Weldon nodded toward a darker corner of the Temple. “Look for yourself.”
The JSC director, formerly such a vital man, was little more than a shrunken husk dumped in the corner. “What happened to him?” Bynum said.
“Turned out he was suffering from kidney disease.”
“And is now four hundred thousand miles from the nearest dialysis machine.”
Xavier realized that Gabriel Jones was conscious. He had apparently heard what Weldon and Bynum had said about him, too. Which struck Xavier as rude and unthinking, not that any of the others noticed or cared.
“Okay, look,” Bynum said, “whatever, whoever...I’ve been given a second chance.” He looked directly at Harley, then said, “I don’t know how long this will last, but the fact that it happened at all...okay, miracle, right? And, hell, how many people ever have the chance to know what their purpose in life is? Even a second life?”
“Brent, what are you talking about?”
“Before...even in Houston, I was fucking up. Out of my depth. Then, when the...what did you call it, vesicle? That big blob sitting there near the center, when that thing grabbed us, something went wrong. I just plain lost it. I paid for that breakdown, okay? Getting shot will put you straight, let me tell you.”
“Isn’t it more being brought back to life that gets you straight?” Harley said.
Bynum smiled and took another bite of the stew. This time he blinked, looked around, and found Xavier. “Hey, thanks, man. I keep running into you in some very strange places, don’t I?”
“Well, we’re glad you’re better,” Weldon said. “And that you have a purpose. Which is...”
Mouth full, Bynum gestured with the spoon, as if to say, Exactly. “I’m here as a messenger.” Then he smiled. “John the Baptist, maybe! Being reborn here has connected me to Keanu and a ton of really interesting stuff...once I figure out how to approach it systematically. Right now, though, I believe that I’m here to tell you—”
The subject was tabled for the moment, as Vikram Nayar arrived. With him was a slim, smug-looking Hindu...Jaidev. Nayar looked fretful, as Xavier’s momma would have put it.
If the Bangalore mission director was startled by Bynum’s presence, he showed no sign of it. Perhaps he’d been warned. “Did you find Camilla?” Harley said.
“No.”
“Do you know where she went?” Weldon said, losing patience. “It’s sort of important.”
“New kinds of hell are breaking loose,” Nayar said.
Jaidev had a Tik-Talk, which, on Nayar’s orders, he switched on, making Xavier wonder just how long the unit’s batteries were going to last. “My people are telling me disturbing things,” Nayar said. “The bugs aren’t just here at the Temple. They have appeared at least three other places.” Now he nodded in Bynum’s direction as he took the Tik-Talk from Jaidev.
Nayar’s hands were trembling, which greatly disturbed Xavier. Vikram Nayar was the most serene human Xavier had ever met—if he was freaking out, everyone should be freaking out.
Xavier was not one of the inner circle and had no obvious right to see what was on the Tik-Talk...but he felt, as an HB, that he was entitled. Also, by standing directly behind Harley Drake in his wheelchair, he was pretty much able to see what Harley saw.
Which was a series of cell-phone camera stills showing black Woggle-Bug growths on the shores of Lake Ganges, at the entrance to the Beehive, and at least three other places Xavier couldn’t identify. Then there was a video showing a bizarre, augerlike thing grinding its way from underground to daylight with no apparent difficulty.
“What’s that?” Weldon said, pointing to the auger.
“Another type of bug, it seems. Or at least an agglomeration of them,” Nayar said. “They have the same coloring and texture. They even share the fractal structure.” Seeing the lack of comprehension on at least two faces around him, he added, “I mean, the regular edges. As we look closer and closer, we just see more and more edges.”
“Shit,” Harley said. “We’re dealing with an infestation.”
“It’s far worse than that,” Nayar said, making Xavier even more unhappy.
The next still showed a black auger that seemed to have burrowed into the HB habitat from below. “What the hell?” Harley said.
“At least four of these drilling creatures broke ground just south of the Temple within the last hour. They’ve given us a clue to the Woggle-Bugs, if, as we think, they’re related; these creatures are like termites, absorbing and eating, processing raw material, then growing and reproducing.”
“Shit,” Weldon said, rubbing his eyes.
“It gets worse,” Nayar said. “Next video.”
This one showed a winged creature—not big. There was a Bangalore woman in the shot, ducking away from a black dragonfly that was maybe a third of a meter long, with a comparable wingspan.
“This may be a third type. But we’ve only seen one of them so far. And this,” Nayar said, calling up a final video. “This one was seen north of the Temple, and somebody said it appeared to have emerged from where the vesicles were.”
“Zack said that was closed off,” Weldon said.
“Maybe Zack was wrong,” Harley said. “Or maybe things have changed. Things do seem to change around here.”
The fourth creature was taller, larger, long-legged. To Xavier, it looked like a big black anteater.
“Have any of these things attacked humans yet?” Harley said.
Nayar gestured with the Tik-Talk. “One of the winged things buzzed that woman. But no, no one’s been bitten.”
Everyone was silent for several moments, trying to understand what they had seen, and what it meant.
Then Bynum spoke. Xavier had been watching the Revenant; eyes closed, still subdued, he had been watching the others until now, when he seemed to summon energy from within. “Is that it?” he asked. His voice almost sounded like it had before his death.
“You need more?” Weldon snapped.
Bynum turned to Harley. “The word you need, Drake, isn’t infestation. You could probably deal with that. The word is invasion.”
Bynum turned to Nayar. “Your intuition was correct. All three of the new things you saw are just different forms of these bugs. More complex...templates.” He seemed confused for a moment. “Yes, templates is the word in my head.”
“The important question,” Nayar said, “is whether these templates pose a threat.”
“They do,” Bynum said. “They’re what everyone is fighting.”
“Who’s everyone?” Harley said. Exactly what Xavier wanted to know, too.
“The Architects,” Bynum said. “And, essentially, every other race on the NEO. They have been fighting a war against these things for a seriously long time.” He hesitated and seemed to check out, reminding Xavier of a sideline reporter at a football game listening to new information in his earpiece. “They’re called the Gatherers, the Ravagers.” He smiled, reminding Xavier of a quiz show contestant who had hit on just the right answer. “Reivers. They’re the Reivers.”
Weldon said, “Have we somehow been enlisted in a centuries-long interstellar war against...bugs and anteaters?”
“You’re not getting this, are you?” Bynum said, as if talking to a dim child. “I’ve been sent to tell you this basic information: Unless we stop them here, the Reivers are going to suck up every bit of life and energy any of us have, just to make more of them. That’s what they do wherever they go.”
“Sounds efficient and focused,” Weldon said.
Bynum turned to Harley. “What do I have to do to convince you that this”—he pointed at the Woggle-Bug smear—“is a real enemy?”
To Xavier, Harley seemed ready to believe Bynum. But he also deferred, as always, to Weldon. “Tell you what,” he said to Bynum. “Go with Vikram and his team. Tell them everything you know, especially how to defend against the Reivers. That way, once we know what our next step is...we’ll be ready.”
It seem
ed logical to Xavier, but Bynum laughed. “Typical NASA. You guys bitch about the White House and everyone else, but when it comes to putting off painful decisions, you could give lessons.”
He leaned down, putting himself nose to nose with Harley. “Every minute, every second you waste, you make this harder. Wait too long, and there won’t be anything you can do about it, except watch the entire NEO be infected.
“And then, of course, there’s Earth. These things love mineral-rich, wet environments that have lots of sun. That will be their ultimate target.”
“Talk to Nayar,” Harley said.
As Bynum began sharing his Keanu knowledge with Nayar and Jaidev—it seemed to Xavier that he was almost barraging the Bangalore men—Weldon leaned over to Harley and said, “This resurrection stuff raises a lot of shameful temptations,” Weldon said.
“What are you talking about?” Harley answered.
“As big a pain in the ass as Bynum was in Houston, he’s far worse now. He could be dangerous as shit, too.”
“Agreed. So what?”
“Knowing that death isn’t permanent anymore...aren’t you just a little tempted to ice this guy again?”
Harley just shook his head and, perhaps realizing that Xavier could hear them, said, “Roll with me.”
Weldon pushed Harley off toward the entrance.
The NASA man’s suggestion disturbed Xavier. He had tried to imagine what Earth would be like if everyone knew for sure that death wasn’t the end...that some part of them, some electrical memory, got uploaded to the universe...and, with the right technology, could be downloaded again into a new body. Take Momma...dying of cancer, going through all kinds of hell with chemo and radiation, having parts of her cut away.
If the Revenant technology existed on Earth, why, wouldn’t you just skip all that pain and horror? Wouldn’t you just go see a Dr. Death and be done with it, after arranging to be brought back, better, with no cancer?
And that was just good people like Momma. Look at Mr. Weldon—he wasn’t a criminal or a murderer. But knowing that death was temporary...he was talking about killing Mr. Bynum just to solve a problem.
How many people would feel the same way?
Xavier wasn’t sure he wanted to live in a world with Revenant technology.
But then, it didn’t appear that that was an option. Not with this Reivers threat.
Xavier appreciated Bynum’s energy and certainty. He was like a TV evangelist, the kind who had you convinced that angels were real...until five minutes after you changed to a different channel.
On the subject of a war, Xavier was leaning toward Shane Weldon’s point of view. Bugs were a problem; Xavier hated most of them.
But how could the Architects, people who could build Keanu, travel between the stars, who held the power of life and death...how the hell could they be seriously threatened by termites?
The twilight landscape of the habitat certainly appeared calm. Xavier had already made some nice friends among the HBs. He would hate to think of them dying, even if they could be reborn.
Harley and Weldon rolled back to the group. “Okay,” Harley said, “a mayoral decision. Vikram and Bynum, get to work eradicating these bugs. I don’t care what chemical you have to develop, just do it ASAP.”
“Fine,” Nayar said. “Then what?”
“Then we work on defending the Temple. It’s our major source of food and water now, and it’s the only place where we have access to weapons and high tech.”
“So you’re not going to be proactive,” Bynum said. “The Reivers will have this place overrun in two days. And they’re not nice about it. Everyone out there will be dead.”
Before Harley could offer an argument, three strange things happened very quickly.
First, a voice behind Xavier said, “Hey, people!” Gabriel Jones was not only standing, he almost looked like his old self. “Am I the only one around here with eyes?”
He pointed to the Temple opening, which was the second strange thing:
Sasha Blaine was there. With her was Camilla, her eyes wide with fear.
The third thing was a scream from somewhere far out in the habitat.
Part Six
Not sure I’m digging the space exploration experience. Used to think it might be cool, even after my dad got involved in it (though not so much from that point on, because your parents’ work, no matter how cool, is NEVER cool).
What’s the point? The ride doesn’t look to be that much fun, unless you like crazy roller coasters. The voyage makes you ache and throw up, usually. And when you get to some new planet, you have to carry your air and water and tools—or hope to make them there. Yeah, that’s a strategy: Let’s replicate a few hundred or thousand years of human history this afternoon.
And, what happens if you run into somebody that doesn’t want you there?
KEANU-PEDIA BY PAV, ENTRY #5
THE PRISONER
The former Prisoner now had companions. Or enemies.
Or food creatures.
Life on the home world was seven times seven times seven cycles in the far past. To the Prisoner, that life was a myth filled with improbable vistas and ridiculous activities. Imagine being able to swim in a straight line for more than a seventh of a cycle! Or to dive to a depth greater than the height of seven of the People!
Nevertheless, for all its skepticism, the Prisoner spoke the language of its ancestors, using the same terms. It was disconcerting to be confronted with situations for which it had no words.
As in this case: There were no other intelligent races on the home world, only the People; other ambulatory beings were divided into food creatures of the sea and enemies from the land.
Which category were the Prisoner’s new companions to be? They were land creatures, and land was traditionally the home of the People’s enemies. But the habitat was not the traditional environment.
Were the land creatures food? Their smell was neutral; their size was acceptable (the Prisoner could easily subdue, then rend one of them). Yet they had provided medical assistance and, far more important, had effectuated an end to imprisonment; social norms required the Prisoner to respond in kind, helping them to communicate, for example.
Attacking and eating them would simply be wrong, especially when the Prisoner still possessed a food source.
The problem remained. The Prisoner was forced to reach into an unused part of its vocabulary to class the companions with smaller, sleeker creatures from the home world that frequently accompanied individual members of the People on food-gathering swims, feasting on creatures the People did not eat.
From a distance, the creatures could have passed for smaller members of the People, except that they possessed only two arms.
That was it: Two Arms.
The encounter with these Two Arms had been troubling for other reasons. First, their speed was exhausting. Second, their anomalous presence; the Prisoner believed it knew all of the races resident in this world, outside the People’s habitat. It and the Connate had been told the stories and shown the images for close to seven different types, from the Air Creatures to the Mud Crawlers.
What was the Two Arms’ relationship to the People? Clearly they knew of them—and showed no overt hostility or fear.
Of course, given the Prisoner’s hostile relationship with its own People, that was hardly to the Two Arms’ credit. The Prisoner was prepared to believe, however, that the Two Arms possessed no detailed knowledge of the People’s activities or conflicts. Likely they had no idea of the Prisoner’s existence until their meeting.
Well, now they did. And the Prisoner was bound to them.
But beyond politeness, the key factor in determining the nature and tenure of the relationship was this:
Did the Two Arms know of the Ravagers? If not, they would soon. Best to act as if they did. It would be best to assume they did.
The vital question was this: Which side would the Two Arms choose? If they chose to be allies, all would be good.
If they chose to be enemies, well, then, with looming regret for the rudeness of repaying kindness with violence, the Two Arms might have to be eliminated and even consumed.
The Prisoner regretted the option, but actions taken by the Connate and the People made such violence inevitable.
The Prisoner’s own relationship with the Ravagers was fraught; it had changed twice, and, given imprisonment and lack of contact, might be non-existent.
No matter. The Prisoner was still forced to act as if nothing had changed during the imprisonment. Understandings had been reached. Courses of action had been decided.
The first required action had been to gain control of the Warship. That, however, would have required time and lack of pursuit.
The Connate and others knew of the Prisoner’s escape and were on the trail already. Reaching the control habitat was no longer possible.
The Prisoner knew that the Ravagers’ ultimate goal was not control of the Warship. That was merely the means.
The Ravagers wanted to activate, then use, the external transport system, to expand their influence and field of operations.
So the plan must be changed.
It was not an easy thing for one of the People. But it was necessary for the Prisoner.
First, the dead habitat must be crossed, a challenge for any member of the People given the lack of water, elements in the atmosphere, and temperatures.
Then contact must be made with the nearest neighbors, the Air Creatures that guarded access to the Warship’s most vital systems.
The Air Creatures were not allies of the People nor of the Ravagers, but the Prisoner might be able to use that hostility to its advantage.
That action was moot until the habitat had been crossed.
And the Two Arms dealt with.
VALYA
“Where is this thing taking us?”
Valya, Dale, Makali, and Zack had followed Dash into the heart of the dead habitat for half an hour—sufficient time to cross at least two kilometers, maybe more—before Makali dropped back to ask the question. Sunk into a zone of sullen petulance, Dale kept close to Dash...conveniently leaving himself isolated from Valya and the others, who trailed at a distance of thirty meters.
Heaven's War Page 36
