Tainted Garden

by Jeff Stanley

  Would the same procedure stop it and send it back up again?

  He reached out to put his hand in the niche, hesitating and licking his dry, cracking lips.

  “Unauthorized access in Primary Interface. Security protocol engaged. Security personnel to Primary Interface access. Repeat: Primary Interface breach. Security detail to Primary Interface access.”

  The voice emerged from the walls all around them. Lhedri jerked back his hand and brought the acidrod up to ready position. He stared at the walls, trying to locate the source. Around him, the soldiers did likewise. They moved away from the walls, gathering in a tight knot, facing outward.

  “Who is that!” Lhedri demanded. “Show yourself!”

  The voice had been curiously flat, emotionless. Sourceless.

  “Security detail to Primary Interface access. Unauthorized access in progress.”

  “Captain?” Cadrin pressed close, staring at the blank walls around them.

  “I don’t know, Cadrin.” Lhedri studied the walls, seeing nothing. “It seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at the same time.”

  “Orders?”

  Lhedri shook his head slightly and reached toward the niche once more. No voice came from the walls. He bit his lip and slid his palm toward the depression.

  “Security protocol engaged. Elevator lockdown in progress. Security detail enter override code for restoration. Security detail to Primary Interface access.”

  Before Lhedri could put his hand into the niche, the lift abruptly slowed, then stopped. The vibrations in the walls ceased. Metal clanged behind the walls.

  “What . . .” Cadrin looked to his commander for answers Lhedri did not have.

  On the edge of panic, Lhedri slid his hand into the niche, stiffening against the expected tingle in his palm. It did not come. He felt only cool, smooth metal. Frowning, he removed his hand and inserted it once more. And again. Still, the small room did not react. No thrumming vibrations, no sensation of movement.

  “Captain? What are we going to do?”

  Lhedri shook his head. “Let me think, Cadrin. Let me think.” He leaned his acidrod against the wall and pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes. He could hear the shuffling of feet, a few throats being cleared. One man whispered something to another, too low for Lhedri to overhear.

  For the first time in his service to the Veil Lords, Lhedri had no idea what to do.

  Dersi climbed to her feet and approached the spot where she had left Erekel. Splatters of blood and acid residue still coated the floor where he had lain, unconscious. But there was no sign of the man. Kneeling, she ran her hands along the walls and floor in the immediate area, seeking something, anything, to explain his disappearance.

  “Erekel!” Dersi’s voice cracked as she cried out to the harvester. Reverberating echoes washed over her, amplified by the corridor.

  “Security detail en route. Remain calm. Aggression will be met with non-lethal countermeasures.”

  Countermeasures? Dersi frowned. What was this? She turned in a tight circle, trying to watch in every direction.

  “Who are you?”

  “Remain calm. You will not be harmed.”

  Remain calm? Dersi suppressed a bitter laugh. Calm?

  As she watched, a portion of the side wall receded, then slid to one side, moving without a sound. Muted, purplish light spilled into the corridor. A thick shadow fell over Dersi. She took an involuntary step back, away from the opening, as a figure stepped through the doorway.

  Tall, lean, and strikingly beautiful, the woman’s thick auburn hair fell over her bare shoulders, cupping the swell of her naked breasts. She stood with her arms at her sides, staring at Dersi without visible expression. There was a stiffness to her, a disconcerting rigidity that caused Dersi to shiver and back farther away. A quick glance over her shoulder told her the lift was still sealed. She swallowed, tasting blood.

  “The security detail, I assume?”

  “Your presence here is unauthorized.” The woman’s voice lacked tonality, pitch, meter. It spilled from full, red lips within a face that did not move. No twitch of cheek muscles, no blinking of eyelids. Her pupils were wide black pools.

  “Where is Erekel?” Dersi drew herself up, straightening her shoulders and glaring at the woman in her best approximation of authority. She kept her own voice firm.

  “Come with me,” the woman said in her dead voice.

  “Where?”

  “Come with me.” The woman reached out. Dersi ducked, but the woman’s movements were too quick. Her hand latched onto Dersi’s shoulder and squeezed. Dersi cried out as the woman’s grip tightened. She dropped to her knees, her hands clawing at the woman’s. She might as well have been prying at the metal walls. “Come with me.”

  The woman pulled Dersi to her feet and spun her around, pushing her toward the newly revealed hallway. The vise-like grip on her shoulder compelled Dersi; she could not fight through the pain of that incredible pressure.

  As she stepped into the new corridor she glanced down, seeing a thick, ropy tentacle on the floor. It throbbed, its dark striations bulging, thick ooze dripping from pustules that riddled its surface. Dersi followed the tentacle, discovering that it merged with the woman’s back, piercing her body between her shoulder blades.

  “This way,” the woman said, shoving Dersi forward.

  Chapter 27

  There was no thought, only instinct. Stimulus, and reaction. He surged up through the landskin, driven, compelled, by the furious hormonal barrage that screamed up from his core. Emerging through a rift in the landskin that left him bathed in sticky, hot fluids, He screamed in primal lust, panning about the landscape, seeking, seeking.

  She.

  He panted, his body heaving with urges he could not deny. His God called out for him, demanding, insistent. He ignored the call, unable to focus on it. The landskin around him whipped about in a fury, seeking to draw his attention. High, high overhead, ool converged, sailing across the cerulean blue skies in a desperate net to reclaim him. He ignored them. A river raced nearby, trilling out its thirst-quenching song. He ignored it all.

  Only She. She.

  He was reborn, reawakened. He knew his purpose, his design.

  He quested with senses that had lain dormant, but had now awakened. He tasted the perversion of the Gagash settlement, their Enclave, where it sat in the bogs over the line of hills. He filtered the desecration away, focusing his senses deeper, wider, broader. She. She. Only She.

  There. There, beyond the hills, away from the treacherous domain of Man. He caught her scent, her unique essence, borne on wind and the pheromone wave that crested with the inhale and exhale of the landskin. There.

  He ran, sensed her running as well. Towards him. Towards reunion. Communion.

  The landskin sought to bring his God’s voice to him. He broke through the encrustations of communication, burrowing through the deluge of commandments. The landskin petered away as he ran up the hill. Sharp stones sliced into his feet, tearing flesh to ribbons. He ran. His blood bathing the rocks, slicking the moist soil. He ran. The wind brushed his face, hot and tangy, moist with the promise of She.

  Atop the hill. Down, down into a valley choked with alien trees that hissed and crackled in the breeze. A river, thick and sluggish, gurgling over slick stones. Tangled roots, like landskin tentacles, clutched at his feet, almost seeming to have will, volition. His feet bore him onward, onward.

  She.

  And then he saw her. She came. She came, She came, She came. Through the river, through the woods. Her moist promise beckoned, called, demanded. Scent and sight and hearing and a hundred other senses screamed out at him.

  He rushed toward her. Gone was his weariness. Gone his pain. Gone all thought. Save her. Save She. His body demanded, and he yielded to its summons. His flesh ached for her. Ached for She.

  She met him, and there were no words, no utterances, save for the gutteral cries of their unified needs. Flesh met flesh, pa
rting, merging. There with the breeze sighing, beneath the hot, burning sun and the lowing hum of the ool in flight overhead, they found one another.

  He fell into her, and She into him. Flesh slicked, twined. Limbs sprawled. Thrust and thrust and thrust, a delicate resistance soon overcome, pierced, ruptured. Pain, mingled with the ultimate pleasure, fulfillment.

  The voice of the God called out, then yielded, showering down blessings.

  He did not care. He could hear nothing, nothing but the pounding of the blood in his ears, nothing but the slip-slide of limbs entwined, the slurp of sweat-soaked flesh sliding, sliding across and through and over and under. Hot, wet mouths met, parted, met again. Slap of flesh. Blood drawn. Blood savored.

  Quickening.

  Breaching of barriers, piercing of veils. Mind flooded mind, the pinnacle of union. Communion. Purpose combined, reached, exceeded. Instinct merged with instinct, union beyond thought, beyond endurance, beyond belief.

  Then . . . Then . . .

  Their bodies trembled, deplete. Each sensing each. Each becoming each. Communion, vast and true.

  He touched She, touched her face, her throat, her swollen, pulsing nipples. She moaned, feral. He’s hand trailed to her womb. There, beneath his trembling palm, life stirred, its movement leeching through flesh. A twitch. A stirring. Dawning awareness.

  She’s mind touched He’s, basking in the union. The union that had given life.

  They slept, and the life, the offspring, grew.

  Chapter 28

  APF 0002-0008

  After Planetfall, 0002

  Ship’s Psych Officer Singh sat on the edge of his chair, facing Captain Santiago across the broad, pristine surface of the desk. He folded his hands in his lap, relaxed, and attempted to avoid analyzing the reactions of the captain. An impossibility, given Singh’s training and indoctrination. He could see the lines of anxiety cutting across Santiago’s face like lash marks, deep and telling. Here was a man with the weight of the colony on his shoulders. Indeed, the weight of all of human civilization, as far as they were concerned. A troubled man, robbed of the ability to be decisive. The pressures would have broken another man long since. Santiago endured.

  Did he do more than endure? Could he?

  “I think, perhaps, we should invite Master Sergeant MacCallum into our discussion.” Santiago queued comm and summoned the master sergeant. MacCallum’s voice, harsh and guttural, responded quickly. He would report immediately.

  “I concur, Captain.” Singh sat back to wait, watching the captain’s face as Santiago studied the data Singh had provided. The captain frowned, pursed his lips.

  Within a few moments, Santiago’s secretary announced the arrival of Master Sergeant MacCallum. Santiago granted access, and MacCallum stepped into the office. He saluted, glanced at Singh, and awaited Santiago’s pleasure.

  “Sit, sit, Mac.”

  MacCallum sat rigid in the chair, his back rod-straight, his gaze focused forward. A slight frown rode his lips.

  “Singh here has some . . . interesting news, Mac,” Santiago said at length.

  “Oh?” MacCallum shot Singh a look, arched his brow. “What’s that?”

  Singh crossed his legs and clasped his large, thin-fingered hands around one knee. His smile melted into a slight frown, and he stared over MacCallum’s head, focusing on a point on the wall. “Interesting. Interesting, indeed.”

  Santiago snorted. He reached out and picked up a ceramic mug, sipped at it.

  “Tell me, Sergeant MacCallum, have you noticed an . . . increase in the, ah, dalliances of your crewmen?”

  “Dalliances? What?”

  Singh smiled and shook his head. “Sexual expression, let us say.”

  “Sexual expression? Fucking, you mean?”

  “Mac!” Santiago snapped, but he lightened the reprimand with a grin. Since MacCallum’s ascent to second-in-command, he seemed to enjoy a certain latitude in conversing with the captain. Singh had noticed them in private, speaking without regard to rank, only skill and expertise.

  “Well, in the common vernacular, I suppose that would be one way to put it.” Singh unlaced his hands and lay them in his lap, one perfectly situated atop the other.

  “I’ve noticed a few more . . . dalliances, yes. It’s natural, I think. Especially in the wake of Rodriguez’s actions. I mean, he’s effectively marooned us here, with no hope of rescue, and the men are facing the very real threat of death on a daily basis. The women, too. Seems natural to me.”

  “Yes. Yes. Of course. A perfectly rational reaction to the stressful situation in which we find ourselves. I agree. At least, to a degree. A common reaction, I think. In moderation. Usually the pattern would not be so . . . exaggerated, however.”

  “Exaggerated.”

  Singh nodded. He reached toward a brief on Santiago’s desk, picked it up, and held it before him. “My own data, gathered both through direct observation and interviews with those who have sought me—and there has been a marked increase in the hours I am logging in session, since the . . . recent unpleasantness—leads me toward a different conclusion. The amount of sexual expression has far exceeded what might have been expected under even these severe circumstances.”

  “So? The crew’s a bit randy. What’s the problem?” Mac looked to Santiago for concurrence, but found the captain’s face hard, stony. MacCallum frowned.

  “It goes beyond that, Mac. What Singh’s report suggests is that there’s something else at work here. A biological agent. Some sort of aphrodisiac.”

  “Aphrodisiac? You’re serious.”

  Singh nodded. “Oh, yes. Most assuredly. It is almost incontrovertible. Given the empirical evidence there can be no other conclusion safely drawn. Documented accounts of similar situations resulted in no such prolonged and extreme increase in sexual tension and expression.”

  “But there was nothing in any of the Biological Sciences rep—”

  “Biological Sciences, until the Exodus, was the exclusive province of Commander Rodriguez. And since he left, I’ve had what remains of BS concentrating on other things. Keeping us alive, for instance.”

  MacCallum shook his head. “But what? I mean, if you’re correct, Singh, how’s it getting into us?”

  “Oh, any number of agencies, I believe. Spores. The water. The landskin. We eat it, remember? Pheromones.”

  “What do we do about it?” MacCallum turned to Santiago.

  Santiago took another sip from his mug. “What can we do? And do we need to? Do we even want to do anything about it? Think for a moment, Mac. Outside of the environment and our own limited resources, what is the biggest threat we face to the success of this mission? The broader mission, mind you. The colonization.”

  MacCallum frowned, deep in thought. “Our numbers make us vulnerable. Too few people to do what needs doing. It’s why we’ve begun the thawing and quick-growth process with the zygotes.”

  “And there, since that bastard Rodriguez’s actions left us with precious few zygotes and downloads, we face the problem of having to recycle the downloads, possibly creating problems we can’t begin to foresee. But with natural children . . .”

  “There would be no such problem.” MacCallum shot his gaze between the other two men. “Still, it’s slow.”

  “Singh has a few theories regarding that, as well. It seems there’s some chance we could use the rapid growth machines to speed the development of the children along. Coupled with limited, skillset-based downloads . . .”

  Singh spoke up. “It would mean, of course, eliminating the contraceptive regimen.”

  “Easily done,” MacCallum said. He paused. “But there are many fewer women in the crew than men.”

  “Ah, but think of the cannery, Mac. Up until now we’ve primarily been thawing and fast-growing the males to augment our labor force.” Santiago smiled and took another sip. “If we hatch exclusively females for a time . . . Why, we don’t even need to waste downloads on them, other than rudimentary skills and cogniti
ve abilities. They would essentially be walking wombs.”

  Walking wombs. MacCallum leaned back in the formed plastic chair, his gaze wandering from Santiago to Singh, and back again.

  Walking wombs. The idea disturbed Singh, but it did offer promise. Promise of population increase, with few of the risks and incidental challenges of fast-growing the zygotes and infusing them with duplicate personalities. It raised the very real possibility of survival. And not just survival but, perhaps, the chance to thrive, to reach back into the stars, soon. The chance to return home, to the Hegemony, leave this hellish place behind them.

  Slowly, a smile bloomed on MacCallum’s face, echoing the grin on Santiago’s lips.

  Singh felt conflicted. The idea was his own, certainly. And it did offer a slim ray of hope.

  But the ethics. The morality. Could these crucial aspects of the human psyche be ignored? At what peril?

  But . . . Home.

  APF, 0008

  Singh stood in the shadows of a bulkhead and watched as Master Sergeant MacCallum, his hands clasped behind his back, stared through the thick glass into the Hatchery. A student of human behavior and a master of observation, Singh could read the distaste in the lines of the sergeant’s shoulders, the furrow of his brow, the subtle down turn of his thin lips. A simple man on the surface, Sergeant MacCallum hid layers and layers of conflict and complexity beneath a thin veneer. An excellent case study. Singh only wished that MacCallum would seek out the services of the PO more often. His file, locked within the secured node of ShipsNet, accessible only by Singh, himself, was meager.

  Singh shifted his gaze to the activity beyond the glass wall, looking into the Hatchery. Four of the white-coated technicians shifted from workstation to workstation, carrying the zygote-bearing trays with a tenderness and care reserved for the infinitely fragile. And so they were.

  One wall of the Hatchery was packed with little drawers, each labeled with a host of information, including a bar-coded gene sequence and a plasma chip that described physiological parameters for the contained cell-mass. Opposite, sealed beneath a sheet of resilient, insulating plastic, rose the banks of downloads, tiny crystals packed with information. Between these two poles were the gestation tubes, the quick-growth vats, and the linkups.