Melvyn was marshalling his remaining troops. She counted thirteen others surviving. Plus another two medic cases. One was already out of his armour, Neil, bruised and bloody. Three of the team were working to extract the second casualty from under a rockfall which had crushed his legs.
There were eight dead tekmercs lying about, their armour inert. They looked as if they had been battered by the wave, the metalloceramic was badly scratched and dented. She saw Talbot Lombard, face down in the water, his jumpsuit charred, blackened flesh underneath.
She walked over to Neil. “What happened?”
“Boulder,” he said. “Bastard rolled over me.” She guessed he’d been given an infusion, his mouth had the slack look, face grey with pain.
“Use your rip gun?” she asked.
“Sure, help yourself.”
It was lying next to his bent armour suit. She picked it up.
Weapons Integration: Konica Neutral Beam Rifle.
The key on her left shoulder began to interface with the rip gun’s ‘ware. Red target graphics appeared. She was whole again, size and strength no longer a disadvantage, equal to the rest of the world.
It was time for the last deal with Leol fucking Reiger.
Melvyn was handing out assignments, sending the active crash team members down into the caves and cracks, scouting for tekmercs.
Suzi pulled the guidance package out of her suit ‘ware, and used it to place the five troughs. There was no sign of them, not even when she went over to check, boots splashing the thin layer of water. All she found was flat rock. She stood where the third one had been, amid the contortions of dying fish, and looked back to the broken lake cave, trying to work out the angle the wave had hit the troughs. If she carried the line on, Reiger would have been swept against the wall thirty metres away. There were two possible caves there, 6B, and 7B. According to her suit ‘ware they joined up in a big cavern fifty metres back, another wide cave leading off from the junction.
“Melvyn, I’ll check 6B, OK?” She got it in before he could assign her one.
“Roger, Suzi. Do you want anyone with you?” Something in his tone suggested he’d guessed the reason.
“Nah,” she said. “I’ll solo.”
6B was a pinched oval passage, just under two metres high, five wide, laced with veins of tarnished copper. Her helmet scraped the roof as she walked towards the junction. The rock was slick with water, a steady rain of large drops pattered down from the roof. Light from the village cave illuminated the entrance, but the passage curved, and after ten metres she had to switch to infrared. The water level crept up her legs; she could see fish racing away ahead of her.
She called up the map package, and bled in her suit’s inertial guidance read-out. When she was fifteen metres short of the junction, she killed the infrared beams, using the photon amp as a passive sensor. The image showed her pitchblack passage walls and faint neon-blue water, even the fish were blue blobs. No hot spots, but her field of view was very limited, if Reiger was in the junction cavern, the shit would make sure he couldn’t be detected from the passage.
She took an airbuster grenade from the retainer loop on her waist, a seamless metallic cylinder fifteen centimetres long, six wide, with a locking ridge running along its length. It slotted into the latch rail on her left forearm with a solid dick.
Expedite Grenade Launch Program.
The red targeting circles turned white. She brought her left arm up until the circles interlocked over the junction cavern entrance. Grey droplets were still falling from the roof, hazing the photon-amp image.
Disengage Safety Lock. Set Fuse for Twenty Metres.
The targeting circles turned violet and started flashing.
Fire.
The airbuster grenade streaked into the cavern, exploding into a seething energy cloud a metre below the roof. Stark white light stabbed back down the passage. She saw lightning tendrils whipping violently backwards and forwards, clawing at the rock outcrops above the water.
The spent grenade canister was flipped off her forearm latch rail, spinning away. She moved into the cavern at a run, pushing her recalcitrant left leg hard.
There was nobody inside. Little columns of steam were rising into the air. Dead fish bobbed on the surface of the water.
“Not that easy, Suzi bitch,” said Leol Reiger.
She jumped with shock. He was using a general broadcast frequency. Her electronic warfare gear couldn’t locate the radio transmission source; rock did weird things with radio, bouncing it or absorbing it. But not much, he couldn’t be far away. She checked passage 7B quickly. Empty. That meant the cave at the back of the junction cavern.
“I know it’s you, Suzi bitch. Because you know I’m in here, that’s why you let off the airbuster.”
She clipped a fresh airbuster grenade on the rail.
According to the map, the rear cave twisted to the left after fifteen metres. There was no data after that. She primed the grenade for twelve metres, then fished around for a loose rock.
“Always hiding, Leol,” she said. “But then, running scared is your scene. Right?”
She crouched down, and lobbed the rock high across the entrance of the. rear cave. Two rip gun bolts pulverized it in midair. But she was already diving underneath, twisting.
Fire.
She landed on her side, momentum rolling her, knocking the breath out of her lungs. Then she was up and racing for the cave, suit boots kicking up sheets of foam. The airbuster’s energy cloud was flaring, fingers of vivid white light pouring out of the entrance. As it began to dim she fired the rip gun up the cave, hosing the bolts around at random until the magazine was drained.
Leol Reiger didn’t shoot back. She smacked a fresh power magazine into the rip gun, and walked forward. The cave walls were covered in bright infrared scars where the rip gun bolts had struck. Runnels of lava dripped into the water, sizzling loudly. Long twisters of steam rose up all around her, licking at the roof.
There were two ways she could do it; rip gun firing the whole time, chewing up the cave walls and triggering any anti-personnel mines he’d scattered; or the quiet way. But he knew she’d be coming, that gave him an advantage.
“Did Julia Evans get the nuclear force generator data, Suzi? Or is it still up for grabs?”
“Don’t tell me,” she said. “You and I can deal, snatch it for ourselves. Right?”
The cave ended ten metres in front of her, a narrow jagged opening into another cavern. All the photon-amp image gave her was blackness, as if the universe ended beyond the opening. Reiger was in there, waiting; and he knew she had airbusters. She tried analysing it from his position. Hide under the water? It was almost up to her knees, and getting deeper. A side cave that gave him a line of fire on the opening she’d come out of?
“You see anything wrong with that, Suzi? It’s worth billions. And you and I, we haven’t got a quarrel, not really. We just got hired by different people, that’s all. Did what we got paid for, shot the shit out of each other. We don’t have to do that no more, we can buy them with atomic structuring. Evans and Jepson, we can own them, Suzi.”
The roof? Was he clinging to the roof? A muscle-armour suit could hold him up there effortlessly.
Arm Loral Missiles. Target Image: Muscle-Armour Suit.
She smiled. The Lorals could just give her the edge; he’d be expecting another airbuster.
“Who said I was getting paid?” she asked.
“What? You do this for free? Like crap you do, Suzi.”
She fed a flight path into the Lorals’ ‘ware: into the cavern, then a loiter manoeuvre while the smart seeker heads performed their target acquisition, scanning with microwave radar and infrared. Once they locked on, Reiger would have to shoot them, revealing his position. If he didn’t, he’d be dead. Either way, she’d nail the shit.
“Fuck no, not free, Leol. Something you don’t know.”
“Oh yeah, like what?”
“Friendship.”
“Bollocks to you, Reiger.”
Launch Two Missiles.
A blast of compressed air pushed the missiles out of their tubes, small triangle fins unfolded, then the solid fuel motors ignited. Her infrared image was momentarily overwhelmed by the twin exhaust plumes.
“Shit, you bitch!” Reiger shouted.
Suzi was two seconds behind the missiles as she went through the opening into the cavern. The infrared radiance from the rocket motors lit up the interior like a pair of glare flares. She saw a roughly semicircular space, ten metres across. Above her, the roof was made up from giant cuboidal stone blocks, as if steps had been carved at some crazy inverted angle. Water came up to mid-thigh, slowing her movements.
She saw the missiles curving upwards. There was a red corona shining out from behind one of the rock cubes, Reiger’s infrared signature. Her photon amp caught the squat black cylinder tumbling down. Airbuster grenade. Stupid! her mind yelled. Bitterness and fury welled up. She flexed her knees, and started to fling herself flat, the water might shield her from the worst.
The airbuster detonated just as she hit the water. Her sight went from misty blues and reds to glaring white, then black.
There was no pain, no real feeling of anything. Her thoughts were sluggish, full of worries; about getting Reiger, and whether or not Greg had made it to the alien, and Andria who was far too innocent to be left to fend for herself alone. All of them mixed up, faces twisting together in a crazy kaleidoscope whirl until she wasn’t sure who was who any more. Shit but that airbuster must have fucked her brain good and hard.
Suzi?
She knew it was Greg. He was bringing pain back to her, suffering. Greg was crying in her mind.
I screwed up, she told him. Reiger got me with an airbuster.
Suzi, Suzi, I taught you better.
Sorry, Greg. She could see the weirdest egg, translucent, white and pale blue, dark shape at the centre. Julia’s face, frightened and angry. Is that the alien?
Yeah.
Don’t look much.
Julia’s getting it sorted, no messing.
Great. Then the image began to slip away.
Arm Loral Missiles.
That was strange, she certainly didn’t have the mental nrength left to load orders into the implant. But somehow her thoughts were being pushed up a very steep hill into her processor node.
Target Image: Muscle-Armour Suit.
Greg, was that you?
Sure thing, we’re going to get Reiger yet, you and I, no messing.
Launch Two Missiles.
She couldn’t tell if they had fired or not. Even the memory ghosts had fled. There was only blackness, without form.
Greg, don’t let my kid grow up like me.
Oh, Suzi.
Promise me, Greg.
Greg?
Bollocks.
CHAPTER 40
The gothic-biology fabric of the chamber seemed an appropriate setting, Julia thought, as she listened to Royan. Neither one thing nor the other, rock or disseminator plant, both gone awry, stalled and incomplete.
Her anger had drained away, as it always did when she concentrated on assimilating the intricacies of a problem. But this time, that cool logical state of reasoning she exercised, the famed Evans rationality, was in danger of crumbling away. Her eyes couldn’t linger on Royan for more than a few seconds at a time. Royan, trapped inside this creature, this grotesque chimera. The deliberate physical ruining of his body. Once again. She knew exactly how much that would tyrannize his soul. And all her guilt from knowing it was because of the gulf between them that he had been driven here, to this ignominy, If they had never met, if she hadn’t tried to bind him to her, if…
Her mind was going through the routine at a virtually subconscious level, processor nodes analysing the data she was hearing, coding it, assigning it storage space in her memory nodes. All ready to be run through a logic matrix when the time came. Her decision. But all she really wanted to do was take Royan in her arms and hold him. To be free of all this punishing pressure, and live. Just for once, escape from what both of them were.
God, or fate, never seemed to give that option to an Evans.
Greg moaned, eyes widening in shock. His knees sagged, and Rick just caught him before he fell.
“What is it?” she demanded.
“Suzi,” he said, voice coming from the back of his throat. His features clenched in effort.
“What do we do?” Rick asked.
“Wait,” she said. “It’s all we can do.”
Greg moaned again.
She glanced at the Hexaëmeron, wondering whether to call the crash team hardliners in. But it didn’t seem to be doing anything; its surface was awash with shimmering refraction patterns. She’d been relying on Greg to provide any advance warning in case it turned hostile.
“Dead,” Greg said numbly. “Suzi’s dead.”
“How?” Julia asked.
“She went after Leol Reiger; they tangled in the caves somewhere.”
“Is Reiger dead?”
“Dunno. We loosed off Suzi’s missiles. Might have got him.” He steadied himself against Rick, and straightened his back ponderously.
“Reiger,” said Royan. “I’ve heard of him. Tekmerc with a high hazard rating. Is he Jepson’s agent?”
“Yes, he’s Jepson’s.” She gave the Hexaëmeron a long stare. “The one you summoned. Do you have a reason why I should allow you to live?”
“I am not a hazard, Julia Evans, to you or your world,” the Hexaëmeron’s smooth voice said. “I am, as stated, simply a midwife. When the species I contain have birthed, my time will be over. Royan is guilty of judging me by his own human standards. My planet’s life is sturdy, yes, but also highly organized. It is not as competitive as terrestrial organisms.”
“What do you mean organized?” she asked.
“Plants supply animals with all the nourishment they need. Animals are non-carnivorous, they do not prey on each other as is the common practice on your Earth. Our life harmonizes.”
“Fascist Gaia’s world,” Royan said. “Everything knows its place, and stays there. But where would our place be?”
“Is that it?” Julia asked. “Some kind of shared consciousness? An insect mentality?”
“Not at all. Organization is different from obedience. Animal and insect forms have all evolved high social orders. Clannish, if you like. Once established in a territory they will not venture outside.”
“That sounds detrimental to me,” Julia said. “You’d need a certain amount of cross-breeding to continue species viability.”
“Naturally, each clan maintains contact with its neighbours, and major species have a degree of conscious control over their own germ plasm.”
“I still find that trait quite incredible,” Julia said. “Perhaps the most frightening aspect of all. Even if I believe you can vouch for the non-belligerence of the individual species you contain, what is to prevent them from altering beyond recognition within a few generations? If they react and adapt to their environment, they’ll have to undergo considerable alteration, physical and mental. And I have to ask myself how they’ll react to humans. For we are not saints. Nor are our animals. Let loose on Earth, aliens would have to protect themselves from the ignorant, the frightened, not to mention the ideologically inclined. Can you guarantee that these species of yours will not grow horns and fangs, will not hit back?”
“No, of course not. Not if those circumstances arise. That is why I suggested Mars to Royan. It would be worthwhile to consider; I offer to purchase Mars from the human race. You would act as my agent, profiting accordingly. Negotiate for me, Julia Evans, I do not lay claim to that skill, and you are the world’s acknowledged expert. You have the material and political means to bring about this arrangement. In return, I will multiply mysel
f and function as a fully-operational asteroid disseminator plant. One that will respond only to you. In addition, Venus could be terraformed. I contain the genetic codes for an algae which would digest Venus’s atmospheric carbon dioxide. With the resources and wealth that asteroid dissemination would make available to you, the algae’s production in sufficient quantities would pose no problem. Accelerating Venus’s rotation to a twenty-four-hour period would probably be beyond my ability to supply. But I would provide Event Horizon with a human chemistry compatible food crop which will thrive in days that last four Earth months. I can bloom, Julia Evans, if you let me.”
Julia hesitated for a moment. She didn’t doubt the Hexaëmeron could back the offer with solid bioware-alien bioware-and if any word of the offer leaked it would snowball, become irresistible. Politicians would welcome the Hexaëmeron with open arms; the wealth it could provide was enough to fulfil any manifesto. She either stopped it, killed it, now, or events would be ripped beyond even her ability to control. Intelligent benign aliens on Mars, the asteroids converted to bullion vaults, Venus tamed. So very tempting; she could play Midas to the Hexaëmeron’s Dionysus.
And look what happened to Midas.
She glanced round. Rick had an overawed, slightly beleaguered expression on his young face, dazed and doting.
Greg was gaunt, lost in his own torment over Suzi. Consulting Royan was an impossibility; she knew he’d never give her any advice on this, saying, “Look where my expertise has got us.” Even if she had been blind to everything else between them, she was sure of that.
It made her frightened for what would happen afterwards; with the Hexaëmeron free or the Hexaëmeron destroyed, the two of them would still be left to resolve whatever they had. And how wretched he was going to be, not only at failing his one chance at equality, but for creating such a danger and quandary, for disappointing her, making her angry, and stressing her virtually to breaking point. It might even be pushing her love too far. She was afraid to think about that. Instinct and concern had brought her this far, but what was left?
The Mandel Files Page 139