The Eternal Enemy by Michael Berlyn Page B

just open the bay door and disappear. I can’t fight this war by myself. You change so many things just by touching them. Look at how different I am, and the adjustments I’ve had to make. But now you have to change.
    â€œChanging rock and stone—the wind does that, and the water does too. But it can’t change the inside of a stone. Inside yourself, Old One—that’s where the change has to be.
    â€œStay with me and help me. Don’t mourn something you just couldn’t stop. If you hadn’t broken your taboo, we would still be on Gandji, most likely dead, and your brothers would lose this war. Do you understand?”
    â€œYes,” the Old One said. “I, I understand.”
    â€œEven if it means eating again?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œThen let’s have no more of this. I need your continued help too much to have you sulking.”
    The Haber flashed red. His eyes stayed red, then the color slowly faded.
    â€œLet’s see what it’s like out there,” Markos said. “I’ve never been here before, and it’s been a long time for you.”
    â€œYes, it has.”
    They stood in the large bay, positioned by the huge door, tensed, ready to react instantly. If the Hydrans were on the other side of the door, they would have to act quickly to keep their lives.
    â€œYou all remember what to do, right?” Markos asked.
    The ten children flashed a brilliant crimson.
    â€œAll right then, Old One. Start opening the door.”
    The Old One touched the bulkhead and the door started to swing upward and outward. As soon as it had traveled a few centimeters, the smallest child, Markatens, dropped to the deck and described what he could see through the widening crack. No smoke, no signs of destruction Markos had warned him to look for.
    Markos felt trapped in his own body as it reacted to the changing demands. At least when he’d been Terran, years of experience had helped him know what physical feelings he’d have to deal with—adrenaline, hormones, fatigue. But this new body had no in-betweens. Without the immediate threat of battle, it reacted with incredible speed, shutting down his heightened awareness and relaxing muscles that a moment ago were tightly knotted.
    He bent down to see Aurianta.
    At first glance he thought his body was still playing tricks on him, that the tension of possible battle had created a chemical in his system that changed his perceptions. He felt as though he’d been given a large dose of a hallucinogen. When he glanced up at the Old One and the children, Markos’s fears doubled. No one seemed affected by the scene as he’d been.
    His mind reeled as he stared, dumbfounded, nearing fright and shock. The ship had landed a few kilometers away from what looked like a city. The tallest building was only three stories high, though needlelike spires pierced the sky ten stories up. Somehow he felt the city was there only as an afterthought, something to add a little sanity to the landscape.
    Balloonlike plants floated through the air, drifting on gentle breezes, some high in the prismatic sky while others drifted lazily a meter or two off the ground. Tendrillike roots dangled from the inflated transparent sacs, moved in slow motion, circling, twisting, constantly seeking a place to alight below.
    The sky proved impossible to look at for more than a second or two at a time. The sun was either rising or setting, resting on the horizon like a large, diffuse blob of constantly changing colors. The rest of the sky mirrored this effect, though the colors were far less intense and their boundaries less clearly defined. It was like staring up into a huge, deep opal that covered the whole sky, shimmering and changing with each passing moment.
    Wherever his eyes rested, they were treated to more of the same, and he flashed again on the idea that he might be hallucinating.
    â€œThis place …” he started to say, then