The Winds of Altair (10 page)

"It's heading north!"

Peterson nodded inside his cumbersome helmet. "Higgins," he said to the engineer, "you and Scott stay here and do a complete checkout on the machinery . . ."

"I can tell you right now, it's useless junk."

"Dr. Polchek, Lyle and I will follow the wolfcat. It should be leading us to the apes."

"Don't get out of radio contact," Higgins said.

"We won't."

It was like groping through a nightmare. Even with their radar displays, the humans were lost inside a dark, threatening pit of blackness. It was bad enough to be locked into the heavy, clumsy pressure suits. But the eternal night outside, the knowledge that the very air was eating away at the seals and joints of your protective armor, trying to get inside and burn out your lungs—even Peterson began to feel the pangs of claustrophobia.

The wolfcat padded on ahead, imperturbable as a force of nature. Every few minutes it would turn its massive head to make certain that the humans were following. Peterson began to think of old Norse tales of the netherworld, and the giant beasts that guard the approach to hell. Surely nothing the old Vikings could imagine was worse than this.

Dr. Polchek, the zoologist, broke their long silence. "I haven't seen another animal of any kind along this beach, Harvey. Have you?"

"No. Nothing."

"What d'you expect?" Lyle said. He was the medic in the team, the man who would have to insert the neuro probes into the apes' brains if and when they found and tranquilized some apes.

"Well, I know we can't see very well in this atmosphere," Dr. Polchek replied, "but I'm surprised we haven't stumbled across anything at all."

"The other animals are keeping their distance from us," Peterson suggested. "The wolfcat probably helps to scare them away."

"Ah, yes, of course. And the wolfcat is under intelligent control, from back on the ship."

Peterson nodded, but he found himself wondering just how much of the intelligence was native to the wolfcat itself.

They plodded along the long curving beach for more than an hour, the ocean always at their right, the line of hills gradually but perceptibly edging closer to the water from their left. Finally the wolfcat stopped.

"What's the matter?" Polchek asked. "Can you see anything up ahead?"

"Nothing but black soup," Peterson said. "The hills seem steeper here . . ." He reached for the control knobs on his wrist and increased the range of the microwave radar. The image on his visor blurred and shimmied.

"I don't see any apes," Lyle said.

"The hills come right up to the water up ahead," Peterson said. Glancing at the range indication number at the bottom of his visor, "Looks like a dead end, half a kilometer ahead of us."

"You mean we came this way for nothing?"

Peterson wanted to shrug, but the suit was too heavy for it.

"Hey . . . look at the wolfcat!" Lyle called out.

Crown could smell the apes up ahead, but it seemed obvious that the aliens could not. He stopped. They stopped behind him. For a moment or two Crown did not know what to do. He had no way of making these aliens realize what lay ahead. But he knew that he had to communicate with them somehow.

He turned back toward them, and they edged away nervously. One of them stumbled in the sand and nearly fell. Crown paced back and forth, took a few steps away from the aliens, then a few steps back toward them. They milled around, gesturing to each other.

Finally Crown simply bounded away, scampering up the steep hillside toward the trees at the top of the ridge line. He glanced once back over his shoulder. The aliens stood transfixed on the beach. Good.

Crown raced through the trees, heading for the point where the hills steepened into cliffs that dropped straight down into the frothing sea. The apes lived in caves there, he could tell from their powerful scent. He hoped to catch a few out on the beach itself and get between them and their caves.

He was in luck. A half dozen of the apes were out on the beach, clawing at the sand to find shellfish. To Crown they seemed to be two adult males, three females, and one cub. Good enough. He stayed hidden in the trees atop the ridge line until he was between the apes and the caves in the cliffs. Only then did he scamper down the steep hillside, roaring as he leaped from rock to rock.

The apes panicked. Screaming wildly, they lurched up onto their hind legs and ran blindly down the beach, away from their caves, toward the humans.

"What the hell was that?" Lyle shouted.

Peterson winced at the sound of the medic's frightened voice in his helmet earphones.

"Sounded like a cross between a thunderclap and an earthquake," Polchek said. "It must have been the wolfcat."

"But what . . ."

"Listen!" Peterson snapped.

They could hear the wailing screams of the fleeing apes.

"Whatever the hell it is, it's coming this way," Lyle yelled.

Polchek fumbled with the holster on his belt. "Gentlemen, I suggest we check our weapons."

Peterson yanked the gun from his holster. It fired tranquilizer darts, each with a carefully-calculated dose of chemicals. He had thought the darts were loaded with enough tranquilizer to stop a herd of elephants. But after seeing the wolfcat, and now with the hideous screams of the apes bearing down on them, Peterson wondered if they had enough to do the job.

"Look out!" Lyle yelled.

Peterson saw half a dozen huge gray-white shapes streaking out of the enveloping darkness, heading straight for him. He fired at point-blank range, never hearing the guns go off, his vision, his mind, his
being
completely engulfed with the sight of these immensely powerful beasts crashing down on him.

Something slammed him to the ground. His head spun and he tasted blood in his mouth. He couldn't catch his breath and for a wild frightened instant he was afraid his suit had ripped open.

Then he felt hands on his shoulders.

"Are you all right?" Lyle's voice.

"Harvey, are you injured?" Polchek asked.

"I'm okay," Peterson said, gasping for air. "Just . . . just the wind knocked out of me."

He let them pull him up to a kneeling position. He saw six furry gray-white bodies sprawled along the sand.

"That one there bowled into you before it collapsed," Polchek explained.

Peterson took a deep breath, then climbed to his feet. He saw the wolfcat standing a few meters away, its nostrils twitching.

"All right," he said. "Let's get those implants in before they wake up."

Crown watched the aliens at work. They were not eating the apes, they were doing strange things to them. Deep inside his mind, Crown had the vague memory that something like this had been done to him. He growled nervously, and one of the aliens straightened up and looked toward him.

None of the other apes had ventured this far down the beach. When a wolfcat roars, the apes hide in their caves, Crown realized.

His stomach rumbled with hunger, and he hoped that these strangers would finish whatever they were doing and go away soon, leaving this beach and Windsong forever.

One of the apes, the larger of the two males, stirred slightly. The aliens, bent over the other male, did not notice. Crown padded over toward them, slowly. The aliens were too busy to pay him any attention.

Crown gave a low, warning growl. The ape raised its head.

Peterson heard the growl and looked up. The wolfcat loomed over him like a mountain rising out of the sea.

He swallowed once, then muttered, "It seems that our pet cat is curious about us."

Lyle and Polchek straightened up.

"God Almighty, he is
huge
."

"I hope it isn't lunchtime for him."

The wolfcat made a low rumbling noise, like distant thunder, and turned toward the larger of the two male apes.

"Hey, look, it's coming . . ."

Lyle never finished the sentence. The ape leaped to its hindlegs and with a backhand swipe knocked Lyle completely off his feet. Peterson reached for the gun he had left on the sand at his feet as the ape lunged for him.

But a gray blur blotted out his vision of the snarling ape. The wolfcat moved with the speed of lightning and smashed the ape back into the sand.

Peterson's legs gave way under him and he plopped foolishly onto his backside. Polchek, still on his knees, froze immobile beside him.

The wolfcat growled at the dead ape. Its head was crushed, face ripped away. Peterson fought down the acid bile that rose in his throat to half choke him.

"It . . . it saved us," Polchek whispered.

"Lyle," Peterson said. "Is he . . ."

They scrambled to their feet as the wolfcat backed away slightly. Lyle's body lay crumpled a dozen meters away. His helmet was cracked open, his eyes glassy and staring.

"Merciful God," Polchek whimpered. "He's dead."

Peterson looked at the zoologist, although he could not see the man's face through the visor of his helmet. Merciful God, Peterson thought. What a joke. What a cruel, bitter joke.

CHAPTER 13

Jeff awoke slowly. The first thing he became aware of was the faint hum of the electrical equipment that pervaded every part of the Village, every moment of the day and night. How different from the sound of the breeze on Windsong, he thought.

Then he remembered what had just happened. Crown helping the scientists, saving the lives of Peterson and Polchek, even though he had been too late to save Lyle.

He tried to warn them, Jeff said to himself. I tried to show them that the ape was coming to. Why didn't they pay attention?

Amanda entered the room and wordlessly lifted the helmet off his head.

"Is he dead?" Jeff asked.

"Yes. They're on their way back now. Frank's gone down to the shuttle dock to meet them."

"Did they get the implants into the apes?"

Amanda gave him a long stare. "Yes. All of them, except the one that Crown killed."

He sat up slowly, swung his legs over the couch, then slid off it. His legs felt a little rubbery, but he was stronger than he had thought he would be.

"I'm sorry about Dr. Lyle," Jeff said to Amanda. "I tried to help . . ."

"We know. It's not your fault, Jeff." But Amanda's voice was flat, mechanical. She walked away from Jeff, into the control room.

Following her through the open doorway, he said, "Amanda . . . about dinner tonight . . ."

"I don't think I'll feel much like celebrating," Amanda said as she checked the instrument panels.

He nodded. "I know. I don't either."

"Maybe some other time."

"Yeah. Sure."

He left the lab before she could say anything else. It's so unfair! Jeff told himself. They're blaming everything on me. I didn't kill Dr. Lyle. If it hadn't been for me, they would all have been killed. They would never have found any of the apes if I hadn't helped them.

Still, he felt the weight of guilt on his shoulders as he walked slowly back toward his own dome.

As he neared the dormitory domes, the greenpaths along the tube-tunnels became more and more crowded with students. Happy, smiling, students, striding purposefully along, sure of themselves and their place in the world. Jeff wished that he could feel as confident as the did. But they had such simple lives, he knew. Do what the Church tells you. Work, study, pray. Eat to stay alive and serve Nirvan's Church. Obey the Elders. They didn't have to be a good Believer one instant and a bloodthirsty wolfcat the next. They didn't have to kill in order to eat, or try to serve alien invaders who were going to destroy their own home world.

The students were streaming toward the Tabernacle, the dome in the midst of the student domes which housed the central house of worship for all the Believers of the Village. Built exactly like the smaller chapels in each of the dormitory domes, the Tabernacle was large enough to hold all the students in one sitting.

"Jeff! Oh, Jeff!"

He turned toward the voice. It was Laura McGrath, pushing her way through the crowd of students hurrying along the greenpath.

"Jeff, you're out of the laboratory early enough for sundown worship!"

Her smile was dazzling, her green eyes sparkled with delight. Jeff wanted to smile back at her, to share in her pleasure in simple acts such as worship or greeting a friend. But he couldn't.

"What's the matter?" Laura said, as she slipped her arms in his. "You look . . . they've been working you too hard, Jeff, haven't they?"

With a shake of his head. "No, it's okay. Come on, I'll go to sundown services with you."

She seemed perfectly happy to be with him. He didn't have the heart to tell her that he had watched one of the Village's medics get killed by a monstrous giant ape.

As they entered the Tabernacle, the choir was already singing hymns and Bishop Foy was sitting in his high-backed chair at the side of the altar, dressed in his splendid regalia of red and green.

Jeff let Laura lead him to her pew. "It's all right for you to sit with me, I'm sure," she whispered. "Nobody will mind."

He slid into the pew beside her and knelt on the padded kneeler. Bending his head over his clenched fists, Jeff thought, Pray! Pray for guidance. Pray for strength. But when he closed his eyes he saw the beach on Windsong, and the terrified looks on the faces of the apes as they fled from Crown and into the guns of the landing team. Poor dumb beasts, Jeff thought. They were harming no one, and now we're going to turn them into slaves and make them destroy their own world.

And Jeff realized, as the choir sang placidly and the old familiar odor of incense filled the air, that the guilt he felt was not over Dr. Lyle's death—he felt guilty over what he was helping the others to do to the apes, to the wolfcats, to a whole beautiful world.

Amanda Kolwezi felt no guilt, but she was saddened by Lyle's death. All the scientists knew how dangerous it could be on the surface of Altair VI; they all volunteered for duty on the landing team. Still, no one expects to be killed. No one expects a team member to die. It was a bad omen to have a death in the first landing to be tried in months. How many more were going to die?

She waited at the laboratory, sitting in the little swivel chair in front of the silent control panels, waiting for Carbo to return.

He'll come here, she said to herself. Not to his own quarters. He'll come here first.

She was right. Eventually the door from the corridor opened and Carbo stepped in, his swarthy face set in a grimly determined expression.

"You're still here?" he said.

"Just finishing up," Amanda replied.

He glanced at his wristwatch. "You were waiting for me."

"Sort of. I thought you might need some moral support."

Carbo walked over to the other chair and sank into it. "Can you run the lab without me? I'll get you an assistant, of course."

Amanda felt her heart constrict. "You're not going down there, Frank. Please say you're not."

"But I am." He smiled sadly. "They need someone who knows how to implant the probes, with Lyle gone."

"You're not a medical . . ."

"I know how to put the probes in," he said. "They're my invention, my responsibility."

"But it . . ."

He reached up and touched her lips with an upraised finger, as softly as a butterfly touching a flower.

"Amanda, please don't let your emotions get in the way of your good judgment. We came here to this world to make it ready for colonization. The only way we can do that is to use the animals down there to work for us. The only way we can accomplish that goal is to send down landing teams to implant the animals with neuro probes."

"But there are others who can do that!" Amanda insisted. "You're too valuable, too important to . . . "

"To risk my life?" The sad smile returned. "No, I'm not that important. I came here to make a contribution, to help the human race to expand to the stars. It's either that or extinction for us. You realize that, don't you?"

She pressed her hands against her ears, as if trying to blot out his words. "I still don't see why
you
have to throw away your life."

"Amanda, dearest, I came here because my life on Earth was finished. I have made my contribution: the neuro probe. Now I have a chance to do something more, to see that the probe is used in a way that will actually help humanity. Instead of merely pacifying Earth's billions, instead of merely postponing the inevitable collapse, I can help to open a whole new world for the human race! I can't turn my back on that opportunity."

"Even if it kills you."

"What is my life, compared to seventeen billions?"

"Your living is important to me," she said.

"I know it is. I appreciate that. I marvel that someone as intelligent and beautiful as you could feel that way."

"But I'm not as important to you, am I?" Amanda asked.

He looked shocked. "Of course you are!"

"Then why are you prepared to leave me and kill yourself?"

For a long moment Carbo remained silent. Finally he made a little shrug. "It's an old, old question, Amanda. Why does the hunter leave his mate behind and go out into the wilds? Why does the explorer turn his back on home and family and go seeking new territory? I've got to do it, Amanda. I've got to do what I can to help make this colonization a success."

"Despite . . ." She stopped. It was useless, she knew. Not even begging him would help.

"I talked it over with Peterson," Carbo said quietly. "We'll organize a much larger team; today's group was too small to accomplish much."

"How soon?" Amanda asked.

"The arrangements should take a week or so. In the meantime, we can start to test more of the students with the apes we implanted today."

"I'll need more than one assistant," she said. "Yes, I know. We'll have to start training students to help you."

"You'll keep Jeff working with Crown, won't you?"

"Yes, of course. But as more students come into the program, we can ease his workload somewhat."

"That sounds sensible." He looked at her sharply. "Sensible."

"Of course," Amanda said, her voice cold and bleak. "We all have to be sensible, don't we?"

"Yes, but that doesn't mean . . ."

She stopped him with a sigh. "No, Frank, it does mean something very important. It means that we can't stay as close as we have been."

"But why not?"

"I can't make love with you, knowing that you'll be getting up from my bed and going out to kill yourself. I've lost too many loved ones; I can't let myself get so attached to you . . . it would kill me, too."

"But I'm not going to die!" He tried to laugh about it.

Amanda shook her head. "No. Of course not. But I'll die a little, every moment you're down there. Don't put me through that, Frank. Don't ask me to tear my heart out of my body all over again "

He closed his eyes. "I see. I understand."

"I doubt that you do," Amanda said. "But that's the way it has to be. I've got to find the strength to separate myself from you."

"Yes," he said, in a barely-audible whisper. "That will be for the best."

Each of them wanted to cry. But they did not allow themselves that luxury.