by J. J. Green
The pain from his ankle and elbow had reduced to a throbbing ache and his uncontrollable shivering had stopped. He still felt very cold, however, and he was hungry. Perhaps it was insane for him to hope the threads might release him. Maybe his only salvation lay in finding his own way out somehow. Ethan racked his brains for a way to escape.
Of course, if he did make it out of the chamber, he would be in the rushing current of the river and unable to swim, but he would figure out that part when he came to it. Whatever happened to him then was a preferable alternative to waiting to become dinner.
He began to feel along the walls again, hopping on his good leg, trying to find a seam or hole that he might try to widen. He had no tools other than his hands, but the activity gave him something to do.
Some time later, he stopped. He spoke into the recorder again. “I haven’t managed to find any kind of break in the walls. The material of the wall seems manufactured or at least cut with some kind of instrument. The threads are a sentient species. This is worrying and the implications are wider than I thought at first. What might happen if they decide they don’t like humans living in their world? Could they find a way to leave the water and attack the settlement?
“The threads aren’t dumb like the sluglimpets. They might be able figure out how to get past an electric fence. And the threads are in two places on this continent and possibly elsewhere too. I don’t know if the colony would survive an attempt from the threads to destroy it. I have to tell the others. I have to warn them. But I can’t get out.”
Ethan could bear the prospect of his own death but not of the other colonists. They had all been through so much. So many of them had died already. He couldn’t allow Cariad to die from an attack by the threads. He had already failed Lauren and Dr. Crowley. He wasn’t going to fail her too. He thumped a fist against the wall in frustration, forgetting his injured elbow. Pain juddered up to his shoulder, making him cry out and curse.
He struck the wall again, using his good arm this time. As if in response, a light flicked on and Ethan was drowned in beams. He covered his eyes for a moment while they adjusted. When he looked out again, squinting and blinking, he finally saw the room that confined him.
Chapter Seventeen
Osias had invited Cariad along on the trip to survey the lake. She was glad to take a break from interviewing the Natural Movement suspects as she didn’t seem to be getting anywhere. She needed to try a different approach but she wasn’t sure what that should be.
Verney was bringing the portable scanner that Cariad had arranged to be sent down from the ship. He’d fixed it to the bottom of a flitter and linked it with the vehicle’s computer system.
“Do you know the range of this thing?” Verney asked when Cariad joined him at the flitter shed. “I don’t fancy going anywhere near that water.”
“I’m not sure exactly,” Cariad replied, “but it should be accurate to twenty or thirty meters I guess. We’ll soon be able to tell from the readings if we need to go any lower.”
Osias was at the shed too. They all climbed into the flitter and Verney flew them out of the settlement and down the road that led to the farming district and the lake. When they arrived, he adjusted the vehicle’s altitude so that they were high above the lake. Cariad could see the low buildings of the settlement in the distance.
The lake was self-contained with no rivers or streams feeding it. Cariad guessed it was fed from an underground spring. The body of water was irregular. A long tongue stretched out at one end while the other was smoothly rounded. At its widest point, the lake was about three hundred meters across, so it wasn’t large. Cariad hoped it didn’t contain more than a handful of the predators.
Verney started up the scanner and the flitter’s interface came to life. The screen was a moving melange of shapes and colors as they flew over the water. A key at the corner explained the meaning of the different hues. The land around the lake was dark-hued and therefore comparatively cool. The temperature of the lake water seemed unusually high to Cariad, but she wasn’t sure what was a normal range.
Verney cursed. “What are those?”
Cariad had been focusing on the key, but at Verney’s exclamation she gazed at the image of the area they were passing over. What she saw was the last thing she would have expected. The floor of the lake was covered in square and rectangular shapes. If she’d thought it possible, Cariad would have said that what she was seeing wasn’t much different from their own settlement’s buildings.
Osias asked, “Is that one of them?”
The scanner’s infrared readings were showing a living creature passing along what could only be described as a thoroughfare. The organism seemed to consist mostly of long sinuous limbs stretched almost five meters according to the scale on the scanner.
Cariad, Osias, and Verney watched in horrified fascination as the creature reached a building, if that’s what the structure was. Rather than entering it from the side, however, the creature climbed on top and went through a hole in the upper surface.
“How deep are those things?” Osias asked.
“The structures?” Cariad said, looking at the image key again. “The tops of them seem to be only one or two meters below the water surface.”
As they flew farther over the lake, they discovered its entire bed was filled with the structures. The lake was also alive with the tentacled creatures. Then they saw something even more remarkable.
“What the hell is that?” Cariad exclaimed. The heat signatures in the water were going haywire. According to the key, the temperature under the water was hundreds of degrees centigrade. Cariad looked out of her window to the lake surface. It was smooth and still, reflecting the bright sunlight. The scanner was recording temperatures that should have made the water boil.
“Could it be volcanic water?” Osias asked. “I read about hot springs on Earth.”
“No,” Cariad replied. “No way. Look at it. If that was natural hot water, it would be spreading out. The water surface would be steaming, if not bubbling. Look at it. That heat looks like it’s being created artificially.”
“I hate to admit it,” said Osias, “but I think you’re right.”
They were looking at bright spots of heat that quickly faded to a normal temperature, as if something was containing it. The scanner also showed the spreading limbs of thread creatures operating near the heat source.
The implications of what she was seeing sent Cariad’s mind reeling.
Eradicating the organisms from the lake was a secondary consideration now. A “town” appeared to exist beneath the water. What they had all been assuming was local, predatory wildlife seemed to be sentient. Concordia was inhabited by intelligent, indigenous beings. The probes had failed to discover the fact because the creatures were aquatic, or perhaps the probes had found them but the information had been removed long ago by Natural Movement infiltrators.
The colonists were interlopers who had invaded an occupied planet.
***
Cariad sent the vid from the scanner up to the xenobiologists aboard the ship as soon as she returned to the settlement.
“How much are you going to tell people?” she asked Osias as they were discussing what to do at his Leader’s residence.
“I haven’t decided yet,” Osias replied. “I have to tell them something. Verney was with us and saw everything. He won’t keep quiet about it, but I wouldn’t ask him to anyway. Gens are very sensitive to being shut out from important information right now. But I don’t want everyone to panic either.”
“I don’t think that’s likely, do you?” Cariad asked. “The threads have kept to themselves as long as people didn’t stray too near the lake. I don’t see any reason their behavior should suddenly change, providing we don’t provoke them.”
“I guess you’re right,” Osais said. He chewed his lip. Cariad pitied this young man who had the weight of human civilization’s last hope on his shoulders, let alone the lives of around eighteen hundred m
en, women, and children depending on his decisions.
“I’m going up to the Nova Fortuna to speak to the xenobiologists about what we saw today,” she said. “As soon as I find out anything useful, I’ll let you know.” She knew the scientists would want to speak to someone who had been at the lake when the scan took place. Osias would have enough on his plate dealing with the fall-out from the revelation about the thread creatures.
“Okay. Thanks.”
“Osias,” said Cariad. “You’re doing a great job. The Gens have survived a hell of a lot so far. They can get through this too.” The Leader thanked her again before she left.
Cariad had tried to sound more sanguine than she felt, hoping to buoy Osias’ confidence. In truth, she was deeply disturbed by the notion of what seemed to be a society of intelligent beings sharing Concordia with them. Hypothetically, the fact that they were aquatic implied that the two sentient species on the planet could live peaceably, one occupying the land and the other inhabiting the waterways. Yet if human history had taught her anything, it was that intelligence brought with it the desire to explore, occupy, and exploit new territories. The few months that the colonists had lived on the planet had passed relatively peacefully but who knew what the future held? The threads had already demonstrated their belligerence on the young child and father they had killed.
Cariad had to wait over half an hour to catch the next scheduled shuttle and all the while she was occupied with worry. The last time she’d checked Ethan’s flitter signal, it still hadn’t moved. She couldn’t help feeling that something was terribly wrong. She had a desperate urge to travel across the country to try to find him and check that he was okay.
But how could she leave the colony when it was in such a precarious state? She had barely begun her investigation into the Natural Movement and she wasn’t at all satisfied that their threat to the colony was over. She’d left her techs to deal with the important task of restocking the gene pool by themselves for far too long. And now a third problem had emerged.
At least this was something she could safely leave to someone else to deal with. Xenobiology wasn’t her field. Other expertise was required. She would tell the scientists what she’d seen and then go to see her techs for an update on how they were getting along.
As soon as Cariad disembarked from the shuttle aboard the Nova Fortuna, she went quickly by transit car to the xenobiology section. These Woken were the envy of the rest because their equipment had lain virtually untouched throughout the colony ship’s long journey. Most of the others, like Cariad, had to work with ancient, worn apparatus.
She asked for admittance at the security panel. When the door slid open and she walked through into the lab, several sights greeted her. The first was a sluglimpet. The scientists had managed to trap one. The creature lay on its back on an examining table, held by straps made of a material that resisted the corrosive acid. It was still alive and its legs wriggled horribly. Though the creatures were Cariad’s least-favorite animal, the sluglimpet’s confinement seemed rather cruel.
Next to the sluglimpet was a man in a wheelchair. The revival process had left him paralyzed from the waist down. Cariad didn’t know him very well.
It was the other person in the room who really caught her attention, however.
“Cariad.”
Auburn-haired and covered in freckles, he looked exactly as he had when they’d wished each other good luck and parted one hundred and eighty four years previously. Kes. Montfort had revived Kes. Cariad felt a confusing rush of emotion: relief that her friend’s revival had been successful and happiness at seeing him again, but also she also felt somewhat guilty.
Her friend walked around the examining table and its wriggling sluglimpet. He came over to her and wrapped her in his arms. “I missed you,” he said.
Cariad hugged him back. “Missed me? How long have you been up and around?”
“I just started work today. I was one of the last to be revived, apparently.”
Cariad laughed. “Then in your terms you only saw me a few weeks ago. But I’ve missed you too. I had no idea you were being revived. I wish Montfort had told me. I would have come to see you.”
“Ah, I asked him not to say anything. People don’t look their best, do they? All that flaking skin. You know what it’s like. Vain of me, I know.”
“I’m really pleased to see you didn’t suffer any ill effects… Oh, sorry.”
The xenobiologist in a wheelchair, who Cariad remembered was called Vasquez, said, “Don’t worry about it. I’m quite used to it. But if you two could spare a moment from your joyful reunion, I believe you’re here to discuss the scan readings from the lake?”
“Yes, that’s right,” Cariad said, her happiness at seeing her friend again quickly dissipating. “I take it you’ve had time to look at them closely. What do you think?”
“Well,” Vasquez said, “professionally, I’m intrigued. However, personally, those images have left me feeling apprehensive, if not downright scared.”
Cariad’s mood fell further. “I was hoping you were going to tell me I was wrong.”
“No,” said Vasquez. “As far as I can guess from this admittedly scant evidence, I think these aquatic creatures may well be highly intelligent, and judging from their behavior they are not at all friendly.”
Chapter Eighteen
Although Ethan now had the benefit of light, he hadn’t been able to find any possible way to escape the chamber. The walls were patterned with swirling grays and blacks that were not unlike the threads. The light shone down from the entire ceiling. It glowed softly like sunlight through water. Ethan guessed that though the beams had hurt his eyes at first, the light wasn’t strong compared to daylight.
The ceiling was only just out of his reach. He couldn’t see where it had opened to allow him to fall through. When he lifted up a hand to try to touch the glowing surface, stretching as high as he could, he noticed that the ceiling was emitting warmth as well as light. Below him, water covered the floor about a centimeter deep.
His situation was unfortunate but it could have been worse. Ethan guessed that he might be able to sleep in such a shallow layer of water without becoming too cold. Sleep was the last thing he wanted to do, however. What he wanted was to escape.
After searching thoroughly again, he’d discovered that the swirls that covered the walls and floor didn’t hide any imperfections that he might work at to break through. He needed another way out.
As he tried desperately to think of a solution to his problem, Ethan realized that the light had come on just after he’d hit the wall of the chamber. Were the two actions connected? There was only one way to find out. He struck the wall again, hard, with his balled fist. His other hand was resting on the surface and he felt the vibration of his blow. When nothing happened, Ethan hit the wall again. Again, there was no result from his effort other than a smarting hand. For the third time, he thumped the wall. Nothing.
He gave up, concluding that the appearance of the light at the same time that he’d struck the wall before had been a coincidence. Ethan turned around to lean back on the surface and rest his hurt leg. Then he nearly jumped out of his skin.
The wall opposite had become transparent. Beyond it was a mass of threads, churning and roiling in the muddy river water. The sight was so disgusting, it made Ethan retch. He slid down the wall, hitting the floor with a thump. The creatures pulsated against the see-through wall, wriggling and heaving all the while.
If Ethan could have clawed his way out of the chamber and away from the creatures, he would have. He closed his eyes against the sight, wishing the light had never come on. His chill was leaving him and being replaced by an uncomfortable, humid sweatiness. He was nauseated. He opened one eye a crack. The horrible creatures were still there. What were they doing? Could they see him? They didn’t seem to have any eyes. Could they sense his presence some other way?
He looked up at the light. That would be where the threads would enter
the chamber to come for him. The hole in the ceiling would open, the river water would pour in and bring with it the dreadful threads. He closed his eyes again and wondered how long it would take.
***
Ethan had no way to tell how much time had passed, but he guessed that he had sat in the corner of his wet prison for an hour or longer while the threads writhed against the transparent wall. If they intended to enter the chamber to attack him, they were taking their time about it. Perhaps they were interested in observing him for a while. If the threads could construct a solid-walled cage, a ceiling that lit up, and a wall that turned from opaque to clear, the creatures might have guessed that he wasn’t from their planet.
In that case, the threads might want to keep him alive. They would want to study him. Ethan gave a shudder as the full implication of his new understanding hit him. The Woken didn’t study living Concordian creatures—the only living things aboard the Nova Fortuna were humans and a couple of insects that were bred for food—but Ethan had learned about animal experimentation that used to take place on Earth.
This new prospect was more terrifying to him than the idea of being eaten alive. If he were only prey to the thread creatures, he could hope for the end to come quickly. But if the threads wanted to experiment on him they would keep him alive as long as they could.
His only hope lay in getting away. There was no way out of his cell, but if the threads wanted to approach him, they would have to come inside at some point. That would be his chance and he would have to take it. He would have to be ready.
If only he had a weapon of some kind, even a knife. Then he might have felt more confident about attacking the slimy, squirming beasts. But all he had were his bare hands. They would have to do.
He watched the creatures, tension eating away at him. The constant sight of his captors and the murky, flowing water oppressed him heavily. Ethan got to his feet and hobbled toward the transparent wall, leaning against another wall for support as he went. The motions of the threads didn’t seem to be affected by his slow, hesitant approach at first, but as he moved closer to them, the swirling and writhing increased.