Starship Alchemon Read online

  Her actions had been driven by exasperation. Over the years, she’d grown angry about her own identity, about feeling trapped in a culture that looked upon psionics as dangerous freaks. She’d come to resent that her abilities had isolated her from mainstream Corporeal life.

  Many citizens avoided contact with potent psionics, supposedly because they feared having their thoughts or feelings read. Such apprehensions were mostly nonsense, the product of media distortions. Telepathic contacts rarely happened in such simplistic ways. Individuals who were strong psionic receptors might be disturbed by her presence, but for most people it came down to fear as an overriding reason. Not exactly a new idea in the history of the human species.

  When Pannis had offered her a generous stipend and future employment in exchange for a battery of tests at Jamal, she’d eagerly accepted. She would take the mega’s creds and proceed to make life miserable for them, punishing them in the name of all psionics, making them pay for the injustices in her own life. Along with those vengeance fantasies came an even more naïve notion, that journeying far from Earth would somehow provide a stability that had always eluded her.

  She unleashed a bitter laugh. Since boarding the Alchemon, her role as the avenging outsider had given way to escalating anxiety. And as the ship drew closer to Sycamore, that anxiety at times threatened to become something even worse, the most terrifying aspect of her life, a miasma of dread that long ago she had come to refer to as the reek.

  It had first manifested when she was five years old. She’d been playing with a doll in the bedroom of the Wisconsin condo where they’d lived at the time. While morphing the plastiform figure from one Disney princess to another, the doll’s programming had malfunctioned, melting the face into an ugly blob.

  At that instant, inexplicable shudders cascaded through her, accompanied by a vile odor of decaying flesh and a sensation of hands wrapped around her neck, strangling her. Gasping for breath, she’d erupted into mad screams.

  Her mother had rushed in and tried to comfort her. The effort had proved futile; she continued shrieking under the torment of dread, death odor and invisible hands crushing her windpipe. Not until her mother had summoned the glimmering holo of a virtual medic, who’d prescribed a drowse drink – maternally forced down her throat – had chemically induced sleep brought relief.

  Throughout LeaMarsa’s childhood, the reek had returned on a number of occasions, enveloping her in its triple embrace of terror, decomposition and strangulation. She’d suffered a bout at age seven while watching a scary movie and another episode a year later after falling down a short flight of steps at school. She’d adamantly refused to discuss the reek with her parents or anyone else, afraid that merely talking about it would bring on a fresh attack.

  The reek had struck increasingly during her teen years, including several incidents following the death of her parents in the shuttle crash. But by age fifteen she’d learned to gauge when an attack was imminent and take action to short-circuit it. Whenever she sensed the reek was close to penetrating waking consciousness, she would take flight by engaging in strenuous exercise. Long swims and vigorous runs had proven particularly effective.

  She’d stumbled upon a more direct method for warding off the reek while fighting a hellish, nine-foot demon. The virtual game, Jet Li’s Shaolin Smackdown, was played sitting in a haptic chair, and by overriding the chair’s neural limiters – a trick learned from a schoolmate – she’d been able to feel the agonizing but non-injurious sensations of the demon’s kicks and punches. The use of pain as an analgesic had opened up a whole new arena for countering the attacks.

  Sometimes the reek came at night, in her dreams. Using biofeedback, she’d trained herself to recognize such onslaughts and awaken. Then she’d drive the terror back to its subliminal depths by lashing her thighs with a short length of fishing rod, later rubbing healcream on the marks so her parents wouldn’t notice.

  LeaMarsa didn’t know what the reek represented or why it hovered within some deep chasm of her mind. All she knew for certain was that it could never be allowed to enter consciousness. As awful as its symptoms were, she sensed that at the heart of it was a thing so terrifying that it was beyond her capacity to confront. Vigorous exercise or self-inflicted pain – the method didn’t matter as long as the reek was held at bay.

  She reached the containment door and touched it with her palm. The door slid open. Recalling those sureshutter tales, she dashed quickly through the portal.

  The compact lab was outfitted with workbenches and chairs, cabinets of test gear and a pair of superhaptic glove boxes. Sheets of white lumes beneath the translucent floor and ceiling provided shadow-free illumination.

  Hardy sat at a bench observing scrolling data on a monitor, his chubby arms poking from a green lab shirt. A sliver of a smile crept across his jowled face as he spotted her.

  “Welcome, LeaMarsa. Have you ever been in here before?”

  She shook her head.

  “Not much to see, I’m afraid. But for us research types, plenty to keep us occupied.”

  Faye emerged from behind a cabinet. “Recovered from decon, dear?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  That had been another unpleasant experience. When they’d returned from the surface, Rigel had maneuvered the lander to an external airlock that led directly to the containment area. He’d guided the capsule with the organism through the outer lock, down a chute to the inner lock and, once repressurization was complete, into its new home.

  After docking in a lander hangar, the four of them had been required to pass through a complex decontamination procedure. Melon-sized robots had scanned, sprayed and bathed them for the better part of an hour.

  “Let us bring you to up to speed on what we’ve learned so far,” Hardy said.

  Faye walked to the blank wall at the back of the lab, swiped her fingers across a control slate. The electrochromic wall turned transparent, revealing the containment area itself. LeaMarsa was surprised to see the atmosphere bore a resemblance to Sycamore’s, complete with gently wafting fog.

  In the center was the organism. It pulsed contentedly, like a giant human heart. Its bluish coloration seemed lighter than how she remembered it from the surface, but that could have been just a difference in the lighting. Still, she had the impression it was somehow healthier. Faintly visible through its translucent skin was a darker lump, the fetal organism.

  “I’ve named it,” Faye said. “I call it Bouncy Blue.”

  “That is not its official designation,” Hardy said with a scowl, concerned the name was too frivolous. “After we return to Earth, proper nomenclature will be assigned to it by the XBC.”

  LeaMarsa didn’t recognize the acronym.

  “Xenobiological Confederation,” Faye said, reading her confusion. “It’s responsible for classifying and naming all extraterrestrial organisms.”

  Hardy went on. “We’re positive this creature is not native to the planet. No way could such an organism have developed there, even below the surface. Sycamore was never a living world. And we’re certain the organism didn’t arrive inside the rock via a meteor impact.”

  “How can you be sure of that?” LeaMarsa asked.

  “The rock encasing it is indigenous,” Faye said.

  “We also believe,” Hardy continued, “that the rock surrounding the organism was once significantly larger. Millennia of erosion whittled it down, exposing the organism and releasing the bacteria.”

  Faye nodded in agreement. “We’re thinking that the Sycom strain was clustered only on the organism’s surface and isn’t native to it. Possibly the bacteria was a contaminant, the result of accidental exposure by whoever brought Bouncy Blue to the planet and embedded it in the rock.”

  It took a moment for LeaMarsa to register the impact of that last statement.

  “It was brought to Sycamore? By whom?”

  Faye couldn’t disguise her excitement. “The most likely answer? An intelligent alien species.”


  Hardy raised a hand in protest. “At this point, that’s pure conjecture. We have no proof to support such a conclusion.”

  “Admittedly. But there’s plenty of evidence. And if it should turn out to be true…”

  Faye trailed off. There was no need for her to state the obvious. Sophisticated plant and animal life had been found on scores of planets, but never had a lifeform been seen that came close to approaching the self-awareness of human intelligence. If Hardy and Faye could prove that Bouncy Blue was an extraterrestrial immigrant, deliberately or accidentally sent to Sycamore by some unknown species, it would be the find of the millennium.

  Faye winked at her. “Fame and fortune for one and all, dear.”

  Hardy scowled, as if such thoughts were beneath him. But LeaMarsa knew that the science rep would hog any press conferences announcing the discovery of intelligent extraterrestrial life.

  “Our initial fears about Bouncy Blue being harmed by severe temperature change appear to be unfounded,” Faye said. “We’ve gradually varied the containment temperature a hundred degrees either way with no discernible effect. We need to study tissue samples to gain a clearer idea of its metabolism. But we’re having a bit of a problem there.”

  “Bouncy Blue’s tissue dies within microseconds of extraction,” Hardy said. “Highly unusual, to say the least. One theory is that the organism generates some sort of life-enabling energy field that our instruments aren’t sensitive enough to measure. This energy field could be shielding it from outside environments. Possibly, its tissue cannot exist beyond this field.”

  “Such a field could account for its survival on Sycamore,” Faye added.

  “What about that thing inside it?” LeaMarsa asked.

  “So far, we’re just looking, not touching. We don’t know enough about what we’re dealing with to attempt tissue extraction from the fetal creature.”

  “A proper scientist peels an onion from the outside in,” Hardy said, sounding pompous. “In due time, we’ll research the internal organism.”

  Movement in the containment caught LeaMarsa’s eye. As Bouncy Blue rolled across the floor, she had the eerie notion it was somehow eavesdropping.

  “It moves like that sometimes,” Hardy explained. “Another mystery.”

  The airseal opened, admitting Ericho and Rigel.

  “Captain Solorzano,” Hardy uttered, his tone hinting of disdain. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

  Ericho ignored him and stared at the organism. LeaMarsa thought that the captain looked quite handsome in his black-and-gold uniform. Early in the voyage, she’d dreamed about the two of them having a sexual relationship. That was before she’d learned that crewdoc June Courthouse was Ericho’s steady partner.

  She felt no such attraction to Rigel Shaheed. The tech officer was taller and more broad-shouldered than Ericho, with thick muscled arms. Something beyond his brutish mannerisms made her feel anxious.

  “Jonomy reviewed your experiment schedule,” Ericho began. “We have some misgivings.”

  Hardy grimaced. “Do tell.”

  “Item forty-six on your agenda. You intend to place a fusion battery inside the containment?”

  “Yes. We wish to learn whether the organism can tap into a raw power source, whether it’s capable of direct energy absorption.”

  “Perhaps as a means of nourishment,” Faye added. “It had to be feeding on something all these millennia.”

  “It’s a necessary test,” Hardy insisted.

  Ericho pointed up at the containment ceiling, barely visible through the swirling fog. It was covered in a plethora of remote test gear, including foot-long canisters that could extend specialized appendages for extracting samples, and a permanently confined pup.

  “You’re aware that the pup carries a thermal HC for emergencies?”

  “I’m aware of basic physics,” Hardy snapped. “I’m certainly not so foolish as to allow a Higgs cutter to be activated with a fusion cell nearby.”

  “Not deliberately. But accidents happen.”

  “Not in my labs.”

  Rigel grunted. “If Bouncy Blue tries anything too weird or the containment is somehow breached, that pup could activate the HC. If it does, it’ll carve your little friend into kitty litter. And if the beam touches a fusion cell, we’ll be dealing with one nasty shitstorm.”

  Hardy gave an exasperated sigh. “There are precautions in place to prevent that. The Alchemon is intelligent enough not to allow such a stupid event to take place. It’s not going to risk vaporizing a portion of itself.”

  “What you’re saying does make sense,” Ericho said, sounding reasonable.

  LeaMarsa realized that the captain wanted her to see him as fair-minded and, by contrast, Hardy as dangerously reckless. It was the latest skirmish in a war that the two men, who disliked one another intensely, had been waging since the outset of the voyage.

  “Anything else?”

  “Item one-thirty-three on your agenda. It appears to be a reckless experiment.”

  Hardy’s face darkened. “It’s not slated until after an exhaustive range of other tests are performed. By then, the safety margin will undoubtedly be more than acceptable.”

  Rigel flashed a grin at LeaMarsa. “How about it? OK with you?”

  She shook her head, confused.

  The tech officer laughed. “Hell, he hasn’t even told you.”

  “Told me what?”

  “The good doctor here intends to have you put on a shieldsuit and go outside. You’ll reenter through the containment airlock and once you’re standing next to Bouncy Blue, you’ll remove your suit. I believe the idea is for the two of you to engage in body-to-body contact. Still, I don’t know how you’re going to breathe that shit. Not a lot of oxygen in there.”

  “She’ll wear an air mask,” Hardy snapped.

  “Yeah, good idea. Of course, you’ll have to hope that Bouncy Blue doesn’t get any notions while you’re trying to psionically wake him. Cos you probably won’t be able to get back in your suit and move your ass out of there if he gets other ideas, like trying to have you for dinner.”

  Hardy bristled. “LeaMarsa, this is nothing for you to be concerned about. He’s just trying to frighten you.”

  “Damn right!”

  “If and when we ask you to perform the experiment that Rigel has so inelegantly outlined, ample safety measures will be in place.”

  “Why would you want me to do something like that?”

  “As you know, superluminals are known to be inversely proportional to distance. The closer you are physically, the greater the amplitude of the telepathic contact. Since it now seems probable that your presence on the surface was somehow a catalyst, you may be able to provoke a further reaction.”

  Rigel laughed. “Yeah, you’ll provoke it all right.”

  LeaMarsa wasn’t about to carry out such an outlandish experiment. Still, she saw no upside in bringing the issue to a head. Better to remain noncommittal and deal with it if and when the time came.

  “It’s my decision,” she said. “Let me think about it.”

  Hardy’s sneer suggested victory. “Satisfied, captain? Or are there more issues you wish to address…”

  The science rep trailed off as he realized Ericho wasn’t paying attention. The captain was prone on the floor, gazing through the containment glass at the organism.

  “Jonomy, did you see that?” Ericho asked.

  His voice came through on speaker. “Yes, captain, I did.”

  “See what?” Hardy demanded.

  “The organism momentarily exhibited zero-g activity,” Jonomy said. “For about five seconds, it elevated and suspended itself eleven centimeters off the floor.”

  They all moved closer to the wall, intrigued.

  “Anything like this happen on the surface?” Ericho asked.

  “It rolled itself into the capsule,” Faye said. “But that trick didn’t seem in defiance of planetary gravitation.”

  “I have
checked for malfunctions,” Jonomy said. “No geonic or electromagnetic anomalies in or near the containment that could have caused it to elevate.”

  “Astounding,” Hardy whispered.

  Ericho’s expression didn’t change. But LeaMarsa sensed he was deeply disturbed.

  Rigel was easier to read. “If this bastard can do gravity tricks, no telling what it’s capable of. Worse comes to worse, we might not even be able to blow it out the airlock. Bouncy Blue could resist decompression.”

  “The vacuum would probably kill it,” Faye said. Her remark drew a sharp look from Hardy.

  LeaMarsa felt another shiver vault up her spine, transform into that same word-thought she’d experienced on the surface.

  Tragedy.

  But this time, the word-thought seemed closer somehow. Stronger.

  She wanted to be alone, away from this lab, away from all of them as well as that thing in the containment.

  “Is there anything else you need me for at the moment?”

  Hardy shook his head. LeaMarsa turned and headed for the door. Only a concerted effort kept her from bolting from the lab in panic.

  CHAPTER 6

  June Courthouse leaned back in her office chair and propped her bare feet on the desk. For as long as Ericho had known her, she’d been averse to footwear, donning it only when absolutely necessary.

  “Tomer Donner suffers from a range of delusional fantasies,” the crewdoc said in response to Ericho’s request for her latest insight into the lieutenant. “Had any of this been apparent nine months ago, I never would have asked you to assign him to this mission.”

  June’s med office was cool and dark, lit by soothing lume panels. The soft light revealed age lines on her dark skin, testimony to a departed youth. June disdained hardcore revitalizers, especially those elderly women, some one hundred and fifty or older, whose relentless enhancements gave them the faces and physiques of collegians even as age-related fragilities required biomech exoskeletons.

  “How bad are these delusions?” Ericho asked. “Are we talking clinical madness?”

  “I don’t believe so. Tomer remains coherent and functional in terms of his duties, and clearly understands that he’s afflicted. However, he also understands that no matter how thoroughly he perceives his problem, outside emotional guidance such as psychotherapy will not rectify it.”