ALONG THE WALL,

part two

LIUBOMIR NICKOLOV

THE STORY SO FAR

The impudent Yellowbeak intrudes in Rim-Tim-Tucka's strawberry
thicket and a fight ensues. Afterwards the victor goes to the fluff-
bushes only to find there another huge intruder.

This intruder is a man. Boris Dechev awakes naked, covered with scars
and deprived of his memory. The only thing he remembers is a moment
of excruciating pain as monstrous spider-like creatures tear
mercilessly his body.

He finds himself in the middle of a strange forest somewhere high in
the mountains. Trying to find a way down Boris discovers the truth:
this is not a mountain but an enormous Tree covered with forests. Far
down on the sea shore lies his spaceship, the "Galileo".

On his way down Boris meets five people - his friends from "Galileo".
But his joy quickly gives way to horror as the men start changing the
shapes of their bodies. Boris manages to escape only by chance, falling
on a lower branch. He finds an operative suit abandoned by one of the
monsters. The suit is equipped with everything he needs - blaster,
radio, knife, climbing equipment. He continues downward, eager to find
out what has happened to the crew of the "Galileo".

A new quarrel with Yellowbeak ends disastrously for Rim-Tim-Tucka.
The little animal is flung on a lower branch. Finding the big intruder
there, Rim-Tim-Tucka decides to hide in his pocket. He hopes that the
man will return to the higher branch as he wanders about. But Boris
is on his way down. He soon discovers the truth: the enormous Tree is
a city of caves in which the monsters live. 

ALONG THE WALL

The huge stem had suddenly turned into a deadly nest. He had so
far paid little attention to the numerous holes in the bark. They
had looked so harmless, gaping like sightless eyes. From a human
point of view there was nothing more inconvenient for a house
entrance. But that was just from a human point of view... A
creature which turned into a bird before you could say 'Jack
Robinson' didn't need any such mundane facilities like ladders
and lifts.

"A town", Boris thought. "A big town, and I'm creeping like an
ant up its walls where everybody can see me."

His feet touched the uneven surface of the next bough. He
unhooked the anchor, wound the carbine fibre and sank into the
shelter of the bush. He knew he would never be bold enough to
come near the stem again.

The shadows grew denser as night fell quickly, almost
instantaneously. The dusk was pierced only by the fruits of the
crystal shrubs, the ones which still showed the daylight. Boris
took out his small flashlight, but the narrow yellowish beam
couldn't help him find his way. It was no use groping about the
unknown forest. Better play it safe and not repeat his fall as
luck would hardly be with him a second time today.

He stopped at the end of the wide lawn and decided to spend the
night there, hidden among the trees as far away for the stem as
possible. He wondered if he had put in a good distance between
himself and his pursuers. It was senseless to stay awake though
as tomorrow was going to be another difficult day.

He suddenly thought of making a fire. It was not the cold.
Although it was getting chilly outside, the suit maintained a
constant temperature, and he could turn the heating device on if
needed. It wasn't the night hazards, either. The fire would
attract rather then repel the beasts. Nevertheless, he was
willing to take the risk, if only to drive the loneliness of the
night away with the bright flames.

Sometime later he was sitting by the fire, chewing on a
concentrate bulb. The little beast in his pocket woke up, put out
its muzzle, benevolently received part of his supper and
disappeared.

The tree tops rustled. Small animals ran through the grass near-
by, and when they stopped their eyes glittered in the flames.

"A strange world: alien and full of menace, but so similar to
Earth. The same atmosphere, almost identical forests, the usual
grass..." Boris thought.

Yet the alien feeling was everywhere about, constantly reminding
him of his predicament. The darkness was pierced by the day
fruits on the crystal shrubs. Lying, he stretched his arm to
reach the nearest one. The heavy ball came off the branch with a
faint tinkle. A sunny day glimmered deep inside the crystal: the
green grass gently swung, the water in the near-by pond sparkled.
Two vague figures were running in the shade of the trees. They
were coming closer...

Boris groaned and pressed his face against the crystal. They were
coming nearer and nearer. Slim, white, beautiful figures of a
girl and a boy, walking hand in hand. They passed by the shrub
and vanished. Boris feverishly twisted the crystal, saw them,
lost them, found them again. He could now see them from the back.
The girl and the boy were still running when something happened
to their bare shoulders. The skin swelled, protracted and shot
out. Breathless, he saw the growths turn into wings in just a few
seconds, initially small, then growing bigger and bigger,
dragging along the ground. There they were, the two of them at
the end of the branch, hurtling forward hand in hand and then
flying off, two gigantic white birds.

He saw them no more. He twisted the crystal fruit but in vain.
Only the sun-lit desert lawn lay sprawling. The girl and the boy
had disappeared into the skies.

"So what happens now? What if this is the Earth?" He thought.
"What if I don't remember anything of the flight, what if four or
five centuries had passed and human civilization had advanced so
much as to be now alien, awesome and puzzling to us, the long-
forgotten barbarians?..."

But the moon, peeping through the tree tops, hinted at something
else. It was not the old terrestrial Moon, gentle and yellowish,
bruised by the gray outlines of seas and craters, and a
blindingly bright, pale blue globe hanging high up amidst the
stars, a tiny planet with its own oceans and atmosphere,
enveloped in with the white scarves and whirls of the clouds.

"Have we ever been there?" Boris wondered. "Or did we land here
straightaway to meet the fearsome inhabitants of these magic
trees."

The lawn was clearly visible now, as if bathed in neon light.
High mushrooms stood stuck in the distance, with flat round pilei
like the small tables of an abandoned summer cafe. An animal
stirred among them. Boris gripped the blaster tightly, but as the
animal came up, on faltering and shaky legs, and he saw there was
nothing to fear. It was old and not very big. The matted and
grizzled hair reached to the grass, covering the muzzle so that
one could only make out two squinting eyes and a moist nose.
Unlike its terrestrial kin, this animal was not scared of the
fire, but rather sat near it and enjoyed the warmth on its back.
Boris was startled by a chirrup. He looked down and saw that the
little beastie had peeped out of his pocket again. The other
animal moved its head, squinted and looked in the direction of
the sound. Then it gave out some strange and squeaky sounds. The
tiny beast got animated. It quickly climbed down the suit, and,
still chirruping, ran to the newcomer. The hairy muzzle bent down
and the two creatures started an unintelligible but lively
dialogue. The tone went up, dropped and went up again. The
visitor finally stood up and limped away. The small animal
followed it, odd couple presently disappearing in the shadows of
the bushes.

Boris tried to produce an ironic smile, but failed to keep it on.
He was alone again, and though he refused to admit it, he had
grown fond of the funny little creature which had been snuggling
in his pocket for several hours now.

He took out the tubules hidden in the shoulder flaps and inflated
the air cushions at the back of the suit. They were meant for
floating, but right now turned the suit into a comfortable
mattress. He sprawled by the fire, pulled up the wide, inflated
collar under his head and tried to get some sleep.

Yet sleep refused to come. The moon was shining straight into his
face like a giant blue spotlight. Big, luminous insects danced
among the trees like clouds of fire-flies. The night sounds of
the forest came from all directions: a whispering leaf, the far-
away song of a beast or a bird, the almost imperceptible creeping
of tiny bodies through the grass. The cool breeze brought with it
a salty sea scent.

Staring at the bright stars, Boris wondered whether he would ever
see the Earth again.

The Long-Memory one moved aimlessly around in his hollow, took
out a handful of dried blue strawberries and gave them to Rim-
Tim-Tucka. Then he slipped onto the ground and leaned against a
tree. His head started shaking faintly. Rim-Tim-Tucka nibbled at
the strawberries without really tasting them. He had never walked
out in the dark, and felt lonely and vulnerable, surrounded as he
was by the bluish dusk full of black shadows.

"You said Yellowbeak..." The Long-Memory one lisped out.

"Yellowbeak, Yellowbeak!" The small beast chirruped.

"Don't know... Never heard of him. I suppose he is somewhere in
the upward direction."

Rim-Tim-Tucka gloomily shook his head. He did not know how far
upward his home was, but he rather thought the distance was equal
to the whole world. And on that moon-lit night, the world seemed
vast and cold.

"Listen carefully and remember." The Long-Memory one continued.
"I guess you should stay with me for several days. I'll ask the
other Long Memories. Sooner or later we'll find out where you
came from. Then we'll find a way to send you back safe and
sound."

"Well, I had a better plan." Rim-Tim-Tucka objected.

"I know. I already heard it. A silly plan all right. That one
over there won't help you. He runs downward all the time. The Big
Ones are searching for him. Get it?"

"No!" Rim-Tim-Tucka chirruped stubbornly.

"The Big Ones are after him." Repeated the Long-Memory one.
"They'll soon catch up with him."

"They won't! He is strong and quick, he knows how to jump from
bough to bough like a spider."

"They will get him all right. Tomorrow. Ill go and tell them he
is here."

The small beast bristled up in bitter resentment. He had hoped to
get some help, but all the Long-Memory one wanted was to ruin his
clever plan. It had also turned out that his companion wasn't
actually a bore, but a fugitive like himself, chased by his own
Yellowbeak. No, come what may, Rim-Tim-Tucka would not abandon
his friend.

He resolutely put the dried strawberries down in the grass and
got up.

"I'll tell them, I'll tell them." The Long-Memory one was lisping
out dreamily. "They'll come and I'll show him to them in the
crystal fruit... Hold it, where are you going, you silly
creature? Stop! I told you, didn't I--"

But Rim-Tim-Tucka walked away, paying no attention to his gasping
yells. The Long-Memory one sighed, crept into his hollow and
after a while the beat of a signal-drum echoed throughout the
forest.

The stars had disappeared. Moonlight-stained, black-shaded clouds
swam rapidly along the sky chased by the high wings. And yet
there was a stillness down below. Not a leaf shuffled in the
forest, only the tide hissed faintly, bringing in a faint sea
breeze.

The lying man felt strangely stiff. He could neither feel his
body nor tell if he had his eyes open and what he was seeing was
reality itself, or just a real-life dream. His head was empty and
his body lifeless. He was just lying there, staring up at the
sky. Something white and shiny appeared overhead. It spread out
its wings and flew aslant, carried along by the wind like a huge
sea-gull bathed in moonlight. The night resounded to the far-away
bird song, slow and tender, and surprisingly human, like the
tempting voice of a siren stretching her hands out towards the
sea-farer on her remote island. Lost in his reverie, Boris was
slowly sinking down in the abyss of sleep when with an impassive
surprise he saw a marvelous, terrible, white-winged apparition
make a dash for him.

He sank back in oblivion... but seemed to wake up again. He saw
the same bluish lawn around him, the same black trees encircling
the sky with their heavy curtain. The clouds were still chasing
each other and the moon, obscured by them, spilled its bright
light over and around. The silence was complete and somehow
unreal.

"Hey..."

A low voice, a whisper, almost, but in the stillness of the
forest it filled the lawn, glided over the sleeping man and
caressed him with its soft velvety touch.

His eyes searched around the deserted lawn, then looked up, and
there among the branches of the nighest tree he saw...

At first he thought it was a woman. A woman with black, shoulder
length shimmering hair, dressed in a fluffy white garment. Then
the whiteness around her seemed to move, uncovering her bare
shoulders, the small firm breasts, and the body below.

His heart throbbed almost bursting amidst a flurry of tense
thoughts. He wanted to jump up, seize the blaster and shoot at
the monstrous apparition.

"Stay where you are!" The soft, overpowering voice said. His
muscles relaxed. His heartbeat once again became slow and even.

"You're asleep." The voice said. "You understand, asleep, and
this is just a dream."

"Of course," he agreed readily, grabbing at the thought. He
couldn't hear his own voice and this convinced him once more that
he was dreaming. Now he could examine the strange creature among
the trees at ease and with a detached, almost lazy curiosity he
understood what it was.

A sphinx!

A sphinx, a woman with the body of a lioness below the waist, the
mythical creature of long-forgotten millennia had come to life in
his dream. The huge white wings spread far apart while the
creature glided smoothly down, made a wide circle and landed on
the grass near the glowing embers.

"A dream," Boris murmured. "Just a dream."

The wings started folding and became smaller and smaller. In less
than ten seconds they were nothing but decorations on the back of
the squatting cat-like figure.

The moonlight was opaquely reflected by the female body. The
dark, slanted eyes stared at the lying man in a serious and
thoughtful manner. The protruding Egyptian lips concealed a faint
smile.

"Who are you?" Boris asked without speaking. "What do you want?"

The sphinx raised a paw in front of her face, slowly unsheathed
her sharp claws, looked at it, then put it down.

"You ask who I am. I thought you knew. I'm a beast of prey..."
Her smile widened to uncover her even, white, human teeth. "I
want to tear you into shreds. Don't forget, Boris, I want to tear
you into shreds, and sooner or later I'll do it."

"Why?" He involuntarily moaned.

"Why? Now, this certainly is a cleverer question. Think a little,
my friend. You may get the answer. But be quick about it, while
you are still alive, because I'm after you."

She turned around, and through the mist which clouded his vision
Boris saw the tender white back with the rosary on the spine and
the protruding shoulder-blades, and then the lithe animal body
with the swan wings disappeared in the darkness.

He had no other dreams.

He woke up suddenly, fresh and vibrantly alive. His body pulsated
with a new strength. The morning was misty and cool, but he
didn't feel the cold through his thick suit. He stretched, sat up
and looked around him. A damp gray shroud covered the trees. The
grass was bent under the opaque silver dew. Invisible birds sang
in the surrounding forest.

Suddenly Boris felt a creeping coldness in spite of the warm
suit. A heap of lemon-colored fruits lay near his left hand. And
then before even thinking of his overnight fears, he laughed,
relaxing once more. Leaving a dark track behind, the little beast
advanced slowly, rolling one more fruit in front of it through
the grass.

Rim-Tim-Tucka had made his choice.

The creature stopped by the heap and squeaked persistently,
pointing in turn at the man and the fruit.

"Thank you, friend." Boris nodded.

He took a fruit and bit it cautiously. He expected it to taste
sour, probably because of the color, but the thin elastic peel
concealed a sweet, melon-tasting substance. The small animal
looked at him with its black eyes, nodded in approval and bit
into its own breakfast.

When he had finished, Boris got up and went to the nearby spring.
In the shade of a bent shrub the water turned into a mirror and
he saw his face again. Yesterday's tension seemed to have had a
good effect on him. Although unshaven, his face had a plainly
human aspect, and even the scar seemed smaller.

He drank, washed his face with the cold water and turned around.
The animal was washing its muzzle with its paws. Boris smiled,
bent to look at his face again and froze.

A deep lion's foot-print stood out on the soft sand near the
pond.

He closed his eyes tightly, then opened them again and stared at
the print. Dreams and reality clashed in his consciousness. Was
the night encounter real? Or had he simply felt a beast
approaching in the dark and let his sleeping mind interpret it in
its own way. He did not know and it seemed pointless to think
about it. Guided by the vague alarm, Boris went back to the
circle of burnt-out embers, put the little animal in his pocket
and made for the end of the bough.

The top of the Tree was barely visible in the thick morning mist.
Down below there was nothing but an unclear gray blanket. Boris
turned his back to the trunk and strode forward. He had to find a
lower bough.

It took him half an hour to find it. The bough he was on had
thinned out, its diameter had become just three or four meters.
One of the branches pointed to the left and hung over a dark spot
in the mist. Boris went on, hands spread out to keep his balance.
There was a bough beneath, not exactly under him, but near
enough. He knew it was risky. No gloves could help him climb back
along the carbine line if he failed to reach his goal. Still, he
had lost too much time to go back now. On hands and knees how he
felt the bough starting to bend under his weight. He preferred to
descend slowly and fixed the roll at 30 cm/sec. He hooked the
anchor into the hard bark, tested it, then hung on it. A strange
feeling of unreality took hold of him. The line was almost
invisible, and he floated as if weightless over a misty sea,
isolated from the world. The vague silhouette of the adjacent
bough was almost imperceptibly creeping upwards. The beastie
peeped out of his pocket, looked around at the inhospitable
surrounding, shivered and shipped back inside.

A minute later Boris pressed a clasp button and stopped the
descent. Holding the line, he swayed his legs in an ever-widening
circle over the misty abyss. A crooked dry sprout loomed large on
the bough which seemed bigger ahead. There he was, very near to
it. Circling around, Boris waited for the next try, unsheathed
the claws of his gloves and hurled forth. The branch cracked
under his weight and slowly broke, but the man had already
managed to jump a meter ahead.

He hung, clutching the tree, his left leg twisted round the
branch. He saw the broken end disappear in the mist, its branches
spread out as if seeking support. His balance was precarious. The
rope was pulling him aside. Sticking to the flat, weather-
polished bough, he cautiously sheathed the claw of the left
gauntlet, lowered his hand and released the drum. Then he quickly
crawled ahead. The branch widened out and ended in a thicker one.
He was safe at last. And only now was the muffled crash of the
broken branch heard from somewhere below.

He sat motionless until his tingling muscles relaxed. Then he
released the anchor, pulled it up and carefully went on to the
main branch.

The fog was slowly clearing away. The outline of the Tree emerged
high above, like the dome of a titanic temple, the biggest Temple
of Life in the universe. A temple full of mysteries, beauty and
puzzling cruelty. Boris stopped, looked up and for the first time
realized the might of that colossal plant. Grandiose and
indifferent, it engulfed him on all sides - up, down, left and
right, it filled the sky, it cast a shade many kilometers long,
it had dug its powerful roots into the very core of this planet.

That was too much for him. He tore his eyes away from the top and
ran through the low shrubs. Onward, far from the open space, to
the brush-wood, where he could once more feel safe.

And then the Sphinx stood in his way.

The white wings of the powerful body were spread wide apart as it
jumped out of the green leaves of the upper branch and plunged
down sharply towards the running man. In his mind Boris saw a
picture from some forgotten documentary film of an eagle diving
towards a horror-stricken, kneeling hare. He did not know when he
had stopped. His body was stiff. Staring at the four extended
claws, he stood still, aware only of the painfully slow march of
the seconds.

Then time seemed to burst and the sphinx was very close, but the
the man's hand moved with lightening speed, removing the cover of
the holster, gripping the round butt of the blaster and taking it
out. Just a tenth of a second remained. The claws spread wider.
The forefinger rested on the trigger. The muzzle was raised. His
eyes were fixed on the sphinx's face: an exceptionally beautiful
white face with thin arched eyebrows, black almond-shaped eyes
and funnily curved thick lips. His body, however, reacted with a
shot from the hip. A blinding fiery ray shot out of the blaster.
The heat wave struck Boris's face and through his half-closed
eyelids he saw one of the sphinx's wings contort and blacken. The
air was heavy with the smell of ozone and burnt plumage. The
predator flew over the edge of the branch and vanished somewhere
below. His lightening reactions, the result of endless practice,
had saved him once more. 

He stood still for a long time, gripping the blaster in his limp
hand, then looked in the direction of the sphinx. He remembered,
God knows why, that the ancient Greek word "sphinga" was of the
feminine gender. He wondered whether whether a "he" or a "she"
would fit best his pursuer and was about to laugh. Solving
grammatical problems, in this hopeless situation topped all,
indeed. He or she... The gender didn't matter anymore, if
anything tried to attack him again, he would greet it with fire
from the blaster.

He turned and walked into the forest.

On that day he managed to climb down only three more branches.
The weather was rainy and the low leaden clouds gradually formed
into a thick cover. It kept drizzling. The forest around him
looked gloomier and gloomier. He had reached the northern part of
the Tree, where high coniferous species prevailed. After midday
the downpour was so strong that he could see nothing through the
thick wall of water.

He spent the rest of the day under a huge, cone-like tree,
looking for all the world like a terrestrial fir. The thick top
didn't let the water reach him, the ground under the lower
branches was dry, and a mild warmth could be felt from beneath
the thick carpet of yellowing spines. There Boris lay, resting
his head on a big root trying to sort out his thoughts.

And so, a biological civilization. Creatures living in tunnels in
the trunks of the huge Trees. Their ability to change their
appearances in just a few minutes was amazing... He would have
even said impossible, had he not seen it with his own eyes. He
was not a biologist, but he had a sound enough knowledge to
realize that any change in an organism requires days, if not
weeks. Cells just cannot divide with such a fantastic speed, and
even if they could, this would require energy incompatible with a
living body.

All right, he thought. Let's accept the impossible. Let's assume
that there might exist creatures which are a complete
contradiction to all the laws of biochemistry. But what can one
say about Trees which contradict the basic laws of physics? They
can't possibly exist, as their own weight should have broken them
down like straws. There is no material which can endure such
pressures. And finally the crystal shrubs, violating the natural
laws of time. So what is the conclusion?

He knew it perfectly well. A miracle is possible, although highly
improbable, but three miracles in a row mean a system of some
kind. Nature cannot violate its own laws. There is only one thing
that can do that: reason.

It was here that everything went wrong. He felt as if he had a
puzzle in his hands and he was trying to put the missing pieces
together albeit in vain. It was all an absurdity no matter how
you looked at it. The local civilization had managed to achieve
with biological methods things that terrestrials could only dream
of. Their knowledge and use of machines was also something not to
be ruled out, as the broadcast on the ship's wave-length was
hardly accidental. Such progress could only have resulted from
the creative quests of a science thousands of years old.

Still, where was the inevitable social and moral advancement to
be found? What did that ruthless chase from branch to branch
mean? Or... Maybe the pessimists were right. Boris tried hard to
remember their arguments. Xenophobia, religion... Yes, it might
be that. There was something ritual in the sphinx's attitude
towards him, resembling the way some primitive tribes on Earth
singled out a warrior to punish the convicted criminal in a duel.

Yet he did not want to believe in the natural cohabitation of a
powerful science with social backwardness. Another version seemed
more likely: progress brought from outside. If an alien
civilization carelessly offers all the fruits of its science to
undeveloped tribes, it would lead to exactly this result: a
society tolerating both ritual rapaciousness, advanced
biotechnologies and radio transmissions...

Thinking about the broadcasts, Boris took the small radio out of
his pocket and set it on 'reception'. Sergeienko's voice
continued repeating, with inhuman patience:

"... or give us a signal. We are still looking for you... Boris
Dechev, you need help. Call back if you can hear us or give us a
sign. We continue--"

Yes, they continued. They had mastered not only the outward
appearance of the Captain. They had also mastered his voice and
had broadcast that call hoping to fool their victim. A single
message from him would be enough for them to locate him and
then...

Something rustled through the branches and knocked Boris on the
forehead. Although it started him, he instinctively caught the
tiny thing and looked at it. It was a small ball covered with
thin scales. Some more fell, and looking up the spaceman realized
where they had come from. The little animal had picked them.

He took one of the fruits and peeled it. Inside there was a hard
yellowish kernel which faintly smelt of resin. He cautiously bit
it, although by now he was sure of his companion's good choice.
And rightly so, for the fruit turned out to be as delicious as a
terrestrial hazelnut. The little animal up there was still
assiduously knocking down more and more balls. An amazing
creature... It didn't matter whether it was intelligent or not.
What mattered was that his presence tore apart the painful
curtain of loneliness and made the man more confident. Everything
was going to end well. If he could only get to the space ship.

Night suddenly fell. The daylight dissipated, vanishing in the
thick low clouds and a damp darkness took over, enlivened only by
the monotonous murmur of countless water drops. The tiny beast
snuggled in the breast pocket of the suit and stayed quiet. Boris
lay, staring at the darkness and thinking.

He was suddenly startled. Was he sleeping? He felt as if he had
been transported in a flash forward in time to the middle of the
night. The rain had stopped and a huge bluish moon was shining
from the clear skies. Only the bubbling of a distant stream could
be heard through the silence.

Boris raised himself on his elbows and sat up. He felt calm and
light-headed. He slowly crawled out of the tree's shadow knowing
what he was about to see. The sphinx was coming nearer, lifting
its paws high through the damp grass. Strangely enough she did
not look menacing now and the thought of the blaster disappeared
as quickly as it had come.

When merely several meters divided them, the sphinx stopped and
nodded her salute.

"Welcome to the new dream. I see you've grown calmer now."

The man lifted his shoulders and smiled in confusion.

"Don't be afraid. It's useless. It's just a dream, isn't it?"

"Yes," the sphinx agreed. "It's just a dream. Our only
opportunity of meeting like this--"

"Like what?"

"Without fear. Without being threatened. Peacefully, as far as
this is at all possible since we are enemies in real life, aren't
we, Boris? We are the hunter and the game, the lion and the
antelope, the eagle and the crane, the tyrannosaur and the
iguanodon. I'm the monster which will chase you to the end. And
you'll run and defend yourself. Like today."

His eyes examined the wing he had crippled during the day, but
found no trace of burns.

"Why?" He faltered. "What's the need for all that? If you really
are intelligent creatures, if you have a society, if you have a
civilization... Why don't you want to realize we have come like
friends?"

The sphinx smiled quietly.

"Am I the one to enumerate the likely reasons? Religious dogmas,
an in-built hatred towards aliens, a disparity between the
scientific and social development of our civilization..."

"It's naive!" He interrupted her. "Please, don't keep repeating
those same stupid suppositions that our experts have been cooking
up for years."

"What else did you expect?" The sphinx shrugged. "Don't forget,
this is a dream. And in your dream I cannot offer you anything
except your own thoughts."

These words seemed to slow down the course of time. A vague
thought surged up in Boris's subconsciousness like a tidal wave,
no, it was not a thought, it was no more than a feeling of
something that would put everything in a proper perspective. A
game, a ritual. Yes, probably that... But who was playing and
what with? With his convictions?

He was exasperated by the feeling that he was very close to
unraveling the secret which was simple, clear but all the same
inaccessible. It looked as if to get to the truth he just had to
change his way of thinking.

The rush of thoughts gradually died down, leaving a helpless
frustration in their wake.

"Don't strain yourself." The female face smiled sympathetically
at him. "And don't trust me too much. I'm the predator, right? So
I'm allowed to lie to you... The others did the same, when they
tried to convince you that you had met your friends. This is all
part of the game. A friend at night... and an enemy by day.
Tomorrow I'll be after you again, you will try to run away and
defend yourself. We'll continue like that till one of us wins.
You're dangerous, Boris... You're dangerous with that deadly
fire-arm. It's against the rules."

"I know of no other rules than to fight to the end."

"You're right," the sphinx agreed. "We'll fight to the end. But
no blasters, please."

The sphinx slowly advanced. The shadow of a tree turned her into
an outline, a solid black marble statue. She stretched her paw
toward the man and he retreated in alarm.

"Stay put!" She snapped. "How many times must I tell you it is
just a dream? In your dream I cannot harm you except if you harm
yourself."

Boris closed his eyes. The smell of resin was disturbed by whiffs
of another scent coming from the body of the sphinx and
resembling a strong and exciting feminine perfume.

The paw touched his holster. He opened his eyes and looked down.
He was amazed to see that the paw had transformed into an
exquisite woman's hand with long fingers, which skillfully took
the blaster out, opened it, tossed all the energy capsules to the
ground, and replaced it.

"It's not a dream, it's not a dream." The spaceman thought, a bit
disturbed. "Last night it wasn't a dream either... The print...
She is turning me into a helpless prey..."

He wanted to rise and take the energy capsules from her hand, but
his mind was slowly dozing off. Everything around was hazy. The
last thing he saw was the slim female back. Limping, the creature
was walking away through the grass, her arm pressed against her
chest.

He fell asleep. When he woke up, he saw the turbid grayish dawn
beneath the overhanging branches. A damp silence reigned. It was
pierced only by the muffled ripple of falling drops. It wasn't
raining, the wet trees were just slowly dripping themselves dry.

He lay still for a while, languid and tired. Somewhere beyond the
boundaries of conscious thought floated the memory of an
encounter, of something important and crucial, but he did not
want to think about it now. A familiar sound could be heard near
by. The little animal was knocking the dry needles with its paws.
Presently the knocking sound stopped. Boris turned his head and
saw the beastie sitting near a big pile of nuts. When it saw the
man staring at it, it pointed to the foodstuffs and, paying no
more attention to him, started peeling one of the fruits.

The man rose, stretched his hand toward the nuts and suddenly
groaned. He had remembered the dream.

He reached for the holster, took out the blaster, removed the
safety bolt and opened the cover.

The recharger was empty!

He sat staring at the empty recharger for a long time. Only one
single thought resounded in his head. It's not a dream... not a
dream... not a dream... His body was gripped by the leaden burden
of a limp consternation. All of it was true. The beast had come
during the night to overpower him. Now she could continue the
chase without fearing the blaster.

All the apathy was suddenly transformed into a feverish thirst
for action. Boris jumped to his feet, returned the blaster to the
holster and started stuffing his pockets with nuts. Sitting with
a half-nibbled kernel in its hand, the small animal followed his
actions with black eyes gleaming in amazement.

"Come on, buddy!" Boris said, "off we go. Straight to the
Galileo. Man your positions!"

Still holding the kernel, the little animal came closer as if
understanding what was going on. Boris lifted it carefully,
placed it in the right breast pocket and suddenly remembered the
left one. There should be three energy capsules in the first-aid
pack.

There they were! Three tiny oval containers, full of enormous
power under their shining covers.

"I have outwitted you!" He triumphed, placing the capsules into
the charger. "I really did it, you God-damned creature! You
cannot even imagine the trap your own wickedness has set for you.
Because you think I'm unarmed. And I'll do everything to make you
continue thinking that. And when the time comes--"

He walked out of the low tent formed by the branches of the tree.
The morning was cold and misty. The sun was hidden behind the
clouds, just a pale spot in the eastern part of the sky marking
its whereabouts instead.

The outlines of the near-by trees could be barely discerned
through the grayish blanket of the mist. Boris stood still,
thinking over his plans for the day. It was no use descending
from bough to bough in conditions of zero visibility. The risks
he had taken yesterday were enough. Today he would climb down the
stem.

The fog seemed to have cleared away while he had been walking
forward through the forest, but the day remained gray. Low clouds
passed through the branches and there was an occasional drizzle.

He found himself in a deep gorge between two boughs near the
stem. A waterfall had formed a tiny pool among the dark tops of
the coniferous trees. The bottom of the gorge was partitioned by
a huge wall: the trunk of the Tree.

He climbed along the steep zone, went round the branch and
started slowly descending, digging his claws into the old bark.
The physical strain gave him enormous pleasure. It cleansed body
and brain from the poison of fear. He could imagine himself being
at the high-mountain training camp again, with Gustafson and Ron
Davidson waiting for him down below and Jacques holding the rope
tight, following the slow movements of his friend.

No, he couldn't imagine it, as there was an inscription saying
'Galileo space ship. Space explorer Jacques Pinson' on the breast
sign of the operative suit. And that same Jacques Pinson was
probably dead or in one of the secret dens of the monsters.
Jacques, Sergeienko, Ron... and how many more of the Galileo
crew? How had it all happened? He strained his memory, but could
not break down the wall of amnesia. He could only remember the
space-ship the way he had last seen it: a bit tilted toward the
white crests of the waves, lying at the end of a long glass track
of melted sand.

He felt his body trembling with fatigue and remembered that he
hadn't had any breakfast.

"No, my friend," he remembered Gustafson's deep voice. "It is
simply stupid to climb on an empty stomach. Up there on the
rocks, one spends a whole month's energy in just a few hours."

He found a deep crack in the bark, settled down, and breakfasted
on nuts and a chocolate bar from the emergency rations. Soon the
tiredness disappeared and he went on down. Around midday he had
left two more branches behind, and a third one appeared directly
below him. The fog was clearing away and it was getting warmer.
When he reached the bough he stopped to have a longer rest.

It was dry near the stem. Boris lay face up, thinking about the
sphinx again. The beast had undoubtedly visited him in the night,
thought she had somehow managed to make him believe it was all a
dream. She had come to talk to him and convince him of what he
himself understood: that they were both hunter and game, lion and
antelope, tyrannosaur and iguanodon... sphinx and man... And
everything seemed right at a first glance. The man was running
down the tree, the sphinx was chasing him. But why? To tear him
to pieces, as she had said. However, she had not done it for a
couple of nights now, though she could have all right.

So it was a lie. A lie like the encounter with the five doubles.
The whole chase was aimed at something else, which still remained
mysterious and unclear.

"Damn!" He said. "Damn it all! What does it mean? That she is not
actually chasing me to rip me up. I thought I was going crazy,
thinking that those dreams are real, and that the chase during
the day had nothing to do with them. Yet, this can't explain the
print by the spring, or the disappearance of the capsules. I must
admit, though, that the chase is what only matters to her. This
means that at night she lies to me, trying to make me believe..."

"... that she is my enemy?"

For a second or two he thought the whole logic of the chase had
fallen to pieces, rapidly displaced by another one, crystal-clear
and plain, striving at just one end: to create an image so absurd
that he himself might reject it. This premise could explain
everything, everything... except for just one fact.

He saw the vaulted hall again, full of weaving silver threads,
and among them the monstrous pubescent spiders tearing his body
apart.

No, that couldn't possibly be a gesture of good-will from an
alien civilization. And since it contradicted the logic of the
chase, this meant that he had not yet pinpointed the real reason
for it all. So where was nothing for him to do but accept reality
as it was and concentrate all his efforts toward one goal:
getting to the Galileo.

He stood looking for a convenient place to descend to the lower
branch.

An hour later he was hanging on the thin carbine thread. The belt
reel was unwinding with a quiet buzz. The green roof of the tree
was coming nearer.

Something made him look up. There was nothing to be seen except
the dark brown mass of the branch he had just left. Higher up
there was only an endless green curtain, pierced by the sun's
rays. But suddenly the curtain lifted to let in a figure with
long white wings. It glided through the rays of the sun
resembling a ship on the prow of which there was an ivory female
statue. Yet under the exquisite torso horrid lion's paws
stretched forth.

Gripping the carbine filament with his left hand, Boris took the
blaster out and tried to draw a bead one-handed. He failed. The
abrupt movement made him swing aside and the onrushing sphinx
swished by him her out stretched paws missing him by inches.

Now he could almost touch the tree-tops with his feet.
Instinctively Boris did the only thing that could save him... or
kill him - he pressed the red button on the clasp.

High up the anchor prongs withdrew in their sockets and Boris
started doing a free fall. The trees engulfed him like a green
cloud. Something slapped his hands, covered his face. Branches
were noisily being crushed beneath him. The right leg of the suit
tore and he felt an acute pain in his thigh. Then were no more
branches, it grew dushy and he merely had a few more meters left
to reach the ground covered here and there with ferns. His body
tensed up for the touchdown, but he couldn't make it, he didn't
manage to get into the right position, landed heavily to one side
and lost consciousness.

The sphinx did not follow him immediately looking for a suitable
hole in the green curtain. It was only after a minute or two that
she emerged, gliding over the trees, she landed in the ferns,
withdrew her wings and, taking her time, made for her motionless
victim.

Rim-Tim-Tucka would have thought that Doomsday had come, had he
known the term. In any case, his head resounded with the thought,
that something had happened with the Tree and that everything was
finished. He resented being trapped in that narrow shelter under
the skin of the Big One thus unable to satisfy his curiosity of
how the end had come.

But the end had not come yet. Quite the opposite: everything
seemed quiet and after a short deliberation, the animal decided
to take a peep, no matter at what cost. He cautiously shoved his
muzzle out and saw that the Tree was in its place. All was quiet
and no traces of a cataclysm were visible. The Big One was lying
still, knocked unconscious out of fear, perhaps. Well, that was
that, Rim-Tim-Tucka thought. Not everybody could be as valiant as
himself.

He cast a look round. The huge lichen-covered tree trunks rose
up, their branches intertwined into an impenetrable green cover.
The silence was ominous. The little beastie shuddered and
realized that it was not so brave after all. The Big Ones were
ignoring him and playing a strange and horrible game of their
own. What could he actually do? How could he find his cozy
hollow? How could he defend his big stupid companion from... yes,
from the winged creature, who had assaulted him and was now
slowly approaching through the ferns?

His first thought was to run away, to hide somewhere among the
roots and to abandon the Big Ones and their games for good. Such
a small animal like himself could hardly change their intentions,
no matter how he tried. And Rim-Tim-Tucka was about to make a run
for his life had he not seen a queer thing, lying by the limp arm
of his companion.

Great thoughts rushed into his mind. He remembered the Big One
pointing it at the winged beast and the lightening chasing the
monster away. And if the Big One could do it so could Rim-Tim-
Tucka.

Shaking with fear like a leaf, the tiny creature crept along the
arm of the prostrated man. He had turned his attention away from
the winged monster for several seconds, and now on glancing
around again, he saw that it was very near. He desperately
pointed the heavy thing at it and chirruped threateningly:

"Stay where you are! Don't come any closer!"

He had not expected the monster to understand him, but it
suddenly laughed, narrowed its lips and a muffled, but still
perfectly comprehensible chirrup was heard:

"Drop it, little brother! You don't understand a thing of what's
doing on."

Rim-Tim-Tucka was perfectly aware of that. But he knew something
else as well: that he could not abandon his companion. They had
been through thick and thin during their long journey together
and they would die together if need be. He shouted through
trembling lips:

"Don't move!"

Paying no attention to him, the monster kept coming. The little
animal pawed the blaster helplessly. How could he fire the
lightening? The thing would surely not obey him.

"Don't play with it." The big monster said. "You can't do a
thing, I have already taken care of it. Beat it!"

Suddenly Rim-Tim-Tucka's paw sank into a broad hollow. Something
gave way under his nails and the world shone with a blinding
blaze. The fire almost singed him and for parts of a second the
creature in front turned into a black silhouette. The animal
turned, saw the lying man's eyes open wide and then fall face
down on the ground, trying not to look at the horrible scene.

Night found them on the same spot. A cool breeze was coming from
the sea. The fruits of the crystal bushes were gleaming here and
there with the light of day, while strange insects were hovering
above, their colorful semi-opaque wings drawn wide apart.
Invisible birds were constantly singing. Little animals could be
heard walking through the leaves.

Boris was laying among the ferns. The wide laceration on his
thigh pulsated under the bandage.

"Well, at least the sphinx had it worse," he thought, but that
didn't seem to calm him down. He had escaped by a sheer miracle.
Had it not been for the little animal's quick wits, he would have
long since turned into a devastated corpse.

The darkness grew denser. Fireflies danced among the ferns. The
pale blue of the rising moon peeped behind the trees. The world
stood still in a cool repose and even time hardly dared to
advance. The slow beat of a drum came from somewhere far away.
The ferns crackled, trampled upon by somebody's steps. Boris
turned his head and was once again face to face with her, the
deadly creature, staring at him in a mysterious way.

He knew that he was supposed to tremble with fear, that he should
jump up and do something. But the calmness of the night swept
over his body like a drug, making him lean on his elbows instead.
The sphinx stopped and knelt down several meters away.

"Just don't keep repeating that everything is a dream." Said
Boris hoarsely and, God knows why, his high-pitched voice was
more of a surprise to him than the coming of the enemy. "I won't
believe you anyway."

The exquisite feminine lips formed into a smile.

"You're not supposed to believe me. Haven't I already told you
that what really matters in this game is losing all sense of
reality."

"Why?" He asked.

"You want to know why? How can I explain it to you if you won't
believe a single word of mine all the same? Its... Let's say the
truth is unacceptable to you. The humans of your time are
enslaved by their prejudices. Come on, admit it, even only to
yourself, that you are ready to kill me simply because of this
lion's body and my claws."

He opened his mouth to object... but kept silent. The sphinx
shook her head.

"That's it, Boris. My animal body stands like a wall between us."
The melodious female voice suddenly rose imperatively. "OK, turn
around now!"

Before even thinking about it Boris had already turned towards
the other side and felt how defenseless his back really was. A
chill went down his spine. The lion's claws could rip him up at
any time.

"A dream, it's just a dream!" He kept repeating silently, but
couldn't make himself believe it.

"Look at me!" The predator said.

He looked at her and saw that the lion's body had vanished. A
woman was sitting on the grass, a naked, white and very fragile
woman. Boris stared at her in amazement, until he eventually
realized that this was one of the sphinx's transformations. And
then he jerked back involuntarily and leaned against a nearby
tree.

She rose slowly and made a step toward him. She looked both
defenseless and powerful in her nakedness. Boris's hand reached
for the blaster.

"Leave that iron!" The woman said in a commanding tone. "You
don't need it. You've no charges left. I had forgotten about the
last one, but your animal used it up. Or is it that you can talk
with aliens only when you are armed? That's where your mistake
is, Boris. Even your most improbable theories are simply products
of your ideas, fears or vices. Xenophobia... It has a taken
complete hold over you, it's part of your makings. You cannot
stop even for a moment to think whether we might have anything in
common."

His hand had frozen. He could not move and watched the woman
advance step by step. Her outstretched palm softly caressed his
face and Boris suddenly felt a longing to relax and throw all his
fears away.

"Wouldn't you like to know my name?" She whispered. "It's
Oleana."

Then the soft yielding body pressed against him, adding an
exciting animal scent to the fragrance of the grass.

"She is a beast! A beast!" Boris thought in a last-ditch attempt
at self-defense, but the thought was very abstract, and far away,
seemingly unconnected with the hands which were embracing him. He
was tired, he was too tired of this long chase. At this moment
there was nobody in the whole of the universe who could make him
take up the burden of fear again. And so, shrugging all fears
aside, he embraced the tender white shoulders with his arms.

He was unaware how much time had passed. The two lay on the grass
side by side. The moon hung high up in the skies, turning
Oleana's body into a perfect statue of bluish marble. Lying with
his hands under his head, Boris passed his eyes over the thin
ankles, the knees, the long thighs, the flat tummy, and the small
firm breasts. He looked at the mysterious face and asked the
question, which tormented him:

"Why?"

She lifted her head. She had understood his question correctly
and a strange expression gleamed in her almond eyes: sadness,
frustration, mockery or maybe a combination of all three.

"You shouldn't have asked. You shouldn't have even given it a
thought." She sighed. "You are once more a captive of your ideas
about the world. Sex is something to be ashamed of. It should be
hidden and granted only under strictly defined conditions. And
you don't understand that you have inherited this fear from the
Dark Ages: the fear of uncovering your soul, discarding your
shell and facing the world naked and defenseless. Do you
understand? Your "why" will remain unanswered until you find the
answer yourself."

Her hands stretched up and reached for the dark skies. The palms
formed a shell around the moon, gripped it, and the moon
obediently followed them down. Oleana sat up, holding the glowing
blue globe in her hands.

"Let me tell you what you're thinking, Boris. The Galileo has
been shipwrecked on another planet. The whole crew has been
captured by a hostile civilization. You are the only one who has
managed to escape after terrible tortures. And I have the task of
destroying you... in a strange, probably ritual way, which
explains and includes everything, even my night visits."

"What else?" He said, feeling a chill spread over his chest.

"Imagine, imagine just for a second that this is the Earth."

"No!" He groaned in amazement.

"No? You are again very quick to reject what does not fit in with
your ideas. You're a spaceman. You know the moon well, don't you?
Then look!"

She extended her hands, holding the strange ball which gleamed
like a big bluish balloon. Boris sat up. The moon... What
nonsense! The bluish atmosphere, the clouds... They had made a
mistake here and were compounding it. They simply hadn't known
that the moon was a dead ball, deprived of water and atmosphere
forever. His eyes searched the clouds and the ground for the
moon. He seemed to be watching an unknown planet from outer
space. He was intrigued by the strange round lakes. Round... He
moaned and drew back, closing his eyes, then bent again over the
ball. He could not believe it, he did not want to...

"That's right, Boris." Oleana said quietly. Her hand touched a
huge round lake. "This is Clavius, Here's Chiccard and over there
is Grimaldy... All of them ancient craters."

"So... So I'm in the future?" Boris could hardly speak.

He sank down and closed his eyes. The world seemed to swing
around him. The Earth... the Earth... But how many centuries did
it take to change everything into all this? Where were the
cities, the launching pads, the technology? What had happened to
humankind?

He pressed his hands against his temples to stop the dull ache of
tension, then heard Oleana's whisper:

"Don't worry. And don't be in a rush to trust me. I may be lying
to you again. You have enough time to clarify those questions.
The fight between us continues. Now take some sleep. Tomorrow
will be another hard day."

Boris opened his eyes and saw she had again taken the shape of a
sphinx. The moon had returned to its usual place in the sky.

"Why don't you explain it to me?" He asked in a hollow voice.

She did not answer, but turned her back on him and disappeared
into the dark forest with her soft and lithe animal-like walk.

He was very ill-tempered during the whole of the next day. At
night everything seemed simple, but under the sun's rays, logic
had its way and posed the unresolved problems again. Why was he
being chased? Why did they try to cheat him, first with bogus
spacemen, then, when that trick failed, with night dreams. And
had those talks actually taken place? Yes, somebody had visited
him. Somebody had tried to convince him that he was talking with
Oleana. But once they were able to penetrate his consciousness,
it was easy for them to drive a lesson home.

Unfair, unfair, everything was unfair. He could accept any
cruelty, any blow, but not that insidiously refined game, in
which he was gallantly being tossed some chances only to be
deprived of them a little later. He finally seemed to understand
their goal: to chase him to the end, to prevent him from losing
all hope to achieve his goal and finally, in front of the
Galileo, the sphinx would plunge toward him for the final crash.

The ground was coming nearer. He could hardly reach it till
sunset, but tomorrow he would probably set foot on it. And then
the time of the crucial battle would come.

"We shall see," he thought, creeping down along the rugged bark.
"The cat-and-mouse game is not as harmless as you imagine. The
mouse has two more charges in the blaster."

As if responding to his thought, the sphinx flew out from a
branch nearby. Boris clutched at the bark with his left hand,
sheathed the claws on the right and took the blaster out. He shot
from the hip. He had done it thousands of times during his
training. But he failed now. The fire-beam passed harmlessly by
the big white wing. The creature threw an amazed and somehow
mocking glance at the man, then swirved to the left and vanished
behind the tree.

He didn't see her again on that day. He did not see her during
the night, either, although he stayed awake for a long time,
thinking about their last talk. The Earth. He was tempted to
believe her, but knew he would thus enter the monsters' game and
would pass his own death sentence. They could make him feel
confident. They could show him the transformed moon, but all that
still didn't explain one thing: their attitude toward him.

He tried to imagine how he would react to a stranger from the
past. Yes, they would probably have difficulties, unresolvable
problems. Yet humanity has its principles. It does not allow one
to tear up the helpless victim in a gloomy den. It bans hypocrisy
and deceit. And this destroyed Oleana's claims. In the morning he
once more discovered lion's prints near him. The beast had come,
but had not dared wake him up. Perhaps she was aware that she had
made a mistake last night. The lie with the moon was too simple.
And the intimacy between them...

Boris shuddered. No, the intimacy was not a mistake. It was a
perfect tactical move, the final touch in a complicated game,
aimed at thoroughly confusing him. He hated her for that move...
and yet longed to see her, and was quite bitter that she had not
woken him up during the night.

Leaning over the end of the branch, he was surprised to see that
the darkness had misled him last night. His descent was coming to
its end, as not more than fifty meters remained to the ground.

"We did it, brother!" He shared his happiness with the little
animal while putting it back in his pocket. "They couldn't stop
us."

He knew it wasn't true. Everything would be decided in the next
few hours. Still, he couldn't completely damp the joy he felt
while he was attaching the anchor and getting ready for the last
descendent.

"Boris--"

Frozen on the brink of the abyss, he looked around. Oleana was
staring at him from a nearby bush. Hidden by the green branches,
she really looked like a human woman. But even without seeing it,
he knew that a lion's body was concealed by the bush.

He jumped and hung on the rope. And almost immediately realized
that he had made a wrong move. Now his life was in the sphinx's
hands. She merely had to unhook the anchor and he was a dead man.
He feverishly reached for the clasp and increased the unwinding
speed. The ground in the shadow of the Tree approached rapidly
from below, covered with thin firs.

The shadow of the tree gradually tore apart. The young fir-tees
gave way to tall pines, the land around them covered with dead
needles. There were no shrubs or grass, only the mysterious
crystal plants could be seen here and there. Boris ran at a
moderate pace to conserve his energy. He did not know how many
kilometers divided him from the space ship. His body functioned
like a well-greased machine, but his mind darted time and again
to the total absurdity of the chase.

"Well," he thought, "let's start with the facts. The local
civilization has captured the Galileo crew. I have managed to
escape and they must kill me. But why haven't they done it till
now, since they've had so many opportunities? Why haven't they
put the whole population of the Tree on the alert, instead of
sending only Oleana after me? A ritual? Maybe so. Yet, to what an
extent is the development of a biological civilization of a high
order possible in a society which had preserved primitive tribal
rites? Or, let's opt for the second version. The version that
they are trying to make me believe. This is the Earth. The
Galileo has returned after several centuries. The technological
civilization I knew has vanished and has been replaced by a
biological one. But why should they capture us then? Why should
they destroy and kill us, instead of telling us the whole truth?
Why have they for days now been trying with all their might to
keep me in a role convenient for them: that of a hunted animal."

He was overwhelmed again by a feeling that he was very close to
the truth. But the moment passed and the truth was replaced by a
memory of the monsters in their gloomy mossy cave. No human will
ever do THAT to one of his kind, no matter what age he might
belong to.

Still, several words, in which the answer to everything was
hidden, kept resounding in his head: the role of a hunted
animal... the role of a hunted animal...

Some sort of animal instinct made him turn his head, just in time
to see the predator running after him through the pines. She had
always found his traces... yes, always.

He knew what he had to do. Stop, turn, and shoot without haste,
gripping the blaster with both hands the way he had been taught
to do it at the firing ground. However, panic overpowered reason
and Boris took the gun out while still running. He fired a shot
and blackened a trunk beside the sphinx. He was desperate now,
and at that moment something plucked at his left foot. A root, he
understood even as he fell near a crystal shrub. Without
thinking, moved by terror alone, he lifted his arm, picked a big
transparent fruit which hung over his head and hurled it at
Oleana. It fell short and broke to pieces in front of her paws
with a soft tinkle... ... and the predator disappeared. The whole
world trembled for a fraction of a second, the shadows stirred,
the sun jumped back in the skies. Then everything was quiet again
and the astounded man continued to lie by the crystal shrub. He
couldn't understand what had happened, he only knew that
something had happened to the whole world to save him from the
sphinx.

He lifted his head and saw the lowest branch of the Tree behind
the pine tops. Something small moved there, hung still and
started creeping down like a tiny spider. A miniature human
figure was outlined against the background of the sky. Was that
someone from the crew who had managed to follow his example?

And suddenly he realized that he was seeing himself. The crystal
ball had taken him several minutes back in time. Several
minutes... A tiny advantage, but he had to use it before Oleana
could again scent his tracks.

He jumped up and ran forward. He knew that he had almost no
chance of succeeding, but he had to fight to the end. Escape was
the only resort left. Without any charges in the blaster he was a
very easy prey for the beast. Now, at the end of the game she
would not spare him.

A fallen tree stood in his way. He jumped over it and ran on. A
new tree and then another one. Years ago a storm must have passed
over this wood, uprooting the trees. The obstacles hampered his
escape, the seconds were mercilessly ticking away. How much time
had elapsed? How much did he have? Flight, only flight... He had
no other chance. How could he counter the lion's claws? The
knife? Hopeless. Think, think! He ordered himself.

An uprooted pine was hanging over the ground, resting on the
branches of another tree. Boris bent, ran under it, and suddenly
remembered the lessons of the old hunter... what was his name? No
matter. Survival class: water-bird loops, traps for small
animals, fish nets, big game hunting... Clear the stem of the
branches. Put it above the path on which the animal will pass.
The support should be unstable.

He stopped abruptly, went back and started working without giving
it a second thought. The preparation of such traps had taken an
hour at the training camp. Now he had to do it in several
seconds.

He changed the smooth edge of the knife for a saw-toothed one,
switched on the vibrator in the butt and climbed the trunk, He
cut the branches at a stroke, his body trembling with tension,
beads of blood running down his lacerated hands. Seconds...
minutes... precious time was ticking away...

He did not know how much time had passed, but there he was on the
ground, looking up at the trap. An excellent big-game trap, made
according to all the rules of the hunt. The fallen trees screened
the path on both sides, the freshly cut branches jutting out here
and there. The trunk hung low over the ground. The white sores of
the cuts were covered with soil. The support was unstable, even
the slightest push would topple the tree down. Boris had thought
it out well: the one and only branch that remained on the tree
hung precisely over Oleana's only possible route.

He stood several meters away, waiting, too tired to run. He had
exhausted himself out in the feverish battle with the tree and
now had to bide for his chance.

The predator came out of the blue. She walked among the trees
with a resolute and gracious stride. Cold shivers went down his
spine. He make one step back, then one more. The sphinx saw him,
rushed forth and reached the trap in two leaps. She went down,
passed beneath the trunk and pushed the hanging branch with her
left hand...

Boris closed his eyes.

A muffled blow... a cry of pain... A quiet and fearsome crackle
of crushed bones...

When he opened his eyes again Oleana lay under the heavy resinous
trunk. The lion's body had disappeared, and bare women's legs
stuck out on the other side of the trunk. She had not passed out.
Her pain-dilated eyes looked at Boris, a trickle of blood running
down the corner of her mouth. Her hands moved, tried to lift her
body but failed.

"The spine." He thought. "With her spine broken, she has lost
power over her body."

He knew he had to run now. He had won the cruel game and it would
take him a mere quarter of an hour to reach the Galileo. But for
some unknown reason he could not order himself to take the first
step. Something was wrong. He was again bombarded by unanswered
questions, the thousand 'whys' he could not resolve.

Why was a rational being chasing another one to kill it?

And then from the remotest corner of his sub-consciousness
came... no, not an answer but a counter-question. Why then should
a rational being take that for granted and enter the game?

That thought shattered his exhausted body. The game was
illogical, and he had known it from the very beginning. And
Oleana had only added a few more illogical strokes to the life-
and-death chase. Why was that?

To convince him he was wrong?

Hadn't he himself decided that the monsters wanted to kill him?

Who had created that cruel reality? They? Or he?

He was too weak to think. Gear-wheels seemed to be running idle
without functioning. He did not know why, he did not want to live
in that nightmare, he did not want to become an accomplice in it
although he had played the game for days. He sobbed out in
helplessness and dropped down on the dead needles.

Slowly, his fingers trembling, he took the small radio out of the
pocket of his suit. He pressed the button and the monotonous,
inhumanly stubborn voice started repeating:

"Boris Dechev, can you hear us? We are waiting for you. Boris
Dechev, can you hear us? We--"

"I can hear you." He said in a hollow voice. "I can hear you. God
damn you, for ever and ever! Come and kill me if you want,
because I can't be like you. Come and save her."

A gray mist seemed to cover everything. Only Oleana's eyes could
be seen, filled with unbearable pain and reproach. The minutes
flew. Huge birds came down from the sky like black lightnings,
pushed the trunk aside, turned into pubescent gray spiders and
stuck their tentacles into the naked female body. Not knowing how
he found the strength to do it, Boris jumped up, took out his
knife and was about to rush at them when suddenly petrified he
stood, foolishly looking at the knife in his hand.

Knife...

Who has the right to put a knife into a human body?

A murderer.

Or... ... a surgeon.



They stood on the top of the Tree amidst snow and ice which had
covered the huge branches with a bluish armor. Obscure and
mysterious, the world lay sprawling in the moon-lit night. To the
right was the ocean, to the left - an endless plain, covered with
forests, other Trees infrequently standing up like living
mountains.

The world, Boris thought, my world after five centuries. So many
changes had taken place in just five centuries. The omnipotent
machines have disappeared. Man has learned how to rule time and
his own body. The biological processes can take place with an
amazing speed, drawing energy directly from space. And everyone
can turn into whatever he desires: a bird, a beast, or a many-
handed spider, if he is a doctor.

"Boris," Oleana whispered quietly.

He turned to her. Her naked body was gleaming in the moon-light.
The frost seemed to have no power on her.

"I know what you're thinking. You consider us omnipotent. We are
not. We still need machines wherever our bodies are not strong
enough. Sometimes we can be even helpless: faced with human
fears, with the superstitious dread of the unknown. That was why
I had to chase you till you realized the whole absurdity of the
situation."

"Who was there on the branch?" He asked.

"You know who, don't you? Sergeienko, Pincon, Davidson..."

"But they--"

Oleana raised her palm to his lips.

"Don't talk! I know what you'll say. They have just grown used to
it, Boris, that is all. Everyone can learn how to do it. You can
do it, too."

"Me?"

Instead of answering him she took his face in both hands, stood
on tip-toe and brought her eyes closer to his. Her pupils turned
into fathomless wells. A vague force pushed him into a dark
abyss. He had the feeling of falling down, his body getting
lighter, breaking the chains of time, filling him with unthought-
of freedom, airiness and a huge store of amazing knowledge.

The palms withdrew.

"Come." She said. "I'll hold you up if you fail. But you'll be
able to do it like the rest."

Feeling light, yet tensely frozen with unbearable expectation, he
followed her. He felt a newly acquired strength explode through
his body, an unsuspected knowledge turn his hands into wings. The
costume tore and fell down, while he hurled himself into the
abyss.

Two huge white birds flew through the moon-lit night.



It should be admitted that the Big Ones knew how to do a job,
once they set their minds to it. Despite the boundlessness of the
Tree they located Rim-Tim-Tucka's exact territory and returned
him there thus bringing the great plans of the little animal to a
successful conclusion as usual.

That, of course, did not spare him the trouble he had with the
insolent Yellowbeak who had taken possession of his cozy hollow
during his absence. He had to wage another war, which, needless
to say, ended in a brilliant victory.

But that is quite another story...