If you are here, my friends, I must assume that you are ready and well prepared.
So, let's not put time in between.
Let's walk along the path that is presented in front of us.
Breathe deeply.
Cuirass yourselves.
Do not let yourselves impressed.
If you are able to make it.
So, let's not put time in between.
Let's walk along the path that is presented in front of us.
Breathe deeply.
Cuirass yourselves.
Do not let yourselves impressed.
If you are able to make it.
Here you are
It is here
Chapter One
"TRIP!"
The shout awakens me suddenly.
T'Pol's voice.
Frightened.
I shake my head to chase away the sleep's fumes.
Another shout.
Malcolm's voice.
"Alarm! Alar... Aaaahhh!"
I slip out from my sleeping-bag and I leap up, completely wakeful.
Around me, people do the same, but I don't care about them.
I look at the ground, at the place where T'Pol and Trip were sleeping near each other.
They are there no longer, T'Pol's sleeping-bag has disappeared, the one of Trip is empty.
There's a form on the ground, motionless. The camp's lights show the blood which covers it.
"Malcolm!"
I lunge at Malcom's body and squat down upon it.
He breathes, weakly, but breathes. The pulse on his neck is feeble, but perfectly palpable.
"Trip!"
Again. T'Pol's voice. Farther.
Scared. Invoking.
I turn my head toward the shout's direction.
The leafy branches shake, rustling noises coming from them, as a difficult and wheezy running. I seem to see a flicker of blonde hair between them.
An instant, then nothing else.
The branches revert to quiet.
"Tr..."
Once again T'Pol's shout, faint and all of a sudden... interrupted.
Major Dougal looks briefly at me, then he hurls himself ahead toward the trees, his men dashing ahead in unison with him, following the shriek's provenance.
And in the dim beam of the camp's lights... I see, even if I can't believe what I see.
The branches glue together, suddenly and swiftly, forming a... a sort of wall, a barrier, into which Dougal and his men bump and which beats off them, making some of them fall to the ground.
They look stunned at the branches which stopped them, and which now are extricating from each other, taking again their original position and rustling placidly and innocently in the light wind.
I suppress my confusion and my bewilderment, and I leap to my feet, taking control of the situation.
I bark my orders.
"In a circle. Weapons ready. Medical kit. Hurry. Dougal, explore everything with our devices."
After some moments during which nothing happens, I decide to examine closely the... the barrier that stopped Dougal and his MACOs from running in aid of Trip and T'Pol, and I go beyond the circle's limit, gun levelled, while Kramer, as a member of the Enterprise medical team, takes care of Lieutenant Reed.
I reach cautiously the branches' tangle amid which the Commanders disappeared.
Nothing can be seen. I lift my hand and push it guardedly ahead, as if I were to penetrate with my hand the obscurity beyond the branches.
A rustling, intense, and rapidly the branches glue to each other again, and stop my hand.
I push, at first delicately, then with force more and more intense.
The branches barrier recedes slightly, but it stays firm and impenetrable. Much as I push, I can't soak into it.
I withdraw my hand and the branches regain quickly their previous position, looking like... simple branches.
I repeat my gesture at some other spots, and the outcome is always the same.
"Captain". Dougal's call diverts me from my examination and from my thoughts.
"Major?"
"Captain, there's no trace of vital signals, except for two, a Vulcan signal and a Human signal. They are going away from us quickly, in the direction from where we heard Commander T'Pol's last shout. The Vulcan signal precedes the Human signal just a bit. They are practically superimposable."
"No other signal?"
"No Captain." The disconcertment is evident on Dougal's face, as on everyone's.
I talk calmly, trying to inject security.
"The... branches barrier?"
"I don't detect anything, Captain. There's no source of energy. Nothing."
I cannot completely mask my puzzlement. "Nothing?"
"Nothing, Captain. Only the atmosphere and soil's normal components, and these trees, perfectly ordinary in their composition. And - He looks at me, clearly worried. - those two vital signals, which are becoming more and more distant."
"Captain, Lieutenant Reed has regained consciousness."
At Kramer's call, I cease to attempt to put a bit of order in my thoughts.
"Dougal, try to find the extension of the branches barrier, manually, since there's no other way."
"Yes, Captain."
I reach Malcolm.
He is resting on the camp stretcher, his head in bandages, garishly, and with another bandage across his torso.
He has been cleaned of the blood, and looks good, his breath regular and quiet.
I look inquiringly at the crewman who called me. "So, Kramer?"
"Nothing serious, Captain. A deep wound on the head with considerable bleeding, now fully stopped, some light bruises and two incompletely broken ribs, nevertheless without any consequence. No concussion sign, no internal lesions."
"I'm fine, Captain."
I look down at Malcolm, nodding at him, and I sit down, next to him, indicating to Kramer to withdraw away with a hand's gesture.
"So, Malcolm? What happened?"
He frowns, and his eyes look strangely.
"Captain, in spite of any logic I felt bothered. Those... those eyes were still watching me from among the branches, so I decided to keep guard over us. I began to go around, silently, while everyone was sleeping. I was looking at the two Commanders, when..."
He stops speaking, an embarrassed expression on his face, almost as if he is afraid to tell me what he has seen.
"Malcolm?"
"Captain, you have all liberty to not believe me, but, just while I was watching them, T'Pol's sleeping-bag got up from the ground."
Malcolm pauses awhile, scrutinizing my face. "It got up from the ground lifted by... some branches emerging suddenly from the forest."
I try to not show my inner tension. "Go on, Lieutenant."
"The sleeping-bag stopped in mid-air, at a height of about two meters."
I repeat, unkindly. "Go on, Lieutenant."
"T'Pol woke up, obviously, and shouted, calling Trip."
"I heard the shout, it wakened us."
"As Trip, Captain, who immediately slipped out from his sleeping-bag, perfectly awakened, and while I was yet attempting to understand what the hell was happening, he jumped up, with such quick reflexes that I find it hard to believe he passed through what he passed."
I remain silent. Malcolm keeps on, looking evidently relieved that I don't demur minimally.
"He grasped T'Pol's sleeping-bag, trying to draw it down, without managing to do so, and while he was hanging onto it, the sleeping-bag began to move away, toward the trees, dragged by the branches and dragging Trip with it."
I'm still silent.
"T'Pol endeavoured to get free from her sleeping-bag, but other branches spurted out from the dark, imprisoning her tightly, like living creepers.
Malcolm takes a deep breath.
"Go on, Malcolm, go on."
"The sleeping-bag, with Trip still hanging on it, reached the threshold of the trees, and there..."
"There?"
"Captain... The forest's branches detached from each other, and an opening appeared between them, a sort of narrow passage."
I can't help but murmur, pensively. "A living barrier for us, a living corridor for her."
Malcolm looks at me with puzzled eyes.
"A barrier?"
"Don't mind. Keep on."
"The branches, which were carrying the sleeping-bag, sped up abruptly, throwing it into the passage and the sudden acceleration forced Trip to loose his hold, and he fell down to the ground, but he jumped up on his feet with an astounding quickness and rushed frantically behind the sleeping-bag which was imprisoning T'Pol and taking away her, new branches continually rising from the forest and passing the sleeping-bag to each other, while finally I woke up from my catatonic state and threw myself toward them."
Malcolm castes a guilty glance at me.
"Captain, I know I have no justification for my ineptitude, for my sluggishness, but I was unable to believe to my eyes, and then... then I think that only a handful of seconds had passed since I had seen the branches become animated."
"Even less, Malcolm, even less. And then, I think no one would have been able to act differently from you."
"But Commander Tucker..."
"It was T'Pol, Malcolm. With her, nobody can compete with Trip. Not even death, you know it."
Malcolm nods, in acknowledgement, then he keeps on.
"Screeching the alarm, I dashed toward the forest's passage and... a big branch rose suddenly and struck me powerfully, catapulting me backwards, head over heels. Then the dark engulfed me, and I woke up while Kramer was treating me.
"Captain, come and see this!" Both I and Malcolm give a start. Dougal's voice resounds pressing and incredulous.
We exchange a worried look, then I run toward Dougal, without caring what Malcolm would think or do.
Dougal and one of his MACOs are next to an enormous tree.
"Dougal?"
"See this, Captain."
He lift his hand to touch one branch at his right side. Immediately the branches go into the reaction I well know, by now, making the barrier perfectly evident.
Behind me, I hear Malcolm gasp. "Bloody hell! I now understand what you meant, Captain!"
"Lieutenant! What the hell are you doing here? You're wounded."
"I'm fine, Captain. Don't worry."
"Lieutenant..."
"Captain! Please!" Dougal's recall shakes me.
"We will talk later, Lieutenant. Proceed, Dougal."
He nods and moves to his left side, walking slowly toward the heap of leafy branches which we can see there and which debars advance.
A powerful rustle and, swiftly, the branches split. An opening appears, a passage, a sort of short corridor with a vaulted roof made with leafs and branches, large enough to hold all of us.
People crowd around us, inevitably forgetful of keeping the useless circle I ordered them to make, and I don't think that it's time to remind them of discipline.
The green corridor deepens for a not long way into the forest, its dark end oriented toward...
"It heads toward the glade where the shuttlepod is waiting for us."
Malcolm gives voice to my inner thoughts. I nod. "It seems we have to leave. We are not welcome, here."
"Captain!" - Dougal's tone is alarmed. - "With due respect, we can't! The Commanders..."
"Do you have some ideas, Major?"
"Well, Captain, maybe we might use the fasers to open our road..."
"I don't think it's a good idea, Dougal." - Malcolm touches his head carefully, while speaking. - "Not at all."
"Major Dougal." - My tone is harsh. We can't waste time. - "I don't believe in enchanted forests, and you don't either, I suppose. We need information, Major, and we can't find them here."
"The Bannerdas."
"Yes, Lieutenant Reed. They asked us to come here, this planet belongs to them, they have to explain something to us."
"Captain, do you think..."
"It's not important, at this moment, Lieutenant. Now we only must reach quickly our shuttlepod. There's no way, here, to communicate with Enterprise, we're completely isolated. So, we have to take advantage of the situation, if possible. It's probable that the... corridor will allow us to reach the shuttlepod very swiftly, judging from the rapidity with which the Commanders are proceeding..."
"Toward the mountain." Malcolm's voice resound strangely. It's like he wants to say something much deeper than his words' simple meaning.
I nod, gravely. "Yes, Malcolm, toward the mountain. We..." - My voice cracks slightly. - "...we must know how we can rescue them."
All men are silent. I raise my hand.
"Everyone inside the passage. Dougal, you and your MACOs ahead. Let's go."
We dive into the opening and begin to walk slowly and warily.
The forest rustles around us.
Suddenly, behind us, the branches rejoin each other, hissing ominously and precluding us from going back.
Before us, the corridor enlarges and lengthens, like it is inviting us to go ahead. And so we do, and as we proceed the swiftness with which the branches work grows faster, like they want us to quicken our steps, and so, little by little we almost run.
(*Don't think, Archer, don't think about all this. Don't allow yourself to cede to the surreal impression that we are sucked into some kind of spooky and supernatural thing. *).
But it's very hard to not surrender to this sensation, while we advance very speedily in the middle of a branches bubble which seems to lead us where it wants us to go.
But we mustn't, and so I feign a confidence I don't feel. "Let's proceed. Do not think of anything else."
But the leafy branches bubble exists. And it is taking us away.
The forest rejects us, but it... claimed T'Pol. Only T'Pol.
Not Trip. Trip has been taken by accident. Because where there's T'Pol, there's Trip, and vice versa, but the forest wants T'Pol. And T'Pol... is the only woman of our away team. I don't know if someway it matters she's a Vulcan woman, I don't know. But only she has been taken. And now she's taken toward the mountain. With Trip in her tow, if he will be capable of resisting. And the mountain...
"Captain." Malcolm's voice is a whisper in my ears. We are striding together.
"Captain", he repeats.
"Something wrong, Malcolm? Your wounds hamper you?"
"I'm fine, Captain, I told you. Captain..."
"Yes?"
"Captain... why... why T'Pol?"
I don't respond, trying to ignore his question, which brings into open air the identical questions that are whirling in my mind.
I remain silent, while we continues our fast march in the dark of the leafy branches living bubble, to the light of our torches.
But he doesn't desist.
"Captain, Commander Tucker was incidentally taken. The forest..." He pauses shortly. - "The forest wants T'Pol. And T'Pol..."
I anticipate him. "The forest is a forest, Malcolm. There must be some explanation."
He stays silent for some instants. Then he speaks again.
"Captain, at this rate we will reach the shuttlepod very soon. There are no longer the obstacles we found when we came here. It almost seems that the forest wants to facilitate our... expulsion."
"Malcolm, we will find the explanations we need. On Enterprise."
Some moments of silence. Then...
"Captain."
"Malcolm?"
"Probably Commander T'Pol will be taken to the mountain very soon."
"Yes."
"With Commander Tucker with her, if he will manage to last out."
"Yes."
"Captain, what the hell it will happen when..."
I almost burst out. "I don't know, Malcolm, I don't know."
Malcolm throws a sidelong glance at me. Then he returns to watch ahead.
"We must go to Enterprise, Captain. As soon as possible. We need... to know."
I don't want to let him become aware of his unconscious lack of respect. "Exactly, Malcolm. And, at this rate, we will able to do it very soon."
"But... not before the Commanders reach the mountain."
I hesitate shortly. "No, Lieutenant."
He shouts. "RUN!"
I don't dare to give any reprimand to him, and I shout in my turn. "RUN!"
People speed further their march.
The forest encircles us, like a threatening shroud.
I turn my head, while we are practically running.
And I have myself to convince that it's only an illusion of my harassed mind what I believe to dimly see behind us, at the bottom of the forest corridor. A nebulous shade, among the branches and the leafs. Like an enormous pair of eyes - demonic, inhuman - which is watching us.
Sardonically scoffing at us.
The shout awakens me suddenly.
T'Pol's voice.
Frightened.
I shake my head to chase away the sleep's fumes.
Another shout.
Malcolm's voice.
"Alarm! Alar... Aaaahhh!"
I slip out from my sleeping-bag and I leap up, completely wakeful.
Around me, people do the same, but I don't care about them.
I look at the ground, at the place where T'Pol and Trip were sleeping near each other.
They are there no longer, T'Pol's sleeping-bag has disappeared, the one of Trip is empty.
There's a form on the ground, motionless. The camp's lights show the blood which covers it.
"Malcolm!"
I lunge at Malcom's body and squat down upon it.
He breathes, weakly, but breathes. The pulse on his neck is feeble, but perfectly palpable.
"Trip!"
Again. T'Pol's voice. Farther.
Scared. Invoking.
I turn my head toward the shout's direction.
The leafy branches shake, rustling noises coming from them, as a difficult and wheezy running. I seem to see a flicker of blonde hair between them.
An instant, then nothing else.
The branches revert to quiet.
"Tr..."
Once again T'Pol's shout, faint and all of a sudden... interrupted.
Major Dougal looks briefly at me, then he hurls himself ahead toward the trees, his men dashing ahead in unison with him, following the shriek's provenance.
And in the dim beam of the camp's lights... I see, even if I can't believe what I see.
The branches glue together, suddenly and swiftly, forming a... a sort of wall, a barrier, into which Dougal and his men bump and which beats off them, making some of them fall to the ground.
They look stunned at the branches which stopped them, and which now are extricating from each other, taking again their original position and rustling placidly and innocently in the light wind.
I suppress my confusion and my bewilderment, and I leap to my feet, taking control of the situation.
I bark my orders.
"In a circle. Weapons ready. Medical kit. Hurry. Dougal, explore everything with our devices."
After some moments during which nothing happens, I decide to examine closely the... the barrier that stopped Dougal and his MACOs from running in aid of Trip and T'Pol, and I go beyond the circle's limit, gun levelled, while Kramer, as a member of the Enterprise medical team, takes care of Lieutenant Reed.
I reach cautiously the branches' tangle amid which the Commanders disappeared.
Nothing can be seen. I lift my hand and push it guardedly ahead, as if I were to penetrate with my hand the obscurity beyond the branches.
A rustling, intense, and rapidly the branches glue to each other again, and stop my hand.
I push, at first delicately, then with force more and more intense.
The branches barrier recedes slightly, but it stays firm and impenetrable. Much as I push, I can't soak into it.
I withdraw my hand and the branches regain quickly their previous position, looking like... simple branches.
I repeat my gesture at some other spots, and the outcome is always the same.
"Captain". Dougal's call diverts me from my examination and from my thoughts.
"Major?"
"Captain, there's no trace of vital signals, except for two, a Vulcan signal and a Human signal. They are going away from us quickly, in the direction from where we heard Commander T'Pol's last shout. The Vulcan signal precedes the Human signal just a bit. They are practically superimposable."
"No other signal?"
"No Captain." The disconcertment is evident on Dougal's face, as on everyone's.
I talk calmly, trying to inject security.
"The... branches barrier?"
"I don't detect anything, Captain. There's no source of energy. Nothing."
I cannot completely mask my puzzlement. "Nothing?"
"Nothing, Captain. Only the atmosphere and soil's normal components, and these trees, perfectly ordinary in their composition. And - He looks at me, clearly worried. - those two vital signals, which are becoming more and more distant."
"Captain, Lieutenant Reed has regained consciousness."
At Kramer's call, I cease to attempt to put a bit of order in my thoughts.
"Dougal, try to find the extension of the branches barrier, manually, since there's no other way."
"Yes, Captain."
I reach Malcolm.
He is resting on the camp stretcher, his head in bandages, garishly, and with another bandage across his torso.
He has been cleaned of the blood, and looks good, his breath regular and quiet.
I look inquiringly at the crewman who called me. "So, Kramer?"
"Nothing serious, Captain. A deep wound on the head with considerable bleeding, now fully stopped, some light bruises and two incompletely broken ribs, nevertheless without any consequence. No concussion sign, no internal lesions."
"I'm fine, Captain."
I look down at Malcolm, nodding at him, and I sit down, next to him, indicating to Kramer to withdraw away with a hand's gesture.
"So, Malcolm? What happened?"
He frowns, and his eyes look strangely.
"Captain, in spite of any logic I felt bothered. Those... those eyes were still watching me from among the branches, so I decided to keep guard over us. I began to go around, silently, while everyone was sleeping. I was looking at the two Commanders, when..."
He stops speaking, an embarrassed expression on his face, almost as if he is afraid to tell me what he has seen.
"Malcolm?"
"Captain, you have all liberty to not believe me, but, just while I was watching them, T'Pol's sleeping-bag got up from the ground."
Malcolm pauses awhile, scrutinizing my face. "It got up from the ground lifted by... some branches emerging suddenly from the forest."
I try to not show my inner tension. "Go on, Lieutenant."
"The sleeping-bag stopped in mid-air, at a height of about two meters."
I repeat, unkindly. "Go on, Lieutenant."
"T'Pol woke up, obviously, and shouted, calling Trip."
"I heard the shout, it wakened us."
"As Trip, Captain, who immediately slipped out from his sleeping-bag, perfectly awakened, and while I was yet attempting to understand what the hell was happening, he jumped up, with such quick reflexes that I find it hard to believe he passed through what he passed."
I remain silent. Malcolm keeps on, looking evidently relieved that I don't demur minimally.
"He grasped T'Pol's sleeping-bag, trying to draw it down, without managing to do so, and while he was hanging onto it, the sleeping-bag began to move away, toward the trees, dragged by the branches and dragging Trip with it."
I'm still silent.
"T'Pol endeavoured to get free from her sleeping-bag, but other branches spurted out from the dark, imprisoning her tightly, like living creepers.
Malcolm takes a deep breath.
"Go on, Malcolm, go on."
"The sleeping-bag, with Trip still hanging on it, reached the threshold of the trees, and there..."
"There?"
"Captain... The forest's branches detached from each other, and an opening appeared between them, a sort of narrow passage."
I can't help but murmur, pensively. "A living barrier for us, a living corridor for her."
Malcolm looks at me with puzzled eyes.
"A barrier?"
"Don't mind. Keep on."
"The branches, which were carrying the sleeping-bag, sped up abruptly, throwing it into the passage and the sudden acceleration forced Trip to loose his hold, and he fell down to the ground, but he jumped up on his feet with an astounding quickness and rushed frantically behind the sleeping-bag which was imprisoning T'Pol and taking away her, new branches continually rising from the forest and passing the sleeping-bag to each other, while finally I woke up from my catatonic state and threw myself toward them."
Malcolm castes a guilty glance at me.
"Captain, I know I have no justification for my ineptitude, for my sluggishness, but I was unable to believe to my eyes, and then... then I think that only a handful of seconds had passed since I had seen the branches become animated."
"Even less, Malcolm, even less. And then, I think no one would have been able to act differently from you."
"But Commander Tucker..."
"It was T'Pol, Malcolm. With her, nobody can compete with Trip. Not even death, you know it."
Malcolm nods, in acknowledgement, then he keeps on.
"Screeching the alarm, I dashed toward the forest's passage and... a big branch rose suddenly and struck me powerfully, catapulting me backwards, head over heels. Then the dark engulfed me, and I woke up while Kramer was treating me.
"Captain, come and see this!" Both I and Malcolm give a start. Dougal's voice resounds pressing and incredulous.
We exchange a worried look, then I run toward Dougal, without caring what Malcolm would think or do.
Dougal and one of his MACOs are next to an enormous tree.
"Dougal?"
"See this, Captain."
He lift his hand to touch one branch at his right side. Immediately the branches go into the reaction I well know, by now, making the barrier perfectly evident.
Behind me, I hear Malcolm gasp. "Bloody hell! I now understand what you meant, Captain!"
"Lieutenant! What the hell are you doing here? You're wounded."
"I'm fine, Captain. Don't worry."
"Lieutenant..."
"Captain! Please!" Dougal's recall shakes me.
"We will talk later, Lieutenant. Proceed, Dougal."
He nods and moves to his left side, walking slowly toward the heap of leafy branches which we can see there and which debars advance.
A powerful rustle and, swiftly, the branches split. An opening appears, a passage, a sort of short corridor with a vaulted roof made with leafs and branches, large enough to hold all of us.
People crowd around us, inevitably forgetful of keeping the useless circle I ordered them to make, and I don't think that it's time to remind them of discipline.
The green corridor deepens for a not long way into the forest, its dark end oriented toward...
"It heads toward the glade where the shuttlepod is waiting for us."
Malcolm gives voice to my inner thoughts. I nod. "It seems we have to leave. We are not welcome, here."
"Captain!" - Dougal's tone is alarmed. - "With due respect, we can't! The Commanders..."
"Do you have some ideas, Major?"
"Well, Captain, maybe we might use the fasers to open our road..."
"I don't think it's a good idea, Dougal." - Malcolm touches his head carefully, while speaking. - "Not at all."
"Major Dougal." - My tone is harsh. We can't waste time. - "I don't believe in enchanted forests, and you don't either, I suppose. We need information, Major, and we can't find them here."
"The Bannerdas."
"Yes, Lieutenant Reed. They asked us to come here, this planet belongs to them, they have to explain something to us."
"Captain, do you think..."
"It's not important, at this moment, Lieutenant. Now we only must reach quickly our shuttlepod. There's no way, here, to communicate with Enterprise, we're completely isolated. So, we have to take advantage of the situation, if possible. It's probable that the... corridor will allow us to reach the shuttlepod very swiftly, judging from the rapidity with which the Commanders are proceeding..."
"Toward the mountain." Malcolm's voice resound strangely. It's like he wants to say something much deeper than his words' simple meaning.
I nod, gravely. "Yes, Malcolm, toward the mountain. We..." - My voice cracks slightly. - "...we must know how we can rescue them."
All men are silent. I raise my hand.
"Everyone inside the passage. Dougal, you and your MACOs ahead. Let's go."
We dive into the opening and begin to walk slowly and warily.
The forest rustles around us.
Suddenly, behind us, the branches rejoin each other, hissing ominously and precluding us from going back.
Before us, the corridor enlarges and lengthens, like it is inviting us to go ahead. And so we do, and as we proceed the swiftness with which the branches work grows faster, like they want us to quicken our steps, and so, little by little we almost run.
(*Don't think, Archer, don't think about all this. Don't allow yourself to cede to the surreal impression that we are sucked into some kind of spooky and supernatural thing. *).
But it's very hard to not surrender to this sensation, while we advance very speedily in the middle of a branches bubble which seems to lead us where it wants us to go.
But we mustn't, and so I feign a confidence I don't feel. "Let's proceed. Do not think of anything else."
But the leafy branches bubble exists. And it is taking us away.
The forest rejects us, but it... claimed T'Pol. Only T'Pol.
Not Trip. Trip has been taken by accident. Because where there's T'Pol, there's Trip, and vice versa, but the forest wants T'Pol. And T'Pol... is the only woman of our away team. I don't know if someway it matters she's a Vulcan woman, I don't know. But only she has been taken. And now she's taken toward the mountain. With Trip in her tow, if he will be capable of resisting. And the mountain...
"Captain." Malcolm's voice is a whisper in my ears. We are striding together.
"Captain", he repeats.
"Something wrong, Malcolm? Your wounds hamper you?"
"I'm fine, Captain, I told you. Captain..."
"Yes?"
"Captain... why... why T'Pol?"
I don't respond, trying to ignore his question, which brings into open air the identical questions that are whirling in my mind.
I remain silent, while we continues our fast march in the dark of the leafy branches living bubble, to the light of our torches.
But he doesn't desist.
"Captain, Commander Tucker was incidentally taken. The forest..." He pauses shortly. - "The forest wants T'Pol. And T'Pol..."
I anticipate him. "The forest is a forest, Malcolm. There must be some explanation."
He stays silent for some instants. Then he speaks again.
"Captain, at this rate we will reach the shuttlepod very soon. There are no longer the obstacles we found when we came here. It almost seems that the forest wants to facilitate our... expulsion."
"Malcolm, we will find the explanations we need. On Enterprise."
Some moments of silence. Then...
"Captain."
"Malcolm?"
"Probably Commander T'Pol will be taken to the mountain very soon."
"Yes."
"With Commander Tucker with her, if he will manage to last out."
"Yes."
"Captain, what the hell it will happen when..."
I almost burst out. "I don't know, Malcolm, I don't know."
Malcolm throws a sidelong glance at me. Then he returns to watch ahead.
"We must go to Enterprise, Captain. As soon as possible. We need... to know."
I don't want to let him become aware of his unconscious lack of respect. "Exactly, Malcolm. And, at this rate, we will able to do it very soon."
"But... not before the Commanders reach the mountain."
I hesitate shortly. "No, Lieutenant."
He shouts. "RUN!"
I don't dare to give any reprimand to him, and I shout in my turn. "RUN!"
People speed further their march.
The forest encircles us, like a threatening shroud.
I turn my head, while we are practically running.
And I have myself to convince that it's only an illusion of my harassed mind what I believe to dimly see behind us, at the bottom of the forest corridor. A nebulous shade, among the branches and the leafs. Like an enormous pair of eyes - demonic, inhuman - which is watching us.
Sardonically scoffing at us.
Silently, with mechanical precision, the invisible automatic devices do their job
Silently, slowly, the sleeping-bag goes down, delicately, on that which seems a sort of indefinite floor, descending from the strange and air-like kind of glimmering fluid where it's floating lightly.
The devices work, precisely and minutely, without errors.
They don't know anything. They have no consciousness, they only work.
They do what they have to do.
Silently, slowly, the sleeping-bag goes down, delicately, on that which seems a sort of indefinite floor, descending from the strange and air-like kind of glimmering fluid where it's floating lightly.
The devices work, precisely and minutely, without errors.
They don't know anything. They have no consciousness, they only work.
They do what they have to do.
Something stirs, in the dark.
Somewhere.
Somewhere.
The unconscious woman, imprisoned into the sleeping-bag, slips out from it, gently, and little by little she ascends, until she stops in mid-air and begins to roll, levitating placidly, showing herself from every angle of view.
She's beautiful.
Her delicate eyelashes vibrate tenuously in her unconsciousness.
Her pointed ears show up attractively, faintly enlightened by the diffused illumination which seems to not have source.
Her mouth reddens in the dim light of the environment, like a vermilion flower, a silent invitation, in the vulnerability of her present state.
She's beautiful.
Her bosom, revealed from the numerous rips of her blouse, rises flourishing at her every breath.
She's beautiful.
But the devices can't notice it. They are only machines, without intelligence.
Without desires.
They.
She's beautiful.
Her delicate eyelashes vibrate tenuously in her unconsciousness.
Her pointed ears show up attractively, faintly enlightened by the diffused illumination which seems to not have source.
Her mouth reddens in the dim light of the environment, like a vermilion flower, a silent invitation, in the vulnerability of her present state.
She's beautiful.
Her bosom, revealed from the numerous rips of her blouse, rises flourishing at her every breath.
She's beautiful.
But the devices can't notice it. They are only machines, without intelligence.
Without desires.
They.
Something shakes, in the frost.
Somewhere.
Somewhere.
The devices work.
They have to prepare the sleeping woman.
The sleeping-bag disappears, slowly. Slowly they fade away, the woman's clothes.
And her body, still turning slowly around each of its axes, shows itself in all its splendour.
It's gorgeous her naked body, eons have passed since something nearly as beautiful as her has been seen.
No living creature, no man, is able to not feel something inside, some kind of languorous urge, of exacting desire, in front of the wondrous spectacle of her enchanting and defenceless nudity.
But the devices can't feel anything.
They simply examine her, and treat her, to heal her wounds and her grazes, to make perfect her visage and her body.
They are machines.
They can't feel.
They.
They have to prepare the sleeping woman.
The sleeping-bag disappears, slowly. Slowly they fade away, the woman's clothes.
And her body, still turning slowly around each of its axes, shows itself in all its splendour.
It's gorgeous her naked body, eons have passed since something nearly as beautiful as her has been seen.
No living creature, no man, is able to not feel something inside, some kind of languorous urge, of exacting desire, in front of the wondrous spectacle of her enchanting and defenceless nudity.
But the devices can't feel anything.
They simply examine her, and treat her, to heal her wounds and her grazes, to make perfect her visage and her body.
They are machines.
They can't feel.
They.
Something...
...down there...
...somewhere...
...begins to feel.
...down there...
...somewhere...
...begins to feel.
Cleanliness. Care. Fragrance. Perfume.
The ancient and arcane rite is made.
Almost.
The soft and well-shaped body of the unknowing woman is ready, now.
It smell good, sensual.
It looks smooth and tempting.
Her face is the image of beauty and her hair are silken and lustrous.
Her tiny hands seem to promise magical and forbidden caresses.
Her lips require passionate kisses.
Her body is the road to perdition, its sight might be capable of reawakening the consciousness even in the body and in the mind of a man gone since endless ages.
But the devices are only machines. Nothing else.
They can't have consciousness.
They.
The ancient and arcane rite is made.
Almost.
The soft and well-shaped body of the unknowing woman is ready, now.
It smell good, sensual.
It looks smooth and tempting.
Her face is the image of beauty and her hair are silken and lustrous.
Her tiny hands seem to promise magical and forbidden caresses.
Her lips require passionate kisses.
Her body is the road to perdition, its sight might be capable of reawakening the consciousness even in the body and in the mind of a man gone since endless ages.
But the devices are only machines. Nothing else.
They can't have consciousness.
They.
Something... some sort of unknown consciousness... awakens.
Imperceptibly.
In the depths.
Somewhere.
It's a clot, brutal, primitive.
And it awakens.
And senses.
Imperceptibly.
In the depths.
Somewhere.
It's a clot, brutal, primitive.
And it awakens.
And senses.
Everything is done, all is ready.
The woman goes down slowly on something - invisible, intangible - which seems to sustain her.
She is recumbent, half-lying down in this sort of impalpable alcove; her head reclined on her right shoulder; her firm breasts showing all their beauty in their nudity, rising at each of her breaths; her eyes closed; breathing quietly; her arms lying to either side of her; her bare, levigated legs resting slightly parted on the nil beneath her.
Under her flat lap, which palpitates gently with her breath's pace, at the junction of her shapely thighs, the dark and come-hither flower of her femininity displays all its unfathomable loveliness.
She lies so.
Unconscious, nude.
Helpless.
Totally exposed.
As an unaware offer.
The woman goes down slowly on something - invisible, intangible - which seems to sustain her.
She is recumbent, half-lying down in this sort of impalpable alcove; her head reclined on her right shoulder; her firm breasts showing all their beauty in their nudity, rising at each of her breaths; her eyes closed; breathing quietly; her arms lying to either side of her; her bare, levigated legs resting slightly parted on the nil beneath her.
Under her flat lap, which palpitates gently with her breath's pace, at the junction of her shapely thighs, the dark and come-hither flower of her femininity displays all its unfathomable loveliness.
She lies so.
Unconscious, nude.
Helpless.
Totally exposed.
As an unaware offer.
Something... that lump of consciousness, which doesn't even know yet that it's conscious, grows up.
It branches out, it expands, slowly at first, then more and more swiftly, until it explodes.
Until it replenishes all things.
It stays so, for awhile, as a pulsating magma.
Unlimited.
Unknowable.
Unsearchable.
Primordial.
Without form and substance.
Then...
Unknown and incognizable sensory faculties begin to sense. To explore.
They taste, finger, fathom, looking for something, for the recall which claimed and demanded imperiously.
They try to localize it, to understand what it is.
And they perceive it.
And so, that... something... that magma... that... thing... starts to advance toward it.
An inhuman, inexpressible, incredibly age-old existence, an existence not even yet aware that it's existing yet again, is throbbing - once more - and it searches for knowing what it is, what it has to do.
And it encircles and wraps the beautiful woman who is unwittingly waiting for her fate.
It branches out, it expands, slowly at first, then more and more swiftly, until it explodes.
Until it replenishes all things.
It stays so, for awhile, as a pulsating magma.
Unlimited.
Unknowable.
Unsearchable.
Primordial.
Without form and substance.
Then...
Unknown and incognizable sensory faculties begin to sense. To explore.
They taste, finger, fathom, looking for something, for the recall which claimed and demanded imperiously.
They try to localize it, to understand what it is.
And they perceive it.
And so, that... something... that magma... that... thing... starts to advance toward it.
An inhuman, inexpressible, incredibly age-old existence, an existence not even yet aware that it's existing yet again, is throbbing - once more - and it searches for knowing what it is, what it has to do.
And it encircles and wraps the beautiful woman who is unwittingly waiting for her fate.
Well, do not tell me I did not warn you, my friends. Hard to hold up, is not it? Mah, however, who knows? Maybe it comes to fibs. Do you remember? I am a liar. And my ancestor ... well, yes ... he, too, was more or less a liar, it seems. But .. and if I weren't lying? If I were telling the truth? That truth that only I know? Let's try to see. We need to see what will happen. In the next chapter. But...I warn you. If to read the chapter you have just read, you had to be ready and prepared, to read the next chapter you must be more than ready, more than prepared. Are you so? Do you think you are so? Okay, in this case, click on the image. But, after, don't tell me I hadn't warned you. Your friend Asso is a liar, but honest. |
Chapter Two
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COPYRIGHT 2013 © Asso - [email protected]
COPYRIGHT 2013 © Asso - [email protected]