sensation like passing through thick goo, a gel
without wetness. She pulled the hand back with a shudder. He still seemed to be
breathing freely.
Moving back out on to the hillside events
caught up with her and she suddenly dropped to her knees gasping for giant
breaths. Gathering her composure Regan picked up the SatPhone from the ground.
"Ms Stein, you can take the seat on
the left."
"Whoa!" She protested "Let's
get some things straight. I don't know you, either of you, and I don't know
what's going on. I've done what I could for Marin. You were right, he needed
help, badly. But I'm not a doctor and I don't take rides from just anybody, particularly
when they clearly don't want to contact the right authorities."
"Please Ms Stein, you're an
intelligent woman. You already suspect why contact wouldn't be wise and your
suspicions are correct. This is asking a lot of you, but Marin still needs your
help."
She felt sick. Things were coming to a
head. "I understand your concern for him, but I'm nothing to you, perhaps
even a threat. How do I know . . .?"
"You are not a threat and you won't be
harmed. True, it would have been desirable to avoid this but it has happened,
and you've helped. This may change everything. Please, Marin is unconscious, he
still needs someone and there is no one else."
"What about you?" she protested.
There was a long pause. . . . . . . "This
ship doesn't have arms Regan."
She remained rooted to her knees, hardly
feeling the pain from the cracked rock beneath her, implications of the reply swirling
through her mind. A sinking feeling came over her. This was a situation of her
making. From the moment of first rolling the man over she'd known. While his
features were familiar enough, they were also immediately, obviously, clearly,
different. Otherworldly! It was seriously weird.
She wasn't stupid, empty headed or
gullible. The only conclusion she could come to at that point was too shocking,
numbing, and unthinkable. The only certain thing was that the need of this
person was undeniable. The decision she made on top of the mountain was to help
in any way she could . . . nothing had changed.
Inclined to go with her gut in most situations,
Regan always acted with instinct. It had served her well in the past and the STEIN
success was evidence of those qualities. Now, intuitively she knew this was a
defining moment. It could prove to be the most terrifying and exciting moment.
Where is this going to lead? You simply can't miss this, you can't! Just roll with it. Before
even thinking the question she knew what she would do and her hesitation was
brief. Without another word Regan entered the Pod and took the seat. It didn't
surprise her that immediately she could feel it shape and mould to what felt
like a perfect fit.
She took a big breath, "What now?"
She asked.
"Nightfall is still seven hours away
and the Pod won't lift until then. For now try to sleep, you need rest. Marin's
vital signs are stable and there is nothing else you can do for the moment."
The craft was already drifting downward to
settle in its earlier position, the movement imperceptible to her. Drained,
mentally and physically, she felt comfortable and warm for the first time in
almost two days. Dear God, she thought, what am I doing? Exhaustion
finally overcame her and she slept.
Eyes still closed; a dream lost in an
instant. Regan felt herself spark to life as she woke and listened. She could
hear nothing, only silence.
For a moment she rested perfectly still, savoring
that floating sensation as if detached from her body. She opened her eyes and
examined the surroundings, goose bumps breaking out on her arms as she did so
and a shiver passing down the small of her back. I'm still in the Pod.
She took in more detail, noticing the
ceramic look of the walls, the comfort of her seat, the absence of any
spaceship type paraphernalia . . . Oh shit, shit, shit, shit! The walls
seemed hard and smooth although not plastic
without wetness. She pulled the hand back with a shudder. He still seemed to be
breathing freely.
Moving back out on to the hillside events
caught up with her and she suddenly dropped to her knees gasping for giant
breaths. Gathering her composure Regan picked up the SatPhone from the ground.
"Ms Stein, you can take the seat on
the left."
"Whoa!" She protested "Let's
get some things straight. I don't know you, either of you, and I don't know
what's going on. I've done what I could for Marin. You were right, he needed
help, badly. But I'm not a doctor and I don't take rides from just anybody, particularly
when they clearly don't want to contact the right authorities."
"Please Ms Stein, you're an
intelligent woman. You already suspect why contact wouldn't be wise and your
suspicions are correct. This is asking a lot of you, but Marin still needs your
help."
She felt sick. Things were coming to a
head. "I understand your concern for him, but I'm nothing to you, perhaps
even a threat. How do I know . . .?"
"You are not a threat and you won't be
harmed. True, it would have been desirable to avoid this but it has happened,
and you've helped. This may change everything. Please, Marin is unconscious, he
still needs someone and there is no one else."
"What about you?" she protested.
There was a long pause. . . . . . . "This
ship doesn't have arms Regan."
She remained rooted to her knees, hardly
feeling the pain from the cracked rock beneath her, implications of the reply swirling
through her mind. A sinking feeling came over her. This was a situation of her
making. From the moment of first rolling the man over she'd known. While his
features were familiar enough, they were also immediately, obviously, clearly,
different. Otherworldly! It was seriously weird.
She wasn't stupid, empty headed or
gullible. The only conclusion she could come to at that point was too shocking,
numbing, and unthinkable. The only certain thing was that the need of this
person was undeniable. The decision she made on top of the mountain was to help
in any way she could . . . nothing had changed.
Inclined to go with her gut in most situations,
Regan always acted with instinct. It had served her well in the past and the STEIN
success was evidence of those qualities. Now, intuitively she knew this was a
defining moment. It could prove to be the most terrifying and exciting moment.
Where is this going to lead? You simply can't miss this, you can't! Just roll with it. Before
even thinking the question she knew what she would do and her hesitation was
brief. Without another word Regan entered the Pod and took the seat. It didn't
surprise her that immediately she could feel it shape and mould to what felt
like a perfect fit.
She took a big breath, "What now?"
She asked.
"Nightfall is still seven hours away
and the Pod won't lift until then. For now try to sleep, you need rest. Marin's
vital signs are stable and there is nothing else you can do for the moment."
The craft was already drifting downward to
settle in its earlier position, the movement imperceptible to her. Drained,
mentally and physically, she felt comfortable and warm for the first time in
almost two days. Dear God, she thought, what am I doing? Exhaustion
finally overcame her and she slept.
Eyes still closed; a dream lost in an
instant. Regan felt herself spark to life as she woke and listened. She could
hear nothing, only silence.
For a moment she rested perfectly still, savoring
that floating sensation as if detached from her body. She opened her eyes and
examined the surroundings, goose bumps breaking out on her arms as she did so
and a shiver passing down the small of her back. I'm still in the Pod.
She took in more detail, noticing the
ceramic look of the walls, the comfort of her seat, the absence of any
spaceship type paraphernalia . . . Oh shit, shit, shit, shit! The walls
seemed hard and smooth although not plastic
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