Starbridge (32 page)

Mahree swallowed hard as she both heard and felt something brush against the material of her vacuum suit, then the front collar of the suit was pressed against her throat as something heavy begin pulling itself up her back. She clenched her fists, squeezing her eyes shut, as Blanket slowly inched its way up.
It's saving your life,
she thought, repeatedly.
That's not a fungus
crawling up your body, it's a person. A good, kind person. It's saving your
life . . .

Finally, the creature lay over her shoulders and down her back like a phosphorescent cape. At the extreme edge of her peripheral vision, she caught movement, then two glowing narrow "fingers" appeared as Blanket extruded two corners across her cheeks.

Mahree shivered, forcing herself to sit quietly. She closed her eyes as she felt the cold, admittedly damp substance of the alien

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being creep across her skin, until both pseudopods met, linking together across her upper lip.

She opened her eyes to find Rob staring down at the phosphorescent mass moving toward him. The doctor was chalky pale, and runnels of sweat coursed down his face. He was trembling violently.

"Rob!" she said sharply.
"Rob!"

Slowly, he looked up. "Don't pull a Simon Viorst on us, Rob! They're helping us, just keep telling yourself that." The doctor took several deep breaths, then finally nodded. A touch of color reappeared in his lips. "Okay. Don't worry about me, honey. I'm okay now."

He sat still as the phosphorescent mass crept slowly up his back. "I just wish," he said, and the control he was exerting over himself was palpable,

"that I hadn't watched that nineties version of
The Puppet Masters
so many times. Remind me to show it to you if we ever get home."

Mahree drew a deep breath of relief, then picked up her helmet and gloves.

"Everybody ready?" she said, standing up. She discovered that, even with her head above the level of the hollow, she was breathing easily--the O2

level was no thinner than what she'd experienced camping in the mountains on Jolie.

"Ready," Dhurrrkk' said, handing Rob his helmet to carry. His blanket-creature was draped over his neck and back like a second, glowing mane.

"Ready," Rob said. "Let's rock."

"Rock?" echoed Dhurrrkk', as the three blanket-caped explorers picked their way out of the moss-plant hollow. "We must gather a number of rocks, true, along with harvesting the plants, but don't you believe, FriendRob, that we would be better served to do that closer to our ship? Rocks are heavy to carry."

"Uh ... yeah," Rob said, giving Mahree a wink, and speaking with some difficulty because of the pseudopods linked across his upper lip, "you're right, FriendDhurrrkk'. Rocks
are
heavy."

203

People are strange.

Here it is, almost exactly one week since I sat there on Avernus (that's what we named the little planet; it's a classical name for one of the gateways to the underworld), thinking that I was going to die within the next minute. After an experience like that, one could reasonably expect that I'd spend all my subsequent minutes just being grateful to be alive,
n'est-ce pas?

WRONG. Instead I'm so teeth-grindingly jealous of my best friend that I can hardly think straight!

Why? Because Dhurrrkk' can "talk" easily with Doctor Blanket, and I can't.

Until last week I thought I'd discovered my "something special." Out of all the humans aboard
Desiree,
I was the best at communicating with the aliens.

For the first time in my life, I excelled, I was
unique.

Not anymore.

The blanket-creature (whom Rob dubbed "Doctor Blanket" because just

"Blanket" sounded disrespectful) is safely ensconced in the Avernus-adapted portion of the hydroponics lab, contentedly undulating its way amid clumps of the dull-leaved mossplants we transplanted, and piles of its native rock, absorbing nutrients and "flatulating" a marginal level of oxygen--

enough to keep us alive, but we can't exert ourselves.

It turns out from Rob's tests that Avernians derive most of

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their nourishment from a non-sentient variety of fungus that grows on the leaves of the moss-plants, which they cultivate for food. In addition, they also require certain trace elements that they get from breaking down minute amounts of the native rocks. One by-product of this particular digestive process is oxygen!

Rob's been having a wonderful time trying to figure out the Avernians'

physiology. He says that in some ways they resemble both Ascomycetes (bread molds, truffles, and such) and Basidiomycetes (mushrooms, bracket fungi, and their ilk). They're multinucleate and without internal cell boundaries, and their bodies are covered with a semi-rigid wall composed of a cellulose-akin material. He also told me that the blankets could be regarded as "the culmination of the coccine state in protistan evolution," but I didn't have the energy to ask him to translate that into English.

He says that each of multitudes of "nuclei" within the creature contain huge numbers of tiny interlocked "threads" of some kind of organic material he'd never encountered in that molecular arrangement before. He thinks that these millions of subnucleic "threads" serve the creature in the same way our brain cells serve us.

Apparently the blankets reproduce (extremely rarely because they're so long-lived) by consciously releasing spores as they cultivate their mossplant patches. They really
are
asexual, though it bothers me to call Doctor Blanket "it." Seems rather flippant to address such a wise, kind being as though it were an inanimate object.

We've had to make environmental changes to accommodate our Avernian benefactor. White light could literally burn it, so we creep around in a dim reddish twilight, except when we're in the control room with the door tightly sealed. Doctor Blanket is uncomfortable in warm air (in contrast to many types of terrestrial fungi), and the extra gravity bothered it, so Dhurrrkk'

turned the ship's temperature way down, and reduced the gravity to one-half gee.

So now, instead of being too hot all the time, I'm
cold.
We wasted so much fuel during our search that we can't afford to use the extra power it would require to maintain different temperature levels on the ship. Besides, we can't expect Doctor Blanket to spend all its time cooped up in the lab.

Incidentally, my dream has come true . . .I'm finally sleeping with Rob. Only problem is, I'm sleeping with Dhurrrkk', too!

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We all cuddle together for warmth each "night"--isn't that cozy? We make a snug heap of flesh and fur on the deck of the control room. Rob calls us the S.P.W.S.P.--the Society to Preserve Warmth among Somnolent Primates.

It's so cold that Rob and I can barely stand to wash our hands and faces, much less sponge ourselves off with that icy water. Hypothermia is a constant threat--especially for Dhurrrkk', who's used to a warm climate.

Fortunately,
Rosinante
carried lots of the woven comforter mats in its small crew dormitory, so we pressurized that area long enough to drag the things out. Then, using Rob's surgical scissors and some resin-like material Simiu use in emergencies to "solder" electronic equipment into place, we fashioned garments for each of us, topping them off with long, hooded robes.

Rob says we look like elderly medieval monks as we totter around in the red-tinged darkness, gasping if we exert ourselves too much--except, of course, that in normal light our "robes" would resemble an accident in a paint factory.

Which would
you
rather do, freeze or suffocate? And, to top it all off, we're running short on human food, since we have to eat more to keep our body temperatures up. Dhurrrkk' assures us that the Mizari, with their advanced bio-sciences, will be able to duplicate human food if presented with some samples, and I hope to hell he's right.

This has been such
a fun
trip!

At least we only have about six days' journey left to Shassiszss. We're going slowly, to conserve fuel.

Maybe if I work harder on "listening" to Doctor Blanket, I can communicate with it better. The Avernian is very wise. It could teach me a
lot
if I can only learn to
talk
to it!

Mahree stopped short when she saw Dhurrrkk', bundled in his crude "robes,"

squatting outside the hydroponics lab. He looked up, saw her, and an anticipatory twinkle brightened his violet eyes. Beneath his hood, his crest rose straight up. "Hello, Mahree. We were just going up to the control room, so Doctor Blanket can 'see' the stars, using the eyes within my mind."

It took Mahree a second to understand the reason for the alien's expression of pleased expectation, then she did a double- take. "Dhurrrkk'!" she gasped.

"Your English! It was so ... so
fluent!
How did you manage that?"

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"It was Doctor Blanket," Dhurrrkk' said, no longer trying to conceal his excitement, "When I was practicing my English and my Mizari this morning, it was 'listening in.' It asked me why I was not utilizing all the speech-knowledge areas of my brain, so my thoughts could travel more rapidly between different languages. I replied that I was not aware that I had
not
been using all my language capability. Then Doctor Blanket asked me if I would like to be able to fully utilize those areas--so of course I said 'yes.' "

Dhurrrkk' paused, then switched effortlessly to the sibilants of the Mizari language. "One moment I was sitting there, then it was as though a tingling darkness crept across my mind. I blinked, and when I could see again, I found that I could now
think
in English! And in Mizari! Somehow, the Avernian must have altered the neural paths between my memory and my speech centers!"

The Simiu's new fluency was little short of miraculous. He still had problems with pronouncing certain words, difficulties that were caused by his facial structure and tongue placement, and his accent when he spoke English remained thick and lisping, but the hesitations caused by his having to translate from one language to another were gone.

"What about talking with the blanket?" Mahree demanded.

"Doctor Blanket's thoughts also became easier to grasp-- images, words, everything!"

"Oh, Dhurrrkk'! I'm so
glad
for you!" Mahree reached over to hug her friend.

His powerful arms tightened around her as gently as if she were fragile porcelain.

When they drew apart, she sat for a moment, thinking, then her brown eyes narrowed with decision. "Dhurrrkk', I want you to ask Doctor Blanket if it can do the same thing for
me."

Together, they went into the hydroponics lab.

The Avernian was spread atop its rock pile, undulating gently. Dhurrrkk'

faced it, his expression taking on that "listening" aspect he wore when he was conversing with the telepathic being.

After several moments, he blinked, his eyes regaining their awareness.

"Doctor Blanket responds that although there are language areas in your brain that you are not utilizing--even more areas than the ones in my brain, apparently--it does not think that opening new 'channels' between them would be a wise thing for it to attempt."

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Mahree fought back a wail of disappointment. "Ask Doctor Blanket why not?''

The seconds seemed endless before the Simiu spoke again. "It says that my brain is younger than yours, therefore more ..." For the first time in many conversations he had to signal his computer link for a translation. "More malleable. It says that your brain, while not rigid like Rob's, is much less flexible than mine. It says this 'hardening' is caused by your comparatively greater age."

Mahree stared at him in shock, then her lips tightened.
Shit, that makes me
feel like I'm ninety!
"Does that mean it
can't
alter the channels?"

Again Dhurrrkk' "listened."

"Doctor Blanket says that while it could do the same thing to your mind as it did to mine, your brain might not find the process comfortable. It might prove painful."

"So what do I care if I get a headache?" she said, scowling. "Come on, Dhurrrkk', convince it to give me the treatment! Think how helpful it will be if I could become as fluent in Mizari and Simiu as you now are in English and Mizari. You wouldn't have to stand alone to face your people when we reach Shassiszss! We could both explain the situation to the Mizari."

Dhurrrkk' nodded. "That
would
be helpful," he conceded. "I will tell it you are not afraid of pain."

After a moment, the Simiu said, "It responds that it cannot be sure that the

'treatment' will not prove injurious. It would be as careful as possible, of course, but . . ." He shook his head. "Friend Mahree, I do not think you should attempt this ..."

Mahree sensed that the blanket was weakening. Dropping to her knees, so the Avernian was on her eye level, she "spoke," hoping the creature would comprehend her thoughts:
Doctor Blanket, please! I don't care about the risk!

This mission is vital! Please, please--it would mean so much to me!

She waited, scarcely daring to breathe, then, slowly, reluctantly, the creature's response filled her mind:

Affirmation.

Mahree cast the obviously worried Dhurrrkk' a triumphant glance as she sat down, leaning her back against the lab's bulkhead. "Go ahead, Doctor Blanket," she said, aloud, and held her breath.

The young woman felt nothing at first, nothing except a hint

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of Dhurrrkk's "tingling darkness." And then, between one heartbeat and the next, it was as though some modern-day Atlas had lifted an entire world and slammed it down onto her head.

Mahree had only an instant to realize that something was terribly wrong, that her mind was being torn, ripped,
shredded--
before she lost consciousness.

Dhurrrkk's agonized howl woke Rob from a nap. He leaped up, nearly falling over one of the bridge consoles, just as the frantic Simiu rushed through the door. "FriendRob! FriendMahree has been hurt! I think--I think she may be almost dead!"