Марсианские хроники
February 1999: Ylla
Whenitwasquitelatehemurmuredsomething,wenttoacloset,anddrewforthanevilweapon,alongyellowishtubeendinginabellowsandatrigger.Heturned,anduponhisfacewasamask,hammeredfromsilvermetal,expressionless,themaskthathealwaysworewhenhewishedtohidehisfeelings,themaskwhichcurvedandhollowedsoexquisitelytohisthincheeksandchinandbrow.Themaskglinted,andheheldtheevilweaponinhishands,consideringit.Ithummedconstantly,aninsecthum.Fromithordesofgoldenbeescouldbeflungoutwithahighshriek.Golden,horridbeesthatstung,poisoned,andfelllifeless,likeseedsonthesand.
"Whereareyougoing?"sheasked.
"What?"Helistenedtothebellows,totheevilhum."IfDr.Nileislate,I’llbedamnedifI’llwait.I’mgoingouttohuntabit.I’llbeback.Youbesuretostayrightherenow,won’tyou?"Thesilvermaskglimmered.
"Yes."
"AndtellDr.NileI’llreturn.Justhunting."
Thetriangulardoorclosed.Hisfootstepsfadeddownthehill.
Shewatchedhimwalkingthroughthesunlightuntilhewasgone.Thensheresumedhertaskswiththemagneticdustsandthenewfruitstobepluckedfromthecrystalwalls.Sheworkedwithenergyanddispatch,butonoccasionanumbnesstookholdofherandshecaughtherselfsingingthatoddandmemorablesongandlookingoutbeyondthecrystalpillarsatthesky.
Sheheldherbreathandstoodverystill,waiting.
Itwascomingnearer.
Atanymomentitmighthappen.
