Blighted Star (35 page)

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They
jogged on through the darkness, past the now empty ponds which still seemed to
hold menace. Raoul knew the others felt the threat from the water because, with
his heightened senses, he was aware of the changes in their body language whenever
they were near a shoreline. He wondered if this was how the ancestors of man
had felt, those who had prowess in the hunt, or ability to the fight back at
the cave, or who had mastery of the art of building alliances within the group
over the long years. Had they too watched the running forms of their fellows as
the night of danger wore on. Had they too been alive to the same signals of
fear, of elation, of readiness to fight or to flee in those they commanded? And
had they felt the same mastery as he felt now, like a man holding the reins to
a wild team of horses, plunging through the dark, an entity made up of
disparate individuals, all subject to his will?

Raoul
scorned the enemy he had vanquished. If there were any of the creatures left
mobile out in the dark places, it didn’t matter much now. Their time was
finished, and only mopping up was needed to free the colony of them forever.
But was that necessarily the best thing to tell the civilians? It might suit
him very well if they were left a little bit scared…and in fact, there was
still some threat out there anyway. Whatever had caused deaths in the first
place had to still be there in the environment, so people would have to be kept
under control for the foreseeable future.

That
was all stuff for the morning. For tonight he had one more task, and he tried
to find in himself some remorse for what he was going to have to do, but there
wasn’t any. He felt nothing, truth to be told. His righteous indignation of
earlier had evaporated so entirely that he couldn’t help but suspect that it
had lacked substance. Rum had that side effect of very deeply held feelings
which could leave as quickly as they arose. It was, he supposed, all part of
the intensity of impression which came with the drug. It was like a sky
clearing of cloud. However, the fact that he didn’t feel any malice towards the
artefact didn’t mean he didn’t have to do what he what he was going to have to.

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Gregorovitch
helped Grad to guide the skyak out of the hangar. The craft bobbed gently at
knee height above the ground, and needed only the slightest touch to get moving
or to steer. When he had been racing to help Christel Grad had leapt into the
small aircraft and had shot through the hangar opening without a moment’s
thought or hesitation, but now in the cool night air his confidence completely
deserted him and he dragged the skyak well clear of Cassini, not trusting his
control over the skittish machine. Once in the open, he reached into the
cockpit and flicked the power switch. The craft laid itself into the grass with
a soft noise as it crushed the stalks beneath its gentle weight. Grad sat in,
switched the power back on, and rose wobbling into the air. At ten metres he
set the fan motor going, and as speed built up he felt the air pressure against
the hull convey some stability.

Why
Lana enjoyed this sort of thing he had no idea. He himself adored flying,
considered a day without flight to be a wasted day. Yet there was something
about having an open cockpit which just didn’t appeal. He felt the same way
about mountains and towers; they were too exposed. It wasn’t exactly a fear of
heights, more a fear of vacancy. He loved altitude, but only through the
barrier of some glassteen. Up here with his top half sticking out of this
unstable craft he felt totally unprotected, but he gritted his teeth, aware of
the irony of a pilot who was uncomfortable with high places, and angled towards
the new quarry. In the distance the sky was just beginning to pale slightly
enough so that a craft might be silhouetted against it, and he sincerely hoped
that he would get a visual fix on Lana as he got close. When Raoul had cut off
comms with Cassini he had at the same time cancelled the life trace readout and
so Grad was forced to pick up the trail of the soldiers at their last known
position to the north of the quarry. Hopefully he would be in time to warn
Raoul of the development of the spores, and then he would fly south to pick up
Athena who would by now have finished her cycle in the vat. 

Somewhere
in the darkness ahead, Lana was circling above the troops. More than ever he
felt the absence of his internal comms. Not having her dot on his wrist readout
was strange and sad. As if she had gone even further from him. Dully, like the
slow tightening of a vice, the realisation that she was truly gone crushed his
heart a little more. He felt as little control over his love life as he did
over this bucking and twitching craft. When the nose dipped forward for no
particular reason and he felt a yawing emptiness within, it seemed as if it
could come either from the unpredictable flight or from the loss of equilibrium
in matters of his heart. It would be just his luck, he thought as he strove to
regain control, to be reunited with Lana in the wreckage of a mid-air smash. He
wished he had thought to clip a light to the skyak.

The
skyak flitted on through the clear sky beneath the vortex of the stars, passing
within a few metres of one of the strands of grey particles which drifted like
shreds of cloud towards the starship.

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Athena’s
inert form was jammed tight within the root packed vat. Above her, from the
hatch, a great fist of matter rose into the sky, metres tall. A fruiting body
whose skin stretched close to splitting over the deadly contents. As the first
rays of light from the still hidden sun bounced from the upper atmosphere and
mixed a little paleness with the stars, the surface of the fruiting body began
to stiffen and become brittle. Flakes and scales began to form as the flesh
beneath the outer skin continued to expand under the pressure from within. And
still, inside, new spores were forming and growing, acquiring the tough outer
sheaths which would protect them from daylight until they could find a host,
even if that took a thousand or more years. The move would mean the effective
extinguishing of all other life on the planet, just as the evolution of another
species far away on other worlds had led so often to the extinction of whole
biospheres, including that of Earth. In a sense, the strategy was a poor one,
as the parasite would once again be a victim of its own success, destroying the
very hosts upon which it relied. Yet like all living things, it had no control
over its nature, and was itself subject to the same forces which had created
it. The arrival of the new hosts on Saunders World had been a lucky break, but
one which could only give it a temporary respite from the slow decline it had
been undergoing for thousands of years since it had wiped out its major prey
species. With the last flourish the dawn would bring, the organism would
conquer the entire world, but at the same time would doom itself to millennia
more of life in the dirt among the grubs and worms.

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The
smouldering ashes were a beacon which Grad could not miss and he glided in
above them, straining his eyes into the dark to pick up the shuttle’s form.
Suddenly it was there, its black framework stark against the horizon. He
drifted in, praying that Lana wouldn’t make an unexpected move and either crash
into him or be lost again in the night. He could see her sitting hunched among
the spars, he was almost upon when she heard his calling and looked up in
bewilderment. In the dark her head seemed an odd shape, only when he was
actually next to her did he realise that it was because she was wearing
breathing apparatus. He felt very vulnerable as he drew in the cool night air
and he wondered how many of the breathing units there were in Cassini’s stores.
Not many he suspected, probably just enough for the troops who were also
expected to use them to fight fires or deal with toxic spills and so on. He
didn’t think one would have done Doctor Clarke any good in any case.

 Quickly
he outlined the developments back at Cassini. The windows on Lana’s mask
reflected the first glimmers of the predawn twilight, and behind them the
expression in her eyes was unreadable. the death of Doctor Clarke was received
with a slight bowing of her head.

“We
have to warn Raoul not to fire on any new objects. They could explode and cause
the contagion to go air borne.” he finished, but Lana merely shook her head.

“There
aren’t any of the monsters left Grad. Raoul’s got rid of the last of them down
there. He’s already done it Grad. He’s won.”

Grad
pondered for a moment. Perhaps Raoul had been in time, striking before the
black nodules could form in the gel. Maybe, for once, they had been lucky…
However, there was still the matter of Athena.

“Where
is Raoul now?”

“He
took three men with him and headed south. I think he’s going to check out the
quarry.”

“Lana,
he’s going to kill Athena. You have to help me to stop him.”

“Are
you serious? Why would he want to kill Athena?”

“Athena’s
an artificial person. He thinks she’s a spy or something. Look, we can sort all
that out later, we’ve got to stop him killing her.”

“Athena’s
artificial? 
Is
she a spy? Maybe Raoul’s got a reason.”

“Look,
please help me. Raoul punched Chan and locked him up. He’s cut off all comms,
and now he’s going to kill Athena. Whatever his reasons, we can work them out
tomorrow, give everyone a say. But for now, we have to save Athena from him. If
you won’t help. her death will be just as much on your hands.” he looked long
and hard at the pale silver windows which hid her eyes, then with a curse, he
peeled away from the shuttle and shot like a silent arrow towards the quarry.

They
were getting very close now, they had already passed the pool where Williams had
dived earlier that day, and Raoul was pleased to note that her stride didn’t
alter at all as they skirted the shore. Whatever feelings she had she was
learning to disassociate herself from them, though he knew that later she would
pay a price.

He
indicated silently that they were to spread out in a line, twenty paces between
each man, his senses coming back on to full alert. Most likely this was a
hunting party pure and simple, but it was also possible that it might become
more of a fight. God knew what weapons or skills the robot had, and he wasn’t
going to risk dispersing his group any further than that. Another factor was
that he wasn’t one hundred percent sure of any of them. Right now Williams was
the most reliable because she was in a sort of daze. He was sure she would pull
the trigger on anyone. But the others? He would have bet on their loyalty,
indeed he was doing, but their willingness to carry out this special mission
might fade when actually presented with their erstwhile leader. In some ways it
might help if she fought back, give them something to kick against.

He
checked his commander readout again. It gave him a distinct feeling of power,
knowing that he could see where everyone was, while they were blind. There was
now only one single dot on the display; that of Athena. There seemed a
particular satisfaction to be had in rubbing out that final mark; a neatness
and a sense of closure. All that would remain would be his blue dots and green
dots. He felt an urge to get the dots to arrange themselves in pretty patterns
for his amusement, perhaps tomorrow he would organise a parade. Within the mask
he had to stifle a giggle, and he struggled to get a grip on his skittering
feelings. Next moment a wave of doubt flushed through him; who knew what access
she would have through Cassini’s mainframe. It was even a possibility that she
was feeding him misinformation. Her trace had been stationary all through the
last day and night. Now it was red again. Maybe it was a false beacon. He would
know soon enough.

To
his left the sky was now appreciably lighter, and he estimated that they had
about twenty minutes or so before the sun came up. That was just about perfect.

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Pressure
was building up to bursting point now within the fruiting body. The surface
where the reflected rays of pale light fell was completely crazed with flakes
of dried outer skin. The sun was now setting the eastern horizon aflame and
would be rising in a matter of minutes. when that happened the outer skin would
burn to ash in a moment and the pressure would be released in an explosion of
spores.

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Raoul
saw it first and immediately raised his fist, at the same time dropping onto
one knee, Williams, Hernandez and Patel sank into the grass beside him. He
pointed, but there was little need to; the monstrous shape towering over the
vat was plain to see against the gathering dawn. For the first time since the
death of Lieutenant Jackson he felt indecision grip him. It was paralysing.

“What
the fuck is it?” Williams had leaned in close, pressing the material of her
mask against his and breathing the words. He merely shrugged his shoulders. She
leaned in again.

“What
do you want us to do?” She lifted her gun slightly, but Raoul shook his head
from side to side, very slowly. There was no way of guessing what the strange
shape might be. It might be capable of movement, and he was reluctant to
provoke it until they knew more. In a few minutes the sun would come up, then
they would get a proper look at it. It was hard to tell in the predawn but it
looked black in colour, so perhaps it was already burned to ash, whatever it
was. At the thought, he quickly re-attached the UV filter to his targe gun