it off. “Now I have made it worse. And there is dirt here…and here.” He punctuated the words with the lightest touch.
Then, for a while, there was silence.
Chapter Five
“In Which False Evidence Appears Real”
1.
AS NATHANIEL MOVED to put on his helmet, Arnaud waylaid him. It looked as if the geologist would speak; however, he first cast a glance at Highmore who had said he would wait for his sister’s return by the airlock, and happened to be standing close.
“Get me a sample of the surface.” Arnaud handed Nathaniel the means to collect some soil.
Nathaniel turned away, setting his mind to the task of getting his helmet in place. Arnaud checked it for him. When he looked at the geologist, an inner light seemed to shine out from the other man’s eyes, one he could not interpret before Arnaud turned and hurried off.
Feeling what he could only describe as chilled, Nathaniel forced himself into action. He wasn’t at all sure how Arnaud would fit into his life, but he did not like the sudden and unreasonable thought that they might not see each other again. Perhaps Phobos truly did inspire anxiety.
Holding to that thought, he entered the airlock, braced for the flow of cold air as he broke the seal on his oxygen tank, and then looked to Phobos as the outer door opened. There being no true up or down out here, it was best to stare at the surface as much as possible and not look to the stars. Linked by cables the five, consisting of Annabelle, Elizabeth, Whitlock, Nathaniel and Burton, were able to keep in contact.
“I think I may be ill.” Elizabeth’s voice sounded strained.
“You’re doing well, Miss Elizabeth,” Whitlock said. “Have to say this fair turns my stomach, too, so no shame in feeling a little queasy.”
The moment the corporal said it, Nathaniel heard the sound of the others gagging inside their helmets.
2.
FOLKARD HAD HIS eyes closed. He was aware of this, aware that if anyone were looking at him they would see that and worse. They would see his brow as furrowed as Phobos, maybe dewed with sweat. He gritted his teeth so hard he was sure he heard his jaw creak. Fortunately, the landing party had disembarked without needing assistance from him, leaving his mind free to… What? To the influence jumbling his thoughts? He shouldn’t feel disposed to that.
Something called to him. The sensation felt similar to the Heart, but worse. Stronger. More insistent. He took no effort at all to recall how it first felt on Luna to be called by the Heart, to feel alternately pleasantly befuddled and even soothed, and then pained when he had resisted. He’d likened it to how he imagined addiction, and this was in some ways like that and in others…not. It was more like toothache.
The moment the idea popped into his brain, he clung to it. He imagined a nerve set deep in his jaw, slowly rotting, sending out signals. The difference between that and what he was feeling was a bad tooth would cause so much pain it would require pulling before it grew excruciating. It would infect the tooth next to it, and the one after and the one after that. He felt something more insidious, almost gentle in its complexity, slowly spreading. One nerve alive nudging the one next to it until that sprang to life, and sent a jolt of acknowledgement in the nerve next to that. That might not have been so bad if confined to his jaw, but it would grow worse before it got better if it ever did. Already the sensation made it difficult to think. As the jangling of his nerves increased, it had grown unpleasant enough for him to resent it. Apprehension spiced the resentment.
The thing to do would be to tell someone, but he dreaded that, too. Almost as much as he grew anxious over the increasing discomfort. Besides, how to explain this sensation to anyone? This wasn’t the pain of illness, or disease. It wasn’t something the skill of a surgeon could eradicate. How could he explain the utter devastation of knowing there was
Then, for a while, there was silence.
Chapter Five
“In Which False Evidence Appears Real”
1.
AS NATHANIEL MOVED to put on his helmet, Arnaud waylaid him. It looked as if the geologist would speak; however, he first cast a glance at Highmore who had said he would wait for his sister’s return by the airlock, and happened to be standing close.
“Get me a sample of the surface.” Arnaud handed Nathaniel the means to collect some soil.
Nathaniel turned away, setting his mind to the task of getting his helmet in place. Arnaud checked it for him. When he looked at the geologist, an inner light seemed to shine out from the other man’s eyes, one he could not interpret before Arnaud turned and hurried off.
Feeling what he could only describe as chilled, Nathaniel forced himself into action. He wasn’t at all sure how Arnaud would fit into his life, but he did not like the sudden and unreasonable thought that they might not see each other again. Perhaps Phobos truly did inspire anxiety.
Holding to that thought, he entered the airlock, braced for the flow of cold air as he broke the seal on his oxygen tank, and then looked to Phobos as the outer door opened. There being no true up or down out here, it was best to stare at the surface as much as possible and not look to the stars. Linked by cables the five, consisting of Annabelle, Elizabeth, Whitlock, Nathaniel and Burton, were able to keep in contact.
“I think I may be ill.” Elizabeth’s voice sounded strained.
“You’re doing well, Miss Elizabeth,” Whitlock said. “Have to say this fair turns my stomach, too, so no shame in feeling a little queasy.”
The moment the corporal said it, Nathaniel heard the sound of the others gagging inside their helmets.
2.
FOLKARD HAD HIS eyes closed. He was aware of this, aware that if anyone were looking at him they would see that and worse. They would see his brow as furrowed as Phobos, maybe dewed with sweat. He gritted his teeth so hard he was sure he heard his jaw creak. Fortunately, the landing party had disembarked without needing assistance from him, leaving his mind free to… What? To the influence jumbling his thoughts? He shouldn’t feel disposed to that.
Something called to him. The sensation felt similar to the Heart, but worse. Stronger. More insistent. He took no effort at all to recall how it first felt on Luna to be called by the Heart, to feel alternately pleasantly befuddled and even soothed, and then pained when he had resisted. He’d likened it to how he imagined addiction, and this was in some ways like that and in others…not. It was more like toothache.
The moment the idea popped into his brain, he clung to it. He imagined a nerve set deep in his jaw, slowly rotting, sending out signals. The difference between that and what he was feeling was a bad tooth would cause so much pain it would require pulling before it grew excruciating. It would infect the tooth next to it, and the one after and the one after that. He felt something more insidious, almost gentle in its complexity, slowly spreading. One nerve alive nudging the one next to it until that sprang to life, and sent a jolt of acknowledgement in the nerve next to that. That might not have been so bad if confined to his jaw, but it would grow worse before it got better if it ever did. Already the sensation made it difficult to think. As the jangling of his nerves increased, it had grown unpleasant enough for him to resent it. Apprehension spiced the resentment.
The thing to do would be to tell someone, but he dreaded that, too. Almost as much as he grew anxious over the increasing discomfort. Besides, how to explain this sensation to anyone? This wasn’t the pain of illness, or disease. It wasn’t something the skill of a surgeon could eradicate. How could he explain the utter devastation of knowing there was
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