Sitting only two meters away, Xue leaned toward them and whispered. “How could that be done? Such a surgery would require anesthetics.”
“Or she would need to be restrained,” Hwang murmured.
Caine looked out at the river. The sky was beginning to reflect in it as a light grey-green-blue. “Mr. Xue, can you give us another option?”
“I can attempt to pack the wound in between irrigations, but I am still unable to determine if the blood supply remains intact throughout the sclera.”
“Let’s say you do that. How much warning will you have if you ultimately need to operate?”
“I will know in two days from now, at the most.”
“Okay, then. You will continue to irrigate and change the dressings on the wound while you monitor it.”
Hwang frowned. “It is kind that you wish to preserve her eye, but it might be better to—”
“Ben, I am not just preserving her eye. I’m trying to preserve our morale, too. Holding someone down to exenterate the entire eye without benefit of anesthesia would shake up any group, but civilians more than most. And how long do you figure it would take for her to recover from what will almost certainly have to be a mid-day surgery, so that Mr. Xue can adequately see what he is doing?” Which is to say, “an intrinsically difficult surgery for which he is totally untrained.”
Xue lowered his eyes. “I would not want to ask Ms. Hirano to become ambulatory for at least three hours.”
Caine nodded. “And that means more lost time. As it is, we lost the end of yesterday. At least now we’ve got our kits repacked and can make some progress. If our enemies come down here to search for us, we’ve already taken a terrible risk by remaining at this site for twenty-two hours. Let’s get moving.” He started reaching for his pack.
Nasr Eid stood quickly. “Captain Riordan, how can we travel safely when there might still be a saboteur among us?”
Caine lifted his pack, settled it on one shoulder. “Mr. Eid, you make an excellent point. But every minute we delay here is a much greater danger. If any enemies remain out there to strike at us, the worst thing we can do is remain at the crash site.”
“Yes, but we are traveling as an armed party.” Nasr eyed the rifles waiting to be picked up by the three persons who would be assigned to the first security patrol. “If there is still a saboteur, we are arming them, enabling them to finish their job.”
Riordan shook his head. “Most saboteurs are not suicidal, which is exactly the kind of pathology that attempting a one-versus-nine attack requires. It would also require a world-class assassin to ensure that none of us would escape during their attempt. And if there was such an assassin among us, he or she would have attacked at dusk last night, when most of us were trying to help Ms. Hirano, distribute food, set up perimeter watches, arrange basic challenges and passwords, and dig a privy pit.” Which was why I felt like I needed an additional eye in the back of my head when dusk came on, and why I slept with one open all night long.
“So,” said Mizuki, her voice hoarse and a bit brittle, “you think it unlikely there is still a saboteur amongst us?”
Riordan heard the hopeful, rising note at the end of her question: it was an unconscious plea for him to make at least one of her fears go away. But Caine couldn’t do so, not at the expense of the truth and the vigilance that the group had to maintain. “No, I’m not saying that, Ms. Hirano. But if our spaceside enemies intend to finish us off, then a saboteur’s logical objective is to guide them to us, not mount a solo attack. That’s also the only way for a saboteur to get home, because they’re certainly not leaving Disparity in that”—he hooked a thumb over his shoulder at the ruined shuttle—“or getting out-system without a shift-carrier.”
Caine put his other arm through the pack’s other strap. “We’re moving out. First security patrol is Mr. Macmillan, Ms. Betul, and Mr. Eid on rearguard. Second patrol will be Ms. Salunke, myself, and Ms. Veriden on rearguard. Questions?” There were none.
Wordlessly, the group began following the narrow shore toward the downriver bend.
* * *
Shortly after turning that bend, the river became increasingly constricted between tough volcanic formations which refused to submit to the wear of the water. Instead, its currents had backed up and scalloped out a turbulent pool, framed by basaltic outcroppings which split the outflow into several different watercourses. Judging from what they could see in the distant mists, these various streams all ran between low, rocky ridges, each channel becoming a rock-strewn flume. The one exception was a wide-mouthed outflow which was also the shallowest. Its relatively broad, clear shores were covered with tightly thatched mini-ferns that were the local equivalent of meadow and marsh grass. Various narrow points promised easy fording: swathes of modest white ripples stretched between the two shores. Without even stopping to confer, the group began working around the pool toward the wider, shallower stream.
Caine, who only nine months ago had been leading Indonesian guerillas in the West Java jungles, dropped back a few steps to walk alongside Ben Hwang. “I must be out of shape from shipboard living. I never used to notice the humidity. How are you holding up?”
“About the same. But I’m not so sure that it’s just the humidity we’re feeling. The filter masks significantly dehumidify the air. I’m worried about inhaled microbes.”
Caine frowned. “The filter mask should be even more effective at screening those out.”
Ben nodded. “Yes, assuming we are wearing them all the time.”
Riordan heard the veiled accusation. “I know you think that those of us who went dunking for food rations yesterday were idiots for for taking off our masks. But since you didn’t, how do you explain your own shortness of breath?”
Hwang smiled. “Last night, when I woke up for my half-watch, I saw that three people had removed their masks in their sleep. Then I realized that I had also.”
“They are pretty uncomfortable when you’re trying to rest,” Caine agreed. “I wonder if there’s a way to rig them so they are harder to get off?”
“I’ve been thinking about a modification to the straps that might help with that. I’ll try making the adjustments when we stop for lunch.”
“If we do stop for lunch,” Caine amended.
Hwang glanced at him. “I know that you’re in a hurry to put some distance between us and the wreck, but—”
“Ben, it’s possible that Mizuki is never going to be any stronger than she is right now. Not if her eye infects and requires exenteration. And if our respiratory problems are the onset of a microbe, once again, our ability to make progress is never going to be any better than it is right now. So today, we eat on the move. Because we can.” Caine picked up the pace again, heading for the rocks that stretched across the one narrow watercourse that lay between them and the wider, shallower one that was their ultimate objective.
* * *
Not knowing what other dangers might lurk in the shallow water or beyond the far margins of the shore, Caine kept the group to the center of the riverbank, which turned into an impromptu walking tour of the disparate flora and fauna that might have inspired Disparity’s name. The plants varied from cactus-analogs with feeler-laden twigs instead of needles, brain coral spongiforms that could open into four equal parts and lure a in a variety of quickly flitting creatures, and a thick tangle of black-maroon ground cover that resembled brittle, self-climbing kelp. These plants and their permutations tended to occur together, either in clumps, or as extensive, shore-lining swards.
The other, wholly distinct class of flora was more reminiscent of terrestrial forms, and the further they moved downriver, the more of it Caine noticed, particularly along the water’s edge. The most dramatic exemplar was what the group came to call bumbershoots. Their tops, vaguely reminiscent of palms, were immense, pouting petals: in the daytime, the tree resembled a ridiculously tall umbrella. The tops of the petals were a dark, rich violet, whereas the undersides shone as if they had been
brushed with a thin coating of silver-gold. But as the first day’s march came to an end and the light began to fade, these petal-fronds drooped until they lay flat against the bole of the tree: an immense cluster of millimeter-gauged tubules with an almost lacquered exterior. Around the bumbershoot was an entirely different form of ground cover: the tiny spatulate fern-grass that they had seen near the crash-site. Beneath that, almost invisible, was a substrata of ground-following fungi and lichen.
It was among these plants that the group witnessed much of the second night’s bioluminescent light show, which winked and flashed as creatures occulted the glowing foliage during their silent dashes through it. Caine started keeping count and timing the eclipses of three particularly bright plants. By dawn, he had concluded that either there was quite a bit of nocturnal fauna roving about, or that, if it was sparse, it was also quite hyperactive. He mentioned it to Hwang.
The biologist nodded slowly. “There is, of course, another explanation.”
“Several. We could be attracting curiosity because we’re different. Or some of the local wildlife is shadowing us before they decide attack.”
Ben nodded. “I’ll pass that word, if you like.”
Caine considered. It might panic a few of the team, but the others were shaping up well enough that the possibility of an impending encounter might give them the extra edge of alertness they needed to detect and foil an ambush. It would also give everyone a bit of an adrenal boost and help them march a little faster and a little longer. “Thanks, Ben. By the way, how are you holding up?
Hwang rubbed the right side of his torso, just a few centimeters lower than the pectoral. “Sore, but no more sharp pains. Xue and I agree that I’m healing from whatever internal dance my viscera did during the crash.”
“Has he looked at Mizuki yet this morning?”
Ben nodded. “So far, so good. That means we probably don’t need to worry about trauma-induced necrosis. But an infection could bring us back to the same point.”
“So we keep irrigating and using the disinfectant from the medkits.”
“Yes, but at this rate, we’re not going to have much left if anyone else needs treatment.”
“Necessary risk. We can’t afford to have Mizuki slow down, and I’m not going to leave her or anyone else behind. So we use the resources we have to keep going now.” Caine rose. “Ready to move?”
Ben smiled as he rose. “Not really, but let’s go.”
* * *
About an hour further into their march, the large stream split into two meandering courses, and the foliage became more dense, largely because of a profusion of trees that were more akin to immense bushes with high ground clearance. Their broad leaves, each a collage of green and orange, rose into a domed canopy that reached as high as fifteen meters, crowning the plant like the head of an immense mushroom sagging down to conceal its own stalk. The smaller, younger specimens did not have rounded canopies; their foliage was akin to a broad cone—
A cone.
Riordan dropped back to where Ben was helping Mizuki; her compromised depth perception made her susceptible to falls. “Ben, look: cone trees. The same species we saw on Adumbratus.”
Ben dashed Caine’s momentary hope that he had been the first to notice them. “Yes. It’s clear now that we are on a battle line. Walking right along it, in fact.”
“You mean, the battle line between the different biota.”
“Yes. The self-climbing kelp and related plants are clearly the native species. The others, including the cone trees, have been introduced by the Slaasriithi.”
Caine felt a quick pulse of hope. “Which they must watch over. To track the changes that they are trying to induce.”
“True, but they might not visit here more than once or twice a year. If that. As Yiithrii’ah’aash pointed out, they are not in a rush to effect change.”
They were drawing close to a copse of cone trees that had tall bumbershoots mixed among them. Mizuki looked up along the lichen encrusted trunks, murmured, “Fascinating. And elegant.”
Caine looked, saw how the underside of the palmate fronds sent back whatever light was reflected upward by the leaves of the cone trees. “You mean the way the bumbershoots make sure that the cone trees get all the light they can, even bouncing back what they don’t capture on first exposure?”
Mizuki’s good eye rotated toward Riordan. “You are a quick study, Captain, but I was referring to the bumbershoot’s trunk.”
“The trunk?” Caine echoed. He had gone from feeling botanically perceptive to utterly stupid in the space of a single second.
“Look closely: do you see how it shines? That is water, from condensation, which trickles down and feeds the ground around the cone tree. Which, because of its own dense canopy, catches almost all the light that falls upon it, yet sheds almost all the water.”
Gaspard, who had drifted closer to them as they walked, shook his head. “And how is that elegant? It sounds quite the contrary. The cone trees would be strangling themselves out of existence if the bumbershoot didn’t supply it with water.”
“But that is not coincidence, Mr. Ambassador,” Mizuki retorted. She pointed at one of the largest cone trees, located toward the center of the copse. Its impressive wide-spreading canopy sheltered low thickets of ferns, mosses and fluffy crabgrass nestled between the roots that radiated out from its gnarled trunk. Day-glo yellow lichens were growing up into the lower shoots of the tree, and apparently, beginning to strangle it. “What do you see?” Mizuki asked.
“Lichen choking a bush imitating a tree,” Gaspard replied.
Hwang smiled. “Yes, to our eyes. But the undergrowth that’s killing off the tree is all exogenous, is part of the new biota.”
“Yes. So now I see fratricide, as well.”
Caine understood. “The canopy of the cone trees kills off the indigenous ground cover by cutting off the light and water. While it’s doing so, it still gets the water that runs down the trunk of the bumbershoot overnight. The bigger the cone tree grows, the more free space it’s making for its related flora to start seeding under it.”
“Which those plants pay back by destroying the cone tree that gave them life,” Gaspard concluded ironically.
“No,” Caine contradicted, gathering confidence from Ben’s encouraging stare. “By dying, the cone tree becomes the compost for the next stage of Slaasriithi plant life. Its canopy has outlived its purpose once the soil under it will receive the new plants.”
Gaspard raised one eyebrow, lifted the other when Hwang nodded. “Exactly. What we are looking at is not permanent flora, but a collection of plants which are orchestrated to convert the indigenous biome into the new, exogenous biome. In larger copses, I have noticed a smaller subvariety of the cone tree; they are more widely spaced and not so thickly leafed. And although they are shorter, I suspect that they are actually the permanent form of the species. These large ones”—he gestured toward the mushroom-shaped tree which now had small bioluminescent seed-pods shining like lanterns high up in the underside of its canopy—“they are the advance guard of their species. They exist only so that they may die in the fight to expand their biome.”
Mizuki waved a hand which followed the borders of the two warring biota as they roved back and forth across the two streams. “They are locked in a slow motion struggle for dominance.”
Just like we seem to be, ever since we discovered we’re not alone in the cosmos, Riordan reflected as he resumed his position behind the point-walkers, Macmillan and Betul.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Southern extents of the Third Silver Tower; BD +02 4076 Two (“Disparity”)
As the day wore on, Disparity’s flora continued to command Riordan’s attention—not because of what it displayed, but rather, because of what it might conceal.
Disparity’s foliage was worse than the Javanese jungle. Here, the mists and humidity not only reduced visibility, but often painted halos around the numerous reflective surfaces. T
he supersaturated air also grayed-out objects very rapidly, obscuring even nearby silhouettes or terrain features. In short, Disparity conspired to reduce the visual acuity upon which effective security watches depended: an unnerving factor that soon evolved into a dangerous one.
Caine had just come off point when Macmillan held up a large, thick hand and crouched. The entire team took a knee; those without rifles hefted their axe-headed combotools. Caine crept a few steps closer to the burly IRIS operative. “Report.”
“Movement there.” Macmillan jerked his now red-furred chin at the narrow band of low land that separated the stream’s split courses; they had taken to calling it the median. “I think something from the far bank forded over to the median when our line of sight was blocked a hundred meters back.”
Riordan nodded. “Whatever they are, they’re paralleling us, using cover to get closer.” He scanned ahead and behind. “But if they are predators, and they have any brains whatsoever, they won’t charge at us from the median. If they can, they’re going to get across the river and approach our opposite flank before they attack us.”
Macmillan glanced at the gentle wooded slope behind them. “You mean, they’ll either get ahead or behind us by crossing the near stream when we can’t see them, and then press us so that our backs are to the water?”
Caine nodded. “Where they’d plan to run us down along the shore or in the shallows.”
Qwara Betul had drifted in far enough from the right point position to overhear. She hefted her rifle anxiously. “So what do we do?” She claimed to be a good shot, and Caine believed her, but hitting stationary targets on a range was a lot different than hitting moving creatures in combat. Particularly when the creatures wanted to kill you.
“We’re changing formation.” He waved Dora forward; she arrived with startling speed.
Before he could update her, she nodded. “I thought I saw something over to our left, just as Macmillan called for a halt. I’ve been checking the slope to our right. I don’t think anything has made it across, yet.”
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