Not a trace remained of the original location. Not even the pilings protruded from the water.
And worse, all those computers, microscopes, PCR machines, spectrometers, the diving equipment, the scanners and sonar, the com, all that wealth of technology, gone. Submerged. Ruined beyond repair.
As if we could even get to it. If the stories Vik Lawrence told were true, giant three-sided lobsters, plastic-eating slime, and murderous green children with gills who could survive underwater guarded it. Not to mention that the slime considered the Pod to be a safe haven. The predators that hovered and floated overhead notwithstanding, recovery might be forever impossible.
At the gate, Shig had that benevolent smile on his thin lips. “Might I stand you to a whiskey?”
Kalico stared down at her scarred hands, that sucking feeling of defeat draining her. “Not sure that I’m up to Inga’s. Think I’ll just retreat to my dome. Call it a day. Try and get a good night’s sleep before I head back to the mine to see what misfortune tomorrow is going to bring.” She paused. “I’ve got a bottle of that rye. If you’ll walk with me, I’ll share a shot before I send you on your way.”
“I’d like that.”
Sure he would. This was Shig, who rarely finished a half-glass of wine.
She nodded at Ko Lang who was standing guard at the gate and walked through into PA, her feet crunching on the gravel.
Ambling at her side, Shig said, “This is a most unpleasant setback. We had really hoped that the Maritime Unit would open new horizons on Donovan. Who could have anticipated that we would be so ill-prepared?”
“Human arrogance, Shig?” Kalico pulled her hair back, pinned it behind her neck as she walked. “Hell, for as long as I’ve been here, I sure didn’t see it coming. Was it my fault for not pulling the plug? I let them throw me off the Pod. Was that my arrogance? My sense of superiority and petty anger? Instead of stomping off in a huff, declaring, ‘Fine. You’re on your own,’ I could have called Abu Sassi. Removed those people by force. They’d be alive. Those children would be alive.”
“Some of them still may be,” Shig told her. “Or whatever they’ve become. Children might be an inappropriate term. Our entire approach has to be rethought.” A pause as he walked at her side. “It has been an expensive lesson, but those are the ones best learned.”
She shot him a measuring glance as they turned on the main avenue. “You always this self-possessed in the face of disaster?” Then she barked a bitter laugh. “Of course, you are. Hell, I remember you smiling when you knew I was going execute you.”
“The universe is a constant teacher,” he replied. “All is illusion.”
“Yeah, well, that Pod out there isn’t. I looked down through that water and saw the death of dreams.”
“In a manner of speaking, that’s what moksha is. Surrendering dreams and aspiration in order to accept enlightenment.”
“Why don’t I feel enlightened?”
“You have a young soul. Not as young as Talina’s or Dek’s, but through the trials in this lifetime you are well on your way to a more mature dharma.”
“Yeah, yeah, and all is dukkha. Might be that I’m starting to believe that after the month I’ve had.”
She led the way down the block to the dome she’d bought. It wasn’t much. Merely a domicile with a living room, the usual breakfast bar separating the kitchen, a bathroom, and rear bedroom. A place to lay over when she needed to.
As she led Shig in, it hit her that she’d never had a guest here before. That—in this new phase of her existence—she didn’t give a flying fuck that the place was a simple dome. She took off her hat, tossed it onto the couch.
Damn. How far have I fallen?
She laughed, glanced at Shig. “Welcome to my home away from home. Funny isn’t it? Once upon a time, back in Transluna, my household staff would have greeted you, fawned over you, ensured that you were impressed by the view, the luxury, the wealth and opulence of my high residence with its spectacular views of Transluna.”
“I think I prefer this,” he said. “Along with the woman that you are now.” He seated himself on the first barstool. His high brow furrowed. “Have you spent any time with Dek since he got back?”
“A little.” She walked into the kitchen, opened a cabinet to retrieve the bottle and two glasses. “You really going to drink any of this?”
Shig’s smile was enigmatic. “If you would be so kind, might you pour just a tiny splash? Enough to barely wet the bottom of the glass? If that’s the vintage I think it is, I heard that Inga only opened it because the last batch was so poor. That this rye is too good to waste.”
She did as he asked, extending the glass, pouring a couple of fingers for herself. God knew, she’d earned it. She studied him, her suspicious side rising. “Shig? You got some ulterior motive?”
He studied the glass, his dark brown eyes thoughtful. “Always. But let us get back to Dek.”
“Ah! Worried that I’m feeling like a jilted schoolgirl?”
“Are you?”
She pursed her lips. Studied the brown liquid. “Why are you bringing this up?”
Shig gave her that all-knowing smile. “I worry about you. You, Talina, Yvette, Raya. You are each, in your own way, important to me. I would have you know that this, too, shall pass. If you need anything from—”
“How about a bulletproof vest?” the angry voice asked from the bedroom hallway.
Kalico wheeled, startled to see Tadeki Ozawa—dirty and unkempt—step out. The big five-shot revolver that he held was one of Frank Freund’s locally made fifty-caliber pieces. The explosive bullet it shot packed enough punch to stop a quetzal. It would burst a human body as if it were a balloon.
“Tadeki? Put that down.” Kalico dropped a hand to her pistol butt. Dear God, could she draw fast enough, shoot the guy before he pulled the trigger?
“You just let her die,” Tadeki said, verging on tears. His hand was trembling. “You murdered her! And for what? Wealth? We were having a baby, you heartless slit! She was the love of my life, and you let her die in the darkness. Wouldn’t even try save her.”
Kalico nerved herself, stood resolute, trying desperately to figure a way to . . .
“Might I be of service?” Shig asked softly, sliding off the bar stool and placing himself between Tadeki and Kalico.
“Stay put, you son of a bitch!” Tadeki cried. “You’re just like her. One of the rulers. All of you, you just use us for what we can give you.”
“I have nothing,” Shig said amiably. “Anything I own, you are welcome to it.”
“Shig, step back,” Kalico ordered, trying to push him to the side.
“Are you out of your toilet-sucking mind?” Tadeki thundered. “I’m tired of being used by the likes of you. The Corporation? Port Authority? You and your money? Buy this, buy that? Pay for this? You hear me, you pus-sucking fuck? My wife and child are dead! I’m owed. Die with Aguila. And rot in hell.”
He lifted the big fifty. The black muzzle was no more than inches from Shig’s still-placid face. The muscles on Tadeki’s forearm flexed under smooth skin as he took up the slack on the trigger.
Instinctively Kalico cowered away, anticipating the instantaneous explosion of Shig’s head, a peculiar prickling on her skin and face as she prepared for bits of brain and blood to . . .
A loud crack-snap-pop. All one sound as the window broke and Tadeki’s head tried to burst through his skin and scalp. The momentary image came as a flash, the man’s eyes squirting out from their sockets, face puffing, ears and hair popping wide. The body, gone to rubber, thumped the floor like loose bones. The big revolver hit with a clank.
Kalico stared, paralyzed, breath stopped in her lungs, heart thumping frantically in her chest. One instant, she’d been dead, now she wavered, starved of oxygen, the beginnings of the shakes energizing her muscles.
Tadeki lay in a loose heap. Thick red blood, along with pieces of brain, were squirting out of the holes in either side of his head. The man’s eyes were popped loose from the orbits, blood trickling from his nostrils, past his protruding tongue, and oozing from his ears.
The door opened. Kalico spun on her heel, barely cognizant of Shig’s stunned expression, the sweat beaded on his strained face.
Allison Chomko stepped across the threshold, her golden hair piled high and pinned by a clip adorned with a sparkling diamond the size of a walnut. Her classic Nordic face wore a pensive expression. She glanced sidelong at Tadeki’s bleeding body. “Sorry about your floor. It’s duraplast. A couple of swipes with a mop and it’ll be clean as new.”
“What the hell is going on here?” Kalico demanded, the shakes taking over with a vengeance.
“Hello, Shig,” Allison greeted.
Shig stepped uneasily over to the bar, lifted Kalico’s glass, and sucked down a full swig of the rye. “My,” he said wearily, “I didn’t see that coming. Perhaps my limbic system isn’t as fully under my control as I had once thought.”
Allison cocked a pale eyebrow. Indicated Tadeki. “Wasn’t sure about him. Didn’t know if he meant the things he was saying. Talina was out of town, or I would have turned it over to her. So, I had my people keeping an eye on him. Especially after he stole Gatlin’s pistol. When I heard he hotfooted it to your dome the moment he saw your shuttle landing, I thought I’d better come see.”
“You knew?”
“Well, not exactly. He was said to be a deserter and swearing to kill you in all kind of ways. But then, people say all kinds of things, don’t they?” Allison’s brow pinched. “What if he’d decided at the last minute to go back to the mine? What if he wasn’t really violent? I needed proof.”
Kalico finally got a full breath. Struggled to get her shivering muscles under control and sidled over to lean against the bar next to Shig. “Ever thought about sending a message through com?”
“Wasn’t my business until he pulled that pistol.” Allison walked over, picked up the bottle of rye and inspected the label. “You got another glass?”
“Cabinet. The one with the brand-new bullet hole.” Kalico gave a half-hearted wave.
Somehow the bullet had missed the glassware. Allison retrieved a tumbler, poured herself a finger, and sipped. “That’s the good batch. That last one? Not so much.” She glanced over. “Shig, you all right?”
“I suppose these things remind us how fragile the search for moksha is. It seems I’ve temporarily misplaced my sattva.” He took another swig of Kalico’s rye, placed a hand to his belly.
“Allison, what the hell are you doing here?” Kalico demanded, staring down at the bleeding corpse on her floor. Damn, that was a lot of blood. And the man’s bladder had let loose, his hands were twitching, death quivers running down his legs.
Allison—preoccupied with the rye she was rolling across her tongue—swallowed, nodded approval. “Heard we lost the Maritime Unit. That you’ve got trouble down at Corporate Mine. That doesn’t bode well. Then this toilet-sucker spouts off, figuring it’s your fault his wife is dead. Shit on a shoe, we can’t afford to lose you—and especially not Shig in the bargain. Next couple of years? We’re going to be hanging on by a fricking thread as it is.”
Kalico pried her glass from Shig’s fingers, tossed off the last of the rye. Then she narrowed an eye. “But you don’t even like me.”
Allison gave her a deadly grin. “What’s that got to do with anything?”
Shig had his eyes closed, taking deep breaths. He had the placid expression back on his face. That part of him, at least, was recovered. But looking close, Kalico could see that his hands were still shivering.
Surely it couldn’t be because of his near-brush with death, let alone the body on the floor. This was Donovan, after all.
Maybe—given his reputation as a drinker—the rye just didn’t sit well with him?
EPILOGUE
She didn’t think of herself as Tomaya. Seemed, when she thought back, that the entire notion of a “name” defied rational sense. Life made so much more sense now, shared as it was, being part of limitless thought and understanding, the Song, and the One. She and the children were growing, rapidly. In the few moons since the Pod had become home, they were all changing, learning, acting as the “hands” for the One.
She was old enough, had better memories of Ashanti than the other children, and knew what it meant to have crossed the stars inside a container. Like the Pod was a container. A safe haven. A place where the hungry tentacles of predators couldn’t reach.
But now, with human hands and bodies, the One could adapt; it could begin to profit from the lessons the humans had carried to it from across the stars. Humans had proved that the physical world could be manipulated, transformed, and adapted to serve the One. That threats like predators could be eliminated by violence. Already Tomaya had employed her body to make changes in the Pod, to open and close doors, to employ tools—a fascinating concept, tools—and as she did, the One learned, explored, and marveled.
There was so much to learn.
But the One was patient. First the humans had to be protected, allowed to grow and mature until they could reproduce. Only when enough of them existed could they finally be risked outside the Pod’s protective walls. In the meantime, there were too many wonderful mysteries within the Pod’s impregnable sialon walls. Mysteries that needed to be investigated. Like UUVs, the submarine, and the fascinating machines. That study alone would take years.
But more the point, the One, which had always needed to disperse into individual cells to survive predation, was suddenly able to reflect in peace. As predators sent tentacles to feel down the sialon walls in fruitless quest, The One no longer needed to separate and flee as a thought was coming together. Now it could concentrate billions of cells upon billions of cells without interruption. Flex its intelligence.
And in the process, it could contemplate miracles. Like the stunning new knowledge that isolated organisms like humans, each alone in its body, limited in its senses and communication, could create something as remarkable as the Pod, and more amazing, carry it across the stars.
If creatures that limited could accomplish such great things, what incredible heights could the One aspire to now that it had a redoubt that allowed it to learn, to understand, and to create? Especially now that it had harnessed humans with their remarkable bodies? Bodies that could collect, carry, and accumulate, make and use tools, create weapons, and manufacture machines? Using humans, the One could manipulate and manage its environment for the first time ever.
The future, once a mere abstract, had forever changed. The possibilities limitless.
As the One Sang in the background, the girl who used to be Tomaya swam into the observation blister, placed her hands against the transparency, and stared up at the sunlight shining through the glass. Through her and the others, the One had come to understand the extent of the world out there.
And the day would come when she would lead it back into that sunlight.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
W. Michael Gear is the author of over fifty published novels, many of which are co-authored with his beloved wife, Kathleen O'Neal Gear. He is a New York Times, USA Today, and international bestselling author whose work has been translated into 29 languages and has over 17 million copies in print worldwide. Both an anthropologist and archaeologist, he brings extraordinary depth and complexity to his characters and settings.
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