Outlander 05 - Parallax Red

by James Axler

  "Goddamn you, old man," Sindri said between harsh breaths. "Goddamn the Committee of One Hundred. Goddamn the Danaan."

  Grant helped Harwin climb stiffly to his feet. The old man muttered a word of thanks then called, "Come away from there, Little Bubba. Tantrums won't change the way things are."

  Sindri pushed himself away from the shaft, fingers caressing its gleaming surface. "There's a conductive force inside this metal," he said in a strained voice. "There's got to be a way to tap into the right combination of notes."

  "Beating on it like a workman isn't it," said Harwin. "Face facts. It's all over, Little Bubba. Finished. Your future has left the building. Even if you go to

  Parallax Red and then to Earth, you and your followers will have what, ten years, perhaps fifteen on the outside, of life?"

  The old man drew his robe about him. "Accept your fate with dignity. If you're truly my son, you will do so."

  Sindri whirled away from the shaft, stamping noisily down the steps at the side of the dais. "I don't surrender as easily as you, Pop. If you are truly my father, neither would you."

  He returned to where they stood, declaring, "Show-and-tell time is over. By now, you should have some understanding of the tragedy I'm trying to avert. Can any of you offer suggestions?"

  He spoke in such a way as if he expected no response. To Kane and Grant's surprise, Brigid said mildly, "If the countermeasures you've already undertaken don't bear fruit, you've no choice but to go quietly into the night of extinction."

  Sindri peered up at her, head cocked at a quizzical angle. "Indeed, Miss Brigid. What are those counter-measures I've already undertaken?"

  Grant and Kane knew Brigid was fast, but even they were taken aback by how swiftly she shot out her left arm. Her fist impacted with a meaty smack on the point of Sindri's chin, sending him reeling backward. His walking stick clattered to the floor, tangling in his feet and causing him to fall unceremoniously on his back.

  The three trolls voiced hooting cries of anger and shock, and they pelted forward, their eyes fastened on Brigid.

  Two of them just managed to see Kane's right fist and Grant's left boot driving at them. Arms flailing, spurting blood from a nose and a lip, the pair slammed into each other.

  The third troll flew over his companions in a steel-springed bound, somersaulting between Grant and Kane and landing feetflrst against the small of Brigid's back. Flinging out her arms, she staggered forward. She would have fallen atop Sindri had he not rolled frantically to one side. As she dropped to her hands and knees, the troll alighted just behind her, small fists raised over the exposed nape of her neck.

  Kane went for him, but Sindri bellowed, "Enough!"

  The troll immediately dropped his hands to his sides and stepped quickly over to Sindri. Kane kept coming, stopping only when Sindri snatched up his cane and held it before him like a sword. "Enough, I said!"

  Turning toward Brigid, he put a hand on her arm and helped her up. Wincing, she fingered her back.

  "Why did you strike me, Miss Brigid?" His voice was filled with anger, but full of reproach, too.

  She glared at him. "You learned I have an eidetic memory. Did you think I forgot what I saw, or wrote it off as a dream?"

  Sindri swallowed hard. Perplexed, Kane asked, "What did you see, Baptiste?"

  In a voice quaking with barely controlled fury and disgust, Brigid answered, "That filthy gnome did more than interrogate us while we were unconscious. He experimented on us, violated us. I woke up just long enough to see what he was doing."

  "I have the right," Sindri stated firmly. "Any life-form has the right to surviveby any means necessary."

  "What are you talking about?" demanded Grant.

  Brigid ran unsteady fingers through her hair. "Ste-rility and infertility. There's absolutely no point to leaving Mars if those conditions can't be reversed."

  Without looking at him, Brigid stated, "Kane, I saw you hooked up to a machine. It was milking you of sperm. Grant probably got the same treatment."

  Kane instantly became aware of his sore genitals again.

  "And with me," Brigid continued in a rush, "Sindri took a personal hand. He inserted something into me. All done against our wills, just like the ancestors of the transadapts he pretends to weep for."

  No one moved or spoke for a long moment. The only sound was the deep bass hum. The trolls Kane and Grant had incapacitated stirred, climbing slowly erect. One of them groaned and broke the frozen tableau.

  Grant took a threatening step toward Sindri, face an expressionless ebony mask, but his dark eyes held a homicidal glitter.

  "Don't be foolish," Sindri said. "Killing me will avail you nothing. You don't know the location of the mat trans, so you can't return to Parallax Red ."

  "We'll find it," grated Grant. "If we have to raze the compound to the ground, we'll find it."

  "Not with all my people howling for your blood. You're unarmed, trapped on a hostile world. Like the old man there, you live only at my sufferance."

  Kane swung on Harwin. "Do you know where the gateway unit is?"

  Harwin's lips parted, but Sindri shouted, "Shut up!"

  Shaking his head remorsefully, Harwin said, "He's right. I'm sorry, but he's right. Without him to protect you, if you show up in the compound the transadapts will tear you apart. They hate all humans. He is the only reason you've stayed alive this long."

  Grant paused in midstep, uncertainty flickering in his eyes.

  Sindri smiled at him with smug self-possession. "Nor will a hostage situation lead to anything but your deaths."

  "Maybe dislocating your arms and legs and neck would make you willing to tell us where the gateway is," Grant countered.

  Sindri shrugged. "Mr. Grant, believe me when I say that I've lived so long with pain that what you propose would be no more than a minor discomfort to me."

  The little man turned to face Brigid, gently touching his chin. Sincerely he said, "Miss Brigid, I apologize for your ordeal from the bottom of my heart. The last thing I wanted was to distress you."

  She inhaled sharply, exhaled slowly. She asked bitterly, "Did you find what you were looking for?"

  "If it means anything, yes. The sperm samples collected from Mr. Kane and Grant are more than adequate to begin the gene therapy."

  "What's the point?" Brigid snapped.

  "I don't understand."

  "You need healthy ovum for the sperm to fertilize, and your females are barren. Do you have in vitro eggs so the genes can be spliced?"

  Sindri shook his head. "No, we do not."

  "Then where will you find healthy eggs to implant in the women?"

  Squinting up at her, Sindri said, "I presumed you had it all figured out. From you."

  Brigid stared at him for a long silent moment, then began to laugh.

  Chapter 25

  Sindri's frown was deep as he waited for Brigid's outburst to cease. When it did, he said, "Perhaps you will be so courteous as to share the joke with the rest of us."

  "No," she replied, eyes jade bright. "It'll keep until you make your first attempt at hybridizing a transadapt with our combined genetic material."

  Sindri eyed her curiously. "And that will be funny?"

  Brigid presented the image of pondering over the query for a moment. At length, she said, "Only to me."

  Tersely Sindri said, "Explain yourself."

  She smiled a small, frigid smile. "I thought you enjoyed guessing games."

  Sindri stared at her. She stared back. Then he heeled about, striding toward the arched entrance. "Time to leave."

  Harwin touched Grant's sleeve. He extended a hand toward him, mumbling, "Pleasure to meet a Terran."

  As Grant took his hand and shook it, the old man's lips formed the words He lies . His forefinger tickled Grant's palm, the long nail tracing an impression into the fabric of his glove.

  Keeping his face composed, Grant said simply, "Same here."

  He released the old man's hand and fell
into step with the entourage formed by Sindri, Brigid, Kane and the three trolls. They followed the same route as they had when they arrived, passing under the spiral-engraved archways until they reached the bullet-car platform.

  Once they were strapped inside with the hatch secured, the vehicle started up, sliding effortlessly along the raised rail. The forewall became transparent again, and they silently watched the interior of the pyramid speed by.

  Sindri didn't speak. He stared out of the port, his blue eyes at once fierce and vacant.

  Kane wondered at the meaning of Brigid's bitter laughter and mocking words. Such behavior was not normally in her cool, reserved character and made him feel distinctly uneasy.

  The bullet car raced out of the cavity in the base of the pyramid, raising a wake of red dust that billowed out on either side of it. Overhead the sky flared with pink and saffron hues.

  Kane looked out on the desolation of the Cydonia Plains. It was full of silence and peopled only with the shapes of wind-eroded rock. Far in the distance, he saw the squat, mesa-shaped formation again. He resisted the impulse to ask Sindri if it was the monstrous stone head. He really didn't care if it was. On the horizon, sharp-pointed peaks arose, far too regular in shape to be mountains.

  He channeled his thoughts toward finding an avenue of escape. He was mildly surprised by his lack of a desire to punish Sindri, despite what he had done to them. Mad he probably was, obsessed definitely, but Kane had difficulty casting him into the role of an en-emy. He was an adversary, but he wasn't like Baron Cobalt, Salvo or even Colonel Thrush.

  Sindri radiated a loneliness, a sharp sense of alienation, but also a deep sense of purpose and responsibility.

  The bullet car eased into the subterranean chute at the far edge of the compound. Its velocity slowed as it approached the platform. The same quartet of trolls stood there, as if they hadn't stirred an inch in the past hour.

  The vehicle slid to a complete stop, and the passengers disembarked. As Sindri made for the ladder, Grant demanded, "Now what?"

  Sindri paused, one foot resting on a rung. Not turning his head, he asked dully, "Now what, indeed?"

  "Are you going to let us go?"

  Sindri sighed. "We'll discuss the subject later, at my convenience. Other matters require my attention."

  Grant's nostrils flared, and Kane saw him coiling his muscles. Then he suddenly relaxed. "Whatever you say."

  They climbed the ladder and into the tunnel. Frog-boy and Elle, still toting her harp, waited there. Sindri said to them, "Escort Mr. Grant and Mr. Kane to the lounge. See that their needs are met. Miss Brigid, I request your company."

  Kane made a move to interpose himself between Sindri and Brigid. "For what?"

  "That is our affair," retorted the little man brood-ingly. "None of yours."

  Kane almost said " I'll make it mine ," but he glimpsed Elle shifting the bottleneck of the harp in his direction.

  Quietly Brigid said, "I'll be all right."

  "Of course you will," Sindri told her, sounding a bit scandalized. "Why wouldn't you be?"

  Stepping aside, Kane watched Sindri, Brigid and the four transadapts walk down the passage, around a bend in the wall and out of sight. Frog-boy piped, "Let's go, big 'uns."

  Grant and Kane marched down the hallway, preceded by Elle and trailed by Frog-boy. Kane asked him, "Do you have a name?"

  "'Course I do," he replied with a gargoyle sneer. "It's David. What do you think, I'm some kind of bastard foundling? I know all about my family, going back seven generations to Earth."

  "And what kind of folks are you descended from?" Grant asked.' 'People who lived under bridges and took tolls?"

  David gazed at him in momentary confusion. "No," he squeaked. "They were gourmet cooks. I inherited all of their recipe books, that's why I'm the cook here."

  Considering the quality of their breakfast, Kane didn't think David was much in the way of a chef, but he decided to keep his comments to himself. The little troll was obviously seething with barely tamped down aggression and hostility for all humanity.

  "Were you in the recon party to the redoubt on Earth?" inquired Kane.

  David nodded enthusiastically, his lips slipping over his stumpy teeth in a proud grin. "I operated the MD. Turned three of them black big 'uns to glop."

  "I'm sure you're very proud," Grant commented.

  "I am, you bet"

  "Of course, those black big 'uns chilled one of you in the process."

  David's prideful grin turned to an ugly scowl. "Weren't my fault. Brokk was out of his head, laughin' and dancin' around. Too much oxygen, Sindri said."

  "Why aren't you dancing around?" Kane asked. "The oxygen content is about the same here as in the redoubt."

  David stopped in front of the hatch. "I got used to it. Sindriwhat's the wordhe acclimated some of us. Most of us ain't, though, that's why we stay in our quarters. And that's why so many of us got kilt in the revolt. Too damn air-drunk to dodge."

  The hatch irised open. Before Grant stepped through, he said, "The humans had weapons, I guess." He spoke as if he were only the slightest bit interested, bringing up the topic just to be polite.

  "Old guns," David stated. "Not a lot of ammo. Once that ran out, they were easy to kill...and I'll tell you, did we ever." He smiled at the memory.

  "What did you do with the gunstrash 'em?"

  "No, Sindri locked 'em up. Said they weren't safe for us to handle, even with no rounds for 'em."

  Kane and Grant entered the large dome where they had breakfasted. David stayed outside in the tunnel with Elle. "You two want anything?"

  "Not at the moment," Kane answered. "Is there an intercom or something in here so we can let you know if we change our minds?"

  David shook his head. "No. Just knock on the door. Elle will be out here."

  The hatch hissed shut. Immediately Grant and Kane paced around the chamber, scanning for spy-eye vid lenses or eavesdropping microphones. Since the curving walls were basically featureless, it took only a couple of minutes to decide the room was clean.

  "Trusting bunch," Grant muttered, speaking quietly just to be on the safe side.

  "Inexperienced," said Kane. "Besides, can you think of a better prison than an alien planet with a toxic environment? Anyway, we know there's some blasters in the compound and only a few of the opposition."

  "Define opposition," Grant remarked dourly. "I'm sure we're still outnumbered by a two-to-one margin."

  Kane nodded agreeably, looking around the lounge for anything that could be used as a weapon. All the furniture was molded from plastic and a chair leg wouldn't make much of a bludgeon, even if he managed to break one off.

  "Right before we left the pyramid," whispered Grant, "the old man, Harwin, told me Sindri was a liar."

  Kane snorted. "Big revelation."

  "And when he shook my hand, he traced a letter on my palm. I think it was the letter X."

  " X ?" Kane questioned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

  Grant's eye went thoughtful. "This is just a guess, but maybe he was trying to tell me where the mat-trans unit was located."

  "Hmm," Kane said softly. "Maybe. Construction specs, blueprints use the alphabet when a foundation is being laid out."

  "That's what I figured. But we don't know where we are in the compound."

  On impulse, Kane strode over to the bookshelves. Swiftly he rifled through the spiral-bound technical manuals, tossing aside volumes devoted to geothermal dynamics, the theory of terra-forming and cybernetic microlinkages. Flaking gold letters on a deep blue cover caught his eye Habitat Maintenance/Cydonia Compound One .

  Taking it from the shelf, he carried it over to the table and sat down. Grant leaned over his shoulder as he flipped the volume open and turned the pages. Fortunately they were of slick, coated stock and showed only a little yellowing from mildew.

  The majority of the pages contained dense blocks of copy, detailing construction materials and optimum stress points. In the mid
dle of the book, Kane found a trifolded sheet of vellum. When pulled out, it displayed a line-drawing aerial view of the entire compound.

  The blueprint showed the Cydonia Compound's layout as a basic wheel, with the tunnel-passages like spokes connecting two dozen domes. All of them radiated out from a central hub, which bore the letter A . To Kane's relief, all the domes were alphabetized, but to his disgust, when he located the dome designated X, he had no idea of its location in relation to their position.

  "Hell," growled Grant. "We could be in X for all we know. Or B. Or Z."

  Kane nodded in irritation. Rising from the table, carrying the book, he went to the wall switch he had seen Sindri manipulate and turned it. The far walls became transparent

  He walked to the window, studying the view, consulting the blueprint, frowning, turning it upside down and sideways, cursing softly.

  After a few minutes of watching and listening impatiently, Grant snapped, "Well?"

  Gusting out a sigh, Kane replied, "I think we're in U."

  "You think?"

  Kane jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "Or T. I think X is that way, out the door and to the left."

  "You think," Grant muttered. "I wish Brigid was here."

  "Even with her photographic memory, she couldn't do any better," Kane retorted acidly. He thrust the book into Grant's hands. "See what you can do."

  Grant chuckled mirthlessly. "It doesn't make any difference even if you're right. We're still a long way from X, with God-only-knows how many little goblins between us and it."

  Kane ran a hand through his hair. "I know. If there was only some way to get an edge, even a small one, I'd be all for making a break."

  Grant forced a grin. "Since David is the cook, I don't think we'd be able to talk him into drugging their food."

  "Good idea, though," Kane said gloomily. He stared unfocusedly at the water stain marring the smooth wall beneath the air vent.

  Grant followed his gaze, started to look away, then caught the sudden narrowing of Kane's eyes. The idea popped full-blown into both their heads at the same time, and they exchanged swift, derisive smiles.

  "It's ridiculous," Grant said.