Seeds of Gaia

by Rick Partlow

  Carlos turned toward Sam, his face screwed up in anger, but then he let out a breath and relaxed.

  “I’m sorry, sir,” he blurted. “I just…” He turned to the Martians, bowing his head in contrition. “You have my apologies.” He turned awkwardly and left the meeting room, heading back toward the medcenter.

  “The representatives of the Consensus government have landed,” one of the Martians announced, oblivious both to Carlos’ outburst and his apology. “They have informed us they will be ready to meet with you in the morning.” Both of them stood up and nodded to Sam and Priscilla. “You will want time to prepare, of course.”

  And with that, they both headed for the boarding ramp, leaving Sam shaking his head.

  “These people,” Sam said quietly once they were off the ship and the ramp was closed behind them, “are the most infuriating individuals I have ever dealt with.”

  “Individuals may be the wrong choice of terms,” Mawae Danabri said thoughtfully, leaning forward in his seat. Sam suddenly realized that the man hadn’t uttered a word the whole time the Martian officials had been on board, and his estimation of the Sensitive went up sharply. Whatever else Danabri was, he was a professional.

  “What do you mean, Citizen Danabri?” Priscilla asked.

  “They don’t act like individuals,” he said with a shrug. “At least not like individual humans. More like some kind of insect colony.” He peered curiously at Priscilla. “Hasn’t any Sensitive ever been part of an embassy to the Collective?”

  “There’s never been a formal embassy to the Collective,” Priscilla admitted. “We contacted them when we found the way back to the Solar System, they told us right up front what sort of relationship they were willing to have with us, and that was that. They never agreed to any negotiations and their terms were good enough that we never pushed.”

  “Interesting,” Danabri mused.

  “I’m sure it’s fascinating,” Sam interjected, “but in case anyone’s forgotten, the Earthers are here, ahead of schedule, and ready to meet with us, despite the fact they likely just tried to have us killed. Is anyone else confused by this turn of events?”

  “They must expect us to cancel the meeting,” Arvid guessed. “It would make us look bad, give them diplomatic ammunition to use against us.”

  “It can’t be that simple,” Danabri shook his head. “You don’t attempt an assassination to make someone late for a meeting; the risk is too high.”

  “It has to have something to do with the tapestry,” Priscilla surmised. “They didn’t try to hit us till we found the tapestry.”

  “If they knew it was there though,” Sam protested, “why didn’t they just buy the damn thing and get rid of it.”

  “Well,” Priscilla sighed, “we certainly aren’t going to figure it out before tomorrow. We’ll simply have to meet with the Consensus representatives and pretend nothing happened. We still have a mission to accomplish.”

  “I think we should stay on the ship tonight,” Sam opined. “I am suddenly not so sanguine about Collective security measures.”

  “I agree, Captain,” Priscilla said. “Until we have a clearer idea of what’s going on, we need to take extra precautions.”

  “Arvid,” Sam turned to his weapons officer, “I want the ship’s sensors up all night. If anyone comes within a hundred meters of us, I want to know it. And break out a couple lasers. We may not be able to carry them around with us, but we’ll damn sure have them ready if anything happens at the ship.”

  “Yes, sir, I’ll get on it now.”

  “The damnedest thing is,” Sam said to Danabri and Priscilla after Arvid left, “if they knew about the tapestry, they must know this thing exists and that it’s connected to Earth somehow. If they know that, they know they’re going to desperately need our help. Why would they try to scare us off, or possibly kill us?”

  “People can’t always be counted on to act rationally in the face of something like this,” Danabri ventured.

  “Particularly Earthers,” Priscilla added. “Considering their attitude toward the Resolution, and the stress this situation will put on them and their core beliefs, nothing they do would surprise me.”

  “Well, I am sure of one thing,” Danabri sighed, coming to his feet. “If I’m going to be reading a roomful of those psychos tomorrow, I need some sleep.”

  “Good night, Citizen Danabri,” Priscilla nodded. Her eyes followed him out of the room before lighting back on Sam.

  “Is there something wrong?” Sam asked, frowning. “Beside the obvious I mean.”

  “I was impressed with the way you handled yourself today, Captain,” she said. “I was unaware that Patrol officers received that degree of training in unarmed combat.”

  “We don’t, generally,” he told her. “But everyone needs a hobby, and mine has always been the study of old-Earth martial arts. You obviously have studied them yourself, from what I could tell.”

  “Diplomatic missions are, as a rule, unarmed.” She shrugged. “It is prudent to have some way of defending yourself. I never expected to have to use it.”

  “I never have before,” Sam admitted. “Not outside the dojo, anyway.” He let out a deep sigh. “I’ve never seen anyone killed like that, either. Not face to face. I mean, we’ve had to take out Consensus bandit ships, and I knew on an intellectual level we were…killing them. But it was all so antiseptic. It was all tens of thousands of kilometers away.”

  “Did you feel guilty about it?” Priscilla asked quietly. “Not today…I mean, we didn’t kill the two that died, they basically killed themselves. But when you and your crew intercepted the Earther bandits? Did you feel guilty about it?”

  “I didn’t feel good about it,” he admitted. “They’re humans, just like us, even if they don’t want to admit it. But no one asked them to attack our ships, and if I didn’t stop them, they would have murdered innocent people. So no, I didn’t feel guilty, really. I just wish it wasn’t necessary.” He smiled. “Maybe if we do our jobs and pull this off, it won’t be necessary anymore.”

  Priscilla laughed softly, a sound, Sam thought, like wine on crystal. “It must be nice to be able to have that sort of idealism.”

  “You think I’m being naïve,” Sam said, not offended.

  “Not naïve,” she shook her head, putting a hand on his arm. “Captain Avalon…Sam. I am beginning to think that you are the purest form of what the Resolution is all about.”

  “I…” Sam stuttered. “Thanks. I don’t know what to say.”

  “Then don’t say anything.” Priscilla leaned over in her seat and Sam had never been quite so surprised as he was when she kissed him. He found her suddenly in his arms, pressing against him and found that he wanted her to be there. But still…

  “This…this really isn’t professional of us, is it?” He protested weakly as they broke the kiss.

  “Gaia’s Blood,” Priscilla laughed as she worked at the fastenings of his uniform, “I certainly hope not.”

  After that, Sam didn’t say much. He did remember to have Raven lock the door to the conference room, but that was the last “professional” thought he had till the next morning…

  ***

  Sam didn’t know what to expect when he met the Consensus delegation, mostly because he didn’t know what to expect from anything anymore, not after last night. He had been worried in the morning, worried that he and Priscilla’s working relationship would be compromised, yet simultaneously worried that she would freeze him out when the time came to get back to their mission.

  Yet neither seemed to have happened. When Priscilla walked into the ship’s conference room for the pre-meeting briefing, she reacted to him pleasantly but without any hint of what had occurred the night before, except once when her hand accidentally brushed his on the table, and seemed to linger for one moment longer than it had to.

  She handled it perfectly, he thought, and again decided that “perfect” was the best word to describe her. He’d had that t
hought several times last night, when he’d been able to think at all. Sam was hardly inexperienced when it came to sex but he had never encountered anyone like Priscilla before. She seemed to combine the eagerness of a virgin with the experience of a seasoned lover and the juxtaposition had been something truly incredible.

  Sam shook his head, trying to clear it of memories of the previous night and prepare himself mentally for the meeting. He, Danabri and Priscilla had waited in the appointed conference room for nearly an hour now with still no sign of the Earthers, another calculated tactic he was sure. The worst part was, they couldn’t even bitch about it just in case the room was bugged, so they had to pass the time with inanities about Martian tourism.

  Sam was about at the breaking point, and was ready to say the hell with it and go get a late breakfast when the door to the conference room slid aside and the Consensus delegation entered. Sam, Priscilla and Danabri rose from their seats as the first of them came through the doorway.

  She was security…she screamed security to Sam and he could see Mawae Danabri watching her intently as well. Her bearing was straight, her eyes flickering across the room like scanners, and her utility fatigues were plain in contrast with the more flamboyant clothes of those that followed her. She was tall and muscular, her blond hair cut to a manageable shoulder length, and she paused in the doorway for a barely-perceptible moment before moving to the side and letting the others through.

  The man who came through behind her had an air of officiousness and self-importance that went beyond his hand-tailored suit and turned-up nose and through to the carriage of his gait. He was every centimeter the politician, Sam was sure, whatever his official title was. The man and woman that followed were toadies; Sam didn’t have to have Danabri’s skills to see that. Their suits, while expertly made, were purposefully of a lesser degree than their leader’s. Their demeanor was one of servitude and support and they each carried a notebook-sized computer a hundred years obsolete by Resolution standards.

  “I am Priscilla.” She was, of course, the first to break the silence. “I represent the Resolution Diplomatic Corps. This is my aid, Citizen Danabri, and Captain Avalon of the Resolution Patrol, the man who discovered the threat.”

  “I am Friedrich Hamilton,” Nose-in-the-Air announced, not offering a hand, “Ambassador from the Human Consensus to the Martian government. Shall we get this started?” He took a seat across the table from Priscilla and she and Sam took their cue to sit down. Danabri moved into a corner and leaned against the wall, crossing his arms and watching. The Consensus security officer eyed him cautiously and Danabri winked at her. She quickly looked away and he grinned in amusement.

  “I assume,” Priscilla began, “that you’ve had time to confirm the tracking data we sent you on the ramship.”

  “Our telescopes have spotted the object,” Hamilton allowed. “However, our researchers feel that it could be a natural phenomenon. We have nothing but your word that it is of intelligent design.”

  “Just what sort of natural phenomena could be accelerating on a collision course with Earth at a constant 1.3 gravities?” Priscilla wondered. “And traveling at a significant portion of lightspeed?”

  Sam glanced at Priscilla, feeling an odd sensation in the pit of his stomach. For a moment he wondered if he was ill.

  “Even if we accept the possibility that it is a starship of some kind,” Hamilton went on, as if he hadn’t heard her, “how do we know its intentions are destructive?”

  “It can’t possibly decelerate in time to stop in the Solar System,” Priscilla countered. “You must know that by now. It most likely can’t even significantly change course at this point without using the sun’s gravity, and it isn’t on the right course to slingshot around the sun. You know that too. So why don’t we dispense with the double-talk? You can feel free to reject the explanation we’ve given for the motives behind this threat, but you know the threat exists and it must be dealt with. Do your scientists think you can deal with it by yourselves?”

  Sam couldn’t take his eyes off of her. He realized, with a start, that he was developing an erection and he hoped to Gaia that none of the Consensus people would notice. What the hell was going on?

  “We…” Hamilton seemed a bit taken aback by her frankness, “we have considered moving an asteroid into the object’s path…”

  “Even assuming the weapon didn’t have defenses to prevent collisions,” Priscilla countered, “the only rocks big enough to deflect it are in the Belt…none of the Trojans or Apollo objects will do. And I don’t know how you’re going to convince the Belters to let you have one of their largest and most densely-populated habitats. You could, I suppose, bring one of the larger comets in from the Oort Cloud, but that would most likely take too long.” She placed her hands flat on the table and leaned toward the Earther. “Shall we try this once more?”

  “I am only here as a favor to the Collective,” Hamilton hissed angrily, eyes flaring as he rose halfway from his chair. “I do not have to sit here and take this sort of presumption!”

  “Ambassador Hamilton,” Priscilla sighed, “I am sorry you take my honesty for presumption, but the fact is, we do not have much time. Any effort to stop this thing must begin almost immediately, as it will take thousands of work-hours to build a device capable of shunting something of this size into Transition Space. And you have to believe me, that is the only way to prevent this thing from striking Earth. It is going too fast for anything else to work. Any harshness in my tone or lack of patience you might detect is simply the urgency and desperation of the situation leaking through and I apologize for this in advance.”

  “Well,” Hamilton sat back, seeming to relax slightly, “since we’re being so brutally honest…Priscilla?” She nodded and he smiled, showing a little of the professional diplomat hidden behind his mask of arrogance. “We make no secret of our beliefs, nor do we make a secret of the fact that we consider your practices---your very existence---an affront to those beliefs. You’ve constantly accused us of being responsible for pirate attacks on your shipping and you’ve done your best to support the Belters in their defiance of our authority.” He shook his head in bemusement. “So, just why is the Resolution so desperate, so urgent to help the Consensus? Wouldn’t it be more to your advantage to have us out of the way, permanently?”

  “That is not our way, Ambassador Hamilton,” Priscilla assured him. “Unlike your government, mine considers us all to be humans, heirs of the same heritage and responsible for one another’s welfare. Earth is as much our home as yours, despite our differences.”

  “People like you,” Hamilton said, “who took upon themselves the judgement of the Creator and tampered with the very things that make us human, destroyed our world once. Why should we trust you now to save it?”

  “Because,” Priscilla replied, “you really have no other choice. You can either accept our aid or start evacuating the planet. And while you’re at it, you might want to get your people off the moon and out of the L5 stations as well; the fragmentation of Earth will likely make those bases unlivable due to meteoric activity.”

  Hamilton regarded her coolly, and Sam fancied he could see the gears turning in the man’s brain. Sam was fighting to control his breathing and felt sweat dampening his armpits. This couldn’t be all just an emotional reaction on his part to the sexual encounter yesterday. Something very strange was happening here.

  “You realize I don’t have the authority to make any sort of commitment,” he said finally. “But I will relay what you have said on to my government. I will do what I can to expedite their decision.”

  “That’s all we can ask,” Priscilla said with a smile. “We will remain here to await their word.”

  Hamilton stood slowly, as if sensing he was being dismissed and not being used to the concept.

  “Priscilla,” he said with some bemusement, “it has been an…interesting experience meeting you.”

  “And a pleasure to speak with you, Mr. Ambass
ador,” Priscilla nodded, coming to her feet. “We hope to hear from you soon.”

  As the Earthers filed out, Sam could see disconcerted looks on their faces, particularly on the face of the male assistant. He opened his mouth to say something as the last of them left the room, but then noticed the scowl on Danabri’s face and decided that if the Sensitive could hold his piece till they were out of the probably-bugged meeting room, so could he.

  He began to lose both his erection and the restless, uncomfortable feeling as they made their way out of the Collective government building and into the street. Finally, as they reached the path back to their quarters, he could hold it in no longer.

  “What the hell was going on back there?” Sam blurted, staring at Priscilla. She cocked an eyebrow, seeming a bit amused.

  “We did our job, Captain Avalon,” she reminded him. “He will pass our proposal up the line with a positive recommendation and we might actually get to go to Earth itself and play this whole scene again.”

  “Do you want me to tell him?” Danabri muttered, still scowling.

  “Why was I feeling so…” Sam searched for the word awkwardly.

  “Aroused,” Danabri suggested.

  “All right,” Priscilla held up a hand, halting in the middle of the street and turning to face them. “Sam, as a member of the diplomatic corps, I was given certain…enhancements. One of them was a minor glandular augmentation which allows me to produce an unusually high amount of pheromones at will.”

  Sam’s eyes widened as his mind examined all the implications of what she had said in relation to the actions of the Ambassador at the meeting, then widened again as he thought about last night.

  “What if the Consensus representatives find out about this?” Sam wondered, not voicing his personal concerns, even though they were more on his mind than the concerns for their mission.

  “They won’t, unless they dissect me,” Priscilla assured him. “Or happen to be running a chemscanner at the instant I do it.”

  “It was a huge risk,” Danabri snapped. “And it made my job nearly impossible. How the hell am I supposed to get a read on the Ambassador’s reaction to your proposal when he’s thinking with his dick instead of his brain?”