There was something about the garden that made him feel as if he was coming home, despite the fact that to his knowledge he had never experienced anything remotely like it.
When the doors of the lift snapped open this time, Lamont was prepared for the gasps of surprise from the colonists and crew members jammed inside. He had tried to prepare them in advance for what they would see, but he also had enough experience as a writer to know that words alone could not adequately describe the wonders of the garden. “Keep calm, everyone,” he instructed around the cigarette that hung from his lips. “Stay inside until I give the all-clear.”
“Do you see anyone?” Rosemary asked.
“No,” Lamont muttered, his heart beginning to race as he stepped outside the lift.
A small body nearly collided with him. With simultaneous surprise and relief, Lamont recognized the Asiatic features and elaborately pinned-up black hair of a woman who worked in the ship’s astrophysics lab.
“Miss—” He paused, struggling to find her name in a brain that felt hopelessly disorganized. “Miss Lee,” he finally greeted her. “Is everyone all right?”
The scientist nodded with something of a sheepish smile, slipping a notepad into the large pocket of the lab coat she wore over her uniform T-shirt and slacks. “We’re all well, Mr. Townsend. Connie wanted someone to guard the elevator, and I’m as well suited for the job as anyone at the moment.”
While she was still explaining, they found themselves being all but shoved aside by a minor stampede of nineteen people who evidently could no longer wait to leave the lift. Rosemary was trying with little success to keep them from scattering. In the commotion, Lamont heard his name being called. He looked over Lee’s head to see Constance emerging from behind a curtain of delicate pink-hued foliage vaguely reminiscent of the branches of a weeping willow. Maggie Downs toddled out with her, one tiny hand clutching the older girl’s pant leg and the other gripping a bandana that had been bundled to carry some small treasure.
Lamont was simultaneously self-conscious of the wave of relief he felt at seeing the young colonist and of Rosemary’s watchful gaze. Mentally brushing both aside, he broke away from the group.
“You’re back sooner than expected!” Constance exclaimed, her eyes flickering over the new group.
“We were held up dealing with Ashton,” Lamont observed, rubbing his eyes. “It’s been nearly five hours since we left.”
“Has it?” Constance asked, looking surprised. “Well, we’ve been busy enough.”
“Have you had any kind of trouble?” Rosemary asked, stepping up beside Lamont.
“Not a lick,” Constance assured her. “This place is—well, have you got time for me to show you something?”
“A little,” Lamont nodded. He checked his wrist watch, making a mental note to do so again frequently. It would seem that time had a way of slipping away here, and he was expected back at the landing bay shortly. It was difficult to feel a sense of urgency, though. There was something about the garden that made him feel as if he was coming home, despite the fact that to his knowledge he had never experienced anything remotely like it. He didn’t relish the thought of returning to the cold and chaos that waited for him outside.
He and Rosemary followed the colonist through the organic curtain, noticing that it emanated something like a quiet, musical sigh as they parted its vines.