Seeds of Earth

by Michael Cobley

  Gowchee,' said Gorol9, still being held down on the

  carved stone. 'You have nothing to be ashamed of.'

  'So speaks the machine,' said the Legion creature.

  'Good, obedient device, just one amongst the

  Construct's little horde of windup junkpiles. Attend

  carefully, Human - this machine, this contraption, will

  never know the wonder of convergence, the intermin-

  gling of life's pure essence and a technology perfectly

  adapted to life's supreme ambition. Oh, machines can be

  made highly complex and made to imitate the permu-

  tations of true sentience, but ultimately it is only

  obedience to a detailed matrix of commands, a dry,

  empty mockery of living sentience.'

  'You are a made thing,' said Gorol9. 'Your vaunted

  convergence with technology is nothing but your des-

  perate need to flee the pains of the flesh, the entropy of

  the flesh, the ending of the flesh. And you? - you are

  little more than an offcut, stemming from your progen-

  itor Knight's need for an instrument...'

  'Liar! My essence, my foundation is organic, and my

  sentience flows from the purity of convergence ...'

  INTRUDERS HAVE BEEN DETECTED!

  Kao Chih almost quailed at the thunderous volume

  of the voice which reverberated all around but which

  seemed to issue from the stone floor beneath. In that

  instant he saw a spiderweb of glowing threads spreading

  across the intertwined patterns, all emitting a curious,

  crystalline brightness.

  'Aah, the guardian awakes,' said Drazuma-Ha*.

  YOU ARE OF THE LEGION, INTRUDER - YOUR

  PRESENCE HERE IS A VIOLATION. YOU MUST BE

  ERASED.

  'Exactly, machine. Obey the unvarying schemata of

  your responses. Open the door through which I may

  fulfil my transcendent task ...'

  'Sentinel - I am Gorol9 of the Construct's forward

  echelon. You must not deploy your energies against the

  Legion intruder - it will use them against you.'

  I RECOGNISE YOU, GOROL9, BUT YOU MAY

  NOT COMMAND ME. THE THREAT IS CLEAR

  AND IT MUST BE ERASED.

  Feeling helpless, Kao Chih raised his gun again, then

  his shoulders sagged and he slumped back, tears of

  angry desperation in his eyes. How he hated this

  machine-creature.

  'Good - you recognise the futility of your position,

  Human,' said Drazuma-Ha*. 'You may be weak, yet

  there is hope for your species - many have already taken

  the first steps towards convergence and when the Legion

  assumes its rightful dominance we will help them further

  along that illustrious journey.'

  'You betrayed me,' Kao Chih said. 'I trusted you! ...'

  'Look upon it as a lesson,' the Legion creature said,

  lancing out with an amber shaft of force which batted

  away the beam pistol then grabbed him round the neck

  and hauled him in. At the same time, the crystalline

  radiance rising from the warpwell patterns began to

  pulse, lighting up the ceiling and the walls.

  THE LEGION INTRUDER IS A CLEAR THREAT

  AND WILL BE ERASED. ALL OTHERS MUST

  LEAVE - NOW!

  'And now the pair of you will join me in my triumph,

  but only as equals ...' An amber blade extruded from

  the Legion instrument's force aura and Kao Chih began

  to cry out in horror, struggling as the blade swept round

  towards his own legs.

  The droid Gorol9 acted. A jointed arm shot out and

  its multiclawed hand flew straight at Drazuma-Ha *, col-

  liding with its forcefield aura, to which it clung. The

  restraints and the blade shafts shrank to nothing as the

  forcefield flickered with bands and went out. Kao Chih

  reached over to snatch up his beam pistol then gleefully

  aimed it at the Legion machine-creature, which was now

  lying on its side, a motionless, lopped-off steel tentacle.

  'Your weapon is as useless as it asserted, Gowchee.

  But you have a neural device in your pocket which

  might immobilise it - use it! We have only seconds

  before it recovers.'

  A neural device? A quick search of his pockets pro-

  duced ... of course, the nerve-blocker which

  Compositor Henach had used on him back on the

  Chaurixa ship! Trusting to Gorol9's advice, he dived at

  the Legion Instrument, which was starting to right itself.

  He grabbed it round the middle with one arm and with

  his other hand took the nerve-blocker and rammed it

  into the joint between two of the thing's articulated seg-

  ments. A panel opened in the side of it and a tool-tipped

  arm lashed out at him. While fending it off with his

  pistol, he had to use his body weight to hold the Legion

  machine-creature down as he desperately shoved the

  nerve-blocker's flexible arms into the joint gap, praying

  that it would work.

  'Betrayer! - you have betrayed life and aided ... dead

  machines . . .'

  'I have my honour,' Kao Chih said, gritting his teeth

  against the pain of his wounded hand, slashed by the

  tool-wielding arm. 'And the satisfaction of knowing that

  you are ended . . .'

  But the flickering aura went out and suddenly he

  realised that he was talking to a lifeless piece of machin-

  ery.

  Light hung all around in layered veils, just visible

  through his overwhelming exhaustion. The voice of the

  warpwell Sentinel was booming somewhere overhead,

  an exchange involving Gorol9. Pilot Yash was close by,

  shaking his shoulder, saying that a company of

  Brolturan troops would soon be on top of them. Kao

  Chih tried to sit up, but instead he flopped onto his

  back, staring up at the chamber ceiling, his tongue mutt,

  his limbs numb, his flesh as cold as the wintry radiance

  that surged over him like a tide.

  He never lost consciousness. Everything was lucid

  and he felt quite alert, despite the dreamlike swirl and

  eddy of images, his mother and father bidding him

  farewell at the dockside at Agmedra'a, the Roug

  Tumakri riding with him in the strange AI cart at

  Blacknest . . . then instead of Tumakri it was the

  Chaurixa surgeon, Compositor Henach, who was shar-

  ing the cart's cramped interior. 'Ah, the unblemished

  human brain,' he was saying. 'A remarkable canvas for

  convergence .. .' Then the cart turned and shot into a

  dark corridor full of swaying shadows and, oddly for a

  deep space station, the smells of growing things. There

  were the sounds of familiar voices and a glow. Eyes

  open, he realised that he was lying on his back and

  raised his head . . . and regretted it when pain clamped

  his temples.

  'Back with us, Human?'

  The Voth was seated on a fallen log, next to a conical

  lamp giving off a buttery yellow light. Propped against

  the trunk were the remains of Gorol9, who was regard-

  ing him steadily. 'You were poisoned by the Legion

  Instrument's desperate self-defence,' the droid said.

  'Luckily, Pilot Yash had some anti-tox
in infusers in his

  big bag so the only effects you suffered were the psy-

  choactive ones.'

  Yash grinned. 'It's a good high - so I've been told . . .'

  Kao Chih looked around him - they were gathered in

  a hollow in a darkened forest, beneath an overhanging

  rock bearded with moss and grass from which water

  dripped. It was raining out in the night, a subdued whis-

  pering from the dim shapes of trees, leaves rustling,

  branches swaying in occasional breezy gusts. He could

  smell and savour the odours of a vastness of biomass

  and he shivered, cold and excited - this was Darien, a

  living world as lush as Pyre once was.

  'How . . .' He paused to cough. 'How did we get

  away?'

  'Since the immediate threat was over, the Sentinel of

  the well graciously condescended to translocate us away

  from the Brolturans, although it had to be certain that

  this was in accord with the general tenor of previous

  commands,' said Gorol9. 'The remains of the

  Instrument have been sent to the Construct.'

  'Jelking machine mind,' Yash said. 'My bank has a

  branch on Yonok - why couldn't it send me there?'

  'So where are we now?' said Kao Chih.

  'Roughly seventeen miles west of Hammergard,' said

  a voice from nearby.

  Looking up, he saw two men descending the slope

  just along from the overhang - one was short and wiry

  with sandy-coloured hair while the other was taller with

  dark hair. He recognised them as Europeans, with that

  wide-eyed look of astonishment that he had only ever

  seen in the Retributofs data files. Both were wearing

  blue cheek patches from which pickup stalks protruded.

  'Greetings, Humans Cameron and McGrain,' said

  Gorol9, then to Kao Chih it said, 'I have fashioned small

  translators for them so that we may understand each

  other.'

  'Very smart wee gadgets,' said the taller of the two,

  his odd Anglic dialect smoothly translated by Kao

  Chih's linguistic enabler. 'But I'm glad to see that you've

  recovered. When myself and Rory got here an hour ago

  ye were still in the grip of that drug . . .'

  'Totally out of it,' said the other man with a grin.

  'Oh yes - this is Rory McGrain and I'm Greg

  Cameron,' said the first.

  Kao Chih nodded courteously from where he lay. 'It

  is an honour to meet you. But how did you know where

  to find us?'

  'Well, one of our allies has a certain understanding

  with the warpwell Sentinel,' said the man Cameron. 'He

  couldn't say anything other than to get to this spot with

  all speed, and after we did your friends filled us in on a

  few details about what happened up at Giant's Shoulder

  and what you did.' He shook his head. 'Incredible, just

  incredible. But neither of them know how ye became

  involved with this Legion cyborg creature, or where

  you're from.'

  Kao Chih sighed and, ignoring his headache, got to

  his feet. 'Honourable sirs, my story has more twists and

  turns than a bowlful of noodles. But first I must intro-

  duce myself properly and fully - my name is Kao Chih

  of the Human Sept of Agmedra'a, and my people origi-

  nally came from Earth 150 years ago, fleeing the Swarm

  invasion . . .'

  The two men listened in astonishment as he told them

  about the beautiful world where the Tenebrosa had

  finally landed, the colony established by his forebears,

  the Hegemony mercenaries and the prospector ships

  that strip-mined the planet, the exodus of half the

  colony to the Roug orbital, Agmedra'a, and their inden-

  ture under conditions of secrecy. His voice shook as he

  recounted their sorrowful tragedy and he saw their faces

  grow sombre.

  'But then news came of the discovery of your world

  and, at the Roug's instigation, I was sent to find you,

  meet your leaders and warn them of the Hegemony.

  Most importantly, I was to ask permission for my

  people to come and settle here and be part of your com-

  munity. But now I find that the Hegemony and its

  Brolturan vassals have taken control of your world,

  which has a secret that is attracting the agents of an

  ancient enemy.' He shook his head. 'That Earth has

  become a willing ally of the Hegemony is almost the

  worst of it. Freedom for both our peoples seems a for-

  lorn hope.'

  'You musn't lose hope, Kao Chih,' said Cameron.

  'Hard struggles lie ahead, more than I care to think about,

  but only yesterday one of us gave them a humiliating

  kicking and that, together with your astounding victory,

  all three of you - that gives me hope. The task ahead of us

  is monumental and our enemies are innumerable, strong

  and vicious, but if we don't take them on, who will?' He

  glanced at the Construct droid, Gorol9. 'And sometimes

  help can come from the most unexpected quarter ...' His

  gaze swung back to Kao Chih. 'And the last thing I was

  expecting was you! Just knowing that your people, the

  colonists from the Tenebrosa, have survived all those

  calamities and are eager to come here and join us - that

  gives me hope and strength!'

  He held out his hand. 'Kao Chih - welcome to

  Darien.'

  For a brief moment, he stared back at the man

  Cameron, wondering if anything else lay behind the

  open smile, the clear brown eyes, and the apparent

  integrity. Then he relented, deciding that he would trust

  Greg Cameron. Today.

  'Thank you, Mr Cameron.'

  And they shook hands, smiles widening to grins.

  EPILOGUE

  ROBERT

  Awakening was a slow ascent. He arose gradually from

  black oblivion, a no-sound, no-sight, no-place which

  steadily dissolved into a blurred grey ocean, dream's

  drowsy shallows. It felt as if he was struggling through

  thick mud to get to the shore and the lighter it became,

  the more he began to remember ... things, faces, places,

  nightmarish encounters. In his thoughts he shied away

  from those grotesqueries, but they trailed after him, one

  seizing his shoulder in an icy, bone-chilling grasp ...

  Suddenly his eyes were open and he was aware of

  lying on his side in a comfortable bed, in a room full of

  natural light, a cool, dawn rosiness. There was a faint,

  sweet fragrance in the air and for a second he imagined

  that he was in their townhouse on the outskirts of Bonn.

  But he knew he couldn't be there, because he knew that

  he had been on Darien not long ago.

  'Good morning, Robert Horst. How are you feeling?'

  The voice sounded vaguely androgynous with a

  midrange pitch and lack of expressive highs and lows. It

  was coming from the foot of the bed, and when he

  pushed back the lightweight cover and sat up he saw an

  odd figure garbed in dark blue robes and wearing what

  seemed to be an archaic, fully concealing pale mask. But

  when it spoke the pale lips moved.

  'I am
a proximal of the Construct - when you converse

  with me, you are conversing with the Construct...'

  'Why won't the Construct see me in person?' he said.

  'The Construct is a fabricated entity. Its artificial sen-

  tience, intelligence and cognition centres interact at

  many levels yet their physical manifestors have definite

  boundaries.'

  'So you represent the Construct - is this your actual

  appearance?'

  'No, Robert Horst - this was adopted to make you

  feel less dislocated. Would you prefer that I present my

  actuality to you?'

  'Yes, I would, thank you.'

  The proximal reached up and pulled away the mask-

  head, tugged off the blue robes and compressed it all

  into a small bundle. Its appearance was spindly and

  metallic, a slender, attenuated hourglass torso with plain

  rod-like legs and arms, and a head which was a slender

  cylinder with a rounded top. Chrome-like surfaces

  seemed etched with strange geometrical patterns or dec-

  orated with textured squares resembling aluminium,

  brushed gold, opaque glass, or obsidian, while the clear

  areas reflected the light and outlines of the room.

  'So, Robert Horst, how are you feeling?'

  'Actually, I feel very well.' And so he was, alert and

  lacking in his normal chorus of aches and twinges, while

  also feeling Harry's absence like a missing tooth.

  'Excellent, Robert Horst - the remedial process has

  been a success. You were seriously wounded during your

  courageous battle with the vermax. The touch of the

  kezeq shard disrupted your flesh and threatened your

  central nervous system, leaving us little choice but to

  take steps. So that your body could regenerate the lost

  tissues, we suspended your entropic essence then, once

  health was restored, we reset it to an earlier stage.'

  'I'm sorry, er, Construct, but I don't quite under-

  stand.'

  A shiny, metallic arm extended, holding out a small

  oval mirror. 'Your physical age is now twenty years

  younger than it was.'

  Stunned, he looked in the mirror and saw smooth

  skin, fair hair not yet showing the silver (and beginning

  to grow back to that earlier hair line). The eyes were

  more alert and some of that old sharpness was back, yet

  he still saw the shadow of Rosa's death there, hints of a

  sorrow that would probably never fade. Then he