“I won’t be leaving either,” I said. “I’m a murderer too.”
And I told him everything.
Releasing Pressure
I confessed because of the pressure to tell someone. I confessed because he was Jelca. I confessed because we were both unforgivable.
He had killed a sentient woman for the sole reason that she was inconvenient. Don’t think I was deceived by Jelca’s excuses. He shot Eel because he didn’t want to face the fallout from exploiting her for six months. Maybe he hadn’t expected the stunner to kill her. He should have considered the possibility, but maybe he didn’t. Instead, he blasted her again and again until her glass vitals cracked into shards.
Jelca was a murderer and so was I. I had butchered my partner and left him to rot in a log. That was a fact, and intentions be damned.
I told Jelca the facts as clearly as I could without choking up. Neither of us could possibly leave. I didn’t know how I felt about staying with him, but we owed it to the others not to jeopardize their escape.
When I finished my story—when I had told him how I sliced Yarrun’s throat with my scalpel and spilled his blood over my hands…when I had reminded him that League of Peoples laws are more inescapable than entropy—after all that, Jelca laughed.
He laughed.
“What a wimp-ass murder,” he sniggered. “What a wimp-ass excuse for a homicide.”
I was speechless.
“You think the League will bar you from space for that?” He snorted in disgust. “You think surgeons are labeled murderers if they lose a patient? Wake up, Festina! You tried to help, and it didn’t work. That’s all.”
“He would have lived!” I insisted. “If I’d left him alone, he would have lived. But no. I tried to be a hotshot, performing emergency surgery when I couldn’t see straight. He died because of me!”
“Yes he did,” Jelca agreed. “So you think you should be punished. You want to believe the League regards you as non-sentient, that you deserve exile. But that’s just guilt talking, not common sense. You thought you were doing what had to be done to save Yarrun’s life. That’s blatantly sentient, Festina…and it would be ludicrous for you to stay on Melaquin and die because of it.”
Something in his tone caught my attention. “What do you mean by that?” I asked.
“Nothing.” He looked me straight in the eye. “It’s just stupid to spend the rest of your life in this hellhole.”
I met his gaze. It was the first time he’d looked at me and not my cheek. I knew it meant he was lying. Some people are like that—naturally evasive until they put on an act of being forthright.
“What are you up to, Jelca?” I asked.
“Nothing,” he repeated…again, looking straight into my eyes.
“Whether or not I’m a murderer,” I said slowly, “I don’t know that I want to leave Melaquin. It’s pleasant here. Peaceful.”
“Stagnant,” he sneered. “Comatose.”
“If I go back, I’ll have to be an Explorer again.” I watched Jelca’s face closely. “They’ll assign me another partner—how could I live with that? And I’ll be sent on one mission after another until I go Oh Shit. Frankly, Melaquin sounds like a better life. Safer.”
“I wouldn’t recommend it,” he said evenly.
Why? Something to do with the second generator. What did he have in mind? Something that would make it dangerous to stay on Melaquin….
“You’re going to do something to the planet, aren’t you?” I said. “Something that makes it impossible for the council to maroon people here.”
“How could I possibly damage something as big as a planet?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” I replied, “but that has to be it. You said it yourself—the League lets the council send people to Melaquin because the planet is hospitable to human life. We have as good a chance of surviving here as anywhere else in the galaxy. But suppose Melaquin stops being a paradise. Suppose it becomes deadly. Then the council can’t use it as a dumping ground anymore because that would be real murder. The League wouldn’t allow it…and you’ll be able to say you beat the council at its own game.”
“That would be nice,” he admitted. “That would be a good revenge.” He growled out the last word. “But it’s too ridiculous to contemplate. If I worked hard I might pollute some land…but how much? A few hundred square klicks at most, even if I spent my whole life spilling radioactive waste on the ground. That’s hardly hurting the planet as a whole. What do you think I could do, Festina? What’s my nefarious plan?”
He was playing a game now—taunting me. Maybe he wanted me to think it was lighthearted teasing; maybe he saw my unblemished face and forgot I had the brains of an Explorer.
All right, think: he had a Sperm-field generator. It generated Sperm tails. What was a Sperm tail? A tube of hyperspace; a ship riding inside the tube could circumvent the limitations of relativity. The tube could also be used for instantaneous transport—as I’d told Oar, it was window from here to there. A window….
Then I thought of what Ullis had said. If one end of the window was open to the planet’s surface and the other ten thousand klicks straight up into the sheer vacuum of space…everything would go flying out the window.
The whole damned atmosphere.
How big a tail could one generator make? A klick in diameter…maybe more. With one end at ground level and the other trailing off into space, the Sperm would be like a giant firehose, free end whipping back and forth, spraying air into the void.
The first result would be the biggest storm this planet had ever seen: a tornado centered on the base of the Sperm tail, sucking up wind. And the storm would never stop—not until it reduced the air supply to negligible pressure.
“How long,” I asked, “would it take to drain Melaquin’s atmosphere through an unanchored Sperm tail?”
Jelca looked startled. Then he answered, “18.6 years. But the surface will be uninhabitable long before that.”
Part XVII
CONFRONTATION
Ego
“Jelca,” I said, “there are people on Melaquin. You’ll kill them.”
“I’ll wait for the ship to take off,” he replied.
“I don’t mean Explorers!” r snapped. “You’ll kill people like Oar!”
“They’ll be all right,” he answered with a vague wave of his hand. “Their homes are safe underwater and in caves.”
“They don’t all stay in their homes! They come out for walks on the beach—you know that. And I doubt their habitats are so self-contained they can withstand the whole planet losing atmosphere. When the air pressure drops far enough, the lakes will boil away; what happens to underwater cities then? And how do you know the caves are so airtight they won’t leak? You don’t know. You can’t.”
“All right,” Jelca shrugged, “there may be problems. So what? This planet is dead, Festina; it may look viable, but it’s not. There’s no civilization here. There are no people. No one but glass zombies too stupid to know they’re extinct. The ancestors do nothing…even creatures like Oar do nothing. They don’t deserve to be called sentient. But Explorers are sentient, and it’s time to stop treating them like rotten meat.”
“Jelca,” I said, “ask the other Explorers if their lives are worth genocide. You know they’d never accept it.”
“They don’t have to,” he replied. “I accept it for them. I take the responsibility. If someone doesn’t do this, you know what will happen? When we reach Technocracy space, the Fleet will load us all onto a ship and send us straight back to Melaquin. This is where they send their embarrassments, and we’ll be the biggest embarrassment of all! For everyone’s sake, I have to make sure Melaquin is no longer an option.”
“You aren’t doing this for everyone’s sake,” I told him. “It’s only for your sake. The council was mean to you, and you want to hit them back. This is so unworthy of an Explorer, Jelca. Flamboyant gestures are for people who think life means beating the other guy. That’
s not life, that’s ego. It’s what you do when you’re too scared or stupid to build a life on your own terms. Demanding revenge, Jelca…I’m ashamed of you. It’s just so adolescent!”
“Adolescent?” he roared. “Adolescent!”
“Juvenile. Revenge always is.”
And that’s when I hit him.
Fight or Flight
It was a simple punch, straight to the jaw—a sucker punch, and I had no qualms about using it. Now that I knew Jelca’s plan, I was dangerous to him; he may already have decided I would have an “accident” and topple off the mountain. One shot of his stunner would take me out, so I couldn’t give him a chance to draw.
The punch should have fazed him long enough to let me close for a few more strikes; but maybe I didn’t put all my strength into it. Maybe some subconscious softness balked at knocking out Jelca’s teeth…. I don’t know. I just know the impact didn’t completely rattle him. Before I could follow up, his emergency programming kicked in: he dove, tucked, and rolled, exactly the way I did when taken by surprise.
Pity he couldn’t have been trained with one of the other responses—freezing or backing off passively.
Before he stopped rolling, I was diving too: diving for the cover of the trees. I had no chance of crossing the ground between me and Jelca before he could draw his gun. My only chance was to get out of range, preferably with sturdy pine trunks at my back. Standard-issue stunners are only effective at close quarters, but with an amplified weapon like Jelca’s, I wanted all the insurance I could get.
I reached the woods a split-second before he fired. My whole head buzzed for a second as if it were clamped in a vibrating vice; but momentum carried me forward, and I stayed on my feet for a few stumbling steps till the trees walled off the sound. Thank heaven they were pines—their needles rustled fiercely under the hypersonic barrage, absorbing the sound and muffling it. With each step my vision cleared, until I allowed myself to accelerate into a full run along the uneven trail.
“Festina!” Jelca yelled. “Come back. Let’s talk.”
What kind of idiot did he think I was? I didn’t waste my breath answering. The trail had bends in it, but not many; there were long stretches where he would have a clear shot at me if I didn’t stay far enough ahead. Silently, I cursed my lack of foresight for not bringing my own stunner…but I had never expected to need it. At worst, I thought Jelca might deny killing Eel; the idea that he might have a greater lunacy planned never crossed my mind.
You’re too civilized, Ramos, I told myself. All that Explorer training, and you still aren’t prepared to deal with non-sentients.
No. I just hadn’t been prepared to accept that Jelca was non-sentient. He was: a dangerous non-sentient, and now he was after me. His footsteps pounded the trail some distance behind. I didn’t look over my shoulder—it would only slow me down, and Jelca’s legs were longer than mine.
Could I hide? Take cover behind a tree and ambush him as he came by? Too risky: the tree trunks were no more than a hand wide, and here in the depths of the wood, their branches didn’t reach low enough to offer concealment. The best tactic was to leave the trail, leave it now before Jelca came into sight. I might not have brought my stunner, but I sure as hell had my compass—I wouldn’t get lost in the woods.
Jelca would get back to the elevator ahead of me, but that didn’t matter. If he decided to wait there, blocking my way back to the city, I had more time than he did. When I didn’t return, Ullis would organize a search party—after all, I had left her that note:
I think Jelca killed Eel. I’m going to talk to him about it. You keep an eye on Oar, and don’t tell her a thing.
Ullis would come, I knew she would…and given the circumstances, she and the other Explorers would come armed.
I veered off on the first side trail I came to: a narrow track used by deer and bear. As soon as I was out of sight of the main trail, I stopped and crouched, keeping quiet. Jelca was a city boy—he wouldn’t notice my tracks had turned. In a few seconds he thudded by, running hard and muttering inaudible words under his breath; I hoped they were curses. Then he was gone.
The sounds of the forest filled the silence: pine needles brushing each other, squirrels squawking as they foraged for winter supplies. When I felt the coast was clear, I moved forward, paralleling the trail but keeping a good distance off in case Jelca backtracked.
In time, the open area around the elevator entrance came into sight. I stopped at the edge of the woods, keeping low to stay hidden. Jelca could be lying in ambush, inside the entrance itself or behind the nearby rocks. Carefully I scanned each possible hiding place—no sign of him, but that only meant he’d concealed himself well. I found some cover of my own and settled down to wait. A search party would come.
Half an hour later, the hum of the elevator reached my ears. I smiled…and my smile grew wider at the thought of Jelca gritting his teeth in consternation. While I’d been waiting, I had silently collected a pile of stones suitable for throwing if Jelca showed his head. That would keep him busy while the search party got out of the elevator; after that, it would be over for him.
The elevator stopped. The door opened. Only one person emerged: Oar, carrying her silver axe.
“Laminir Jelca!” she shouted to the mountains. “Come out and let us see the color of your juices!”
“Okay,” I sighed. “This would be the rescue party I didn’t want to see.”
Battle
Somehow Oar had learned what I wrote in my note. I had hoped she couldn’t read English; but maybe she could. It didn’t matter. Oar was here now with hate in her eyes…and that made her a prime target for Jelca if he was nearby.
He was. A trigger clicked; then came the soft whirr a stunner makes to tell you it’s fired. The sonics made no sound themselves—they were too tightly focused on Oar to spill in my direction. Oar staggered and looked around wildly, unable to understand what had happened to her.
“Festina!” Jelca shouted. “Now would be a good time for you to surrender.”
The way Jelca’s voice echoed off the mountain made it hard to pinpoint his position, but I could narrow it down. He had to be hiding behind one of three rocks on the far side of the elevator entrance. Hugging half a dozen throwing stones to my chest, I worked my way through the forest, circling toward him.
Oar shook her head to clear it and raised her axe. “Where are you, fucking Explorer?”
The trigger clicked, the gun whirred. Oar shuddered but held her ground.
“Festina,” Jelca called, “you know I can kill her. If you don’t come out, her death is on your head.”
I didn’t answer. The fool was living some dream now— picturing himself as a desperado who could beat the world through sheer ruthlessness. What had happened to his Explorer training? I felt ashamed any ECM could blind himself with such romantic notions.
Oar jumped from where she was, hit the ground, and rolled up against a rock: an imitation of my own defensive move. The maneuver took her out of the immediate line of fire; I heard a clatter of scree as Jelca moved over the mountainside to draw another bead on her. This time I glimpsed his head for a split-second—not long enough to nail him with a stone, but now I knew where he was.
“This is ludicrous, Festina!” he shouted. “Are you going to let her die to save your own skin? Not very sentient of you.” More rocks clattered under his feet. “You know,” he continued, “she’s the closest thing you’ve got to a partner now. You want to lose another partner, Festina?”
You are such a bastard, I thought. But I was an Explorer; he couldn’t goad me into doing something rash. Anger is unprofessional.
The stunner whirred again. Oar groaned, then called, “It only tickles, fucking Explorer! You are stupid and boring and your gun is weak!”
Her voice sounded raspy. I pictured crystal fragments lying ragged in her throat as bits of broken glass splintered off her tissues. Other attacks might bounce off her hide, but the sonics were killing her. Was sh
e dying already? I pressed forward as fast as I could; Jelca would soon be in my sights.
He was moving again—moving for a better shot at Oar, but also moving into clear view. It was a gamble on his part…but he must have thought I was still on the other side of the forest, back where the trail came out of the trees. The rocks gave him adequate cover in that direction; he might think he was safe.
I’d teach him otherwise.
Slowly I cocked my arm back, ready to hurl a stone into the side of his head. His concentration was centered on Oar; he wouldn’t see it coming. But before I could throw, Oar surged to her feet yelling hoarsely and brandishing the axe. Jelca shied away, and lifted his stunner. I could imagine his finger tightening on the trigger…so I heaved the stone with all my strength, a shot aimed at his body rather than his head, because I couldn’t afford to miss. Maybe Oar could withstand another blast and maybe she couldn’t.
The stone hit him on the upper arm—not his gun hand, but I prayed it was enough to foul his aim. Without waiting to see, I sprinted forward, grabbing another rock from my arsenal and hurling it in Jelca’s direction. He spun toward me, ready to fire…but the incoming stone made him duck and then Oar was screaming, racing at him with the axe. Jelca shot her again, pointblank range, then flinched as my next stone caught him on the shoulder. I had swung out wide, far enough that he would need to turn away from Oar to aim at me; and she was still standing, still holding the axe, even if the last shot had temporarily numbed her.
With a cry, Jelca fled toward the elevator. I held another rock ready in case he turned around, but he didn’t. He ran straight to the hidden entrance; a moment later, the door whisked open, then closed. Still wary, I kept my grip on the stone in my hand as I approached Oar.
“Festina,” she whispered, “I do not feel good.”
She fell into my arms.
Damage Assessment
The League of Peoples Page 28