Medusa: A Tiger by the Tail (6 page)

The hatch closed automatically and I heard the hiss of pressurization. Then, without further fanfare, came a violent lurch and we were free of the transport and on our way down.

The shuttle was much too modern and comfortable for mere prisoner transport, I told myself. This, then, had to be one of the interplanetary ships regularly used for transportation between the worlds of the Warden Diamond.

The overhead speakers crackled, and a much nicer female voice that actually sounded human came on. It was a great improvement.

“Welcome to Medusa.” The voice sounded like a cool, urbane tour guide. “As has no doubt been explained to you, Medusa is your final destination and new home. Although you will be unable to leave the Warden system after debarking on the planet, you will also no longer be prisoners, but, rather, citizens of the Warden Diamond. Confederacy rule ended the moment you entered this shuttle, which is owned in common by the Warden worlds, and is one of a fleet of four shuttlecraft and sixteen freighters. The System Council is a corporate entity recognized by the Confederacy as fully and internally self-governing, and it even has a seat in the Confederacy Congress. Each of the four worlds is under a separate administration, and the government of each planet is unique and independent. No matter who you are or what you have been or done in the past, you are now citizens of Medusa and nothing more—or less. Anything done prior to right now is past history that will neither be remembered, filed, or ever again referred to. Only what you do from this point, as citizens of Medusa, Warden system, will matter.”

Yeah, sure buddy. And
I
also still believe in fairies. If they expected me to believe that the powers-that-be on Medusa didn’t know anything about our past and didn’t keep good records, they had a very low opinion of my intelligence.

“We will arrive at the spaceport at Gray Basin, Medusa, in approximately five minutes,” the shuttle voice told us. ‘There you will be met by representatives of the government, given protective clothing, and then taken to a sheltered center where all your questions will be answered. Please be prepared for extreme cold; Gray Basin is in the northern hemisphere, which is now in winter season, and conditions are extremely harsh. Do not lose your guides or go out on your own. The climate at this time of year can prove lethal in a very short time to new arrivals. Although technologically quite comfortable, Medusa is somewhat primitive by the standards of the so-called civilized worlds, and the physical requirements of Medusans differ from those of other humans. Therefore, expect to find the interiors of buildings quite cold. A special place just for you has been prepared, and you will be taken there. Our government is a model of efficiency, necessary for this harsh world; please do not disregard its authority. Again, welcome to Medusa.”

Although the lid was off, nobody really said much for the rest of the trip—partly because we were still conditioned by our so recent imprisonment; the rest was nerves. Me included. This was it, I told myself. Here we go.

The descent was extremely bumpy once we hit the atmosphere, but whoever was at the controls knew his or her business. Despite the turbulent air, the pilot managed a nice descent, then glided right up to and into the dock.

In less than a minute I could hear the airlock door mechanisms operating, and the indicator went from red to orange to green. There was a pneumatic hiss, then the doors rolled back. For a moment, none of us moved. Finally, those nearest the hatch stood up and walked out the open door. Sighing, I got up and did the same.

The walkway was bitter cold. We were all stark naked, so there was no time to think as we ran for the terminal. A man and a woman, waited for us just as we came inside, by which time I was already turning blue. They shouted at us to get over to a table and take protective clothing as quickly as possible and put it on. None of us needed any urging. Although it was pretty tough finding anything in my size, I did the best I could. I saw that the stuff was standard thermal underclothing, then parka, pants, and soft boots all lined with some sort of fur, with matching fur-lined gloves. Getting them on helped, but I was so damned cold I knew it would take some time to thaw out.

“As soon as you’re dressed, line up here!” the woman shouted in a commanding, drill-instructor-type voice.

I did as instructed, feeling a bit as if I was back in training. Only when I was standing there did the reality hit me. Here I was, on Medusa—and even as that first blast of frigid air had hit me, my body was being systematically invaded by an alien organism that was to be my permanent jailer.

CHAPTER THREE

Orientation

The couple who had met us looked lean, tough, and mean. They radiated an arrogant sort of cold, businesslike power. Both were dressed in fatigue-green uniforms and wore rubber-soled black shoes, but the uniforms were rather light and did not seem to offer much protection against the cold. In fact, these two were dressed in such a way that you’d swear the ambient temperature in the terminal was not below freezing but rather somewhere in the temperate range. Their uniforms bore sewn insignia of rank—if they followed the usual standard here, the man was a sergeant, the woman a corporal—and an odd-looking, snakelike insignia on their right pockets, but that was it.

We all lined up, turned, and looked at the couple, who stared back at us as if we were some kind of disgusting specimens for a lab dissection. I took an instant dislike to them both.

“I’m Sergeant Gorn,” the man said. With his clipped, officious voice he sounded like every sergeant I’d ever heard. ‘This is Corporal Sugra. We are orientation leaders and medical technicians for your group. I think you are as dressed as we can manage. Don’t worry if you have size problems—everyone does. When you become more acclimated to Medusa, you will be issued a full set of tailored clothing. First we must transfer you to the orientation center, so follow me and we will board a bus just outside.” With that he started walking and, after a moment’s hesitation, we all followed. The corporal brought up the rear.

The bus was of an odd magnetic-drive design, with hard, molded seats, two strings of internal lights, and not much else. There was no operator and, as we quickly discovered, no heat. It was built like a fort, though, so we would be sheltered from the noisy wind and thickly blowing snow if not from the biting cold. As soon as the last of us boarded, the corporal took a card out of one of her pockets and stuck it in a slot in the front panel of the bus. The doors closed with a
whoosh
and we were off rather smoothly -and quickly, emerging from the tunnel into Medusa proper.

The spaceport was located some distance from the town. We managed to run out of the blizzard after some ten or fifteen minutes and gained a little visibility of a world that was still totally snow-covered. I could see high mountains off in the distance, grim and foreboding. There was no sign of life out there, though—I had no idea how much snow was there, but it was more than I’d ever seen outside of a polar ice cap.

The bus, however, was an impressive vehicle, smooth and sturdy, that apparently was guided along some sort of under-snow tracking system. The system made sense, for no matter how high the snow piled up the bus would glide just above it.

We slowed, suddenly, but without any jerking, and approached a large building that loomed up out of the sea of white. We stopped, waited, then started up again, stopped again, waited, then glided on, the tracking system now clearly visible ahead.

Sgt. Gorn picked up the microphone. “We are entering the west gate of the city of Gray Basin,” he informed us. “Because of the unpleasant weather around here, much of the city is built underground—in fact, under the permafrost. The two stops we made were to clear force fields, without which the gates would be open to wild animals and other unpleasant creatures that do, in fact, roam that landscape you have seen.

We took another turn, then came to a complicated track-switching area. The bus stopped, then cautiously proceeded once again as a series of lights changed on all the tracks; the bus eased onto one of them. We moved along another two or three minutes at a slow but steady speed, then emerged from the tunnel and into the city of Gray Basin proper, which was as modern-looking as the bus. It seemed to go on forever.

“The city is not in a cavern,” Gorn informed us, “but is built in the same manner as are the domed cities on some of the most hostile frontier worlds. In fact, it’s something of a domed city upside down, in that we built the city and then roofed it over. Most Medusan cities not on or near the equator are built like this. Gray Basin has a population of seventeen thousand and is the commercial center of the north.”

The map in my head showed me pretty much where I was. The eastern continental land mass, it seemed, and at about 38°eg north latitude. On most worlds this would be a fairly pleasant climate; here, it was tundra.

Despite my warm clothing, the cold was beginning to get to me. I had spent the last several weeks in perfect climate control, and my body was not used to this kind of extreme. Even in the bus, where things should be fairly stable in temperature, it was still damned
cold.

We wound through streets past neat-looking modular apartment buildings and what must have been office buildings and shops, finally pulling up at a blocky, monolithic four-story building made out of some blackish stone. The doors hissed open.

“Please follow us into the building,” Gorn said. Despite the “please,” it still sounded like the command it was. “Do not hold back. You will have to climb two flights of staffs. Do not get lost.”

We followed the same route-step as before, entering the building and walking down a wide corridor with offices and other corridors branching off to the right and left of us. We then reached a stairway and climbed it, keeping up with Gorn as best we could. I think most of us were a bit surprised to be winded by a mere two-story climb, our sedentary imprisonment notwithstanding. Not only were we all out of condition, but the slightly heavier gravity was telling.

The blast of warm air when we entered the first room on the third floor was as unexpected as it was tremendously welcome. Despite my clothing, I frankly hadn’t realized how terribly cold I was until the pain that the heat generated hit me. It took a few minutes before I could really think of anything else and look around.

The first room, the heated one, was fairly large and furnished in a utilitarian manner, with long, hard folding tables and collapsible chairs and not much else. There were no windows, a fact our hosts were quick to explain.

“Just take seats anywhere and get accustomed to the temperature change,” Gorn told us. “This room and the three adjoining rooms have been raised to 21°eg for your initial comfort. These are the only directly heated rooms, so stay within them at all times. We chose this area to heat because, with no windows or other outside vents, it is the most efficient system.” He walked over to a nearby door. “If you’ll come in here, I’ll show you the rest of the place.”

We followed—slowly, still not recovered completely from exposure—and found that the second room was a large barrackslike area with eight double bunks, four on each side of the hall. The mattresses appeared to be paper-thin and none too comfortable, but I’d seen worse. The place was well-maintained, although obviously seldom used. Beyond was a third large room, with a large common shower and three open standard toilets, plus four small sinks with mirrors. Again it looked seldom-used, but serviceable.

We followed Sgt. Corn back to the “lounge” area and took seats. As yet nobody had removed his thermal clothing and I had no inclination to do so myself. I felt as if I would never be warm again.

It was Cpl. Sugra’s turn at us. She looked like a lot of women cops I’ve met in my work—not unattractive, but hard, cold, and worldly; her voice matched. For the first time I could look at her and Gorn and see a bit beyond the manner and the uniforms. Their complexions, which at the spaceport and on the bus were a granitelike gray, now seemed lighter, almost orange. There was a certain toughness to then- skin, which, on close inspection, resembled the hides of great animals. Soft they were not.

“I’m Corporal Sugra,” she began, reintroducing herself. “Sergeant Gorn and I will be with you over the next week. We will be staying right down the hall from this complex and will be available to answer your questions and give you basic preparation. At various times others from the government will come in to talk about specific areas. Now, we understand you have just come from a bitter experience, and you are now most concerned about what this new world is like and what it both has for you and will do for you.”

And to me, I thought.

“First of all, is there anyone here who does not know why Medusa and the other worlds of the Warden Diamond are used by the Confederacy for exile?” She paused a moment, then seemed satisfied that we all knew at least the basics.

“The micro-organism that is now within all of your bodies will be making itself at home. Please don’t be alarmed. You will find there is no sensation, no feeling at all that anything is different. In fact, you will probably feel increasingly
better
as this process goes on because, despite the best medical care, the human system is riddled with disease and physical problems of one sort or another. Since the Warden organism depends on you for its place to live, it wants that place to be in as good a condition as possible. So it will repair what is wrong, make more efficient that which is inefficient, and will not only cure you of any diseases or infections you might have but prevent any new ones. That’s how it pays you back; it’s a good deal.”