Gulliver's Fugitives - Keith Sharee [29]
“My name’s Rhiannon,” she said to Troi. “Do you know the name?”
Troi had read the Mabinogi as a child, and remembered that the fictional Welsh Rhiannon was a beautiful grown woman, almost a goddess, who had a special affinity for horses. Rhiannon was clever, fearless, and more than a match for any man, while her horse had mystical powers and could outrun all others.
Troi paused before replying. To say yes was a calculated risk on this planet where fiction was a capital crime. She could feel no threat at all from the girl, however. In fact, Troi felt that Rhiannon wanted her to answer in the affirmative so she could be properly welcomed.
Besides, the girl’s mythical name seemed a strong indication that she was a Dissenter, like Caliban and Amoret.
“From Celtic literature, isn’t it?” asked Troi.
“That’s right.” Rhiannon seemed pleased.
“My name’s Deanna. Can you take me to your friends?”
“I have to, since you’re already here. But you’ll like them. You are alone—no family?”
“No one is with me.”
“Then you will be part of our family.”
Rhiannon smiled broadly, with no embarrassment about her crooked teeth. Troi smiled back. She didn’t want to hurt the girl’s feelings by declining that last hospitality.
Spurred by some unseen signal from Rhiannon, the haguya flapped its wings mightily and lifted into the air.
“Follow Caliban!” Rhiannon called down at Troi.
Caliban picked up one of the light-stones and, using it as a torch, began to shamble across wet broken rock with surprising speed on his simian legs. Troi had to hurry to keep up with him. He mumbled to himself.
“Be not afeard: the isle is full of noises,
Sounds and sweet airs that give delight and hurt not.
Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments
Will hum about mine ears …”
Troi looked behind. Rhiannon and her mount were following, swooping and wheeling giddily among the stalactites.
The haguya, Troi supposed, was an indigenous animal, native to the planet. At any rate, it was not from Earth. It was the very thing the Rampartians said didn’t exist—life alien to Earth.
As Troi followed Caliban away from the main lake and down the long natural passage, she noticed a small bubbling spring. Zephyrs of sulfurous, bacteria-ripe air reached her nose. By the glow of Caliban’s light-stone, she could see strange hydra-like animals moving in the waters. Caliban glanced at them.
So there were perhaps many non-Earth species here. And the Dissenters knew about them. The Dissenters had no problem acknowledging alien life. Did they perhaps know about the Other-worlders?
At that moment Troi felt a terrific jolt as she became aware that the Other-worlders were present—still in their own separate realm or universe, yet frighteningly close. Apparently her speculation had summoned them. They seemed to be getting more and more eager for contact with her.
Troi mentally closed them out, straining against the contact with all her will. Maybe she would have to “meet” them again to find out their secrets, but this was not the time for it.
She refocused her attention on the trail under her feet and managed to regain her equilibrium.
“Are we alone here?” she asked Caliban.
“Yes. We have a long way to go to Alastor.”
She searched the feelings both of Caliban and Rhiannon, who was riding the haguya above them.
They did not seem aware of the Other-worlders.
As the feeling of the Other-worlders’ proximity decreased, and Troi realized she had prevented contact, she reflected that the mystery was apparently still hers to solve. Were she and Crichton the only people on this whole planet who knew about the Other-worlders?
About an hour after Troi, Caliban, and Rhiannon passed the little sulfurous spring, a humming one-eye floated by, moving in the same direction.
The one-eye didn’t register life-forms in the spring. It didn’t register the nearby light-stones either, as they were powered by indigenous microorganisms. The one-eye couldn’t recognize the bioelectric or infrared