Helix (51 page)

“Oh,
and what’s that?”

But
her arch innocence was betrayed by her haste to get out of her atmosphere suit,
and seconds later she was naked and in his arms.

They
made love in the sunken bunker, with the thick boles of the tendril plants a
matter of metres from the viewscreen. This low to the ground, the tendrils
swayed hypnotically, though Hendry was only minimally aware of the fact as
Sissy straddled him and eased herself down with a moan.

Later,
arms about each other, they slept.

When
they awoke, almost simultaneously, a couple of hours later, Kaluchek grabbed
his arm and said, “Look, Joe...”

Something
in her tone alarmed him. Disoriented, he struggled upright and stared through
the viewscreen.

What
looked for all the world like a tree-frog, but the size of a ten-year-old
child, was suckered to the screen and staring in at them.

Hendry dressed quickly
and followed Kaluchek from the lounge to the flight-deck. “We’ve got company—”
she began.

Olembe
turned to her. “We’ve noticed.” He indicated the forward viewscreen, which was
plastered with the emerald green, pot-bellied creatures.

Carrelli
was in her couch, staring up at the screen. “We haven’t seen the Church ship
since the first sighting,” she said. “I suggest we just sit it out and bide our
time.”

“For
how long, Gina?” Kaluchek asked. “I mean, they’re persistent. They’ll orbit the
planet, waiting for us to make a move. And when we do...”

Hendry
said, “How long can we wait it out? How long will the fruit last us? And we
don’t know if there’s anything edible on this world.”

Gina
looked at him. “I’ll go out and scout around.”

Olembe
gestured to the reptiles stuck to the viewscreen. “With our green friends out
there showing such interest?”

Gina
regarded the creatures. “Well, they look harmless enough.”

“So
did the lemurs at first glance,” Olembe said. “Sorry, Ehrin.”

If
the alien heard his name, he gave no indication, just remained staring through
the screen at the underbellies of the tree-frog analogues.

Carrelli
rolled from the pilot’s couch, stood and approached the viewscreen. She
remained watching one of the creatures for a minute as it stared in at her with
bulbous, unblinking eyes. Then she reached out and placed her palm flat against
the surface of the screen, perhaps half a metre to the alien’s left.

Seconds
later the creature moved, adjusted its stance on the glass with a glutinous
unpeeling of its suckers, and matched Carrelli’s gesture, placing its
thin-fingered paw against the outside of the viewscreen in a mirror image
gesture.

Carrelli
looked back at them. “I know it isn’t proof positive, but I think that suggests
some level of sentience.”

Hendry
stared at the nearest creature’s eyes, watching him. He counted at least a
dozen frogs decorating the viewscreen now, and more were appearing all the time
to stare in at the strange new arrivals.

“I
agree with you, Gina,” Kaluchek said. “They don’t look aggressive to me.” She
looked across at Olembe, challenging him.

He
said, “So you’re volunteering to go outside?”

Hendry
said, surprising himself, “I’ll go. You said the atmosphere’s breathable,
Gina?”

She
nodded. “Be careful. Take a weapon.”

“I’ll
forage around for anything that might look edible.”

Olembe
handed Hendry the blaster. Kaluchek said, “I’m coming with you.”

He
didn’t argue. “We’ll be back in five minutes. We’ll try not to stray far from
the ship.”

“If
possible, stay within sight,” Gina said, reaching up to the controls and
opening the hatch.

Hendry
passed down the corridor, Kaluchek behind him, and paused on the threshold. The
first thing he noticed was the temperature, a sultry gust of heat that hit him
like a wave. The air was moist and freighted with a rich cloying scent, not
unlike rotting vegetation, though not so unpleasant.

Then
he heard the wind, a high musical sound as it soughed through the swaying
vegetation.

He
looked along the length of the ship, noting at least fifty frog creatures
adhered to the carapace. They were stuck fast, it seemed, anchored against the
high wind.

He
glanced at Kaluchek and she nodded.

He
stepped from the ship onto loamy topsoil, which gave a little beneath his feet.
The wind tugged at him, its warmth reminding him of Melbourne’s north winds in
his youth.

Kaluchek
touched his arm and said, “Look, aren’t they beautiful?”

He
followed her gaze upwards. A flotilla of the spinnakers he had seen earlier
sailed overhead and passed out to sea, vast and silent as they rode the winds.

Hendry
turned and regarded the closest creature clinging to the ship. As if in
response, it moved itself, one suckered foot at a time, to face him. It
blinked, turned its head to Kaluchek and belched.

At
least, it seemed like a belch, though Hendry doubted this when the creature
repeated the sound and continued with variations, like some kind of laryngeal
bassoon.

Kaluchek
gripped his upper arm. “Christ, Joe, is it trying to communicate?”

Hendry
looked up, movement alerting him. The other creatures adorning the ship had
moved to stare down at the interlopers.

The
first creature turned its head and belched to its neighbour.

“I
wonder if Carrelli can talk tree-frog,” Kaluchek said.

“I
don’t doubt it,” Hendry replied, looking around at the phalanx of thick stalks
that hemmed the ship on three sides. He gestured to Kaluchek and they moved
along the length of the ship, drawing alongside the forward viewscreen. He
could see Carrelli peering out at them from between the mosaic of frogs.

He
gestured to the closest vegetation and set off with Kaluchek, aware that an
audience of curious frogs was watching his every move.

He
examined the tendrils. They were soft, fibrous, and those lopped by the nose of
the ship were oozing a sickly pale ichor. He looked around, but the floor of
the forest was notable for its absence of anything else resembling vegetation.

“I
wonder if the tendrils are edible?” he asked Kaluchek.

“Let’s
take some back and see what Carrelli makes of it.”

He
selected a tendril damaged by the landing, breaking off a long strip of the
pulpy fibre. He didn’t envy Carrelli her tasting session.

They
returned to the hatch, watched every step of the way by the curious natives.
Once inside they hurried down the corridor to the flight-deck. This time human
eyes turned on them, expectantly. Hendry deposited the section of unappetising
tendril on the couch. “The bad news is that this is the only stuff that looks
remotely edible,” he began.

“And
the good news?” Olembe asked.

“The
natives are friendly, or at least seem to be. One even spoke to me.”

“Well,”
Kaluchek said, “it belched.”

Carrelli
turned and stared at the frogs on the viewscreen. “I’m going out there. Anybody
else?”

Olembe
grunted a laugh. “This I must see. Gina in conversation with a frog.”

Carrelli
looked at the lump of tendril on the couch. She broke off a piece and sniffed
it, then experimentally slipped it into her mouth and chewed. She kept her
expression neutral and reported, “It has the texture of overcooked pasta.”

“And
the taste?” Kaluchek asked.

“The
taste of... it’s difficult. Maybe sweet seaweed with an unpleasantly bitter
afternote.”

“You’ll
make a great restaurant critic,” Olembe said, “when the colony’s up and
running.”

“But
is it edible?” Hendry asked. The thought of living off the tendrils for who
knew how long didn’t exactly appeal to him.

Carrelli
shook her head. “I’ll tell you in five minutes,” she said. “Okay, let’s see
what these creatures have to say for themselves.”

She
led the way down the corridor, Hendry following her with Kaluchek and Olembe
bringing up the rear. Ehrin, Hendry noticed, remained inside, watching them
through the sidescreen.

Carrelli
stepped cautiously from the hatch. Hendry and the others joined her. Perhaps a
hundred frogs clung to the ship now, watching them. Hendry indicated the frog
that had addressed him; at least, he thought it was the same creature. They
were, to the untutored eye, very much alike.

Carrelli
stepped forward and lifted a hand. The alien blinked at her. Seconds later, it
gave vent to a rumbling series of eructations.

Carrelli
bent her head, frowning. The alien fell silent and remained watching her
closely. She looked at Hendry and shook her head. “The smartware’s having
difficulty with this one. It’s a language, but so tonal it’s almost impossible
to decipher.”

She
smiled to herself. “Well, I’m getting something. Fragments. The creatures are
curious. What are we doing here? It... it asked a question. There’s a word that
translates as pilgrimage. I think they want to know if we’re embarking on a
pilgrimage.”

“Christ,”
Olembe said. “Religious frogs now.”

Carrelli
dragged a sleeve across her sweating brow. “Pilgrimage? Quest? Trek? I don’t
know... maybe vital journey is closer to what it means.”

“Ask
it if it can be more specific,” Kaluchek said.

Carrelli
nodded and stepped forward. She opened her mouth. Hendry thought that the few
sounds that emerged did not quite have the resonance of the native’s
pronouncement, but they were a pretty impressive approximation.

She
said, “I’ve asked what it means by pilgrimage, and to where.”

The
creature responded. Carrelli listened attentively, head bent close. When the
alien fell silent, she straightened up, frustrated. “Something about across the
divide. They are to go by... it used a specific word, a noun, which is
meaningless to the smartware program. I’ll try again.”

Overcome
by the cloying heat, Hendry sat down on the loam, leaning back against a
truncated stump of tendril and watching Carrelli attempt to communicate with
the frog-like extraterrestrial.

The
alien speaker was joined by others now, an echelon of beings determined, it
seemed, to aid her understanding. They belched in relay, as if explaining or
amplifying their cousin’s pronouncements.

At
a lull in the chorus, Carrelli turned to the others with an excited expression.

“What?”
Kaluchek said.

“The
noun... it refers to the sail-like membranes.” She pointed out to sea, where
the spinnakers, silver ellipses highlighted in the illumination of the stars,
floated serenely on the high winds.

“With
first light, the rising of the sun... the creatures here will summon the... the
sails... and ride them to the other land... except it’s not the other land, but
something greater, more important, the hallowed land, maybe. They ride to the
hallowed land once in a lifetime.”

The
alien spoke again, and Carrelli’s eyes widened and she laughed aloud. She
turned to the others. “They will soon be embarking on a pilgrimage to pay their
respects, give their thanks, to the Guardians.”

“The
Guardians?” Hendry echoed.

“They
are not materialistic creatures,” Carrelli reported. “They have no concept of
the word ‘build’, and so don’t employ the word Builders. Their Guardians are
our Builders.”

“Jesus
Christ,” Olembe muttered under his breath.

Carrelli
paled suddenly. She turned and hurried towards the ship’s entrance, then
doubled up before she made it and vomited her meal of tendril across the loamy
ground.

Olembe
said, “I guess that answers one question, friends. The local delicacy isn’t for
us.”

Kaluchek
hurried across to Carrelli and assisted her in to the ship. Olembe followed and
Hendry sealed the hatch after them. Behind him, the assembly of aliens had set
up a continuous croak as if in humorous comment.

On
the flight-deck, Carrelli lay back on the couch and mopped her brow. “I’ll be
fine, Sissy. The augments filter the toxins, so they won’t poison me. It’s just
unfortunate that they can’t filter the bulk of the tendril.” She smiled. “There
is still only one wholly efficient means of doing that.”

Hendry
said, into the following silence, “The natives asked you if we were going on
the pilgrimage.” He paused, looked around the group. “Does that suggest to you
that they expected us to use the sails to do so?”

Carrelli
nodded. “That’s the impression I received, Joe.”

Kaluchek
shook her head. “But would it be possible? I mean... how the hell would we go
about it? They said something about summoning the sails...”

Carrelli
said, “If they could do that for us—”