Disclaimer: Earth 2 and all related characters belong to the Amblin Entertainment. No copyright infringement intended, and there's definitely no money being made. It would be extremely rude (and unprofitable) to sue me.

Author's Note: Thanks so much to Rebecca, Milady Dragon, Kiss316, TwoTrees, Ann and TesubCalle for your reviews – I really do appreciate the feedback! Took a little longer than I expected to get this posted – I felt that the later chapters required more editing than the first few, and real life keeps me busier than I'd like sometimes. :-)

Chapter 4

That last moment was a steel-sharp moment of fear. Bright clarity. The awareness of having made a fatal error. Not lasting long enough for there to be any regret, just the sudden realization that 'oh, I really shouldn't have done that'.

Half a moment of clumsiness, carelessness.

The falling lasted longer.

It was like the Roanoke – but then, everything reminded him of the Roanoke – that moment when he had stood at the entrance to the escape pod and pulled the release mechanism. He'd never lost a ship, and all the drills had been orderly, choreographed things that did not match the reality of the event. The panicked run through the dying ship. Fear and guilt and rage and a thousand other things he couldn't even put a name to. All of it had clouded his judgment. He'd flung Julia into the last escape pod, waited for her to strap herself in, and then he had pulled the release. He'd had the idea that he would then suddenly leap to an empty seat – Idiot! There were no empty seats! – and strap himself safely in long before they made planetfall.

But the reality was that the moment he pulled that release, the floor dropped from beneath his feet with a violence he had not truly expected. The ship was already being pulled down into the atmosphere, straining against gravity – the tiny escape pod dropped like a stone.

Alonzo didn't remember whether or not he screamed – only that there were screams in the pod. Darkness and terror, and he was thrown violently from his feet. Falling, tumbling helplessly over and over until he couldn't distinguish up from down, and blindly, frantically trying to catch something – anything – to hold onto. At some point, he'd broken his leg, but even to this moment, he couldn't remember exactly when that had happened. The feeling of falling had overwhelmed everything else; at the time, it had loomed far larger in his mind than that solitary burst of white-hot pain that was one bone snapping.

It was like that now – that endless, sickening feeling of falling – only this time he knew he wouldn't survive the impact.

Danziger grimaced up at the evening sky as he drove slowly back to camp. Aside from the alarming scorch marks running along the frame, the DuneRail appeared to have been only lightly damaged – even so, it was slow going as the spare tire wobbled uncertainly on the damaged bearings. He'd have to see if there was some way to stabilize it, have it ready for morning. Not like he didn't have enough to do already...

Walman buzzed a short distance ahead of him on the ATV, and had already pulled into camp where a small knot of onlookers was waiting for them. By the time Danziger eased the DuneRail to a halt, Walman was already helping Cameron and Mazatl to set up the perimeter alarms. There would be no further searches this evening – the light was fading too quickly. The craggy peaks lining the canyon walls drastically shortened the length of the day: as soon as the sun passed midday and began to drop through the sky, the shadows lengthened and flooded over them, casting the valley into a gloomy twilight. Sunsets did not happen down here – the day just passed abruptly into night.

"You didn't find them?" Magus said in tense surprise, the words hovering somewhere between a question and a statement.

Danziger bit back the short-tempered response that was on the tip of his tongue. "Found the Rail – didn't find them," he commented shortly, stating the obvious. Sparing a quick glance around camp, he asked, "Where's Julia and Bess?"

"Med tent," Magus replied. "Yale's with them."

"I'd better go break the news to them first," he said to Walman. "I'll be back as soon as I can."

He really wasn't looking forward to this, he realized, making his way toward the med tent. As soon as Danziger stepped inside, three anxious faces turned toward him in unison. "We didn't find them," he said gruffly, quickly crushing the expectant mixture of hope and fear in Bess' face before it could grow any stronger. Although Julia's expression was more rigidly controlled, he knew she must be feeling the same things. "They must have abandoned the Rail," he continued. "It looks like it was hit with something – a weapon, maybe – something with considerable energy output, anyway."

"So then we are dealing with a Zed, or penal colonists?" Yale asked.

"I don't think so." Danziger hesitated. "There was no sign of anyone else out there. We checked out the area you'd identified as the last confirmed point of contact with them. Though the ATV's scanners are pretty low range, we were able to find this." Extending his arm, he dropped a small handful of black debris into Yale's hand. "There was nothing else there."

"What is it?" Julia asked.

"The ciphering unit from a gear set," Yale murmured, a frown on his face as he inspected them, "and part of the transmitter. This would explain why they haven't been able to contact us."

Julia stepped forward, trying to get a closer look at the fragments, and Yale handed them to her. Bess also leapt to her feet, staring at the small pieces in Julia's hand. "That's all that's left? But—"

"It's just all that we found," Danziger interjected quickly. "Maybe they've still got the rest of it with them. If they do, though, it isn't putting out any signal – we can't pick it up at all." He saw the frown on Julia's face as she examined the broken pieces; alarmed, she turned toward him. He tried to stop her with a tiny shake of his head, but the words were out of her mouth before she caught his movement.

"There are traces of blood on this."

It was a mistake. Bess was uneasy enough as it was – her alarm increased tenfold at those words. Danziger had hoped they could pursue that detail in private, without causing any further tension, but as it was too late now, he simply prompted, "Can you tell us who or what it belongs to?"

Julia blinked, then nodded hurriedly, seeming to regain some of her composure as she moved to retrieve her diaglove. "Of course. Yes. I'm sorry."

"Blood?" Bess exclaimed. "You found blood?"

"Not much," he insisted, aware that the fact was likely of small comfort.

"Was there anything else?" Yale pressed. "Did you find anything unusual, anything at all?"

Danziger shook his head wearily. "We could tell they'd been there, but we didn't find anything else. And Walman and I crawled back and forth over the area about twenty times. As for unusual, I don't know... There's nothing remarkable there – only a lot of stone and rock all around, just like here." Danziger paused. "But a bit further north, where the canyons start to open up – that looks like it's the source of the river. My guess is that's where they were headed."

"You didn't go any further?" Yale prompted.

He hesitated for another brief moment. "Actually, Walman and I were poking around there, but..." His eyes flicked toward Julia then back to Yale. "It didn't seem like a very good idea to keep going. At least, not without some backup. It was already getting dark, and—" He took a deep breath. "—there seemed to be an awful lot of those flying Terrians up there."

Julia flinched, a sick look on her face, and Danziger knew she was thinking the same thing he was.

Apparently, so was Bess. "Oh my god. Oh my god, Morgan was right, he was right about those things, and I let him go out there with Alonzo, and now he's missing—" The colour drained from her face, and she swayed unsteadily on her feet. Yale quickly caught her arm, steadying her.

"We have no reason to believe that anything harmful has happened to either of them," Yale said reassuringly. "For whatever reason Morgan and Alonzo chose to leave the DuneRail, they were both well when Julia last spoke to them, and that was—"

"With Alonzo," Bess interrupted, her voice stricken. "She spoke to Alonzo, not Morgan."

Julia's face seemed to grow several degrees paler. "It's true," she said in response to both Danziger and Yale's questioning glances. "Alonzo said that they hadn't found anything, that they were coming back to the camp. He seemed distracted, so I asked if anything was wrong. He told me that he'd explain when they got back."

Yale's brow furrowed with concern. "When was the last time you had contact with both Morgan and Alonzo?"

"I..." The doctor was very still. "I never spoke to both of them at the same time. They only had the one gear set with them – Alonzo didn't bring his. I just checked in with whoever answered the gear. But the last time I spoke to Morgan was... sometime in the morning."

Oh, damn. Danziger really hadn't wanted to hear that. Things were just going from bad to worse. He took a deep breath, "We still don't know what happened or even if—"

"I'll tell you what happened," Bess said, almost wild-eyed with grief. "Morgan was right, he was telling the truth, and none of us believed him – even I didn't believe him – and now Alonzo's gone and... and killed him or something."

"Now just hold on," Danziger interjected hotly, and Yale exclaimed, "Bess! Surely you don't believe that!"

"Don't I?" and she speared a cold gaze toward Julia, who was standing motionless in the corner, her gloved arm still hovering over the gear fragments she held in her other hand.

The diaglove chose that moment to complete its scan and beeped unobtrusively, but the sound was unnaturally loud in the hushed tent. Julia lifted her arm to read the results, her expression tightening. "It matches Alonzo's blood type."

That bit of news seemed to startle even Bess. She faltered somewhat, puzzled, as if trying to determine how that piece of information fit. "No. Morgan wouldn't," she began, then stopped. "I mean..."

"At this point," Yale interceded firmly, "there is nothing to be gained from speculation. There are still too many unknowns involved – but I remind all of you that we have no cause to fear the worst. Neither Morgan nor Alonzo has been found; in all likelihood, they are still together. They may need our assistance, but I am certain they will both look after each other. For our part, we'll serve them best by finding as much information as possible to try to locate them, without leaping to conclusions."

"Yale's right," Danziger said. "We'll split into shifts, get as much of the camp packed up overnight as we can, and then we'll head out first thing in the morning." It wasn't much to offer, but it was all he had.

"Morning," Bess gasped in shocked dismay. "We can't just sit here and wait until morning – they're out there now, they may need us now—"

Maybe, but he had to balance the likelihood of needing to find them as soon as possible, versus the damage that could be caused by rushing in too quickly, too early – and either way, Danziger didn't have enough information to make an informed decision. Just a best guess. Guessing, when people's lives might be hanging in the balance. Not the way he liked to do things. Not the way he would have done things... except that Devon had left him in charge, and all the difficult decisions she used to have to make were now his. And the cold hard facts were that Morgan and Alonzo were only two members of the group – he couldn't risk the entire group by running off to mount a rescue when night was falling, especially when they still didn't even know where, who, or what they were dealing with.

"There's nothing more we can do tonight," he said resolutely, even though the words caught in his own throat. "I'm not any happier about it than you are, Bess."

Though Yale added his agreement, Bess only stared at Danziger with wide anguished eyes, then abruptly turned and rushed out of the tent. "I'll go make sure that she's all right," Yale murmured, following after her. "And that she doesn't do anything foolish."

Foolish. Like running out into the night, chasing after Morgan? And hadn't Morgan done that for Bess, not so long ago? The thing was, he understood her reaction. In her position, he'd have felt the same way. Hell, in her position – if it were True out there, or... or Devon – he knew he would do something foolish. But it was one thing to break the rules – and it was an entirely different thing to be responsible for them.

Danziger tried not to feel the taut sense of helplessness that was constricting his chest.

He turned his gaze over towards Julia, who had remained stoic and silent, and was now poring over her medical equipment with an air of detached concern that didn't fool him at all. "I'm sorry, Julia," he offered quietly.

"You haven't done anything that needs apologizing," she replied, the even tone of her voice belying her concern. "I understand. You made the right decision." Only a tiny hitch in her voice.

"Yeah, maybe," he sighed, "but I still don't like it." Briefly, he reflected that Devon had always been better at this kind of thing than he was; he tried to think of what she would say, what she would do. But the only thing he felt sure of was that she would have managed things better, wouldn't have let it happen this way.

Danziger ducked his head to step out of the tent. "I'd better go tell the others what's happened."

True Danziger was supposed to be asleep in bed. Instead, she was crouched next to the door of her tent, peering furtively through the flap to watch what was happening. There was a lot of activity outside. Usually, the camp grew very quiet in the evening, but tonight, the murmur of voices went on and on.

A short while ago, she'd heard her father and Yale addressing the group. They'd found the DuneRail, but Alonzo and Morgan were both still missing; tomorrow morning, they'd be moving the camp and breaking into search parties.

And then Yale and her dad had both gone back to the medical tent. The group of people outside had started to disperse, then slowly wandered back together again. Though it was dark enough that True couldn't see their faces, she recognized the voices, though she couldn't remember having heard them speak with such an edge before. The tight cluster of people conversed in low tones, but were not so quiet that True couldn't hear the discussion from where she listened.

"They both disappeared near those flying creatures. That can't be a coincidence. Or the fact that Morgan and Alonzo both told radically different versions of what happened the first time."

"I heard Bess... she thinks that Alonzo might have done something to Morgan. And then he went off with the Terrians. Sounds crazy, I know, but it almost fits..."

"But I heard that it was Morgan's idea to go out there."

"Yeah, and you remember how upset he was that day, after those winged Terrians grabbed them – he practically threatened Solace. Who's to say it wasn't the other way around, that Martin decided there was something wrong with Solace and just offed him?"

"I heard that Alonzo's blood was on the gear set..."

"So what? Maybe he's just trying to cover his tracks. Maybe all that 'talking to Terrians' stuff just finally drove him nuts."

"What, you actually think Morgan was right all along?"

"Maybe it's neither of them. Maybe there are some penal colonists out there, and they got them."

"Oh come on. If it were penal colonists, they wouldn't have left the weapon or the vehicle behind. That would have been the first thing they took."

"I'm telling you, there weren't any footprints leading away—"

"That doesn't mean anything. The wind could have cleared them—"

"You think it's a coincidence that Uly got sick today? Maybe the Terrians are involved after all."

"The Terrians are always involved."

"Which ones? Now we've got two kinds of Terrians running around out there. As if one set of them wasn't bad enough."

"This is crazy. I can't believe we aren't taking some action. The longer we wait—"

"What do you want to do?"

"I don't know. But anything would be better than sitting here, doing nothing—"

"I agree." Her father's voice rang out in that hard tone of voice that left no doubt that he was angry. "So why's everyone standing around, doing just that? Magus, aren't you supposed to be on watch with Baines? As for the rest of you – if you've got nothing better to do, I've got a DuneRail that needs to be patched up by tomorrow morning. The camp needs to be ready to move out, and we'll need to have search teams organized and equipped. You want to do that in the middle of the night, it's a hell of a lot more useful than everyone just standing around and getting upset."

At the first sound of her father's voice, True had quickly retreated to her cot and lay down, rearranging her blanket around her. She heard the subdued, almost embarrassed murmuring of the people outside as they began to disperse, and a moment or two later, the tent door rattled open and her father stepped inside.

He was trying to be quiet, but she could tell he was still mad. Not quite muttering under his breath, but almost, a tiny whisper of annoyance coming from him. He was so tense now, she knew he wasn't going to be able to get to sleep, and she lifted her head to peek over at him as he sat down on his cot, grabbing angrily at his hair as if he were going to start pulling it out.

He must have caught the movement, for he abruptly lifted his head to look toward her. "True-girl? You still awake?"

"Yes," she said, for there was no use denying it. And then added, truthfully, "I was worried about Uly."

"Yeah," he sighed, getting up and coming over to kneel down beside her, "I know. Julia just told me about that. Don't worry – he should be fine in a day or two."

"Was it... was it something I did? He said I shouldn't have thrown the sand at him..."

"Well, you really shouldn't have, True. It's not nice. And besides, I thought the two of you were getting along now."

"We are," she protested. "Most of the time. When he isn't being annoying."

"Uh-huh. And you're completely innocent."

True couldn't think of a plausible answer to that question. "Um..."

"If he's being annoying, True, maybe it's because he's probably missing his mom, don't you think? It's been hard on him. So I need you to try to be a little more understanding," he said firmly. Then seemed to gentle a bit. "But what happened to Uly today wasn't your fault. Julia thinks it's because of his connection with the Terrians, that he's more sensitive to the pollution in the dust and the sand around here. Once we're out of here," and he paused a moment in thick frustration, "once we can leave, he'll be back to normal."

"But we can't go, can we?" she prompted. "Not without Morgan and Alonzo."

"Oh," he said. "So you heard all of that, did you?"

"Well... it was kind of hard not to," she admitted. "You really didn't find out where they went?"

"No, True, we didn't. Not today. But tomorrow we will."

"How do you know?"

He brushed his hand gently across the side of her face. "I just do."

"What do you think happened to them?"

"I don't know, True. I wish I did."

She considered that for a long moment, then ventured to ask, "If you don't find them right away – if they don't come back tomorrow, will Uly stay sick? What if he gets worse? When will we have to go?"

He dropped his head, and she could almost feel him holding back the sigh in his throat. "I don't know the answer to that yet," he said, but from the tone of his voice she knew he'd been thinking about it, maybe hadn't stopped thinking about it. "But don't worry – I won't let anything bad happen to Uly," he reassured her. "Or you. I promised his mother that you and I would look after him."

"Yeah." Again, True felt a pang of guilt at Uly's sickness. But how could somebody really be allergic to the sand? That was like being allergic to the world, and that was just silly. Then again, wasn't that a little bit what the Syndrome disease was like? She hoped Julia was right, that Uly would get better, but still couldn't help worrying about it.

And, from the distracted frown creasing her father's face, True could tell that he hadn't stopped worrying either.

"Don't worry, Dad. I'm sure it will all work out. Like you said, you'll find Alonzo and Morgan tomorrow, and then we can go, and Uly will get better."

He smiled at her. "That's the plan."

"Well, then," she reasoned, "you're probably going to have to get up early tomorrow. You'd better try to get to sleep."

"You're right, True-girl; that's just what I was thinking, too. I've got just a few things to do first," he said, and she knew that he wouldn't sleep at all but would probably work all night. "But that's good advice." He kissed her cheek. "So no more worrying. That goes for both of us. Go to sleep, and I'll see you in the morning."

Morgan couldn't have heard what he thought he'd heard – it was impossible. He must be dreaming. With a faint whimper, Morgan forced his eyes shut, fervently wishing that it could be all just a dream, a horrendous nightmare, and that at any minute now, Bess would be shaking him awake. At the moment, he was certain he'd have given almost anything to be able to believe that.

But if he'd been able to get things just by wishing for them, he and Bess would have been safe at home on the stations a long, long time ago.

"Wha..." His voice croaked uncertainly; Morgan closed his mouth, tried again. "What did you say? H-how do you know who I am?"

"Martin, Morgan," the expressionless voice responded. "You did state your name. I don't know whether to be impressed or dismayed that you knew the codes to disarm this unit."

Morgan craned his head around, trying to find the speaker, able to see only the bulky mechanical form of the data collector – the rest of the plateau was barren, and even the winged creatures seemed to have quit the darkling sky.

"You... you can't talk," he insisted, staring at the robot. "Not like that."

The data collector unit had not even the slightest semblance of a human form – its unaesthetic exterior housed all the equipment necessary for it to complete its tasks with no effort made to disguise that fact. It looked like nothing so much as a collection of spare parts somehow fastened together. This model appeared to be made up mostly of communication equipment and the engines – now shattered – that had brought it here.

The sole concession to its human creators was the voice interface that allowed it to accept spoken commands. But no data collector would ever have a personality loaded, no matter how minimal – it would be an extravagant waste of programming space for a piece of machinery that was going to be flung permanently out into the far reaches of space. And its vocabulary was limited to those required for giving and receiving instructions.

A staccato burst of sound from the robot, which Morgan eventually realized was the closest approximation of laughter that the unit could make. "Quite obviously," the robot spoke again, "things are not what they seem to be, Mr. Martin. They never are on G889. I'd have thought you'd have learned that lesson by now."

"You... you're transmitting through the machine," Morgan realized, remembering that the robot had announced an uplink being initiated. "Who are you? Where are—" The transmission had to be originating from somewhere on the planet. But who would have access to the communications equipment necessary to make an uplink? There was no one here but Eden Advance, a handful of ragged penal colonists, and... and...

"Reilly," he realized, his mind racing. Julia's supposed contact with the Council. Reilly, who was also Eve. A computer-generated persona that had access to every technological advantage available.

It made sense. If it were Reilly – or Eve, or whatever it was that Bennett's pet computer system was calling itself now – it was likely that it would have been monitoring all planetary transmissions it could pick up, including data collector. And when Morgan had disengaged the probe protocols, he must have inadvertently triggered some sort of alarm, made Reilly aware of their presence.

"Very good," the voice remarked. "Apparently you're not entirely the village idiot I've come to take you for."

Morgan blinked with surprise, absently wondering if the situation could possibly get any more surreal.

"So tell me, Mr. Martin, just what are you doing up there, so far away from the rest of your little caravan? This is not the way to New Pacifica."

"We... we..." Morgan couldn't think of a plausible lie, blurted out, "You're killing the winged Terrians."

"That is not the primary function of this unit, but as most other systems are damaged, it does appear to have fixated on that relatively minor objective," Reilly commented. "Nevertheless, I fail to see how that concerns you. You don't strike me as the type to worry too much about the extermination of an alien breed of birds."

"I don't – I mean, it wasn't me. Alonzo—"

"Ah. The pilot. Of course. Gone native, has he?"

He shouldn't be talking to Reilly. Shouldn't be telling him anything. That damn computer had been spying on them from the start – it knew too much already, and who knew what it would do with even more information. "Um, yeah, he's gone all right," he mumbled anxiously, a sick churning in the pit of his stomach as he glanced at the edge of the cliff where the other man had disappeared. Surely those bird-things would have saved him? But if they had, what had they done with him? Why hadn't he come back to help? Maybe he'd splattered his skull open on the side of the cliff before the winged Terrians reached him, and he was already dead.

Morgan didn't want to think about it, but the grim image was too close to one of his own less-pleasant memories, and he couldn't quite seem to get it out of his mind. He craned his neck around, looking in all directions for signs of rescue. Of course, there were none, and the only thing that caught his attention was the sun dipping steadily down in the west. Daylight was fading at an alarming rate, and he shuddered at the thought of being trapped up here in the darkness. He seized at the cable wrapped around his leg, vainly trying to unwind it enough to pull his leg free. When it became apparent that wasn't going to work, Morgan realized the manual keypad was within reach. Just barely within reach, but still... Maybe there was a manual release? Straining towards it, Morgan surreptitiously prodded a few buttons on the keypad.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Mr. Martin. If you hit the wrong combination of codes, you might end up watching your own vivisection."

"Vivi... vivisection?" The mere mention of the word conjured up horrible images that paraded insistently through Morgan's already paranoid thoughts. The clunking and whirring sounds from within the data collector suddenly seemed very ominous indeed. He cringed in upon himself, arms wrapped protectively about his middle.

"These old-model machines do lack finesse," Reilly's voice continued. "However, while it is a comparatively crude way of obtaining information, one cannot argue with results."

"What do you want?" The words came out as a terrified squeak, and not as the bold demand he'd been trying for.

"The same thing as you, Mr. Martin," was the prompt reply. "Order. Stability. Control. Qualities which are severely lacking on this planet. My purpose is to correct that."

"H-how do you think you're going to do that? And—" Morgan's voice quavered. "And what are you going to do to me?"

"At present, you serve no useful purpose here on G889, either for the colonists or for the council. So you tell me, Mr. Martin: what should I do with you?"

This was the point, Morgan suspected, where he was supposed to eagerly offer to be Reilly's new contact. Take up the Council cause in Julia's place. And Reilly would accept, would let Morgan go free, which would all lead to a happy reunion back at the camp, and no one need ever know any different. And if that was all it took to be able to see Bess again, it would be worth it, wouldn't it? Wouldn't it?

Morgan's silence continued a little too long. "What possible reason can you give me," Reilly prodded, and the cable around Morgan's leg began to tighten threateningly, "that will persuade me that I shouldn't just wrap one of these cables round your neck and end your insignificant little life?"

"Because that really hurts!" Morgan squeaked, trying ineffectually to loosen the cable.

"Not a particularly compelling argument."

"Look," he gasped, "I don't know anything. Really, I don't. I never planned to stay on this miserable planet – I'm just here completely by accident, and the others don't trust me anyway. I don't know any of their secrets. I don't know if they even have any secrets. I couldn't help you, even if I wanted to—"

"Which you don't," Reilly finished for him. "Isn't that interesting? Do you even realize what's happening, Mr. Martin? Young Ulysses Adair wasn't the only one changed by this planet. It's happening to all of you. The doctor, the pilot... and now, apparently, even you."

"You don't know me," Morgan blurted, aware of the absurdity of arguing with a machine, yet not quite able to restrain himself.

"I accessed a great deal of the Roanoke's files before the ship went down – and you would be surprised at the amount of information that Devon Adair had compiled there. I know you better than you think." There was a subtle menace to that statement. "You're an ambitious, insignificant, self-aggrandizing, petty little bureaucrat with dreams of relevance."

It wasn't the first time Morgan had been told that. Somehow, though, the judgment stung a little more coming from a machine than it did from Danziger.

"But, more to the point, you aren't the first group of colonists who have come here, Mr. Martin. You are like all the others who have come before. This planet changes you. By now, you must see it. And the longer you stay here, the harder it will be for you to leave. The next thing you know, you'll be trading with Grendlers and babbling with Terrians. Is that what you want?"

"No," he agreed readily. "Definitely not." There'd been just a few too many unpleasant incidents for Morgan to be particularly fond of Grendlers. And talking to the Terrians seemed to be injurious to one's health – Alonzo had quite effectively proved that point. But Reilly was Council hardware – and Morgan definitely didn't trust the Council, didn't want anything to do with it.

"Then you need to ask yourself, Mr. Martin, just exactly what you do want."

"Okay, okay. Just let me think. Think." Don't panic, he urged himself silently. Think of a way out... There's always a way out. "Um..." Old model. What did he know about those things that could possibly be of any use?

Reilly conveniently misinterpreted his mutterings. "What is there to think about? From where I'm sitting, you don't appear to have a lot of options, Mr. Martin."

Something in his words caught Morgan's attention. 'From where I'm sitting...' It was just a figure of speech – one of many that the computer system had adopted in order to pass the Reilly persona off as human. In reality, Reilly/Eve was orbiting above the planet, controlling the data collector through its communication system. But Morgan was physically within reach of at least one piece of hardware. Reilly might be state-of-the-art, but this old clunker wasn't – there was a brief but discernable lag evident in Reilly's replies to him.

Oh, that's helpful. So I've got a three-second window... to do what! To disable the stupid thing. Just long enough to get away. I can't do that. I need someone like Danziger to do that. No you don't – you just need a big club. Don't have any. Or a big rock.

Morgan glanced askance at the glassy pebbles all around. A handful of pretty gravel wasn't going to do any good.

"Well?" Reilly prompted, sounding decidedly impatient for a machine. "Have you decided?"

"Um..." Morgan couldn't think of any other options – and really, what did he have to lose? It wasn't like anyone else was coming to save him here. Lifting his free leg, he slammed the booted heel of his foot squarely into an exposed cluster of equipment that vaguely resembled a communications transmitter. Or a processor. Or something. Reilly's conversation came to an abrupt halt, changed to a shrill 'squarrrk' noise. A red light surged on the diagnostic screen. More than half-panicked, Morgan kicked again and again, certain the machine would now incinerate him if it were given half the chance.

"Security –zzt!– compromised," the dull monotone announced in a broken stutter, as if it had lost the signal and momentarily shifted back to its original settings, and the cable around Morgan's leg briefly loosened as power was diverted. "L-loading – O-o-override—"

Morgan didn't wait, but seized at the cable with both hands and wrenched his leg free, ignoring the pain that caused. He couldn't quite feel his one foot any more, but used all his other available limbs to scramble away as quickly as possible.

"Uplink completed." Reilly had regained control of the robot. A searing burst of laser fire swung round toward Morgan, coming close enough to singe his hair. Morgan yelped, barely evading the attack as he flung himself bodily over the crest of the hill, the loose stone beneath him sending him sliding half-way down the slope on the other side.

The sun was now setting, and the dull-dark gloom of the sky felt like despair to Morgan. Already the night air was bringing a cold wind with it, and the gathering shadows would make the uneven rocky ground even more treacherous; Morgan imagined that if he wandered too far, he might fall off the edge of this cliff in the night.

His stomach twisted at the thought.

But he wasn't going to stay here either, not when he was still so close to that machine. He sat up, carefully, an adrenaline-charged quiver still rattling through him, and the muscles in his leg throbbed fiercely.

The data collector's robotic voice sounded again, floating clearly through the still night air as if Reilly were standing right behind him. "Congratulations, Mr. Martin. I wouldn't have expected such a bold gamble from you. But you should know, I have now changed all the access codes on this unit, and defense protocols are currently set at maximum. You aren't going to be able to get close enough to do any further damage, and I would advise you do not attempt it."

Wild grendlers would not drag him back there. No way, no how. Morgan tried to say so, but was still wheezing from the narrowness of his escape.

"My advice to Dr. Heller is worth repeating," Reilly continued, apparently not done threatening him. "If you are not working with me, you will die running. So start running, Morgan."

Though there was nothing Morgan hated more than being told what to do, under the circumstances, it sounded like good advice, except for the fact that his injured leg probably wasn't up to the task. Impulsively, Morgan seized a handful of stones, throwing them blindly back over the crest of the hill. At least one of them made a satisfying clank as it bounced off metal. "Goodbye and good riddance, you... you...!" He couldn't think of any appropriate word that was bad enough. "I hope you rust!" he shouted in a fit of rage.

He couldn't tell if the ensuing clacking noise was the whir of some maintenance system coming online, or whether it was Reilly laughing at him.

Morgan didn't particularly care. The important thing was that he was away – he'd got away from that awful machine. Now he focused himself on the task of hobbling even further away, trying very hard not to remember that there was really nowhere for him to go.

"Danziger. Mr. Danziger." It was a small hand on his knee, shaking insistently, and he jolted upright with alarm, almost hitting his head on the undercarriage of the DuneRail before the words registered in his mind.

"Wha—! ...Uly." He wriggled out from underneath the vehicle. "Uly, what is it? What are you doing here?" The boy stood in front of him, his eyes still glazed and heavy with sleep. Danziger realized that the boy was sleepwalking. "Hey, you okay? You shouldn't be up. And you really shouldn't be out here. Come on, let's get you back to bed," he said gently, picking up the boy.

"I have to tell you," Uly mumbled drowsily against his shoulder.

"Tell me what, Uly?" Danziger asked, but Uly only yawned.

Fortunately, Uly had been walking with his blanket clutched around him. That, and the bandages already about his hands would probably protect him from the elements for at least a few moments. Still, best to get him back indoors as quickly as possible.

Other than the perimeter lamps, the only light in the camp came from Julia's tent, which was not entirely a surprise. Despite the late hour, he knew that she would still be hard at work. Danziger glanced in her direction, but Uly's tent was closer.

"We're supposed to be there, too," Uly murmured, his eyes starting to droop shut. "All of us."

"Where? New Pacifica? I haven't forgotten. We'll get there soon, Uly," he soothed, ducking into the tent Uly was sharing with Yale. Obviously he was noisier than Uly had been when he exited the tent, for the tutor immediately wakened. "But right now you need to go back to sleep."

"What happened?" Yale asked, hastily rising from his cot.

"I was working on the DuneRail, and he just walked up and started talking to me," Danziger said quietly, setting Uly back on his bed and pulling the blanket back over him. "Sleepwalking. True used to do it when she was younger, whenever she was anxious about something."

"He should not have wakened," Yale said with concern. "Julia gave him a sedative."

Uly sighed, curling up comfortably beneath his blankets, his eyes closed. Yet he continued to murmur. "They weren't supposed to take them, but they wouldn't wait any more. We were all supposed to go. The Terrians said. Alonzo would have led us there; we were supposed to help."

Danziger stopped, shared a surprised glance with Yale. "What? Uly, what did you say?"

"Now it's all wrong." His voice was very low. "And the wings won't listen, won't wait any more, won't let them go. They are needy, but not to be trusted; they are different from us, willful and relentless, dangerous in need. We cannot vouch for wing and wind..." Uly's murmuring drifted into silence.

The wings...? "Uly, I need to know more. I need you to explain. What did the Terrians say? Uly?" And because the words weren't getting his attention, he reached out and took Uly by the shoulder.

Uly's eyelids flickered, opened, and he stared up at Danziger and Yale. This time, his expression was lucid. "Is... is it time to get up?" he asked, confused. "Why are you looking at me?"

"You had a dream," Yale responded gently. "You were just telling us about it. Don't you remember?" Uly's brow creased, and then he shook his head. "It's very important that you try to remember, Uly. Think hard. Can you remember anything? Anything at all?"

"I think it was... maybe... was it about... kobas?"

"No, Uly. You were dreaming about the Terrians."

"Was I? ...I don't remember that."

A bitter disappointment cut through him, but Danziger tried not to let it show on his face. Forcing a smile, he patted Uly's shoulder. "Never mind. Go back to sleep, Uly. We'll talk about it tomorrow morning, okay?"

"Okay," the boy yawned, still frowning in puzzlement, but then he rolled over onto his side and was asleep in a moment.

"What do you think that meant?" Yale asked speculatively.

"I'm thinking that – as usual – those damn Terrians know a hell of a lot more about what's going on than we do," Danziger growled, "and we don't have any way of asking them. I'm also guessing that Uly's dream was them trying to tell us that something's gone wrong." Of course, he'd pretty much figured that out himself, when Morgan and Alonzo had suddenly vanished.

"Wing and wind," the tutor repeated pensively. "Presumably a reference to the flying Terrians?"

"That'd be my bet," Danziger agreed, even more certain of that now. "Keep an eye on Uly, in case he says something else. I'm going to go talk to Julia."

Julia peered at the data on her medical scopes with a stunned disbelief. She processed the information again, only to receive the same results. "Damn it," she hissed between clenched teeth. "How could you have missed this!"

"Problems?"

She whirled at the sound of Danziger's voice – in her absorption, she hadn't heard him come in. "I – Danziger, what are you doing here so late? It's the middle of the night."

"I noticed," he replied with a poorly-stifled yawn, then pointed out, "You're still up."

"Is something wrong?"

"Uly woke up, came to tell me something, but he wasn't making sense, seemed half-asleep," he explained. "I thought he was sleepwalking, but then he said something about Alonzo. I think it was the Terrians, trying to communicate with us."

"The Terrians? What did he say?"

"That we should have been with them, that things have gone wrong. Vague comments that mostly sum up what we already know. I don't know why they can't just send a coherent message, just once," he growled, and then seemed to focus his attention back upon her. "That's what I came to tell you, anyway. But it looks like you might have news of your own." He gestured toward her diaglove, her open journals. "Did you figure something out?"

"I think so." She bit her lip, anxiously. "The other day, I took additional medical samples, ran a full diagnostic scan on Alonzo. He was having bad dreams; I was worried. Ever since he and Morgan came back – I really did think Morgan was wrong, but the last while, there's just been something... something unsettled about Alonzo, even if I couldn't quite put my finger on what it was. So I ran a few more tests, just to be sure. But then we were travelling, and I didn't have a chance to go over the results thoroughly—"

"And now you've found something," he guessed. "Something not good."

"When I couldn't find anything wrong, I started cross-referencing all my data. Looking for anything. That's when I detected this." She keyed the diagnostic display on her glove, turned it towards Danziger so he could see. "This is a sample of brain activity taken when Alonzo was sleeping." She pointed to a fluctuating line on the display, explaining, "The sleep cycle is readily apparent, simply due to the level of subconscious brain activity. That's normal. Now," she punched a few keys, pulling up another set of data, "here's a sample taken when he's awake." At Danziger's blank expression, Julia pointed out, "During the waking cycle, those subconscious levels remain elevated. That's not right – that shouldn't happen."

"Which means?"

"The only instances in which I've previously seen such consistently elevated levels of subconscious activity have been related to personality overtyping—"

"You mean brainwashing."

"Yes," Julia conceded uneasily. After a moment's hesitation, she shook her head, backtracking quickly, "But it's not really the same. There's more to it than that. I haven't seen anything quite like this before. I suppose it could be possible that it is merely a natural side-effect of Terrian dreaming."

Danziger's expression was skeptical, but he only said, "You said he'd been having bad dreams?"

Her throat went dry, her mind spinning furiously ahead, even as she continued to examine the data on her diaglove. "Yes... but I don't– I didn't believe they were Terrian dreams."

"Why not?"

"Because they were too emotional, too intense. And when he woke, he wouldn't remember them, and wouldn't want to talk about it. It all seemed to indicate his dreams were of a psychological origin – he cried out for the children, his children – I thought it was something from his past, some memory he was repressing, possibly triggered by what had happened to Morgan and him—" She broke off, her jaw tightening. "I shouldn't have made that assumption. I shouldn't have missed this—"

"It's not your fault," Danziger interrupted. "He seemed fine. If anything, Morgan was the one who was acting like he was losing it."

"Yes, but I'm a scientist. I'm not supposed to be swayed by... by the fact that Morgan is irritating—"

"Yeah, well, Morgan does have it down to a science. Anyway, there's no point in wasting time arguing about whose fault it is right now. We need to figure out what's going on, and what we're going to do about it. So tell me whatever you can: What are we up against? How do the Terrians or those winged creatures fit into all of this? What can we expect?"

Julia eyed the data wearily. She didn't have enough information to come up with any certain answers to his questions, hadn't found any way of deciphering what that subliminal indicator might mean. Only that it was there, and that it didn't belong. "I can't answer any of that," she replied, her exasperation flaring more overtly than she'd intended, "there are still too many unknowns. All I've got is this," she waved her hand at the data displayed on the monitors in front of her, "and it's not nearly enough. I feel like I'm constantly running two steps behind the latest crisis—"

And she very much feared that anything she did discover was going to come too late to do any good.

"Maybe you should get some rest," Danziger suggested cautiously. "We've got at least a few hours until morning, and—"

"No. I'll be fine. I didn't mean to snap at you – it's just been... very frustrating." Taking a breath, she reined in her emotions, pulled her thoughts together. "At this point, I think we can safely assume that there is some link between the Terrians and the winged Terrians. I also don't think it was random chance that the winged Terrians first approached Alonzo – he already has a connection to the Terrian dreamplane. Morgan's version of events was likely the accurate one. I'd say that what we're seeing here," she gestured to her data, "and what's happening now, it all started at that point."

Both of them paused and turned at the sound of footsteps running just outside the tent. A moment later, Magus burst through the door. She'd been on perimeter guard with Baines, was still holding her weapon. "Julia, do you know where—? Oh! Danziger. Baines sent me to get you – there was some kind of transmission."

"Transmission?"

"I don't know exactly," she replied, "but he said to get you right away—"

Without further hesitation, Danziger darted out of the tent, following after Magus. Pausing only long enough to save her data, Julia seized a jacket and hurried after them. By the time she arrived, Danziger was already in discussion with the two of them.

"—and all I'm saying is that it was peculiar, okay?" Baines was telling them. "The indicator light flickered – you know, as if someone had just initiated a call, then cancelled it or something. I thought it was Magus, but then when I activated my gear, there was a weird... I don't know what exactly – a technical readout or something. It just blipped there for a second and then the connection cut out."

"Same thing happened to me," Magus chimed in. "So I contacted him to make sure everything was okay."

"At first we thought maybe it was just a glitch in the comm system," Baines continued, "but I kept checking and couldn't find anything wrong. So I started searching other comm channels, and all of a sudden the gear set just starts receiving this gibberish. Not static, but a... a noise."

Julia hadn't realized Yale was there, but he spoke up from behind her, asking, "What kind of noise?"

"Loud. Not voices. It sounded almost like it might have been some kind of encrypted transmission. I can't be sure. I wasn't expecting it, didn't get a chance to really listen to it."

"May I examine your gear set?"

"Go ahead," Baines replied, handing it over to the cyborg as if eager to be rid of it. "But I don't know if it'll do you any good. I think it got fried when I tapped into that transmission."

"Could it have been Morgan or Alonzo?" Bess was now standing there, too, a wistful hope in her voice. Julia glanced around, realized that most of the camp had been wakened. She caught sight of several others peering out of their tents. "Their gear set was damaged – maybe they're trying to contact us."

"Maybe," Baines replied without any real conviction.

"All right," Danziger ordered, "if anything's out there, we don't want it catching us by surprise, so Magus and Baines, you two get back to the perimeter guard. Yale, you'll see if you can get anything out of that gear set?"

Yale nodded. "I will also examine the gear logs – if we are unable to retrieve any information from Baines' gear set, there may still be a record of the original transmission in the communications system."

"Good thinking." Danziger continued, "I'll check out the TransRover, see if the long-range scanners picked up anything. The rest of you – if you can't sleep, then help out where you can, or start packing things up. We're going to have more than enough to do tomorrow, and we'll be moving out at first light."

Things never turned out the way Morgan Martin imagined they would.

He'd always imagined that he'd die an old man. A rich old man, of course, safe on the stations, with Bess comfortingly close by his side, and the two of them surrounded by every luxury imaginable. And that was assuming that he'd die at all, because sometimes he even dared to imagine that maybe he'd find a way around that as well. In any event, it had always been a distant, not-too-threatening event.

Until he'd come to G889, anyway.

Morosely, Morgan huddled into the feeble warmth of his jacket. This was it. This was the end. There was no way out, no way down, and the clouded night sky was so dark that the weak glow of the moons barely lit the ground in front of him. The wind up here was almost constant, and the night air had a chilling bite. His entire leg ached persistently, but as far as he could tell it wasn't broken, just badly wrenched. At least, that was what he hoped. He'd forced himself to hobble along for as long as he could bear it, wanting to get as far away from Reilly as possible, but when it got too dark to safely see where he was going, he'd just sat down where he was.

"I'm cold," he muttered to no one at all, "and hungry." He rummaged through the pockets of his jacket once again. He'd looked three times already, but still hoped he might have missed something. Earlier, he'd found a hydration capsule, and at least that was something. But he was thinking of the food ration bar that he'd saved several days ago – in case of emergencies, of course – and that he had unwisely eaten yesterday morning because he'd craved a snack.

Alonzo hadn't come back. That unsettled him more than he liked to admit. He'd thought he would have returned by now. Those bird-Terrians wouldn't have just let him fall to his death... would they?

But he hadn't come back. And neither had those damn, troublesome birds.

Morgan wished he'd never laid eyes on them, wished he'd never pointed them out to Alonzo. "I should've just kept my head down and my mouth shut," he muttered reproachfully. Maybe everything would have happened anyway, and maybe it wouldn't have, but he couldn't help wishing that he'd minded his own business, stifled his doubts, and just kept himself and Bess safely out of Alonzo's way. Then he'd be with Bess now.

And Alonzo would probably still be... wherever he now was.

But why was that his problem? he resentfully demanded of his twinging conscience. After all, he wasn't Alonzo's keeper. And none of this was Morgan's fault.

Maybe not. But he abruptly recalled how, almost a month earlier, under the influence of alien spores, and in a hazy, delirium-filled moment of absolute resolve, he and Bess had flung themselves over a precipice. It was a fatal task – the two of them should have died, would have died if Alonzo and Julia hadn't been there to save them, to keep them from killing themselves.

So... what? Now it was his turn to return the favour?

Maybe. But he was too late – Alonzo was already gone.

And it was cold, and Morgan was alone.