A slim arm was raised, a finger tapping just below her right eye. “My inserts have an infrared capability. You were shining quite brightly.” Her lips twitched. “You’re hot you know.”
“Oh.” But he’d foolishly followed the motion of her hand, and now couldn’t look away from her face. Her eyes were light green, he saw, with slim eyebrows. She had long, prominent cheekbones, and a somewhat flattish jaw; a slender button nose poised above wide, moist lips. Every feature was delicate, yet together they awarded her a sophistication he was sure he could never match. And her flawless skin was a shade of pale honey-gold he’d never known before. In surprise, he realized she was very young, close to his own seventeen years. Yet she had flown the glider through the heart of the storm. The courage and talent that must take … He looked at his feet again, aware of distance opening between them.
“Here you go,” she said kindly, and handed him the towel she was holding. “You’re actually wetter than I am.”
Kazimir looked at it in confusion for a moment, before slipping his small backpack off. “Thank you.” He mopped the moisture off his face, then shrugged out of his leather waistcoat. The towel’s thin fabric seemed to suck the droplets off his chest and back as he rubbed, leaving his skin perfectly dry.
Justine reached into her bag, and produced another towel for herself. He was aware of her eyes on him, narrowed with amusement, as he dried his shins and calves. So he stopped at his knees, not lifting his kilt to dry his thighs—though they weren’t that damp, the kilt was reasonably waterproof.
“What tartan is that?” she asked.
He glanced down at the emerald and copper check, and smiled with pride. “I am a McFoster.”
Justine produced a sound that sounded suspiciously like a snort. “I’m sorry,” she said contritely. “But, with that skin color it’s a little difficult to picture you as a native clansman.”
Kazimir frowned. His skin was a rich brown, complemented by thick jet hair that he wore long and tied back with a single scarlet band; how could colors prevent him from being a clan member? Between them, the clans had members from most of old Earth’s racial groups. His grandmother always told wonderful tales of her grandmother’s early life in India. “I don’t understand. My ancestors were one of the first families to be saved by Bradley Johansson.”
“Johansson? We’re not talking Scottish clans here, are we?”
“What’s a Scottish?”
“Never mind.” She looked out of the entrance at the steady downpour of warm rain. “It looks like we’ve got a bit of time to spend together. Tell me about your clan, Kazimir.”
“The rains will only last another hour.”
“How long a story is it?”
He grinned at her, warmed by her answering smile. The angel was so achingly beautiful, any excuse to remain close to her was welcome. As if knowing this, the wall of the tent beside him changed shape, and expanded out to form a couch. They sat on it together.
“Tell me,” she urged. “I want to know about your world.”
“Will you tell me of your flight?”
“I will.”
He nodded his head, happy at the promised trade. “There are seven clans living on Far Away. Together we form the Guardians of Selfhood.”
“I’ve heard of them,” she murmured.
“We stand between the Starflyer alien and human ruin. Alone of all our race, we see the danger it brought with its shadows of deceit and its manipulation of vain men and women. Bradley Johansson opened our eyes to the truth long ago. One day, thanks to him, we will help this planet take its revenge.”
“That sounds like something you’ve been taught, Kazimir.”
“Since the moment I drew my first breath, I have known what I am, and what I must face. Ours is a harsh burden: none of you offworlders believe in our cause, you are blind to the alien’s poison. Yet we endure because of our faith and our gratitude. Bradley Johansson is our savior, and one day, all of humanity will know him as their savior.”
“How did he save you?”
“As he was saved. By decency and kindness. He came to this world among the first people, and began to investigate the alien’s ship.”
“I heard that,” Justine said. “He was the first director of the Marie Celeste Research Institute, wasn’t he?”
“Yes. People say it is deserted, a wreck, abandoned and empty. It is not; that is what the alien would have humanity believe. It survived the crash.”
“There’s a living alien here, from the arkship?”
“It used to be here, it passed into the Commonwealth long ago, where it moves among us, hidden and evil.”
“Really? So you’ve never seen it for yourself, then?”
“I have never left Far Away. But one day the Starflyer will return when its schemes reach fruition. I hope that is within my lifetime. I would like to be a part of its downfall.”
“What does it look like?”
“Nobody knows what it looks like, not even Bradley Johansson is sure. He may have seen it, he can’t remember. Many of his old thoughts were lost when he was liberated.”
“Okay, so this Starflyer survived the crash. What happened then?”
“It ignited the flare in Far Away’s sun to lure the unsuspecting here. And when Bradley Johansson delved into the secrets of the ship, he awoke the Starflyer and was enslaved by it. For many years he toiled under its control, helping to extend its influence into the Commonwealth, whispering into the hearts of those in power, issuing false promises and shaping the tide of events. But the Starflyer was ignorant of this part of the galaxy, and troubled by the other races who live here, fearful they would thwart its goals. Not all of them are as ignorant and prideful as us. It sent Bradley to Silvergalde so that he could experience the Silfen firsthand and report back on what he found. But the Silfen are wiser than humans and the Starflyer; they could see the bonds which it had cast into Bradley’s mind, and cut him free.”
“Ah, the liberation.”
“Yes. They cured him. Some men, having been freed, would run away from such a horror so they could remain free. But Bradley knew there was a greater danger in that; he said that for wickedness to succeed all it takes is for decent people to do nothing.”
“Bradley Johansson said that, did he?”
“Yes. He returned to Far Away and liberated others who had been enslaved by the Starflyer. They were the seven families who grew into the clans.”
“I see.” Her voice was serious.
Kazimir glanced anxiously at her. The expression on her face was terribly sober. It saddened him; that lovely face should only know happiness. Wasn’t protecting her and her kind what he had given his life to? “Don’t worry,” he told her. “We will guard you from the Starflyer. It will not succeed. This planet will be revenged.”
Her head tipped to one side as she gave him a long, thoughtful gaze. “You really mean that, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
For some reason the answer seemed to trouble her. “It’s a very noble thing that you do, Kazimir. Nobility exerts a kinship which is hard to break.”
“The Starflyer will never corrupt my loyalty to my clan and our cause.”
Justine laid a hand on his arm. “I respect that.”
Kazimir tried to smile confidently at her, but she still seemed sad, and her touch, light though it was, distracted him terribly. She was so very close. And neither of them was wearing much clothing. Lustful, yet wondrous thoughts began to percolate through Kazimir’s mind.
Justine gave his arm a quick little squeeze, and suddenly looked around. “Oh, look, it’s stopped raining.” She sat up and went over to the entrance. “The sun’s out again.” Her smile was lovely. She was the angel again.
Kazimir got to his feet, and took a moment to put his waistcoat back on. He went outside and stood behind her as she slipped a steel band around her face. It disappointed him that he could no longer see her eyes. The sunlight made her white T-shirt nearly transparent. Sh
e was as tall as he.
“Did you really fly over the volcano?” he asked hurriedly.
“Uh-huh.”
“That must take so much courage.”
She laughed. “Just stupidity, I think.”
“No. You are not stupid, Justine. Never that.”
A finger hooked over the top of her sunglasses, and she pulled them down a fraction to stare at him over the rim. “Thank you, Kazimir. That’s very sweet.”
“What was it like?”
“Crazy! Wonderful!” She popped her sunglasses back up, and started telling him about the flight.
Kazimir listened, fascinated by a world and life as alien to his as that of the Starflyer. Justine possessed a perfect existence. It gladdened him to know that such a life was real, that humans could reach such a state. One day, perhaps, when the Starflyer was vanquished, all of them would live as she did.
It must be fate, he decided, that he’d met her. This vision, his own personal angel, come to show him that he was right to try to protect human life. She was his inspiration, his private miracle.
“You must be very rich,” he said when she finished telling him about the landing. “To afford such a craft that has no purpose other than to bring you enjoyment.”
She shrugged casually. They were both lounging on the bank above the little stream that gurgled its way along the clearing. “Everybody who visits Far Away is rich, I guess. It’s not easy to get here.” She tipped her head back to admire the tufty clouds drifting across the sapphire basin of the sky. “But definitely worthwhile. You have a strange and lovely world, Kazimir.”
“What do your parents think of you coming here by yourself? And taking such risks? That flight was very dangerous.”
Her head came around quickly, as if she’d been shocked by the question. “My parents? Ah, well, let’s see. My parents always encouraged me to be myself. They wanted me to live my life as best I can. And this, Mount Herculaneum, you, this has to be one of those classic moments that make life worthwhile and give you the confidence to go on and just experience what the universe has to offer.”
“Me? I think not.”
“Yes, you. Here you are on your own adventure, all by yourself facing whatever the volcano and the land throw at you. That makes you a lot braver than me.”
“No.”
“Yes!”
“No!”
They both laughed. Justine took her sunglasses off, and smiled warmly at him. “I’m starving,” she said. “Fancy trying some decadent Earth food?”
“Yes please!”
She sprang up, and raced toward the glider. Kazimir hurried after her, awed by how high her perfect, slender body floated above the ground as she ran.
They sat cross-legged on the ground, and she fed him morsels of food, eager for his reactions. Some of it was delicious, most was simply strange, like the hot curried meats that burned his mouth as he swallowed. “Wash it down with this,” she told him. The white wine she gave him was light and sweet. He sipped it appreciatively.
In the afternoon they explored the jungle around the edge of the clearing, trying to guess the names of the plants. He explained the purpose behind his groundwalk, how it prepared him for difficult campaigns against the enemy over all sorts of terrain, how it showed he had learned all his teachers could give him.
“A rite of passage,” she said.
He thought there was admiration in her voice. But then, several times he’d seen her glancing at him when she thought he was unaware. He hadn’t dared do the same.
“We must know that we can do what we have to do.”
“Kazimir, please, don’t do anything rash. You never have to prove your worth by risking yourself. Life is too important for that. It’s too short, as well, especially here.”
“I will be careful. I will learn not to be impetuous.”
“Thank you. I don’t want to spend my life worrying about you.”
“Will you do something for me?”
Her smile was mischievous. “There’s a lot I’ll do for you, Kazimir.”
The answer surprised him. He knew he would be blushing as he attached his own interpretation to that; one he was sure she didn’t intend, not someone so sweet and good-natured. “Please don’t visit the Marie Celeste. I know a lot of tourists do. I would worry for your safety if you did. The Starflyer’s influence is strong around its ship.”
Justine made a show of pondering the request. Fortunately the old arkship wasn’t on the itinerary anyway. Strangely enough, because of Kazimir’s devout belief that there really was a surviving alien, a little frisson of worry crept into her head and refused to leave. The whole thing was one of those ridiculous legends used by wicked old men like Johansson to keep his followers in line and paying their dues. Yet at the same time it sounded so plausible …
“I won’t go,” she promised solemnly. His look of relief made her feel guilty.
They built a fire in the late afternoon. Kazimir had an aging powerblade in his pack, and seemed intent on showing off his living-off-the-land survival skills to impress her. So she sat back and watched as he built a big pile of wood. He stripped off his little leather waistcoat, and the sweat showed on his skin from the effort of carrying the logs about. It was a sight that raised her own body temperature several degrees. Low gravity certainly hadn’t stopped his bod from developing to late-adolescent excellence. Thankfully, he didn’t want to do anything macho like shoot birds out of the sky so they could roast them on a stick spit. He was quite content to open up more of her food packets. The bonfire was just for warmth and comfort. She finally popped the cork off the champagne, and they drank it with the leaping gold flames glimmering off its energetic bubbles.
Kazimir didn’t want the evening to end, not ever. They sat close on a blanket as the sunlight abandoned the sky. Then there was only a shimmering purple-edged nimbus high above the western horizon as the glacier ring diffracted the last rays through the stratosphere. It shrank away, leaving the crackling bonfire as the only source of illumination. Platinum stars shone above them. For the first time in his life he didn’t think of them as a threat.
They talked and they drank and they nibbled on the exotic food. And all the time Kazimir silently worshiped the smiling, gorgeous angel with all his heart. A while after the sun had set, the bonfire’s wild flames sank away to leave a mound of lambent coals. It was in that teasing radiance that the angel rose to her feet and stood over him. Her T-shirt and shorts gleamed magenta in the quiescent fire, while her hair had become the gold halo his mind had always perceived. Without a word she walked over to her hemispherical tent, disappearing among the shadows that haunted the interior.
“Kazimir.”
His limbs trembling, he went over to the entrance. Twinkling starlight showed him half of the floor had risen to become a giant mattress. His angel stood before it, a simple silhouette. Her T-shirt lay crumpled on the ground at her feet. As he watched she slid the shorts down her legs.
“Don’t be afraid.”
Kazimir walked forward into the darkness. Gentle, sensual hands pushed the waistcoat from his shoulders. Unseen fingertips stroked his chest as they moved down to his waist, making him whimper helplessly. His belt was undone, and his kilt removed. The naked angel was hot on his skin as she pressed herself up against him.
Kazimir’s astonished cries of ecstasy rang out across the clearing, lasting long after the glittering sparks of the fire had finally died away.
Not even the cabin’s insulation could protect Estella Fenton from the roar of the powerful diesel engine. She held her highball glass up high as the suspension rocked the four-wheel drive Telmar ranger from side to side, trying not to spill any of the elaborate fruit cocktail. It wasn’t working, so she downed the rest of the drink in a couple of quick gulps. There was definitely vodka in it, she could feel the distinctive chill burning along her throat.
The recovery vehicles sent out from the main convoy had picked her up twenty hours ago. Which had c
ome as a profound relief; two and a half days alone in the temperate forest was slightly more wilderness adventure than she’d wanted. Now there was just her friend Justine to find. The convoy had picked up her hyperglider’s beacon signal. Its location had caused a flutter of interest among the crews; few people, apparently, managed to fly quite as far as Justine had.
So once they’d loaded up Estella’s hyperglider into its container trailer, the five remaining recovery vehicles had set off in search of their last client. For all that Far Away’s population had left Mount Herculaneum as a natural wild park, there were plenty of paths through the rainforests of the lower slopes that vehicles like the Telmar used on tourist expeditions. Branching off them were tracks that were less well used. And then there were lines on the map that were marked as “passable routes.” They’d been on one of those for three hours solid, pushing their way through the vines and undergrowth of the jungle. Then came the really tough work of cutting a new route through the trees.
The trailblazer vehicle was fifty yards ahead of them, its forward harmonic blades sending out dense clouds of fractured woodchips as it chewed its way ever onward. Watching its progress had sent Estella to the back of the cabin where she started raiding the refrigerated bar.
“Couple more minutes should do it,” the driver, Cam Tong, called out.
Estella put the empty glass down, and peered through the bubble canopy at the broken swath of vegetation left behind by the trailblazer. The thick green walls of trees and vines came to an abrupt end, and they lurched out into a long clearing. Justine’s hyperglider was intact, standing in the middle of a carpet of lush grass. Her tent was a few meters away.
“Looks like she’s okay,” Cam Tong said happily.
“I never doubted it.”
The recovery vehicles picked up speed, which increased the rocking motion. They all started sounding their horns.
A head poked out of the tent.
“That’s not her,” Estella exclaimed.
It was a teenage boy, wearing Justine’s tatty old bushranger hat. His mouth gaped wide at the big vehicles rushing toward him, then he yelled something back into the tent. Next second he’d snatched a small backpack off the ground, and was sprinting toward the nearest tree line. Estella stared on in astonishment. He was wearing a long orange and green skirt. No, she corrected herself, a kilt, she could see the pleats. His small pack had a leather garment of some kind tied to it. He kept looking over his shoulder at the vehicles. One hand pressed the hat on his head, black hair streamed out from below the brim.
The Commonwealth Saga 2-Book Bundle Page 14
