Dante's Equation Part 45

As a young man I even wishedI could be a warrior." Tyches and Gyde chuckled gently over the naivete of this. "Did you enjoy your upbringing?" ". . . Of course, Chancellor Tyches." Pol had never seen Gyde fl.u.s.tered before. Tyches's eyes moved to Pol. "Certainly," Pol agreed. There must have been something unexpected in his eyes, for Tyches forgot Pol was inconsequential. Their gaze locked. Pol wanted to look away but feared it would reveal too much. He held it, smiled.

"You must forgive my curiosity, but I so rarely meet Silvers." "It's our pleasure to tell you anything you like, Chancellor." Gyde had recovered himself. Now his tone indicated that they would be at the chancellor's disposal for hours if that's what he wanted, tell him every intimate detail he might want to know: how they groomed their teeth, what it felt like when they shat.

"Well, never mind." Tyches lost interest. "Let me think."

Gyde smoked his Balsala halfway down and put it out in a dish on the desk. Pol reluctantly put his out as well. He immediately wished he could light another. "What I tell you does not leave this room," Tyches said slowly. "And it will have to go on your records that you've heard this."

"We are in your hands."

"Very well. There are banned books which theorize that there are . . . other suns and planets, up among the stars." Pol felt his heart quicken. The Gold was lying. He knew very well, heknew , there were other solar systems out there. Apparently the state had decided that Silvers had no need of that knowledge. But theGolds, they had been taught the truth about the universe-the truth that he, Pol, also knew.

"Could these books be obtained by a Bronze?" Gyde asked. "Nooo," Tyches said thoughtfully. "The two books I know of are more . . . technical writings, probably not comprehensible to most people. I have just thought of something else, though. . . ."

He went to a glossy black cabinet and unlocked it with a small key. Inside were neat stacks of thick-papered files. He locked the cabinet again, bringing one of the files back to his desk. He turned over pages of scribbled writing.

"There is a banned book calledHeavenly Mysteries . Occult-religio trash. It claims there are all sorts of other worlds inhabited by strange creatures, some of them intelligent." Tyches closed the file, satisfied. "I wouldn't be surprised if that was your terrorist's source."

Gyde wrote the t.i.tle in his notebook. "Do you have any idea where someone might have access to that book?"

"The city of Madamar. That's where the book was found, anyway. Three copies were confiscated years ago."

"Is there any chance we could see the book itself?" Pol asked.

Chancellor Tyches turned his bulging eyes to Pol. There was contempt in them. "That's why the books arebanned . No one is supposed to read them." "That's fine, Chancellor Tyches," Gyde said quickly. "I don'thave the book. As I said, it's occult-religio trash. But even if I did, I couldn't let you see it." "We don't need to see it, thank you," Gyde said with humility. Pol bowed his head apologetically. "I'm sorry. Of course you're right, Chancellor Tyches."

In the car, Gyde's silence was chilling. "They let us into the Archives to do research for cases," Pol said. "I thought . . ." "Are you out of your scarping mind? Do you really think they let you seeanything in the Archives other than what theywantyou to see?" The words dried up on Pol's tongue. He felt suspended all of a sudden, tricked into taking a false step out over nothingness. He should never have said anything, not one word. He looked out the window.

"By the blood, Pol, sometimes I wonder where you've been all your life!"

Pol studied the pa.s.sing buildings.

Gyde cleared his throat: "Wheredid you serve?"

"Sachiasus, Ephiphron, Mona Res," Pol regurgitated names from Pol 137's file, keeping his voice even.

"I had friends in Ephiphron. I heard it was cold there."

Pol gave him a glare, a glare that might be read as either "of course it was cold" or "cold-are you crazy?" and certainly meant "get off my scarping back."

The car felt stifling. Pol tried to think. Was Gyde suspicious? If he was, could Pol take him out? Even if he succeeded in killing Gyde and getting away with it, what then? There was still that upcoming physical. He would have to run. Run where?

But Gyde didn't continue to question him. Instead, he began talking about a battle he'd been in, the Great Battle, the Battle of Cross-Plain.

"It was coldthere , I can tell you. In the morning there were icicles hanging from the guns. It was the worst battle I ever saw, in twenty-five years of combat."

"I've heard about it. What was it like?" Pol didn't give a scarp about the Battle of Cross-Plain, but he was happy to let Gyde talk about himself, fill up the silence.

"I was an a.s.sistant to the commander. He made me stick close to him; that's the only reason I survived. Entire units were decimated." Gyde paused. "When we set up trophy we didn't have enough men left to bury the dead. There were corpses stretched out for miles. We had to call a truce to deal with it. For two days we worked side by side with the enemy making bonfires of the bodies. You'd think fighting would have broken out, but there wasn't a single incident. There were too many dead all around us already. We didn't have the stomach for battle."

"It sounds like a great glory."

"It was. I earned a hundred merits for that battle."

Pol stared at him in astonishment. "Ahundred?"

"There were so few survivors," Gyde said with a roguish wink and a smile.

They drove on quietly for a while. Pol pictured the battle in his mind, or tried to. He hadn't been at that battle, he was sure, though he might have been. It had been fifteen years ago, and he had been old enough to fight if he'd really been a Silver. He didn't think he'd been there, not even on the enemy side. But he did remember being in combat, vaguely. He got a brief impression of a desert and tanks. Desert?

"My best cla.s.smate from childhood was wounded," Gyde said casually. "The femur in his right leg was shattered. I visited him in the infirmary. I could see, looking at it, that it would never be right. He wouldn't be able to keep the leg. He knew it, too."

There was something strange in Gyde's voice. Pol turned to look at him.

"I said good-bye to him one day, and the next day when I went back, his bed was empty." Gyde looked in the rearview mirror, then glanced over into his pa.s.senger's eyes. "A warrior exists to serve the state, and when he can no longer serve . . ."

Pol understood; at last he understood Gyde's insinuations about Silver retirement. He looked at Gyde's clenched jaw and, with a chill of horror, he knew. It must be true. If anyone would know such a thing, it would be Gyde. "The state rewards service," Pol said. "Long live the state," replied Gyde.

*** "There are no construction Irons with reading and writing on their profile, at least not working in this city." Gyde ripped the printout from the telex. The results from Research had arrived while they were gone.

"We already agreed; he's not an Iron." Pol leaned against his desk, hands tucked in his pockets in case they started shaking. "He's a Bronze construction worker, most likely a foreman or a guard." "Who hails from Madamar."

"We'll see. How long will it take to get the results on the Madamar search?" Gyde was just sealing up the request. He went into the hall and motioned for an Iron runner to take it down to Research.

"I marked it 'urgent,' so the night staff will work on it. It ought to come in over the telex sometime tonight. By tomorrow morning, my friend . . ." Gyde winked. "Come in early."

"I'll take the first bus." Gyde strolled closer to Pol, getting very close. Gyde was occasionally given to displays of chummy, even paternal affection-a common-enough sight among Silvers. But this felt . . . different. Pol tensed up.

"What about tonight? What are you doing?" Gyde's voice was a murmur. "The usual. Have dinner, go to bed early. Do you need something done?" "I was thinking we could go to the gymnasium together. Release some stress. Tomorrow will be a big day."

Pol was momentarily speechless. Gyde's words were seductive, but his smile was contradicted by glittering eyes-it was the smiling welcome of a dagger. "Come on! I may be an old man, but I can still wrestle a middle-aged buck like you." "I trained this morning. I'm . . . tired." "You did not. I never see you at the gymnasium." Gyde wrapped his hand around Pol's bicep. "You have to stay fit, you know. Nothing more deformed than a flabby Silver."

His hand was a shock. It gripped Pol's arm, kneading it. There was something calculated in it, probing, testing. Pol felt a surge of repulsion and terror. He violently yanked his arm away. He stood to his feet breathing hard, looking into Gyde's half-lidded eyes. All he could see in those eyes was a cool and dangerous mercenary. "Maybe next week," Pol said stiffly. "Sure. Sure." Gyde's face relaxed. The moment was over. It was wrong, all wrong, but there was no way to salvage it. Pol mumbled his good-byes and left.

18.3. Seventy-Thirty Jill Talcott

The fertility clinic was a five-story monster stretching an entire city block. There was nothing remarkable about it other than its size. It was square and nondescript, with the occasional small blank window. It looked no less deserted than every other building in the City. "Didn't work very well, did it?" Nate commented as they stood on the street looking at it. "What's that?" "Fertility." Jill agreed absently. She hadn't wanted to come here this morning. She'd wanted to go to the antenna field, the one shestill hadn't gotten to see. But Nate had his heart set on the s.p.a.ceport, and this had been the only alternative they could agree upon. Now that she was here, though, she was getting a wee bit curious.

"If fertilityis their problem," she said, "then it must have been a problem for a very long time. Species don't die out overnight." "They would if they had your libido." "What!" He grinned. "I said, 'Let's go inside; it would be neat-o!' " She glared at him but couldn't stop a laugh. "One of these days, Nate." "Don't I wish."

Inside, the power was on. Light panels lit a large, plain room with branching hallways. It was possibly a waiting room, though there were only two of the narrow molded chairs-both empty.

"Not expecting a crowd," Nate remarked.

Jill looked around the room, but there was nothing much to see-plain white walls, no signs or directions or anything else. The hallways all looked the same. She tapped her collarbone, pondering which direction would be their best bet.

If fertilitywas the cause of this species' demise, it would be an interesting point for her report. There had to be data somewhere, and with the help of the translator in her ear she might actually be able to read it. What she needed was a computer. She picked a hall and motioned for Nate to follow.

His tennis shoes made little squeaks on the future relative of a linoleum floor. Down each side of the hallway were regularly s.p.a.ced doors, and at the end was another branching corridor. Jill tried a door on her right and found a small observation room, approximately four feet wide, consisting of a counter and computer facing a thick-paned window. Cautiously she stepped up into it.

The window looked into the neighboring room. This had to be where the "clinical" part of the clinic occurred. There was a bed in there-at least, that's what she a.s.sumed it was. It was a large amalgamation of bedding, steel, and what looked like stuffing built up and around. It resembled a nest. Next to the bed was a table with shining metal instruments of ghastly design. A mechanical arm with a needlelike protuberance hung from the ceiling.

Jill's lip curled in fascinated disgust. "Ewww," she said, and then, because that wasn't very scientific, "It doesn't look too appealing, does it?"

"Yeah," Nate breathed a shaky laugh. "If this is their idea of a romantic setting, no wonder they have problems feeling s.e.xy. They need some James Brown and mood lighting in here."

Trying not to think about Nate in the context of James Brown and mood lighting, Jill sat down at the monitor. This was the first computer she'd had access to since they'd tried the translators, and she was anxious to check it out.

"I'll see if I can find some records. They should have data on birthrates, population, things like that."

" 'Kay. I wanna look next door."

He left her alone. In a minute she saw him enter the neighboring room from her peripheral vision. She looked. He picked up one of the instruments on the table, turned, and threatened her with it menacingly. Jill uttered another "ewww" and went back to her screen.

She was disappointed to see that although the words on the monitor were now in English, she still had no idea what she was looking at. There were many terms that were apparently untranslatable and remained in the alien text. She decided to try the speech approach.

"Computer," she said, feeling slightly ridiculous, "show me the birthrates for the past two hundred years."

The computer understood her perfectly. It brought up data, but it was arranged in a graph that could have been designed by Escher. It hurt her brain just looking at it. She squinted at the confusing lines and symbols. The numbers on the screen were incredibly low. If they were really birthrates, they ran in the mere dozens per . . . what? Month? Year? Decade? She was still trying to figure that out when she heard a m.u.f.fled noise and glanced up.

Nate was being dragged from the clinical room-by an alien.

For a moment Jill was too surprised to respond. Then she got her feet under her and ran out the door. Nate was being pulled down the hall, his wrist gripped tight in the alien's long greenish fingers.

"Come along, citizen!" the alien said. "Do your duty!"

The voice-the first Jill had heard coming from a living alien-sounded right off an old Alvin and the Chipmunks alb.u.m. And there was something comic about the way the alien was marching Nate along. He looked fragile but stern, like a determined old man. Nate was trying to get away without hurting the thing.

"Hang on a minute. I think you have the wrong-"

"Do your duty!"

Nate glanced over his shoulder at Jill and they exchanged a confused look.

"Hey!" Jill said. "h.e.l.lo!"

The alien paid her no mind. He stopped at a door and the door opened. Without further ado, the alien shoved Nate inside and the door closed.

From behind the door, Nate let out a bloodcurdling scream.

The situation went from baffling to dead serious in a heartbeat. Jill called his name and went running toward them. The alien, ignoring her, disappeared behind a second door. She hesitated a moment, then went to the door Nate had gone through. She pounded on it, but nothing happened. Nate screamed again. He sounded terrified.

Jill pounded harder, yelling at the door to open, but it wouldn't budge. She ran back to the door the alien had entered and this one opened immediately. Inside was an observation room, just like the one she'd been in. The alien was seated at the computer, his fingers dancing over the screen. He peered through the window into the next room. Jill stepped up to look.

Nate had stopped screaming. He was backed up against the doorway, a horrified look on his face. He was not alone. The bed-nest in this room was occupied by something the likes of which Jill had never seen. It was an alien, or so she thought, but its body washuge and grossly fat. It was naked, with a whole row of nipples and a pubis partially hidden by waving legs. Through its rolls of translucent skin Jill could make out bubbles or sacs.

As her eyes grazed over the corpulent ma.s.s, pulled by a sickened fascination, she saw that one of the sacs had something in it. She knew at once what it was and thus what the sacs were. They were eggs. Most of them were empty, but this one had a tiny embryo inside. As the ma.s.s on the bed shifted, the embryo's face rolled lazily to face Jill. Its large head and eyes looked like any other embryo she had ever seen, but there was something wrong. The thing was frozen in a calcified position. It was dead.

"Oh my G.o.d," Jill whispered.

The alien on the bed was a female, the first they'd seen on this planet. And she was horrid. The creature lay quivering, barely alive herself. She slowly turned her enormous filmy eyes to Nate. He pressed back harder against the door, shuddering.

"Nate, can you hear me?" Jill called. He gave no response. She knocked on the gla.s.s, but it was hard as a diamond and scarcely gave off a vibration, much less a noise.

Oh G.o.d,Jill thought.Tell me the females don't eat the males on this planet. That would explain their reluctance to breed.

But the female didn't lunge at Nate-far from it. She looked completely immobile. Next to Jill, the alien at the computer pressed something, sent his high chipmunky voice echoing into the next room.

"Do your duty, citizen! Do your duty!"

"You've got to let him out of there!" Jill demanded loudly. The alien ignored her.

"h.e.l.lo!" She bent over, waving her hand in front of him to get his attention. But he was focused on the computer screen again.

"Bad!" the alien muttered. He turned those long fingers to a set of controls.

Jill, uncomprehendingly, watched the mechanical arm start to move. Nate backed away, sure it was coming for him, but the arm headed for the female. She made a high squealing cry of panic and protest as it approached. The needle-probe didn't pause but embedded itself into her skin above the dead embryo and sucked it up, sac and all. Jill squeezed her eyes shut, felt her gorge rise. In the next room, Nate screamed and resumed his pounding on the door.

"Do your duty, citizen," the alien said over the intercom, "or I shall report you. Do your duty!"

On the bed, the female weaklyunfolded in invitation. Nate glanced over his shoulder, pounded on the door more fiercely. The look on his face-Jill couldn't bear it. And she didnot like him being alone with that . . . that thing. She ran back into the hall and pushed at the door to his room, pushed where it went into the wall, trying to get it to slide. Nothing. "Nate, can you hear me?" "Jill! Get me out of here!" "I'm trying, but the door won't budge!""Well . . .make it!" Before she could figure out how to do that, the alien stomped into the hall from the observation room. Despite his inhuman features he had a distinctly petulant air. He would have walked right into Jill if she hadn't backed up. He might be able to see Nate, but it appeared he still could not see her. The door opened at his touch.

A terrified Nate stood on the other side. "Nate!" "Bad! Move back!" the alien ordered. Nate dodged around the alien into the hall. The alien, with a mutter, stomped into the room, heading for the nest."Are you all right?" Jill asked as Nate grabbed her hand. "I will be. Let's get out of here!" Jill resisted his pull. "Wait!"She couldn't resist a final look into the room. The female was straining as if to get up. She appeared to be choking, her mouth gaping open, her face going from a gray to purple. The frail little alien paced helplessly beside her as if unsure what to do. He kept muttering but seemed unable or unwilling to actually touch her.

Nate tugged Jill again and this time they ran, down the hall, through the waiting room, out into the street, back outside, into the bright, hot sun. *** They were quiet as they walked back to the apartment, quiet as they sat on the floor and ate food bars. Jill could tell Nate was feeling the lethargic effect of the planet-he looked tired. She was feeling it herself. And the clinic . . . the clinic had gotten to them both.

"Jill?" he said at last, clearing his throat.

"Yes?"

"I've been thinking about how far away from Earth we are." Nate looked down at his bar, half-eaten. "And I was thinking that . . . You were right. We may never get home."

Jill sighed. "This place has all the technology we could ever need for anything. Including getting home. It may take us a while to find it."

He looked at her, his eyes savage with the purple stain of exhaustion under them. "A while."