floor to push himself up. The effort left him head down, retching with dry heaves. He fell into a fit of coughing and tasted blood in his mouth when he was finished. He looked down and saw flecks of blood in the thick dust. With a stab of horror he realized that he had broken one or more ribs and that at least one of the broken ribs had punctured his lung. He fell back and a long sobbing wail burst from his throat; tears rolled down his cheeks as he rocked back and forth in the debris around him, howling in despair and agony.
Sometime later, whimpering with pain at every step, he dragged himself back to the first hive and lay down near the water sphere. The hours blurred and ran. The fire in his side increased unbelievably. Spence teetered on the brink of consciousness, often tipping over the edge. Fever raged as he coughed and the lung filled with fluid, threatening to suffocate him. Any but the smallest movement brought crescendos of pain booming through his body. His chest felt as if it were clamped between white-hot pincers.
Spence lay in a dream world, half awake, half swooning in his own sweat. He roused himself periodically to sip water from the sphere and then fell back weakly following each exertion.
Time passed; he had no idea how much time. The already confused hours merged together and he could not easily tell his waking moments from dreaming ones-they all fused and mingled like beads of wax on a heated plate.
It was during one of his rarer waking moments that he heard the pulsing hum of the machine next to him; actually, it occurred to him that he had been hearing it for some time. He turned his head and shifted his body slightly to get a better view.
The gray translucent sides of the coffinlike box had grown murky, as if clouds of vapor swirled within. As he watched he saw tiny flashes, like red lightning arcing from point to point within the plated box, illuminating the interior.
Stirred by this sight he inched himself closer and slowly, painfully edged high enough to press his face against one of the lower plates to peer inside.
He saw a bubbling mass of gelatinous material, glistening in the light of the tiny flashes. The oozing stuff had covered the dry reedy material with a quivering layer that gave off a heavy vapor like a steam. He noticed the dim outlines of a form beginning to take shape-a form that was vaguely familiar.
Spence drifted in and out of consciousness, waking, sleeping, fainting. Weakened by hunger and the agony tearing at him like a ravenous beast, he could not be certain of what he was seeing or when. The room, his thoughts, the pain, the machine-all took on the airy illusory quality of one of his dreams.
Reality dissolved around him.
He moaned, howled, and sang crude songs; he laughed like one demented and wept like lost innocent. rasps, Hand e long strange sounds: sighs and gurglings, g Pt, g quaking wheezes. He could not be certain that all these did not emanate from himself, but they seemed to come from within the growing – box.
At some point the light from the sarcophagus's pedestal changed from white to a rosy pink, bathing the room and Spence in the ruddy illusion of vitality. Soon afterward the upper portion of the machine separated from the lower portion. There was a rushing gasp of escaping vapors and the room was filled with an acrid smell like burnt rubber.
He lay with his head lolling on the floor, choking and gagging. But as the interior of the plated box cleared, he raised him self feebly over the edge to look inside.
He saw a body stretched out in deathlike repose-humanoid, with limbs and torso like a man's, but remarkably elongated. Its features, and the details of its body, remained unformed as if it were made of clay and only partly finished. There was no sign at all of life-the thing could have been a statue whose sculptor had been called away before finishing his work.
Twice more in lucid moments Spence looked into the machine. Each time it seemed that the thing had become more developed, though the exact changes were hard to pinpoint.
By the hour he became weaker and more unstable. The pain in his chest was a constant piercing throb. He lay curled around his water sphere, without the power to raise his head. He slept long and fitfully, his sleep tortured by the torments of a broken body and troubled spirit. He dreamed strange and fantastic dreams and saw things which terrified him.
In one of these frightening visions he ran down a stinking, garbage-filled street pursued by shrieking black demons with flashing teeth and shining eyes. Nowhere could he hide or escape them.
They followed him in a pack like wolves, snarling in evil rage.
In what might have been another dream he saw the form of a golden being rise from the gray-plated coffin. He saw the moisture glistening on the smooth, hairless skin, and he heard the swift and sudden inhalation of air drawn into its lungs. He saw the eyelids slowly raise to reveal two large, almost luminous yellow eyes which regarded him with a coldly reptilian stare.
Then he was aware of smooth walls in the lighted corridor sliding past him and he thought he was back at Gotham, riding in one of the trams. He turned his head and saw a long, three-fingered hand gripping his shoulder and he looked up into the huge yellow eyes.
When next he regained consciousness he was in a room filled with odd-looking devices and he was surrounded with a filmy substance which hung over him like a limp tent made of cobwebs. The tent glittered and pulsed with energy. He glanced down and saw a red, ragged gash in his side surrounded by putrid green-black flesh, swollen and disfigured. His flesh was skewered by two long white needlelike objects which caused a tingling sensation in his bones.
Then he dreamed that he stood under a wide blue canopy atop a high mountain and felt the cool air whipping at his clothes. He saw an ancient castle set on a peak just above him and black birds circling slowly in the air, keening their sharp disapproval. A voice formed words inside his head that danced and made sparkling images, but the words had no meaning and the images were utterly foreign to any realm of his experience.
And then there was only darkness-blessed darkness and release.
8
… THE MESSAGE HAD BEEN puzzling enough, but the young man standing before her was no less cryptic. Ari regarded his smiling face suspiciously and answered slowly, 'I'm not sure I know what you're talking about. I haven't seen Dr. Reston for several weeks.'
Kurt nodded reassuringly. 'I understand. Dr. Reston wished his whereabouts to be kept secret, but he has communicated with us and wanted me to contact you.'
'You said you had a message from him?' Ari stated firmly, not giving away her sudden flourish of hope.
'Yes, I was just getting to that. He said that he was fine and to tell you that he missed you very much. He was looking forward to getting back and seeing you.'
'Is that all? Did he say anything about his work?'
'Oh, yes. He said that his work was going very smoothly, and that he was very glad he'd gone-apart from missing you, that is. I take it he likes you very much.'
Ari ignored the comment, but the young man smiled so sincerely she felt like an ogre for suspecting him. He obviously was telling the truth.
'I think so,' Ari admitted.
'And you like him-I can tell. Did you know he was going to Mars?'
'Certainly, I-' Ari paused, glancing quickly at the cadet's face. He seemed genuinely interested. 'That is, I suppose I did. He doesn't confide in anyone very much, you know.'
'You can say that again. I just figured he might have told you-that birthday gift and all. We didn't even know he'd gone. Don't you think that was odd of him to sneak off like that?'
'Was it that big a secret then?' asked Ari. 'I assumed he told those who needed to know.'
'It must have slipped his mind,' Kurt laughed. 'Well, I better be going.' The panel slid open and the young man made to leave. 'By the way, is there anything you want me to tell him for you-in case he contacts us again?'
Ari smiled and shook her head. 'No, nothing that can't wait. Just tell him to be careful and that I'm anxious to see him again.'
'Will do. Good-bye, Miss Zanderson. See you around.'
