Stableford, Brian Hooded Swan 01 The Halcyon Drift

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.Nothing was happening.Nothing even looked like happening.It didn't even look like rain.I had to content myself with thinking how nice it was to let somebody else do the driving, and how thiswas the best chance I'd had to relax since I'd been picked up by the Ella Marita.We had to take shifts at the wheel while we plugged steadily on across the ocean - for ocean it was, notjust a salt lake or a channel between land masses.The limitlessness of it began to get heavy on thenerves.Eventually, I reasoned, we had to come to the end.The Lost Star couldn't really be under water,if her bleep was still going.If she was down at all, she couldn't be in perfect condition.And spaceshipsare designed to keep air in, not to keep water out.If she'd survived for eighty years, then she was highand dry.The sun was still descending with reluctant lethargy to the horizon.Local daylight could last about fiftyhours, all told, I estimated - which meant we had another eighteen or so.Local night might be longer orshorter, but I judged that it would most likely be the same length.The co-ordinates descriptive of theworld's identity (which Alachakh had given us along with those defining its position) registered no axial tiltat all.I was prepared to doubt Caradoc's measurements (they were a long way away when they madethem) but the fact that we'd contrived to set down so close suggested that they weren't far out.I imagined that even during the night, there might be light enough to see by.The afterglow of the sunwould leave a long twilight because of the light-bending which took place in the distortion field.But evenso, night wouldn't be as comfortable as day.Alien night is always a bad place to be.In the meantime, the Lost Star bleep crept closer all the time.The sun set while we were still not clear ofthe sea.I asked whether anybody wanted to wait out the night where we knew we'd be safe, but thesuggestion met with a derisory reception.I didn't think much of it myself.The sooner we got to thewreck, back, and away out of the Drift, the better we'd all feel.Two days sitting in the iron maiden was alousy idea.I was right about the night's darkness not being too intense.Although moonless, the world was ideallyorientated to receive what illumination was available.We were pointed at a fairly light-dense sector of theHalcyon core, and a tight-knit cohort of thirty close suns cast an unsteady but welcome light.Like a greatcurtain, the gaping cavern of the core hung across the sky, shedding light that was pale, but sufficient.Thehorizon glowed white, surrounding us like a vast silvery ring set with a jewel-like flare at the point wherethe sun had vanished.Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.htmlThe colours in the weed around us - I thought of it as seaweed although there was no significantdifference between the land and the sea plants - dulled to indigos, maroons, bronzes, and greys.Nothingpale, nothing bright, but we could still perceive the macabre dance of shape and hue.Our distance from the Lost Star crept down through fifty miles, and forty.I began to think again about what her cargo would be, and what I was going to do when I found it.Bynow, of course, I knew what the cargo was.Alachakh must have reasoned it out as well, but he hadn'ttold me in so many words because he couldn't be sure.It was easy enough to put myself in the place of astar-ship captain - who - eighty years ago - had happened on the remains of an unknown civilisation outbeyond the rim.I knew what the other starship had brought back from similar missions.I knew what themost valuable thing in the galaxy was, so far as that captain's imagination had been concerned.And Iknew that, ironically, that cargo would be completely worthless today, save to give away one singlewell-kept secret.Worthless that is, in terms of contribution.In terms of price, I had no doubt that certainpeople would still be willing to pay a fortune for it, unseen.Twenty miles from the Lost Star we came upout of the sea.Johnny and I were both dozing at the time, so we hadn't noticed the cliffs looming up, anddelArco hadn't thought it worthwhile disturbing us in order to tell us.He accelerated up the beach assoon as the wheels found purchase, and the jerk woke us both up.He had to turn in order to search foran incline we could ascend.The cliff face looked sheer and savage - and unbroken.This shore presented quite a different aspect.To judge by what we'd already seen, this land was bleakand inhospitable.Plants grew, but they grew high rather than wide.There was no anchorage to be foundin the hard igneous rock, save in furtive crevices, and where the plants could grow, they chose to reachupward rather than lying prostrate over the implacable surfaces which offered them nothing.The plantseither could not or would not drown this land as they had the first - here there was room to move.Herethere was intermittent constancy.The way delArco chose - had to choose, for there was no other - was sheer and bumpy.But the ironmaiden was built to take it.Once or twice, I worried lest we slip backward, but she was a tenaciousbeast, and climbed the cliff with dogged insistence.Once on top of the cliff, we saw that our return toland wasn't going to enable us to make much better time.The landscape was broken and blasted.Thevegetation was tall and clumped at all levels [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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