by Ewing, Al
Munn stared at her with his wet eyes, and suddenly he hated her; hated her certainty, her seeming invulnerability. What did she know that he didn’t? “Build it all just the way it is back at home,” he muttered to himself. “Do you think Unwen and Soran will agree with your nostalgia?”
“I suppose we’ll find out,” Maya replied, as if she already had, as if any conversation on the subject was just a formality.
Munn didn’t reply. After a moment, Maya turned and walked off, and he returned his attention to the three-horned lizards in the valley below. In the time he’d spent talking to her, they’d finished their combat, or display, or whatever it had been, and now both the males were grazing alongside the females as if nothing had happened.
Munn wondered who’d won.
“HERE’S ONE I prepared earlier.”
Unwen smiled, picking up the miniature field in his hands. Inside the sphere of force, sniffing against the almost invisible barrier, there was a small creature, about the span of a hand, with four legs, brownish fur and a thin, twitching tail. Soran frowned, rubbing his chin. “It’s not unlike a surface-cleaner. I remember when I was a boy, we had several. Bio-forms, they were... little pink things with snouts... they actually ate the accumulated dirt, you remember? They were smaller, though, the size of a thumb...” He tailed off, staring at the animal.
Unwen looked at him for a moment, then re-lit his hosa-pipe and took a long, slow drag on the burning powder. “No, I don’t remember anything like that.” He gazed at the scurrying creature, as though it might recreate whatever decayed memory he was grasping for. “It may be before my time.”
Soran shrugged. “I remember it clearly. I used to let them scamper over my feet, nibbling at the dead skin. Someone told me it was disgusting... a nun, or a nurse... I forget...” He stared at his console, lost in thought.
Unwen looked at Soran, concerned. The ship’s Engineer was perhaps five hundred thousand years old, one hundred and fifty millennia older than any of them, and the loss of the skin-patches seemed to have hit him the hardest. Strangely, he had consistently refused the pipe. “I’ll need you for this next bit.”
Soran nodded, snapping out of his reverie. “Yes, yes. Of course. We must be careful.” He smiled, looking around the chamber – the Power Room, as it was called for simplicity’s sake. The place where the limitless energy that powered the ship and the field was generated; the energy that would power Unwen’s little experiment. There was a visible twinkle in the older man’s eye as he lifted his hand in the particular gesture that called up the room controls, a string of icons shimmering on a near-transparent field at chest height, and he passed his fingers over them in the manner of a man at play. Of the four survivors, he had had to adapt the least. The ship was still running, the power still needed to flow, occasional repairs would still need to be triggered in those systems that did not immediately repair themselves. He, Soran, was necessary to the group’s survival in a way none of the others were.
The room’s central pillar hummed softly, like an insect, before its silvery sheen cleared, turning from opaque metal to something akin to glass. Floating inside the glass, at head height, was the glowing blue metal that powered the ship – that powered all of the Habitats.
Xokronite.
Unwen gazed on it, a half-smile playing across his face. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”
Soran stroked his hairless chin, studying the shimmering, flowing lines and pulses that told him the energy output. “It’s very pretty, very pretty... I once had a sunsuit of that colour...”
“No, no.” Unwen shook his head, flashing Soran an amused glance. “What it represents. A gateway for energy from the Big Bang itself...” He laughed, shaking his head in wonder. “We steal energy from the dawn of time, and all the energy we steal, throughout our history – throughout the history of the xokronite, no matter who uses it, has ever used it, will ever use it... put all that stolen energy together, and you have the exact amount that needed to be stolen from the Big Bang to create this exact universe, the exact history and cosmology we know. It’s perfect. Isn’t that perfect?”
“It’s a rather simplistic way of putting it. I can tell you didn’t study the physical sciences.”
“You say simplistic, I say poetic. The universe is the way it is because it created us, and we discovered xokronite, and through it we made the universe the way it is. A perfect cycle of causality.” Unwen gazed deep into the glowing stone, eyes shining with reflected blue. “And we can never get enough energy from it, because if we were ever to do so, if we were ever to drain too much – or not enough – the universe would be a different place. Perhaps only slightly different, but different nevertheless. And it’s not, so we don’t, therefore we can’t, therefore... limitless power. It’s so poetic, Soran. Don’t you think?”
Soran shrugged. “Poetry isn’t my department. Or yours. And in my experience, nothing is free, even if you do steal it. There are costs...” He nodded to the creature trapped in Unwen’s spherical field. “How does this relate to your friend there?”
Unwen lifted the beast up, looking at it. “We’ll need a limited transfer between the two fields. As you say, I’m no physicist, but I do dabble – I think if you drain off some of the tachyon field from the xokronite in the following frequencies...” He reached up with his free hand, calling a display field into existence and inscribing a sequence of fluid shapes and signs, which glowed ethereally in the blue light.
Soran looked them over for a moment. “That’s... interesting.” A hint of nervousness had crept into his voice.
Unwen grinned. “It will be.”
“Yes... I was under the impression that... well, that experimenting with these frequencies on living tissue had been banned by both the Royal Houses?” His grey eyes flicked over to Unwen’s.
Unwen lifted an eyebrow in response. “You have an objection?”
Soran sucked in his breath for a moment. After a pause, he shook his head. “No. We’ll proceed. I can make this more energy-efficient, now I know what you’re aiming for.” He forced a slight smile. “What can they do to us here, eh?”
“You see? You’re as curious as I am.” Unwen set the spherical field’s gravity so that it would sit in the air, then took his hands away and let it hang gently, supported on nothing. He stepped back, admiring the small mammal as it turned circles in its floating prison. Some callous part of him enjoyed the sensation of having power over these little beasts – they huddled close to the field in great numbers, as if recognising its power over the larger lizards that were their chief predator, and when he snared one from outside to bring through the field and into the ship, he felt almost like some deity, reaching down to pluck his chosen few to the heavens. There were myths that still persisted in the Habitats of ordinary beings plucked from their base circumstances by the hand of the gods, to dwell among them as one of their own. He imagined the small mammals building their own myths, in their squeaking rodent-language, and the thought pleased him.
And here we have the beginnings of a new myth, he thought to himself. “Let’s start slowly. Transfer five per cent of total yield.”
Soran nodded, wetting his lips and leaning forward as he brushed the control field with his fingertips. Unwen couldn’t help but smile – Soran was as excited as he was, despite himself. He turned his attention back to the field, watching the mammal scurrying and scrabbling at the invisible barrier he was caught in. Gradually, the flesh and fur of the creature was suffused with the same blue glow of the xokronite itself.
There was a soft, gentle whine of straining machinery.
At first, nothing seemed to happen. Unwen, watching closely, could see the beast’s eyes dilate. Its breathing quickened, then grew heavy and laboured. Suddenly, the muscles of its back and legs seemed to shift slightly; the mammal rolled onto its back, squealing in discomfort, kicking its legs. Unwen watched its feet move, holding his breath, then let out a small cry. “Stop there!”
Soran shut off the
transfer. The glow faded, the soft keening noise died. “What is it?” He hurried across the room to where Unwen stood, hunched over the field, examining the animal as it panted helplessly, still on its back. Unwen seemed as transfixed as his specimen. “Unwen, what is it?”
“Look there,” Unwen breathed, tapping the field with his fingertip. Soren looked. The beast was visibly larger, as if it had grown new muscles. Its legs were longer, and he could now see that there had been other changes to the shape of its back and skull.
“You’ve mutated it.”
“More than that. Look at the paws.”
Soran’s eyes narrowed, then widened. The paws of the animal had changed as well, elongated, into five recognisable digits. Their configuration had a familiarity that at once excited and disturbed him.
Opposable thumbs.
“OPPOSABLE THUMBS?”
Unwen nodded. Maya frowned at him. “And where is it now?”
“I let it go again.” Unwen shrugged, and Soran looked up from the food-tray, shocked.
“You didn’t! Unwen, even I know that’s going to play havoc with the evolutionary tree –”
“It might.” Unwen grinned. “Our little friend might get eaten by something before he breeds. Either way, we’ll see what happens in a million years. In the meantime, shall we return to the thumbs?”
“I don’t see the significance of them,” Munn said, as he picked a red protein-globule from the shared tray. “The mutation aspect – well, it’s interesting, certainly, that we can do that. It’s nothing scientists back in the Habitats weren’t able to achieve before, but it’s nice that we can do it with the equipment we’ve got, and by this method...”
“A forbidden method.” Maya murmured, frowning. “Forbidden by both the Royal Houses.”
Unwen rolled his eyes as he chewed idly on one of the white carbohydrate squares. “Nobody’s going to come and punish us, Maya.”
Maya shot him an angry look. “Perhaps I’ll punish you for violating the Queen’s rule.” The others looked at her for a moment, and she seemed to acknowledge the ridiculousness of the statement. “Well, anyway... it’s a slippery slope. Are we going to start breaking every rule of society one by one, Unwen? We’re supposed to be building – I mean rebuilding – society. Not tearing it down for our own –”
“Are we? When did we take that vote?” Unwen interrupted, enjoying Maya’s obvious outrage. This obsession she’d picked up with replicating the culture of Habitat One with their meagre resources had gone from naïve to tedious to irritating, and now he found himself glad of any opportunity to prick that particular bubble.
Soran, always less contentious than his fellow scientist, was quick to play down the potential conflict.
“We don’t want to go against societal rules, as such,” he said in a calming tone, “but you have to admit that we’re outside that society now. We’re a long way away from Habitat One. If I wanted to be pedantic about it, I could say that the moment we took the decision to atomise the selfsearch, we stepped outside the bounds of ordered society. Look at us now – we’re unsure of each other’s motives, unsure of our own... once upon a time, we could have settled this whole discussion by comparing readings.” He took one of the long yellow fluid-sacs and bit it open with his teeth, swallowing the sweet, tart juice, then the skin. “Or by mental link, for that matter, if we’d been at home. That’s something I miss... do you know, I had a rather fascinating dream last night of the area without us – just as if we’d never landed here. It seemed very significant when I woke up, and I thought I’d record it on the link and share it... except we have no link any more...” He paused for a moment, staring glumly at the sticky juice that remained on his fingers. “Perhaps... perhaps you’re right, Maya. I do so miss my home...”
He lapsed into a silence that none of the other three gathered around the feeding-tray felt like breaking. They were eating outside the ship, next to the perimeter-field, where Unwen could watch the mammals gather on the other side. There was a crowd of them now, staring with pink eyes, occasionally creeping forward to sniff at the shimmering air that kept them out. Mostly, they seemed to be staring at the feeding-tray, floating a foot or so off the ground, loaded up with the various basic components of a complete meal, but occasionally they’d turn their heads, blinking at Unwen, almost as if they remembered him. He smiled, resisting the urge to send one of the small red globes through the field for them to eat. To be a generous god.
Munn broke the silence. “I don’t understand what’s so special about the thumbs. Why is that mutation in particular so important?”
“I’ve gone through this once already, Munn. We didn’t mutate it, not in the sense you mean.” Unwen shook his head impatiently. “What we did, Munn – I’ll make it simple – was swap out its DNA for that of a descendant from millions of years down the evolutionary line. We looked into the future of the species and brought that future back into the present.”
Soran bit into one of the white squares. “That’s almost making it too simple, if you ask me. But, yes, in terms of the effect, we were able to... well, jump up the evolutionary ladder. Of course, the results will differ vastly from mammal to mammal according to their species or location. If we were to attempt the process on one of the reptiles, for example, we might find that...”
“Let’s not do that,” Munn broke in quickly.
Maya nodded in agreement. Soran looked to Unwen for support, but he only shrugged. “I’m afraid I concur with the rest of the group, Soran. It’s far too risky to bring one of the larger lizards through the field – anyway, I think we’ve got enough on our plate right now with this species. I think if we can follow it further down the evolutionary path... well, this is where the thumbs become important, Munn.”
“I’m listening.”
“The fact that these creatures developed opposable thumbs suggests that, if pushed further down the evolutionary path, there’s a chance that they might evolve into... well, us. Or a creature very like us. Bipedal, using tools. Perhaps even sentient.” He smiled, popping one of the yellow fluid-sacs into his mouth.
Maya nodded, watching him with a curious look on her face. “I see, Or... its descendants might evolve into primates and stop there. If I’m understanding you correctly.”
“You are, up to a point. By adjusting certain variables – and this is something Soran had a great deal of difficulty explaining to me, so I won’t try and give you a second-hand version – we can pick and choose which branch of the evolutionary tree we follow. If even one of those branches leads to a sentient or semi-sentient creature, we can... well, bring it into being.”
“You’re twisting my words,” Soran interrupted, scowling. “I said it was theoretically possible with the equipment we had. That doesn’t make it easy, or wise. The power drain would be catastrophic.”
Unwen seemed almost amused by the idea. “The whole point of xokronite as a power source is that it grants us potentially infinite power, surely?”
“You’re not a physicist,” Soran spat, almost savagely. “You’re not an engineer, either. Drawing energy at the rate you’re discussing would lead to –”
Munn cut him off. “The mammals.”
“What?”
He pointed towards the edge of the field. “Where are they going?”
The crowd of small animals who’d sat watching the four of them eat were scurrying for cover, finding holes and branches to lose themselves in. A moment later, the ground underneath them vibrated with a sound like thunder.
“I think –” Soran began, and then he was silenced by another thunderclap, then another, and another – louder each time. Something approaching, on feet heavy enough to shake the earth. Something huge and terrible, making its way through the trees.
Then it was on them.
Nearly three times as tall as a man – and even then Unwen could see that it was not rearing up to its full height. Instead, it held its body parallel to the ground, lunging at the field, a great mou
th of razors attempting to tear into the empty air. The field shimmered and whined under the assault, becoming almost opaque in places under the stress, and Munn found himself inching back, despite himself.
“It won’t breach the perimeter-field,” Soran muttered, but there was a trace of uncertainty in his voice.
Unwen felt oddly detached, observing the massive monster as it roared at him, great globs of its spittle trickling down the outer edge of the field. It walked on its massive hind legs, its small arms seeming useless, almost vestigial. But then, the claws were sharp – perhaps, when it was engaged in fighting or feeding on similarly gigantic reptiles, the arms would latch onto its prey for ease of attack. If he could only study one in a more natural habitat. A mobile field, perhaps.
If he could only capture one.
Abruptly, the massive beast turned, slamming its tail into the field, and crashed through the tree-line and out of sight, shaking the earth again as it stomped into the distance. Eventually, the smaller mammals began to creep out of their hiding places, moving back to their place at the edge of the field.
The four of them finished their meal in silence.
LATER, MAYA SAID to Unwen: “Honestly? I think you should try it.”
Unwen raised an eyebrow. “Interesting. You’re the last person I’d expect approval from, quite frankly. What happened to the slippery slope?”
She shrugged, irritated at his point-scoring. “We’re already on one.”
The two of them were in Unwen’s sparse domicell, away from the others, lounging on a pair of visible fields projected from the walls and floor. Unwen’s was a curved plane, allowing his legs to remain horizontal and his back supported, while Maya preferred a solid block to perch on. “Munn hasn’t said a word since the fang-beast attacked the perimeter-field,” she continued.
Unwen raised his other eyebrow at that. “Fang-beast?”
She smiled, despite herself. “It’s by far the largest and most dangerous reptile we’ve seen. It deserves a name. Feel free to come up with something more scientific.”
