Where Time Winds Blow, page 2
“Yes! Leo … tell me it thrills you.”
“It thrills me,” said Faulcon dully. “I’ll fetch the bykes.” He walked past the youngster, trying not to think about how upset his colleague was, or of how dulled he himself had become by the cycles of change on VanderZande’s World. If I could feel it, Kris, I’d scream along with you, and toss Lena out across the water head first. But I’m dying, and you’ll be dying too. Don’t fight it. The world is hard enough to beat.
One by one he led the rift-bykes across the barren land and into the lee of the machine, away from the ocean winds. Here, watched by the irritable figure of Kris Dojaan, he erected the survival tent, and pumped it full of sweet air. Darkness grew about them, stars shining, redness deepening to grey and a time when dusk was gone.
Lena came to the tent and they unsealed the outer lock, crawled in, crawled through. Resealing the small chamber they sat silently, for a while, and listened to the night winds. Faulcon activated the light and they all unclipped their masks; for the first time since early morning they scratched their faces and breathed air that was free of the choking organic poisons that soured the natural atmosphere of the world.
Lena was pale, her angular features drawn, her green eyes dark-rimmed with fatigue; she combed through her long fair hair and dabbed at her skin with a pad of moisturizing cream. She watched neither Faulcon nor the young Dojaan, but Kris watched her intently, almost studying her. He looked every bit as youthful as his speech and action indicated; his beard was hardly in evidence, and he was flushed and angry. He had tied his dark hair into a single, short pigtail, and a gleaming green jewel sparkled in the lobe of his left ear.
“Do you want to talk or eat?” asked Faulcon, reaching for the small case of food supplies. He shook the box and it rattled ominously. Opening it he peered in some dismay at the remnants of their mission supplies. “We have beef chews, three, halka chews, four, some nutrient paste still untouched—and who can blame us—and … ” he held up a shrivelled red object. “I believe this is a carrot.”
Lena smiled. “Kris here’s the vegetarian.”
Kris eyed the ancient vegetable with some distaste; carrots were an imported vegetable and very expensive. Faulcon had made up the food pack, and had included fresh vegetables for the new recruit as a special treat; but the items had, for the most part, not survived. Kris asked, “What’s halka, did you say?”
“A local animal; the soft organs are very tasty; the chew is a concentrate of various bits and pieces—”
“I’m not hungry.”
“You’ll have to eat something. We shan’t find edible plants until we get back beyond the Ilmoroqs.”
Kris shook his head. “Fasting’s good for the soul. I’m really not hungry.”
Faulcon, on the contrary, was ravenous. He carved himself a slice of meat compress and settled back as it expanded in his mouth, chewing and swallowing and letting the day’s aches dissipate into his extremities. Lena ate sparingly of the same compress. She had exhausted her anger at the way Faulcon had packed the box two days ago. In the mountains they could shoot olgoi, perhaps even halka, and feed better. The carrot was consigned to night’s oblivion, through the small disposal chute next to the air-lock entrance.
For half an hour they relaxed in silence, listening to the wind, Kris apprehensive despite Faulcon’s calm assurance that the chances of the wind being a time wind were reasonably remote … well, unlikely, at least. Kris grinned humourlessly, eyeing the older man. “How many times have you been out this far?”
“Four,” said Faulcon. “This machine is the first thing I’ve found. I had more luck to the north; it’s colder up there, but at least the world looks like a world; it’s richly vegetated,” he explained as Kris frowned. “The southern hemisphere is mostly ocean, a few islands …”
“Thousands of islands,” said Lena, without opening her eyes, or moving any part of her supine body other than her lips.
“Thousands of islands,” Faulcon echoed. “There are six other rift valleys, or canyons, like Kriakta Rift. Kriakta is the biggest, and the only one with a mobile city unit. It’s also the most spectacular. Everything’s watched from the satellite stations, of course. Have you been on one yet?”
“I’ve been here seven days,” said Kris irritably. “I’ve hardly had the chance.”
“That’s odd, though. Most new arrivals spend a two-to six-week on the sat-stations, getting primed, learning the boring facts of the world’s climate and geography.”
“I obviously got missed out.”
“You’ve missed nothing,” said Lena, her eyes still closed. “Pollen week can be counted among the greatest moments of near-nausea in the history of the human race.”
“Pollen week?” Unsure whether he was being teased or not, Kris had relaxed, smiling, yet looking from Lena to Faulcon with almost frantic regularity. As if a light dawned: “Oh, you mean learning about the organic atmosphere.” He picked up his mask, put it down again, stared at it thoughtfully. “Without the chemicals we could use Kamelios like another Earth, isn’t that right?”
“If it didn’t have a habit of transporting you instantly into times gone by. Yes. I think you could.”
“Or times to come,” Lena pointed out.
“Indeed. Time, not being the simplest thing on Kamelios, it’s hard to tell.”
“There really is no future in it.” Lena and Faulcon laughed at their shared joke. Irked, by missing the humour, Kris said, “Anyway, I think I’d like a look from orbit.”
“You will, you will.” Faulcon’s gaze took on a distance; his face slackened. “I shall be up there in a six-month or so, and there I shall stay, unless I quit. Which I’m thinking of doing. It’s the job I came to do, orbit-watch. I was adapted to artificial-weight living.”
“I thought you looked thin.”
Faulcon pinched his flesh through the tight suit. “I’ve been thinner. Lena was supposed to be sat-personnel as well. We got overlooked—it happens a lot. Steel City is run by the rules of Chaos. After the introductory period in orbit, everyone has to do a six-month on the planet. We came down, Lena first, me later, and somehow we didn’t get recalled. I’ve been here a year, now—Lena’s been here two.”
“But you’ve been called back up …”
“Indeed we have. It’s going to hurt. I don’t think I could ever enjoy life up there …”
“It’ll never happen, Leo,” said Lena tiredly. “The only thing anyone cares about around here is the valley. As long as we keep working, we’ll stay down.”
“They’ll be keener, now, since we struck lucky.” And Lena said, “We’ve made it rich. Well, quite rich.”
“There’ll be a big bonus coming our way,” said Faulcon. “And furlough; a few days off. Time to go upland, time to go hunting.”
Kris shook his head in despair, saying, “Why this money fixation? My God, Leo, I hope I keep my sense of wonder.”
“You won’t,” said Lena, and then more kindly, as she sat up and wrapped her arms about her knees. “But I hope it lingers for a while, Kris. I really do.” She lowered her gaze to the food box in the middle of the tent. She was silently thoughtful for a moment, then laughed at some private joke. “You’re right, you know. You’re right, we’ve lost something very precious, something intrinsically human. I don’t worry about it, it doesn’t hurt, or ache … but it’s gone, and I wish I could remember how it felt.”
Faulcon said, “We get over-exposed, I suppose. On a world where so many millions of years of past and future surround us, it’s hard to stay interested. We’re jaded.”
“It’s not over-exposure,” said Lena solemnly, “I’m sure of that. It’s the world. VanderZande’s World. It gets in through the ears and eyes and nose and mouth and every time it changes it changes you, every time a wind blows through time it blows through your skull, and upsets things, changes things; like the fiersig, but worse.”
“Fiersig? What’s that?”
Faulcon said, “You’ll see one soon enough, Kris.”
“It’s a dehumanizing world, Kris,” Lena went on, “and if you had any sense you’d recognize that now and get the hell off. Except I think it’s probably too late. You’ve got sand under your nails, VanderZande’s World has got you, and I think you’ll find it won’t let you go.”
Kris looked slightly apprehensive, glancing at Faulcon, his face creased into a frown; when the ocean-wind whipped about the fabric of the tent he seemed startled, hugging his knees tighter and nodding soberly as he ran thoughts and facts and advice through his head.
Faulcon, intrigued by the moody youngster, prompted him: “Why did you come here?”
“Why do people usually come to Kamelios?”
Faulcon glanced at Lena, then shrugged. “Curiosity, perhaps?”
“Not curiosity,” said Kris quietly.
“Seeking … searching … chasing, chasing a dream.”
“Chasing a dream,” echoed Kris, and Faulcon saw the boy’s eyes mist up, even though just the hint of a smile had touched the pale, mask-marked lips. “I’m certainly doing that. Chasing a dream—seeking.” His gaze hardened on Faulcon. Lena was propped on her elbows, her long legs crossed at the ankles, between the two men. “Are you going to tell us what you’re seeking?” As she spoke she exchanged an almost quizzical look with Faulcon.
Kris Dojaan shook his head. “I’m not ready to talk about it, yet. Will I really change?” he said more brightly, altering the subject. Lena smiled kindly, perhaps angry with herself for having been so blunt.
“Maybe you won’t change as much as me,” she said. She fingered her amulet. “And with your lucky shard maybe the world will treat you respectfully.” She looked at Faulcon. “I think it’s prayer time.” She lifted the leather necklace over her head and placed the strangely patterned metal on the ground before her. Faulcon unslung his own piece of VanderZande’s pre-history and placed it next to Lena’s. Kris made no move and Faulcon said, “Where’s your shard?”
“What shard?” The boy looked blankly from one to the other of them for a second, then, quite clearly, remembered.
“The piece of the machine … ” said Lena, an edge of anger, of panic in her voice. “The lucky shard I told you to get from the derelict. Where is it?” But she gave Kris no chance to speak before she cried out, “Leo, he’s not broken anything!”
Startled by this sudden change in Lena’s attitude, Kris watched her curiously as she seemed to teeter on the verge of hysteria, twisting round to kneel up in the wind-swept tent. He said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t know I had to get it so soon … I just couldn’t break anything … I told you it was tough.”
“He didn’t get his charm, Leo!” Tears flowed. She stared at Faulcon, seeking an answer in his impassivity.
Infuriatingly, all he said was, “Calm down.”
Lena reacted with open anger. The tears dried, her face went white, her voice coarsened. “You fool! Don’t tell me to calm down! The kid’s as good as killed us. He didn’t break off a charm, and he’s done for us! I told you. I told you so bloody clearly to get an amulet. What do you think they are? Games? Little indulgences?” She raved openly, and Kris nearly fell backwards as she made to hit him. Her face had turned livid, her eyes bright, her lips wet as she shouted. Faulcon felt helpless because he felt so afraid, but he reached out and tugged the girl back from Kris, forcing her to sit. Her fists clenched up as she tried to control the terrible emotion she felt. “Damn it, Leo … why didn’t he do it when I said …?”
Kris Dojaan, confused, lost: “I’m sorry, Lena; Leo … I’m so terribly sorry … I just didn’t realize … what, I mean … well, what’s so important about them, about a bit of metal?”
“Luck,” said Faulcon stiffly. “You brought us luck, Kris, by suggesting we came as far as the Sea. But the world will take it back, and us with it, unless we pin it down, pin that luck down by getting it into our life frame.”
Kris shook his head, the hint of a smile on his face. “But that’s nonsense—”
Lena wrenched herself from Faulcon’s restraining grip, and struck at the boy with the open palm of her hand. The blow resounded loudly, and Kris’s startled cry was almost a scream of confusion. But the physical violence seemed to calm Lena. She grabbed for her sand blaster and narrowed the focus until it was effectively a weapon. She thrust the gadget at Kris and said, very stiffly, “You get out there and blow something, anything, some piece of metal off that hulk. Do it!”
“I’m going. I’m going.”
“Maybe it’s not too late. What d’you think, Leo?” She turned, and was suddenly lost again, becoming tearful. Faulcon hugged her and watched as Kris strapped on his face mask.
“I think it’ll be all right,” he said. “It’s not too late. If you can get a good shard, Kris, not too big, it’ll bring that luck with us wherever we go. I think it’ll be all right.”
With difficulty through the improperly aligned face piece, Kris said, “And who’s going to explain the damage to Steel City? I’m not.”
“Just do it!” shouted Lena, drawing away from Faulcon and using the back of her hand to slap the boy on the arm, a more friendly blow. Kris crawled through the lock and out into the night. Lena looked almost embarrassed when he’d gone, smiled at Faulcon and feigned the slapping of her own face. Faulcon laughed. “When did this happen?”
“What, the change?”
“All this hysteria, this insecurity. This isn’t the real you.”
Lena agreed. “I suppose it must have been that storm just before we left to come out here. Remember the change? I didn’t see a fiersig; it wasn’t that physical, not much of a light show, but there must have been one hidden behind the dust. I woke up from it feeling very on edge. I’ve managed to keep it under control quite well, until now. I’ll change back, of course.”
“I certainly hope so.” But Faulcon knew she was right. Mood upsets were never permanent in their extreme forms, although each electric storm that brought the fiersig, the power-fields of change, twisted and distorted the stable mind just that little bit more, scarring the mind irreversibly in a way too insignificant to note at the time, but with mounting effect over the months and years. They were fools to stay here, Faulcon knew, but then what had he lost, how had he changed from the man he had been a year ago? He didn’t get excited by ruins; he was no longer thrilled by the dead past. Not much of a change, he thought. Nothing to concern him as much as the more physical upset that might occur if he got caught by a time squall.
But he thought back to the storm that had hit the area of the valley, and the human installation, just before they had embarked on their seven-day prowl through the Ilmoroq mountains. Mood changes were not normally connected with dust storms, even if there was electrical activity about. There was always electrical activity in the atmosphere of Kamelios, but infrequently did it blossom into the spectacular fiersig, the drifting sky fire that worked its mysterious force into the minds of men and turned Steel City into a focus of human fear and desperate resistence. The storm had obviously concealed a small fiersig and the City had not realized its effect until the following morning, when patterns of behaviour were manifestly altered.
“I got away this time,” said Faulcon. “I didn’t really notice any change at all. Felt good when I went to bed, felt good when I got up.” He grinned boyishly, and Lena touched a finger to the tip of her nose. Get lost.
“I don’t know that you’re good for me,” she said. “Sometimes I love you, sometimes I don’t. Mostly I don’t. At the moment I particularly don’t.”
Faulcon grinned, but before he could speak there was the sound of a discharge, and a peculiar grating sound as of metal being riven. Faulcon called out, but the tent, and the wind, must have stolen his voice; Kris did not answer. “I bet he brings in a piece about six feet long, just to spite us.”
“He doesn’t believe yet,” said Lena. “But he’ll learn. I just hope he doesn’t learn the hard way.”
They waited for Kris then, in moody, contemplative silence. Faulcon felt very tired and wanted to sleep, but he wanted the ritual with the charms even more, and he grew impatient waiting for the youngest member of the team to return. After half an hour he abruptly felt uneasy, and picked up his face mask, activating the radio. He called to Kris Dojaan, but there was a static-filled silence, and he guessed that some sort of electrical disturbance was happening out in the cold night world.
“I’m going outside,” he said, and strapped the mask on properly. Lena nodded agreement, but made no move to follow.
As he emerged from the tent the wind tugged powerfully at him, and as he stood erect so he felt himself flung heavily against the sheer wall of the derelict. He clung on for a second and watched, by Kytara light, as sand and shards were whipped up into scurrying vortices, and sent into the darkness by this “night breeze”. He had never known such a strong wind blowing in such localized fashion, and though he knew the tent was safe with its deep “roots”, he felt a moment’s concern for the boy who might well have been caught off-balance and knocked against the metal machine so hard as to render him unconscious.
When the wind dropped a fraction, Faulcon leaned into it and made his way carefully about the wreck, until he saw the gleaming ocean, its sluggish movements highlit by two of the moons, Kytara, of course, with its crescent of pinkness where enigmatic Merlin slyly watched the world below, and Threelight with its three shining dust deserts, higher and brighter than usual. Tharoo, he noticed through the swirling sand, was low against the horizon, half full, seeming to hover as if waiting its moment to sweep across the sky.
He called for Kris, and continued to call as he worked his way precariously about the entire perimeter of the hulk. He realized, with some concern, that Kris was nowhere to be seen.
