Apes and Angels Page 32

  “Spring, in the northern hemisphere,” came Emcee’s instant answer, from the buggy’s control panel.

  Spring, thought Brad. It won’t be spring here for another thirty-some Earth years.

  I can’t ask Felicia to stay here, he realized. Not through the long winter. Not alone, just the two of us, wondering if the food will hold out.

  Maybe we should try hibernating! Brad suddenly thought.

  We could take a couple of cryosleep capsules from the ship and install them in the camp. Then we could sleep through the winter and wake up in the spring, when it starts to thaw.

  Immediately, Brad saw the flaws in that approach. The deep freeze of cryosleep damaged the brain’s neural networks. Cryosleepers downloaded their minds into the ship’s master computer and, once they began to be revived, the neural connections were uploaded back into the sleeper’s brain.

  We’d have to duplicate all the computer equipment and set it up down here on Gamma, Brad realized. We’d have to duplicate Emcee here in the camp, for god’s sake.

  Shaking his head as he sat in the buggy amidst the swirling snowfall, Brad knew that duplicating the entire cryosleep system was too big a job for the ship’s crew, even if Kosoff would allow it.

  No, he told himself, cryosleep isn’t the answer. As he put the buggy in gear and started down the hillside, he also comprehended that the Gammans wouldn’t be able to understand that Brad and Felicia were merely sleeping in their cryocapsule. Mnnx and Lnng and the others would think we’ve died, most likely. Committed suicide and left them to face the cats on their own.

  Either we stay awake and alert with the Gammans through the whole long winter, or we go home, Brad knew. Either we help the Gammans face the cats next spring or we leave them to defend themselves—or more likely, leave them to be slaughtered.

  There’s got to be a third way, he shouted silently to himself. There’s got to be!

  But if there is, he admitted, I don’t know what it might be.

  * * *

  That evening Brad returned to the encampment, as usual. The snowstorm had died away, leaving the region covered in white. Brad followed the tracks of his own buggy through the crystal-cold night, still wondering what to do. What to do?

  Felicia greeted him with an emotionless kiss as he entered their quarters, then turned her attention to the microwave cooker.

  “Do you want some wine before dinner?” she asked.

  Brad shrugged. “How about you?”

  “I will if you will.”

  Leadership, Brad thought as he went to the minifridge and pulled out a half-empty bottle of white wine.

  “How’s everything in the village?” Felicia asked.

  “Okay, I guess,” Brad said as he poured two glasses. “They’re getting more and more nervous about the weather.”

  “They’ve never seen snow before, I suppose.”

  “Guess not. By this time they’d all be dead, usually.”

  Felicia started to say something but the microwave pinged and she turned her attention to it.

  Brad sat at the fold-down kitchen table and watched her set two steaming plates on it. Then she sat opposite him and picked up her stemmed wineglass.

  They clinked their glasses.

  “The chemistry lab’s best brew,” Brad joked weakly.

  “It’s fine,” said Felicia. She took a sip, then she put the glass down and turned her attention to her meal.

  “What’s going on at the bio lab?” he asked, trying to make a conversation.

  Without looking up at him, Felicia replied with a weary sigh, “We’re doing microanalyses of the cats’ cells now. Molecular biology. Ursula wants us to have their complete genetic map before we have to start packing up for leaving.”

  “Fil.”

  She looked up.

  “I’ll find a way,” Brad said.

  For the first time that evening Felicia smiled at him. “I know you will.”

  THE POWER OF DREAMS

  Strangely, Brad’s dreams that night were almost pleasant. He was a young boy again, climbing the cliffs of Tithonium Chasma with his classmates, laughing that the light gravity of Mars allowed them to climb like superhuman athletes, even in their protective suits.

  And then it was Christmas, with his parents and his younger brother David sitting on the floor of their living room in front of the tree that his father had made out of odd lengths of piping and scraps of aluminum foil. It looked kind of sad and droopy, young Brad thought, but it was as good as any tree in the settlement.

  Both Brad’s parents were scientists, and Christmas held no religious meaning for them. But it meant a tree, no matter how threadbare or lopsided. And presents.

  Young Brad tore open the wrapping on the box his mother handed him, while Davie did the same with his present. Dad was smiling at them while Mom gathered up the scraps of wrapping paper and stuffed them into the disposal chute, behind the tree.

  He stared at his present. It was an egg: not a real egg, there weren’t any of those anywhere on Mars. This was an egg-shaped thing of metal and crystal, beautifully crafted, glinting in the light from the ceiling panels.

  This can’t be my Christmas present, Brad thought. Davie was marveling at the beautifully detailed spacecraft model he had pulled from his box. But I get an egg? Like an Easter gift?

  This is no fun, Brad thought, staring at the glittering egg. It’s not a toy, it’s a decoration. It’s not something to play with; Mom will want to put it on a shelf where visitors will see it.

  A lousy egg. That’s not a real Christmas present. It’s not—

  Suddenly he realized that it was a present. It just wasn’t a present for him.

  * * *

  “Dig them up?” Littlejohn looked startled, almost alarmed. “You want to dig up all the eggs on Beta?”

  “And bring them back to Earth,” said Brad.

  The two men were in Littlejohn’s office, in the encampment. The chief of the anthropology team was seated on the small couch set against the side wall, Brad was pacing energetically across the small room: four strides in one direction, then four more in the other.

  The Australian craned his head to look up at Brad. “We can’t do that. We haven’t the tools or the time.”

  “Yes, we do,” Brad countered eagerly. “We can use the digging equipment we’ve been using to excavate the city—”

  “Transport those earth movers all the way to Beta?”

  “Yes! Dig up all the eggs on Beta, bring them to the ship, and preserve them cryogenically all the way back to Earth.”

  Littlejohn slowly shook his head. Brad thought he looked almost like a child sitting on the couch, his feet barely touching the floor.

  “Think of what a sensation it’ll make back on Earth,” Brad urged. “The world’s best biologists will be able to study an entire alien species!”

  “And push Steiner aside,” Littlejohn muttered.

  “No, she’ll be in charge of the study. It’ll be her triumph! The World Council will honor her!”

  “Beta’s moving farther away every day.”

  “Then use the starship to transport the digging equipment.”

  “And leave us here in the encampment?”

  “It’ll only be for a few weeks. We can survive perfectly well.”

  “If an emergency comes up…”

  Perching himself on the edge of Littlejohn’s desk, Brad ticked off on his fingers, “We know where the eggs are buried, the satellites have mapped the whole planet; we have the earthmoving equipment to dig them up; and we have plenty of empty storage space aboard the ship.”

  “And if we dig up the eggs and take them back to Earth with us—”

  “The cats won’t be around to attack the Gammans the next time the two planets meet,” Brad finished his superior’s thought. “We’ll have saved the villagers!”

  A hesitant smile crept across Littlejohn’s dark face. “You don’t think small, do you?”

  “It’ll work,” Brad
enthused. “It’ll save the Gammans and show Mnnx that they have nothing to fear. It’ll please the world’s biologists. It’s a win-win situation.”

  Nodding slowly, Littlejohn pointed out, “If Kosoff okays the idea.”

  * * *

  Brad hurried from Littlejohn’s office to the bio lab, startling people in the hallway as he sprinted along.

  He banged through the laboratory’s door and saw Felicia and Steiner seated at the neutrino microscope’s display screen, intently staring at a scan of a cell’s nucleus.

  Ursula Steiner looked up angrily at Brad’s intrusion.

  “Must I put a lock on the door?” she snapped.

  But Brad had eyes only for Felicia. “We can do it!” he shouted as he rushed to her.

  “Do what?” she asked.

  “Dig up all the egg nests on Beta and take them back to Earth!”

  “Dig up…?” Felicia sank back on the stool she was sitting upon. Her face lit up as she realized what Brad was telling her. “Is that why you bolted out of our quarters this morning?”

  “Yes! To tell Littlejohn. He agrees with me.”

  Steiner’s expression had morphed from annoyed to curious. “You want to bring all the eggs back to Earth?”

  “You can study them to your heart’s content,” Brad said. “Get the world’s best nanotechs to examine the shells.”

  “That’s … that’s incredible. Daring.”

  Felicia broke the bubble. “Only if Kosoff agrees to it,” she warned.

  Steiner nodded. “And the World Council.”

  “They will,” Brad insisted. “They’ll have to!”

  THE FACTS OF THE MATTER

  As usual, Kosoff sat behind his massive desk while Brad explained his plan. Littlejohn had taken one of the padded chairs in front of the desk. Too excited to sit, Brad paced eagerly across the office as he explained his idea.

  And as usual, Kosoff’s bearded face looked dour, skeptical, unconvinced.

  “Dig up all the egg nests on Beta?” he asked.

  “And store them on the ship. We have plenty of room: storage areas that have been emptied out, spare hangar space—”

  “I don’t want those eggs inside this ship!” Kosoff growled. “That’s an unnecessary risk. Suppose they start to hatch?”

  “Put them in the empty storage compartments outside the hull,” Brad countered. “They’ll be in cryogenic temperature outside, yet protected from interstellar radiation, just like the foodstuffs the lockers were originally used to store.”

  Kosoff’s grim expression didn’t change, but he began to drum his fingers on his desktop.

  He uses that desk like a fortress, Brad thought. He thinks it protects him. For a crazy moment, Brad wondered what Kosoff would do if he leaped across the desk and sat in the professor’s lap.

  Looking at Littlejohn, Kosoff said, “This wild scheme will mean you’ll have to end your excavation of the city. We don’t have enough heavy equipment for both jobs.”

  With a dramatic sigh, Littlejohn said, “I know. I’m willing to stop the excavation. We’re just uncovering more of the same things: cracked foundations, broken walls. We haven’t found any artifacts, not even shards of pottery.”

  “They’ve all been taken away by the Sky Masters,” Brad said. “Before they destroyed the city they looted it.”

  Kosoff frowned. “You’re spouting Gamman mythology again.”

  “The evidence is there,” Brad retorted. “Or, rather, the lack of evidence.”

  Kosoff went back to drumming his fingers.

  Littlejohn asked Brad, “Are you sure that the surveillance satellites have located all the egg nests on Beta?”

  Nodding, Brad replied, “Emcee has checked and double-checked the data. Beta is pretty barren, not much forest or dense foliage to interfere with deep radar probes. And the nests aren’t that deeply underground. Emcee says we’ve located them all, with a better than ninety-five percent probability.”

  Turning to Kosoff, Littlejohn said, “I think we should go ahead with this.”

  A rare smile crept across Kosoff’s bearded face. “So do I,” he agreed.

  “You do?” Brad blurted.

  “Yes. Now all I have to do is convince the World Council.”

  “I’ll give you all the data you need.”

  “H’mm. Yes.” Turning to Littlejohn once more, Kosoff said, “You’d better halt your excavation work and get the earthmoving equipment ready to return here, to the ship.”

  Brad gushed, “Thank you, Professor Kosoff. Thank you!”

  “Don’t thank me. This is your idea, not mine. I’m simply going along with you—and the facts of the matter.”

  FAREWELL

  It was snowing again, but this time the snowfall was gentle, almost pleasant, the white flakes sifting down from the leaden sky.

  Fingering the translating computer in the pocket of his thick parka, Brad stood between Mnnx and Lnng on the crest of the hill overlooking the villages down in the hollow. The buggy he had driven to this final meeting with the aliens stood waiting a few meters downslope, its energy screen keeping it clear of snow.

  “You are leaving us?” Mnnx asked, for the fifth time in the past hour. He looked slightly ridiculous in the padded garment that covered him from his sloping shoulders to his booted feet.

  Brad nodded inside his parka’s hood. “Tomorrow morning, after the snow stops.”

  “Will you come back, Brrd?” asked Lnng.

  Pulling in a breath of the cold air, Brad replied, “I can’t come back. Our village is so far away that it would take hundreds of years for me to return. But others from my world are already on their way here. They will help you. They will reach you.”

  “Will they protect us from the Sky Masters?” asked Mnnx.

  Brad hesitated a heartbeat, then stretched the truth. “If the Sky Masters return, they will protect you.”

  “You said the monsters from Beta will never return,” Lnng reminded him.

  “That’s right. You have nothing to fear. The monsters will never bother you again.”

  “You did this for us?” asked Mnnx. “Why?”

  “To help you to live. To start a new life for you and all the new Folk who will come up from the ground and live in the new village.”

  “For us.”

  “For all of you. That is my mission, to help all of you to live, to learn, to grow strong once again.”

  “You are strong,” Lnng said. “Stronger than the Sky Masters.”

  Mnnx started to speak, but stopped himself.

  Maybe I’ve convinced Mnnx that he doesn’t have to be afraid anymore, Brad thought. Maybe.

  He found that there was a lump in his throat. Suddenly he realized that he would never see these aliens again, that he would not play any further role in their lives. He was surprised at how sad he felt.

  Forcing himself to keep his voice from breaking, Brad said, “I must go back to my encampment now.”

  The two Gammans stood there, silent, numb. Brad stared at them, tongue-tied, knowing that he had run out of words. Despite the shiver of aversion that he felt at the thought of touching the aliens, Brad wrapped his arms around Lnng, then turned and embraced Mnnx. “Good-bye, my friends,” he choked out.

  Then he turned and walked swiftly through the snow to the waiting buggy. He blinked tears from his eyes.

  * * *

  The next morning Brad and Felicia stood at a display screen in the starship’s main auditorium, their arms around each other’s waists. Planet Gamma, below them, was covered in gray clouds.

  Dozens of other people were drifting into the auditorium, gathering at the display screens.

  “Not much to see,” Felicia murmured.

  Brad called out to Emcee, “Can we see the village through the clouds?”

  Emcee replied, “Switching to infrared imagery.”

  And there was the village, a tiny dot nestled in the hills.

  “Going to maximum enlargement,” Emcee’s s
moothly unemotional voice said.

  Brad gasped. The whole population of the village was standing out in the central square, gazing up at the clouds.

  “They’re trying to catch a glimpse of us before we depart,” Felicia said.

  Brad did not reply. He couldn’t. It took all his willpower to keep from crying.

  “Breaking orbit in five minutes,” said Emcee.

  “You’ve saved them, Brad,” Felicia whispered.

  “I hope so.”

  * * *

  Professor Kosoff and Dr. Littlejohn sat at a table on the balcony that circled the auditorium, watching the growing crowd on the floor below.

  They heard Emcee’s announcement, “Breaking orbit in five minutes.”

  “Going home,” said Littlejohn, a crooked smile on his dark face.

  “Home,” Kosoff murmured.

  “You look rather somber.”

  With a shrug of his heavy shoulders, the professor said, “There’s so much we’ve left undone.”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Littlejohn said. “We’ve put energy screen generators in orbit around both Alpha and Gamma. We’ve accomplished what we came here to do. Both planets are now shielded against the death wave.”

  “Yes, but…” Kosoff hesitated.

  “The follow-on mission is on its way here. They’ll help the Gammans get through their winter.”

  “Do you believe the Gamman tale about the Sky Masters?” Kosoff asked.

  It was Littlejohn’s turn to hesitate. At last he replied, “There must be something behind their mythology.”

  “The cats on Beta,” Kosoff muttered. “The nanotechnology in their eggs. The disruption of this whole planetary system.”

  “That’s not our problem any longer,” said Littlejohn.

  “Isn’t it? There was a cataclysm here, and it wasn’t a natural disaster. Someone made it happen.”

  “The Sky Masters.”

  “Someone. And we’ve interfered with their handiwork.”

  Littlejohn shook his head. “It all happened a hundred thousand years ago. Whoever did this is long gone.”

  Kosoff let out a sigh that was almost a moan. “I hope so. I really hope so. If not, we’re going to have a tremendous confrontation on our hands.”