Shadow Over Avalon (49 page)

*

Ian Greenley cast one last look at his home-world from the screen of the moon shuttle. He hated it and all who lived there. Five of his Nestines remained out of a hatching of twenty. Five plus the queen egg.
Not necessary,
the Ruling Planetary Council said.
No more hibernation ships. No-one trusts those. Look what happened on the Saturn mission. We will pour resources into underwater cities instead.

Have you seen the first one? We’ve called it Avalon. No, we don’t need the Nestines for that project. Oh, we’re sorry, there isn’t room for you in Avalon. We need physicists and chemists there, so you do see that your skills are redundant. While we are on that subject, we would like a full report on the whereabouts of six prominent geneticists. Tomorrow will do fine.

Greenly saw his mortality on their smug, soon to be safe faces.

His Nestines had killed thirty humans to get him aboard this shuttle. Enough of them survived to pilot the craft, and it held a fresh cache of weapons. Humans on the moon base were about to learn who ruled. He wouldn’t kill them. The Nestines needed a source of fresh meat.

How much stock did each of the five hibernation ships contain? Greenley needed an answer before he acted. Animal life and insects, plants and fungi, as well as human sleepers. All must be on hand to sustain the moon base. Then . . . Greenley giggled, imagining his finger pressing the button.
Nuke the bastards. Nuke all of them. And in the beginning, there was one.
He giggled again.
Ian the Almighty. Ian the Most High.

*

Ur-ar paused on the threshold of the passenger cabin, listening. He sent his thoughts to the other four, so they also heard. Their minds merged while the human raved.
Let the human do as he wishes until we are in control. Ur-ar must pacify and flatter the one we Nestines call Fat Food. Let the fresh meat build a gestation chamber for our Queen, and then . . . he shall be our hatching gift to her.

*

Golden light swirled, shifting in the breeze, a feeling of wind on skin. The skin of a body. Arthur opened his eyes to meet the black gaze of the cave-sitter across firelight. The same horror was reflected in those eyes. He wanted death. He wanted oblivion.

“Now do you understand?” the former resident spirit of Archives asked.

“How am I going to tell them?” Arthur tried to imagine how Terrans and Submariners might handle the horrendous truth that the Nestines were created by humans.

“You don’t.” The cave-sitter held up one hand for silence when Arthur opened his mouth to argue. “Remember the lesson of leadership. A leader is he who would serve his people by protecting and guiding them. Protect them from a truth they are not mature enough to handle. Guide them into paths of safety, so that they may grow.”

Arthur bowed his head to the wisdom of these words. Responsibility crushed down upon him.

“Arthur, keep faith strong. You are very much like your original incarnation. He put others first, as you do.” A faint smile lifted the features of that old-young face. “Apart from hair color, you look similar too.”

“What are you?” Arthur demanded, as the cave sitter’s cloak flew back in the sighing wind. Other sounds too started to return.

“I suppose I could be eligible for the vacant Nestine mantle of deity,” the cave-sitter mused, staring deep into flames, flames that did not reflect on those matte-black eyes. “I wouldn’t make much of a god. I tried that once and became terribly bored with all the genuflecting and other forms of groveling. You’d be amazed how quickly worship palls and how close a watch on you all the devoted keep.” The cave-sitter yawned, a very human gesture. “I prefer the life of a traveler and probably always will.”

“What are you?” Arthur asked again. The wind sounds grew louder, and he began to float back, pushed by it.

“Think of me as Emrys,” the being he had known in other times as Merlin called, fading to a shadow. “I’ve always rather liked that handle.”

“Arthur? Wake up.” Someone was shaking him. Arthur opened his eyes a fraction, trying to keep the dream, but it was gone in an instant.

“Do you feel sick? You made some peculiar sounds.” Kai squatted down by his bunk.

“Only a dream. I dreamed a dream of long ago, of places far away. Yet, it seemed in my dream to be now. I spoke with an old friend, or an old enemy. I’m still not sure which. I’m going to miss him.”

“Maybe you’ll meet again,” Kai said, still looking concerned.

“I hope not, and I rather think I’m going to revise an old religion, just so I can have someone to pray to that it never happens.” Yes . . . even
he
would appreciate the irony of that. And there would have to be intricate, ornate gestures . . . and groveling, lots and lots of groveling.

Epilogue

Earthrise stretched shadows over the dusty, pockmarked ground, lending a faint touch of indigo to the airless surface. Kiri Ung’s claws unsheathed the moment the black disc-shape of an incoming vessel appeared on his monitor, slicing through the tranquility like a bug heading for a fresh corpse.

What had gone so wrong during the return flight to Moonbase? Commander Te Krull’s first report detailed a successful mission, despite resistance from the chosen targets. The Nestine patrol unit had captured an unbanded Terran without causing it physical damage.

Te Krull knew how important it was to question one of the free-ranging creatures, and for that they needed a healthy specimen, one capable of anticipating pain. Kiri Ung’s crest pumped into full erection for the third time since receiving the last infuriating message. He waited for the buzz of the communit, willing it to spew out Te Krull’s voice. Nothing. Not a word since his second-in-command had sent out the urgent request for medical aid to meet the ship at docking bay. The captured Terran was hurt.

This prey-beast must be both coherent and articulate, because Kiri Ung needed to see if the Terran would lie to him. If it did, he would know it had free will; crucial information for the safe farming of the Terran race on the planet. These creatures must not be immune to Nestine mind control.

The ship approached Moonbase much too fast, and yet Te Krull would not disobey protocol without good reason. Just how damaged was the captive? And how, in the name of all creation, had a group of Terrans managed to override their programming? They shouldn’t be able to see Nestine farmers, let alone attack them.

A cold claw of fear ripped down Kiri Ung’s back, standing his fur on end. He turned to his desk console, sitting down to punch out a series of commands for the bot drones to start cleaning the outside of Moonbase as soon as the ship cleared docking port. Dust eroded every moving part, and Te Krull knew better than to leave a coating of dust when the ship bore no cargo but the captive.

Kiri Ung ran his paw over the smooth leather surface of his favorite chair. So soft and always difficult to acquire, Terran skin was almost impossible to cure in large enough sheets. The Terran on that ship had better be able to communicate, or Te Krull would suffer. Unable to settle, Kiri Ung returned to the window port to watch the incoming ship. He wanted answers, and as Queen’s Mate, he was responsible for the continuance of healthy food for the hive. Had he missed some genetic abnormality emerging in the Terran herd? If so, a hard culling must be done.

The ship deployed forward thrusters and angled up for a position over a landing platform out of his sight. Kiri Ung now contemplated the emerging blue planet, partially shrouded by clouds; so beautiful from space and yet ugly on the surface. The primitive, stench-filled dwellings of the Terrans marred the scenery, but worse, the vast quantity of bugs seemed to prefer the taste of Nestine over Terran. He didn’t envy Te Krull’s role as planetary governor, not compared to his own clean work-station on Moonbase. Gradually, his crest deflated because he didn’t want to confront his second-in-command with a threatening posture; that could wait. He picked up a soothing, intricately shaped crystal, enjoying the play of light on its many facets. Ironic that his most prized possession came from the first Terran a Nestine had ever eaten.

A rumbling stomach reminded him of the breakfast he had postponed to solve this disturbing turn of events. He wanted to eat in peace, without thoughts interrupting such a pleasant pastime. Maybe, after questioning, the Terran would make a tasty snack, if it was not too old; he liked his meat tender.

Behind him, steel doors hissed open and from the reflection of the thermo-glass window, he saw Te Krull advancing into the room. The Terran, hanging limp in his second’s massive fur-sheathed arms, resembled a pallid worm where its naked skin showed outside of clothing. Of course, all the surface-dwelling ones needed clothing, lacking both fur and scales, unlike the clean and naked beasts kept in Moonbase’s holding cells until meal time rolled around.

Te Krull advanced with his burden past a bank of monitors, approaching Kiri Ung’s desk with a certain hesitation in his steps. Still Kiri Ung didn’t turn. The Terran’s chest wasn’t moving: it was dead.

The buzz of Te Krull’s thoughts brushed against his mind, but Kiri Ung blocked the telepathic link. His urge to dismember the commander was best kept to himself, though he maintained his turned back as a studied insult. He was safe enough, as his second would have to drop the corpse to attack. “Your orders were?”

“You said to go find Terrans capable of breaking through mind control to see us and to bring one of them back alive.” Te Krull’s crest remained a pink, fleshy bulge on the top of his head.

Kiri Ung turned, studying the Terran in Te Krull’s arms. “Explain the deadness.”

Te Krull looked away, refusing to meet his gaze. Whatever had happened wasn’t going to make his second look good.

“We weren’t expecting the ferocity of their resistance. That is why we only took one alive.” Te Krull’s head lowered.

“You top any Terran by at least two feet.” Kiri Ung made a point of running his eyes over Te Krull’s powerful physique. “You all had weapons. What went wrong?”

“They had weapons, too.” A shudder ran through Te Krull. “Weapons like ours. I lost two Nestines for the six Terrans we took down. I hit this one on the head.”

“Didn’t you think to hold back on your blow?” Kiri Ung kept his tone mild while he mentally reviewed potential replacements for Te Krull.

“I was gentle.” Te Krull made eye contact. His crest stirred, throbbing into a deeper red as the blood surged. “He woke in transit, and then he just shut down. I have never seen the like. I tried everything to keep him alive.”

Kiri Ung released his own rage. His crest erected within seconds. “You are now telling me it willed itself to death? That they make weapons to rival our own, when they have no technology?” His stomach growled. It was long past his feeding time.

“These Terrans are different. Look at him. He has gills, and his skin is scaled.”

Kiri Ung moved closer. Te Krull was right. Although all Terrans generally looked the same to him, this one was indeed different. Hunger pangs gnawed, upsetting his concentration. He reached out for a dangling leg and took a bite. It tasted fishy. He hated fish. He spat it out. “What is this? It isn’t Terran.”

Te Krull’s crest deflated. “They are not surface dwellers, Queen’s Mate.” He dumped the dead Terran on Kiri Ung’s pristine desktop, sending the priceless crystal artifact skidding onto the floor where it smashed into a million pieces. Both of them inhaled sharply. This was a singular tragedy. Kiri Ung leaned over his console to send out an order for a cleaning bot. He would deal with the loss later. Te Krull would pay for it once he outlived his value. That time might be fast approaching.

Together they examined the cooling corpse. This creature had webbing between his finger and toe digits. He had gills, and his skin was covered with transparent, watertight scales, something Kiri Ung had missed with the hunger upon him, despite Te Krull’s observation. His fur bristled. “We didn’t eradicate all the old ones. We must have missed some, and they have mutated over time. Search out and destroy all of them. You said aquatic? Look under the sea. I got a mouthful of saltwater fish.”

Te Krull’s breathing pits flared. “You’re saying an underwater base with high tech?”

Trying to be patient and not rip his second’s head off, Kiri Ung sighed. “They have advanced weapons from your own report. These are not our prey-beasts, who wave swords and daggers at each other. Program our Terran priest-drones to search out all Terran forts for possible infiltrators. They will make themselves more useful if they are allowed greater mind control over the others, so give them the ability. Dispose of any suspects without upsetting the herd, and then do a sweep of all continental shelves under the sea for trace signs of tech in operation. I want these mutants eradicated before they start causing problems with our stock. Is there any part of this you don’t understand? If I find I need to revisit these orders, someone else will be listening to me repeat them.”

“Did you want any brought to Moonbase for analysis?”

Kiri Ung grabbed a handful of the dead Terran’s light-colored hair, raising the head up to eye level. “Kill them. Kill them all.”

Contents

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO