Nightshade - Laurell K. Hamilton [76]
‘They are watching us,” he yelled.
So it wasn’t just Troi. Worf felt it, too. It was then that Troi realized the watching was all she could feel. An angry, despair-filled watching. Troi whirled, searching the dry rock walls behind her. There was no one there. She knew that, and yet she knew something was there.
The wind shifted, slinging the whirling dirt against them. Troi threw her arms up to protect herself but it stung even through the protective clothing. Silence made her ears pound. Then the wind was gone abruptly, as if someone had turned a switch.
‘Something is wrong,” Worf said. His deep voice was loud in the stillness.
‘Yes, Klingon, our planet is blowing away before our eyes. The soil that grew the plants, the life, vanishes with each breath of wind.”
Troi stepped cautiously away from the hillside to the open stretch of ground. She turned around in a slow circle. There were no other living beings near, save for the two Orianians and Worf. Yet . “There’s something here,” she said. It sounded vague even to her own ears, but she had no words for the feeling. Troi was often forced to use words that did not clearly convey what she was experiencing.
‘Come, Healer, we must not delay our stay upon the surface,” Talanne said walking across the dry, rustling ground toward another hill. This one was covered with the skeletons of trees, like the dark bones of some twisted creature.
Worf still had his phaser out, staring around the narrow open space.
Breck stepped close to Troi. His hands were playing nervously along his rifle. It wasn’t pointed at anything, but it was ready.
‘This is an evil place, Healer,” Breck said. “It is the eyes of the world you feel.”
Troi looked at him. “What are the eyes of the world?”
‘Some say it is the world watching us kill it. You can feel that it is angry.”
‘You feel the anger?” Troi did not try to keep the surprise out of her voice. Breck either didn’t hear it, or ignored it.
‘Always,” he said.
‘Do you ever feel the anger of other people?”
‘No, why?”
Breck could not feel the emotions of people, but he felt this weight, this thing. Was it the eyes of the world? And if not, then what was it?
‘Troi.” Worf’s voice jerked her attention back to the pale, hot land.
‘We must hurry, Healer,” Talanne said. “I see a poison storm coming this way. The winds are unpredictable. It could hit any time.” She and Worf were waiting beside a door that Troi would have sworn had not been there when last she looked.
Breck gripped her arm and began to lead her toward the others. Troi didn’t protest because she had seen the poison storm. A cloud bank was rolling in on the horizon. It was black and a deep emerald green. A shining golden curtain poured from the cloud. Even from a distance of some miles Troi could see white clouds of steam rise from the ground.
‘Why is it doing that?” she asked.
‘The rain is almost pure acid,” Breck said. The ground boils where it touches.” He pushed her into the doorway behind Talanne and Worf. Talanne’s light was a dim beacon down a fairly roomy corridor. But the blackness was just as black as the caves. Troi couldn’t feel Breck’s fear anymore. All she could feel was the sensation of being watched.
Talanne and Worf waited for them in front of what appeared to be a dead end. Talanne passed her hand over a spot on the solid rock.
A piece of it slid out of sight. A breath of air pushed into the dry heat. The air was moist.
Talanne slipped into the dark entrance, taking the light with her. Worf followed, forced to bend painfully low. “Go, Healer, please,” Breck said. He nearly pushed Troi through the door. His voice betrayed a breathy fear of the dark, but Troi still felt none of it.
Talanne was waiting to one side of the inner door. She motioned with the light for them to walk farther into the pitch blackness.
Worf’s form was caught in the light, then vanished. Only the sound of his cloak rustling said that he hadn’t simply vanished with the light.
Breck stood at Troi’s back. His hand touched her shoulder, and the shock of it screamed along her nerves. His fear