The Crystal Variation Read Online Free PDF

the den, where they’d either not be noticed or, if detected, where they’d serve to convince anyone oncoming that he was sensibly in the shade.
    He was not exactly sensibly in the shade, though he had some of it. That wouldn’t be a problem for much longer today, in any case, since the sun would soon be on the horizon.
    His choice was a gully where the meandering of the stream bed had made a short-lived branch; there, looking across at the tree, he laid out his pistol and his backup, and emptied his pockets of anything that might weigh him down if he needed to move fast.
    He laughed mirthlessly, no doubt in his mind that he was running on adrenaline and hope, knowing too that his chance of moving with speed or stealth was pretty slim, this far into no rations.
    It was then that he felt the ship, as if large welcome wings were overhead. There was a whine of the wind, and some slight hissing—remarkably like that of the CC-456s he’d known for decades.
    It swept in low over the tiny campsite, its wings not all that large—indeed the ship itself was not all that large!—did a half-turn, displaying a single black digit on each of its stubby maneuvering wings, then another half-turn—incidentally bringing the nose cannon to bear on the campsite. Then it hissed itself quietly into the empty ocean, and was still for very nearly eight full seconds, at which point Corporal Kinto jumped out the open hatch, slipping on the shifting sand with an obscenity.

Four
    FOUR
    On the ground, Star 475A
    Mission time: 14.5 planet days and counting
    “That’s an order, Jela. Prepare to embark.” Chief Pilot Contado’s voice was getting quieter, which was not a good sign.
    “We’re not done here.” Jela’s voice also got quieter. He was standing on top of his den, half-facing the tree, what was left of his kit packed into his pockets.
    Contado stood beside the tree, towering over it, his permanent grimace accentuated by his squinted eyes in the shadows of the low sun. He was pointedly ignoring Jela’s inclusion of the tree in the “we” of his intent.
    Around Jela were the remains of the hasty moist meal they’d given him, along with discarded med-packs—they’d hit him with doses of vitamins, inhalants of stim, sublinguals of anti-virals—and three empty water bulbs.
    Sated in many ways, refreshed naturally and artificially, shaded by his rescuers’ craft, Jela felt stronger than he had in days, and as stubborn as the trees he’d followed to the ocean of sand.
    “I will take the tree with me,” he said, very quietly indeed.
    “On board, dammit! Our launch window . . .” This was said loudly—meaning Jela had made a gain . . .
    “That launch window is an arbitrary time chosen by the pilot. You’re working with guesses. There’s nothing yet on the sensors . . .”
    “Troop, this is not a biologicals run. I’m not . . .”
    “Chief, this tree saved my life. It and its kin fought off the sheriekas for . . . who knows how long . . . for dozens of centuries! There’s no other reason I can think of that this system was left alone for so long, and why it’s got so much attention now. We can’t simply leave it unprotected.”
    From inside the ship—off-com but still clearly audible—came Kinto’s voice: “He wants to protect it, give him another gun and put him in charge. I told you it wasn’t worth coming back for him . . .”
    There was a brangle of voices from within the ship and then:
    “Just moments to sundown, Chief. I’ve set a countdown, and Kinto’s doing the pre-flights in case we need to boost directly to rendezvous.”
    This new voice on the comms was Junior Pilot Tetran; and Jela bet himself that in addition to the pre-flights, Kinto now owned either a bruise or a run of make-work when they got back to base—or both.
    Chief Pilot Contado looked at the tree, and at Jela, and then at the ship and beyond, holding a hand above his eyes.
    “Chief, as a bonus—I mean as recompense for being shot down