Alien Earth

by Megan Lindholm

  At the bottom he clung to the ladder and sweated and breathed while John came swiftly down it. He was grinning, but silent. He let Raef turn, to see Connie, brown and strong, racing across the plain toward them. She was leaping and shouting and waving her arms, but her words were carried away by the wind that followed her.

  Behind her, Evangeline, bigger and whiter than any horse, swept down from the horizon to save them all.

  19

  EVANGELINE WAS SO CLOSE, she had become the horizon, a magic floating mountain that had materialized east of the shuttle. Her shadow was a pool of night in the midst of the early day, and the contrast between it and the sharp white glittering of her body was almost more than Human eyes could bear. Mostly they walked with their eyes cast down. “Solar power,” Raef said once, inanely.

  “What?” asked John. Twice he tried to take Raef’s arm but the older man insisted on limping on his own. It made the going much slower, and listening to his labored breathing was painful.

  “I always wondered … what she lived on … what made her go. Never got to asking her about it. But I bet … she gets energy from sunlight … somehow.”

  “Maybe.” John shrugged. It was outside his area of expertise to even guess. He glanced over at Connie, who kept silent pace beside them. Her eyes were downcast, from more than the glare of Evangeline’s body, he suspected. It was as if she memorized every granule of soil, every leaf and node on every plant they passed. He didn’t need to ask her what she was thinking. Only last night they had talked about it, Connie being brief as poetry when she spoke and as clear. Earlier they had coupled, but then they had lain side by side, feeling the warmth between them and the chill touch of the autumn night against their backs.

  “I never want to leave this planet again,” she’d said, as if he’d just proposed it. “After Raef is dead,” (and she’d said it matter-of-factly, not coldly, but not with the dread she once imparted to the word) “we should travel. Always. To see as much as we can before we, too, die and become part of it again. That’s all I want anymore.”

  Her words hadn’t seemed to require any consent from him, and he hadn’t replied at all in words. Only moved closer to her, and held her warmth as a charm against the chill of the night.

  “Can almost hear her … sometimes … in my head.” Raef paused abruptly and stood, head thrust forward and eyes down. The effort of his breathing moved his shoulders up and down, and the air made a noise through his nose.

  “Hear who?” John asked as they waited for Raef to catch his breath.

  “Evangeline, of course. Who else?” He asked as if it made perfect sense. And he’d set out at his stubborn plod again.

  In the end, they’d more than half carried him that final stretch to the ship. His height made it awkward, but John got an arm around his waist and was able to take most of the weight off his bad side. Either John’s sojourn on Earth had built up his muscles, or Raef weighed much less than he looked. Perhaps both, John thought. He glanced over once at Connie, who had Raef’s good hand pressing on her shoulder. The sturdy brown woman who met his gaze bore little resemblance to the timid crew person who had begun this voyage so long ago.

  She spoke without preamble. “Are you going all the way back to the ship, too?”

  John silently mulled it for a few steps. “I don’t think Raef can make it without us. Could you, Raef?”

  Sweat was cutting runnels through the dust on the old man’s face. Old. Yes, Raef had gotten old in the gravity and pain of his last few days. “Probably not,” he admitted. The skin around his mouth was grey and pinched.

  John spoke to Connie. “We have to get him to a medic chamber, and put some monitors on him. Then, the ship’s computer can advise …”

  “No.” Raef’s emphasis was calm but strong. “Just take me to a womb chamber. That’ll be good enough.”

  “You sure that’s what you want?”

  “I’m sure,” Raef said. He managed a grim smile. “Just get me that far. Then if you two want to leave—I’ll understand.”

  “But Tug might not understand. Almost certainly won’t understand,” Connie pointed out. “What do we do if he seals up the gondola and just takes off into space again?”

  “I don’t know,” John admitted.

  “He won’t. He can’t … It’s not up to Tug, anymore…. And if I know Evangeline at all … she’ll let you do whatever you want.” The words were hard for Raef.

  “You sure of that?” Connie asked softly.

  “After what she’s been through … she’s not about to start forcing other people … to do things they don’t want to do,” Raef asserted breathlessly.

  “Not that part. Are you sure Tug’s not in charge anymore?”

  “Almost sure,” Raef hedged. Sharp as a knife edge was the change as they stepped from sunlight into the dimness of Evangeline’s shadow. Raef halted them with a motion. “Because,” he added a breath later. “If it was up to Tug, I don’t think they’d have come back at all…. He was none too fond of me at our last parting. And he didn’t seem overly concerned over you two, either…. If you want the honest truth. He was more wrapped up in how he was going to get control of Evangeline again.”

  John and Connie exchanged doubtful glances.

  “Tug never gave a damn about any of us,” Raef said bluntly. “Not in any way we’d call Humane. Me in particular…. I was a house cat, maybe, but one … that he’d dump at the pound or have put to sleep the first time I was any trouble.”

  “What?” Connie asked in consternation.

  “Never mind,” Raef snorted disgruntledly. “Just get me back inside and back into a womb … where I can talk to someone who understands what the hell I’m saying…. And if you don’t want to stay then, well, no hard feelings.”

  He shook off their support suddenly and lurched forward determinedly. For the first time John perceived that Raef knew he and Connie would rather stay on Earth. Knew it, and felt abandoned by them, but would not ask them to do anything else.

  “We are possibly the closest things to generation mates that he’s ever had,” Connie observed in her new and disconcerting way of replying to one of his thoughts.

  “Probably,” John muttered, and in a few steps had caught up to Raef and taken his arm again. Raef pretended not to notice. Ahead of them, a lock on the gondola’s flat face abruptly cycled open, and stood silently gaping for them.

  The agony was constant rather than fluctuating now. A steady crush of gravity all but immobilized his truncated body. He could not survive the additional G’s it would take for Evangeline to leave this world again. Didn’t matter. This body didn’t have to live much longer. Just long enough to strike a deal with John, to extract a promise. Once his segments were returned Home and fertilized, he would continue. That this particular consciousness had been extinguished would not matter. His memories would continue. His people would gain the knowledge bought with his life. His memory would not go down in infamy. He dragged himself to the bank of instruments that would let him speak to the Humans, as Evangeline could not, must never be allowed to. He must be ready. Gather his strength to speak.

  She could feel them, smell them, “see” their bodies in her own way. What surprised her was that now she could also sense their minds. Three different little sparks of self-cognizance, moving about under her. She could even tell which one was Raef, not just by mass and temperature and scent, but by her sensing of his mental processes. None of them produced enough signal for her to actually share the thoughts. Each human was just a muzzy little whimper of cogitation, but Raef’s pattern was so familiar to her now that she recognized the ebb and flow of his thinking. Perhaps this was how it would have felt to return to an egg net and listen to the first eager clamorings of babies. But instead of opening womb chambers to her own offspring, she’d be cycling open a door to readmit the Humans to the artificial housing attached to her body. It might be as close as she would ever come to welcoming children within her. Her friend had come back. She
focused herself at him. [Welcome back, Raef.]

  Sudden agitation in the thoughts of the Humans, and to her dismay, Raef’s signal became erratic, and almost failed entirely. [Hurry, hurry, bring him inside,] she begged them, and seemed to feel a quickening in their actions in response. She cycled the lock open, felt them enter. As she cycled the lock closed behind them, she felt her parasite stir.

  “John, Connie. Welcome aboard. Are you well?”

  Tug’s familiar voice boomed out around them. John and Connie exchanged glances. Raef had slumped to the floor and was curled forward, clutching at his chest. “Evangeline,” he said softly.

  “Thanks, Tug.” John crouched, put a reassuring hand on Raef’s shoulder. “But we need to be cycled through as swiftly as possible. Raef’s in bad shape.”

  “I’ll ready a medic chamber. But decontamination is not a process that can be rushed.” Tug paused. “Once you’re all cleansed, we’ll evaluate Raef and the progression of his disease, and consider the best treatment.”

  “Womb.” Raef looked at Connie as he spoke the single word.

  “Tug. He doesn’t want a medic chamber. He wants to go straight to a womb, to reenter Waitsleep.”

  “We’ll have to get you stabilized first, old friend.” Tug paused, and then grated out a chuckle. “Bet you two were a little shocked to find out Raef existed. It’s quite a story, how he came to be on board. I’ll tell it all to you … sometime. Starting atmosphere change.”

  John watched Raef gather himself, and thought for a moment he was going to stand. Instead, he drew a deep breath, and “Evangeline!” he cried aloud. “Make him let me in!”

  “Raef and his imaginings,” Tug commented sadly. “As if Evangeline could even be aware of him as an entity. It’s the progression of his disease. When I sent him to search for you, I worried that something like this might happen.” Tug paused. Overlong, it sounded to John. “But I had no one else to send. Poor Raef. I had to sacrifice him, for your sakes. But we’ll do our best to save him now. John, the man needs medical attention. He needs to be stabilized before Waistsleep can even be considered.” Tug lowered his voice suddenly, spoke as if Raef could not hear him. “And there is the matter of the disease he carries, and whether contamination should be chanced. It may be he should be discarded here, rather than risk the both of you.”

  The damn parasite was blocking her. [Raef, Raef!] Would he think she had abandoned him? She cast about frantically for solutions. She had no voice to talk to Raef, to explain what the problem was. She gathered herself, slammed the full force of her newfound strength against Tug’s block, commanding the interior door to cycle open. Nothing. She felt the spark that was Raef flicker for an instant, and then resume. Fainter? [Hang on, friend. I’m coming for you.] She focused the thought fiercely, and for an instant his spark seemed brighter. Again she slammed against Tug’s control, and this time she thought she felt a weakening.

  “She’s trying to get through,” Raef said, softly, foolishly. “She’s trying to let me in.”

  “Sshh,” Connie cautioned him, kneeling beside him. She spoke by his ear, ignoring Tug’s voice telling how he had taken Raef in. “Take it easy. As soon as we’re out of here, we’ll go straight to the medic chamber.” She put a hand to the side of his face. Dear Raef. Connie was surprised at the depth of affection she felt for the huge, old man. A fine mist of decontaminant spray had begun to fill the chamber.

  “Don’t you understand?” Raef pleaded with her. He lifted one hand, gripped her wrist feebly. “Don’t you feel her at all?”

  “… So it was a misplaced sort of pity I felt for him at first.” Tug paused yet again. “Please remove your contaminated clothing now. Leave it in the lock. I’ll have a biodegrader released into the chamber to break it down.”

  In one movement, John kicked free of his trousers, then flung his tunic into a corner. “There.” He crouched beside Raef, began working his shirt loose. Connie saw his fingers fumble at the catches. “Dammit, Tug, can’t you hurry this at all?” John demanded suddenly.

  “John, I’ve told you …” Tug began placatingly, and the lock doors suddenly slammed themselves open.

  “Thanks, Tug,” John said with feeling. He crouched, dragged one of Raef’s arms up across his shoulders. “Take his other side,” he ordered Connie, and then, “please,” he added, even though she was already taking Raef’s weight. She flashed him a brief grin as they helped Raef through the lock door. They were scarcely through before the door clashed shut behind them.

  “Return to the lock. Decontamination isn’t complete,” Tug warned them, but simultaneously the doors to the lift leading to the womb levels opened. A welcoming light shone within it.

  Raef lifted a hand, pointed. “Evangeline,” he said quietly. “That way.”

  John and Connie looked at each other. Behind them, the lock door cycled open. “Return to the lock to complete decontamination,” Tug instructed them.

  John lifted his chin. “Ultimately, the Human crew is my responsibility. I’m putting him in a womb, Tug.”

  “John, I can’t allow it. Not when it endangers the Beastship; that is my ultimate responsibility. And I might point out that Raef is not crew, not officially.” Tug paused again. “He is more like my guest, you might say. Hence my responsibility.”

  “He’s Human,” Connie said quietly. “He’s ours.”

  “I won’t allow it,” Tug told them firmly.

  She saw John hesitate.

  “I don’t think you can stop us,” Connie observed. To John she said only, “Let’s go.”

  The lights in the lift flickered momentarily, but remained on. They were barely inside before the doors shut of their own accord. The lift slammed into motion, went without pause up to the womb levels. As the doors opened, a faint smile passed over Raef’s face. “I’m going to make it,” he announced. Then his eyes closed and he slumped between them.

  “I forbid this,” Tug said sternly. But his voice synthesis quavered.

  [They’re inside my body now, Tug. Don’t even try to interfere here.] Evangeline focused the thought at him savagely, not caring whether he could perceive it or not.

  She lit passages for them, guiding them directly to the nearest womb chamber, which happened to be the one John usually used. It didn’t matter. There wasn’t time to have them wind their way down to the chamber where Tug had previously secreted Raef. No reason to hide him anymore.

  She waited, devoting most of her strength to blocking Tug’s efforts to take control of the womb chambers. Here, within her own body, it was much easier to stand him off. Still, she wondered desperately what was taking them so long to enter Raef into the womb sac. She knew Tug was continuing to speak to them, but could not sort out how to block him from that. It was what she needed so desperately, a way to speak directly to the Humans. If only she could talk to them. Raef was so weak. She sensed, more clearly now that they were actually within her and in closer proximity to the womb ganglia, both the anxiety and fear of the other two Humans. She surmised Tug was threatening them. If he frightened them, if he made them wait too long, Raef would be gone forever. [Ignore him. Just hurry with Raef. It will be all right, I will take care of him. But please hurry.] Their agitation increased. It seemed then that even these two had some awareness of her thoughts. She tried to convey to them the need for speed and at the same time soothe their fears. No. That’s too complicated. Instead, concentrate on soothing them, all of them. Raef is still existing, bright as a distant star, but there nonetheless. She forced herself to calmness. [It will all be well. Entrust him to me. Entrust him to me.]

  They stretched Raef’s body out on the womb-chamber floor. In the artificial light of the chamber, his color was even more ghastly. Perhaps, Connie prayed, it was a trick of the light. She helped John to strip away the tattered remnants of his clothing, trying not to feel revulsed at the profusion of body hair that was revealed and the gross disproportions of Raef’s body. He’s just old, she told herself sternly. Immensely old
, as well as of natural human stock. That accounts for how strange his body appears.

  “I forbid this.” Tug spoke each word separately, laboriously. They ignored him.

  “Damn!” John exclaimed suddenly, savagely. Connie flinched to the sound.

  “‘What’s wrong?” she asked quietly. Raef was still breathing. It was harsh and uneven, but he was respiring.

  “Skin’s grown up over the umbilical coupler. There’s no way to connect … Tug! We need help here! Tug!”

  There was no reply. “Damn you! Tug, answer me! That’s an order!” Tears sprang suddenly to John’s eyes. The Arthroplana remained stubbornly silent.

  Connie took a deep breath, felt calmness spread through her body. She put a steadying hand on John’s shaking shoulder. In the past few weeks she’d taken to wearing a thin tool belt at her waist. Small knives and scissors intended by Earth Affirmed for taking biological samples had proved adaptable to shucking clams and cutting food plants. She selected a small knife with a thin curved blade.

  “Hold him still in case he can feel this,” she cautioned John, amazed at how steady she sounded. “I’m going to cut away around it. It looks like mostly scar tissue anyway.”

  “Okay.” Her calmness seemed contagious. John took a deep breath, then sat flat beside Raef, taking one of his hands and putting a restraining hand on Raef’s chest. “Go ahead. We can handle this. It’s going to be all right, Connie.”

  “I know,” she said. It seemed ridiculous to feel so self-assured, but confidence flooded her. For the first time in her life, she set a blade to flesh. She put her free hand flat on Raef’s belly, ignoring the repellence she felt at the coarse hair under her fingers. She cut. The blood welled bright and sudden, and not so long ago it would have terrified her. But she continued to work carefully, freeing the edges of the coupler from the surrounding flesh that had sought to engulf it. Blade and fingers grew both sticky and slick with blood. She could hear John’s breathing, as loud and rasping as Raef’s, but not even that rattled her. An almost-unearthly calm filled her.