Dr. Singh snorted.
“Do I amuse you, Doctor?” she asked, stopping to face Singh.
“I find it laughable that you call yourself a medical professional,” he sneered. “From what I see, you conflate science and religion. I fail to understand how you can reconcile such disparate systems, since every good scientist knows that a belief in God is superstitious nonsense.”
“Blasphemer!” shouted the High Priestess. Livid, she shook her fist in Singh’s face, her own face contorted with rage. “How dare you! How dare you speak such blasphemous words! And in, of all places, our Holiest of chambers!”
16
Whatever was blocking Bram’s telepathy was having difficulty shielding Jemis Calverton’s anger. Singh’s thoughtless comments had infuriated her. Moreover, Bram was registering strong currents of outrage from his fellow crew members, most especially the admiral, who decided to express their emotions heatedly.
“Goddamn it, Singh!” the admiral shouted. “What the hell’s the matter with you?”
The doctor stood there wearing a clueless expression on his face. “But it’s obvious, isn’t it?” he responded, bridling under the criticism. “They’re using some sort of artificial womb, probably based on Dr. Chavez’s design.”
“I don’t give a damn if they believe the babies float down on a cloud directly from heaven, you don’t insult someone in their own home! I apologize for the conduct of our doctor, Mother Superior. Please don’t hold it against the rest of us because of one ignorant fool’s words.”
Dr. Singh began to sputter, “W-what? But, but I—”
“Enough, Doctor!” the admiral snapped. “And that’s an order.”
Bram was studying the High Priestess. Her eyes had slipped out of focus for a moment.
“If you will follow me,” she said coldly. “The tour is over.”
Turning on her heel, she activated the biometric scanner and exited the birthing chamber. The group followed close behind, casting angry looks at Dr. Singh. As they entered the spacious basilica, the admiral was again trying to placate Jemis Calverton. Her words broke off at the sight of two approaching Minders, their dark eyes fixed on Singh.
“Take this one to a detention cell,” the High Priestess ordered, pointing at the doctor.
“What?! What’s the meaning of this?” he erupted.
“Hold on!” the admiral demanded. “You can’t just—”
“We certainly can, Admiral,” Jemis Calverton snapped. “As you said, this is our house and we make the rules. Dr. Singh has not only committed blasphemy in our holiest of places, but also in front of a newborn. The penalty for this outrage is death. Take him away.”
As the Minders stepped forward, both Floyd and Gloria moved in unison to block their path. What the doctor said in the birthing chamber was irrelevant, he was still one of them and deserved protection. Anticipating their reaction, the Minders whipped out their stun sticks and pointed them at Floyd and Gloria, who instinctively reached for their own weapons.
“Your sonic-disrupters are useless,” cautioned the High Priestess. “They were neutralized the moment you stepped through the foldway into the birthing chamber. Did you think we would be foolish enough to allow working weaponry into our Holiest of Holies?”
“But this … this is outrageous!” shouted Dr. Singh. “We’re your guests!”
“Then you should have behaved like one, instead of a confrontational fool, Doctor,” declared Jemis Calverton. “Don’t worry. You can petition the chancellor for clemency. Since you are ignorant of our laws, she may commute your sentence and let you spend some quality time in the Room of Atonement.”
Bram could only imagine what atrocities took place in this so-called Room of Atonement. Judging by the name, it sounded like their hosts had stolen a page from the Spanish Inquisition’s playbook, perhaps creating a punishment worthy of Torquemada himself.
•
Bram woke the following morning, still thinking about what transpired the previous day. After Singh was hauled away by the two Minders, he and the others were brought before the chancellor, who had given them a dressing down.
The admiral hadn’t taken the reprimand well, demanding that Singh be released immediately. “The notion that a person can be sentenced to death because of the words they speak is barbaric, Chancellor,” she seethed. “Dr. Singh was simply expressing his personal views. How would he know it was a capital offense?”
The chancellor sat on her throne, gazing down at the irate group. “There’s an old adage from your time that goes like this, ‘ignorance of the law is no excuse.’”
Admiral Axelrod had taken an aggressive step forward, looking as if she might explode with fury. The chancellor’s personal guard took a corresponding step toward the admiral, stun-batons in hand. Lorna Threman hadn’t seemed worried by the admiral’s aggressive behavior, which to Bram meant her guards were more than capable of protecting her.
Admiral Axelrod had stopped and put her hands on her hips. “I’m not an idiotic warmonger from the Middle Ages, Chancellor. Attacking you would be foolish. So please, tell your goon squad to stand down.”
Lorna Threman chuckled. “They have their jobs as I have mine, Admiral. Being chancellor of New Terra means that I have Dr. Singh’s fate in my hands. He’s been charged with the heinous crime of blasphemy; however, he was unaware of his crime at the time. Therefore, I have ordered that Dr. Singh spend a minimum of three hours in the Room of Atonement.”
Bram’s shipmates had grumbled their displeasure.
“Be thankful that I’m lenient,” the chancellor counseled. “Judging by the doctor’s attitude, he could use some atoning. Be assured, he won’t be harmed … physically. And he may come out of this with a bit more humility.”
For the next ten minutes, the admiral tried to change the chancellor’s mind, but it was to no avail. Commander Allison also pleaded with her, but he too was unsuccessful. After his failed attempt, the commander glared at her, prompting the chancellor to avert her eyes. A pained expression crossed her face, causing Bram to sense the underlying sexual tension between the two. He caught Floyd’s eye. The big man shot him a look that indicated he’d sensed the same thing. With a frown, Bram pushed the thought aside. It was highly unlikely the commander had slept with the colony’s supreme leader in such a short time.
The chancellor had cut off further discussion. “We are done arguing. I should like to conduct a tour of the city?”
The remainder of the afternoon was spent in a large carriage, trundling through the streets of New Terra, barely listening as the chancellor pointed out the various sights she found interesting. Though a few polite questions were asked during the tour, most of that time was spent in a somber mood, their minds on Dr. Singh. At the end of the tour, just before they went their separate ways, the chancellor told the landing party something that would pique their interest: the next day they would accompany one of two separate teams beyond the city walls. One team would be going to the ice shelf to collect a rare, ore-bearing meteor—metal was in short supply on New Terra—and the other would be going to the Yggdrasil Forest to harvest chili nuts and fungus, thus supplementing the city’s weekly supply of selenium and protein.
Both teams were departing at the same time, which meant that each crew member needed to choose between the expeditions. A majority chose the ice-shelf. Bram, however, elected to join the forest trip. Two other members of the crew would be accompanying him: Solomon Chavez and Gloria Muldoon.
Bram had noticed that when he and Gloria announced their interest in the forest expedition, Solomon Chavez had grumbled under his breath. Though he failed to hear what Solomon said, Gloria must have; she was fuming while awaiting her turn at the foldway. He tried to speak with her, but she dismissed his concerns, claiming she was fine, but he knew better. Her unwillingness to open up to him was troublesome. Bram hoped she didn’t think he was merely feigning concern in an attempt to sleep with her again. He actually did want to sleep with her
but was also intrigued by her reaction to Solomon. Did she have feelings for the dashing Brazilian? It was plausible. The man was intelligent, exceptionally good-looking, very mysterious, and richer than God—all of which were qualities that worked like catnip on certain members of the female gender.
As he threw on his jumpsuit, Bram realized that he was perturbed by the idea of Gloria being attracted to Chavez, or anyone else for that matter. With a sigh he shook his head. How could he be jealous? He barely knew the girl. Sure, she was gorgeous and great in bed, but they had little, if anything, in common.
Bram stepped through the foldway into a warehouse containing vehicles of assorted shapes and sizes. Most of the landing party, except for Dr. Solomon Chavez and Lt. Commander Albans, had already arrived and were gathered near a table holding plates of croissants, energy bars, a pitcher of juice, and what looked like a carafe of steaming hot coffee.
Bram made a beeline for the coffee, which turned out to be a rather pleasant grain substitute enhanced with caffeine. While taking a sip of the hot, black brew, he overheard Admiral Axelrod say to Gloria, “Keep watch over Chavez and Waters. I have a sneaking suspicion the chancellor’s splitting us up for some reason.”
Bram couldn’t help but be troubled by the admiral’s words. He glanced around the warehouse and saw that some of the workers, all male, were staring at them. Two of the men, who were taller and stockier than the others he’d seen so far, noticed his scrutiny and quickly looked away, but not before seeing anger, intermingled with fear, in their eyes.
Bram headed toward his shipmates, wishing he could sense the warehouse workers’ actual emotions. He was saying hello to Floyd Sullivant when Lt. Commander Albans arrived, followed shortly by Solomon Chavez. With the entire landing party present, the chancellor stepped through the foldway, accompanied by five of the imposing, spiky-haired Minders, all of whom were clad in their signature, skintight cat-suits.
“Good, everyone’s present,” remarked a smiling Lorna Threman. “I’ll be accompanying the expedition to the ice field and—” she looked around, “ah, there she is, and Ezral Magliss, New Terra’s agricultural commissioner, will be accompanying the forest expedition.”
The landing party saw a short, stocky woman in her mid-sixties, with a pug nose and a disgruntled expression, walk from behind a long, boxy vehicle, a retinue of male warehouse workers following in her wake. Stopping short, she faced her entourage and muttered something. All but one of the warehouse workers turned and left the way they came.
Ezral Magliss strode forward, assessing the landing party. “So, I finally get to meet the newcomers. I attended the welcoming dinner the night before last, but unfortunately did not get a chance to meet anyone. I’m looking forward to our time together. Normally, I don’t accompany the work-crews to the Yggdrasil Forest, but the chancellor insisted that I give you a tour. I was in the process of inspecting a crop of purple hull peas on the eighteenth floor of building H-29, but that can wait.”
“Did you say the eighteenth floor?” Albans inquired.
“Yes, I did. Why do you ask?”
Bram could tell that the normally retiring young woman was becoming nervous, what with so many eyes trained on her.
“We, um, we were told that your crops are grown hydroponically; does that mean you have entire buildings devoted to agricultural production?”
The commissioner gave Albans a condescending smile. “We have many hydro-farms throughout the city, all containing multiple floors. These buildings provide a majority of our food supply … and I’m in charge of the entire operation.”
Albans had a faraway look in her eyes. “Before they died, my parents ran a beet farm in Iowa.” She looked around sheepishly. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to digress.”
“Never apologize,” the commissioner stated. “It pleases me to learn of your roots in farming. Once you and your crew are settled in, perhaps you will consider coming to work for me. I can always use an extra hand managing the men.”
Albans shifted uncomfortably. “I’ll, um, consider your offer, ma’am.”
“Wonderful,” the commissioner replied. “In the meantime, there’s room for one more body on the harvester … that is, if you’d like to accompany us instead of traveling across a blank stretch of ice to pick up a space rock.”
Albans turned excitedly to the admiral. “Do you mind, sir?”
Katherine shrugged. “I’d feel better if a command officer was along for the ride, anyway.”
Lorna Threman shot the commissioner an irritated look. “Let’s get started. As they say: ‘The sun never moves, but the clock keeps ticking.’”
•
ONE HOUR LATER
Richard was, for the most part, glad he’d chosen the meteor rock expedition. It would last seven hours, compared to the forest mission, which would take at least fifteen before enough agro-products were harvested to make the trip worthwhile. But that also meant he’d be stuck in a confined space with Lorna Threman for the duration.
As the boxy transport sped toward the icy wasteland, Richard cast a sidelong glance in her direction and frowned. It wasn’t that he regretted going to bed with her. What troubled him was her cavalier attitude toward punishing Dr. Singh. It signaled a flaw in her character that he found disquieting.
“In approximately ten minutes you’ll notice the first traces of ice on the ground,” declared the expedition leader, a young woman with auburn hair, who looked barely in her twenties. “After which, the ice will rapidly increase in abundance, covering the ground as far as the eye can see. We will then come to a halt and switch from wheels to tracks. This will take less than a minute. We should arrive at the meteor site an hour and a half later.”
Richard glanced over at Lorna, who was sitting beside Admiral Axelrod. She’d been trying to chat up the admiral for the entire trip, but the admiral had been quiet, giving cursory replies to Lorna’s inquiries. She seemed distracted by something, and Richard wondered if it had anything to do with the two decrypted files. Their contents were shocking. If so, perhaps she’d be more forthcoming after the meteor’s recovery and their return to the city.
•
An assortment of small, multicolored insects buzzed around the five harvesters nearing the edge of the forest. Bram gazed out the lead harvester’s control cabin window at the landscape. Behind him lay a flat plain, consisting mostly of grass and occasional patches of weeds, while in front of him stood a scattered line of trees that stretched from one horizon to the other. The forest wasn’t nearly as thick as he expected, though the trees themselves were relatively tall.
“What are those?” asked Lt. Commander Albans. “Are there birds flying above the trees?”
Ezral Magliss answered. “No, not birds. Large insects, some of which have a wing span well over a foot in length.”
“Are they dangerous?”
The commissioner shook her head. “Not unless you’re perched on top of a tree. They seldom fly below fifty feet.”
According to the commissioner, the caravan of vehicles would be harvesting nuts and fungus from an area that hadn’t been reaped in over fifty years.
“Do you think we’ll encounter any of your so-called Ghosts of Yggdrasil, commissioner?” Bram asked. Having encountered unusual phenomena before, the idea of seeing a ghost was not something he scoffed at.
“The Ghosts of Yggdrasil, eh?” The commissioner chuckled. “They are but a myth, a bedtime story told to frighten children, nothing more. I’ve never seen anything strange in this forest. To you and your friends, however, everything in this forest will seem unusual … at first glimpse. But ghosts? No, Mr. Waters, there are no Ghosts of Yggdrasil.”
A slightly disappointed, somewhat skeptical Bram felt the vehicle come to a halt. He was skeptical because the closer he got to the forest the more intense his feelings of being watched became. He sensed gossamer threads of intelligence working their way past his psychic defenses, exploring areas of his mind that not even his old nemesis, Dr. Conrad S
now, could access. But how was that impossible? Was he being paranoid? Nothing could break through his defenses into that safeguarded place of private thoughts, willpower, and hidden desires.
And yet …
Despite the commissioner’s assurances, he sensed an intelligent life force ahead. But he was unable to pinpoint its location, and that fact alone was enough to set him on edge.
“Our readings indicate that we’ll find sizable patches of fungus seventy-five meters into the forest,” the commissioner noted. “The fungus grows underground, in large, intermittent patches that are easy to harvest. During the harvest, we must remain inside the vehicle. The reason being: the harvest triggers an autonomic defense response in the fungus. Thinking it’s under attack, it sends out fungal tendrils, which worm their way under the skin and release a toxin that paralyzes its victim. It then drains all the fluid from the body, leaving a dried husk that deteriorates rapidly into the soil.”
Bram was thinking how creepy that sounded, when he suddenly caught a glimpse of someone ducking behind a tree. That someone had been a woman. But wait, that was impossible. Shaking his head, he turned his attention back to the commissioner.
Solomon Chavez was asking a question: “I’m keenly interested in examining the local flora, Commissioner. And that means leaving the confines of this harvester. It defeats the purpose of my accompanying this mission if I’m not allowed to—”
“Yes, yes, we can accommodate your curiosity, Dr. Chavez,” the commissioner impatiently cut in. “I would prefer that you remain inside the vehicle during the harvest. However, if you simply can’t wait, I will arrange for a skimmer to transport you to a place of relative safety.”
“A skimmer?”
“Yes, it’s a type of hovercraft used mainly to gather chili nuts from the upper canopy. You’ll be happy to learn that it’s equipped with a robotic arm and a molecular analyzer. Since it takes less time to gather the nuts than it does to harvest the fungus, we can use this vehicle’s skimmer. Doing so shouldn’t put us behind schedule that much.”
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