Here We Stand, page 75




“It’s a difficult one,” she said, sorting some notes on her desk. “I don’t think there’s ever going to be a right answer. Is it going to affect your operations if Fred won’t work with you?”
“Not really, Captain. Cosqui will.”
“Fine. I wish you’d told me beforehand, but I’d have done it if you hadn’t, I think, so you’ve saved me from being put in an awkward position. I try to stay above the disputes so I can be seen to be making non-partisan decisions”
Solomon decided not to point out that Ingram’s attempt to stay above things hadn’t achieved a perception of neutrality at all, but he was here to be penitent. “I’ll consult you in advance in the future,” he said.
“Good. So if it’s the moral aspect that’s bothering you, you know what not to do next time. If it’s purely operational, you’ve learned not to get caught.”
“I don’t think it ever put Marc at risk.”
“Did he know?”
“No.”
“You might want to break it to him first, then. He had his concerns about Fred.”
“I will.”
It was an anti-climax that didn’t leave Solomon feeling relieved. But a feud between himself and Fred didn’t interest the vast majority of personnel on the base, who were still more concerned with the more visible events of the last few weeks — the leak to Lawson, Elcano’s fate, security’s handling of the protest, and, at the gossip level, the saga of Duncan Wilson getting beaten up by a ten-year-old and bitten by a dog. Duncan’s fate might have amused some people, but there were those who felt it was a worrying sign that some Nomad residents were considerably more equal than others, a reaction that concerned Solomon.
But Ingram hadn’t shifted her position. Elcano was still going home for safekeeping, and nobody was calling home for the foreseeable future. It would, he hoped, all become academic in time.
The one thing people didn’t seem so worried about was the prospect of more aliens arriving, including hostile ones. The longer the Kugin and Protectorate navies took to show up, the more everyone relegated the threat, and seeing Nir-Tenbiku’s visit pass off without incident was creating a sense of security that wasn’t warranted.
Solomon continued to avoid the teeriks for the next few days, still hoping that Turisu had made Fred see reason or that Cosqui would tell Solomon not to worry because she was leading the team now. If he went to Fred and apologised again, he’d probably get the same response, even though Fred had now started taking the medication voluntarily. The temptation to monitor the commune’s conversations and check whether they were discussing the matter was almost overwhelming. But Solomon reminded himself of the line between wanting to know and needing to know. He had more than enough to monitor with the stream of Jattan chatter coming back from the spy ship off Dal Mantir.
He needed a friend right now. He’d befriended dozens of humans over the years, some more than others, but this was the first time he’d felt adrift and simply wanted someone to reassure him. Chris was too wrapped up with Ash to socialise with him, and Marc and Trinder were busy building their home lives. That left Alex. Alex had a private life too, but he always had time for Solomon.
Alex was still trying to build social bridges between Nomad’s tribes the same way he’d kept morale above water for years at the isolated Ainatio site, and Solomon didn’t have the heart to dissuade him. A talent show or a quiz night wasn’t a substitute for contact with Earth or reunion with friends in Elcano, though. The Cabot crew were being stoic about the restrictions, except for Jenny Park, but Solomon couldn’t avoid overhearing conversations with a recurring subject — that almost nobody on Earth knew they were alive. Lawson and Pham didn’t count.
It had come down to simply wanting to tell people back on Earth that they weren’t dead, not just relatives or friends but anybody at all who could set the record straight. It was as if saying they were dead was somehow enough to erase them from existence.
Perhaps it was; perhaps being forgotten was worse than being dead. But instead of fading as time went on, their resentment seemed to come and go in waves. Every time the Ainatio contingent voiced a complaint, it would reignite the crew’s anger about the company’s huge deception, although they didn’t blame the staff here for that. They’d been lied to as well.
Duncan Wilson hadn’t forgiven and forgotten either, but it had only been a few days since the barbecue incident. Solomon dropped into Alex’s office at lunchtime in the hope of socialising and found him changing into his tracksuit, eyes still fixed on something on his desk screen.
“Sorry, Sol, I’m late for a training session,” Alex said. “Right now I want to shove Duncan Wilson’s head down the toilet and flush. He’s filed an official complaint about the argument the other night and he wants Betsy put down as a dangerous dog. That means I’ve got to notify Britzilla, and he’ll get mad in the way only men trained to kill someone with a dinner fork can get mad.”
“Nomad doesn’t have an official complaints system yet, Alex.”
“Ainatio does.”
“Did. Ainatio’s gone.”
“In law, but not in a spirit. I’ve still got to sort it out.”
“I’m sure Marc can deal with it.”
“He’ll kill him. Please, come with me to training so I can hide behind you when he loses his shit. And why are you always in the bot now? Is this a permanent lifestyle change?”
“I find it more appropriate at the moment,” Solomon said. “And to be honest, I feel more secure in it. This week has been very stressful on a personal level.”
“Yeah, yeah, I heard.” Alex didn’t seem to think it was a biggie, as he’d put it. “So are you coming?”
Solomon had never visited Marc’s rugby sessions before. “I’m not really large enough to hide behind.”
“You’ll do.”
They walked down the main road, now officially called Levine Avenue, and turned left at the materials storage facility to the open grass that had now been levelled and marked up as a rugby pitch. It had also acquired proper goalposts at both ends and was starting to look like it was meant to be there. Twenty of the Cabot crew, including Jeff and Bissey, and some of the younger men from Kill Line were doing stretches and short sprints. Chris stood on the sidelines with Marc, unwrapping a sandwich.
Marc pointed at Alex. “You’re late,” he boomed.
“I’ve got a good reason. Honest.” Alex looked down at Solomon. “Here goes. I’d like a pharaoh’s funeral, please, if there’s enough of me left to fill the sarcophagus.” He strode up to Marc and blurted out the awkward news. “Duncan’s lodged a formal complaint and he wants Betsy put down.”
Marc stood with his hands on his hips, stony-faced. “Oh. Does he now.”
“I’m obliged to put the complaint to you, Marc. Don’t hit me. At least not the face.”
“And which fearless arbiter of fair play’s going to hear the case and pass judgement?”
“Ah... probably me. Or Ingram the Terrible.”
“Okay.” Marc took out his pocket screen, stabbed the icons with his forefinger, and waited, looking murderous. “Duncan? It’s Marc Gallagher. I hear you want a response to your complaint about me and Betsy... yeah, about that... okay, here’s my response. You can fuck off. Nobody touches the dog. Understand? If not, I’m happy to meet up with you and explain things any time. Dieter will want to draw you a diagram as well.” Marc ended the call, shoved the screen back in his pocket, and turned his stare on Alex. “What are you looking at me like that for? I sorted it out. Come on, we’ve got work to do. Get running.”
“That was very manly, Marc, but it’s not going to calm things down,” Alex said.
“Duncan’s definition of a serious incident isn’t quite the same as mine.”
“You know what I mean. They’re sulking about being second class to Brit privilege.”
“Oh, sod that, we’re all in the same boat,” Marc said. “Okay, I’ve been back to Earth, but I can’t call my mates or Sandra and explain where I am. I just have to talk to a civil servant because Fred dropped us in the shit.”
“Relax, Alex,” Chris said. “It’d be great if everyone was happy and best buddies, but as long as they’re functioning, or at least not being obstructive or a drain on resources, it doesn’t matter. Someone, somewhere will always have a grievance. Marc doesn’t owe anyone an explanation.”
Marc turned to Chris. “I’m not explaining, I’m getting pissed off. Anyway, what are you doing here? Did Ash send you here to toughen up?”
“You know me, I don’t do sport.” Chris sat down on the grass and took a bite out of the sandwich. “I came to watch Tev and see if he’s the human juggernaut you claim. Where is he?”
“It’s Sera’s antenatal check-up. He goes to support Joni.”
“You know, we should have an army versus navy game,” Alex said. “It’ll get people together to watch and eat hotdogs.”
“Nobody else likes rugby,” Chris said. “All the rugby fans are the same guys who come to these sessions.”
“Perhaps, but my rebellious Ainatio colleagues will come in the hope of witnessing Marc getting his superhero ass handed to him. Because Tev’s the only one who can knock him down.”
Marc tossed a ball from hand to hand. “If it’s army versus navy, we’ll be on the same team.”
“But Tev could make up numbers for the sailors. It’ll be a crowd-puller. The two giants of extrasolar rugby, head to head.”
Chris gazed into the distance. “Like being in a car crash. Twenty G at least.”
“What is?” Alex asked.
“The G-force in a tackle. And way higher when they do that scrum thing.”
“Al, if you think blood’s going to placate your boffins, why don’t we just have gladiatorial contests and get it over with?” Marc asked. “I’m up for it. Ingram can do the thumbs-down emperor bit.”
“I wish I hadn’t asked,” Alex said. “I’ll just slink away now and hope you don’t notice me for the rest of the session.”
Solomon envied Marc his ability to face down his critics and genuinely not care, rather like Ingram. He wondered if that was an option with Fred. Solomon could just carry on dealing with him as if nothing had happened, or even say he’d dosed the food for Fred’s own good and that he had no regrets, but he’d already apologised, and he didn’t know how to take that back. The moment had passed.
“Rik’s arrived,” Chris said, pointing. Rikayl had taken up position on the very top of one of the goalposts. “This’ll be fun to watch.”
“He’s waiting to grab the bloody ball and make off with it,” Marc said. “We’d better have a spare on standby.”
The teerik was looking around at his own height, not peering below with his head cocked on one side, which was usually a warning that he was going to swoop down and investigate. Perhaps he was waiting for the players to start a game and pass the ball in earnest. He’d chase anything that moved fast and piqued his curiosity, and he’d probably end up destroying the ball if he got hold of it. Marc only had two proper rugby balls and an American football, so Solomon made a note to get some more manufactured to keep the peace.
Jeff walked up to the goal and called to the teerik. “No ball, Rik. Don’t take the ball, okay? Just watch.” Rikayl looked down as if he’d suddenly noticed him but didn’t respond at all, not even with a stream of cheerful abuse. “What’s up with you? Are you in huff about something? Never mind.”
“What are the rules about restarting play if the ball goes missing?” Alex asked. “Do we go from the last place it ended up?”
“Oddly, the international rugby authorities failed to address what to do in the event of alien interference during a game,” Marc said.
Jeff kept looking up at Rikayl. “Y’know, I think there’s something wrong with him.”
“Ate too many bouncing fur balls, probably.”
“No, really. I’ve never seen him just sit there like that. He usually wants to join in with everything.”
Solomon felt a pang of worried guilt. He still hadn’t worked out what had happened to Fred’s leftover food and he hadn’t been able to bring himself to ask. If Rikayl had been eating it, he might have overdosed on the tranquiliser, especially as he was smaller than an adult teerik. Perhaps it had taken time to build up in his system.
“I think we should find a way to get him down from there and have the vet examine him,” Solomon said.
Chris carried on eating. “Yeah, I remember trying to get him down from the comms mast. No thanks. Leave him. He’ll either come down when you start tossing the ball around or he’ll fall off if he’s ill.”
“You know what your problem is, don’t you?” Marc said. “You’re too sentimental.”
“Okay, you shin up there and get him. Be my guest.”
Marc carried on limbering up. Solomon knew he should have pointed out that Rikayl might have ingested sedatives, but he’d wait and see.
The teerik was now looking up at the sky as if he expected something to fall on him, back flattened and wings held away from his sides like he was about to take off. Solomon hoped he wasn’t hallucinating. Hiyashi and Jeff raced past the goal, practising passes, but Rikayl still took no notice.
Chris was watching intently. “What’s he doing now?”
Rikayl was having difficulty keeping his grip on the small cap on top of the post, but he turned around one-eighty degrees, looking right and left, then pushed off from the top and fluttered down to the crossbar, head still jerking around like someone looking for a sniper.
Solomon had to say something now. “Chris, there’s a chance he’s eaten —”
“Shit, that’s not him.” Chris jumped to his feet. “Jeff? Jeff! It’s not Rik. It’s another teerik. Whoa —”
Another bright red teerik swooped out of nowhere and smashed into the one on the crossbar. For a few seconds, the two creatures were a single spinning ball of feathers and claws, rasping and shrieking, and then they tumbled to the ground. Players stopped dead and stared.
There was no mistake. There were two red teeriks slashing at each other in the middle of the pitch. Solomon couldn’t tell them apart now, but one managed to sink his claws into the other and slammed him on his back, then started stabbing with his beak. Scraps of feather and flesh flew into the air.
“Wanker!” The attacker could only be Rikayl. “Kill! This mine!”
He started dragging the limp body of his opponent around by its neck, then slammed it back and forth a few times on the grass. Jeff ran over to him and stopped out of beak range. Rikayl still looked enraged with his crest raised and his feathers fluffed up. By now the players and spectators were gathering around at a cautious distance.
“Is it dead?” Marc asked. “And are we sure that’s another teerik?”
Chris edged closer and took pictures with his screen. Rikayl rasped at him but went on mauling his victim.
“I’ve got quite a lot of questions,” Chris said. “Sol, can you do a visual comparison?”
Solomon mapped the defeated teerik’s physical features against Rikayl’s as best he could. There were minor differences, but externally, this seemed to be a teerik exactly like him. If Rikayl was abnormal, then so was this one, and it hadn’t come from the commune.
“I think you’ve finished him, mate,” Jeff said, walking right up to him and squatting at teerik eye level. “Come on, put him down. Are you hurt?”
“I okay,” Rikayl said. “He hurt, not me. Wanker. Not his place. Mine.”
Solomon could only interpret that as Rikayl objecting to another teerik on his territory. He was now dismantling the intruder, ripping out feathers and entrails. Solomon decided to let him get on with it, but when Rikayl lost interest in his victim, Solomon would collect the remains for analysis.
Marc leaned over the carnage for a closer look. “Where did he come from, Rik?”
“He gone.”
“I can see that. Well done. But have you seen him before?”
“Heard.”
“Did he speak? Could you understand him?”
“No words. Just know.”
Marc looked at Solomon. “Have you picked up anything unusual on monitoring? The system analyses all sound detected around the base, yeah?”
“It does, and there’s been nothing,” Solomon said.
“Okay, here’s my wild speculation list.” Chris picked up a feather and examined it. “One, this guy came here with Gan-Pamas and he’s been hanging around unseen. Two, one of the teeriks laid an egg the same way Caisin did and didn’t tell us. Three, Caisin had twins somehow but for some reason the commune only admitted to having Rikayl. Four, this isn’t a teerik but it looks like one — a mimic — but if it is a mimic, it means there are other teeriks who’ve been here for a very long time if another species has evolved to look like them. And if these are teeriks, what are Fred and the other guys? A different sub-species? Because two red ones both being abnormal in exactly the same way is a tad too coincidental for me.”
“This is your throwback theory,” Marc said.
“Maybe.”
Ingram was now on her way. Solomon tracked the quad bike she’d picked up. She came to a halt a few yards away and walked over to Rikayl, who was still busy plucking and gutting the unidentified teerik.
“Good God.” She watched in silence for a while. “What the hell is going on with this planet?”
Rikayl looked up at her. “He wanker,” he said. “I kill.”
“How many more of these are there?” She looked at Jeff as if he had all the answers when it came to teeriks. “Before I ask Fred if there’s yet another thing he hasn’t told us, did anyone see where this one came from?”