Eden Story
From OPU Wiki
The following are the story chapters from the Eden Campaigns.
| Table of contents |
Chapter One - Conspiracy
Both wheels of the scooter left the ground as Axen sailed over the lip of the down ramp and into the tunnel that connected the Hot Lab with the rest of Eden colony. He touched down a third of the way along the ramp, the tires landing with a satisfying chirp that echoed off the metal-lined walls, motors whining in protest. He was breaking half a dozen safety regulations, driving like a teenager a third his biological age of forty-five.
He didn't care. First of all, he was mad, damn it, and it felt good to break a few regs, and second of all, nobody was around to complain. The tunnels were almost deserted. Every adult who wasn't engaged in a service vital to the maintenance of the colony was in Nguyen's "town meeting," the meeting Axen Moon had just walked out on.
He flew past a huge set of pressure doors, startling a workman who was inspecting the utility conduits that lined the wall like rows of fat sausages. He squealed the scooter around a right angle turn and up the tunnel toward his residence unit. He slowed slightly as he passed a group of children and their teacher-bot strolling down the ramp from the Nursery, then twisted the throttle hard over to scream up the last bit of tunnel. He hit the base of the ramp with a bump, started braking halfway up, and slid to a stop just short of the open airlock doors.
He nosed the scooter into the charging station next to a row of identical vehicles, and plucked his keycard, with its hacked safety overrides, from the slot in the handlebar. He palmed the card and glanced out through the tran-station's observation port. The sun was setting outside, exaggerating the hard reddish tones of New Terra's landscape. The buildings of Eden spread out before him like a cluster of silver toadstools. In the distance he could see the farthest of the lab structures, nicknamed the "Hot Lab," where the meeting would still be going on.
Nguyen was a fool. He'd known that; he simply hadn't known how much of a fool until now. He rubbed the keycard between his fingers. The main lock into the Hot Lab was the one door in Eden it wouldn't open. Axen Moon wasn't a man who liked anything closed to him. He wasn't a man who was used to it.
He strolled through the safety lock, its open doors ready to spring shut at any sign of an emergency. New Terra's thin atmosphere would kill a human in less than two minutes. It was something you were either eternally aware of, or you were dead. The common area, with its lounging chairs, planter islands, and multitainment consoles, was deserted, as he'd hoped. He was about to break a law much more severe than a scooter speed-limit, the one law that carried a death penalty, and he didn't want any potential witnesses around. He waved the key in front of the door to his private quarters and stepped quickly inside.
"Good evening, Axen." The voice was cool, female, with the slight accent that all Savant series computers shared. The computer itself, a glossy black cube a little less than a meter on a side, was recessed into a console on the inside corner of the room.
A window on the computer's otherwise featureless surface displayed a moving, transparent gear-works, like a clock made of glass. This was Kraft's identity icon, its face in a way, as familiar to Axen as his own. It was as much a roommate as an appliance. The Savants were the most sophisticated computers ever made, almost human in many ways, undoubtedly superior in others.
"Good evening, Kraft. Verify security?"
"We are secure, code-word 'collusion.' "
He nodded, the gesture doubtless detected by one of the Savant's many eyes hidden around the room. He sat down on one of the room's two chairs. He had what were considered luxury quarters by Eden standards, but the room was only two meters by three, and would have been smaller yet if he hadn't been allowed a little extra space for Savant Kraft.
Except for a few of the most advanced researchers in the labs, only the handful of surviving Elders, such as himself, were allowed their own Savants. He and Kraft had been together since he'd emerged from cold sleep on the starship ten years out from New Terra. He'd been just a child then, with only dim memories of Earth, open skies, and plants that didn't grow in a hydroponics vat. He sometimes wished those memories meant more to him. Eden was home now, for better or worse. Earth was dead and nearly forgotten.
He sighed. "Kraft, open a stealth backchannel to Savant Frost. I need to talk with Emma." There. He'd done it, initiated a clandestine communication with the rogue Plymouth colony, an act of treason that could get him kicked out of the nearest airlock.
"One moment. Emma is in her quarters. Frost confirms that she is secure. Opening voice."
"Open visual."
"Confirm?" Kraft sounded incredulous, if that were possible for a computer. Savants weren't supposed to have emotions, but there were those who had their doubts. Certainly Kraft had the justification. Visual communications would take a hundred times the bandwidth of voice-only, with a correspondingly increased chance that their link, bootlegged on the subcarrier of a satellite control signal, would be detected.
"Confirmed. I want picture."
One face of the Savant's cube brightened into a display. Routing it through the internal network to the room's EnterCom screen would have been less secure. Emma's thin, high-cheekboned face turned toward him. Her blond hair, streaked with gray, was piled on top of her head and held in place with a couple of writing styluses poked into the bun. It had been years since he'd seen her face. Sometimes he still missed her. This was one of those times.
She looked into the camera, her eyes wide with surprise. "Axen, are you crazy?"
"You need to see my face, Emma, to know I'm serious. This is worth the risk."
Her brow wrinkled with concern, and she sat down. Behind her he could see her quarters, if anything, smaller than his own, and as always, a disorderly heap of clothing, rock samples, and scientific equipment. "What's wrong? You're not the joking kind, Axen."
"It's Nguyen. I told you he'd slammed the lid down on one of the labs three years ago. We'd assumed he was working on biotech for terraforming. He's resisted all my efforts, legitimate and clandestine, to get inside. His scientists are all handpicked, and not about to talk."
"And?..."
"Today he threw the lid open, held a town meeting to show off his secrets. He was working on terraforming, but that's only a small part of it. He's also been mining the encrypted data files from the starship, the ones on military technology."
He heard an almost imperceptible gasp from Emma. The Founders on Earth had been reluctant to throw away any science, but they'd also hoped that the new world could avoid some of Earth's worst mistakes. Thus, certain information had been encrypted with the desire that it remain that way until the new civilization was ready for it. "How bad is it?"
"He has high-energy weapons, Lasers of some kind, I think. He was hardly forthcoming with technical details, though he was all too happy to blast a hole through a piece of hull-metal as a demonstration. There may already be fixed installations on the new security posts, and he's working on adapting them to a turret on one of the mobile units. Maybe he has them operational already. I wouldn't put it past Nguyen to feed us misinformation."
She smiled slightly. "As though you and I don't know a thing or two about misinformation. Where did we go wrong, Axen?"
He leaned his head down and rubbed his brow, unable to face her. This had been his idea initially. "You saw the computer projections. All the Elders did. Two independent colonies had a much greater probability of survival than one."
"We could have told the people..."
"Not and have the colonies be truly independent. Creating a political rift seemed like the best way."
She nodded. "And now you see where it's brought us?"
He sighed and leaned back in his chair. "You can see for yourself the different paths Eden and Plymouth have followed. The split might have happened anyway, given enough time. It's human nature to cluster into like groups."
"It's human nature for groups to go to war, too. We should have seen it coming."
"There isn't a war yet, Emma. Plymouth doesn't even have weapons."
"They will, when they find out. They'll be forced into it."
"How will they find out?"
She frowned, and a bit of the old fire flashed in her eyes. "I'll tell them, Axen — if I have to. Of course there are probably less direct ways. There always are."
He didn't agree, but he couldn't argue. He'd do the same thing if he were in her place. Why else had he contacted her?
"Besides," she continued, "if they start on terraforming without our consent, there'd have to be a reaction of some kind. It goes against the principles that Plymouth was founded on, of living in harmony with New Terra rather than trying to make it into some kind of ersatz Earth..."
He cleared his throat and squirmed in his seat. "Emma, from what I saw this afternoon, I'm pretty sure they've already started, some kind of atmosphere building microorganism injected into the bedrock. Just test wells so far, but..."
"What! What the frag do you people think you're doing?"
He signed. "They hardly consulted me, Emma. You know that I think any such drastic step has to be by consensus."
"Which is a little hard to do when the colonies aren't even talking to each other."
He could feel old wounds opening, feel them falling into the pit of their own differences, as powerful as the attraction that had once brought them together. "It was your people who shut down the communications satellite. We don't have the technology to talk even if we wanted to."
"It was an accident, Axen. The Council just wanted to make a dramatic gesture. They had no idea that the satellite couldn't be turned back on. Besides there's still our backchannel through the weather satellite telemetry links. It's enough to open some dialogue between our leaders."
"It's too late for that. I've been trying to talk sense into Nguyen for years, face to face. What chance does some voice out of a box have?"
Her look turned deadly serious. "Then it might be time to take Nguyen out of the picture, Axen."
He felt the hairs stand up on the back of his neck. Emma had a ruthless side that he sometimes forgot. "What are you suggesting?"
"Doing what we've always done, Axen, what's necessary for the survival of the human race."
He shook his head. "No, I can't do that, Emma."
"We're the last of the Elders, Axen, the last colonists born on old Earth. It's a dangerous world, even as protected as we are. We can't risk one of us dying with the Program out of control."
He was considering what she said, which is why he happened to be looking out the window as the fireball erupted. The sound came a fraction of a second later, mostly as a rumble in the floor, the air too thin to conduct much noise. Somehow, without realizing it, he was on his feet and standing in front of the window. "Maker's name..."
"What," pleaded Emma's voice, "I've lost visual. Axen!"
"Malfunction," said Frost, "major malfunction. I have lost contact with all computers in Lab Structure Four. Twenty seconds prior to this, a major cascade failure moved through all the structures' electronic systems."
"Emma, the Hot Lab exploded. I can see flames, so there's a major oxygen leak. It looks like the whole pressure vessel must be ripped open. Frag, half the town was in there!"
The silence suddenly stuck him. "The alarms! Kraft, where are the alarms?"
"All automatic alarms attached to Lab Four have been disabled, per Chairman Nguyen's orders."
"Sound disaster alarms. Dispatch disaster response teams. Use my override codes." Even as he was finishing the sentence, he could hear the klaxons sounding from every intercom speaker.
"Axen!" Emma called. "What's happening? I can't hear you. The signal's breaking up."
Axen ignored her so he could listen to Kraft.
"Disaster teams will be unable to respond," said Kraft. "Emergency tunnel bulkheads and airlocks were closed before the explosion."
"Open them."
"I do not have those override codes, and the doors have been locked."
"By whom?"
"The doors are locked from inside."
"Axen, what?..." Emma's voice was cut off.
"We have lost the link to Plymouth. There is an incoming communication. It's origin is the Lab Four east safety airlock."
It was the same lock Axen had walked through only ten minutes earlier. Perhaps someone had gotten inside and sealed it before the building had completely depressurized. "On screen."
The big EnterCom screen on the far wall came to life. He recognized Lil Komos, one of Nguyen's scientists, but one of those most friendly to Axen's viewpoints. There were several times he had thought she might agree to be a mole inside Nguyen's operation, but it had never happened. He could tell before she spoke that she was terrified, and something else. She didn't look well. "Elder, I don't have much time. I'm setting this message to record and repeat. Something went wrong with the test well. I told them the organisms we were using were too dangerous."
"Lil, are you...? "
She continued, either unable to hear him, or unwilling to stop talking. "It grows too fast, but Nguyen wasn't willing to wait. 'An atmosphere in our lifetime,' he said." She shook her head as though to clear it. She brushed her hair out of her face, and he could see that she was trembling. "Not enough time to explain. Attacks organics, even protein units in boptronic computers, even the plastics in our environmental seals."
In the background, he noticed for the first time a slight hissing noise.
"Evacuate, now. Get everyone you can in the Evac Transports. Salvage what you can, but avoid the affected areas, and don't let anyone out. Get away and don't come back." She coughed. Her face was white and waxy looking, red veins clearly standing out in her cheeks. "Don't try to rescue us, or investigate. Get out while you can. Only you have the influence to make it happen, Elder, you and Nguyen, and Nguyen is dead. We're all dead. Don't..." Her eyes went wide. Her hands came up as though to cover her face, then stopped halfway, shaking.
She fell back against the far wall of the airlock, her body shuddering convulsively. The camera lingered on her for almost a minute before there was a click, and the message repeated. Axen cut off the picture with a gesture before he could hear her voice again.
He leaned against a chair to steady himself. He had to do what she'd said. There was no choice. He'd seen what was happening to her before the message cut off.
She was melting.
Chapter Two - Resettlement
Brook Panati was attracted to power like an iron filing to a lodestone, and uncommitted power attracted him even more. Young as he was, he was an ambitious man, and while the chaos that had nearly destroyed Eden had caused him grief and hardship, it had also created opportunities for him.
Before the disaster, he was only a student, working part-time as an engineer's assistant, and third in line for an apprenticeship. Now, with skilled bodies in such short supply, he had a position of authority, a title ("Operations Foreman," necessarily vague to cover the number of job holes he had to help fill), and a small power domain of his own.
He enjoyed all this, but he wasn't satisfied with it. He'd seen the shifting of power that had resulted with the emergency relocation of the colony, and the death of the Council and Chairman Nguyen. There had been a mad scramble to grab the seats of power and reestablish order. Someone else might simply have described it as an attempt to restore organization and prevent panic, but to his eyes it was something else entirely: a game. A game he wanted very badly to play.
For now though, he was stuck on the sidelines, more an interested observer than a participant. So it was in watching the struggle for power and authority that his attention was drawn to Axen Moon.
Moon was something of a legendary figure, the last of Eden's Elders, the last alive to have walked on the soil of old Earth. To some that made him an almost God-like personage, his opinions sought, his endorsements valued. Certainly he could have had any position of authority he wanted, and yet he remained aloof, both personally and politically.
Moon's Elder status didn't impress Brook, not for its own sake at least. To him, Moon was just an old man, by Eden standards anyway, who had those around him cowed. But Brook was fascinated by the power that status represented, and how Moon's aloof nature only added to his authority. He had seen that while titles and authority gave one power, they also came with restrictions and limitations. Whatever power Moon possessed, he wielded it as a free agent, answerable to no one Brook could see.
But while he might not be answerable, it was just possible that he might be influenced in some way, perhaps through an exchange of favors. Everyone needed or wanted something in the best of times, and now even more so. If Axen Moon needed something, Brook was determined to find out about it.
Thus, he started making an effort to stay close to Moon, which wasn't difficult, considering the horribly crowded conditions of the recently relocated colony. Even the new Council members lacked private quarters. Hammocks were slung in workplaces, bedrolls put down end to end along both sides of the few tunnels. Technicians napped in the Command Center between double shifts.
Moon was no exception. His importance granted him an actual bunk in a fairly low-traffic hallway off the Agridome, but even there he had no privacy to speak of, only a curtain that could be pulled around the bunk.
What Brook lacked in importance, he made up for in cunning. He began trading small favors for larger ones, a maintenance schedule moved up for someone's convenience, a reallocation of the material resources under his control, trading a shift with a co-worker here, making a timely delivery there. It took time and determination, but Brook soon had his berth relocated to the corridor junction only a few yards from Moon's.
In fact, the bed was harder than his old one, and only a little quieter, but it was the location he was interested in. From there, he would be able to determine what Axen Moon most wanted, and how he would be able to provide it to the Elder.
He began making observations as soon as he moved to the new location. He set his wrist-comp to wake him early, but rather than getting up, he remained under his blanket and waited for Moon to emerge. When Moon did, Brook would follow him, discreetly, and only as his own schedule allowed. It took him several days, but something of a routine started to appear.
Each morning began with an hour of exercise in the Agridome: first, vigorous calisthenics, some kind of martial art Brook didn't recognize, then jogging around the dome perimeter. If Brook had any illusions that age made the Elder weak, they were dashed.
He followed this with a shower. Moon never seemed to lack for ration points of any kind. Then he made his rounds of the colony. The purpose of these rounds wasn't immediately clear. Mostly he just wound his way through the crowded corridors and tunnels, watching everyone, but never making eye contact, rarely talking with anyone.
His occasional conversations took place in the shadows, as close to privacy as could be arranged in the current circumstances. In these conversations, things would occasionally change hands, probably the source of Moon's ration points, and often data-slips and keycards were involved. Information was obviously a commodity that Moon valued highly. But Moon generally came away from these meetings looking unsatisfied. Sometimes, heated words were exchanged.
These occasions made Brook smile. They indicated a need, an unscratched itch that could be exploited. He just had to identify the source of that irritation.
Beyond this, Moon kept no regular schedule. Though he had no official job, he did his share of colony work, demonstrating skills in basic engineering, several fields of science, boptronics in general, and computers especially.
It wasn't clear how these work assignments came to him, but Brook noticed that they always allowed him to work alone. This isn't a man who will be easy to get close to.
One day, as he sat eating in the hallway outside the operations center, he was surprised to see Moon stroll up, making a conscious effort not to look conspicuous. Anyone not watching Moon as Brook was wouldn't have noticed a thing. But he sauntered up to the closed door into the building, looking at it with a curious longing in his eyes, as though he wanted to step inside, and couldn't. Then, just that quickly, the expression glazed over, and Moon turned and walked away.
There's something in there he wants badly. I have to find out what it is. He returned to his shift distracted and deep in thought. That evening he contrived to run into an old school chum named Della, who was now working in the CC. When she seemed little interested in engaging in conversation, he told her about the small jug of beer he had stashed in his locker, the equivalent of a month's ration for workers like them, and invited her to share it with him. She immediately agreed.
It wasn't flattering to be upstaged by a few pints of ale, but Brook knew the dangers of false pride. He had no interest in this woman beyond information anyway.
Brook's work included coordinating building setup with colony operations, and so he had access to the Structure Factory. He let them in with his keycard and they wound their way up narrow stairs and catwalks to a seldom-used control balcony. It wasn't a romantic setting, sitting on a salvaged vehicle seat that some workers had dragged up there for their breaks, smelling adhesives and hot metal, listening to the whirring of robots and the crackles of welding in the assembly bay below.
Romance wasn't what either of them had in mind though, and it was as private as he could manage. The occasional worker who wandered through paid them little attention, and the noise kept them from being overheard. The view was entertaining as well, as the robots performed their intricate dance among welding sparks and showers of flying plastic chips.
Brook poured most of the beer out into two large cups and handed one to Della. She sipped it, and after swishing it around for a while, smiled.
"A guy I know in the Agridome — Jix — makes it from stuff he cleans out of the grain processors after a run. It's not on the ration inventory, and every once in a while he trades some for a favor."
"It's good. I'm surprised you'd share it." She made eye contact with him, and he caught a flash of suspicion there.
"I'm not a big drinker. Mainly I use it for barter. But I was thinking the other day how few of my old schoolmates were left." The suspicion in her eyes turned immediately to sadness. He'd touched something there. Clearly she'd remained closer to her classmates than he had, and many of them had been lost in the disaster. "I decided it was time to look some of you up and have a chat."
From there, she fell naturally into conversation. They talked for hours, long after the beer was gone, about old friends and new, adventures large and small, with Brook carefully avoiding the one subject he wanted most to ask about.
Finally, they came back to talking about work and Brook saw his opportunity. "I saw Elder Moon outside the CC today. Do you see much of him there?"
Della wrinkled her nose and laughed. "Sometimes. Quite a bit really. He always has some legitimate business, a repair to do, or a program to update, or a transmitter to calibrate, but I think he really comes just to visit his computer."
"Computer?"
"His personal Savant. All the Elders had them from their days on the starship, and they were allowed to keep them out of respect, I guess. But after the disaster, Savants were in short supply, and they appropriated his for the CC. He made a huge stink about it with the Council, but there wasn't much he could say, really."
"He comes to visit it?"
"He touches it. Talks with it sometimes, in whispers, when he thinks nobody is listening, which isn't often, as busy as the CC is.
"Me, I'd just as soon he took Kraft back — that's its name, Kraft. It works well enough, but it's a creepy old thing, one of the first Savants made on the starship, and it's gotten really eccentric." She giggled. "It talks down to us. I think it thinks it's smarter than we are. Thing is, I'm not sure it isn't right."
That's it. The key to Axen Moon is that computer. Now I just have to find a way to get them back together.
Brook took the long way back to his berth and noticed that Moon wasn't in bed yet. Unusual, he wasn't generally a night owl. Brook looked longingly at his bunk and decided it would have to wait.
He wandered the tunnels of the colony, hoping to spot Moon. There was a lot of ground to cover, but knowing what he did now, he chose to focus his attention on the area of the CC. At first he had no luck, then he decided to try a narrow maintenance corridor off one of the connecting tunnels. The corridor was barely a meter wide, and he had to step carefully over a couple of people in sleeping bags.
Deeper in the tunnel, crates of supplies lined one wall and he had to crab sideways to get past. Supply conduits lining the ceiling thumped like the slow beating of some monster's heart. He moved slowly, peering cautiously ahead. Then he spotted Moon working, a service panel pulled away from the wall.
Brook ducked down behind a crate, hoping he hadn't been seen. He waited there for several minutes, then cautiously peered over the crate. Moon was gone, though the panel remained open, and a boptronic tool kit was spread out on the deck below. Brook moved from his hiding place to make a closer inspection.
The panel had a security warning label on it and a coded lock, but it hadn't been forced. Inside, armored conduits ran like metal snakes into a junction box with another security lock. Connected to the lock was a seemingly handmade boptronic device that he didn't recognize. It was a safe guess that at least some of those conduits ran to the Command Center above them.
He was bending for a closer look when a shadow dropped from the bank of conduits suspended above him. Powerful hands grabbed the front of his jumpsuit, lifting him off his feet and slamming his back painfully against the wall next to the panel.
From down the corridor, a sleepy voice yelled for them to keep it down.
As Brook tried to catch his breath, his feet held dangling a few inches off the floor, he realized that even his revised assessment of Moon's physical condition had underestimated him.
He looked into the Elder's face, only a few inches from his own, the features angry but carefully controlled. "All right, Brook Panati, you've been following me. I want to know why. Now." Brook had obviously underestimated him in other ways, too.
Brook ignored the question and smiled, moving his eyes toward the open panel. "That's a very dangerous thing you're trying to do there. What are the chances you can tap into the CC's internal computer network without being detected?"
Something in Moon's face changed, as though he were reassessing Brook. "Better than you think."
"But not good. You must want access very badly to take such a risk. There are other ways."
"What do you mean?"
"I can give you access to your computer, without all this risk."
Moon just looked at him silently, and Brook had the feeling that those dark eyes could see right through him. Then he slowly lowered Brook's feet to the floor and released his grip. "We'll talk, but you'd better not try to trick me. Never trick the trickster."
Brook straightened his jumpsuit and smiled for show. It didn't matter how perceptive Moon was, he'd been telling the truth. He fully intended to give him his computer back.
The problem was, Brook didn't have the slightest idea how.
Chapter Three - Accomplice
Axen didn't trust Brook Panati, but he found him to be useful, and for now that was enough. Axen's traditional methods had depended on stealth, making small changes at key points to achieve large long-term effects, and most of all, patience. Eden's current status disrupted all of that.
Whatever Nguyen had set loose, it continued to advance unpredictably. The colony had been forced to relocate again, and it appeared it would not be the last time. The Council had made the decision not to tax the colony's resources with a long and dangerous migration. Instead they would move a shorter distance, dig in, build their resources, and hope for a solution. At least from here on out any relocations would be planned and, to the degree possible, orderly.
But that didn't help Axen much. Anything "long-term" was uncertain and subject to interruption. His method of manipulation and plotting didn't work. It was like trying to build a house of cards during a quake. Young Panati's methods on the other hand were brash, quick, developed on the fly, and Axen had to admit, better suited to the world as it stood. As a result, Axen not only used Panati, he watched him, learned from him.
Today, Axen sat in a corner of the crowded common area of the first new residence module constructed since Eden's last relocation, and observed the young man wheeling and dealing on the far side of the room.
Panati's blue eyes sparkled, his smile flashed like a dueling saber, as he cajoled a short-haired blond woman Axen recognized as one of the housing supervisors. They sat on a bench surrounded by adults and children, chattering, crying, working, reading, playing, mostly pointedly ignoring each other in the pretense that had come to serve them as a substitute for privacy.
The woman was frowning, but although Axen was too far away to hear the conversation, he had the feeling that she was caving in. He had to admit that Panati was as skillful with charm and salesmanship as Axen was with authority and logical persuasion.
Axen's web of contacts, informants, and influences had been shattered by the disaster at Eden. Most of these had been among the older colonists, the first sons and daughters of Axen and his fellow Elders, born in those frantic first few years after landing. They had been conceived in that honeymoon between the euphoria of surviving the voyage, and the horror that the Elders’ lives were being cut short by hibernation syndrome.
Axen had watched as that first generation, all his closest contemporaries, died around him. Only a handful, including Axen and Emma, were young enough, and had been wakened early enough, to escape the brunt of that terrible sickness. Now he had watched most of another generation cut down before its time.
It weighed heavily on him. He'd lost too many friends in that first tragedy, and he'd since considered friends a luxury he couldn't afford.
Panati represented another age group, some of them children of Elders, some of the following generation, but socially divided as though by a wall. This was the comfortable generation, which had grown up in an Eden that had become fat, happy, and fearless. For them, survival had never seemed an uncertainty, want had never been their companion. Until the disaster. Until now.
Axen had to admit that Panati was well connected. In the aftermath of the disaster, evacuation, and relocation, he and his contemporaries had been pushed into positions of control and authority. While some would have become slaves to duty, or inversely, resentful of the burden, Panati both shouldered the load and immediately saw the opportunities created.
He'd maintained every contact available to him, and had used these to make more. Single-handedly he'd created a black market in luxury goods and services, and made it so efficient and useful that the authorities were forced to look the other way. In his own way, Panati provided a service that the struggling colony couldn't do without.
Until his violent first meeting with Axen, those contacts had been used only in the cause of petty racketeering, but Axen had immediately seen more substantial possibilities, even though Panati had failed to deliver on his dubious promise to deliver Kraft back into his possession. In any case, the disruption of the latest evacuation had given him a reprieve on that offer.
Across the room the conversation seemed to be ending. The blonde woman glanced at Axen without making eye contact or acknowledging his presence, then stood and made her way out through the safety lock. Panati in turn stood and strolled casually toward Axen. He sat down at the other end of the bench and pretended to be studying a form displayed on his ClipCom.
Axen glanced at him without moving his head. "Well?"
Panati smiled slightly. "It's a done deal. I shift some schedules so she gets her next residence module two weeks early, and you've got room thirteen over there," he motioned with his head toward the left wall. "You can move in any time. I'll send a cargo cart down to pick up your stuff."
Axen shook his head slightly. "Not just yet. Did you set up the meeting with your scientist friend?"
"They're very busy getting the new lab up to speed. He's working double shifts..."
"Did you set up the meeting?"
The corners of Panati's mouth twitched down. "Yeah, but it cost me darned near as much trade value as getting you private quarters."
"It doesn't matter. Kraft might be able to tell us something about what went wrong back at the Hot Lab. Failing that, we have to know what the authorities know."
"They've already told us. An advanced nuclear power source ran out of control and flooded the area with hard radiation."
Axen smirked in spite of himself. "You believe that?"
"What else would it be?"
"I don't know, but I know what radiation poisoning looks like, and something else killed those people, something chemical, or biological."
"You weren't there when the accident happened. How could you?..." He looked over, abandoning the pretense of ignoring Axen. "You're keeping things from me again, aren't you?"
"I tell you what you need to know. We talk to your friend, then perhaps we'll both know what happened. When and where?"
"The maintenance tunnel under the CC, in half an hour. Why can't we just meet in your quarters? I thought the whole point of arranging for them was to get privacy."
Axen sighed. "Privacy that I don't want to compromise with visitors. I don't want to draw attention by having a constant stream of strangers going in and out of my room. I've told you again and again that I don't want my associations to be that obvious."
Panati scratched his nose. "Okay, okay. I was just asking."
"I saw you with Della again last night. That's the third time this month."
Panati frowned and flexed his hands nervously. "We're drinking buddies these days, that's all. She might be useful if we're ever going to get your computer back."
"I know that, but it doesn't pay to get too close."
"I'll be the judge of that. Listen, we have a working relationship here. You just stay the frag out of my personal life. Understood?"
Axen said nothing. He had denied himself companionship for too long to have much sympathy for the younger man. He knew too well the problems such entanglements caused. His relationship with Emma had worked only because they had been in the conspiracy as equals. It had failed for the same reason.
Panati leaned forward half out of his seat. "I'll meet you down there in twenty. Later." He stood and strolled out of the room as casually as he'd entered it, expertly hiding any anger he might be feeling.
Axen slumped back in his seat and sighed again. He liked working alone, and resented having to depend on this child. Panati's motives were less than clear to Axen, and that made him uncomfortable. Axen could use him, but he couldn't trust him, and didn't know if he could depend on him. It was the kind of uncertainty that kept Axen awake at nights.
But for Axen, there was no choice whatsoever.
# # #
The tunnel was narrow, nearly identical to the one where he'd first met Panati. It gave him a sense of déjà vu. He'd even been here before, right after the relocation, to investigate the possibility of contacting Kraft. He could still see the scratches where he'd removed a service panel. Sloppy work, he thought.
Panati had been right, of course, and might have saved Axen from a terrible mistake. His plan, while it might have worked, had been far too risky, born more of desperation than reason. Patience had always been his forte, and in this one instance it might still be the best plan. He glanced at the chrono display on his wrist link. Patience had its limits. Where were they?
A pair of figures slid around the nearest bend of the corridor. One of them was Panati, the other, a shorter man with a round face and skin the color of dark chocolate, had to be the scientist.
Axen stared at Panati. "You're late."
"It's my fault, Elder," said the scientist. He stuck out his hand. "Eldon's the name, Eldon Jensen. You presented me a science award back in the third grade. It's a real honor."
Axen had a vague recollection of the school visit, before he had become the last Elder in Eden and the burden of secrecy had fallen solely on him. Axen suppressed an annoyed smile. Evidently it wasn't enough of an honor for Jensen to make the meeting without a substantial bribe.
"So," continued Jensen, "what did you want to know?"
Axen studied the man. He seemed guileless, but one could never be sure. Certainly he had already proven himself greedy enough to be bought. "I trust you understand that absolute discretion is necessary here, Jensen. I don't want this conversation getting back to the Council, and anyone else for that matter."
Jensen smiled. "Of course."
Axen nodded. "Good. As you are certainly aware, Mr. Panati and I are not without... resources. If word of this were to leak we'd be most... upset." The pause was calculated. Sometimes a pause spoke terabytes.
Jensen looked from Axen to Panati nervously. Axen noticed that Panati kept a perfect poker face.
"You can count on me. Completely!"
Axen smiled reassuringly. "Then we can move on. I want to know what went wrong at the Hot Lab. What killed all those people at Eden, and what is forcing us to keep moving?"
Jensen looked nervous. "We... we don't know. Radiation..."
To Axen's surprise, Panati shook his head. "Don't try to scam us, Jensen. We know those people weren't killed by radiation poisoning. Radiation wouldn't continue to spread. That's just a cover story, for something, maybe chemical, more likely biological."
Jensen chewed his lip. "Biological — we know that much. Nguyen had them working on a terraforming bug. It was supposed to live in the deep rocks, to crack loose hydrogen and oxygen bound in the planet's crust. They were into some serious biotech, beyond simple genetics — they were reengineering the internal workings of bacterial cells from the molecules up. They thought they had it too. They were confident enough to begin field tests."
Axen nodded. "Test wells under the lab."
"Those were the start, but they were doing field tests, too, a line of wells running up Yeager Canyon almost to Plymouth, following the natural fault line."
A chill ran down Axen's back. Whatever had happened could potentially have affected Plymouth as well. "Then what went wrong? How did a terraforming bug destroy a lab, and send us scurrying across the landscape like Nomads?"
Jensen looked puzzled. "I assumed you knew, Elder. You were the one who pushed for the first evacuation of the colony. You mean, you didn't even know why?"
Axen frowned. This was exactly the sort of question he didn't want to raise.
Panati jumped in. "We brought you here to answer questions, Jensen, not to ask them. We've paid for the answers, not you. If the Elder asks questions that he already knows the answers to, it's because he needs to know what you, and in turn, the Council, think the answers are."
Axen raised an eyebrow. Good going, boy.
Jensen took a moment to digest the response. It seemed to go down well. "Without knowing the details of what Nguyen's people were doing, and we don't, we can't say for sure. What we do know is that it has something to do with his terraforming bug, and it’s reproducing and spreading through the deep rock at a phenomenal rate. Along the way it's causing geothermal activity in some way we don't understand yet."
"The tremors we've been feeling lately," said Axen.
"That's just one symptom of a much broader effect. Possibly that's what happened in the Hot Lab, a steam blow-out through the well, or even magma. We just don't know."
Jensen hesitated, as though he thought he might be saying too much. "We've tried to send survey vehicles back into the contaminated area. They all malfunction and stop transmitting shortly after entering. The information we have suggests some breakdown of the organic materials in the vehicle: plastics, bio-elements in the boptronics, things like that.
"We think there may be a way to protect a vehicle, at least for a while, and we're working on a way to detect the approach of the bug, the Blight — that's what we've been calling it. That's about all we know for the moment. What we really need is to get back into Eden."
Jensen stared at Axen, blinking silently. It seemed that there was nothing more forthcoming.
"I want to be kept posted on your progress. If there are any significant developments, contact Mr. Panati at once. If necessary, we'll arrange another meeting." He considered his own words for a moment, then continued. "Furthermore, I want you to arrange for me to be called in on a consulting basis."
Jensen blinked and bobbed his head nervously. "What? Elder, I can't."
Axen wasn't listening to him. "Mr. Panati will make it worth your while, and there are plenty of legitimate reasons. I've got more hands-on boptronics experience than anyone, and I helped build the original Eden. I know everything about it, including plenty that you won't find on the blueprints."
Jensen's eyes narrowed. "I suppose, I could at least suggest the idea."
"Don't suggest, Jensen, push. Understand?"
Jensen nodded, and when it was apparent they were through with him, he straightened and tried to put on a business face. "It's been a pleasure, Elder." He stuck out his hand again.
Axen ignored it this time. "I'm not your friend, Jensen. I'm just somebody who is paying you for certain considerations. Remember that."
Jensen quickly pulled back his hand, slid past Panati, and departed without another word.
Axen and Panati watched him go, waiting until he'd been out of sight for several minutes.
"So," said Panati, breaking the silence, "what did you see during the disaster that told you this radiation thing was a cover story?"
Axen turned and started walking away. "I heard a woman warning me of the danger with her last breath." He kept walking. "I watched her melt into goo right in front of my eyes."
# # #
Axen stood in the darkened control room of the Command Center studying the images flickering on the large screen. The link to the observer satellite had only recently been restored, and until now, access to it had been so restricted that Axen hadn't seen a single image.
Now his dealings with Jensen had finally borne fruit. It didn't bother Axen that the call had come at such a late hour. He knew he was a controversial figure, and they undoubtedly wanted to keep the meeting as low-profile as possible. He noticed that most of the CC staff had been sent on break, though Panati's friend, Della, was working on the far side of the room. Even she was careful to keep her eyes to herself, spending her slack moments looking out the large window behind her console rather than at them.
Jensen was there, along with a few other scientists that Axen knew only in passing. He noticed that Jensen was standing at the far side of the group and was being careful not to make eye contact. He's not a good liar, something I should have taken into consideration before I started this. Still, he seems to have pulled it off.
On the screen, the same one-minute satellite video clip played for the fifth time since he'd arrived. Dr. Kolo addressed Axen. He was the senior of the scientists, a hard-featured man with a shaved head and bushy black eyebrows. "Elder, we're consulting you on this matter because of your broad knowledge of boptronic systems. This video was taken from the observer satellite about a week ago. What do you make of it?"
As he watched, a vehicle, one of Nguyen's combat units, lurched its way across the screen, pausing to fire at a Cargo Truck that had similarly lurched within range. Parts of the truck's cab glowed and melted under the combat unit's energy weapon, and the truck lurched once more before halting, perhaps forever.
He looked Kolo squarely in the eye. "I'd be glad to help if I can, but to be of much use, I need background. Tell me what really happened during the disaster."
The scientists looked uncomfortably at one another, then Kolo sighed and turned back to Axen. "The situation was a great deal more serious than we've led people to believe, and the danger is not past. Not even our continued migrations have ended it.
"We know that some kind of biological agent was released in the lab explosion, possibly was even the cause of it. That agent continues to spread deep underground in a manner we don't fully understand, seeping to the surface through vents where it can infect buildings and vehicles.
"That agent was an accelerated microbe, engineered from bacteria that had lived in hot springs, deep ocean vents, and buried in the crust of old Earth, microbes that already could survive the most hostile conditions imaginable. That microbe was designed to live in New Terra's crust, breaking oxygen bonds, releasing water and gases to form a new atmosphere.
"But," interjected Axen, "the human body is full of oxygen bonds. So are many of our plastics and synthetic materials. So are biological elements of our boptronic systems."
The scientists again looked uncomfortable. He was telling them things they hadn't intended for him to know. Just as well, as his conclusions depended on that knowledge.
Axen continued, "What we're looking at here isn't a boptronic system anymore, it's an optronic system. From what you've told me, the protein computer cores of these units are gone. It's as though they've been given a skillful and selective lobotomy."
Jensen looked at him. "You think they're dangerous?"
"Based on what you've shown me, I know they are. The combat units are, anyway, and there may not be anything else left operational by the time you get there. These units have lost their higher command functions, their ability to understand and respond to commands, and to recognize other units, friend or foe. What's left are hard-wired autonomous functions — move, steer, avoid, attack, patrol. My guess is they'll fire at anything that moves within range of them. Or, if erosion of plastic insulation is also causing shorts in their electronics, they could be totally unpredictable, capable of doing almost anything."
The scientists looked at one another, and moved off to a corner of the room and began talking in whispers. Axen hoped that they didn't give up on the idea of an expedition to the disaster site. It might well be their only hope of learning enough to control the Blight.
Axen watched the attack on the truck again, and wished that there were a way to connect Kraft to the satellite station so he could attempt to contact Emma. Plymouth had to be warned if they had any hope of survival. They were in at least as much danger as Eden, perhaps more so, given their own ignorance. If they even still exist, he thought.
He longed to redirect the satellite to check on Plymouth, but that was impossible, and if the scientists had already done so the images were, like so much other information these days, being suppressed.
The scientists moved back over. "Elder," said Dr. Kolo, "we'd be grateful if you took the video and materials we've provided you and prepare a report for us, outlining the danger you think those rogue vehicles represent, and suggesting countermeasures. We'd also like your input on procedures to transfer data from the non-biological memory systems of the Eden lab computers."
Kolo hesitated before continuing, long enough that Axen almost thought the conversation was over. "There is another, related, matter. The digital backups of our Gene Banks were in that lab. It’s possible that they've survived, and if so, we'd like to find a way to salvage the data."
Axen's eyes widened. "You don't mean that we've lost our Gene Banks?"
Kolo smiled slightly. "No, no, nothing like that. The three biological Gene Banks — human, agricultural, and biosphere — are still intact. In fact, they're stored here in the CC for safekeeping. But the digital encoding of those genes has always been our backup in case something ever happened to them, and we don't have either the time, the resources, or possibly even the technology, to reproduce the data."
Axen was aware of a spot to apply leverage. "Plymouth has their own copy of the biological Gene Banks."
Kolo's face was blank as he responded. "I don't see how that could do us any good. We aren't even sure if Plymouth still exists."
Oh, he's sure. He knows something about Plymouth that he isn't telling. If only I could get to that satellite downlink. But even the fact of Plymouth's survival or destruction was still denied him.
# # #
As he left the CC he passed the parked scooters without stopping, deciding that the walk would help him think. He'd gone only a hundred meters or so when he ran into Panati. "What are you doing here?"
Panati frowned and looked away. "Della's getting off shift and she and I were going to play a game of billiards."
Axen just shook his head.
"It's none of your fragging business, Axen."
Just then they heard a muffled boom, the air around them seemed to surge toward the CC, and Axen felt his ears pop. He was already looking for the nearest emergency suit locker when it was apparent that the pressure drop was small, and only momentary.
Their fight forgotten, Panati stared at Axen. "What the frag was that?"
"Pressure blow-out," said Axen. He pointed toward the CC. "That way."
Panati ran up the tunnel, and Axen trotted after him, following him up the ramp toward the CC. As they watched, a cart with a volunteer emergency crew rolled past, stopping just in front of the sealed emergency lock. One member of the Disaster Instant Response Team checked the indicators on the lock, then flipped the override switch that opened both doors. People began to stagger out, including Jensen and the scientists Axen had just been talking to, stunned looks on their faces.
Panati grabbed Jensen and pulled him aside. "What happened up there?"
He stared blankly at Panati for a moment. "Brook. Sorry. I just made it out in time. My ears are ringing. I don't feel so good."
Panati put his hands on the man's shoulders. "We'll find you a medic. What happened?"
Jensen put his hand over his mouth, fingers pointing upwards, touching his upper lip. "Is my nose bleeding?"
Panati gave him a little shake. "What happened?"
"View port blew out. Meteor hit I'd guess. There was a crack and then it just blew. A woman was standing right next to it and was sucked out."
"Woman? What woman?"
Axen's jaw clinched. He already knew the answer.
Jensen stared off into space blankly. "Della. Her name was Della."
Chapter Four - Autopsy
Brook squirmed uncomfortably in the chair. The walls of the room were pastel pink, planter boxes were under all the windows and freestanding pots were jammed with growing plants. EnterCom screens on all the walls displayed decorative images of babies and children at play.
Like most locations in the still-crowded colony, the room did double duty, as witnessed by the folded med-station in the corner. But the knowledge that on another day it might serve as a delivery room or emergency surgery did nothing to relieve the relentless cheerfulness of the place. The Nursery was a fragging strange place to come to talk about a dead person.
The small, blonde woman, Dr. Van Dozier by the name on the door, who studied him from behind her neat desk, seemed to sense his uneasiness. "I know this is a little strange, Mr. Panati; autopsies aren't our usual business here, but the Medical Center is still coming up to speed and some nonessential tasks are routed to me. You'd made an inquiry about Della Ricca's accident, and given that she has no surviving family, I thought it would be appropriate to talk with you."
"Autopsy? She died months ago."
She nodded, and her green eyes seemed to look into him so deeply that it made him uncomfortable. "Her body was put into stasis until we had enough slack time to examine it." She waved her hand to indicate the room. "Our primary business here is life, not death."
She saw him flinch. "I don't mean to be insensitive, Mr. Panati. In fact, the delay is the primary reason why I asked you here personally rather than simply sending you a message. If you don't mind my asking, was Ms. Ricca a companion, a lover?"
He smiled slightly and shook his head. "We were friends, classmates in school. We'd been spending a lot of time together lately, and I guess I wondered if it might turn into more, but — well, we'll never know about that I guess. You learned something about what killed her?"
Dr. Van Dozier looked down at her desk, her mouth a tight line. "Nothing you couldn't have guessed. Massive trauma resulting from explosive decompression and the fall from the window. Oxygen deprivation only quickened things I'm afraid. On the other hand, if it's any comfort, she didn't suffer. The loss of consciousness would have been almost immediate."
None of which came as any surprise to Brook, which made his presence here all the more puzzling. "That's all?"
She chewed her lower lip. "The only solid thing, yes. But now that I've had the chance to study the accident report, I'm left with questions, probably the same questions you had when you made your inquiries. Only a small meteor impact would have left no evidence, and yet a small impact shouldn't have shattered the window that way. At most, there should have been a small crack that the self-repair gel could have sealed."
He leaned back in his chair, surprised. "That's exactly right. I have my resources, but the Disaster Instant Response Team that handled the investigation has been very quiet about the whole business. I smell cover-up."
"Which I'm not a party to, I assure you. We coordinate with the DIRT agency, and I have a number of contacts there. It's just possible I can find out more for you, if you want."
"Want? I'd be very grateful. Please."
She let out a little sigh and broke eye contact again. "Which brings me to another matter. Rumor has it that you're a man who trades in favors."
His delight went out like a match in vacuum. "You mean, you want to exchange a favor for information on my friend's death?"
She held up a hand to calm him. "No, no. I'll find out what I can in any case. But there is a small bureaucratic matter that you might be able to influence, and if you could, well, I would be in your debt."
Brook untensed. He realized that he didn't want to be angry at this woman. "I can try. What do you need?"
"The colony's human Gene Banks have been located in the Command Center since the colony relocated. Traditionally these have been kept in the Nursery and I assumed they'd be moved here as soon as we were fully operational. Somehow, though, the transfer seems to be hung up by red tape.
"Rebuilding the colony population is important work, and right now I or one of my staff has to go to the CC every time we need a new genotype. It's a huge bother and a waste of our time, and you can see how backed up we are."
Brook thought about it. His remaining contacts in the CC were limited, but Della had had friends there, and he knew they'd want to aid the investigation if possible. "I think I can do something about that." He stood and held out his hand to her. She took it, her fingers soft and surprisingly strong.
Her smile was back. "We should meet again to compare notes, but if there really is something suspicious going on, perhaps we shouldn't meet here." She seemed to consider the idea for a moment. "I just got assigned my new quarters, and the woman I share with works evening shifts. Perhaps we could have dinner there."
He sighed. Three times already he'd used his own room assignments as trading fodder, and he was still sleeping in a corridor. "That would be great, Dr. Van Dozier."
"Please, call me Echo, if I can call you Brook." She watched his face for a reaction, as though she'd been expecting one. "It's a funny name, but I like it." He wasn't sure if she was talking about her name, or his. "I'll message you when I have something to share."
He smiled back at her as he headed out the door. "You do that."
# # #
He'd arranged to meet Axen at a tunnel junction near the south edge of the colony. Most of the buildings were still being completed, and thus traffic was light this late in the day. He found Axen, waiting, impatiently as usual, even though he was only a few minutes late. As he walked up, Axen was staring at a symbol spray-penned on the wall, a red circle divided down the middle by a vertical line.
Axen looked over his shoulder and glared at Brook. "Where have you been?"
Like it was any of his business. The "old man" was getting his fingers far too deep into Brook's affairs, and Brook didn't like it. Thus he took a certain perverse pleasure in telling a half-truth. "I was doing some trading. I made a new contact in the Nursery and I'm greasing the wheels for the day we need something from them."
This seemed to placate Axen. "Well, then. It's just that you've been so distracted since that Della girl died. I know it upset you, but I have to be able to depend on you. I warned you about..."
Brook scowled at him. "You know, you can be a cold son of a 'bot sometimes, Axen. She was just a friend, though that's plenty reason enough for me to be upset, but my personal life is my personal life, and I expect you to keep out of it."
Axen frowned, but said nothing.
"And you can depend on me. Kraft was transferred to the new Robot Command Center this morning, installed in the rack that you tweaked. I have a ConVec set to go at the Structure Factory. You want to go for a ride?"
Axen actually smiled. Brook wondered if his face was going to crack. As they made their way to the Structure Factory, Axen filled him in on his latest meeting with the scientist Jensen. "Seems they have a vehicle design that is able to handle the microbe. They've had one all along basically. Nguyen's prototype combat vehicle was hardened against biochemical attacks. The special inert seals have been adapted to other vehicles as well."
"Unmanned, I assume."
Axen nodded. "Whatever goes in can't come out because of the contamination. The idea is to find out as much as they can about the Blight and the accident at the lab. The biological components of the computer systems have been destroyed, but some of the electronic and optical memories may still be recoverable. They haven't told me when the mission is scheduled to start. It may have already happened for all I know."
They slipped quietly through the Structure Factory, suited up, and made their way out through the service lock adjacent to the loading dock. The big Construction Vehicle was already loaded with the huge slab that was a structure kit.
They adjusted their suit radios to scramble for privacy and climbed into the cab. Brook explained. "This is the Residence I pushed up the schedule for a few weeks ago. It has to go all the way around the colony. We should have an hour or more in the vehicle without interruption."
Brook finally had managed to get Axen his computer back, after a fashion. During construction, he'd arranged for Axen to get access to a computer rack in the Robot Command Center. Since the building hadn't then been operational, he could work without suspicion. Only after the tampering had been done had he arranged for the Elder's Savant to be transferred to the new building and that particular rack.
The RCC was, like the CC, a highly secure area. Axen wouldn't be able to get back in without close supervision, but they'd opened a secure line that was unlikely to be detected. Axen had piggybacked a channel on the guidance signal being routed from the RCC to the vehicles, and he could tap it through any vehicle's computer. And Brook certainly had access to vehicles.
Axen was tinkering with his radio again. "That symbol on the tunnel wall, have you seen it before?"
"No, should I?"
"I've seen three of them in the last week. The maintenance crews clean them up as fast as they appear, but now that I know what to look for, I've seen signs of a dozen more that have been painted over."
"Kids?"
"Possibly -- most likely, but I'd just as soon know what it means. It looks a bit like the Plymouth seal. Or possibly it represents a divided world, or a world reunited."
Brook thought of his visit to the Nursery earlier. "Or a dividing egg. It could be kids, or a political faction, or Plymouth sympathizers, or a band of rogue artists brightening up the colony. I couldn't care less."
Axen finished his tinkering. "I've routed the channel through another scramble to my suit radio."
Brook grimaced. "Again, you don't trust me."
"I tell you what you need to know." Then he touched a suit control pad and the radio went silent. Brook could see his lips moving as Axen talked with the computer, but could hear nothing.
Brook leaned back in his seat, put his feet up, crossed his arms over his chest, and sulked. He watched the panorama of the colony skyline as it rolled past the windows. Ten minutes later, Axen tuned his radio back to their common channel.
Brook studied the Elder's face. His features looked drawn and tense. "Well?"
"It is essential that we get Kraft tied back into the satellite uplink. Drop everything else and get on it."
"Why?"
"I'll tell you when you need to know," Axen snapped. "Just get me the fragging link." He seemed to think about it for awhile. "I wouldn't make any long-term plans for this place if I were you. I wouldn't make any long-term plans at all." Then he switched his radio back to the private channel and ignored Brook.
Brook stared at him silently. What in blazes did he mean by that?
# # #
She'd insisted that they eat before she told him what she'd found. At first he'd resented the delay, but as he sampled the chow mein she'd prepared, probably only the second or third home-cooked meal he'd had in his life, and they shared the beer he'd brought, things seemed less urgent.
He genuinely enjoyed Echo's company, though he felt a little guilty, as though he were somehow taking advantage of Della's death. Also, in the back of his mind, was always Axen's voice, warning him of the perils of relationships. Brook wasn't sure if he wanted to embrace that advice, or defy it, though as the evening went on he was leaning toward the latter.
She told him about her childhood at an isolated research station away from the main Eden colony, which is why he hadn't known her, even though they were the same age. She told him how she'd rarely had any playmates and how, when she'd learned what her name meant, she'd made up a pretend playmate, an identical twin.
"What did you call her?"
She giggled. " 'Echo,' of course."
Of course.
She explained how this led to her interest in genetics and reproductive medicine. "I was a lonely kid. I have a thing about making sure there are no more lonely kids out there."
"Speaking of which, I have a lead on getting the Gene Bank transferred to the Nursery. I've talked to friends with Council influence. Seems some of the Council think it's safer in the CC. The paranoia level is getting pretty extreme around here, but they're in the minority and don't want to make a public stink. I wouldn't be surprised to see the paperwork go through in the next week."
She smiled warmly. "Thanks, Brook, that's great news. Keep me informed of the details, okay?" The smile faded and she licked her lips nervously.
"I have some news for you too, Brook, and I have been putting it off. I just wanted a chance for you to get comfortable with me first, to develop some trust. This is the kind of news that, coming from a perfect stranger, you probably would be reluctant to believe."
Brook put down his beer and leaned closer. "Okay."
"I talked to my contacts in the DIRT. Sure enough, there is a cover-up. They aren't protecting anyone. Quite the contrary, they're trying to avoid a panic.
"They found evidence of tampering on the window. Those things are a sandwich, two panes of armor-glass with a layer of sealant gel in the middle. Somebody tampered with the gel. It could have been done in any number of ways, from inside or outside the window.
"Suffice it to say that somehow they injected a chemical that over time converted the gel into a highly unstable, if not very powerful, explosive. A sharp tap is all it took to set it off, and it blew the window to shreds, sucking out whoever was standing in front of it. Any kind of projectile weapon would have produced a sufficient impact, even a slingshot, maybe even just a well-thrown rock."
Brook blinked. "You're saying she was murdered."
"I think someone waited outside until they saw her through the window, then set off the explosion."
"Why would anyone do that to Della?"
She averted her eyes. "You knew her better than I. Since we lack a formal police force, the DIRT is handling the investigation. They're blowing it. They're investigating her friends and co-workers, though they're not being very thorough about it. For instance, near as I can find out, they completely missed you."
"We had only gotten back together in the few weeks before she — wait a minute! Are you suggesting you think I killed her?"
Echo laughed. "No, of course not. But it means they've missed a number of connections to her that wouldn't otherwise be apparent." She paused again, searching for words. "I've stumbled on other evidence that the DIRT seems to have missed. Putting that together with what I know about you leads me to one possible conclusion that they'd never consider."
"Which is?"
She sighed. "Have you ever considered the possibility that your friend Axen Moon is a murderer?"
Chapter Five - Repercussion
Axen crouched down behind a control console and snapped an access panel back in place. He still made sure his duties brought him to the Command Center frequently, even though Kraft was now attached to the RCC. It was a good place to eavesdrop and observe, where an occasional nugget of information could still be found.
Moreover, his political stock seemed to be on the rise, the Council less interested in his movements, less concerned about his resources. More likely, however, they were just distracted, or simply too busy to bother with him.
Axen was distracted too. New Terra was doomed, or so the scientists believed. They hadn't told him this, of course. They'd thanked him for his help, smiled their false smiles, and covered up everything, even Jensen. Especially Jensen.
But Kraft knew everything they knew, and more. Being separated from Axen seemed only to have made the amazing computer more resourceful, and its time in the CC had given it unprecedented access to information. Its position in the RCC had allowed Kraft a front-row seat for the old-Eden expedition. Now, everything Kraft knew, Axen knew as well.
The Blight was spreading too rapidly through the planet's crust, taking water out of the rocks, lubricating long-locked faults, creating geological instability, surging forward on the wave of hot ground-water that it had created, repeating the cycle. Nothing short of nuking the entire planet down to the molten mantle would kill it all, and nothing less than killing it all would be effective. There was still token research being done toward creating a self-replicating counter-agent, but nobody gave it any serious chance of success.
The only hope now was to stay one step ahead of the Blight, gathering resources as they went, to reestablish orbital capabilities, to build another starship, and to find another planet to settle. He slumped back against the console and shook his head sadly. We've come full-circle. Who knew it would lead to this?
Certainly not he. Certainly not his fellow Elders when they decided that the colony's best chance for survival was to split in two. Now, instead of splitting things apart, all he wanted to do was hold things together, to put back together what they had broken asunder.
But things only showed more signs of flying apart. He'd seen more graffiti this morning; he saw it almost ever day. And he'd heard a name whispered. Masters. What did it mean?
Then there was Panati. The young man was cold and distant and Axen couldn't figure out why. He avoided Axen, seemed careful never to be alone with him. Panati was still responsive when Axen asked for access to a vehicle so he could communicate with Kraft, but Axen didn't know how much he could be depended on, or trusted.
As for the why of this sudden change in behavior, Axen couldn't understand it. There was another woman, of course, a doctor from the Nursery, but that didn't explain anything.
He heard voices, and the sound of men grunting under a heavy weight. He peered over the top of the console and was surprised to see Panati across the room. He and a pair of workmen were moving a cumbersome and heavy metal cylinder from which wisps of frosty gas emerged.
Axen recognized it as one of the Gene Banks, the frozen repositories of Earth's genetic heritage. Along with the workmen, a man and a woman carrying side-arms and wearing the navy blue arm-band of the Volunteer Guard watched over the transfer. Axen wondered if this had something to do with the doctor from the Nursery. If so, it seemed a curious kind of favor to be granting. Where were they going with the Gene Bank?
Axen thought about simply asking, but he didn't think he'd been seen, and some instinct told him to duck back down and keep out of sight. Whatever Panati was doing, he was doing it in plain sight of everyone in the CC, so he obviously had authorization.
Still, it didn't smell right. Their efforts to recover the digital backups of the Gene Banks from the original Eden had come, as Axen had predicted, to nothing. Two of the big quantum crystal memories had been located, but they couldn't be brought out without contamination, and the information stored within was too vast to transmit from the contaminated area. Axen couldn't imagine why anyone would mean the Gene Banks harm — they were irreplaceable.
He considered just staying put and minding his own business, but it wasn't his nature, and despite himself, he was concerned about Panati. Frag him, what's gotten into the boy?
He couldn't hear the workers anymore, but just in case, he stayed put for awhile before emerging from his hiding place. He glanced at the door. Panati and the Gene Bank were long gone, but he might still be able to catch up with them, perhaps learn what Panati was up to. A pale-skinned technician looked up from her work and glanced at Axen curiously for a moment. "Was that a Gene Bank I saw them moving?"
She shrugged. "Looked like it. Not my department."
"Do you know where they were moving it?"
"Not my department."
Axen grunted and walked out the door. It wasn't that he thought Panati was up to anything, it was just that the graffiti he kept spotting had raised his paranoia level. The last time he'd seen anything like it was during the political schism that had created Plymouth, and during that revolution, it had been he and his fellow Elders doing the painting.
He made his way out of the CC and picked up a scooter at the tran-station. Doubtless they were moving the Gene Bank in a cargo cart and he should be able to catch up with them, if he was correct in assuming they were headed for the Nursery.
He gunned the scooter, making the wheels squeal on deck-metal and roared off after them. They had a strong head-start, but the tunnel traffic was light this late in the evening and he made good time. He arrived at the Nursery only to find it locked up for the night. Could he have been wrong about their destination? He didn't think so.
He'd followed Panati's normal route from the CC to the Nursery, but a new area of construction had created a possible shortcut, one that Panati would be very familiar with, given his work.
He spun the scooter around in a tight circle and backtracked. It was immediately apparent when he entered the new tunnels. Traffic was nonexistent. A thin layer of reddish powder dusted the walls and other exposed surfaces where traffic had not brushed it aside. There was also the characteristic chemical "new building smell." It wasn't unpleasant, but it was a minor health hazard. Years of research had failed to eliminate outgassing from new synthetic materials.
He rounded a corner and almost ran head-on into the cart. He spun the scooter and laid it down on its side, sliding to a stop just short of the wreck.
The cart was sitting at an angle, its nose crunched against a tunnel support rib. The driver, one of the workmen, was slumped over his controls. Panati was face down on the deck near the empty passenger seat, from which he'd probably fallen. The others were sprawled around the vehicle, motionless. Axen's hip twinged as he stood, but he ignored the pain and made his way to the male guard, the nearest of the five.
He knelt next to the man and touched his neck. There was a pulse, and the man was breathing. While the others didn't appear to be injured, the guard was face down in a small puddle of blood. Axen rolled him over and saw the side-arm still clutched in his hand. Axen took the gun and pulled back the collar of his shirt and examined the wound. A soft-slug had pierced the right shoulder, doing considerable damage, but it didn't seem immediately life-threatening.
Then he spotted a small fire extinguisher near one tunnel wall, and noticed for the first time that there was something odd in the air beyond the new building smell, a pungent and sickeningly sweet odor. He looked again at the extinguisher's tank. They'd been gassed.
He could reconstruct the scene in his mind. Someone, possibly in a pressure suit or breathing mask, had hidden along the tunnel in wait. As the cart approached, they'd flooded the tunnel with gas. The driver had been affected first, and the cart had crashed, but one of the guards had fought off the gas long enough to stagger out of the cart and pull his weapon. The guard had been shot for his trouble. Axen noted that the gun in the man's hand hadn't even been fired.
He looked at the cart again. The cargo bed was empty. They'd stolen the Gene Bank.
Now he knew he was outnumbered. It would have taken at least two people to lug the gene bank out of the truck, and it would be logical to have at least one more as a lookout. He lifted the scooter, fired it up, and made his best guess at the direction they might have headed. His guess was deeper into the new construction zone. There would be few people to see them, and assuming they were wearing pressure suits, there were dozens of emergency and service airlocks through which they could reach the surface. For that matter, every incomplete building also offered easy access to outside.
He paused long enough to activate the nearest disaster alarm box, then rushed headlong into the dusty tunnels. He didn't expect to find the hijackers, given their head start. His only hope was that the cumbersome Gene Bank would slow them down.
As he approached a tunnel junction, he spotted a silvery object lying on the deck. He stopped the scooter short of the junction and leaned it against the wall. He cautiously walked over and picked up the object, retreating quickly into the cross-tunnel so as not to be spotted. He rolled the brushed aluminum cylinder over in his fingers. A paint-pen. Red.
The tunnel to his right dead-ended a few hundred yards on, and the normal overhead lights hadn't been installed yet. Only a few scattered work lights set up amid the scaffolding pierced the gloom. He pulled the gun out of his pocket and, keeping his back close to the wall, inched forward. He heard voices, and an intermittent hissing sound. A paint-pen.
He spotted the pressure-suited figure at the end of the corridor, hanging off a scaffold, putting the finishing touches on an enormous version of the divided circle he'd seen before. The circle covered most of a large set of pressure doors leading into the uncompleted factory module.
He crept closer. The suit's visor was closed now, but he'd heard voices, so there were others around, possibly carrying the Gene Bank. Could they already be on the other side of those doors, or were they simply invisible in the shadows?
He stepped out of the shadows and pointed his gun at the suited figure. "Don't move! I've got a gun."
The figure let go of the scaffolding and dropped into the shadows. Axen let off a wild shot but knew he hadn't hit anything. He hadn't used a gun in years, and he'd have to be much closer to have a prayer of hitting anyone. Unfortunately, he couldn't count on his adversaries being as unskilled.
Ducking low, he moved closer, using scaffolding and piles of construction material as cover. He popped his head up, and someone took a shot at him, but he had time to make an important discovery. The Gene Bank was sitting on the deck right in front of the spray-painted symbol.
That was good news and bad. It meant he might yet have a chance to recover it, but it also meant that whoever had been carrying it was now no longer so encumbered. He moved closer still, and popped up long enough to let off another round, just to keep their heads down.
He was back under cover by the time they responded with return fire. He popped again, and spotted a pressure suit helmet only a four or five meters away. He squeezed off a shot and the soft-slug pancaked against the plating with a metallic splat just to the right of the figure.
Three more shots in his direction, all wild. I might have a chance, he thought. Then he heard a clank, and the sound of heavy machinery. A sound like a tornado nearly deafened him, and a blast of wind pinned him in his hiding place and blinded him with clouds of dust. They've opened the pressure doors.
He clinched his eyes shut and tried to recall the appearance of the doors where the control panel would be located. He'd only have one chance at this. He pulled himself around his barricade and let the wind carry him toward the door, trying to veer himself enough to the side to hit the controls.
A slab of insulation smacked him painfully behind his right ear, and he felt hot blood running across his neck. He slammed against the right door, the control panel just out of reach. Through the open doorway he'd seen a flash of the building's dark skeleton silhouetted against a starlit sky. He felt the wind tearing at him, and clawed his way toward the panel.
Hot needles stabbed in his ears as the pressure dropped. He pushed himself forward the last inch and slapped the emergency close icon. He didn't hear the doors closing, and was only aware when the roar of wind stopped.
He slumped to the deck and tried, with limited success, to catch his breath. He looked around. They were gone, out through the doors while he'd been struggling to survive. Then he spotted the Gene Bank. It sat on its side near the door, half covered with a sheet of light-paneling. He pulled himself to his feet and managed to tug the panel clear. What he saw crushed him.
He fell to his knees in front of the Gene Bank, which appeared to have been shot repeatedly at close range, close enough that even soft-slugs had ripped through its aluminum jacket. The last of its liquid helium coolant boiled away from a puddle on the deck as thousands of tiny glass vials spilled out through the holes and onto the floor, where they lay shattered and broken.
He looked up at symbol painted on the doors, and screamed in rage.
Chapter Six - Alliances
Emma's face looked shocked as it appeared on the heads-up display of his spacesuit helmet. He'd decided that for this first attempt at reestablishing contact, he'd risk a visual signal. "Maker, Axen, I was afraid you were dead."
The Cargo Truck hit a pothole so deep that Axen was tossed against his straps. The pain reminded him that he was still very much alive. "They took Kraft from me, Emma, and things have happened here. I don't know if you know this, but Eden is on the move. I didn't know if you were alive either."
She flashed a little smile, and it sent a flutter through him. Had he missed it that much? "I can't say it hasn't been a near thing a couple of times, Axen. We've had our problems too, and I'm at least peripherally aware of yours from satellite imagery. But though I've tried to contact you every chance I've gotten, there's never been an answer."
"I wish I'd had that kind of access, Emma. Even now I still have to talk to Kraft through backdoor channels. That's why I'm in a pressure suit and busting my spleen bouncing around in this garbage truck."
She smiled again. "It's good to hear from you, Axen."
"It's good to talk to you too, Emma, but my time is short and I don't know when I'll be able to talk with you again. I have to warn you about Nguyen's bug, the thing we call the Blight. I'm passing you a data file while we're talking."
"We know quite a bit about it already. Frost has been incredibly resourceful on the matter."
He took a deep breath before continuing. "Did Frost tell you the planet is doomed?"
Her face went dead serious. "You're sure?"
"There's maybe one chance in a thousand, but we have to assume that the only real hope for survival is to build another starship and escape the planet."
She nodded sadly. "We suspected as much and have been acting accordingly."
"It's going to be a close thing, a real balancing act of resources, research, and technology. We can't just recreate the original starship that brought us here, it was a brute-force project constructed with the resources of a fully developed planet behind it. We have to build smarter, faster, lighter, higher technology across the board."
He paused for another deep breath. This wasn't going to be easy. "Emma, I don't think there are enough resources for two starships, or two starship programs. Based on what Kraft has learned, Eden has a clear technological lead."
"What are you saying, Axen?"
"I want you to help hold back the Plymouth program in any way you can, and give Eden the clearest shot possible." He saw the anger in her face, though he couldn't predict how that would color her response.
"Is that all?"
"Plymouth has one thing that Eden needs for its program to be successful." Again he paused, just the thought of it making his teeth grind. "Our human Gene Bank has been destroyed by terrorists. I want you help me to get the copy from Plymouth. With a minimum of bloodshed, of course."
"Oh, of course." She stared back at him. "Axen, were you always this oblivious to sarcasm? Frag if I'm going to sell out my own people. You may be ahead on the hardware, but without the human Gene Bank, how do you think any colony ship has a prayer of success? And if you have terrorists running around who would do such a thing, how can you even imagine you should be trusted with the only other Gene Bank in existence?"
"The people in Eden are your people too, Emma. They're all our people, or have you forgotten that? I'm just trying to do what's best for the survival of the species."
She smirked. "Are you sure? Why don't you sabotage Eden's space program so Plymouth and its intact Gene Bank have a chance?" She waited for a moment, studying him. "I didn't think so."
This was getting nowhere. "Emma, there's an impact site about fifty kilometers east of you where some of the wreckage from the original starship touched down. We have an expedition there now gathering the remains of key components so we can examine and reverse engineer them."
Her eyes widened. "Plymouth is sending out a convoy to do the same thing."
He groaned. "That's why I'm telling you, Emma. The Eden expedition is armed. Find a way to warn your people off."
"It's too late, Axen, they've already left." She licked her lips. "They're armed too. I guess this is about to heat up into a shooting war, no matter what either of us does."
He glanced out the window of the truck and saw the towering side of the Ore Smelter looming over him. "Emma, I have to go. Think about what I said."
"Think about what I said, Axen. May the best colony win. Pray that somebody does."
He shut down the connection just as the truck rolled onto the smelter's loading dock. He slumped back in the seat and gazed at the smelter's mottled wall as a thump indicated that the loading grapples had latched onto the trailer behind him.
That went well. And Emma didn't think he understood sarcasm.
# # #
Brook dropped his ClipCom carelessly on a flat outcrop of rock and sat down beside it. He drew his knees up in front of him, leaned back against a larger boulder behind him, and settled back to watch the ConVec put the finishing touches on the new Consumer Goods Factory. It was supposed to be a boost for colony morale, but it was going to make it that much more difficult to maintain his old wheeling and dealing, not that he'd had a lot of time or enthusiasm for it lately.
He was busier than ever these days, and that was good. The work kept him from thinking too much, dwelling on things he didn't understand, and possibly never would. How could Axen have killed Della? And did he?
On the face of it, the evidence was pretty damning. Axen had been in the CC just before the incident occurred, and thus might have performed the sabotage. He objected to Brook's association with Della, and judging from her comments, she might have just made a point of coming between Axen and his beloved computer. He'd been surprised, and perhaps a little upset, when he'd run into Brook outside the CC just before the explosion.
Of course, he'd been with Brook, and thus couldn't have been the one to set off the explosion if it happened as Echo had suggested, but there were other ways, and Axen might have had an accomplice.
On the other hand, though Axen had impressed Brook as many things, a cold-blooded casual killer wasn't one of them. But what did that mean? Would you know a killer if you met one? What does a killer look like? He didn't know.
But until he could find a way to resolve the matter one way or another, his close association with Axen was over. He still provided Axen with access to vehicles, and in turn, to Kraft, but he wasn't sure if that was out of doubt, courtesy, or fear. Perhaps it was simply out of the lingering belief that Axen really was trying to work for the greater good of the colony, that for the moment, letting him continue to operate was less a crime than stopping him.
But there were doubts about that too. Though Brook had been unconscious at the time, some witnesses put Axen on the scene when the Gene Bank was hijacked and destroyed. Echo had even suggested that Axen might have masterminded the heist, though Brook couldn't imagine why. It was so hard to understand why anyone would have done it.
He was always aware of his responsibility in that event, and lived in dread of the ultimate consequences. There was talk of a raid on Plymouth to "liberate" their Gene Bank, and think as he might, the alternatives were few. How could the starship leave without it, and the Plymouthers were unlikely to just hand it over.
He sighed. It was close enough to quitting time, and he wasn't going to get much else done in his present mood anyway. He slid down off the rock and picked up the clipboard. His dirt scooter was parked only a few meters away. He dropped his ClipCom in the small cargo box, straddled the seat, and whirred off in the direction of the Structure Factory, where he was supposed to meet Echo.
# # #
Axen returned to his quarters and slumped wearily into the bunk. He looked around the room, sparse and undecorated. The place felt as empty as his soul. All this work, all this fighting, and what have I got to show for it?
He knew the answer even as he posed the question. His work was his life, for better or worse. He had to see this thing through, and then... what?
Never mind that. He couldn't see the end of the current situation, though there had to be one, in death or in triumph. It was just that right now, he felt very, very tired.
He thought about zoning out watching the EnterCom, but decided to check his mail first. The first item caught his immediate attention. It was from the Council, a quarters reassignment. He read the text carefully, then read it again.
Then he stood up so quickly he nearly bashed his head on the cupboard over the bunk. "They can't do this!" All thought of rest was gone; he had work to do. They'd taken Kraft, kept him out of the loop, but nothing they'd done so far compared to this. He was being exiled, and he wasn't going to stand still for it.
# # #
Though both of them had their own quarters, the Structure Factory was still a favorite place to meet and talk. All factory storage bays were full in anticipation of the next colony relocation, and it would be shut-down and quiet there, a nice trade-off for the loss of their usual mechanical floor-show.
He parked the scooter next to a service airlock, cycled through, stowed his spacesuit in a locker, and climbed the ladder into the tran-station just outside the factory.
As he approached the big utilitarian doors, he noticed the symbol painted there, the circle divided by a line. It was a small one, only about a meter across, but still it annoyed him. Who were these people?
The interior of the factory was dark and eerily quiet. His footsteps echoed off the metal walls as he climbed the long flights of stairs up to the observation balcony where they were to meet. When he reached the last landing, Echo was nowhere to be seen, but there was another symbol painted on the front of a supply locker. How did they get in here?
"Brook?"
He turned to see Echo climbing another set of stairs on the far side of the balcony. He was surprised to see that she wasn't alone. She had two tall men and a stocky woman with her.
"Brook, these are some friends I've been wanting you to meet for a long time. I hope you don't mind that I've brought them along." She gestured toward the taller of the two men, thin of face and nose, with an equally thin mustache. "This is Jacque." She indicated the other man, slightly shorter and at least twice as wide, with a round face, ruddy skin, thick lips and a wide, flat nose. "This is Gi." And finally the woman. "This is Sharon." Echo smiled at him. "They're my friends, and I hope they'll be your friends too."
Brook nodded without much enthusiasm. He'd been planning to spend some time alone with Echo, and wasn't in the mood for a party.
"Folks, this is Brook Panati. I hope he's our latest recruit."
Recruit? "Echo, what's this all about? I thought we had a date."
"You have a date, Brook, with destiny. This is an important day, the day you're invited to join the Masters."
"The what?" Actually, he'd heard the name in association with the graffiti, though he'd wondered if it was any more than wild talk.
Echo smiled patiently. "The Masters, Brook. We're a group that believes that the reins of power in Eden are in the wrong hands, and that we've been manipulated by the legacy of the Elders for too long. We want to take Eden back, Brook, to take our destiny back, to take our future back."
It all began to sink in. "You destroyed the Gene Bank, and you used me to get to it."
"It was an accident, Brook. We intended only to hold the Gene Bank and use it for a political exchange. We never intended for anyone to get hurt. That's why we used gas."
"That's why you carried guns," he responded quickly, expressing more anger than he'd intended.
"We're dealing with dangerous people, Brook, and we have to be prepared to return a deadly response if necessary, but we've never set out to kill anyone, even our enemies."
Gi pointed at the symbol on the locker. "We stand for strength, and unity of purpose. We wish to create a world of equals."
"Equals," she repeated. "We have high ideals, and work for a higher purpose. I don't blame you for being angry. We did use you to get at the Gene Bank; we did mislead you about the incident. Not 'we' — I did those things. But it was for a good cause, and we meant you no harm. It's just that you're a useful person, a resourceful person, and we wanted you on our side. We still do."
He frowned at her. "How can I join you, after what you've done?"
"The Gene Bank was a mistake, Brook, but not a tragedy. We mean to use the starship to take our ideas to a new and better world, and we don't need the Gene Bank for that. We're clones, Brook, clones or the children of clones, though we don't think of ourselves that way. We're hand-chosen, the very best of all the races on Earth. Why should we dilute that perfection with weaker bloodlines, mongrelize it with random cross-breeding, when we can simply clone ourselves and maintain the perfection for all time?"
She smiled and spread her hands. "Don't you see, Brook, we're the Masters, all of us, if we only have the will. And as for joining us, you already have in a way." Her smile turned coy. "The Masters have a leader, Brook. Me."
Brook just stood there, his mouth hanging open, not sure what to say. Great Maker, what have you gotten yourself into?
Chapter Seven - Gulag
Axen stood as the transport's airlock clanked against the mining outpost's Command Center. Motors whirred and pumps chugged as the locks sealed together and cycled. He took a final glance around the transport's empty cabin, the dozens of seats empty save for him. One last bit of VIP treatment, he thought, my private taxi to hell.
The lights around the lock turned green, and the doors slid open with a hiss. He stepped through to find a broad-shouldered man with a handlebar mustache waiting for him. The man smiled and extended his hand. After a hesitation, Axen offered his own in return. He wasn't feeling very friendly, but he might well need allies here, and he was cut off from all his familiar resources.
The man's grip was like iron, and he shook Axen's hand vigorously. "Greetings, Elder, welcome to the Gulag. I am Vox Borges, operations supervisor for this mining station. So, who did you offend to rate a transfer to this fine place?"
It was the sort of question Axen generally tried to avoid answering, so he said nothing.
Borges just laughed. "Come, we all have offended someone, Elder. There is no other reason to be here."
"It's a long list. A very long list."
Borges smiled broadly. "So it is, and myself, I had to offend only a single Council member to receive this 'promotion.' "
Behind Axen the lock doors cycled shut and there was a clunk as the transport undocked. He noticed that Borges' attention was focused on the departing transport. "How are things back at mother Eden? I haven't seen it in a long time. Though I have accumulated much leave time, all the transports returning to Eden are constantly full."
Axen's eyebrows raised. "That transport was empty. I was the only passenger."
"I'm sorry, my friend, but you are mistaken. I have seen the paperwork proving that it was full, no room for additional passengers to Eden. Should there be any doubt, though you may not have seen him, there was a man in the cab with a side arm, ready to clarify the situation."
# # #
Brook stared blankly at the young blonde woman who'd answered Axen's door. "Who are you?"
"I live here," answered the woman. "Who are you?"
"I'm looking for the Elder Axen Moon."
"I've never met him," she said, and started to close the door.
"Wait!" He half-threw himself into the door. "He lives here."
She put a hand on his chest and gently pushed him back. "Not anymore. I moved in a week ago. I don't know a thing about him. Now go away, before I have to call the Volunteer Guard."
He stepped back and composed himself. "Sorry. Sorry. Just a misunderstanding. He must have been moved. I'll take it up with the housing office."
But when he found a quiet corner and called the housing office, they didn't have a listing for Axen. The woman there was an unshakable bureaucrat, and couldn't be swayed. "He's an Elder, frag it. He can't have just disappeared."
She glared at him from the screen. "I've told you, I don't have that information. If he's an Elder, perhaps he simply doesn't wish to be bothered. Good day."
Brook stared at the suddenly blank screen. Could that really be it? Could Axen simply have pulled some strings to allow himself to adopt a lower profile? Unlikely, and since Brook had arranged to put him back in touch with the Savant, he'd never gone more than a week before sending word that he needed access to a vehicle. Something was definitely wrong, and it couldn't have happened at a worse time.
He leaned back in his chair and watched the people lounging around the Residence's common area. None of them seemed to be watching him, but he couldn't be sure. He'd considered coming here at all a risky move, but these Masters probably knew more about what had happened to Axen than he did. Certainly they didn't number him among their friends.
For the moment, Brook was playing along with them, providing them with information, trading small favors on their behalf. Often as not, they provided all the barter goods, simply using him as a front for the transaction. They seemed to think, rightly so, that anything funneled through him was less likely to draw official attention.
What truly had him perplexed was Echo, sweet, open Echo, the leader of a secret resistance movement, thief, saboteur, and who-knew-what-else. How could it be?
She genuinely seemed to believe in her future humanity, built on a few hundred "perfect" genetic genotypes, repeated over and over for all of history. He shuddered. This morning she'd proudly confided in him how she'd already created a clone of herself several years before, using her position to switch her genetic material with a genotype from the Gene Bank selected by a young couple. Not only that, but she planned to do it again, soon.
Brook looked up as a woman walked past leading a small girl by the hand. She was the right age and hair color — but her eyes were brown. Brook dropped his head and sighed. He couldn't take much more of this. Echo was insane. That was the only explanation. He wondered if that insanity was genetic, and imagined it repeated endlessly throughout history, like a hall of mirrors.
"Brook!"
He looked up to see Echo walking around a cluster of potted palms toward him, a big smile on her face. "I've been looking all over for you. You aren't avoiding me are you, naughty boy?"
She reached out her hand and he took it, feeling a little thrill at the contact, his mind and heart at war. For the thousandth time that day, he wondered if Axen was really right.
# # #
Axen dropped his tool kit and lunged for a tunnel support column as the tran-station deck bucked under his feet. Scooters slid out of their racks and fell over like a row of dominos, and for a moment he was sure the hull would crack like an egg.
Borges held onto a window frame with one hand and grinned broadly at him.
Axen scowled at him as the shaking stopped. "Do you ever get used to this?"
Borges just laughed. He laughed a lot. It was really starting to annoy Axen. "In time, friend, you become thankful for each one that is just a tremor, not a major quake or volcanic eruption. Then there is the Blight, which is very close. At any moment one of our Robo-Moles could strike an infected flow, channel it straight to us, and the entire outpost could be overrun.
"This is a dangerous place, which is why people such as ourselves are sent here. They say that if we mine our quota, we will be sent home. I don't think I believe that, but each day we live is a victory, and another chance that a change of power might bring us home.
What kind of change of power? He wondered what Borges really wanted from him. He'd almost become Axen's shadow since his arrival, and Axen's new quarters were right next door to Borges'. Though Borges' title implied a great deal of responsibility, he never seemed to lack for time to follow Axen around, working with him on the minor boptronic repairs and adjustments that had made up his current roster of assignments.
At first Axen had thought he was only bored, and hungry for fresh gossip about things in Eden, and so he'd gladly obliged him in hopes that he'd lose interest. He'd been especially interested in Axen's substantially edited reports about the Masters and their activities.
Could Borges be one of them, or at least a sympathizer? Could that be the reason for his exile? Possibly, but certainly it was apparent that any number of offenses, real or imagined, could land a person here.
Axen picked up his tool kit and brushed himself off.
Borges frowned slightly and touched the communications unit in his right ear. "Have you been checked out in a spacesuit lately, my friend — beyond our popular daily disaster drills, of course?"
"Yes, why?"
"The tremor seems to have caused a malfunction in Guard Post Three. Best we should check it out right away. Come." He opened the floor hatch to the side of the tran-station and began to climb down to the service lock.
Axen sighed. Even outside, there would be no losing his shadow.
# # #
Brook sat in the cab of the Scout as it trundled around the colony on a fool's mission to the Garage. If he needed the time, he had the programming in place for it to travel all the way back to the Robot Command Center as well. If that didn't do it, well, he suspected nothing would.
He'd watched dozens of times as Axen had activated the link to Kraft, even helped in its planning and installation. He thought he could initiate the link himself. Unfortunately, it didn't mean anything unless Kraft would talk to him.
He cleared his throat nervously and looked out the window at the Vehicle Factory that they were passing. What do you say to a computer? Well, Axen made it seem natural enough, but Brook's direct interaction with the sophisticated, nearly human Savants was limited.
"Kraft, this is Brook Panati; I know you can hear me." He paused a minute. Silence. "I know that normally you'd only talk to Axen Moon, but that's why I need to talk to you. Axen is missing." Again silence. "I'm sure you've noticed the unusual time lapse since your last communication with him. I want you to help me find him."
Silence. "Kraft, I'm pretty sure Axen has mentioned me to you. I helped put you back in touch. It's only through me that you were able to communicate at all. Please talk to me."
Nothing. He sighed and scratched his chin thoughtfully. He felt like he was coaxing a shy child out of its hiding place. What would Axen do? Or, perhaps more important, what had Axen already done?
"Kraft, I know that Axen has had you working on the solutions to some very large, very complex problems concerning the Blight and the colony's survival. I'm sure you're still working on those problems at Axen's request, that it's an ongoing project. Isn't that correct? Well, without Axen to continually provide you new information and to refine those problems, you have no hope of solving them. By talking to me you may be able to put yourself back in touch with Axen so you can solve those problems. Talking to me would be an extension of those orders."
The circuit was dead. Then there was a click, and an icon appeared on the display of his ClipCom, a moving assembly of gear wheels and cogs, like a translucent clockwork—Kraft's identity icon. "This is Savant Kraft. I will converse with you within the limits of my existing instructions. Where is Axen Moon?"
"I was hoping you might be able to tell me. He isn't in the colony, at least not officially."
"He is not in the main colony?"
What did it mean by that? "I don't think so. I haven't been able to locate him here."
"Then he may be at the mining outpost."
Brook blinked in surprise. "What mining outpost? I've never heard of such a thing."
"There do not appear to be official records, but I have deduced its existence through information I've gained access to recently. I have identified twelve structure kits and fifteen vehicles officially listed as recycled, yet this is not reflected in the output figures from the GORF. Conclusion: these items were not destroyed and are not being used in Eden. This suggests they are being used elsewhere, and the mix of items involved suggests a mining installation."
Brook was amazed. It made sense, and yet, it would have had to have been done right under his nose. Only someone near the top levels of authority would have been able to pull it off. The audacity flabbergasted him. And if Axen had vanished to this nonexistent outpost, he probably wasn't the only one. How many of the people listed as missing during the last evacuation were actually political outcasts?
"Do you have any idea where this mining outpost is?"
"I have monitored weak vehicle control traffic at bearing 118 from the colony. I estimate the range to be one hundred and fifty kilometers. I do not believe these signals to be of Plymouth origin."
That was it then. He knew where Axen was. Now all he had to do was figure out how to get him back and make it stick. "Kraft, it may be possible not only to get Axen back, but to put you two back together. I'll need your cooperation though."
"I will evaluate your requests. Please explain."
And he did.
# # #
Axen shifted his weight on the service platform and looked at the status lights on the panel in front of him again. The Guard Post seemed to be working perfectly. The malfunction wasn't showing up on the local tell-a-tales, and therefore shouldn't have registered at the CC either.
He looked down at Borges. "Are you sure this is the turret they told you to check? This thing looks fine."
"Perhaps there is a malfunction in the connections between the Guard Post and the CC."
"It's a radio link, just like the vehicle control signals. There's nothing in the middle to go wrong."
Borges shrugged. "Well, then, there isn't a problem. You should come down from there."
Axen muttered under his breath and closed his tool kit. He turned and backed down the ladder. "It is most curious," continued Borges. "Perhaps the problem is not where you thought it was."
Axen stepped off the ladder and turned to find himself looking down the barrel of a pistol. Borges was still smiling. "I am sorry, my friend, but there are only a few ways to leave this Maker-forsaken place. I have been offered one, and you are about to discover quite another." He gestured at Axen's helmet. "If you would please loosen the fastenings on your helmet, we can end this rapidly and with minimal fuss. I am told unconsciousness comes quite quickly."
He studied Borges, looking for some opportunity. The other man was standing in front of the powerful machinery that moved the turret. The door was on the far side of that mechanism. It seemed hopeless. "No go, Borges. If you want me dead, you'll have to shoot me. I'm not going to make things easier for you."
He shrugged again. "So be it. There will be no questions asked about your death in any case, trust me on this." He raised the weapon to fire.
Suddenly there was a loud bang, and the Guard Post shook. At first Axen thought it was a tremor. Then the turret began to move. Behind Borges, huge gears and motors began to whir. The outpost was under attack!
Borges was distracted for just a moment.
Axen leapt, grabbing Borges' wrist with both hands and forcing the gun back over his head. The gun kicked, and the slug splatted against the ceiling. Borges put his other hand on Axen's faceplate and shoved him back.
Axen fell against the ladder. Borges again pointed the gun at him. Axen's hand groped for the discarded tool kit. He seized the handle and swung it as hard as he could. Borges threw up his hands to protect his head, and the case struck the gun edge on, nearly tearing it from his hand.
Axen pushed off from the ladder and charged toward Borges like a football player. The man braced himself for the charge, but Axen veered, brushing past Borges, his real goal the door on the other side of the turret mechanism.
Borges was knocked backward into the moving gears. His helmet lodged between the teeth of two huge gears. They turned, then hesitated, then moved again with a crack and a jerk. Borges' helmet cracked like a walnut, and a cloud of gas spewed out. The turret moved the other way, freeing Borges, but it was too late. He grabbed weakly at his head, then fell to the floor and did not move.
Axen started to relax, when a force like a huge club knocked him into the near wall. He couldn't tell if the flashes he saw were real, or if he was only seeing spots.
Another explosion shook the Guard Post, only this time not as close. There was a rending screech of metal and the whole turret mechanism slumped away from him. The door was blocked.
He shook his head to clear it, then crawled forward on hands and knees. There was light; there had to be a way out.
He scanned the room. A hole gaped in the wall next to the platform he'd been standing on only minutes before. Weakly he grabbed the sides of the ladder and climbed it one painful step at a time.
He reached the platform, then used the railings to pull himself to his feet. The railing in front of the door was bent and twisted, and it was easy enough to squeeze past and through the hole.
He rolled over the lip of the opening and out onto the platform that surrounded the Guard Post. A row of Plymouth combat vehicles was rolling toward him. One of them he could see dead nose-on, and it seemed to be approaching quickly.
He scrambled to his feet and crabbed along the side of the defense turret and around the corner behind it. The light combat unit rolled past no more than a yard away.
Another explosive near-miss sent him scurrying away from the turret. Even damaged as it was, it was a prime target. He staggered across open ground, trying to keep out of the way of the circling combat units, but they seemed to be everywhere.
A missile flew over his head and exploded into the Rare Ore Smelter, then another, and another. The Plymouth units were moving deeper into the outpost, so the safest place for him seemed to be away from it.
He glanced at his suit status indicator to check his oxygen supply, but the indicator panel was fractured and dark. Frag. Well, he'd just have to take his chances. There was a cluster of boulders two hundred meters from the edge of the colony. It would offer cover until the battle was over.
Halfway there, he started getting lightheaded, and dark spots crept into his vision. Something more than the suit's status panel must be damaged. It was getting difficult to walk, and his concentration was fading. He just wanted to lie down and sleep.
He let his eyes close for a moment, and when he opened them, a vehicle had rolled up a few yards in front of him and pulled to a stop. Puzzled, he looked up at the Scout. For a moment, he thought it must be a Plymouth unit, but the markings were clearly Eden. The hatch opened and a spacesuited figure waved him inside.
He grabbed the ladder, took a step up, then lost his balance and fell back. The figure reached down and grabbed the hanging straps on the shoulder of his suit, and managed to drag him up on to the vehicle's fender, then through the hatch. He helped as much as he could, but that wasn't much.
The hatch slammed shut and the vehicle made a fast turn and started bouncing across the landscape full tilt. He lay on his back, gasping for breath. Behind him, some lights turned green, and he tried to remember what that meant.
The other figure fumbled with his visor and managed to get it open. The air that rushed in was cold and slightly stale, but he didn't care. He sucked a deep breath in and coughed.
He rolled over, and found his face only centimeters from the flat side of a Savant computer housing. He glanced up at the figure, which was just now removing its helmet.
Panati grinned weakly at him. "Some welcome party you throw, Axen. Aren't you even going to say hello to Kraft and me?"
Chapter Eight - Resurrection
Brook stood in the tran-station outside the Medical Center, amazed at the number of people gathered there, waiting for the second coming of Axen Moon. Small pots of flowers lined the entry-way, many sporting handwritten notes. Papers were plastered over the bulkhead — signs, letters, and children's paintings wishing Axen well. A group of people stood watching the safety lock expectantly and talking quietly among themselves.
How things have changed. How indeed, and though nobody knew it, those changes were all Brook's doing, directly or indirectly. It had been four weeks since the colony relocation, and opening the Medical Center had become a colony-wide priority. The sooner it opened, the sooner the injured Elder could be brought out of suspended animation and treated for his injuries, and today was that day.
It had been many months since Axen Moon miraculously arrived back in Eden, unconscious, half-dead, riding in a stolen Scout, with his Savant computer Kraft broadcasting the incriminating news about the mining colony on every available data channel. It had rattled Eden's society to its very foundation and started a wave of change that continued today.
Shortly thereafter the colony had been forced to relocate, and when they'd put it back together, everything had been different.
Someone took his arm gently. He started as he turned and realized it was Echo. She smiled as though nothing had happened between them, and they were two young lovers out for a stroll. "I wondered if I might run into you here. Have you been avoiding me?" She clicked her tongue. "You know, I had made arrangements for us to be on the same Evac Transport, but somebody changed those arrangements at the last minute." She locked eyes with him. "Curious thing, don't you think? And then, I just never seem to see you anymore, you don't answer my calls, don't do me my little favors. What's happened between us?"
"I've been busy. We're setting up a colony site in record time here."
She glanced at the decorated bulkhead. "Especially the Medical Center I see. Amazing what a little public will can do. I can't say that I'm glad to see the old fossil back, but I can't really complain." A smile crept back onto her lips. "With the new status quo, the Masters have gone mainstream. More and more people are listening to what we have to say, and the authorities don't dare touch us." She chuckled. "As I said, amazing about public will and all." She looked up at him. "Doing anything later, lover?"
He stared straight ahead. "Yes."
She looked down at her feet and shook her head. "Pity. Jacque isn't busy tonight." She swayed from side to side. "Jacque can be a lot of fun."
Brook ignored her, which seemed to make Echo angry. "He killed your friend, you know!"
"Not so loud!" He looked around nervously to see if anyone was listening, but they seemed to be safe. "Look, why don't you and your terrorist buddies just go soak in the mainstream or something?"
She just frowned. "Suit yourself." She turned and started to walk away. "I'll be in my quarters tonight, if you want to call me. But don't wait too long."
# # #
Brook stepped between the two Volunteer Guards, dressed in their newly issued blue and gold-trim uniforms, and into the private room. One of the guards peered inside and made eye contact with the occupant.
"It's fine; close the door." Axen sat propped up in the med-station bed, an oxygen tube clipped into his nose.
"How do you feel?"
"Not bad for a man who’s been shot, blasted, dosed with poisoned air from a damaged spacesuit, frozen, and defrosted. Yourself?"
"They said you'd asked to see me."
"They said you've been checking on my condition every hour for the past two days."
"I have an investment in you."
Axen's eyes narrowed as he studied Brook's face. "You obviously risked your life and status to rescue me, and to liberate Kraft. So why do I feel like we're not exactly old friends here? You got me back as far as Eden, then pulled a disappearing act and made it look like I'd escaped. Why?"
"It was easier and more forgivable for you to steal a Scout and a Savant than me, especially if it knocked the wind out of the Council. Never mind that it was impossible for you to steal those things, I knew people would believe it of you. The impossibility only adds to your mystique."
"You made me a hero."
"That was an unintended side effect. Mostly I was covering my own backside."
He grunted. "I might have done the same, if I'd been clever enough to pull it off." He leaned back into his pillow and closed his eyes for a moment, as though he were already tiring. "I asked for you because nobody tells me anything, and there are questions I can't even ask. What the frag happened while I was on ice?"
Brook kept his face a blank mask. "First we have to settle something. I'm going to ask you a question, and whatever the answer is, I want the truth. If you can't tell the truth, keep your mouth shut and we'll end it right here. How you answer may not change what I do — you're a means to an end now — but I have to know before I can work with you."
Axen's brow wrinkled. "Go ahead."
"Did you kill Della Ricca?"
Axen's mouth dropped open. "What? Where did you get that idea?"
"From Echo Van Dozier, initially, but it made a lot of sense. The window was sabotaged, and you were in the CC repeatedly, including just before it happened. You didn't like my associating with her, and she didn't seem to care much for your hanging around the CC to visit Kraft."
"Poor reasons for killing somebody." He sniffed. "If I were that cold-blooded, Nguyen would have parted company with his head long before he had a chance to blow this planet wide open. Killed her! Great Maker." He sniggered for a moment, then sobered and looked up at Brook.
"You do believe me, don't you?"
"Yes, I'd come to much the same conclusion, I just didn't want to believe the alternative."
"Which is?"
"That Echo killed Della, directly or otherwise."
"Van Dozier, the baby doctor? First you tell me she's playing amateur detective, then you tell me she's a murderer."
"That baby doctor is the leader of the Masters, the terrorist group. She used me to get to the Gene Bank, then destroyed it, intentionally, I now believe."
"You're sure of all this?"
"She's admitted most of it to my face. She's insane, Axen, I see that now. She believes we have all the genetic material here that humanity will ever need, all us 99th percentile humans. Clone us forever, and usher in the golden age."
"I assume you can prove all this. Let's just have her arrested."
Brook pulled a straight-backed chair over next to the bed and sat down with a sigh. "Things have changed while you were out of the picture, Axen. Everything has changed. When news of the illicit mining camp broke, the Council was disbanded, several members put under arrest. The chairman was cleared of any involvement. They'd taken advantage of the distractions created by the disaster to run this without the chairman's knowledge. The chairman's forming a tribunal to charge them formally, and the VG are being organized into a real police force."
"This all sounds to the good. So, have the new police arrest her."
"It's not that simple. The existing power structures have been split and fragmented. Some people see the Masters as heroic revolutionaries, visionaries. Echo has gone public, selling her ideas as a kind of immortality."
"People are buying this?"
"Those who haven't bought into the idea of you as a new messiah and maybe some of those too. Enough to make them politically untouchable at the moment. They signed their handiwork when they hijacked the Gene Bank. If they were going to be arrested, it would have already happened."
"Frag, this is bad." He looked up. "Where's Kraft?"
"Under protective guard in the next room. I don't think they wanted you wearing yourself out talking to the computer." He chuckled. "Kraft is almost as much a hero as you are. The good news is, you're probably politically untouchable too. I don't think you have to worry about any more assassins. Nobody wants to make you a martyr."
Axen frowned. "How did you know about that?"
"You babbled halfway back to Eden. You'd be surprised what I know." Actually, the attempt on Axen's life was about all he'd heard, but he'd just let Axen stew anyway.
"You think these guards can be trusted?"
"The VG seem to be staying neutral, and no one faction has a clear advantage. The chairman and his supporters are focused on survival and keeping the colony running. You have a lot more power than you did before, but it’s effectively canceled out, just like everyone else's."
"You've seen the Van Dozier woman lately?"
"A few days ago. She was chiding me for hanging around the Med Center. I told her to get lost."
"Did she?"
"She didn't give up, if that's what you mean." He felt his jaw clinch. "I still have feelings for her. I know she's insane, but part of me just wants to fix her. But I'm staying away from her. Don't worry."
Axen grunted. "To the contrary, that's exactly what I don't want you to do."
"What?"
"Be her friend, give her what she wants, within reason, tell her I'm a murderer, whatever it takes."
"Axen, I can't."
"You can, and you will. We can't let this situation continue, and if things are as evenly balanced as you tell me, this is our only hope of gaining an advantage."
Brook said nothing.
"You'll do it."
Reluctantly, Brook nodded. Ask me to saw off my right arm. It would be easier.
# # #
Brook paused in front of the office door. Dropping in here had seemed like the best thing to do. It would put Echo off-guard, and lacked the intimacy of any of a number of other possibilities. While he hoped to establish some sort of business relationship with the Masters, he hoped to keep Echo at arm’s length. Anything else would be unbearable.
But now that he stood in front of the door, staring at the fake wood grain and counting the rings, he was having second thoughts. Perhaps I should just go back and tell Axen that I can't pull it off. But that idea was dashed when the door opened from inside. Echo looked up into his face and smiled. She looked surprised, but not very surprised.
"Brook, I was just thinking about you." She stepped back and beckoned him into the office. "Don't be flattered, I wasn't thinking very hard." She sat on the edge of her desk and gestured Brook toward a visitor's chair.
"So, come crawling back to beg forgiveness, or is this not a social call?"
"It's not funny, Echo. None of this is funny. I don't like being here."
Her smile faded. "Then leave."
"I had a talk with Axen Moon today. I gave him a chance to prove his innocence in the death of Della Ricca."
"And?"
"He had nothing convincing to offer. He pleaded innocence of course, but I don't buy it. That's why I'm here." He studied her face, trying to read the emotion there, but it eluded him. "That's the only reason I'm here. Axen Moon is too powerful since his return, and I can't stand by and see that continue. On the other hand, there's no direct way I can stop him. My only hope is to ally myself with a force strong enough to counter him."
"Meaning the Masters."
"Maker help me, yes, meaning the Masters."
Her face became very serious. "Brook, you think I'm crazy for my attitudes about the loss of the Gene Bank, but I want to show you something."
She walked over and unlocked a cabinet near the med-station. As she opened the door, wisps of white fog rolled over the lip and faded as they fell toward the floor. Echo pulled on a pair of heavy gloves and reached inside. She removed a frosty metal cylinder half a meter high and fifteen or so centimeters in diameter. The cylinder was connected by metal-clad hoses and wires to some mechanism hidden in the cabinet. "I'm not crazy, Brook, I'm calculating. Outside the inner circle of the Masters, you're the only one to ever see this."
"What is it?"
She held it just a little higher and smiled proudly. "It's my own private Gene Bank, culled over a period of years from the original. While the original had tens of thousands of genotypes, this one holds only a little less than a thousand, hand-picked to be the best of the best. These aren't the 99th percentile Brook, they're the 99.9th percentile, the finest minds and bodies from every significant genetic group that existed on Earth. This is my utopia, not some selfish dream about cloning ourselves."
Brook laughed sarcastically. "But you already have."
Echo just smirked. "Rank has its privileges, Brook, you should know that. Besides, its just a little game I play. You could play it too. Would you like to be cloned, Brook? A little tissue sample, some altered paperwork, replace a vial when nobody is looking, and before you know it, some unsuspecting couple gives birth to a little Brook."
Brook's stomach did a flip flop and he felt ill. "No, Echo, I don't want a clone. I just want revenge."
She smiled smugly. "Clones. Revenge. Two things I'm good at."
# # #
Despite the protests of his doctors, Axen wasted no time in getting back on his feet. He was still weak and short of breath, but the thought of Kraft sitting guarded in the next room was a prime motivation. There was much work to be done if the current situation was to be salvaged.
When he finally was able to reach the room where Kraft was stored, he had to again thank Panati for his resourcefulness. Not only was the computer hooked up to the power mains, but Panati had also connected a residential data tap. Seemingly a small thing, but Kraft had been trapped behind some kind of heavy security firewall since the Savant had been taken from Axen during the first evacuation.
He sat down next to the computer and put his hand on the cool, smooth upper surface. The first order of business was to find out more about the baby doctor. What had Panati said, something about her bragging that she was a clone? "Kraft, access birth and genetic records for Dr. Echo Van Dozier."
"Access denied. This information is confidential and classified."
"Override."
It took only a few seconds once the command was given. Axen had infinite respect for the computer's abilities — he had long overridden any restrictions in the computer's programming that might have caused it to hesitate in its probings. "Information on screen."
He stared at the document on the screen, then read it again to be sure he had it right. Then he cross-referenced to another birth record. He put a blank data-slip against Kraft's upper surface. "Transfer these two records to the data-slip.”
"Done," the computer replied instantly.
Axen took the slip and put it in his shirt pocket. Information was a weapon. Not everyone appreciated that fact, but Axen did, and he knew he had a weapon against Echo Van Dozier. It was a small weapon, and might only work if delivered by just the right person at just the right time, but it was his now, and he intended to see it used.
All he had to do now was figure out a way to get it to Panati.
Chapter Nine - Investigation
Brook was getting to be good at stealing vehicles. He was getting a lot of practice lately. He was even getting the hang of the manual controls that all Eden vehicles were equipped with as an emergency measure, but which were otherwise rarely used. The tiller bounced in his gloved hand, and he applied a little right pressure to avoid a fresh meteor crater.
As the Cargo Truck bounced its way around the back side of the Rare Ore Smelter, where it would be shielded from any curious eyes back in Eden, he wondered again if he should really be going along with this plan. Actually, he had no idea what the plan was, he knew only the explicit instructions Echo had given him, and he'd followed them to the letter.
Axen's clandestine messages had encouraged him to cooperate. Axen seemed to think that the Masters had bigger secrets to hide than he knew, and that this might provide them with new leads. He spotted a suited figure that had to be Echo standing at the building's base in a shadow — a small setback, like a cave in its vast silver cliff.
He braked the truck to a sliding stop that threw him forward against his straps. He muttered to himself as he shut down the power system and locked the parking brakes. The hatch slid open immediately. He hadn't bothered to pressurize the cabin when leaving the GORF, and Echo climbed up on the broad steps. He could see her smiling behind her visor. "I really didn't think you'd do it. You aren't quite the bad boy you make yourself out to be."
"Maybe I've just got you fooled about the bad boy part. I'm here, aren't I? Besides, you told me you just want to borrow this, though I'd still like to know why you want to borrow the cargo." In the trailer was a battle-damaged Lynx. Its turret destroyed during the last skirmish with Plymouth, the rest of the chassis badly damaged, it had been bound for metal recycling when Brook had intercepted it. About the only possible use he could think of for it was as ballast.
Echo shook her head. "I'm not ready to trust you with all our secrets yet. You keep providing things we need, and we'll talk about it, but not today. Just trust me on this one, and I'll be much more inclined to trust you in the future." She shook her head back toward the power plant. "Out. There's a scooter back in the recess you can use to get back to the colony."
Reluctantly he climbed out as she slid past and into the seat. Her hands ran over the controls with a familiarity he'd never felt when driving. Where had she gotten the chance to practice that? "Looks good. I'm out of here."
He kept his perch on the steps. "Wait, when will you be back?"
She considered his question for a moment before answering. "About twenty hours for my business, plus travel time, call it thirty-five hours. Forty tops. You said nobody will notice the truck is missing."
"Operations thinks it’s in the Garage, the Garage thinks it's part of the starship salvage convoy, the truck that's actually in the convoy was rotated out of ore hauling, and when you bring this truck back it will replace it. As long as you beat the convoy back, there won't be a problem, but I can't hide it forever. Same with that junker in the bed. Since the mine colony scandal, there are much closer tabs kept on recycled items and total output."
"You'll get your salvage back, pound for pound. Now, the sooner I roll, the sooner I'm back. Off."
He stepped down and away from the truck, and watched as it accelerated smoothly, turned, and using the power plant as cover headed out into the foothills, into thousands of miles of nothing as far as Brook knew. But somewhere out there, seven and a half hours away, was something, a destination. That would be what Axen was trying to uncover, but not if Brook could uncover it first.
# # #
Axen leaned back in his chair and contemplated the array of pictures, lists, and documents that Kraft was displaying on his apartment's big EnterCom screen. His goal was to identify the Masters and their resources, not at all an easy task. Although the group had technically gone public, only Echo, of all the core members, had publicly identified herself. The rest were hidden, and their anonymity made them especially dangerous.
There were others who identified themselves as part of the group, but they were newcomers and hangers-on, seduced by Echo Van Dozier's rhetoric, and who knew little of the group’s actual agenda or activities. With the exception of Van Dozier, if they loudly proclaimed their membership, they weren't of interest to Axen.
That left Echo, the three goons she'd brought with her when she'd attempted to recruit Panati, and a few more that he'd identified since. For these few Axen had names, pictures, information. The rest, however many there might be, were a mystery, and a difficult mystery at that.
But Axen had been luckier in tracking down deceased members. Many of those who had been at the mining outpost had been sent there because of probable association with the Masters, Vox Borges being one of them. Axen still wasn't sure if Borges’ attempt to kill him had been initiated by the Masters, or if Borges had struck a deal with the now-deposed Council. There had been others, some of whom had been identified as having died in accidents, some Axen had ruled out as active members for one reason or another, and three who were simply missing.
These three were also identified as having been killed in an accident, but unlike the others, no remains had been identified. Curiously, despite their new-found power, the Masters had not protested or called for further investigation.
Axen walked up to the screen, took out a data pen and wrote next to the three names, "DEAD?" He considered this for a moment, then wrote above the names, "LOOSE CANNONS." But if these three weren't dead, where were they?
From there, Axen had set Kraft investigating the dispensation of everything from the mining outpost. Again, there were curious holes. Most of its resources, units, and buildings were listed as "abandoned in place," unsalvageable. Yet, a count taken from satellite photos didn't jibe with the inventory. A handful of items were unaccounted for, including a Robo-Miner, a ConVec, a Command Center kit, and a Laser Guard Post. A Lynx totaled during the Plymouth raid on the outpost was also unaccounted for, though its hulk should still be on the battlefield where it had been disabled.
He looked at the short row of pictures at the top of the display. Thanks to Panati, he knew at least these few for sure. "Kraft, run up a profile on all these, up to and including their current work assignments and whereabouts."
"Certainly, Axen." There was a pause. "Preliminary report is on your ClipCom. I am attempting to create a deductive profile from less direct sources."
Kraft, I taught you well. It's good to have you back. He scanned the list quickly. Gi Atolo was a scientist currently working on agricultural research. Sharon McComb worked in a Garage. The others were an unexceptional lot, working common jobs in less-than-key locations. The one oddity was Jacque Barre, who was on disability leave from his job in the Vehicle Factory. Panati hadn't mentioned any obvious infirmity.
Axen tapped the name on his ClipCom. "Kraft, give me more on this."
"He is listed as having been injured in a robotic malfunction three weeks ago, confined to bed. I find a listed emergency response of that description on that date, but indirect information causes me to suspect that record."
"Is he in his quarters?"
"Probable."
"On what do you base that?"
"Service logs show appropriate drains on life support. There are ongoing records of communications activity, computer use, changes in electrical power demand, all consistent with occupation. His ration points have been used to purchase meals in his Residence."
Axen chewed a fingertip nervously. He could think of ways to fake all those things. "What about his luxury ration points?"
"They have been used also."
"Where?"
"Three different Recreation Facilities, the Consumer Goods Factory, several public eating places around the colony."
Axen smiled. They'd done a good job, but somebody had gotten greedy. If Barre wasn't around to use his luxury points, why should they go to waste? But an invalid wouldn't be spending them all over the station.
So, where was Barre? With all the other missing items? With the other Masters, supposedly dead? Possibly, but it was too soon to jump to such conclusions.
His ClipCom chimed softly, and a message icon flashed on the upper corner of the screen. "Answer, visual," he said. The face that appeared on his screen was Zek Autzen, son of one of his fellow Elders, and a member of the new Senate. Zek nodded respectfully, though the two of them were hardly strangers. "Elder, the chairman wishes to see you in a personal meeting. There's a favor to be asked."
Axen raised an eyebrow. This was unexpected. "Care to save me the suspense and tell me what this is about, Zek?"
"I don't know exactly, Elder. It's my understanding that they want you to act as some kind of diplomat."
# # #
Brook sat in the now familiar alcove under the edge of the Rare Ore Smelter, watching waves of dust blow past the opening. He was sitting on bare ground, and despite the suit's insulation and heaters, his butt was getting cold. He looked at the chrono display on his helmet's heads-up display. Where was she? He leaned forward and watched the thin, high clouds moving across the sky at a frightful pace.
New Terra's weather had become increasingly erratic, in part because of the thicker atmosphere and the change in the gasses making it up, in part because of the volcanic activity in the Blight-infected areas. The thin, dry air had begun to spring new surprises on Eden’s scientists. Dry lightning storms, apparently caused by static electricity, had begun to appear on the outskirts of the colony, as well as dangerous funnel clouds the scientists had dubbed "vortexes."
Every time the scientists came up with a weather model that worked, the environment changed enough to render it invalid, making their forecasts almost useless. There were no serious storms forecast for today, but his gut told him otherwise. He didn't want to be caught alone on the surface with only a suit and a scooter.
Something in the distant windblown dust caught his eye, nothing more than a slight thickening in the cloud. He watched carefully. Yes. Dust kicked up by a vehicle.
He stood, brushed hopefully at the dust covering his suit, and finally settled on getting his visor relatively clear. He stepped from his shelter, and actually felt the wind tugging at him. At this pressure, that meant the wind had to be moving at 120 kilometers per hour or better.
As he watched the truck getting closer, he saw another thickening in the dust, and at first thought it was a second vehicle. Then the funnel pulled reddish soil up its otherwise invisible length, like a child sucking orange juice through a straw. Vortex!
He eyed the truck warily, and wondered if Echo had seen the funnel. The vortex was perhaps seven hundred meters behind her, and might be hidden from her view by the cargo box. If she checked the rear-view cameras she'd see it, but there was little reason to do so on the open desert.
As he watched the seconds tick by in the corner of his eye, he tried to judge the movements of both the truck and the vortex. If it didn't speed up in its lazy, weaving dance across the desert, she'd beat it here easily. He could get in the cab, to heck with the scooter, and they could make a run for the safety of the nearest Garage.
Then another discomforting thought occurred to him. What if she saw the vortex and didn't stop? It would be quicker to make a straight run for the Garage, and Brook had no way of judging if she cared at all for his life, or if she would consider him valuable enough to take a risk in rescuing.
Quickly he surveyed his surroundings. There was a service access door a few meters up. It would be locked, but Brook had a hacked keycard that might contain an override that would work.
He watched the truck grow closer, as did the vortex, which had grown dark and tall, the soft fuzzy column of its funnel tightening down into a smooth, thin, writhing snake. Brook knew what that meant, that a faster inner column of spinning air was forming, a corkscrew of wind so fast it had never been measured, such a focused stream of destructive force that scientists jokingly called it an "air laser."
The truck at first seemed to be taking a wide arc around the smelter, but then it turned toward him, seemingly in no great hurry. The vortex was getting closer, its funnel whipping back and forth now, like the tail of some angry beast.
Hurry. She couldn't have spotted the vortex; she was loafing along at nowhere near the truck's top speed. Frag. The vortex was going to overrun her before she got here. Quickly he ran back to the scooter and hopped on. He gunned the throttle and the fat tires kicked up a rooster-tail of dust that the wind sucked away greedily.
He had to make it to her first. He ran the bike flat-out, the tires slipping from side to side in the loose sand, gusts of wind trying to knock him off balance. The vortex loomed over the truck like a giant about to stomp on an ant.
He laid the bike over on its side without slowing down, sliding to a stop in the truck's path, praying that a sharp rock didn't split open his suit. The truck veered to avoid him, slowing enough that he was able to jump onto the step and grab hold of the door grab-handles as it opened. He threw himself inside.
Echo glanced over. "Brook, are you out of your mind?"
"Turn right, hard. Vortex." She looked shocked, but she didn't hesitate, and the truck slid around in a tight turn.
Brook glanced at the rear-view screen and saw his scooter, half flattened by one of the truck's tires, nearly disappear in the clouds of dust at the funnel's base, then reappear as an explosion of fragments that went in all directions, as though it had been blown apart with a grenade. "Faster!"
But it was too late. The truck, already off balance from the tight turn, was hit by the vortex, which tried unsuccessfully to lift it into the sky. Instead, the truck began to roll slowly, first up onto its side, then completely over.
Brook, not being strapped in, landed in a heap on the cab ceiling. The whole cab bucked and shuddered as though it were being torn from the truck, then dropped to the ground with a crash. Brook rolled over onto his belly and looked out the window. The huge base of the funnel had moved past them, but then it paused in its drunkard's walk and started moving back toward them.
He reached back and pulled the emergency release on Echo's harness, catching her as she fell free and immediately tugging her out the door. The funnel was coming at them fast now. If it had hit the cab with them still in it, he was certain they'd have been killed. Of course, if it caught them out in the open, they'd be just as dead.
Brook glanced at the overturned cargo box. A small depression in the ground had created an opening under its lip that might be just large enough to crawl into. He dragged the dazed Echo toward it. It was too loud to hear her or even tell if their radios were still working. He shoved her toward the opening, and she got the idea. He crouched next to her and helped push her through the tight space. The vortex was almost on them now. Brook climbed into the opening, digging his way frantically into the dark space with hands and feet.
He slipped into the tight space between the cargo box and its combat vehicle cargo, but Echo was nowhere to be seen. Then her helmet light flashed from the other end of the box, and he saw her waving him frantically that way. He scrambled on hands and knees toward her, and she motioned him toward an engine cover on the back of the combat unit. Of course. The Lynx might be heavy enough to resist the vortex.
The cover hung loosely by one corner, and there was just enough room in the motor bay for the two of them to squeeze inside. He jammed his back against a bulkhead and braced with his feet. He glanced over at Echo. If he'd wanted to be rid of her, he'd missed a perfect chance, and now his attempted rescue might end up costing him his own life.
The roaring outside reached a crescendo, and their dark hiding place was suddenly flooded with light and dust as the truck bed lifted away. The Lynx shook, seemed to lift slightly in the air, made a 180 degree turn, and then dropped back to the dirt.
The roar faded, and Brook caught a glimpse of the vortex withdrawing into the sky. Suddenly claustrophobic, he leaped out of the hatch and ran a few meters before falling down in the dust. Echo staggered out, walked over, and plopped down beside him. She laughed. "Guess this truck is off the books for good, eh?"
He laughed too, more from relieved tension than anything else. Then he noticed something about the Lynx. It was hard to be certain with it sitting upside down, but he was relatively sure he was right. It was the same turret that had left Eden hours before, but the chassis was different. Oh, it was the same model, and it was combat damaged, but the damage was much more extensive, and in different places. Somebody had swapped the trashed turret onto an even more trashed body and shipped it back. Why?
He looked over at Echo, who made eye contact, a big smile on her face. His heart sank. He'd just saved her life. Would he be able to do whatever was necessary when the time came?
# # #
Axen sat down at one end of the empty Senate table facing the big screen set up at the other end. For the first time in decades, he would have a legitimate, legal communication with Plymouth.
Give it to the chairman, when it comes to survival issues, the bases are covered. In secret, even as the shooting war was heating up, lines of communication had been opened with Plymouth, and the stage set for negotiations, not to end the fight, but to ensure the safety and survival of Plymouth's human Gene Bank.
Axen had been reluctant to step into the role of negotiator, but the chairman had insisted that he was especially qualified, and had granted him significant powers. It was just possible that he might be able to accomplish something here today.
He'd spent the last ten hours researching the situation, developing various proposed agreements that would allow for the transfer of the Gene Bank if — when — Eden completed its starship. He felt confident that he was ready to deal with any situation.
Then the screen lit, and Emma's face looked back at him. Her expression was blank. This was obviously less of a surprise for her than him. "Axen," she said, "it's been a long time."
Which, officially, it had been. Even unofficially it had been long enough. "Emma. They hadn't told me who my counterpart in Plymouth would be. This is a surprise."
"I see that, and yet, somehow I think I know exactly what you want."
That's playing it a little close to the surface, Emma. We have to be discreet, for both our sakes. "We're looking for a guarantee that the Gene Bank will be transferred to us if it's clear that Plymouth will not finish its starship in time. In return, we will guarantee the safety of the Gene Bank, if it is placed in a designated and marked non-strategic structure, and that Eden will be allowed to depart unmolested if its ship is finished first."
She nodded while keeping eye contact. "We're prepared to discuss it, Axen, though you know some things are non-negotiable." Something on her desktop caught her eye. She touched an icon, and a document appeared. She read it quickly, and her jaw dropped, then clinched shut as she looked up at him, eyes burning like coals. She looked at someone off-camera and said, "Bring him in."
She turned back to him, looking no less angry. "How could you? What were you trying to accomplish? Steal it, or just locate it for future reference, in case we didn't agree to paint 'steal our Gene Bank' on the outside of the building?"
He shook his head in puzzlement. "Emma, I have no idea what you mean. What's happened?"
"I hope you're telling the truth, Axen, but it makes no difference in the outcome of our talks today. As of now, they're over."
She glanced back as two uniformed men dragged a third man into camera range. The man's wrists were cuffed behind him, and the guards stood on either side holding him up. A large bruise stained one side of his face.
"We found him in a restricted area adjacent to where the Gene Bank is stored. Do you know this man, Axen?"
Unfortunately, he did. The man on screen was Jacque Barre.
Chapter Ten - Raid
Retribution had come swift and hard for the actions of Jacque Barre, "Eden Spy." Under cover of darkness, a Plymouth convoy had sliced through Eden's defenses, ignored choice strategic targets, and made a lightning raid on the labs researching starship technology. An attempt to remove salvage from the original starship, Conestoga, had been repelled thanks to courageous action by the Volunteer Guard, but three scientists were missing and presumed captured. Among these was Eldon Jensen.
Axen especially regretted Jensen’s loss. Failure was always easier to take when it didn't have a face. Of course there was nothing he could do, once Barre caused the talks to collapse. Emma, or at least the people she spoke for, simply didn't trust anything Eden had to say, anything they had to offer. When the communications channel went dead one afternoon after a particularly heated session, it was no surprise.
The raid nine hours later was.
As Axen sat in front of one of Residence Three's gallery windows and stared out at the large hole blasted in the lab's side, still unrepaired, he hoped Plymouth had gotten something useful from the three captives, because the pendulum was swinging Plymouth's way again, and it was bound to hit hard.
Alarmed by the ease with which the raid had penetrated their defenses, Eden had been given a new priority, and its splintered political factions had aligned behind one thing and one thing only: a massive military buildup. They would have their scientists back, and the Gene Bank too.
Axen slumped, chin propped in his hand. If this kept up, neither side would win. Too many resources would be squandered on weapons, too much destroyed in battle. Neither starship would be built, and humanity would die. He had to keep the lid on this war, keep things from falling completely apart before the most vital work for survival had been completed.
"Elder, you look like someone shot your dog."
He looked up as Zek Autzen stopped in front of him and handed him a ClipCom. "What does that mean, the dog thing?"
"I don't know. Saw it in an old vid once, and you had the same look on your face as the guy in the vid. They never did show what a dog was, though."
Axen tapped the ClipCom with his finger. "You read it?"
Zek nodded. "Me and the chairman. We agree with you that it's premature to take it to the whole Senate. It's shocking, if true."
"It's true all right. I'd stake my life on it."
Zek sighed. "Even if it is, Elder, I don't know what we can do about it. This could tear the Senate apart if we reveal it to them, destroy the uneasy truce we currently operate under. The Masters would deny everything, everyone would choose up sides, and meanwhile, it could force the Masters to play out their hand."
"You'll have proof."
"That some units, parts, and supplies may be unaccounted for? That some people associated with the Masters didn't come back from the mining camp? That one man is missing? You can make a lot with that, but not a case. If what you tell me is true, we need a location. So far, the satellite has turned up nothing, and even getting the resources to look is politically very difficult right now."
"They'd hardly leave it all lying around in plain sight. They don't want either us or Plymouth to find it."
"I need more, Elder. Give me something to work with and we can at least fight it out in the Senate." He stood and started to walk away. Then he stopped and half-turned back. "Assuming you're right about what they've got, and what they're going to do with it, do you think they have a chance?"
Axen shrugged. "It’s a lot easier to destroy something than to steal it. Even if they fail, they'll stir up Plymouth so bad that we'll have no hope of ever getting the Gene Bank, by any means. Either way, they win."
Zek sighed. "And humanity loses."
# # #
Brook impulsively stuck his hand in his pocket and felt the small transmitter card. Axen had assured him that it could be attached anywhere on any vehicle and still be effective, and that it would be extremely difficult to detect, even if someone were looking for it. It transmitted only in microsecond pulses at random intervals on a system of rotating frequencies normally used by suit radios, telemetry systems, vehicles, mining beacons, and other units one would expect to find active around the colony and even out in open country.
None of which made him feel any more comfortable about it. He didn't know when he would have to use it, or under what circumstances, and if one of the Masters caught him with it on his person, well, he didn't know what would happen. On the other hand, he couldn't very well go out without it, especially when he suspected the reason for Echo's requested meeting at the Agridome was to borrow another vehicle.
At least, as he waited in the darkened structure looking up at the sharp pinpoints of stars in the sky, he hoped so. It had been nearly a month since she'd made such a request of him, and Brook was beginning to wonder if Axen's theories, as logical as they seemed, were totally off base. Part of him still wanted to believe that Echo wasn't the monster she seemed to be, that it was all some vast misunderstanding, or that she was, at least in some way, redeemable.
He heard a crunch in the corn field behind him. It would be impossible to come that way without destroying plants. That seemed irresponsible and out of character, even for Echo. He turned and peered back into the darkness. He could see the cornfield silhouetted against the moonlight coming through the far side of the dome, but no sign of a person. "Echo?"
More rustling, closer. This wasn't right. It wasn't right at all. "Echo, is that you?"
More rustling. "Whoever you are, say something." He hesitated. No answer. "I have a gun." Which was a lie, of course. He'd considered trying to black-market a side arm for his personal use. He was even pretty sure that Axen had one or two squirreled away somewhere that he might have been talked into parting with. But the dangers and disadvantages had always seemed to outweigh any benefit. Right now, those arguments seemed to have lost some of their weight.
His eyes strained into the darkness, looking for some movement, some identifiable outline. Then in a flash it was there, charging through the nearest row of stalks, crashing into him, pinning him back against the clearplex. "Where's the gun, Brookie-boy?"
Though he couldn't see the man's face, could barely see at all with the thick forearm pinned against his throat, Brook recognized the voice as Gi, one of Echo's more constant associates. He felt the man patting him down with his free hand, and flinched as he touched the pocket with the transmitter in it. It was difficult to breathe, much less talk. "Just a bluff, Gi. Didn't know who you were."
Gi seemed satisfied and lessened the pressure, though he kept Brook against the window.
Brook decided to take the initiative. "Where's Echo? Why the rough stuff?"
"Somewhere safe. Things have gotten pretty hot around here for us, and Echo decided it was time for a — security review. Make sure you weren't followed, or any other such frag."
"I'm clean, Gi, you can see that."
Gi nodded. "Yeah, seems like it." He took half a step back, straightened the front of Brook's shirt, then stepped back again. "No hard feelings, Brookie-boy."
Brook restraightened the shirt, and decided that the garment was never going to hang right again. "Yeah, if you'll just stop calling me 'Brookie-boy.' Name’s Brook, and I like it."
"Suit yourself. I got a message for you from Echo."
"I got a message for her. Next time, bring her message in person."
Gi frowned, his face a blue mask barely visible in the moonlight. "Some advice. You be careful who you order around. She may have let you put the make on her, but she's a powerful lady, a dangerous lady, and she'll be more so before she's through."
"But until then, she still needs favors. Cut the gorf and tell me what it is this time."
"She needs a ride starting in thirty hours, something with armor would be good, for a one-way haul."
"What?"
"This one isn't coming back, or at least, not soon enough to make a difference to you. Color it gone."
"I can't do that. Tell her I can get her a Scout for a day, maybe two, but that's it."
"Look, I don't negotiate here, I just deliver the message. She says come through, I suggest you come through." He smiled, and it wasn't pleasant. "Otherwise, it could be bad."
Gi turned and walked away back through the cornfield, leaving Brook to curse the night.
# # #
Axen sidled into the back row of the dim gallery that overlooked the Ping-Pong table and made some show of watching the tournament going on there. He glanced over at Zek, who was munching from a bag of some orange snack-food.
Zek saw Axen eyeing the bag and tilted it toward him. "Carrot puffs. Want one?"
"Not if a meteor just hit the last Agridome on New Terra."
Zek shrugged. "You're the one who keeps insisting on these secretive meetings, Elder. You could just come to my office like anyone else."
"That would be too," he searched for the right word, "obvious. The less we're seen together, the better, especially considering what I have in mind."
"You've got a location, then?"
"I expect to shortly, but then, I don't think we can afford to wait on that. I want all the pieces in place when the time comes."
"Time comes for what? I told you, Axen, even if you can prove the existence of this 'resistance base,' even if you can pinpoint it for me, there isn't much we can do. Even with the Masters’ spy blown, we can't just unilaterally move against them."
Axen nodded. "No, you can't, and if you reveal the existence of this thing in an open Senate meeting, it will change from a treasonous act into a subject of debate. But right now, it doesn't exist, and that can work to our advantage." He waved a hand at the players at the table below, the ball flying back and forth with blinding speed. "That's why we're here rather than your office. I'm convinced that the Masters are going to use their base to stage a preemptive strike against the Plymouth Gene Bank. You can't stop it, but maybe I can. I'm going to offer you an out."
"I don't understand."
"We can't destroy the base if it doesn't exist. How could the Masters raise an official protest if the base doesn't exist? They can't."
"Destroy their base?" He laughed. "With what, Elder? Are you going to go club them to death? I certainly can't allocate forces to go after them. If I could, I wouldn't need you."
"But you're on the weapons development committee, Zek. You've been working around the clock to develop the new turret for the Tiger chassis."
"That's classified, and I know better than to ask how you found out. But what's your point?"
"Back on Earth, Zek, they had a very useful term. It was called 'plausible deniability.' Point being, a vehicle under manual control normally will leave no record of its movements, and new weapons, well, new weapons need testing."
# # #
Brook had arranged to have the Scout left outside the Structure Factory's far airlock. He'd left the arranged door unlocked for Echo, and hoped this time she actually showed, not one of her goons. He leaned on a railing trying to look casual, and watched the unoccupied assembly machinery below running through a self-repair and maintenance cycle. Frag if he was going to let Gi rattle him.
He heard the sound of boots on metal grating and glanced up. Echo was walking purposefully toward him up the catwalk. She stepped up next to him and adopted an identical pose leaning on the rail. "Floor show's kind of dull tonight. You've got the item?"
"It wasn't easy."
"I didn't ask for it if it was easy, Brook, I just asked for it. I need it. There are some very important things going on, and I need to be able to depend on you."
He hung his head. "Yeah."
"Then you got the vehicle, no return?"
"I have a Scout waiting outside the emergency lock at the bottom of the stairs." He hesitated before making the lie. "No return."
She was silent for a time, just watching the preening of machinery on the factory floor below. "I can tell when you're not being truthful with me, Brook. If that Scout isn't back in two days, you're going to be in a lot of trouble."
He hoped she wasn't as perceptive as she pretended. "Okay, true."
"I'm not without my own resources, Brook, and I'm not above checking on you. Now, want to tell me why?"
He squirmed. "You said you needed it badly. I figured I could come up with a cover story by the time they noticed it was missing."
"Brook, I'm going to assume that was a noble gesture on your part, but it's also a stupid one. Drawing attention to yourself, or to us, doesn't serve our mutual needs. I need this vehicle, but not at the cost of ruining our plans." She turned and studied him carefully. "I think I have a solution, Brook. We've put you through a lot lately, and you've proven yourself reliable — to a fault. I'll take the vehicle, but you're coming with me."
He stared at her blankly.
"There's something I need to show you, something I owe you a look at, since you helped to make it possible. And that way, you can drive the vehicle back in plenty of time."
"What about you?"
She just smiled. "I'll have my own ride. You'll see."
This wasn't what he'd planned, not at all. "I'll need to go back to my quarters, arrange some off-time."
She waved her hand. "Done. All taken care of." She took his hand and led him toward the steps down to the lock. "This is an exciting day, Brook. You're going to see the Masters’ secret army."
# # #
Axen looked unhappily at the irregularly dotted line on his ClipCom. The signal from the transmitter was coming in loud and clear. The problem was, he couldn't get in touch with Brook to find out exactly who or what he was tracking.
He glanced around the Garage and watched the last worker go on break precisely as scheduled. Three test model Tigers were lined up in the first three bays. He sealed the visor of his spacesuit, slipped his keycard out of a front pocket, and walked toward the first Tiger.
The hatch opened immediately when he ran his key over it, and he lowered his feet into the opening and then slipped inside. The short, narrow space pushed his knees up and in, and barely gave him room to pull his elbows in.
He slid down a little farther into a semi-reclining position, giving just enough room to pull the hatch shut over his head. The emergency operations console swung down in front of him, and the screens and pads lit, giving him enough light to look around and examine the bare-metal coffin he'd just climbed into. The compartment was designed for functionality, not comfort, and it certainly had never been intended for cross-country trips. Unlike most vehicles, it lacked even an emergency life-support system, and so he'd have to spend the entire trip sealed in his suit.
He activated the manual controls, and directed the Tiger out of the Garage. Fortunately, the on-board Noesis computer could handle the precise steering. All he had to do was use the console to tell the vehicle where he wanted it to go.
It rumbled to life around him and began immediately to move. It rolled out of the bay, turned on its axis, moved a few meters, then turned again toward the vehicle lock. He glanced down at the ClipCom balanced on his leg and set a route to follow at a discrete distance. He wondered again where Brook was, but it was too late to worry about that now. He'd soon be leaving Brook far behind.
# # #
Through the Scout's windows he could watch the southerly surface wind kicking up a layer of dust that almost concealed the ground. He flexed his fingers apprehensively and wondered where Axen was.
"Look," said Echo, pointing off to their left, "we have an escort."
The dust was gusting down the slope in that direction, and at first he didn't see it. Then he started to pick up a few edges and managed to build up a picture in his mind. He blinked to be sure his eyes weren't fooling him. It was an armored combat vehicle, a Laser Lynx if he wasn't mistaken. In place of the normal Eden colors and bare metal, it had been painted in a mottled gray and orange camouflage pattern, making it very difficult to see.
He looked Echo's way. "Yours, I assume?"
She nodded. "Cobbled together from bits of the wreck you loaned us and a second unit we recovered from the battlefield near the old mining outpost. It's not our only combat-capable vehicle, but it's our best."
"I'm impressed, that you have it anyway, but I don't know what you expect to do with it. It's certainly no match for Eden's forces, or Plymouth's either, if that's what you have in mind."
"Agreed, if we were planning a full-scale attack to cause extensive damage. But a well-planned, well-targeted mission to destroy a single item might have a chance." She pointed out the front. "Look, there."
Again, he didn't see anything at first. Then he made out irregular, shifting shapes, like rippling hills. It took him a while to realize that he was looking at a huge roof made out of camouflage netting. He could just make out a row of parked vehicles and a single structure, a Command Center, carefully painted in camouflage like the Lynx.
"We're very proud of the netting," she said. "It reflects radar just like open ground, and has active thermal compensation to fool infrared. Believe it or not, the netting was tougher to come by than the Command Center."
She leaned down to look up at the CC as they rolled around it. "It's stripped inside, but all we really needed was a building with independent power generation and life support. It's much better than our first base, which was a played-out Rare Ore Mine. That gave us a place to hide our people and collect materials. Then, during the last relocation, we used the confusion to cover our own construction project. By the time Eden was back up and running, so were we."
As they passed the row of vehicles, Brook could see they had all been modified, crudely, and probably at a huge cost in labor. Weapons and armor plate had been welded on all over them. Rifles, along with their power supplies, salvaged from Plymouth Scorpions, seemed to be a favorite improvised weapons upgrade, though a ConVec had what appeared to be part of a Guard Post turret grafted onto its upper deck.
"We're ready to go, Brook. Today, or tonight, rather. We'll move out under cover of darkness, hit them from the less defended side, the one away from Eden, use the less capable vehicles as decoys, and ram the Lynx right down their throat for a surgical strike on their Gene Bank."
"Echo, this is crazy. You've convinced most people that the destruction of Eden's Gene Bank was an accident, but you can't get away with this. You'll lose all your support."
She grinned and shook her head. "We'll ride back to a hero's welcome. The people don't like the fighting, or hadn't you noticed that? We'll have saved them from a disastrous and pointless war to steal the Gene Bank. Our vision of the future will be assured, and we can resume moving forward rather than sideways."
They were approaching the lock when the radio crackled. "Watch to command, we have an incoming, one kilometer out moving along the base of the east valley wall."
Echo looked suspiciously at Brook, but said nothing to him. She switched the Scout's transmitter to its lowest power setting and set a scramble. "How many, watch?"
"Just one, but it looks like a heavy combat unit."
"Frag. Command to nest, the alarm is sounded. Deal with the incoming, then the operation begins, now."
Echo swung the Scout completely around the CC and stopped just under the netting. She watched as a small swarm of suited figures emerged from the CC and climbed into the various vehicles.
He had to talk Echo out of this before they both got killed. "This won't work, Echo." Oh, that was convincing.
"It's a Tiger, but it’s only one Tiger. We outnumber it, and we know the terrain. Whoever is running it will have no idea what the capabilities of most of our units are either. No, I think we'll win easily."
He watched as the various units, led by the Lynx, rolled out. The Scout took up a distant rear position, having no armor and no combat capability. Brook didn't think that would prevent Axen from blasting them though, unless of course, Echo's assessment of the situation was accurate, and he didn't want to think about that.
# # #
Axen watched the approaching blips on his targeting scanner. Too many. There was only supposed to be the one Lynx. Were they planning to attack him with unarmed vehicles? Ramming? It was unthinkable.
He swung the Tiger out onto the valley floor to give himself more room to maneuver and less chance of being boxed in. Armed or not, some of these vehicles were probably twice as fast as he was. A Laser cut through the blowing dust and an explosive bang told him he'd been hit. The dust would reduce the effectiveness of Lasers, but he had no idea what it would do to his unproven weapon system.
Time to find out. He powered up the turret and activated the path projectors. Behind him, through the metal of the hull, he could hear the massive volt-sinks powering up.
# # #
Brook, trying not to be obvious about it, scanned the little cab for a weapon. He eyed the emergency hand-pump for the door opener. The handle looked removable. Slowly he reached over to pull the pin that held it in place.
The radio chattered with traffic now.
"Squad Three, do you recognize that turret?"
"Negative. It's putting out some kind of beam though; it just gave me a little bump as it tracked past me."
Echo smiled as she heard this. "It must be one of the new prototype weapons. That's how they got it out of Eden without drawing attention. This is being passed off as a test. Well, it looks like their super-weapon has a few bugs to work out." Her hand tightened on the tiller. "Too bad there isn't time."
Gently Brook pulled the handle free of the pump.
# # #
Suddenly, Lasers were coming from everywhere. These weren't combat vehicles. Well, never underestimate the human ability to improvise. The Masters had been rewriting the rules from the beginning. He felt stupid not to have anticipated it here as well.
Individually, the hits were nothing, but collectively, they were taking him apart, and he couldn't get away. He looked for cover, but the flat valley floor offered nothing.
The ConVec rolled in front of the turret. Moment of truth. The path projector's invisible beams swept along its flank and locked on. They'd barely feel those, but they were only to provide a path of least resistance for the electrical discharge that followed. Time to let loose Thor's Hammer. Fire!
Lightning arced away from the turret, danced around the vehicle for a moment, then faded. The turret's second weapon fired. Again, it narrowly missed the target, then flicked into contact, and sliced the side of the ConVec open like a ripe melon. Yes!
# # #
"Squad Two, I just got hit by lightning! Did you see that?"
"Negative, negative, sky is still clear."
"Squad One, pulling back."
Brook touched the bloody lump behind Echo's ear. She was still breathing. He pushed her aside so he could take the tiller. Things were looking better for Axen, and worse for him. He had to find some way of letting Axen know he was in the Scout, and get clear without the others giving chase.
"Squad One, it's a new weapon. Looks like he's having targeting problems though. Stay close and move fast, we'll wear him down."
"Roger."
In a few seconds, Axen would be surrounded again. If he was going to get his attention, it would have to be now. He slid the speed control forward and the Scout surged. He turned and headed right down Axen's throat.
# # #
Axen looked at the Scout that was coming toward him in a full charge, lights blinking. It didn't look armed or, for that matter, modified in any way. Suicide attack? But it could well be the Scout that Van Dozier left Eden in hours before. This could be an excellent opportunity to take her out of the picture with no political repercussions, maybe the only one he'd ever have. He locked the trackers and the turret began to spin.
Where is Brook?
The question popped into his head out of nowhere, but it made his finger pause over the fire control. He could have gone with Van Dozier, maybe even been kidnapped. The lights on the Scout flashed, and he wished that he and Brook had come up with some sort of code.
Oh well, too late now, and he had only one choice really. He made a final, manual adjustment of the targeting and fired.
# # #
The flash nearly blinded Brook, and he flew back in his seat, throwing his arm over his eyes. Even with them closed, the blue streak of electricity was burned into his retina, and he blinked to clear his vision. The Scout was still moving, and seemed unharmed. Targeting problem, he thought. I can use this.
He keyed the radio. "This is — uh — command passenger. We were hit. The commander is hurt bad. I'm going to make a run and try to get her to a hospital."
"This is Squad Two. Negative, we have medical facilities at the base."
"She's hurt bad. She needs a hospital. Out."
He flipped off the transmitter, gunned the speed control, and blew through their lines and past the Tiger, which now had plenty of other problems to deal with.
Then a voice from the radio said, "Squad Three, something is wrong here. All units, your new priority is the commander’s Scout. All units pursue and capture.
Oh, wonderful. They're all after me, and even if Axen has figured things out, the Tiger will be too slow to catch up.
# # #
The turret was in constant motion, firing as often as the volt-sinks could cycle. The targeting systems were self-correcting, learning as they practiced, and it was only a matter of time before he was hitting more than not. The tiny compartment began to heat up, and even through his gloves the back wall was hot to the touch. His suit air-conditioner labored under the strain.
Then he watched as the Scout roared past, and hoped that he was right. When he saw the other vehicles withdraw and give pursuit, he knew he was. Time to close the trap.
He had the ClipCom configured as a secondary control console. He tapped the icon that would start Tiger Two and Tiger Three out of their hiding places up on the valley rim and down to meet the Masters’ convoy. That should slow them enough for his Tiger to close in on their flank, and then they'd be easily sliced to ribbons. There'd be time to blow up the base later.
# # #
Brook steered the Scout on a zigzag course down the valley, dodging Lasers all the way. He didn't see the Tigers until they were almost on him. He felt like a fly about to be clapped between a pair of giant hands. Then the Tigers turned and disappeared behind him.
He glanced at the rear-view screen. The convoy was in chaos, boxed in, lightning flashing across the valley floor like a carpet of blue fire. Once he reached a safe distance, he slowed, turned, and stopped to watch the show.
Somebody else was watching it too. "I'm going to kill you."
Echo sat motionless, inert, in the other seat, but she looked at him through narrow, bloodshot eyes, projecting a malevolence he had never imagined. "I will kill you, and I will pull every gene sample ever taken from you and I will personally burn them, so there will never, never, be another you."
Brook licked his dry lips and turned back to the battle. Axen was mopping up, but this was far from over. He thought of the data-slip Axen had given him so long ago, with personal information he said could be used against Echo.
It was time to read it. If it wasn't already too late.
Chapter Eleven - War
Brook watched grimly as Axen locked the helmet of the combat suit in place. The dark, ablative, anti-laser coating showed highlights of iridescent color as he turned, and the light-weight armor plates creaked slightly in response to his movements. Brook thought of old sims he'd seen, knights armoring up for battle, or matadors putting on their suit of lights.
Brook leaned back against an equipment locker, trying to look relaxed. He felt anything but. "You don't have to do this, you know."
Axen glanced at him, as though just noticing he was there. "The Senate asked me to."
"They didn't order you to, though. Anyone could go. I could go. Frag, half the Senate, Echo's trolls anyway, would just as soon you didn't come back."
Axen held his wrist screen up in front of his face and ran through the checklist. "If I don't come back with the Gene Bank, then nothing I can do here will make any difference anyway. Van Dozier will have won. I have the experience, more knowledge of Plymouth than anyone, and if worse comes to worst, my status as an Elder may offer me some slight extra protection."
Brook wrinkled his upper lip. "I wouldn't count on it. They aren't going to just let you walk out of there with their Gene Bank."
"Has to be done. Besides, if it works, my stock with the Senate, and public opinion, can only rise."
"If you put the right spin on it." He sighed. Axen had always said that, in politics, it wasn't what you did or what happened, it was the spin you put on things. He'd never really believed it until their return from the Masters’ base.
Echo's people had started work even before they'd made it back to Eden. By the time they were through, she was the wounded hero of the day, having ferreted out a terrorist stronghold in a courageous undercover mission. Axen's role, and his, were unknown to the public. Axen preferred it that way, but the situation galled Brook. "Let her have her day," he'd said. "The people who count know what we did, and it might even keep her out of trouble while we deal in more important matters."
Brook didn't think so, though. He'd seen Echo only a few times since returning her to Eden, and then only passing in a corridor. But the look in her eyes on those occasions told him that she hadn't forgotten her threat, and that she intended to follow through. It was just a question of when.
Through the small view port behind Axen, he could see a Scout roll up and stop outside the airlock. Axen glanced out the window and saw it too. "My ride is here."
"Last chance," said Brook.
He cycled the lock open, stopped halfway through the door, and glanced back with a slight smile. "Mind the store. Whatever happens."
# # #
There was already someone in the Scout's cabin as he climbed into the right seat and strapped himself in. The cabin pressurized, and as soon as the indicators went green, he flipped up his visor. The other person did as well. He recognized the man immediately. "Dr. Kolo. I knew they were sending someone to assist me, but you were the last person I would have expected."
Kolo smiled. "I'm not surprised. But there are no professional soldiers in Eden, and let me assure you that I lift weights and I'm proficient in several martial arts. I won't be a problem. Also, though Plymouth's lab structures are going to be different from our own, I think I'm better equipped than anyone to find my way around and help locate the Gene Bank."
Axen nodded. "Agreed. That's not why you're coming though, is it?"
"No. My people are in there, and if there's any chance to rescue them, then I want to help. Besides, the days of serious research in Eden are over. The colony is winding down, coiling for that last leap into space." He turned and looked intently out the window, watching the armored convoy that was falling in around them. "If my usefulness as a scientist is over, then I have to find another way to serve."
"Rescuing the scientists isn't a priority. We're going in for the Gene Bank. If they happen to fall into one of our vehicles along the way, so be it, but I won't endanger the mission for them."
Kolo took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I know. I wouldn't expect you to." He let the thought slip by, smiled, and stuck out his hand. "Forget the doctor business. Like I said, that day is done. My name is Ule."
Axen nodded his approval. This man was going to be watching his back. No sense in formality. "Call me Axen. Good hunting to us both."
# # #
The RLV Eden Clipper sat on its launch pad like a vast, manmade mountain, clouds of venting fuel making it look like a barely dormant volcano. The analogy became even more apt as the countdown hit zero, and the big rocket started to belch fire, though from its base rather than its top.
Brook paused at the window of the tran-station outside his Residence to watch the launch. The ground shook as though in one of the ground-quakes that hit them with increasing frequency. Watching the launch vehicle climbing skyward in its tail of fire filled Brook with a mixture of hope and dread. As he studied the faces of people stopped around him, he knew he was not alone in his feelings.
In the enclosed, artificial environment of Eden, human smells were always there. Generally the nervous system simply edited them out, but occasionally, when something unusual happened, it could drive things above the threshold of awareness. Lately it had seemed to Brook that he could smell the anxiety, the fear, of his fellow colonists. In orbit overhead the starship Phoenix Voyager was nearing completion, and if all went well, soon some of them, some of them, would be leaving.
Who that would be, and how many, was known only to a Savant computer in the CC, which was constantly juggling the crew roster based on a mix of necessary skills, ages, and gender balance. Even the starship's exact capacity wasn't known. The stasis units had been designed to allow some doubling up of children and smaller adults, but that would depend on a thousand other variables affecting final payload, and could only be determined at the last minute.
As the RLV disappeared from view, Brook strolled back to his quarters. He'd felt at loose ends since Axen had left with the convoy to Plymouth. His own work had slacked off, the colony was ramping down, not building up, and while he hadn't dismissed the threat of Echo and her friends, her covert activities seemed to have been curtailed by the failed base. He'd just put in several volunteer hours loading the final supply module to be launched into orbit and thought he might finally be tired enough to sleep.
He entered the tiny room, folded the bunk down from the wall, and dropped into it wearily. The rumpled sheets hadn't been changed in a while, he noticed, but he couldn't develop any enthusiasm for the task. What's the point? The world ends soon enough anyway.
He rolled over to face the wall and noticed the message icon flashing on his EnterCom screen. He gave the voice command to play the message. He nearly fell out of the bunk as Echo's face appeared in front of him. "Hello, Brook. Now that the convoy is gone and observing strict radio silence, I just thought you should know a few things. First, it's all for nothing. Jacque was a decoy, and my other spy in Plymouth will be taking advantage of the confusion created by the attack to destroy the Gene Bank.
"Second, the reason there will be such a distraction is that he'll have given Plymouth plenty of warning about the attack, so your friend the Elder will walk right into a trap." Her smile seemed to drip venom. "The show's only starting, hon. Don't worry, though. You'll be here for the final act. Just don't count on an encore." She laughed as the image clicked off.
He rolled out of the bunk and pulled his boots back on. Echo was right in that there was no way to contact the convoy. Even stealthy methods like Axen's tracking module had used were judged to be too risky. The unmanned vehicles were all running on internal programming, and would reestablish contact only when they reached Plymouth or engaged its forces, whichever happened first. This was a totally black mission, with no possibility of recall.
Brook chewed his lower lip. At this point, it would be easier for Plymouth to contact the convoy than for Eden to recall them. He blinked. It wasn't a good answer, but it was the only one he had. He had to contact Plymouth.
The direct channel would never work. Though there now existed an official communications link with Plymouth, he'd never get access to it in the current political climate. Even if he did, Echo would find out about it immediately and might be able to speed up her own timetable. But there could be another way.
For some time he'd had strong hints that Axen had been in contact with someone in Plymouth, and that this contact had a great deal to do with Axen's desire to be reunited with Kraft. He'd seen how Axen had rigged a link to Kraft by bootlegging vehicle control signals, and he knew that Axen had made sure Kraft had access to similar control signals for the old observer satellite that the two colonies once shared.
That was it. The satellite was still in orbit, though Eden didn't use it any more.
He immediately put through a priority call to Senator Autzen. "Senator, our mission to Plymouth is in grave danger. The Masters have a spy in the colony. I may be able to save Axen Moon and the mission, but I need a favor. I can't explain why, but I need Axen's Savant computer linked to the satellite command system."
# # #
The convoy ran through the twilight and blowing dust as rapidly as it could without lights. Ule Kolo was sleeping, and Axen wished he could. Is that what comes from knowing your work is done? For Axen, the work was not over. He had unfinished business. There was always unfinished business.
He thought about Nguyen, Echo Van Dozier, his fellow Elders, himself. They all had something in common. They'd tried to do the right thing, and in their arrogance, they'd tried to manipulate factors too complex and dangerous for them to understand. Their sins were all different, and all the same. Nguyen had paid the ultimate price. Except for Emma and himself, the Elders were all gone now, and as for Van Dozier, her time was coming soon. He was sure of it. For all of them, time was running out.
# # #
Brook sat on a chair in Axen's quarters, leaning forward, elbows propped on knees, staring at the inert cube that was Kraft. Once before he'd been able to convince the computer to cooperate with him, but he was delving into new levels of secrecy now, with even less solid data to go on. Also, he wouldn't put it past Axen to install additional instructions to prevent another security breach. Still, this was the only chance he had.
"Kraft, you remember me, and by now, you've become aware of a new data channel that has been opened for me. That's my doing. I know you can use that channel to contact Plymouth."
Nothing.
"Okay, I think you can use the channel that way. Kraft, you must know about the mission Axen is on, and why neither one of us can contact him. The Masters have a spy in Plymouth and they've tipped him off about the convoy. The Gene Bank will be destroyed, and Axen will be attacked as soon as he approaches Plymouth. I know Axen has a contact in Plymouth. Speaking with that contact is my only hope of saving Axen and the Gene Bank. Help me, please."
Silence. Brook rubbed his forehead. He was at a dead end.
The clockwork icon suddenly flashed on the computer's front surface. "I have located the Masters’ secret communications link with their spy. It employed seismic probes to send sonic signals to seismographs in Plymouth. That link has been crippled."
"Kraft! You're talking to me!"
"I had to locate the link before I was convinced of your sincerity. I can establish a link to Plymouth, but I warn you that Axen has not used this channel in some time."
"I'll take my chances, my chance, the only chance I've got really."
"Do you wish visual?"
"Yes."
"Working. I have established a link with a computer in Plymouth. It is now paging the contact."
Brook sighed. Kraft was cooperating, but he could tell that the computer was being less than forthcoming with information. Unless the contact chose to identify him- or herself, he would never know the person’s identity.
Several minutes passed before the EnterCom screen on Axen's wall flashed to life. He recognized the handsome but weathered woman who appeared on screen from Axen's recent diplomatic assignment. He watched as she casually pushed a strand of salt-and-pepper hair out of her face, but her eyes studied him with an intimidating intensity.
"Elder Burke," he said, "I'm honored."
"Well, pup, I'm not. Who the frag are you and where is Axen?"
"My name is Brook Panati. I've been helping Axen with a number of concerns lately." He swallowed. "Look, I don't have much time to convince you of my sincerity. I take it that you're somebody Axen trusts. I hope so, because I'm about to give you some vitally important information you'll want, but in so doing, I'm putting his life in your hands."
Her eyes narrowed in concentration. "I'll be honest with you, pup, I don't think Axen trusts me as much as you think anymore, and I can't make any promises as to what I'll do with any information you give me. Given that, do you still want to talk to me?"
Brook's mouth was dry. He had no choice at all.
# # #
The Scout hung back while the armored column rammed head-on into Plymouth's defenses. The crossfire from their defense turrets was brutal, but the whole point was to create an opening that the fast but unarmored Scout could slip through. Lightning flashed from the new Thor's Hammer weapon, which Axen had given its first trial by fire. Now that experience was paying off, as first one, then another of the Guard Posts exploded, and a section of the defensive wall began to crumble under the constant bombardment.
Axen took the controls and surged toward the growing opening, bouncing over the rubble just as the wall collapsed. While Axen weaved the Scout between buildings, Kolo rubbernecked, looking for the Advanced Lab. Information clandestinely transmitted to them by the captured scientists instructed them what to look for, and where in its lab the Gene Bank was located, but the scientists' freedom had been restricted enough that they had no idea of the layout of the colony. Satellite photos helped, but there were still several candidate buildings to visit.
Axen spotted a Plymouth Lynx passing between two buildings ahead, and slammed the tiller over to steer them into a side passage. He didn't think they'd been spotted.
"There it is!" Kolo pointed to their right. They were almost to the building.
Axen switched the Scout over to computer control and flipped the switch to open the hatch. "Grab your gear. Here we go."
They each carried a shoulder bag, a tool belt with holster and pistol, and a light rifle. The Scout slowed slightly as they passed the building, but didn't stop. The two men leaped wide from the vehicle's fender to clear the churning rear tires, and hit the ground rolling. They scrambled under an overhang at the base of the building and huddled there while they got their bearings.
Kolo pointed back to their right. "The emergency lock is that way."
They moved carefully, watching the windows of neighboring buildings for any sign they'd been spotted. So far, so good. It appeared that most of the citizenry had taken shelter deep within their buildings.
Axen turned his attention to the door's mechanism. The trick was to break in without depressurizing the building. That would sound alarms and be a clear giveaway as to their position and intentions. He placed a small box containing a shaped charge and radio-detonator over the panel and moved back a meter or so.
He pushed a button on a belt control box and the box popped and fell off the scorched panel, which now had a neatly cut rectangular hole in it.
He clipped a probe over one of the cables and attached it to another small box, which he attached to the wall with a bit of adhesive. He pressed another control on the belt and the outer door of the lock opened.
They both stepped inside, and Axen cycled the lock. The inner doors slid open, and they were in an emergency suit locker. Axen eyed the suits, then started pulling off his combat suit.
Kolo raised an eyebrow. "What are you doing?"
Axen ran his finger along the suit rack until he found one in his size. "Once we get inside, I'll take the point. You hang back and cover me. That way, if I run into someone unexpectedly, I won’t appear to be an intruder.
Kolo looked skeptical, but he nodded.
Axen finished dressing in the flimsy Plymouth emergency environment suit. He handed his rifle to Kolo, but kept the belt, side arm, and bag.
They emerged into a narrow service corridor and followed an equally narrow set of stairs up to the main lab level. Even through their closed suits, the sounds of battle surrounded them: alarms, recorded announcements giving directions to shelters, the occasional thump or crackle of a near miss.
With Axen staying three or four meters ahead, they searched the lab rooms one by one. By the information given them, the bank should have been in the first lab, but it was not. With each new door, they came up empty-handed.
Then they checked a storeroom near the center of the building. The door was locked, but Axen was able to crack it in only a few minutes. The door to the small room slid open, and there was the bank, plugged into a coolant supply panel in the wall and strapped to a two-wheeled dolly.
Kolo slipped past Axen and, after inspecting the Gene Bank, disconnected the cooling lines and prepared it for travel. Axen kept watch through the open door. There was also another locked door on the far side of the room, so he occasionally looked over his shoulder to check it as well.
"Ready," said Kolo, who stepped behind the bank and tipped the dolly back onto its wheels.
Axen stuck his head out into the corridor, and found himself staring into the muzzle of a pistol. Emma's hand was steady as she pointed the weapon for a killing shot, and she didn't even seem surprised to see him. "Step back inside, Axen, and move away from the door by your friend, whoever he is."
Axen complied, and Emma moved inside the storeroom and closed the door behind her.
The corner of her mouth twitched slightly, as through trying to smile. "I wish I could say it was good to see you, Axen, but under the circumstances...."
He met her gaze unflinchingly. "I've come for the Gene Bank, Emma. Please don't make this difficult."
This time the smile was genuine. "Oh, this is very difficult, no matter what happens. I heard you were coming, and decided we just had to have a chat."
Axen frowned. "Heard I was coming. How?"
"Your young friend Panati figured out a way to contact me after you left Eden. He sends his regards."
Axen's jaw clinched in anger. Had Panati really sold him out?
Emma shook her head, as though reading his mind. "He couldn't help it, Axen. He found out there was a spy here, representing someone called 'the Masters.' I wish there was time to hear that little story. Anyway, he was going to destroy the Gene Bank and give us an advance warning so we'd be ready for your attack.
Axen tilted his head slightly in puzzlement. If the defenses had been especially prepared for them, he hadn't been able to detect it.
"Oh, I kept my mouth shut, Axen. It wasn't an easy decision, but I knew what you were after and where to intercept you."
Kolo, his hands kept carefully in the air, stepped from behind the Gene Bank. "My name is Dr. Ule Kolo. You have some scientists here who worked for me in Eden. Can you tell me if they are all right?"
She seemed surprised by this revelation, but quickly recovered. "They're fine. They're working for me on a special project."
Kolo was surprised. "Working?..."
"Willingly, I might add. We have some common humanitarian concerns. In any case, they won't be going with you."
"Does that mean," asked Axen, "that you're going to let us leave?"
"Is your ship as far along as your pup Panati says?"
Axen nodded. "And I assume that Plymouth is as far behind as we suspect?"
A look of terrible sadness crossed her face like a shadow. "Yes." She hesitated. "Axen, if I let you take this, it is on the condition that I may approach you for a favor before that ship departs, and that you'll do everything you can to accommodate me."
Axen couldn't imagine what that request would be. He knew Emma too well to think it could be anything as simple or selfish as passage on the starship. "I'll do what I can. You have my word."
She nodded and lowered the gun. "Good." She glanced at the Gene Bank. "It's yours, but I warn you, you won't be able to keep it without a fight. Plymouth was already planning an all-out attack on Eden to capture your launch facility and, in turn, your starship. They've started converting our launch vehicles into makeshift EMP missiles, that's how desperate they are." Her eyes remained fixed on the bank. "I only pray to the Maker that somebody gets it to orbit safely. It's our future, Axen; take care of it."
He smiled sadly. "I will." He looked at her and thought of wasted years. "Emma, I wish it could have been different."
She smiled back, with equal sadness. "I do too, Axen. I —" Suddenly her eyes widened and the gun raised to firing position. "Duck!"
Axen went down and to one side, but he still felt the shot as it whizzed past his neck. Before he could reach the floor, three more rounds were squeezed off. As he fell, he turned and saw a muscular blond man crumpling in the now-open rear door.
Then it was all over, and he and Kolo climbed uneasily back to their feet. Behind them, the blond man lay on his side just inside the far door in a growing pool of his own blood.
Emma stared at the gun as though it had just appeared in her hand, then looked up at Kolo. "This is your spy. Your scientist friends were supposed to have taken care of him before he got here. I'd better find out if they're okay." She saw the concern in his eyes. "I'll get word to you through Axen, let you know that they're okay, but you have to go, now."
# # #
Exhausted, Brook unlocked his quarters and slipped inside. The damaged replica of the Plymouth Gene Bank was planted just outside the colony so that Axen could make the switch before his return. If all went well, the ruse would protect it from further sabotage by the Masters, at least for a while.
He was about to fall in bed when he spotted the flashing message icon. He groaned softly and pressed the icon, anticipating another threat from Echo. Instead, it was an official message from the Savant in charge of launch control.
His request for a spot on the starship crew roster had been denied.
Chapter Twelve - Exodus
Brook was incredulous. "Human factors? What the frag does that mean?" In frustration, he kicked the recycle bin across Senator Autzen's tiny office, and immediately felt like a childish fool for doing so. Yet if he was going to die, he had to know why. Even Axen, as many enemies as he had made, had been given a boarding pass. Why me?
Senator Autzen was sympathetic, but unyielding. "Son, you want the bureaucratic line, or the straight truth?" He read the answer in Brook's face. "The truth is, somebody with power doesn't like you. The Savant had you on the preliminary crew roster, but there's a 'tweak' built into the program to allow some override of the system. In theory, there are some human factors that the computer might not be able to understand or appreciate and that allowed for adjustment. In practice, it’s been used in a number of cases, including yours.
Echo — it's the only answer. This is the revenge she promised.
"You've been a great help to us recently, Brook. You've fought the good fight and done well. I wish I could reward that." Autzen shrugged his shoulders. "But there isn't anything I can do about it privately, and if we go public the entire crew selection process could devolve into chaos. We could all be at one another's throats before we knew what was happening. If it's any consolation, I'm not going either; none of us on the Senate are. We declared it a conflict of interest and removed ourselves from the running."
Brook looked at the man, the tiredness in his eyes, the lines that had appeared in his face in the last few months, the slight tremor in his once strong and steady hands, and found himself regretting that he'd come at all. "I'm sorry, Senator, I didn't know. You've got kids?"
He nodded. "Two. It's hard for them, for us all."
Brook stood and self-consciously repositioned the recycle bin. "Just forget I was here, Senator. I'm sorry to have bothered you." He paused at the door. "You know you can still count on me, for whatever it takes."
He smiled sadly. "I know we can, son. And thank you."
# # #
Nobody knew when the Gene Bank would be transferred, including Axen. On the assumption that secrecy was the best way to safeguard it from the Masters, they'd created the false Gene Bank and the cover story that it had been damaged beyond repair during the return from Plymouth. Axen hadn't expected that story to hold them off forever, but it gave him time to hide the real item and arrange for its safe removal to the starship.
Axen knew that the fewer people who knew a secret, the safer the secret was, so he'd confided only in a trusted few — Brook, Kolo, and Autzen — and had recruited these three to assist him in the move. But since none of them would have advance warning of the event, there was no possibility of the information leaking out somehow.
He'd instructed Kraft to generate a randomly-timed message before a randomly-chosen launch, and that message had popped up hours before. Then the first flaw in the plan became apparent. He wasn't able to contact Kolo. The scientist wasn't in his quarters, or in the largely mothballed Advanced Lab, where the Gene Bank had been hidden in a case marked "Geological Instruments."
Brook had seemed only mildly concerned. "He's probably found himself a lady friend that he's staying the night with, Axen. Not everybody can be as saintly as you are, or as unlucky as I am."
But Axen's internal alarms all went off at once. Every step and turn of the trip from the lab to the Space Center he'd been braced for trouble. His hand never left his pocket, where it gripped a fully loaded pistol, his senses scanning for anything the slightest bit out of the ordinary, but they reached the RLV loading platform without incident.
Four armed Volunteer Guards flanked the yawning cargo hatch in the big rocket's side. He scanned their faces, and took some comfort in the fact that they were all familiar, all people he'd worked with before. A technician checked off their cargo manifest and authorization on his ClipCom and directed them to a location where the crate could be attached to the deck with quick-release bolts, then disappeared back to his station by the hatch.
Axen watched closely as Brook fastened and triple-checked the bolts. He shook his head. "This just isn't right. I have to see it with my own eyes."
Brook looked confused, but stepped back out of the way as Axen unlocked the crate lid and removed a false lid designed to simulate the top of the equipment listed on the manifest. Under it, the actual top of the Gene Bank was exposed.
Another key and lock were required to open it. Vapor from the cold, liquefied gasses inside boiled over the side of the box and cascaded to the deck like a frosty waterfall. He produced an insulated glove from his pocket and put it on. Using the protected hand, he unlatched the mechanism and slid it up out of its hyper-cold bath.
The Gene Bank's complex innards were revealed, tens of thousands of tiny glass vials housed in a complex carousal mechanism capable of delivering any given vial by number. A large insulated can at the top housed a motor and drive train that powered the whole thing.
"It looks fine to me," said Brook.
Axen squinted and looked closely. It did look fine, and it was certainly genuine. Unlike the original Earth-made bank that had been destroyed, this one had been handmade in Eden just before the dissidents left to found Plymouth, and no complete plans had ever existed. The replica they'd created had been designed only to fool eyes that had never seen the original. Axen had studied this one carefully before committing it to its hiding place.
"It's genuine." He slid the mechanism back into the case and sealed the lid before any thermal damage was done. His fingers played over the small control panel that projected from the upper side of the box. "All the more reason I think the Masters are up to something."
Brook's brow wrinkled in concern. "You have any idea how to find out what?"
Axen nodded. "We'll ask," he said.
# # #
The familiar Structure Factory control gallery was dark and unnaturally quiet. No new structures had been produced in months, and the plant might never be used again. That made it perfect neutral territory for their meeting.
Axen and Brook stood on one side of the platform, Echo and Gi on the other. Everybody had a gun. Nobody was talking.
Echo broke the silence. "Waiting for something, Elder?"
Axen said nothing, but just then there was a rumble, and the building shook slightly. On hearing the sound, Echo smiled for no apparent reason.
"That would be the Clipper taking off. It's safe to talk now," Brook said.
Echo was still smiling. "Safe to talk about the Gene Bank? Yes, I suppose it is."
Brook's mouth fell open. Axen just met her eyes unflinchingly. "You knew?"
She laughed. "Your fake was very convincing, even after we'd inspected it closely. There was even human genetic material in the remains of the vials." Her face went serious. "It was too good. I analyzed the genetic material. All of it had been reproduced from a single sample, and as you can imagine, I had no trouble determining whose."
"Dr. Kolo," said Axen.
"The fake had to have been crafted in one of the labs, we knew that, but the sample told us who had done the work, and from there, the rest was easy."
Brook stepped forward, anger on his face. "Where's Kolo?"
"He had an unfortunate accident, several of them actually, until he told us what we needed to know. By then though, the cumulative effects were fatal."
Axen felt his stomach knot. One more death on his conscience. He glanced warily at Brook. The young man looked mad enough to do something stupid, and there'd been enough innocent deaths today.
"So you found the Gene Bank and sabotaged it. How? It looked fine when I checked it before launch."
She laughed, deep and hard, until tears ran down her cheeks. Only Gi's vigilance kept them from subduing her. Finally she managed to calm herself a bit.
"What's so funny?"
"The irony. Your precious Gene Bank is fine. I took it for granted that you wouldn’t be any less thorough in your inspection than we were. If the Gene Bank had been less than perfect, we might not have been able to smuggle the bomb that we installed in its motor housing onto the RLV, and in turn onto the starship."
Brook’s eyes were wide. "You used the Gene Bank as a Trojan horse, so you could use your bomb to hijack the ship."
She laughed again. "And now the starship is ours. We won't let you leave here until the box is safely stowed on the starship."
"Put down your guns, slowly," said a woman's voice from behind them. Axen glanced over his shoulder to see a muscular woman aiming a rifle at them from the rear stairway. He recognized her as one of the three Masters Brook had identified from his first meeting, the one named Sharon.
"Do what she says," he instructed Brook, as he laid his own gun gently on the deck and pushed it away with his toe. He looked back at Echo. "You're going to kill us now, I suppose?"
She smiled, clearly enjoying the moment. "I might kill you, Elder," her attention turned back to Panati and anger flashed in her eyes, "but not you, Brook. I want you alive to watch the Clipper’s final departure with me on it. I want you left here to watch the light in the sky as the starship fires its engines and pulls out of orbit. I want you here to see the flash when I kick your precious Gene Bank out the airlock and blow it to atoms. I want you here when the Blight rolls over the horizon and melts you into a bag of pus."
"When the Blight gets me," he answered, a new calm in his voice, "you'll be right here to enjoy the show. Your bomb isn't on its way to the starship. It's about half a meter under the platform where you're standing."
Reflexively she looked down, then caught herself. "You couldn't have removed it so quickly. There were too many booby-traps."
"We didn't," said Axen. "When I realized the mechanism didn't work, I guessed you might have done something of the sort, and decided to let you tell me what your plan was. Loyal members of the Volunteer Guard have been monitoring this whole conversation remotely and are watching all exits from this building.
Echo dug frantically in her pocket and produced a small card device. "I can still destroy the Gene Bank, with you two, and it, as hostages. We can go wherever we want, do whatever we want. You still lose."
"Only if you're all willing to die for the cause of glorious genetic purity." His eyes locked with Gi. "Are you Gi? Do you believe that strongly?"
"Yes," he said with only a slight hesitation.
"You, Sharon?"
"Completely," she replied. There was no hesitation at all, either in timing or tone.
That settled it. His only hope was to work on Gi. He made eye contact with the big man again. "I suppose you think Van Dozier believes it as well, don't you Gi?"
He frowned, suspicious, but nodded.
Echo realized they were up to something and waved her gun at him. "Shut up, both of you. Gi, Sharon, don't listen to them."
"Is there something you wouldn't like them to hear, Dr. Van Dozier? Some personal secret?"
"Shut up!"
"You're all clones in the inner circle, aren't you Gi, the 99.9th percentile people, the super-race?"
Gi said nothing, but he was listening intently.
Axen continued, "I suppose Echo told you she was one, too, maybe even showed you documents to prove it, but those would be easy enough for her to fake in her position."
The look on Echo's face showed that she'd finally realized what he was about to say. Axen half expected her to shoot him then, which might have served his ultimate purpose as well as what happened. "It's a lie. Tell them, Brook."
Brook looked at her, almost apologetically. "Her parents were Elders. She was conceived naturally. Her father died before she was born, and she and her mother nearly died during the famine three years after landing." He hesitated. "Her identical twin did die."
Tears were streaming down Echo's face. Her gun hand trembled. "No."
"She's just one of the genetic mongrels your movement professes to hate, a hurt, broken one who has spent her whole life trying to replace a twin she can barely remember."
Echo shook her head. "No, no." Then she fired.
Things started to happen all at once. Axen ducked as the muzzle of Gi's gun swung up toward him and fired. Axen hit the deck and rolled, unsure whether either bullet had hit him.
Brook jumped toward Van Dozier, and her gun fired again at point-blank range. The bomb trigger flew out of her hand and landed on the deck near Axen, who grabbed it and shielded it with his body.
Axen was looking for the gun when he realized that Gi was lowering his own weapon, and was paying no attention to him. Gi's attention was fixed on the rear stair, where the woman known as Sharon hung limply over a railing, blood running down her arm and over her face in a thick cascade.
Van Dozier pushed Brook away from her. He flattened out on his back, revealing the blackened hole in the front of his shirt, and lay unmoving.
Van Dozier raised her pistol to shoot Axen.
Gi spun and shot her cleanly through the forehead. He watched her fall, then turned and handed the gun, butt first, to Axen.
"I think I've made a mistake," he said.
# # #
Axen slumped into the lone chair in his quarters and looked around wearily. He couldn't remember the last time his life had been this simple. Most of his work was done — the debts that could be repaid, had been, all but two.
He looked at Kraft. This was the first one. "Kraft, open a channel to Emma, full visual."
It took almost twenty minutes before her face appeared on the screen. He didn't move in all that time. "Emma, if you have a favor to ask of me, there has never been a better time."
She smiled that sad smile. "Good, because I'm finally ready to ask, and to offer a little gift in exchange, something Frost, your missing scientists, and I were able to cook up over the last few months. Kraft, please display the data we're sending for Axen." Another window opened on the screen, displaying a series of schematics and formulas.
"What is it?"
"A minor modification of your starship's ion engines to improve the efficiency. It should increase your payload capacity by ten to fifteen percent with no additional fuel."
Axen was surprised in spite of himself. "Why are you giving us this, Emma? Why squander your resources on something you had no way to apply?"
She chuckled. "Because I have a use for that extra payload, Axen. I'm sending you some passengers."
# # #
Brook lay in the med-station bed watching his own life-signs flickering on the screens. He would have preferred to do most anything else, but it hurt to move.
The door slid open and Axen walked in. He leaned over the bed. "How are you doing?"
"For someone with three broken ribs and possible internal bleeding, not bad."
"It could have been worse."
Would have been worse, if he hadn't stuffed those armor pads, taken from a combat suit, under his shirt as Axen had insisted. He felt rotten, and he found himself smiling. "We did it, didn't we?"
Axen smiled back. "We did it. Even if Plymouth’s forces overrun us, the Gene Bank is safe on the starship. We've saved everything that humanity is, given it another chance." He patted the young man gently on his arm.
Then his expression changed, as though he remembered something almost forgotten. He reached into his pocket. "I brought you something." He removed a black plastic square and placed it in Brook's hand.
Brook rolled it over and looked at the Eden logo embossed on the surface. It was a boarding pass. He looked up at Axen. "Where did you get this?"
"It's mine."
"What?"
"Senator Autzen was able to shuffle some records without drawing undue attention. It has your name on it now."
"I can't take this." He tried to hand the pass back to Axen.
Axen just waved it away. "I never intended to go. I'm old, at least compared to the rest of you. I managed to duck hibernation sickness the first time, I doubt I'd be so lucky the second, even with the improved methods. It's your turn."
He stood and started to leave the room. "Just remember, I've been where you're about to go. Don't be so sure I'm doing you any favors."
Epilogue
It had been a good day, thought Axen Moon as he stood on a hilltop, watching the Eden Clipper climbing into the sky for the final time. So much accomplished, so much to remember.
There was the moment when he tried to imagine what the people guiding Plymouth's forces thought, when one of their own Evac Transports charged through their lines and headed into Eden under the protection of Eden forces. What did they think when they learned that this transport carried all the remaining children of Plymouth?
Those children were Emma's "passengers," her bounty for the improved ion drive. It was a boon gladly given when Axen had taken the offer to the Senate. Not one of them even questioned how the offer came to be made or Axen's role in the matter.
He thought of his final words to Brook Panati as they stood on the boarding platform for the Clipper. "This New Terra is my world, the world I and my kind built, and this is where I should stay. But this new world, no matter where it is, no matter what it's called, is your world. Learn from this. Be better than we were."
They shook hands for the last time, and there was a moment between them when no words were spoken. Axen had imagined a different world, where he and Emma had raised a son like this, and he had been for that moment, proud.
He stood on the hill overlooking the abandoned hulk of Eden. On the far edge of the colony, buildings exploded and burst into flame as the Blight advanced in its invisible, inexorable way, life and death advancing as one.
He looked up at the sky, tinged with blue, decorated with thin ribbons of icy cloud. This was the time. All afternoon he'd been adjusting the atmospheric settings of his suit, decreasing the oxygen content, slowly lowering the pressure. This would either kill him, or not.
He unfastened his helmet with a hiss. His ears popped and he held his breath as he removed it. The air was cold as though he'd put his face in the Gene Bank, but he ignored it. He took a breath of Eden's air.
It was thin, cold, unsatisfying. It burned. But it was his air. His world.
He was dizzy, though he wasn't sure how much of that was physiological and how much emotional. He replaced the helmet while he still had the strength to do so and snapped it back in place.
His ears popped again as the suit refilled. He'd be lucky if he didn't get the bends. It didn't matter.
He took one last look at the dying Eden, and turned away, toward the convoy of survivors who waited below, from Plymouth and Eden both, their differences forgotten.
Emma was down there.
He walked to join them. Perhaps to lead them. The Blight might be as unstoppable as they thought, but while there was life, there was hope. Now that the survival of humanity was ensured, it was all they had.
They would never give up.
They were only human.
