'Don't go,' Emilio said.
It might have been a dare. Or a plea.
Giuliani paused and then returned to the corner chair. It was a difficult night but old men do not need much sleep.
21
RAKHAT:
MONTH TWO, CONTACT
Seven now, sobered by the death of Alan Pace, the Jesuit party pulled itself together and began preparations to leave the Eden they'd occupied for almost a month.
Taking stock on the afternoon of the funeral, with the last notes of the Jesuit hymn 'Take and Receive' still echoing in his mind, D. W. Yarbrough had carefully weighed the pros and cons of making a trip back to the
At this point, they had no idea what would be useful for trade, but they did have a notion of how quickly they were going through food. Increasingly supplemented by native foods and water, their supplies had held out longer than they'd originally estimated. Only Anne and Emilio were still on the control diet brought from Earth, and neither was a big eater. And now there was one less mouth to feed. They had, easily, enough for another week, but D.W. decided that he'd feel better if they established a full-scale food depot, with supplies for at least twelve months. So he had put everyone to work, drawing up lists of things that hadn't been included in the cargo initially.
D.W.'s own list included a rifle, which he intended to bring down without mentioning because he didn't want any big damn discussion about it. And more rope. And he'd just about die before he admitted it, but he wanted to bring down more coffee. The climate had proved reasonably benign, although the thunderstorms could be literally hair-raising and it got too hot to move when the three suns were up simultaneously. They could use lighter clothing and more sunblock.
Most of all, though, he wanted the Ultra-Light. Like all the equipment they'd brought, it was solar-powered—a tiny two-person airplane with wings sheathed in a photovoltaic polymer film capable of running a fifteen-horsepower electric motor. Cute as a bug's ear and a lot of fun to fly. There hadn't been room for it the first time down, not with a full passenger complement. Now they could really use the little plane to scout the territory. Marc's maps were good, but D.W. wanted to fly out ahead and see with his own eyes what they were up against before the party moved out overland.
He tucked his tablet under his arm and walked across the clearing toward Anne Edwards, who noticed him on his way. She was going over her own records, sitting with her back against a «tree» trunk, knees up to support her notebook, which was on-line to the
'Could have been endocarditis,' she said quietly when he was close enough to hear. 'Bacterial infection of the heart valves. There was a new form of it I heard about just before we left. It could kill a healthy person pretty quickly, and it was a bitch to find in an autopsy, even at home.'
He grunted and hunkered down next to her. 'Where would he have picked up the bacteria?'
'Beats the shit out of me, D.W.,' Anne said, waving her hand in front of her face to clear off a swarm of gnatlike things they called little buggers. 'Might have been carrying it all along, until something weakened his immune system to the point that it overwhelmed his body's defenses. Ultraviolet radiation can suppress the immune system, and we are catching a real dose of UV down here.'
'But you're not sure it was, whaddyacallit? That endo shit.' He picked up a stick and toyed with it, passing it through his hands, bending it little by little into a hoop.
'No. It's just the best guess I've come up with so far.' She closed her notebook. 'It's hard to believe that he died just yesterday. I'm sorry about last night.'
'Same here,' D.W. said, glancing at her with one eye and then looking away, staring out at the forest. He tossed the stick aside. 'Warn't good judgment, raggin' at a lady's had a real bad day.'
She stuck out her hand. 'Peace?'
'Peace,' he affirmed, taking her hand and holding it a few moments. Then he let it go and stood up, groaning at the protest his knees made. 'You may not want to be friends after I tell you what I've decided we're gonna do next.' Anne looked up at him, with narrowed eyes. 'I'm goin' back up to the
'Oh, my,' she said. A blue-green Fast Eddie skittered by her feet and dashed into the leaf litter nearby, and they could hear the Dominicans howling in the forest.
'He was the best of the bunch on the simulator, Anne, and I want him trained on the real thing. And he can check on the life-support systems while I'm loadin' supplies. He ain't had hardly any trouble with space sickness, so there's a good chance he won't get sick this time neither. I knew you'd be pissed, but that's how it parses.'
'He'll probably love it, too,' Anne said ruefully. 'Oh, boy, do I ever hate this idea.'
'I ain't askin' permission, Miz Edwards,' he said, but his voice was very gentle. He grinned crookedly. 'I just thought I'd tell you so's you could cuss me out in private.'
'Consider yourself cussed,' she said, but she laughed even as she shuddered. 'Oh, well. It won't be the first time I've stood around waiting for George to get blown up. Or torn limb from limb. Or smeared across the pavement. Or squashed like a bug. The shit that man does for fun!' She shook her head, remembering the whitewater and the rock climbing and the dirt bikes.
'You ever hear that old joke about the guy who jumped off the Empire State Building?' D.W. asked her.
'Yeah. All the way down, you could hear him say, 'So far, so good. So far, so good. So far, so good. That is George's life story in a nutshell.'
'He'll do okay, Anne. It's a good plane and he's got a talent for the job. I'll put him on the simulator again 'fore we go.' D.W. scratched his cheek and smiled down at her. 'Ain't in no big damn hurry to crash and burn, my own self. I don't get counted as a holy martyr if we just screw up a landing and pancake into the ground. We'll be careful.'
'Speak for yourself, D.W. You don't know George Edwards as well as I do,' Anne warned.
In the event, the flight went almost without a hitch and George made a beautiful landing, which Anne, hiding behind Emilio and Jimmy with her hands over her eyes, was too scared to watch. When she finally peeked out from behind the two men and between her fingers, George had already climbed out of the lander, yelling and whooping, and was running toward her, sweeping her up to swing her around, talking a mile a minute about how great it had been.
Sofia, smiling at George as they passed, went to help D.W. with the postflight inspection. 'You look a little pale,' she remarked quietly, moving along the port-side wing.
'He did jes' fine,' D.W. muttered, 'for a stupid damn sumbitch with more guts than sense.'
'A rather more exciting flight than you anticipated,' Sofia ventured dryly and smiled with her eyes alone when D.W. grunted and ducked under the fuselage, where he occupied himself with the starboard systems until his heart rate returned to normal.
Anne, still shaking, came over and made a point of congratulating Sofia on the obvious effectiveness of the flight simulator. 'I am tempted to say, Thank God!' she said quietly, hugging the younger woman. 'But thank you, Sofia.'
Sofia was gratified by the acknowledgment. 'I must admit I am also relieved to have them back in one piece.'
'It is also nice to have the plane back,
