Helix (42 page)

After
the animal act came the tenderness. She held him to her, stroking his face, his
body. He felt dizzy, overcome with desire and at the same time a vast
protective sense of caring for this woman.

He
recalled Su, then, and how that had turned sour, and involuntarily he
superimposed on this nascent relationship the experience of how that first one
had failed—and then looked into Sissy’s wide dark eyes and banished such heresy
from his thoughts.

“Jesus,
Sissy...”

“I
felt it when we met, Joe. I can’t explain it. The attraction... Christ, I
wanted you from the very first time we met.”

He
stroked her hair. “I never even considered it. You were... unattainable, too
young... or rather I was too old—”

“As
if that matters!”

“And
I hadn’t had anyone for years...”

She
whispered into his ear, “Me too.”

He
felt a sudden kick of joy, then; she was making him happy for the first time
in... in God knew how long. And he felt a sudden surge of optimism. If this
world was safe, and not already inhabited, and they could transport the
colonists up here, then what a paradise it would be.

She
rolled away from him laughing, stood and scrambled up the outcropping of rock,
and it struck Hendry that there was something gloriously outrageous in her
naked athleticism on a new world so far from Earth.

He
stood and followed her, feeling the wind on his exposed flesh, the sunlight
striking his head and shoulders.

She
was poised at the rock’s very summit, one knee bent, the other leg braced
against the incline, and Hendry was struck speechless by the sight of her. He
joined her, slipped a hand across the globe of her bottom, delighting in the
spontaneous smile of complicity and affection she turned on him.

Side
by side they surveyed the world.

They
were high now, and from here the forest fell away down a long sloping
escarpment, so that it seemed as if the whole hemisphere of the planet were
laid out before them. Sissy laughed, and Hendry joined her in sheer joy at the
sight.

The
rolling forest top extended for as far as the eye could see, and a great river
looped lazily through brilliant verdure on its unhurried journey towards the
horizon.

She
turned and pointed. In the distance he made out a sudden mountain erupting from
the forest, a feature that seemed too regular to be natural. He scanned its
height for any sign of features that might suggest habitation, but found none.

And,
over everything, the golden sunlight prevailed.

She
took his hand. “How are you, Mr Hendry?”

“Amazing,”
he whispered, and then wondered whether he should be feeling guilt at
experiencing such rapture so soon after losing his daughter.

His
grief made the rapture all the greater, as he held Sissy to him and gazed out
over her head.

She
stiffened suddenly, and swore, and the swift transformation alarmed him. His
heart kicked sickeningly. “Sis?”

“Oh,
Christ, Joe. Look.”

His
imagination conjured so many dire possibilities, in the second or so before he
saw where she was pointing, that when he did see her cause for alarm he was
almost relieved. It wasn’t some malign Serpent come to spoil their Eden, but
then again perhaps it was.

The
black ship swept in low over the forest like some kind of vast manta ray. It
was perhaps a kilometre away, moving slowly over the treetops as if searching
for prey.

She
looked at him. “It’s the Church’s ship, right?”

He
nodded, grabbed her hand. “Come on!”

They
fled down the rock and slipped at the bottom on the velvet moss. They snatched
the bundle of their atmosphere suits, Hendry remembering the blaster, and
sprinted into the cover of the forest, pausing long enough to dress before
resuming their flight.

Sissy
stopped, grabbing him. “Joe!” she said. “Christ, Joe, which way now?”

He
gazed about him at the serried tree trunks, which offered an identical vista in
every direction. Then he laughed with relief and pointed. The golden-green moss
had retained the smudged imprint of their passage, diminishing ellipses leading
back to the clearing.

He
took her hand and ran.

Minutes
later he made out the teardrop shape of the ship through the trees, and the
oddly reassuring sight of Carrelli and Olembe discussing something in its
shadow. They both looked up as Hendry and Kaluchek emerged from the forest at a
run.

“We
have...” Kaluchek began, fighting exhaustion, “we have company. A ship. About a
kay away, closer, and coming this way.”

Carrelli
instinctively looked up, attempting to view the ship through the occasional
rent in the canopy.

“You
think they’ve managed to trace us here?” Olembe asked.

Carrelli
shook her head. “I don’t know. Havor told me they could trace the ion trail,
but I shut down the main drive a hundred kays back... I’d say this was a lucky
guess on the Church’s part.” She paused, then said, “I hope.”

Olembe
reached out and snatched the blaster from Hendry’s grip. “You saw the damage
this thing did. Just let the ship get near us and I’ll...”

Carrelli
glanced at him. “If we see the ship, we let it pass, okay? It’ll be armoured.
The blaster might penetrate it, but it might not. And we can’t take the risk of
alerting them to our presence.”

Olembe
nodded. “Okay, but if they have tracked us...”

From
the ship, Ehrin emerged carrying a tool. Carrelli barked at him, and the effect
of the words was instant. He dropped into a crouch and moaned, his teeth
chattering together in a gesture that might have denoted fright or fear as he
gazed up through the treetops.

Olembe
said, “Ask it if there are more weapons aboard the ship, okay?”

Carrelli
turned to Ehrin and relayed the question. Ehrin barked his reply and scurried
back into the ship.

Carrelli
shook her head. “As far as he knows, that’s the only weapon Havor carried. He
said he’d search the ship for more.”

Kaluchek
said, “What now?”

“Not
much we can do, sweetheart.” Olembe looked at her atmosphere suit, then glanced
at Hendry. “Hey, ain’t that cute? You two’ve swapped name tags.”

Hendry
looked down, only then realising he was wearing Sissy’s suit, which had
expanded to accommodate him.

Kaluchek
stared at the African, refusing to be cowed, and said, “And fuck you, Olembe.”

Carrelli
said, “Okay, okay... So, what do we do? We sit tight, I think is the phrase.
The ship is as hidden as we can possibly make it.”

Hendry
looked up. He could see gaps in the canopy, patches of blue light where golden
spears of sunlight penetrated the submarine gloom of the clearing.

Then
he heard the sound of the approaching ship, a low drone at first, climbing to
an ever-present roar that drowned out Olembe’s imprecation and silenced the
birdsong in the immediate area.

Seconds
later Hendry made out a succession of flickers high overhead, the effect of the
passing ship occluding the sun.

Instinctively
he dropped into a crouch, Kaluchek and Carrelli beside him. Olembe remained
standing, the rifle propped on his hip, his face turned up to track the ship’s
progress high above them. He was perspiring, freely, great beads of sweat the
only indication that he, like everyone else, was feeling the pressure.

The
ship seemed to take an age to pass. The very noise of its engines was like a
threat; Hendry imagined the ship as some predatory animal, playing with its
minuscule prey. Sissy smiled at him, and it was all he could do not to pull her
to him and kiss her.

The
sound diminished gradually, the roar receding, and minutes later the ship
disappeared from sight. The birdsong started up again, signalling the
resumption of normality.

Hendry
released a breath. Carrelli said, “I think that if they had seen us, then they
would have fired. Havor said that the ship did not belong to them. There is the
chance that their pilots haven’t fully mastered its monitoring capabilities.”

“Thank
Christ for that,” Olembe said.

“I
wonder how long they’ll keep on searching,” Hendry said, “and if they’ll land
and send the militia after us.”

Carrelli
looked at him. “The Church fears losing its power, according to Ehrin. They
wish to eradicate all evidence that alien races exist. Their holy book claims
that their kind are the only ones, God’s chosen people.”

“Where’ve
I heard that before?” Olembe said.

“So...”
Carrelli continued, “I don’t think they will give up the search that easily.”

“We
might have to destroy the fucking thing if we want to stop them,” Olembe said.
“Does your lemur friend know if our ship carries integral weapons?”

Carrelli
shrugged. “He doesn’t know much about the ship at all. The technology is way
beyond anything his people have even dreamed of.”

Olembe
turned and spat against the carapace of the golden ship. “And pretty damned in
advance of our science, too.”

Hendry
indicated the open hatch in the flank of the ship. “How are you getting on with
repairs?” He looked at Carrelli. “What’s the problem?”

She
stared into the hatch and said, “The ship suffered damage on its initial landing
on Ehrin’s world. They managed to patch something together—it was a simple
engineering problem, nothing major. The ride up here blew the same part. The
trouble is, we don’t have anything like the appropriate technology to repair
it.”

“We’re
looking at cannibalising other parts of the ship,” Olembe said, “but without
the tools to do so...” He shook his head. “Imagine Neanderthal man, trying to
repair a bicycle in the desert.”

Hendry
glanced at Sissy. She had drifted away from the group—a tendency he had noticed
when Olembe was holding forth. She was walking towards the forest, staring, her
body language suggestive of her straining to hear something.

She
stopped and turned quickly. “Shut it, okay? Listen!”

Olembe
opened his mouth to protest, then fell silent as Carrelli laid a hand on his
arm. Heart pounding, Hendry listened.

Kaluchek
turned and ran back towards them, moving into his arms. He looked out above her
head, towards the forest and the noise.

It
was a grunt, a great snorting expiration, as if whatever was making the sound
was labouring under a great weight.

Seconds
later, as they watched, the ponderous headpiece of a vast creature emerged
between the boles of the trees and peered in at them, the lids of its old eyes
blinking myopically.

“What,”
Olembe said, “in Christ’s name is that?”

Hendry’s
immediate reaction was relief. He had feared some rapacious, taloned beast, not
this overblown turtle-analogue, the expression on its face combining great
wisdom with grandfatherly kindness.

It
advanced its bulk little by little into the clearing and stopped before them,
sighing dolorously. It did resemble a turtle, Hendry saw, but without a shell;
it was wide and solid, its bulk vaguely elephantine, even its grey skin
pachydermous.

Hendry
was wondering if Carrelli spoke extraterrestrial turtle, when he made out the
slight, silvery creatures riding upon its back and realised his mistake. The
creatures were perhaps a metre tall, but perilously thin, and moved in bursts
as swift as quicksilver.

They
slipped from the beast and moved around the clearing, seating themselves on the
ground in a semicircle. One of their number advanced to within a couple of
metres of Carrelli and raised a clawed hand.

They
were, he saw, like bipedal lizards, silver and scaled and fleet of movement. So
much for this being a virgin world...

The
leading creature spoke, its voice a whistle so high Hendry could hardly hear
it.

Olembe
laughed. “Reply to that, Gina,” he challenged.

Without
glancing at him, Carrelli inclined her head to the alien and began to whistle.
It was an impossible sound to come from a human throat, and only then did
Hendry realise that it was her augmentation producing the noise.

The
lizard creature replied, and then fell silent.

Carrelli
turned to the rest of them, a baffled expression on her face. “He is Watcher
Pharan, and he wishes us felicitations, and welcomes us to the world of
Calique.” She paused, then went on, “His people have been awaiting us for
millennia, he says, and he will be honoured now to lead us to the Sleeper.”

Watcher Pharan was
in
a heightened state of consciousness when he slipped from the back of the sharl
and approached the Fallen across the clearing. It was as if he had sloughed the
infirmity of old age, as if his mind were again as crystal clear as that of the
acolyte he had been ninety cycles ago. His every sensation seemed sharpened,
his vision whetted by the blessed events in which he was participating. It
would be the stuff of legend, and would surely enter the scriptures, never to
be forgotten by the generations that studied on the mountain.