Dominant Species Volume Three -- Acquired Traits (36 page)

“So
where’s the outside?” he wanted to know.

“The last
ring has connectors, too. But they dump right to the outside,” she said with a
grin.

“How do
you know?”

She
looked askance at him. “Just what do you think I was doing in the months we
lived here? I was studying the goddamned thing. That means learning about
it—figuring it out.”

“Sorry.”

“Accepted.
Let’s get outta here.”

They
moved cautiously to the tunnel, and Rachel led the way down it. They started
the long trek to the outside by following the tube around until they caught a
connector. Moving to the next ring out, they followed it around until they came
to the next connector then repeated the process. A half-hour later, they were
in the last ring, and John could see daylight streaming in from one of the exit
holes ahead. He put his arm around Rachel and tugged her in as they walked.

“You
really know your stuff,” he said, almost laughing. “What a sense of direction!”

“Uncanny,
isn’t it?” she replied, smiling back.

The short
connector met the outside almost at ground level. It was raining hard. They
hopped down onto a spongy patch of ground and were instantly soaking wet. It
didn’t seem to matter.

“Where
to?” she asked.

“Habershaw’s
bulldozer. We can hide out until they come back into radio range.”

“I’m
hungry,” she said. The way Rachel said it was different from the way other
people said it. When Rachel said it she really meant it.

“There’s
food on the rig,” he promised. “Can you make it?”

“I think
so.”

They made
their way around the perimeter of the organism, pushing through the cool, wet
leaves. Soon they had reached the shuttle area. While Rachel stayed well back
out of sight, John peeked through the foliage and scoped it out. He could see
the corner of the rig to the northwest, sitting like some mechanical apparition
in the wet mist. A truck rumbled past, far out on the road.

“How are
we gonna make it across without being seen?” Rachel asked.

It was a
simple question. Waiting until nightfall was the logical answer, but nightfall
brought the planet to life, and they only had the one net suit. Not only that,
Rachel would be beside herself with hunger by then.

“We
can’t,” he replied. “We’ll have to work our way out and around through the
jungle. We’ll come in behind the rig. Then it should be no problem to get on
board. It’s quite a ways. Can you make it?”

“I don’t
have a choice, do I?”

“No.”

“Then
I’ll make it,” she said.

They
doubled back and went south then turned west until they came to the road. The
rain and passing truck’s tires had churned the road into a river of mud. They
watched as one enormous truck slogged through the morass, its huge tires
occasionally spinning and throwing buckets of mud high into the air. When it
was far enough down the road, John chanced another look. He could see the
distant lights of a coming truck way down the road, but it was too far away to
be of any consequence.

They
dashed across the road like wet animals, slipping and splashing through the
deep, thin mud. They clamored into the foliage on the other side of the road
and turned north, paralleling it. Soon they were at the edge of the clearing,
and the rig was visible again, closer this time. Though stopped now, the rain
had turned the entire area into a sea of slop. The lifts and trucks plowed
through it, their tires caked heavy with brown mud.

They
moved west again for a while, then turned north, following the edge of the
clearing until they were directly in back of the rig. From there, they could
traverse the distance easily, completely hidden from view of the activity on
the other side. Soon they would be safe and dry, and he could get Rachel fed.
Her hunger was no small matter. He’d seen the stress of it spawn a seizure.

“How are
you doing?” he asked.

“If you
include the mud on my feet?”

“Yeah.
With mud.”

“Very
hungry.”

He
smiled. Humor was a good sign. She’d never had a seizure anywhere near a
humorous remark she’d made. “We’ll be there soon,” he said, “and I’ll spoon
feed you.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

They
climbed up the rig’s giant track then down the stairs on the inside until they
came to the gangway that led to the storage locker. John pried the door open.

The
mid-morning sun was coming out from behind the clouds to the east. Soon the
heat would mix with the wet and the air would turn to steam. They went inside.

“Home,
sweet home,” he said.

“Feed
me,” she said.

* * *

Habershaw
was getting much better at it. He could turn without dipping down into the
canopy and could stop and hover without drifting too much. Donna wasn’t nearly
as impressed with his progress as he was.

“Did you
see that?” he asked. “I just barely touched that tree limb. Just like I
planned.”

She’d
just tried to raise John on the radio again, without success. They’d have to
get closer, park the shuttle and try again. If Mayflower hadn’t reported the
shuttle stolen, he was probably thinking about it because the longer he waited,
the worse it looked for him. She wasn’t sure, but she thought that thing about
the transponder gizmo might get them into trouble without John to take care of
it. She mentioned it to Habershaw.

“You’re
probably right,” he said.

They had
moved to the coastline just before dawn and were now moving slowly north along
the shore, just a few meters above the water and deep in the shadows.

“How far
are we from the monolith now?” she asked.

“Maybe
two kilometers,” he said.

“That’s
close enough. Set the shuttle down on the beach. I’ll try him again.”

The
narrow strip of beach was just barely wide enough to land on. Habershaw pulled
up, stopped and put the shuttle down with a hard bump. “Whoops,” he said. He
shut the power off.

Donna
adjusted the microphone and turned the transmitter on.

“John?
Come in, John.”

There was
a burst of static, and Donna heard a faint voice through the headphones. She
adjusted the volume.

“I hear
you,” John’s voice said through a crackle of static.

“There he
is,” Habershaw said.

“Hey!
You’re still breathing,” Donna said. “How’s Rachel doing?”

“She’s
fine. Dirty and damp, but fine. We’re in the rig.”

“How did
you get out?” Habershaw asked.

“Rachel’s
idea. Come and get us. Let’s get out of here.”

“We’re on
our way,” she said. “Don’t get too comfortable.”

“Just
hurry up!” she heard Rachel say in the background.

“Tell her
to relax!” Donna said with a smile.

“No
way—she’s still hungry,” John said.

“Oh,
shit,” Donna said. “I hope she doesn’t decide to eat you before we get there.”

“Where’s
your pal, Lavachek?” John asked. “We’ve been here for an hour and haven’t seen
him. I don’t think he’s on the rig.

“That’s
damned odd,” Habershaw said. “He should be. He usually sticks to the rig like
glue.”

Donna
knitted her brow. “We’re on our way,” she said.

Habershaw
turned the shuttle on and lifted off. He veered out away from shore for a
hundred meters, then began to climb. As soon as they rose above tree level,
they could see the monolith to the northeast, towering above the jungle’s solid
green mass. Keeping as close to the canopy as he dared, Habershaw headed
straight for it.

“They’re
gonna be here in a minute or two,” John said to Rachel.
 
“Let’s go.”

Rachel
cocked her head. “Did you hear something?” she asked.

John
listened.

“Like
what?”

“Voices.”

He
listened again.

“No,” he
said still listening. “Let’s go.”

He put
his hand on the latch mechanism and turned it. The door opened a little with a
creak. He put his ear to the opening and listened a moment more.

“I don’t
hear anything,” he said.

“I heard
voices,” she whispered.

He
unslung the rifle and using the muzzle, pushed the door open some more.

There was
a pop sound then a clang as the canister hit the inside of the door. It bounced
around the room, then spun, hissing madly, in a tight circle on the floor. The
room was filled with a heavy, acrid scent.

“Gas!”
John yelled.

“Oh, no,
no,” Rachel moaned.

John
gasped a breath and held it, but tasted gas. Too late. The pungent gas went to
work immediately, and he felt a lightness in his head. He stumbled out the door
and felt Rachel fall against his back, and then he heard her hit the metal
grate. The rifle fell from his hands like a feather. He looked down the catwalk
and made his eyes focus. He could see a cluster of mercenaries, in assault
formation, rifles pointed directly at him. Behind them was Greg Lavachek.

He
expected the sound of rifle fire and the sting of bullets, but it never came.
He wanted to feel anger, but he could feel nothing at all.

* * *

 
“Stop! Stop!” Donna said. “Pull back!”

“What?”
Habershaw asked, surprised.

“Look!”
she said, pointing at the rig. “Christ, they’ve killed them! Goddamnit! They’ve
killed them!”

Habershaw
stopped the shuttle and pulled back on the stick, putting it in reverse for a
few meters until they were well back over the canopy again. Donna rose out of her
seat to look. There, next to the rig, was a knot of perhaps six mercenaries
standing around two fallen forms—two forms she knew well, limp and lifeless,
lying in the mud.

Habershaw
kept looking at the two bodies and the mercenaries standing over them and
wondered if that was the way it had been the day they killed Joan. Did they
just mill around Joan’s body like they were John’s and Rachel’s? Did they make
small talk while his dead wife’s body lay in the dirt? He closed his eyes and
swallowed, trying to keep his anger down.

“What the
hell are they doing?” Donna asked.

“Waiting
for a bus,” Habershaw offered.

Donna
spoke for both of them. “I’m gonna kill all of them,” she said. “So help me,
God. I’m gonna kill every last one of them.”

Habershaw
was the first to see it: John was moving, his arms and legs were making
uncoordinated movements. Then Rachel started—her legs kicking slowly at the
ground. “They’re not dead,” he said, grinning.

Donna
looked. He was right. They were moving, moving, just barely, but they were
alive.

“If we
don’t get them out of there, they soon will be,” Donna said.

“We need
a weapon,” Habershaw said, looking around.

“You’re
driving it,” Donna said.

Habershaw
looked at her like she was nuts. “Ram them?”

Donna
pointed. “Come fast around this side of the rig, then turn into them. By the
time they see us, it’ll be too late. Now’s the perfect time, while the bastards
are all knotted up.”

Habershaw
banked left and ran along the canopy until he was well past the rig. Then he
dropped down behind, turned and got into position. Fifty meters off the other
end of the giant machine was the knot of mercenaries, just out of view.

“Go!”
Donna yelled.