said Chloe.
"Han Chinese," said Otto. He picked up a limp arm. His enhanced eyes picked out the traces of an erased judicial tattoo on his wrist. "Political exile." He let the arm drop.
Valdaire removed the v-jack from the Han. She studied the medical unit attached to the wall, then pressed a few buttons. There was a hiss and a mixing wheel spun round. A gasp of air escaped the man's lips. His eyelids fluttered.
He sighed something in Mandarin, so quietly Valdaire had to bend in to hear it.
He smiled, said something else, and went limp.
"What did he say?" said Chures.
Chloe spoke. "He said he dreamed of golden fields, that is what he said. Veev, it is."
Otto looked out the window at the corn. "That is to be expected."
"He's dead," said Valdaire.
"You said Kolosev knew something?" said Chures. "He's been trying to get into the Realms himself."
"Unsuccessfully," said Valdaire.
"He was looking for Waldo, and not on his own," said Otto. "This level of set-up is beyond Kolosev's means. Damn shame our only leads are dead."
"Chloe will tell us why," said Valdaire.
"You do not need to. Tell me, why has Kaplinski not destroyed this place with us in it?"
"He's looking for Waldo too," said Chures.
" Ja ," said Otto. "And I would say that he paid for all this."
"Then we frag the lot, and stay one step ahead of him," said Chures. "We've got Kolosev's data."
"That could work," said Otto. "Or maybe Kaplinski couldn't get Kolosev to give the data up himself, and can not get at it remotely, and he is waiting for us to lead him right to Waldo instead."
CHAPTER 6
The Terror
Though the day promised rain, it held off. Soon Richards' human facsimile was sweating heavily and he was obliged to remove his macintosh. As his soreness receded, he began to take in the sensations his near-human form fed him, so much more entire than those he had experienced before. It was almost pleasant. Almost.
It was slow going with Geoff. "He's just not balanced right for it," said Bear. "Being three-legged is a disadvantage overcome with difficulty by giraffes." He shook his head as another frustrated squeak reached them from the wheat. "I fear he'll never master life as a tripod."
They rested awhile by a stone barn deep in the soughing corn. Bear leant against a huge chestnut tree and Richards sat with his back to a sundial. Geoff lay on the floor; it was easier for him.
They napped in the sun, each lost in his own thoughts. As they readied to leave, Geoff conveyed his wishes that the others go on, via a series of tremulous squeaks.
"We must stick together," said Bear.
Geoff would not be swayed. After a long and urgent conversation between the two animals, Bear came to Richards.
"Giraffes can be stubborn beasts, even those whose heads are full of wool," he said. "He's going to stay." Bear sniffed the air. "I'm sure he'll be fine. All I can smell down here is summer sleep and wheat." He yawned. Bear had a lot of teeth. "And look too," he said, gesturing upwards. "Look at the sky."
"Yes?" said Richards. The sky was blue and pretty.
"The sun!"
Richards shielded his eyes. "It's hardly moved," he said.
"I suspect night does not fall easily on these golden fields," said Bear.
"That's rather poetic," said Richards.
"I'm a poetic kind of bear," said Bear with a shrug.
The day wore on, and the sun did not move from its noon. They stopped for lunch by a rare brook. Richards took the opportunity to wash his stinking clothes as Bear ground some wheat and made flatbread on a rock heated by a fire of straw.
"My favourite," said Bear.
"Really," said Richards, annoyed at his need to eat. It tasted foul, and the grit in it hurt his teeth.
"It's free!" said Bear, grinning, though his smile was brittle.
Without night, time became meaningless. Richards' eyes blurred with endless gold, and he welcomed clouds,
"Han Chinese," said Otto. He picked up a limp arm. His enhanced eyes picked out the traces of an erased judicial tattoo on his wrist. "Political exile." He let the arm drop.
Valdaire removed the v-jack from the Han. She studied the medical unit attached to the wall, then pressed a few buttons. There was a hiss and a mixing wheel spun round. A gasp of air escaped the man's lips. His eyelids fluttered.
He sighed something in Mandarin, so quietly Valdaire had to bend in to hear it.
He smiled, said something else, and went limp.
"What did he say?" said Chures.
Chloe spoke. "He said he dreamed of golden fields, that is what he said. Veev, it is."
Otto looked out the window at the corn. "That is to be expected."
"He's dead," said Valdaire.
"You said Kolosev knew something?" said Chures. "He's been trying to get into the Realms himself."
"Unsuccessfully," said Valdaire.
"He was looking for Waldo, and not on his own," said Otto. "This level of set-up is beyond Kolosev's means. Damn shame our only leads are dead."
"Chloe will tell us why," said Valdaire.
"You do not need to. Tell me, why has Kaplinski not destroyed this place with us in it?"
"He's looking for Waldo too," said Chures.
" Ja ," said Otto. "And I would say that he paid for all this."
"Then we frag the lot, and stay one step ahead of him," said Chures. "We've got Kolosev's data."
"That could work," said Otto. "Or maybe Kaplinski couldn't get Kolosev to give the data up himself, and can not get at it remotely, and he is waiting for us to lead him right to Waldo instead."
CHAPTER 6
The Terror
Though the day promised rain, it held off. Soon Richards' human facsimile was sweating heavily and he was obliged to remove his macintosh. As his soreness receded, he began to take in the sensations his near-human form fed him, so much more entire than those he had experienced before. It was almost pleasant. Almost.
It was slow going with Geoff. "He's just not balanced right for it," said Bear. "Being three-legged is a disadvantage overcome with difficulty by giraffes." He shook his head as another frustrated squeak reached them from the wheat. "I fear he'll never master life as a tripod."
They rested awhile by a stone barn deep in the soughing corn. Bear leant against a huge chestnut tree and Richards sat with his back to a sundial. Geoff lay on the floor; it was easier for him.
They napped in the sun, each lost in his own thoughts. As they readied to leave, Geoff conveyed his wishes that the others go on, via a series of tremulous squeaks.
"We must stick together," said Bear.
Geoff would not be swayed. After a long and urgent conversation between the two animals, Bear came to Richards.
"Giraffes can be stubborn beasts, even those whose heads are full of wool," he said. "He's going to stay." Bear sniffed the air. "I'm sure he'll be fine. All I can smell down here is summer sleep and wheat." He yawned. Bear had a lot of teeth. "And look too," he said, gesturing upwards. "Look at the sky."
"Yes?" said Richards. The sky was blue and pretty.
"The sun!"
Richards shielded his eyes. "It's hardly moved," he said.
"I suspect night does not fall easily on these golden fields," said Bear.
"That's rather poetic," said Richards.
"I'm a poetic kind of bear," said Bear with a shrug.
The day wore on, and the sun did not move from its noon. They stopped for lunch by a rare brook. Richards took the opportunity to wash his stinking clothes as Bear ground some wheat and made flatbread on a rock heated by a fire of straw.
"My favourite," said Bear.
"Really," said Richards, annoyed at his need to eat. It tasted foul, and the grit in it hurt his teeth.
"It's free!" said Bear, grinning, though his smile was brittle.
Without night, time became meaningless. Richards' eyes blurred with endless gold, and he welcomed clouds,
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