“Bollocks to you, Reiger.”
Launch Two Missiles.
A blast of compressed air pushed the missiles out of their tubes, small triangle fins unfolded, then the solid fuel motors ignited. Her infrared image was momentarily overwhelmed by the twin exhaust plumes.
“Shit, you bitch!” Reiger shouted.
Suzi was two seconds behind the missiles as she went through the opening into the cavern. The infrared radiance from the rocket motors lit up the interior like a pair of glare flares. She saw a roughly semicircular space, ten metres across. Above her, the roof was made up from giant cuboidal stone blocks, as if steps had been carved at some crazy inverted angle. Water came up to mid-thigh, slowing her movements.
She saw the missiles curving upwards. There was a red corona shining out from behind one of the rock cubes, Reiger’s infrared signature. Her photon amp caught the squat black cylinder tumbling down. Airbuster grenade. Stupid! her mind yelled. Bitterness and fury welled up. She flexed her knees, and started to fling herself flat, the water might shield her from the worst.
The airbuster detonated just as she hit the water. Her sight went from misty blues and reds to glaring white, then black.
There was no pain, no real feeling of anything. Her thoughts were sluggish, full of worries; about getting Reiger, and whether or not Greg had made it to the alien, and Andria who was far too innocent to be left to fend for herself alone. All of them mixed up, faces twisting together in a crazy kaleidoscope whirl until she wasn’t sure who was who any more. Shit but that airbuster must have fucked her brain good and hard.
Suzi?
She knew it was Greg. He was bringing pain back to her, suffering. Greg was crying in her mind.
I screwed up, she told him. Reiger got me with an airbuster.
Suzi, Suzi, I taught you better.
Sorry, Greg. She could see the weirdest egg, translucent, white and pale blue, dark shape at the centre. Julia’s face, frightened and angry. Is that the alien?
Yeah.
Don’t look much.
Julia’s getting it sorted, no messing.
Great. Then the image began to slip away.
Arm Loral Missiles.
That was strange, she certainly didn’t have the mental nrength left to load orders into the implant. But somehow her thoughts were being pushed up a very steep hill into her processor node.
Target Image: Muscle-Armour Suit.
Greg, was that you?
Sure thing, we’re going to get Reiger yet, you and I, no messing.
Launch Two Missiles.
She couldn’t tell if they had fired or not. Even the memory ghosts had fled. There was only blackness, without form.
Greg, don’t let my kid grow up like me.
Oh, Suzi.
Promise me, Greg.
Greg?
Bollocks.
CHAPTER 40
The gothic-biology fabric of the chamber seemed an appropriate setting, Julia thought, as she listened to Royan. Neither one thing nor the other, rock or disseminator plant, both gone awry, stalled and incomplete.
Her anger had drained away, as it always did when she concentrated on assimilating the intricacies of a problem. But this time, that cool logical state of reasoning she exercised, the famed Evans rationality, was in danger of crumbling away. Her eyes couldn’t linger on Royan for more than a few seconds at a time. Royan, trapped inside this creature, this grotesque chimera. The deliberate physical ruining of his body. Once again. She knew exactly how much that would tyrannize his soul. And all her guilt from knowing it was because of the gulf between them that he had been driven here, to this ignominy, If they had never met, if she hadn’t tried to bind him to her, if…
Her mind was going through the routine at a virtually subconscious level, processor nodes analysing the data she was hearing, coding it, assigning it storage space in her memory nodes. All ready to be run through a logic matrix when the time came. Her decision. But all she really wanted to do was take Royan in her arms and hold him. To be free of all this punishing pressure, and live. Just for once, escape from what both of them were.
God, or fate, never seemed to give that option to an Evans.
Greg moaned, eyes widening in shock. His knees sagged, and Rick just caught him before he fell.
“What is it?” she demanded.
“Suzi,” he said, voice coming from the back of his throat. His features clenched in effort.
“What do we do?” Rick asked.
“Wait,” she said. “It’s all we can do.”
Greg moaned again.
She glanced at the Hexaëmeron, wondering whether to call the crash team hardliners in. But it didn’t seem to be doing anything; its surface was awash with shimmering refraction patterns. She’d been relying on Greg to provide any advance warning in case it turned hostile.
“Dead,” Greg said numbly. “Suzi’s dead.”
“How?” Julia asked.
“She went after Leol Reiger; they tangled in the caves somewhere.”
“Is Reiger dead?”
“Dunno. We loosed off Suzi’s missiles. Might have got him.” He steadied himself against Rick, and straightened his back ponderously.
“Reiger,” said Royan. “I’ve heard of him. Tekmerc with a high hazard rating. Is he Jepson’s agent?”
“Yes, he’s Jepson’s.” She gave the Hexaëmeron a long stare. “The one you summoned. Do you have a reason why I should allow you to live?”
“I am not a hazard, Julia Evans, to you or your world,” the Hexaëmeron’s smooth voice said. “I am, as stated, simply a midwife. When the species I contain have birthed, my time will be over. Royan is guilty of judging me by his own human standards. My planet’s life is sturdy, yes, but also highly organized. It is not as competitive as terrestrial organisms.”
“What do you mean organized?” she asked.
“Plants supply animals with all the nourishment they need. Animals are non-carnivorous, they do not prey on each other as is the common practice on your Earth. Our life harmonizes.”
“Fascist Gaia’s world,” Royan said. “Everything knows its place, and stays there. But where would our place be?”
“Is that it?” Julia asked. “Some kind of shared consciousness? An insect mentality?”
“Not at all. Organization is different from obedience. Animal and insect forms have all evolved high social orders. Clannish, if you like. Once established in a territory they will not venture outside.”
“That sounds detrimental to me,” Julia said. “You’d need a certain amount of cross-breeding to continue species viability.”
“Naturally, each clan maintains contact with its neighbours, and major species have a degree of conscious control over their own germ plasm.”
“I still find that trait quite incredible,” Julia said. “Perhaps the most frightening aspect of all. Even if I believe you can vouch for the non-belligerence of the individual species you contain, what is to prevent them from altering beyond recognition within a few generations? If they react and adapt to their environment, they’ll have to undergo considerable alteration, physical and mental. And I have to ask myself how they’ll react to humans. For we are not saints. Nor are our animals. Let loose on Earth, aliens would have to protect themselves from the ignorant, the frightened, not to mention the ideologically inclined. Can you guarantee that these species of yours will not grow horns and fangs, will not hit back?”
“No, of course not. Not if those circumstances arise. That is why I suggested Mars to Royan. It would be worthwhile to consider; I offer to purchase Mars from the human race. You would act as my agent, profiting accordingly. Negotiate for me, Julia Evans, I do not lay claim to that skill, and you are the world’s acknowledged expert. You have the material and political means to bring about this arrangement. In return, I will multiply myself and function as a fully-operational asteroid disseminator plant. One that will respond only to you. In addition, Venus could be terraformed. I contain the genetic codes for an algae which would digest Venus’s atmospheric carbon dioxide. With the resources and wealth that asteroid dissemination would make available to you, the algae’s production in sufficient quantities would pose no problem. Accelerating Venus’s rotation to a twenty-four-hour period would probably be beyond my ability to supply. But I would provide Event Horizon with a human chemistry compatible food crop which will thrive in days that last four Earth months. I can bloom, Julia Evans, if you let me.”