The Seeds of Time (43 page)

He returned her smile, looking down at her, his form eclipsing the glittering lights of the deck consoles. Not as tall as she thought; standing, she would look directly into those violet eyes. His face, so lovely, you’d be a stone not to notice. But now, up close, she saw a tautness to his skin, stretched thin over his skull.

“You’ve set yourself up real well, Finn,” he said. “Looks like the world is handing you just about everything you want. Your brother, your pilot’s bars. Life is good, yes?”

“A beach.”

He smiled delightedly. “A beach. Yes and it may just keep going your way. But you do have a way of screwing up, Finn. I sincerely hope that doesn’t happen, and I’ll be watching you to see that it doesn’t.”

“What the hell are you doing here, Licht?”

“You knew, of course?” He searched her face a moment. “You didn’t! Your Colonel Tandy didn’t tell you that I’m along on the mission?” Now his smile was genuine.
“Always happy to bring glad tidings. Yes, we’re crewmates, Finn, shoulder to shoulder for six months, at least. Bit of a bumpy start. Looks like someone wanted to give us some farewell fireworks.”

“Go fuck yourself, Licht,” she said.

She watched him as his face darkened. For a moment it seemed to her that it was sadness she was seeing in those raptor’s eyes, not anger.

He spoke in a low tone, out of the captain’s hearing. “You always think you’re immune, don’t you … immune to all the rules. Someday you’ll pay the price. Nobody’s immune, Ms. Finn.” He backed out of the cockpit area, stood at the hatch ladder. His face resumed a nonchalant malice. “Guess I’ll go see if I can find somebody else to talk to. Maybe Petya wants to play tiddlywinks.” He shrugged cheerfully. “Doesn’t hurt to ask.” And he disappeared down to mid-decks.

Clio gripped the armrest to keep from shaking.

Hocking turned to watch him leave, his nose glistening. He said nothing to the DSDE captain. Instead, he turned back to Clio, saying, “You will maintain flight-deck order and keep your visitors off the bridge, Finn, you understand?”

“Yessir. Sorry sir.”

Through the starboard viewport a flash lit up Vanda’s darkened loading bay, spraying bits of debris in their direction. The hull rang with the blows, but
Galactique
was bearing around to fire her engines, and did so, drowning out the collisions.

Clio’s mind was on Colonel Tandy. No, he hadn’t told her about Licht. Parceled out his information in small doses, did Tandy. Neglected to tell her that one of his little compromises was to allow DSDE on the mission, and a most particular DSDE: a man with a bead on her, waiting to take his shot.

“Configured for main engine burn, Captain,” Voris said, and barely waiting for his answer, she fired the main thrusters, throttling up to a slow burn, and
Galactique
roared to life. Ship eased off the station and began its ponderous
acceleration, that no emergency could rush, not even the urgency of Voris’ flashing hands or the following explosions from Vanda’s decimated bay.

Galactique
was headed into clear, hard space. Over the earphones Clio heard, “Good job, Lieutenant Voris,” from Hocking. “Stand by.”

Voris turned to Clio, winked happily. “Count your fingers,” she said, off mike. “I think we made it.”

“Yeah, and I’ll bet somebody wishes we didn’t,” Clio said.

Voris looked over at her, smile fleeing.

“Only thing I want to know,” Clio said, “is whether they’re back there on Vanda or along for the ride.”

The creatures parlayed within easy reach of killing. He had to smother his mouth with his hand to keep from giggling, they were so vulnerable, at his disposal. Their studded boots caught an odd thread of light that the jungle crown allowed through, setting off a reddish twinkle of buttons, as though even their boots were magical. They were speaking now.

“Yi mastag, asark itha direcsh, bluspris
,” the shorter one said, perhaps a female, though no breasts obvious beneath the padded vest and shirt.

“Ewoll amet yi ta sheebass, an,”
the other said, raised his rifle, and set off, leaving her, leaving the target.

Harper Teeg covered his mouth, grinning. It was so easy to kill them, the Voo Doo men. He hesitated, though. This one was female, hair braided, with narrow, womanly features. Shame to kill a female, even if she was a Voo Doo, with killing hands.

A mole creature scuttled behind him and he jumped, scraping his rifle against the rock ledge.

She heard it. Crouched low, swung her rifle around, pointed it at his forehead, then swung away to his left.

The stupid bitch couldn’t see him, none of them could see him, and he could do what he liked. Maybe he would let this one live. For now. Kill her partner, though, Teeg decided.

The troop of them were pursuing him through the jungle, combing the terrain methodically. The surface terrain. But from the network of tunnels he had easily eluded them, bided his time, and picked them off, and they died like anyone, like humans, like U.S. Army. Blasted apart by
weapons fire. Voo Doo men had other ways of killing, though, nasty ways.

He lit his torch and scuttled down the tunnel, heard the crabbing of the moles, skittering out of his way, hating the tight. He stabbed at one with the torch. Startled, it slammed into the rock wall. He advanced upon it, making rifle noises, kapow, kapow, as the six-legged creature pounded into the wall again and again. Then it lay stunned.

“Don’t try to run from old Teeg,” he said. “Can’t have that.” He slugged it with his boot. They’d have to learn to obey. The tunnels were his, the floor of the jungle was his, the Cave with its Treasure was his. Let come who may. These Voo Doos, U.S. Army, Biotime, DSDE, Clio Finn … Clio Finn, yes. Had tricked him, had poisoned him. But he had shown her a thing or two. So she didn’t win in the end, didn’t win.
Didn’t win … didn’t win
, he heard himself say out loud, sonorous and cozy in the stone throat of the earth. Not like those other voices in his head, the sharp cackles in the stone maze of his head.

He stopped at Big North Rock, clambored up to the peephole, scanned, and yes, there they were, a knot of six Voo Doos. One, a bit apart, and then he felt himself sight the rifle and pull the trigger, as though someone else were in his body. This Voo Doo had to die, and so he fell, but only to his knees, and he pulled the trigger again and once more. Teeg froze as the others pointed at his outcropping, figuring out the direction of fire, and pinched off a few rounds in his direction. He crouched low, sweating.
Stupid, stupid …
They were circling around to get the jump on him. He bolted down the tunnel, came to the High Ceiling Intersection, jammed into the smallest passage, one of five, killed the light and padded softly by memory. Down the long finger of the tunnel, then gentle curve to the left. At last the sweat skimmed off his face from a freshening current of air, as the blackness throttled up to grey. Then the Great Cave ballooned out in front of him. He ran to the cave entrance and knelt behind the tripod-mounted rifle, swiveling it back at the tunnel. Heart thudding like steam through cold pipes. Licked his flaking lips. Waited.

But they didn’t come. Stupid.

He leaned against the thatchy reeds of his warren, relaxing. Then his mind snapped to, and he jumped up. Maybe they had come for his treasures already, stolen them while pretending to be searching above ground. He snatched up the torch and ignited it with his lighter, then bolted down the rock passage, lighting up the rock walls and a succession of chitinous screams as he plunged headlong toward the Great Cave. As he stumbled into the cavernous arena, an exhalation of frigid air issued from the Hell Crack. Teeg barked out a laugh. “Don’t hyperventilate now! It’s just old Teeg!” Circling wide, he scampered to the back wall where a ledge at eye level held his special things. Still there, counting them off: his pilot bars, a box with a last reserve of ammo, a wad of Voo Doo hair, a flaked wood bowl with some women’s underthings he’d found in camp, and then the crystals. Lovely. Lovely how they pulsed with a lambent glow even in the cave recess.
Voo Doos want my treasures, don’t they?
His fingers absently fondled the cloth in the wooden bowl, then fluttered to the bullets.

“OK, Voo Doos,” he said. “Come and get them.”

Clio hauled herself down from
Galactique
’s flight deck, down the ladder to mid-decks, dog tired. Two consecutive eight-hour shifts running systems checks and combing for ship damage would about do it.

Incredibly, though Vanda’s entire main loading bay lay in quiet ruins,
Galactique
was in good shape. Ship’s hull took some dents, and minor repairs were under way, but main-line systems looked like they pulled through.

Her thoughts off and on the last sixteen hours had been on Petya, and now she made her way down the crew corridor to the end cabin, which was nothing more than a medical contamination cell with a pallet and sink, a hygiene station. Only sign of Petya was a shaving kit and three photos taped to the bulkhead. She peered closely at the photos. Unfamiliar faces smiled back at her, likely his new family, before DSDE tracked him down.

Back out in the corridor and only a few doors away was a handwritten nameplate: Licht. Damn anyway. Too close to Petya. Starting to worry hard now, Clio poked into the recreation area, where a dozen or so crew were watching
Gorillas in the Mist
, a sentimental old flat-movie about gorillas before their habitat perished.

Popped into the galley and observation deck, then jammed down the ladder to botany deck. Checked out two of the labs, empty now, and opened a third door. Petya was in the corner hunched over a dissected bit of electronics, so deep into doing that he didn’t look up.

A large pair of feet were propped up on the center lab
table, and behind them, slung back in a chair, was Timothy Ashe, reading a paperback.

He looked up at her, said, voice booming, “Ah. The Red Queen. Welcome to study hall. Grab a book.” He indicated a stack of paperbacks in the corner.

His easygoing air grated on her, after her ship search. “You could have let me know where he was.”

His eyebrows raised, one going higher than the other, stopped as it was by the heavy scar. “Oh. Could have, I suppose. Captain doesn’t like inconsequentials on the bridge, though. How’d you like being behind the wheel?”

“A thrill a minute.”

“We going to make it to Niang? Ship come through the send-off party OK?”

“Looks like.”

“Too bad.”

Clio arched an eyebrow.

“Just means a damn boring trip, that’s all. A trip like this could use a little excitement. Enemy space aliens threaten Earth spaceship on vital mission. That sort of thing.”

“We’ve got DSDE on board. Enough alien threat for me.”

Petya said, not looking up, “DSDE is on this spaceship.”

Clio turned to him. “Yeah, I know. He been hassling you?”

“He came by my room to talk. I don’t like to talk to him.”

Clio looked over at Ashe, eyes darkening. He shrugged.