Calculus. The Latin word for pebbles. From the ancient tradition of using stones to count comes our word 'calculation.'
Lara stood, sweating in the opressive humidity, and looked at the phone she had just hung up. The orange-clad monk stared placidly at her from behind it. It's easier to think about the meaning of the word than actually do the process, she thought. Especially when the pebbles are people, and some of them people she has grown fond of.
She knew that she was running an enormous and, to the vast majority of the population on the planet, highly unjustified risk. She had half of the triangle. Without it, the Illuminati would not be able to complete the ancient relic and gain control of time. Time, while still not under their control or hers, was firmly on her side. She merely had to smash her half and scatter the pieces; she could then recover her father's clock in her own sweet time.
Her father. That was the weight that, when tossed in the basket, balanced the scales with the rest of the world. Regardless of whether the rest of the world agreed with her, she would have to put it in jeopardy.
To see him, even if it were only one more time.
That was not the extent of the calculus. She couldn't make this trip alone. A trip that would most likely not see any of the travelers back home. She took responsibility for none of ones that Powell or the Illuminati brought. But she would have to take responsibility for the one she brought.
She smiled at the monk and inclined her head. Together, they both walked back to the temple.
Bryce stuffed clothes into a duffel that sat on the cot in his trailer. Hillary sat nearby with his arms crossed. "I don't like it one bit."
"Whot?"
"Just, 'Pack for Venice.' No explanation. No other instructions."
"Yeah, well, it must be somethin' pretty unimportant, then." Bryce slipped a slim laptop into his bag and slung it over his shoulder. He turned to face Hillary, whose brow was still furrowed.
"I repeat, I don't like it one bit. I smell a rodent of substantial proportions."
"Well, I'll let yeh know if anything strange happens."
Hillary snorted. "If this trip is uneventful and safe, it will be a very strange happening for Lara."
Bryce pulled a heavy jacket out from under his cot and shrugged. They walked out to the car; Hillary took the bag from Bryce's shoulder and swung it into the trunk. "Be careful."
The landscape was barren. Black rock thrust up desultorily through the greyish-white snow as far as the eye could see. A cruel wind cut through every seam in Bryce's parka and blew bone-dry snow flurries into his face. He blinked them out of his eyes, shivered, and whacked the laptop one more time. Its blank LCD gazed glassily back at him. He sighed and shut it.
"Welcome to the Dead Zone."
Bryce looked up. Lara stood with her arms folded in an utterly nonchalant pose; unconcerned and, as far as Bryce could discern, unchilled by the cuttingly cold wind that made her long braid dance behind her. He hunched back into his coat and wiped his nose.
"Havin' fun, Lara?"
She looked ahead of the amphibious vehicle, her eyes focused keenly on the crags just visible in the distance. "This isn't fun, Bryce. This is necessary."
"Like me?" Bryce asked, grumbling. Lara did not respond. Bryce waited a half minute and then said, more loudly, "Why am I here?"
She looked back down at him. "Backup."
"Well, I'm only an amateur at this adventurin', I admit, but," he extended the closed and dead laptop towards Lara in one thin hand, "this is what I do, darlin', and I ain't much use wi'out it. So why'd ya bring me?"
Lara sat down next to him and grinned. "Maybe I just wanted your company."
As tall as Lara is, she made a good windblock for someone of Bryce's size, and he felt the lessening of wind with gratitude. "Yeah - hella good conversational companion I am. You like talkin' about me bum?"
"I need someone to watch my back," Lara said, much more seriously. "We have no idea what is in that crater."
"Why didn'cha bring Hillary? He's more for this kinda crap than I am. I don't speak the language, and I'm the slowest draw inna West."
Lara gazed out over the dreary, monochromatic landscape they had crossed. She sat in silence for many minutes.
"Fascinating, isn't it? Even nomadic bands without solid-state technology will not live in the Dead Zone. Powerful taboos are ingrained deep within the local cultures. Something fairly astonishing must have happened to make them so penetrant."
"Er, yeah." Bryce picked at his nails. "I just know I don't like ta be without me laptop."
"Aren't you in the least bit curious about what happened?"
"A thousand some years ago? Neh, I'm too worried about what's goin' to happen an hour from now."
"It might be relevant."
Bryce turned to face Lara. "Are you sayin' you think there might be another apocalyptic event happenin' shortly?"
She sighed and looked down at her hands as they lay clasped in her lap, her lovely face uncharacteristically clouded. "I don't know, Bryce. I only know that something mind-bogglingly devastating happened when the triangle was last used."
"And yer determined to use it again."
She looked back up, her usual steely manner flashing back. "Yes. I have to."
Bryce sighed and looked back where she was gazing, at where they had been. "And that's why you brought me. If you had to lose one of us..."
Lara bit her lip and looked down. For a few minutes longer, the only sound was the crunch of footsteps over powdery snow, the whines and barks of the sled dogs, and the muted clinking of the travelers' last-minute preparations as they hitched the dogs to sleds.
Lara stood, turned, and caught Bryce's cold hand in between her elegant and warm ones. She squeezed.
"I'm glad you're here, Bryce."
She let go of his hand, walked to the ladder, and slipped gracefully down. Bryce shook his head and muttered, "I'm not." Someone chuckled behind him, and he looked over his shoulder to see Pimms standing nearby. He looked every bit as cold and miserable as Bryce; his fine blond hair whipped in the wind, and his sharp red nose made a stark contrast to his pale face.
"She makes you walk into fire fer her, and wants you to be happy to do it," Bryce grumbled. The two of them swung over the side and down to the ground. The dogs were being hitched to the sleds; they barked joyfully and strained at the leads, eager to pull their masters wherever necessary, heedless of any danger to themselves.
For a moment, Bryce empathized with them.
Bryce waited out with the sled dogs and watched the eclipse. He put his back up against a more mellow-natured husky in order to steal some warmth, and started to take the laptop apart. He did not think he would be able to get it working again, but at least it was something to occupy his mind.
Pimms walked over and sat down next to him. Bryce glanced up, and the man gave him a nervous smile. Bryce snorted.
"Yeh don't exactly strike me as yer average bad guy, if you don't mind me sayin'."
"Well," the slender man said in his impeccable high-class accent, "your Lady Croft doesn't exactly strike me as your average good guy."
"Oh..." Bryce held up a board and glanced over it, "she's not. She's in it for greater good, don't get me wrong. But sometimes, she just," he dropped the board back in his lap and looked over at Pimms again, "kinda loses the little people who fit into that greater good, if yeh know what I mean."
Pimms lifted an eyebrow. "And you?"
"Me? I'm in it for the money."
Pimms grinned more sincerely, and hugged his knees to his chest. "Surely you could have more comfortable working conditions for the same money."
"It's Bryce, not Shirley," came the obligatory retort. "And yeah, I would be lyin' if I didn't say there were other reasons for me to stay around."
"And they are?"
"My reasons."
Pimms nodded.
"And yours?" Bryce asked.
"I got into this for the glory. Powell – well, you've met him. The man leads a fascinating and exotic life. So much more thrilling and meaningful than the life of your average barrister. Travel to strange locales, meeting all kinds of foreign dignitaries, reaching out to touch the origins of civilization, the very foundations of life itself..." a faraway look was building up in his eyes.
"And he gets the birds."
Pimms blushed. "Well, yes, that too."
"And is it worth it?"
"You know..." Pimms looked around at the wind-ruffled dogs and stark tundra, "a quiet wood-paneled office is looking better and better. If I survive this, I think my craving for an exotic lifestyle will be sated."
"Good thought." Bryce started to put the computer back together. His normally sensitive fingers were numb and raw from the cold and desiccating wind, and he fumbled and dropped parts. The board was coaxed back into the case with a stream of invective.
Pimms watched this process nervously, and waited for a break in the cursing. "What about you? Have you thought about it?"
Bryce giggled. "Mate, I've been doin' nothin' but think about it, this whole trip."
Pimms waited, but no answer was forthcoming. "And?"
"She has her flaws, but she's a good sort. She means well, even when she gets all hotheaded. And then... well, I have my reasons."
The moon moved completely over the sun. The dogs jumped up and began to howl. The two men stood up and turned towards the ruins - just as blue light started to sputter and flare from the entrance.
They both floundered to their feet, grabbed the weapons they had been left with, and ran inside.
On the flight back to England, Lara and Bryce had rattled the story off to an irate and worried Hillary - Bryce adding his whinging commentary to what he thought was an unnecessarily dry retelling on Lara's part. Once they had arrived back at the manor, Lara had stormed inside and demanded a bath, and had dragged Hillary off to draw it for her.
On the trip back to fetch clean towels, Hillary passed close enough to Bryce's study to be given an earful of all Bryce had been through, and his rather hurt feelings about it all. Hillary took a good five minutes of this before nodding curtly with a plasticine smile and walking back upstairs with the towels.
Bryce sat down in his usual chair and leaned back. It felt so good to be warm again, to wear only a T-shirt and jeans and be utterly comfortable. He sighed. After this trip, there should be no pestering of him to actually do anything productive for at least a day or two. Time enough for one good game. He toed the power switch on the Fun Computer - and kicked the bottom of the table painfully as a crash from the living room made him jump in his seat.
"Whot the hell?" he exclaimed, grabbing his sore foot, as Hillary walked in with a broad grin on his face.
"Would you like to settle your little score with Lady Croft?" Hillary asked, leaning over Bryce's shoulder.
"Whot are you goin' on about?"
Hillary crooked a finger as he moved back towards the living room.
"Get your camera."