The Quest of the DNA Cowboys

by Mick Farren

  'It's no good. We've tried. It doesn't make the slightest difference.'

  The roar of the water was so loud that they had to shout to make themselves heard.

  'Ain't there nothing we can do?'

  Billy looked round desperately. The hole was getting very close. Then he had an idea.

  'Turn on your porta-pacs! I don't know if it'll do any good but it might help.'

  Coming up to the hole was like going over a waterfall. A knot twisted in Billy's stomach. The boat tilted and then dropped into the hole. They held their breath and fell. There was nothing else to do.

  They fell. It seemed to go on for ever. Billy's lungs ached from holding his breath. He felt that maybe he should let himself drown. Maybe it would be easier than being dashed to pieces when they hit bottom.

  Then he was floating. He was going upwards. The porta-pac field seemed to have a buoyancy all of its own. His head broke water, and he took a deep, choking breath. After holding his breath so long it felt wonderful. The field of the porta-pac seemed to support him, and he looked around. A few yards away was the canoe. It was floating upside down, but other­wise it seemed undamaged. Billy paddled towards it. He was struggling to turn it over when Reave appeared beside him. Together, they righted the canoe and flopped inside. Billy tentatively switched off his porta-pac. Nothing changed. It seemed as though they had arrived somewhere. Billy sat up and looked around. There was smooth, untroubled water as far as he could see. He turned to Reave.

  'Have you seen the Minstrel Boy?'

  Reave shook his head.

  'Not since we fell into the hole.'

  'I hope he made it.'

  'I hope he landed somewhere better than this. There's no sign of land anywhere.'

  'It's so still, too. No waves, no breeze, nothing.'

  'Which way do you think we should go?'

  Billy looked at the sky. It was a flat uniform grey, a few shades darker than the water. He shook his head.

  'Your guess is as good as mine, and anyway, we don't have any paddles.'

  Reave pointed.

  'Yes we do. Look.'

  There was a single paddle floating a few yards away. They pushed the boat towards it, and Reave fished it out of the water.

  'We can take turns. I'll do the first stint.'

  He settled in the stern and began to propel them across the smooth surface of the lake. Billy sat in the bows and stared into the distance, searching in vain for something that would give them a clue to what direction to take. There was no way to judge the passage of time. Nothing moved either on or under the water. Billy glanced at Reave.

  'You think they have day and night here?'

  Reave grunted.

  'The time I've been paddling, it sure don't feel like it. You want to take a turn?'

  They changed places, and Billy dug in with the paddle. Reave dipped his hand into the water.

  'I wonder if you can drink this stuff.'

  He licked his fingers.

  'Tastes okay. It don't seem like we're going to die of thirst. I tell you one thing though, I'm going to be well hungry pretty soon. I sure wish Burt the Medicine was here to bring out one of his meals.'

  Billy slammed the paddle into the water with unnecessary force.

  'Burt the Medicine's dead.'

  There was a tense silence, and Reave fidgeted awkwardly.

  'You still mad because we made you come away from Dropville?'

  Billy shook his head.

  'I ain't mad, but I don't really want to talk about it.'

  From then on he paddled in silence, avoiding Reave's occasional glances. Then Reave crouched forward in the bow.

  'Hey, Billy. There's something out there.'

  Billy shaded his eyes and stared where Reave pointed.

  'There's something out there all right. You still got your gun?'

  Reave nodded.

  'Sure. You?'

  'Yeah.'

  They paddled towards the object bobbing on the surface. Reave looked back at Billy.

  'You know, from here, it looks like a couple of people swimming.'

  'Maybe it's the Minstrel Boy?'

  'It definitely looks like two, I'd say . . . Holy shit!'

  An impossible sight was rising out of the water. Two women, both identical, carrying a third in their arms. They wore white ankle-length cloaks, and silver helmets that covered most of their faces. Even the folds of their garments seemed to hang in exactly the same way. They pulsed with a faint blue light, and Billy wondered if the pulse was real or a flashback to the previous night's drugs. Reave backed down the canoe and crouched beside Billy with his gun drawn.

  'What is it?'

  'I've no idea. Let's just go on and see what happens.'

  Billy steered the canoe so it passed within four or five yards of the figures. The strange beings stood motionless, and then slowly turned their heads in perfect unison. Then Billy and Reave were past them, Billy rested the paddle and stared back at the unique thing that floated above the surface of the water. Billy felt an unreasoning blanket of sadness wrap around him. Reave crawled down the canoe and crouched beside him.

  'Gosh.'

  Billy looked at Reave strangely, but said nothing. The heads turned back to where they had been looking previously. It seemed that Billy and Reave held no more interest. The figures began to move. They were like a rigid statue that drifted forward across the lake, gradually gathering speed. The composite entity began to grow smaller and smaller, and soon Billy and Reave could no longer make it out at all. Billy turned to look at Reave.

  'What made you suddenly say "gosh" just now?'

  Reave frowned.

  'I don't know. My personality just seemed to slip for a moment. It's back again now.'

  Chapter 28

  A.A. Catto returned to her own apartment, bruised and ach­ing. The door responded to her voice and she went straight through into her bedroom and threw herself down on the bed. Damn her oily cunning little brother and his tricks. The whip­ping was a novelty, but it certainly wasn't worth the pain in­volved.

  She slipped out of her white dress and looked up at the mirror ceiling. Her back and buttocks were crisscrossed by angry red weals. Curse Valdo, the little worm. She reached the bedside console and punched up Information. A blond Hostess-1 appeared on the screen.

  'May I help you?'

  'Get me a Medic.'

  'I'll put you through, Miss Catto.'

  'Don't put me through. Just get me one.'

  'What seems to be the trouble, Miss Catto?'

  'I've been whipped. By my brother. I suppose you could say the problem was bruising.'

  'I'll have a Medic-1 with you straight away. Will there be anything else, Miss Catto?'

  'Yes, just one thing. If any word of this should leak out, I'll see that you're broken to L-4 before you know it.'

  'Your privacy is guaranteed, Miss Catto.'

  A.A. Catto grunted and cut the connection. Within minutes, the door buzzer sounded and she pushed the entry button to admit a Medic-1 and a pair of Hostess-2s. She lay on her stomach while the Medic-1 inspected the damage to her back. The Medic had the white covers and the middle-aged, com­petent features that were the hallmark of his class. He shot four hundred mics of analgethene straight into A.A. Catto's spine and the discomfort rapidly faded. The Medic ran a dis­persed Gamma beam over her bruised flesh and the red weals started to fade. A.A. Catto found the treatment pleasant and stimulating. After some time the Medic straightened up, and put his equipment back into the carrying case.

  'You will make a perfect recovery, Miss Catto.'

  'Good. You'd better not say a word about this.'

  The Medic placed a pompous hand on his heart.

  'Discretion is something sacred to this class.'

  'Yes, yes. You're dismissed, you can go.'

  The Medic and his two blond assistants departed. The con­sole buzzed at her. A. A. Catto pushed the answer button, and Valdo's face appeared on the screen.
>
  'I thought I'd call and see how you were, sister.'

  A.A. Catto's eyes flashed.

  'Haven't you done enough for one day?'

  'You really are a bad loser. So angry, just because you lost one little bet.'

  A.A. Catto snarled at her brother and cut the connection. The console buzzed again, but she ignored it. The last person she wanted to talk to was her wretched brother. She rolled on her back, and stared at her reflection on the ceiling. Her body was really far too beautiful for nasty little Valdo. She resolved that she would have nothing more to do with him, for a while, at least.

  A.A. Catto began to get bored with even her own reflection. It was still only mid afternoon and after the painkillers and stimulants she had been consuming, it seemed a pity to waste them all. She stretched out a languid hand to the console and punched up the Steward service. A bronzed young man with short-cropped blond hair and pale blue covers answered.

  'May I help you?'

  'Can you send me a Steward straight away.'

  'What service do you require, Miss Catto?'

  A.A. Catto giggled,

  'Personal, of course.'

  'Do you have any preference to the type of Steward?'

  'I'd like you to run up a special for me.'

  'Full gene surgery will take a few days, Miss Catto.'

  'Gene surgery won't be necessary. A plastic temporary job will do.'

  'A plastic reconstruction will take about fifteen minutes.'

  A.A. Catto thought she detected a hint of sullenness in the man's voice. She looked sharply at the screen.

  'You Stewards don't like plastic temp jobs, do you?'

  'Our preferences are not relevant. We are designed to serve.'

  'Afterwards though, it can be very painful when it grows out, can't it?'

  'There are after effects for the individual Steward, but those should not concern you, Miss Catto.'

  A.A. Catto smiled a particularly nasty smile.

  'That's right, it doesn't concern me at all. I want you to look up records. There was once a movie actor called Valentino. Rudolph Valentino. I want you to prepare a special using those old films and pictures. I want a Steward sent up that looks like Valentino.'

  'There will be a time factor involved in the production of this.'

  'How long?'

  'I would estimate it at about half an hour.'

  'I'll wait, but it better not be much longer.'

  'It'll be as soon as possible, Miss Catto. Are there any other requirements?'

  A.A. Catto smiled.

  'Only the usual ones.'

  She cut the connection, and lay on the bed waiting. Would it be more fun to dress up? Make the Steward rip her clothes off? She decided she had had enough violence for one day. In addition, it was too much trouble, dressing only to undress again. It was, after all, only a Steward. She would just lie there naked and let him service her. When she'd had enough, she'd, dismiss him. There was no point in making elaborate arrangements for a Steward-1.

  Twenty-five minutes later the door buzzer sounded again. A.A, Catto smiled and pushed the entry button. A young man with slicked-back, patent leather hair, dark, flashing eyes and cruel mouth strode into A.A. Catto's bedroom.

  'I am here, Miss Catto.'

  His appearance was perfect, he was just what A.A. Catto had ordered. She wondered, however, if his voice and gestures were a little too theatrical. She'd report the fact to the Steward service when she was through with him.

  The young man posed at the end of her bed while A.A. Catto examined him. After a couple of minutes, he cleared his throat.

  'I was instructed to inform you that I am also programmed to do the tango.'

  Chapter 29

  During his third turn with the paddle, Reave began to bitch. Apart from the strange apparition, nothing had appeared that gave any indication of land. Billy looked up from where he was dozing in the bow of the canoe.

  'What's the matter with you?'

  'I'm hungry, and I'm tired. I'm sick of this fucking lake, and I'm sick of not getting anywhere.'

  Billy yawned.

  'Too bad.'

  Reave glared.

  'What do you mean, too bad? If something doesn't turn up soon we're going to die out here.'

  'What am I supposed to do? Get excited or something? Before you start handing me the you-got-me-into-this line, just remember that it was me that wanted to stay in Dropville.'

  'You would have died in Dropville.'

  'I'm going to die here, according to you. It strikes me that I'd have been better off dying in Dropville.'

  Reave scowled.

  'Is that what you really think?'

  'Yeah.'

  'Yeah?'

  There was a moment of tension, and then the two of them realized the absurdity of attempting to fight in the small canoe and relaxed.

  'There's no point in getting on each other's back. We're stuck here and there's nothing we can do about it.'

  Reave went on paddling for some time, and then Billy took over. Their changing places was the only thing that gave them any idea of the passage of time. Nothing else changed. There was only the still water and the unchanging sky. Hunger gnawed at their stomachs, and the boredom of their surroundings provided nothing to distract them. Billy felt that his world was totally composed of paddling, sleeping, and waiting for starvation to creep slowly up on them.

  Reave was sitting in the bow staring into space, and Billy was mechanically paddling, when Reave suddenly stiffened.

  'There's something out there.'

  Billy looked up.

  'You sure you're not seeing things?'

  Reave pointed.

  'Look for yourself.'

  Billy pushed up his dark glasses and shaded his eyes with his hand. He could just about make out a dark smudge on the horizon.

  'Seems like there's something out there.'

  Billy paddled harder and the dark object came nearer.

  'It looks like an island of some sort.'

  'It's kind of small for an island.'

  They paddled nearer. The island turned out to be a floating reed bed, a mat of tangled vegetation that lay sluggishly on the surface of the lake. Billy prodded it with his paddle and oily water oozed up between the fibrous plants. Reave stared at it morosely.

  'This ain't much use to us.'

  'Maybe not. It could be a sign that we're getting nearer land. Have you noticed anything about the air?'

  Reave looked puzzled.

  'Don't think so.'

  'There's a smell. Fish, and, I don't know, maybe plants, or dead leaves.'

  Reave sniffed the air.

  'You could be right. Let's keep going. At least it's a sign of something.'

  He crawled towards Billy.

  'Here. Give me the paddle. If there's land out there, let's get to it.'

  Reave paddled with renewed vigour. They passed more of the floating vegetation. The tangled beds became more num­erous, and here and there they linked up to form huge areas of matted plant life. Billy and Reave were soon paddling along channels that separated the now vast reed beds. The air was filled with the swamp smell of decaying plant life, and the water became black and stagnant. Mosquitoes and brightly coloured dragonflies danced over the surface of the water, and pale flowers struggled to hold their own among the crawling dark green plants.

  The reed beds grew thicker, and Billy and Reave found that they had to force the boat through increasingly narrow spaces, and even hack their way with the paddle through the thinner parts of the beds.

  Billy peered down into the black water. It seemed to be getting more shallow. The boat occasionally scraped some hard object and Billy thought he could make out shapes under the water. They looked like the ruins of something man-made.

  The canoe stuck fast and wouldn't move. Billy took off his belt, slipped over the side, and sank up to his waist in the swamp before he found a footing. He put a shoulder to the stern of the boat and heaved. At first
nothing happened, then there was a grating, ripping sound and Reave let out a yell.

  'There's a hole in the fucking boat. Water's coming in.'

  The canoe began to list badly and Reave splashed into the black water beside Billy.

  'We've had the canoe.'

  'My porta-pac and gun are still inside.'

  Reave leaned over the side of the settling canoe and fished them out. Billy looped them over his shoulder.

  'I guess we better foot it until we reach some firmer ground.'

  'Nothing else we can do.'

  They found that each time they moved their feet, sluggish bubbles of foul-smelling gas rose to the surface and burst. Small black insects darted about, and mosquitoes laughed at them. They stumbled and fell often. As Billy had thought, under the layer of liquid mud there were heaps of some kind of jagged rubble on which they stubbed their toes and twisted their ankles. The going was almost impossible, and although they were soaked from the waist down, sweat poured down their faces. Billy stopped, with swamp water up to his knees.

  'Listen, I just had an idea. If we were to turn on our porta-pacs the extra buoyancy might make it easier.'

  'If they still work after the number of times we've dropped them in the mud.'

  Billy held his up, shook it, and pressed the on button. There was a ripple as the field came on. It proved to be a good deal easier to move. They covered another three hundred yards, and Billy found that here and there patches of dry land covered in coarse spiky grass rose above the level of lie swamp. Billy and Reave staggered up on to one of the dry hummocks and flopped down.

  'Jesus, I'm exhausted.'

  'At least we seem to be getting somewhere. There seems to be more firm ground as you go on.'

  The ground beyond them was more solid. There were wide areas of the spiky grass. Further on a few short twisted trees struggled to survive. In the distance they could just see a line of low hills.

  After they'd rested for a while, Billy and Reave moved on. Although it was easier to cross the firmer ground, it wasn't without its hazards. They had to wade through large areas of standing water, and Billy, at one point, sank up to his waist in a trough of thick, sucking mud. Reave struggled for ten minutes before he managed to drag him out. The insects seemed to increase, both in numbers and in daring, and the mud drying on their clothes irritated their skin just as much as the mosquito bites.