Authors: Neal Asher
‘You can’t do that,’ said Thirteen. ‘You’ll be guilty of killing class-three intelligence and I’ll be culpable.’
Sniper did an ultrasound scan of the inside of the carp, found the creature’s peanut-sized brain, and wondered just who had made that classification. Also, scanning the other contents of
the stomach he rested in, he found the carp had already been guilty of the crime he wanted to commit.
‘This one’s been eating the others here,’ he informed Thirteen.
‘That’s the natural order of things. We aren’t allowed to intervene.’
‘Yeah, but how’s the Warden going to know this one hasn’t been eaten?’ Sniper asked.
‘If you probe to the back of its skull you’ll see why.’
Sniper did this and eventually found a micro transponder direct-linked into one of the carp’s main nerve ganglia. He swore yet again, then withdrew his scan to run a diagnostic on himself.
Unbelievably, he found that the carp had managed to put dents in his armour. He restrained the urge to put a missile into the carp’s peanut, and wondered if by moving about he could make the
creature sick.
‘Sniper . . . Sniper . . .’
‘Yes, I hear you.’
‘I’ll have to contact the Warden. He’ll have to know about this.’
‘Don’t be silly.’
‘I have to. This carp has a transmitter because it’s a prime and part of one of the Warden’s studies. If I don’t tell him, he might get suspicious later on. We
don’t want that.’
‘Oh all right, creep, tell him.’
‘There’s no need to be like that. Is our deal still on?’
Sniper contemplated that and looked for an angle. ‘We didn’t actually sort out those percentages. Fifty-fifty, wasn’t it?’ When there was no reply the war drone was about
to continue when he felt his antennae twitching and the invasive presence of the Warden at the periphery of his mind so he clammed up. For a moment the presence was blurred, low signal strength,
then the Warden flicked to underspace transmission and included Thirteen in a trifold link.
‘So, you cannot even count whelks without getting into trouble,’ said the Warden.
‘Yeah, that’s right,’ said Sniper.
‘You, Thirteen, neglected to warn Sniper of how partial molly carp are to large crustaceans. That was remiss of you.’
‘Sorry,’ said Thirteen.
‘Very well. You, submind, will now move on to the next sector to continue your survey. You can get going right now.’
Sniper felt the link with Thirteen break. The little drone shot away to the east, and in seconds was beyond the range of Sniper’s ultrasound scanning.
‘You, however,’ said the Warden, ‘will stay where you are until nature has taken its course. If this carp is in any way damaged by your incompetence I will get to know about
it.’
‘I hear and obey,’ said Sniper.
Finally, almost reluctantly, the Warden’s presence withdrew.
‘And molly carp might fly,’ the war drone muttered.
The molly carp, its body making swimming motions and its tentacles groping for a bottom that was fast receding, rose to the surface of the sea. It then rose from that surface, and with nose
tilted down, accelerated to the east faster than any of its kind had ever travelled before. Perhaps knowing how little control it had over its situation, it closed its eyes and curled its tentacles
into knots. Sniper regretted that he could not use his fusion boosters too, but AG planing would have to do for now. After a hundred kilometres, he dunked the carp in the sea again and scanned its
body while its skin rehydrated. The creature’s peristaltic heart arteries were fine and the micro transponder had emitted no signal. Other than this, it only seemed a little dazed. For the
next jaunt Sniper took it two hundred kilometres – and substantially faster. Again, the carp seemed fine. When Sniper finally started to reach the limit of the creature’s endurance he
was moving it very fast, and was impressed. These carp were tough. Sniper reckoned on them taking a solstan day or so to reach what was laughingly called civilization on Spatterjay.
Another evening was drawing in and Janer wondered at the steady roll and tranquillity of this ocean life. He’d said something along those lines to Roach earlier on, and
the ragged little man had stared at him as if he was a lunatic. After an uncomfortable silence Roach had finally said, ‘One the Cap’n always comes out with: “It’s like war
– long periods of boredom broken by moments of sheer terror.” So I don’t think tranquil’s quite the word.’ And at that, Roach had gone off to trull for more boxies.
Now leaning on the rail, Janer glanced to one side as Erlin came to stand with him. Unlike him, she did not wear a thermal suit. He wondered if he would be dispensing with his too when the virus
took a firmer hold in his system. He studied her profile for a long moment and felt something like yearning under his breastbone. This woman was so
interesting
and, perhaps because of that,
very attractive to him.
‘Was this how it was before?’ he asked.
She glanced at him before returning her attention to the sea. ‘Most of the time,’ she replied.
Janer looked thoughtful. ‘You know, from what you’ve said and from what I’ve learnt from some of the crew, things haven’t changed much here in a long time.’ He
nodded towards Ron. ‘Makes you wonder if
they
might be the reason for it.’
‘What do you mean?’ Erlin asked.
‘Well, they’re the rulers here in all but name, so perhaps they just don’t want things to change. The intention might not even be conscious.’
‘You could be right,’ Erlin conceded.
‘I think I am,’ said Janer. The two of them now fell into a comfortable silence. Janer felt calm and relaxed. He hardly noticed the ratchettings and clonks of the ship’s
mechanisms.
‘You were here for quite a while, weren’t you?’ he asked after a while.
‘Eighty years, give or take. I hardly remember a lot of those years. I guess you don’t when there’s not a lot happening.’
‘What about when you first came here and discovered the virus . . . the weird set-up here?’ he asked.
Erlin’s expression became troubled and she shot him an assessing look.
‘Some strange things happened then, but it’s been so long that I sometimes wonder if my memory played tricks on me.’ She shuddered as if the cold was now getting through to
her.
‘Well, don’t just leave it there. Now you have to tell me,’ said Janer.
She stared at him with her expression suddenly hard. ‘Why
should
I tell you?’
Janer met her look. ‘Because we’re the same. We’re both coming to that time in our lives when we wonder why we should carry on. You
should
tell me because you may gain
some insight, and because you lose nothing by telling me, but you do gain time.’
Erlin’s hard expression was broken by a smile. ‘You have an unbreakable arrogance, Janer Cord Anders,’ she said.
‘Yes, which is why I’ll live. Now tell me.’
Erlin’s expression became troubled again as she turned to lean on the rail, staring out to sea.
‘I was young when I came here – young, enthusiastic, curious, and sure I was going to do great things with my life.’
‘And you did,’ said Janer.
‘Debatable,’ said Erlin, then after a moment continued, ‘You know how seeing that fight between Domby and Forlam brought home to you what this world is really like?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, my moment of revelation was somewhat more . . . horrifying than that. I’d been on board the
Treader
only a few days. I’d been ferried out to it by AGC from the
Dome – that was when the runcible was planet-based. At that point I hadn’t even seen one of the sails, as there wasn’t one aboard when I arrived. Anyway, Ambel, Peck and Anne went
ashore on a little island to get some fresh meat to attract in another sail. While there, Peck got attacked by a leech and, of course, I was fascinated to discover that Ambel had hammered the leech
on the ground until it released the plug of flesh it had taken, and that Peck just screwed the piece of flesh back into place.’
‘That was it?’ Janer asked.
Erlin glanced at him. ‘That just piqued my curiosity, and that’s when I really started to investigate. I took urine samples, recorded statements, and slowly began to piece together
what the ecology of this place is all about: the leeches. I tried to take samples from Ambel . . . but I’ve told you about that.’
‘No blood in him,’ said Janer, ‘just fibres.’
‘Yes, I couldn’t even get a sample by opening his arm with a scalpel. Anyway, on we travelled with a sail hanging on the mast and frog whelks leaping on board, trying to take a chunk
out of me, and even though I was truly beginning to understand it all, I didn’t realize what extremes it could all go to.’ She looked at Janer again. ‘Have you heard of the
Skinner?’
‘Skinner’s Islands is what I heard. I assumed it was the name of whoever discovered them,’ he said.
‘No. It’s the name of the occupant and his occupation.’
Janer waited for her to continue, and after a long pause she did.
‘We lost the sail again because the stored meat had worms in it. Even they were extreme, and I had to hide in my cabin until they were all removed from the ship. Ambel towed the
Treader
to a nearby island and he, Peck and Anne went ashore again after meat – rhinoworms mostly live in coastal shallows. Anne and Ambel came back to the ship without Peck, and
started to collect harpoons and other weapons . . . You know, even then most of the crew had a much bluer coloration because they hadn’t eaten Earth food for a while. I should have taken that
as a clue.’
‘Keeps the virus in abeyance,’ said Janer.
‘Oh yes,’ said Erlin. ‘But what happens to a human who doesn’t get to eat Earth food at all? You know, ever since ECS drove Hoop and his crew away, there has always been
Earth food available here. Hoopers could only grow a few adapted varieties that Hoop himself established here, but they were still enough. If such food had not been available there would have been
no humans here when the Polity returned.’
‘They die without it?’ Janer asked.
Erlin gave a humourless laugh and gazed out to where the sun was sinking into a mantel of grey clouds which almost had the appearance of floating mud flats.
‘It would be better if they did. They do not: they just cease to be human – we know this because Hoopers have been stranded and unable to obtain Dome-grown food . . . Peck, it seems,
had been taken by one of these creatures that had once been human – a creature they called the Skinner, because of its unpleasant habits. I, of course, wanted to see it for myself, and
demanded that I go ashore with them in their attempt to rescue Peck. I think what finally persuaded them was the surgical laser I carried. I’d managed to remove its safety limiters and then
had an effective weapon.’
‘So . . . you went ashore.’
‘Yes, we went ashore and we saw this Skinner.’ Erlin stared down at the water and proceeded to give a clinical description of the beast. Janer might not have believed her, had he not
seen some strange and frightening things in his time. When she had finished her description she paused for a while before going on with, ‘When it came at us it was waving something in its
right hand. Ambel put a hole in it with his blunderbuss and Anne and Pland got it with harpoons. When I saw what the creature was holding I joined in the fight. I cut it with my laser, and I tell
you that was no easy task – then I crawled away to spew up my guts. The other three used my laser to finish the job on the thing.’
‘What did it have in its hand?’ Janer asked, getting right to the point, even though he thought he might already know the answer.
‘It was Peck’s entire skin.’
‘Jesu! The poor bastard.’
Erlin gazed at him now with a slightly crazy look in her eyes. ‘Yes, he was. When you meet him you’ll have to ask him all about it,’ she said.
‘What,’ said Janer, ‘he survived?’
‘Oh yes. Ambel picked up his skin and we went to find him. When we found him, skinless, writhing in a bowl-shaped rock, I tried to put him out of his misery. Ambel knocked the laser out of
my hand, then he, Anne, and Pland proceeded to dress Peck again in his own skin.’
‘You’re kidding.’
‘Am I? You know what sticks in my mind the most?’
‘What?’
‘How they punched holes through his skin to let the air bubbles escape . . . so they could squeeze the air out through the punctures. They carried him back to the boat and out to the ship,
but he managed to climb on board himself. There, you see, the raw extremes . . . those are what I saw.’
Janer watched her as she stared into the descending night. Perhaps she was a bit deranged. He did not want to openly call her a liar.
The turbul were all either dead or fled, and now the glisters fed with alacrity. As, one after another, they gobbled down turbul bodies, their own bodies expanded hugely
to accommodate their gorging but, unlike the frog whelk which had caused all this furore, they had sub-shells which slid into place to protect newly exposed flesh swelling between original
segments of shell. It was a rather hasty and frenetic banquet, for a glister feeding on one end of a turbul’s body was hard-pressed to eat half of it before coming nose to nose with the
uninvited diners. On each occasion this happened the glister might snatch a between-meals snack of prill or leech before moving on to the next turbul – the fish’s flesh being so
much sweeter and more tender, and definitely to be preferred.
Keech shook with fever. His nerves were regenerating very quickly and when he could stand the pain no longer, he shut down some of the connections to – and in – his
organic brain. He did want life, but he wanted sanity too. Even so, with connections closed off, he felt like a diseased wreck. His entire body was delivering to him the message that he was full of
infection and decay, and that he was falling apart. The physical evidence of this was how he had swollen, and the plasma leaking from his skin and a creamy fluid oozing from his nose. The cleansing
unit was humming now as it worked hard following the nanofactory programme. A pool of volatile balm had puddled on the rock around his knees, having leaked from the holes lasered in his torso.
These holes were now filled with nubs of veined, purplish flesh, and a messages light was clamouring for his attention. He decided to view the said messages and turned the system back on.