"It's at peace now," Robin said.
"If you want to call being buried under a lava flow at peace," Creek said. He stood up and walked on his leg.
"How does that feel?" Robin asked,
"Like there are a couple of pieces still in there," Creek said.
"Ouch," Robin said.
"Better plastic fragments in my leg than a bullet," Creek said. "They'll eventually work themselves out. Anyway, now that my communicator is shot—literally—we're going to have to make the hike to that communications center Leff was talking about."
Robin pointed to a tall communications array roughly a kilometer away. "I'm guessing that would be it," she said.
"I'm guessing you'd be right," Creek said. "Ready for a walk?"
"I like how you ask me these things as if you're giving me the option," Robin said. "You've been doing this all the time since we've met. I just want you to know that it doesn't really make me feel like I have a choice in the matter."
Creek smiled. "I don't want to come across as pushy," he said.
"It's a little late for that," Robin said. "Come on. I'm sure this place used to be a very nice place to visit, but right now all I want to do is get off this rock and on that nice big Navy boat up there." She set off in the direction of the communications array. Creek collected up the Nidu rifle, placed the finger in his pocket, grabbed a water canister, and followed after Robin.
The communications array terminated in a small control room located in a natural if irregular amphitheater created by the lava flow. This was where the memorial ceremony was scheduled to take place. Like every portion of the former plain, the amphitheater was bleak, black rock with no sign of animal life or vegetation. It was as if life, insulted by the planet cracker and resulting lava flow, had rejected the plain of Pajmhi from that point forward. Creek didn't blame it for the decision.
"Harry," Robin said, and pointed to something on the side of the control room. Creek looked at what seemed like a heap of trash for a minute until it resolved itself into a dead Nidu; probably the communications engineer, who had come to the site to prepare for the Neverland passenger arrival.
Creek turned back to Robin. "Head back to the pod," he said. "Wait there until I come to get you."
"Harry—" Robin said, looking past his shoulder. Creek swung around and saw something the size of a grizzly stalking toward him. It had come through the door of the communication center. Creek raised up his Nidu rifle, sighted in, and fired at the thing.
And forgot the Nidu finger was still in his pants pocket.
"Oh, shit," Creek said, and wheeled backward. The creature grabbed him, cocked back its massive arm, and slugged him dead in the temple. Creek could hear Robin scream for the briefest fraction of a second before the lights went out completely.
Creek felt water splashing on his face and into his nostrils. He coughed himself back into consciousness and propped himself up from the floor he was lying upon.
"Hello, Creek," a man's voice said to him. "Nice nap?"
Creek looked up and saw Rod Acuna over him, leaning against the counter of the broadcast terminal inside the communications control center. Acuna held a gun casually but firmly in his hand; it was pointed at Creek. Behind and to the side of Acuna, Creek saw Robin, securely held by what Creek now recognized as a Nagch.
"Hello, Acuna," Creek said. "Of all the people I was expecting to see, you were not one of them."
"You know who I am," Acuna said. "Well, isn't that cozy. I'm glad I could surprise you. Surprises are fun. And you know, I think you should take my presence here as a compliment."
"Really," Creek said. "How so?"
"It shows my faith in you, Creek," Acuna said. "After I got that picture of you in my regimental newsletter and passed it along, everyone else was so sure that they would just pluck you and Little Bo Peep here off that cruise liner. But I knew better. I knew you'd get away from them. And you know why, don't you?"
"Because I got away from you," Creek said.
"Check out the brain on you," Acuna said. "Exactly right. You got away from me. So I asked myself, if I were Harry Creek and I was going to keep from getting captured on a cruise liner in space, where would I go? And here we are. I had to just about shoot someone to make them give me a ride down here, but now I think they'll be glad I made the effort."
"You came with the Nidu," Creek said.
"I did," Acuna said. "And I'm going to leave with them. And so is Takk here"—he gestured with his non-gun-holding hand to the Nagch—"and so is your girlfriend. You, on the other hand, will be staying."
"No room on the shuttle for me?" Creek said.
"There's room," Acuna said. "You're not going to go because you and I are going to settle up now. You broke my arm and my nose in our last encounter, if you'll recall. It cost someone a lot of money for my QuickHeal session."
"Sorry about that," Creek said.
"Think nothing of it," Acuna said, and shot Creek in the left arm midway between the wrist and elbow, shattering his radius and ulna. Creek collapsed on the ground, writhing in pain, smearing blood on the concrete floor. Robin screamed again and started begging for someone to help them.
Acuna watched Creek twist for a while and then got up from the counter and walked over to him. "That takes care of the arm," Acuna said, and kicked Creek square in the face, causing a burst of blood to fountain out his nose. "And that should square us for the broken nose." He stepped away and raised his gun. "And this is the interest on both. Goodbye, Creek."
Takk was only mildly interested in the interaction between Acuna and Creek. What he was more interested in—indeed, what he was almost entirely consumed with—was Robin.
Acuna had retrieved Robin while Takk had carried Creek into the comm center; once inside, however, they swapped. "Try not to lose her," Acuna had said, shoving the girl at Takk, who looked up at him with terrified eyes.
Takk gently put his huge paw on her shoulder. "Don't worry," Takk said. "I'm not going to hurt you."
"You just clubbed my friend into a coma," Robin said. "Pardon me if I don't relax."
There it was. Just like it was prophesied by Dwellin:
The Lamb will come to the house of strangers
With a journey of many miles behind it;
It will be made welcome by those who dwell within
But will be yet full of fears.
Takk had been reading the prophecies pretty much nonstop since Archie McClellan had handed them over prior to ingestion; if d be fair to say that he'd memorized most of them at this point (Nagch had excellent memories for the written word). They had fascinated Takk. He was not by inclination one easily swayed by mysticism, preferring instead the sense of order and comforting ritual religion could provide (after reading the preface to the prophecies, he would have considered himself more of an Ironist than an Empathist, if he were a member of the Church). Yet there was something compelling about the idea that these prophecies not only might come true, but were thought to come true through the conscious decision of the Church members to make them so. It was an interesting juxtaposition between fate and free will that allowed for both to exist—nay, required them to go hand-in-hand, skipping merrily through the field.
Takk recognized of course that the prophecy he was thinking of was not an exact fit. The communications hut could be considered a "house" only in the broadest and most liberal .sense of the term, the one that granted that any structure could theoretically be a home to someone. And yet other elements fit very well. Had not the Lamb traveled many miles? Indeed—light-years, in fact, a distance that made mockery of the term "mile." Did Takk not just tell her not to worry (and did so unprompted by prophecy—he only consciously thought of the prophecy afterward)? And was she not, and reasonably so, Takk thought, full of fears?