Rhin withdrew her hand, sat up. Why does he carry a weapon which he conceals from us?
Joao continued to breath deeply, feigning sleep. Chen-Lhu’s words screamed through his mind, warning him, urging him to action. But caution intervened.
Rhin stared downstream wondering… doubting. The pod floated down a lane of moon glitter. Cold glows like fireflies danced in the forest darkness on both sides. A feeling of corruption came to her from that darkness.
Joao, reflecting on Chen-Lhu’s words, thought: “Everything in the universe flows like a river.” Why do I hesitate? I could turn and kill the bastard… or force him to tell the truth about himself. What part does Rhin play in this? She sounded angry with him. “Everything in the universe flows like a river.”
Introspection came hard to Joao, bringing dread, inner trembling that moved toward terror. Those creatures out there, he thought, time is on their side. My life is like a river. I flow—moments, memories… nothing eternal, no absolutes.
He felt feverish, dizzy and his own heartbeat intruded on his awareness.
Like a river.
He’s not going to warn anyone about the debacle in China. He has a plan… something in which he wants to use me.
The night wind had grown stronger and now it imparted an uneasy shifting motion to the pod, catching first one stub wing and then the other. As it came through the vent filters, a damp nutrient in the wind fed Joao’s awareness. He moaned as though awakening, sat up.
Rhin touched his arm. “How are you?” There was concern in her voice, and something else Joao could not recognize. Withdrawal? Shame?
“I… so warm,” he whispered.
“Water,” she said, and lifted a canteen to his lips.
The water felt cool, although he knew it must be warm. Part of it ran down his jaw and he realized then how weak he was in spite of the energy pack. The effort of swallowing required a terrible energy drain.
I’m sick, he thought. I’m really sick… very sick.
He allowed his head to fall against the back of the seat, stared up through the canopy’s transparent strip. The stars intruded on his awareness—sharp specks of light that stabbed through rushing clouds. The fitful wind-swayed motion of the pod sent stars and clouds tipping across his field of vision. The sensation began to make him feel nauseated, and he lowered his gaze, saw the flitting lights on the right shore.
“Travis,” he whispered.
“Heh?” And Chen-Lhu wondered how long Joao had been awake. Was I fooled by his breathing? Did I say too much?
“Lights,” Joao said. “Over there… lights.”
“Oh. Those. They’ve been with us for quite awhile. Our friends out there are keeping track of us.”
“How wide’s the river here?” Rhin asked.
“A hundred meters or so,” Chen-Lhu said.
“How can they see us?”
“How can they not in this moonlight?”
“Shouldn’t I give them a shot just to…”
“Save the ammunition,” Chen-Lhu said. “After that mess today… well, we couldn’t stand off another such day.”
“I hear something,” Rhin said. “Is it rapids?”
Joao pushed himself upright. The effort it required terrified him. I couldn’t handle the controls like this, he thought. And I doubt if Rhin or Travis know how.
He grew aware of a hissing sound.
“What is that?” Chen-Lhu asked.
Joao sighed, sank back. “Shallows, something in the river. Off there to the left.” The sound grew louder; the rhythmic lament of water against a stranded limb—and faded behind them.
“What’d happen if that right float hit something like that?” Rhin asked.
“End of the ride,” Joao said.
An eddy turned the pod, began swaying it back and forth in a slow, persistent pendulum—around, back, around… The floats danced across ripples and the pendulum stopped.
The darkly flowing jungle, the lights sent waves of drowsiness through Joao. He knew he could not stay awake if his life depended on it.
“I’ll stand watch tonight, Travis,” Rhin said.
“I wonder why our friends out there don’t bother us much at night?” Chen-Lhu said. “It’s very curious.”
“They’re not losing sight of us, though,” Rhin said. “Go to sleep. I’ll take the first watch.”
“Watch and nothing else,” Chen-Lhu said.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Just don’t go to sleep, my dear Rhin.”
“Go to hell,” she said.
“You forget: I don’t believe in hell.”
Joao awoke to the sound of rain and darkness that slowly crept into gray dawn. The light increased until he could see steel lines of downpour slanting against pale green jungle on his left. The other shore was a distant gray. It was a rain of monotonous violence that drummed against the canopy and pocked the river with countless tiny craters.
“Are you awake?” Rhin asked.
Joao sat up, found he felt refreshed and curiously clear headed. “How long’s it been raining like this?”
“Since about midnight.”
Chen-Lhu cleared his throat, leaned forward close to Joao. “I’ve seen no sign of our friends for hours. Could it be they don’t like rain?”
“I don’t like rain,” Joao said.
“What do you mean?” Rhin asked.
“This river’s going to become a raging hell.”
Joao looked up to his left at clouds hovering low above the trees. “And if there ever were going to be searchers, they sure as hell couldn’t see us now.”
Rhin wet her lips with her tongue. She felt suddenly emptied of emotion, realized then how much she had counted on being found. “How… how long does the rain last?” she asked.
“Four or five months,” Joao said.
An eddy turned the pod. Shoreline twisted across Joao’s vision: greenery dimmed to pastel by the torrent. “Anybody been outside?” he asked.
“I have,” Chen-Lhu said.
Joao turned, saw dark patches of wetness on the IEO fatigues.
“Nothing out there except rain,” Chen-Lhu said.
Joao’s right leg began to itch. He reached down, was surprised to find the energy pack gone.
“You began showing muscle spasms during the night,” Rhin said. “I took it off.”
“I must’ve really been asleep.” He touched her hand. “Thanks, nurse.”
She pulled her hand away.
Joao looked up, puzzled, but she turned, stared out her window.
“I’m… going outside,” Joao said.
“Do you feel strong enough?” she asked. “You were pretty weak.”
“I’m all right.”
He stood up, made his way back to the hatch and down to the pontoon. The rain felt warm and fresh against his face. He stood on the end of the float, enjoying the freshness.
In the cabin, Chen-Lhu said, “Why didn’t you go out and hold his hand, Rhin?”
“You’re an utter bastard, Travis,” she said.
“Do you love him a little?”
She turned, glared at him. “What do you want from me?”
“Your cooperation, my dear.”
“In what?”
“How would you like to have an emerald mine all your very own? Or perhaps diamonds? More wealth than you could possibly imagine?”
“In payment for what?”
“When the moment comes, Rhin, you’ll know what to do. And meanwhile, you make a pliant blob of putty out of our bandeirante.”