Genesis (The Exodus Trilogy) (3 page)

“This is not the only example of Drew keeping the others in check. As I said, it seems he’s more in control, while the others let the parasite take control in life-threatening situations. This is something we need to examine more closely, but I have a feeling that Drew might be crucial in both understanding the parasite and learning how to deal with it.”

“Do you think there is a biological basis, something genetic? Or is it just dumb luck?” Kenneth mused. Geena shook her head.

“It’s too early to tell. Once the war ends, we’ll have time to study this more closely.” Kenneth coughed slightly, and rose from his chair, stretching his back.

“What I would really like to know is if that basis, whatever it is, could somehow be used to enable us all to breathe freely. If there is, indeed, a biological or genetic element, perhaps some kind of treatment or vaccine could be developed. Ah well, right now, that’s just wild speculation. We still have a war to fight.” As always, they were pressed for time. Rajiv was the first to leave, saying he needed to update his log, the one he meticulously kept to inform his superiors back on Dehlia. Just as they were about to leave the cabin, Kenneth held Geena back.

“Keep an eye out for new developments. I worry about these kids. They shouldn’t have to go through all this.”

“I will. I guess we all worry about them. About all of this.” She walked out the door, leaving Kenneth alone with his thoughts.

Shefania

Shefania was pacing back and forth, biting her nails, like she did when she had a difficult decision to make and no easy solution. Her starship, the Seedseeker, was quiet, offering her no answers. She was still alone, one woman awake, while the rest of the crew slept. She would only wake the others when she knew more, when she had made some decisions. She feared the others would be scared and take the easy way out. And it would be easy to deem these other humans too dangerous to be part of the community of species. But it didn’t feel right. They were kin, although something had happened. Had something threatened them so badly that they had to develop these violent traits to survive? She had no way of knowing. They probably didn’t know themselves. There were so much data to analyze and interpret, and yet, there were these large gaps, things she would probably never understand. But they were human, and as such, she owed it to them to think things through properly. Not make hasty decisions out of fear.

Since she had begun watching them, a lot had happened. The factions, north and south, were still warring against each other, and although it wasn’t all out war as it would have been with larger populations or even planet against planet, it was still war. People died.

Lately, she had begun to think that there was no way around it; she would have to risk going down to the surface. Of course, it would be difficult; she wasn’t prepared for it. She had equipment that would help her, but no field experience. She’d gone through basic training in flight academy, but that was about it. In other circumstances, she’d never have considered going herself, but she didn’t dare wake anyone yet. So it fell upon her to go, like it or not. It was strange, but she felt compelled to help these people, to help them find another way, the only way she’d ever known, a peaceful way where physically hurting another human was unthinkable. She had, after studying them, taken a liking to these people, even the most brutal ones, the ones to the south. Not all of them were brutal, but their leader was, and some of their soldiers. But from what she could gather, their motives weren’t evil, just misguided. If it had been any other way, if they had been back on Sanctuary or the colonies, they would have worked it out peacefully. She had a hope that the humans of this planet might be changed for the better yet. And she would be the one to show them that better way.

The messenger box bleeped, another spy drone reporting. This one would be reporting on conditions east of the southern settlement. She clicked on the message, expecting another routine report. Things were normally quiet in that corner. She looked at the data. So much violence. She looked again. There shouldn’t be violence in that particular location, unless something was going on. She looked at the images and saw this was something different. The attack the drone had documented was too swift, too overwhelming. One side totally dominated the other. Not like it used to be. She pondered this and wondered if one side was finally about to get the upper hand. Would that be a good thing? She didn’t know. However horrified she was at the act of infighting among humans, she had to admit, at least to herself, that she did root—just a little—for the northerners.

But more than anything, she hoped they would end the war. She had begun to see beyond their tendency for violence, and appreciate their other traits. It seemed they were fiercely loyal, mostly quite adventurous, and brave beyond foolish. She liked them for it.

This new data suggested something else was happening, though. This wasn’t their usual, reckless, self-destructive behavior. It was almost like there were…others… No, it couldn’t be. It was probably a new development. A new phase of their war, even more destructive than before. It was disturbing to see people behaving like this; like battle drones, although definitely human. It could mean that the war was turning even more bloody, though, more destructive. She felt helpless watching these humans deliver their own destruction.

“No…” she murmured. The Seedseeker, ever the loyal AI, never to question its superiors, didn’t answer.

She had no way to stop what was going on, but she realized she had already made a choice. She was going down to the surface, and she would give them the gift that would change everything. These poor souls had no idea who they were or what their purpose was, and yet she was just standing by, watching them destroy themselves. No, she couldn’t watch anymore; she had to do something.

Now she had to decide. She had to find the one person capable of receiving the gift of knowledge.

Maria solis

Maria and Karin walked through the brush, stepping carefully between roots and loose rock. It was a rugged landscape, full of ups and downs, and the hills rose to the east, eventually giving way to snow-capped mountains, tall spires effectively guarding the lands on the east coast of Verdi. They shared silence for half an hour, treading a narrow path on top of a hillside, until Maria suddenly got her foot tangled up in a root and fell forward. Karin, walking right behind her, tried to grab her, but instead, they both fell. They rolled down the hill, both grabbing for something to stop their fall, to no avail. In the end, they found themselves on the bottom, in a heap. Karin sounded nervous when she started laughing; she stopped, though, as she noticed Maria didn’t join her. In fact, Maria was biting her lip, trying not to make a sound, while holding her left foot.

“Oh my God, are you hurt?” Karin said.

“I think I sprained an ankle or something. Hurts like hell.” Maria rolled over and managed to get on her feet. Then she took a tentative step, and winced.

“Should I go get the others? You’re in no condition to walk,” Karin said. Maria nodded.

“Yeah. I don’t think I’ll be able to walk all the way back right now.”

Karin didn’t hesitate. She climbed back up and set out for the camp. Maria stood for a moment, trying not to put weight on the hurt foot, and took in her surroundings. She was in a depression, with hills on either side. One side was covered in large rubble, and as she looked closer, she noticed an opening, like a cave. She immediately regretted not bringing a weapon. That cave, if that’s what it was, could be home to anything. She automatically feared balders, although who knew what else might be around. It wasn’t as if they had a complete overview of the life forms on this planet, or even in this part of Verdi.

Something moved, startling Maria, and she almost lost her balance. She winced again as she had to use the hurt foot to keep her from falling, and the movement stopped. Something furry, near the cave mouth, held very still for a few seconds before it emerged from its cover, looking straight at her. The creature had short, but thick fur. It was a deep red color, almost burgundy, with brown stripes. Its eyes were large as saucers, and as it slowly emerged, she noticed it had a short tail, wagging as it walked on two hind legs. Its “arms” were smaller, and were held up like a squirrel. A wide snout made its face look almost comical, but Maria knew enough to be wary. Appearances could be deceiving, and this could very well prove a lethal encounter. She hobbled a couple of steps back, but the creature still wagged toward her. She didn’t see a mouth, but she heard little chirping sounds that had to come from somewhere. It didn’t seem afraid of humans at all; it was almost as if it was trying to make contact, to communicate. Maria stopped and watched, fascinated as the creature seemed to gesticulate, large, deliberate arm movements that made no sense to her at all. Finally, it stood right in front of her. About half her height, it looked up at her and opened its mouth as wide as its great snout. Maria took a careful half step back.

“Jujjj,” it said, in a high-pitched voice. Maria didn’t understand. She shook her head and spread her hands slowly, not to startle the creature. It pointed at its chest.

“Jujjj.” And it dawned on her. It was speaking its name. Or perhaps its race.
My God, it’s intelligent
, she thought.

“Jujjj,” she said, pointing at the creature. She pointed at herself.

“Maria.”

“Maariaa,” it repeated slowly, clearly unfamiliar with the sounds. Maria giggled. This was nothing like she had expected. Here she was, anxious about having to wait for the others, and suddenly she’s made contact with another sentient being.
This is crazy—an alien,
she thought.
Although... I am the alien here.
She instinctively understood that all the movements were an effort to communicate, to get a message across. She frowned, trying to understand. Jujjj took a couple of steps back and made a motion that Maria interpreted to mean for her to follow. She found that she trusted this creature not to have bad intentions toward her. She took a step, then another. Jujjj continued to motion for her to follow toward the cave. When she reached the cave opening, she hesitated for a moment.
I cannot stop now
. She stepped inside the cave, following Jujjj’s lead.

The cave was wider than she expected, and high enough for her to stand up, as long as she stooped slightly. The walls of what appeared to be some kind of tunnel looked like they had been shaped, smoother than what would be natural. It went deep into the rock, and Maria absently wondered if the others would find her when they came. Still, she continued to follow Jujjj through the tunnel, deeper and deeper. After what seemed an eternity, she could see light in the distance, and as they got closer, she saw the tunnel widening into a large cavern. She stepped through an opening, and the cavern revealed itself to her. All around, creatures just like Jujjj skittered around with that same wagging movement. Some didn’t seem to care, while others stopped and looked at her. There was neither fear nor hostility toward her, as far as she could tell. There were cracks in the ceiling with something that looked like frosted glass that let in daylight. And along every wall, there were some torches that gave the cavern a warm glow.

Then she noticed the murals. Every wall was covered in them, detailed scenes depicting these creatures along with various beasts and natural scenery. Although worn, they were colorful and vivid. She felt her jaw dropping as she noticed one scene in particular. A creature looking similar to Jujjj, only with more gray in its fur, stood greeting another creature that looked very different from the ones surrounding her. It was humanoid.

Nick
GILBERT

He was dying. He had a vague recollection that he’d once believed death was like moving through a tunnel, and he’d expected to be moving toward the light. But everything was black. There was no pain. But that didn’t surprise him. Pain was for the living, and he was closer to death than to life. That much he knew. He wished he could see, though. It would be nice to say goodbye. To whom? Fear suddenly welled up in him. He didn’t remember. In fact, he didn’t remember who he was or what had happened. He tried to concentrate, and a face appeared vaguely in his mind, before it faded. A man. He was unable to hold a single thought for long; it was just bits and pieces of memories that came and went before he fully comprehended what they meant. A man, wearing a mask, was on his knees before a black-clad soldier. The soldier had no face, just a shiny black visor. A shot, and the man on his knees slumped over on his side. The same man, different time, happy, drunk? A friend. Three, no four men, with guns, trying to hold back a wave of enemies. It was the masked men again. Killing them all. Why?

He tried to focus on his friend, but everything seemed to fade away before he could hold on. He realized he was flying—no, not flying. Floating. A voice in the distance said something he couldn’t understand. A woman. She sounded angry. He slipped out of consciousness again. He let go and dreamed of a green, lush garden. A pasture, with flowers he couldn’t name, every color more vibrant than should be possible. A man with a mask across his nose and mouth. A friendly face. Then snow fell, and what he thought was the most beautiful thing ever became a fairy tale picture of winter. Silence, the snow muffling every sound. A different face appeared again, vaguely familiar. He looked old. Tired. He shouted something, but it was impossible to hear. A flash, then another. Fear. War. He was a soldier. The realization came suddenly, like a flash of lightning. Then he was back in the darkness, floating. He began to realize he wasn’t dying at all. And he wasn’t floating anymore. Feeling began to return to him, and though the ground beneath him felt solid and secure, he realized he didn’t know his own name.

His head had begun to throb. Faint at first, then more insistent. He felt dizzy and his stomach churned. He tried to lift his right hand to feel his head, but it was stuck in something. A cast. And it hurt something fierce! He winced. Then he tried his left arm. He was able to move it slightly, but something held it back, something cold at his wrist. He was cuffed to something. He didn’t try to loosen it any further. He needed to think. He was wounded, obviously. His arm and head hurt, and it felt worse with every second passing. He was a soldier. He’d had a friend who’d been killed. His name… He had it on the tip of his tongue. Pete. Who was Pete?

“I am…” he began, but his head throbbed, and he trailed off. Whoever he was, he was a prisoner. But who had taken him? And why? He moved his lips, whispering silently. Who was he? A sound nearby, and light streamed in, blinding, searing light penetrating the darkness. Harsh words he didn’t understand. He closed his eyes. The sharp light made the pain in his head explode. His name… The woman’s voice made it hard to think, and then suddenly the door slammed shut. Darkness once again enveloped him. It felt good. He relaxed.

“My name… is Nick… Nick Gilbert.”

george Havelar

George Havelar looked around and realized how far they had gotten in such a short time, and how far they had to go until they could say the colony was a success. From nothing, a town of more than a hundred buildings had risen, and almost a thousand people called Fort Andrews their home now. It never would have been possible if not for careful planning. Of course, the prefabricated units, made from materials light enough to be carried in bulk through the atmosphere from the Exodus to the ground, helped. He was walking along the path from the administration building to the wrecked factory, where they had stored their special weapons, in addition to producing many necessities that involved handling chemicals. Now it was a ruin, unable to supply medicines, vaccines, or modified fertilizer—things they absolutely needed to survive. Somehow, they would have to rebuild, and that job would be more demanding than the initial assembly. Havelar cursed silently. If not for the stubbornness of Greg Hamilton, the former commander of the Exodus turned rebel, there would have been no need for using the chemical agent, which had led to the sabotage of the factory. He’d doubled security, but to no avail. The rebels had managed to infiltrate the working crews, and somehow planted the bomb. Sometimes, more security wasn’t the answer, although Havelar still wondered if better screening of the workers might have prevented this. No, it was the use of the weapons. A big mistake as far as he could tell. Of course, Major Carroll had only carried out his orders, so he was not to blame. This was one Havelar would have to put on his own personal tab.

Colonel Shoshana Quellar and Major Carroll were already waiting for him as he arrived at the ruined factory. Henry Carroll, never a good-looking man, with his scarred face and a constant scowl, unnerved him sometimes. One of the founders of Port Hammer, he had seen it change from being an alternative society into a staging ground for rebellion, until loyalty made him return to Fort Andrews, taking up arms against his old friends. A man of such fervor could become great, or insane. Havelar still didn’t know which one Major Carroll would be. Colonel Quellar, on the other hand, he would have trusted with his life.

“Sir, with all due respect, I think it’s time we considered another option,” Henry said after saluting him curtly. Havelar waited, while the major explained.

“We still have two usable nukes. If we deploy one, we will still have one more in reserve. It would end the rebellion without further loss of life among our troops. And workers,” he said, waving his hand at the ruin. Havelar was no stranger to the idea, but though he was considered by many to be a hard man, he couldn’t make himself do it. It was one step he wasn’t willing to take.

“Have you considered the aftermath? The demographics?” he asked, instead. He noticed Quellar nodding in agreement. Even the tough commander of the armed forces seemed reluctant to take such drastic measures.

“If we nuked the rebel stronghold, the casualties would be in the hundreds,” Havelar said. “There would be survivors, surely, and there would be rebel pockets here and there, but yes, the war in effect would be over.” Henry nodded in agreement, a bit too eagerly, Havelar thought.

“But the population is already so low, there is a real risk the colony will fail to be sustainable if the war continues much longer,” Havelar said, trying to emphasize the ramifications. “A sudden loss of several hundred colonists at once would be dangerously close to collective suicide.” Henry grimaced, his jaw moving before he managed to say anything.

“But, sir…” Havelar cut him off.

“No, I will not hear another word. We might have had that option while Port Hammer was nothing but a small camp surrounding a shipyard, when we might have lost a hundred or so. But now it’s too late. The nukes stay locked down. End of discussion.” Carroll shuffled his feet and nodded reluctantly.