The Druid Gene (3 page)

T
here was a smudged
, transparent yellow dot slowly bouncing in the Lovek’s peripheral vision. It pissed him off for two reasons. First and foremost, he hated being reminded this was only a simulation. Second, after several cycles of tracking, he had the gildrut’s scent. His prey was close at hand. The scent was fresh, lingering in the reeds. It couldn’t be far off. He had to stay vigilant or he’d lose it in this watery environment.

The vasdasz had risen within him, rare from just a simulation. Every nerve ending tingled, every sense heightened. His circulatory system pounded a primal tattoo. His body flushed a dusky violet, seething with energy and the pleasure of the hunt. He wasn’t about to stop now, no matter who thought they needed his attention.

He turned slowly, feet sinking into the marshy soil. He could virtually taste the alkaline tang as molecules of muck seeped into his sensate skin. His nostrils flared and his exposed body hair stood on end, analyzing the breeze in their respective manners. His vision swept the waterlogged plain, slightly unfocused. He allowed his brain to take in all the data, then let his subconscious mind guide him, in the way of old.

Relying on instinct was a riskier strategy. He could use the technology he had to hand, but it was more virtuous to rely solely on his senses. Therein dwelt the richness of the sport. It made the kill far more satisfying.

If he failed to trap the gildrut in time, he’d get a jolt, and that would come soon. His lip curled. That was win-win as far as he was concerned, though he was a minority when it came to such matters. Few found pain invigorating like he did. Many quit a sim just as the countdown reached zero, to avoid it.

The sim designers should have done something about that flaw in the game for those with his proclivities—ideally they’d make it impossible to play for an interval of time as a penalty. But that wouldn’t suit the code monkeys’ greed. They wanted their players so hooked on sims they’d pass all their free time in them, spending all their credits not only on the sims themselves, but on the intravenous nutrient-delivery systems and appetite suppressants the same corporations hawked to make life simpler for devoted sim-hounds.

He was not of that wastrel type. It wasn’t about escape or competition for him. It was about the delicious difficulty of the hunt.

Whoever had created this sim must have been a lovek—or have known one intimately. Every detail was right, completely immersive, and fully integrated with his central nervous system. It was incredibly challenging. Pure pleasure.

But it was still just a sim.

It kept his mind sharp. It took the edge off of his lust for the hunt, helped to keep him sane. And yet, even without the yellow pixel winking at the edge of his sight, he could never completely forget that none of this was real.

One day he’d have a challenge.

His eyes narrowed and focused on a bent stem and he naturally extrapolated from that data. There. The gildrut hid there, quaking, hoping the Lovek couldn’t hear its stifled, ragged breathing over the cacophonous cries of the amphibious creatures dwelling in this soggy place.

It would have been far better to keep running than to hide, but gildrut never knew that. They never knew the full extent of lovek abilities. How could they? Lovek were rare enough, even on his homeworld. To most of the galaxy, his species was but a myth to tell children to keep them wary and obedient.

Solitary and territorial, arisen in the harshest, most barren of climates, lovek had evolved more varied and finely honed sensory organs than any other known sentients, all in the name of survival. Their culture had changed drastically long ago when outsiders came, bringing civilization and technology. But those were distractions from a life’s purpose, the only honest route to true fulfillment—the hunt. This wasn’t a real hunt, but it was damn close and it was necessary to keep his senses sharp because a true challenge in the real world was nearly impossible to find.

He picked up his feet, finally closing in on the cowering sack of meat who had led him on such a merry chase. The stench of its fear was heavy and cloying. It was likely spent, resigned to its end.

He didn’t flinch or slow as he disturbed a swarm of clacking insects. The vasdasz reached a crescendo inside his head, a tiny gland in his brain spilling neurotransmitters into his bloodstream at full bore.

The gildrut sprang from its hiding spot and heaved a scoop of muck into the Lovek’s face. This one was spirited and still had some fight left in it. The Lovek snarled with glee and took off in pursuit, swiping at eyes and nose as he galloped after it.

The gildrut had longer legs. It could have bested him in a sprint, but this was a marathon of epic proportions and the vasdasz could keep him going well beyond typical hominid endurance.

It had been a foolish gambit to hide in the reeds. Once upright, it would be difficult to find a place to hide again. It was open to the sky as far as the eye could see. The clumps of grassy stalks reached just above his waist. Unless it managed to double back and return to the woods, he had it well in hand.

The gildrut’s energy flagged. It slipped in the slime and went down, flailing. It turned over, defiance in its eyes.

“You have performed well. Go with honor into the next realm.” The Lovek spoke the traditional words and sank to a knee to deliver the final thrust.

He was flush. Every nerve ending screamed with impending joy. As he reached out a hand, his throat ached to release the roar of completion.

But something held his hand fast in midair. He snarled, pushing and pulling, but it was frozen in place. It, as well as his entire body, was immobile. He realized his vision had gone drab, nearly devoid of color, and the transparent yellow dot that he’d ignored when it was dancing in his peripheral vision had taken up most of his field of view.

Someone wanted his attention badly enough to risk his rage. There was no pausing this kind of simulation. If he left it now, it meant starting over. The gildrut would rest and find new resources. It would learn and be even more challenging to capture, next time.

Frustration seethed in him.

The gildrut stared at him, its terrorized gaze transmuting into a confused stare. Then it scrambled away. He watched it race, slide, and splash over the terrain toward the trees, glancing back at him from time to time in consternation.

“Exit!” he bellowed. Instantly, he was free, grappling at the port embedded deep in his neck and ripping the dark helmet from his face. A quick glance around the low-lit room showed him his target. He hurtled the helmet at the lithe figure, standing ready for that very action. The woody bitch caught it easily and looked unperturbed.

He eyed her malevolently, contemplating putting his claws through
her
throat instead, but quickly discarded that notion. She was the best captain he’d ever employed. It was remarkable to find a scientist with innate leadership skills and few scruples. She was tough and long-lived as long as he provided the right environment for her, which was easy enough to do.

So he curbed his darker urges at some personal cost. He couldn’t replace her. Also, he had to admit, it pleased him that they were both equally rare and unknown species in the galaxy. Plant-animal hybrids were completely unknown and she claimed to be the only individual to leave her homeworld for centuries. It put people off-balance when they arrived as a pair, made them unsure where to start with custom or nicety.

He sank onto the sleeping platform behind him, a show of weakness he wouldn’t allow anyone but her to witness. His skin was already greening with jaundice as his body broke down hemoglobin and recycled the precious iron, returning it to storage for another hunt on another day. His head was pounding from the incomplete kill. He started to bark, “Bring me a—”

She was already placing a beverage in his hand. A single sniff told him it was palyo tonic. It would ease the hormonal hangover. She knew him too well for one who was not a mate. He almost liked her.

He threw the drink down his gullet and closed his eyes. He cleared his throat and turned it into a growl. “It couldn’t wait another moment, Hain?”

She settled herself on a recreational platform, just outside his reach. “By your order.”

It was like her to throw his own mandates in his face at a time like this, without apology, without a measure of respect to soften the interruption. He detested insolence. He lunged at her, closing his fist around her narrow, lichen-encrusted throat. She had no lungs. He wasn’t blocking her air. But it was still a vulnerable part of her anatomy. Severing her head would be easy enough and quite final. “You would do well to remember your place, weed.”

She blinked slowly, unfazed, and stared back at him without a hint of emotion. He released her and sank onto the sleeping platform. “Well?”

She dipped her head, and the ferny fronds decorating her skull waved. “We took samples from the planet according to established protocols, focusing, as usual, on remote locations with geomagnetic intensity. Testing revealed ninety-seven percent of the samples of the dominant species to be unremarkable anthropoid bipedal hominids. Most of the specimens are soft, the product of an overabundance of resources and little nutritional sense, not atypical for cultures at a midindustrial, prototechnological stage of development.”

He opened one eye a fraction. There had to be more to it than this. None of this was unexpected. The only surprise had been finding a habitable planet so far from any known trade route. It was completely off the star map. That suited him well.

She straightened slightly under his gimlet glare and he felt a measure of satisfaction at this minute evidence of her discomfiture. She knew who called the shots.

“One specimen had a markedly different profile. I noted distinctive characteristics during the pickup and rushed the primary genetic sequencing. More-extensive testing will be necessary and that will take a great deal of time, but I just processed the preliminary results. You need to see them immediately.”

It was her typically dispassionate delivery, yet there was some breath of intensity in her voice or manner. His hair stood on end, almost against his will. He felt his senses sharpening despite the post-vasdaszian haze.

Hain almost vibrated with excitement, watching his reaction with dilated pupils. Her stomata emitted more ozone than usual. Every chemoreceptor on his body took notice. He could hear her weak, dual-chambered heart flutter. He sat up, forgetting his fatigue.

She continued, “I’ve never seen genetics like this. It is the stuff of legend.”

His breath caught. “Do not play with me, Hain. What kind of genetics are we speaking of?”

“Sir, it is drudii. The most complete genome we’ve ever found. As close to full-drudii as is statistically possible, though the odds were greatly against it. Shall I ready your personal shuttle and begin the search for a suitable planet?”

He stood. “No. We will not be rash. This is a once-in-a-lifetime occasion. We will evaluate before taking any action.”

He sent a small prayer of gratitude to the Cunabula.

Finally.

“
Y
ou
…Darcy…Jesus!”

Adam rolled to his feet, pulling up his pants. He stood over her, staring at her with a frightened look on his face.

A rush of conflicting emotions surged inside her. Fear, confusion—even anger that her body had just done something that she hadn’t been able to control. She felt exposed and raw. She whipped the sleeping bag back over herself and stayed still, staring numbly at the sky, trying to figure out what had just happened.

He’d seen the blue lines under her skin.

Okay. She hadn’t hallucinated them. They were real. Two people don’t hallucinate the same thing.

She wanted to burrow down under the sleeping bag and pretend this wasn’t happening.

She noticed for the first time that the sky was very different out here, so far from the cities’ light pollution. The sky wasn’t black with just a few glowing pinpricks like back home in the Midwest. It was a breathtaking, cobalt canopy of glowing glitter.

“What was that?” he whispered, forcing her to stay present, instead of escaping inside her mind.

Her voice came out weaker than she wanted. She found herself repeating the same words she’d been saying earlier, right after the event. “I don’t know.” She cleared her throat and felt for her clothes so she could slip them back on.

“Darcy, you’re freaking me out!”

She huffed, and it was almost a sob. Almost. She fought to hold back a second wave of tears, her face stretching tight with the effort. She could barely get words out. “I’m freaking out too.”

He eased down next to her. He didn’t touch her though. Was he afraid of her? “Come on, baby. You’ve got to talk to me.”

She darted a look at him. He was worried.

She pulled a sweatshirt over her head. “Something happened to me that I can’t explain. Over there.” She shifted her gaze toward the stacks of stones, now obscured by the dark outside the circle of light from the lantern.

“What? Just now?”

She wanted to crumple. She wanted him to protect her from this, whatever it was. But she knew he couldn’t. It was too late.

An accusing tone from creeping into her voice. “What did they tell you about this place? Why did you bring me here?”

He spread his hands and looked hurt and bewildered. “They told me it was romantic. They told me it was a spiritual place, filled with good energy. I brought you here to make a beautiful memory with you.”

There was only an inch of air between them, but it felt like miles.

“I touched one of those stacks of stones with my bare hand.” Her voice sounded brittle and distant to her own ears. She didn’t want to confess but there wasn’t any choice left to her now. She forced herself to continue, “It wouldn’t let go of me. My hand started to tingle…and glow. It felt like something…something like light, or energy, or something, was pouring into me.” She looked at her hand, which seemed so normal now, and tried to decide if the words she was using were even adequate to describe what had happened. “It pulled me down to the ground until I was stuck there and my whole body was glowing, like you just saw.”

She glanced at him. His brows were drawn together and he stared at the stone floor between his knees.

She kept going because she didn’t know what else to do. “I thought… I didn’t know what to think. I thought maybe it was a hallucination, or a seizure, like I said. I was hoping it was over, that I’d never have to think about it again. But you saw it too, which means…it is something. But I swear to you, on my life, Adam, I don’t know what it is and I’m scared shitless!”

Adam stood, peering into the dark in the direction of the stacked stones.

She blabbered to fill the vacuum his silence created. “It’s got to be some kind of energy field. I absorbed it or something. It’s going to fade away. I’m going to be fine.”

She suddenly started thinking about radiation exposure and wondering if she should be worried that her DNA was being scrambled by it. Was this going to significantly shorten her life-span? Was she going to be able to have children? Was she going to spend the rest of her life in hospitals, fading away in excruciating pain because of this hike?

This was exactly why she didn’t want to think about it. Because once she started worrying, it would be so hard to stop. It was better to stay numb, always pushing forward to the next thing.

Why wasn’t he saying anything? Why wasn’t he comforting her? It hurt that he was silent and brooding. What was he thinking? Was he considering breaking up with her? Maybe she should save him the trouble. After all, why would he want to stay with a freak?

All her life she’d been avoiding anything spiritual or mystical in nature because of the way she’d seen her mother submit to those things and lose herself in them. She’d filled her life with school and studying and science projects—concrete things, real things that she could touch and understand, even if it was hard. And now this. Some unnatural force had toyed with her and ruined the life she’d worked so hard to build.

Her eye kept being drawn to the ladder and the trail above, leading the way home. She’d always had an excellent sense of direction. She could find her way back to the car, even in the dark, she was sure of it. At least it would be cooler tonight than tomorrow. She wanted to get away from this place. It felt like the walls were closing in and she needed to escape.

She would make it easy for Adam. He’d struggle with breaking up with her. It would be painful for him. She’d just go. It would save both of them the agony of a protracted nice-guy breakup.

Her throat hurt and her breath was coming too fast. She recognized the sensation. She was on the verge of a panic attack. She hadn’t had one in years, not since high school. Adam had never seen that weakness, in fact. She couldn’t bear to have him see her like this now when she was sure he had to be questioning whether he even wanted to be with her. She had to go. She had to get away from this terrible place.

She finished dressing, silently slipped her feet into her shoes, then knelt to tie them. She found her bra lying nearby and stuffed it into the pack. She rummaged around until she found a flashlight and then shouldered her gear. She looked up to see Adam watching her warily.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going home.” She tried to sound calm, but her voice shook, betraying her. Her emotions were completely out of control and she hated herself for it. She set off for the ladder. Her gait was disjointed as she stumbled over the uneven stone. She knew he was watching her and that made her feel self-conscious, like she was performing in a play. She was being melodramatic, she knew that, and yet she had to do it. She’d been hurt too many times to stand around and wait for him to end it. She sniffed loudly, trying so damn hard not to give in to the pressure of the tears behind her eyes.

They’d been together for three years. But if this was how he handled something serious, by brooding and keeping his distance, then she’d been wasting her time. It didn’t matter how good their relationship was in the day-to-day if she couldn’t count on him in a crisis.

She should have known. There was no one in the world she could count on aside from her dad. She was better off alone.

She stopped at the ladder, pressed her forehead into it and held on for dear life, trying to breathe evenly, to stop the spiraling thoughts before she completely lost it. She was hyperventilating and it seemed impossible to stop. She felt doomed. The best relationship of her life was over. She was alone again. All she wanted was to curl up in a ball until the pain subsided and she could be numb. But first she had to get out of there.

She stuck the small flashlight between her teeth and put her foot on the first rung, testing the stability of the ladder. She’d just heaved herself up when she felt his hands on her.

They didn’t pull on her or demand anything. They were gentle, a warm, comforting weight, instantly quelling her momentum. She pulled the flashlight from her mouth and froze, waiting, desperately wanting it all to be made right.

“Darcy,” he said quietly. “If you really want to go now, give me a minute to pack up so I can come with you. It’s not safe to go alone after dark.”

“Adam—” It was all she could get out. She was turning into his arms without conscious thought. It wasn’t giving in, she told herself, it was just giving him a chance. It had been rash to assume she knew what he was thinking, impulsive to walk away because her stupid feelings were hurt. She had to stop doing things like that if she was going to hang on to him—if she was going to be a good doctor. She had to learn to take a minute and think first, to give people the opportunity to explain.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured into her hair. “I flipped out. You must be scared. I’m here for you.” He held her in a big bear hug. Her feet didn’t touch the ground. She wrapped her legs around him, clinging to him for dear life.

She managed to choke out, “I don’t know what it is.” And she let go of a deep, wracking sob.

“I know, baby.” He walked back to the campsite with her in his arms and sat down with her on his lap. He rocked her and listened as she poured out more details about what happened, most of it incoherent, mixed with sobs and tears and snot. It was embarrassing and cathartic. She’d never broken down in front of him like that before. She’d always been as solid as stone.

He gave her the bandana that’d been wrapped around his neck most of the day. It was still moist from his sweat and smelled salty and musky, like him. Somehow, it didn’t seem gross at all. It seemed kind of wonderful. When she’d finally let out all of the built-up stress, she used the bandana to mop herself up. She felt limp and exhausted and a little uneasy about being so vulnerable with him. That wasn’t her way.

When she was finally able to quiet down, she slipped off his lap with a watery laugh to find somewhere nearby to relieve herself. When she returned, she found he’d brought out the rest of the sleeping gear and laid it out on the ground in front of the tent. He was busily messing with the zippers on both of the sleeping bags, joining his bag to hers to make one larger one.

“I haven’t noticed any animal activity down here. I think we’ll be safe enough to sleep in the open. It’s still early. We can look at the stars for a while before we go to sleep. We can leave at first light, if you want. It’ll be safer.”

“Okay.” She nodded, smiling weakly. “I’d like that.”

They curled up together, with her head on his chest and one arm thrown over him, hugging him tight. His heart thumped slow and steady, lulling her into a light doze.

“Do you think you’ll tell your mom?”

She inhaled sharply at the sound of his voice. But she didn’t have to think about the answer. “Invite all the crazy to come home to roost? No, thank you.”

“She might know someone who could help.”

Darcy snorted. “Some witch doctor? Or an exorcist?”

He squeezed her arm gently. “What if I asked a tribal elder or the diyin?”

She went rigid. The thought of telling someone else was so scary. But he was right—the People might know more about it. Maybe it had happened before. “It depends on what you say. I guess if you’re careful. I don’t want to get drawn into something weird.”

He rubbed his cheek against hers and kissed the top of her head. “I know. I’ll be careful.”

He was quiet for a long while. She started to drift, then startled when he spoke again, so quietly she almost didn’t hear him. “I’m going to touch those stones in the morning, Darcy.”

A surge of panic gripped her. “No, Adam. You’re not.”

They argued for a while but she couldn’t get him to agree to leave the stones alone. Eventually they just stopped talking about it. He cuddled her and murmured against her hair that it would be okay, that he’d help her figure it all out.

She felt safe in his arms. She wasn’t alone. He was there for her. This would pass and they would be okay, more than okay. The silence lengthened until she finally relaxed and slept.