Easy to Be a God, page 32
FORTY-THREE
The Supreme Suhur stopped in front of the pen, looking down at a dozen nestlings, which crouched under the soaring totem of the clan. Hundreds of almost identical bones had been strung on the long ribs of a zekkel. Each of them had been taken from the body of a warrior, who died a glorious death in battle or was killed while hunting. Commemoration was denied only to those who died in the killing pits or didn’t last long enough to undergo the rite of passage. Every other member of the clan left behind a lasting trace: a single bone, adorned with an ornament praising his lineage and heroic deeds. Few smooth bones belonged to the young Warriors of the Bone, who lost their lives soon after leaving the pen, having been killed in the first battle or mangled by animals while learning to hunt.
Tore Numa-Reh, eyeing the nestlings, noticed that the warriors who’d watched the fires burning beyond the circle of bone shacks started to gather behind him, hastened by the densha.
“It’s time,” he rumbled, lifting his arad. “Prepare the stones! Open the pen!”
The accompanying mennites started to pull the honbut ribs sticking out of the rock-hard ground.
They kept throwing them on the clattering pile, until they made an opening wide enough for the densha to get inside. The warrior stigmatized with dried pelchavkas rushed past the Supreme Suhur, covering his eyes with the thicker eyelids, as tradition dictated.
“Take your pick,” ordered Tore Numa-Reh.
The selection happened in the blink of an eye. The four smallest nestlings from the last breeding, deemed too young to be subjected to the ritual cutting, let alone burning, had been separated from the rest. Commending the priest’s choice, the chief of the clan called him over.
“The caves or the altar?” he asked.
“The altar,” Hakrad Redo-Tele decided after some thought.
Tore Numa-Reh tapped his arad in approval. The densha guided the little ones outside the pen, where the mennites accompanying the priest briskly led them toward the rock on which offerings were usually made.
The remaining nestlings stood in a row in the middle of the pen, with their palps toward the bone totem. The Supreme Suhur gave another signal, and the youngsters left the shelter, in which they had been staying since being cut out from the pelchavkas of their carrier. It was time for them to undergo the rite of passage, after which they would be recognized as full members of the clan and would be able to take part in the upcoming decisive battle.
They were divided into pairs, two per each bonfire. When everything was ready, the Supreme Suhur once again tapped his arad on the rock-hard ground.
The Warriors of the Bone, waiting behind the shacks, removed the carved flat stones from the embers and mounted them quickly to the bone handles. Without waiting for further instructions, they approached the nestlings and pointed the ritual stones at them. Then, after Tore Numa-Reh tapped his arad once again, the nestlings stepped forward as one, pressing their torsos against the hot pieces of rock. The burned skin sizzled, and this was the only sound that could be heard until the next tap of the arad. Afterwards, the nestlings stepped back and froze again. On their bodies, just below the third hand, appeared a clear pyroglyph with the symbol of the clan. The first one of hundreds that would cover all their skin, except the parenchyma.
The ceremony continued, accompanied by the tapping of the arad and the sizzling of the burned skin, which the densha had been hardening for some time, making cuts every now and then, first gently, then harshly. Thanks to this, the nestlings could now withstand the contact with the red-hot stones, although they still suffered pain.
In the middle of the ceremony, after another command of the Supreme Suhur, a thin whistle could be heard over the sizzle. The chief of the clan pointed with his hand to a youngster who could not stand the pain. A mennite standing closest to him pulled both masticators out of the sheath and lowered them upon the adolescent’s body in a fluid movement. The massive weapon raked the skin and shattered the still delicate bones, sending brown splashes of gore in every direction. One blow was all that was needed to kill the unworthy. The densha immediately pulled the corpse away so that nothing would disturb the ceremony anymore.
“Sergeant Pryde—?”
Henryan looked up from the display, hearing someone’s voice behind him.
A slender woman in a jumpsuit of medical services stopped by his workstation. The plaque adorning her flat chest showed a name “Bonicelli.”
“Yes,” he decided to help her out. “Sergeant Teddie Prydeinwraig. What is it?”
She held out her hand with a reader in it.
“Today at eighteen twenty, you must show up in the medical block 74C for a checkup. Attendance required.”
“I think there has been some sort of mistake.” Henryan faked surprise, noticing the lieutenant’s curious glance. “I underwent a series of tests immediately after arrival.”
The medic shrugged.
“Maybe, maybe not. Here is the request. Please acknowledge the receipt.”
Henryan pressed his thumb on the screen held by the medic, and then downloaded the document to his reader, glancing at the superior, who had already approached his workstation. When the medic walked toward the exit, Valdez held out his hand.
“I don’t understand …” Henryan said, showing him the checkup request.
“Maybe it’s them,” the lieutenant suggested.
“Gods?”
“Who else?” Valdez leaned over the console and lowered his voice. “Give it a try. Maybe they want to contact you. Discreetly.”
“But—”
“But me no buts, Sergeant,” Valdez said loudly, straightening up. “You must show up for the checkup. That’s an order.”
“And what about my work?” Henryan asked.
Valdez patted his pocket where he kept a crystal with the tracker.
“I know how to install it. I’ll be checking the terminals until you come back from the MedDep.”
“If you insist …”
He took the reader from the superior, who turned, heading back toward his workstation.
“Lieutenant!” Darski called after him.
“Yes?”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“What’s this ceremony all about?” Henryan pointed to the display.
The deputy commander looked at him in surprise, but a moment later, his eyes showed a glint of understanding.
“Right, you haven’t seen yet how they make Easter eggs out of them.” Valdez turned back, leaned on the partition, and then began to explain, “That’s their rite of passage. No Suhur becomes a Warrior of the Bone until he goes through a few rituals. Sometime after they are placed in a pen, their guardian, I mean the one that doesn’t get back to—how shall I put it—”
“I know who you mean,” Henryan said.
“Yes, yes …” the lieutenant muttered, momentarily distracted, and then continued, “The first ritual is, as we call it, making Easter eggs. A densha cuts the skin, first very shallowly and gently, and then, when the wounds heal and scars harden, again, but deeper and harsher. It may seem cruel, but if you look at it from practical point of view, you will understand they very much need it. Suhurs don’t know medicine. A wounded warrior will either get better by himself, before his body weakens enough for the tahars to devour him, or he will perish. Their exoskeleton doesn’t develop until later, so this is the only way for young Suhurs to become more resistant, if only to bites, and don’t forget that nearly all Suhurian critters are poisonous. At the same time a densha teaches them to control pain. You’ve seen what happened to the one who couldn’t stand it, haven’t you?”
Darski nodded. He still had that picture in his head. The adolescent was killed in a flash, and although many Suhurs witnessed it, none even flinched.
“That’s how they treat every nestling which is a disappointment to a clan,” Valdez concluded.
“And what about the little ones that were taken somewhere?” Henryan asked.
The lieutenant’s face darkened.
“They will be sacrificed,” he replied after a moment’s silence.
“How come? Why?”
“You see, Pry …” Lieutenant Valdez began, but then stopped as if he was lost for words. “Let me put it this way. They realize that any day now they will have to fight a decisive battle. They are primitive, but not stupid. They know that this time they have no chance of winning, and that the enemy will butcher all survivors. So they prefer to zap the vulnerable nestlings themselves.”
“And if by some miracle they win?”
Valdez shrugged.
“If they win, they will live on, not feeling any remorse. Don’t judge them by your own standards, Sergeant. They differ from us. Not only in appearance.”
FORTY-FOUR
Henryan appeared in the waiting room of the medical block 74C a few minutes ahead of time. Apart from him, there were several unknown to him soldiers and technicians in the brightly lit room. At eighteen twenty sharp the name “Prydeinwraig” flashed over the door of one of the offices, so he went inside, looking around uncertainly.
An inconspicuous looking blonde with a fair complexion was standing by the diagnostic table. Dr. Ashnalia Gupta, the plaque read. She smiled politely, reaching out for his reader. Henryan didn’t give it to her right away, but it had no effect on the doctor’s attitude.
“Easy, Sergeant Darski. I don’t know the password, you don’t know the countersign, or the other way round, but you can trust me.” This time the reader changed hands. “What’s bothering you?”
“I would like to run a full scan.”
“What are we looking for?”
“Everything that deviates from the norm. Extra implants, foreign bodies, modifications. Also on a nano-scale.”
She pursed her lips, and then bit the lower one.
“It goes far beyond the scope of a routine checkup,” she said after a moment’s thought.
“Zaitsev must’ve explained everything to you, right?”
“Have you told him more than you have told me?” she asked, giving him a condescending smile of a medic.
“I can’t say more than I know myself,” he began anew. In his opinion, he sounded sincere enough. “Thanks to you, I got to know that the warden of the penal colony, where I did time, wants to bust my balls. To this end, he will send some codes to the Security Department. I want to find out what he is going to activate with them.”
“Well, well. A bit of intellectual effort and we have specifics. This narrows it down, because we can rule out any biological modifications.” She turned to the diagnostic table. “Please undress and lie down.”
He took off his jumpsuit, then the underwear, and lay down naked on the cool table. The soft surface of the medical equipment adapted to fit the shape of his body. The blonde stood at the console behind Henryan’s head. A moment later the hemispherical cap of the scanner was lowered, and the exam began. Three consecutive scans, each more accurate than the last, took a minute at most. Before Henryan could fully relax, he felt a slight burning sensation in his right forearm, and suddenly the blinding glare surrounding him began to fade slowly.
“You can dress now,” the blonde said flatly, when the scanner was lifted to the ceiling.
Henryan sprang down to the floor, and a moment later stood in front of the woman, zipping his jumpsuit.
“There is nothing in your body that shouldn’t be there. I’m talking about implants, chips, and so on. At least on a macro-scale. To be sure, I injected you with nanoanalyzers that within a day will scan your body at the cellular level. Don’t worry; you’ll excrete them within the next twenty-four hours.”
“But there must be something …” Henryan insisted.
“Sergeant,” the doctor pouted, “I am not blind, and this station is equipped with the latest-generation scanning equipment. Nothing can hide from it. The only foreign body in your organism is a standard medical chip that—”
Darski grinned.
“Can you run diagnostics on this little sucker?”
She eyed him as if he’d asked if she was hiding a third breast in her armpit.
“Yes.”
“Shall we … ?”
“We shall.”
“Do I have to undress again?”
She burst out laughing.
“If you feel the need to expose to women, then go ahead. Although it would be strange with the high doses of sex-suppressors they give the employees and soldiers here.”
He shook his head.
“I’m not an exhibitionist,” he declared.
“In that case, just sit down over there and tilt your head.” She pointed to another piece of medical equipment.
Henryan settled in a high-back chair, which after activation forced him to touch his chest with his chin.
“Just a minute …” the doctor said. “One more second … There.”
“Got it?” Darski asked, still doubled over uncomfortably.
“Yeah …” she said.
“And?” He tried to move, but the stronger he pressed the headrest, the greater resistance he felt. “Hey! Can I get out of here?”
“Oh!” The chair straightened simultaneously with her sigh, releasing the patient. “I’m sorry, I switched off for a moment―”
“No worries.” Henryan shook his head as if to check he could still move it. A moment later, he saw the woman’s face and paled, too. “What is it?”
The blonde swallowed loudly before she spoke.
“What you have in your head looks like a normal medical chip, but it’s certainly not that.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I got hooked up to it, but when I turned on the analyzer …” Her voice faltered. “This thing not only didn’t allow to be explored, but also blocked access to my equipment for me.”
“How is this possible?” Seeing that the doctor shakes her head, deep in thought, he repeated a little louder and more forcefully, “How is this possible?”
The second time, he pulled her out of her stupor.
“It must be some kind of top-secret military technology. I’ve never seen anything like this.”
“What does it do?”
She looked at him mockingly.
“Reads your mind, washes, cooks, and if you are naughty, it will turn your organs into jelly.”
“Are you making fun of me?”
“You have started this!” she snapped. “I said clearly that I had never seen anything like this.”
She was right; he acted like a fool.
“I’m sorry … But I need to find out what it is and how to block it.”
“I can’t help you with that.” She shrugged.
“Perhaps you know someone who could help me?”
The doctor thought for a long moment.
“Maybe—”
“Who?” Henryan cut in.
“One of our technicians,” she answered after a moment’s hesitation. “You can trust him. I’ll arrange a meeting for you.”
“But when?” Darski burst out. “I can’t get away from work again. Especially to go to the technical department. Or should I ask the superior for a day off, because I have to change the oil in my head? I don’t think it would work. And in my free time I have extra duties to perform as punishment, also under the supervision of Lieutenant Valdez. He might get suspicious.”
It was only part of the truth. He wanted this to be done as soon as possible.
“In that case I’m very sorry, but—”
“It’s one of the med techs, if I understood you correctly?” When the doctor nodded, he asked her, “Call him in to repair the analyzer.”
“He is off duty now,” she said.
“So what?” Henryan was not to be deterred. “All other technicians are certainly busy, and you have a patient on the table and can’t complete the examination …”
She looked at him strangely, as if he was inducing her to commit sin.
“Are you always so resourceful?” she asked, reaching for her comlink.
“Only when I’m in a tight spot,” he answered, knowing that the woman wouldn’t understand this archaic saying anyway.
“It’s a no go,” the technician summoned by Ashnalia threw in the towel.
This one was white for a change, even though he had a New Russian name. A big blond man with a round face and large hands darted his fingers across virtual keyboards with such grace as if he were a virtuoso giving a laser-harp concert. All his efforts were, however, in vain. The chip defended itself against every attempt of interference with its contents. And counterattacked, if only it was given a chance.
“Are you sure?” Henryan asked, although he knew the answer.
“I’m positive,” Makarkady confirmed. “Someone went to great lengths to protect this little gizmo. Someone with a lot of money and a lot of time, or many clever people at their disposal.”
“You mean the government,” the doctor concluded.
“Or the Admiralty,” the technician added, picking up his equipment.
“Fry the damn thing,” Henryan asked the man, grabbing his arm.
The technician looked at him, amused.
“Have you seen the chip?” he asked, when the grip on his arm grew stronger. Darski shook his head. “Show him, Ashnalia.”
The medic stretched the scanner’s display and a moment later, all the three of them saw a holographic image of the inside of the patient’s skull. Zooming in limited the field of vision to the occiput and a cylindrical object stuck inside it, from which dozens of thin tendrils protruded, entangling a large part of the lobe of the brain.
“You fry the chip, you fry yourself,” the technician said.
“I’d rather fry myself than wake up in the Sturgeon Belt again.” Henryan looked at him pleadingly.
“I’m sorry, my friend, I don’t know what belt you are talking about, or who this Sturgeon person is, but I’m not able to help you. This technology is vastly superior to anything I’m familiar with. If it weren’t for the serial numbers, I could think Aliens tagged you.” He turned to the medic. “Time for me to go,” he said, and walked out, leaving her alone with the desperate sergeant.
