The Girl With the Jade Green Eyes by John Boyd Read Free Book Online

this last night, but you left in too much of a hurry.”
    “I know. My people were upset by Crick.”
    “I noticed they obey you promptly. I thought you said you were not their leader.”
    “I command, but I do not lead them. How do I look from the back?”
    “ Atelya! You’ll have to help me convince Peterson you are what you say you are.”
    She swirled before him, spinning the poncho outward until centrifugal force canceled its purpose. “That’s easy. We’ll compare bellybuttons.”
    “No, not that!”
    She laughed at his expression. Settling to the grass and pulling him down beside her, she said, “Now, Breedlove, tell me more about you earth people.”
    He was sitting cross-legged before her, telling her of the rivalries of nations and the origins of civilizations when they heard the helicopter and looked up to see it swinging from behind Hallman’s Peak. Breedlove signaled Peterson to a landing on the mowed circle of the mound and moved Kyra away from the blast of the propellers.
    When the blades ceased to spin, he led Kyra back as Peterson emerged from the craft, adjusting his hat to its proper angle before he swung his feet to the ground. He carried a metal-backed clipboard. Walking toward them, he glanced at Kyra, and his gait faltered, his face paled visibly. He stopped. He kept his eyes glued to her hair with frantic, despairing disbelief.
    “Chief Ranger Peterson, may 1 present Miss Kyra Lavaslatta from the Planet Kanab?”
    The historical moment was lost to Peterson, lost even to his hearing, Breedlove suspected, for the ranger was drifting into a peculiar form of shock. His voice sounded as if it came from some remote area of his throat, for his lips hardly moved.
    “Miss, if you and Tom are conspiring to use government transportation…”
    “Mr. Peterson, I’m from Kanab,” Kyra said.
    “I’ve been to Kanab, miss, and I’ve never met a Mormon girl with a Greek name who dyed her hair green.”
    “Pete, she’s not from Kanab, Utah. She’s from another planet.”
    “I heard you the first time, Tom.” He seemed angry.
    “Nine others from her party are nearby. They’re all from outer space.”
    “Did you have them sign an unauthorized campers’ release?”
    “Pete, they can’t sign anything in English.”
    “They can sign with an X. How does she speak English?”
    “She listens to KSPO. Now, sit down, Pete, and think. Would a girl be dressed in a poncho if she were from this planet? If she were a nudist, she’d be nude. If she were a camper, she’d be wearing jeans. She’d not wear a poncho.”
    Peterson sank to the turf, dazed, asking, “Why not? If it rains here, it rains in outer space.”
    Peterson was fighting to accept the girl’s origins, but he was losing the battle. He looked away and downward, as if his thoughts were focused on some peculiar personal problem that his mind recoiled from, and for a moment Breedlove feared he might be drifting into catatonia. Kyra must have feared the same. She stooped beside him, looking down at him with an expression of grave concern.
    Suddenly she squatted on the grass in front of Peterson, gently removed the clipboard from his hands, handed it to Breedlove, and took both Peterson’s hands in hers. She began to speak to him, but. in her own language. Tentatively, at first probing and hesitant, she seemed to be questioning him. Then her voice grew more rhythmic, flowing in easy undulations, and she was singing, less a song than the rendition of a melody by the flow of air over her vocal cords. It was a wind song, a sound as pleasant as the hum of bees in the fields of summer, and Breedlove suspected it was a Kanabian lullaby.
    Yet the singing was more significant than the sounds a mother makes to pacify a child. Over Breedlove’s mind it cast visions of a green and pleasant land slowly yielding to the desolation of frost, and he could feel the despair in Kyra’s voice. A counternote emerged, bringing intimations of hope, which