questions later' types." Good Lord, he'd never meant to offer apologies for Danziger!
Van Helsing closed his eyes a moment. It occurred to Morgan the little fellow could be in pain.
"Look," he said gently, stepping forward, "do you need medical attention? I know you don't like Julia, but she can coach me." Van Helsing began moving away, so Morgan retreated. "Or maybe even you yourself. Is it a compound fracture? Did the bone break the skin?"
"No. Thank you. I don't need a doctor." He spoke with sufficient volume to be heard clearly.
"Oh. Well, that's good, I'm glad to hear it. So you're doing alright. Good, good." Morgan had expected van Helsing to accept their aid. Maybe Bess should have come along, charmed him into it. Or not. Things were hard to sort out. Van Helsing was a trifle odd. Conversationally, Morgan asked, "I don't mean to be nosy, and I understand completely if you'd rather not answer, but what really happened? How did True..." he extended his own arms nervously "...what caused...them?"
Van Helsing responded, perhaps even answered the question, but in his soft monotone. Whatever, he spoke only a few words.
Morgan tried to radiate kindliness and caring. Bess did that so naturally. Somehow, the expression just didn't fit on the bureaucrat's face. He waited in silence, willing van Helsing to sense the harmlessness, the trustworthiness.
The horseman dropped a package to the ground. Without a word or backward look, van Helsing left.
"Maps," said Devon. "He gave us maps of the area. They *are* rough, but I believe them to be as accurate as he could make them." She spread the largest on the table, anchoring the corners with bowls and mugs.
Danziger snorted.
"Cloth," noted Yale, fingering the edge. "A type of canvas?" "Wonder what he used for ink?" said Cameron. The lines were crisp and clear, not like you'd expect on cloth.
Devon stepped away to allow others access. Hands on hips, the woman continued. "Van Helsing is very anxious to be rid of us. I think he'd provide maps with accurate information to get us out of his territory as quickly as possible."
Danziger had to concede the point. This large map was crude, showing the major formations and no details. He unrolled one of the smaller maps, compared them. Yeah, the big one was an overview of the entire area, a couple of hundred miles north to south, maybe fifty east to west. At the bottom, an X was marked next to the river. Danziger assumed that was where they'd cross. "Looks like we've got about fifty or sixty miles to go."
"He has a sense of humor," said Magus, finger on the map. More than a few miles west of the river was blank except for a sketch with the caption 'Here Be Dragons'.
"He also has unusual handwriting," said Yale. John studied the map in his hands. Unusual? Nearly illegible, most of it. One of those artistic scripts the notquite -rich affected. "Yeah, well, he's a little unusual himself."
"Looks like some sort of calligraphy," said Denner. "Perhaps I should have described his handwriting as 'archaic'," corrected Yale. He tapped the map. "This is cursive. One can still learn similiar writing in art courses. This, however, is simple, everyday script. It fell into disuse well over a century ago."
Magus gazed at the tutor in disbelief. "You don't think he learned it over a century ago?"
"No telling how long van Helsing's been here, but it ain't no hundred years. He got hold of a historical chip or something and taught himself 'cursive' to pass the time," said Danziger impatiently. "Now. Let's lay the rest of these out, put 'em together like a puzzle. I want to see exactly what we've got."
What they had was a set of directions with the obstacles indicated. The smaller maps charted Eden Advance's course in greater detail, including animal trails of useful width. The scouts would still have to find the actual paths and there would probably be some backtracking, but ravines and steep hills, creeks and dense forest were marked out for them, so they knew which way not to go. Van Helsing had also sketched in dangers, such as Morgan's thorn bushes, kobas, and a vaguely bovine creature they didn't recognize.
The first few days of following the maps, the scouts intentionally went the wrong ways. Van Helsing's maps were accurate on that count, at least.
DAY 38
Baines preferred guard duty to scouting. Even with the maps, finding a path thru the trees was difficult. He was appalled when the thought that it might not be a bad thing to have van Helsing back tried to settle in his brain. Be careful what you wish for, you just might get it, wasn't that what he used to hear as a kid?
The TransRover was the problem. The massive vehicle required more space than found naturally in these woods. So, they camped, cut trees, moved a bit, camped, cut trees, camped, cut trees, moved a few centimeters more. Whoever did the scouting on a particular stretch could expect the grumbling and abuse from the other guys to be in proportion to the size and number of trees they had to fell. Or brush they had to clear.
'Lonz had gotten into some kind of shrub with fuzzy leaves. The fuzz rubbed off onto him, and the man had been wild with itching almost immediately. It was hilarious. They sent him back to camp; Julia had said it was an allergic reaction, nothing serious. Alonzo bathed as soon as he could, which stopped the itching, but scarlet streaks showed up anyway, wherever the fuzz had crept. Next morning, it was the strangest thing: Julia had scarlet streaks, too, and not just on her hands, where you'd expect them. Baines grinned. He bet she had more streaks in some pretty interesting places. Probably made a fascinating pattern.
At the edge of a small stream, Baines stopped the ATV. There'd be no problem driving right thru it, but he was getting thirsty and preferred clean water. The water in his canteen was pure, but not as fresh and cold. A clump of those medicinal ferns grew several feet downstream; they'd learned any water the ferns liked was safe. The only qualm Baines had about drinking it was the presence of the animals that lived with the plants. He hoped they hadn't swum this far upstream recently.
The tech slurped icy water from his cupped hands like a pro. It wasn't a difficult skill to master, but the colonists on the way to G889 wouldn't be able to drink from their hands so casually. They'd probably dehydrate rather than drink from a free-running stream like this. Wimps.
In a way, Baines dreaded the arrival of the 2nd ship. Educating those people was going to be a monumental task.
He wiped his hands on his pants and returned to the ATV. Before starting on again, the scout scouted upstream and downstream. Downstream held his attention. A grown koba watched him as two small ones lapped at the water. Baines remained motionless, doing his best to seem nonthreatening.
The babies waded into the stream and splashed about, making churring sounds. The adult calmly watched Baines. It blinked slowly. Baines wondered what might be an attack signal from a koba. Earth animals bared their teeth. Did kobas blink?
Playtime for the koba twins dragged by. They'd be cute in another situation. Eventually, the man had to wipe the sweat out of his eyes.
Parent koba mimicked him.
He waved. It waved. One of the babies noticed, then the other. They climbed out of the water and watched mama play with the strange large creature.
Baines rubbed his head. Parent koba rubbed its head. One of the twins decided to play this game and put a hand to its head.
The human held both hands palms out. All three koba did. The human clapped his hands together gently. So did they. Baines grinned spontaneously and was surprised by the kobas attempting to follow suit. "I bet you could be domesticated," he said. The little animals grunted and churred. "You'd have to be declawed."
"I've enjoyed our visit, but it's time to go." He hoped they wouldn't be startled by the ATV. Slowly, the scout headed across the creek, watching the kobas the whole time. They seemed confused. On the other side, he waved goodbye. The three waved back. One of the babies decided to come, too, and sped toward the ATV.
Baines hesitated. What did he do now? Mama koba was trotting after the sprinting youngster, with the remaining baby in tow. Soon, the bold twin climbed into his lap. It sure was an ugly baby. Mama watched with narrowing eyes. Baines instinctively recognized that for an attack signal. What would the koba recognize as a concilitory signal?
Baby began poking around the vehicle. It climbed wherever it wished, sometimes on Baines again. Mama relaxed and Baines gratefully began breathing at a normal rate. Baby inspected the canteen briefly, gave up trying to lift it, and moved on to something far more promising. The unfamiliar smell was a food smell. Strange fruit with a peel that wouldn't open. Baby squawked, pulling at the wrapper. The tiny creature tugged futilely, trying to open Baines' lunch. It looked at the adult and fussed noisily. When Mama didn't help, the baby turned to Baines, fussing and squawking.
He eased his hand toward the baby and lunch. Mama watched closely. Baby allowed Baines to take the food, but hung onto an end of the package. The tech had never unwrapped a sandwich so slowly in his life. Baby tore off a piece of the whiteroot 'bread' and greedily crammed its mouth full. It churred at the other two, who immediately climbed up and helped themselves. They were delighted with the filling, a paste Bess prepared from the dried berries. When the food was gone, so were they. The kobas clambored to the ground and disappeared into the woods.
"Didn't even say 'thank you'," complained Baines.
An empty stomach prompted the scout to head home early. The kobas were waiting for him at the site of their picnic. Another large one had joined the family. Baines' choice was stop or run over them. Neither was appealing. He stopped.
"Hey, guys, I ain't got another sandwich." The babies invaded the ATV again. One explored, the other settled in Baines' lap. The adults approached and offered him whiteroot. Each held up an entire plant, roots, tubers and leaves. He took the whiteroot, amazed. The adults grunted or clucked or something, and the babies returned to them. One protested with a squawk; it was still protesting as the parents dragged it away.
Baines shook his head as he examined the plants. Well, here was proof for the story he'd tell tonight.
EVENING 39
Julia pressed a finger against her lips and stared at the whiteroot plants on the table. Bess stood with arms folded across her chest, waiting for the doctor to realize what was different about these whiteroot.
The tubers were firm and smooth. About half of them were either too large and woody or too small and not worth the effort of preparation. The roots were shriveled into hairlike strands with remarkable tensile strength. Julia poked at the leaves, so dry they crumbled. In fact, some of the leaves were nothing but nets of veins.
"Well?" prompted Bess.
"The tubers appear fresh, yet the leaves and roots indicate these plants have been out of the ground for some time, several days at least." She prodded a tuber again. "It seems the kobas have a method of preserving them."
"So do we, Julia. Look at the plants." Bewildered, the doctor looked at Bess instead. "The *plants*, Julia. The whole plant. We've been harvesting tubers only. We have to dig the whole thing up."
"We'll need to test your theory--" "Julia!"
"--but I'm reasonably sure you're onto something." Bess laughed. "Reasonably sure? Honey, I feel it in my bones!"
The doctor would test the theory, altho' she agreed with her friend. She said excitedly, "We've got it!"
Bess embraced Julia, who awkwardly returned the hug. The Earthress sighed happily. "Morgan is going to be so relieved!"

CHAPTER SIXTEEN
BLOOD

DAYS 41-43
The forest was thinning out. It wasn't grassland by any means, but the clumps of trees, often with grazing beasts at rest in the shade, were avoidable. The path of least resistance was a time consuming zig-zag. Grasses cropped short by the increasing number of animals made up for the lack of well-defined trails.
Morgan was quite happy. Feeling that his former relationship with van Helsing entitled him to do so, he assumed a possessive attitude toward the maps. This was infuriating or amusing depending on one's relationship with Morgan. The bureaucrat magnanimously permitted Devon to maintain physical possession of the maps, since Yale was the most qualified to interpret them-- with Morgan's insight (and two cents' worth) to aid him. The conclusion of the whiteroot preservation project had put the government man in a most generous frame of mind.
The kids fashioned bows and arrows; Devon confiscated Uly's and gave Danziger a look which clearly meant he should take True's. The ensuing argument was pointedly ignored by the rest of Eden Advance, until Yale had had enough. The tutor suggested permitting the children to play with the toys under adult supervision only. He volunteered to watch them; it would be a wonderful opportunity to teach the children the history of the weapons and the differing cultures which used them.
John and Devon accepted the compromise. True and Uly enjoyed their new toys in spite of Yale's lectures sometimes getting in the way of imagination. A talk about making arrowheads (during which the children were permitted to hold van Helsing's) piqued True's interest, and she spent the better part of an entire day head down, looking for raw material. All the girl got for her trouble was a sore neck and a smashed finger: she tried to bust open a rock to see if it would flake. Uly was sympathetic in a 'told you so' kind of way.
The weather was reasonably cooperative. It was too hot, but remained dry until a midnight cloudburst of exceptional strength opened over them. Alonzo dubbed it a 'frog strangler'. The entire camp woke and watched the torrents. Other tents were visible only as faint blurs of light. Communication was by gear. Little thunder and lightning accompanied the storm; however, the bolts hit so close to camp, there was no discernible lag between blinding flash and a roar which was felt to the bone.
The storm ended abruptly, after dropping enough water to flood the entire camp ankle deep. Eden Advance, for the most part, waded outside to check the damage. Denner and Magus crawled sloppily from under the heap they'd known as a tent less than an hour earlier. Julia examined the women in spite of their protests and confirmed they were uninjured.
True and Uly, each with a Luma-lite, splashed around stomping to see who could raise a fountain the highest. Devon watched them wistfully. Nothing in her life had prepared her for this, 'this' being enduring a violent storm, and 'this' being the pleasure of watching her son enjoy the flood waters.
Danziger sloshed up to her side. "Some of the lights are down. The vehicles seem to be fine, considering. Can't really tell how much damage we've sustained until daybreak."
Devon looked at the sky. The clouds were drifting innocently away to reveal stars twinkling as if nothing had happened. She glanced at the kids, then to John. He was watching them, too. "Looks like fun, doesn't it?"
"Yeah. It's amazing how well the kids have adapted to life on the planet. Racial memory, maybe?" He turned to Devon.
"Maybe," she replied. Her sense of responsibility butted in. "What about the perimeter alarm?"
"That's Baines' baby."
"Umm," she acknowledged. Leadership instinct satisfied for the moment, Devon indulged herself and watched the children.
DAY 43
There was no doubt they'd remain camped for at least a day. The water had quickly disappeared, sucked up by millions of thirsty roots, but mud adhered to everything it touched, as did the occasional blob of manure. Morgan suddenly began dancing around, shaking his hand vigorously and declaring at the top of his voice just exactly what he was trying to remove from said hand. Everyone, Bess included (her back discreetly turned), laughed. They were more careful about cleaning, tho', not eager to learn Morgan's dance.
Devon grimaced at the thought she'd let Uly splash in the polluted water. Julia's report of no detectable pathogens in the water or manure did not ease Devon's mind.
The sun baked the mud dry, simplifying cleanup. Alonzo and Cameron convinced Danziger they'd be more useful hunting than chipping dirt, and conned him out of the DuneRail. Devon was left out of that loop entirely.
At the edge of a woods a few miles from camp, the men parked the 'Rail and began searching for supper. They walked a parallel path thru the trees. Herding grazers would feed them longer, but were harder to bring down. Winged creatures, relying on flight to get away from earthbound predators, tended to hang around long enough to be shot. Cameron spotted a flying mammal they'd eaten before, perched high in a tree. His shot was good. The animal plummeted to the ground nearer to Alonzo. The pilot-retriever congratulated Cameron via gear and trudged toward the kill.
'Lonz stopped suddenly. Cameron realized he'd seen something, and asked about it.
"It's a baby grazer, not a meter from me. I think it might be hurt; it hasn't moved," answered Alonzo softly.
"Leave it alone," said Cameron, an uneasy feeling coming over him. "Back off."
"Hey, it's just a baby. Probably weighs 45-50 pounds, but it's definitely young." Alonzo circled carefully, inching closer. The calf? foal? fawn? remained motionless.
"Back off, man. Get out of there," advised Cameron. He scanned the landscape anxiously.
"It looks like the mother abandoned it. She could be dead or injured. The baby'll starve," replied Alonzo in a whisper.
The reason for his uneasiness swam to the top of his brain and Cameron blurted, "Bambi!"
"What?" 'Lonz remembered a Bambi from decades ago, a cute brunette.
"Get out of there, Solace! The mother hid that baby to protect it from predators!"
Alonzo slowly moved away from the no longer appealing little grazer. He'd just lost sight of it when he heard simultaneously Cameron shout a warning and the blast of a MagPro. The darkhaired man whipped around and saw mama grazer bearing down on him, a red wound in one massive shoulder barely slowing her. Alonzo took off at right angles to the beast, heading for a climbable tree.
Cameron aimed again as the animal swerved in pursuit of Alonzo, fired and missed. The thing was gaining on Alonzo, moving through the sparse woods with disheartening speed. She ignored saplings and brush, barrelling right though them, and tightly bypassed larger trees on a basically direct course for the pilot. 'Lonz would never make it to safety without help. Cameron attempted to get a fix on mama. He fired, knowing the action was useless. And then he gripped the MagPro painfully tight as he watched his friend turn and try to fire pointblank at the enraged animal.
The great beast lowered its hornless head and knocked Alonzo to the ground. It rammed him, rolling his body over, and trampled the man's back and legs, miraculously missing his head.
Cameron relaxed his hold on the MagPro; he drew a bead on the grazer as he watched the animal trot back to her offspring. She gave a gentle call and the baby rose and walked delicately to her side. The grazers were soon out of sight, probably leaving the trees for the grass. Cameron was too concerned about Alonzo to feel any relief; he mechanically switched channels on his gear as he picked his way to Alonzo.
"Eden Advance," he heard himself say woodenly, "there's been an accident."
The kids sensed immediately something unexpected had happened. The adults' expressions and growing soberness hinted it was pretty serious. True sped to the comtent with Uly right on her heels, and they slid to a halt at the entrance, True bumping into Baines on the way in. Cameron's face on the monitor looked blank, kinda like van Helsing's. Devon evicted the kids from the company, but not before the youngsters knew Alonzo was hurt. True managed a quick study of Julia's face; she looked worried, but still had that intense sort of expression she got sometimes when in full doctor mode.
Baines wouldn't let them hang around close enough to hear much. True curled a lip at him and was rewarded with a glare she had every intention of returning when Uly grabbed her arm and casually led her away. With the boy's gear, the kids gleaned a little more information which aroused a morbid curiosity in both.
After Julia and Danziger raced off in the ATV, the kids were remembered, and Devon gently explained about Alonzo. True noted with carefully hidden impatience that the woman downplayed the seriousness of the situation. Then Yale babysat them until Cameron returned with the ATV; after that, Bess and Morgan took over the kids, telling Yale Devon needed him.
So, here they were, sitting side by side on a pallet in the floor of the Martins' tent. Bess smiled forlornly from the cot, doing what Uly guessed was 'wringing' her hands. When she noticed him watching, she forced them still. Her smile briefly widened in what was supposed to be reassurance, but the bleak look in her eyes told the truth. Uly lowered his head and gave True a sideways glance. True shrugged almost imperceptibly. Seemed like they'd been there for hours. They heard the 'Rail and hushed voices.
Morgan left the tent, summoned by Matazl. He returned shortly, white around the mouth, like he was going to barf or something. The shaken man visibly attempted to pull himself together--even Uly saw that--and grimaced what should have been a warm smile.
"They're back?" asked Bess anxiously, and unnecessarily. "Yeah," breathed her husband. "They need you...out there." He cocked his head toward the door. "It's awful. I've never seen so much blood."
Bess immediately shot a look at the kids, who stared back wide-eyed and receptive. She gave Morgan's hand a quick squeeze on the way out and told him to stay with the kids.
However, True's observation that Morgan looked like he would throw up was correct. With a rushed, "Don't leave!", he flew from the tent, more green than white. The kids shared a glance which confirmed they were thinking alike: get out. Young Danziger wanted to slip over and see Alonzo, if possible. She figured Uly had the same thing in mind, so was a bit surprised when he hefted the everpresent lightning stick and softly trotted off for the woods. The girl, bereft of her 'disciple', consoled herself with the thought that if Uly came along, he would probably do something to get them caught.
Yale was appalled at the extent of Alonzo's injuries. The man still breathed, his heart still beat; however, that was a very temporary thing now. The cyborg's respect for Dr. Heller grew as he watched her work. No doubt the chromo-tilting played some part in enabling her to put feelings aside, but the discipline Julia exhibited was not entirely genetic.
Alonzo felt nothing and could not be made any more or any less comfortable. It was the Eden group which drew comfort from tending the man. When everything possible had been done for their companion, Julia sought out Yale and haltingly informed him Alonzo would not survive til nightfall.
Yale nodded his understanding and slowly walked away from camp, hands clasped behind his back.
Alone under the forest eaves, the old cyborg prayed. He believed in miracles, when they served to promote God's will. But Yale didn't expect one. He prayed to bring himself and his family comfort as they lost another of their own. And then the tutor turned to composing the eulogy.
He couldn't. The words would not cooperate. Yale did not want to preside over another funeral. He raised his hands toward the heavens and cried aloud for the miracle he didn't expect.
The heavens were silent.
The earth wasn't. With a muted rumble, it spat out Terrians. Yale lowered his arms and looked around. Four Terrians stood around him, two before, two behind. Directly in front of him, three more figures emerged. Two Terrians bracketed van Helsing, strong hands clutching his upper arms.
The woodsman sighed and without meeting Yale's eyes, murmured, "They've asked me to help."
"Help?" repeated the tutor encouragingly, as if van Helsing were a shy, uncertain pupil.
"The dreamer. The Terrians value him." Yale considered the Terrians towering over van Helsing, unable to determine if they were an escort or captors. It appeared that the man was being compelled to offer aid. Yale looked curiously at him; van Helsing still avoided eye contact. His expression was hardly more revealing than the Terrians'.
"I fear he cannot be helped," said the old man with care. "His injuries are too many and too serious."
"It doesn't matter," van Helsing said tonelessly. Yale had no desire to cause the strange little man distress. The Terrians would likely release him if they understood the situation. "Can you communicate with the Terrians?
A stiff nod was the answer.
"Do they realize how grave Alonzo's condition is?" Van Helsing startled Yale by gazing up into his eyes. "They know more about it than any of you."
"And yet they believe you can help him?" Yale had the distinct feeling the other man was about to say something more than the 'yes' he eventually bit out.
Trilling sounded a short distance away. One of the Terrians behind Yale trilled and warbled in reply. The old man looked over his shoulder. With a frown of concern, he turned. Uly! And he appeared to be alone.
"Ulysses Adair!" Yale scolded, the pair of crossed staves obstructing his march to the child in no way affecting his intent to reprimand him. "Were you not told to remain in the tent?"
The small boy squirmed. "Yessir."
A warbling Terrian drew Uly's attention. Their conversation flowed and eddied about them, meaningless to Yale. He regarded van Helsing speculatively.
Yale moved closer to the skittish man, dwarfing him, and murmured, "Would it be an imposition to ask you to translate?" The cyborg felt a twinge of satisfaction as van Helsing's face showed quite plainly astonishment.
Van Helsing snorted and a wry smile flashed before expressionlessness masked his face again. "They're briefing the changeling."
The 'changeling' squared his narrow shoulders and pointed at van Helsing in a comically regal manner. "We have to take Mr. van Helsing to Alonzo," Uly said decisively. "He knows what to do."
The troupe moved toward camp, Uly at its head flanked by two of the natives. The tutor's attempt to come abreast of the boy was thwarted by the Terrians; Uly was certainly in no danger from them, so Yale accepted a position beside Van Helsing, who'd been released by his guards and walked with the enthusiasm of a condemned man. He listlessly brushed the evidence of his underground travel from his clothing. Yale studied him intently. If the diminutive fellow *could* aid Alonzo, he must have knowledge of a very powerful healing agent, indeed.
Julia's request to be alone with her patient had been honored. She stood at the foot of the cot, awkwardly pleading with the God Who was a stranger. Her rational self was embarrassed, not really acknowledging Him. But the emptiness inside prompted an ashamed spiritual side to turn belatedly to Him, desperately hoping He existed and would acknowledge *her*.
She jumped guiltily at the rustle of the tent flap. The doctor turned, angry. She gasped. Van Helsing walked in as if he dropped by whenever he was in the neighborhood. Devon stepped in just long enough to inform her the Terrians had sent him for Alonzo.
He approached the cot and regarded the dying man. Julia read no reaction on his face. No concern, no sympathy, no amusement.
"He'll be dead by sunset," she said, her monotone matching van Helsing's impassivity.
The horseman nodded. And whether her intuition went into overdrive, or she grasped at a final straw, Julia never determined. She was suddenly next to van Helsing, actually placing her hand on his arm.
"You know how to save him."
He shrugged her away. He nodded again, and began stripping off his shirt. "He's lost a lot of blood?"
"Yes. There's internal bleeding. I don't have the equipment here to deal with it," she replied bitterly.
Van Helsing unwound the bandage from his arm, exposing the crook of his arm. "You do have the equipment for a transfusion?"
Julia pushed her hair back impatiently, the angry, grieving woman overriding the doctor. "Transfusion?--he's mortally injured-" Her heart sank and the strain came through in her voice. "I can't stop the internal bleeding! A pint of blood isn't going to help!"
"Mine will," he said reluctantly.
She looked doubtful.
"It will increase his rate of healing," so softly spoken she barely heard it.
The chromo-tilt doctor resurfaced, pushed the grieving lover aside, and went to work. She scanned this man who'd been so adamant about keeping his distance from her. The unbandaged arm showed no sign of recent injury. It showed no sign of injury at any time. Dr. Heller grew increasingly excited as the examination progressed. The readings were incredible. Granted, she was limited to what the glove revealed, but it revealed van Helsing was extraordinary. He was undoubtedly the healthiest person she'd encountered. Every system, every organ was flawless. The only thing "wrong" with him was a somewhat enlarged thymus. Dr. Heller inwardly cursed the lack of equipment to study him. "Would you object to a more detailed blood analysis?" she asked.
He shook his head, eyes downcast, resignation personified. The blood was drawn and studied. Julia became remotely aware of a need to attend to personal matters. She ignored it, concentrating, trying to understand what was in that blood. In a little while, she rubbed her eyes and turned to van Helsing.
"You know about this," she stated, indicating the samples and test results spread out before her on the table.
"Of course." Van Helsing stood near the door and was watching Julia. She feared that any second he'd change his mind and bolt.
She ignored her apprehension. Alonzo was slipping away from her, needing care she couldn't provide. The nearest suitable facilities she knew of were 22 light years away. What van Helsing had offered with his blood was hope. If he had access to some herb, if his condition could be duplicated in Alonzo--
"Your immune system appears to function at a higher level than average."
"It works," he said curtly.
She rescanned the arm broken in the fight with Danziger. Not a trace of the injury, none. Why the bandage? Because a normal person would need one and he wanted to hide his difference? Her eyes grew large. Julia looked up from the readings and remembered to breathe. "This healing ability of yours is transferrable?"
Van Helsing nodded. "I wouldn't be here if it wasn't." The usual flat distain returned to his eyes. "If you lack the equipment for a transfusion, simply feed it to him. It works almost as well when ingested."
The doctor blanched. What? How had he found that out? So many questions crowded her mind that she didn't speak, realizing the result would be stuttered and stammered half-sentences.
Van Helsing closed the short distance between himself and Julia. She stepped back, uncertain. He extended his arm.
"Get it over with," he said in a tone which caused Julia to feel she should offer him a blindfold before the execution.
She hesitated, one more question forcing its way through her lips. "What do you expect to gain from helping us?"
The man cocked his head to one side in the peculiar manner he'd evidently adopted from the Terrians. "Nothing. Absolutely-- nothing," he replied, his voice fading to less than a whisper.
Dr. Heller briefly considered his answer, then went to work. Within minutes, the doctor had him lying on her cot, a primitive system of needles and tubing rigged to carry his remarkable blood to Alonzo. The worst thing it could do was hasten death.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
REVELATION

DAY 43
The doctor carefully monitored Alonzo. She had recorded the data from Van Helsing for later study. Alonzo would not wait. The woodsman became restless after 10 minutes, prompting Julia to end the transfusion. Did he regret his action? She hastily coiled the tubing, and sealed it in a bag with the needles for safekeeping. Julia resumed her search for the tiniest improvement or lack of deterioration. The latter she found 20 minutes, 17 seconds after the transfusion began. The former, 43 minutes, 32 seconds. The doctor clasped her hand over her mouth. She rechecked *everything*. There were differences--for the better.
Dr. Heller blinked back the tears Julia would have shed from pure joy. Later. Later, when Alonzo was conscious, and she knew for certain he was back.
"I've never seen anything like this! Do you know what initiates the immunological improvement?"
As he had for the past 35 minutes, van Helsing sat crosslegged at the rear of the tent, head down. He was motionless except for the slow rise and fall of his chest.
"Mr. van Helsing, my friends are going to want to know how this happened," she said, gesturing toward Alonzo. "I've got to tell them something."
"Blame the Terrians," he suggested, jerking his head up. Julia saw the resignation in his eyes shift to dispair. She wondered if the man was going to cry.
"Leave me out of it," he pleaded. "I'm just the delivery boy, I just did what they told me to. Please. Don't say anything about..." Van Helsing gestured vaguely before placing his hand, fingers splayed, upon his chest.
The doctor shifted her gaze from van Helsing to the nowcluttered table which served as her lab. Until she knew more, there was really no point in giving details.
"Alright," she agreed.
Devon had reluctantly complied with Julia, herding John and Bess out when she'd asked to be alone with Alonzo. She'd even more reluctantly accepted van Helsing's 'offer' of help; had anyone other than Yale spoken for him, she likely would have refused. And van Helsing had spoken directly to her, polite almost to the point of submissiveness, addressed her as Ms. Adair. Yale distracted the Edenites (and angered some of them) with a sort of pre-death eulogy, while the woodsman slipped into the medtent.
Danziger was suspicious rather than angry, and paying far more attention to the medtent than to the ATV. It was just makework maintenance, anyhow. True was doing more work on the vehicle; in fact, her old man was getting in the way. John's eyes tracked from the tent to Magus, who was also unofficially keeping guard over the medtent. She stood with Walman, who was armed. He should have been at least 40 meters further out from camp.
True gently took the rachet from her father. She'd inherited his mechanical inclinations. She'd inherited his stubbornness. And she'd inherited her mother's ability to concentrate on the task at hand in spite of distractions. It made for one formidable little girl.
She pushed her hair back behind her ear. Yeah, her dad was a mechanic, probably the best on the planet, but did he have to try to fix everything? Julia was the doctor and she'd take care of Alonzo. If she needed them, she would let them know. True looked at her father almost maternally. He hadn't gotten mad at all when she got caught listening at the back of the medtent. Instead, he'd put an arm around her shoulder and said he needed her to help him with the ATV. He was *that* worried about 'Lonz.
It was so quiet. Almost everyone was within sight, sitting in the shade. True could distinctly hear the drumming sound caused by Denner as she worked on a vegetable, opening the pod and removing the seeds inside. 'Shelling', Yale had said. Yale himself stared off into space. He was probably polishing up the speech he'd give tomorrow at the funeral.
True knew what to do next, but simply lacked the strength. She distracted her dad long enough to get his help. He removed the bolts and started to open up the panel. The metal against metal grated exceedingly loud. He grimaced and stopped even pretending to work.
The girl wrapped her arms around her knees and continued surveying the camp. Baines was playing a game with Matazl, moving pebbles around on a board etched in the dirt. Both looked at The Tent from time to time. Those watching the game looked at The Tent from time to time. Uly was examining a leaf. Maybe there was a bug on it. The boy had just sort of materialized a while ago. True thought about joining him, and asking what he'd been up to, but moving that much seemed out of place right now. Devon wasn't in sight; True bet she didn't even know Uly'd run off.
Bess and Morgan were together under a tree on the slope east of camp. Even so far away, True could see that Bess had her hands clasped and her head bowed. She was praying. Morgan had his head bowed; he might be praying, too, if he wasn't just queasy.
Feeling that it couldn't hurt, True tucked her head and squeezed out a little, "Please, God."
"You alright, True-girl?" Danziger whispered, concerned. True hadn't meant to speak aloud. She raised her head and nodded. "Just praying, Dad," she whispered.
He stared at her. A slow, sad smile spread across his face, and he squeezed his daughter's hand. She'd learn the hard way that praying didn't necessarily get you what you wanted.
So, looking at each other, John and True missed seeing van Helsing and Julia leave The Tent. Still, they were among the first of the family in surrounding the two. Walman, Baines, and Danziger welcomed van Helsing with "open arms": two MagPros and the sidearm John kept with him always since his fight with the guide.
"How is he?" asked Magus anxiously. "What is *he* doing here?" demanded Danziger, trampling Magus' question.
"Alonzo's improving; please go stay with him," replied Julia, looking at Magus. She turned to the warriors and stated firmly, "Van Helsing saved his life. And Morgan's *and* True's. Now, if you'll excuse me a moment..." She pushed free of the circle and made straight for the latrine area.
EVENING OF DAY 43
Danziger sat at the entrance to his tent; True was tucked safely inside, content for once not to be where the action was. John felt he understood her desire to keep out of sight. He glared across camp at the medtent. One of the shadows on its walls was cast by van Helsing. He was keeping out of sight, too. The diggers had dragged that weasely little bastard thru the ground to save Alonzo's life, so he had no horses, no supplies, no weapons. He'd stay with Eden Advance til morning, unless the Terrian Express picked him up again. Danziger liked the thought of the finicky little savage surrounded by dirt. Maybe with a tombstone...
Van Helsing acted like he was uncomfortable, the outraged father noted with pleasure. He ought to be. John wondered what he could do to make van Helsing feel even more unwelcome, in a subtle sort of way.
Most of the group gawked at the woodsman what little he was in sight. Morgan, of course, attached himself to the guy, running interference. Morgan was genuinely happy to have van Helsing around. Danziger didn't think anyone else was. The mechanic dropped the bureaucrat a few rungs down the ladder to humanity he'd been climbing since the Morganite fiasco.
Julia was grateful--they all were, he grudgingly admitted-- but she treated the man...John trawled his mind, searching for the right words...like he was an insecure god needing constant reassurance.
Cameron stared glassy-eyed into the fire. He'd seen 'Lonz trampled just about to a pulp not 10 hours earlier. He'd seen it happen, he'd seen the wounds inflicted. Julia had been so certain Alonzo was dying, she'd decided not to waste their dwindling supply of medicine on him.
Fifteen minutes ago, Cameron had left the medtent. Devon had told him that Alonzo was going to make it and for his own good, he needed to see the pilot, so he'd followed her. Van Helsing would be there; Cameron wanted to see *him*, as if the woodsman was a freak in a carnival sideshow. Turned out that 'Lonz was far more interesting.
Van Helsing had stood as far from them as possible, eerily expressionless, just like Baines had described him. He'd looked at Cameron when he'd entered. Well, the man's eyes had moved in his direction.
Alonzo was on a cot, a sheet across his loins. Eden's dreamer was so swollen and discolored he wasn't recognizable as Alonzo Solace. Bruises of every color imaginable marred his skin. There was no blood; not one of the tears mama grazer had ripped into 'Lonz was open. No bones protruded. Cameron'd helped Julia ease a shin bone back into place, sort of, out in the woods. A scab sealed the place shut, now. All over the injured man, scabs had formed, adding to the horrific appearance of once handsome Mr. Solace.
"He's gonna live," was all Cameron could say. "Yes," Dr. Heller had replied. "Alonzo is healing at an astounding rate. I believe the edema is part of the process." She'd sent a questioning look in van Helsing's direction, but Cameron had focused back on 'Lonz and didn't know what the woodsman's response was, if any.
Shaking his head in disbelief, Cameron had repeated himself. "He's gonna live." With a cautious, gentle hand, he'd touched Alonzo's arm. It was warm, a normal warm.
Still shaking his head, he'd backed away toward the door. Cameron'd looked at van Helsing, wonder and wariness together on his face. The little man hadn't moved; he'd stood with his head turned, cheek against the tent wall.
"He's going to live," Cameron informed the flames. "Those Terrians are miracle-workers."
Matazl poked unnecessarily at the fire. He had his own ideas about this miracle. The Terrians wanted the dreamer alive and healthy, so had used van Helsing to accomplish that goal. Looked like they couldn't do it themselves. Just what was it van Helsing had done? What had he provided? Where did it come from? Matazl looked northward. A slight smile quirked his mouth. Van Helsing was hiding something, alright. It wasn't horses.
DAY 44
Alonzo, a trifle less bloated, was sleeping peacefully. Julia'd hardly slept at all, wanting to monitor every change in his condition, but she wasn't fatigued. She was astounded. Not only was the pilot healing at an impossible rate, there was no sign of infection.
Van Helsing and the doctor had taken breakfast in the medtent. He was still picking at the porridge with something less than a keen appetite. Julia had wolfed hers down and now leaned across the small table toward van Helsing, excitement and joy radiating from every pore. "Don't you understand what this means for mankind? The eradica--"
He cut her short. "Yes, Doctor Heller, I understand exactly 'what this means for mankind'."
"And you don't care?" Julia sat back and rubbed her forehead. "Have you distanced yourself that far from your own species?"
"I care." Van Helsing insisted, avoiding her eyes. He pushed his half-full bowl aside. "You see disease wiped out; mortal wounds no more life-threatening than a stubbed toe; long, healthy lives, etc, etc, ad infinitum."
"Of course!!" Julia couldn't remain seated, and once on her feet, she paced excitedly in the confined space. "This is the answer to so many of our problems! With study, we may even learn to regenerate missing limbs or perfect the STPT program!" She stopped and caught her breath. "Something like this can't be lost! Think of what it means for mankind!" she repeated.
Van Helsing said in a tired voice, yet enunciating each word with care, "*You* think, doctor. I have. I know. It *means* subjugation to a virtually immortal ruling class."
Julia was silent. She dropped to the side of her cot. The woodsman stared stonily at her. "You disagree, doctor?" "Alright, alright," she began, palms outward in a 'stop' gesture. "Alright, assuming it *is* available only to the more privileged at first; it couldn't be concealed from the general populace for any length of time. You cannot keep miracles a secret!"
"The Council keeps secrets extraordinarily well." "What do you mean?" the doctor asked warily. Van Helsing didn't elaborate. Instead, he gazed at the tent entrance and muttered, "I told them this would happen. If I refuse to share what I know, humans will come in overwhelming numbers and try to learn for themselves." He refocused on Julia, frightening her a bit with the intensity. "That *is* what will happen, isn't it?"
Involuntarily, she flicked a glance at the small plastic case containing the pitiful amount of data relating to van Helsing. Was there, perhaps, enough to determine exactly what made him different? Would it be possible to synthesize it? If so, no invasion would be necessary.
Julia reflected a moment on what he'd said: '...humans will come...' So, whatever the healing agent was, it was found in the area van Helsing claimed as his own. She understood his desire to be rid of Eden Advance; if the man truly felt the Council would abuse the agent, he no doubt thought he was protecting everyone else. Julia knew the Council was unaware of van Helsing's discovery; their absence proved that.
"I can't say for certain," she replied. "With a sufficient amount of the substance for analysis, we can manufacture--"
"Doctor, if I tell--*take* you to a source, will you leave me alone? Never seek me out?"
"Yes."
"You will think long and hard about the consequences of revealing what you learn?"
"Of course." Julia would have agreed to anything he asked at that point.
"I have your word?"
"Of course!"
He chewed his moustache absently. Julia thought that remarkably human of him. She wondered how long ago van Helsing had isolated himself. Now she understood why.
"Alright, doctor. I'll tell you where to meet me."
"What does Julia think she's doing?!" fumed Devon, eyes flashing. "What is wrong with that woman?"
"She's been under a lot of stress lately," placated Morgan, trying somehow to assume a submissive posture toward a superior shorter than he. He worked his shoulders uncomfortably. Eden's leader had cornered him, so to speak, just outside the medtent, where Bess was tending Alonzo.
"Alright," accepted Devon, a bit too calmly for Morgan. "So, what is wrong with you?"
The station bureaucrat shrugged, hands in an 'I don't know' gesture. "She's not in any danger! Van Helsing is as harmless as a kitten!"
Devon inhaled and counted to ten. Kittens, she knew from experience, had claws hidden in those soft paws. "Why is Julia meeting with him away from camp, alone, in the first place?"
Morgan opened and closed his mouth several times, fishlike. When Dr. Heller had told him and his wife that in exchange for his freedom and privacy van Helsing had offered to reveal the source of the miracle medicine (and literally untold wealth--the man controlling production of that stuff would be able to buy and sell the Council itself many times over), well, Morgan realized opportunity was not knocking at his door: it had blasted the door off the hinges.
"I...I guess she wants to thank him. Or 'pay' him," suggested the potential gazillionaire. That was an interesting angle, feasible, barely. "The Terrians did bring the old boy here, but we don't know what kind of private arrangements he made with Julia. He has been alone for a long time, you know."
Devon gave Morgan one of those stares that causes sweat to trickle uncomfortably down the back of one's neck. She said coldly, "I would have thought saying such a thing beneath even you." She paused. "I was wrong."
Morgan watched her stride away, headed toward Danziger and his little gang. His relief at escaping Devon's inquisition was unexpectedly tainted by a nagging feeling of shame.
Julia reached the stream van Helsing mentioned and followed it through a small, narrow ravine, climbing the steep sides by clinging to saplings and vines.
She was growing suspicious. It seemed to her she should have reached him already. "Have I gone the wrong way?" But the creek was right where he said it would be, and upstream is upstream. She muttered something unpleasant under her breath, lifting a soggy boot out of the water.
It didn't really matter. A few more yards along the path the only place to walk was in the stream, among those treacherously slick rocks. Maybe she'd been set up. Had she been stupidly optimistic to trust him? Julia pressed on, wading the ankle deep water.
"Oh," she breathed, sighting the glade in which van Helsing waited. It was an ideal spot for a picnic. Or a tryst, she thought, remembering Alonzo's dark eyes and teasing smile.
Julia slogged her way carefully over and around smooth stones to the creekbank. Van Helsing offered an uncharacteristic, but nonetheless welcome, hand of assistance up the slippery bank.
"No gear," he demanded.
Without argument, Julia left her headgear hanging on a tree branch. The woodsman padded silently to a huddle of rounded boulders. The doctor followed, aware of the twigs and leaves crunching under her feet. Van Helsing perched himself on one of the stones and patiently surveyed the area. The lazy manner in which he did so was deceptive. Julia knew the man missed nothing. She settled on the forest floor and removed her shoes.
"I came alone," stated the doctor, wringing out her socks. "I know," Van Helsing replied. "I don't smell anyone." "Your sense of smell is affected also?" asked Dr. Heller incredulously.
Van Helsing nodded.
"The healing agent improves the senses?" He frowned. "Not as such. It permits them to function properly. Cleanly."
All of them. Julia realized she'd have to devise tests to accurately measure his perceptive abilities. She wanted more than ever to do a complete physical on him. She wanted more than just her diagnostic glove to work with.
The barefoot physician leapt up and began circling her specimen, glove functioning at optimum, tantalizing her with the little data it offered. Van Helsing continued scanning the woods as the woman buzzed around him.
"Can you identify individuals by their scent?" she prodded. "Some are less offensive than others." Julia decided he'd said "yes". "Does that have anything to do with your choice of liaisons?"
"Bess smells like home. And Morgan, because of his contact with her, is tolerable. I thought at first he was Earthborn."
And Baines? He was three generations from Earth. Were he and Bess--Julia dismissed the thought as simply too fantastic and set her mind back on track.
"Home is Earth?" she asked. "There's been some speculation you were born on G889."
"I earned my passage," he bit out. Julia stopped orbiting and faced van Helsing. "You lack the tattoo on your neck."
"I lack any indication of a recently broken arm." Indeed, he did. There were no scars of any kind, external, internal, nothing. She was supposed to be finding out why.
"What are we looking for? A plant, a mineral, an animal?" "Twenty questions," he said for no discernible reason. "The miracle cure's source, you mean?"
Julia flashed a smile of affirmation. Her heart pounded. She felt she was on the brink of a historic discovery.
"Animal," he smiled back...tauntingly? "Oh? I hadn't expected that." The doctor pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. "What kind?" Her eyes darted around. "I assume it's nearby."
"Sentient kind. See, that's the trouble. It's sentient. Or does that make any difference to you?"
"Sentient?" Julia repeated as if she wasn't, quite. The memory of an unfortunate Grendler escaped its dungeon. "Yes. It makes all the difference in the world." She gave van Helsing an icy, judgmental look. *He* had made use of the creature. "Doesn't it matter to you?"
He pulled his legs up against his chest and wrapped his arms around them, resembling an overgrown elf on a toadstool. "Oh, yeah. It matters more than anything." He paused, eyeing the doctor seriously before dropping the bomb. "I'm the animal." �

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
MICHAEL LEE

DAY 44
Dr. Heller gaped at van Helsing, disbelief planted on her face the few seconds it took her neutral mask to root it out. Surely he was not the source; he was a carrier, a beneficiary. "I find that difficult to believe."
"Good. Don't believe it. Ever."
Julia squinted at van Helsing. He looked back, plainly waiting for her to make the next move. Alright, there was a chance the former guide was telling the truth. As far as she knew, he'd not lied to them. She'd humor him. "You're a mutant?"
"No."
"The Terrians have altered you."
Perfect white teeth glistened in a broad grin. "Wouldn't your glove show that?"
"What?" Julia checked her diaglove in confusion. Van Helsing laughed. "Nevermind! No, I am not a changeling. Much too old."
He was playing an annoying game with her. "Genetically engineered? A participant in research?" she tried.
"How diplomatic. You won't say 'guinea pig'?" The little man unwrapped enough to wag a finger at Julia. "Bear this in mind, Dr. Heller: *I am not a resource.*"
Julia blinked at the serious tone in his voice. Threatening, perhaps, was more apt. "Maybe you should start at the beginning."
He kept silent for a time, until Julia eased herself onto a gray, licheny seat and prompted him with a question. "Is the Council involved?"
"Did you think they wouldn't be?" Van Helsing sighed, his features returning to the normal inscrutability. "Are you certain you want to know Council secrets?" he asked, the concern in his voice at odds with his expression.
Julia nodded slowly, as if sudden movement or the sound of a human voice would frighten him away.
He unwound and stretched, and hands resting on his thighs, started to speak.
"Certain elite Council members would recognize me as an Immune." He stopped, evidently checking Julia's reaction or perhaps waiting for a comment. She offered none, and van Helsing continued. "I was conscripted during the war. Millions died, mostly civilian, but enough soldiers to inconvenience the High Command. They wanted superior troops who could survive what normal men could not."
"Which war?" asked the doctor. There had been no wars of any magnitude in decades. "How old are you?"
"I don't know," he replied casually. "I was born in 2075. How old *am* I?"
"You've spent a lot of time in cold sleep." "Twenty-five years, I think. The trip here." Julia raised her eyebrows. Alonzo and Uly agreed van Helsing was much older than he appeared. 139, she calculated, rather than 35. Here he was, denying cold sleep was a major factor, which, if true, meant he'd experienced 114 of those years. After yesterday, she was willing to entertain the possibility.
But the timeframe was all wrong. Julia was certain the Council hadn't been sending people to G889 100 years ago and said so.
Van Helsing replied with exaggerated patience, "*This* planet has nothing to do with it. I was 'Immunized' on Earth."
"Earth?" Julia was taken aback. "Are others like you on Earth?"
Van Helsing shrugged. "There were. As far as I know, I'm the last one. However, if that's so, why does the Council leave me here? Unless they truly didn't realize I'm an Immune." He gave a sort of half-laugh. "Either I am the last, and they don't know, or I am not the last, and they don't care. Pray it's the former."
"The Council was behind the development of 'enhanced' soldiers," assumed the doctor. "Predecessors to Z.E.D.s?"
"No, not the Council."
"Who, then?"
"Military scientists found a way to rouse a very useful dormant gene. *Military* scientists developed the Immunes. We were meant to be an unstoppable army. Our bodies produce an enzyme which enables the immune system to function effectively. The enzyme stimulates the production of an extra T cell." He tapped his breastbone.
"We don't get sick. We recover from most injuries within hours or overnight--a few days at the most--scarless. We're difficult to poison because toxins break down so rapidly in our bodies. We thrive on vegetation most would find inedible--that's why I couldn't tell you what to eat.
"But what the Council found most appealing about us is: we aren't affected by free radicals. We don't age."
"'Virtually immortal'," Dr. Heller quoted. "We die. We're just not as fragile as the norm," he said, then continued with his narrative. "The factor stimulating the immune system is transferable, but the ability to produce it is not. So, the effects on non-Immunes is temporary. Unfortunately --or fortunately, depending on your point of view--the procedure rousing the dormant gene kills 88% of those subjected to it. And, with one exception I know of, the survivors are left with the intellect of a four year old."
"You're the exception," murmured Julia. "Me." He closed his eyes. "Only me, the only one of hundreds aware of what was happening." Van Helsing sat trembling. It took him a moment to regain his composure. He spoke bitterly then, glaring at Julia as if she was one of the tormentors. "I took great pains to hide my intelligence."
"I understand," she murmured.
"Council agents in the military reported the discovery to their superiors. Within six years, no one involved who wasn't Council remained alive. The vampires took the project, they took us, and they took our blood," he concluded dramatically.
Julia had a flash of intiution. Van Helsing. Vampires. "Have you read "Dracula", Mr. 'van Helsing'?"
His reply was an unexpected conspiratorial grin. "Vampire killer," said Julia. "That's why you're here. You killed 'vampires'?"
His grin vanished and the Immune avoided Julia's eyes. "I destroyed the project, in that station, at least. Sabotage."
Julia asked carefully, "What exactly did you sabotage?" "Exactly? A tiny, essential, magnetic-flow sensor," van Helsing replied. He held his thumb and forefinger a quarter of an inch apart.
Julia raised her eyebrows. "And the result was...?" she said, pushing nonexistent stray hair back behind her ear.
"The station crumbled. Project Eliot ended, I hope. And several hundred innocents died."
"We would have heard. We would have known about it," she protested, thinking this was a hole in his story.
Van Helsing shook his head. "The Council is very good at keeping secrets," he insisted. "0119-tw didn't 'exist'."
Julia tucked that away for later study. She'd ask Yale to seek any reference to 'Project Eliot' or 0119-tw.
"How did you escape?" she demanded, not wanting this to be true. She wanted van Helsing--which was an alias if his story was fact--to have stumbled upon a plant indigenous to the area he considered his territory. That was much more...acceptable.
"I assumed the identity of a man shipping out soon. We were physically similar. He had no family, and almost everyone who could recognize him would die on the station. I switched identity discs. My immune system negated the effects of the DNA specific coding. I didn't really escape; 'I' was found out, court martialed, and exiled." The Immune snorted. "The man I became had a high level clearance. I'd intended to use his clearance to find duplicate projects."
Julia forced a smile, wondering at van Helsing's apparent eagerness to talk, fearing it meant he told the truth. "That sounds like a good plan," she said lamely.
"He was the first one I killed." The familiar blank expression reappeared and his eyes lost the shine so recently acquired.
Julia didn't want him to slip back into the uncommunicative van Helsing; she asked, "What's your real name?"
It worked; he looked at her and smiled warmly. "Michael Lee." He said his name slowly, obviously relishing the sound.
"It's nice to meet you, Michael," said the doctor in a formal manner, offering her hand.
Lee hesitated. "Thank you." He briefly grasped Julia's hand. "It's been decades since a beautiful woman called me by name."
Dr. Heller felt he expected a smile and produced one. She rose and paced nervously, bare feet silent, until it occurred to her her apprehension was groundless: this man had shrunk from a handshake. He wouldn't force intimate contact.
Her thoughts turned to a much more likely danger. If the woodsman wasn't lying, it was possible there were others like van--like Michael Lee--in the possession of the Council. How could they find out? And what could 'they' do about it if more Immunes were being kept like cattle?
"The Immunes' blood wasn't actually ingested?" asked Julia warily, Van Helsing's taunt at the time of the transfusion coming to mind.
"Not often; only by the more depraved. The serum derived from it was more potent."
Julia unconsciously reached to protect her throat.
Van Helsing took her back to camp by another route. It was quite pleasant, gently sloping with a minimum of undergrowth. He still maintained at least a meter between them, but chattered almost without pause as he led her home. Michael (she couldn't think of this man as van Helsing) asked questions about everything under the sun, but answered few of Julia's inquiries.
Michael declined Julia's invitation to stay longer with them, visibly uncomfortable with the idea. He left her a short distance from the camp. When she looked back the way they'd come, he was gone.
The actual entrance into camp wasn't as dreadful as Julia had anticipated. Four of the more volatile Edenites were out searching for her and/or van Helsing. However, Devon stepped outside the medtent when True announced the doctor's return. She waited there, literally tapping her foot.
The children reached Julia first. They were thoroughly enjoying themselves. Alonzo's recovery was unbelieveable, and marvelous, and the doctor had been to see the magical van Helsing, at his invitation, which was strange in itself.
"Did you find Mr. van Helsing?" piped Uly. "You okay, Doc?" asked True. Uly rolled his eyes at her. He'd told her Julia was in no danger.
"I'm fine," replied Julia. She strode toward the medtent, anxious to check on Alonzo. He'd hardly crossed her mind while she was with van Helsing; Dr. Heller felt a trifle guilty.
Uly repeated his question eagerly. Julia smiled down at the boy. "I found him. We had a nice long talk."
Matazl joined them. The doctor seemed fine. Uly and Morgan had assured them van Helsing wouldn't harm her, and since they'd been right, the practical ops man wanted to know about that nice long talk. "He actually talked to you?"
"Yes," replied Julia. "Once Michael got sta--" "Michael?" cried True, bouncing up and down. "He told you his first name?" asked Uly. The boy sounded overjoyed. Julia wondered if he was trying to outdo True in expressing enthusiasm.
Whatever, the children were certainly in high spirits. Julia lengthened her stride, making for the medtent. Uly raced ahead of her, announcing to his mother (and anyone within earshot) that Mr. van Helsing's first name was Michael.
Matazl, Denner and Magus accompanied the doctor, matching her pace. True danced along a few steps ahead.
Julia walked rapidly, wanting to see her patient and wanting to avoid questions. She needed time to think things thru. Altho' facing Devon wasn't going to be enjoyable, it was the lesser of evils. Hopefully, they'd speak alone in the medtent.
Devon was in a formidable mood. She didn't expect or want to know the comings and goings of everyone at all times; however, anything which might endanger the group Ms. Adair did expect to be consulted about beforehand, out of courtesy if not respect.
Julia nodded at Devon and continued into the tent. Devon shadowed her. No one dared follow Devon, not even Uly. Within seconds, Morgan was evicted, to his displeasure. A shrug was his response to the questioning looks from Julia's escorts.
"How is he?" Dr. Heller positioned her diaglove and began to scan the beaten and bruised man sleeping on the cot.
Bess beamed. "He's doing good, I think. Julia, you can almost see him healing. The bruise just under his collarbone" she pointed at healthy flesh "it's gone. It was there when you left, not three hours ago!"
"Remarkable," murmured the doctor. Bess's smile dimmed a bit as she became aware of the tension in the air. Well, they'd figured Devon and the others wouldn't see eye to eye with them; that's why nothing had been said. "I've ...got to see to..." She turned brightly to Devon. "Have Uly and True had lunch?" At Devon's curt negative nod, Bess slipped out.
Julia read and reread the results of somewhat less than three hours' healing. Alonzo was definitely better, inside and out. His digestive system was whole again. Intestine which had been torn by hooves was in working order.
Devon grasped Julia's shoulder and hissed, "How could you worry us like that, Julia?"
Surprised, the doctor allowed the slight pressure exerted by Devon to turn her. This wasn't the tongue-lashing she'd expected. The auburn haired woman staring into her eyes was angry without a doubt. The anger was tempered with concern and relief.
Julia's lips curved briefly in a sheepish smile. "I'm sorry. But I had to talk to van Helsing alone, on his terms."
"'Michael' van Helsing?"
"Michael Lee." Noting Devon's furrowed brow, she added, "It's a long story."
"Lee? Well. Did he give you what you wanted?" A few steps, and Julia was scanning Alonzo from the other side of the cot. Head down, she echoed, "What I wanted?"
"The miracle drug. Isn't that what you went after?" Devon answered impatiently.
Julia glanced up a moment. "Yes, of course. But as you can see, I came back empty-handed."
Devon shifted her weight. "I'm not surprised." Julia was being evasive. That was disturbing. Especially given whom she'd confided in before leaving.
"He did explain about the agent and how it works." Julia tucked stray hair behind her ear. "The Terrians are involved."
"Van Helsing told you that?"
Julia nodded.
"Do you believe him?"
She smoothed the hair behind her ear again and considered. "I don't know, Devon."
Devon realized that at least was true.
DAY 44 EVENING
Bess hummed as she sewed another patch on her best pair of slacks. The thread securing that patch had been salvaged from a worn-out yellow shirt; since the contrast was glaring, Bess decided to make the best of it, and was embroidering yellow flowers along the patch's edge. Some of the simple daisies were askew. Fancy needlework hadn't been a part of her life before G889, so she was learning as she went along.
Finished, Bess bit the thread, held her slacks up for inspection, and smiled. It was fun, embroidering. Some day she'd use gold thread, and beads made of pearls and tiny gemstones. Other women would take up needlecrafts, too, because the Martins would be rich and influential. People would compliment her, and ask her advice on materials and designs...what a lovely dream.
Well, enough daydreaming. Bess folded the slacks, patch on top, and tucked them neatly away. What next? she asked herself. Hands on hips, she surveyed the tent.
What next, indeed. Morgan burst in as upset as his wife was serene. He plopped onto the cot, catching his balance in time not to capsize it and throw himself to the floor.
"Awful. This is just awful," he whined. For the split second before recognizing the selfish tone in her husband's voice, Bess thought Alonzo had gotten worse.
"Morgan, honey, what's wrong?" she cooed, carefully seating herself next to him and stroking his back.
Morgan frowned. "Bess," he began, "Bess, do you know what a 'Geiger counter' is?"
She blinked at him. "It's a device for detecting radio--" "I know that! Danziger and Matazl think they can build one."
"A *Geiger counter*? What for? Are you sure, Morgan?" He flashed a dark look at her. Bess tried a different tack. "What happened, honey? Tell me all about it," she soothed.
"As you know, everyone wants to head back north and find the miracle cure. They've named it, by the way: DvHMC, Dr. van Helsing's Miracle Cure."
"Julia said his name is really Michael Lee." "That's beside the point. Anyway, we were sitting around after dinner, talking about Alonzo, which of course led to talking about DvHMC and Mike himself."
Mike?
"Devon is an astute woman. She realizes our first priority is New Pacifica and preparing for the colony ship. She said we could spend months looking for van Helsing or the source and never find either, or even recognize the DvHMC in the wild. And then, she said Julia said Mike told her the Terrians are part of it, the same Terrians Uly keeps saying won't let anyone go back."
"I see. Devon does have a point."
"So, Danziger says why should we take van Helsing's word on anything (and I admit, Mike may have said that in order to discourage 'prospecting'). Then, Matazl, of all people, says, 'We'll make a Geiger counter', only he means a DvHMC detector." Morgan stared forlornly into his wife's eyes. "Bess, with Yale's input and if Julia can supply the chemical signature of DvHMC, Danziger can cobble one together by tomorrow night!"
"Tomorrow night?"
"Okay, that's an exaggeration! But you see what this means, don't you?"
Bess nodded, and her husband continued to rave. "It isn't fair. Who worked so hard to build a friendly relationship with Mike? Who put his life on the line? Day after day, dealing with that weird little hermit, learning to communicate effectively, persuading him to guide us. If people are going to be invading Mike's home ground, he should have some say in the matter; it should be his choice who and when and where. With that Geiger counter thingamajig, Michael Lee and his rights will be completely ignored.
"*I* planned to talk to Mike, make sure he gets a fair deal in all this--God knows, he needs someone to look after his interests in a situation like this. His claim to the land and resources found on it, in it or over it must be established."
"You're right, Morgan."
"Danziger and those other" (Morgan lowered his voice to a near whisper) "drones don't care about Michael Lee! Danziger hates him, because of True's lies. With a functional detector, they'll bulldoze thru his territory, taking whatever they want!"
"Morgan," said Bess in her 'you forgot something' voice. The politican stopped and looked at his wife, almost hopeful. Bess could be pretty clever at times.
"Uly's probably right about the Terrians not letting them go back. If they can't return, they can't get the DvHMC. But we're friends with Michael, aren't we? If he can't get us in, he can bring the DvHMC out to us."
Morgan smiled. He cupped his hands around Bess's face and leaned to kiss her. With just a few words, that little woman had changed his whole mood. He had better things to do with his time than fret over a machine which didn't even exist yet.
Yale found Julia's request intriguing. Once Uly was in bed and Devon no longer needed him as a sounding board, the cyborg placed his favorite chair just outside the tent and settled himself for thought. To all appearances, he was stargazing.
Neither 'tw's nor Project Eliot was difficult to retrieve. But what did events from 100 years ago have to do with Lee or the current situation? Yale mulled it over.
Alonzo and Uly had maintained from the beginning that Lee was much older than he appeared. He appeared to be approximately 30 to 40 years of age.
The script on the maps was a plain, common form used in everyday communication, no longer taught after the late 21st century. In it were personal variations such as developed only after years of practice.
The Terrians had forced Lee to aid Julia in treating Alonzo. Apparently, they could not do so without him. Perhaps they could not do so at all.
What Lee provided had brought Alonzo back from the very brink of death. Whatever he'd used had been on his person during the walk to camp. Lee's shirt and trousers were loose enough that a small pouch could be hidden away.
What would be the effect of the mystery cure on a healthy man? What might happen if it were used over an extended period of time? Had Michael Lee stumbled across a method of rejuvenation? A Fountain of Youth, of sorts?
Yale stroked his graying beard.
In spite of the late hour and her body's need for rest, Julia lay awake listening to Alonzo breathe. When he gasped, she shot out of bed and was at his side before he gasped the second time. A quick scan revealed no obvious problem.
"Yeah, Julia, what's wrong?" asked Baines, creeping into the tent in answer to the summons the doctor didn't know she'd given.
"I'm not sure," she admitted.
Alonzo moved one hand across his abdomen and winced. His eyes opened, slits in the puffy face.
"Hey, he's waking up!" Baines whispered. He was amused by Julia's confirming his observation with the diaglove.
"I'd like to get him to drink some water, if possible," she said.
It was possible. It was also messy because the patient's pain halted their attempt to elevate his head, and he was a bit fuzzy on how to use a straw. It was slow because Julia rationed the water, checking the glove constantly to see how Alonzo's body responded. Encouraged, she allowed him to drink all he wanted. Finally, the exhausted man plunged back into a deep sleep.
Baines grinned. He took the liberty of patting the doctor's shoulder and said, "I think he's going to make it."
"The signs are encouraging."
"You're going to be famous, Dr. Heller." Julia smiled tiredly. "Think so?"
"Know so. Once the DvHMC detector is working, we'll get a supply of the stuff for you to study, and by the time the colony ship arrives, you'll be able to cure all the Syndrome kids. And anyone else."
"What detector?"
Baines explained, taking for granted her contribution to its development.
"Oh."
The tech was disappointed by Julia's reaction, but chalked it up to chromotilting. "I've got to get back on duty. I'll tell Magus about Alonzo; she should be waking up about now."
Julia nodded, eyes on the diaglove monitor. There would be no problem supplying the information needed for the detector, but there was no point if Lee was what he said he was. Maybe Yale would find something to prove it one way or the other. Still, an uneasy feeling dampened her enthusiasm for the project.
She'd taken van Helsing's--Lee's--advice and considered the consequences of Immunity made available to the world. She recalled something Alonzo had said weeks ago: Van Helsing was bad news for humankind.

CHAPTER NINETEEN
DREAMS

DAY 45
At dawn, Danziger abandoned his post and stuck his head into the medtent. Julia was dozing on a cot next to Alonzo's, sleeping so lightly the rustle of the tent flaps woke her. She struggled up on her elbows and blearily looked at John. Even in the subdued light, John could see that the doctor was beginning to pay for the constant care she gave Alonzo.
"Hey, Doc," Danziger said. "You look almost as bad as 'Lonz, there."
Julia immediately focused on her patient. After fumbling unsuccessfully with the diaglove, she lay back down and closed her eyes. "Thank you, Danziger."
John crept to the foot of Alonzo's bed. Actually, his observation wasn't too far off. Solace was still swollen like a tick and hashmarked with healing wounds, but he was better than last night. Amazing. Michael Lee aka van Helsing's Miracle Cure. If something like this had been available for Ellie...
"Figure van Helsing's miracle works as well on brain damage?"
"I would think so," Julia answered wearily. "On second thought, I'm not sure." If it did, why were the majority of Immunes mentally deficient, according to van Helsing? There were too many 'ifs'; Dr. Heller wanted something concrete to work with.
Danziger nodded. Just as well. Suppose it did. Suppose he could have Ellie back. Things had changed.
A soft groan from Alonzo riveted his attention. The doctor shot to her feet, adjusting the glove without conscious thought.
"He's sleeping very lightly."
"Doc, 'Lonz isn't sleeping at all!" countered Danziger as the pilot attempted to pry open his eyes.
Alonzo continued to make unhappy sounds. He stirred restlessly, eyebrows drawing together when an attempt to move caused pain. The pain didn't stop his efforts to push the sheet away and roll to his side.
"He's probably thirsty." Julia nodded her head toward the container with a short length of tubing protuding from the top. Danziger hastily filled a cup and gave it to her as he crossed behind to reach the head of the cot. Julia's objections ceased when she realized Alonzo wasn't protesting the effort to lift him as he had during the night. Gently, as gently as with newborn True, Danziger helped his friend sit up just enough not to choke.
Alonzo swallowed most of the water in the cup and eventually in the container. Julia mopped up what escaped. Thirst quenched, 'Lonz relaxed, allowing Danziger to bear his full weight. John lowered him to the cot.
The man lay still, sweating profusely and breathing as if winded.
"His heartrate is up and his blood pressure has increased. Evidently physical exertion to any degree is stressful."
"Umm-hmm," commented Danziger. He thought it a good sign, considering the only physical exertion in Alonzo's body should be the worms crawling thru.
Camp was buzzing. The news of Alonzo's progress made the 'prospectors' increasingly eager to get moving. Walman and Matazl were hunting down the components for the proposed detector, cannabalizing other equipment when they deemed it necessary.
Devon insisted the group continue south. She reminded them that the coordinates of Paradise, as even she had begun to think of Lee's territory, weren't going to change. Uly, lower lip stuck out in a pout, told True the Terrians wouldn't let people in there again, ever, and why didn't the grownups listen to him?
Bess ignored the hubbub and sipped thoughtfully at a spoonful of the broth she was preparing for Alonzo. He'd awakened twice now, neither time really seeming aware of anything except the cup of water held to his mouth. What he needed, she thought, was nourishment. With Alonzo's weakened condition in mind, she'd made a clear broth of whiteroot.
Satisfied with the flavor, Bess took the patient's lunch and more solid fare for the doctor to the medtent. Odds were, Alonzo wouldn't wake up for a good while. When he did, Julia might not let him have the broth. But, there's no harm in trying. It was better to have too much food than not enough.
Cameron stepped aside, and Bess smiled her way into the medtent. Julia half-smiled back. Magus raised a hand in greeting.
"Doctor, you are going to have to get some rest," Bess chided while setting the box on an already crowded table.
"That'll take a sediderm," said Magus. "'Dr. Heller' thinks she's essential to dear Alonzo's recovery."
Bess chuckled. Julia groaned.
"Here, you need something to eat, too." To Magus, Bess said, "You've had lunch, with Cameron." She raised teasing eyebrows.
Julia took the sandwich and bit. It was wonderful. She'd no idea she was so hungry. Julia wolfed her lunch almost wordlessly.
"Thanks," she garbled thru the last mouthful. "I fixed a weak broth for Alonzo. Hope you don't mind." "No, I don't mind. I'm not sure he'll want it, tho'." Julia stretched out on her cot. Bess had a point; in the past two days she'd slept maybe three hours. A nap would do her good. Worn out, the doctor drifted off, lulled by the soft voices of her friends.
Bess and Magus chatted, mostly about men, until Baines & Matazl peeked in. Magus laid a finger to her lips, then motioned for the guys to join them. The conversation continued, detouring onto the engrossing topic of Dr. van Helsing's Miracle Cure and how to find it. True and Uly wandered in on tiptoe to see if any more bruises had disappeared or scabs fallen off.
"He's dreaming!" the girl whispered excitedly. The adults gathered around the cot like dwarves around Snow White. "See?" True said smugly, pointing at Alonzo's active eyes. She thought they looked spooky.
"Should we--," began Baines, half-turning to wake Julia. "Let her sleep," advised Bess, and they did.
~~Alonzo rapidly scanned the files, locking them away in his mind for later perusal. By no means was his memory eidetic, but over the years he'd learned to remember what he read. He scrolled page after page over the monitor. At a sound from the corridor, he touched the screen. It cleared. He tapped a pattern across the console and all trace of his activity was deleted.
He pulled the chair from under the desk and crammed himself into its place. He dragged the chair back in place as far as possible, leaving barely room to curl up. Alonzo breathed softly. He heard the office door open and the tread of feet on the carpet. The footfalls stopped, replaced by a sigh. The feet moved again, and the chair was wheeled away.
"You're not supposed to be playing in here," chided a man's voice. "Now, come on out."
Alonzo didn't move.
"Come on," spoken firmly.
Alonzo crawled from his hiding place and peered around the corner of the desk. The man reached down and offered him a hand up. Alonzo accepted the hand; he stood and looked up at the man. "They can't find me here," he said, the uncertainty in his voice tempered with just a bit of defiance.
"That's because they obey the rules, and don't wander out of the play areas," replied the man. "The last time you hid in my office, you were grounded *all day long*. Remember?"
Alonzo nodded. "I won't do it again," he said hurriedly. It sounded like one word.
"This is the third time you've slipped into a secured area. Do you know what that means?"
"You'll ground me again."
The man chuckled. "Well, yes, I will. But I meant do you know what a secured area is? It's a place you and your friends aren't supposed to come into because you might get hurt. There are bad things here." He pressed the keypad on his desk. Immediately, a young man wearing a tranquilizer gun appeared. The man turned to him, first casting a warning glance at Alonzo when he muttered, "It's boring in the dorm. There's nothing new."
"Take 'Columbus' here and return him to his room. He's to be isolated for the next three days and barred from VR for the next week."
The escort took Alonzo by the arm and guided him out into the corridor. Alonzo hung his head sullenly. He didn't feel sullen; he felt elated. Three days to digest what he'd seen, three days to plan.~~~
Familiar trilling interrupted the pilot's thoughts. He jerked his head up, bewildered. Glare from the white plain hurt his eyes. He was dreaming again.
A Terrian, the same one who'd met him after the court martial, stood nearby. Alonzo got the impression the Terrian had been waiting for some time.
"Well, brother, how are you feeling?" Eden's dreamer whirled around. "Brother?" he echoed, buying time to get his bearings as much as questioning the appropriateness of the term.
"Blood brothers, you could say."
"Van Helsing."
The woodsman nodded. He was clean-shaven and his hair was cut close to the scalp. Van Helsing flashed an embarrassed smile, shrugged his shoulders and joined Alonzo in studying the uniform he wore. "I'm not used to this," he admitted.
Alonzo had seen the face before, looking back at him in place of his reflection.
"You're a dreamer," surmised Alonzo. "To a minor extent. I've learned over the years, but no amount of learning could equal the natural genius you have for dreaming." Van Helsing shook his head in wonderment. "You can even dream another's memories."
Alonzo digested that. It made sense. The Terrians--he cast a glance at the native to his left--wanted him to know about this pet human of theirs. What better way than to live his life? Walk a mile in his moccasins. Which, the pilot noted, had been replaced by aggressively shining black boots. So, who was van Helsing? Where'd he come from? Why were the Terrians involved? He scowled. "Why?"
"'Why' what?"
"Who are you?" 'Lonz demanded. "If those dreams" (which were becoming clearer as he spoke with the man who'd lived them) "are really your memories, why?" Horror twisted his features. Alonzo felt *he'd* been the one, that he was responsible for so much destruction.
The Terrian warbled to van Helsing, directing him to answer the Dreamer's questions. This was an alien affair.
Van Helsing hesitated, then trilled awkwardly. His command of the language was unimpressive. Still, Alonzo understood. He folded his arms across his chest and eyed the man.
"Come on, brother," van Helsing said, laying an unwelcome hand on Alonzo's shoulder. "It's a long story, and I prefer more comfortable surroundings."
The stark plain was abruptly replaced by a Terrian warren; van Helsing began his story. "I was a soldier, not by choice."
DAY 45 EVENING
Alonzo had awakened at dusk, repeated his morning behavior, and drifted back to sleep, only to wake a few minutes later rambling on about his 'brother'. Walman and Denner had no idea what he meant. Julia did have an idea or two after she caught the words 'Eliot' and 'tw'.
Alonzo was sleeping again, deeply. The doctor took Devon's suggestion she eat and try to relax with the others; that would give her a chance to confer with Yale.
"Just the lady we wanted to see," boomed Danziger. He sat on the ground against a tree, legs veed out in tripping formation. Julia managed to miss him.
"How's the patient?" asked Cameron. He still couldn't believe Alonzo was recovering.
"Give her a chance to catch her breath," fussed Morgan, offering his relatively comfortable seat to Julia.
The afternoon's nap--which lasted far longer than intended-- had restored her energy somewhat, but not enough that she preferred standing to sitting. Julia sank down gratefully and smiled a greeting to the few Edenites gathered there. She noticed a few more leave off chores and head toward the loungers after her arrival.
"Does 'Lonz have any idea what's going on, yet? asked John. "The last time, he was aware of us, in a sense. He made eye contact with me. He is steadily improving, so perhaps the next time, we'll get a coherent response."
"Alonzo kept babbling about his brother 'Eliot'. At least, that's what it sounded like." Walman looked at Denner, who agreed.
Yale's ears perked up. This was interesting. "Alonzo doesn't have a brother named Eliot."
Walman nodded. "Right now he thinks he does, and that this brother was a soldier on Earth, fought in the last big war. 'Lonz said he killed 700 people."
"723," Denner specified.
"Doc," began Matazl, "not to change the subject, but do you think you can help us with the detector any time soon?"
"We need the signature of the cure to feed into it. Think you can get that to us?" asked Danziger.
Julia hesitated. Yes, she could and she might, if Yale's research disproved Lee's tale. But was it wise? More and more, the doctor, former patriot to the Council, feared Alonzo was right about Lee and Lee was right about Immunity.
Morgan maintained a pleasantly interested expression. He didn't like this. The idea was great, it would work, and it could cut his profits considerably. Terrian resistence or not, with that kind of wealth at stake, people would try to get the DvHMC. That didn't bode well for future dealing with the natives, either. Two very good reasons not to construct that machine.
Julia's thoughts weren't quite in line with Morgan's. If Lee's story was true, the DvHMC detector would lead straight to him. How would Eden group react to that? How long would they search for another source before concluding *Lee* was it? Julia didn't ask herself what would happen to him. Given the proper motivation, any member of Eden Advance would be as heartless as the Council. No, not as heartless; they'd regret the need, but they'd still use him.
"Well, Julia?" prodded Yale.
"I think I can. It'll take some time to determine if the necessary data is available."
"The 'necessary data' is in Alonzo," Walman pointed out. Several voices agreed.
"But is it a good idea to do anything that might interfere with his healing?" protested Morgan.
Julia looked at the politican, aware he spoke more from self-interest than concern for Alonzo, but thankful nonetheless. "No, it isn't. This process is completely unfamiliar to me; I've no way of knowing what might disrupt it. Waiting until Alonzo has fully recovered is the best course of action."
Morgan nodded smugly, reading Julia's latching onto his idea as an indication she wasn't interested in sharing DvHMC with the others, either. He understood that; she'd have a place in history, no matter who else was involved, but she'd be a fool to pass up practically unlimited fortune. A doctor would need those funds for research.
"You think so, huh?" asked Matazl. Assembly of the detector was coming right along. Trial and error would be involved in the final adjustments. They could get only so far without the DvHMC signature.
"Yes. I think so," she replied firmly. Devon had sent her out here to relax. It wasn't working. She still needed to talk to Yale, who no doubt had had his interest piqued by the 'Eliot' comment. He'd follow her. "If you'll excuse me..."
As Julia walked away, Yale said, "I'll talk to her." The others watched him catch up to Julia. She didn't seem to mind and the two walked slowly toward the 'kitchen'; maybe Yale could reason with the doctor.
"Alonzo must have contacted Lee on the Dreamplane," said Julia, pushing a stray lock of hair behind one ear.
"That does explain his reference to 'Eliot' and 'tw'. Did you hear anything else?"
"Like '0119'? No."
"Why is Alonzo confusing Lee with a brother?" "I've no idea. Did you find anything?" "Oh, yes. Project Eliot was a closely guarded secret around the turn of the 21st century, set up for weapons development, the exact nature of which is still undetermined. It was shut down when a government amenable to truce took power in 2107.
"'tw' designates a now obsolete class of recreational station catering to the very rich. According to my files, only seven were constructed: 0111 thru 0117; three are privately owned and the rest have been cannabalized."
Very rich? "Would Devon know anything about them?" Yale smiled. "Altho' the Adairs are most certainly among the wealthiest, they are not among those who would be invited to a 'tw' station. That is, in my opinion, to their credit.
"Tell me, Julia, what prompted Lee to speak of matters from a century ago?"
"He's a very strange man. I can't say," Julia answered quickly. "He has an interest in history; the antique script he's adopted may be indicative of an obsession."
"It may well, at that."
"Actually, Yale, Michael talked about a lot of things once he opened up."
"A characteristic of many shy people," agreed the old tutor. Julia was holding something back. Pressing the matter would likely make things unpleasant.
"Thank you for your help. I'd better see to Alonzo," she said, looking in the direction of the medtent.
"I hope the information is useful to you." Julia hesitated, then shook her head. "Not really. It's added to the jumble in my mind." She turned and headed back to the medtent.
DAY 46
Alonzo woke frequently during the night. The dreamer didn't mention his 'brother' or 'Eliot' again and responded to questions with "Huh" or less intelligible grunts. He drank what was offered him, including broth, and 'passed enough water to float the Titanic' according to Morgan. By dawn, the excess fluid in his tissues was gone. Several pounds of muscle and fat were also gone. Julia was not happy; Alonzo had lost more weight than she expected.
Danziger and Devon sat with the pilot while Julia took a quick bath and grabbed a bite to eat. The aroma of breakfast reached the medtent.
Alonzo's eyes popped open, clear and definitely in touch with reality. He rubbed his belly and hoarsely announced, "I'm starving."
Devon bolted from the tent and raced for the kitchen. Soon, a damp-haired Julia scanned the thin, dark-eyed man. Gauntness and a slight tinge of jaundice were the only indications he'd been injured. Ever, in his entire life.
"Breakfast in bed," said Morgan, pushing Denner and the kids aside so Bess could reach Alonzo.
"It would be best to start him on lighter foods," advised Julia.
Alonzo vehemently disagreed. "That looks great. I've never been so hungry in my life!"
Danziger helped the weakened man sit up, propping him with pillows and rolled blankets passed to him by Magus. A tray bearing whiteroot mush, small-flying-mammal legs, and a couple of hunks of whiteroot bread smeared with berrypaste descended onto Alonzo's lap. After a few bites, 'Lonz looked around selfconsciously. Every living soul in camp was staring at him.
Alonzo pulled the tray closer and shielded it with his arms. "This is mine. I'm not sharing. If you want something to eat, go find your own."
Eden Advance took the hint; all except Julia left, laughing, wishing him well and welcoming him back.
Julia sat blinking at him, biting her lips to stop their trembling. When Alonzo reached out and took her hand, the tears she'd refused to shed until she knew he was back spilled out.
"How's the patient? Did he get enough to eat?" asked Walman, pouring himself a cup of cool water flavored with redpod.
"He's sleeping, and yes, he did get enough to eat for now," replied Magus.
"That's four meals so far today, isn't it?" said Danziger. He was taking a short break from detector construction. The tart drink Walman enjoyed wasn't one of John's favorites, but it did cut thru thirst. The mechanic drained his cup and helped himself to another.
"Like a baby. Eat, sleep, eat, sleep." "His mind's okay?"
"As okay as it's ever been," Magus answered. True and Uly, heads damp with sweat, zipped up to see what was going on. Magus offered them each a drink.
"Is the DvHMC detector working?" asked Uly, accepting a cup. True declined. She liked to chew on red pod, not drink it. "Not yet, Champ," said Danziger. "Aren't you thirsty, True?" "I want plain water."
The grownups discussion of the detector entranced True, who really wanted to work on it more herself. Uly silently sipped at his drink, looking more and more unhappy.
Someone was staring at him. He could feel it. Alonzo reluctantly opened his eyes.
"Did I wake you up, Alonzo?" Uly stood next to the cot, hands clasped behind his back, solemnly staring at the dreamer.
"I was kind of awake already, Champ." Alonzo smiled at the serious little boy. A quick glance around the tent revealed no one else. "Where's Julia?"
"She's talking to my mom."
Something was bothering the kid. Alonzo pushed himself up and swung his feet to the ground. He was still weak, and swayed dizzily. Uly placed two small hands on his shoulders, helping to steady him. "Thanks; guess I ought to stay in bed a while longer."
"Yeah. But not too long."
"What's wrong, Uly?" demanded Alonzo. "A lot of the group want to go back north and find the stuff that saved your life. They won't listen to me when I tell them they can't. They're building a DvHMC detector, and you've got to tell them to stop."
"They're building what?"
Uly explained, rushing the story out in one long sentence. When he stopped for breath, Alonzo sent him after Julia. The boy sped away, immensely relieved. He actually felt lighter, just like he'd had a real weight lifted off his back.
Michael Lee had been telling the truth. Alonzo confirmed it, every detail, and provided additional information he'd gotten on the Dreamplane. Lies weren't possible in that medium. Julia stood just outside the medtent, arms folded across her chest, face turned to the sunset. She was both disappointed and relieved. Her lover slept again, oblivious to the storm about to break over Eden Advance. If Alonzo woke before the group settled down for the evening, the storm would rage during the night; if not, it would be tomorrow morning.
Alonzo didn't need constant attention now. Julia decided to enlighten Devon immediately. She tucked her head inside the medtent for a quick check on the sleeping patient. What held her attention, however, was the plastic box containing blood and tissue specimens from Lee. Dr. Heller sighed and entered the tent. Before she had time to think and possibly change her mind, Julia methodically destroyed all materials and data relating to the man or DvHMC.
"Go on, Uly," directed Devon, attempting to shoo the boy away. "Julia and I have things to discuss."
"It isn't necessary for him to leave," said Julia. "He knows already, most of it, at least."
The boy looked from one to the other, uncertain. This was going to be an adult conversation. Being allowed to stay was flattering, but adult conversations could be boring. He'd stay; if it got dull, he'd leave then, or look at the map his mom had spread out on the table.
"Charting the way west?" asked Julia. Devon smiled grimly. "It may be pointless at the present. I appear to be outvoted." She scanned the camp. Danziger, Matazl and True were working on the detector. A knot of others stood near them, watching and offering advice, occasionally receiving a black look from the mechanics. Morgan and Yale were talking together, apart from the crowd. "Even Yale..."
Julia snorted. "The Terrians will vote with you." "Yeah!" seconded Uly.
"And Alonzo, and me."
Devon's eyes widened in surprise. Dr. Julia Heller was the last person, except perhaps Morgan, that she'd expected to give up the DvHMC quest.
"Alonzo learned a few things while he was sleeping." Julia paused. "We can't possibly use 'DvHMC'. Only a minute amount exists, and the Terrians are prepared to destroy both the source and anyone seeking him. It." Julia flushed a deep red. She and Alonzo had agreed not to mention Lee's peculiarity.
"I...see," said Devon slowly. And she did, in a flash of insight. Van Helsing, or Lee, was a far more unusual individual than any had reason to suspect. Perhaps, when she felt the time was right, Julia would elaborate.
"Devon--"
"I understand. It must be a fascinating story," Devon said reassuringly. She glanced at Uly, who sat wide-eyed himself. Lee had called Uly a 'changeling'; had the man himself been changed by the Terrians? Would Uly one day be as Lee was now? Would he find it necessary to isolate himself simply to survive his predatory kin? Something very like the defensiveness she felt for her son welled up and washed over the man.

CHAPTER TWENTY
REALITY

DAY 47
"Good morning!" crowed Morgan cheerily. He carried the breakfast tray to Alonzo's cot and whipped the cloth from it with a flourish.
"I appreciate the effort, man, but I thought I'd join the crew for breakfast." Alonzo popped a bit of fruit into his mouth before easing to his feet; he waved away Julia's offer of aid and balanced quite well, considering that the tent was listing northward.
"Are you sure he's up to it?" fretted Morgan. Julia, hovering Mother Hen-like at her patient's side, shrugged. "He does." Tapping the diaglove she added, "Other than weakness brought on by the fast, nothing's wrong with him."
Morgan pulled Julia aside and lowered his voice uselessly. Alonzo's hearing would never be as acute as Lee's, but DvHMC had improved it. The hungry dreamer finished off the fruit on the tray, trying not to eavesdrop.
"Julia, the longer Alonzo stays bedridden, the better. Once he's recovered, they'll put the pressure on for the DvHMC signature."
"I know," she answered softly. "It won't do them any good. We can't use it."
"What?" whispered Morgan, alarmed. "What do you mean, we can't use it?" He flicked his eyes at the miracle man ignoring them.
"For whatever reason, the Terrian's won't allow us to return to the area; they'll defend it by any means necessary. And, DvHMC is an extremely limited resource."
"Michael Lee--" Morgan groped.
Alonzo, strengthened a good deal by the little he'd eaten, walked steadily to the whispering pair and placed a consoling hand on the shoulder of the suddenly weak-kneed politician, almost toppling him. The dreamer looked into Morgan's eyes. "Mike has already killed scores of people to keep DvHMC out of the hands of the Council. He could slip into camp any night and slit our throats as we sleep." Alonzo paused, gauging the effect of his words on the greedy man. In a way, he felt sorry for Morgan. "He'd do it, too, except maybe for...one of the women." Alonzo left it at that and strode out of the medtent.
Morgan sank to the floor. Nausea hit him. He sat staring bleakly at nothing. This was too awful for words, or even thought. Beseechingly, the miserable man looked up at Dr. Heller.
The naked avarice driving Morgan Martin disgusted her. However, Julia shared his disappointment to a degree. She'd lost a lot, too. "It was a pretty dream, wasn't it?"
He nodded and turned his face toward the empty cot, but not before a tear escaped. Julia left hurriedly.
Alonzo bowed in acknowledgement of the applause his appearance at breakfast prompted. Danziger gallantly held a chair for him. When the pilot insisted he could seat himself, Danziger shrugged and sat down, leaving Alonzo standing foolishly next to him. Kidding continued throughout the meal.
Morgan was the last to arrive. He squeezed in between Bess and Yale. The old cyborg wasn't taking part in the giddiness, thank God. Come to think of it, Adair was restrained, too. Morgan stared at Julia until he caught her eye, then flicked a sideways glance at Devon. Did she know? Julia evidently didn't understand. She tightened her lips in what might have been a smile and turned back to Alonzo. Sighing, Morgan rearranged the food on his plate again.
"Morgan, what's wrong?" asked Bess. "I'm not so sure about this quest," he replied softly. "We probably ought to forget the whole thing."
Bess automatically placed her palm against his forehead. "Honey, are you ill?"
Irritably, he pulled away. "No, Bess, I'm fine!" Walman clasped his hands behind his head and declared, "Once we get the DvHMC, we'll all be fine, forever! Isn't that right, doc?"
Julia had no chance to reply. Morgan lept to his feet and began expounding. "Once we get the DvHMC, the *Council* will be all over us. We'll live just long enough to tell them where it is! *If* we live long enough to find it in the first place! Which we won't, because Lee will kill us in our sleep. We know he can come and go as he pleases, perimeter alarm nonwithstanding, Mr. Baines.
"We saw what he did to Danziger, a man twice his size. Michael Lee can kill any one of us barehanded. DvHMC is in short supply, and that little fellow isn't going to share without the Terrians forcing him. Isn't that right, 'doc'?"
Everyone focused on the ranting Edenite. True had a mouthful of mush, getting mushier as it waited to be swallowed. She wasn't the only one who'd temporarily forgotten the processes involved in eating; Magus choked on an underchewed bite of whiteroot bread. With her final throat-clearings as a background, Alonzo began to speak.
"Morgan's right."
As if blown by a wind, every head swiveled toward the gaunt, dark-eyed man. Eden Advance listened without comment.
"I met van Helsing, or Lee, on the Dreamplane. Lies don't exist there. So I know that Lee has spent decades keeping DvHMC a secret. He doesn't want the Council getting their hands on it. The only reason we know it exists is because the Terrians need me alive and they forced him to help. His life, or mine, and believe me, it was a hard choice for him." Alonzo cracked his knuckles pensively. "Think about the kind of control the Council has now. What would it be like if they had a supply of DvHMC?"
"Humanity would be oppressed by a virtually immortal ruling class," said Julia for the benefit of any who might have missed Alonzo's point.
"Yes, that's no doubt true," agreed Yale. He stroked his beard. Growing old was part of life. To try to avoid it was foolish. "The Council would abuse the DvHMC."
"They'd kill any other poor bastards who knew about it, too," Danziger reluctantly agreed with Morgan.
"Uly has insisted all along the Terrians won't allow us to turn back," said Devon to Alonzo. "Is the DvHMC the reason?"
"Yes, Devon. Exactly."
"I imagine the Terrians find humans dangerous enough with our short lifespans," said Yale.
"No, that's not the reason. They seem to feel it would be wrong of them, irresponsible, to allow us to increase our loneliness. To the Terrians, humans are alone while alive."
Danziger rapped the table impatiently. "Do the diggers have any use for DvHMC?"
Alonzo nodded. "I'm not sure what." The big mechanic clapped his hands together. "Alright, guys, I guess we're heading west. Whaddya say, 'Lonz, are you up to a little traveling?"
The pilot grinned.
Eden Advance dispersed, each attending to the business at hand. A few were bitterly disappointed by the sudden loss of fortune. Morgan's apparent acceptance of the facts aroused suspicion among them. Julia overheard a conversation between Matazl, Baines, and Walman, the angry tone of which troubled her. Morgan could actually be in danger, if the trio vented their frustrations on him. Later in the day, she'd mention to Walman Morgan's pre-breakfast visit, and his teary reaction.
"Well?" asked Yale of Devon as she helped clear the dining area.
"The group is taking this much better than I ever dreamed they would."
The tutor wasn't at all surprised by the group's simply getting on with life. Beating one's head against a brick wall was a luxury G889 did not permit.
Danziger decided to leave the detector intact. It might come in handy later. You never know.
DAY 49
Alonzo wasn't as strong as he wanted to be. He'd ridden in the TransRover cab the entire four miles they covered yesterday, and it had been exhausting. Julia had called the caravan to a halt in the middle of the afternoon, and once again the dreamer slept as he had while healing. He dreamed, also, and 16 hours after first closing his eyes, startled Julia awake with his delirious singing.
Only, Alonzo wasn't delirious. He wasn't even in bed. The man, filling out already, was buttoning his shirt. He reached for his pants and noticed the pretty blonde doctor had awakened. "Morning, beautiful," he said. The healthy young man hesitated, balancing on one foot with the other poised to slide into the pantsleg. Alonzo looked from Julia, all pink and sleepy, not a hair on her head in place, to his pants, from gorgeous Julia to the pants, which were suddenly abandoned on the floor, and back to irresistible Julia.
Impulsively, he whirled and danced over to the tent entrance, stuck his head out and shouted, "Do Not Disturb!", fastened the flaps securely, and danced (losing the few articles of clothing he wore on the way) back to Julia. Her embarrassment and anger disappeared into giggles and an "Oh, my," of admiration slipped thru her lips. That was all she had time to say before Alonzo pounced.
"What was that all about?" asked a puzzled Uly. Danziger and Devon exchanged uneasy glances across the map. Yale raised a questioning eyebrow at Devon. Cameron and Baines and Magus pretended not to have heard the boy, or anything else out of the ordinary.
True realized she'd have to rescue the adults. "Alonzo and Julia just want some private time together."
"Private time?" echoed the boy.
"Yeah," replied the girl in an offhand manner. "You know." She wiggled her eyebrows more to tease the grownups than anything else. "Adult private time."
"True!" warned her dad.
"Oh!" replied Uly knowingly, taking a cue from Mr. Danziger's attitude that it was something he should know. *Adult* private time. He caught True's eye. She gave him a 'later' look.
DAY 49 EARLY AFTERNOON
The diaglove indicated Alonzo was in good condition. He was, in fact, in better condition than Julia, having recovered fully from the early morning exercise. She could have used a nap.
In spite of the diaglove's go-ahead, Eden Advance was not breaking camp. The dreamer had dreamed, and excitedly led a small group northeast. He kept humming and singing bits of an ancient folk song only Yale recognized.
The children were among the party bouncing along the trail. They rode in the DuneRail with Alonzo and Morgan and Bess. Baines and Devon shared the ATV more closely than either cared to. Alonzo had insisted these seven go, no more, no fewer, no substitutions. Devon overrode Danziger's objections, which was no mean feat, considering True was one of the chosen.
Alonzo was teaching the song to the kids. "She'll be driving six white horses when she comes!" was his favorite verse, evidently. It was an irritatingly easy song, one that even Baines caught himself singing before they reached their destination.
There was no doubt they'd arrived. A curve around a thicket of briary orange fruit, and a grassland opened out before them. Grazing placidly were six horses. Only one was white.
The animals stood alertly and watched the newcomers. Two lost interest and went back to dinner.
True gripped Uly's arm so hard she left nail prints. "Horses! And they've got things on their heads."
"Bridles," said Uly.
"Halters," corrected Alonzo. "No bits." Lee had told him. Baines left the ATV. The horses didn't seem alarmed, so Devon pried herself off the back and drew closer to them, also. "Whose are they?" she asked.
"Ours," replied Alonzo. "Lee said we'd need them, once we leave the plateau."
"To aid in crossing the river, perhaps?" "He didn't say, Devon. He just said we'd need them once we left the safety of the plateau."
Baines settled the MagPro against his shoulder. "What about saddles?"
"We should be able to make them," replied Devon. She didn't sound convinced.
True and Uly wasted no time clambering out of the DuneRail and zipped up even with the adults. Morgan and Bess reluctantly joined the rest, Morgan scanning the area.
"Is he here?" the former chief liaison asked. "No. We'll never see him again." Alonzo was certain Lee was nowhere near and not simply because Lee had assured him of it in the dream. The pilot could smell six other people. He couldn't tell everyone apart yet, but gender and sexual maturity were as obvious as if he were looking at them.
"They're beautiful," breathed Bess. "How do we get them home?" asked the perversely practical Baines.
Alonzo whistled as Lee had taught him. All six animals looked at him. The white one ambled toward him, followed by two more. A second whistle prompted the remaining horses to leave the grasses and approach.
Uly fearlessly bounded over to the nearest huge dangerous beast, nearly causing Devon to lose bladder control. The big black and white creature made no threatening moves, not even when Uly pulled something off its halter and announced, "Hey, they're labeled! This one's Morgan's." And the boy deserted that poor animal in search of his own.
Each horse *was* labeled. Michael Lee had chosen one for each person he'd had extended contact with. Devon's was the only stallion, the rest, mares. Bess's was the prettiest by far, a delicate golden thing with amber eyes and honey-colored mane. It looked more like an ornament than a beast of burden. Baines, despite himself, liked the plain, sturdy animal who seemed to take to him immediately. He liked her even more when the sun hit the brown coat and polished it to a rich red.
Uly's mare was the white one, and it was the most beautiful horse ever born, he assured Yale via gear, flipping the 'screen out so his tutor could see for himself.
True wasn't so quick to share the news with her dad. She circled the mare slowly, but didn't touch her at all. For some reason, the idea of even riding a horse again made her feel kinda sick. Bess noticed the kid's hesitation.
"Don't you like her, honey?"
Frowning, eyes downcast, the little girl replied, "I like her okay."
"You're worried about what your dad will say." "Yeah, I guess."
Alonzo, undistracted by a horse of his own, walked up and squatted down to True's level. He smiled at Bess and dismissed her by asking if he might talk to True alone.
"True-girl," he said softly, adopting the pet name Danziger favored, "on the Dreamplane, communication is so clear, there's no chance for misunderstanding. Only the truth exists there."
True nodded. She fiddled with the piece of canvas with her name written on it in Lee's funny writing.
"I've talked to Mike a lot since my accident." He paused, unsure how to proceed. Besides, Baines had joined Bess and Morgan in nosiness.
True nodded again, unhelpfully.
"He understands you're still a kid, and you really don't want to disappoint your father..." Wrong move, judging by the look the kid threw at him. "True, if you want the horse, you'll have to talk to your dad. A Dreamplane talk."
That got her attention. She looked wide-eyed at Alonzo. "No, not *on* the 'plane. I mean a clear, all details included talk."
True scowled at her name on the label so hard her vision blurred, making it necessary to wipe her eyes with the canvas. It was rough and left her eyes a little red.
"He still won't let me keep her," the child predicted. Grimly, she positioned her gear and strode away to the DuneRail for a private, relatively safe confession. At least gear had volume control.
DAY 51
Julia could argue with neither the diaglove, which indicated Alonzo was healthier than he'd been prior to the 'Dance with Bambi's Mother', as he called it, or with her own conclusions, drawn from evidence including a few more dances which had her pitying the rest of the women in camp and wishing she could share her new toy and jealously guarding him at the same time.
Because Dr. Heller could find no reason to restrict Alonzo's activity, he was back on scout duty. Michael Lee's 'blood brother' enjoyed being away from the crowd. His senses were still improving; fortunately, his ability to ignore the overload of information was also improving, but not as rapidly as he'd like.
Uly's River roared in the distance. Even the most ignorant of station dwellers would have realized the river was no longer a placid stretch of water meandering along on a slow course to the sea. Eden Advance's path hadn't been within sight of the river in days, and Alonzo dreaded seeing it again.
Lee's map simply ended with Uly's River flowing off the edge of it. An X marked the ford, they hoped. What else could it be? A natural bridge, maybe? Why hadn't he thought to ask the guy? By the end of the day, Eden's caravan, bareback riders and all, would go right off the edge of the map.
He stopped the ATV and got out to stretch his legs and take care of personal matters. Another weird thing about the DvHMC: the body made better use of intake and produced less outgo. That factor alone would have had the masses clamboring for it, not to mention the waste disposal crews. Too bad DvHMC extended life indefinitely.
On foot, Alonzo crested a low rise and stared across the landscape. Michael Lee had told him Eden Advance was crossing a plateau. Now Alonzo stood at the edge of it. The slope was forbiddeningly steep. Uly's River rushed down, leaping, wrestling its way to the plain below. Alonzo had heard the roar of the tumbling water miles back; he'd found what he expected: White water. It was beautiful.
He'd miss the river.
Eden Advance's path lay to the west. They wouldn't leave the plateau yet. Uly's River, seeking the ocean, turned northwest.
DAY 62
He sat astride his favorite mare, now given a name: Devon. The splendid animal tossed her head, anxious to be away from here, the edge of their territory. Those in the ground were near; she sensed them, and altho' she did not fear them, she did respect them. Those in the ground were watchful.
Her companion was trembling. She felt an unaccustomed excitement in him, an indecision which literally swayed him first one way and then the other. She found it annoying and again tossed her head, more insistently. It wasn't like him to ignore her signals. His absent patting of her neck was not placating.
Michael Lee, and he had begun to think of himself as himself these past few weeks, could see the caravan a few miles west and a few hundred feet below in the valley. He dried his sweaty palms on his britches legs. Five horses, four with riders. True was one, finally. Her father must have relented. Baines was missing, probably scouting on horseback. A trace of smile flicked across Michael's face; Baines had been the first to make a saddle. It was a poor thing, an insult to the fine beast who tolerated it. The curly-haired changeling and his mother rode side by side. Bess's sweet little mare trotted along, unburdened. Michael feared she'd soon be spoiled, nothing but a pet.
They'd be crossing into dangerous territory soon, full of vampires, within days. The group needed a guide. Michael nudged Devon forward, then halted her, unable to make up his mind.
When he'd first sought the safety of the hills and valleys near the river, decades ago, he'd welcomed the solitude. A few years later, Lee would have gladly lost his mind, if his body would have allowed it. And then, he learned to communicate with the Terrians. In time, he forgot he was lonely, even that he was human, and calmly destroyed the few other men he encountered. The Terrians eventually acquired his loathing of the creatures, and drove them away.
Until this summer. The tribe which protected him gave free passage to a changeling and his tribe of humans. Little by little, scent by scent, van Helsing remembered Michael Lee, and Michael Lee...Michael Lee remembered loneliness.
The little woodsman fumbled at his braided hair, primping, in a sense. They'd accept him as guide and teacher, he thought. Alonzo and Julia would keep the secret--he could bribe them, if need be. He wouldn't ask to be a member of their tribe, or to sleep in their camp, or eat their food. And he wouldn't ask for a woman. Convinced that he'd disarranged his hair, Michael rebraided it. He took a deep breath, dried his palms again, grasped the reins firmly and urged Devon on.
He'd have to rename her.
Devon was at least as stubborn as her namesake. The mare grudgingly moved down the slope, slower and slower. Less than half a mile from the starting point, she stopped, and despite all encouragement from her companion, refused to move on.
Lee dismounted and attempted to lead her. Failing that, he took a small pack from her back, removed nonessentials and replaced those with essentials, secured it to his back, took up his bow and quiver, and walked on. The mare would follow, certainly.
She neighed a warning just as a nearly solid wall of Terrians erupted from the earth. Lee hesitated. He trilled and warbled clumsily, trying to convince them to let him pass. They didn't respond.
Resolutely, the diminutive Immune strode forward, anyway.
Uly turned suddenly, startling 'Bucephalusa', who misunderstood and retreated a few steps. Devon unnecessarily reached for the reins to halt the no longer moving horse.
Her son stared back at a line of Terrians, more than they'd ever seen together in one place.
"Uly?"
The boy sighed. He directed Bucephalusa forward, thinking until his mom interrupted his thoughts.
"Uly?"
"Michael Lee isn't lonely anymore," explained the boy. He hunched over and patted Bucephalusa's neck. He wondered if Alonzo knew.
-The End-

This text file was ran through PERL script made by Andy. Original text file is available in Andy's Earth 2 Fan Fiction Archive.