The Immortality Option Part 4

Thus far Varlech had proved an effective persuader. Now, he divined, the Lifemaker had deemed him worthy of proving himself with more than just words.

The villagers were not fleeing in terror, as had been the usual reaction when Lumians had first appeared in the skies above Robia. Awe-inspiring as the sight of flying beasts was to them, the people had been told that the aliens, though capable of inflicting terrible vengeance when roused, were just with those who acted peaceably. The prisoners shackled in the carts, who had been taken from Uchal and the other places visited previously, looked on with the resignation of those for whom any unexpected change in fortune could only be for the better. But Varlech's followers remained fearful and uncertain, unable to decide which way the tidings boded. Their eyes were fixed on him, awaiting his guidance.

Whatever piece of history was to be written today would be of his making.

That the Lumian flying beasts had appeared from the direction Varlech's Avengers had followed from Uchal could surely be no coincidence. It meant that they had been tracking him, and the reason could only be that they sought to recover the corpse of the dead Lumian the Avengers had been exhibiting across Kroaxia. So, should he stand meekly aside now and allow the prize that had already done much to advance the Lifemaker's cause to be taken away without protest or resistance, demonstrating for all to see that the protectors of the True Faith were powerless? Of course not.

Unthinkable. For was not the very fact of the dead Lumian's existence a sign from the Lifemaker that these alien intruders were not invincible? This, then, was the moment to arise-for words to stand back and make way for action, and pa.s.sions to boil over into deeds. Here might the flame ignite that would sweep across all of Robia.

And if that was not to be but instead, in striking a spark to herald some future conflagration, he should be called upon to make the final sacrifice, then so be it. His way was clear.

The larger of the two flying beasts had slowed almost to hang over them, while the smaller one continued circling and throwing down its violet ray. The Lumians would emerge. Varlech's stratagem would be to lure them on, unsuspecting, until they were away from the protection of their beasts. Then he would attack. He turned his head and called to his followers, pointing as he did so at the Lumian corpse.

"Look before you and see again the fate that awaits even aliens who draw down the Lifemaker's wrath. This bright, you shall be His instrument before all of Robia to expose these false G.o.ds. Be disdainful of fear, for any who should fall to dismantling in this enterprise will at once be rea.s.sembled among the ranks of the Lifemaker's forever chosen."

His words were effective, inspiring the Avengers with new confidence. They straightened up their postures and gripped their weapons tightly. Varlech made a sign to his lieutenants.

"Clear a s.p.a.ce before the cart that holds the Lumian and conceal the men from sight with weapons ready. Kill any villager who attempts a sign of warning."Pulling and prodding with their swords and hurlers, the Avenger soldiers herded the villagers into a screen around the square and took up positions behind them. To the side, the steeds and draft tractors backed away nervously at their tethers as the larger of the two Lumian craft descended.

A scan of the central area showed it enclosed by shapes that looked, in the glare from the scout hovering overhead, like monster rectangular vegetables with rough corners clearly discernible and wall faces interrupted by door and window openings. Most of the Taloids had fallen back to where the other machines and wagon walkers were jumbled together along the sides of the open s.p.a.ce the personnel transporter had landed in. One of the walkers contained a bundle about the size and shape of a suited human, draped in sheets of what looked like woven wire.

"Ramp down and pressures equalized. Power steady at idle," the pilot reported. "Ready to open up."

"Noncompliant, with prejudice," the order had said. That meant "provocative and mean." They weren't there to ask permission or favors. Part of the object of this exercise was to show the natives who was boss. There were times when even machines had to learn respect for rights, property, and decency.

"Sergeant, detail two flanking squads to clear the area to the far end of the open s.p.a.ce. Bring three men with me to check what's in that walker. Looks like it could be her."

"Wellman, take the right. Korzhgin, the left. Attwood, Myers, Salvini, follow me," Yaver instructed.

The lock opened, and a double file of heavy-duty-clad figures emerged, moving quickly and without ceremony. They fanned out, driving back the Taloids who had been slower to move with the rest, while behind them in the center Mason and Yaver went forward with the three troopers. Two of them stepped up onto the walker and pulled aside the coverings of the bundle. It was the body of Amy Rhodes. The helmet was smashed; the head inside was unrecognizable, frozen black and solid by t.i.tan's cold. For several seconds Mason could only stare in fascinated revulsion.

It was the moment to strike. "For the Lifemaker and the glory of Kroaxia!" Varlech cried.

"Attack!" Around the square hurler tubes rose to aim between the trembling villagers. "Forward!" As the salvo discharged, Avengers broke through the ranks, wielding swords, axes, and lances.

"Aghh!" a Terran voice yelled on the open radio.

"I'm hit! I'm hit!" another cried out.

Shouts of alarm poured over the channel. One soldier was reeling backward, his helmet a web of fracture cracks but still intact. Another was down. A spear hit Mason's backpack but glanced off. Yaver fired a burst from his a.s.sault cannon at a pair of Taloids rus.h.i.+ng at him whirling clubs. They came apart into collapsing ma.s.ses of limbs and parts.

"Fire at will!"

The oncoming Taloids ran into a wall of explosive sh.e.l.ls fired on automatic. One of them skewered another of the troopers through the shoulder with a lance before being demolished by covering fire from the door of the flyer.

"Attwood, behind!"

"Gotcha, b.a.s.t.a.r.d!"

Bodies swung and fell, missiles flew, and confusion seethed on every side. A steel-gray face loomed in front of Mason, and metal hands swung a huge double-edged ax. He began raising his weapon; a burst from somewhere took off the Taloid's head. He fired at another Taloid closing on Yaver from the side. Then the scout swooped low, and the main body of Taloids that had formed to rush the transporter en ma.s.se disintegrated in a storm of cannon fire and rocket projectiles from above.

"You two, help me grab the body," Mason yelled. "Sergeant, get those wounded picked up and fall back. Cover us from the door."

As Mason tore away the coverings, hands reached out to haul the frozen corpse in its c.u.mbersome suit down from the wagon. A dart struck one of the soldiers in the midriff, and he doubled over,clutching his stomach. Another figure ran forward to steer the stricken one back. Mason and the other trooper dragged the corpse back to the flyer and heaved it inside after the wounded, while the rearguard cordon fell back toward the ramp, firing outward. The area beyond was strewn with shattered metal bodies, limbs, components, and pieces, looking like a creation of some mechanical Dante. The impetus of the Taloids' attack had withered under the fire from the scout. Some of them seemed to be wandering aimless and dazed, while the rest fled in disorder along the alleys leading from the central open area. The four-legged "animal" types were in panic, bucking and rearing where they were tied; some had broken loose and were running amok, colliding with each other and knocking down Taloids.

The inner door of the lock closed, and the engine note rose. "Get the h.e.l.l out," Mason yelled. He loosened his helmet and lifted it off as the flyer rose. "What have we got?" he asked the medic, who was frantically checking the casualties, hacking away torn outer suits with shears, and cutting blood-soaked clothing.

"Two decompressed, but they got 'em inside in time. Torn shoulder, bleeding stopped by the cold.

They should pull through okay, sir." The rest looked like limb wounds and a possibly broken leg, all recoverable. With the odds and the surprise, it could have been worse. A good job that the scout captain had reacted promptly.

"Delta Two calling, asking how we're looking," the pilot reported from up front.

Mason turned toward the open door leading into the c.o.c.kpit. "Tell him we've got a few cuts and bruises, but they'll be okay. And thanks for the quick work."

"We try to please. All part of the service," the pilot relayed back a few seconds later.

Sergeant Yaver and two of the men were working a body bag up over Amy Rhodes's stiff and lifeless form. They pulled the top around the shoulders and helmet, zipped the bag shut, and then lowered it down onto the floor at the rear of the compartment.

Well, the powers that be had wanted an incident, Mason reflected to himself as the two flyers turned onto a course that would take them back to Genoa Base. He wondered what would happen now as a result of it.

Meanwhile, Thirg, Brongyd, and a group of other captives, who had managed to seize weapons and cut their chains in the confusion, wrapped themselves in heavy cloaks and slipped away, out of the place called Quahal. Behind them, amid the wreckage strewn across the village square, a pair of imaging matrices stared sightlessly up at t.i.tan's clouds from a front piece that had belonged to a head casing lying several feet away. Varlech, Avenger-of-Heresies, had gone to meet the Great a.s.sembler.

The version spread by the agents of the Lifemaker's True Faith was that a peaceful exhortation had been attacked without provocation: this was what the Lumians had been forced to resort to in order to prevent word of the revival spreading. Outrage and dismay grew. Nogarech, the new ruler of Kroaxia, who had begun changing to new ways modeled on those introduced by Kleippur in Carthogia, was denounced openly, and his followers were attacked. A movement swelled, calling for reinstatement of the former king, Eskenderom. Even in Carthogia, Redeeming Avengers hara.s.sed villagers in the outlying areas, calling on them to rise up against the new regime, which they succeeded in transforming in the minds of many robeings into a product of aliens' design with Kleippur, despite the fact that Kleippur's rebellion had occurred before the Lumians had ever come to Robia. But it was the perceptions that mattered, not the facts.

"Now you see the price that is paid by those who renounce our ancient faith for this alien heresy," a speaker told the crowd in the main square of Perga.s.sos, the princ.i.p.al city of Kroaxia. "They tell us that we should live by a creed of nonviolence. What use is a religion of nonviolence when the Lumians themselves fail to abide by it? Is their true purpose not clear now? They would make Robia defenseless in order to exploit its wealth. Repent now and return to the true path where the Lifemaker awaits in His merciful forgiveness . . ."

* * *The prime-time network news showed a couple of grinning young men lying in cots in a medical facility, with two more in bathrobes sitting at a table behind. Another, his leg in a cast and supporting himself with a crutch, waved at the camera. The announcer's voice, a woman's, continued: "Good news from t.i.tan for the families of the soldiers who were injured a week ago when a party sent to recover the body of the unfortunate Amy Rhodes-the first fatality to be suffered by the mission -was attacked without apparent reason by crazed Taloids armed with swords, battle-axes, and primitive firearms. It appears that they're all out of danger and well on their way to complete recovery.

Private Healy from Minneapolis, who was speared by a lance that penetrated right through his heavy-duty extravehicular suit, was particularly lucky. According to the chief medical officer at Genoa Base, the lance severed a major artery that in normal circ.u.mstances might well have been fatal, but the extreme cold of t.i.tan provided an instant coagulant that stopped the bleeding. Meanwhile, the situation on t.i.tan continues to be tense and uncertain . . ."

The view changed to one of heavily armed soldiers in EV suits standing guard outside the main gate of the Terran base, followed by another of two more soldiers manning a viewing instrument in a barricaded observation post. Then came a shot of a particularly unnerving part of t.i.tan's mechanical Amazon, with tangles of machinery silhouetted in the background against flickering patterns of sparks and flame. In the center ground was a group of Taloids looking sinister and menacing from the highlights picking out their contours.

The voice-over continued. "Could the same kind of thing happen again? That's what experts have been asking themselves ever since the incident. The problem is, of course, that we're up against something that's fully over the borderline and in the realm of the unknown. The only safe and prudent answer to go with seems to be, 'Yes, it could.' And, next time, the troops, or scientists, or whoever happens to be on the spot might not be so lucky."

Next on the screen was a man with silvery hair and gold-rimmed spectacles, wearing a navy s.h.i.+rt and light gray V-neck sweater. A caption across the bottom of the screen read: dr. howard dankley, robotics inst.i.tute, carnegie mellon university.

"The thing to remember is that, while the illusion of motivation and behavior as we know it might be very compelling, we are dealing with a completely unknown, alien form of . . . I hesitate to say 'intelligence,' because all we have any direct evidence of is some extremely elaborate programmed response patterns." Dankley's voice was reasoned and persuasive, matching the expression of calm, striving to mask underlying urgency. "What you and I might think of as universally applicable qualities of 'trust' or 'reliability' could have no significance at all to these beings. Violent reactions could be provoked by factors which to us appear entirely innocuous or might not even be perceptible at all. I don't want to be an alarmist, but I think our people out there on t.i.tan could be in real danger. I only hope that the military force that they've got with them are as good as the recruiting ads say."

A quick flash of the anchorwoman shuffling papers and saying, "General Clark Udswalt at the Pentagon today a.s.sured us that they were up to the job," led to another head, tanned and with gray sideburns, wearing a peaked cap with lots of braids. This time the voice was clipped and to the point.

"They've got the best out there that this country can provide, every one handpicked elite. And they're backed by British marines, French airborne . . . I'd back that bunch against any unit of comparable numbers that any country on Earth could put up, anybody you tell me, I don't care who they are."

The view changed to the same face but from a different angle, presumably at a different point in the interview. This time he looked less sanguine. The anchorwoman's voice-over explained, "But the general did admit that it was numbers that const.i.tuted the problem . . ."

The sound track cut to Udswalt again. "But there has to be a limit. There are only so many of them, and they're almost a billion miles away. We're talking flesh and blood up against what, if things turn nasty -steel, t.i.tanium?" He threw up an empty hand. "Those boys will hang in there to the last one if they have to, but we don't do miracles. They're going to need help. And I only hope to G.o.d that we can get it there before it's too late."The view changed back to the anchorwoman. "But we learned later, following exchanges that have taken place between the State Department and the j.a.panese Foreign Ministry during the last few days, that some help, at least, is already on the way. It was announced this afternoon that the j.a.panese have ordered the security force aboard their own t.i.tan mission s.h.i.+p, thes.h.i.+rasagi -a week out from Earth now and due to arrive at t.i.tan in a little over twelve weeks-to place themselves at the disposal of the military command at Genoa Base in order to ensure maximum protection for all Terrans there." She paused. "That's just a stopgap measure. For a more permanent answer, an effort is going to be made to turn theOrion, due back at Earth in two weeks, around for its return voyage in half the time that was scheduled previously. And when it goes back, it will take with it a full-scale military force put together for the task of preserving order and protecting our people. So let's just hope that nothing gets out of hand in the s.p.a.ce of the next few months. There'll be more on that with John Carew later tonight. But for now, over to Chicago, where there's been more trouble involving 'smart' designer molecules. Kate Ormison has this report . . ."

"Most satisfactory," Burton Ramelson p.r.o.nounced from his office when Robert Fairley called with a summary of developments. "Now we need to clear the way for everything to proceed smoothly this time, without any more interference. That means making sure that Zambendorf and his infernal meddlers are kept safely out of the way. I'll have to give that some thought." He looked out of the screen, went quickly back in his mind over the things his nephew had said, and then nodded. "Most satisfactory, Robert," he said again. "Most satisfactory, indeed."

8.

Zambendorf felt as if he were in a mobile coffin, entombed in a dark mausoleum of ice. He disliked wearing the c.u.mbersome EV suits, and as a rule ventured from Genoa Base or the relatively comfortable vehicular s.h.i.+rtsleeve environments as little as possible. But the tension was beginning to have its effect even in Genoa City itself, the center of Arthur's recently founded liberal experiment. Many of the Taloids who had previously gone out and worked willingly with the Terran scientific parties were no longer showing up. Those who did were nervous and subdued, fearful of retaliation from their own kind.

Zambendorf had decided on a personal visit to "Camelot," Arthur's residence in Genoa, to present the case that all Terrans should not be judged by the isolated action of a few and to rea.s.sure Arthur that the general support for Arthur remained undiminished.

He was sitting with Otto Abaquaan and Dave Crookes in an ice chamber furnished with odd Taloid pseudovegetable shapes and walls decorated with strange designs in plastic and metal. Across from them, looking like gigantic, upright, outlandishly garbed insects in the light from a NASO lamp turned to minimum power-installed for the Terrans' benefit-were Arthur and two of what seemed to be his military advisers. Also with them was a Taloid known to the Terrans as Moses, one of the rare "mystic" breed who possessed a measure of the residual radiosensitivity that Crookes had been investigating. Moses had a brother, Galileo, who had gone back into Padua some time earlier to visit former friends. As yet, Galileo had not returned. Concern was rising among both the Genoan Taloids and the Terrans over Galileo's whereabouts, especially with fugitives from Padua bringing back accounts of the militant revivalists stirring up hostility.

"Arthur has been getting reports of unrest all over Padua. And there are agents operating here in Genoa," Dave Crookes's voice said over the local channel. He was the most proficient of the three at interpreting the translations on the screen of the transmogrifier, placed on the table between the two groups. "The incident at the village doesn't make sense. He can't understand how it could be to the good of anything that Earth wants."

"The Lumian house can be divided, just as the houses of Robia are divided," Lyokanor, intelligence adviser to Kleippur, translated as the Lumians' showing vegetable presented their reply.Kleippur had come to realize by then that the Lumian ability to travel from another world over a distance that defied imagination did not signify G.o.dlike unity of purpose among them, any more than it did any G.o.dlike mastery over the elements. The hair-faced one was known among robeings as the "Wearer"

from the peculiar vegetable with framed pictures that he had worn on his arm at the time of the first meeting between Lumians and robeings. Lumians used such artificially made vegetables to talk to each other over great distances. That the Wearer had troubled to come to Kleippur's palace in person with his two colleagues brought some encouragement.

Kleippur looked across at the jellylike face glowing eerily inside the false outer casing filled with corrosive gases. "Why should any confederation on Lumia seek to send Kroaxia back into the ways of superst.i.tion and ignorance?" he asked. Lyokanor repeated the question in terms that the Lumian showing vegetable would better understand.

"Why should anyone on Earth want to support the revivalists in Padua and send everything here onto a reverse course?" Dave Crookes summarized for Zambendorf and Crookes.

Zambendorf sighed. It was clear that the policy being hatched behind the scenes was to turn t.i.tan into a manufacturing colony. The incidents involving the military were almost certainly part of a campaign of manipulating the public's perceptions to suit it. He answered frankly. "There are some on Earth who want Padua's old leaders back in power. They want their cooperation in organizing t.i.tan to supply the needs of Earth. The Taloids that they would wish to be in charge are the ones who command and control, not those like Arthur, who would liberate and enlighten."

"There are Lumians who seek to tame Robia's forests into becoming a producer for Lumia,"

Lyokanor said to Kleippur. "To this end, they desire to appoint as their lieutenants the priests and monarchs who would subdue robeings to the task, not those such as thee, who would free them to follow their own inclinations."

"But are not the ways of Lumia the ways of reason?" Kleippur objected. "For is it not the method of reason that enables them to travel beyond the sky? What disciples of reason would restore those who claim such privilege of supernatural insight that no robeing may contest them? Yet all of their supplications and incantations cannot cause a pebble to rise a finger's length from the desert sands."

Crookes translated. Zambendorf replied, "Reason emerged on Earth only after a long struggle. And it's far from over yet-as Arthur can see for himself from these latest events."

"But reason would win on t.i.tan in the end, would it not?" Arthur pressed.

"We would be dishonest if we tried to pretend that there can be any guarantee," Zambendorf said.

"But we will do all in our power to make it that way. That's why we came here."

Groork, Hearer-of-Voices, brother of Thirg, the Asker, who was missing in Kroaxia, looked at Kleippur. "We trusted the Wearer before, when the factions of Lumia clashed and the Wearer's words were true," he said.

Kleippur nodded and declared, "And we shall continue in our trust now." He turned and delivered the same message to the Lumian showing vegetable.

There was really nothing more to be said. It had been just a gesture, after all. The meeting ended after an exchange of formalities, and the Taloids escorted the visitors back to the NASO ground transporter waiting outside.

On the way back to the base, Zambendorf had an uncomfortable sense of foreboding as he gazed out at the rock and ice buildings in the twilight of Genoa City, with glimpses of strangely clad robots caught in the headlight beams. At heart, he was perhaps the truest kind of scientist, valuing reason and knowledge for their own sake. It had nothing to do with diplomas and qualifications. He had come to live the life he did out of scorn for a society that lavished wealth and accolades on charlatans, while paying its discoverers of real truths only tokens. Very well, Zambendorf had decided. If that was what the world wanted, that was what he would give it-and prosper comfortably from doing so, until it came to its senses. "When I am no longer able to make a living, then people might have learned something," he often said.But in the Taloids he had encountered something different. In the process of freeing themselves from their own age of superst.i.tion and repression, their intellectual explorers had responded with an eagerness worthy of the pioneers of Earth's Renaissance toward the prospects of the new learning and enlightenment that had come with the Terrans. Comparing this to the stubborn rejection of reason that he had witnessed on Earth every day, Zambendorf had always felt a close affinity for Arthur and his endeavors to bring reason to his part of the Taloid world. Now all that was threatened. Zambendorf was not in control of events that were important to him, and that was not a feeling to which he was accustomed.

Abaquaan was also in one of his rare reflective moods. He hadn't spoken much since they had left Camelot and, for the last several minutes, not at all. Then, all of a sudden, he half raised an arm to indicate the scene outside the vehicle and murmured more to himself than to anyone in particular, "I wonder if we'll ever know who they were."

The remark caught the other two unprepared. "Who?" Crookes asked with a start, returning from some reverie of his own.

Abaquaan gestured again. "The aliens. The ones whose self-replicating factory program screwed up and started all this off . . . a.s.suming you guys are right about it. I wonder if we'll ever find out who they were, what they were . . . Oh, I dunno."

"Pretty much like ourselves in the ways that matter, I shouldn't wonder," Crookes said. He shrugged. "Survival has to be the same kind of game anywhere. Look around you: even with machines."

"But they are fascinating questions," Zambendorf agreed. "Where did they originate, do you think, Dave? How far away might it have been? How long ago?"

Crookes turned up his hands. "It could have been light-years away, maybe millions of years ago- even before we existed."

"Could they still exist?" Zambendorf asked.

"Anything's possible, I guess," Crookes replied. "But if they do, then where are they? It seems strange that they'd set up whatever started all this and then never show up to collect. Don't you think?"

Zambendorf thought it over, then nodded. "Yes, I suppose you're right." He sounded disappointed.

"If they were going to put in an appearance, then in all this time you'd think they'd have done it by now, wouldn't you? I guess it's all something that we'll just never know."

In the heart of one of the more densely mechanized areas, not very far away from the city, other scientists from the mission had been conducting an investigation that now occupied two permanent huts crammed with processors, a.n.a.lyzers, and electronic test equipment, along with a gaggle of NASO vehicles drawn up outside amid a tangle of cables. Inside one of the huts, Annette Claurier and Olaf Lundesfarne, two of the computer specialists, debated animatedly as they tried to make sense of the data patterns s.h.i.+fting and changing on the screens in front of them. The screens were monitoring the control processors of one of the stations where some types of t.i.tan's machine animals were a.s.sembled and activated.

The mathematicians and robotics specialists believed that they had located the "genetic" software, pa.s.sed down through countless generations, that was responsible for directing the a.s.sembly and initial start-up process. But certain of the "genomes" also seemed to contain huge blocks of redundant coding that had no apparent connection with any such essential process-strangely reminiscent of similar strings found in Terran DNA. But that was not to say that it didn't doanything.

"Look, the structure here is completely different from the surrounding functional code," the Frenchwoman insisted, pointing with a finger. "More ordered. But compare it with this here, which we know consists of a.s.sembly instructions. It's chaotic-clearly the result of an evolutionary process. But this other kind is regular and structured. I say it goes back much farther-from before anything started to evolve."

The Norwegian consulted another array of symbols. "But its activity index is rising. Look at theseinterrupt vectors. It's doing something."

"There's no correlation with the a.s.sembly routines or the initiation sequencing," Annette said.

"Whatever it's doing has got no connection with making animals. It's something else, something autonomous."

A silhouette darkened the doorway in the part.i.tion dividing the hut, and the chief scientist, Weinerbaum, stepped into the light. "What's all the excitement in here?" he inquired. "Are we getting somewhere with those redundant blocks?"

Annette turned in her seat and waved a hand at the bank of glowing screens and control panels taking up one complete wall of the room. "I'm not so sure that 'redundant' is the right word, Professor,"

she replied. "But we've certainly stumbled on something here that's very different. It's showing extraordinary complexity and a strange tendency to self-a.s.semble. This may sound silly, but I almost get the feeling we're reactivating something that's trying to come alive."

II.