Beast

by Patrick McClafferty

  Solomon sighed. “Please, Areto, if we’re going to work together, call me Solomon, unless the situation is formal.” Inwardly, he couldn’t believe that he was holding a conversation with what was basically a computer. Alan Turing would surely have turned over in his grave at the human responses and inflections generated by the AI.

  Her smile was wide, and her green eyes sparkled with pleasure. The image of Areto looked so real, Solomon almost believed he could touch it. “Thank you, Solomon.” She took a deep breath, and Solomon noticed that beneath the fitted jerkin, she was what he would call stacked, and then some.

  “Gibbs mentioned that you have a small problem with planetary security. I would like to recommend that I assume orbit over Shangri-La, temporarily, until I can get more of my fighters assigned to planetary defense. I can retain one shuttle on board, while I leave the remaining drop shuttle with a full charge for the energy weapons and a fifty percent load-out for missiles within two weeks.”

  Solomon rubbed his chin. “That will work, Areto. How are your own stores for fuel?”

  She smiled. “Good, and getting better. I should be able to get some fuel to Lost Horizon before it becomes an issue to Gibbs. Once the combat logistics ship is underway, fuel and stores will no longer be a problem.”

  “How long will that take?” Solomon asked, the beginnings of an idea percolating in the back of his mind.

  Areto sighed. “Two to three months. The two frigates were shot up pretty badly, and the combat logistics ship had taken a shot to her drives, which will have to be totally rebuilt. I had to send over many of my own repair nanites to begin the repairs on those ships, and that is why my own repairs are incomplete.”

  Solomon grinned. “Don’t let it bother you. Set your nanites to keep making repairs and then leave them to do their jobs. You will eventually have to perform sentry duties over Shangri-La.”

  Areto returned the grin. “Keep making repairs… aye, aye. Sensor sweeps indicate that of the two thousand plus ships involved in this action, and that includes both Adaari and Bleeth, five hundred can, given a little time, be rebuilt and their power plants reactivated.” Areto gave him a very deliberate wink. “Eventually, you will have to change your rank to admiral, Captain.”

  “When pigs fly, Areto.” Solomon chuckled. “Can you follow us back to Shangri-La?”

  “Without a problem, Solomon.”

  “Good, then please do so. Lost Horizon out.”

  Areto vanished to be replaced by an image of the slim shape of the Diadem. Already, her anticollision lights were flashing as she powered up her drives.

  Elora gave him a long hard look. “You’re smiling, Solomon, and I know that look. What do you have planned?”

  He reached over and patted her cheek. “It would spoil the surprise if I told you.” Her glare should have swatted him like a fly as he stood and turned for the bridge exit. “Gibbs,” he said softly into his com, “will you please put me through to Areto again?”

  The pinnace, along with the fully fueled and armed drop shuttle banked toward the lush valley on Shangri-La. The two descending vessels had already passed the ascending shuttle that was heading back to the Lost Horizon, and the midmorning sun was bathing the valley in a warm golden glow. Flying the pinnace, Solomon found, was dead easy, and he eased the control yoke back as he reduced the thrust, settling the small craft gently to the ground one hundred meters from the battered main gate. A small delegation from the colony was waiting as he descended the ramp.

  “It’s good to see you again, Jean-Philippe.” He extended his hand.

  After a moment’s hesitation, the colony leader took it. “And you also, my friend.” Jean-Philippe looked troubled. “There has been some disquiet in the camp since the battle.” The hazel eyes studied Solomon carefully. “People have been asking me what exactly you are, and I do not have an answer.”

  Solomon glanced at Elora then back at Jean-Philippe. “It’s a long story, Jean-Philippe, and I probably should tell everybody at the same time.”

  Jean-Philippe held him in a long flat look for several moments. “You saved our lives, and we owe you that much.”

  Solomon’s jaws tightened. “Yeah. Well, lead on.” His mouth was suddenly as dry as dust.

  Most of the camp joined the crewmen of the Lost Horizon in the large dome. Some stood, and others sat on the floor. Most of the male colonists had grim looks on their faces, and Solomon sighed as he stepped to the middle of the room. He was relieved to find Elora at his side.

  He looked at the wall of uncertain, distrusting faces, resisting the impulse to snarl at them. “How quickly you seem to have forgotten,” he began, “that if it wasn’t for the quick action of the men and women in my party, you all would have been literally ripped to shreds by hordes of mechanical monstrosities.”

  Several faces in the audience flinched.

  “We haven’t forgotten,” a sandy-haired mountain of a man growled, stepping forward. His left arm was in a sling. “We’re just not anxious to jump from the frying pan into the fire.” He glared at Solomon with dark suspicious eyes. “We saw you all turn into creatures just as deadly as those mechanical things.”

  Solomon noted the marines taking up unobtrusive positions to guard the Fontaine children. Brigit, her hand not so unobtrusively on the butt of her energy pistol, stepped casually behind him and Elora, covering their back. The speaker saw the motion, too, and his face paled. Solomon could smell the strong odor of fear in the enclosed room.

  Solomon glanced at Jean-Philippe. “Could I get a cup of coffee, please?”

  Soon, a cup of steaming liquid was pushed roughly into his hands. Solomon took a long sip, resisted the impulse to spit the unpalatable drink on the floor, and stared at the crowd over the rim. “I’d like to tell you all a little bedtime story.” He couldn’t keep the sarcasm completely out of his voice. “I’m forty years old, but my story starts twenty-nine years earlier.” He caught and held Jean-Philippe’s eyes. “You see, I was born on Mars in the year 2160, the first son of Giuseppe and Julia Fontaine. The name given to me at my birth was Malachai Fontaine.”

  There were a number of startled gasps.

  Solomon smiled grimly, glancing at the cluster of young people standing at his back. “These are most of my surviving brothers and sisters.” He chuckled dryly. “And I suppose that I would have to admit that we are not totally human any longer. It began deep in the Martian desert, in a cave not built by human hands…”

  Sometime during the next two hours, Elora took his hand in hers, and he was more thankful than he could say for the silent support. He paused once, and someone slipped him something to drink that was considerably stronger than the cup of bitter coffee he’d had earlier. He tossed it back in a single swallow, coughed, and continued.

  Eventually, the story came to an end, and Solomon stopped, looking over the crowd of suspicious faces until a tall aristocratic-looking woman stepped forward, her eyes bright. He noted in passing that there was more than a little silver shot through her black hair, and dark worry lines etched her fine face. Her question was blunt.

  “Can your Kiniseri Construct heal my son?” she asked, her eyes pleading. “A month ago, during the first of the robot raids, my son Lucien fell from one of the towers. The medic here says that the fall ruptured his spleen, and at this remote location, there is nothing he can do but to ease his pain. He has, perhaps, another two weeks to live.” She leaned forward, her eyes intent.

  “Marie… no!” Jean-Philippe gasped, stepping forward and reaching for her arm. “You don’t know…”

  The woman turned toward him, her eyes blazing. “I would make a deal with the devil himself, Jean-Philippe, to save our son.” The colony leader staggered back, as if struck, and she glanced at Solomon. “And I do not think that this man is the devil we all believe him to be. So, can this Construct save my son?”

  “Yes,” Solomon replied without hesitation. “I would advise that you receive a Construct first, so that you may assist
your son in his… transition. He has been sedated for so long that to suddenly awake to the Kiniseri Construct could be… disconcerting.” He gave her a level look. “When I first received it as a child, I managed to kill a number of people before I was moved to Earth.”

  “Did you kill people after you arrived at Earth?” The woman’s voice quavered.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Solomon replied in an even voice, and the tall woman flinched. “But then I was in the marines at first, and then I worked with the Boston Police Department.”

  She swallowed. “Since you arrived on Earth, have you ever killed anyone by accident?”

  He held her eyes. “No. And I can tell you truthfully that the Construct saved my life on many occasions.”

  The woman took a deep breath, straightening. “Please prepare a Construct for myself and my son,” she said firmly.

  Solomon could see that Jean-Philippe was struggling with his own emotions as he stepped up beside his wife. His face was very pale. “I will do this thing also, Solomon.”

  “Thank you, Jean-Philippe,” Solomon said, nodding. “I will have the marines go back to the Lost Horizon and fetch a few Kiniseri Constructs for you. We have plenty to spare.” He didn’t bother to point out that he could have as easily transferred Lucien to the sick bay on the Lost Horizon to heal him there. This way, he figured, he would gain a world full of allies at his back. Bending closer to Jean-Philippe, he pitched his voice for the man’s ears alone. “I will send down enough Constructs for all your people and then some, along with enough for all the colonists newly arrived from Earth. I guarantee that when others see the true import of the Kiniseri Construct they will all want one.” He gave Jean-Philippe a long look. “I would recommend awarding the Constructs to young people when they turn sixteen. Any earlier might be… dangerous. Like the name implies, the thing is a construct subject to the will of the biological host. If that will is flighty or uncertain, then things could get… difficult,” he finished, shrugging. “The marines will also bring down the first load of colonists.” He grinned to the colony leader. “They’re still frozen stiff, and I’ll leave the thawing and explanations up to you.”

  A look of vast relief had descended on the Frenchman’s face. “How could I have ever doubted you, mon ami?”

  Solomon chuckled. “I would have mistrusted me in similar circumstances, Jean-Philippe, but I should go now. There are about a million things to do.”

  Jean-Philippe was smiling as Solomon turned away.

  With the help of the marines, the colonists managed to raise a new thirty-meter dome specifically for the new colonists. Colonial construction workers quickly discovered that the strength of the beasts made raising the plasteel supporting beams to the ceiling much easier. As the period of post-battle recuperation came to an end two weeks after his little impromptu history lesson, Solomon guessed that fully half of the original colonists had already received their own Kiniseri Constructs, with the others waiting impatiently as their names ticked down on the receiving roster. Jean-Philippe and Solomon had agreed that it would probably be better if the colony waited until the Lost Horizon was well gone before they woke the bevy of sleepers. Solomon looked up as a smiling Marie Lémery came up to stop beside Jean-Philippe, giving him a quick peck on the cheek. Beside her stood a tall, straight-backed young man with short sandy hair and a strong aquiline nose, just like his father, Jean-Philippe. He gave Solomon a long serious look.

  “I understand that I owe my life to you, Captain Draxx.” The youth’s voice was gravelly, and his cheeks hollow, both the result of his near terminal injury, but the hand he held out was rock steady.

  Solomon shook the youth’s proffered hand, returning the smile. “There is no debt, my young friend. Please call me Solomon.”

  The young man smiled thinly and glanced down at his hand, which rippled from tan skin to woodland green, to black and back to tan. “I would like to join your crew, Captain, if you will have me. Both of my parents agree that it is my sole decision.” He glanced at the newly erected dome. “We seem to have enough colonists to keep the colony operating at the moment.”

  Solomon glanced at the young man’s parents, who gave him curt nods. Jean-Philippe was smiling, but Marie wasn’t. “I accept,” he said, turning back to Lucien. “What are your specialties, if I might ask?”

  Lucien grinned. “I’m above average in mechanical and electronic systems, and I’m a crack shot.”

  Solomon looked over his shoulder at a group of milling marines and shouted. “Staff Sergeant Rodríguez, front and center!”

  It took no more than thirty seconds before the mountainous marine was standing before him at attention, his eyes staring the regulation fifteen centimeters above Solomon’s head. “Staff Sergeant Emilio Rodríguez, reporting as ordered, sir.” He snapped a rigid salute.

  Solomon returned the salute, his face impassive. “At ease, Staff Sergeant, before you break something. I have a present for you.” He glanced at Lucien. “I have a recruit for you, straight from the local militia.”

  The staff sergeant’s eyes flicked to the young man.

  The marine groaned, rolling his eyes to the sky. “Really, sir?”

  “Really, Staff Sergeant. Take the young man away and swear him in. I’m sure you’ll file off all of his rough edges.”

  “I will do that, sir. You can count on it.”

  Solomon turned back to the youth, raising an eyebrow. “Are you still interested, Lucien?”

  The young man swallowed. “Yes, sir, I am.”

  Solomon shook his head in mock disgust. “Staff Sergeant, you may take your victim away now.”

  The marine glared at the boy. “This way, boot.” He jerked his head toward the rest of the marines.

  Marie Lémery stared at the retreating back of her son. “Was that such a wise idea, Solomon?”

  Surprisingly, it was Jean-Philippe who answered. “Lucien is safer with the staff sergeant than he is with us, my dear.” He glanced at Solomon. “The marine recognized us immediately and knows exactly what happened to Lucien.”

  Solomon smiled. “The staff sergeant also knows that I would be extremely displeased if something were to happen to Lucien while he is in the staff sergeant’s charge.” Marie flinched at the sound of steel in Solomon’s voice. “Lucien will be as safe as any of the marines can be.”

  The woman took a quick step forward and kissed Solomon on the cheek. “Thank you, Captain.” She kissed him on the other cheek. “You have given our son his pride back.”

  Solomon laughed. “He may curse my name in a few weeks.”

  “When will you be leaving, Solomon?” Jean-Philippe asked, putting an arm around his wife’s waist.

  “Tomorrow morning, early. The Diadem will be remaining in orbit, at least temporarily, until Areto can get all of her fighters functional and stationed for groundside defense. The shuttle we’re leaving for you will be fully fueled and as close to fully armed as we can make it. The shuttle itself has a rudimentary AI that cannot only fly the shuttle, but program the fighters for a wide variety of missions. Three of my marines have volunteered to stay here to form the backbone of your local militia and program the fighters until we return and train your folks in the use of the two dozen energy weapons we will be leaving for you.”

  Marie smiled, the relief at being able to see her son again clear in her eyes. “You will be returning?”

  “In a month or two,” Solomon said, turning to Jean-Philippe. “You might begin thinking of a location for another settlement.” Solomon bit his lip. “Something on the coast, I think, and a little closer to the temperate zone.” He grinned.

  Jean-Philippe frowned, concentrating. “I seem to remember a suitable coastal site closer to the equator. I recall that there were ruins discovered there, but the initial team wanted to settle in the mountains, so here we are.”

  “The coastal location sounds just fine, Jean-Philippe. If you would, please send the shuttle and set up a small storage dome containing suitable bui
lding supplies. We’ll take it from there.”

  “We?” Jean-Philippe gave him an askance look.

  Solomon smiled. “I’ve thought, once or twice, that this would be a nice world to call home… or at least home base.” He glanced at the dark-blue sky and deep-purple mountains that seemed to float on waves of dark-green trees. “Shangri-La, indeed. I need to shanghai an entire Buddhist monastery for this place. The Buddhists won’t mind, I don’t think, and I know the Chinese would just love to get the Tibetan Buddhists out of their hair.”

  The Frenchman snorted a laugh.

  Chapter 11

  PROBLEMS AND RESOLUTIONS

  Solomon slid into the captain’s seat with a small sigh. In the view screen, the bloodred Diadem was just sliding into view over the curve of the world, while clouds obscured the snug valley far below on Shangri-La. He knew that snow would be falling soon on the colony, as a long cold winter finally settled in. Save some unexpected disaster, the colony stood to weather the winter in good shape. Not one of the slightly battered colonists had requested a return to Earth, and that surprised him somewhat. Four residents, including Lucien Lémery, had volunteered to join the meager crew of the Lost Horizon and from all indications were fitting in quite well.

  “All systems are prepared for departure, Captain,” Gibbs said in the almost-still air of the bridge. “What destination?”

  Solomon had given it a lot of thought. “Bring us in above the plane of the ecliptic, a couple of astronomical units from Mars, and slow us down. I don’t want any tracking systems to pick us up. When we get in range, I’ll take the pinnace in directly to the Fontaine Estate.”

  “Will you be needing the marines?” Gibbs asked in a flat voice.

  He almost said no. “Have Staff Sergeant Rodríguez assemble half a dozen marines as a security detail.” He glanced over to a pale Elora sitting on the XO’s seat. “We aren’t sure what we’ll find. Things were in a state of flux when we left, you might say.”