Starship Alchemon Page 8

  “So it could be a human variant?”

  Faye shook her head. “Too many structural differences. We’re certain it’s not one of us, although it likely developed in an ecosphere similar to that of Earth. It has a respiratory system that seems perfect for the exchange of oxygen and carbon dioxide. The lungs are almost a dead match for ours.

  “Its brain is highly developed but possesses what appears to be a variation of the tripartite human brain – roughly speaking, the three interwoven neurological systems that enable us to function simultaneously on physical, emotional and intellectual planes. But Baby Blue has a fourth distinct system overlapping the other three, suggesting a later evolutionary development. We have no idea of the purpose of this fourth system. But there are neural pathways connecting it to that unknown sensory organ.”

  “It sounds like the creature is in some sort of suspended state.”

  “Closer to a fetal state,” Faye said. “Yet even that’s not quite correct. Baby Blue seems to be bypassing the normal entropy process inherent to living organisms. It bears all the hallmarks of an evolutionary creation, yet it doesn’t appear to be evolving. Nor decaying, for that matter. More like it’s frozen in time. Some sort of fantastic hibernation process is probably the closest analogy. And yet…”

  Faye trailed off with a puzzled look.

  “What?” LeaMarsa prodded.

  “I still can’t wrap my head around the fact that it apparently didn’t exist prior to that energy storm on the surface. According to our understanding of biological principles, which as far as we know apply to lifeforms on every planet we’ve explored, that should be impossible. It’s as if the fetal creature came into spontaneous existence.”

  “Has it elevated again?”

  “Five more times, the last I checked. Periodically, the damned thing simply ignores gravity and lifts itself off the floor. Once, it rose nearly a meter and stayed aloft for thirty seconds.”

  Faye shook her head in wonder. “Totally bizarre. The only possible explanation is that it possesses its own form of geonic nullification, which has never been seen before. The Alchemon simulates gravity, of course. But that’s based on sophisticated pressure variations and subatomic fields that grant us a polarity in reference to the ship. Those are scientifically understood methods that trick us into believing there’s an up and down. They don’t violate scientific principles. But Bouncy Blue…”

  She trailed off with a shrug and glanced at the clock. “OK, I’m out of here. And dear, don’t forget you’re coming to the Homebound tomorrow. No excuses.”

  “We should turn the ship around,” LeaMarsa blurted out. “We should return the creature to Sycamore and leave it there.”

  The scientist regarded her with a look bordering on pity. LeaMarsa knew that Faye and the rest of them perceived her as a troubled soul, ping-ponging from one fear to the next. Yet for all their reliance on perceiving the world through the lens of science, none of them seemed to comprehend the greater reality.

  Her fears, and what they would bring down upon them all, were real.

  FROM THE FILES OF LIEUTENANT TOMER DONNER, PANNIS CORP BRIDGE OFFICER

  Renfro Zoobondi.

  I turn the name over in my head nearly every day now, trying to see the killer of my lover from different angles, trying to look for his weaknesses. I know he’s become an obsession with me but I’m powerless to do anything about it. I’d like to kill him with my own two hands, but I realize that such a thing is destined to remain in the realm of fantasy. I know my own limitations. I don’t have the strength and courage necessary to murder another human being, even such a vile perversion as Zoobondi.

  Today is the third anniversary of Karl’s murder – the day my obsession took hold – and I’ve used every spare moment to secretly look into the VP’s affairs. I’ve hired investigators to track Zoobondi’s movements and a forensics auditor to unearth and review his complex finances. I’m fairly certain he’s been using some dodgy bookkeeping to embezzle funds from various Pannis accounts.

  I’ve talked to several people who were victimized by Zoobondi during his rapid ascent up the corporate hierarchy. I’m also pretty certain Karl wasn’t the first man that Zoobondi killed in hand-to-hand fighting. There’ve been two additional victims I’ve been able to confirm, although not to the point of being able to prove it in a criminal court. Having come to know this sadistic bastard as well as I do, I’d be willing to bet there are others too.

  Yet so far, nothing I’ve turned up is strong enough to instigate an official probe. Zoobondi is smart and covers his tracks too well. I have to admit, a sense of frustration has begun to set in.

  Still, I’ve vowed that my determination will not flag. I’ll keep trying to nail Renfro Zoobondi until the day I die.

  CHAPTER 8

  The main social room was the largest space on the ship. Over thirty meters in length from forward to aft airseals, a portion of it had a high ceiling that intruded into updeck. A double row of columns, purely decorative but suggestive of ancient Roman architecture, rose along the room’s length to encompass both levels.

  One column housed a freelane, a transparent cylindrical shaft. The artificially generated geonic forces present elsewhere were held at bay inside the recreational tube. Floating in a microgravity environment was believed an excellent stress reliever.

  Today, the room also served as a gallery. Animated picture frames dotted the walls. In deference to the crewmembers who were Helioteers – Faye, Alexei, Rigel and, prior to his erratic behavior, Lieutenant Donner – Jonomy had programmed the frames to display brief videos of Helio Age personalities.

  Ericho felt that one of the most remarkable heritages of the Helio Age was also one of the simplest: offering a window into the past through imagery of people long-dead. Nevertheless, Helioteers tended to romanticize the era preceding starflight and human expansion into the galaxy, ignoring its dark undercurrents. The Helio Age was a time of bigotry run amok, when an individual’s skin pigmentation, spiritual belief, ethnic background or sexual preference could incite violent personal attacks or propel nation-states into horrific wars.

  Still, he understood some of the era’s fascination. He wondered what it must have been like when most institutions were controlled by governments rather than the all-powerful megas. And whether corporate ascendance at the expense of democratic institutions was to blame, historians often pointed out that contemporary society had produced an exceptionally large underclass, the needful majority.

  Ericho turned his attention to a wall of picture frames featuring videos of famed twentieth-century political figures. As he recalled, John F. Kennedy, Winston Churchill, Martin Luther King and Mahatma Gandhi had achieved fame during times of incredible carnage, with three of the four being assassinated. The way they smiled and waved brought to mind present-day politicians that the megas put forth for election to the Corporeal Congress.

  Each frame was programmed to cycle through multiple personalities. Kennedy, Churchill, King and Gandhi morphed into figures whose imprinted names Ericho didn’t recognize. He wasn’t interested enough to tap the frames for biographical readouts. Marilyn Monroe, J.D. Salinger, Coco Chanel and a being called André 3000 – perhaps an early android model – would remain enigmas.

  “I feel luscious!” Faye Kuriyama hissed as she intersected Ericho’s wandering path.

  He raised his glass in salute and took another sip of Topaz lime brandy. It was his favorite recreational drink, made with a pseudo-alcohol formulation to prevent hangovers.

  “Luscious,” Faye repeated, licking her lips with unfettered sensuality.

  She was dressed from neck to ankles in a natal suit, which accounted for her mood. The flesh-colored garment magnified the sensation of touch to such a degree that even the gentlest of breezes could feel like a soothing massage. Ericho had worn them a few times in his younger years. These days he preferred to experience his massages a more natural way, through June’s talented hands.

  �
��Touch me,” she ordered.

  He patted her shoulder. She smiled with delight.

  “I felt that all the way to my bones. You should put on a suit, captain.”

  “Tempting.”

  A frame behind Faye changed to a skinny man with a goatee in a black turtleneck demonstrating an iPhone, a brand of that ubiquitous com device of the early twenty-first century. Smartphones were obsoleted by wearable com, in turn made redundant by implants. Now even that latter technology was disappearing, a victim of Helioteer fascination with older technologies and the cultural coolness of owning shrinkable wafers.

  The animation cycled into its next incarnation, a colorful, bandana-clad musician wildly gyrating with a guitar, even playing it with his teeth. Ericho was puzzled why the video ended with him setting fire to the stringed body of his instrument and smashing it to pieces. Best guess, he’d thrown the fiery tantrum because the crowd was disappointed by his performance.

  A hand touched Ericho’s shoulder and he turned to face Tomer Donner. The lieutenant had chosen to attend the Homebound barechested and barefooted, accentuating his hairless state. He wore only outlandish silver jodhpurs with deep pockets. An icicle earring – a stylish sliver of frozen mineral water formed over a microfridge – hung from his right lobe.

  “I am an artisan of recreation,” Donner began, “tasting both sides of the equation beneath skies of excitation.”

  A droplet melted from his earring, splattered on his shoulder.

  Faye grinned. “You sound like a mad poet.”

  “Indeed. A poet prepared, for we are but pawns within the realm of luminous dark.”

  “What have you ingested?” Ericho asked, for once not bothered by the lieutenant’s ramblings. It was too bad Topaz brandy was prohibited on duty.

  “Ingested? Nothing other than a snack of cheesebread and sugarham. I intend to maintain pharmaceutical abstinence for the duration of the Homebound.” He smiled. “Call it my own special Donner party.”

  “Sober is a bummer,” Faye said, sighing with pleasure as she rubbed a hand across the belly of the natal suit.

  “And a bum is sober!” Donner exclaimed.

  The phrase shouldn’t have been funny but Ericho found himself chuckling. Brandy was stripping Donner’s wit of its worrisome madness.

  He felt better than he had in days. The Homebound was the perfect remedy for LeaMarsa’s unsettling presence, Donner’s instability and Hardy Waskov’s intransigence, not to mention that thing in the containment. Should he choose, he could even get drunk and sleep it off before his next duty stint, as Jonomy remained on the bridge. Ericho had served with lytics who were to some extent social creatures interested in joining such festivities. Jonomy was of the other variety.

  Ericho spotted June conversing with Hardy. She’d prescribed a list of acceptable drugs for the Homebound, making certain that none of the more potent psychotropics and amphetamines were available. The limitation had been imposed on everyone even though its main purpose was to ensure that Donner was denied anything that might worsen his neurotic behavior.

  Rigel and Alexei were off in a corner, laughing as they arm-wrestled. Only LeaMarsa stood alone, leaning against the wall sipping a blue drink. As usual, her expression, sadness coupled with disinterest in her surroundings, suggested a lost soul. Not for the first time, Ericho felt pity for her.

  He turned back to Faye and Donner, who had segued into a lively discussion about Helio Age jazz music. For once, Donner sounded reasonably sane as he explained to Faye the subtle distinctions between the styles of two horn players, Charlie Parker and Louis Armstrong. Ericho wasn’t familiar with the musicians but idly wondered whether the latter man was related to Neil Armstrong, first human to set foot on another world.

  LeaMarsa and Donner were at opposite ends of the room. Because of the potential for dramatically escalated psionic interaction should they venture too close, Ericho had taken it upon himself to keep them separated. So far, it hadn’t been an issue. As he’d noted earlier, the lieutenant seemed wary of LeaMarsa and kept his distance.

  He wandered over to her, asked how she was doing.

  “Fine,” LeaMarsa said, avoiding his gaze.

  “What do you think of your first Homebound?”

  “It’s OK.”

  A conversationalist she wasn’t. He pressed on.

  “You’re from Wisconsin originally, right?” he asked.

  “Milwaukee.”

  “Passed through there once when I was a kid. Seemed like a nice city although I didn’t really see much of it. I was on one those old bullet trains with my mom and dad. Did you always live there?”

  “We moved to Connecticut later,” she said, turning to an animated frame of Pablo Picasso. The artist was drawing a curving series of black lines on a large white wall.

  Ericho was about to give up trying to jumpstart a conversation when LeaMarsa surprised him with a question.

  “Are your parents alive?”

  “They are,” Ericho said, smiling as he thought of them. “They live on an island formerly known as Great Britain, in a small seaside town on the English Channel. Mom runs a company that makes deep-sea engineering pods. Dad designs and retrofits vintage sailing ships. They both love the ocean.”

  At the end of every voyage, he looked forward to spending a few weeks at their seaside home, as well as seeing his sister and older brother who lived nearby.

  “Any siblings?” he asked. He knew about LeaMarsa losing her parents in that shuttle crash but little about the rest of her family.

  “Just me.”

  She went silent again. He was about to walk away.

  “My parents were bioresearchers specializing in mitochondrial DNA,” she said quietly.

  “Mitochondrials, huh.” He didn’t know much about them but recalled reading that they had something to do with superluminals.

  She looked sadder than usual. He changed the subject. “What do you plan on doing when we return to Earth?”

  For a long moment she didn’t respond. Then…

  “I’d like to go live somewhere where there aren’t many people. A farm, maybe. Spend time taking care of animals. Cows and sheep. And horses. I used to ride them when I was little. It made me feel free.”

  The faintest of smiles touched her lips but was quickly overwhelmed by a darker expression. Her voice fell to a whisper. “But none of those things are going to be possible.”

  “Why not? There are still plenty of horses to ride.”

  “I don’t think we’ll make it back to Earth.”

  Her eyes seemed to lose focus. She scurried away. As much as he hated to admit it, her final words instilled a vague sense of fear.

  The Pablo Picasso video she’d been gazing at snared Ericho’s attention as it morphed into its next image, an attractive dark-haired woman in a black dress with bare shoulders. Unlike the others, this one wasn’t animated. It was rendered in sepia tone, suggesting that the woman in black had achieved fame before the development of video. Her name, Mary Shelley, triggered a vague association. Ericho believed she’d had something to do with proposing a novel use for electricity.

  His attention returned to LeaMarsa. Alexei had cornered her against one of the pillars. Ericho was too far away to hear what was being said but it was clear LeaMarsa wasn’t interested. She beelined away from the trainee.

  Alexei spotted him, approached.

  “She’s not easy to talk to, sir.”

  “Definitely not.”

  Ericho had subtly broached the idea that LeaMarsa seemed lonely as well as physically inactive, and perhaps could use a friend close to her age to be a workout or swim partner. Alexei had jumped at the bait, leaving Ericho feeling a bit guilty about the ploy. He sensed the trainee was more interested in pleasing his captain than having a closer relationship with LeaMarsa. He also was concerned he’d been too subtle and hadn’t made it clear that the two of them pursuing a sexual encounter wasn’t his intent.

  “Maybe I’ll try again
with her,” Alexei said, withdrawing a pair of stroke lenses from a pocket and pasting them over his eyes. “Right now, if you don’t mind, sir, I’m aiming for some mental expansion.”

  “A man has to see what he has to see,” Ericho replied, using the familiar refrain for stroke lensers.

  Alexei headed off, his face blossoming with awe as the lenses activated. “Whoa!” he hollered. “I’m not in Kansas anymore!”

  The devices augmented what the eye naturally perceived by creating feedback loops from random areas of the brain. Some people called stroke lenses mirrors into the soul. Ericho had tried them in his younger days, had concluded that they merely distorted perception until nothing was real.

  “Look!” Rigel hollered, pointing to the freelane.

  Ericho turned. Donner and Faye, naked and holding hands, were upside down inside, rocketing the length of the transparent chute between the two decks. As they reached the bottom, they pushed off with their hands and soared back to the top, then reversed direction by kicking their legs against the updeck terminus.

  Over and over they repeated the action. The shaft was soundproof but judging by their expressions, they were laughing madly. Ericho smiled but then caught sight of LeaMarsa exiting through the aft airseal. He recalled her disturbing remark about not making it back to Earth.

  Gulping the rest of his brandy, he headed to the dispenser for a refill.

  CHAPTER 9

  LeaMarsa left the Homebound and made straight for the containment. Entering the deserted lab, she swiped her fingers across the control slate, turning the wall transparent. She gazed in at the creature, unsure why she’d come here. A part of her wanted to be as far away from the organism as possible. Yet another part remained curious.

  “You want something from me, don’t you?” she challenged, half expecting a response from Bouncy Blue or that thing inside it.

  Even as she uttered the question she sensed her darkest fear trying to claw its way up from the depths, seeking to thrust itself into consciousness. She smelled those distant whiffs of decay, felt those strangling hands closing around her neck.