Alien Earth (25 page)

[She loves him.]

He loved her, too.

John was preening
,
and Connie was taking apart yet another mechanical contrivance. Tug surveyed her task list. She was scheduled to do a complete physical check of the survey equipment they’d be putting into orbit, and then run a command response check and a full operations sequence. Tomorrow she was scheduled to do a check of the cranes, including a manual lubing of every fitting. Busywork. Work to keep her too busy to entertain Tug. The following day, she was to modify suits. John had left detailed instructions on that, with
a submenu of the directory for the suit locker that listed all the adapting parts in the inventory and complete directions for the modification sequence. He’d included his new measurements, and directions for Connie to measure herself. All that, even though Tug knew there was no extravehicular activity scheduled. Stupid busywork.

Tug paused. Or there might be another motive. He studied again John’s new measurements. Was this a ploy to draw Connie’s attention to his changing body? Did he think that when she measured herself, her new measurements would convince her that she, too, was approaching the change? Was John capable of such subtlety and deviousness? The thought intrigued Tug.

And what if he, too, decided to take a part in this? The temptation to interfere surfaced in his thoughts. In an instant he saw exactly how he could do it. Reduce the aging and growth retardants in their food and breathing compounds. Better yet, introduce a hormonal stimulant. Serendipity had furnished him with the ideal laboratory situation for observing Human sexuality. He could introduce his own tensions, utilizing pheromones. It was an unprecedented opportunity.

His back plates rippled as he refused the temptation. No. He had to let it occur naturally, first. Later on, perhaps on the journey home, he might introduce variables. Raef, even, might contribute to it. He was getting old; Tug had better make the best use of whatever years his stowaway had left. He wondered how Connie would react to Raef? Could Raef be used to stir John to rivalry, perhaps even physical conflict?

An ancient excitement stirred in Tug. Tug quelled it and tried to feel shame at his vicarious interest. Sometimes not even an Arthroplana could totally ignore the ancient biological heritage of conflict and strife. He wondered, not for the first time, why intellectual creatures only evolved in competitive ecologies. It was, of course, only a theory that competition created intellect. At any time they might encounter a new sentient race that was the product of cooperative evolution. Undeniable, though, that intelligent races denied competition either created it for themselves, or stagnated. He wondered what Humanity’s ultimate response would be.

He was procrastinating. He forced himself to face it. He hated confrontations with Evangeline, no matter how minor.
But this was an infraction that could not be ignored. He wished he could figure out what was unsettling the Beast and rectify it. Instead, she would have to be punished. There was no other way, and it was best done soon, while her memories of her mischief were still fresh. Some said that a Beast should only be punished if caught in the act; otherwise, such discipline only confused it, for it might not connect its infraction with its punishment. Best do it quickly and soon.

Tug engaged her. “Evangeline!” He summoned her sharply, surprised that she had not been waiting for his contact.

She acknowledged contact but her reply seemed unfocused, almost careless. Still, Tug refrained, stinger poised. He would not discharge the nematocyst until he was sure she knew why she was being punished.

There had been two disturbances, he told her, within the Human’s gondola. Was she aware of them?

Confusion. Disturbances? What had happened?

Nothing as serious as might have happened. One disturbance involved light, the other, temperature. Neither had fluxed so severely as to harm the Humans, but they might have. Tug himself had not initiated the flux. Only one other could be responsible.

He waited, but Evangeline made no reply. He could sense her waiting anxiously.

Had she not been forbidden, from the very first installation of the gondola, from using those parts of her body? Had she not been cautioned that those nerve trunks had been adapted to allow Tug to regulate the Human’s living environment? Had she not been warned that the merest twitch might upset their life support?

Itchy. Couldn’t stand the itch. Had to stop it.

Tug was aghast. It was an outright lie, if such a thing were possible for a Beast. If she had said she’d forgotten or were even curious, he might have been mollified. But she was offering not an apology but an excuse. For a Beast to thus defy an Arthroplana was unthinkable. Every instinct he had was outraged, and he made no reply except to plunge his stingers deep and set the barbs.

He listened to her pain, and then her pleas until he was satisfied she would not lie to him again.

J
OHN STARED AT THE SCREEN
.
He was five days into his orbit Wakeup, and the view of the planet still seemed so beautiful as to be incomprehensible. He increased the magnification on the image until it filled the entire screen, then leaned back in his lounge to study it. Could he trust what he saw? Streaks of greens and blues and wide swaths of brown and yellow in an incredible variety of shades interrupted the white swaddling of the planet. Could it really be that intensely colored?

“Tug,” he said softly, “enhance, please.”

The image rippled minutely as contrasts tightened. The beauty remained, only more clearly defined. Five days and John still wasn’t weary of it, or immune to her wonder.

“It really would look like that, to my naked eye?”

“Only much smaller, of course. You have it on the highest magnification.” For once, there was no chivying in Tug’s voice.

“It’s beautiful.”

“From here,” Tug agreed.

John waited for him to go on. Mercifully, he didn’t. Maybe old Tug was losing his edge. He’d seemed preoccupied lately.

“Tug. Where’s Connie?”

“In her personal quarters, on her couch. Her reader is
on, but pulse and respiration levels suggest she has fallen asleep. Do you wish me to summon her?”

“No, that’s fine. I don’t need her just now.”

“I agree. You’ve been driving her hard lately. Yesterday she put in a solid nine hours of physical labor operating the deploying equipment for the landers. The day before that, seven hours, twelve if you count the suiting-up drills you demanded be practiced. Today she completed seven, releasing the cameras into orbit. That’s not counting the two-hour physical toughening session you demanded she complete. Don’t you fear she will bring charges against you when you dock? I’ve counted seven separate violations of crew rights in this Wakeup alone.”

“That’s probable. And how many mission errors or malfunctions have there been?”

“Zero.”

“Correct. I think Connie sees the usefulness of what she’s been doing. This is one mission I don’t want to screw up, Tug. All the rehearsals were to guarantee that. And I think all the safety precautions and equipment checks are worth it. Besides, it would never occur to Connie to bring charges. Not unless you suggested it to her.”

“No. I have not. Though I have pondered aloud why she is doing all the physical checkouts of the gear and equipment.”

“Thank you, Tug. I’ll add ‘inciting to mutiny’ to my list of your personal annoying habits. Did it occur to you that I’m long familiar with all that equipment and gear, while most of Connie’s previous ship time was simply cargo hauling?”

“Connie did make an observation of that sort.”

“Did she?” John fought down an inclination to smile. It pleased him unreasonably that she had justified his actions to Tug. “Give me a status report on our cameras and landers.”

“All normal. You have only to consult your own readouts to know that.”

John waited, then sighed. “Anything more than that? Any unusual findings?”

“Nothing accessible to us. All data that is being recorded is being kept safe for the Conservancy. All we’re receiving is the information that lets us know the equipment is where it should be, and functioning normally.”

“Hmm. And our own eyes?”

“Don’t tell us much more. Refer to the screen, please.”

John glanced up. Sunlight glinted off a small object’s vanes. “What’s that?”

“The closest camera satellite, at full magnification.”

“And everything’s fine.”

“Yes. John, one might almost think you were hoping something would go wrong.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Tug.” John stared at the satellite, wondered if it were the one that would malfunction, and if so, when. A part of him dreaded the event, while another side longed for it. He’d given up already on locating any kind of beacon or signal that would guide him to the supposed “time capsule.” Tug had mocked him for requesting monitoring across all bands for some regular transmission from the Earth’s surface, but had complied. There had been nothing, and there wasn’t going to be. If he felt any disappointment, he put it down to his own gullibility. How could anyone suppose anything would survive on such a geologically and climatically unstable planet? Like as not, any “time capsule” was at the bottom of a sea, or encased in a glacier, or buried under the deposits of sandstorms. If it had ever existed in the first place. Probably the last survivors on Earth had had more pressing things to think about than leaving information. His biggest regret was that he had hoped such a beacon would guide him to an area suitable for landing a shuttle. Any such prepared landing site would have shared the fate of the beacon that marked it.

That was the part that made his guts tighten. When the shuttle had its minor failure and was heading in, he would have to wrangle out of Tug the coordinates for a landing site. Earth Affirmed had assured him that he’d have plenty of time to select his landing site and bring the shuttle in. They’d further assured him that it was well within the capabilities of a Beastship to locate such sites and convey their location to the Arthroplana encysted in her, who would have to, in this emergency, pass on the information to John. There were at least three instances of emergency planet landings being accomplished in exactly such a way. And if Terra were much more hostile than anything they had expected, and landing sites were few? Well, bear in mind, the shuttle they’d supplied
him, ostensibly to replace his outdated one, was the best money could buy. Absolutely tight, and resistant to the greatest extremes of temperature, radiation, and toxins. Capable of near vertical set downs and takeoffs, equipped for any emergency he might encounter. And once down, the repairs would be minor, and the shuttle would return him safely to the ship. After John had quietly gathered his samples, of course.

All so easy, until you were the one who had to do it, and the time for action was ticking away at an agonizingly slow pace.

He had been staring too long, unspeaking, at the screen. “Well, Tug. Not much to look at. Earth image again please.”

John leaned back in the lounge and stared at it. He took a breath and willed himself to relax. And tried not to think of reasons to summon Connie to the command chamber.

Tug couldn’t comprehend
John’s fascination with the image of Earth, but was grateful for it. It seemed to finally occupy him, and let Tug put his attentions elsewhere. Connie was sleeping. Raef was in Waitsleep. Tug’s back plates hackled briefly as he felt the pulse and respiration levels for Raef; he was in too deep again, his body functions almost totally dependent on Evangeline. Even more disturbing was that once again, Evangeline had failed to notify him of the condition. He compared her recent behavior to the norms for Beasts. Nominally, she was still within tolerances. Her violations of his control, while not minor, were within normal parameters. An enBeasted Arthroplana would agree. If he complained, he’d probably be chided for being so initially lax and letting her reach a point where she even considered such defiance. And Beasts, though not very intelligent, were individuals. Any other Arthroplana would have rebuked Tug for not giving her more attention, amusing her, rewarding her quickly, and punishing her swiftly as was needed. Beasts were products of their training. But Tug could not suppress his uneasiness. Her infractions were not many, but given Evangeline’s usual tractability, they made a disturbing pattern. She no longer felt an overwhelming drive to please him.

It made no sense.

Tug positioned himself to engage ganglia with her, prod
ded her. Her response was unmistakably slow. He engaged with her, communicated sharply.

“Evangeline?”

What did he want?

Tug tried to classify her response. Definitely outside the norms for a Beast. It was almost impatient, nearly irritable. After her last punishment, she might be sulking, but he had expected her to become very docile and eager to please. He quelled his uneasiness, refused to let it bleed over to her.

He instructed her that Raef’s pulse and respiration levels were unacceptably low, the contrast between the dormancy of his body and the activity of his brain too great. She was aware that this was not good for Raef. Had she ceased to care about what was best for all of them?

Raef was fine. She was very aware of his body and mind levels; he was fine. Was there anything else Tug wanted?

Reflex made Tug extend a nematocyst. Bring her back under control, now. Something that might have been caution, or even curiosity, made him withdraw it. The last punishment had not had the expected reaction. And it had been mild compared to what he was tempted to inflict on her now. If he jolted her as hard as she deserved, her response would be cataclysmic. Young Beasts in their training were jolted, to teach them discipline. Not older ones like Evangeline. He wasn’t sure how she would react, whether she would hold orbit, or leap totally out of control. And two of the Humans were fully conscious; no predicting how her reaction would affect them. Discretion, he cautioned himself. Don’t push her into further rebellion; find the source of her discontent. Find out what she wanted, and use her desire to get what he wanted. That was how one controlled a mature Beast.

He forced calmness into his thoughts. Yes, Raef’s condition was Tug’s main concern. But he had thought that after that was resolved, he and Evangeline might play a game together. Would she care for that?

….….

Had she understood him? Would Evangeline care for sharing a game or entertainment?

A game? Now? A game? She thought perhaps later. Not just now, no, not now. Perhaps later. Perhaps.

And she was gone. Her ganglia still docked with his, but
her attention was gone. And he realized that all through their communication, her attention had been unfocused, her replies hazy within his mind. As if she had not been hearing him at all.

He forced himself to calmness, sought the guidelines for such a situation. Found none. All of his training had supposed that one’s Beast was always in complete communication with one. Nothing was more important to a Beast than the voice of the Master. Nothing had prepared him for her unresponsiveness.

Could there be a physical cause? He made a careful examination of docking receptors, ganglia, receptor surfaces. All appeared normal. But the second he released her, she retracted. Without regrets. And everyone knew Beasts never did that; they were always reluctant to leave communion with a Master, always sought companionship, hated being ignored. Usually, an Arthroplana had to give a Beast some sort of entertainment exercise to keep it happy during the times they were not completely engaged. Not even the company of other Beasts, not even a controlled mating, could compete with the attention of a Master. And there were no Beasts within light-years of Earth, hadn’t been for ages. The last wild ones had been harvested from this region thousands of years ago.

Tug had undergone years of training before being allowed to encyst. It didn’t seem possible he had no referents for such a situation, but he could bring nothing to mind. Whatever he was facing, no Arthroplana had ever encountered it before. He revised his thought. No Arthroplana had ever survived it long enough to contribute the information to the Beast encystment center. He’d have to rely on himself to solve this problem. There was no one else to help him.

Unless John or Connie could help? He quickly dismissed the idea. Humans knew nothing of Beasts. But there were three Humans involved in this with him. Three Humans whose lives were at stake; and two were lives he would have to answer for if he bungled this.

Should he inform them?

Of what? He had nothing to tell them yet. All he’d be able to say was that Evangeline wasn’t being as cooperative as usual. He couldn’t offer them any reasons or solutions. No, it would only alarm them. Better to let them continue their
normal routines than to risk making them feel helplessly threatened. Besides, the bleedover of their emotions could only infect Evangeline and make her more difficult to manage.

“Tug?”

John’s voice, the excitement notes in it ringing even in translation.

“Yes?”

“My readings indicate that one of our orbiters has gone bad. Can you confirm that?”

For a blessed moment
,
Raef was alone. Dreaming of nothing, thinking of nothing, explaining nothing. He felt like a helium balloon suddenly released, drifting, free. He had not known how strenuously he’d been dreaming until the demand for a focused image and sensory information was suddenly gone and his dreams splintered into unrelated images. He drifted gratefully toward true sleep.

[Raef?]

Not again. His head throbbed, but he already knew there was no escaping her. “Yes, Mother.”

[Would you like another cookie?]

“No, thank you. I’m a little tired of cookies.”

[Pretense a new thing for us, then.]

“I’m a little tired of pretense, Mother.” God, there was the understatement of the age. He groped for a way to fend her off, to grant himself a little rest. It came to mind suddenly, an old trick he’d used on her long before, when he was just a kid. To stop her questions about school, just ask her a question about her day. “Where did you go, just then?”

[When?]

“When you were gone from our pretense.”

[Our pretense.]

It took some time for her to absorb that idea, for some reason. Whatever it was, Raef was grateful to it. He started to let his thoughts slide.

[Tug wished to entertain me. He says our pretense is not beneficial to you, and wished to entertain me.]

Raef felt a sickening gut-flop. All his little nagging suspicions were coming together. “Mother, what does Tug call you?”

[Evangeline, now. Before it was another name that I cannot make in your thoughts. It suggested images of prickly things.]

“Does he talk to you like I do?”

[Tug talks to me. Tug does not give me smells and tastes and feels. Tug gives me words, simple words only. Tugs tells me what to do to be good. You tell me what to do to be loved.]