A Season For Slaughter Part 43

I noticed Dwan Grodin at the largest of the video tables; it was the brightest light-in the room, and it illuminated her face from below, giving her a ghastly Frankenstein's-monster look. I came around the corner of the railing and strolled as casually as I could over to the glowing display. A clump of technicians was listening to Dwan as she explained an obscure technical detail of night photography image enhancement-something about narrow-frequency coherent nano-pulses. The eye couldn't see them, but the specialized sensors in our cameras could collate the a.s.sorted pulses into full-color stereo displays.

The video table was showing a collage of today's scanning overlaid across the most recent satellite maps. It looked like a ragged and rumpled quilt had been spread unevenly across the table and illuminated from below. The height values in the stereo image had been doubled to accentuate the terrain, and the displayed landscape was creeping steadily past to mirror the progress of the airship. Even though the terrain below us was starting to flatten out as we approached the center of the mandala, the land still had a northward slope. The brighter zones of the display indicated areas where real-time updates from the probes were continually adding new information to the image.

Two of the technicians looked up as I approached; they returned their attention to the display without acknowledging my existence. Dwan glanced up, frowned, hesitated, then continued her painfully spoken explanation. I didn't know the doctor she was talking to. but I recognized the name on her tag: Shreiber, Marietta.

Good-looking lady. Serious att.i.tude problem. She looked over, didn't recognize me in the dark, then turned her attention back to Dwan. Maybe I'd talk to her later, maybe I wouldn't. Her actions of last week didn't seem quite so important anymore.

I focused instead on Grodin.

Dwan's speech was slow and excruciating to listen to, but what she said was literate and to the point. "-including the ordnance overmap from the m-military n-network. The humans in the Coari infestation seem to have only a f-few weapons.

All of the w-weapons have been d-disabled. Starting's-six m-months ago, Operation Nightmare b-began triggering random f-failures throughout the Amazon b-basin. As of three weeks ago, there were no working m-military devices in any of the three m-mandala nests on our primary site-selection list. The information g,-gathered in't-today's f-f-flyovers indicates that no replacements for any of the d-disabled weapons have been b-brought into the C'oari camp. So we d-don't have to worry about anyone b-below shooting at us."

"Unless they have handmade weaponry," I suggested. Shreiber looked up, annoyed. She thought she was the expert. Dwan was slower to react, but more intense. She looked across the table at me, angry at my interruption and uncertain whether or not she should even admit that I was there. Her face froze, and then reanimated in a fl.u.s.ter of confusion. Her features looked like they were all arguing with each other while her emotional processes churned. Her eyes fluttered, her mouth worked, her hands clenched on the table edge. Finally, her professionalism outvoted her annoyance. "I d-don't think so," she said with painful precision. "It isn't just that the c-capability for the't-technology is not c-commonly available; the d-desire for it also seems to be lacking. Apparently, the Amazon g-gastropedes d-do not f-feel particularly threatened by a human p-presence-and vice versa, thc humans in the b-basin seem to have reached an accommodation with the infestation." She glared at me. "P-part of our job is to find out how humans can exist unm-molested within a Chchtorran society."

"You don't exist unmolested inside a Chtorran society," I corrected. "You exist unmolested inside a Chtorran."

"I w-would expect you to say's-something like that," Dwan replied coldly. "All you w-want to d-do is's-slash and b-burn."

"That's the military mind-set," said Shreiber. "Don't worry about it. This isn't their mission. It's ours." She still hadn't twigged.

"It's not a 'mind-set,' ' I said quietly. "It's the result of direct observation-"

"You l-lived with r-renegades," Dwan stuttered. "You, of all p-p-people, should know- b-better."

"They fed their children to the worms!" I snapped right back. "There isn't any cooperation. It's a delusion."

"Listen, McCarthy-'' interrupted one of the technicians. I recognized him, Clayton Johns; big and beefy, he'd been a college football star or something. He was always grinning and slapping people on the back, and f.u.c.king anything that moved or even looked like it was capable of movement or had maybe thought about moving once.

Right now, his expression was tight and his voice was low and controlled. He looked like he was about to get physical. He straightened where he stood.

I'd already decided, if he moved on me, I was going to break his kneecap. I was still thinking about the missing pilot, and I wasn't in a terrific mood. Clayton Johns apparently thought he was defending something; he spoke with ill-concealed arrogance. "You're not welcome here," he drawled. "So, why don't you just pack up your unwanted opinions and go take a flying-"

"Excuse me-?" A new voice. We all turned as one. General Tirelli and Captain Harbaugh had come quietly up to the video table. In the darkness, none of us had noticed. They were two grim silhouettes.

"If there is any flying," General Tirelli said politely, "Captain Harbaugh will order it. If there is any f.u.c.king, I will order that. As for Captain McCarthy's opinions, he's doing exactly what he was hired to do." She fixed Clayton Johns with a penetrating stare. "He is very welcome here. He is aboard this vessel to give us the benefit of his considerable expertise. He knows more about the worms than anybody else on this ship." She included Shreiber now. "He even knows more about the worms than you do. So I suggest that you make every effort to work with him."

Johns lowered his gaze so General Tirelli wouldn't see his expression. A mistake.

General Tireili wasn't stupid.

She looked right through him with a penetrating stare and added, "If you don't like it, I'll be happy to rea.s.sign you anywhere you want. I believe there's an opening for a kitchen orderly."

Johns went rigid. He straightened up immediately. "No, ma'am," he said. "I have no problem."

"Hm. We'll see." Tirelli gave him a skeptical look. She'd dealt with this type before. She started to turn away Dr. Shreiber wasn't as quick. She gazed across the video table, looking directly at me with a meaningful smirk. "I thought this was supposed to be a scientific mission, but ah, now I see otherwise. The priorities have shifted, haven't they... ?"

Tirelli turned back around slowly. I wanted to shout, ''Incoming-!"

"You stupid little b.i.t.c.h," the general said sadly. "You couldn't keep your mouth shut, could you? So blind and stupid and mean-spirited. What a deadly combination.

Who needs the worms when we have you and your att.i.tude problem aboard? I wasn't going to say this in public, but you've given me no choice. You-specifically you, Dr. Marietta Shreiber-are a very large part of this problem. Last week, you disregarded the formal chain of operational command established by the joint military and scientific network. You deliberately endangered the lives of this man and his on-site reconnaissance team. As a direct result of your reckless action, three lives were lost, and valuable information has been denied to the scientific community.

Justifiably, I might add. You gave Captain McCarthy absolutely no choice but to respond as he did. And if Dr. Zymph hasn't already chewed you a new a.s.shole for your arrogance, let me make up for that oversight now. By the time I found out you were on board, it was too late to. send you back-but if I'd known last week that you were going to be a part of the auxiliary on-site scientific team, I'd have canceled your ticket immediately. There is no place in this operation for someone who puts her personal goals above the goals of this mission."

"You're a fine one to talk," Shreiber snorted. "I know about your... relationship!"

She made it sound like something dirty.

"He's not my relationship," Lizard said quietly. "He's my Ilusband. And he's here because my commanding officer a.s.signed him here-over my objections-and not because I asked for him. Cuptain Harbaugh will confirm that. She was there."

Shreiber shrugged. Logic was irrelevant in this argument. "So what? You don't scare me. You have no jurisdiction over me. I work for Dr. Zymph."

General Tirelli grinned abruptly. Her grin widened. Uh-oh. She snapped her fingers at Corrigan, one of her aides. The man stepped forward. "Call Dr. Zymph.

Tell her I've just relieved Dr. Shreiber of all her duties and placed her under house arrest. She's no longer a part of this mission." To Dr. Shreiber, "If I had a spare flyer, I'd send you back to Rio tonight. Unfortunately, we have a missing pilot to search for, and she's more important than you are." To Corrigan, "Now get her out of here. She's interrupting the real work."

He took her arm firmly. Shreiber looked like she wanted to say something else, but Corrigan shook his head at her and said softly, but firmly, "Don't make it worse." He escorted her off the observation deck, amid shocked stares.

The general waited until the door whooshed shut behind them.

Because increased observation has made it possible to begin cataloging the various Chtorran life forms, we are now starting to see a wider variance in individual species than previously observed. Bunnydogs, for example, are demonstrating a much greater range of development than originally thought.

The average bunnydog-if such a creature as an average can be said to exist-will not be taller than one meter. The creature will ma.s.s between twenty and thirty kilograms. He will have very thick legs, a stubby frame, and heavily muscled limbs.

His feet will probably be oversized, and his entire body will be covered with a thick coat of red, pink, or light brown fur. The redder the fur, the more neural symbionts the creature is carrying.

-The Red Book, (Release 22.19A)

Chapter 51.

Serenade "Heisenberg was not only right. He was absolutely right."

-SOLOMON SHORT.

Then she exploded.

"Now, let me make this excruciatingly clear!" she said such sudden anger that every person in the room was startl, immediately to attention. She pointed vehemently at the alarm display spread across the video table. "That is the enemy.

Down, there! If you have any hatred, any enmity, any negative thoughts toward anything that isn't big and red and Chtorran, then you are betraying the mandate of this mission and the oath you took when you enlisted." To Johns and the people around him, she said "I'm not asking you to love MeCarthy. Frankly, he's not very lovable, and loving him isn't an easy job. But I am ordering you to work with him and I am ordering you to treat all of your coworkers with the same respect and courtesy that you'd want in return." I felt sorry for Johns. It wasn't all his fault, but he was bearing the brunt of it. It was obvious that he'd gotten the message. He looked close to tears. Apparently he'd never been bawled out like this before.

And General Tirelli still wasn't through. She turned around include everyone in the cargo bay. There was absolute silence. The work had stopped. "Let me make this clear to each and every one of you." She spoke in precise clipped tones that only served accentuate the depth of her anger. "I am sick and f.u.c.king tired all this G.o.dd.a.m.n infighting, politicking, backbiting, and position scrabbling. I'm sick of it in Houston. I'm sick of it here. It does not serve you. It doesn't serve us. And it doesn't serve the people who sent us-so this is the end of it. It stops right here and right now." She looked back to Technician Clayton Johns specifically. "From this moment on, everything you say and everything you do had better be in the service of this mission, or I'll have you up on charges so fast you'll think Einstein was wrong about the speed of light. And that goes for the rest of you-and everybody else on this G.o.dd.a.m.n airship. Is that clear? It is? Good." And then in a surprisingly calm tone of voice, she turned to Captain Harbaugh. "Do you want to add anything to that, Captain?"

Captain Harbaugh gazed studiedly at General Tirelli. "G.o.dd.a.m.n?" she questioned. "G.o.dd.a.m.n airship? I'll have you know that the pope himself blessed this vessel."

"Really?" Lizard looked genuinely surprised.

"Last year, in Rome." Captain Harbaugh was obviously pleased with herself.

"I apologize," said Lizard. "I got carried away."

"No problem. I enjoyed watching you work. You're very good." Captain Harbaugh turned to the rest of us and added quietly, "What General Tirelli said goes for me too. You're guests on this vessel. I expect you all to behave appropriately."

Then she looked calmly to me and spoke as if absolutely nothing out of the ordinary had just occurred. "Captain McCarthy? Please-what is your a.s.sessment of the situation?"

"Uh, I'm not a captain anymore, ma'am. I'm retired."

"I know that, yes, but you're still ent.i.tled to the honorific. If you please?"

"Yes, well-" I cleared my throat, I looked back at the video table. It dominated the darkness. We all looked like ghouls in its ghastly green light. The glowing display had changed significantly in the last few moments. Something was clearly happening below. The worms were surging up out of the ground. Our presence had to be the trigger. I cleared my throat a second time. "Um, our science officer has been studying this map longer than I have." I nodded across the table to Dwan. "I think it might be more valuable to hear what she has to say."

Captain Harbaugh looked to Dwan. "Lieutenant Grodin?" Lizard caught my eye and nodded very slightly. Good.

Dwan looked startled. I'd caught her off balance; she hadn't expected that from me. But she began stammering out words, clumsily at first, then as she regained control, her phrases became more carefully constructed. "J-just in the't-time we've been talking, I've b-been m-monitoring changes in the nest. We're almost d-directly over the center of the m-m-mandala now-that's the central arena d-down there."

Captain Harbaugh nodded. "We're sky-anchoring now." She meant that the airship's computer would hold us at our present mooring and position for as long as we wanted it to. Satellite reconnaissance had revealed that the center of this mandala, like the center of the j.a.puran mandala, had been cleared to form a large open area; the Purus mandala also looked like it was being similarly shaped. Whatever the process was, it was generic.

n.o.body was sure exactly what purposes these huge clearings served, but the presence of such a clearing at the exact center of each mandala suggested considerable importance. The Mission Design Team-Lizard had brought me in to work with them, between the various postponements-had decided almost from the very beginning that the airship should take up its position directly over the center of the mandala. Whatever significance the arena Ir.rd for the worms might serve us equally well.

Dwan Grodin continued. As she spoke, she sprayed spittle. She couldn't control it. The rest of us pretended not to notice, even though the spray made the display on the video table sparkle where the drops. .h.i.t. "S-s-since we came into view, the gastropedes have been m-moving s-steadily toward the center of the's-settlement.

M-m-most of them seem to be g-gathering in the arena. M-milling around uncertainly.

B-but-this m-might be important-even b-before our approach,'s-something unusual was happening." She scuttled sideways around the table, shuffling like a little troll.

She stretched and pointed. Someone handed her a hand-laser, and she fumbled with it until she got the beam to light. "There-that's the m-most visible example. S-see?

Th-that was a cl.u.s.ter of n-nests and corrals. N-now, it's b-been d-disa.s.sembled. We d-don't understand why, but the same thing is happening all over the settlement. We think that this m-m-mandala is-or was until we appeared-b-b-beginning the next phase of its expansion. Now, with the g-g-gastropedes g-gathering in the arena, we d-d-don't know what's going to happen, I m-mean with the't-transformation of the nest. We've d-disturbed it. We know that the g-g-gastropedes are going to react violently to our presence in their sky, we d-don't know what the aftereffects will b-be," She slopped talking, grateful that her effort was ended. She wiped her mouth with the back of her sleeve.

Lizard looked vaguely unhappy. Dwan hadn't really said anything we didn't already know. This was precisely what I had told her. Dwan didn't have the insight necessary to the job. Captain Harbaugh was also dissatisfied. She turned back to me. "Do you have anything to add to that?"

"I had a thought..." I started to say: "It's pretty far out, but..."

"Go ahead, Jim," Lizard said quietly.

"Well..." I rubbed my nose. I wasn't sure I liked the idea, but I was committed now to expressing it. Actually, it almost made sense in the darkness of the observation bay. I turned back to Captain Harbaugh. "When were you planning to illuminate the airship?"

"Whenever General Tirelli recommends it." She looked to Lizard.

Lizard looked to me. "You're the a.s.signed expert. What's your advice?"

For just the briefest instant, I wanted to ask who was on first. "Well," I said. "I was just thinking about what was going to happen when we turn on the display."

"Th-the w-worms w-will g-g-go c-crazy. Y-you should know th-that," said Dwan.

She was still unhappy with me.

"Do you want us to hold off?" asked Captain Harbaugh.

I rubbed my cheek with the palm of my hand. I needed a shave. I was feeling very uncomfortable and very much on the spot. "No, there's no reason to. You can do it anytime now. Look at the display; the worms know we're here. As dark as it is, they can still see us clearly. They're gathering in the arena. They're waiting for us to do something." The video table showed the view of the large central clearing directly underneath the airship. The worms were pouring into it from all over the mandala.

They couldn't have been more eager if somebody had been giving away free puppies. They were turning around and around. They were all staring upward.

Even though the arena was already filled, more and more worms were arriving every moment. I pointed toward the open cargo access. "Listen to that. They're singing to us." From below, a gauzy trilling was becoming increasingly noticeable; it floated upward through the open observation bay like a bad smell. Several people at the table shuddered.

"So? What's your p-p-point?" asked Dwan. Her tone of voice suggested that she thought this entire conversation was a waste of t-t-time.

"The singing," I said. I stared right back at her. "What is it?"

She wasn't fl.u.s.tered. She knew the answer. She'd read it in the briefing. She'd read it in The Red Book. Release 22.19A. "We know all about the's-singing. We exp-p-pected it. It's a..." She struggled with the words. "It's a-a reflex ph-phenomenon."

"What if The Red Book is wrong?" I asked.

I looked across the table at her. I didn't like myself for what I was about to do, but I had to do it. I had to make the point. I was going to send another message to General Wainright. Lizard was frowning; this scene was making her unhappy, but she made no move to stop me. She understood what I was doing-and the answer was more important than manners.

"Y-you wrote th-that p-part of th-the b-book," Dwan accused. She looked betrayed.

"And now I'm saying I might have been wrong. I've had second thoughts. So now, without referring to the book, you tell me what the singing is-what you think it is."

"W-well, th-the's-singing th-that we're hearing n-now is a-a-anticip-patory," Dwan began hesitantly. "They d-don't know what we are, b-but th-they're reacting to our sh-shape. Wh-when th-the lights g-go on, the w-worms w-will all g-go crazy. They'll see this airship as a v-vision in the sky of the b-biggest and m-most b-beautiful w-worm in the entire universe. And that w-will't-trigger a r-religious f-frenzy."

"A religious frenzy?" Captain Harbaugh raised an eyebrow.

I nodded. "That's what it looks like."

"Wh-what else would you c-call it?" Dwan stammered. "A giant v-vision of G-G.o.d appears in the sky and th-the c-crowd g-gets hysterical."

"That implies that the worms have enough intelligence to have a perception of G.o.d," I said. "And we know they don't. The worms have less smarts than chimpanzees. So, if it isn't a reaction to a vision of G.o.d, what is it?"

"It's-" Dwan stopped as she realized what I'd said. She looked stricken. Her expression crumpled and tears welled up in her eyes. She recognized immediately the flaw in her logic. "I-I'm sorry," she gulped. "I w-wasn't th-thinking." She'd made a mistake, and the pain of failure was an emotional blow beyond her ability to cope. I felt like a heel for embarra.s.sing her in public.

"Go on, Jim," Lizard prompted.

I glanced away from Dwan. I wanted to go to her and explain that it wasn't her fault; it was my mistake, not hers; that's what I'd believed too when I wrote that part of the book. But-I'd have to do that later. I turned to Lizard and Captain Harbaugh.

"See, this is what I've been thinking about for the last two days-and the more I think about it, the more right it feels. There's no such thing as one Chtorr. They don't exist as individuals. They exist as a song. The song is the ident.i.ty, and the nest is the place where the song lives. The worms are just the instruments that the song uses." I looked from one to the other, letting the idea sink in.

Some of the crew around the display tables looked skeptical. Well, I'd already admitted up front that the idea was pretty far out. I glanced over at Dwan; her face was absolutely blank, she was searching her data banks for equivalent processes in nature.

Captain Harbaugh put both hands on the edge of the table and leaned forward to study the display. She looked intrigued. She nodded thoughtfully. "Yes," she said, almost to herself. "The same way language uses human beings."

Lizard's expression was darker, but she too was considering the idea; perhaps she was already seeing some of the ramifications. "Okay," she said, carefully laying it out for herself. "So, what you're saying is that the worms are just component parts-"