by Darrell Bain
"Another week and you won't be able to tell you were ever shot,” I said.
"I don't feel like I was now. It doesn't hurt at all, no matter how I move my arm.” She demonstrated, then turned to face me and showed me the entrance wound. “Go ahead, feel. No scar tissue."
I did with pleasure, taking my time until she stopped me with a giggle more like a little girl than a grown woman.
"Um, I think you're quite a bit lower than where I got shot. And I know I didn't get hit on the other side."
"Yes, but I have to have something for a comparison. I guess I could take your word for it, but this is more fun."
"You bet, but let's wait until we go to bed and can really enjoy it."
"That's a promise,” I said.
We rinsed and dried and put on our last set of clean clothes, jeans and shirt for me, jeans and pullover for her. She tried out one of the new bras too, darn it. I loved the way her breasts moved beneath her top when she was without one.
* * * *
Good smells drew us to where Jim was heating a pan of what looked like stew on a Coleman stove. There was a small fireplace and dutch oven against the rock wall of the kitchen, along with a stack of wood. Mona looked at it curiously-and with a bit of concern.
"Where does it all vent?"
Jim glanced up from where he was stirring. “This little mountain is honeycombed with channels and fissures. I don't know exactly where the smoke goes, but from the next room it gets sucked up into the ceiling and disappears. I've been all the way to the top when fires are going and have never seen any smoke escaping. It must be absorbed along the way to wherever the vents go. Are you guys hungry?"
Suddenly I was salivating like a well conditioned dog. It had been too long since either of us had eaten a hot meal.
Jim ladled out stew into bowls for all of us. We carried them over to a hand made table, rough hewn but sturdy, and sat in folding chairs. We talked while we ate.
I told Jim about our adventures first. It took a surprisingly long time, especially as Mona stopped me whenever I tried to gloss over part of her past. She told Jim the truth, that she was an ex-con on the run from an Eastern criminal syndicate and had been dealing in forged documents. He simply nodded, neither approving nor disapproving. One of the things I like about my old friend is that he wasn't so instantly judgmental like a great many people are. He always looked for reasons beneath the exterior.
"It sounds like you two have been in a damn war,” he remarked, shaking his head. “I'm glad you had this place to run to. Be that as it may though, have you any idea at all what this is about? Where the bug originated and so forth? And for that matter, what the long tern effects might be?"
I told him everything our captive had told me. “I guess I should have been more aware of the condition he was in. Maybe I could have kept him alive and gotten more information from him."
"From what you've said, it sounds as if he told you just about everything he knew, except the last part. Besides, you would have had to kill him anyway.” He said matter-of-factly. “Are you sure he said Oklahoma?"
"That part was clear enough. The last about a mountain, I'm not certain of. He was fading. It sounded like an R though. Ri—Rick Mountains? Rich Mountains?"
"Rich Mountain!” We both exclaimed at once.
"Rich? What's on a mountain to make it rich? Gold?” Mona asked, a puzzled expression on her face.
I laughed. “Rich Mountain, the big peak in Wilhemena State Park, over in Arkansas. But I really don't know if that's what he was saying Jim, and even if he was, what could it mean?"
Jim rubbed his chin, a characteristic of his when he was flipping pages in his mind to find a datum. He was an incredibly well read man and not just in medicine; he had an eclectic interest in damn near everything and especially in the science fields. Finally he shrugged.
"Nothing comes to mind, but we'll keep it on the table. As you say, he could have meant any number of things. And from your tale, I'm very glad you took such precautions to avoid letting anyone know I'm involved too. Now let me tell you all something I've found out about your bug-our bug now. I farmed your cheek swabs and some of my muscle tissue out to a very discrete individual I won't even name, with the promise to destroy it and everything it comes in contact with when he's finished. Under real high power he found that it isn't discrete organisms infecting each of the cells. Except for the blood and such roaming cells as histiocytes, every other cell in the body that carries our little friend is probably connected by very fine filaments, sort of like the axons and dendrites connecting nerve cells of the brain. Of course he wasn't able to examine every body system, but that's true for the ones he did look at. Apparently the little critter multiplies extremely rapidly and invades our cells through the membranes without hurting them. And after that, I suspect that information about various functions of our bodies is passed around among the parts occupying the cells. There may even be a nexus or center somewhere in our bodies to organize the information but it would take full-body tomographic scanning to really be sure; that or a thorough autopsy."
"But what does it mean?” Mona asked.
Jim smiled wryly. “All I can say is that it's the most interesting and intriguing thing I've run across in a long, long life of studying the human body. I did what I could with the samples from you and what I could take from myself here, but I could go only so far with them. What we really need is to get one of us into a full scale lab, then I could—"
A buzzing sound interrupted him. Jim looked up, eyes narrowing. “Uh oh. Something tripped the alarm.” He stood up and ran toward one of the side rooms where he kept his rifle, an old Army M-16 from the Vietnam War era. I was hot on his heels, feeling in my pocket for the Glock, then having to turn around and run back to where I had left my jacket with the gun in it. Behind me I could hear Mona's footsteps clicking on the rock floor.
By the time I got to the entrance, Jim was already there, breathing hard and kneeling behind a boulder just beyond the entrance, on the side away from where the cars were parked. I looked down the trail but couldn't see anyone.
"When did you put in an alarm?” I whispered, still scanning the trees and brush down slope with my eyes.
"I rigged it this time when I came up, just in case, though I don't know what we can do if they've found us. Except not go quietly.” When nothing else happened for a minute, he started to stand up. “Looks like it was a varmint that tripped it though. Maybe a deer."
I grabbed his shoulder and pressed down hard. My eyes were better than his; I had spotted some movement.
Jim didn't struggle. He relaxed and began watching again with me. I felt a touch on my shoulder and nearly jumped out of my shirt until I realized it was Mona. She had crawled up behind us without making a sound.
Below us, a human figure emerged. A woman in jeans and a blue windbreaker, with long black hair blowing around her face from the breeze. She walked slowly, bent forward to compensate for the steep grade she was climbing. Every few steps she stopped and put her hands over her head like an enemy soldier trying to find someone to surrender to. As she came nearer I could see that she was pretty rather than beautiful like Mona, and equally as slim, though not quite as curvaceous.
"What do you think?” Jim said in a voice so low that I could barely hear him.
I sure didn't know, but I wasn't going to shoot a woman down in cold blood, especially one who obviously wanted to talk rather than fight. That didn't leave many choices.
"I'll risk it,” I said, “but wait until she gets a bit closer so we can see if anyone is following."
We waited until she was nearly upon us, then I stood up and pointed my pistol at her.
The woman's face broke into a wide smile, displaying perfect white teeth. “At last. You've certainly led us on a happy chase!"
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
I kept my gun pointing at her chest and didn't return her smile. “What in hell do you mean, a ‘Happy Chase'? It damn sure hasn't been happy
for us,” I said bitterly. I looked down the slope beyond her, thinking she must be a decoy for other Homeland Security agents. They were probably closing in on us now.
Instead of reacting to my frown and acid response, she only smiled some more. “Happy-no, Merry. That's it. You led us on Merry Chase. I'm sorry, I still don't speak perfect English. May I come on up? I'm alone, I promise."
"Who are you? Who are you with?” Jim's voice came from behind me, stern as an officer at a court-martial getting ready to pass sentence. I knew he must still have his rifle at ready arms. He was no fool to be taken in by words, while I sometimes can be.
"I'm not with any of your security forces. In fact, I'm on your right-your side, that is. Your side,” she repeated as if setting the idiom into permanent memory.
"Then who—"
Jim interrupted me. “I think she's okay, Mike. All right, lady, come on, but keep your hands in plain sight."
"Thank you. I will."
We got her inside and sitting down at the table where we three had been polishing off the last of the stew. All the way, Mona had stared frankly at the other woman in the way females do, appraising her appearance in view of possible competition. In this case, she was doing it even though she should knew I had no intentions of looking at another woman with anything other than an appreciative perusal, the kind that men can no more help than she could help what she was doing.
"Would you like some coffee?” Jim asked, already setting out cups.
"Yes please. My name is Terratannessaty,” she said by way of introduction, “but please call me Tera. And I already know who you are.” She pronounced her odd name as if it were all one word. I found out later that it was, but for the time being I was more than glad to use Tera rather than garbling the long form.
"How do you know us if you're not with the government?” Mona asked quickly, cutting to the chase.
"It is a long story, but I will tell you this much to start. We are the ones who brought the-the infection, I suppose you are calling it-to your world.” She had taken her coffee black. She sipped at it appreciatively. “This would make a good export. I've come to like it. And chocolate, too.” Then she added something odd. “If it were possible."
I hope my mouth wasn't hanging open too wide during the next few moments while I digested that statement. I think it was Mona who recovered first.
"Coffee and chocolate be damned. You're saying this thing we have isn't from earth? And that you're a—” Her voice trailed off as if she weren't quite able to call someone sitting across the table from her a space traveler, especially one who looked for all the world like an attractive human woman.
I got my mouth closed and finally managed to say something. “You don't look like you come from anywhere but earth. And I don't believe parallel evolution could produce that close a match."
What I really wasn't believing was how I could be sitting here talking to a being straight out of one of my science fiction novels, even though I had been reading the stuff all my life, and despite the fact that all three of us had acquired an infection that put us under a death sentence from our own government. An infection that Jim, with a life long career of studying human illnesses couldn't identify. Of course it didn't appear to be an illness for us, but still—
"As I said, it is a long story. I will gladly tell you all of it, because we need your help.” Tera drank more of her coffee. She unzipped her wind breaker. Beneath it she was wearing a conventional pullover. With a bra. An odd gold colored medallion was attached to a thick silvery, close fitting necklace device that partially showed above her pullover.
"Who are we? And why do you need our help?” Jim asked over a sip of his own coffee. His eyes were alight with curiosity.
She didn't answer for a moment. His expression became studious, as if she were running possible answers through her mind before committing herself. When she did speak, it was a bombshell. “The symbiont you're carrying in your bodies is fine for you, but eventually it will probably kill most of the rest of the human race."
I was taken aback but Jim didn't flinch from her statement. Instead, in the manner of the pathologist he was, he wanted more of an explanation. “According to the information we have, it doesn't wait to kill most people. It does it soon after they become infected."
"Yes, but that wasn't what I meant. Right now, the only way it can pass from human to human is through blood contact, or possibly through exchange of other bodily fluids, though that's not likely. But eventually, it will probably mutate and become very contagious. Then anyone not carrying a particular gene complex, as you three apparently do, will succumb to it."
"Die is a simpler word,” Jim said. “Die from it."
"Oh. I was trying to speak formally."
"Don't. I dislike formality and it appears we may be spending a lot of time together-if you're telling the truth. Are you?"
Direct as always. Jim never tried side runs. That's probably why he retired as a colonel rather than a general.
"Yes,” Tera said as solemnly as a benediction. “I'm telling the truth."
During the exchange, I was examining her as closely as I could without obviously staring. So far as I could tell she looked entirely human, though I couldn't place what race she might belong to. More of a blend than anything. Dark creamy tan skin, brown eyes, high cheekbones. Hell, she could have been part Amerindian by her appearance, just like us.
She must have noticed my scrutiny from the corner of her eye because she turned to face me. “I know what you must be thinking. I look entirely human don't I?"
"Yes,” I said simply. She did.
"There are other humans, or there have been humans, on almost every earth-like planet we've explored so far. Or perhaps I should say hominids, since some have deviated enough over time to be classified as a separate species."
"Have we mutated?” Mona asked.
"No,” Tera said, a bit shortly, then flashed one of her brilliant smiles. “Or rather, I don't know. Probably not, since some of you can accept the Tersha. Sorry. This has been such a trial that I'm having problems explaining it. And there are so many things you need to know. One thing I'm sure you're going to ask is how humans got to be on so many planets. The answer is, we don't have the slightest idea. We don't believe in parallel evolution any more than you do. Maybe an older race seeded humans on planets where they could flourish. Maybe there was a galactic empire long ago, though we don't have any evidence that it happened like that. Anyway, it's a mute question for now."
"I suppose,” Jim said, somewhat reluctantly. “Okay, why don't you start by telling us more about this bug-Tersha, did you say?—we've acquired that's so dangerous to other people. What does it mean to us? How does it work. Why—well, you get the idea. I'm damned curious, since a short time ago I was dying of cancer and now I'm being cured so far as I can tell. At least I'm not hurting like I was and I feel better."
"Not only that, Jim looks a dozen years younger than the last time I saw him. Explain that!” I said.
"Of course. But there's much more than just the Tersha."
"I realize that, but let's take it in small bites. We'll absorb it better."
"Fine. To start with, we don't call it a bug. It's—we call it the Tersha. The closest I can come in English is “Protector". Our world is the only one we've found so far where Tersha is a normal symbiot to humans. It is passed to the fetus by the mother during gestation. It serves to keep the body healthy and protects against aging and disease. It—"
"Wait a minute,” I said. “Do you mean that literally? It keeps a person from aging?"
"Sorry, no, not forever. I should have qualified that. However, you will live a much longer and healthier life than otherwise. Mister Brandon, I know how old you and Doctor Shell are. I can see that your Tershas have begun repairs to your bodies. However, given your age, it can only do so much. Your appearance will probably stabilize so that you look to be on the young side of middle aged and Miss Terrell much younger than that."
"I told you not to be formal,” Jim repeated, a bit more forcefully. “I'm Jim. He's Mike. She's Mona. Okay?"
"Sorry. Yes, that's okay.” She paused for a moment, then continued as if she knew exactly what was on all our minds. “How much longer you will live? I can't say, not having a database on your world to write from-no, to draw from. No database to draw from. You should live a long time though, barring accidents. Tershas can speed up repairs from injury but they aren't miracle workers. If you were shot in the head or heart for instance, I suspect you would die, just as I would. There's one other thing I should tell you.” She glanced to where Mona and I were sitting close together and smiled. “Or perhaps you've found out already. The Tersha imparts a certain sensitivity to other people's emotions, the more so with the opposite sex. With us, it is very intense, or can be, but we are born with it. I don't know how far it will go with you."
Mona squeezed my hand and I returned the pressure, affirming Tera's statement. She noticed and smiled again.
Jim nodded at her. “Good. Now, you said something about mutations?” He leaned back in his chair, getting into the discussion now.
"Yes. Unfortunately, we didn't know this until very recently. In fact, until after we got stranded here."
"Stranded? You mean you're stuck here?"
Tera sighed but followed it quickly with a smile. “One subject brings up two more, doesn't it? Let's go back a bit. We—call us Cincans. That simply means earth people in our language. All humans call their world earth, or something equivalent to it. When we Cincans developed faster than light travel we found humans on other planets, as I said.” She dropped her gaze before continuing. “Our survey ships, the same as I and my companions came here in, went in different directions. Some stayed a while on other worlds occupied by humans. On some of those worlds, a permanent contingent was sent to study and observe and collect data. Perhaps I should mention that your world is the most advanced technologically than any other we've seen besides our own.” She paused a moment as if reflecting on something that wasn't of immediate concern, then continued. “Anyway, just after our lander failed and we found ourselves stuck here for the time being, we received a tachyon message, relayed from our mother ship. On two of the worlds where we had set up permanent stations, the Tershas have mutated and become easy to pass from person to person-but no one on those worlds has the right genes to accept them. It kills rather than protects."