Eschaton 1 – The Other End of Time

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Dan

Before Dannerman and Pat had gone a hundred meters they weren't walking hand in hand anymore. They were arm in arm. Very soon thereafter their arms were around each other's waists, and their pace had slowed-no longer a march, now an affectionate stroll. They weren't so wrapped up in each other that they didn't take note of what was around them. That was what they were there for: to explore their surroundings. Dannerman observed that the path they were on had once been trodden hard by some creature's feet-but not recently, since it was now broken here and there with clumps of the wiry grass spikes. It was Pat who first saw the trees that looked so much like cherries (though the bright red fruits that hung from their branches were segmented with hard scales like tiny, ruby-colored pineapples), and it was Dannerman who pointed out the hill that rose off to their left, looming a good hundred meters over the surrounding terrain. ("We could climb that and see everything for kilometers around. Maybe next time.") But they both knew that the thing they were most interested in exploring was not geography; and when Pat looked up at Dannerman, he naturally kissed her; and when they moved their faces away the only question was which of them could first get out of their clothes. They wasted no time. The weeks of enforced abstinence and excessive intimacy were all the foreplay they needed.

When they were done Dannerman propped himself up on one elbow to take some of his weight off her body and gazed reminiscently at her face. "You know, I thought about doing this a lot when we were kids."

"Well, so did I," she said, taking his ears gently in two hands and pulling his head down for a kiss. "But right now it's a little uncomfortable. Oh, don't let go of me-let's hug for a while, okay? Only next time," she added as they shifted position, "we ought to bring a blanket. This mossy stuff has some pretty sharp stickers."

After a while they walked a little farther down the path, remembering that they were supposed to be checking out the area for points of interest. They didn't find many. They had their clothes back on, but Dannerman was comfortably aware that they could get them off again quickly enough if they chose. He rather expected they would choose.

It crossed his mind that probably they shouldn't stay away from the others too long-Dopey might come back and then they would have to think seriously about this mad plan of his to reconquer the base for the Beloved Leaders. Or, alternatively, Dopey might not come back at all. Then they would have to think even more seriously about simple survival. But he didn't want to think about such matters just then, because he was too busy feeling good. It was, he decided, about the best he had felt in a long time-certainly since they had boarded the Clipper for the trip to Starlab. Maybe for a good deal longer than that.

Finally it was Pat who had to say, "Maybe we ought to start back."

Dannerman blinked down at her. "Oh, do you think so? I was sort of thinking that maybe we could-"

"Of course we can," she said, patting his shoulder. "It doesn't have to be here. There's plenty of nice secluded spots right near the yurts, so whenever we like we can just excuse ourselves for a bit and-" She paused, looking curiously at his face. "What's the matter?"

"It just seems so, well, obvious," he said.

Then she did laugh out loud. "Oh, Dan-Dan. Do you think there's one soul back there who isn't absolutely sure of what we were doing here? Come on. Let's see if we can get back without getting lost."

But of course they didn't get lost, because they'd never got that far off the well-marked old path, and of course what Pat said was right. Dannerman switched gears without difficulty. He didn't forget the pleasant feeling in his loins, but he remembered to pick a few of the bright red fruits to carry back, just in case, and even before that he was testing strategies in his mind in the event that Dopey really did bring them their weapons.

That was the part of the Dannerman mind that the Bureau training and experience had honed to a sharp edge. He considered the prospects. If, in spite of everything, they were going to get involved in combat with the Horch machines the first thing they would need was more information. They would need to know, from Dopey, just what parts of the Horch machines were vulnerable to a projectile weapon; and they would have to decide how to allocate the available weapons. He had no doubt that Jimmy Lin and the general could handle a gun; the females were iffier. "Pat?" he asked. "Have you ever been checked out on that little gun you used to carry?"

But she wasn't listening. She was suddenly straining to hear something. "What's that?" she asked, her face suddenly worried.

But by then he had heard the sudden distant screaming, too, and he was already beginning to run.

When they reached the bathing pool there was Martin Delasquez, lying on his face by the side of the pond, his feet still in the water, with Rosaleen, naked, struggling to try to turn him over; and just meters away a clothed Jimmy Lin and a naked Pat were frantically trying to pull the limp form of the other Pat, also naked, to dry land.

What he couldn't see was what it was that they were trying to flee from, but the women were shouting the answer to that. The amphibians? How could that be? What were they doing here, so far from their own pond? But then he saw the little eyes, only a few meters from shore, and then there was no doubt. He didn't waste time wondering. He and Jimmy got the inert hulk of Martin Delasquez pulled away from the water, while the two Pats did the same for the third. "Let me," Jimmy panted, taking over from the Pats; once again his Boy Scout training was useful. Dannerman stood guard, knee deep in the muddy shallows at the water's edge, spear ready. When he stole glances over his shoulder he saw Jimmy bending over the motionless woman, doing the mouth-to-mouth and the rhythmic chest-hammering of CPR, while Rosaleen and the other Pats copied his actions on the form of Martin. Which Pat was which? Hard enough to tell them apart at any time, it was impossible when they were naked.

If the amphibians had any intention of attacking on dry land they kept it in check. Dannerman knew they were there, saw water swirling, caught a glimpse or two of gray flesh; but they seemed more interested in getting their own wounded member to the safety of deep water than in the creatures that had stabbed him. Slowly Dannerman retreated to the high ground, spear still ready, but beginning to feel a little safer.

When he looked around Martin was stirring at last, coughing, looking dazedly around, trying to sit up. But the other Pat

Jimmy was still working on her. He kept it up for long minutes, kept it up long past the time when Dannerman could still feel hope. Then Lin sat somberly back on his haunches.

"She's dead," he said. He thought for a moment. "If we had adrenaline, or shock paddles," he began, and then shook his head and repeated, "She's dead."

Dead?

Dannerman felt the word like a physical blow. Dead. It did not seem possible. Yes, sure, they had all fated the strong probability that they might all be dead before long, starvation most likely, possibly some other assault from this hostile place. But not now. Not so soon.

"Dan?" It was Rosaleen, drawing on her clothes and looking at him. "Don't you think we ought to get out of here?"

He roused himself. "Yes, of course. But-" He hesitated, looking at the two living Pats and the one that lay motionless on the ground. "But which?"

The nearest Pat glared at him angrily. "It's Patsy, you fool," she said, and began to cry.