The Pandora Sequence: The Jesus Incident, the Lazarus Effect, the Ascension Factor (20 page)

Who would ever have thought I’d miss the ship?

The damned Colonists were too brash, too quick. They thought they could barge in any time, interrupt anything. They talked too fast. Everything had to be done right now!

His com-console buzzed at him.

Oakes depressed a key. Murdoch’s thin face stared at him from the screen. Murdoch began speaking without asking leave, without any preamble.

“My dayside orders say you wanted Illuyank assigned to . . .”

“Illuyank’s dead,” Oakes said, his voice flat. He enjoyed the look of surprise on Murdoch’s face. That was one of the reasons for secret random sampling among the spy sensors. No matter what horrors you found, the information could make you appear omnipotent.

“Find someone else for my guard squad,” Oakes said. “Make it someone more suitable.” He broke the connection.

There! That was the way they did it groundside. Quick decisions.

The reminder of Illuyank’s death brought back the knot in his stomach. Food. He needed something to eat. He turned, and once more found himself looking at the mandala.

Things will simply have to slow down.

The mandala rippled before his eyes, myriad grotesque faces weaving in and out of the design, folding upon themselves.

Belatedly, he realized that one of the faces was that of Rachel Demarest.
Silly bitch!
The Scream Room had driven her out of her mind . . . what was left of her mind. Running outside like that! Enough people had seen the demons get her that no blame would be laid at his hatch. One problem gone . . . but running outside . . .

Everything reminds me of outside!

Someone else would have to be found to make the liquor deliveries to old Win Ferry. Pure grain spirits he wanted now. And Ferry would have to get the message—no more pestering questions about that Demarest woman.

Oakes found that his hands ached and he realized both fists were clenched. He forced himself to relax, began to rub at the beginnings of cramp in his fingers. Maybe another small drink of the wine . . . No!

All this frustration! For what?

Only one answer, the answer he had given Lewis so many times: For this world.

Victory would give them their own safe world. Unconsciously, his right hand went out and touched the mandala. What a price! And Legata—historian, search technician, beautiful woman—perhaps she would be his queen. He owed her that, at least. Empress. His finger traced the maze of lines in the mandala, flowing intricacies.

“Politics is your life, not mine,” Lewis had said.

Lewis did not know what it cost. All Lewis wanted was his lab and the safety of the Redoubt.

“Leave me alone here. You can proclaim and make policy all you want.”

They were a great team—one in front and one behind.

Maybe just a little bit of the wine. He picked up the bottle and sipped from it. This Raja Thomas would be eliminated soon. Another victim of the kelp.

Lewis ought to drink more of this wine. They’ve really improved it.

Oakes sipped the wine, aerated it across his tongue with a slurping sound which he knew always made Lewis uneasy.

“You really should treat yourself to some of this stuff, Jesus. You might smooth some of those lines out of your face.”

“No thanks.”

“All the more for me, then.”

“You and Ferry.”

“No. I can take it or leave it alone.”

“We have urgent problems,” Lewis kept saying.

But urgency should never mean hurry, incautious rushing about. He had told Lewis in no uncertain terms: “If we’re relaxed and reasonable in our urgency to complete the Redoubt, the solutions we find will be relaxed and reasonable.”

No need for chaos.

He slurped more of the wine while staring at the mandala. The way those lines twisted—they, too, appeared to come right out of chaos. But Legata had found the design of it, duplicated it twice. Design. Pandora had its design, too. He just had to find it. Peel away all of this dissonance, and there would be the foundations of order.

We’ll finish off the kelp, the Runners. Chlorine. Lots of it. Things will start making sense around here pretty soon.

He lifted the bottle to take another sip, found that there was no more wine in it. He let the bottle slip out of his hand, heard it thump on the floor. As though that were the signal, his com-console buzzed at him once more.

Murdoch again.

“Demarest’s people are asking for another meeting, Doctor.”

“Stall them! I told you tosh . . . stall them.”

“I’ll try.”

Murdoch did not sound very happy with the decision.

Oakes took two stabs with a finger to break the connection.
How many times did you have to give an order around this damned place?

Once more, he focused on the mandala.

“We’ll have some order around here pretty soon,” he told it.

He realized then that he had taken too much wine. It sounded ridiculous, talking to himself in quarters this way, but he enjoyed hearing certain things, even if he had to be the one who voiced them.

“Gonna get some order around here.”

Where was that damned Legata? Had to tell her to get some order into things.

Chapter 37

As the rock silences the sea, the One in one silences the universe.

—Kerro Panille,
Translations from the Avata

LEGATA PUT her shuttle on automatic for its landing at the Redoubt station. She leaned back into her couch and watched the shoreline sweep past beneath her. This time was her own. It was early dayside and she did not have to deal with Oakes or Lewis just yet, nor with demons or clones. She had nothing to do but watch, relax and breathe easy.

Hylighters!

She had seen them on holo, and a few had skirted Colony while she was there, but these hung no more than two hundred meters from the plaz in front of her.

Ship’s teeth! They’re huge!

She counted twelve of them, the largest one half again as big as her shuttle. Their bronzed orange sails caught the wind and they tacked in unison, almost escorting her. The sunlight through the membrane of their sails shimmered rainbows all over them. Most of their tentacles were tucked up against their bodies. They each held a ballast-rock with their two longest tendrils. The larger ones allowed the rocks to drag in the sea, forming a frothy wake. They tacked, and tacked again, picking up on the shifts of wind. As her shuttle settled into its final glide-path, she saw two of the smaller hylighters separate from the rest, pick up speed and slam the boulders they carried into the plaz shield surrounding Oakes’ private garden.

Garden
, she shuddered at the thought of the word.

The boulders had no effect on the plaz—she could crash her shuttle into it and it might shatter, but rocks . . .

The two hylighters disappeared in a flash so bright that for a few blinks she was blinded. When her vision cleared, she saw that her shuttle was down and linked with the entry lock, and that the two exploded hylighters had been a diversion. The others, all larger, slammed their rocks into the walls and plaz of the Redoubt where it had already been damaged by the clones. Each boulder chipped off a few more chunks of the buildings before the sentries focused on the sails. The other hylighters too, went up in a flash. The largest one was so close to the shuttle station when it exploded that it took part of the control tower and rigging with it.

They give their lives for this
, she thought.
They are either very foolish or very noble
.

Several parts of the grounds were in flames and a work crew, covered by sentries, was busy fighting the fires. Lewis beckoned her from the plaz verandah at Oakes’ quarters and it was only then that she noticed the scorchmarks across the dome of her shuttle,

She opened her hatch and stepped out between two sentries who escorted her along the covered way to the Redoubt. There was a strong taint of chlorine lingering over everything.

At least we don’t have to worry about Runners
, she thought.

Over the chlorine she caught the sea-smell from the beach, and saw that the tideline had moved down several meters from its usual mark. The damp sand left behind was warmed by the suns. A heavy mist rose from it, dissipating in wisps over the rocks and the sea. She did not look at Lewis until she stepped up to the verandah.

“Legata,” he offered his hand, “how are you?”

The searching expression in his eyes told her all that she needed to know.

So that’s why I’m here
, she thought.
He wants to explore my current . . . utility before Oakes arrives.

“Quite well,” she said, “that was a wonderful display the hylighters put on. Did you arrange it just for me?”

“If I’d arranged it, it wouldn’t have cost us damage we can’t afford.”

He led her inside and closed the hatch behind them.

“How much damage?”

He was leading her further inside, away from the plaz. She wanted to see the grounds, the repairs.

“Not irreparable. Would you care for something to eat?”

A woman with large, fanlike ears walked past them, accompanied by a normal crewman carrying a lasgun.

“No, thank you, I’m not hungry.”

At Legata’s response, the woman turned, looked her full into the eyes as if she wanted to say something, then turned quickly and went outside. Legata remembered that a rallying cry of the clone revolt had been
I’m hungry now
, and she was embarrassed.

“Those ears . . . why?”

“She can hear a Hooded Dasher at a hundred meters. That gives us a full second’s advantage. Attractive, too, don’t you think?”

“Yes,” Legata said coldly, “quite.”

She noticed that Lewis was still limping, but she did not sympathize with him. Although she was curious about details of the revolt, she didn’t ask. She countered by not dropping the subject.

“How reparable is ‘not irreparable’?”

Lewis dropped his cordiality and assumed his usual businesslike air.

“We lost most of our clone work force. Fewer than half of those remaining are effective. We’re getting replacements from Colony and the ship, but that’s slow work. Two of the finished hangars are badly damaged—hatches missing, holes in the walls. The clones’ quarters have their exterior walls and hatches intact, but the interiors are completely useless. Serves ’em right. Let ’em sleep on the piles of plaz.”

“What about this building?”

“Took some damage back where the clones’ quarters join with the storage area. They got into the kitchen but that’s where we sealed them off . . .”

“You sealed them off?”

Lewis glanced away from her, then back. He rubbed his nose with his finger and she was reminded of Oakes when he was nervous. When it became obvious that he wouldn’t answer, she nodded.

“After you discovered chlorine killed the Runners, how long before you released it among the people you had sealed off?”

“Now, Legata, you weren’t here. You didn’t see what they were. . . .”

“How long?”

He looked her in the eyes, but did not answer.

“So, you killed them.”

“Runners killed them.”

“But you could’ve killed the Runners.”

“Then the clones would’ve gotten inside and killed us. You weren’t here. You don’t know what it was like.”

“Yes, I think I do. Show me to Morgan’s Garden.”

It took all of her nerve just to say that word. Whatever that horror she had confronted at Colony, the name of The Garden would not be shaken off, even though she could not remember. But she saw it made Lewis uneasy to think about it and she would be damned if she would ease anything for him.

Lewis was obviously shaken by the sudden reference to The Garden. It meant Scream Room to him, too. She could see the questions forming behind his eyes:
How much does she know? Why isn’t she afraid?
She refused to allow herself the luxury of fear. Let him see that much. Until she herself remembered what had happened, she would not allow anyone else to capitalize on her experience there.

“Yes,” he said, his voice almost hushed, “of course. The Garden. You can relax there until Morgan comes. This way.”

Lewis led Legata through the finished parts of the resort and into the main dwelling, a mammoth structure carved entirely out of the mottled stone of the mountainside and lined with plasteel. She turned at the entryway and looked back over the grounds and out across the sea.

“This hatchway opens to Morgan’s quarters. The study, library and cubby are all in this unit. Further back are the meeting and dining areas, all of that. I’ll take you through them if you like.”

She watched the pulse of waves explode against the seawall ahead of them and imagined she could hear the slap and crash of the water through the insulating plaz.

“Legata?”

“Yes. I mean, no, you don’t have to guide me. I’d like to be alone.”

“Very well.” Lewis spoke abruptly, “Morgan said that you are to be comfortable. I suggest you check with me before wandering around. You may need a sentry for some of the more exposed areas. It’s still early and I’m not due back at Colony until after midmeal. Call if you need me.”

With that, the hatch hissed shut and she was alone.

Once more, she looked at the sea. It tumbled away forever, drawing her consciousness outward, reaching.

There’s a power here that even Morgan can’t buy
, she thought, and fought back the temptation to run past the plazzed-in trees, the flowers, and the pond, past the stream meandering through the grasses, past the protection of the compound itself and into the wild sea air of Pandora. Then she noticed the kelp. The great masses of it which had glutted the beaches and the bay outside the Redoubt were reduced to a few isolated clumps and some long, serpentine tendrils undulating at the surface. Lewis’ doing! A sudden sadness filled her eyes with tears and she whispered aloud to the kelp, “I hope they’re wrong. I hope you make it.”

She caught a movement out of the comer of her eye and turned to see two clones working on the tower at the shuttle station.

Morgan’s expected in, she thought, they’ll want things looking as controlled as possible.

She looked closer at the two men, her attention caught by the fact that they were lifting and welding plaz that was at least four meters off the ground—and neither was using scaffolding.

Those arms . . .

She wondered, coldly, where those workers fit within the clone index and price list.

“Cost is no object, my dear,” Murdoch had said, and something in his inflection had terrified her. This terror was rekindled by the sight of the two workers busily welding plaz.

Anything went
, she thought.
My every fantasy was possible
.

Why can’t I remember?

Whatever horrors or pleasures took place in the Scream Room were no longer a part of her consciousness. There were flashes, uncontrollable and swift, that struck her mute in mid-conversation or mid-thought. Those who worked with her attributed it to a growing absentmindedness, an offshoot of her apparent love affair with The Boss.

She knew she could find the Scream Room holo and see for herself what she had done. Oakes taunted her with it.

“Dear Legata,” his every corpulent pore oozed honey and oil, “sit here with me, have a nice drink, and we’ll enjoy your games in the Scream Room.”

He laughed at first when she shuddered and turned away. It was difficult for her to keep any personal control—he’d seen to that when he’d had her trapped and helpless down in Lab One. And now the Scream Room had been moved to the Redoubt.

The laughter died away and he had spoken to her directly and flatly, “Like it or not, you’re one of us now. You can never go back. You may never walk into that room again, but you did walk into it once. Of your own free will, I might add.”

“Free will!” Her blue eyes flashed up at him. “You drugged me! And those . . . monsters. Where was their free will?”

“They would have no will at all, no existence at all, if it weren’t for me. . . .”

“If it weren’t for Ship, you mean.”

He sighed overdramatically. She remembered that he glanced at his viewscreen and made a few adjustments on his console.

“Sometimes I really don’t understand you, Legata. One day soon you’ll be luxuriating in the Redoubt and its exquisite pleasures, and here you are mumbling dark-ages crap about the mystical powers of Ship.”

He had shown her a holo, then, of this garden around her now. There was no question of its beauty. It was thick with vegetation and the perfumes of countless blossoms. She turned her eyes up to the dome. The immensity and wonder of the Pandoran sky pumped a strange surge of power through her. She experienced a feeling of . . . of . . .

Connection!
she thought.
Yes, no matter what he does, somehow all of this is alive in me just as I live in it now.

At Colony the nightside before, as she had been preparing to leave for the Redoubt, Oakes had escorted her into the tiny plaz dome far above his quarters.

“There,” he had pointed out a large white glow slowly traversing the horizon, “there is your ship. Another pinpoint in the night. It takes no mysticism, no degree of godhood whatsoever, for one bit of mass to orbit another.”

“That’s blasphemy,” she answered, because he expected it.

“Is it? Ship can defend itself. Nothing is out of the hearing or the reach of Ship. Ship could terminate my program at any instant—but chooses not to. Or can’t. Either is the same to me. Blasphemy?”

He had squeezed her hand tight, then.
Convincing himself
, she thought, and she had enjoyed the power this observation gave her.

He gestured widely, indicating the entire display of stars.

“I have brought you to this, not Ship. Ship is a tool. Complexity to the fifth power, granted, but still a tool. Built by people, thinking people, for the use of thinking people. People who know how to take charge, how to see light in the darkening storm of confusion. . . .”

As he had raved on into the night, Legata had realized that much of what he said held a surprising sense of truth. She knew that, at the bottom of whatever was happening to Shipmen both on and off Ship, it was a result of non-interference by Ship itself. But she had delved into the secrets of Ship’s circuitry for too long and too deeply to believe that Ship was a piece of steel and molded plastics, that Ship didn’t care.

She stood in the garden at the Redoubt and looked up at what she guessed to be Ship’s position above them.

I wonder,
she thought,
I wonder if we’re a disappointment.

Two patrol drones screamed over the dome and shattered Legata’s reverie. She guessed that Oakes would be coming soon; they were gearing up for him. She realized that she should prepare too.

Nothing
, she reminded herself
, is sacred
.

Then, in a sudden leap of insight during the heavy stillness following the drones, she added,
but something should be
. This thought was liberating, exhilarating.