Hybrids

by Robert J. Sawyer

  “Bandra, get out of the Center. Don’t ask me why, just do it.”

  “Is Harb-“

  “It’s got nothing to do with Harb. Just get a travel cube, and get going, anywhere far away from the Center.”

  “I don’t understand. It’s-“

  “Just do it!” said Mary. “Trust me.”

  “Of course I-“

  “And Bandra?” said Mary. She looked at Louise and Reuben, then thought to hell with it. “Bandra, I should have said this before now. I do love you.”

  Bandra’s voice was full of joy. “I love you, too, Mare. I can’t wait until we can be together again.”

  “I’ve got to go,” said Mary. “Hurry, now. Get out of the Center!”

  Mary looked defiantly at Louise, who had a “what wasthat all about?” expression on her face. But then Louise pointed past Mary. Mary turned. The travel cube was approaching, flying over an open area covered with a blanket of snow. They ran toward it, and as soon as it had settled to the ground, Mary straddled the saddle-seat beside the driver, a redheaded male 144. She watched as Reuben and Louise climbed into the back and awkwardly mounted the two seats there. “Saldak Center, as fast as possible,” Mary said to the driver. Agonizing seconds were lost as her Companion translated her words, and the driver’s response.

  “Yes, I know Two are separate!” snapped Mary. “And I know he’s a male,” she said, tossing her head in Reuben’s direction. “This is a medical emergency. Go!”

  Christine was a clever little device. Mary recognized the Neanderthal imperative “Tik!” as the first word she uttered, meaning she had moved “Go!” up to the beginning of her translation. As the driver got the car into motion, the Companion added the rest of what Mary had said.

  “Christine, get me Ponter.”

  “Done.”

  “Ponter, why the hell does it takethree adjudicators to order that Jock be tracked?”

  Ponter’s translated reply started to come into Mary’s cochlear implants again. She pulled out a bud on her Companion’s silver faceplate, and the rest of his reply was shunted to the external speaker, so that Louise and Reuben could hear: “Hey, you’re the one who was saying we didn’t have enough safeguards for privacy in our alibi-archive system. In fact, it takes unanimous consent of three adjudicators to order judicial scrutiny of a Companion when no criminal accusation has been made.”

  Mary glanced at the landscape speeding by-at least it was by Neanderthal standards; the cube was probably only doing sixty kilometers an hour. “Well, can’t you accuse him of a crime?” asked Mary. “Then you’ll only need one adjudicator, right?”

  “This way will be faster,” said Ponter. “An accusation requires a complicated procedure, and-ah, here’s my travel cube.” Mary could hear the sound of a vehicle descending and a few clangings and bangings as Ponter boarded. He snapped the Neanderthal words for “alibi archives,” which Mary recognized, then turned his attention back to Mary.

  “All right,” he said. “Now let’s-oh, wait a beat...” The connection went dead for a few seconds, then Ponter’s voice came back on. “The adjudicators have ordered the judicial scrutiny. A technician at the alibi-archive pavilion is getting a fix on Jock’s location now.”

  Reuben leaned forward so that he could talk into Mary’s Companion. “Ponter, this is Reuben Montego. As soon as they’ve located Krieger, get them to clear the area. I’m safe, and so are Louise and Mary, but any Neanderthals exposed to Jock’s virus are as good as dead.”

  “I will do so,” said Ponter. “We can broadcast an emergency message to every Companion. I’ll be at the alibi pavilion shortly; I’ll make sure it happens.”

  Ahead, the buildings of Saldak Center loomed. Dozens of women were out putting up decorations for Two becoming One.

  “We’ve located him,” said Ponter’s voice. “Hak, cease translating; transmit directly.” Ponter began to shout in the Neanderthal language, clearly addressing the driver of Mary’s travel cube.

  The driver replied with several words, one of which was “Ka.” The car started veering off.

  “He’s in Konbor Square,” said Ponter, his words once more being translated. “I’ve told your driver to take you there. I’ll meet you there.”

  “No,” said Louise, leaning forward. “No, Ponter, it’s too risky for you-for any Neanderthal. Leave it to us.”

  “He is not alone. The adjudicators are looking at his Companion transmissions right now; he’s with Dekant Dorst.”

  “Who is that?” asked Mary.

  “One of Saldak Center’s elected officials,” said Ponter. “She’s a female of generation 141.”

  “Damn,” said Mary. Normally, she’d trust any female Barast to restrain just about any male Gliksin, but 141s were seventy-eight years old. “We don’t want this devolving into a hostage-taking. We have to get her out of there.”

  “Indeed,” said Ponter.

  “Dekant Dorst must have cochlear implants, right?” said Mary.

  “Of course,” said Ponter.

  “Christine, get me Dekant Dorst.”

  “Done.”

  Mary spoke immediately, before the Barast woman could respond to the chirp her Companion would have just made between her ears. “Dekant Dorst, don’t say a word, and don’t give any sign to Jock Krieger that you are communicating with anyone. Just cough once if you understand.”

  A cough emanated from Christine’s external speaker.

  “All right, good. My name is Mary Vaughan, and I’m a Gliksin. Jock is currently under judicial scrutiny. We believe he is smuggling a dangerous substance into Saldak Center. You have to get away from him at the first opportunity. We’re on our way to your location now. All right?”

  Another cough.

  Mary felt awful; the old woman must be terrified. “Any suggestions?” Mary said to Reuben and Louise.

  “She could tell Jock that she has to go to the washroom,” said Louise.

  “Brilliant! Ponter, where are Jock and this woman right now? Indoors or out?”

  “Let me ask the adjudicator...They are outdoors, heading on foot to the central plaza.”

  “Jock’s Wipeout virus is designed for airborne transmission,” said Mary. “He must have some sort of aerosol bomb in that metal box he’s carrying. He probably intends to plant it in the central plaza, with it set to go off during the Two becoming One festivities.”

  “If so,” said Ponter, “he’ll likely time it to go off right at the end of the holiday, so that all the males will go back home before anyone shows signs of illness. Not only will that get it out to Saldak Rim, but there are many males who come in from further locations.”

  “Right,” said Mary. “Dekant, when the chance presents itself, tell Jock you’ve got to go into a public building to use the washroom, but that he’ll have to stay outside because he’s male. Okay? We’ll be there soon.”

  Another cough, and then, for the first time, Mary heard Dekant’s voice, sounding quite nervous. “Scholar Krieger,” she said, “you must forgive me, but this old body of mine...I’m afraid I have to urinate. There’s a facility in there that I can use.”

  Jock’s voice, muffled, distant: “Fine. I’ll just...”

  “No, you must wait outside. Two aren’t yet One, you know-not yet!”

  Jock said something that Mary couldn’t quite make out. About twenty seconds later, Dekant spoke. “All right, Scholar Vaughan. I’m safely indoors now.”

  “Good,” said Mary. “Now, if-“

  But she was interrupted by a female Neanderthal voice emerging from all four Companions in the travel cube-and, presumably, from every other Companion linked to Saldak’s alibi archives. “This is Adjudicator Mykalro,” said the voice. “We have an emergency. Immediately evacuate Saldak Center. Do it on foot, by hover-bus, or by travel cube, but get out right now. Do not delay. There may soon be a contagious fatal disease in the air. If you see a male Gliksin with silver hair, avoid him! He is under judicial scrutiny, and is currently locate
d in Konbor Square. I repeat...”

  Suddenly the driver dropped the travel cube to the ground. “This is as close as I’m going,” he said. “You heard the adjudicator. If you want to go further in, you’ll have to do it on foot.”

  “Damn you,” said Mary, but Christine didn’t translate that. Then: “How far are we?”

  The driver pointed. “That’s Konbor Square over there.” Off in the distance, Mary could see a series of low buildings, a short stack of travel cubes, and an open area.

  Mary was furious, but she pushed up the starfish control that opened her side of the cube and got out. Louise and Reuben followed. As soon as they were clear, the travel cube rose again and began flying back the way they’d come.

  Mary started running in the direction the driver had indicated. Jock was in an open area that was covered with well-trod snow. Mary could see other travel cubes moving away from the Center, heading out toward the Rim. She’d hoped the adjudicator had had the good sense not to broadcast her warning to Jock’s strap-on Companion. Mary, Reuben, and Louise rapidly closed the distance, getting within twenty meters of him. After catching her breath, Mary called out, “It’s over, Jock.”

  Jock had on a typical mammoth-fur coat and was carrying the metal box the Canadian Forces officer had described-presumably his aerosol bomb. He turned around, looking surprised. “Mary? Louise? And-my goodness! Dr. Montego, isn’t it? What are you doing here?”

  “We know about the Surfaris virus,” said Mary. “You can’t get away.”

  To Mary’s astonishment, Jock grinned. “Well, well, well. Three brave Canadians, come to save the Neanderthals.” He shook his head. “You people have always made me laugh, with your silly socialism and misguided bleeding hearts. But you know what strikes me as the funniest thing about Canadians?” He reached into his jacket and pulled out a semiautomatic pistol. “You don’t carry guns.” He aimed the weapon squarely at Mary. “Now, my dear, how was it again that you were going to stop me?”

  Chapter Forty

  “The dawn of the Cenozoic, the famed Cretaceous-Tertiary boundary when the dinosaurs died out, was marked by a layer of clay, found on both versions of Earth. The beginning of the Novozoic in this universe, our universe, the universe ofHomo sapiens,will be marked by the footsteps of the first colonist on Mars, the first member of our species to leave the cradle that is this Earth, never to return...”

  Ponter and the three adjudicators were in the largest viewing room at the alibi-archive pavilion, watching everything unfold from multiple points of view. Not only had the adjudicators switched Jock Krieger’s Companion over to judicial scrutiny, they had also done the same for Mary Vaughan’s, Louise Benoît’s, and Reuben Montego’s. Four meter-wide holographic bubbles floated in the room, each one showing the surroundings of one of the four Companions on the scene.

  Ponter and the three adjudicators were at risk, too, of course. Although the archive pavilion was located on the periphery of the Center, it was still far too close to where the standoff was occurring. “The female Gliksin with the dark hair was right,” said Adjudicator Mykalro, a chunky 142. “You must leave, Scholar Boddit. We all must.”

  “The three of you go,” said Ponter, folding his arms in front of his chest. “I’m staying.”

  And then Ponter saw Jock pull his gun. His whole spine stiffened; Ponter hadn’t seen a gun since he’d been shot by that would-be assassin outside United Nations headquarters. He relived the moment of the bullet tearing into him, hot and piercing and-

  And he couldn’t let that happen to Mare.

  “What sort of weapons are stored here?” demanded Ponter.

  Mykalro’s white eyebrow went up. “Here? At the archive pavilion?”

  “Or next door,” said Ponter, “at the Council chamber.”

  The Neanderthal woman shook her head. “None.”

  “What about the tranquilizer guns enforcers use?”

  “They’re kept in the enforcement station, in Dobronyal Square.”

  “Don’t enforcers carry them?”

  “Not normally,” said another one of the adjudicators. “There’s no need. Saldak’s Gray Council only authorized the acquisition of six such units; I suspect they’re all in storage right now.”

  “Is there any way to stop him?” asked Ponter, pointing at one of the floating images of Jock.

  “Not that any of those puny Gliksins could manage,” said Adjudicator Mykalro.

  Ponter nodded, understanding. “I’m going to help them. How far away are they?”

  The second adjudicator squinted at a status display. “About 7200 armspans.”

  He could easily run that. “Hak, have you got the exact location noted?”

  “Yes, sir,” said the Companion.

  “All right, Adjudicators,” said Ponter, “get to safety. And wish me luck.”

  “You can’t just shoot us,” said Mary, trying to keep her voice from quavering, unable to take her eyes off the gun. “There will be a record at the alibi archives.”

  “Oh, yes, indeed,” Jock said. “A fascinating system they’ve got here, I must say: remote black boxes for every man, woman, and child. Of course, it’ll be easy enough to find the archive blocks for the four of us, and once all the Neanderthals are dead, there will be no one to stop me from waltzing into the pavilion and destroying those blocks.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, Mary saw that Reuben was inching away from her. There was a tree a few meters beyond him; he might be able to get behind it, meaning Jock wouldn’t be able to shoot him without changing position. Mary could hardly blame Reuben for trying to protect himself. Louise, meanwhile, was somewhere behind her and presumably off to her right.

  “You can’t expect your virus to have a worldwide effect from one deployment,” said Mary. “The Neanderthals don’t have the population density to support a plague. It’ll never get past Saldak Center.”

  “Oh, don’t worry about that,” said Jock, hefting the metal box. “In fact, I have you to thank, Dr. Vaughan: it was your earlier research that made this possible. We’ve changed the natural reservoir for this version of Ebola from African shoe-bills to passenger pigeons. Those birds will carry the virus all over this continent.”

  “The Neanderthals are peaceful-“ said Louise’s voice.

  “Yes,” said Jock. As his eyes shifted to Louise so did his gun. “And that will be their downfall-here, now, just as it was 27,000 years ago, the last time we defeated them.”

  Mary was thinking about making a run for it, and-

  And Reuben did just that, bursting into motion. Jock swung toward him and squeezed off a round. The report startled a flock of birds-passenger pigeons, Mary saw-into flight, but Jock missed, and Reuben was now behind the tree, safe at least for the moment.

  When Reuben had made his break to Mary’s left, Louise had seized the moment and torn off to the right. Like most of Northern Ontario in either universe, the ground here was strewn with erratics: boulders deposited by glaciers that had receded at the end of the Ice Age. Louise ran, then dove, making it behind a lichen-covered boulder barely big enough to conceal her body.

  Mary was still caught in the center, both the tree on her left and the boulder on her right too far to reach without being picked off by Jock Krieger.

  “Ah, well,” said Jock, shrugging to convey that he felt Louise’s and Reuben’s temporary shelters were nothing but a minor inconvenience. He aimed the pistol back at Mary. “Say your prayers, Dr. Vaughan.”

  Ponter ran faster than he ever had before, legs pounding up and down. Although there was a lot of snow on the ground, there were many walking paths that had been cleared, and he was making good progress. He took care to breathe solely through his nose, letting his vast nasal cavities humidify and warm the crisp air before it was drawn into his lungs.

  “How far away am I?” Ponter asked.

  Hak replied into his cochlear implants. “Assuming they haven’t moved, they’re just over the next rise.” A beat. “You shoul
d take pains to be silent,” continued the Companion. “You don’t want to alert Jock to your presence.”

  Ponter frowned.You don’t have to tell an old hunter how to sneak up on his prey.

  Mary’s Companion spoke into her cochlear implants. “Ponter is only fifty meters away now. If you can keep Jock talking a little longer...”

  Mary nodded just enough for Christine to detect the movement. “Wait!” said Mary. “Wait! There’s something you don’t know!”

  Jock’s aim didn’t waver. “What?”

  Mary thought as fast as she could. “The-the Neanderthals...they’re...they’re psychic!”

  “Oh, come on!” said Jock.

  “No, no-it’s true!” Suddenly Ponter appeared from over a ridge, behind Jock, silhouetted against the lowering sun. Mary fought to keep her expression neutral. “That’s why we have religious feelings, and they don’t. Our brains are trying to contact other minds, but can’t; something’s wrong with the neural wiring-it makes us think there’s some higher presence that we can’t quite connect with. But in them, the mechanism works properly. They don’t have religious experiences”-Christ, she wasn’t buying this herself; how could she expect him to?-“they don’t have religious experiences because they arealways in contact with other minds!”

  Ponter was moving his splayed legs in an exaggerated fashion, carefully stepping across the snow, making barely any sound. Jock was downwind of Ponter; if he’d been a Neanderthal, he’d doubtless have detected him by now, but he wasn’t a Neanderthal, thank God...

  “Think of the value of telepathy in covert operations!” said Mary, raising her voice without making it obvious that she was trying to cover what little sound Ponter was making. “And I’m on the trail of the genetic cause of it! You kill me and the Barasts, and the secret is gone for good!”

  “Why, Dr. Vaughan!” exclaimed Jock. “An exercise in dis-information. I’m most impressed.” Ponter was now as close as he could get to Jock without his own long shadow-damn the low winter sun!-falling into Jock’s field of view. Ponter interlocked his fists, ready to smash them down on Jock’s head, and-