Free Paradox by A. J. Paquette Page B

century.”
    Colonists will make the trip in a state of partially suspended animation, due to spatial confines of the rocket necessary to fit the massive neo-Alc warp drives. Major funding and sponsorship have been provided by Savitech, and streaming communications will be handled by ParSpace’s breakthrough realtime signal-dispersion technology. “We’ve run through the full spectrum of tests with ParSpace technicians,” said Ortez. “There shouldn’t be more than a half-hour lag time on either end, no matter how far out we are.”
    With an estimated 3.5-month travel time, the APEX1 rocket is expected to reach Paradox by the end of January.

No sooner has she made this decision than Ana is on her way. She lines up the map, charts the quickest way up the mountain, then sets off at a brisk pace. It seems like just a few minutes ago that she and Todd were tearing along this same route, the worm’s crushing din behind them, and Ana again suppresses a pang over her missing companions.
    Once she leaves the lowlands behind, the mountainside is rocky and almost completely bare of plant life. There’s some hardy scrub and a few spindly skeleton plants that might have come straight from the Dead Forest. But that’s it.
    Over everything rises the permeating smell of sulfur. It’s so strong, in fact, that less than half an hour into her climb, Ana’s eyes start watering. She leans into the slope, shifts herbackpack so it’s centered between her shoulders—wincing as she grinds her still-painful shoulder—pops another water capsule, and climbs on. There’s no trail, no path, no obvious way up. After skidding down several mini rock slides, she pulls up her map and zooms in and out, looking for an easier course of ascent. Then she sees it: a stream winds all the way up the mountain, leading right to the peak. She’ll have to go a little out of her way at first, but then she can follow it straight to the top.
    The farther she climbs, the better Ana’s shoulder feels. She’d thought the constant motion would worsen the pain, but the opposite seems true. It’s as if she’s jarring things back into place. Unless she pokes the spot with her fingers, the pain is just a dull twinge. Her forehead, too, is almost as good as new; when she touches it, she can hardly tell where the peri ends and her own skin begins. There’s just the smallest raised scar where her skin was hanging open a few hours ago.
    She glances at her circlet. Almost two hours have passed since she woke up alone in the cave. She can’t help wondering whether Todd and Ysa and Chen are all right.
    She stops to catch her breath and wipe some of the sweat from her forehead. And then—just up ahead, she sees a dark glint in the pale sunlight. The stream! Ana gets moving again with renewed energy. But when she reaches the bank, a cloud of fumes sweeps over her and she has to cover her mouth and nose against the smell.
    “That’s not water at all,” she whispers. “It’s—”
    It’s a river of lava, issuing from the summit of the volcano and coursing down the slope in a wide, lazy flow. It’s over six feet across and moves soundlessly, coal black with a tinge of red and little curlicues of steam rising from it. Heat waves ripple on the surface.
    Unpleasant as it may be, it’s a surefire ticket to the top of the slope. Holding her breath in ten- to fifteen-second intervals, she turns and starts walking along the bank.
    Hold. Count, gulp, hold.
    And like this the time slips away.
    She’s walking some, climbing more, sometimes resorting to grabbing at rocks and lugging herself up steep inclines. In these places, the lava pours down from the sheer rock face in a macabre cascade. It flows so slowly that it almost appears static, each fold and ripple like the photographic negative of a waterfall. It’s eerie and magical and horrible all at once.
    Ana’s so transfixed by the stream that she nearly misses the sparkle. But then she looks up, and—
could it