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.Ran like crazy and jumped into that crater over there.Only I went and dropped my gun in the process.It must be hidden under these vines.Sweet life, look at them; they crawl like snakes.''I'll give you a hand,' I tell him.'Professor, you'd best stay back.These weapons can become unstable if they're damaged.''Oh, don't worry.I'll watch from a safe distance.Besides, our whitehaired friend might make an appearance.'I return to the search.'No wonder you can't find the gun, Dissari; the moment you shift the vines they shift themselves right back.It's like trying to part water.Any luck?''No.I'm not even sure if I searched this area before.' Grunting, he stands up with a handful of vines he's snapped away from their bulbous roots.He slings them back over one shoulder, where they rattle against the corroding Dalek.'Man, I'm glad to hook up with you again, Jomi.This is one dreary place.I didn't want to wind up spending my days and nights alone here.'I crouch on the ground, running my hands through that tangle of vines, trying to find the ranger's gun as much by touch as by sight.My weapon is slung across my back.I feel the heat of the ammo cyst through my suit.For a while, I suspected that Dissari was one of the walking hives, but from the way he bled from scratches and rumbled on in that garrulous way of his, I knew it was the real Dissari, mentor ranger of six years' standing.Dissari tends not to grab more than half a breath between every five hundred words or so of speech.I guess he's relieved to find a comrade.'.crap.You think that after all this time they'd have developed a gun that would come running when you whistled for the thing.' Grinning, he whistles.'Here, boy.Here, boy.'I'm working my way through the vines and glance up at him as he stands there, hands on hips, monologueing his way through my search for his weapon.'.Jomi, let me tell you.When you qualify, you want to enrol in Strategic Ops.They have soft chairs and big, big desks.They don't crawl through swamps on their bellies looking for old tin pots that have been dead for a thousand years.' He jerks his head back at the Dalek that's rotting away into jungle loam.'Strategic Ops get extras.They get superior transport; they get apartments with views of the ocean; they don't eat supper out of a plastic bag.'My eyes stray from his face as his monologue becomes a grouch about the hardships of a ranger's way of life.The Dalek sits in the dirt; butterflies flutter above it; a bird calls in a tree.Then, in one smooth movement, the old demon draws breath.The eye-stalk smoothly lifts to the horizontal; fluidly the limb and weapon do the same.And at that moment, though I don't see it, instinct alone tells me that a flood of some power, dormant for centuries, has just surged through the dark heart of the machine.Suddenly, its flanks acquire an uncanny lustre.The moss and vines creeping over the carapace wither and shrink as life with a deadly purpose flows into once-inert components.'And, I'll tell you this, Jomi, as soon as I get back to the ship, I'm filing my application.Yeah, that's right, buddy, it's time Dissari got some soft bed time, too.Or I'll –''Dissari! Down flat!'Still crouching, I swing my weapon up, ready to fire the moment Dissari throws himself to the ground.But my warning hasn't registered.He merely gives me a puzzled look while hunching one shoulder as if to ask: 'What the hell are you playing at?''Dissari! Down!'That's the second he realises.His horrified eyes meet mine, then he spins to see the Dalek as it rotates its flattened dome to lock its eye-stalk on the man, while simultaneously targeting him with its weapon.The blast wave shakes blossom from the trees.I smell burning meat.The concussion comes like a boot stamping into the side of my face.I couldn't fire before because Dissari was in the way.Now my answering shot won't harm him.The blast from the Dalek's weapon has punched the ranger's torso into burning fragments and torn his head free from his neck.Sickeningly, the flayed skull rolls across the ground to stop right by me; its eyes still shift from side to side as steam and blood ooze from its jaws.In the split second that I absorb the ugly scene, I automatically fire.The explosion tears the top off the Dalek, sending a geyser of biological matter and debris high in the air.There's a sudden silence.Strangely, the very absence of sound hurts my ears.Then the insects begin to buzz again, and the birds call to one another.The Professor runs up to me.'Jomi.Jomi.Are you all right?'I cover the seared skull with a handful of vines; then, without a backward glance at the smashed Dalek, I walk away.'Jomi,' the Professor tells me.'You should rest for a while.'Grim-faced, I shake my head.'We've wasted enough time.Come on.'The Professor is staring at the ruined machine.'Jomi? That's a Dalek?''That was a Dalek.'We leave the remains of ranger Dissari and the Dalek behind.In moments we've reached the ramp that, hugging the face of the cliff, rises to the Dalek fortress.Before climbing, we check the screen that the Professor unfolds from his pocket.It shows the platoon in their cells.They are enduring torture – nothing less.Every few minutes, Kye's cell is engulfed with water.Again and again she fires the gun, punching a hole through the wall.The water empties, then the rupture reseals.She is exhausted.I know she can't last much longer.The same goes for Captain Vay, whose face is marked with cuts from tireless attacks by the creature.Pup crushes ant-like insects beneath his boots to prevent them from swarming up his legs.Rain bursts a walking hive with her fists.Meanwhile, the mouth of the pit in Fellebe's cell has devoured half the floor space.This renews the urgency in our pace.The Professor insists on leading the way up the ramp.He estimates it will take a good fifteen minutes to climb to where the cuboid building rests on the cliff top.Despite my relentless training at the academy for these kind of operations, I find the heat and humidity debilitating.My feet feel as if they've been encased in iron as I climb.The Professor's stamina astounds me.Time and again I have to grit my teeth and increase my speed to keep up with him.He estimated fifteen minutes.We make it in twelve.The ramp sweeps inward through a doorway that's twice as high as a man – yet built for no man.Close up now, I see vines clinging to the face of the structure, veins of festering green from which clusters of poisonous- looking red berries hang.At one side, the cuboid superstructure runs into the bedrock, as if the stone has become fluid at some point and part of the building has simply sunk into it.At the other side, the cubes stand on slender pylons that are interconnected by more of the aerial tube-ways.The place breathes a blood-chilling desolation.This could be some lonesome graveyard.Nothing moves.The spirit of abandonment passes through these dead buildings like a lost soul.Suddenly I'm struck by self-doubt.'Are we sure they're here?''Your friends? We can't be sure.But of all the places we've seen, this seems most likely.''Then we're being lured here, too.It can't be a mere random set of circumstances that dumped us by a bank of monitors that show the platoon being tortured.''Oh, yes, it's dangerous.Incredibly so.' He gazes up at a moss-covered column.'All of what we've witnessed suggests that we'll end our days in a cell, too.''Tormented by Daleks,' I add bitterly.'You'd go back?''Me? Retreat? Never.' I check the weapon.The power level has been falling.'I've still got thirty shots here.If I take even ten Daleks intooblivion with me, then that's fine.'I move forward, my training taking over [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]