slender than he.
Del slid through with no trouble and told him to toss his
pack through first, then follow. It was an uncomfortably tight squeeze and the
crumbling rocks scraped against his face and body as he pushed his way through.
Lazlo almost didn’t manage past one inclined boulder, but finally did thanks to
vigorous tugs on his outstretched arms by Del, who grinned at him when he
finally emerged on the other side.
She waited to release his arms until he got his boots under
him, then Del made a few moves to straighten his shirt, which was askew. Her
thin fingers brushed over him with little presses and strokes. Lazlo felt
twitchy, as if more than his clothes had been pulled out of place.
“There, not so bad,” Del reassured him with a final pat on
his shoulder.
“Do we have to go back that way?”
“Only if you want to drive back to port in the cart.” She
quirked an eyebrow at him and he envisioned a six-hour hike up, down and around
the looming rock formation they had just crawled under. That wasn’t what he
wanted to do at all.
“Oh I do want to take the cart back. Remind me not to eat
anything before we have to go back through there.”
Del laughed, big jolts of laughter making her shake, and
Lazlo grinned back. He liked it. She was very pretty when she was laughing. Well,
Del was very pretty all of the time, even when she was rooting around in the
mud. So of course a big laugh and shining eyes would make her even more
attractive.
“Don’t worry about it. I can always set up a winch to pull
you if I have to. Let’s go, big guy.” She abruptly stopped walking and he
almost ran into her. “You did apply your antifungals today, didn’t you?”
Lazlo blanked for a moment, too distracted by her head
nearly under his chin to process her words. But he got back on the
conversational track. “Yes I did. Why?”
Nodding with satisfaction, Del pointed to an oily green film
on the rock walls surrounding them. “We’re going to be walking around green-chancre
spores. If you sniff, you’ll smell them—they’re kind of vinegary. But you will
be fine if you took your meds today. And take them tomorrow.”
Fighting back nausea at the memory of the horrific images of
green-chancre infections he’d seen in the mandatory briefing before arriving on
Sayre, Lazlo swallowed and followed Citizen Browen as she continued down the
canyon, staying well away from the damp walls.
Del crouched next to Lieutenant Casta as he fiddled with the
transmitter. They’d been at the top of a slight plateau for the last ten
minutes as he tried to align the antenna, triangulate distant satellite pickups
and get the electronics to cooperate in the humid, dirty surroundings. So far,
he’d tried it seven times with no success. Not that she was counting. Lazlo was
breathing deeply though his nose and clenching his teeth together as he tried
to make minute adjustments to the gadgets. Del would have given up on them long
ago. Actually, she hadn’t bothered with the majority of those devices in years
because they didn’t work most of the time. Expensive too.
Stretching her shoulders, Del contemplated how badly things
had gone that morning. They hadn’t found anything. Not a nut or bolt or broken
bit of resin to even indicate that anyone had ever been in the area, let alone
people who had constructed and then abandoned a storage facility.
She’d thought that signs would be obvious if they were near
the cache—an abandoned trail, cuts in the rock, a trash midden of some sort. All
of those things were in abundance at the other abandoned military sites she
knew. But this section was clear of any human residue—just small, eroded cliff
faces, damp creek beds and wet sand. Non-magnetized sand at that.
It was late in the afternoon and she was ready to suggest
they head back to the cart and return to the port. As far as she could
determine, the area was clear and untouched. Perhaps the military had used this
section for field
Del slid through with no trouble and told him to toss his
pack through first, then follow. It was an uncomfortably tight squeeze and the
crumbling rocks scraped against his face and body as he pushed his way through.
Lazlo almost didn’t manage past one inclined boulder, but finally did thanks to
vigorous tugs on his outstretched arms by Del, who grinned at him when he
finally emerged on the other side.
She waited to release his arms until he got his boots under
him, then Del made a few moves to straighten his shirt, which was askew. Her
thin fingers brushed over him with little presses and strokes. Lazlo felt
twitchy, as if more than his clothes had been pulled out of place.
“There, not so bad,” Del reassured him with a final pat on
his shoulder.
“Do we have to go back that way?”
“Only if you want to drive back to port in the cart.” She
quirked an eyebrow at him and he envisioned a six-hour hike up, down and around
the looming rock formation they had just crawled under. That wasn’t what he
wanted to do at all.
“Oh I do want to take the cart back. Remind me not to eat
anything before we have to go back through there.”
Del laughed, big jolts of laughter making her shake, and
Lazlo grinned back. He liked it. She was very pretty when she was laughing. Well,
Del was very pretty all of the time, even when she was rooting around in the
mud. So of course a big laugh and shining eyes would make her even more
attractive.
“Don’t worry about it. I can always set up a winch to pull
you if I have to. Let’s go, big guy.” She abruptly stopped walking and he
almost ran into her. “You did apply your antifungals today, didn’t you?”
Lazlo blanked for a moment, too distracted by her head
nearly under his chin to process her words. But he got back on the
conversational track. “Yes I did. Why?”
Nodding with satisfaction, Del pointed to an oily green film
on the rock walls surrounding them. “We’re going to be walking around green-chancre
spores. If you sniff, you’ll smell them—they’re kind of vinegary. But you will
be fine if you took your meds today. And take them tomorrow.”
Fighting back nausea at the memory of the horrific images of
green-chancre infections he’d seen in the mandatory briefing before arriving on
Sayre, Lazlo swallowed and followed Citizen Browen as she continued down the
canyon, staying well away from the damp walls.
Del crouched next to Lieutenant Casta as he fiddled with the
transmitter. They’d been at the top of a slight plateau for the last ten
minutes as he tried to align the antenna, triangulate distant satellite pickups
and get the electronics to cooperate in the humid, dirty surroundings. So far,
he’d tried it seven times with no success. Not that she was counting. Lazlo was
breathing deeply though his nose and clenching his teeth together as he tried
to make minute adjustments to the gadgets. Del would have given up on them long
ago. Actually, she hadn’t bothered with the majority of those devices in years
because they didn’t work most of the time. Expensive too.
Stretching her shoulders, Del contemplated how badly things
had gone that morning. They hadn’t found anything. Not a nut or bolt or broken
bit of resin to even indicate that anyone had ever been in the area, let alone
people who had constructed and then abandoned a storage facility.
She’d thought that signs would be obvious if they were near
the cache—an abandoned trail, cuts in the rock, a trash midden of some sort. All
of those things were in abundance at the other abandoned military sites she
knew. But this section was clear of any human residue—just small, eroded cliff
faces, damp creek beds and wet sand. Non-magnetized sand at that.
It was late in the afternoon and she was ready to suggest
they head back to the cart and return to the port. As far as she could
determine, the area was clear and untouched. Perhaps the military had used this
section for field
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