[Weapons of Chaos 01] - Echoes of Chaos

by Robert E. Vardeman - (ebook by Undead)

  De la Cruz looked over his shoulder and caught a cold blast of air in the face. He blinked back tears and rubbed his eyes as he crossed himself.

  “It’s the event of the decade, I tell you,” Blan said. “Think of it. When else in our history has a cometary object swept this close? If you fail to take full advantage of this opportunity, Zonnerg, all our grants will dry up. Believe it.”

  “Grants?” he asked stupidly.

  “The Table of Rules frowns on missed chances to publicize their efforts as much as they do wasted funds,” Blan said. His excitement obvious, the tall avian flapped his arms as if to take wing. “We can launch a platform, set it into orbit, and have a telescope on it to observe as the comet passes. It’ll be so close the coma will stretch halfway out of the solar system.”

  De la Cruz nodded, slowly coming into agreement with his trusted colleague.

  “You won’t regret this, Zonnerg, you won’t! The information from this comet will place us on the top perch for years.”

  “Launch it?” de la Cruz asked.

  “Yes, launch it,” Blan said, irritation entering his voice. “That funny thing the astro group has cobbled together will serve us well.”

  “We can go on from that,” de la Cruz said, entering into the spirit of the discussion. “Why stop with a simple orbiting telescope? We can launch probes for the other planets. This comet can capture both the public’s and the Council’s imagination. Funds will pour into our nest.”

  “Yes, Zonnerg, yes!” cried Blan.

  De la Cruz existed, his personality split between the avian astronomer Zonnerg and his own. As de la Cruz, he rejoiced. He had discovered spaceflight in this culture! Proteus 4 wasn’t the only newly discovered post-spaceflight race. And this one was his discovery. He’d rank beside Velasquez before he’d finished.

  Waves of staggering dizziness struck de la Cruz, but he recovered swiftly. He had expected it but still felt confusion and giddy disorientation after it passed. He heard himself—as Zonnerg—saying, “What went wrong?”

  “The coma. It never developed. All our theories are as feathers on the wind,” answered Blan.

  “Comets are composed of frozen ammonia and other gases. It had to develop a tail,” de la Cruz/Zonnerg protested. “We must have spectrographic readings to confirm this. We must!”

  “The Council is angry at what they call a waste. The entire program has been canceled.”

  “But the planetary probe?”

  “It, too,” answered Blan, shaking his narrow head and blinking eyes of liquid amber, “has succumbed to public opinion. It will be many years before we can recover. Damn that comet! Why didn’t it live up to our expectations?”

  “We asked too much of it,” de la Cruz answered. “There must be more to research than a single goal. We gained knowledge. The telescope is still in orbit. We can turn it on other objects. The stars! We can study them with Predario’s new spectrum analyzer.”

  “My friend, it’s not to be,” Blan said sadly. “The Council has ordered the platform dismantled and returned to our southern hemisphere observatory. Space research is forbidden.”

  “But they can’t. Not because of one comet!”

  De la Cruz staggered from the diorama, still incensed at the failings of bureaucratic thinking. He stared directly into the lens of his camera; he heard the baleful whir-whir-whir as it took a photo every ten seconds. The analyzer continued to record on a wide variety of frequencies, missing nothing.

  The student sat on the floor and cried. The entire planet’s first tentative reach into space had been thwarted because of faulty theories concerning a comet. It was unfair!

  be la Cruz shook himself free of Zonnerg’s memories. For long minutes he simply stood and stared sightlessly. Then his own thoughts forced upward and replaced the void in his skull.

  “Their history. It’s all here,” he said, jolted by the immensity of the discovery. There wasn’t any need for a Rosetta Stone to decipher meaningless scribbles. He had only to walk into one of the dioramas and he’d be given a history lesson. He knew the lesson intimately after leaving. De la Cruz’s experience carried far more weight than a simple book, too.

  Their emotions, their motivations, all were his for the asking—for the living!

  The audacity of the avians also impressed de la Cruz. “They have no fear in showing both sides. I was both the rebel Wennord and his executioner. I knew the reasons both acted as they did.”

  Never in all of human history had such a find been made. And it was his, his, all his!

  De la Cruz could hardly restrain himself as he prowled the corridors. He guessed that a new student might enter the first diorama—the one Ralston had examined—and then progress to the next and the next and the next, learning as he went. By the time each diorama had been visited and fully experienced, a complete knowledge, both intellectual and emotional, of the planet would have been imparted.

  De la Cruz stopped in front of a diorama near the end of the corridor. Only two figures crouched within. Without hesitation, de la Cruz stepped inside. He had learned to position himself in the same fashion as one of the avian mannequins—and he became Cossia.

  “Are you all right, Jerad?” he heard himself asking. His body twitched and trembled oddly. It took several seconds for him to realize he was now a female in anguish over her lover.

  “It’s seized me again. I can’t stop it. Oh, I love you, Cossia. I do!”

  De la Cruz reflected on the strangeness of this diorama. The others had been scenes of obvious historical importance. A dying lover hardly qualified as being in the same rank as the death of a major space research program dooming the avians forever to a landlocked existence or the execution of the last traitor trying to overturn the planet’s governing authority.

  “Fordyne is gone. I follow in his distinguished steps.” Jerad jerked about, his dental plates snapping shut so hard that pieces broke off.

  De la Cruz/Cossia knelt beside her lover and stroked over a fleecy skull. “Don’t worry, my love. The project is done. Dial is away on his star journey. And the vaults are filled. We will not perish without our memory wafting along the ages.”

  “This is the final record?” Jerad asked. His eyes had turned to dull orbs, fogged as if by cataracts.

  “The final warning is being recorded now,” Cossia said. Anger and frustration filled her. The unfairness to rob an entire planet of life filled de la Cruz/Cossia until he/she shook. “Zon-nerg and Blan ought to have fought harder. We had to leave this planet. The comet. It caused our destruction.”

  “There’s no other possibility,” Jerad said. A massive convulsion struck him. The avian arched his back and jerked spastically, obviously dying. Cossia heard fragile bones snapping as the seizure took control of her lover.

  Cossia stood. “Good-bye, dear Jerad. Good-bye, Fordyne and all the precious others. The end has come upon us. and we’ll never know the reason. Only that the comet has brought the wrath of the ages upon us. But how?”

  Cossia turned and straightened as courage firmed within her breast. De la Cruz was vaguely aware that he now faced the analyzer and camera, an actor performing for an unseen audience.

  “The comet,” he/she said, voice booming. “We are dead, but you, the finder of this vault containing our entire racial history, still have a chance. Use wisely what you have found here to solve the mystery of our death.” He/she held out an imploring hand, then stumbled and fell to his/her knees.

  De la Cruz recovered from the grip of the mental communication. His legs proved even weaker than before as he staggered out and braced himself against a wall. Within the diorama Cossia and Jerad still stood as they had for ten thousand years.

  “They fled a riot-torn city—the capital,” de la Cruz said, more to himself than for the analyzer. “The tall central building, the one we’re scraping out the foundations on. That was the Aerie. The Table of Rules convened there. How magnificent it was! And their rulers. The Council and its Chief of Rules. They
met on the uppermost floor of the Aerie to view the entire city.”

  The shakes hit de la Cruz—hard.

  “Reaction,” he panted when the quaking had passed. Yago de la Cruz stood on rubbery legs but smiled broadly. He had just gained an insight. There were things transcending mere wealth. His momentous discoveries in the dioramas would burn forever in the history and archaeology texts. Fame would be his!

  All his!

  EIGHT

  Michael Ralston assembled his small band of graduate students. He took a deep breath as if preparing for a lecture, then forced himself to relax. This wasn’t a classroom on Novo Terra. They were in the field, and he’d made a discovery that would assure them all of a good professional future in archaeology.

  Ralston only wished that more of them deserved what he was about to drop into their laps.

  “Citizens, we’re going to cease all attended digging on the city site. I want the automated data collection to proceed, but no longer will we stand and watch for the smallest artifact to be spat up by the ultrasonic digger.”

  Ralston paused for dramatic effect. It was lost on everyone. Leonore knew what he was going to announce, and the others didn’t care.

  “I’ve made what might be conservatively termed the discovery of the century.” Ralston couldn’t keep from grinning broadly now. He didn’t care if they felt the same excitement that he did. He had enough for them all!

  “And if you’re not conservative, you might want to call it the premier find of all time. I’ve uncovered an intact alien museum not two kilometers south of this site. The buried outlines showed up on the synthetic aperture radar photos taken right after we grounded, and Citizen Disa and I went out a few days ago to examine the site more closely. We opened a copper-clad door and found an extensive underground complex. While I’ve not explored it except to take a few preliminary photos, I’m sure these will excite you as much as they do me.”

  Ralston turned on the projector and began flashing the visual spectrum photos he and Leonore had taken of the dioramas.

  He turned when Yago de la Cruz began chuckling.

  “Citizen de la Cruz, is there something amusing about this? Do you find detailed depictions of the former inhabitants of Alpha 3 funny? Or are you so damned stupid that you don’t understand what this means?” Ralston wouldn’t let anyone belittle this find. It was big, it was great.

  “Dr. Ralston, this isn’t your discovery.”

  De la Cruz’s mocking tone turned Ralston cold inside. “Explain yourself.”

  “Run this through the projector. And note the dates imprinted on each frame.” De la Cruz dropped a block of ceramic film on the table. Ralston took it and held it in the palm of his hand. To Ralston, it felt colder than it actually was. He pulled out his ceramic photo block and inserted de la Cruz’s.

  Leonore Disa gasped when she saw the scenes that Ralston had just projected duplicated—and with earlier establishing dates. They showed that de la Cruz had taken the photos fully a week prior to her and Ralston’s accidentally opening the copper-clad door.

  “Dr. Ralston, we…” Ralston cut off her protests with an impatient gesture. His unwavering gray eyes locked squarely on Yago de la Cruz.

  “Citizen de la Cruz, I want a word with you in private.” Ralston fought to hold his anger in check. A single glance at the dates told him what de la Cruz had done to alter the time sequence. He had been the first human to enter the catacombs, not Yago de la Cruz.

  And he now knew who had struck him.

  “Doctor?” Leonore looked at him, worry lines wrinkling her forehead.

  “I’ll speak with you when I’m done with Citizen de la Cruz.”

  The others left, not comprehending the scene being played out before them. Ralston watched them go, wondering why the University hadn’t sent along a flock of sheep. Those animals’ genetic predisposition was to mindless behavior—and they were good at cropping grass and for providing mutton. These students showed the same wide-eyed stupidity and had none of a sheep’s other redeeming values.

  Leonore was the last to leave. She’d barely closed the plastic door behind her when Ralston swung around and faced de la Cruz. “You’re not smart enough to doctor the records in such a way that they’ll stand up if anyone really examines them.”

  “The analyzer I used is all the evidence I need that I found the geeks’ museum.” De la Cruz’s smugness angered Ralston even more. He stepped back to keep from striking his student.

  “It’s not that easy. I’m sure you aren’t smart enough to think of this on your own. What you weren’t told, those aren’t legal documents without the secondary time stamp.”

  “There’s no such thing.”

  Ralston nodded grimly. “When the analyzer is constructed, an internal cesium clock is activated marking the planet of origin and time. It runs continuously, and the other clock, the one you set with a false date, is checked against it as an error-preventing service. It also provides protection against students cheating by date alteration, as you’ve done, Citizen de la Cruz.”

  “The trip here,” de la Cruz cried. Sweat beaded his face. With sudden insight, Ralston understood that the panic he read came not from fear of being caught stealing another’s rightful project, but from the impact of losing the accolades that would gain his family’s respect. “We shifted in a starship. Starring here would destroy the reliability of any time stamping. General relativity. Space tensors.”

  Ralston shook his head. “Every shift is duly recorded—all automatic.”

  “It might not be working.”

  “The analyzer functioned properly, didn’t it? Unless the cesium clock is running, nothing works. Some archaeologists have complained that their clocks were damaged and that they had to record everything in notebooks—by hand.”

  “That must have happened,” de la Cruz blurted.

  “Such documents are only valid when done holographically—and witnessed by two others.”

  “You’re trying to steal my find!”

  “No, Citizen de la Cruz, you’re the thief.”

  “We’ll let the head of the department decide.” De la Cruz’s dark eyes darted about, making him look more like a trapped animal than a serious scholar. “He’ll decide in my favor.”

  “He won’t. He can’t. Not with the analyzer data showing that you misentered the date and presumably violated most of the tenets of careful archaeology with your meddling.” Ralston's voice lowered. “You made another big mistake by revealing this ridiculous piracy. I know you entered the catacombs immediately after I did that first time and then attacked me.”

  “You’ll never be able to prove it. You…” De la Cruz’s words trailed off. His eyes widened and his mouth moved but only choked sounds issued forth. De la Cruz dropped to his knees and jerked violently, one arm flying out from his body so hard that he smashed into the table and sent it scooting across the shelter.

  “What’s wrong?” Ralston thought de la Cruz was faking this bizarre behavior. Insanity pleas were almost always accepted, especially from those who had starred from their home world only once. Something about dimension shifting adversely affected some people in a fashion similar to an allergy. De la Cruz might attempt such a ploy to preserve what little standing he had in the academic community.

  Then Ralston changed his mind. De la Cruz was frothing at the mouth. No amount of acting could duplicate an epileptic seizure. The student’s eyes rolled up until only the whites showed. Blood trickled from his lips; he had bitten his tongue.

  “Leonore!” Ralston bellowed. He grabbed de la Cruz’s shoulders, but the powerful convulsions threw the man free. Using hand-to-hand fighting grips he had learned during the war, Ralston succeeded in getting de la Cruz flat on the floor, face down and immobile.

  “Michael, what are you doing to him?” Leonore stood in the doorway. All she could see was her professor pinning a struggling student to the floor.

  “Get over here. Get something between his teeth. He’s hav
ing a seizure of some kind. Damn!” As strong as he was and with as much skill as he’d applied the immobilizing hold, de la Cruz jerked free. Ralston had to release the grip or the graduate student would have ripped ligaments in both shoulders.

  Ralston wrestled the writhing de la Cruz to immobility again. With one hand he grabbed a handful of hair and pulled back. This opened de la Cruz’s jaws enough for Leonore to thrust a scrap of plastic between his teeth.

  “His mouth is a mess,” she said. “His tongue’s all bloody. My lord!”

  “Don’t get sick on me,” warned Ralston. “He needs attention right now. Get the automedic. I think de la Cruz’s got a med-port. Find out what to inject and do it!”

  De la Cruz’s struggles had diminished until they were little more than powerful twitches. Ralston had no trouble holding the student down until Leonore returned with the portable medical unit. Putting a half nelson on de la Cruz, Ralston flipped the graduate student over onto his side. Leonore fumbled and opened de la Cruz’s shirt to reveal the tiny silver plate in his belly.

  “Attach it. Full analysis.”

  “That’ll take too long. I… I started it reading Yago’s med record. That’ll be faster. This didn’t just happen. God, why didn’t they warn us?”

  “My sentiments exactly,” Ralston grated between clenched teeth. His own muscles ached from the strain of holding de la Cruz down. How did one fleshy, out-of-shape student generate so much power? Ralston had never seen an epileptic seizure before; such things were a rarity on Novo Terra. But he remembered his father talking about several seizure-prone friends back on Earth. Only this dim recollection had served him—and Yago de la Cruz—now.

  “No history of seizures of any sort,” Leonore said. Her voice rose to a shrillness that hinted panic.

  “Start the automedic’s analyzer. Not full scan, just emergency. Plug it in. Good,” said Ralston, soothing her. Seeing a medical emergency of any sort lay far beyond everyday existence on Novo Terra and most other planets. “You do that a lot better than I could.” His simple compliment steadied her. She flashed him a wan smile, then fumbled about to insert the connector into de la Cruz’s med-port.