"Don't know," said Sasha, in shock.
"Seems a mystery but we can't leave her here, can we? There's no telling what happened here before the crash."
"Hey, pretty girl, don't cry," Gurney said as the child turned her face to look at them. "We'll get you to safety." The girl had a sweet, delicate face, with a kind of inborn grace of her features and gestures. An expression of such sincere grief had taken possession of the girl's marvelous eyes that Gurney wanted to hug her himself.
"This one's gonna be a devil of trouble to some man," he laughed. The girl's expression was disarming. "There, there, don't cry," he said.
"Why would anybody bring her out here, anyway?" Gurney added. In truth, he sometimes got along better with children than with other adults; he was a reluctant champion of the defenseless.
Meanwhile, Sasha's face had hardly moved, her surprise frozen as if in the face of an exquisite ice sculpture. Mathieson watched his wife closely as she conquered indecision, took the little girl up in her arms, and then held her.
Neither he, nor Gurney, nor Sasha heard the high-pitched frequency vibrating through the air, an alien signal that arrested the child's movement as Sasha carried her away.
The little girl stared blankly back over Sasha's shoulder, her body limp as a broken doll. She could not fight the strange voice that reached out to her, no matter how far she ran or where she hid. She knew somehow that he would always find her.
Yet for now the voice grew dimmer as the Earth pilots threaded their way back through the trees toward their shuttle companions.
Go with them, Selerael... The diminishing sounds instructed her. Find the singularity, and bring it to me. Then we will step across time together, and destroy the Emperor.
* * * * *
Fewer than fifteen minutes later, the recon team had returned to the impact crater, where the three scientists were busy talking about tests they planned to run. Knightwood looked up when she heard the team approach and stopped working, motioning Zhdanov to be silent with one wide, almost involuntary sweep of her arm, her studious eyes fixed ahead.
Zhdanov and Cameron followed her gaze to Sasha Blair and the little girl who had appeared with them. The little creature could not have been more than three years old, her tiny feet shuffling along, her hand tightly clasped in Sasha Blair's. She was wearing a strange, slightly burned fur and leather garment that left her muddy legs bare.
"What on Earth?!..." Zhdanov's voice simply died. His own language didn't have that expression, but he had taken a liking to the meaning of it and used it when occasion arose.
"We found her out by the impact site on the other side." Gurney explained quickly, already ready to defend the child.
"Anyone else out there?" Cameron asked, looking at the girl with unmeasured pity.
"No." Mathieson shook his head. "No readings at all. And we looked around for physical signs of her family, but there wasn't anyone else we could see, and no tracks of them anywhere. If there were any primitive hermits living out here who shun technology, they're gone now. Some of the girl's footprints in the moist ground near the tree line led away from the impact crater—it could be that she was the only survivor of a group living here before the ship hit."
"We'll have to take her back with us to figure out where she comes from. Perhaps one of her parents is still alive in one of the urban zones," Zhdanov suggested and made a gesture that they should be going.
"I'll take her," Sasha volunteered, already standing protectively in front of the little girl. Mathieson's stomach tightened. Something in Sasha's eyes told him that she had bonded to the child, and she wasn't going to like giving her up, especially if she believed the natural mother to have been negligent.
No one objected to Sasha’s suggestion, so the girl rode with Sasha back to the UESRC. The little thing clung to Sasha fearfully as they disembarked in the giant East Wing Docking Bay, where dozens of maintenance technicians waited to clean up the shuttle and recon planes. Sasha and Richard stood a while to let the child get accustomed to her new surroundings, while Knightwood and the other scientists hurried away to the communications center to transmit their news to the global scientific and political community.
Gurney mussed the child’s head affectionately before heading back to his duties; then Sasha and Richard escorted the girl as directed to Cameron’s lab, where they had been instructed to wait until the scientists could return. After Cameron and his protegés had ascertained that the foundling child was physically healthy, they planned to try to find her lost parents.
As they made their way to Cameron’s laboratory, Richard tried to quiet misgivings about his wife's apparent growing attachment to the strange little girl. In light of the larger event of the arrival of the alien spaceship, an event which was certain to change the course of human history, the discovery of a lost child had to be regarded with the proper perspective as but a trivial matter, he reminded himself.
Yet whither went reasoning at such a time as this? If he were to be honest with himself, Richard Mathieson was too preoccupied at the moment to entertain any other substantial emotions but relief, in the deepest sense of the word.
They had gone unwittingly to the fire but escaped unscathed!
Or so he thought.
Etiam oblivisci quid sis, interdum expedit. It is sometimes expedient to forget who you are.
—Publilius Syrus
Chapter Five
More than two hours passed before Dr. Knightwood, Zhdanov, and Cameron arrived at the laboratory where Mathieson and Blair had been waiting. Knightwood had returned briefly to take a small swatch of the fabric of the foundling girl's garment away to another laboratory to analyze it, leaving Mathieson and Blair to watch over the child a while longer.
Knightwood now stopped behind Cameron to observe the couple, her brows furrowing. Few people might recognize the surprise that had registered in her eyes—the rest of her features were expeditiously employed in disguising it. She didn't like to admit that anything could disturb her, that anything could occur that she had not at least partially anticipated.
The three of them: the child, Mathieson, and Blair, were playing a chasing game from the looks of it. Knightwood followed the girl with her eyes. The wild little creature was running around, laughing, wriggling away from Richard Mathieson in triumphant delight, with the ease and natural coordination of young children.
Mathieson himself appeared winded but seemed to be enjoying the exertion tremendously. Finally, he collapsed to the floor in defeat as his wife had already done, letting the child sit on his chest and slap his cheeks playfully. Sasha smiled affectionately down at the pair, then straightened as she saw the three scientists entering the room.
Mathieson blinked, then followed her eyes to the trio in the doorway. His easy expression melted away. Holding the girl tightly, he picked himself up, then set her down and stood at attention without a word.
“Hi, glad to see you again.” Sasha said to the scientists.
“Yes,” Richard agreed with less sincerity.
Deep down, Richard Mathieson knew why the scientists were there, why Knightwood the hard-nosed bitch and Zhdanov, Cameron’s apprentice scientific pundit, were there, anyway. They had found a ground-breaking case study, the perfect example with which to deduce the effects of environmental isolation. If they were lucky, the girl might even show signs of malnutrition or aberrant socialization patterns that had not been witnessed in eons! What an opportunity!
Mathieson cleared his throat, betraying small signs of his hostility. No child should ever be treated as a guinea pig, his eyes said. But he reluctantly had to admit that Knightwood and the others might be able to help the girl where he could not. The girl didn't appear to understand English let alone be able to speak it. So far, she hadn't said a word in any language.
Richard almost smiled then, thinking of how just an hour ago she had been sitting in S
asha's lap, looking around cautiously. Richard had not been able to help himself but try the usual tactics he used on his wife and had sneaked up from behind to tickle her.
She hadn’t laughed at first. She had regarded him with an expression of uncertainty. Then gradually, as the child forgot her fear, she’d begun to smile. In only an hour he’d managed to gain her trust and get her laughing. Now, as more intruders came into the room, he felt her draw behind him, clinging to his leg as she had done to Sasha’s before. He looked down on her, but now he saw something beneath the fear—curiosity?
“She cleans up well,” Zhdanov commented, motioning to the child. At some point, Blair or Mathieson must have made an effort to clean the child’s face at least, understanding without being told so that they should leave the rest alone in case an analysis of the mud which had caked on her legs was warranted.
Meanwhile, Knightwood tried not to stare at the little girl as she analyzed the child's features mentally, now noticing the excessive pallor of her skin—Knightwood concurred that she must have been undernourished and had somehow avoided much direct sunlight, living in the forested glades of the rural zone perhaps her entire life.
The child’s eyes, though, were the most unsettling thing about her. Even without the dirt they managed to shine in the pallor of the girl’s face, an enchanting shade of sea blue; yet Knightwood found them somehow disturbing.
Even as she thought so, without warning a mild wave of neuroticism struck Knightwood from out of nowhere. Knightwood suddenly imagined with a pang of fierce horror that the child’s mind and consciousness had found its way inside her own.
And for the first time in her life, Knightwood literally felt that she was not alone. There was something else in her mind with her, something predatorial, something not of her and not of her own imagination. The consciousness that was Knightwood, that regarded the world in its Knightwood-way and the thought process that channeled the world to Knightwood’s mind and memory had been invaded. A parasite had entered Knightwood’s mind and was making contact. And as it encroached upon her, she shrank in terror. There was no escape from this kind of invasion.
Knightwood looked at the child’s half-smiling countenance and recoiled instinctively. Who was this girl? Knightwood felt her thoughts unrolling, exposing memories, her secret heart and deepest thoughts. Something in her mind was trying to paw its way through her soul. Whatever it was, Knightwood sensed its own hidden, foreign memories there in her thoughts, its own feelings and philosophy. What could she do to fight it? Could she, Knightwood, also look into that soul?
No. Knightwood’s memories pooled around her, getting in the way. Whatever had been responsible for that also had complete control of Knightwood’s feelings. Knightwood found she could do nothing to protect herself or to reach the foreign consciousness that had invaded her mind...
Then, suddenly, mercifully, Knightwood felt alone. Reality had returned to normal; her sense of security returned and wrapped itself like an aegis about her secret thoughts. She looked ahead, where the little girl had turned her head and buried it into Mathieson’s leg.
What had just happened? Knightwood thought, struggling to remember. Something had just stolen away a memory from her—but no, that was ridiculous! Knightwood assured herself and shook away the vague, uncomfortable feeling to concentrate on her present agenda, attributing her momentary weakness to stress and a mild case of insomnia. Why was she suddenly remembering her brother, Sarn, now of all times? There were important things to be done.
Still, each time the child's unwavering, knowing gaze fell upon her again, it put Knightwood unexpectedly on her guard. Knightwood did not exactly remember why the child’s eyes disturbed her; for no reason at all, there seemed to be several strange ideas and memories scrambling her thoughts at that moment, as much as she tried to suppress them.
"Let's run a retina scan and then try to make a match with the registry." Cameron suggested before setting up the devices that they needed to use. "Come here, child. We'll just try to find your mother." Sasha would have laughed at Cameron's attempts at playing the kindly uncle, but she was too preoccupied, hoping guiltily that he wouldn't be able to find the girl's parents in the files, as unlikely as that might be, since retina scans for everyone were registered at birth.
Some time later, after Cameron had released the child from the device, the girl ran back to Sasha and took her hand. A minute passed. The assembled company waited in silence, avoiding each other's glances as the computer searched for a match. Sasha remained oblivious of the tension between her husband and the younger scientists, her entire attention once again focused upon the young girl.
Sasha didn’t understand how, but the child seemed able to perceive Sasha's wound and reciprocated with her own unexplainable sadness, drawing the two together, despite the short stretch of time in which they had known each other.
"Will you look at that!" Knightwood exclaimed when the program ended, strangely more disappointed than surprised, to Sasha’s way of thinking. "The computer reports no retina match."
"What?" Mathieson said, swallowing his disbelief.
"Perhaps there was some sort of malfunction. Let's run it again." Zhdanov's words killed the hope that had briefly risen in Sasha's heart. She stroked the soft, fine hairs on the girl's forehead while they waited again.
"No," Knightwood repeated a minute later, "no matches. But this is really not altogether unexpected," she admitted.
“Really?” Sasha asked.
"We did suspect that this girl wasn't born in a hospital.” Knightwood explained. “You said it yourselves, her family must be one of the hermits in the rural zones—one of the uncivilized people."
"How do you know for certain, though?" Sasha wondered, secretly hopeful.
Knightwood looked to Zhdanov and Cameron, as if confirming that it was acceptable to inform the two. The recon couple was already deeply involved—a little more earth-shattering information couldn't do them any more harm, Zhdanov’s expression seemed to say.
"That garment she's wearing," Knightwood pointed to it. It had the appearance of some primitive craftsmanship, not like the sewn garments many of the hermits wore, but then again, their habits were not well-known.
"That garment was made from the hide of a Giant Deer." Knightwood declared with an air that acknowledged this fact as miraculous. "Aside from the burns, it is in near perfect condition."
"So?" Mathieson failed to see the significance.
"So, from what we know about it," Zhdanov continued, "that particular species of Giant Deer died out more than ten thousand years ago."
The recon team responded with a stunned silence.
"How did the hermits get a piece of that?" Sasha finally began, flustering with her words.
"We don't know." Knightwood shook her head, pleased that they finally understood the magnitude of the situation. "The material has been preserved perfectly, but it is clearly many thousands of years old. It is possible that one of the hermits found it in a ruined city, an ancient museum buried somewhere, in a remnant of the Earth's civilization before The Crisis Years.
"But until we can figure this mystery out—indeed if we can—we should run the basic physical tests to see if the girl's vital systems are in order. There is a chance that she may have medical problems that we no longer have in the urban zones. And the child herself can't tell us anything, it seems. Plus, you might as well know—the recon ships have been out looking for her mother, but so far they've found nothing."
Mathieson and Blair digested Knightwood's news and suggestions as the trio of scientists set up the equipment for a composite body scan. A videocall on the monitor sounded at that moment, and Cameron turned to look at it. The noise of the scanner quelled the conversation between the scientist and the message, but Cameron soon returned to their conversation. He announced that the UES Council had called Knightwood and Zh
danov to the communications room, and he offered to continue the examination in their absence.
Knightwood nodded quickly, dissembling her irritation at being interrupted. She and Zhdanov left in a hurry.
"Single-minded, isn't she?" Mathieson watched the door close behind Knightwood.
"Well," Cameron hesitated, thoughtful. "She seems so at first. But I have to say, underneath it all, well, she's a complex person. She doesn’t make a show of her feelings in front of others, mind you, but she does indeed have a heart."
"Can't say I've seen much evidence of that," Richard said with an uncertain laugh. "But since she’s still alive, I'll take your word for it."
Cameron shrugged. "Well, one gets used to her," he offered. "Hmm," Cameron laughed suddenly after a moment's thought. "I couldn't tolerate the way she used to rush about this place at first—but I have to admit the two of them have grown on me. And don't let Zhdanov fool you. Quite a plucky young man, usually. He had a cold last week, but you should have seen him this morning." Cameron sighed and shook his head with almost paternal affection.
In truth, Cameron knew that Zhdanov had no father—at least Zhdanov had not known his father for very long. Zhdanov had once told Cameron that his father had been a hard man capable of violent mood swings and terrible cruelties, who did not permit others to medicate him, and that was why Zhdanov's mother Marússya and his grandfather had raised him. The reality of Zhdanov’s history was perhaps why Zhdanov and Cameron had grown so close. Cameron had no children, and Zhdanov had never really had a father. Was it any wonder that they had become like father and son?
"Well," Cameron said after a moment, his gaze falling to the strange child they had found. "Perhaps Seriyozha was right to be optimistic—but back to matters at hand. Let's see what the machine's picked up."
Over the next few minutes, Cameron kept them informed of his assessments as he worked.
"No malnutrition, though her lymphocyte count is abnormally low, and her lymph nodes are enlarged, but her temperature is stable, and her pulse and blood pressure are within normal limits. Hmmm," he added thoughtfully. "The organ verification unit indicates that she hasn't got an appendix."
The Osiris Invasion: Book Two of Seeds of a Fallen Empire Page 7