Manuel looked at the warrior and his lip trembled as though he wanted to say something.
"How do you know about Sam Stone?” asked Fire, her head inclined.
G'Liat held his arms out to the side. “I know many things,” was his only reply.
The teleholo signal sounded. Fire continued to stare at G'Liat as she stood, only breaking her gaze when she went to the other room and answered the call. A few moments later, she reappeared. “Kirsten, it's a call for you. It's Simon aboard the Sanson."
Kirsten nodded and followed Fire back to the teleholo. Shortly, Fire returned and sat down.
Eva took a last bite of her oatmeal and washed it down with some coffee, then sat back and eyed G'Liat with a sly grin. “You're testing, aren't you? You're trying to find out if there's a way to break the brainwashing the Cluster has done."
Before G'Liat could answer, Kirsten appeared at the door. “Simon's just told me that several people aboard the Sanson have just ... zoned out, like Manuel and Mark. Even our pilot, Laura Peters seems to have been in contact with the Cluster."
"And Suki Firebrandt Ellis ... or so it would seem,” said G'Liat, standing up from the couch. Hunched over, he made his way to her. Her eyes were open and staring, but she didn't blink when he waved his orange six-fingered hand in front of them.
Eva stood and moved to Fire. Kneeling beside her, she took her pulse and checked her breathing. She looked up at Manuel who continued to smile. “She's with the Cluster now,” he said. “There's no need to worry."
Kirsten leaned against the great stone fireplace, took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Eva stood and joined Kirsten at the fireplace. She looked up at a beautiful painting of a seascape. After a moment, her eyes fell down to a rack of pipes. She picked one up and thought about the great wars medical science had waged against smoking and obesity. Looking back at Manuel, she began to think she might be looking at an addict.
"G'Liat,” said Eva, “what would happen if we simply took Mark and Fire back aboard the Sanson and got them out of the Cluster's range?"
For a moment, G'Liat's mustache wriggled, then he shook his head in deliberate imitation of the human gesture. “That strikes me as an exceedingly bad idea.” The warrior picked up Fire's dishes and took them to the cleansing unit. “We don't know what exactly has happened to their brain patterns. What would happen if the time came for them to return to their own minds and the body was not here to receive it?"
"You think it could kill them?” asked Eva returning the pipe to the rack.
"I don't have enough data for a solid hypothesis,” said G'Liat. “However, that is certainly one possibility."
"Does that mean we're trapped here until everyone is back in their own body?” asked Kirsten as she moved from the fireplace to the couch.
"If you do not wish to desert your friends,” affirmed G'Liat. As Kirsten opened her mouth to protest, G'Liat raised his hand. “Knowledge is power in this case. The more you know, the more likely you can save your friends from the Cluster. The longer you wait, the more you will know."
Eva looked at Manuel. “What I'm afraid of is all of us succumbing to the Cluster ... or worse."
G'Liat finished clearing the table. “That's the chance you must be prepared to take."
* * * *
In Southern Arizona, Edmund Swan paced back and forth in Timothy Gibbs’ apartment, trying to decide what to do. He'd spent two nights while his friend sat motionless and apparently comatose in an armchair. Several times, Swan thought about calling the police or an ambulance—some kind of emergency help. However, every time he thought about it, he remembered the scene of police officers burning bodies. He wasn't sure whom he could trust and began to think it had been rash to come to Earth so unprepared.
Tim Gibbs’ eyes fluttered open. “Good, you're still here,” he said. “I've just met an old friend of yours named Mark Ellis."
Swan's jaw dropped. “You met Mark Ellis. Where?"
"At work,” said Gibbs, as though he'd been physically outside the apartment and not simply sitting in his armchair for the better part of two days. Gibbs stood and went to the bathroom. When he came out, he ordered up huge meal of roast beef, mashed potatoes, vegetables and bread from the food preparation unit.
"So, where do you work?” asked Swan, joining his friend at the kitchen table.
Gibbs’ brows creased and looked at his plate. “I'm not exactly sure ... I think it's an orbital complex. Your friend, Ellis, seemed most interested,” he said. He took another mouthful of food and washed it down with a drink of water. “Oh, I almost forgot, Ellis had a message for you. He said that his mother, Manuel Raton, and some others were on Nantucket Island. He was sure you would want to talk to them."
Swan smiled. “You bet I do,” he said. “May I use your teleholo?"
* * * *
Laura Peters stepped onto the command deck of the Nicholas Sanson. She moved to the pilot's station and commanded it to bring up her standard display that looked identical to a pilot's console on a Gaean Navy vessel.
Natalie Papadraxis at the communication's console eyed her with concern and Simon Yermakov stood up from the command chair and stepped to her side. “How are you feeling?” he asked.
Heat rose to Laura's cheeks and she looked down at the console, checking ship's status to avoid meeting either Simon's or Natalie's eyes. “Embarrassed mostly,” she muttered. “I should have been able to fight the Cluster—keep it out of my mind and keep working."
Natalie put her hand on Laura's shoulder. “There's no reason to be embarrassed, Laura. I've felt the Cluster's power. There isn't anything you could have done."
"Isn't there?” asked Laura, harshly. She looked up at Natalie, her jaw clenched. “Why me? Why did the Cluster single me out of the command crew?"
Simon tugged on his trouser legs and squatted down next to Laura's chair. “That's a very good question,” he said. He looked down at the deck and then up again. “I'm sorry, but I have to ask—what was it like?"
Laura took a deep breath. “It was comforting ... very comforting,” she said as she looked back to her console. “It was far too easy to forget about the ship, to forget about my duty. It was like I was being primed for something bigger, something more important but..."
"But, there's nothing more important to you than your duty to the ship and crew,” said Natalie, quietly—almost reverently.
Laura nodded and sniffed.
Simon stood. “Don't be too hard on yourself. We'll get out of here just as soon as we can.” He stepped around the pilot's console into the holographic projection at the front of the deck. The projection showed the Earth and the position of all orbiting ships and satellites along with three of the Clusters. He noticed that one of the Clusters was increasing speed and moving away from the Earth. He continued to watch it for a few minutes, wondering where it was going while pondering Natalie's words about why she alone among the command crew had been singled out for contact.
"Display crew roster, here,” he said stabbing his finger in front of him. A list of names appeared in front of him. “Remove all personnel off-ship,” he commanded. Dutifully, the names of Mark and Suki Ellis, Raton, and Smart were removed. “Highlight all personnel in medical during the last day for treatment of Cluster-induced trauma.” He saw several names highlighted, including Laura Peters and Chief Engineer Mahuk. Simon paced a little ways off and looked at the Cluster that was moving away from Earth, and noticed that it was still accelerating.
Distracted from the list for a moment, he commanded, “Show course projection of Cluster departing Earth.” He pointed at the Cluster he meant. A yellow line shot out from the Cluster. “Show any jump points on that course projection.” A red blinking dot appeared in front of the Cluster.
Laura, intrigued by what Simon was doing in the holo tank stepped forward and joined him. “Where's that one going?"
"Show jump point destination.” Simon pointed to the coordinates above the blinking jump point.
Laura's eyes went wide. “That's the center of the galaxy,” she said. “What do you suppose it wants there?"
He shook his head while she looked at the list that he had generated. She looked up at Natalie. “Are you still taking Proxom?"
Natalie looked up from her console and smiled. “I hate to say it, but yes. I know it interferes with my implant, but it keeps me from having nightmares about the Cluster."
Laura looked at Simon. “Sir, I don't want to ask this ... but I've guessed for a while that you take Proxom. Do you?"
Simon sniffed and looked away for a moment, watching as the Cluster reached the jump point and vanished. He looked back to Laura and nodded without saying anything. Laura looked back at the list. “Computer, highlight all crewmembers currently with Proxom prescriptions."
"Classified information,” protested the computer.
"Override,” called Simon in an unusually authoritative tone. “This is a matter of ship's security. First officer's authority.” The names of ten crewmembers, including Simon and Natalie were highlighted in green.
"None of the people who are on Proxom were affected by the Cluster,” said Laura.
Simon shook his head. “That's not enough to go on. It's only ten members of the crew."
"But,” protested Laura. “Proxom is an emotion stabilizer. Wouldn't it make sense that people on Proxom might have some immunity to the Cluster?"
Simon inclined his head. “A good hypothesis,” he said as he stepped out of the holo tank and made his way toward the command chair. “Thing is, I think we need more data to be sure.” Just then, he stumbled slightly. Turning on his heel, he looked back at Laura. “Did you feel that?"
She took a couple of steps. “I think so, but I'm not quite sure."
"Check it,” he ordered and continued to the command chair.
Laura sat down at her station and poured over the sensor data of the previous minutes. The Nicholas Sanson was a mapping vessel with equipment highly tuned to the galaxy's gravitational currents. The ship could literally feel its way from jump point to jump point mapping the course as it went. Unlike most space vessels, the Sanson actually rocked and swayed gently as competing gravitational forces from different bodies in the galaxy tugged at it.
"Sir,” said Laura looking up. “There was a density wave spike just moments ago."
The ship began to list ever so slightly. Most people who stood on Sanson's deck would probably not have felt it, but Simon and Laura looked at each other. Again, Laura checked her sensors. “We're picking up some kind of major gravitational shift, sir."
"Point of origin?” asked Simon.
She looked up. “It's from the center of the galaxy, sir."
* * * *
Samuel Coffin stood at the aft rail of the Pequod looking at the point of light where John Mark Ellis had rowed the whaleboat only a few hours before. He hoped he would see his friend row back and let them know what he found. He feared that Ellis was, in fact, lost forever.
Kumiko Meiji joined Coffin at the aft railing and followed his gaze. “Still no sign of Ellis?” she asked.
Coffin simply shook his head. Just then, he saw a flash of silver near the point of light. He watched it attentively for several moments. Soon, he realized it was another ship—the silver spaceship he had seen before. It moved around the black hole and stopped. A blue beam shot out from the ship's bow and struck a distant star.
Meiji gasped when she saw the star start to move. “That's impossible."
Coffin nodded without saying a word. He looked around and saw Elisha Folger. “Mr. Folger,” he said quietly. “I think it's time to go."
"All hands!” called Folger, but his voice cracked. He moved forward slightly and called again. “All hands, prepare to make sail!"
The midshipman that Coffin had seen upon waking in his cabin his first day aboard the Pequod scurried up the ladder to the aft deck. “Sir,” he called. “We have new orders from the admiralty.” The boy handed a piece of paper to Coffin.
Coffin took the paper and read the orders. “That's impossible,” he said as he handed the paper to Meiji.
"We couldn't move stars around even if we wanted to,” she said when she'd finished reading the note. “And I don't see any reason why we'd want to."
The midshipman shook his head. “I'm afraid it's out of your hands, now,” he said.
He pointed forward and a yellow beam shot from the Pequod's bow toward a distant star.
* * * *
John Mark Ellis sat in Timothy Gibbs’ drafting room staring at a set of plans. Gibbs had explained that he had designed a storage device that could hold almost limitless data. It utilized the gravitational compression of a supermassive black hole—one just slightly larger than the black hole at the center of the galaxy. Data could be retrieved from the device by directing Quinnium particles through the black hole at precise frequencies.
However, as Ellis examined the plans, he realized that the supermassive black hole would collimate vast amounts of energy, creating a radio-frequency jet. If enough stars in the center of the galaxy were pulverized, it would create a gas halo around the black hole, changing the frequency of the radio energy projected from the center of the galaxy to something quite different from similar radio jets in other galaxies. If care was taken, and the density of the halo varied, the signal could be made to pulse.
Ellis rubbed his chin. “A beacon,” he said aloud, even though there was no one else in the room. The Cluster was using humans to help design and build a memory core at the center of the galaxy and the core included a beacon to alert others to its presence.
The captain sat back and took a deep breath. He knew what the Cluster was building, but he didn't know why and a chill crept up his spine as he considered the “others” the Cluster might want to contact. Was this another species that the Cluster had contacted? If so, how powerful might they be?
He looked around at the room he was in. There were state-of-the-art computer terminals and teleholo units. Drafting and test equipment littered the tables. Looking up, tasteful art decorated the walls. He couldn't help thinking that much as he liked Van Gogh's “Starry Night” he would much prefer to see a seascape. As he watched, Ellis saw the painting change into the seascape that hung in his own house above the fireplace.
Ellis looked down at his body, suddenly aware that he had not eaten or relieved himself in several hours and the realization did not inspire any urges within him. As he looked down at his body, he wished he could do something about some of the extra fat he carried around. As he watched, his stomach flattened.
He smiled to himself, not so much because of his better physique, but because these two experiments demonstrated something he suspected since arriving aboard the Pequod—that he was not someplace in body, but someplace in mind. Somehow, the Cluster had copied his brain patterns and placed them in a place where he could think and act. It was as though a file had been copied from one computer—his brain—to another computer. The question was, where was the second computer?
Ellis looked back at the drafting table, realizing that if the Cluster could copy his memory, life, and experiences—everything that was him—to some new location, the Cluster might be looking for a place to copy all of its experiences. Such a place would have to be a vast storage cell.
He felt around his shirt for a cigar and was somehow not surprised when he found one. He put it in his mouth and lit it. “If someone doesn't like the smell,” he grumbled, “they can wish it away."
Looking at the table, he saw the teleholos and had a thought. Sitting down at one, he put in the code for his home on Earth. He was only slightly surprised when his mother did, in fact, answer. “Mom,” he called. “It's John Mark. Can you hear me?"
"I can hear and see you,” she said with something of a sheepish grin. “Where are you, Mark?"
"I'm not entirely sure,” he admitted. “I think I may be ‘aboard’ one of the Cluster ships, but I'm not exactly sure. How's everyone at the
house?"
"I'm not exactly sure, either,” she said. “I've been taken someplace else, as well.” Her brow creased. “It's a very comforting place. It reminds me of dad's homestead on Sufiro. The Cluster has been talking—at least I think it's talking.” She shook her head. “I feel like the Cluster has nothing but good intentions for humanity."
Ellis shook his head. “Mom, the Cluster is up to something. It's building something big at the center of the galaxy—a giant memory core. The problem is, I don't know why, yet."
Suki Ellis gasped. “I think it's time to go. I'm going to have to leave."
"Tell the others,” called Mark. “If you see them, tell the others about the memory core."
Suki Ellis’ face disappeared from the teleholo. Mark pounded his fist on the table and rolled the cigar to the other side of his mouth, chewing it contemplatively. He drew on the cigar then exhaled slowly, realizing he had to get back to the Pequod. There, perhaps he and Coffin could compare notes and develop a strategy.
He stood and went back to the door through which he'd entered the lab. As he expected to find—or rather, as he willed to find—the Pequod's whaleboat was tied to a dock. Looking in the distance, he saw a light—similar to the one he'd entered when he'd left the Pequod. The captain untied the rope from the dock and climbed in the boat.
* * * *
Suki Firebrandt Ellis blinked her eyes several times, as the scene before became the familiar one of her kitchen on Nantucket. She tensed as G'Liat's massive head suddenly appeared in front of her. “Welcome back,” said the Rd'dyggian warrior. He looked at her for a moment before he moved back toward the couch.
She blinked several times, then looked around and saw that Kirsten was seated with her at the table while Dr. Cooper sat in the easy chair in front of the fireplace. “Where's Manuel?” she asked, suddenly alarmed.
"He went to answer a teleholo call,” answered Kirsten.
Heirs of the New Earth Page 13
