WE Read Online Free PDF

Paul.’ And she skipped gently away across the chamber. The far wall parted and allowed her through.
    Paul sat cradling his spindly limbs in the inflated seat and looked at the two figures opposite him: these two people, with their heads propped on their long and brittle bodies, who would inhabit this place with him. They were sitting on the edge of their seats, watching him as if his presence had some enormous importance for them.
    â€˜I expect you have some questions, Paul,’ said the man.
    Paul leaned forward. ‘You …’ he managed. ‘You – commander?’
    â€˜I am the station manager. My first and last command here was that we should all be equals. We cooperate with one another, although we have authority in our own spheres. My sphere is the running of the station. May is the doctor. Between us, we cover the whole of ST1. Van does astronomical observation of the main target.’
    He looked at the dark woman, who said, ‘I also cover ST2.’
    â€˜ST2’ was Standard Task 2: the search for life forms, evidence of extinct life forms, or failing either, for the conditions that could theoretically support life. It was a task set for all space missions, manned or otherwise, whatever their main target. It was as automatic as Standard Task 1 – to survive and continue to operate. Paul wondered why the grey man had omitted it.
    Then he thought what ST2 must mean out here.
    Here in the deep, bombarded cold at the edge of the solar system, where life was an accident that had happened four and a half billion kilometres away.
    Paul swallowed. He looked around.
    â€˜Now I have a question for you, Paul,’ said the man.
    â€˜Yes,’ said Paul.
    The man looked levelly at him. Ancient instincts in Paul’s brain at once whispered the word
commander
. Commander, even though the man had said he was not.
    His head was big and his flesh folded in deep creases on his forehead and beneath his eyes. His dark brows contrasted with the sparse greys of his scalp. His skin was pale but his cheeks and nose were patterned with so many capillaries that they seemed almost pink. His jaw was tight and powerful. There were no veils of figures over his sight, no images, no distractions, none of the thousand other thoughts and messages that would have been flitting all the time across a man’s vision on Earth. His eyes were a wintry grey, and made huge by the surrounding rings of flesh that sagged upon his cheeks like the dishes of radio telescopes that peered deep into the voids of space. The signal they emitted could carry a word into the darkest and most protected place of the heart.
    Paul thought that he had never, ever, seen anyone look at him as intently as this – eye to eye and straight into the brain.
    â€˜You have been sent away from your home to a place where you can only survive if you remain within a space a few tens of metres square,’ said the Commander.
    â€˜Yes,’ said Paul. His throat was dry.
    â€˜You have lost eight years of your life while you slept on your way here.’
    â€˜Yes.’
    â€˜Your body, like ours, has been distorted. Your bones are now brittle. In theory it would be possible for Earth to recover you and for you to be rehabilitated to an extent where you could spend your remaining years at home. In practice, the effort required to get you back would be enormous and the benefit from Earth’s point of view would be nil. You will remain here for the rest of your life – however long that may be. We still do not know what effect this gravity has on lifespan.’
    â€˜Yes,’ said Paul. It was hard to concentrate on these long, slow messages. And it was hard to meet those eyes without looking away. The voice came in pulses, deep and resonant, like waves hitting a shore.
    â€˜Before all this happened to you, you had to give up your World Ear.’
    Paul’s hand went up automatically to the soft hollow behind his