/// John—can we go to the comm booth?
Please? ///
He let out a breath. /Yeah. Let's go./
*
>>>>>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>
>>>
>
—
A burst of fireworks expanded in his vision, then crystallized into a network, which hung against darkness for a heartstopping instant—then drained like rivulets of glowing water toward him, into his vision, his eyes, his brain, his consciousness . . .
>> Thank you for choosing Planetview Systems as your all-hour information service. We have researched and placed in cache the information that you requested during your last session. Would you like to downlink the data at this time? >>
Now what the hell was that all about? Bandicut thought. Of course: Charlie had signed him onto Planetview and requested a complete, full-volume, updated ephemeris. /That the stuff you want?/ he asked.
/// Yes.
Please give me a moment
while I prepare a storage area for it. ///
/You can use my personal safe-zone here in the datanet, if you want./
/// No, this is better.
I'm setting up a cache file in your brain . . . ///
/Huh?/
/// Go ahead.
Take the downlink. ///
/Hey, I don't want this stuff cluttering up my long-term memory!/
/// It won't.
You won't even miss the storage space.
YES, WE'D LIKE THE DOWNLINK. ///
Bandicut sputtered in protest, but the Planetview prompter had heard the quarx's voice.
>> Prepare your cache and signal when ready . . . >>
He took a breath, but the quarx beat him to it.
/// Ready. ///
>> Cometary listings updated 2164MAR, code sequence: R.A.(H,M,S); DEC.(D,M,S); TYP; MAG; DIS; PHAS; A.VEL.; . . . >>
Numbers and characters began flowing past with dizzying speed. For the first few seconds, he tried to make sense of it, but it was like trying to seine Niagara Falls. He couldn't feel it going into his brain; he wondered if only the quarx would be able to retrieve it.
/// John, you worry too much.
Relax and let me take care of it. ///
/Okay,/ he sighed.
The dataflow rumbled on, a torrential waterfall beneath the surface of his consciousness . . . .
*
>> Download complete. Do you require further information? Please check our menu for exciting new services— >>
/Bye!/ Bandicut barked, and the prompt vanished. They were out of Planetview Systems, but the datanet still gleamed around them like the ice of Charlie's cavern. /You didn't want anything else, did you?/
The quarx seemed lost in thought.
/Charlie?/
/// Sorry.
No, I think that's all I wanted
from Planetview.
I was just wondering
how to get this data to the translator. ///
Bandicut shrugged helplessly.
/// I could repeat what I did last time,
but it's much longer.
There's a greater risk of detection.
In person would be a lot better. ///
/Well,/ Bandicut said, /I don't know how soon I'll have any chance of going out on another survey run. And even then, I won't exactly be free to just wander out to your cavern./
/// I think I can help you manage that last part.
The question, though, is—should we wait?
I think, for now—yes. ///
/Are we done here?/
/// Yes. ///
Bandicut nodded and peered at the spangles of light that formed the datanet. Another time, if he were less tired, he would like to peruse them further. /Okay,/ he said, and touched the connection with his thought, and let the sensation of the disconnect cascade like cooling water through his brain.
Chapter 10
Memory Death
HE DREAMED VIVIDLY that night, but of his own past, not Charlie's. He dreamed of his parents and his brother Joe, and Megan, before they were killed in the collapse of the EuroChunnel; he dreamed of them the last time he saw them, saying good-bye in St. Louis after Joe and Megan had dropped Dakota off with Megan's parents. The four of them were heading for a grownups-only holiday in London and Paris, while John was about to catch a flight to Bogotá, Colombia, and the railgun launcher. He was bound for a tour of duty in space, and his family was bound for death. But they didn't know that then.
He dreamed of Dakota at the funeral, bewildered and trembling, hugging him briefly but too shaken to say much of anything. But her eyes, those green Bandicut-child eyes, caught his just long enough to seem to make a silent plea. Begging him to take her to space. If not now, then soon. She'd always been a space nut, always asked him about his work every chance she got. It was out of the question, of course; at nine, she was much too young, and what would she do at L5 anyway? Megan's parents were Dakota's legal guardians now, and they didn't think too highly of space work, and even if he didn't think that highly of them, there was nothing he could do to change it.
Then the dream changed, and he was floating through a wispy, star-filled nebula, speeding to catch up with someone from whom he'd gotten separated, but he couldn't quite picture who it was . . . .
*
The third day out on the crawlers was little different from the second, except that Charlie seemed troubled as they rode around and around the track, each pass carving a little deeper into the surface of the moon. It was clear that Charlie was fretting about the time that was slipping by, with no hope in sight for a return to his cavern and the translator.
Bandicut, bouncing in his jump seat under the baleful eye of Neptune, was too preoccupied with his own boredom to be of much help. He liked his coworkers but loathed the repetitiveness of the job; it was so deadening that he found it hard to muster concern for Charlie's problem, even though it theoretically concerned him deeply: it was only the safety of the entire Earth. It was just too theoretical. But his boredom was real and palpable.
/// We might have to steal a rover
to go back, ///
Charlie murmured, sounding as though he were talking more to himself than to his host.
/Fat chance of that,/ Bandicut muttered, fishtailing the drones around a tight, inner corner.
/// You've got to help me get out there. ///
/Let's talk about it later, okay?/ The truth was, even if his heart had been in it at the moment, Bandicut could have offered only limited reassurance, since there was no way of knowing how long his superiors would take to write off the accident and send him back out on survey duty.
/// Yeah . . . later . . . ///
the quarx whispered, stirring listlessly.
/Hey, you okay there?/ Bandicut asked, squinting back at the churning drones as the course straightened out.
There was no answer.
*
It was only as they were arriving back at base that he realized that Charlie was not just worried; he was unwell. There were occasional flutters of distress that made Bandicut shiver, and once or twice he had dream-flashes of quarxian memory: flickering glimpses of alien beings, alien worlds, and feelings of grieving over some undefinable loss.
"You okay there, Bandie?" Jake asked, turning from his locker. The Amerind zipped up his casual jumpsuit. "You're looking a little green."
Bandicut rose from the bench where he'd been sitting and pulled on his own suit. "Yeah—fine, Jake. Fine. See you later, okay?"
Jake peered at him. "Okay. But you look like you should get some rest."
Bandicut nodded and waited for Jake to leave. /You okay, Charlie?/ he asked again, and this time the quarx answered, but only after he'd started down the corridor toward the cafeteria.
/// John, is there some place . . .
where we can be in private,
and not be interrupted? ///
He sensed a great exertion. /Well, yeah, I guess
. What's wrong? Can I get some supper first?/
The quarx whispered,
/// John, I may have . . . miscalculated . . .
please, no delay. ///
/We could lock ourselves into one of the VR rooms. It's plenty private there./
/// Yes . . . ///
He walked quickly to the lounge and checked the VR occupancy board. One room was available and he ducked in, securing the door behind him. /Okay, we're alone. What's wrong, guy? Are you all right?/
The quarx seemed to perk up a little in the new surroundings.
/// I'm . . . okay for the moment, I think.
What is this place? ///
/It's a virtual reality room. I thought you watched a lot of TV. Don't you know a VR setup when you see one?/ He opened a panel and showed Charlie where the visor, vest, gloves, and shoes were kept.
/// Old TV. It didn't show anything like this.
You're sure it's private here? ///
/It's about the most private place on Triton. People are expected to talk to themselves and generally act weird in here, because it's all make-believe once you turn on the holos and the feedback gear. That's the whole point./
/// Good. That's good.
Very good. ///
Puzzled, Bandicut said, /So do you want me to put this stuff on, so you can see how it works?/
/// Yeah . . . uh, sure. ///
He began putting on the shoes and gloves, and realized that this was all wrong. The quarx had needed to talk. /Charlie, hold it—this VR stuff can wait. Tell me what's wrong./
The quarx shivered.
/// It's . . . okay, John.
It's just that . . .
Well, I think I'm getting ready to die. ///
Bandicut felt a sharp pain across his chest as he tensed. His hands froze, the gloves halfway on. /What?/
/// You remember, I told you . . . ///
He remembered, the quarx had started to tell him once, something about how he might die at some point in the future. The conversation had been interrupted. But it hadn't seemed very real then, anyway, or at least he hadn't known Charlie so well then. /You started, but you didn't finish. What is this, Charlie?/
/// I'm sorry, John—
I'd wanted to prepare you better. ///
/But . . . when? Why?/ Somehow, he'd known from the dreams that death came to the quarx in ways that were going to be difficult for him to comprehend. /Charlie?/
/// I'm . . . not sure when.
But soon, I think. ///
Bandicut swallowed, suddenly dizzy. /What do you want me to do? What should I expect?/ He felt a strange mixture of fear and urgency and . . . something almost like relief. He was ashamed of the relief. He knew there was a lot at stake. Not just the quarx, or him. Earth, maybe.
/// There's nothing you can do
about my dying.
And don't . . . be concerned about your feelings.
They're perfectly natural,
I think. ///
/How the hell would you know?/ Bandicut cried. /Charlie, what about . . . what about . . . everything? Your mission? And the translator?/
/// You'll have to carry on.
There will be . . . another.
But I must brief you.
You must . . . get the data to the translator. ///
Bandicut swallowed. /Charlie, I don't want you to die./
He felt a sudden surge of empathy from the quarx.
/// I'm glad, John.
But look—we're getting all morbid.
I don't want to get morbid.
Please—
how about showing me something on that . . .
VR thing. ///
Bandicut drew a sharp breath. /Are you serious? Now?/
/// Please . . .
something peaceful.
I'd like to see Earth.
Are there any Earth scenes? ///
Bandicut read the selections. /Okay,/ he whispered, and made a choice. The room vanished, and the sound of a gentle surf filled his ears, and a brightening light overhead turned into a beaming midday sun. He was standing on a beach, looking out over an expanse of sea. After a moment, he murmured, "VR Control—give me late afternoon. Sunset." The sun faded from overhead and reappeared, enormous and crimson over the ocean. The bottom edge of the sun's disk touched the water, flattening outward in a rippling reflection. /How's this?/ he asked, stepping to the water's edge.
/// John, it's . . . breathtaking. ///
There was a deep wistfulness in the quarx's voice. Bandicut wondered if it were making him homesick. He felt a momentary dizziness, and suddenly felt himself hurtling headlong through space, through flickering light, tumbling and turning himself inside out. Then the feeling went away, and he was standing by the seashore again, swaying a little. He took a deep breath. Was Charlie reliving his life? Bandicut knelt and ran his hand through the sand. /Was your . . . world . . . anything like this?/
Charlie hesitated.
/// I don't think so. No. ///
Bandicut gazed up into the setting sun. /What was your world like?/
The answer came in a whisper.
/// I wish I . . . could remember.
John, we must talk now. ///
/Yes./ Bandicut frowned, wondering, how long had it been since the quarx had seen his own world? A million years? A hundred million? Did he even have a world of his own? /You must brief me,/ he whispered.
/// John.
You will not be . . . alone.
Expect another.
But you must be prepared to . . .
take responsibility. ///
Responsibility? He swallowed, thinking—the Earth is in danger from some cosmic collision, and I'm supposed to take responsibility? This is madness . . . madness . . .
/// John, the data that you hold in your mind . . . ///
/Data?/ Yes yes, of course, the ephemeris.
/// I have marked its location so that
I . . . your new companion . . .
will be able to give it to the translator.
It must reach the translator! ///
/Right,/ he whispered. He didn't know what else to say. He couldn't quite believe this was happening. Another . . . new companion . . . what the hell did that mean?
/// And John, you must remember . . .
EineySteiney pool! ///
/What—?/
/// Remember it.
It's the most important thing.
That, and the data. ///
/Okay,/ he whispered, bewildered. /Charlie—what did you mean when you said there would be . . . another? Another what? Another quarx?/
He felt a sudden physical weakness, and almost doubled over.
/// Aw jeez, Bart—it's gettin' all fuzzy, ///
the quarx groaned abruptly.
/Charlie? What are you doing? What are you talking about?/
/// Yeah, real fuzzy like.
Kinda' . . . misty 'round the edges. ///
The quarx was speaking in a drawl, some kind of goddamn phony western accent, probably from those goddamn old TV shows. Charlie loved that shit, he thought.
/// Ahhhh, jeez, Bart—
the pain! ///
/Stop!/ he said. He was starting to become angry. /What the hell do you think you're doing—?/
/// I'm not gonna make it, old buddy— ///
/Stop it, damn you!/
The quarx gasped,
/// Let me—go out in style—John— ///
/NO, damn it!/
/// I'm not gonna make it.
I think this may be it . . . ///
Bandicut felt a sharp sinking feeling in his chest. /Goddamnit, don't pull this shit on me! Charlie!/
/// It's such a beautiful view—
I just wish I could . . . aaahhhhhhhh . . . ///
There was a gasping sound, then silence. Bandicut scowled, looking around the beach, as though he would find the quarx there. /Charlie? Charlie? Goddamnit—!/
There was no answer, no stir of pr
esence.
Bandicut was stunned into sudden silence. Was he gone, then? Was Charlie gone—the only alien in the solar system? Bandicut didn't know what to think. He felt a profound confusion, and fear.
Three heartbeats later, he heard a soft chuckle.
/// Gotcha. ///
For ten more heartbeats, he couldn't speak. When he did, it was with barely controlled rage. /You asshole. You are a total asshole. Do you know that? Was that supposed to be some kind of joke? WAS IT?/
The quarx whispered hoarsely,
/// I'm . . . sorry.
I just thought, it's my last chance . . .
I'm awfully mokin' sorry. ///
/Sorry? That was the dumbest-ass stunt I've ever seen! Sorry! Christ, I thought you were really gone!/ Bandicut picked up a handful of sand and flung it into the ocean. /Christ, Charlie!/
/// I really am . . . sorry.
I don't want to go, I don't want to die, but
I thought this might— ///
/Asshole!/
/// —make it a little easier— ///
Bandicut let another handful of sand run through his fingers. He felt as if his thoughts were melting into the ocean along with that great crimson sun. /Lamebrained dingo-shit is what it was, Charlie./
/// I'm sorry . . . Bandie. ///
He looked up into the sky, squinting. /Did I give you permission to call me that?/ he whispered, swallowing.
There was no real answer, just a soft, distant sigh somewhere in the back of his mind. He felt suddenly drained of energy, as if something had gone out of him. He heard, or imagined that he heard, a single whispered word: Bye.
/Charlie?/ The quarx didn't answer, and he started to get angry all over again. He got up and walked along the beach, waiting for the quarx to reappear. "Charlie?" he called aloud. "Don't you have to finish briefing me?"
There was still no answer. He stepped to the edge of the water, then into the water, and felt the cool sea wash over his feet. The sunset was gorgeous, a flattened glowing orb settling into the ocean. "That's something I really miss, from Earth," he murmured. "I'm sorry I yelled at you. I shouldn't have gotten so sore. Charlie? You there?" /Charlie, DAMN IT, answer me!/
In the silence that followed, he grew increasingly anxious. He felt none of the inner rustlings that marked Charlie's presence. /Charlie?/ he whispered, pleading. /Are you still there—somewhere?/
And that was when he knew . . . Charlie had whispered his farewell, and meant it. He was gone. Bandicut turned and walked the other way along the water's edge. It hurt to take a breath in, and to let it out. He blew through his clenched fist and thought: I don't even know if I should be happy or sad. Maybe it's not the worst thing in the world for him to be gone. Maybe, for him, it's a blessing. But . . . /Damn you, you never even told me where you were from—or about your people, or—/
The Chaos Chronicles Page 12
