The Death of Wisdom

by Paul Brunette

  Drop Kick mouthed a silent excretory obscenity.

  "Understood, Bridge. Is there a description?"

  "Cylindrical, approximately two liters in volume. Scissor said that the computer should have maintained continuous contact with the robot, but it went inactive several hours ago, in your area."

  "I see," Snapshot said, trying to ignore Drop Kick's frantic attempts to wedge the board into position, "Is Scissor out looking for it?"

  "Affirmative. He's going to swing through your area in a half-hour or so, after he finishes looking around his quarters," "Roger, Bridge. We'll keep our eyes open. Out."

  "It's no use," Drop Kick said. "Somehow, the polymer the board's made out of expanded after we removed it."

  "Well, you heard Deep Six: We've got a half-hour to unexpand it and put the whole thing back together."

  "Are you kidding? We don't even know what made it expand it in the first place!"

  'That's funny; I didn't know the Aubani Marines ever gave up a fight."

  Drop Kick growled, good-naturedly.

  "All right, I'll put the legs back together, and you figure out how to make the board fit."

  Less than five minutes later, Snapshot found the key. After taking off her gloves, the minute negative charge of her naked skin catalyzed the polymer to contract and fit in its slot.

  "You're a genius, Snapshot,"

  "No, just lucky. I remembered that Scissor never wears gloves, because his skin is natural insulation."

  Drop Kick nodded, impressed. I should have thought of that.

  "Hey, Snapshot," he said, speaking to the gunner but keeping an eye on his work.

  "What?"

  "If this works, whaddaya say we split some Auroran gin from the liquor locker?"

  "Yeah, we'd deserve it," Snapshot said, pausing before adding, "Drop Kick?"

  "What?"

  "Do you suppose this is all part of some plot by Scissor?"

  "Hell, Snapshot, that's a virtual certainty."

  "All the same, Drop Kick, you're pretty sharp. It's good to work with you'

  "I was going to say the same thing. What you did with that missile back at Kruyter. .. I figured you must be pretty sharp for a Flam—well, pretty sharp'

  "Thanks, sergeant."

  On the bridge, Coeur was nearing the end of her late evening watch when the aft hatch slid open behind her. Turning her chair around, she saw it was Scissor, holding a small, inert ball of metal with eight legs.

  "Hello, Scissor. You must have found your robot."

  "Affirmative," the Hiver said, walking into the bridge and pausing in the empty area set aside for Deep Six's rollerchair. "Snapshot and Drop Kick found the device and returned it to me, as I intended."

  "You mean you planned for them to find it?"

  "Indeed, It was my objective to arrange a circumstance in which the two would cooperate toward a common objective,"

  "A manipulation."

  "Correct. However, I have a question that transcends the scope of my emotional awareness."

  Coeur inched forward on her seat, suddenly both fascinated and alert. "What's that?"

  "It has been my perception that both Drop Kick and Snapshot have a distrust of that which they are unfamiliar with, so that they are actually much more alike than different. Given this hypothesis, I reasoned that the investigation of my robot—intruding upon their work areas, and a psychological extension of myself, an alien being—would draw them together in a common task,"

  "Logical. So did you tell them all this?"

  "Indeed I did. However, they were less... distressed.„than many humans are when a manipulation of this type is revealed. It was my observation that they seemed relieved, and I am curious about this response."

  Coeur nodded, wishing she'd been there to see it herself.

  "My guess is you manipulated them into something that they wanted in the first place. They'd probably be friends if they got to know each other, and they never will trust anything alien very much."

  "I comprehend, I believe the term is irony."

  "Yes," Coeur said, "that would be the word."

  In the corridor outside Scissor's stateroom, Drop Kick and Snapshot stood a long moment after the Hiver departed from them, reflecting on the strange circumstance of the manipulation.

  "I guess we were right," Snapshot said. "He was manipulating us."

  "Well, we should cut him some slack," Drop Kick said. "He is a Hiver after all; it's what they do."

  "Well, yeah, I suppose. But even so, I still think I'd like to get back at him."

  "Cot something in mind?"

  "Sure do. Did you see the fruit in his room?"

  "It was kinda dark—I didn't notice."

  "Oh, he's got it all right, over beside his work bench."

  "Yeah, well, aren't they contaminated?"

  Snapshot leaned in close to the big Marine, "Not from what I hear. The way the doc tells it, Scissor was just trying to scare us off so he could take all the fruit for himself. I say we sneak back in there while he's talking to the captain and take them for ourselves."

  Drop Kick shrugged. "Okay."

  And so Snapshot palmed the door release to Scissor's stateroom. Knowing that the room was visible from the bridge, where Scissor and the skipper were, she decided to leave the light low, but had no trouble steering right for the crate of fruit, guided by the sweet smell of its contents at close range. Drop Kick, meanwhile, crept along behind, keeping an eye out for the Hivets return, "Find the fruit yet?" Drop Kick whispered, "Check. Just let me reach in and—yuck!"

  "What?"

  Even in the half-light, though, Drop Kick could see what had happened. Snapshot had reached for a seemingly intact apple, only to close her hand on a pulpy, rotten mass.

  "No wonder you could smeii them," Drop Kick observed. "They're decomposed."

  "Cross," Snapshot said, dropping the smelly mass and wiping her hand on her body sleeve.

  "We haven't had the fruit aboard that long."

  "Yeah, just a few weeks, It's almost as if.,,"

  "Almost as if he treated them with something to accelerate the decomposition," Drop Kick said, "Scissor probably never wanted the fresh fruit at all; he just wanted it after it turned mushy and disgusting."

  "So the pesticide was harmless."

  "Probably. But it's a little too late to worry about that now; it's not really in a form anybody would want."

  "Except Scissor."

  "Maybe we'd better just leave manipulation to the manipulator," Drop Kick suggested. "Come on, Set's go back to the hold and get you a towel,"

  "Oh, all right," Snapshot said, accepting her new friend's arm around her shoulder with a vague awareness that they'd somehow come out ahead In the end.

  Though no one could be absolutely certain how long a jump would last, Crowbar and Deep Six had collaborated on four precise jumps between Aubaine and Nike Nimbus, and there was no reason to expect that the last jump to Ra would be any different. On the day expected to be Hornets last day in jump, a modestly excessive final mess was laid on from the autogalley, supported by a hydroponic salad from Nike Nimbus and a round of drinks from the liquor locker. Even Coeur, who ordinarily abstained, took a draught of Auroran gin to make the evening toast.

  "To absent friends," Coeur said, looking around the table that lacked only Scissor on jump watch and Gyro on the bridge.

  'To absent friends," the others seconded, raising cups.

  "So," Snapshot said to Drop Kick beside herself, "I guess tomorrow's the last time we'll ever see you guys."

  '"Fraid so," Drop Kick said. "I imagine we'd probably get more action following you around."

  "Oh, I don't know," Whiz Bang said. "The next time Mercy sets the sled down on top of a civilian ground car, we'll have plenty of action."

  "Hey," Mercy said, "everyone's entitled to a mistake."

  "What's that?" Physic asked. "Mercy ran into a ground car?"

  "Actually, it was an air raft," Whiz Bang said, "an
d Mercy didn't sit on it, she crushed it; but it was really Bonzo's fault."

  Bonzo, the AFV's sensor operator, nodded. "Okay, so it was my fault. But that pinhead shouldn't have parked his truck on the flightline. It's not like there's sensors on the bottom of the sled,"

  "Kinda funny," Crowbar said. "That means you and Snapshot have both destroyed the same number of vehicles—one."

  "Yeah, how about that," Mercy said. "Snapper's was bigger, though."

  Snapshot accepted the compliment with a chagrined nod, prompting a few chuckles from her mates. For the most part, though, they fell silent, reflecting on the unexpected turns their voyage had taken.

  It was Deep Six, curiously, who broke the silence. Talking, the humans hadn't noticed the reeling bob that Deep Six developed as he sipped from his flask of ee'kwat— fermented algae—on his tray, but now it was suddenly the center of everyone's attention.

  "I am rendingly sad," he said abruptly, pausing his rocking. "The water pours across us, and we are enveloped in darkness, ooEEda ka'aa OOka EEda. A dark and looming chasm approaches."

  Whereupon the Schalli's eyes rolled up at the ends of their eyestalks, and he fell limply against the side of his rollerchair tank, "Is he all right?" Coeur asked.

  Physic was out of her seat and at the side of Deep Six before the question was even asked. Expertly, she took a pair of readings from his head and neck with her pocket med scanner and then flashed a penlight into each of his eyes.

  "Just drunk," she said, to the relief of the other seven humans, "Good Gaia," Snapshot said, "I knew they were melancholy, but really!"

  "I think I'll roll him down to his tank," Physic said. "But I'll need some help to get him out of his chair. Any volunteers?"

  All four Marines and three Arses leapt up at once.

  "How about Crowbar and Drop Kick?" Mercy suggested.

  "Yes, sir," both saluted.

  Mental note, Coeur thought, as Drop Kick and Crowbar fell in behind Physic and the navigator; pour out all ee'kwat as soon as we land.

  Eight hours later, Deep Six looked surprisingly well, and Coeur was heartened to see him roll up to his copilot's station just before precipitation from jump, relieving Gyro. As far as Coeur could tell, there were no lingering side-effects from the previous evening.

  "You okay?"

  "Yes, sir. The doctor tells me I made a disturbing comment about our impending doom yesterday, but ! remember very little. I only hope that my conduct was not unduly disconcerting."

  "Oh, don't worry about it, you were off duty. But I did pour the rest of the ee'kwat down my cabin toilet."

  "A wise choice, sir," Deep Six said, engaging the clamps that would hold his wheels in place in the event of gravity failure. Once those were set, he slid into place the adjustable panels that let him handle navigation, communications, and sensors with the effortless ease of a mathematical prodigy.

  "Precipitation in two," Crowbar called from the bridge.

  "Roger that," Coeur said. "Snapshot, Signal all stations secure for precipitation."

  "All stations send secure."

  "All right then. Next stop: Ra."

  Right on schedule, 167 hours after insertion, the crackling blackness of the jump field vanished, replaced by a velvet field of stars and the faraway blue-white disk of Ra. It was a scene both restful and serene—until every alarm on Deep Six's comm panel went off at once.

  "Coalition distress signal," the Schalli said, disengaging the alarms and recognizing their source. "Much stronger than the planetary traffic net beacon."

  "Oh my Cod," Coeur said, seeing the same thing on her backup comm panel. "Seabridge Nest,"

  "It's a general distress signal, but targeted at Coalition frequencies. I shall endeavor to raise the Hiver station,"

  "I'll take over sensors," Coeur said, taking over detailed inspection of the still-unfolding passive EMS array. "All hands, this is the bridge. Man battle stations, stand by vac suits."

  Blinking red lights on her comm panel told her the message was understood by the crew; the Arses would be strapping on their portable air supplies, as Coeur did, and within minutes the Marines in the galley would relocate at the air locks in battle dress.

  "I've got targets on passive EMS," Coeur said, "a weather satellite and an orbital EMS array, both functioning. Heard anything yet from Seabridge?"

  "Contact is established, captain," Deep Six said. "A Hiver agronomist named Dina is answering the Seabridge radio."

  Coeur nodded, switching her headset to the navigator's channel.

  "Seabridge Nest, this is Red Sun, commander of RCS Hornet. What is your emergency?"

  "RCS Hornet, a viral epidemic has struck the Hiver population of this nest. We have over 40% dead and require emergency assistance."

  Good God, Coeur thought, visualizing the scale of the disaster. At last report, Seabridge had a population of 500 Hivers.

  "Roger that, Seabridge. Have local agencies been alerted?"

  "Affirmative. However, overland relief parties are at least two days away, and they probably are not equipped to arrest the epidemic."

  "Understood, Seabridge. We'll be there in less than six hours. Can we assume full protective gear is in order?"

  "Affirmative, Hornet. Although only Hivers appear to be affected. Our human security detachment appears completely immune."

  On the back of Coeur's neck, every hair stood erect.

  "Confirm, Seabridge: Were you attacked by an enemy force?"

  "Unknown, Hornet. Our EMS satellite has not shown unauthorized traffic above this hemisphere."

  "Have your SDBs been alerted?"

  "Affirmative. However, units Asp Alpha and Asp Beta have been assigned to deep system patrols and will not arrive for over 12 hours."

  "Understood, Seabridge, Advise immediately of any update in your status. Hornet out."

  immediately, Coeur turned her head to face Deep Six.

  "Sixer, get that planet's governor on the line now."

  As Coeur suspected would be the case, Ra's governor was of little help. Manjit Bryce was certainly conscious of the disaster, since the first reports of epidemic reached him four days earlier, but Seabridge Nest was simply too remote to reach quickly with TL-6 technology. All he could do was take the assurance of local townspeople, mingling with the Hivers, that they were not adversely affected by the killing virus and order In a relief convoy from Wilburton Army Base—1500 kilometers away.

  "I understand, governor. I assume the Hivers haven't tried evacuating in grav vehicles,"

  "Affirmative. Frankly, the Hivers already have the best medical facilities on Ra, and they know it just as well as we do."

  So the relief convoy's just a waste of time, Coeur recognized. just doing something to be doing something.

  "Understood, governor. If it helps, we happen to have an alien disease pathologist with us."

  Over her headset, Coeur heard a relieved sigh, it was probably the first good news the governor had had in days.

  "I don't mind telling you, captain, this situation is a disaster for Ra, If you need any help, call my office directly, and all our resources will be placed at your disposal."

  'That will be helpful, sir. We could use an open line to your science ministry, if that's possible."

  "I'll arrange it personally."

  "And...you can tell your army that Drop Kick and his grunts will be late for their tactical exercises. I might need them and their vehicle when we get on the ground."

  "Roger, Hornet. Understood."

  'Thanks. I'll have my science personnel be in touch. Hornet out."

  "Captain," Deep Six said, "I have scanned the planet closely. Aside from a single primitive weather satellite and a passive EMS array geosynchronous with the nest there are no spacecraft within range of our sensors."

  "Do you suppose a starship could have bombed the nest with a targeted CBW strike?"

  "I do not believe so, Red Sun. While a ship with even moderate stealth could evade the planet's radar
easily, the sensors of the Hiver satellite are probably far superior in coverage of their hemisphere."

  "But only their hemisphere."

  "Yes, sir, A satellite has not yet been deployed to cover the other hemisphere."

  Coeur nodded, setting the autopilot and switching her headset mike to shipwide address.

  "All hands, this is Red Sun. Until further notice, all hands will remain at battle stations, with the exception of Scissor, Physic, and Drop Kick, who will meet me in the galley. Bridge out."

  "What do we know?" Physic said, working on her fifth cup of coffee. "Basically, spit."

  Standing off to one side of the galley table, Coeur frowned. Physic, Scissor, and Drop Kick—out of his battle dress—had laid out several flatscreen computer displays with plans of the Seabridge Nest, the vast peninsula it lay upon, and research data from the nest's computers. With all of that, and three hours of study, Couer had expected more than spit.

  "We do know there are no starships on the far side of the planet," Scissor said. "Snapshot's drone has established that."

  "I know," Coeur said. "I've instructed her to keep the drone posted there, but why do we know so little about the virus?"

  "The problem," Drop Kick said, "as far as we can tell, is that the virus killed or incapacitated most of the medical personnel first. The ones that are left are mostly a mix of agronomists and engineers, and they haven't been able to mount much of a research effort."

  "Almost as if the virus were targeted," Couer mused.

  "Wind you," Physic said, "they're not stupid. Dina's research group has discovered that the disease attacks the glandular nexus directly, altering its secretions to poison the Hivers body."

  "Why would humans be immune?" Coeur asked. "I know our DNA is different, but we share a lot of the same proteins, don't we?"

  "Indeed we do," Scissor said. "However, the Hiver gland produces enzymes that are utterly unlike anything in the human body. Hiver Isomerase A, for instance, has been transformed from a chemical controlling development of larvae to a deadly toxin."

  "Right," Physic agreed, "It's converting harmless enzymes like that into lethal variations. The damn disease is so lethal, it killed almost half of them within a week."