Alien Nation #1 - The Day of Descent (25 page)

The Overseers had come. The Overseers had left. If there was a purpose to the Overseers’ actions, no one knew or wanted to know. For to look too deeply into the meaning of anything that happened on board the ship was to risk discovering that there was no reason for any of it.

In a daze George watched the legs and feet of the others from his dormitory as they flowed past him and Susan in both directions. He was barely conscious of the others’ presence and never once thought that any one of them should stop and offer help.

He was alive. Susan was alive. The ship moved on. What more was there? What more could he expect?

But a new realization was also entering George’s mind, the idea that somehow a final step had been taken, a final barrier had been breached.

This will end, George thought suddenly, startled by the new lucidity of his mind. One way or another, through revolt or oblivion, this will end.

For the first time in thousands of cycles George felt the sweet touch of peace as he realized that his future was no longer uncertain.

He had lived with fear too long. He had seen his mate brutalized too often. He had lost at least one child to evil and would not risk having the same fate snare a second.

His breath caught in his throat. In an organized revolt if he could, on his own if he must, George realized that he would no longer submit to the Overseers.

He was going to fight back, and he knew he could win because he had nothing left to lose.

One way or another, the end of this life was near.

It was an overwhelming thought, and despite his pain George lifted his head and laughed tremulously.

After more than sixty years on board the ship, he finally had something to look forward to.

T
HIS TIME
B
UCK AWOKE
suddenly, with no dreamlike transition. He was immediately aware of a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Moodri?” he asked, his voice still thick with sleep.

Urgently a female’s voice whispered, “There is no Moodri here. Don’t speak of him again.” The gentle hand squeezed his shoulder sharply for added emphasis.

Buck tried lifting his head to see to whom he spoke. There was little pain left in him. Vaguely he remembered Moodri pushing at odd areas along his neck and across his shoulders. The residual pain from the Overseer’s shock prod had vanished with that touch, back when . . . when . . . Buck couldn’t remember when Moodri had come to him. Nor did he know where he was or what had happened after D’wayn had shocked him.

“Who are you?” he asked of the tall female who leaned over him. Her spots were small and myriad, an elegant pattern considered by some to be a sign of great beauty. For a moment Buck forgot that he had even spoken and simply stared dumbly up at her.

The female, plainly garbed in the ship’s standard gray uniform, didn’t appear to notice her effect on Buck. Her manner was abrupt, businesslike, unsmiling. In less than a month she would be given a new name to go with her new home, but for now Cathy Frankel gave Buck the name she had been born with. “I am Gelana. A cargo specialist.”

That explained it. Cargo specialists were charged with maintaining the proper functioning of the cargo. Buck realized he must be in one of the ship’s infirmaries.

“Where’s Moodri? When—”

Instantly Cathy placed her hand over Buck’s mouth and glared at him. She turned to speak to someone out of Buck’s line of sight. “He’s still confused,” she said. “Still incoherent.”

The black form of an Overseer pushed her aside. It was Coolock.

“He looks fine to me,” Coolock said. He peered intently at Buck, his small eyes dark and unreadable in the shadows from the bright overhead lights.
“Are
you fine, Watcher Finiksa?”

Buck had been trained well in the Watcher Youth Brigade. At once he moved to jump off the infirmary sleeping platform and stand in readiness. But as he struggled to sit up, he felt the infirmary wheel around him, and he began to fall forward off the platform.

Cathy caught him. She held him steady on the platform. “What setting did you use?” she asked. Her voice sounded angry.

“The appropriate setting,” Coolock said. “We always use the appropriate setting. Now let go of him.”

Cathy released her grip on Buck. Confused, Buck saw another message in her eyes but didn’t know what it meant.

“You may remain sitting for now, Watcher.”

Buck swallowed to relieve the dryness of his throat. “Thank you, Overseer.”

“Though when I am finished my questions I might require you to walk over there.” He pointed with his prod to the other side of the cluttered, blindingly lit infirmary.

Buck looked in the direction the Overseer indicated, past a central work area filled with physical treatment harnesses and haphazardly stacked healing devices. His body stiffened in fright. Coolock was pointing to a medical recycler—a large, transparent tub of bubbling salt water in which medical waste and corpses were disposed. He turned back to the Overseer in horror.

“Who called to you in the water hub?” The corner of Coolock’s mouth twitched as he waited for an answer.

Buck turned to Cathy, but the cargo specialist looked away.

“You have been asked a question, Watcher. Report.”

“I . . . I don’t know who it was,” Buck stammered.

“They called you by
name!”

Buck fought his fear to keep his head up. “I don’t know.”

“He’s just a child,” Cathy said. “The prods disrupt memories. There’s a chance he’ll never remember what happened just prior to the shock.”

Coolock turned his head sideways, not enough to see Cathy, just enough to indicate that he barely recognized her presence. He closed his eyes. “Have I asked for your opinion?”

“No,” Cathy said.

Coolock looked at Buck again. “Let’s try an earlier memory. Why did you try to stop Vornho from cutting the water worker?”

“D-did I?” Buck asked. He tried to remember but could draw on nothing.

Coolock stepped forward until he loomed over the boy. His voice was as icy as a portal exposed to space. “You know there is no room for defective cargo on this ship, don’t you? Are
you
defective, Watcher?”

Buck’s neck ached as he looked straight up at his tormentor. He almost seemed to see a flash of light from somewhere, like a reflection thrown from a spinning crystal. There was something familiar about it. Something that tugged at his memory. “The water worker,” he began uncertainly.

“This shift is almost over,” Coolock said. “Neither of us has much time.”

Buck tried to make sense of the sudden visual images that came to him. Something about—“The membrane suit!” he said excitedly.

“What about it?”

“It was tight,” Buck said.

“They are designed that way.”

“But on his side, about here”—Buck reached around and grabbed his own back just under his ribs—“there was something under the suit.”

For an instant Coolock’s cruel gaze lessened. “What was under his suit?”

Buck closed his eyes and saw everything with perfect clarity, almost as if a picture had been drawn on his mind. “I wasn’t sure, Overseer. But it was long and blocky, as if three cylinders had been melted together.” Then it all came back to him. His words fell over one another in his eagerness. “And I couldn’t be sure exactly what it was, but the others didn’t have it, and I didn’t think Vornho could see it, and then I remembered the clearing charges that we saw in the power plant stations, the ones they use to clean the concentrates out of the fuel-cell pipes.”

Coolock studied Buck. “You jaw the clearing charges strapped to his back under his suit?”

“I wasn’t certain, Overseer. But I was worried that if they
were
clearing charges and if the cutting beam hit them, then they might explode, and . . . so I tried to stop Vornho so the worker could be searched first.”

Coolock stared at Buck without blinking. He slowly ran his tongue over his teeth. “Did you see the worker explode when the beam hit him?”

Buck’s eyes fluttered as he sought another image from the past but found nothing. “I’m sorry, Overseer. I . . . I don’t remember an explosion. I remember Watch Leader D’wayn calling my name—no! That was one of the scavengers on the next level! It was one of the scavengers who called me. And then . . . then . . .” He remembered the final detail. “The water worker ran past me and jumped over the railing, and . . .” He faltered. His words slowed. “And Watch Leader D’wayn shocked me before I had a chance to explain what I had seen.”

Coolock rubbed at the bridge of his nose. “One of the scavengers called you? You’re certain of that?”

Buck cleared his throat. “Whoever called me was standing where I had seen scavengers stand before.”

Coolock nodded. He clapped his powerful hand on Buck’s shoulder, making the boy wince. “A careful report! Facts only. No false conclusions. Well done, Watcher!” Then he moved his hand to Buck’s chest, crushed a handful of Buck’s tunic in his grip, and lifted Buck from the sleeping platform until the boy’s feet dangled off the infirmary deck and Buck’s ashen face was only inches from Coolock’s.

“But how did the scavengers know your name? Report!” he said. Buck could smell fresh blood on Coolock’s breath. The Overseers ate real food, not meatgrowth.

Buck’s voice was only a terrified whisper. “I don’t know. I don’t.”

Coolock’s face was transformed by a huge grin, revealing large teeth stained pink by blood. “Of course you don’t, Watcher. Of course you don’t.” With surprising gentleness he lowered Buck back to the sleeping platform. Then he gave Buck the highest praise any Watcher could receive. “Good work, Watcher.”

Buck tensed, waiting for another reversal in the Overseer’s mood. But this time it didn’t come.

“D’wayn acted too hastily in shocking you. I shall see that she is disciplined and—”

“Please, no,” Buck said even before he knew he was going to speak.

Coolock remained amused. “You’d rather she was fed into that?” He nodded over at the frothing bubbles of the medical recycler.

“No,” Buck said, shocked by the idea. “She . . . Watch Leader D’wayn I mean—she acted for the good of the ship.” Buck could hide his shame no longer. He hung his head. “I did not give her a full report about my observations. Her actions were my fault.”

Coolock laughed again. Buck saw him turn to speak to Cathy. “You see why we will
always
prevail?” He reached out to brush his knuckles against Buck’s temple. “Relax, boy. You are at one with your true family.”

Buck almost sobbed with relief as he realized that Coolock had accepted his answers. He would live.

“What additional care does he need?” the Overseer asked.

“Three shifts of rest,” Cathy answered, making no attempt to hide the hostility she obviously felt. “Real food would help as well to make up for the disruption in his electrolyte balance, and—”

She stopped as Coolock raised his hand. “Requisition what you need on my authority.” He smiled down at Buck. “The future of our race is here on this platform. Be sure you take good care of him.”

Cathy remained silent, which seemed to amuse Coolock even more.

“Enjoy your rest, Watcher,” the Overseer said in parting. “When you return to your crèche, you will find a new badge for your scarf.”

Buck looked at him incredulously.

“You are moving up the ranks,” Coolock said. “Such quick thinking deserves recognition and reward. Though next time,
do
make your report more quickly.”

“Thank you, Overseer,” Buck said, and he meant it. He was moving up hundreds of shifts ahead of schedule—an unheard-of accomplishment for one so young.

Coolock moved closer to Cathy. “What joy it brings to my hearts to bring such delight to the face of a child. See? What have I told you about us? We can bring pleasure as well as discipline. To those who work for us.”

Buck was puzzled as he saw Coolock’s hand disappear behind Cathy, as if he meant to caress her as his mate. But whatever Coolock’s intent, it was not, Buck saw, to give a caress of love on the part of a female’s back that males were not supposed to touch in play. Instead of giggling or sighing, the way Buck remembered his mother reacting when he had sometimes seen his father caress her when they thought Buck wasn’t watching, Cathy jerked as if she had been shocked herself. Then she turned her head away from Coolock with an undisguised look of hatred. Buck didn’t understand how an Overseer could tolerate such an expression without exacting punishment, but Coolock only laughed—a different laugh this time. Harsh, as if he didn’t mean it. Yet his hand remained behind Cathy, and she didn’t move away. Or couldn’t.

Coolock pulled Cathy close to him and brought his lips to her ear valleys. “Think of what you need for your infirmary,” he hissed, loudly enough for Buck to hear. “And then think of the pleasure I can give you.”

Buck was confused. Cathy responded to Coolock’s offer by turning away and continuing to refuse to look at him.

“Keep playing your game,” Coolock finally said. “But I know what your answer must be eventually.” He laughed again, then saw Buck staring. “You don’t understand what we’re talking about, do you, young Watcher?”

“No,” Buck answered truthfully.

“Don’t worry,” Coolock said. “You will soon enough.” He fingered the silver badges of rank he wore. “You see, these have a special power that you’ve never imagined. And someday you might have one for your own.” He leered at Cathy. “And then he’ll have
many,
won’t he?” The Overseer laughed uproariously. “Better not let this one get too close to your
lingpod
flap, boy. She’s got a hungry look to her!”

Then Coolock strode to the infirmary’s pneumatic door, which flew aside with a puff of air. And the moment the door had closed behind him, Cathy rushed over to a work station where there was a chamber of water and began to wash her face and, Buck was fascinated to see, her back beneath her tunic.

Buck sensed it was impolite to watch a female wash herself in such a way but found it difficult to look elsewhere. She was very attractive, and he felt a vague stirring desire to see exactly what the pattern of her spots was at the lowest point of her back. Though why Coolock had warned him about letting Cathy get close to his
lingpod
flap—the pouchlike opening into his midsection beneath which he might someday bring a pod to term—Buck didn’t understand. He was just a child. His flap hadn’t even opened for the first time. Though thinking about what Coolock had said, and seeing Cathy’s hand move over her back, and remembering Vornho’s determination to find a
sleema
girl with which to couple, Buck felt a small shiver rush deep behind his flap, something he had never felt before.