Brown, Eric

by Helix [v1. 0] [epub]

  Carrelli said, “I stocked up on fruit back there. Help yourselves. I don’t know about you, but I’m tired.”

  Kaluchek slipped from her couch. “I found some bunks back there,” she said, grinning at Hendry. She took his hand and tugged him along the corridor to the rear lounge, closed the door behind them and turned to him.

  “Do you think we’re safe in here, or will the others come barging in?”

  He laughed. “I think they might guess what we’re up to.”

  “Oh, and what’s that?”

  But her arch innocence was betrayed by her haste to get out of her atmosphere suit, and seconds later she was naked and in his arms.

  They made love in the sunken bunker, with the thick boles of the tendril plants a matter of metres from the viewscreen. This low to the ground, the tendrils swayed hypnotically, though Hendry was only minimally aware of the fact as Sissy straddled him and eased herself down with a moan.

  Later, arms about each other, they slept.

  When they awoke, almost simultaneously, a couple of hours later, Kaluchek grabbed his arm and said, “Look, Joe...”

  Something in her tone alarmed him. Disoriented, he struggled upright and stared through the viewscreen.

  What looked for all the world like a tree-frog, but the size of a ten-year-old child, was suckered to the screen and staring in at them.

  * * * *

  2

  Hendry dressed quickly and followed Kaluchek from the lounge to the flight-deck. “We’ve got company—” she began.

  Olembe turned to her. “We’ve noticed.” He indicated the forward viewscreen, which was plastered with the emerald green, pot-bellied creatures.

  Carrelli was in her couch, staring up at the screen. “We haven’t seen the Church ship since the first sighting,” she said. “I suggest we just sit it out and bide our time.”

  “For how long, Gina?” Kaluchek asked. “I mean, they’re persistent. They’ll orbit the planet, waiting for us to make a move. And when we do...”

  Hendry said, “How long can we wait it out? How long will the fruit last us? And we don’t know if there’s anything edible on this world.”

  Gina looked at him. “I’ll go out and scout around.”

  Olembe gestured to the reptiles stuck to the viewscreen. “With our green friends out there showing such interest?”

  Gina regarded the creatures. “Well, they look harmless enough.”

  “So did the lemurs at first glance,” Olembe said. “Sorry, Ehrin.”

  If the alien heard his name, he gave no indication, just remained staring through the screen at the underbellies of the tree-frog analogues.

  Carrelli rolled from the pilot’s couch, stood and approached the viewscreen. She remained watching one of the creatures for a minute as it stared in at her with bulbous, unblinking eyes. Then she reached out and placed her palm flat against the surface of the screen, perhaps half a metre to the alien’s left.

  Seconds later the creature moved, adjusted its stance on the glass with a glutinous unpeeling of its suckers, and matched Carrelli’s gesture, placing its thin-fingered paw against the outside of the viewscreen in a mirror image gesture.

  Carrelli looked back at them. “I know it isn’t proof positive, but I think that suggests some level of sentience.”

  Hendry stared at the nearest creature’s eyes, watching him. He counted at least a dozen frogs decorating the viewscreen now, and more were appearing all the time to stare in at the strange new arrivals.

  “I agree with you, Gina,” Kaluchek said. “They don’t look aggressive to me.” She looked across at Olembe, challenging him.

  He said, “So you’re volunteering to go outside?”

  Hendry said, surprising himself, “I’ll go. You said the atmosphere’s breathable, Gina?”

  She nodded. “Be careful. Take a weapon.”

  “I’ll forage around for anything that might look edible.”

  Olembe handed Hendry the blaster. Kaluchek said, “I’m coming with you.”

  He didn’t argue. “We’ll be back in five minutes. We’ll try not to stray far from the ship.”

  “If possible, stay within sight,” Gina said, reaching up to the controls and opening the hatch.

  Hendry passed down the corridor, Kaluchek behind him, and paused on the threshold. The first thing he noticed was the temperature, a sultry gust of heat that hit him like a wave. The air was moist and freighted with a rich cloying scent, not unlike rotting vegetation, though not so unpleasant.

  Then he heard the wind, a high musical sound as it soughed through the swaying vegetation.

  He looked along the length of the ship, noting at least fifty frog creatures adhered to the carapace. They were stuck fast, it seemed, anchored against the high wind.

  He glanced at Kaluchek and she nodded.

  He stepped from the ship onto loamy topsoil, which gave a little beneath his feet. The wind tugged at him, its warmth reminding him of Melbourne’s north winds in his youth.

  Kaluchek touched his arm and said, “Look, aren’t they beautiful?”

  He followed her gaze upwards. A flotilla of the spinnakers he had seen earlier sailed overhead and passed out to sea, vast and silent as they rode the winds.

  Hendry turned and regarded the closest creature clinging to the ship. As if in response, it moved itself, one suckered foot at a time, to face him. It blinked, turned its head to Kaluchek and belched.

  At least, it seemed like a belch, though Hendry doubted this when the creature repeated the sound and continued with variations, like some kind of laryngeal bassoon.

  Kaluchek gripped his upper arm. “Christ, Joe, is it trying to communicate?”

  Hendry looked up, movement alerting him. The other creatures adorning the ship had moved to stare down at the interlopers.

  The first creature turned its head and belched to its neighbour.

  “I wonder if Carrelli can talk tree-frog,” Kaluchek said.

  “I don’t doubt it,” Hendry replied, looking around at the phalanx of thick stalks that hemmed the ship on three sides. He gestured to Kaluchek and they moved along the length of the ship, drawing alongside the forward viewscreen. He could see Carrelli peering out at them from between the mosaic of frogs.

  He gestured to the closest vegetation and set off with Kaluchek, aware that an audience of curious frogs was watching his every move.

  He examined the tendrils. They were soft, fibrous, and those lopped by the nose of the ship were oozing a sickly pale ichor. He looked around, but the floor of the forest was notable for its absence of anything else resembling vegetation.

  “I wonder if the tendrils are edible?” he asked Kaluchek.

  “Let’s take some back and see what Carrelli makes of it.”

  He selected a tendril damaged by the landing, breaking off a long strip of the pulpy fibre. He didn’t envy Carrelli her tasting session.

  They returned to the hatch, watched every step of the way by the curious natives. Once inside they hurried down the corridor to the flight-deck. This time human eyes turned on them, expectantly. Hendry deposited the section of unappetising tendril on the couch. “The bad news is that this is the only stuff that looks remotely edible,” he began.

  “And the good news?” Olembe asked.

  “The natives are friendly, or at least seem to be. One even spoke to me.”

  “Well,” Kaluchek said, “it belched.”

  Carrelli turned and stared at the frogs on the viewscreen. “I’m going out there. Anybody else?”

  Olembe grunted a laugh. “This I must see. Gina in conversation with a frog.”

  Carrelli looked at the lump of tendril on the couch. She broke off a piece and sniffed it, then experimentally slipped it into her mouth and chewed. She kept her expression neutral and reported, “It has the texture of overcooked pasta.”

  “And the taste?” Kaluchek asked.

  “The taste of... it’s difficult. Maybe sweet seaweed with an unpleasantly bitter
afternote.”

  “You’ll make a great restaurant critic,” Olembe said, “when the colony’s up and running.”

  “But is it edible?” Hendry asked. The thought of living off the tendrils for who knew how long didn’t exactly appeal to him.

  Carrelli shook her head. “I’ll tell you in five minutes,” she said. “Okay, let’s see what these creatures have to say for themselves.”

  She led the way down the corridor, Hendry following her with Kaluchek and Olembe bringing up the rear. Ehrin, Hendry noticed, remained inside, watching them through the sidescreen.

  Carrelli stepped cautiously from the hatch. Hendry and the others joined her. Perhaps a hundred frogs clung to the ship now, watching them. Hendry indicated the frog that had addressed him; at least, he thought it was the same creature. They were, to the untutored eye, very much alike.

  Carrelli stepped forward and lifted a hand. The alien blinked at her. Seconds later, it gave vent to a rumbling series of eructations.

  Carrelli bent her head, frowning. The alien fell silent and remained watching her closely. She looked at Hendry and shook her head. “The smartware’s having difficulty with this one. It’s a language, but so tonal it’s almost impossible to decipher.”

  She smiled to herself. “Well, I’m getting something. Fragments. The creatures are curious. What are we doing here? It... it asked a question. There’s a word that translates as pilgrimage. I think they want to know if we’re embarking on a pilgrimage.”

  “Christ,” Olembe said. “Religious frogs now.”

  Carrelli dragged a sleeve across her sweating brow. “Pilgrimage? Quest? Trek? I don’t know... maybe vital journey is closer to what it means.”

  “Ask it if it can be more specific,” Kaluchek said.

  Carrelli nodded and stepped forward. She opened her mouth. Hendry thought that the few sounds that emerged did not quite have the resonance of the native’s pronouncement, but they were a pretty impressive approximation.

  She said, “I’ve asked what it means by pilgrimage, and to where.”

  The creature responded. Carrelli listened attentively, head bent close. When the alien fell silent, she straightened up, frustrated. “Something about across the divide. They are to go by... it used a specific word, a noun, which is meaningless to the smartware program. I’ll try again.”

  Overcome by the cloying heat, Hendry sat down on the loam, leaning back against a truncated stump of tendril and watching Carrelli attempt to communicate with the frog-like extraterrestrial.

  The alien speaker was joined by others now, an echelon of beings determined, it seemed, to aid her understanding. They belched in relay, as if explaining or amplifying their cousin’s pronouncements.

  At a lull in the chorus, Carrelli turned to the others with an excited expression.

  “What?” Kaluchek said.

  “The noun... it refers to the sail-like membranes.” She pointed out to sea, where the spinnakers, silver ellipses highlighted in the illumination of the stars, floated serenely on the high winds.

  “With first light, the rising of the sun... the creatures here will summon the... the sails... and ride them to the other land... except it’s not the other land, but something greater, more important, the hallowed land, maybe. They ride to the hallowed land once in a lifetime.”

  The alien spoke again, and Carrelli’s eyes widened and she laughed aloud. She turned to the others. “They will soon be embarking on a pilgrimage to pay their respects, give their thanks, to the Guardians.”

  “The Guardians?” Hendry echoed.

  “They are not materialistic creatures,” Carrelli reported. “They have no concept of the word ‘build’, and so don’t employ the word Builders. Their Guardians are our Builders.”

  “Jesus Christ,” Olembe muttered under his breath.

  Carrelli paled suddenly. She turned and hurried towards the ship’s entrance, then doubled up before she made it and vomited her meal of tendril across the loamy ground.

  Olembe said, “I guess that answers one question, friends. The local delicacy isn’t for us.”

  Kaluchek hurried across to Carrelli and assisted her in to the ship. Olembe followed and Hendry sealed the hatch after them. Behind him, the assembly of aliens had set up a continuous croak as if in humorous comment.

  On the flight-deck, Carrelli lay back on the couch and mopped her brow. “I’ll be fine, Sissy. The augments filter the toxins, so they won’t poison me. It’s just unfortunate that they can’t filter the bulk of the tendril.” She smiled. “There is still only one wholly efficient means of doing that.”

  Hendry said, into the following silence, “The natives asked you if we were going on the pilgrimage.” He paused, looked around the group. “Does that suggest to you that they expected us to use the sails to do so?”

  Carrelli nodded. “That’s the impression I received, Joe.”

  Kaluchek shook her head. “But would it be possible? I mean... how the hell would we go about it? They said something about summoning the sails...”

  Carrelli said, “If they could do that for us—”

  “Hey,” Olembe said, holding up both hands. “So we go sailing off into the sunset with the vague hope of arriving on the other side of the ocean...? I think I’d rather take my chances with the bad food here and the Church ship, thanks.”

  Hendry thought of sailing over the ocean on a membrane...

  Carrelli was saying, “They have control over the sails. I surmise it’s some kind of empathic link with the creatures.”

  “The creatures?” Kaluchek cut in.

  “The sails are alive,” Carrelli said. “Animals. The aliens... they call themselves the Ho-lah-lee... control them, ride them. Continually, groups of Ho-lah-lee ride the sails across the ocean to pay respects to the Guardians.”

  Kaluchek said, “If we could ride the sails... that’d be the answer, wouldn’t it? I mean, the rats on the Church ship won’t be looking for us aboard the sails, will they?”

  “Hold on. Let’s think abut this.” Olembe looked around the group. “Okay, it’s one option. But there’s the danger involved, right? Accidents, for Chrissake. What if... I don’t know... what if the sail we rode in came down in the ocean? They’re animals, right? What if one died mid-flight, what then? We’d be dead and the colonists back at the Lovelock would be in the same position we were in when we landed. We owe it to them to be cautious.”

  Carrelli nodded. “Friday’s right.” She thought about it. “The obvious answer would be to split up. Some of us go with the sails, if that’s possible, while someone stays with the ship.”

  Olembe nodded. “I can fly this thing. I know how it works. I volunteer to stay here. Keep in radio contact, and if you don’t make it—”

  Hendry said, “And what if the Church ship’s monitoring for radio signals?”

  Carrelli said, “We’ll contact you only in the event of an emergency, okay?” She looked across at the African.

  Olembe nodded. “Fine by me.”

  Carrelli turned to Hendry and Kaluchek. “How about it?”

  “I want to sail over the ocean,” Hendry said. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

  Kaluchek nodded. “I’ll second that.”

  Carrelli turned to Ehrin and explained the situation, and in due course the alien replied. Carrelli smiled. “Ehrin’s coming too. Okay, I’ll go out there and see if we can hitch a ride.”

  Hendry watched her go, wondering what the alternative would be if, for some reason, they were unable to sail the spinnakers. He put the question to Kaluchek and Olembe.

  The African shrugged. “Then we sit tight and wait, and at some point try to make it across the ocean in the ship.”

  “And just hope the Church ship isn’t in the area,” Hendry said.

  “Jesus,” Kaluchek said, “I’d rather take my chances with the sails.”

  Hendry moved to the viewscreen. Its extraterrestrial patterning had diminished now as more of the creatures moved off t
o join their fellows in conversation with Carrelli. She stood beside the ship, backed by the ocean, and addressed the phalanx of alien amphibians.

  Hendry was aware of his heartbeat as he watched. Their future, he knew, depended on what happened over the next few minutes. Kaluchek joined him and placed a hand on the small of his back.

  Carrelli’s audience came to an end. She inclined her head, lifted a valedictory hand and moved back to the hatch.