The Shadow and Night (29 page)

Back at the house Merral pushed the matter of Isabella out of his mind, telling himself that he needed to concentrate. He joined Vero at the table and called Anya with a diary linked to a wallscreen.

“Okay, you guys,” said Anya, rubbing her face in a gesture of tiredness. “It's been a long, long day. Part of the delay has been because I wanted to check the result with Hamich Bantys and he is on the Mazarma Chain and ten hours behind us; I didn't want to wake him.” She stared unhappily at the screen. “I take it, Sentinel Vero, this isn't a test to see if we are alert?”

Vero just shook his head.

Anya sighed. “Sorry, just a desperate last resort. Okay, the DNA results are odd. We've checked the machinery and it seems to be running fine, but it doesn't add up. First of all, it is an unknown species; it has never been recorded. We know its high-level taxonomy—I'll come on to that—but it seems to be a novelty. Now, as you know, Merral, the Standard Operating Procedure with a novelty is straightforward.”

“Get the Genetic Innovation Team to look at it. We did it with a new thistle last year.”

“Exactly. We'd just say that a new species or subspecies has emerged and ask for a GI investigation. Catch the thing—or sample it—and decide whether it is going to be a blessing or a curse.” She paused. “But this is quite off the scale. We have the DNA analysis, but on the line where we should have species, subspecies, and any matching results from the database, we get merely that it's mammalian
definitely,
anthropoid
definitely,
and hominoid
probably.
”

“Hominoid?” Vero asked. “So that includes apes and man?”

“Exactly.”

“Ah.”

“Ah indeed. Unlike thistles or parrots—incidentally, Merral, that new Great Blue variant is making a real mess down on Anazubar—hominoids do not tend to share their genes across species. And in Menaya, of course, there is only one living hominoid.”

“Us,” Vero said, his face wearing a disturbed look. “But is it known outside Farholme?”

She shook her head. “Not in the entire Assembly. I've even checked it against the few reliable genetic records of Neanderthals and the like. No match.”

“Most odd. So is it a new species?”

“It's a theoretical possibility. Hamich agrees. But . . . well, that raises all sorts of problems. There seems to be a lot of human code there, but there are also biochemical and genetic peculiarities.” Anya bit her lip, evidently nonplussed. “Oh, I don't know. There may be some decomposition . . . or some contamination. But then, the biomarkers seem to be negative on that.”

Vero threw a puzzled glance at Merral, then turned back to look at the screen. “Anya, would you like to speculate what has happened?”

On the screen Merral saw Anya start to open her mouth and then shut it abruptly. “No,” she said firmly. “Speculation in the absence of adequate data is not appropriate. And could be dangerous.” She stared at Vero.

“I understand you, Anya Lewitz,” responded Vero firmly. “I am as reluctant as you are to jump to conclusions.”

“Good,” she answered, and to Merral's ears she sounded relieved at not having to deliver a final verdict. “Anyway, tomorrow I will make a Gate call to the best person in the field, Maya Knella on Anchala, and will transmit the data to her for a third opinion. I was wondering, Vero. . . .” She paused, as if uncertain about whether to proceed. “Yes, in view of historic sentinel concerns, if there might be someone else you think I should consult.”

“Ah,” Vero's head rocked gently as if something had become plain. “A generous and thoughtful gesture.”

He paused. “No, I think I can wait. I hope to get more data in another forty-eight hours. I fully appreciate your desire that we do not jump to conclusions.”

Merral felt that there was an emphasis to his last words.

Anya nodded slightly in response. “Which brings me to the cut branch.” She sighed. “What a pair of specimens! Our invertebrate expert is sure that whatever made it was something with very large jaws or mandibles. He suggested some sort of crab and was worried about what we had evolving in our seas. He was nonplussed when I said it was six hundred kilometers inland and in a wood. ‘Well, it would have been twice the size of any crab known here,' he said. As if that helps.”

She paused for her words to be understood, and then, with a strange look, went on. “So he is scratching his head too. But well, it may be worth mentioning that he estimates that whatever did it could put a lot of force into a shearing action. It could take an arm off, he thought, if it had the gape for it. It could certainly cut through most unarmored synthetics thinner than a centimeter. I thought you should know that.”

“I see,” Vero said. “I was rather hoping for one puzzle to be solved. I now find that I have two unsolved puzzles.”

There was silence and eventually Merral asked. “Is that all?”

“You guys want
more
?” There was a smile and Merral felt the old Anya was back.

Merral shook his head. “
No.
Many thanks. You work on your data, Anya. We'll try and get you some more up country.”

“You are going after it?”

“Or them. A hunt. The first hunt for any totally unknown land organisms for—how many thousand years?”

“Twelve or so. I don't know. But take care. Incidentally, Perena is based at the Near Station from tomorrow for some low-orbit Central Rift surveys—they want to check the volcanic activity. I'll get her to watch out to the east. So smile when you look up.”

“Will do. Thanks for your help.”

“Thanks for a challenging problem. And keep safe, Tree Man. And you, Mr. Sentinel.”

Vero bowed slightly and the screen went blank.

Merral leaned back in his chair and stared at his friend. “Now, Vero Laertes Enand, do you know what is going on here?” He was aware of a strange sharpness in his voice.

Vero looked thoughtful, shifted his lean body in the seat, and rapped his fingertips together twice as if summoning something. “Merral, I have a bad feeling. But I am worried about deceiving myself. I wish I had someone else here with my background to talk it through. If you will excuse me, I want to keep my thoughts to myself. I think things are moving to a head, and we will know better in a day or two what is happening.”

“Well, if that's the way you think is best, then I won't argue.” Merral thought for a moment. “But I think you know what is going on better than me. There was something that passed between you and Anya.”

Vero shook his head. “No, I do not
know.
I
suspect,
but I cannot believe it. And as for Anya? Yes, I fear I know what she saw. But what it means and how it got here at Worlds' End is quite beyond my understanding.”

He got up and paced the room. After some moments he turned round and stared at Merral. “But oh, I find it too hard to believe. We will see. Oh dear.”

He sat down, steepled his fingers, and stared at them, his smooth brown forehead now furrowed. There was a long silence which Merral did not feel like breaking.

Suddenly Vero got to his feet and stood upright with a stern face.

“Merral, my friend. I owe you an apology for not telling you more. I think—no, I fear—we are on the edge of something so awful that I cannot even begin to understand what it means. But I cannot be certain. The trip north will tell us whether I have found something that is beyond even the sentinels' nightmares.” Then he paused and spoke in harsher tones as if to himself. “Yet it makes no sense! None at all. Oh, I must be wrong.
I must be.
”

Then he shrugged and looked back at Merral. “Anyway I must spend the next few hours making a report. I do not wish to be dramatic but I will file it in a closed format with Brenito, with instructions that if I do not report back from our expedition it is to be transmitted to Ancient Earth immediately.”

Merral went to the door, finding it difficult to know what to say. “As I have said before, I hope you are wrong, Vero.”

“I hope so too.”

Merral opened the door to go, and as he was about to slip through, Vero spoke again. “Try to get some sleep. You will not get as much as you like tomorrow.”

“How so?”

“I fear we must adopt an ancient policy that has not been needed for long years.”

“Which is?” Merral asked, with a sense of foreboding.

“We will have to take turns at keeping watch.”

Herrandown seemed deserted in the bright, early-morning sunlight as the rotorcraft pilot landed, and for a few moments, Merral found himself uncomfortably worrying whether some disaster had overtaken the Frontier Colony. Then he saw his uncle's bulky form emerge from his house and stand watching them. His posture was strangely rigid, as if uninvolved in what was going on.

The pilot swung her tight-clipped blonde head round into the passenger bay and smiled.

“Have a nice walk, fellas. I hope the weather holds. You're keeping your diaries on?”

“Yes,” Merral answered, “but emergency contact status only.”

“Good enough. Just so the Met Team can warn you if the weather throws a wobbly. It's been a bad year that way. Anyway, I'm off back. Hope you enjoy our countryside, Mr. Vero. It's not Ancient Earth, but it does for us.”

Vero paused long enough in pulling on his backpack to bow slightly. “Thank you, Anitra. I'm sure it will do for me, too.”

Then the doors opened and they were on the ground. With a gently rising whistle the rotorcraft soared away southward.

Merral looked up to see Barrand standing before them, his expression one of puzzlement mingled with unease.

“Ho, nephew. Again!”

Merral found little warmth in his uncle's tone and was struck by the stiff and cool nature of his embrace.

“And a guest. Another guest.” Wasn't there a sharp edge to the voice here? Merral tried to suppress the idea.

“Uncle, can I introduce . . .”

“Verofaza Laertes Enand,
sentinel.
” Vero extended a hand in formal greeting.

Barrand took it with a sort of sideways glance at Merral. “Ho. A sentinel now! Am I in trouble, then?”

Merral found the tone strange, as if his uncle had started to make a joke but had changed his mind halfway. He took his uncle by the arm. “Uncle, we are just passing through. At very short notice. Vero wants to see the north so we are going for a long walk. It suits my purposes to examine the area north of here on foot.”

“I see.”

Merral sensed an almost-open hint of suspicion in the voice. “So, Uncle,” he said, trying to adopt a tone of levity that he did not feel, “we are going to be rude and just say ‘hello' and then ‘farewell.' ”

“As you wish. Well, come in for a few minutes. The children are heading off to school soon so it's all a bit chaotic. It is probably best you don't stay. Things are settling back to normal here.”

His uncle glanced at Vero, and Merral felt that his expression seemed to ask, “How much do you know?”

“I'm glad to hear it, Uncle.”

They strolled over to the house in silence. Merral found his aunt and the children at the door and made the introductions to Vero. As he did so he found himself analyzing them, almost fearing the worst. He felt that his aunt looked tired but otherwise well. Elana seemed brighter than she had been, and Thomas appeared to have regained his former good spirits.
Perhaps the shadow has lifted off this community.
But as they moved inside, Merral caught sight of a welded metal loop against the door frame. Vero's eyes met his and there was a barely perceptible shake of the dark face.

They spent barely half an hour inside the house, and during that time Merral felt that there was little said in the conversation of any significance. It was almost, he felt, as if no one wanted them to stay for long. Merral watched for any evidence of problems, but saw little that was obvious. However, it appeared to him that his uncle and aunt were now no longer the vibrant, large-scale characters they had always been to him. They now seemed to be in some way drained, and even shrunken figures, with faint shadows around them. He found himself wondering whether Vero would see anything awry.

Eventually, with good wishes and unbending embraces and handshakes, Merral and Vero were waved off up the track out of the hamlet.

When they were out of sight of the house, Merral turned to Vero. “Well, what do you think?”

Vero said nothing for a few moments and then looked at Merral with a raised eyebrow. “Most odd. They were watchful.”

“Interesting. Of what? Of us?”

“No. Of themselves. Let me explain. Of course, I have never met them before. This is my first Frontier Colony, indeed my first Made World. But it is a characteristic of the Assembly that we speak what is on our minds. That we say what we think, without regard for anything other than charity. You agree?”