[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
went dead.
Stupid, stupid, stupid I wanted to smack my head with my hand. We'd all
thought the smoke had been disturbed by breeze through the broken window...
but the smoke was what carried the EMP. It might even be the ultimate danger
that lurked on Muta: some airborne entity, perhaps a swarm of nanites left
over from Las Fuentes... or a hive mind like the Balrog, but with spores as
light as dust. The smoke might float its way around Muta, EMPing machines
and... and...
But at least I was still alive.
My suit was defunct. The heads-up displays had vanished, and no other systems
responded. My personal comm implant was also scrap through my sixth sense I
saw the fused subcutaneous circuits in my ears and soft palate, fine wires
flash-melted by the energy surge. Good thing the navy's equipment designers
had provided enough insulation to keep me safe when the implant got slagged;
otherwise, it might have been unpleasant to have my sinuses full of molten
electronics.
As it was, I felt no ill effects. I looked back at my fellow Explorers, and
both seemed healthy too. They were out of range of my sixth sense, but they
held their arms tight to their sides in a good airfoil position rather than
just dangling limp. That meant they were still conscious, controlling their
dives.
Looking up, I saw something else: the shuttle. Which should have been a long
distance past us now. Its uncontrolled terminal velocity was much faster than
three humans in tightsuits we were lighter and dragged more on the air. The
shuttle should have continued to spear forward at high speed, while we
skydivers slowed down. But the shuttle had slowed down too. And although I was
too far away to be sure, I thought the side hatch was now closed.
We'd left that side hatch open when we jumped.
At times, I regretted that swearing had never come naturally to me. I just
yelled, "Li!" and left it at that.
He'd stowed away on the shuttle. I was sure of it. That's why he hadn't come
to see us off; he was already on board. Ubatu was likely with him following me
to Muta on behalf of Ifa-Vodun. The two diplomats must have concealed
themselves in the shuttlecraft's galley, and lucky for them, they'd been far
enough back that my sixth sense didn't pick them up. Once we Explorers had
jumped, the two diplomats came out of hiding, closed the side hatch, and took
Page 96
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
the controls. I had no idea why they'd do something so stupid... but as I
watched, the shuttle began a slow turn toward the Fuentes city.
"Li!" I shouted again. "Li!"
I wasn't the only one to notice the shuttle's action. Festina had turned to
watch them too. Without a working comm I couldn't hear her reaction; but she
was probably swearing enough for both of us.
The smoke/steam/EMP-monster noticed the shuttle too. The cloud shot straight
at the craft, a wispy misty stream as fast as a bullet. Moments later, the
shuttle's engines went silent.
All this time, I'd been dropping in freefall. With tightsuits on, Explorers
can jump from considerable altitude, and Festina had wanted us out of the
shuttle as soon as practical no sense hanging around a ship we knew was doomed
to crash. (Would it still crash with Li at the controls? An unpowered
"dead-stick" landing was a tricky exercise, even with a first-rate airstrip
beneath you. Muta had no airstrips. Li's best chance was to aim for a long
straight street back in Drill-Press and hope there was nothing dangerous in
the middle of the pavement. If he hit a stone deposited by some recent river
flood... or a basking crocodilian the size of a small dinosaur...)
But whatever problems Li might face, there was no way I could help him.
Nothing to do now but open my parachute. One tug on the cord, and I was jolted
as hard as smashing into a wall. The tightsuit helped cushion the shock, but
the sudden snap still made something spurt from my cheek like slop from a wet
sponge. By luck, the fluid didn't hit my helmet visor; otherwise, I'd have
been forced to look at it until it dried and turned into a crusty spot on the
otherwise clear plastic.
The chute splayed wide above me: a huge rectangular parasol against the
afternoon sun. Its winglike shape made it easy to steer; I aimed in the
direction of the rendezvous point, and floated serenely downward. No birds
took notice as I fell birds wouldn't evolve on Muta for another hundred
million years. Even pterosaurs were far in the future. Only insects had
mastered the mechanics of flight, and they stayed close to the ground, near
their nests and food sources. I could hear their communal buzz in the last few
seconds before landing, the sound so loud it pierced the muffling cavity of my
helmet. Then I struck down, rolled (very awkwardly, given the mirror-spheres
strapped to my suit), hit the chute release straps, and got to my feet on my
first untamed planet.
Muta. Instinct made me stop... look around... take a deep breath. But the
breath only gave me the smell of my own sweat. I'd have to get used to the
scent my tightsuit would soon become hot as an oven. A tightsuit is
wonderfully comfortable as long as the temperature-control systems remain
operational; now that they'd been EMP'd, however, I was walking around on a
mild day in an airtight outfit insulated better than a goose-down parka. An
hour or two, and I'd be risking heatstroke.
As for my surroundings, I couldn't see anything except a hodgepodge of
multicolored ferns. My eyes weren't adept at extracting information from the
motley chaos. I could hear the drone of insects and sense their exact
locations with my mental awareness a horde of them flying near the plants,
crawling through the foliage, scuttling under the soil but even knowing where
to look, my sight was too dazzled by leafy reds, blues, yellows, greens, to
make out slow-moving flies or beetles.
Page 97
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
And most of the insects weren't small. Camp Esteem lay close to the tropics;
according to my sixth sense, some of the bugs were as fat as my thumb and
twice as long. But their coloration blended so well with the rainbow of
plants, they were practically invisible.
It would be difficult not to tread on creepy-crawlies as I walked. I found
that idea upsetting not because I was squeamish about bugs, but because I'd
been brought up in the tradition ofahimsa: avoidance of violence to all living
creatures. Decent people watched where they stepped. Given so many other
things to worry about, it may seem strange that my greatest conscious fear was
accidentally tromping on a roach; but I'd been gripped by a sudden
superstition that I had to keep my karma absolutely clean, or I'd never
survive the mission.
I looked at the patch of flattened grass where I'd landed from the parachute
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]