The Pandora Sequence: The Jesus Incident, the Lazarus Effect, the Ascension Factor (14 page)

Chapter 26

You call Avata “Firefly in the night of the sea.” Avata has doubts about such words because Avata sees the landscape of your mind. Avata moves through your landscape with difficulty. It shifts and twists and changes as Avata goes through. But Avata has made such journeys before. Avata is an explorer of such landscapes. Your phantoms are Avata’s glides. We are linked in motion.

What is this thing you call “the natural universe”? Is that something taken from your god? Ahhh, you have separated your parts to create the unique. You do not need this separation for your creations. This fluid evasiveness of your landscape is your strength. The patterns . . . ahhh, the patterns. From yourself come the forces which shape the course of each thought. Why do you confine your thought in a tiny fixed landscape?

You find a distinction between measurement and preparation of your landscape. You continually prepare, saying: “I am going to say something about . . .”But that limits what you say and it tells your listener to accept your limits. All such measurement and limiting date back to a common system in a simple, linear landscape. Look about you, Human! Where do your senses find such simplicity?

Does a second look at the landscape yield the same view as the first look? Why is your will so inflexible?

A magical affinity between object and likeness, between being and symbol, underlies all symbol systems. It is the assumed foundation of language. The word for thing or object in most languages is related to the word for say or speak and these, in turn, have their roots in magic.

—Kerro Panille, I Sing to the Avata

OAKES STOOD in stunned silence, staring at Jesus Lewis standing just inside the Ceepee cubby’s hatch. Somewhere, there was a background buzz. Oakes realized he had left the holofocus projecting Agrarium D-9. Yes . . . it was full dayside out there. He slapped the cut-off.

Lewis moved another step into the cubby. He was breathing heavily. His thin, straw-colored hair was disarrayed. His dark eyes moved left, right—probing the room. It was an eye movement which Oakes identified as characteristic of groundsiders. There was a patch of pseudoflesh over an injury on Lewis’ narrow, cleft chin, another over the bridge of his sharp nose. His thin mouth was twisted into a wry smile.

“What happened to you?”

“Clones . . .” Deep breath.”. . . revolt.”

“The Redoubt?” A sharp twinge of fear shot through Oakes.

“It’s all right.”

Limping, Lewis crossed the room, sank into a divan. “Is there any of your special joy juice around? Every last drop was lost at the Redoubt.”

Oakes hurried to a concealed locker, removed a bottle of raw Pandoran wine, opened it and handed the whole bottle to Lewis.

Lewis upended the wine and took four long swallows without a breath while he stared around the bottle at Oakes. The poor old Ceepee looked to be in bad shape. There were dark circles under his eyes. Tough.

For Oakes, the moment was welcome as a time to recover his wits. He did not mind serving Lewis and the sense of personal concern this conveyed would have a desired effect. Obviously, something very bad had happened at the Redoubt. Oakes waited until Lewis put down the bottle, then: ‘They revolted?”

“The discards from the Scream Room, the injured and the others we just can’t support. Food’s getting very short. I put all of them outside.”

Oakes nodded. Clones thrown out of the Redoubt were, of course, condemned to death. Quick and efficient disposal by Pandora’s demons . . . unless they had the misfortune to encounter Nerve Runners or a Spinneret. Messy business.

Lewis took another deep swallow of the wine, then: “We didn’t realize that the area had become infested with Nerve Runners.”

Oakes shuddered. To him, Nerve Runners were the ultimate Pandoran horror. He could imagine the darting, threadlike creatures clinging to his flesh, savaging his nerves, invading his eyes, worming their ravenous way through to his brain. The long agony of such an attack was well known groundside and the stories had made the rounds shipside. Everything Pandoran feared the Runners except, perhaps, the kelp. They seemed immune.

When he could control his voice, Oakes asked: “What happened?”

“The clones raised the usual fuss when we put them outside. They know what it’s like out there, of course. I suppose we didn’t pay as close attention as we should. Suddenly, they were screaming, ‘Nerve Runners!’”

“Your people buttoned down, of course.”

“Everything shut up tight while we tried to spot the boil.”

“So?”

Lewis stared at the bottle in his hands, took a deep breath.

Oakes waited. Nerve Runners were horrible, yes—it took three or four minutes for them to do what other demons did in a few eyeblinks. Same result, though.

Lewis sighed, took another swallow of the wine. He appeared calmer, as though Oakes’ presence told him that he really was safe at last.

“They attacked the Redoubt,” Lewis said.

“Nerve Runners?”

“The clones.”

“Attacked? But what weapons . . .”

“Stones, their own bodies. Some of them smashed the sewage baffle before we could stop them. Two clones got inside that way. They were infected by then.”

“Nerve Runners in the Redoubt?”

Oakes stared at Lewis in horror. “What did you do?”

“There was a wild scramble. Our mop-up crew, mostly E-clones, locked themselves in the Aquaculture Lab but Runners were in the water lines by then. The lab’s a shambles. No survivors there. I sealed myself in a Command room with fifteen aides. We were clean.”

“How many did we lose?”

“Most of our effectives.”

“Clones?”

“Almost all gone.”

Oakes grimaced. “Why didn’t you report, ask for help?” He tapped the pellet at his neck.

Lewis shook his head. “I tried. I got static or silence, then someone else trying to talk to me, trying to put pictures in my head.”

Pictures in his head!

That was a good description of what Oakes had experienced. Their safe little secret communications channel had been penetrated! Who?

He voiced the question.

Lewis shrugged. “I’m still trying to find out.”

Oakes put a hand over his own mouth.
The ship? Yes, the damned ship was interfering!

He did not dare speak openly of that suspicion. The ship had eyes and ears everywhere. There were other fears, too. A Nerve Runner boil had to be met by fire. He envisioned the Redoubt a mass of cinders inside.

“You say the Redoubt’s all right?”

“Clean. Sterilized, and we have a bonus.” Lewis took another long swallow of wine and grinned at Oakes, savoring the suspense he read in the Ceepee’s face. The Ceepee was so easy to read.

“How?” Oakes did not try to hide his impatience.

“Chlorine and heavily chlorinated water.”

“Chlorine? You mean that kills Nerve Runners?”

“I saw it with my own eyes.”

“That simple? It’s that simple?” Oakes thought of all the years they had lived in terror of these tiniest demons. “Chlorinated water?”

“Heavily chlorinated, undrinkable. But it dissolves the Runners. As a liquid or a gas, it penetrates all the fine places to get every one. The Redoubt stinks, but it’s clean.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m here.” Lewis tapped his chest, took another swallow of wine. Oakes was reacting strangely. It was unsettling. Lewis put down the bottle of wine and thought about the report he had read on the shuttle coming shipside. Legate to the Scream Room! Were there no limits to what the old bastard might do? Lewis hoped not. That was how to control Oakes—through his excesses.

“You are, indeed, here,” Oakes agreed. “How did you get . . . I mean, how did you discover . . .”

“Those of us in the Facilities Room had all of the controls in front of us. We started dumping whatever we could find to . . .”

“But chlorine—how did you get chlorine?”

“We were trying salt brine. There was an electrical short, a wide-scale electrolytic reaction in the brine and we had chlorine. I was on the sensors at the time and saw the chlorine kill some Runners.”

“You’re sure?”

“I saw it with my own eyes. They just shriveled up and died.”

Oakes began to see the picture. Colony had never put chlorine and Nerve Runners together. Most shipside caustics had little effect groundside anyway. Potable water was produced with filters and flash heat from laser ovens. That was the cheapest way. Fire worked on Nerve Runners. Colony had always used fire. Another thought occurred to him.

“The survivors . . . how . . .”

“Only those locked into a sealed area before the infection spread were saved. We flushed everything else with chlorine gas and heavily chlorinated water.”

Oakes imagined the gas killing people and Runners, the caustic water burning flesh . . . He shook his head to drive out such thoughts.

“You’re absolutely sure the Redoubt is safe?”

Lewis stared up at him.
The precious Redoubt! Nothing was more important.

“I’m going back dayside.”

Belatedly, Oakes realized he should show more human concern. “But my dear fellow, you’re wounded!”

“Nothing serious. But one of us will have to be at the Redoubt all of the time from now on.”

“Why?”

“The cleanup was pretty bloody and that’s causing trouble.”

“What kind of trouble?”

“The surviving clones, even some of our people . . . well, you can imagine how I had to clean up the place. There were necessary losses. Some of the surviving clones and a few of the more irrational among our people have . . .” He shrugged.

“Have what? Explain yourself.”

“We’ve had to handle several petitions from clones and there were even a few of our people who sympathized. I have Murdoch down there standing in for me while I came up to report.”

“Clones? Petitions? How are you handling them?”

“The same way I handled the food problem.”

Oakes scowled. “And . . .the sympathizers?”

Again, Lewis shrugged. “When we sterilized the area around the Redoubt, the other demons returned. They’re a fast and efficient way to solve our problem.”

Oakes touched the scar of the pellet at his neck. “But when . . . that is, why didn’t you send someone up to . . .”

“We stayed until we were sure we were clean.”

“Yes . . . yes, of course. I see. Brave fellows.”

“And can you imagine what would happen if word of this leaks out?”

“You’re quite right.” Oakes thought about what Lewis had said. As usual, Lewis made the right decisions. Astringent but efficient.

“Now, what’s this I hear about Legata?” Lewis asked.

Oakes was outraged. “You have no right to question my . . .”

“Oh, simmer down. You’re going to send her to the Scream Room. I just want to know if we should prepare to replace her.”

“Replace . . . Legata? I think not.”

“Let me know in plenty of time if you need a replacement.”

Oakes was still angry. “It strikes me, Lewis, that you’ve been very wasteful of lives.”

“You know some other way I could’ve handled this?”

Oakes shook his head. “I meant no offense.”

“I know. But this is why I don’t report such things unless you ask or unless I have no choice.”

Oakes did not like the tone Lewis took there, but another thought struck him. “One of us has to stay at the Redoubt all the time? What about . . . I mean, Colony?”

“You’re going to have to wind things up here and come groundside to manage Colony. It’s our only answer. You can use Legata for shipside liaison, provided she’s still useful after the Scream Room.”

Oakes thought about this. Go groundside among all of those vicious demons? The periodic demonstration-of-power trips were bad enough . . . but live there full time?

“That’s why I asked about Legata,” Lewis said.

Mollified, Oakes ventured a more important question: “How . . . are . . . conditions at Colony?”

“Safe enough as long as you stay inside or travel only in a servo or shuttle.”

Oakes closed his eyes for a long blink, opened them. Once more, Lewis demonstrated impeccable reasoning.
Who else could they trust as they trusted each other?

“Yes. I understand.”

Oakes glanced around his cubby. No visible sensors, but this had never reassured him. The damned ship always knew what was happening shipside.

I will have to go groundside.

The reasons were compelling. Lewis would take Lab One to the Redoubt, of course. But there were too many other delicate matters in balance at Colony.

Groundside.

He had always known he would have to quit the ship one day. It did not help that circumstances had made the decision for him. The move was being forced and he felt vulnerable. This incident with the Nerve Runners did nothing to reassure him.

What a dilemma!

As he gathered more power and exercised it, shipside became increasingly untrustworthy. But Pandora remained equally dangerous and unknown.

It occurred to Oakes then that he had been hoping for a tranquilized and sterilized planet, a place made ready for him by Lewis, before going groundside.

Sterile. Yes.

Oakes stared at Lewis. Why did the man appear so smug? It was more than survival against odds. Lewis was holding something back.

“What else do you have to report?”

“The new E-clones. They were in an isolated chamber and all survived. They’re clean, completely unprogrammed and beautiful. Just beautiful.”

Oakes was distrustful. The statistical incidence of deviation among clones was a known factor. The body, after all, was transparent to cosmic bombardments which altered the genetic messages in human cells. Rebuilding the DNA structure was Lewis’ specialty, yes, but still . . .

“No kinks?”

“I used ’lectrokelp cells and went back to recombinant DNA as a foundation for the changes.” He rubbed the side of his nose with a forefinger. “We’ve succeeded.”

“You said that last time.”

“It worked last time, too. We simply couldn’t keep up with the food supply necessary to . . .”

“No freaks?”