Frank Herbert Destination Vo

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the number six screen.
Wouldn't get me up in one of those things, he thought. Lighter-Than-Air craft
challenged a medium where unstable currents and the unforeseen were standard
issue. Air was much more dangerous than water.
Safest down under, he thought. Safety had taken on a new attraction to him.
He wanted to live to spend more time with this woman.
Where is Kareen right now? He found himself facing this question constantly
since their separation. By now she would be at Launch Base. Panille didn't
like to think of the distance separating them . . . distance was time, and
after that last night he didn't want to spend any time without her.
His head had ached and he had been dizzy with fatigue but still sleep had not
come. Every time his eyelids slipped his head filled with visions of Guemes
survivors littering the triage floor. Torn flesh, blood, moans and whimpers
still ghosted around him in the dim bustle of Current Control.
Kareen, too, had been drained of energy. They had gone to her quarters with
little discussion, each aware only of the need to be together, alive after
wading through all that death. They had walked from the tube station, holding
hands. Panille had held himself under tight control, sure that a white-tipped
anger might explode if he once relaxed. Something hot and twisting clenched
his guts.
Where plaz lined the corridors, the ripple effect of surface light combined
with the cadence of their steps to mesmerize Panille into a dreamy detachment.
He felt that he floated above himself, watching their swaying progress. There
was tenderness in the arms, the bone-weary arms, and in Kareen's cheek as it
brushed his shoulder. Her muscles worked their smooth magic and he no longer
suspected that she might try to rule him with her body.
At her quarters, Panille had stared out at a different kind of undersea, a
garden lush with ferns waving and butterfly fish grooming the leaves. A thick
column of kelp spiraled upward out there, twisting and untwisting with some
distant surge.
No death here. No signs of the Guemes disaster.
Just at the edge of visibility lay the Blue Reef with corridors of pale blue
vine-tulips that opened and closed like small mouths beyond the plaz. Bright
orange flashes of minuscule shrimp darted in and out, feeding on the
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vine-tulip stamens. Kareen led him to her bedroom.
They did not hesitate. Kareen stood tiptoe and pressed her mouth against his.
Her open eyes watched his eyes and he saw himself reflected in her black
pupils.
Her hands pressed at first against his chest, then slipped around his neck and
unfastened his braid. Her fingers felt strong and sure. Surgeon's fingers,
he thought. His black hair spread over his shoulders. Panille brought his
hands down from her shoulders to her tunic, releasing it clasp by clasp.
They undressed each other slowly, wordlessly. When she stepped out of her
underwear, the light caught and danced in the flaming red triangle of her
hair.
Her nipples pressed like children's noses against his ribs.
We have decided to live, he thought.
The vision of Kareen Ale was a mantra that shut out all doubts about his
world.
Nothing existed in memory except the two of them and their perfectly
complementary bodies.
As they had started slipping into sleep, Kareen startled them both with a
sudden cry. She clung to him then like a child.
"Bad dreams," she whispered.
"Bad reality is worse."
"Dreams are real while you're in them," she said. "You know, every time I
think of us, the bad goes away. We heal each other."
Her words and the pressure of her against him stirred Panille fully awake.
Kareen sighed, rolled astride him in one smooth movement and gripped him deep
inside her. Her breasts brushed his chest as they swayed back and forth. His
breath was her breath then, and she called out his name as she collapsed,
gasping, against him.
Panille held her gently, stroking her back.
"Kareen," he said.
"Mm?"
"I like to say your name."
He remembered this as he stood watch in Current Control and murmured her name
under his breath. It helped.
The main entry hatch to Current Control behind Panille swung open with a sharp
hiss, indicating quick entry without waiting for the outer lock to seal.
Surprised, Panille started to turn and felt hard metal pressed against his
back.
A downward glance showed him a lasgun against his flesh. Panille recognized
the man holding it -- Gulf Nakano, Gallow's man. Nakano's bulky form stepped
clear of the entry way, pushing Panille ahead of him. Nakano was followed by
three other Mermen, all dive-suited, all armed and all thin-lipped serious.
"What is this?" Panille demanded.
"Shhhh," Nakano hissed. He motioned the others around him, then: "All right!
Everybody stand up!"
Panille watched the other intruders move swiftly, methodically to equidistant
positions near the center of the room. One operator protested and was clubbed
to the deck. Panille started to speak but Nakano thrust a huge palm against
his mouth, saying, "Stay alive, Panille. It's better."
The three attackers set their lasguns on short-flame and began demolishing
Current Control. Plaz melted and popped, control boards sizzled. Small black
snakes of vinyl precipitated out of the air. Everything was done with a
chilling deliberation. In less than a minute, it was all over and Panille
knew they would be at least a year replacing this . . . brain.
He was outraged but the destruction daunted him. His assistants leaned
against one wall, shock and fear in their eyes.
One woman knelt over the downed operator, dabbing at the side of his face with
a corner of her blouse.
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"We have Kareen Ale," Nakano said. "I'm told that would interest you."
Panille felt his chest tighten.
"Your cooperation insures her safety," Nakano said. "You are to come with us, [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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