"I will see Fleet kept clean and pure and sharp as a dagger," said Harald. "I will have no dirt in it. You, Davidson, return to your ship, set it in order and be prepared to receive my instructions, and to obey them."
Davidson straightened up, saluted, then after a moment turned on his heel. Franorl still gazed at Harald expressionlessly. He possessed more sense than to grin triumphantly or laugh uproariously while the sensor heads recorded these images.
"Get this mess cleared up." Harald gestured to the corpse. "We have work to do."
12
Human embryos weren't the only organic cargo of the Procul Harum. We also brought with us the components of whole ecologies in what was called a 'genetically plastic' form. The huge efforts involved in establishing our agriculture are often neglected in many texts, so let me restore the balance. Thousands of Terran animals were altered to survive here, in much the same way as we ourselves were, along with plants and the whole support ecologies right down to the bacterial level Some were only partially adapted, hence the large specially cooled underground complexes used to grow much of our food. Areas of desert were stabilised using tough local flora, then the thin but increasing topsoil converted to support Terran crops. The tools we used to achieve all this were developed on Mars and under the domes of Earth's own moon. It is worth remembering that a large proportion of our food is produced in vats by bacteria that was also designed before we even set out from the Solar System. There has been much research into the impact of ourselves and everything we brought on the indigenous environment of Sudoria. Many thousands of species have been wiped out, on both sides, but thousands of new ones have been created and introduced. Much recent research has focused on creating Terran-Sudorian hybrids, which now seem to be filling all available niches and finding new ones. Suffice to say that, with the level of our present genetic technologies, we are some way beyond the environmental disasters that plagued Earth a thousand years ago.
— Uskaron
McCrooger
A town in a cylinder world, the inner curve of that world giving the illusion of the buildings leaning into each other, as if complicit in some plot. I gazed around, sure I had been here before, but only recognised it on finally peering down to see the skull-cobbled street. Then the figure was standing before me, and I told it that it could not be my father, for he had died long ago. It made no pretence of trying to be him, merely stared, its face a shining wormish tangle that seemed to project pure malice. I turned away and sought consciousness…
I awoke feeling a little better and a little stronger—approximately the strength of cardboard as opposed to wet tissue paper. Reaching down to the straps securing me to the bed, it took me a while to figure out they clung to the mattress below with some kind of organic Velcro. Finally managing to pull them away, I lay exhausted for a while before sitting upright. That exertion set me drifting away from the bed, catheter and sucking anal tube trailing after me like umbilicals, so I pulled myself back down using one strap then secured it over my skinny legs.
Studying myself I realised that the loose skin made me look a lot worse than I actually was. I'd shed about a quarter of my body mass and now carried the musculature of a 'normal' human. Even so, I wondered how I would stand up under gravity, or if I would be able to stand up at all. We were heading now for Sudoria, which was about 1.2 standard gees, and I did not relish the prospect. Something else I did not relish was having to accept that my surroundings seemed slightly distorted, with the shadows out of place, and that the malady I had suffered aboard Inigis's ship was back to add to all my other ills.
My shoulder was stiff, with a dressing like cured hide around it which extended down to cover my collar bone at the front and scapula at the back. I was naked and not particularly proud of that nakedness. I drew out the catheter, wincing, then slid back on the bed and removed the other tube, gagging at the smell.
What now?
I just sat there for a while feeling like shit, until a sucking exhalation alerted me to the opening of that door.
"Rhodane," I said.
"Consul Assessor."
"Be a good girl and get me some clothing will you?"
She snorted at that, but departed nevertheless. I must have drifted out of consciousness for seemingly only an eye-blink later she was back, accompanied by Slog and Flog. She had brought along some Brumallian dungarees, underclothing and a shirt that looked to be made of the same foamite that Fleet personnel wore. I was grateful, for the shirt was thick and would go some way to conceal my debility. I sat upright and reached for the garments.
"You are not ready," she said predictably.
"Is that Tigger's medical opinion?" I enquired, as I took the clothing from her then struggled to dress.
"No, it is mine."
"I need something to eat and drink," I said. Though I did not feel particularly hungry I was anxious to get myself functional again—working on the premise that this might even be possible.
"Do you feel ready to enter the spin ring?" asked Rhodane.
"You'll have to explain that."
"Brumallian ships do not possess artificial gravity, but an internal ring of compartments is kept spinning to give the—"
"Yeah," I interrupted. "I get the idea. I don't know if I'm ready, but there's one way to find out." I realised I was not my usual cheerful self at this point, and really did not care.
"Come, then."
She led the way to that disconcerting door and I followed. Slog hovered about me as if ready to assist. I gave him a look he interpreted rightly and he hovered no more. The door brushed over me smooth and dry as snakeskin. On the other side was something I'll call a corridor, but which looked more like an intestinal tract. The walls, however, were not soft—bearing a resemblance in feel to grainy wood and the look of cloudy glass. Light permeated this corridor, as I was to discover it permeated throughout the ship—emitted by layers of luminescent bacteria similar to that found in the body of one of their multi-legged biolights, which were thankfully absent here. After two branchings of this corridor I became increasingly aware of a bubbling sucking sound. Finally we came to its source: a wall I could see slowly revolving about a centre point. Rhodane pressed her hand against some fleshy nub and that same centre point slowly opened wide a sphincter.
"Here," she said, and launched herself through.
I wondered if I was ready for this, since I had a good idea of what to expect. Gritting my teeth I moved ahead of the two quofarl, then pushed myself through. Hollow shafts, like the spokes of a wheel, revolved about me. Rhodane had pulled herself into one of them and there clung to a ladder. She held out a hand, which I grabbed, and she pulled me in. For a moment, because I could still see beyond the door, I felt a surge of nausea as I revolved. Closing my eyes I clamped down on that reaction and began to push myself backwards along the ladder. After only a short distance, centrifugal force began to impinge, and I was no longer pushing myself along the ladder, but descending it. Looking up I saw Flog come through the opening and now, from my perspective, it was he who was revolving. He too grabbed the ladder and began to descend behind me.
At first it was easy, but with each step I felt my skin and flesh beginning to sag on my bones, and breathing started to become an effort.
Pausing, I asked, "When we reach the bottom will the spin acceleration be the same as Brumal's gravity?"
"Yes," replied Rhodane from below.
I had hoped otherwise.
Nearing the bottom of the ladder the soles of my feet hurt as they came down on the rungs, and for a moment I visualised myself walking along that skull-cobbled street, then my hands began to ache from holding up my abruptly enormous weight. It felt to me as if my internal organs were being sucked down towards the bottom of my torso, only suspended in place by threads and weak sheets that could tear or break at any moment. My leg muscles burned with lactic overload and my testicles seemed to have turned into lead shot. Finally reaching the floor, I swung round to the wall and rested my back against it. I really wanted to sit down, but knew that if I did so I would not be able to get back up again.