The Chromosome Game

by Hodder-Williams, Christopher

  ‘Damn! Can you get them up out of the way? Shove them on the conveyor, then ask the Controller if we can have the tractor on next if it’s out of mothballs. The boys are ready to start ploughing … Oh, and Krand’s gone down to ZD-One to get the latest on livestock. Can you let me know what he has to say?’

  ‘Sure … Trell? How are the chickens doing?’

  ‘The first batch had been incubated in advance of Exodus.

  ‘Whatever they’re doing they’re not laying … And the conveyor’s squeaking like a pond of ducks. Send some grease down, okay?’

  ‘Trell, are you in a hurry!’

  ‘Too right. While the weather holds let’s make the best of it. Fact is, soil tests show that the ground is very poor for crops. Seems like there’s been one hell of a dry season followed by torrential ram, so until that fertilizer starts biting —’

  ‘— Okay, save the weather forecast, I’ll get on with the programme.’

  ‘Fine … Over and out. Eagle? Where the hell is Eagle?’

  Eagle walked up quite casually. Somehow he felt an inner calm. He knew what he was dealing with now, in people like Sladey and Scorda; the very seriousness of the problem kept him low-key and unexcitable. He could understand Trek’s sense of urgency, though. In Provence, Autumn would end very abruptly. There was one hell of a lot to do before Winter set in. But some of the apples in the barrel were rotten. Eagle saw it to be a major part of his job to help sort them before they contaminated others in the batch — the weaklings … people like Frume and Prenda and Kendip, hardly even names to him, he tried hard not to think of them as non-people, but they were easy targets for planned insurrection and calculated sabotage.

  Eagle was mentally weeding them out, one by one; not planning any action one way or the other, but conscious of the threat …

  ‘Eagle, can you help Krand break some of the horses?’

  ‘Horses! They look more like zebras to me.’

  ‘No stripes.’

  Eagle’s almost imperceptible smile signified the inauguration of a private joke. ‘The stripes are very carefully concealed.’

  ‘Seriously.’

  ‘I am being serious. I’ve been studying those horses. They’re not the same as the one in the picture-books, Trell. Very wild and sinewy. They’re strong and they mean business. They’ll take some breaking, no doubt about that. And if we do it wrong they won’t want to know, believe me.’

  ‘If anybody can do it, you can.’

  ‘All right. But we’ll know all about it when those secret stripes suddenly show.’

  ‘So you’re on?’

  ‘But whether I stay on is a horse of a different colour, like I said, zebras.’

  ‘Fine … Now, from among all these people who have we for the soil-enrichment? — Who’s best in that research team?’

  ‘There’s Mendra-118 — if you can drag her away either from Milem or her mirror.’

  ‘We’ll try. Can you go get her?’

  ‘Trell, if Milem sees me with her I won’t be around to break the zebras.’

  ‘Risk it … Hi, Mendra. And it seems to me the sun has tanned you almost as black as Milem himself. How do you manage it?

  Mendra ran an appreciative hand over her thighs. ‘I manage it with sun-lamps. I’m no nature girl but it works.’

  ‘It works all right … So what can you and Milem manage on the ploughing deal? You’ve made your survey?’

  ‘On the Ridge the top-soil is all washed up. There’s been erosion on a huge scale, Trell. Whatever our ancestors did to the weather they weren’t thinking much of our chances.’

  ‘What about the top-soil farther along? — beyond Kasiga Ridge?’

  ‘It’s better than this but you’d need a bulldozer to make the ground flat enough to till. It puts us between the devil and the deep blue sea: The soil yonder is okay but the ground isn’t flat enough to be arable; and the surface on the Ridge is so weak that nothing would grow. And underneath all that silt there’s just clay.’

  ‘So what’s stopping us muck-shifting so that we have richer topsoil on the patch where the mini-ploughs will function? — Add a bit of fertilizer and how will the ground here on the Ridge know the difference?’

  ‘That makes sense. Trell, but how do we shift hundreds of tons of earth? With our bare hands?’

  ‘If necessary. Or we put a hundred people on the job, using shovels.’

  ‘So show me a hundred shovels.’

  ‘We make ’em in the forge.’

  ‘Where do we get the metal?’

  ‘If you’re as bright as you are suntanned, Mendra, you’ll search the ship for objects made out of iron … the kind of iron we can work. I know they won’t last all that long but until we have steel I guess they’ll have to do the job, okay? … Can you and Milem organise a group of volunteers to start shaking-out that soil, using whatever we have for the present?’

  ‘Trouble is, Trell, I doubt if … if some of the incubants will respond to any authority vested in Milem. His particular colour is not a-la-mode this year.’

  ‘If they do not, Mendra, just let me know and I’ll get Eagle to have the zebras stampede them straight away into the sea.’

  ‘Zebras?’

  ‘One of Eagle’s jokes … Anyway, tell me if there’s trouble. Okay?’

  ‘Okay.’

  *

  Krand gazed up at the tractor as it emerged on the hoist. To Sakini he said, ‘Sure does seem weird to see that thing after all these years. Do you and Inikas remember it?’

  ‘Sure we remember it. So what? It’s got smaller, though.’

  ‘You’ve grown bigger.’

  *

  Trell and Krand stepped out into the Autumn night.

  Cool winds, coming up from the richly-scented mountain territory of Africa, then cleansed of sand over the Mediterranean, and finally checked-out, re-oxygenised and desalinated by the organic ombudsmen — starfish, crab-life, shore gulls and tundra — that straddled the south coast of France … these sensuous winds fanned the horses and the trees, the lakes and the natural orchards, the ravines and foothills, with less than one part in 103 of carbon-monoxide or nuclear fallout to contaminate it. Air like this was unique to Futureworld; the sulphured squalor that people had breathed since the Industrial Revolution — the coal-dust, smog, crude oil, lead, aerosol effluence and a thousand other toxic impurities — had at last disseminated upward; doing a power of no good to the ozone layer but at least leaving the lower atmosphere to its own delicious minerals, and animal flavouring, and subtle honey released by magnificent foliage. You could see glowing objects in the sky quite unlike the hazy, streaked star-blurs viewed, even through powerful telescopes, in the Twentieth Century. Venus was so bright in Futureworld that collision seemed imminent … yet it held its place with precision in orbit. The moon, a mere crescent this night, reflected enough photons for you to read a book at bedtime. Distant galaxies, normally so far displaced by the red-shift that they would have been invisible to the naked eye during Man’s soiled reign of back-yard rape, thrummed with vibrant light and illuminated the pathways overhead that were signposted to infinity.

  Trell didn’t want to speak; to disturb one molecule of such delicious nectar seemed to him to be an inexcusable intrusion. But the spell had to pass; there were lives to be led and they were not being led in the direction he felt productive. And what Krand was telling him now, as they strolled on the invigorating slopes of Provence, deeply disturbed him …

  ‘Trell. They heard it all. The meeting on F Deck.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘I found … this. In the Laundry Chute.’ He took a small object from his pocket.

  ‘Radio-mike.’

  Krand said, ‘I guess our preparations for that meeting weren’t quite as discreet as we thought. Who had the mike put in that room? — My guess is Sladey.’

  ‘But, Krand! I don’t see that they could have heard a damn thing. But the time we were all up in there —’

  ‘— Yo
u don’t know the half of it. Our friends the enemy were equally interested in the private talk you had with Kelda after you’d told the computer to go take a running jump —’

  ‘So they moved that radio-mike …’

  ‘— Strictly for your benefit, Trell. You know what —’

  ‘— I do know. Let’s take first things first, though. By the time you, Eagle, Kelda and I were up on F Deck —’

  ‘— the computer was all set for torture. True. Which would be fine with me if Nembrak hadn’t told me a couple of hours ago that dating from then a new line had been run to one of the cassette machines.’

  ‘Recorded the whole of our meeting!’

  ‘Check. Now I see another angle on this dream of Fulda’s.’

  ‘Get to practicals. Item: After that horrendous torture business, those hoodlums somehow used the radio-mike to eavesdrop on Kelda and me. How? Who moved it? Couldn’t have been Sladey and his official mob, on account of they were getting an original type of lullaby from the auto-nurses in the Treatment Room … a Treatment with which I’m becoming increasingly in sympathy every moment —’

  ‘— So you are human? We had the idea you spanked the computer for that episode.’

  ‘I’m still glad those hoodlums were worked over … Anyway I’m damn sure they were in no shape to hook-up new mike circuits by then. Who does that leave?’

  ‘Kendip The FlipFlop … a member of the great non-people brigade, Trell. He had a mind like a knife-switch.’

  ‘Too many of those around.’

  ‘Too right. Lean on them for a split second and they hook up to a different circuit. Now Kendip has Flopped over to Sladey.’

  ‘So they fix it up ahead of time with the FlipFlop so they get the rest of the newsflash later — and what a news flash. Kelda and I don’t sugar the pill with each other, we talked real frank about the Ice-Cube deal.’

  ‘Eagle heard Sladey’s team on this topic when they slunk out here, that what you think?’

  ‘Must’ve. Going back to Tortureday then … Once they’d taped Kelda and me, they move the mike back. To the laundry chute. Why? — In anticipation of our holding a further meeting?’

  ‘Correct. They could have had no other motive.’

  ‘Then they spread the gospel — and what a gospel, Krand! Sladey would delight in whipping up neat terror among the rest of the community. Just his speed … It’s affected them, no doubt about that. Of course, Kelda planned to break it to them gently, by stages —’

  ‘— I know all that but we missed something, Trell. And we can’t yet know how important it is.’

  ‘You back on the meeting up top?’

  ‘Yes. Ship’s Log. You read something out loud. They would have heard it.’

  ‘Check! The map reference. But none of them can have any idea what it’s about because we didn’t either.’

  ‘They might figure it out first if they get back in there.’

  Trell cursed. ‘I wish I’d been through the logs right then.’

  ‘No time.’

  Krand stopped, gazed unseemingly toward Kasiga. A single light showed near the outlet for the hoist. ‘I went up there tonight. To the Laundry Chute. I know exactly how we left the logs: they were in a neat row on top of the vacuum pump … a row of five, right? — Numbered in sequence and stored in sequence. Trell, I checked that place out when we left, after the meeting. I know how to count up to five. How come they were out of sequence tonight?’

  ‘So whoever bugged us —’

  ‘— either knows what that map reference means already, or is keen to find out. Trell, I think we should move the logs out of there.’

  ‘Yes, we better. Did you put them back in sequence?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Good thinking.’

  ‘And we have some more thinking to do, Trell … Two items; one of them easy for me to say, the other … not so easy.’

  ‘Then for Pete’s sake open with the beginners’ diet, Krand, so I have a chance to prepare my digestion for the tough one.’

  ‘It isn’t even a hunch, it just bothers me. Sakini and Inikas, Well … You know how they’ve gone even more nuts about tennis —’

  ‘— I know they’re driving Hallow even more nuts from watching them, Krand. His eyes look like tennis balls already. He’s so pale Vitamin B couldn’t fix him up.’

  ‘Yeah? Anyway, the twins went to the Viewing Room and started calling up holograms of their favourite tennis stars —’

  ‘— the moving ones?’

  ‘That’s right. The idea was to run the thing in slow motion, watch people like Nastasi serving.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘Well, it worked all right but the projected images are hovering in mid-air. I mean, how do you watch Nastasi’s footwork if his feet don’t touch the ground?’

  ‘Probably the lasers are out of line.’

  ‘Hallow says he tried to adjust them but you can’t move them far enough.’

  ‘Trust Hallow to be around for that crisis!’

  ‘Trell, what bothers me is why I am raising such a trivial point in the dead of night. I mean, who the hell cares if Nastasi’s feet don’t touch the ground now, in this day and age? … From what I gather from reading about tennis, they never did.’

  ‘And yet you can’t leave the problem alone? I know the feeling … I’ll look into it. What’s the other sore point?’

  ‘I’m coming to it real sudden.’

  ‘You do that.’

  ‘You’re only half Aryan.’

  ‘What’s the other half?’

  ‘Jew. And that’s official. Nembrak twisted it out of the computer. Sladey’s charming PTA group already know.’

  ‘Okay. What is a Jew?’

  ‘That’s what I don’t know.’

  ‘So whatever a Jew is, that’s what I am.’

  ‘Half of you.’

  ‘Well, I guess you can’t saw me in two, Krand.’

  ‘Thought you’d better know. Might lead to … complications.’

  *

  Sladey stopped Kendip The FlipFlop in the corridor.

  ‘Yes, Sladey?’

  ‘Kendip, when is a Captain not a Captain?’

  Kendip never knew whether Bigtime-Sladey was joking or not. Intimidated by the sardonic lilt and the fey, round-the-houses mode of speech, he invariably substituted a cringing smile for any meaningful expression until the safety-rope was taut. ‘I’m … not sure, Sladey … I mean —’

  ‘You mean you’re frightened of committing yourself in case the answer does not please me?’

  Kendip tried to conceal a childish gulp. ‘I guess the answer is: When he’s ashore!’

  ‘Super. You shall receive the Order of the British Empire retroactively, of course, since no empires — British or otherwise — have been in existence any too recently.’

  ‘Is he ashore?’

  Yes, our revered Jewbaby is taking a stroll in the moonlight, while the boring Kelda remains bye-byes.’ Sladey’s tone of voice abruptly changed. ‘Now fetch Scorda. Don’t just stand there like a jackass. Get him!’

  ‘Yes, Sladey.’

  ‘Yes Sladey … That’s the spirit. Run along, now …

  ‘… Ah, ’tis Scorda. Prompt as a postman — even if your pyjamas are a bit ludicrous.’

  ‘They’re the only ones I’ve got.’

  ‘Well, I’d be the very last person to suggest you take them off … Scorda, the monk and the nun are not in session; the monk is ashore; the nun is getting its beauty sleep.’

  ‘You think of them like that? — a monk and a nun?’

  ‘One mustn’t be influenced by their procreative activities. They’re agonisingly in luuuv, which is pretty nauseous since they make such a production of demonstrating it, they think they invented fucking and all that jazz, but basically she’s a Puritan and fundamentally he’s an Orthodox Yid. Add them together and you get a very tedious platter of corn on the cob … a monotonous diet indeed.’

  ‘So what do yo
u want to get me out of bed for?’

  Sladey’s eyes shot upward, beseeching his Maker to bestow upon Scorda the germ of cerebral activity. ‘Scordaboy, you’re the one who started getting your knickers in a twist about the shortage of food supplies … and what knickers they turned out to be! — all stripes and no pyjamas.’

  ‘Okay, so lay off my pyjamas.’

  ‘Tut-tut, so sensitive … Well, you and I, we had a little talk — did we not? — about what we heard on that cassette. We heard lots and lots of things about us — wasn’t that thrilling? — but we also heard a map reference, Scorda. A map reference.’

  ‘In the ship’s log.’

  ‘Quite. It didn’t appear on the breakfast menu. And, forsooth, we checked the log rather more carefully than did the saintly duo, and their lot. What do we find? — A cache of supplies, Scordaboy: Din-dins. Didn’t you realise what it meant?’

  ‘But … Won’t we have plenty of food, now we’re ploughing up the land?’

  ‘This is no time to tell you about fertiliser, Scorda, since it might upset your sensitivities. Enthusiastic though our tireless colleagues are — relentlessly muck-shifting for the sheer joy of flexing their proud young muscles — if they manage to grow so much as a bunch of primroses I’ll personally open the Chelsea Flower Show and pin rosettes on their behinds — or wherever they so choose.’

  ‘Nothing will grow?’

  ‘Not without a miracle. And since miracles are restricted to those sickly movies — with heavenly choirs thrown in compris — you and I and the rest of the more practical-minded team must perform one of our own. It behoves us, therefore, to build a boat; and to make it go hurtling along we borrow the spare tractor engine, which is somewhere or other not very far from the Hoist Area. We shall, in other words, hoist ourselves by their petard. Isn’t that rather pretty?’

  ‘Okay, let’s stick to the deal: We use the spare tractor-engine for the boat. And we park the boat … where?’

  ‘Up the creek — I speak not figuratively but literally.’

  ‘Which creek?’

  ‘The one round the bend — I speak not —’

  ‘Cut that out. How far upstream?’

  ‘I’ve drawn a map … You see this section of the river, where it curves round towards the mountains? … Well, Scorda, there must be a fissure —’