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Updated: June 17, 2025
Then one of the men around the table raised his head, revealing a thin face, with watery blue eyes and a straggly goatee. The two men inside the wall gasped as one man. "Father!" The single loud word was torn from Dark's throat without his volition, without his actually realizing he had spoken.
The heads of the men in the room jerked up at the cry, and they looked around and at each other, with puzzled expressions. Old Beard clapped a firm hand over Dark's mouth and hissed in his ear: "Fool! Let's get out of here!" As quietly as possible, they made their way back. Through the ventilator behind them came the murmur of querulous voices.
As she sat up, one of them touched his cap and spoke to her: "We're police officers from Ophir, Miss Cara Nome. Mr. Eli called from Mars City and directed us to drive over here and help you guard the prisoner until his arrival." She rose angrily. "I didn't ask for your help, so you may go," she said, aware of Dark's surprised gaze on her. "I made a mistake in identification."
In it, under glaring lights, a group of half a dozen white-clad men were working with knives and other instruments on the body of a man, either anaesthetized or dead, which lay on a surgical table. Old Beard put his face against the grill next to Dark's, and the two men watched the scene below for a few moments.
If this man, as he is now, had reappeared twenty-five years ago, I'd know it was Dark Kensington. But he looks exactly as Dark did when he disappeared, not one day older. And he doesn't remember a thing beyond his disappearance except events of the past two weeks, he says. "Yet his memories of Dark's activities before his disappearance are unquestionably accurate and clear.
The strong men, understanding their Colonel's purpose, took hold of the delicate ones; and the leaping, the capering, the tumult of voices and the stamping of slushy moccasins with which they assaulted that stately forest must have frightened every wild thing thereabout into a deadly rigor, dark's irrepressible energy and optimism worked a veritable charm upon his faithful but almost dying companions in arms.
Appalled, struck to the heart, he turned in his tracks. Maya was standing behind him, calmly trying to rearrange her raven hair, tangled by the raging rush of wind. "What's the matter?" she asked quietly, becoming aware of Dark's intent gaze. "Maya! You don't have a helmet on! Are you breathing?" She was silent for a moment, apparently examining herself.
"Here, put on one of these," suggested Dark, picking up the one he had selected for Old Beard. Maya wriggled into it. The Martians, she said, were on the other side of Ultra Vires, so they left the motor pool and walked down one of the long corridors together, Maya clinging to Dark's arm with one hand and carrying her marshelmet under her other arm.
Maya was standing back against the wall on the other side of the room, alarmed at the noise in the corridor, frightened at the opening of the door. As Dark and Old Beard came in, and she recognized Dark, she ran across the room to meet them, joy transforming her face. She threw herself into Dark's arms. "Oh, Dark!" she cried. "I knew you'd come!" He enfolded her in his arms and kissed her.
Some of the aggressive movements undertaken by the Americans were of so loose a nature that it is hard to know what to call them. This was true of Elijah dark's company of Georgia freebooters in 1794. Accompanied by large bodies of armed men, he on several occasions penetrated into the territory southwest of the Oconee.
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