Heirs of the New Earth (32 page)

"Sir, are there injured?” The voice of
Sanson's
EMT startled Fire out of her reverie.

Fire quickly stepped across to the
Legacy
and out of the way of the EMTs. “Yes, we have quite a few—Doc Krishnamurty could use the help, thanks,” said Junior.

"You brought Parvati Krishnamurty out here?” asked Fire, picturing the gray-haired, wiry doctor she knew growing up.

Junior nodded. He pointed along the hallway. “The doc's up in the battle deck with your father and Roberts. I haven't been able to get the lights on yet, do you have flashlights?” When Fire held hers aloft, Junior nodded, satisfied. He looked at the two EMTs. “Can you two come aft with me? I've got injured in engineering."

The two EMTs grabbed their gear from the launch and made their way aft with Junior, leaving Manuel and Fire alone. “Come on,” she said and turned on her flashlight.

The walk through the darkened corridor was eerie—especially as the flashlight touched on a familiar door and hatch markings. In spite of her worry about her father, Fire found herself wondering what was happening outside. As they crossed from the
Sanson
, they saw ships barreling past them to form up between them and the Cluster. She had strained her neck to get a better view through the windows to see what exactly was happening. There had been some red flashes and one of the ships spun wildly away from the battle group and out of sight.

As they approached the battle deck, they heard quiet but agitated voices. Fire stepped up her pace. Manuel hurried to keep up and nearly tripped over some debris. They reached the battle deck and saw that it was bathed in red emergency lighting. The holo tank at the front of the deck was dead. The engineering console was a mess of twisted metal and wire; a sheet covered something on the deck near the console. Roberts hovered next to the wheel console, typing in commands. Fire scanned the deck until her eyes fell on her father. He was sitting up at the console opposite engineering. Doc Krishnamurty was shining a flashlight into his eyes. Fire ran past Roberts and knelt down next to her father.

He looked up. “Fire, what the devil are you doing here?” His voice was weak and his eyes were watery; there was a bandage on his forehead and his arm was in a sling.

"Save your strength,” said the doctor. She looked up at Fire. “He has a concussion and a broken arm; damned lucky for an eighty-one year-old man who took a tumble over the wheel console and slammed into the forward wall. More lucky than Mary Seaton,” she said quietly, casting a meaningful glance at the sheet-covered mound at the engineering station.

"Can you try it again?” asked Roberts in a gentle voice from the wheel.

Fire looked up and recognized the woman sitting at the console her father was leaning against. It was Anne McClintlock. She seemed to be having a hard time getting her fingers to work on the console. Fire stood and helped Anne out of the seat. “I think you better have the doc check you out,” she said. She looked up at Roberts. “What are you trying to do?"

"Fire!” he exclaimed, with a genuine smile. “I'm trying to get the holo tank working, see if we can find out what's going on outside. I'm also trying to get engine control working through this station."

"I might be able to help with that,” said Manuel who had been sitting in the front of the battle deck, talking to his brother.

"So can I,” volunteered Juan, who rose unsteadily to his feet.

"I think you'd better sit there for a few minutes,” said Manuel, patting his brother on the shoulder. He stepped over to Roberts and the two talked for a moment. Roberts pointed to the remains of the engineering console and explained what he needed. Manuel nodded, went over to the console and aimed his flashlight into the smoky mess.

"I think I have hologram control,” said Fire. She pushed a button and the holo tank flickered to life. The fleet was unloading everything it had on the Cluster. There was a blinding flash of light and the holo tank went dead again. “Damn,” said Fire. That blast overloaded the sensors. It's going to take me a few minutes to get it back on line."

"What happened?” asked the captain, rising to his feet. “Did they destroy it?"

As though in answer, a shock wave shuddered through the ship causing the captain to stumble. Anne caught her breath and Manuel swore as he shocked himself on a bare wire. Roberts floated over and took Manuel's flashlight and looked at his finger. Manuel waved him off. “Just bit me a little,” he said. “Do you have any wire clippers?"

Roberts produced a pair from the hover chair and then held the flashlight while Manuel returned to work. A few minutes later, the white lights came back on and Fire felt fresh air blow from a nearby vent.

The EMTs from the
Sanson
appeared in the doorway of the battle deck and took in the scene. The doctor stepped over to them and they conferred with one another in hushed tones—heads close together. The doctor pointed to Anne and Juan and told them to get them down to the infirmary and gave them instructions. She then left the battle deck to take care of more seriously wounded elsewhere on the ship. One of the EMTs helped Anne to her feet and led her from the deck. The other talked to Juan for a moment, gave him a pill from his kit, then left with the other EMT.

"How are the sensors doing?” Firebrandt knelt down next to his daughter.

"Just about got it,” she said. She typed in a command on the computer and the holo tank flickered to life once again. The fleet was dispersing, moving away from their position.

"They're moving off in a hurry,” said Firebrandt, his brow furrowed. “What's going on?"

Fire shifted to another set of sensors and they were looking over the Earth's North Pole. Sunlight glinted off of something. Fire zoomed in and they saw three Clusters. The fleet was moving off to intercept the new arrivals.

Firebrandt stepped toward the tank and began counting ships. “It looks like there are twenty-one Colonial and Alliance ships moving in."

Manuel looked up from the engineering console. “That means over a third of the ships are out of action,” he said, shaking his head.

"Can we help them out?” asked Firebrandt.

Roberts shook his head. “We've managed to restore some basic thruster control, but we won't get there in time.” He looked down at the body of Mary Seaton on the deck. “Besides, I think we've already done our share for this cause."

Firebrandt looked at the sheet, as though seeing it for the first time. He turned away quickly. “Perhaps you're right,” he said, something catching in his voice. Only his daughter saw the tear that ran down his cheek.

Eva Cooper had managed to extract herself from John Mark Ellis’ fierce embrace. Mark found himself looking around the room in a daze as Eva breathlessly explained to Kirsten that this was an expected reaction to the suppression of the amygdala. “Maybe you'd better take him upstairs,” suggested Eva with a wink.

"Is that a good idea?” asked Kirsten somewhat nervously as she knelt down and picked up broken pieces of plate, sitting them one by one on the table.

"The emotions he's expressing are largely positive,” said the doctor. “I think it would be best if he keeps expressing positive emotions. Try not to let him descend into depression and he should be okay."

"What if he does descend into depression?"

"Come get me. It would be safe to give him one more dose of Proxom, but..."

"It would likely end his chances of reestablishing contact with the Cluster,” said Kirsten. Standing, she took a step toward Mark.

"This all presumes the Cluster will have me back,” he said. Both Eva and Kirsten were startled by the sound of his voice. “Just because I'm having a hard time controlling my emotions—just because I'm horny as all get out—doesn't mean I can't think. It's just that my emotions are causing me to act before I think."

Kirsten's lip curled up and she took Mark's hand and led him up the stairs. “I'm sorry—about Eva,” he muttered once they reached the hallway at the top of the stairs. “All I could see was a beautiful female face, it didn't seem to matter whose it was."

"Don't worry about it,” said Kirsten as she led him into the bedroom and closed the door behind them. “It's the drugs the doctor gave you.” She removed her blazer and unbuttoned the top button of her blouse. “I think you can make it up to me.” She stepped over to Mark and put her arms around him.

He returned the embrace and his hands roved down and fondled her buttocks for a moment then moved up and began untucking her blouse. She pushed him onto the bed then sat on his lap and unbuttoned his shirt, letting her hands run through the hairs on his chest while he nuzzled her neck. With one hand, he undid another button on her blouse and his hand wandered over her skin. He felt her nipple respond to the gentle pressure of his thumb. His mouth moved up to her earlobe as he cupped her fleshy breast.

As he explored her body, something in the back of his mind began to register that something was not quite right. Though the weight on his lap didn't seem to change, the fleshy, warm breast turned unyielding and marble-chill. Instead of feeling a soft cloth-covered backside, he felt the same marble-like chill with his other hand. Reluctantly, he pulled back and found that he was staring not into Kirsten's soft brown eyes, but the piercing green eyes of a black-haired woman. He knew this woman—had met her before. He was back aboard the Cluster and this woman was the manifestation of the Cluster's own persona.

"Why do you pull away?” asked the green-eyed woman. “I need you. I need your kind to help me build my legacy before I am gone forever.” She reached down and gave Mark an intimate caress.

He let out a soft moan but shook his head. “Why do you have to die?” He allowed his hand to remain on the marble-like breast. As he caressed it, he felt it grow warmer—whether from the heat of his own hand, his imagination, or some rising heat within the Cluster itself, he didn't know.

"We are ancient in your eyes. We have traveled as far as it is possible for us to travel. We have seen stars born. We have seen them live and die. We have seen their matter recycled into new stars. We have seen galaxies collide and move apart, becoming whole but taking on new forms.” As she spoke, she began to age. Her hair grayed and the skin wrinkled on her face. The breast in Mark's hand grew languid and he released it. “We have seen many types of life come and go and we fear we shall never achieve any more than we already have.” She stood up from his lap and a walked a short distance away.

"What about other galaxies? Couldn't you travel to other parts of the universe?” he asked.

"We cannot.” When she turned, her hair was black again. Her features, as before, were sculpted perfection. “The gravity waves are too weak for us to travel from our home cluster to another cluster. Even we cannot ride those waves that connect one galaxy to another. Even your people do not see a solution to that problem."

"Just because we don't see the solution now, doesn't mean that we won't see it in the future,” said Mark. “That's the beauty of evolution. We learn and we change through the generations."

She took another step closer and he saw sadness in her eyes. “We cannot evolve and your people do not want to stay with us forever. Even now, they withdraw from us. There are people on Earth that are helping them leave. You are the only one that has sought to come back.” She shook her head. “It is better that we die now. It is better that we leave our knowledge behind for others."

"What if we worked together?” Mark stood and took her hand in his. “Why must you absorb humans into your being? Couldn't we find a way to cooperate?"

She pulled her hand away from his. As he reached out to take it back, he noticed that it was shrinking. Both of her arms became spheres, as did her legs. In a matter of moments, she morphed into a floating, cluster of spheres. “Cooperate? With this?” Four of the spheres unrolled tentacle-like and became arms and legs once again. Another sphere became her head and she resumed her human appearance. “Only with your mind inside me, can you see me in a way that you can talk to; that you can relate to. There can be no other cooperation."

"There's got to be another way,” said Ellis. He pursed his lips and tried to think.

"Perhaps there is,” said the woman. She looked over her shoulder and Ellis noticed a door he had not seen before. The door opened and Tim Gibbs stepped through.

In Southern Arizona, Edmund Swan and Maria Gonzalez watched as G'Liat balanced his brain scan device on Timothy Gibbs’ head. The warrior closed his own eyes and found himself looking out at a strangely muted view of a human laboratory. He realized that he must have been seeing the view as a human would see it with their strangely light insensitive eyes. Computers lined one wall and there was a table in the center of the room with charts and graphs.

"It's changed,” said a booming voice from all around him.

"What's changed?” asked G'Liat.

The view through the warrior's eyes shifted from side to side and he realized that Gibbs must have shaken his head back and forth. “The room. For a moment I was in my apartment, then I came back to the lab and it changed. It's like it was about two days ago."

"That's because you're in a different Cluster, now,” said the warrior. “This is the version of the lab that was last copied from the Cluster you were in to the Cluster you're in now."

"Why did it change?” came the booming voice.

G'Liat thought that was a very good question indeed and he had suspicions about the subject but he didn't voice them aloud for fear of upsetting Gibbs. Instead, he had a mission to accomplish. “Perhaps you should talk to your supervisor,” suggested the warrior.

"That does seem like a good idea."

Through Gibbs’ eyes, G'Liat saw the technician stand, turn and move toward a door. He stepped through into a room of artifacts and antiquities, not unlike his house on Rd'dyggia. The sky overhead was filled with an image of Earth, though somehow he sensed that the view could be changed to reflect any place the Cluster had traveled, much like a holo tank. As Gibbs looked forward, G'Liat saw John Mark Ellis looking strangely disheveled, talking to a woman with long dark hair and striking, green eyes. The features on the woman's body were strangely indistinct; more like she was an idealized sculpture of a woman rather than a real woman without the myriad little flaws that human skin developed due to aging and damage.