Marooned - Christie Golden [66]
"Help!" came Bokk's voice, shrill with horror, and Paris stumbled toward the sound. He tripped over a prone body-dear God, he hoped it wasn't one of his friends-but recovered, shuffling on like a drunken man in the direction of the cries.
When he finally spotted the Bolian, Paris wondered for a wild instant if he was having another hallucination.
Bokk was only visible from the waist up. It was wildly comic at first, as though someone had planted him feet first in the soil and hoped he'd grow. Paris instantly realized what had happened, though. Bokk had fallen into something. Paris came closer and saw that the ensign wasn't in a hole-he was literally buried in the soil.
"Tom! Help me!" he cried pathetically, reaching out with his stubby arms. They were coated with a thick pasty substance.
The rope. It was still tied around his waist. "What happened?" Paris cried over the din as he fumbled with the knot. Not far from them the battle still raged. Wave after wave of Xians kept coming. Would it never stop?
"I was running-and then the earth, it wasn't solid below my feet-I'm going deeper, Tom, help me! It hurts-" Quicksand. Rare enough on Earth, rarer still on other worlds, but it was one of the forty thousand or so dangers of which Gruaa had warned them. She had called it "the sand that eats." Paris was glad he hadn't come any closer or else he'd be in there with Bokk, being sucked down until he suffocated.
"Be as still as you can, Bokk," Paris called to his friend. "The more you struggle, the deeper you go. Try to float, like you're swimming."
"I can't swim!" screamed the Bolian. "Oh, it hurts!"
Hurts? Paris was utterly confused. Quicksand was frightening, sometimes deadly, especially if the victim panicked, but it didn't actually hurt you.
He'd gotten the rope loose now, and tried to recall what he knew about quicksand. It wouldn't help Bokk if he, Paris, got trapped in the gooey mess too. He could see the Bolian, still splashing about despite his warnings. Paris aimed and tossed out the end of the rope.
Bokk saw it, and ceased his flailing long enough to grab for it.
And then Paris's eyes widened with horror.
The rope began to disintegrate. As Bokk reached for it, Paris stared in shock at what was left of Bok's arm. The quicksand was dissolving him.
The sand that eats ... At that same instant, a strand of quicksand reached up and tried to wind its tentacle around his arm. Paris jumped back, tripping over his own feet and falling hard on his back. The wind was knocked out of him and for a moment he couldn't draw breath. He flipped over and scuttled away. Already his arm was burning from where the acidic quicksand had brushed him.
Bokk was silent now. The sand had him. Paris forced himself to look back, and saw nothing out of the ordinary where a friend had once been.
He gasped, his lungs beginning to work again, wondering what he had seen-what was real, and what wasn't.
Paris didn't trust himself to make that ki judgment anymore.
Beneath the material of his uniform, the bug bite itched furiously.
At Hrrrl's harsh bark of warning, Janeway immediately threw off her cloak and rid herself of the bulky pack. She activated the wristlight-the need to see her opponent far outweighed any risk of discovery at this instant-and drew her phaser, setting it on heavy stun.
The Xians had a horrible war cry that lifted the hairs on Janeway's arms. Hrrrl's answering challenge was every bit as alarming. Before her eyes, Janeway saw her friend drop the facade of civilization like a mask. His dewlaps curled back from his powerful teeth, and Hrrrl dropped to all fours and charged the approaching attackers like a mad bull.
Janeway took aim at a dark figure running toward her and fired. The blast of energy struck it full in the chest