The Chronicles of Monster Planet. Роман Елиава

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The Chronicles of Monster Planet - Роман Елиава

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was our guide again, we followed her – but not until we took the bracelets from Vincent Taney's hands.

      “What are they hiding from us?” the Russian doctor whispered in my ear.

      “You do have a penchant for distrust, don't you, Boris?” I said, dismissing his suspicions.

      “Mark my words!” he noted pointedly, his eyes flashing fire, but I was already ahead of him.

      Boris hurried after me. I wanted to catch up with Cheng and have a word with her, but suddenly I ran into a charming blue-eyed brunette. Her graceful figure distracted me from the Chinese specialist and serious questions.

      “Aren't you a power engineer from the Hope?” she asked in a deep, velvety voice.

      “That would be me. How can I help such a beautiful lady?”

      “How nice of you to say that!”

      “It's a family trait,” I smiled my most enticing smile.

      “I'm Anna Ericsson, an engineer at this base,” the girl held out her hand. “It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

      Her handshake was warm and firm. And suddenly I felt like drowning in those big, sensual eyes of hers. The reverie was broken by a metallic sound of Cheng's bracelet falling on the immaculately polished floor. Anna and I looked at her at once. But she didn't notice dropping the bracelet or our stares. Ji was looking at her watch intently. She's calculating something again, I thought. But what? She clearly doesn't like something about this place. Is something wrong with time? If only I had known back then what I know now! On the other hand, maybe it wouldn't have changed anything.

      “Hey, Ji,” I called out to the astrophysicist.

      “Ah?” she shuddered. “Everything's fine.”

      She picked up the bracelet and hurried after Sheila to the mess hall. But it made me think. The unbalanced and overly suspicious Russian is one thing, but the extremely preoccupied Chinese astrophysicist is something completely different – I have never seen such strong emotion on her face before. That's something to consider.

      “If you're going to the mess hall, I can keep you company,” Anna distracted me from my confused thoughts again.

      The mess hall was a fairly large room, which could easily accommodate at least a hundred people. Now it seemed empty. As we entered, I caught several curious looks from a few people sitting there. No wonder, I thought. We are probably the most interesting event in their lives. But, then again, maybe not, recalling what Trevor had said about the local species. It would be interesting to see them. Besides, what are we supposed to do now? Our mission has lost its purpose.

      A dark-skinned man, whose appearance evoked thoughts of vegetarian cuisine, came to serve us food. His black eyes with bright whites, which created a stark contrast with his dark skin, shifted from one crew member to another.

      “This is our cook, Raheem Khaji,” Dr. Hill said.

      “I hope his meals aren’t quite as sour as his face,” another attempt of mine to lighten the mood with a joke, again failed, inevitably triggering Sheila's displeased stare.

      Despite expectations, our lunch, dinner, or whatever meal of the day it was, included meat. We had chicken. Just a small portion, accompanied with some sort of boiled grass. In addition, we had porridge and tea, which, judging by the particles floating in it, had been made from the same grass as the side dish. Well, Terra Nova is anything but a gourmet paradise, I thought, picking at the gelatinous puree with a spoon. Anna came over with her tray and took a seat opposite me.

      “Do you find our food unusual?”

      “Compared to the nutrient solution pumped into my body for the last two hundred years, it's just ambrosia,” I replied and recklessly put a spoonful of the puree in my mouth.

      The puree was expectedly tasteless, but it made the girl smile.

      “What was the food like back on Earth?” she asked. “I heard there was some sort of a delicacy, oyster. Obviously, I've never tried it.”

      “Well, it’s something like a sea worm in a shell. I've never liked oysters, they are highly overrated. I'd rather have a well-done steak with a glass of chilled wine.”

      “A worm? Yuck!” Anna looked at me incredulously. “You are kidding, aren't you?”

      “No. Why is he following us?” I pointed my spoon at Werner, who stayed at the entrance.

      “Trevor probably asked him to keep an eye on you to prevent accidents. You're new to the base and MP.”

      “What's MP?”

      “You are definitely new here. It's what we call this world. Monster Planet, MP for short.”

      “And the locals, what are they like?” I asked, sipping the unexpectedly good tea.

      The girl closed up at once.

      “Is something wrong?” I was already sorry that I had asked the question. Our relationship with this lovely girl was off to a good start and might blossom into something bigger. Although two hundred years in a capsule could have a negative effect on my body, I thought uneasily.

      “They are aggressive, bad,” Anna replied. “They kill us. They must be exterminated.”

      “Wow, such thirst for blood!” I pointedly raised my eyebrow in surprise.

      “When your friends are murdered, the blood of your enemies seems – how did you put it? – like ambrosia.”

      I chose not to say anything. Perhaps she had the right to say that, who knows.

      “Are they really intelligent?” I asked instead.

      “Yes and no.”

      “What do you mean?”

      “They are organized, social, but at the same time incapable of creative thinking. Many of their actions are instinctive, genetically coded, I believe. Like ants. I can't provide more details, I'm not a biologist.”

      “But have you seen them?”

      “Yes, unfortunately,” a grimace of disgust distorted Anna's pretty features. “I hope never to see them again.”

      It was Finn who distracted me from the conversation.

      “Max, get up. We have to get together and discuss the situation.”

      “Anna, excuse me. It was very nice talking to you,” I said to the girl, standing up, “I hope we'll continue next time?”

      “Absolutely,” the girl smiled, leaving her seat.

      “You, French folks, just never change,” Finn commented, watching her go. “But we do have a lot to discuss, so let's meet at my place.”

      A quarter of an hour later, after a short stay in my own compartment, I arrived at the commander's room. I came second after Boris and perched on the bed. Finn took a stool, while Leonov was sitting on a chair next to him. They looked like conspirators. The Russian astronaut was saying something, but stopped as I entered.

      “I

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