Charles Sheffield - Transcendence

That was a thought that Hans Rebka did not care to pursue.

“Steady. Somethin’s going on.” Nenda’s gruff voice interrupted his thoughts.

“What?”

“Dunno. But don’t you feel it? In the ship?”

And Hans Rebka did. A minor tremor of the planetary surface, changing angles slightly and sometimes imparting a faint jitter to delicately balanced items of the ship’s interior. Rebka instinctively lifted the ship to hover a couple of feet clear of the mossy ground cover, but further action on his part was overwhelmed by another input.

He had been watching the screens that displayed the seaward view, but now and again he switched his attention to one showing the land side. What he saw there filled him with strong and unfamiliar emotions.

It took a second to recognize them. They were relief and joy .

Running — staggering — across the uneven surface came Darya Lang. Right behind her was E.C. Tally, moving with the gait of a drunken sailor. And behind him, bounding along with a horde of dwarfed and apricot-colored young Zardalu snapping at his corkscrew tail, came a miserable, cucumber-green Dulcimer.

At the rate Darya and the others were moving they would be at the scoutship in less than thirty seconds. That was wonderful, but Rebka had two problems. The Zardalu were gaining — fast. They might catch Darya and the other two before they reached the safety of the ship.

And the shuddering of the Indulgence was growing. Accurate aiming of the weapons system to pick off the Zardalu was impossible.

Lift to safety, with Darya and the others just seconds away? Or wait for them, and risk the ship?

Hans Rebka placed his finger on the ascent control. Thirty yards to go, maybe ten seconds before they were inside the open hatch.

The ship lurched. He stopped breathing.

Those high-pitched, excited squeaks were the thing that had changed the Eaters from awful concept to Darya’s worst reality.

The voices of the baby and adolescent Zardalu were quite different from the clicks and whistles of the parents. They had come echoing along the tunnel behind Dulcimer, rapidly increasing in volume. With those in her ears, decision-making had moved from difficult to trivial.

“Tally, are you sure you know a better way to the surface?”

“Certainly. I followed it all the way, and I even emerged onto the surface of Genizee itself. May I speak?”

“No. You may move . Get going.”

For once, the embodied computer did not stop to give her an argument. He went scrambling up the steep incline of the duct, using the ribbed hoops of bracing material that supported the wall every few feet as a primitive set of steps.

Darya managed to stay close behind him for the first forty paces, but then she felt her legs beginning to tighten and tire. Even for someone in tip-top condition the steep ascent would be exhausting. But she had had no rest for days, no real food for almost as long, and she had spent a good part of the past few hours vomiting what little she had been able to eat. She had to stop. Her heart was ready to burst from her chest, and the muscles of her thighs were cramping into agonizing knots.

Except that the sound of the Eaters was louder. The young Zardalu were entering the duct that she was climbing. Close on her heels came Dulcimer. He was sobbing for breath and gasping over and over again, “They’ll eat me, they’ll eat me. They’ll eat me alive. Oh, what a terrible way to go. They’ll eat me alive.”

Not just you , Darya thought with irritation. They want to eat me as well. And then: Irritation is meant to be used . Build it to anger, to fury.

The Zardalu would not get a living Darya. Never. She would force herself upward along the lightening tunnel until she died of exhaustion. Then, if they liked, they could have her lifeless body.

She clenched her fists and moved faster, propelling herself up the narrow tunnel until suddenly she ran into the back of E.C. Tally. He had stopped a few feet from the end of the duct and was peering upward to the brightly lit surface.

“Keep going!” Darya’s voice was a breathless croak. If Tally was going to stop now and start a discussion…

“But there may be Zardalu — above us — I thought I heard them.”

Tally was as out of breath as she was. Darya did not have the strength to argue. She pushed right past him. Possible Zardalu on the surface could not compete with certain Zardalu ten yards behind them.

She scrambled the final few feet of the duct, pulled herself over the edge, and sat on skinned hands and knees. The sunlight was painfully bright after the tunnels.

She blinked around her. No Zardalu, not that she could see. But her nose crinkled with their ammoniac smell. Tally was right, they had been here. But where were they now?

She stood up and turned quickly to look at her surroundings.

Tally had been right about another thing. This was much closer to the place where they had landed the Indulgence . She glanced that way. And saw the most wonderful sight that she had ever seen.

The ship was there, just as though it had never left the surface of Genizee. It was no more than a couple of hundred yards away, and she could see that its main hatch was open.

A booby trap?

Who cared? No future danger could be worse than what they faced here and now. Tally and Dulcimer were out of the duct, and Tally was picking up big loose rocks and hurling them down the entrance. But it was not doing any good. The approaching high-pitched squeaks of immature Zardalu were louder and angrier than ever.

“Come on. We’ll never stop them with rocks.” Darya began to run toward the ship, across a broken terrain of stony fragments and low, ankle-snaring bushes. She thought that progress would be easier as soon as she came to the level stretch of moss, but when she reached it her desperate dash became a dreadful slow motion. She felt as if she were running through thick, viscous air; she was so tired that the whole shoreline and the sea seemed to tilt and roll in front of her. The sky darkened. She knew it had to be her own exhaustion and failing balance.

Just a little farther. Just a few more seconds, a few more steps. Quickly. The Zardalu were catching up with her. She dared not turn to look. She concentrated all her attention on the ship ahead. It must have weapons — so why didn’t it fire them at the young Zardalu behind her, and to hell with Julian Graves and his pacifist views? Fire, dammit, fire. Or were the Zardalu so close that any shot would hit her, too?

And then she realized that there was something wrong with the ship itself. It had risen a few feet clear of the surface, but instead of hovering smoothly it was rocking and shuddering. There was something beneath it, something rising from the dark mud.

Tentacles. The pale-pink tentacles of gigantic subterranean Zardalu, curling up to grasp the whole forty-meter length of the ship.

And then, still staggering forward, Darya realized her mistake. Those were not Zardalu. They were not tentacles. They were the tiny perfumed flowers of the gray moss, on their delicate hair-thinstalks, as she had seen them when she first set foot on Genizee. But now they were enlarged to monstrous proportions and growing faster than anything could ever grow.

At last, and at the worst possible moment, the Zardalu were revealing their full mastery of biological science. In the time it took Darya to struggle five steps, the body-thick stalks had sprouted another three meters. They were curling up around the smooth convex hull of the Indulgence . The ship sank a fraction, tugged downward by the web of tendrils.

Louis Nenda was at the open hatch, four feet off the ground. He shouted to Darya and reached down past a thick pink growth that reached into the hatch itself. She held up her hand, felt it gripped in his, and was lifted into the air and into the lock in one arm-wrenching heave.