Blighted Star (12 page)

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Seeing
the girl fly over and perform her perfect loop had an enormous effect on the
crowd. Their minds, for so long now preoccupied with the serious business of
the present crisis, in an instant had a new focus and smiles replaced the
worried frowns. On top of that, the horse, which really needed an enzyme supplement
to get the best out of the planetary grass analogue, let out a prolonged fart
which seemed timed as a fanfare to the aerobatics. Even Gerard couldn’t help a
grin spreading across his features. Perhaps their troubles were after all, no
more than temporary setbacks.

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The
sun was casting long deep shadows when Lana cut the power and settled the canoe
on the grass in the compound. She noticed it had been nibbled short by the
animals. The next thing to get her attention was the fact that the wire fence
on one side of the enclosure she had landed in had been broken down. Of the
animals there was no sign. She beamed the image back to Cassini.

“Are
you guys getting this?” Lana wondered if they could hear the rapid pounding of
her heart through the comms implant as well as her voice and the images her
eyes picked up.

“Yes,
we’re getting a good clear picture, Lana. Just hang on a second.” Athena’s
usually reassuring voice sounded full of fear, as if the condition was
contagious, even at long distance. “Listen, we both think it’s pretty clear
something bad has happened up there, and we don’t want you to take any more
risks. Don’t investigate further, we’ll send a team up there in two days.”

“Okay,
if you’re sure. I hate to admit it, but I really am scared. And there’s this
weird smell, like really rotting meat. I feel like I’m going to gag.” She had
once found a Prolach washed up on a beach on her home world and the large
decaying fish had given off a similarly ghastly odour.

“Just
come right back. We know enough to know there’s a problem.”

Still
Lana hesitated. Fighting her instinct to escape, she steeled herself for one
task and took a step towards the nearest wagon.

“Listen,
I’m just going to look inside the wagon, they might be inside.”

“All
right, if you think you can, but don’t
go
inside.”

The
stench was now overpowering and Lana had to force one foot in front of the
other by conscious act of will. On the flap of the wagon were smears of some
unidentifiable substance. Lana checked her hand which was about to touch the
filth, and she looked round in the gathering gloom until she found a long whip
hanging on a peg on the shaft of the wagon. Using its handle she opened the
flap and peered inside. She leaned a little closer, and as her eyes became
accustomed to the gloom she could see the signs of a violent struggle. There
was a sudden squawk from her comms and she leapt back from the opening.

“Jeez!”

“Sorry
Lana, didn’t mean to startle you. Listen. Get back. Or at least get up in the
air. I don’t know about you but we’re both freaking out.”

“I’m
on my way, what do you think happened?”

“It’s
too soon to make assumptions. We’ll send in probes and get samples tomorrow.
See you back here. And Lana, well done.”

“Thanks
Athena, see you shortly.”

She
climbed back over the broken fence, feeling as if eyes were boring into the
back of her neck. The light was fading fast. She felt a sudden sharp pain in
the palm of her hand and glanced down. A red pearl of blood had formed where
she’d cut herself slightly on a sharp, broken edge. She walked to the canoe,
sucking at the blood. She couldn’t wait to get airborne and away from this
stench. On reaching the canoe, she realised she would have to sit down and
strap herself in, and again she had to fight against instinct. Before giving up
the ability to run away, she looked around very carefully. The whole place was
still deserted. She sat down and quickly fastened the buckles. She gave the
A/G’s full power and the canoe bobbed straight up to a hundred metres. Lana’s
stomach took a second or to catch up, and when it did, she felt an overwhelming
urge to throw up. This she did, rocking the small craft in time with her
heaves. Damn that stench! 

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The
surface of the lake rippled gently in a soft breeze which soughed through the
grass, then it settled again to reflect the swirl of stars in the night sky.
There was a moment of profound peace. Then the surface was once again disturbed
by several black domes like the backs of swimming turtles. These headed towards
the shore. As they did so they rose from the water, revealing first the
foreheads, then the empty eye sockets, then the broken, ruptured faces of the
dead. The cadavers rose dripping from the lake and walked as one towards the
settlement, towards the glowing beacons of life which drew them. The last to
rise were the walking corpses of the dead children. Deep in the ooze behind
them the ragged skeleton of Gunnar Olafson made one or two feeble movements,
but the organism had devoured too much muscle tissue, and the last rotting
strands gave way. The corpse was still at last.

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Jim
Chan looked at the picture for the hundredth time in the last couple of days.
It was an old fashioned studio digital print he’d had done of them all. Him,
Amy and Helena back on a trip they’d done to old Mars and the solar system.
From Mars you could actually see Earth with the naked eye, and take a really
good look with a Graviton telescope, even seeing some of the drowned cities
beneath the hot seas. The sight had made him feel sad, as it did most people.
To think of all the waste…

Helena
had joined him at the viewing port and they had stood together in companionable
silence. Amy had been fast asleep in her mother’s arms, and wasn’t even a year
old at the time.

One
of the special features of the voyage had been a low orbit slingshot flyby of
Earth a few days later, and that had been incredible in its own way; knowing
that you were just a few hundred miles from the surface your ancestors had
walked upon. Close to the air your ancestors had breathed (while it was still
breathable), but Jim still felt that the moment up on Mars was when he had been
closest to the Cradle of Mankind.

In
the photograph, Helena and he had been dressed as “Old Mars” Miners; there had
even been a tiny spacesuit for Amy complete with miniature sonic pick. They had
all, even the baby, been laughing at the antics of the tiny robot the
photographer had with him. Jim sighed. It was only a year after the photo was
taken that Helena had been killed in a traffic accident. At first he had been
unable to even look at the picture, and had enrolled on the mission to
Saunder’s World partly to get away from the memories. Some instinct had led him
not to put the photo into storage with the rest of the stuff, and at the last
moment he had put it into a pocket. He was glad he had. He must have looked at
the image a couple of thousand times by now. He put it away again and, rubbing
his hands, wondered when Grad would be back. The chessboard was waiting!

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Dr
Clark drummed his fingers on the side of the medical scanner he held. Below
him, on the examining couch, Lana felt so sick that she almost didn’t care what
the diagnosis was; she just wanted to pass out.

The
flight back from the Amish settlement in the dark had been a nightmare. Every
little buffet of wind, or gentle dip as she flew through softer air pockets had
left her wracked with dry heaves, and the final approach had been done with
eyes streaming with tears and teeth clenched. She had had to be helped from the
Skyak by Jackson and Sergeant Raoul, and had thought that she might actually be
going to die.

“Hmm,
yes, as I said. You’ve been poisoned, quite badly. You say that there was a
particularly bad smell? And it was soon after this that you started to feel
unwell? That is consistent with what I’m finding here. You
have
got
significant lung damage, but don’t worry, your nanos are already dealing with
the problem, for a while they were nearly overwhelmed, but they’re catching up
now. You should feel better in a few hours and completely right by tomorrow
evening. Just take things easy.”

“What
about the baby?” Lana searched the Doctor’s face.

“Oh,
I’m so sorry, I should have said. The baby is completely unaffected. Please, excuse
me for one moment.” The Doctor left the room, and Lana lay back in relief,
closing her eyes.

Outside,
Athena and Jackson waited in the corridor.

“How
is she Doctor?” Athena was looking stricken.

“She
is going to be fine.” Clarke’s tone changed to one of anger “Now suppose you
tell me what’s going on.”

“Doctor,
we honestly don’t know. Lana was paying a courtesy call on the Amish over a
straying horse. She found their site deserted.”

“And
that’s it? You don’t know any more? I have a job to do and I need to be in
possession of all the facts in order to do that job.” He glared at them both.

“Really
Doctor, nothing is being kept from you. We’re in the same position as you. In
fact, we’re hoping you can tell us what made her ill.”

Clarke
softened slightly. “Listen to me then. Lana inhaled a poisonous gas composed in
part of methane, ammonia and sulphur. This gas was organic in origin.”

“Organic?
What does that mean?” Jackson leaned in anxiously.

“There’s
no way of knowing at this stage, I’ll need to take a look at the site, which
should be quarantined immediately. And I’ll need to take samples and so on.”

“Of
course, Dr Clarke. We’ll assemble a team the moment the shuttle’s finished. It
should be ready tomorrow. Will Lana be well enough then?”

“You
bet I will.” Lana stood in the doorway, swaying slightly and looking green, but
defiant.

<><><> 

Gerard
took his stroll around the town’s deserted streets. It had been a long day and
the inhabitants had only finally dispersed a little while ago. Gerard was, as
was his custom, the last to go to bed. Unlike most of the settlers he had a
penchant for strong coffee, a substance banned on many worlds, and of which he
had had to bring his own supply in the form of a very small, very specialised
vat which produced nothing but coffee grains. The coffee maker had cost half a
year’s pay, but he didn’t regret the cost at all.

 Being
a careful guy he had started of late to stockpile grains against a future
emergency, filling every airtight container he could lay his hands on. The unit
was guaranteed for ten years against failure with a manufacturer – busting
guarantee, but what would that be worth out here? Since the current troubles he
had gone into pretty much full time production, and wasn’t far off a lifetime’s
worth, stashed away in a lockable cupboard in his house.

Every
evening, when the others retired, Gerard would brew some coffee, drink it, and
while the caffeine still thrummed in his veins, he would go out for a walk in
the cooling air until he began to yawn. Only then would he know that he would
be able to sleep. Tonight he turned the corner and there was the horse, still
on its feet like him. It was sniffing the black surface of the road, as if
wondering where the grass had gone.

During
the day, Gerard had affected indifference to the horse, but now that they were
alone he felt a little differently. They were the same, him, and the horse;
both a little out of place here at the end of the galaxy. He moved towards the
horse and it let him come, ears moving but keeping otherwise still. It was a
magnificent beast, standing taller than he was at the shoulder, and its breath
was coming out in twin wisps from the cavernous nostrils into the cold night
air.

He
drew close and the horse placidly lifted its head. He reached out and touched
its neck, then ran his hand over its nose as he had seen the others do earlier.
The soft warm muzzle felt delightful. The horse suddenly whipped forth its long
tongue and licked his palm, and Gerard, startled, laughed.

“Ah,
my friend, we are a couple of night – owls are we not? I would invite you back
to my home but I fear you would find it too small. Eh bien, I must wish you
good night.” He patted the horse’s neck, but its attention was elsewhere. Its
head reared up, and its eyes rolled in its head. It leapt round, knocking
Gerard sprawling on the ground, and raced away down the street, hooves
skittering on the  newly formed hard carbon surface.

“Bastard!”
Gerard got to his feet, staring venomously down the road after the now distant
hoof beats. Then he too began to sniff the air. The smell was faint but quite
disgusting.

On
the Saunder’s World of five hundred thousand years before, the same flat plains
studded with lakes spread under the same swirl of stars tumbling through vast
tracts of time towards the hungry maw of the Skagorack. The plains teemed with
herds of herbivores of many species, stalked by carnivores hunting in packs or
as solitary killers. Amongst the plant eaters were a species of large semi
aquatic crabs whose foes were rare but who had lately become prey to an
evolving malady which had bred from the mud and silt in the ponds and lakes
where they sought refuge from the sun. Tonight the weather was mild and a small
pod of crablike beings were grazing without care under the watchful eye of
their spawnmother, a colossal version of themselves. Above them the stars shone
brightly from the calm sky as they worked their way through the soft mud at the
edge of the lake, scooping up clods with their fore claws  and chewing
them with their horizontally opposed mandibles, before ejecting the filtered
sludge out in squirts the size and consistency of cowpats. They were unaware
that around them on the plain a hunting party was closing in; beings outwardly
like themselves, but whose soft inner parts were infected and decaying. Whose
dead minds were corrupted and reorganised into new patterns of aggression and
lust to kill. The possessed closed in, surrounding their prey with an instinct
to cut off any means of escape. Among them walked an undead version of the
spawn – mother, whose dead nervous system propelled her on with one purpose; to
find new meat. Other creatures on the plain had proved far too fleet for the
infected crabs, which were constructed for strength and resilience rather than
speed.