The Disestablishment of Paradise

by Phillip Mann

  ‘Hera. Hera. Tania here. Is that for real? I can’t believe it. Shit a brick, Hera! I mean . . . after all these years. Is it OK? Is it alive? Hera? Hera?’

  ‘I’m here, Tania. Just let me get a word in.’

  ‘Yeah, yeah. When I heard the news I tried to get that cow Haveagin to let me come down. But she won’t. She—’

  ‘Yes, and you mustn’t, Tania. You mustn’t. It’s too dangerous now. Forget everything you ever knew about Paradise. Everything. I mean it. If anyone comes down here just now we could be in trouble. What we have is a brand new situation. Nothing like we’ve ever seen before. We have Reapers back, and you know what that means. Even the Tattersall weeds are getting mobile. The planet’s rejecting everything of Earth. Bodies coming back to the surface. But it’s good too. I’ll explain as much as I can, later. I’ll come back on line as soon as I’ve given Mack his breakfast.’

  ‘What the f—’

  Hera cut the volume. Tania’s reaction was predictable. But Hera now saw what Mack had meant. She was dizzy with other people already. And the questions that could not be answered. She got Mack to come down and eat. Which he did, finally. Still absentminded. Still thinking. ‘Can I talk to you?’ she asked when he had been sitting for a minute.

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘Did you figure out the problem?’

  ‘Which problem? There’s a lot of them.’

  ‘The er . . . what did you call it last night? The place where it keeps its life?’

  ‘Oh that. I think so. At least as well as I can. It’s a gamble, Hera, but where’s the safest place on a Dendron?’

  ‘Up with the cherries and tears.’

  ‘Nope. Those are its hands and eyes. Why do you hide your brain in your skull?’

  ‘For protec— You don’t mean the stump, do you? But that’s just a . . .’ Her voice trailed away.

  ‘Just a what? Why is its stool standing in the water now? What do the codds connect to? Why did that Dendron the Mayday woman talked about, why did it attack part of the stump so hard and rip parts of it apart? Now I have no idea what a Dendron’s brain is like, nothing like our brains that’s for sure, but that’s where it keeps it, in that dip in the stool. And that’s what we have to keep alive and happy, if we can. Until the second-to-last cut. You’ll be helping with that too. I’m not going to do things the way the other Dendron did. It had time and strength on its side. We have neither. So I hope you’re feeling fit, Doc, cos I’m going to need a lot of help today.’

  Hera nodded. She read the change in their relationship. She was Doc again. ‘You’ll get it, boss. Can I have a few minutes to finish a call?’

  ‘Take your time. I’m laying out the cutting plan. I’ll be half an hour or so. And then we start.’ He stood up. ‘Oh, er . . . was there anything in from Dickinson or Cole and the team?’

  ‘Yes, Dickinson was there. He said to tell you that the reserves were all on the bench.’ Mack nodded. ‘And some people called Polka and Netty said to give you a kiss.’

  Mack grinned. ‘That all?’

  ‘That’s all.’

  ‘It’s enough.’ He finished his coffee and reached his arms above his head and stretched.

  While Mack finished planning the cuts, Hera returned to her conversation with Tania. She explained as well as she could their new understanding of how the Dendron functioned and what they were trying to do.

  Tania started with lots of questions, but these gradually ceased as the story unfolded and became stranger. And when Hera paused for breath, Tania said, ‘Hera, if it was anyone else but you telling me this, I wouldn’t believe a word of it. But because it’s you, Hera, and because it all makes a weird kind of sense, I believe half of it. OK. I’ll ride the tri-vid at this end – put a commentary on it when I can. But . . . O Hera, I wish I was down there with you. This is everything we ever dreamed of, and more. Now, one thing. Give me a bit of a wider angle if you can and tilt up a bit – I’m missing the flags. And, if you get time, try to zoom in if there’s something really interesting, like when you get right inside the Dendron.’

  Dickinson came on line again. ‘Couldn’t help hearing what you ladies were saying. All sounds pretty normal to me. But hey, Prof. If you want, you can tell your AP to connect us through to your control line. I can link with it up here. Then we can do the camera work by remote, if that’ll help. Then you don’t have to worry about it. I’ve ridden camera when I was working security for the Vatican and I can get that focus tighter than a chicken’s—’

  ‘Thank you, Dickinson,’ said Hera. ‘Just hold a minute, will you? Let me check.’ She switched through to the autopilot. ‘Alan, can you connect a tri-vid control line up to the shuttle?’

  ‘Yes, Hera. If they can provide a triception boost and negative interface.’

  ‘Hey, Prof.’ It was Dickinson again. ‘Got that. Leave it to me, eh? If your AP wants to talk techno-babble, so can I. We’ll sort it out. OK? And if big-bum Titania here will just give me a bit of room . . .’ In the distance Mack could be heard calling. ‘Mack wants you, Prof. Leave it to us. Alan and me’ll have a chat. Good luck.’

  Mack was waiting on top of the Dendron when Hera climbed the ladder. He had brought some of the tools up. ‘You’re going to be gofer. OK? You go for this or you go for that. OK?’

  ‘Right. With you.’

  ‘The first thing I’m going to do is try to disable the crest thing, so that even if she wakes up she won’t be able to take a swipe at us. To get to the fulcrum, we’re going to have to cut a trench down her back and round the heel of the crest. I don’t know what we’re going to find, but it is a complicated joint, so it should be easy to disable it. Here’s a mattock and a spade. Go for it, Doc. Follow the blue lines I’ve marked out. Now dig.’

  So they started. Each one working from a different side of the Dendron, they cut a trench along its back. The deep red of the Dendron’s back was soft, as Mack had found when he fell on it. It cut easily with a spade, but removing the cut was hard as all the fibres went downwards and they did not tear easily. Below the tufted red fibre, the inner body was green. Hera began by trying to be very neat. But the Dendron’s flesh would not yield to that approach and so she soon found herself using the mattock and tearing the matted fibres out in clumps. Everything in her screamed out against this brutal treatment of matter, but she could see no alternative. The heavy green flesh slipped and slithered down the side of the Dendron and fell noisily into the stream. There it floated away.

  One problem emerged quickly. The sap of the creature came welling up, filling the trench, and they soon found themselves knee deep in slippery mucus. Mack lost his footing when he swung his mattock and slipped over, narrowly missing one of the sharp tines of the crest. He sat in the hole he had dug like a man in a green bath. ‘OK. Change of plan. Get me the chainsaw, Doc. We’ll talk to it with that for a while. Cut some drainage channels for all this pea soup.’ Hera buried the head of her mattock in the side of the Dendron and climbed down the ladder. Mack threw a rope down to her. ‘Here, tie it to this.’ He watched her closely. ‘What’s that knot you’re using called?’

  ‘A bowline. We use it on the boats all the time. It can’t slip and—’

  ‘I know what it is. Up she comes.’ He pulled the chainsaw to the top of the Dendron. Hera climbed back up the ladder. ‘Now, Doc, have you ever used a chainsaw?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Right. I want you to cut a couple of trenches here at the end of the Dendron so all this slop can drain away. Get your feet secure first. And watch out cos these things start with a hiss and a roar. No grace clutch or anything.’

  Hera cut and the saw ran through the flesh of the Dendron easily. She cut a V and was able to use the flat of the saw to send the cut flesh sliding away. The green water began to gully down the side of the Dendron.

  ‘Good. Now there is only one problem. We need to cut lower and round the underside if we’re going to drain this lot away. Any suggestions?’

  Hera did
n’t bother to answer. She tied the rope round her waist and handed the end to Mack. ‘If you’d be so kind as to hold this, boss, I’ll lean over the side and cut a beautiful deep drain.’

  ‘Hook your toes in the lip of the trench then.’

  Holding the saw away from her, Hera leaned out from the side of the Dendron. Mack took her weight until she was almost inverted, and then she began to cut. It was surprisingly easy. The blue fibre fell away from the blade and the only problem was the green liquid from above, which found its way inside the leg of her overalls, ran down the underside of her body, came out at her neck and used her chin as a spout. Some inevitably ran into her mouth, nose and eyes.

  It was at about this time that the tri-vid camera on the top of the SAS suddenly moved jerkily and panned round. It then retracted and advanced its lens. After a pause it turned smoothly to follow them. Hera, despite the dribbling juice, was cutting steadily, making a deep trench in the side.

  ‘Stop,’ shouted Mack. ‘Don’t move till the saw’s stopped. Your hair’s come loose.’ Hera held the saw away from her and felt the harness of her overall begin to lift. Then a hand seized her by the back of her meshlite and hoisted her upright.

  ‘I ought to cut it off,’ said Hera.

  ‘Like hell. Just needs tucking in and tying down tighter. You should see young Polka’s hair. Red as this Dendron. Lot bushier than yours. She tapes it down. So do Jason and Akira. If I had hair like this, I’d have it long.’ All the time while he was talking Mack was tucking Hera’s hair back and then anchoring it. ‘With all this sticky shit in it, it’ll probably set before long anyway, and then you won’t have a problemo. OK. There you are. Over the side again, McGinity.’

  Ten minutes later, Hera was upright again and easing her back. Mack was whistling. He undid the rope round her waist from behind. And as he did so, she heard him whisper, ‘Don’t look now, but they’ve got that camera working on remote. It’ll just be Dickinson arsing about.’ Out loud he said, ‘You did bloody well there, Doc – for a beginner. Go and get yourself cleaned up a bit. I can take over now.’

  Hera found her legs were shaking as she climbed down the ladder. But one thing, one thing above all pleased her. Mack was cheerful! She realized that as soon as he was working, the worry lifted. He was into the job. She had no doubt he was thinking as hard as ever, but it was not sullen work, but lively work, full of . . . She looked for the word. Wit. Fun. Sport. All fitted. She was aware of the camera following her as she reached the bottom. She gave it a thumbs up and headed into the SAS for a change of overalls. She heard the saw start up on the top of the Dendron, followed by the steady swish and slop of the liquid pouring down the trenches she had cut and tumbling into the stream.

  By the time Hera emerged, hair taped back, face clean and wearing fresh overalls, the trench was complete and Mack had cleared a crater around the heel of the crest. The crest had not moved. ‘Bring your drawing book up,’ called Mack. ‘You’ll want to get a sketch of this for your grandchildren.’

  ‘You serious?’

  ‘Sure. I’ll be doing the next bit.’

  Hera fetched her sketchbook and clambered up onto the high point of the Dendron’s back. From there she could see deep into the Dendron. Revealed was a wide flat ball-and-socket joint where the crest could swivel. Thick straps of creamy wishbone joined the crest to the joint and then disappeared down into the Dendron.

  ‘These here,’ said Mack, tapping the exposed straps of fibre, ‘control the crest. I reckon there’s one for each of the blades – that’s about 240. That explains what that Mayday woman meant when she said it “chops and cuts”. I remember you saying that. It’s a good description. Makes maximum use of the effort. It means that the blades can be made to move either together like an axe blade or separately like a saw. They come down in a chop, and when that stops, they rip. Very bloody ingenious.’ He rested the blade of the saw on one of the wide straps of creamy fibre. ‘These attach directly to the stool. They’ve got to, as it is the only solid thing in the vicinity. These straps of wishbone are what give the whole crest its stability – whether it’s resting up or going into battle. I reckon that hump there where you’re perched is one of the main anchor points in the Dendron’s body. It takes the shock of the chop and distributes it through the rest of its body, and the weight of the stool gives the chop its drive. Perfect. If I had one of these in the team I could get rid of Dickinson. Now, the Dendron you told me about chopped straight into all this stuff – rip, shit and bust. That right?’

  Hera nodded.

  ‘Well, we’re not going to do that because of the danger of damaging the Dendron before we can liberate the two trunks up front. We don’t want to create bad feedback. Could ruin everything. You remember?’ Hera nodded again. ‘So what I’m now going to do is cut through the main straps, then sever the crest.’ He picked up a small blade and plugged it into the power pack on his belt. ‘This little brute can cut through steel,’ he said, brandishing the saw. ‘Let’s see what it makes of the wishbone.’

  Hera realized that what she had just heard was one of Mack’s briefings. He probably did this before every job. She began sketching quickly, trying to capture the poise of the joint and the way it attached to the crest, and the neatly plaited fibres. She would have loved, just once, to see it open now, and watch the wishbone straps tighten and feel the pulse of its huge strength as it took the strain right underneath where she was sitting. She could imagine the great heave and flow – and the heat too. There would be a lot of heat generated. That would be an obvious reason for steeping, simply to keep cool. A body like this with a thatch on top could overheat quickly. She thought back to the desert. The Dendron’s achievement in trekking across the desert was ever more impressive.

  Mack was ready. He raised the blade. ‘Let’s see if this’ll talk to it.’ He studied the joint. ‘I’m going to cut this big strap first. You keep back on the hump there, Doc. There might be a recoil.’ He got down on his knees in the ooze, worked his body under the tines of the crest and braced himself.

  ‘Mack, there’s no danger the crest can come down and pin you, is there?’

  ‘No. I wouldn’t be lying here if it could. If anything, it might rise a bit as the tension comes off here. You be on the lookout.’ He braced himself again and held the saw blade just above the pale strap of wishbone. He clenched his teeth with the effort and the saw began to spin. His first cut was shallow, a mere etching of the surface, and he looked to see if there was any change. He saw some of the cut fibres, like fine hairs, open and peel back under tension. ‘It’s definitely going to lift. You keep well back.’ He made a second shallow cut, following the guide of the first, and saw more fibres peel back. ‘You’ll feel the strap under you contracting. It’s lifting the crest a fraction.’ He made another cut, a deeper one this time, and saw the wishbone begin to stretch and open. Dark green fluid with the consistency of engine oil seeped from the cut wishbone. He saw the fibres sever, and heard them snap like the breaking of violin strings. The tension on them had been greater than he imagined. For a moment he wondered whether the Dendron might, in some way, be trying to help. That was logical, wasn’t it? It wanted to split. Logically, if he was doing what it wanted, then he could in some strange way be giving it pleasure, and it would cooperate – or was he just being daft?

  The last fibres parted suddenly with a snap, the cut ends contracting and twisting like burned plastic. The crest lurched and lifted. It was for a moment eccentric, seeking a new point of balance. In lifting, one of the black tines slid over Mack’s shoulder. He felt it catch and snag in the saw harness. It began to lift him. Mack was not a light man, but his weight meant nothing in this contest, and he felt himself dragged to his knees, and then hoisted higher until he hung suspended with his feet several inches above the soft mushy surface. He could not reach round to release himself because he could not get purchase. He was bent over, like a schoolboy of the past, awaiting the cane.

  Hera felt the change in t
ension through the thick pelt of the Dendron. The hump on which she was sitting lifted slightly and there was movement under her feet like a wave passing. Then everything settled down. But what was Mack trying to do?

  She stood up and made her way down the trench they had cut. Finally she could see where Mack was hooked on the crest, harness stretched tight between his legs. Hera worked her way round the ball-and-socket pivot point. She could see that Mack’s face was red with the effort – and perhaps more than the effort. ‘Are we comfortable, sir?’

  ‘Just unhook me, and none of the wisecracks, OK? And careful you don’t jiggle the thing. I don’t want to join the altos.’

  ‘No, sir.’ However, releasing him was not that easy, for Mack was a heavy man. Eventually she had to cut through the harness and he dropped down onto his toes and then his knees in the ooze.

  He stood up and adjusted himself with obvious relief. ‘All right, you’ve had your little laugh. Now come and look at the other side. I’m going to cut that strap too. What surprises me is that even this wishbone fibre has fluid in it. Everything is managed by fluid – tension and release, tension and release. I’m starting to get the hang of how this Dendron mo— Stop bloody laughing, will you? I’m serious.’

  The next cut went smoothly. The dark green ‘oil’ bubbled out and Hera collected a sample. The strap, when severed, rolled up like a wood shaving. The crest dropped back down sharply and tipped to one side. It could no longer be lifted by man or Dendron.

  ‘That’s that finished,’ said Mack. ‘Now. Look at this wishbone stuff. It’s got amazing tensile strength. You couldn’t pull it apart in a month of Sundays. You have to cut it. Was an analysis ever done on what it is?’

  ‘MINADEC did a whole lot of analyses. Tania knows the details. The problem is, once a Dendron is dead the original wishbone becomes brittle pretty quickly. They used to grind it up and drink it.’