Deathstalker Destiny (31 page)

“Oh great,” said Morrell. “The only living thing we’ve found here, and you only want to communicate with it to learn how to destroy it. I guess once an Investigator, always an Investigator. Maybe it’ll be something small and furry, so you can stamp on it.”

“That’s enough!” said Silence. “Carrion is doing his job. You do yours. Scan the Base again while I try and make contact with the voice. See if you can find out who or what I’m talking to.”

“Perhaps it’s hiding behind an esp-blocker,” said Bar- , ron. “And that’s why you can’t detect it.”

“No,” said Morrell. “I’d have detected the esp-blocker. Nice try, though.”

Silence opened his comm channel again. “This is Captain Silence. Can you hear me, Commander Jorgensson?”

Hear you. Yes.
Jorgensson.

Morrell frowned, concentrating. “Scanning, Captain. There’s no one in the Base. No one at all.”

“Then who the hell am I talking to?” said Silence.

“Me,” said Base Commander Jorgensson. “You were talking to me.”

They all looked around sharply, and there she was, standing in the open doorway to the Base. She looked exactly as she had on the last long entry she’d made before supposedly blowing up her Base. Exactly the same. Even down to the bloody scorched wound on her side. Her face was calm, and utterly without expression. Her arms hung limply at her sides. Silence looked at Morrell, who shook his head quickly.

“I don’t know what that is, but it’s not human. I’m not picking up any thoughts at all from her. As far as my esp is concerned, she’s not there. I will say this, though; she looks in pretty good shape for someone who’s supposed to have been dead for centuries.”

Silence moved slowly toward Jorgensson. “Putting aside for one moment the question of who you seem to be; can you answer some questions? Can you tell us what’s happened here, on this planet?”

“I am Base Commander Jorgensson.” The woman stood perfectly still. Her eyes were dead. “This world has been transformed. Transfigured. Become a world of possibilities and potentials. Nothing is certain anymore. Things come and go. All your dreams are here; including the bad ones. Welcome to the promised land.”

“I don’t know if anyone else has noticed,” said Barron quietly, “but she only breathes when she talks.”

“If you are Jorgensson,” said Silence, stopping what he hoped was a respectful distance away from her, “why didn’t you blow up Base Omega, as you intended?”

“I did,” said Jorgensson, her face and voice still utterly, inhumanly, calm. “The Base was destroyed, and everyone in it died. Including me.”

“I think I’d like to leave,” said Morrell. “Right now.”

“Stand still, that man,” said Silence. He looked at Carrion. “You try talking to her for a while. You have the most experience with dead things that insist on moving about and talking.”

“If you died,” Carrion said calmly to Jorgensson, “who brought you back to life?”

“Jesus raised me from the dust,” said the dead woman. “So that we could talk. Communicate.”

“Good of him,” said Morrell. “I think I feel sick. I don’t suppose Jesus is still around anywhere, so we could ask him a few questions directly?”

“Look behind you,” said Jorgensson.

They all spun around, and there before them, standing smiling in a simple rough tunic, was a tall, fine-featured man with long dark hair and a beard, and kind, knowing eyes. A crown of thorns rested lightly on his head, like a barbed halo, and when he raised a hand in greeting to the landing party, they could see the nail hole in his palm. He had an aura of wisdom and serenity, and his presence was like a cool breeze on a hot day. But the real clincher had to be the half a dozen winged angels hovering overhead, each a good twenty feet tall, in long flowing white gowns, with glowing halos and huge feathered wingspans.

“Welcome to the world I have made for you,” said Jesus, in a rich, warm, comforting voice. “Welcome to paradise.”

Silence looked at Morrell, who shook his head. “Don’t look at me; I haven’t got a clue what’s going on. If there was a big enough rock around, I think I’d try and hide under it. He’s not an illusion, he’s quite real, but that’s all I can tell you. His mind is closed to me. And if He is who He says, I think I’m rather glad about that. Try and make mental contact with the Son of God, and my brains would probably start leaking out my ears. Am I babbling? It sounds like I’m babbling.”

“He looks just like I always thought he would,” said Barron softly.

“Before anyone starts falling to their knees and shouting hosannas, allow me to point out that there is an alternative explanation,” said Carrion, apparently unmoved. “We know that one man survived the Base explosion ; the scientist Marlowe. Who infected himself with nanos programmed for open-ended evolution. This must be him.”

“And the angels?” said Silence.

Carrion paused. “I’m still working on that.”

Morrell studied the huge forms floating overhead. “You know, I hate to be a stickler for details, but ... shouldn’t they be playing harps, or something? And how come they don’t have to flap their wings to stay up there?”

“They certainly don’t seem to be aerodynamically stable,” said Carrion.

“You two keep well away from me,” said Barron. “When the plague of boils comes hurtling down from on high, I don’t want you two anywhere near me.”

“Let’s try and stick to the matter at hand,” said Silence. He turned his best intimidating glare on Jesus. “Are you in fact the scientist Marlowe?”

“That was long, long ago,” said Jesus. “Behold; I will tell you everything. Once, I was just a man, as any other. I walked among them, and they did not know my greatness. We were all scientists here, laboring for our Emperor. We were researching into nanotech. Into God’s building blocks. Into the transformation and programming of humans. The Emperor wished to be able to determine the shape, nature, and identity of all humans, from birth. Properly programmed nanotech should be capable of producing desired traits to order. The population would then consist of preprogrammed worker drones, warriors, breeders, scientists, etcetera, as needed. Humanity would become efficient, predictable, controlled.”

“Jesus,” said Morrell softly. “They were planning to turn the vast majority of the human species into unpeo ple, even less than clones and espers. Could they really have done it?”

“Theoretically, yes,” said Carrion. “No wonder Lionstone tried to start it up again on Vodyanoi IV.”

“I suppose the plan was for the Emperor and a few selected Families to be the only true living humans,” said Silence. “With everyone else programmed from birth to serve them faithfully all their days. There would never have been any Rebellion. The population quite literally wouldn’t have been able to conceive of the idea. If they could have made it work ... we’d have become ants. Insects serving the Hive. But Marlowe stopped them. Hell. Maybe he is our Savior, after all.”

“I don’t think so,” said Carrion. “He was just a man who couldn’t wait. He had to try it out on himself first. To see if nanotech could be programmed to make him more than human. A superhuman.” “And if you raise Humanity to the highest point, through endless evolutions ... you get a god,” said Barron. “Or at least, the Son of God.”

“I am getting a really bad headache just thinking about the implications of all this,” said Morrell, grimacing. “Let’s try focusing on some of our more immediate problems. Jesus; do you know anything about the crews of the Shub and Hadenmen ships orbiting this planet?”

“Of course,” said Jesus, still smiling his warm and loving smile. “I know everything. The creatures of flesh and metal, and the machines that thought they thought. They both came here looking for power, but none of them could cope with what they found. Their minds were too small. Too limited. Too inflexible. And so they all died. It was very sad. Would you like to speak with them?”

The landing party took it in turns to look at each other. “Would that be possible?” said Silence carefully.

“All things are possible here, in this best of all possible worlds,” said Jesus. “Behold; I will raise them from the dust for you.”

He gestured with one graceful, nail-pierced hand, and the ground before him trembled. It split jaggedly apart, a deep crevice opening up, and from the depths rose a Fury and two Hadenmen. They hung for a moment above the gap, held supported in the air by Jesus’ will, and then the ground snapped together again under their feet. The Fury was bare of its usual flesh covering, its steel gleaming bluely in the bright sunlight. The two Hadenmen stood inhumanly still, their eyes glowing golden, their faces utterly blank. The three figures seemed solid and real but somehow empty, like great toys waiting for their instructions. Silence decided he’d start with the Fury. A machine’s perception of this unnatural world might provide useful new insights.

“You came here from Shub,” he said slowly. “Tell us what happened.”

“Illogical,” said the machine, in a flat grating voice. “Illusions. Madness. We were called, by a voice whose orders could not be denied. We came down to this world, and nothing made sense. Logic does not function here. It became necessary for Shub to break contact with us, to avoid ... contamination. We were left here. Abandoned.”

“We are very happy here,” said one of the Hadenmen, in his buzzing voice. “We preached the perfectibility of Man, and we have found it here. We all came down, to spend our lives singing praises and hosannas to our Lord, as is fit and proper. He is the most perfect. We have come at last to the promised land.”

“These are my children,” said Jesus fondly. “In whom I am well pleased.”

He gestured again, and the three figures trembled, as though disturbed by an unfelt breeze, and then they crumbled and fell apart. Carrion moved in close beside Silence so he could speak softly.

“Don’t look now, but the angels are gone too. Vanished. I think Jesus ... just forgot about them.”

“Dust to dust,” said Jesus, smiling his interminable smile. “From dust they came, and to dust I send them back. They came as you did, seeking wonders, but they were not worthy of the miracles to be found here. Their small minds could not encompass the marvels I have worked in this place. I can call up all who have died here, that you may question them, if you wish. Be not troubled in your minds, and in your hearts. If any of you are troubled, come to me and let me but touch you, and you shall be healed forever.”

“No one is to lower their shields,” said Silence sharply. “That’s an order. Morrell; did you pick up anything from those ... returnees?”

“Not from them,” said the esper thoughtfully. “Just this low background buzz. But I think I detected some kind of ... transmission, from Jesus. It’s possible he could be the puppet master here, speaking his words through their mouths.”

“Or maybe they just belong to him, because they died here,” said Barron. “His, forever, to do with as he pleased. Would that make this a Heaven or a Hell? Singing praises to the Lord for all eternity, because you have to?”

“He has made no direct threat to us as yet,” said Carrion.

“Yeah,” said Morrell. “But a lot of that old-time religion is starting to get on my tits. If he says Behold one more time ...”

“Disbeliever,” said Jesus, smiling sadly. “Woe to them who will not see the light. Be careful you do not raise my righteous anger. I have made a Heaven here, and I will not be mocked.”

“You infected yourself with preprogrammed nanotech,” said Carrion. “And then you took it outside the Base, and allowed it to transform this entire world. What happened to the original ecosystem? To all the millions of small interacting species that made their home here?”

“Gone, all gone,” said Jesus. “They were not important. They have been replaced by something greater. I could summon them up again, out of the dust, but what would be the point? Their time was over. Their only reason for existence was to be the place that I would come to. This is my world, my Heaven, my paradise, and all things here are as I wish it.”

“You talk to him, Captain,” said Carrion. “Perhaps you can find common ground. This man destroyed a world even more thoroughly than you did.”

“Life is life,” said Jesus. “From dust to dust. Nothing is ever lost, as long as I remember it. Forget them. I am here, your redeemer. Be happy here, and worship me all your days.”

“You know,” said Morrell quietly to Silence, “we’ve stumbled across something even more important than we thought. Forget the programming of people; using the right nanotech you could preprogram an entire planet in a way that makes terraforming look small and inefficient. It would be the ultimate weapon; just find a planet you didn’t like, sprinkle a few nanos from orbit, and the whole world and its people would become what you wanted. Think what it could do as a weapon against Shub, or the Recreated.”

“If we knew how to control it, which we don’t.” Silence shook his head unhappily. “Besides; we came here looking for a possible cure to the nano plague. Let’s not get distracted, people.”

“Take me from this world on your ship,” said Jesus. “And I will stop all wars and bring peace everywhere. Cure all ills with my touch. No one now alive need ever die. I will bring about the golden age of which Humanity has always dreamed.”

Carrion frowned. “It’s clear from the limited use they’ve put it to that Shub has only the barest control of the nanotech they’ve been using. What we’ve got here is far more dangerous. It’s possible we might be able to create nanos to combat the plague, but as the Captain says, we have no experience in controlling it. It might be like curing the common cold by giving everyone leprosy. We have to consider this very carefully, Captain. If we let the genie out of this bottle, it might well defeat our enemies, but what about afterwards? Remember what the original Emperor wanted to do with it. And you can see what it did to Marlowe’s state of mind.”

The sky darkened, and suddenly it was twilight. Thunder rumbled menacingly overhead. The air was bitter cold. And Jesus wasn’t smiling anymore.