A growing crowd pressed in around the two men, a skinny science geek facing down a hulking grunt. Kev pushed through to get a closer look.
"What the hell did you do that for?” Ben shouted.
Logan stood firm, shrugging his massive shoulders. “Better safe than sorry."
Ben stepped forward and thrust his finger into Logan's face. “Safe?” he shouted. “Safe? We could starve while we try to figure out what's safe and what's not. We had an opportunity—"
Logan ground his teeth and slapped Ben's hand away. Kev worried he was about to witness New Hope's first case of assault and battery. He turned to Mandy, waiting for her to step in. Lead, damn it! She stood transfixed, her eyes darting back and forth.
Do something. Now.
Before he could change his mind, Kev stepped between the two men. He wrapped an arm around each man's shoulder. “You'll learn plenty by dissecting it, Ben.” His pulse was racing, but he spoke as calmly as he could. “And I wouldn't mind passing a few samples through IR. It may turn out that Logan did us a favor.” Turning to give Logan a hard look, he added, “Now that we know they're not dangerous, we'll make sure to take the next specimen alive."
He held his breath. Ben glared at him for a moment, then hissed, “When did you start apologizing for grunts?” He twisted from Kev's touch and stalked away into the darkening evening.
Logan pushed Kev's arm away. Kev looked up at piercing brown eyes set into a face that could have graced the cover of a cereal box back on Earth. “Nice going, hero,” Logan said.
Kev shook his head and turned away. He walked toward the analyt lab, mumbling, “There's no pleasing him."
He hadn't intended Logan to hear, hadn't intended even to say it out loud. He felt Logan's meaty hand close on his shoulder and his knees turned to rubber.
"You're right, nothing's gonna please me until we get a fair shake,” Logan said.
Kev turned to face him, acutely aware of the hushed colonists huddled around. Jeez, how did I get myself into this? “Okay, Logan, tell me. How are the gr—the workers treated unfairly?"
Logan stared down at Kev for a long moment before the fire in his eyes burned down to glowing embers. “Us second-class types don't like being short changed in the chow department."
"What are you talking about? We all get equal rations."
"Yeah, well how many calories do you burn sitting in your lab? Us grunts work for a living. Equal ain't necessarily fair."
Shouts of agreement erupted from the crowd. Mandy stood in place as though stunned. As if Kev didn't have enough to worry about.
* * * *
Kev got his turn on the electron microscope the next morning. He drifted toward the analyt lab, squinting to read the micrographs in the glare of the morning sun. The molecule was indeed a mucopolysaccharide, but the amino sugars were linked at the sixth carbon. In Earth life, carbon-four bonds were the norm for saccharide chains. The odd linkages coiled the polymer into a tight helix.
"Eh! Watch where you're going, tech."
Kev looked up from the paper to see that he had nearly walked into a grunt. Worker, he corrected. Three months ago the man had been the heftiest human to walk New Hope; now his denim work clothes hung limp across his frame. “Sorry."
"Hey, ain't you the hero from last night, gave us some bull about fair rations?” His eyes narrowed, appraising Kev.
"Maybe he should try swinging a hammer for a while, see if he thinks his rations are enough then."
The new voice came from behind Kev, and he wheeled around to see that the speaker did indeed have a sledge in hand. Two more men sauntered toward him. His empty stomach gurgled in fear.
"We can resolve your complaint at the town hall meeting tomorrow.” Kev backed away and stepped right into the grasp of the first man.
The man with the hammer pressed the tool into Kev's hand. “I'd like to see you do some real work, tech,” he snarled.
Kev's eyes darted back and forth, anxiously seeking a way out. He caught motion off to the left—Logan approaching. That's all I need. Marta clung to him, her arm draped weakly over his shoulder, her head hanging limp. He staggered forward under her weight.
"What the hell?” Kev said. The surrounding workers’ heads turned as one.
"Gimme a hand over here, will you?” Logan shouted.
Kev ran toward them, burning valuable calories, leaving the bewildered grunts to follow in his wake. He grabbed Marta under the shoulder and helped Logan ease her down onto the packed earth. “What happened to her?"
"Well, I, uh, she didn't..."
Kev noticed a large purple blotch on her upper arm where Logan had gripped her. He bent closer, running his hand over the red markings that dotted her skin. Subdermal bleeding. His mind snapped back to the hemorrhaging rats in Ahmet's lab. “Did she eat anything unusual? Damn it, Logan, tell me!"
Marta's hand closed on Kev's wrist in a feeble grasp. “I ... I've been adding tendril-leaf shoots to my rations.” Kev could barely hear her voice. He waved the men around him to silence and leaned closer to her. “Just a little with each meal,” she said, “enough to stretch my rations further."
"Why, Marta?” Logan's eyes shimmered as he spoke. “Why would you try something like that?"
"I thought if I ate less Earth food there'd be more for you,” she said. “You need...” Tears streamed down Logan's cheeks. He buried his face in her hair and whispered into her ear.
"Damn,” Kev said. He looked up at the men surrounding him. “We've got to get her to the med hut. Now."
* * * *
"They said it was like a heparin overdose,” Kev told Mandy that evening. “It's a drug they use to prevent blood clots. They gave her protamine sulfate, the same treatment they give to neutralize heparin. The doc said she'd be fine, unless there's some other toxic effect we don't know about yet."
Mandy's eyes lit. “Can we detoxify all the local food with it?” For a brief moment, hope danced in her eyes.
He shook his head. It hurt Kev to take away her first moment of optimism since planetfall. “We'd need a lot of it, administered intravenously after every meal. I can't see how we could make it fast enough."
"Then we're back to square one,” she said. “Worse, because we had to use valuable medical resources."
"Maybe not. Heparin's a mucopolysaccharide. There might be a connection—"
"I'm going to put restrictions on grunt movements."
Kev locked onto her icy stare. “What?"
"I'm afraid others might try Marta's trick."
"They're hungry. The rations are barely enough for us scientists, and we don't work half as hard as they do."
"I already cut the work schedule down to the bare essentials—running the power plant, putting up prefab shelters, unloading critical supplies from the landers."
"I don't think they can keep going much longer on the rations they're getting."
"What do you want me to do?” Her voice rose to nearly a shout.
Kev felt his own anger peak, but it didn't last. He didn't have the strength for any more arguments. “No one blames you."
"Yes, they do. Even you. I can see it every time I look into your eyes."
Her words stung Kev. The truth hurts. “I ... I just want—"
"I know what you want,” she hissed. “It's what the whole damn colony wants. Well, maybe I'm not the savior everyone wants me to be. Ever think of that?” She flopped onto a chair and buried her face in her hands. Kev could do nothing more than stand next to her. Touch her shoulder? Comfort her? That would just make things worse. The last remnants of his anger drained away, leaving him numb.
When she finally lifted her head, he saw that her eyes were cold and lifeless, hardened against further anguish. “No more leaving the compound,” she announced with finality. “Not for grunts. I can't trust them out there."
"How are you going to enforce it? Honor system? An armed militia of scientists?"
Her voice was a low monotone, devoid of feeling. “I
f I have to."
"But—"
"I'll announce it at tomorrow's town hall meeting."
"But—"
"It's not open for debate."
This is how we'll die, he thought.
* * * *
Kev slipped out of bed early the next morning to avoid another argument. He walked slowly toward the analyt lab, savoring the damp chill of the morning air, the calm before the coming storm.
Samples from the scuttlebeast dissection sat atop his workbench, each labeled by tissue type in Ben's meticulous handwriting. A thin smile played across his lips. He knew Ben couldn't hold a grudge. He hadn't alienated everyone who was dear to him. Just Mandy.
He prepared a quartz cuvette with one of the scuttlebeast samples and popped it into the IR. The spectrophotometer hummed softly as it passed its infrared beam through the sample, leaving him to his worries.
He tried to occupy his mind by fiddling with the software that subtracted water absorption from the sample's spectrograph. After an eternity, a green light flashed on the front of the spectrophotometer. He displayed the spectrograph on his monitor and cursed. He must have mixed up the samples! This was the graph of a salicylate sample taken from a mycowood. He pulled the cuvette from the sample tray and squinted at the tiny letters scrawled in his own handwriting across the top edge. “S-Beast Samp 1.” Humph.
The town hall meeting would be starting soon. Was there time to rerun the sample? He decided he didn't care and poured another of Ben's scuttlebeast samples into a second cuvette. More time to worry. Had Mandy announced her new policy yet? Would the divide between techs and grunts become an irreparable rift?
He cursed himself for using the derogatory slang terms. We're all colonists, not two separate species.
And that was the answer.
The green light flashed. One look at the spectrograph confirmed his guess. Scuttlebeasts were mycowoods.
Life on Earth had differentiated into plants and animals; on New Hope it had not. All life fell into one kingdom with a life cycle including both sedentary and mobile forms. The biochemistry fell into place. Blood-thinning plant esters. Clot-busting animal enzymes. Individually, the body could process them. Consumed together, in the same organism, their effects were cumulative.
He jumped to his feet and ran toward the mess hall, his heart pounding.
He was one of the last to arrive at the crowded mess hall. The science staff clustered around the tables at the far end of the hall, near the podium set up for Mandy. The workers milled about near the entrance. Kev could feel the tension permeating the room.
He waded through the sea of grunts, impatient at the slow progress he was making. He had to tell someone! His eye caught Ahmet, sitting across a table from Ben. He dropped into an empty seat.
"Sorry about the other night,” Ben said, eyes lowered. “I was a little hot about Logan and, uh, well—"
"Not now,” Kev said. “I have a theory that just might explain the toxicity of local food sources.” At the podium, Mandy called the meeting to order. Ben's eyes and Ahmet's spectacles locked onto Kev as he explained.
Ben snapped his fingers. “That explains a lot about scuttlebeast tissue morphology. Would you believe that the squamous cells in the animal's skin contain chloroplasts? And cell walls, just like the bugs. Deeper inside we found more animal-like cell structures."
Ahmet shook his head in dismissal. “I'm afraid the toxicology doesn't hold up,” he said. “Heparin is not toxic by ingestion. It is too easily digested."
Kev pursed his lips, concentrating to hear the soft-spoken, accented words over the growing din. The hope in his chest deflated as Ahmet's objection sunk in. No, wait. “The muccopolysaccharide I found is more tightly coiled than you'd find in Earth life. Maybe that makes it resistant to digestion. Enough of it reaches the bloodstream to interact synergistically with the salicylate esters."
Angry shouts erupted from the back of the mess hall. Kev focused his attention on Mandy's amplified voice long enough to hear her say, “...only a temporary measure. The order will be rescinded as soon as we find a way to make local food sources edible."
The shouts grew louder. An empty glass shattered on the wall behind Mandy. She flinched reflexively, drawing loud boos from the grunts. They began inching up the aisle. A new fear gripped him. They're going to hurt her!
He felt a tap on his shoulder. He snapped his head around, prepared for the worst. It was Logan. “We gotta do something."
Kev exhaled in relief. “Right. Let's go.” He followed Logan as he forced his way through the now-congested aisle toward the podium. Perhaps it was already too late.
"Get away from me,” Mandy said as Logan approached. He stepped aside and Mandy's eyes fell on Kev. He saw in those eyes the haunted solitude of a woman betrayed. “Kev?” That meek whisper would haunt him for the rest of his life.
He had no idea what to say to her. But in that moment he knew that her feelings mattered to him deeply. He still loved her. He dropped his eyes and turned to the podium. “Stay calm,” he said into the microphone. His voice emerged from the speakers, unsteady and hesitant. “We ... we are working on a way to detoxify the mycowood...."
"Only thing that can save the grunts is a grunt mayor!” Shouts from the crowd grew louder and the menacing workers loomed closer. They began to chant, “Logan! Logan!"
"Hold it! Listen to him!” Logan said, and in a flash he was by Kev's side. “We can trust him,” he said into the microphone. "I trust him.” The chant died down and Kev stared at Logan in shock. Logan invited him to speak with a wave of his massive hand.
Kev cleared his throat into the microphone, breaking the sudden silence. He realized that every single man and woman on the planet was waiting for him to speak. His hands began to tremble. “I ... we, uh, f-found two substances that, when ingested together, inhibit the blood's ability to clot—"
"Tech-babble,” shouted a grunt. “That's all they offer. We're the ones who built this colony! Logan should be in charge."
Ben reached the front of the crowd and shouted, “No, wait!” A grunt grabbed him from behind, locking his arms behind his back, while two others advanced on him.
"No!” All eyes turned once again to the podium, where Logan's shout had needed no microphone. “Listen to him.” Ben shook off his attackers and stared at Logan with newfound respect.
Kev realized that he didn't have much time to make his point. The worker was right; now was not the time for a chemistry lecture. The colony needed action, not words. With his pulse pounding in his ears, he began to speak. “Me, Ben, and Ahmet think we have it worked out. Logan can oversee our work, make sure we're on the level. If we're right, we should be able to use mycowood as a food source."
As one, the colonists stared at him in stunned silence, eyes wide. Someone began to clap. Soon, the mess hall shook with a deafening ovation. Kev stepped back from the podium, his rubbery knees barely up to the task. Logan had pulled Ben and Ahmet out of the crowd and now stood next to Kev, an arm draped over each man's shoulder.
"I'm afraid I do not see how you intend to make mycowood edible so quickly,” Ahmet shouted over the din.
Logan's look hardened. “If you're bluffing—"
Ben flashed a wide smile. “Think about it. The animal-like enzymes are produced inside the body cavity, the salicylates in the bark, or skin, or what have you. It should be easy to separate the two."
"So we just have to be careful to eat the skin separate from the meat?” Logan asked.
Kev's head bobbed up and down enthusiastically. “More or less. We'll also want to find a way to remove most of the mucopoly—uh, the heparin enzyme to be safe. You think that will work, Ahmet?"
His owl-eyed glasses sparkled, and a broad smile split his face. “I'll clone another litter of rats right away. We'll have an answer in a month."
* * * *
Every colonist on New Hope, save one, was seated in the mess hall for the big day. Kev noted with a touch of disappointment that t
hey sat in clumps, a tech table here, a grunt table there. It will take time, he thought.
Ben, sitting next to him, leaned over and whispered, “Couldn't talk Mandy into coming?"
"Doc Pearson said I shouldn't push her. She needs time to get her confidence back."
Ben nodded and lowered his eyes. “She'd been standing between us and death for more than two years. Anyone would've cracked under that kind of stress."
"She never wanted to be mayor,” Kev said. “But we idolized her for keeping us alive long enough to get here. How could she refuse? She has—we have a lot to work out."
Ben hung his arm over Kev's shoulders and smiled. “Buck up. She'll be fine, like the shrink says. Today's your moment in the sun. I think it's time to get this celebration started."
Ben was right. Kev clapped him on the back and put on the best smile he could muster. He stood and the murmured conversations faded to silence. He ceremoniously lifted the lid from the large pot sitting on the table before him. His action was mirrored at every table in the hall. A warm mint aroma climbed the short distance to his nose. A rich, textured bouquet lurked beneath the mint, earthy and perhaps a slight bit fruity. He drew the aroma deep into his lungs and the colonists erupted in cheers.
"I never wanted the job, and I'll be glad to turn the reins over to a real leader once we find one,” he said, and the cheers turned to chuckles. The colonists’ good humor was contagious. “But for now, here I am, your interim mayor and M. C. of this incredible celebration. Who would have thought two months ago that we would be sitting here today in peace, about to share our first native meal?"
"Ahmet thought it would be one month!” Logan shouted, prompting a second round of chuckles. The Turkish man stood and took a theatrical bow.
"We'll give him the extra month,” Kev said. “In the weeks and months ahead we'll be able to add many more local food sources to our diet. We'll have recipe contests, create dishes unique to New Hope. I personally can't wait to try scuttlebeast meat. Ben here tells me it probably tastes sweet. After all, it's little more than the fruit of the mycowood, like an apple that can go out and find its own mate.
Analog SFF, November 2009 Page 17
