Redshift Part 57

"No, no. Not at all. That is only what seemed to happen. I am sensitive to the mold that sometimes grows in the breathers. The stuff makes me hallucinate. This was simply the strangest hallucination I have ever had. Dr. Tait is examining the equipment now to find what sort of mold it might be."

The commander pressed his com b.u.t.ton. "Tait! Have you completed your examination of Eckles's equipment?"

"Yes, sir," came the smooth reply.

"Report to my quarters at once. I want this cleared up without delay." He glared at Jonathan as they waited for the doctor.

When Tait arrived, he was not nervous, not breathless, not terrified. Jonathan envied him his lack of fear around the commander. No, Tait seemed amused, if anything. He trundled behind him a wheeled table on which lay the breather and Jonathan's recording computer.

Robb stared at the table, then at Dr. Tait. "What's all this?" he asked.

"Proof," said Tait, his tone crisp. "You will find the result of my scan on the mini-comp."

Robb took the memo pad in hand and said, "Report on Eckles's breathing equipment."

The s.e.xy voice, that of every computer sent into s.p.a.ce, said, "No trace of mold spores was found in either oxygen tank or breather. No trace of hallucinogen of any kind, either on interior or exterior surfaces."

"Aha!" Robb stared at Jonathan. "So what do you have to say for yourself?"Jonathan found no words, but Tait interrupted smoothly, "You need to hear the report on the material contained in the recording equipment. Before you make accusations, Commander, I recommend that you listen to the next report."

"Report on Eckles's record of mission begun at 21:35:10 this date." He sounded dubious, Jonathan thought.

"Overhead screen on, link to office com complete," the mini-corn began. "If you will watch the progress of subject, you will see that he was on course and taking notes to point A-6." The overhead showed the boring terrain through which Jonathan was moving, and an overlay showed the mapped grid of his a.s.signed sector.

"At that point, subject's verbal report is interrupted. Unusual auditory effects are recorded."

A buzz, almost subsonic, sounded as the com replayed the record. "Subject turns, surveys terrain, focuses on fungus located on boulder. Note magnification." There the picture enlarged as Jonathan magnified his eye-plate, and the clump of purple fuzz came into sharp focus.

"Note behavior of fungus. Entire clump swings toward subject as if examining him visually."

Now the com replayed both visual and auditory recordings, only Jonathan's side of the conversation being comprehensible. As the report proceeded, Robb became very still, and his face reddened.

When the com clicked off, the commander turned to Jonathan. "This . . . this thing dared to threaten us? A fungus wants us to leave this world we are a.s.signed to survey and has the gall to suggest we might suffer consequences?" He looked as if he might explode at the slightest provocation.

He rose, and the other two jumped to their feet. "We will go back out there now. I want to ... talk to this upstart mushroom. Prepare for external mission."

It was with considerable trepidation that Jonathan followed the commander out of the airlock. Dr. Tait seemed excited, but he hadn't communicated with the fungus directly.

There was something terribly self-a.s.sured about that clump of fuzz, and references to millennia of travel between worlds hinted at knowledge that even a fungus might have acquired.

They reached the area more quickly than before. After all, he had been making verbal notes into his computer, pausing to examine anything the least bit unusual. Now they stood before the big gray rock, looking at the purple fuzz, which seemed to be dozing in the sunlight.

Even as he watched, Jonathan saw the fuzzy tendrils stiffen, curve toward the three men, those s.h.i.+ny black eyes focusing upon them. He felt a s.h.i.+ver down his back, and he hoped the commander did, too.

"You return? After our 'warning? Silver fungi, you have no manners!"

The commander clapped both hands to his helmet, and Dr. Tait shook his head as if trying to locate the source of the communication.

Jonathan said, "No, it's not a voice you hear, but it gets inside your head anyway. Listen to what it says. I think maybe we should consider . . .""You cowardly slacker! Be silent!"

Jonathan could see the fungus quiver as the commander's roar penetrated the helmet. It focused upon him, now, and Jonathan could not hear what it said, but whatever it was, the commander was clearly becoming more and more agitated. Hopping mad, he would have put it, concerning anyone else.

Then Jonathan remembered that other one, the gray-green clump behind them. He turned cautiously to see what it was doing, and he found it, too, directing its attention toward Commander Robb. Something about the glint of those distant beads of black made him feel suddenly cold.

He backed away. Dr. Tait came into view, also backing away. By unspoken consent, they took shelter behind a slab of rock atop which a pinkish fuzz was also turned toward their commanding officer. Jonathan didn't know what to expect, but whatever it was he wanted to be out of the way when it happened.

"I believe Robb has met his match," the doctor whispered over the suit-to-suit radio. "Look at him!"

Now Robb was quivering with rage, his feet leaving the ground as he literally bounced up and down. Something very tense and powerful filled the air, felt even through the protection of Jonathan's suit.

He was about to ask Tait if he felt it when Robb's suit popped open and expelled the commander upward. If there had been more air or more gravity he might have fallen to the ground again. As it was, he zoomed up under what was obviously great pressure and disappeared into the glare of the sun. The remnants of his suit lay crumpled beside the rock where the purple fuzz was now relaxing.

Jonathan turned to stare at Dr. Tait. Through the face-plate, the doctor looked greenish-pale, the way he felt, himself.

Then, using courage he did not know he had, Jonathan rose and moved toward the purple fungus. "What did you do to him?" he asked. "Did you intend to kill him?"

The fuzz stirred lazily. "Of course not. Life is rare and valuable. We have learned to concentrate our energies and force alien fungi to expel their spores prematurely, sending them on toward other worlds. In this way, they pose no threat to us while continuing their life cycles."

Jonathan almost explained what had really happened to Robb, but he realized that this thing would never understand. Spores and fungi were all it knew, and it dealt with its problems on those terms.

Tait touched his shoulder with a bulky glove. "Let's go," he said. "I'll list this as a world containing toxic materials that are too dangerous to deal with. I think that will be accurate, don't you agree? Those bits of fluff could have exploded the dome, I suspect, as they did the commander's suit."

Jonathan nodded, and the two turned toward the distant dome. They would be ready to leave in three days, he knew from old experience. In the meanwhile, no one else would leave the shelter until it was time to take the shuttle up to the orbiting s.h.i.+p.

He hoped the purple fuzz and its companions never met another human being. The doctor'sreport, he was sure, would make certain of that.

I first met Neal Barrett, Jr., face-to-face in the fall of 2000. This is incredible because (a) I feel like I've known him forever and (b) I was Neal Barrett, Jr., for a short period of time in 1995.

Here's what happened: in the autumn of '95, when I was starting to look forward to Thanksgiving, Neal's agent called and asked if I'd be interested in taking a project over for him-seems he was just too popular and was overbooked (that's a pun) with work. The project in question was a Babylon 5 novelization t.i.tled The Touch of Your Shadow, The Whisper of Your Name, and all that existed for it was a ten-page outline that Neal had written. Another problem was that the book had to be turned in around Thanksgiving. And yet another problem was that the publisher had already printed up the cover with Neal's name on it-which meant that I had to become Neal Barrett/ Horrors!

Suffice it to say, Neal got his revenge for what I've just written- by producing an absolutely drop-dead great story to end this book.

In actuality: if only the rest of you could be Neal Barrett, Jr., for a while, what an honor that would be. I commend to your astonishment, besides "Rhido Wars," the following: The Hereafter Gang, Pink Vodka Blues, Through Darkest America, and the remarkable story collection Perpetuity Blues.

Rhido Wars.

Neal Barrett, jr.

What I do I hear this fart an a squirt an a squirt after that an then splat. Dont hardly have to wake up Im seein this big red a.s.s with a bright blue ring round the hole where the s.h.i.+ts comin out. He squattin maybe thirty hands off an it isnt even Light an I know its Sal Capone. You dont gotta see a face, you can see that a.s.s, isnt any two alike. Drills are like Persons. Persons dont look or smell the same. Ever things different from ever thing else.

Sal, he knowin I there, an when he all done he turn an blink his baby c.r.a.p eyes. The stripes on his face is black stead of blue cause theres hardly any Light.

Sal, he not wearin nothin, not wearin anything at all. Ever thin showin, hangin, stuff stickin out. A Drill dont care bout that. Only thing he care bout, he gotta have a hat.

"You are not being sleep," Sal says. "Dark is for the sleep. Persons must sleep in the Dark and working in the Light."

I was sleepin good, Im thinkin, then you com an s.h.i.+t in my yard. Im not sleepin real good after that. . . .

"The rain fell much in the forest last Dark," Sal says, the way they all do, like they got a sack of gravel in their craw. "The ground is being wet. Seven baskets for each of your Persons, seven by the time the sun is high. Nine for you, Ratch, for you are ever insolent to me. I am angered and sad that you show me disrespect, this is great sorrow and a bad thing to do.

"Be telling your Persons, a basket will not be padded with little leaves and shoots to seem full when it is not. There vill be sufficient beetles and snails. Snails will be about on a wetting day as this. There will also be the grubs, Ratch, grubs of most sufficient fat.

"I should like to see voles. Not voles that are deceased, eaten by the ant. Voles are not difficult to catch. Young Lily is quick. Tell her to catch me many voles, I shall bring her honey on a stick. How is the Lily, Ratch? She is well, I am hope. And little Macky and Dit? And the one who is bit by a snik?""He fine too. Hows Florence an Sil? How Miz Pain?" "You will see that there are voles, Ratch. Voles are expected. Gra.s.ses are not."

Sal was all done. A Drill say what he got to say, thats it, he done. While they talkin an scratchin an pluckin some crawly out their fur, you maybe okay. A Drill just lookin, lookin right at you with baby c.r.a.p eyes, he got some ugly in mind.

A Drills flat ugly outside, but insides ugliern that. You dont know bout ugly till you know whats in a Drills head. . . .

Its so p.h.u.c.kin hot you are drownin in sweat you are poundin in the head. Ever skeeto ever nat for a thousan miles aroun is crawlin in your eyes is crawlin up your a.s.s. The sun is up but the trees has smothered all the Light. Its Light somewhere but it isnt down here. You haven ever crawl through creepers an tanglers wrappin roun a tree, you dont know what I talkin bout here. Im talkin trees you cant even see roun, trees got snicks an stingers so big you dont want to think what maybe lookin at you there.

Im crawlin onna ground, Im turnin over rocks, I cant see d.i.c.k for a p.h.u.c.kin foot ahead. I got a couple snails, I got a buncha grubs. Down here theres ever kinda of bug there is. Down here you a bug or a leaf. Maybe you a root. Ever thing down here squishy, ever thing wet, ever thing tangled in ever thing else. Ever thing fat bout to busting down here, an ever thing one p.h.u.c.kin color, ever thing green.

I hear Lily she off somewhere, Lily chasin voles. Dont hear Macky, an you hardly never do.

Macky, he gonna spook you sometime, Macky dont make a sound at all.

Cant say that bout Dit. Know where Dit goin to be bout a hour fore he is.

A whole lotta green start shakin an here come Dit. Dit grinnin like a fool an he got a bunch of orchits in his hair. Some of em pink and some of em white, some of em colors hasnt got a name at all.

"I was you," I says, "I wouldnt let Darc Anthony see me lookin like that. Darc he likely to haul you off inna bush somewhere."

"Darc cant see no further than he nose," Dit says. "Darc isnt goin to see me."

Darc cant see real good, but Darc can smell nats p.h.u.c.kin half a mile away. Isnt no use telling Dit, Dit dont listen to anyone at all.

"I got some real fine grubs," Dit says, "they sweet as they can be. Been down in the dirt, hasnt ever seen the Light."

He doin that mouth-smackin s.h.i.+t, he holdin a grub, it squirmin an twitchin like it know what Dit goin to do. Dit hold it up bout a inch from his lips an his cheeks get holler an he suck it right in. Dit says this is a trick. What it is is somethin anyone could do, but Dit think he made it up his self.

He gets me a grub an another for his self an I dont say a thing bout this. His baskets are full, an even Sal Capone wont know if theres any gone or what.

"You see Macky," I tell him, "say he got enough snails hes to go help Lily, see if he can help her catch voles. Sals set up bout somethin. I dont know what. I dont want no trouble, so get him lots a voles.""Set up bout what, Sal is?"

"If I know, then thats what I be sayin, now wouldnt I, Dit?"

"I guess."

"Guess I would. Listen to me good, all right? When I be talkin, listen to what I got to say."

I eat another grub, an put a couple more in my cheek for later on.

"Dont eat no more," I tell Dit. "Dont think bout grubs, go think about snails. Get some more snails."

"Dont like them snails. Dont like em at all."

"Now you got it, Dit, get you a.s.s movin, find a buncha snails. . . ."

Lily bout where I figured she be. Theres a place where chokegra.s.s growin so high you cant see over it at all. Crawl on in theres a hollow where Light sneaks down an make goldy spots on the ground. You look at them spots an they s.h.i.+ver an blur an you look real long, you off somewhere, not where you think you be.

Thats where Lily is, sittin in greeny moss, sittin by the creek. She lookin awful pretty, lookin awful good. I feelin somethin funny, cause she not wearin nothin which she never do at home.

The goldys is dancing in her hair, dancing off her legs which she dip-pin in the creek, dancing of her little buds which is poppin out fine.

Shes found her some cappers, holdin the stems in her fingers an chewin off the tops, eatin real slow. Lily dont eat like other folks, Lily eats nice. Takin little bites like you see a critter do. I can see Mama doin that, cept Lily wouldn't know, she wouldnt member that.

I sit there watchin, which I hadnt ought to do. Its hard not to, cause a sister dont look no different than someone you isnt kin to. If you didnt know you was, youd be thinking what I was thinking too.

"You goin to sit there, Ratch, you going to take root an turn into a tree . . ."

I glad she isnt lookin, if she was shed of seen me turnin a couple shades of red.

"Didnt want to scare you or nothin," I tell her, "just jumpin out a bush. Wouldnt want to do that."

Lily laugh an she do turn then, givin me a smile an her sparkle-dark eyes.

"What you talkin bout, Ratch? You couldnt scare me if you tried."

"I could, I bet. I could if I tried."

"Huh-uh, you couldn't scare me. I doubt you could even scare Macky. You might scare Dit."

"Anyone could scare Dit. A leaf could scare Dit. I bet a-a rock could scare ol Dit."

Lily laugh at that. She pats a place beside her an splashes her feet in the water, an I dippin mine in too. Mine are all big an crookity lookin an hers are real small. Mens an wimins are different. An it isnt just feet I talkin bout.

I try not to look at those buds. A little bit of fuzz is growin round her cut an I try not to look at that too. Even though I wearin a clothes, I fraid she might see what I tryin not to do.

"I sent Macky over, I bet he didnt come," I tell her. "I said, Dit, you tell Macky go on over an help Lily catch a buncha voles. What I bet, he didnt show at all.""Course he didnt. You think he would?"

"I dont guess. I always thinkin, I thinkin, Ratch, why you go an open your mouth, why you say somethin it dont do any good?"

"You tryin is why," Lily says. "That's just the way you do. The way you always been."

She lookin at me then an I got to look away, got to look at somethin else. Lacers and brighters are buzzin in a beam a goldy Light. A dragun-wings dippin down quick, kissin the water an flyin on away.

"I got to be like I am, Lily. Im oldest. Its what I got to do."

"I know you do, Ratch. ..."

"You an older, you lookin after Famly, thats what you got to do. I gotta watch Macky, I gotta watch Dit, he dont do somethin dumb. Spose he get in his head he gonna eat all his grubs? What I gonna tell Sal, Dits maybe doin that?"

"I dont think he will."