Resurrection

  “Just don’t trust him all the way. Please.” His voice had an edge of desperation.

  “All right, Lion,” the Engineer said, pocketing the display. “If that’s what you advise, I’ll take it to heart.”

  The Lion smiled then and clapped the Engineer on the shoulder, relieved. “Good.”

  CHAPTER 27

  2600 BC

  Year 7 of Kinley Earth Survey

  There were four-foot waves, fairly mild. The sun was partially obscured by high, thin clouds, but the day was warm. The Biologist was aft, in the small private cabin she shared with the Jack.

  The Jack was up by the rowers, picking out landmarks on the coast as they sailed by. He specialized in numerous disciplines, including the study of atmosphere and the interaction of humans with their environment, and he had been known to members of the survey crew as a “Jack of all trades.”

  This was their second week aboard ship. Balancing in the aisle between rowers, the Jack let his eyes sweep over the coastline. He had several maps, all of them generated by the Champion as they made their approach to Earth. His primary map at the moment was of the Mediterranean Sea. They were sailing west along the south shore, heading for the strait that would let them out into the great ocean beyond.

  The ship was extremely well designed. The Egyptians were excellent shipwrights, and the Jack, a hobby sailor since childhood, had made only a few minor design improvements. Their ship employed both rowers and sails, and the combination allowed them constant mobility.

  The Jack found his landmark and marked it on the map. He would look again in a few hours. He oversaw a change in shift of the rowers, then moved aft and entered the cabin where the Biologist lay sleeping on their tiny bed. He pinned the map back into its place above their small desk and studied it for a moment more, making mental estimates about travel times over the next months. They were making good progress.

  He and the Biologist had lost faith in the Captain years ago. Recently, as the others prepared to go into hibernation, they had decided to make the best of their life on Earth and to do it as far away from the Captain as possible. The ship had been the Biologist’s idea, and the Jack had readily agreed. It was dangerous, of course, but who cared anymore? They were in the unique situation of being able to live solely for the thrill of new adventures. With the Biologist’s considerable medical ability, honed over the past seven years to fine skill even with primitive supplies, and the Jack’s knowledge of engineering and ecology, they felt themselves adequately matched to the elements.

  Their plan was to sail to the two great continents that lay west, beyond the ocean. Exploring those lands would be their lives’ work. They had hired, without difficulty, young Egyptian men who wished to accompany them on this journey. They were a small group, everyone participating voluntarily, and there was a general air of excitement about the ship.

  The Jack sat on the edge of the bed and kissed the Biologist’s forehead. Her eyes came open.

  “We’ll reach the strait by tomorrow afternoon,” he said.

  She smiled up at him. “And then the wide world beyond?”

  “And then the wide world,” he agreed.

  CHAPTER 28

  Present Day

  Jean-Claude lay on his cot with the covers thrown off of him. It was late at night, but he was not tired. He was staring at the ceiling. It was decorated with repeating patterns of red and green, an Arabic design. It was a beautiful room in a beautiful suite. The countries courting the Mechanic had given him money to live like a prince while he made up his mind to whom he would give his precious technology.

  There were long gauzy curtains on windows that stretched nearly from floor to ceiling. Through these came moonlight, bright, for the moon was nearing full. It threw the furniture of the room into sharp relief. Jean-Claude held a dark hand up in front of his face, examining its silhouette. It is not my hand anymore, he thought. I have no control over how it is used.

  The Mechanic slept in a bedroom mere yards away, but the heavy door between the rooms was firmly locked. The Mechanic took no chance that his slaves would mutiny against him in the night. Jean-Claude could imagine him in there, resting peacefully on white sheets, a gun under one pillow, his evil electric knife still strapped to his ankle.

  Nate had warned the Mechanic that their rooms might be monitored, so they moved to new rooms each night, and every stop in the past several days had been nicer than the last.

  A few feet away, Nate lay in his own cot, the covers pulled up to his head, his body curled on its side.

  Jean-Claude put his hands together on his chest in a gesture of prayer, but found that he could not pray. It seemed inappropriate coming from him, as though God would smirk down at him and wag a finger in his face to tell him his prayers were not welcome. Even as a prostitute he had not felt as degraded as he did now.

  Tears came to his eyes. Heavenly Father…! he cried in his mind, but that was all that would come. There was nothing to say and there would be nothing to say until something inside of him broke.

  He was still in the grip of his antidote, which the Mechanic had given him an hour before, still felt its ecstatic embrace, but this ecstasy no longer blotted out all thoughts as it once had. Through his high, his mind buzzed with hatred and half-formed plans. Both were useless. He drove a hand into the bed beneath him in frustration.

  He noticed a motion by his side then. Nate was there. He had slipped quietly out of his cot and was now kneeling by the side of Jean-Claude’s bed. Crouched there, he looked like a troll out of a childhood nightmare. Nate reached out a hand and gently touched the dark skin of Jean-Claude’s thigh.

  Jean-Claude batted his hand away. “What are you doing?” he asked, raising himself up on his elbows.

  “We’ll never get out of this,” Nate whispered. “Never.” He had large dark circles around his eyes, visible in the moonlight, and Jean-Claude could see the drawn lines of his mouth. He looked ten years older after his weeks in captivity. Nate reached his hand out again and gently stroked Jean-Claude’s stomach. “We’ll never get away from him alive.”

  Impatiently, Jean-Claude batted his hand away again. “There is no we,” he said with his heavy French accent. “There is you. There is me.”

  Nate looked up at him with tortured eyes. Suddenly, he lifted his other hand from beneath the cot and brought up a hunting knife. Jean-Claude had no idea where he had found it. Its blade was bright in the moonlight. He caught Nate’s hand by the wrist, and Nate struggled against his grip.

  “What are you doing?” Jean-Claude hissed.

  “Kill me!” Nate said. He dropped the knife, and it fell onto the bed next to Jean-Claude. “Kill me. Please!”

  Jean-Claude released his arm and pushed him away. “Go back to your bed.”

  But Nate took up the knife and tried to put it in Jean-Claude’s hands. “Please, Jean-Claude. You helped him trap me. I don’t want to be here anymore. End it for me.”

  “End it yourself!”

  “I can’t…” He crumpled onto the floor, clutching his knees to his chest and sobbing into his arms. “I can’t…”

  Jean-Claude studied Nate’s pathetic figure. He felt rage return at the sight of him, rage at what the Mechanic had done to this man. It was a good sensation; it made him feel strong, though he was powerless to direct this strength. “Do not give in yet,” Jean-Claude said, his voice now soft. “We will find a way out.”

  Nate shook his head, but his sobs slowly died. Jean-Claude lay back down, and he heard Nate crawl back to his own cot.

  “I’m sorry,” Nate whispered after a few moments.

  “I too,” Jean-Claude replied. The rage was dying. He lay back down on the bed and fingered his cross.

  CHAPTER 29

  Eddie, Julianne, and Gary were outside the lobby of the Mena House, loading their luggage and other supplies into the back of an ancient Toyota Land Cruiser that looked as sturdy as a battle tank. Eddie saw Pruit emerge from the hotel, and he walked over to h
er.

  “Are you leaving?” she asked him.

  “Yes, we’re heading back to the dig.”

  “Where did you get that car?”

  “I rented it from an outfit in Cairo. We could use an extra one at camp.”

  She studied the car for a moment, then said, “I think I’ll get one too.”

  “A Land Cruiser?” he asked. “What for?”

  “To drive.”

  He studied her skeptically for a moment. “To drive where?”

  “I haven’t decided yet.”

  His tone became serious then, and he was happy to have a valid reason for proposing what he wanted to propose. “Pruit, you seem a bit naïve for someone who speaks fluent Arabic. Aren’t you familiar with the Muslim culture?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean that driving around in the cities by yourself is all right, but heading out into the country—or into the desert—as a woman by herself is just silly.”

  “Who said anything about the desert?”

  “What else is there to visit in Egypt?”

  “You don’t think I can take care of myself?”

  “Actually, you probably can. But there’s no reason to court trouble or to flaunt your liberated femininity to Arab men. They find it annoying, and they’re not always a pleasant bunch when annoyed. Now, where are you planning to go?”

  She hesitated for a moment, then seemed to make up her mind. “I want to visit a dig my parents participated in when they were in college. It was their one big academic adventure, and I think they’d like to see pictures of me there.” Eddie thought he must have been mistaken the other day when he found her accent unusual. She sounded like she had grown up in California, as he had.

  “Where was this dig?” he asked.

  She took out her map and pointed out the location. “Somewhere around here.”

  Eddie studied the map. He had never heard of a dig out that far. It was not impossible, but it was unlikely.

  “How about this: You ride with us, until I drop these two at camp.” He glanced over his shoulder and caught the archaeologists in a fairly intimate moment as they sat together inside the truck. “I could use the company, anyway,” he said wryly. “And then I’ll take you there. Fair enough?”

  “Isn’t it a bit out of your way?”

  “They’re dying to get me away from the dig. There will hardly be room for me with the new arrivals.” This was not exactly true, but Pruit wouldn’t know.

  “All right. Suit yourself,” she said.

  He smiled and headed to the truck. Pruit went inside to gather up her backpack.

  CHAPTER 30

  Adaiz watched Pruit and her male companion as they spoke to each other outside the hotel. The hotel stood in the shadows of the ancient pyramids, which Pruit had seemed fascinated by the day before. There were two others in their party, another man and women, who were now sitting in the back of the car together. The man’s arm was around the woman’s shoulders, and as Adaiz watched, he leaned forward and let his lips touch hers. Adaiz turned away, disliking the sensation that kiss provoked in him.

  Pruit was speaking to the tall young man who had accompanied her into the pyramid. The way they spoke to each other was different than the way they spoke to others. Pruit seemed happier, somehow, when she was addressing him. There was a subtle change in the way she stood and the set of her face.

  Adaiz was irritated at a feeling of jealously. He found himself wondering if she was drawn to that man, if she wanted to be near him the way those two in the car were near each other. She was the first human woman he had ever seen, the first who had ever spoken to him, and he felt a proprietary urge toward her.

  Adaiz was concealed in an old green Jeep, army surplus from decades before, with a battered soft top and plastic side windows, which were yellow with age and therefore concealed him well. He wore dark sunglasses and a baseball hat to further cover his face, should Pruit happen to look his way. But she had never shown any signs of concern that she might be followed. How could she suspect, after all, that the Lucien had tracked her across light-years, aware from the beginning of her desperate mission?

  At length, Pruit joined the other three in their car and drove off. Adaiz followed them for a long way through city streets and onto a busy highway, but when they turned from the main road an hour later, entering a deserted village, he could not follow them without being noticed.

  He pulled the car to the side of the road and watched the monitor that tracked the two tracers in Pruit’s back. They were heading out to open desert. It would be impossible to follow her there. It did not matter, however. Her ship was disabled and thousands of miles away. If she found what she sought in the desert, he would be able to intercept her before she got the information off-planet.

  Slowly, Adaiz started up the Jeep and turned around, heading back into the city. He would follow her again when she returned to the anonymous crowds of Cairo or Giza.

  He left the Jeep at the hotel where he and Enon-Amet had been staying since Pruit’s arrival in Egypt. Enon seldom left the room. Both of them were terrified of what might happen if he were to be exposed in public. In this Arab country, however, Adaiz felt Enon was fairly safe walking the streets as long as Adaiz was with him and Enon kept his hood drawn and his pace short, like a human. Still, they would not risk him outdoors unless it was absolutely necessary.

  Instead of returning upstairs to his brother, Adaiz let his feet carry him away from the hotel. This was a market day, and the streets were thronged with locals. The traffic in this city was always heavy, but today it was almost at a standstill on the main streets. A dirty brown miasma hung over the cars, pumped into the air by their inefficient engines.

  Adaiz breathed in the exhaust, tasting the chemical components and wondering at the deleterious effect it must have on the human natives. He was walking down a street of small stores and clothing shops. Nearby, a group of young girls stood in front of a window, looking in at the dresses displayed on mannequins. Next door, several heavyset older women in black robes and white shawls picked through produce on an open stand, complaining loudly to the proprietor about imagined and real blemishes on the fruit. Men in business suits walked in groups, speaking in animated tones to one another.

  Adaiz took it all in as he had each day since coming to human civilization. Information about this human society—a different society from the Plaguers—would be of use to the Lucien, and it was his duty to take in as much as he could. In truth, he did not much like these walks he forced himself to take. The sight of so much humanity crowded in upon itself, in societies grown out of human experience and human nature, brought on a barrage of emotions he could not easily categorize or control.

  Nearby, a young couple held hands, the woman’s belly swollen with pregnancy. A group of small boys were kicking rocks along the sidewalk and singing a wailing Arab song. Adaiz was overcome for a moment, and he stopped, leaning his body against a lamppost as people moved by him.

  His mind was loud, almost screaming. But with what? He took a series of deep breaths and forced himself to calm. He studied the emotion that was sweeping over him, analyzed it. It was not surprise, or anger, or happiness, or disgust, or any of the feelings he had thought at first glance it might be. Instead, he realized it was longing.

  But longing for what? He was not human, though his body might think otherwise. He was Lucien, every inch of him. He knew where his heart lay, and that was eight light-years from this alien world, at home on lovely, sacred Galea.

  CHAPTER 31

  The Toyota bounced along at a slow, but steady pace, carrying them across a series of shallow, rolling dunes as they traveled north and west in the thousand-mile stretch of desert that separated Egypt from Libya. They had dropped the other archaeologists off at camp the day before and, early that morning, had set out to Pruit’s destination. The other members of the camp had not even questioned Eddie’s desire to go off with her. He had struck a deal to be as flighty as
he wished without comment from them, and they had every intention of honoring their end of it.

  Eddie was in the driver’s seat. Pruit had been happy enough to let him drive while she navigated. They had let some of the air out of the truck’s tires to give it a better grip on the sand, and they were making a good five miles an hour average as they worked toward the invisible point in the distance that Pruit had marked on their map.

  Pruit sat in the front passenger’s seat, looking out the open side window. They both wore T-shirts and shorts. All around them sand stretched away to the horizon. Behind them, she could just make out the Red Pyramid of Dashur, tiny at this distance, almost lost in the haze above the desert. It was the only remaining sign of civilization.

  The sand was ugly, almost as though it had been mixed with dirt. Here and there dunes of loose shale stood over buried ancient structures, for perhaps only a tenth of the secrets of Egypt had yet been uncovered.

  This landscape fit Pruit’s idea of “outside” better than any she had yet seen. This was a killing land. Without their truck and the jugs of water they had stacked in it, neither of them would survive here for long. Her urge to pull on a face mask was great, but she forced herself into an attitude of relaxation.

  She wondered what she would tell Eddie when they arrived at their destination. There would, of course, be no abandoned dig site waiting for them. There might be no sign at all of what she sought.

  Why had she allowed him to come with her? There were various answers to that question, but most of all, it was because she liked him. Eddie was a new breed of creature to her, a man who had never been anything but happy or bored in his life. He had an air about him that spoke of long afternoons lounging in the sun, despite his intelligence and the fitness of his body. This seemed frivolous in a way, but it was also pleasant to be around. She was not worried about handling Eddie. There was nothing threatening about him.