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THE TIDE WAS HIGH, and they had to tie the boat to an enormous red iron
mooring ring a few feet away from the doors. Ryan noticed that the gap hadn't
altered and piles of loose sand, and mottled seaweed had collected around the
dark opening.
Eventually the water fell far enough to reveal the worn concrete of the
landing platform. The stone was rough and pitted, showing the rusted ends of
iron.
Most of them had slept during the four-hour wait, but Ryan had stayed awake,
as had Krysty. She had used the time to bring him up to date on what happened
back in Claggartville and how they'd managed to escape on the
Phoenix
.
"I'll be happy to get out of here, lover," she said to Ryan.
"Long as the gateway's not flooded out."
Krysty smiled. "Sure. Always that chance, isn't there? What would you do if we
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couldn't make another jump from here?"
"Guess we'd have to try to make our way across to that redoubt in the Mohawks.
Nearest we know about from here."
The girl hesitated. "You wouldn't want to stop around here if the gateway
wasn't functioning?"
Ryan shook his head. "Claggartville? No, love. Not here."
"Anywhere?"
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"Somewhere." He smiled at the look on her face. "Cheer up, Krysty. We've
gotten away light this time around. You know I want to settle. I don't know
when and I
don't know where. One day. We'll just keep looking and one day we'll find it.
And when we find it, lover, then I know we're going to know what it is."
Krysty leaned nearer, kissing him gently on the lips. "Whatever you want,
lover, I'm with you. All the way." She pressed harder against him, her tongue
sliding between his parted teeth, her hand fluttering across his muscular
stomach, touching him....
"Tide's down." Jak's voice intruded, making them both jump and break apart,
grinning like guilty children.
"One day, Ryan," she whispered. "I love you very much."
"Love you too, lady."
They left the whaleboat tied to the ring by a long painter, in case they
needed to get out of the redoubt by the same route.
Ryan led the way, with J.B. bringing up the rear. Neither needed to say
anything about how to work a patrol. It was second nature, as simple as
breathing to them.
The stone was covered in a fine, slippery layer of sand and weed, making the
footholds treacherous.
Doc helped Lori out with a courteous hand, receiving a wide smile from the
teenager. "Sorry I've been a real bitch, Doc," she said. "Real sorry."
"Feel anything, lover?" Ryan asked Krysty. "No muties around?"
"Can't tell. Don't think so. Sure smells inside, though."
As Ryan pushed through the entrance he saw inside what was causing the
appalling stench. A manta ray had been sucked into the gap in the doors by the
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tugging current and not been able to angle its way out again. Its rotting
carcass lay in eighteen inches of salt water near the bottom of the flight of
stairs that had earlier saved their lives.
"Best not hang around," Ryan told them. "If there's a problem near the gateway
we want to get out of here before the next tide comes sweeping in. Let's go.
Fast and careful."
The corridors were streaked with patches of seaweed, small colonies of
shellfish already taking over corners, building one upon another. The lights
still glowed in the ceiling, though the intruding ocean had put some out of
commission. Ryan guessed that it wouldn't be long days rather than
weeks before all of the lighting in that section of the redoubt failed.
It took them some time to find their way through the maze of passages and
corridors, all of them scarred by the ocean.
In the hollows and dips there were deeper pools of water, many containing
small fishes or scuttling crabs.
They finally reached the stretch of the corridor that led to the gateways. It
curved around to the left and sloped a little. Ryan, out in front, licked his
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lips nervously at the expectation of what they might see. If the doors were
open, then they were in deep trouble. If they were closed, then they should be
safe enough. They were closed.
THE LIGHTS WERE BLINDING. After the dimness of the tunnels, the array of
comp-panels and whirring and spinning disks was dazzling.
Ahead of the six companions were the odd double doorways of the mat-trans
chambers one with the security coding of twelve, the other carrying the higher
rating of nineteen.
"Which one, Doc?" Ryan asked.
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"I'm sorry, my dear fellow. I fear that my thoughts were on too many mornings
and a thousand miles behind. I was wondering how our lofty Apache shaman would
cope in the world of Claggartville. What think you?" [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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