Hybrids np-3

by Robert J. Sawyer

  “Freeze!” snapped Mary. “Green is the Neanderthal color for ‘halt’—green meat is rotten meat. When it turns red, that means it’s okay to proceed. Let us know as soon as it does.”

  Louise nodded; Mary could feel the back of the younger woman’s head going up and down. Maybe it had been a mistake to bring along two people who had had no preparation for the Neanderthal world. After all, it could be—

  “Red!” exclaimed Louise. “The light is red!”

  “All right,” said Mary. “Push the door open. The handle looks like a starfish—see it? It slides up to unlatch the door.”

  Mary could feel Louise squirming some more, and then suddenly the pressure was off Mary’s back as Louise stepped out of the chamber. Mary took a backward step, turned around, and hurried out of the chamber as well. “This way!” she shouted.

  They entered a room whose walls were covered with cubic cubbyholes, each containing a set of Neanderthal clothes. “Those should fit you, Reuben,” said Mary, pointing at one set. “And those should do for you,” she said, indicating another.

  Mary was an old hand now at getting into Barast garments, but Louise and Reuben were clearly baffled. Mary shouted instructions at Reuben, and bent down next to Louise, who was having trouble with the footwear built into the Neanderthal pants. Mary did up her instep and ankle ties for her.

  They then hurried out into the drift. Mary had hoped there would be a vehicle of some sort waiting there, but, of course, if there had been one, Jock himself would have taken it.

  A three-kilometer-long run, thought Mary. Sweet Jesus, she hadn’t done anything like that since her undergrad days, and even then she’d been terrible. But adrenaline was pumping through her like there was no tomorrow—which, she knew, might very well be the case for the Barasts. She ran off down the tunnel, its floor covered with flat wooden boards.

  There was much less illumination in this tunnel than in the corresponding one on the Gliksin side. The Neanderthals used robots for mining that didn’t need much light. For that matter, neither did Neanderthals, whose sense of smell gave them an excellent mental picture of what was going on around them.

  “How…far…is…it?” called Louise from behind.

  Despite the urgency of the situation, Mary was pleased to hear the young woman sounding winded already. “Three thousand meters,” Mary shouted back.

  Something suddenly cut across the path in front of Mary. If her heart hadn’t already been pounding, it probably would have started then. But it was just a mining robot. She called out that fact so that Reuben and Louise wouldn’t be startled, then she found herself shouting to the robot, “Wait! Come back here!”

  Christine obliged with a translation, and a moment later the robot reappeared. Mary got a good look at it now: a low, flat, six-legged contraption, like a two-meter-long crab, with conical bores and hemispherical scoops projecting forward on articulated arms. The thing was built for hauling rock, for Christ’s sake. It had to be strong enough. “Can you carry us?” asked Mary.

  Her Companion translated the words, and a red light winked on the robot’s shell. “This model is incapable of speech,” added Christine, “but the answer is yes.”

  Mary clambered up onto the machine’s silver carapace, severely banging her right shin as she did so. She turned back to Reuben and Louise, who had come to a stop behind her. “All aboard!”

  Louise and Reuben exchanged astonished looks but they soon hauled themselves onto the robot’s back, as well. Mary slapped the thing’s side. “Giddyup!”

  Her Companion probably didn’t know that word, but surely understood Mary’s intention and conveyed it to the robot. Its six legs flexed once, as if to gauge how much weight it was now carrying, and then it set off in the direction they’d been heading, moving fast enough that Mary felt hot wind on her face. There were puddles of muddy water at various points, and every time one of the robot’s splayed feet came down into one, Mary and the others got splashed with dirty liquid.

  “Hold on!” Mary called out repeatedly, although she doubted Reuben and Louise really needed any urging to do just that. Still, Mary herself felt as though she was going to be bounced right off the carapace a few times, and her bladder was objecting strenuously to the abuse.

  They passed another mining robot—a spindly, upright model that reminded Mary a bit of a praying mantis—and then, about 600 meters farther along, they passed a pair of male Neanderthals going in the other direction, who leaped out of the way of the charging robot just in time.

  Finally, they made it to the elevator station. Thank God those two Neanderthals had just come down: the lift was still at the bottom. Mary scrambled off the robotic crab and dashed over to the elevator. Louise and Reuben followed, and as soon as they were all in the cylindrical car, Mary stomped on the floor-mounted switch that started the upward journey.

  Mary took a moment to see how the others were doing; everything had a slightly greenish cast under the luciferin lights. For once, Louise looked nothing like a fashion model: sweat was running down her face, her hair was matted with mud, and her Neanderthal clothing was absolutely filthy with mud and what, after a second, Mary realized was grease, or something akin to it, from the robot.

  Reuben was in even worse shape. The robot had bounded along, and at some point Reuben’s bald head must have hit the mine’s roof. He had a nasty gash running along his pate, and was gingerly probing it with his fingers, wincing while he did so.

  “All right,” said Mary. “We’ve got a few minutes until the elevator reaches the surface. There will be an attendant or two there, and they won’t let you pass without having temporary Companions strapped on. You might as well allow that—it’ll take less time than to convince those guys that it’s an emergency. And, besides, Companions let us communicate with each other, and with any other Neanderthals we need to speak to. All the ones stored here at the mine have the translation database.”

  Mary knew the elevator cab was gently corkscrewing through 180 degrees as it rose up the shaft, but she doubted Louise and Reuben could tell. She lifted her forearm and spoke to it. “Have you reacquired the planetary information network yet, Christine?”

  “No,” said the voice coming from Mary’s cochlear implants. “I probably won’t be able to reconnect until we are only a short distance beneath the surface, but I will keep—wait, wait. Yes, I’ve got it. I am on the network.”

  “Great!” said Mary. “Get me Ponter.”

  “Calling,” said the implant. “No answer yet.”

  “Come on, Ponter,” urged Mary. “Come on…”

  “Mare!” came Ponter’s voice, as translated and imitated by Christine. “What are you doing back on this side? “Two don’t become One until the day after tomorrow, and—”

  “Ponter, shush! ” said Mary. “Jock Krieger has made it over here. We have to find him and stop him.”

  “He will be wearing a strap-on Companion,” said Ponter. “I saw the arguments in the High Gray Council on my Voyeur after Gliksins were let through before without them. Trust me: that is never going to happen again.”

  Mary shook her head. “He’s no idiot. It’s certainly worth getting an order to triangulate on his Companion, but I bet he’s removed it somehow.”

  “He can’t have,” said Ponter. “That would have set off numerous alarms. And he certainly can’t be just wandering around on his own. He’s probably with Bedros or some other official. No, we should be able to locate him. Where are you?”

  The elevator cab shuddered to a halt, and Mary gestured for Reuben and Louise to hurry out. “We’ve just exited into the equipment room above the Debral nickel mine. Louise and Reuben are with me.”

  “I’m at home,” said Ponter. “Hak, call for travel cubes for Mare and for me, and contact an adjudicator.” Mary heard Hak acknowledge the command, then Ponter continued: “Any idea where Krieger might be?”

  “At the moment, no,” said Mary, “although my guess is that he plans to release the virus
in the Center when Two are One.”

  “That makes sense,” said Ponter. “It’s the time of maximum population density, and there’s lots of intercity travel when its over, so—”

  Hak’s voice came on, interrupting, untranslated, speaking to Ponter.

  “Mare,” said Ponter, a moment later. “Hak has reached an adjudicator for me. When your travel cube arrives, head to the alibi-archive pavilion in the Center. I’ll meet you there.”

  A male Neanderthal attendant was now clamping a temporary Companion onto Reuben’s left forearm. A moment later he came over to Louise and attached one to her, as well. Mary held up her own arm to show the attendant that she had a permanent unit. “Okay,” she said to Louise and Reuben. “Grab some coats and let’s go!”

  It had snowed since Mary was last here; the glare from the white ground was fierce. “The adjudicator is getting hold of two more adjudicators,” Ponter said, coming back on-line, “so that they can order judicial scrutiny of Jock’s Companion’s transmissions. Once that’s done, they can triangulate on him.”

  “Christ,” said Mary, holding a hand over her eyes and scanning the horizon for the travel cube. “How long will that take?”

  “Not long, hopefully,” said Ponter.

  “All right,” said Mary. “I’ll call you back. Christine, get me Bandra.”

  “Healthy day,” said Bandra’s voice.

  “Bandra, honey, this is Mary.”

  “Mare, my darling! I didn’t expect you to be back until the day after tomorrow. I’m so nervous about Two becoming One. If Harb—”

  “Bandra, get out of the Center. Don’t ask me why, just do it.”

  “Is Harb—”

  “It’s got nothing to do with Harb. Just get a travel cube, and get going, anywhere far away from the Center.”

  “I don’t understand. It’s—”

  “Just do it!” said Mary. “Trust me.”

  “Of course I—”

  “And Bandra?” said Mary. She looked at Louise and Reuben, then thought to hell with it. “Bandra, I should have said this before now. I do love you.”

  Bandra’s voice was full of joy. “I love you, too, Mare. I can’t wait until we can be together again.”

  “I’ve got to go,” said Mary. “Hurry, now. Get out of the Center!”

  Mary looked defiantly at Louise, who had a “what was that all about?” expression on her face. But then Louise pointed past Mary. Mary turned. The travel cube was approaching, flying over an open area covered with a blanket of snow. They ran toward it, and as soon as it had settled to the ground, Mary straddled the saddle-seat beside the driver, a redheaded male 144. She watched as Reuben and Louise climbed into the back and awkwardly mounted the two seats there. “Saldak Center, as fast as possible,” Mary said to the driver. Agonizing seconds were lost as her Companion translated her words, and the driver’s response.

  “Yes, I know Two are separate!” snapped Mary. “And I know he’s a male,” she said, tossing her head in Reuben’s direction. “This is a medical emergency. Go!”

  Christine was a clever little device. Mary recognized the Neanderthal imperative “Tik! ” as the first word she uttered, meaning she had moved “Go!” up to the beginning of her translation. As the driver got the car into motion, the Companion added the rest of what Mary had said.

  “Christine, get me Ponter.”

  “Done.”

  “Ponter, why the hell does it take three adjudicators to order that Jock be tracked?”

  Ponter’s translated reply started to come into Mary’s cochlear implants again. She pulled out a bud on her Companion’s silver faceplate, and the rest of his reply was shunted to the external speaker, so that Louise and Reuben could hear: “Hey, you’re the one who was saying we didn’t have enough safeguards for privacy in our alibi-archive system. In fact, it takes unanimous consent of three adjudicators to order judicial scrutiny of a Companion when no criminal accusation has been made.”

  Mary glanced at the landscape speeding by—at least it was by Neanderthal standards; the cube was probably only doing sixty kilometers an hour. “Well, can’t you accuse him of a crime?” asked Mary. “Then you’ll only need one adjudicator, right?”

  “This way will be faster,” said Ponter. “An accusation requires a complicated procedure, and—ah, here’s my travel cube.” Mary could hear the sound of a vehicle descending and a few clangings and bangings as Ponter boarded. He snapped the Neanderthal words for “alibi archives,” which Mary recognized, then turned his attention back to Mary.

  “All right,” he said. “Now let’s—oh, wait a beat…” The connection went dead for a few seconds, then Ponter’s voice came back on. “The adjudicators have ordered the judicial scrutiny. A technician at the alibi-archive pavilion is getting a fix on Jock’s location now.”

  Reuben leaned forward so that he could talk into Mary’s Companion. “Ponter, this is Reuben Montego. As soon as they’ve located Krieger, get them to clear the area. I’m safe, and so are Louise and Mary, but any Neanderthals exposed to Jock’s virus are as good as dead.”

  “I will do so,” said Ponter. “We can broadcast an emergency message to every Companion. I’ll be at the alibi pavilion shortly; I’ll make sure it happens.”

  Ahead, the buildings of Saldak Center loomed. Dozens of women were out putting up decorations for Two becoming One.

  “We’ve located him,” said Ponter’s voice. “Hak, cease translating; transmit directly.” Ponter began to shout in the Neanderthal language, clearly addressing the driver of Mary’s travel cube.

  The driver replied with several words, one of which was “Ka. ” The car started veering off.

  “He’s in Konbor Square,” said Ponter, his words once more being translated. “I’ve told your driver to take you there. I’ll meet you there.”

  “No,” said Louise, leaning forward. “No, Ponter, it’s too risky for you—for any Neanderthal. Leave it to us.”

  “He is not alone. The adjudicators are looking at his Companion transmissions right now; he’s with Dekant Dorst.”

  “Who is that?” asked Mary.

  “One of Saldak Center’s elected officials,” said Ponter. “She’s a female of generation 141.”

  “Damn,” said Mary. Normally, she’d trust any female Barast to restrain just about any male Gliksin, but 141s were seventy-eight years old. “We don’t want this devolving into a hostage-taking. We have to get her out of there.”

  “Indeed,” said Ponter.

  “Dekant Dorst must have cochlear implants, right?” said Mary.

  “Of course,” said Ponter.

  “Christine, get me Dekant Dorst.”

  “Done.”

  Mary spoke immediately, before the Barast woman could respond to the chirp her Companion would have just made between her ears. “Dekant Dorst, don’t say a word, and don’t give any sign to Jock Krieger that you are communicating with anyone. Just cough once if you understand.”

  A cough emanated from Christine’s external speaker.

  “All right, good. My name is Mary Vaughan, and I’m a Gliksin. Jock is currently under judicial scrutiny. We believe he is smuggling a dangerous substance into Saldak Center. You have to get away from him at the first opportunity. We’re on our way to your location now. All right?”

  Another cough.

  Mary felt awful; the old woman must be terrified. “Any suggestions?” Mary said to Reuben and Louise.

  “She could tell Jock that she has to go to the washroom,” said Louise.

  “Brilliant! Ponter, where are Jock and this woman right now? Indoors or out?”

  “Let me ask the adjudicator…They are outdoors, heading on foot to the central plaza.”

  “Jock’s Wipeout virus is designed for airborne transmission,” said Mary. “He must have some sort of aerosol bomb in that metal box he’s carrying. He probably intends to plant it in the central plaza, with it set to go off during the Two becoming One festivities.”

  “I
f so,” said Ponter, “he’ll likely time it to go off right at the end of the holiday, so that all the males will go back home before anyone shows signs of illness. Not only will that get it out to Saldak Rim, but there are many males who come in from further locations.”

  “Right,” said Mary. “Dekant, when the chance presents itself, tell Jock you’ve got to go into a public building to use the washroom, but that he’ll have to stay outside because he’s male. Okay? We’ll be there soon.”

  Another cough, and then, for the first time, Mary heard Dekant’s voice, sounding quite nervous. “Scholar Krieger,” she said, “you must forgive me, but this old body of mine…I’m afraid I have to urinate. There’s a facility in there that I can use.”

  Jock’s voice, muffled, distant: “Fine. I’ll just…”

  “No, you must wait outside. Two aren’t yet One, you know—not yet!”

  Jock said something that Mary couldn’t quite make out. About twenty seconds later, Dekant spoke. “All right, Scholar Vaughan. I’m safely indoors now.”

  “Good,” said Mary. “Now, if—”

  But she was interrupted by a female Neanderthal voice emerging from all four Companions in the travel cube—and, presumably, from every other Companion linked to Saldak’s alibi archives. “This is Adjudicator Mykalro,” said the voice. “We have an emergency. Immediately evacuate Saldak Center. Do it on foot, by hover-bus, or by travel cube, but get out right now. Do not delay. There may soon be a contagious fatal disease in the air. If you see a male Gliksin with silver hair, avoid him! He is under judicial scrutiny, and is currently located in Konbor Square. I repeat…”

  Suddenly the driver dropped the travel cube to the ground. “This is as close as I’m going,” he said. “You heard the adjudicator. If you want to go further in, you’ll have to do it on foot.”

  “Damn you,” said Mary, but Christine didn’t translate that. Then: “How far are we?”

  The driver pointed. “That’s Konbor Square over there.” Off in the distance, Mary could see a series of low buildings, a short stack of travel cubes, and an open area.