Oberheim (Voices) Part 10

"It doesn't matter that since I am twenty-five I have made no serious mistake, that myself and many beside me have worked hard for thirty years to make this place our home. It does not matter that we have broken from the current. Still, we are dependent on others. We are like the stalagmite, which must be fed from above. If anything comes between us and the source, we are cut off. We cannot grow. And any puny, so-called man with a putrid hammer, can come and chisel away at our roots!" He could not contain his anger.

"I could kill you now!" cried Pecci. He raised the gun and would have shot, but at that moment Dobrynin put a hand to his ear. A faint voice, mingled with crackling static, had come suddenly into his almost forgotten ear-piece.

"Governor, can. . .hear me?" It was Stein.

"Yes, Thomas. Try to speak louder. What is it?"

".....just received. . .information on the beam. We. . .incorrect by.

. . minutes."

"How many minutes?"

"Four. Must be sooner. Thirty seconds. . .now."

"Thirty seconds!" he cried. And regretted it as soon as the words had left his mouth. He quickly punched twenty-five into the counter, forgetting all other instruments.

"Yes....." Then no more was heard.

"Turn around, Dobrynin!"

"Go muck yourself!" he growled. If he was going to die, then let it be like Trotsky.

14. 13. 12.

Pecci shot him in the back and killed him.

ACT TWO

Andersen, Korchnoi and Larkspur Sectors Months I through V International Year: 2211

INVERSIONS

"There are various theories as to how insect life came to exist on Newman's Planet, named for its American discoverer. Most suggest that its seeds were somehow transported here from Earth, though there is little agreement as to how, naturally or otherwise, this was accomplished. Others state that it must have evolved here naturally.

But this theory runs into equal difficulty. For the insects of Newman's world---and insects they are indeed, as like to our own physiologically as one mammal is to another---resemble much too closely specific genre already found on Earth.

"And yet there can be no denying that the four species known to exist (interesting in itself, that there should be so few), date back in their respective habitats roughly 95 million years. Fossil remains have been found, and their location and carbon dating signaled back to us. Unfortunately, no first-hand data is available, as the only two exploration parties ever to brave the hostile environs did not return.

"But from what they were able to gather and send back, we are given a picture both intriguing and disquieting. By far the most interesting news comes from the last report of the British expedition, only hours before all contact was lost. One of their young behavioral scientists, concentrating on the 'Stoors' of the equatorial regions (large, foraging creatures most nearly resembling the warrior ant, approximately 1.5 meters in length), was able to observe a gathering of several colonies around a single, great stone, possibly a meteorite, in the center of a deep cloven valley. He reports that the various groups, distinguished by dots and splotches of color on the head and abdomen, continued to stream in from all directions for nearly two hours, apparently taking no notice of his hovering cruiser. And when they had swelled to perhaps five thousand, they locked forelegs together into countless, concentric circles around the stone and began to chant, though by rights they should have been able to make no such sound. Mitch.e.l.l Collins, the observer, reported that he was not sure whether it was, in fact, a physical sound, or one that came to him through his mind only. He further states that the precise movements and ritualistic nature of the gathering suggested some kind of primitive religious ceremony.

"This last observation, of course, remains purely subjective."

---Dr. Charles LeDoux, planetary biologist, to a meeting of the United French Scientists Guild.

I

Naik Shannon had never heard of Newman's world, or if he had, the memory lay buried too deeply. And at the moment, he had other things on his mind. The survivors of the Marc.u.m-Lauries colonies, his present charge, were scattered and in disarray. His own s.h.i.+p was too badly damaged to lend a.s.sistance; he was running with a price on his head; and of his own forces perhaps a hundred still lived.

s.h.i.+n, his second in command, had radioed that he was trying to gather sufficient escort from the remnants of the fleet to take the civilian s.h.i.+ps to safety in Soviet s.p.a.ce. Where the others had turned in the wake of the dismal defeat he could not guess. His head was pounding and he felt old and though he wanted to it was hard to care. Never had he felt so helpless.

After the death of the ore-planet the Canton a.s.sault had been swift and overpowering. The Laurian wings had fought well enough, considering their numbers and outdated equipment. But they were no match for the grim machination thrown against them. He had seen almost at once how the battle would go. But while there was any chance at all.....

The red-brown planet loomed closer. It had a somewhat ominous look: the knotted lacing of deep-cut ravines, the jagged mountains, so ma.s.sive their outlines were visible even from here.

THEY ALL LOOK STARK AND ALIEN AT FIRST. But this one was something peculiar, no denying. Almost it had an aura of strangeness. If he hadn't been so desperately short of oxygen he might have kept searching..... For a moment he had forgotten the Cantons.

Again he studied the star system readout on the s.h.i.+p's console, switched to the more detailed graphic of Centaurus III, Newman's Planet. Touching the fingerboard, he summoned all the relevant data his computer possessed. The cursor darted back and forth across the screen.

Centaurus III

diameter: 16,000 kil gravity: .6 relative Earth atmos density: .4 relative Earth CO2 72.1 O2 19.4 N 5.2 CH4 3.0 Trace .3 temp: 120 to 35F tropic 100 to 20F sub tropic 70 to -15F up mid lat.i.tude 30 to -90F polar sub pol wind: 5 to 220 kph humid: .15 to .02 relative Earth flora: positive fauna: probable

He read the last line over, took a deep breath. There were some fears one never fully overcame.

Not that Fear stood large in his mind---seventy Earth years were enough to teach him how meaningless that word was in the end. Fear of death was not only something he had never known, but something he had never understood in others. His Cherokee blood, perhaps. He did not dread it. Now, more and more he almost welcomed death, so long as it was honorable and not cheap.

But this was pointless. He had to decide on an entry and find a place to land, and hope his breathing mask could make something of the strange planet's 'air'. Then take on as much oxygen as possible.

Then. What?

GO BACK AND FIGHT THEM AGAIN. He was tired.

Simin crawled out from the heart of the stone, upwards through the long carven tunnel. Coming to a meeting of ways met a brother, touched antennae lightly---vibrations in the sky - yes brother I will come.

Followed twice left and right outward toward the canyon. The way grew wider, more brothers, out into the serrated caves opening far above the valley, came to the broad ledge. As one the heads of twenty mai rose to watch the yellow flame descending. Touch---as before---moved to look out from the rim of the ledge, front legs suspended in the air.

The sh.e.l.l was landing in a wide plain among the hills beyond the valley, at the foot of the Mountains of Teeth.