Neptune Crossing (The Chaos Chronicles)

by Jeffrey A. Carver

  "What do you mean?"

  "Someone who wanted to be a hero."

  "John—" The quarx cocked his head and actually chuckled. "Far fewer beings than you imagine actually want to be heroes. Why you? Because you're in a position to do it, and no one else is. And—" the hologram cleared its throat "—I might add, time is fleeing, as we sit here and debate the inevitable."

  Bandicut turned away in anger, then wheeled back toward the quarx. "Tell me this—are we at least going to send a warning to Earth, to let them know what we're doing? It would have to be better than nothing."

  The human figure shrugged. "Define 'better.' You might prompt a worldwide panic. If we succeed, they need no warning. But if we fail, you would only give some people a short reprieve. There will still be tidal waves and earthquakes, dust and smoke clouding the atmosphere, global cooling, and a die-off of plant life. And in the end, if we fail, billions will die."

  Bandicut walked aimlessly under the stars, batting at the planets as they floated by. And I'll probably die, doing what you want, he thought. When he spoke, his words were tinged with surliness and guilt. "Everyone dies, right?"

  "Yes," said the quarx, "but I note that you seem to want to live."

  Bandicut jabbed at the air and sighed. "Well, why all this cowboy stuff? Why not get an authorized ship, one equipped for the flight—and then go do it?"

  "John—" The image made a stiff, pleading gesture with its hands. "We have to leave within forty-eight hours. Do you seriously think we could persuade your authorities—in two days—to give us a ship?"

  "We could try," he said stubbornly.

  The image shook its head. "They'd say you were crazy and lock you up. And we would have lost the element of surprise we need for taking a ship."

  "Do you have a plan for that, too?"

  "Only a partial plan, I'm afraid." The quarx-human studied him. "I can see that you're still not convinced. John—could I ask you a hypothetical question?"

  Bandicut shrugged.

  "If you knew your niece Dakota would be among those to die—"

  "Now, don't you start in with—"

  "Would you do it then? It's a distinct possibility, you know. She might not die at once. She might die later, along with all of the others dying of starvation or disease. I'm not trying to manipulate your feelings, but—"

  "Jesus, Charlie!" Bandicut slammed his balled fist into the cushioned wall at the edge of the solar system. "Not trying to manipulate my feelings?"

  "Well, it is true that I'm appealing to things that matter to you—"

  "Look, just leave my niece out of it, all right?"

  Charlie was silent for a moment. "Does Dakota not live on Earth? In Iowa City?"

  "What did I just say?" Bandicut yelled. "Leave her out of it!"

  "I am merely stating facts—"

  "Damn it! This discussion is not about facts, asshole! It's about...whether I believe you enough, in here—" and he thumped his chest "—to make a completely irrational decision to do something that will either ruin my life or end it!"

  "You're saying that it's an emotional question, as well as a factual one?" The human-image made stiff hand gestures. "I believe I understand that, John. But—" He paused, stopped by Bandicut's glare. "It's just that I am poorly equipped to—"

  "Yeah, yeah..." Bandicut was pacing now, bounding about in the low gravity like a caged wildcat, ankle cast and all—a wildcat loose among the planets and stars. A rogue comet. He was about to explode from nervous tension.

  /// Is there any way I can

  help you work this through? ///

  the quarx asked nervously, inside his head.

  He turned at Saturn and loped back across the solar system toward Earth. He spun around as a sudden, compelling idea came to him. "Yeah," he drawled. "You can." He felt a bitter edge creep into his voice, and it made him shiver with pleasure.

  "Please tell me." The quarx-human, near Neptune, peered across space toward him.

  "Step into the middle of the room and make yourself solid. No transparency, full physical feedback. Can you do that?" Bandicut spoke in a low tone, which he attempted to keep nonthreatening. He crossed the room to the lockers, and took out the tactile-feedback gloves and jacket.

  "Are you—planning to—?"

  Bandicut balled his fists inside the gloves. "I'm planning," he said, letting his anger out in a long growl, "to address the emotional component of this discussion." He strode to where the quarx-human was standing, and planted his feet as solidly as he could in the Triton gravity. "I'm planning to make a point about you and your mokin' pompous arrogance—"

  "My what?"

  "—and your assumption that you can just decide for people what they're going to do with their lives." Bandicut squinted at him. "Tell your programming to follow real physical norms for this room. Gravity, solidity, everything. Now put up your fists."

  "John, you aren't—I mean, I—"

  "Yes, I am! And you can't say you didn't ask for it, you fokin' goak!" Bandicut swung as hard as he could. His fist crashed into Charlie's chin, and even as he spun around from the recoil of his own swing, he glimpsed the quarx-human toppling past Uranus and crashing back into the wall. Catching his own balance with some difficulty, Bandicut stumped back on his cast and glared down at the fallen quarx-human, as it clumsily picked itself up from the floor. "You and your damned secrecy—and your damned crazy schemes to save the world! You might be right—I'm sure you probably are right! But you've been using me, and I don't like it!"

  Charlie looked up with chagrin. Starlight glinted in his eyes. "John, I—didn't think you would do that."

  Bandicut balanced on the balls of his feet. "No, I don't suppose you did. You want to stand up so I can do it again?"

  "Is this really necessary?" Charlie asked, rising slowly.

  "YES, DAMN IT!" Bandicut shouted. He swung again, and Charlie went crashing through the outer solar system to the floor. This time, Bandicut went down too, rolling in a twisting somersault, because he hadn't braced himself at all properly. "Yes, it's goddamn necessary!" Gasping, he rose, and as the quarx got up too, he lunged across the room to catch the quarx in a flying tackle. "I'm gonna NAIL you, you mokin' fokin'—!"

  The illusion failed at that point, and he sailed through the quarx-image and crashed with a bone-jarring thud into the padded wall. "Uh—" he grunted, stunned, and drew a couple of gasping breaths from where he lay on his back. "Ah hell," he groaned. After a moment, he rolled to look at the holographic human form crumpled nearby.

  Charlie slowly sat up and gazed at him, with what emotion he couldn't even guess. "That hurt me, John," Charlie said softly. "You wanted to cause me physical pain, didn't you?"

  "YES!" Bandicut roared, swinging one last time and knocking the quarx over like a bowling pin. "Yes, I wanted to hurt you!" he wheezed in satisfaction.

  He sat back suddenly and sighed. "You can turn that damn thing off now. We have an appointment with Switzer. We mustn't keep the good doctor waiting."

  Charlie sat back up. "John, if this is important to you...I notice that there are programmed boxing scenarios in the VR system. We could have a—"

  "No. It's over," Bandicut said wearily, getting up and pulling off his gloves, jacket, and headset. "Shut that thing off, and let's get going."

  /// You don't want to fight anymore? ///

  Bandicut turned off the whole VR display, including the human. /I don't want to fight anymore. Now let's get the hell out of here./

  *

  They spent about ten minutes total in Switzer's office—just long enough for Bandicut to tell Switzer that he had come in from his survey run because the cast was driving him crazy. Switzer peered at him suspiciously, but instructed one of the techs to remove the cast. He probably figured that Bandicut was sandbagging on the job. Bandicut couldn't have cared less; he just wanted to leave the cast behind.

  As for Charlie's "proposal"—Bandicut refused to discuss it further right now. There was, he said, mu
ch to consider; and he needed to sleep on it and let his subconscious work on it. He also badly wanted to see Julie. And to the quarx's protest, he replied that if Charlie didn't want to take this on his terms, then he, Charlie, was free to leave anytime he wished.

  Charlie was quiet after that.

  Returning to the dorm to shower, Bandicut found a message waiting for him on his bunk terminal. It was from Julie, on audio. He couldn't tell if she was being apologetic or enticing. "Sorry that these discoveries keep wrecking our dates, but if you want to come by later, I may be able to show you something. And...if you're not too fed up, maybe I can get you to have dinner with me again. I promise not to take any calls tonight. Well...unless...oh, you know what I mean. Bye." She made a sound of blowing a kiss.

  He stared at the comm, imagining the possibilities. He knew, but did not wish to admit to himself, that he had to devote serious conscious thought to Charlie's proposal. He was frozen with conflicting urges, and he sensed Charlie quivering with tension, a coiled spring waiting for action. Charlie was asking him to take a terrifying leap of faith. But what if the quarx was right, which he almost certainly was? Probably, it was crazy even to be thinking about Julie tonight. But wasn't he entitled to some life before he threw it all away?

  /// Do you... ///

  /What?/ he snapped.

  /// ...intend, well... ///

  /None of your damned business. Okay?/

  The quarx sighed, and didn't ask further. Bandicut showered and changed in a blur, and got out of the dorm area just before the work shifts ended and everyone started coming back in. He went straight down to the exoarch office. He opened the door and met a short, stocky man who looked at him curiously. When he asked for Julie, the man hooked a thumb toward the back of the room.

  Julie was poring over a computer display, which he recognized as radarsat scans of the Triton surface from low orbit. She looked up and beamed at him. "See this?" She tapped the screen where a dark series of contour lines converged in a small area. "This is it. It's a total anomaly in the scan. It represents a reflection pattern completely different from anything we've ever seen—anywhere. All we know for sure is that it's very compact and very high density."

  "Huh." Bandicut felt his temples start to throb with guilt as he swallowed a dozen possible replies. "That's... interesting."

  "Interesting?" Her eyes were alight like a child's on Christmas morning. "You bet it's interesting. It's especially interesting that it has just appeared, at a time when our activity is increasing in a nearby area. You want interesting? I think we really might have us a genuine—" She hesitated, suddenly looking abashed.

  "What?" he asked, huskily.

  "Well—we don't know yet, of course." Her eyes glinted as she sat back in her chair, finger to her cheek. "But we're going to find out, real soon."

  "You are?" he croaked.

  "See this?" She pointed to the area immediately surrounding the anomaly. "This is an underground cavern which apparently contains the object, or mass. It's not that deep, and we think there's a chance we could cut through and climb down in to have a look."

  "Sounds—exciting," Bandicut stammered. "Of course, you never know about that sort of thing until you actually go look." He wondered why he was so dismayed. If someone had to find the translator, better it should be exoarch than the miners. At least they'd look at it before they tried to melt it down.

  /// John—we dare not let

  anyone get to that translator—

  not until we're on our way. ///

  Bandicut hmph'd, though his heart was thumping anxiously. He hadn't said anything to the quarx about having made a decision to go.

  "Well, we'll find out tomorrow. We have permission to go out and take surface readings." Julie suddenly made a face, corralling her enthusiasm. "But don't tell anyone," she said hastily. "I'm not even supposed to tell you. But I had an idea." She looked at him conspiratorially. "Do you suppose you could arrange to be the one to go out and do the survey? Georgia says you're more familiar with that area than anyone else."

  He bit his lip, at a loss for words.

  /// It's an idea.

  You might be able to sabotage the effort

  for a day. ///

  /I thought you said you wanted to get going./

  /// Well...that's true, too. ///

  Bandicut cleared his throat, realizing that Julie was waiting for an answer. If he was still on Triton tomorrow, he would be going out on survey, anyway. "I could try," he said finally.

  "Good! I see you have your cast off. Are you okay now?"

  "Ah—yes!" he croaked. "Yes—I'm doing great."

  She peered at him intently, with those penetrating blue eyes. "John? Are you sure you're all right? You seem—I don't know—upset. Or distracted."

  He shook his head, but could not wipe the insipid busy-talking-to-an-alien grin from his face. "I just know," he managed, "that you invited me to dinner. And that it's about time we stopped talking about...alien artifacts...and started talking about...well, whatever." He blushed, but felt better when he saw an answering glimmer in her eye.

  "Okay," she said. "Just let me put in a good word for you for tomorrow. If you'd really like to."

  "Sure," he whispered. "I'd like that. A lot." He tried not to wince at the insincerity in his own voice.

  *

  Dinner in the cafeteria seemed as unromantic as ever, so they opted for sandwiches and beers in the lounge. Julie suggested a round of EineySteiney, but Bandicut's head already hurt with images of balls hurtling through Einsteinian fields. "Could we just talk, instead?" he asked nervously.

  "Sure," she said, eyes laughing. "Imagine that! A man, wanting to just talk!"

  "Aw, come on. We're not that bad, are we?"

  "Well, you might yet qualify as a credit to your species. I'll let you know later." Julie took a bite of her club sandwich and said with a mischievous grin, "Want to see my holos, back in my place, after we eat?"

  He smiled and didn't answer.

  /// Not now—please!

  Not when we have so much to— ///

  /Go to hell,/ he thought cordially. /Tomorrow might be yours—but tonight is my own./ He grinned at Julie, and she returned it with her eyes.

  *

  "Nice," he said, as her tiny compartment opened into a mountain vista, stark barren peaks at the summits, with caps of snow, and forested bases lying under blankets of white. The sky seemed infinitely deep overhead. "I like that. It's almost better than the VR room."

  "You can't walk around in it, but this image is one of my favorite retreats," Julie said, settling into a cross-legged sitting position beside him on the bunk. She lifted his arm and placed it around her shoulders.

  "Mm," he said, leaning back against the wall. He had her pillow tucked behind his back, but it was so small as to be useless against the hard wall. He decided to ignore the discomfort.

  "Tell me what your favorite memories are of Earth," Julie murmured, gazing at the holo.

  "Mm?" He swallowed uneasily. He imagined the question being asked after the Earth was destroyed, when the planet of his birth was only a memory.

  "I mean, what do you think about when you think of Earth? What do you miss most? Where do you come from?" She hugged closer, still gazing at the snowy landscape.

  "Ah. Well, I'm North American—"

  "I know that!"

  "Oh—well, let's see." He thought a moment, his tongue feeling thick and awkward. "I grew up in Ohio, small factory town, couldn't wait to get out. I—fell in love with the Rocky Mountains the first time I saw them—just like this."

  "Really? Me, too," Julie said, nodding against his shoulder.

  "But...I never got to live near them, except for a few months in piloting school. I lived on the East Coast after school, until I shipped up to L5 City and got training in space piloting." The words brought back a surge of memories; he didn't think of his past very often, and when he did, it was like letting in a dizzying rush of air.

&nbs
p; "What did your family think about your going into space?" she asked, turning to peer up into his eyes.

  "Well—uh—" His eyes watered.

  "Uh-oh, did I ask the wrong question?"

  "No, no, I just—well, my family all died before—I mean, in the Chunnel collapse...the English Channel...?"

  "Oh,"she sighed softly. "I'm sorry, John."

  "It's okay, I'm over it now." He laughed falsely. "I still have a niece, back in Iowa."

  She looked up again, and her blue eyes seemed dark and liquid and full of mystery and life. "Yes," she said, touching his nose with her finger. "I can see that you're over it." She smiled and settled back against his shoulder. "My parents hated the idea of my going to space. They said it would age me prematurely. They said it was too dangerous. They said there wouldn't be any decent men there." She chuckled softly. "What do you think? Were they right?"

  "About the men? Definitely," Bandicut said, clearing his throat.

  "Maybe most men," she admitted. "But there are a few..."

  "Nah. Stay away from 'em. There's only one thing they want."

  "Oh? And that is?" She looked up, wide eyed.

  "Er...to kiss your knuckles," he stammered. "Every one of 'em. That's it. Anything else, they couldn't care less. Oh sure, they'll tell you they want your whole body, and even your mind, but knuckles is it. Take my word for it."

  Eyebrows arched, she raised her hand and offered him her knuckles. He took her hand gently, and nibbled on the first joint of her middle finger. She giggled. "You said kiss, not nibble."

  "Oh—sorry!" He took a breath, dizzy with desire. "I meant, nibble." He carefully kissed and nibbled all of the knuckles on her right hand. She hummed, laughing softly. When he was finished, she raised her left hand. "Knuckles?" he said. "Did I say knuckles? I meant...er, ears."

  "Ohh." She carefully pulled back her hair and offered him an ear. He kissed it lightly.

  "Ears?" he murmured. "I meant..."

  "Mmm?" Her eyes widened, pupils dark and beautiful.

  "Lips," he whispered, and moved to kiss her.