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Author: admin, 14.10.2014
A A LARGE rose-tree stood near the entrance of the garden: the roses growing on it were white, but there were three gardeners at it, busily painting them red.
The Queen turned crimson with fury, and, after glaring at her for a moment like a wild beast, screamed "Off with her head!
The soldiers were silent, and looked at Alice, as the question was evidently meant for her.
Alice thought she might as well go back and see how the game was going on, as she heard the Queen's voice in the distance, screaming with passion. The hedgehog was engaged in a fight with another hedgehog, which seemed to Alice an excellent opportunity for croqueting one of them with the other: the only difficulty was, that her flamingo was gone across to the other side of the garden, where Alice could see it trying in a helpless sort of way to fly up into one of the trees. The moment Alice appeared, she was appealed to by all three to settle the question, and they repeated their arguments to her, though, as they all spoke at once, she found it very hard indeed to make out exactly what they said. The executioner's argument was, that you couldn't cut off a head unless there was a body to cut it off from: that he had never had to do such a thing before, and he wasn't going to begin at his time of life. The King's argument was, that anything that had a head could be beheaded, and that you weren't to talk nonsense. The Queen's argument was, that if something wasn't done about it in less than no time, she'd have everybody executed all round. The Cat's head began fading away the moment he was gone, and by the time he had come back with the Duchess, it had entirely disappeared; so the King and the executioner ran wildly up and down looking for it, while the rest of the party went back to the game. OU can't think how glad I am to see you again, you dear old thing!" said the Duchess, as she tucked her arm affectionately into Alice's, and they walked off together. Alice was very glad to find her in such a pleasant temper, and thought to herself that perhaps it was only the pepper that had made her so savage when they met in the kitchen.
She had quite forgotten the Duchess by this time, and was a little startled when she heard her voice close to her ear.
The other guests had taken advantage of the Queen's absence, and were resting in the shade: however, the moment they saw her, they hurried back to the game, the Queen merely remarking that a moment's delay would cost them their lives. They had not gone far before they saw the Mock Turtle in the distance, sitting sad and lonely on a little ledge of rock, and, as they came nearer, Alice could hear him sighing as if his heart would break.
So they went up to the Mock Turtle, who looked at them with large eyes full of tears, but said nothing.
This was quite a new idea to Alice, and she thought over it a little before she made her next remark. So Alice began telling them her adventures from the time when she first saw the White Rabbit.
Alice said nothing; she had sat down with her face in her hands, wondering if anything would ever happen in a natural way again. The judge, by the way, was the King; and as he wore his crown over the wig, he did not look at all comfortable, and it was certainly not becoming. The Hatter looked at the March Hare, who had followed him into the court, arm-in-arm with the Dormouse.
This did not seem to encourage the witness at all: he kept shifting from one foot to the other, looking uneasily at the Queen, and in his confusion he bit a large piece out of his teacup instead of the bread-and-butter. Here one of the guinea-pigs cheered, and was immediately suppressed by the officers of the court.
For some minutes the whole court was in confusion, getting the Dormouse turned out, and, by the time they had settled down again, the cook had disappeared. ERE!" cried Alice, quite forgetting in the flurry of the moment how large she had grown in the last few minutes, and she jumped up in such a hurry that she tipped over the jury-box with the edge of her skirt, upsetting all the jurymen on to the heads of the crowd below, and there they lay sprawling about, reminding her very much of a globe of gold-fish she had accidentally upset the week before. Alice looked at the jury-box, and saw that, in her haste, she had put the Lizard in head downwards, and the poor little thing was waving its tail about in a melancholy way, being quite unable to move. As soon as the jury had a little recovered from the shock of being upset, and their slates and pencils had been found and handed back to them, they set to work very diligently to write out a history of the accident, all except the Lizard, who seemed too much overcome to do anything but sit with its mouth open, gazing up into the roof of the court. There was a general clapping of hands at this: it was the first really clever thing the King had said that day.
At this the whole pack rose up into the air, and came flying down upon her: she gave a little scream, half of fright and half of anger, and tried to beat them off, and found herself lying on the bank, with her head in the lap of her sister, who was gently brushing away some dead leaves that had fluttered down from the trees upon her face.
First, she dreamed of little Alice herself, and once again the tiny hands were clasped upon her knee, and the bright eager eyes were looking up into hersa€”she could hear the very tones of her voice, and see that queer little toss of her head to keep back the wandering hair that would always get into her eyesa€”and still as she listened, or seemed to listen, the whole place around her became alive with the strange creatures of her little sister's dream. So she sat on with closed eyes, and half believed herself in Wonderland, though she knew she had but to open them again, and all would change to dull realitya€”the grass would be only rustling in the wind, and the pool rippling to the waving of the reedsa€”the rattling teacups would change to the tinkling sheep-bells, and the Queen's shrill cries to the voice of the shepherd boya€”and the sneeze of the baby, the shriek of the Gryphon, and all the other queer noises, would change (she knew) to the confused clamour of the busy farm-yarda€”while the lowing of the cattle in the distance would take the place of the Mock Turtle's heavy sobs.
Joseph reckoned it would take less than three hours for the tree to absorb the flyzard's nutrients. He thought of the bedraggled puffer crouching in the corner of the lab aviary, mangled and dying. The foremen howled with laughter as McIntyre bowed, a toothy grin spreading beneath his moustache.
Cal glanced at the crippled puffer-owl behind the transparent wall of the aviary, luminous eyes studying its captors as if they were the ones in a cage.
Joseph's laughter rang against the walls, bold and unfettered for the first time since his arrival on Kelvyn. The pulverizers were roaring at full capacity when Joseph and Cal reached the edge of the clearing zone. Joseph stared at the stocky crew chief, knew with sick certainty that the man would not back down. One section of the colony structure and three pulverizers were demolished while the crews slept. Joseph knew little of his own Cherokee heritage: only scraps culled from thousands of history disks he had searched over the years. Cal shamed McIntyre into letting Joseph out the next morning after it happened for the second time.


A mogre slipped from the splintered tree line on six powerful legs, drawn into the open by the scent of death. The two men jogged toward the temporary sleep-cubes where McIntyre and most of the foremen bedded down. Marsalis glanced at the ruins of the crew chief's cubicle, then nodded with obvious relief. Joseph and Cal were in the lab four hours later when the last shuttle blasted off for the Surveyor. Cal studied Joseph with a new expression in his eyes: surprise, admiration, a trace of fear. The two men stopped just inside the stand of trees that marked the boundary of the village. Cal was a slender man, but he managed to sling Joseph over his shoulder and stagger back toward camp.
Cal sank to the ground in exhaustion, breath coming in strangled gasps, and laid Joseph beside him. Alice thought this a very curious thing, and she went nearer to watch them, and just as she came up to them she heard one of them say "Look out now, Five! The three soldiers wandered about for a minute or two, looking for them, and then quietly marched off after the others. Alice looked up, and there stood the Queen in front of them, with her arms folded, frowning like a thunderstorm. Alice did not quite like the look of the creature, but on the whole she thought it would be quite as safe to stay with it as to go after that savage Queen: so she waited. She was a little nervous about it just at first, the two creatures got so close to her, one on each side, and opened their eyes and mouths so very wide, but she gained courage as she went on. This, of course, Alice could not stand, and she went round the court and got behind him, and very soon found an opportunity of taking it away. She carried the pepper-box in her hand, and Alice guessed who it was, even before she got into the court, by the way the people near the door began sneezing all at once. Each tree was a scale model of the forest, supporting a complete ecosystem within its massive coils. He was in better shape than anyone else in the Surveyor's crew, but the strong gravity of Kelvyn still sapped the strength from his muscles.
Skin and bones would drop to the forest floor, where scavengers feasted on the porcu-pine's leavings. A mousipede crouched in the grass near the center of the clearing, nibbling on the fruit of a bloodberry bush. A broad pair of forewings and a smaller pair of hindwings controlled their speed and direction of flight.
Joseph could not see the creatures hidden behind the leaves, but their terror and confusion buffeted him in waves. He searched the work zone for Angus McIntyre and spotted the crew chief near a field console, poring through schematics with a cluster of foremen.
It didn't take long to locate McIntyre, but the noise made it impossible to talk in the open. He read of the Busk, the festival celebrating first fruits and new fires, but the words had no flavor. The essence of what the Cherokee had been eluded him, like the dappled outline of a lightning-buck darting through morning mist. He looked more like a cornered animal than the puffers that circled above him, singing their silent rage.
They fell to the ground, Joseph clawing for the laser, McIntyre still trying to aim at the retreating puffers. He had been up most of the night, haunted by ghastly visions of Shaman erupting into flame. For a moment he was gliding through the ancient forests of America with his ancestors - strong and unbowed - sinews stretching down into the fragrant soil like roots. So you see, Miss, we're doing our best, afore she comes, toa€”a€”" At this moment, Five, who had been anxiously looking across the garden, called out "The Queen! Next came the guests, mostly Kings and Queens, and among them Alice recognised the White Rabbit: it was talking in a hurried, nervous manner, smiling at everything that was said, and went by without noticing her.
The Cat seemed to think that there was enough of it now in sight, and no more of it appeared. Then againa€”'before she had this fita€”' you never had fits, my dear, I think?" he said to the Queen. Yet the rustle of leaves, the fragrance of vegetation, the spring of living carpet beneath his feet offered familiar comfort. He took three swallows from his water pack and watched in fascination as a nearby porcu-pine lured its prey. It scurried halfway to the tree line on its dozen stubby legs before the puffer's talons dug into its back. He wriggled between the loops of a corkscrew so his presence would not disturb the puffers.
I also know that Corporate is rattlin' their saber a little louder every day, and it's not your head'll be rolling if we fall behind.
When we rape a world, it's never the same again; it dies of shame and misery, then it rots around us until we leave. He read of Sequoya and others who tried to adapt to the white man's customs, hoping to salvage some shred of their culture.
The tension in his body unwound as the three of them ambled through the maze of plasteel and titanium toward the far edge of the site.


An ugly purple bruise bloomed on one cheek; a split lip bulged beneath the bushy moustache now matted with blood. Massive crocodilian jaws snapped up the tenderest chunks, crushing them to pulp as they vanished into its maw. These men did not fear anything in the galaxy they could see, but an invisible enemy was too much for them. I've reviewed every scrap of seismic data I have, and there's just nothing out of the ordinary about this chunk of rock. Then the crippled puffer-owl spread his speckled wings, inflated, and vanished into the sky.
Then followed the Knave of Hearts, carrying the King's crown on a crimson velvet cushion; and last of all this grand procession, came THE KING AND QUEEN OF HEARTS. Corkscrew ferns twisted toward the sky in tightly bunched loops all around him, giant fronds feathering out to catch the orange sunlight. He felt in tune with the rhythms of nature here, reconnected to the threads of growth and life woven into the very fabric of his soul. A brown flying-lizard not much bigger than a pigeon hovered between the branches, drawn by the aroma of honeysap that oozed from the porcu-pine's bark. It squeaked twice as its captor flipped it and sliced through its tender belly with a scythe-like beak. Well, now, there's a thrivin' colony on that planet, and I don't believe a one of them that built it spent a slim second in lockup. The roar of the pulverizers swelled, much tamer now that half their number had been reduced to scrap. We've only five pulverizers left as it is, and the lads can't make any progress with this commotion. Before Joseph could react, a rod of light leapt from McIntyre's hand into the mass of puffers. Shackled by the roustabouts, Joseph could only shout to drive the demonic creature back into the forest. He's dead and buried… just a few hours after you told him he oughta haul ass out of here for his own safety.
He saw the same wonder in Cal Benton's eyes that he himself had felt when he first walked among the corkscrews. I better get you back so we can drug you up good… and so I can jabber some double-talk at Marsalis.
They had been chased away by a ghoul with hair the color of blood and a moustache of flame. Eight interminable months trapped in the sterile shell of the Surveyor had almost driven him mad… but the land restored him.
As soon as the flyzard touched the sticky sap, the branches snapped together, impaling it with a dozen needles.
A few minutes passed before the bloated outline of a puffer-owl glided from the upper branches. Because of the strong surface gravity of Kelvyn, they could not get off the ground without the buoyancy of their flight bladders. Far beyond his vision, a clan of puffer-owls had built their living chambers, piling section upon section as family and home grew together, intertwined. He barely missed an outstretched porcu-pine branch as he labored back the way he had come, legs pumping against the iron grip of Kelvyn, black hair dancing in the wind. It floated across the glade with silent stealth, riding the wind like a feathered zeppelin.
These inflated with hydrogen extracted from the air when the owls rose, swelling them like balloons.
When he staggered into the clearing near the camp, ten pulverizers were already online, gobbling the forest and turning it to mulch.
McIntyre followed their gaze, stroking a bushy red moustache that burned like fire in the orange light. But the fact is, we've got to finish the shell structure here and be hyperspatial toward Avalon inside of two months, or it's my ass. After a few weeks with the pulverizers, we'd flattened half their hunting territory and driven most of the game away.
Maybe this planet has some weird localized tectonics, some kind of seismic hiccup we haven't detected yet. I programmed the computer to scan the ultrasonic frequencies, and there it was: they have a musical vocabulary, pitched so high that the human ear can't detect it.
Soon Shaman's village would be a memory, and here he sat like a caged animal, cut off from the sweet breath of the land… unable to stop the slaughter of a way of life.
They wheeled overhead, diving and snapping at the crews, filling the air like a plague of feathered locusts. Without warning he whipped it down across his legs, driving the needles deep into his thighs before collapsing with a cry. Survivors climbed frantically above the inferno, but McIntyre kept firing, setting off a dozen smaller explosions.



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