Page 25 of Sentenced to Prism

  Martine considered, then turned and bent to grasp their former guard with a sapphire‑blue crystalline hand.

  "You see that these people, and they are people, are highly intelligent. We told Frazier that and he refused to believe us. Remind him." The woman nodded frantically. "This world is off limits to commercial development."

  "Sure it is." Her tone was bitter. "Your own company's just going to give up its investment here and walk out, right?"

  ""That's right," Evan told her, startled at his own words. "We're going to make sure the proper authorities are notified. There's not going to be any unchecked exploitation of Prism. The native sentients are going to be allowed to develop at their own pace and in their own way until they've progressed far enough to qualify themselves for Commonwealth membership." He blinked, gazed dazedly at Martine. "Did I actually say what I think I just said?"

  "You sure did," she told him proudly before turning to address the patient warrior standing nearby. "Loosen her suit so she can walk."

  "I am afraid there is no way to do that."

  "'Then cut her out of it."

  Its teeth a rotating blur, the warrior obediently stepped forward. The air was filled with a high‑pitched whine as it went to work on the guard's survival suit. She cringed, but need not have worried. No physician, the warrior nevertheless displayed a touch delicate enough to cut the suit without touching its occupant. In moments it was split neatly down the center.

  Like a snake shedding an old skin, the guard kicked the useless garment aside. Without leaving behind so much as a single thank‑you, she was out the window and shin­nying down one of the supporting girders.

  Leaning over the edge of the wind shield, Evan and Martine watched as their former guard sprinted to catch up to her retreating companions. As they stared, it struck Evan that not all the bursts of light that were spotted around the scene of battle were coming from human weap­ons. He asked the warrior about it.

  "The physicians have been very busy. Conduits can carry many things, and lects can concentrate much energy. The physicians conferred with library. As a result, we have a new type of individual in the Associative, one that is part Elect, part conduit, part gatherer, and part war­rior‑and part something else. Something new." Multiple hands gestured at Martine. "Something akin to what you carry within right upper limb." It moved to the railing and raised itself up enough to peer over the rim. Flat lenses scanned the grounds below. "See, there is one of our new relations at work."

  Evan and Martine looked. The warrior was pointing at a shape. It was bright red beneath and silver on top, sliced with grooves of deeper, embedded silver silicate. This new citizen of the Associative resembled a crystalline millipede.

  It straightened its tubular body and bent its head. From the back of its neck a thin beam of coherent light emerged to strike at the cluster of retreating humans. The light lasted for several seconds before the head raised. The millipede ducked out of sight as Frazier's panicked troops tried to return the fire.

  "I'll be damned." Martine stared wonderingly at this latest product of the physicians' collaborative genius. "A laser with legs."

  "So are you, sort of."

  "Not quite. I am an intelligence in possession of a weapon, not an intelligence possessed by a weapon."

  "Look, there's another one." Evan pointed to where a second millipede was harrying Frazier's staff from the cover of the water purification plant.

  There was a great deal of noise and light, but not much death, since it appeared that the humans' survival suits were just able to deflect the attacks, or were the mil­lipedes capable of generating far more powerful effects but holding back under orders from library? The warriors who'd rescued them confirmed that this was the case.

  "Library orders that there be as little killing as possi­ble." The warrior sniffed. Such directives were distressing to its karma.

  Frazier's people were stumbling into the shuttle now, their panic and confusion evident even at a distance. "They're being herded aboard." Martins was grinning. "Probably don't even realize what's being done to them."

  The shuttle's engines coughed, then roared. The com­ical collection of half‑clad humans must be packed in like fish, Evan knew. They'd be forced to suffer one another's stink all the way up to their base ship.

  The rumble of the shuttle's engines intensified, rose to a howl. An unexpected pang of homesickness shot through Evan as the craft roared down the landing strip and nosed sharply upward, heading for the ionosphere. He kept staring long after it had disappeared into the clouds, leav­ing behind only the echo of its departure. That, and some difficult questions. "You think they'll return to try and retake the station?"

  Marline looked dubious. "With what? If they'd brought any heavy weapons with them they'd have used them already. I doubt they have any. They came in expecting to find their man Humula in charge or, at worst, trying to deal with a few stubborn holdouts. An intelligent native lifeform capable of defending itself against modern tech­nology is something out of their worst nightmares. They're going to have to completely reassess their intentions here. Frazier's going to have a hard enough time just getting his superiors to believe him." She chuckled softly.

  "Oh, they may be having thoughts about returning home to assemble a better‑equipped landing party, but by that time we'll have gotten the word out and there'll be a peaceforcer or two standing watch in orbit."

  "I wouldn't lay odds on that just yet," he said suddenly, pointing to the far side of the camp. Smoke was rising into the pristine air of morning.

  "Oh my God," Martine whispered when she realized where the smoke was coming from, "the nullspace communicator. I didn't think they'd have time to remember that."

  "Neither did I" Evan's expression was grim. "We'd better get over there fast and see if we can salvage any­thing."

  While the station and much of its equipment had been built largely of fireproof material, certain components by their very nature contained flammable ingredients. Unfor­tunately, that included much of the control‑and‑drive unit for the deepspace communications beam, an intricate far­rago of electronics which had been reduced to slag by the time he and Martine were able to bring the blaze under control. It was small consolation to Evan that they could have done little more had they arrived much earlier. Standard‑issue fire‑extinguishing equipment cannot smother burning magnesium powder, and that was what Frazier's improvising saboteurs had sprinkled liberally throughout the instrumentation before setting it alight.

  Buried in its shaft deep beneath the surface of Prism, the beam generator itself was undamaged, but without the means of activating and directing it, it was completely useless.

  Evan tossed his extinguisher aside and dropped tiredly into a chair that had so far escaped the attention of both the fare and Prism's voracious scavengers. "That's it, then. We're stuck."

  Martine was staring sadly at the still smoldering control console. "I wasn't thinking. We should have told Azure and the others to secure this building first. I didn't think."

  "It might not have mattered." Evan rubbed at his eyes. "It only takes a minute to dump some ignition powder and toss a lighter into the pile."

  "I'm no engineer, but if the replacement parts were available, I'd say it might be possible to fix this."

  "I'm sure it is," Evan replied sardonically, "except that I'm not that kind of engineer either, there probably aren't enough spare parts to repair the damage, and even if we did have the parts and the know‑how, we probably wouldn't have the time. Knowing that we're cut off, Frazier and his people will be back here hunting for us as soon as they can acquire some heavy weapons."

  Their friends and rescuers gradually trickled into the area, attracted by the twin magnets of lingering smoke and rising despair. Warriors and newly born millipedes took up instinctive defensive positions around the com­munications building while the physicians moved among them. There were several casualties. Two warriors and one of the new hybrids had been shot up bey
ond repair.

  There was also one possible fatality that instantly roused Evan from his lethargy the moment he heard of it.

  "It is to be regretted," the gatherer told him sorrow­fully.

  "No!" Evan charged outside, was directed to the spot where one of the physicians was working on a motionless, all too familiar shape.

  Azure.

  Evan fairly shook the ether around him with the force of his mental blast. "He's not dead! Tell me he's not dead!"

  "He lingers on the thin line between self and the going­away," the physician informed him without looking up from its work. Its delicate hands and tentacles were a blur as they worked over the scout's exploded insides. "Go away now, please, and keep your voice down!"

  Evan complied, moderating the intensity of his thoughts but refusing to leave. "Azure. Azure! There's no response. Does that mean that‑?"

  "It does not. What it does mean," the physician informed him, "is that the system has been so badly dam­aged that all nonvital functions have been shut down by the body. That includes communication faculties. There is heat damage in the area of the brain, though I cannot yet tell the extent of it. Please the Associative, it has not melted the memory cortex. I will tell you once more only: go away."

  Evan took a few uncertain steps backward, tried to analyze this wholly unexpected emotional response. Why was he so upset? What was Azure, after all? Nothing but a primitive lifeform composed of hard, inhuman materials. Hardly better than a talking rock. Sure he had individu­ality, even personality of a sort, but so did certain fish. Was there anything else?

  Only that he was a friend.

  A nearby voice startled him, because it was a real voice, not a mental projection. "You must be quite fond of him," Martine murmured.

  "If it wasn't for him‑it, whatever Azure is‑I wouldn't be here now. I'd be in pieces somewhere out in the forest, food for syaruzi and their ilk. I don't think fond is a strong enough term."

  "What then?"

  Evan couldn't meet her eyes, either of them. "I'm not strong enough to say it." He swallowed hard.

  She put her human arm around him. "Try not to worry. You've seen what these physicians are capable of."

  "I know, but Azure took a needier burst in the head. I don't know if even the physicians can repair that kind of damage."

  She pulled gently. "There isn't a damn thing you or I can do about it. Come back inside and let's put our heads together. Maybe there's something we can do about the transmitter."

  "Sure there is. We can piss on it. That'll do as much good as anything else." But he let her lead him away.

  "One thing's for certain," Martine was telling him hours later, as darkness enveloped the world, "I'm not going anywhere with those bastards. I'll go back into the forest first and live out the rest of my life there. Try and get the different Associatives to work together. It won't be easy. They limit the population of each Associative because they're convinced they've determined the optimum size for dealing comfortably with their surroundings. In that they're probably right, but this is a new threat, something they've never had to deal with before. It's a threat not just to one or two Associatives but to their collective future. The danger is to all of them and it's going to take a united effort to deal with it. The libraries are pretty sensible. If I can convince them I may be able to win the rest over."

  "My friend the integrator," Evan mumbled.

  "What?" She eyed him sharply. "What did you say?"

  "Nothing. I'm rambling."

  "You could at least show some interest." When Evan didn't reply she moved to a nearby desk.

  Later, with the station's batteries fully charged, they were able to enjoy the luxury of lights and hot water. They were also able to run the station's information through an intact terminal. Library declared himself fascinated and insisted Martine instruct him in the terminal's oper­ation. As it was simple enough for a child to use, or a nonspecialist, library was soon playing with files and dia­grams without her supervision.

  "Having fun?"

  "Considerable," library told her cheerfully. "Your information is couched in simple terms. We interpret them through the terms we have acquired from Evan and, sub­sequently, from you."

  "That's very clever of you."

  "You think so?" A small tentacle waved at the screen. "There is a great deal, of course, which I cannot under­stand. Charts and visual representations are straightfor­ward, but I do not understand your written codes. Tell me, are there codes which describe this communications system?"

  Evan brought himself back to reality. "Everything hav­ing to do with the establishment and operation of the station is held in storage. Why?"

  "Just a thought. If you could direct us by interpreting these written codes, we might be able to fix what is bro­ken." A brace of cilia indicated the blackened console nearby.

  "I don't know," Martine said slowly. "That's an awfully complicated piece of equipment."

  "More complicated than you? Or Evan? There is no diference. Only in design. Let us try. I will need the help of other libraries, of many gatherers and processors."

  "Here's your chance to start a silicate uprising." Evan grinned sideways at Martine. "Go to it."

  Once the crisis was explained to there, members of the many Associatives volunteered to help. By the next day there was no room in the communications building for Evan or Martine, so full was it with busy libraries and processors. They moved to the nearest dormitory and tried to relax. There was little else for them to do anyhow and they could interpret designs and images for the librar­ies just as easily using the dorm terminal as any other. Besides which the dorm was full of stockpiled supplies which Frazier's personnel had abandoned in their rush to escape. For the first time in weeks, Evan and Martine ate properly.

  None of which had the impact on Evan that a small blue shape did on the morning when it came waddling into their temporary abode. There was no mistaking that outline, even taking into account the chunk that was miss­ing from its dorsal side.

  "Azure!" He rose from his seat, then halted himself. The mental greeting would have to suffice. Azure's shape made him impossible to embrace. Then Evan frowned slightly. There was something wrong with that quaint wad­dle. "You're limping."

  "Damaged motor control, here." He tapped the top of his head. "Impossible to repair it properly without risking injury to more sensitive areas. I will live with the disa­bility, though it will limit my effectiveness. A scout who cannot run must perforce limit its activities."

  "I'm sorry. It's my fault, for involving you in our prob­lems."

  "Nonsense. As we have discussed already, your prob­lems are ours. Besides, it has been decided that it is more important for me to continue to scout you at close range than to return to my former duties. I am also to act as intermediary between you, your people, and the Asso­ciatives when necessary. Have you been outside recently?"

  "No." Evan glanced over at Martine, who was lying on her cot balancing a portable tridee viewer on her stom­ach.

  "Come. There is something you should see."

  They followed him outside. Their pace was restricted because the paths between buildings were full. Evan counted warriors, gatherers, walls, and flects, even slowly moving towers picking their way carefully through the crowd of their lesser relations. He also noticed a pair of huge, massively built creatures holding enormous hands and tentacles out in front of their bodies.

  "Those are builders," Azure explained in response to their query. "They've come here from far away. Only Associatives who cannot make use of walls employ build­ers to raise artificial walls to protect their members." He pointed out something that looked like an ambling explod­ing star. "That is a distributor, who works in tandem with the talkers of the largest Associatives. And those over there are excavators, who are close cousins of the gath­erers and diggers."

  The ground trembled underfoot as the silicate horde surged busily back and forth. Evan took Martine's arm.

 
"I think we'd better have a talk with library. Things are getting out of hand."

  "Which library?" Azure asked. "There are ,dozens at work here."

  "Our library."

  That individual was lying prone on the desk where Martine had introduced him to the station computer many days ago. The two humans had to pick their way carefully through the herd of newly arrived libraries who were busy exchanging information with one another. Nearby, several of the recently glimpsed exploding stars were juggling dozens of private conversations simultaneously, sorting them out of the extraordinary mental babble.

  Beyond the library, the rear wall of the admin building had been torn out. Builders and processors and physicians swarmed over something vast and barely visible. What little Evan could see of this oversized mystery gleamed and glistened like moonstone.

  He managed to reach library's table. "What's going on?" He nodded toward the hivelike activity which dom­inated the missing end of the building. "Just because you can't fix the transmitter controls doesn't mean you have to demolish everything else trying."

  "You know, it's strange." Library spoke absently and without shifting his attention from the flashing computer terminal.

  Evan did his best not to sound exasperated. "What's strange?"

  "How unnecessarily complex superior technology can be."

  The heavily armed woman put down her high‑powered monocular and turned away from the shuttlecraft port. "Looks deserted to me. If they're still alive they probably heard us coming down and ducked into the woods."

  Frazier leaned over to look past her. "Doesn't matter. We don't have to find them‑though I have personal rea­sons for wanting to. But it isn't critical. All we have to do is burn the place down. Isolating them's the same as killing them. Oh, and we don't refer to the local flora here as `woods.' Forest is more accurate. You'll see why after we disembark." He straightened, called out to the man standing near the rear of the cabin. "Everything ready?"

  "All set back here, sir."

  Frazier spoke into an intercom pickup. "Cannon?"