The Forest Between the Worlds

  by G. David Nordley

  A persistent buzz against his wrist drew Akil Mateo into reality from deep sleep. “Kita?” he mumbled, and reached beside him. Empty air. Where was she? Where was he?

  As sleep faded, he found himself in a hammock of fine netting beside a hut in a clearing in a forest.

  Where? Memories flooded back into consciousness. He was fifty-one light years and change from Earth on the planet Haze and Kita was long gone.

  He felt another buzz on his wrist and hit the wait-a-minute bump on his com patch; so much for sleep. He wanted to think it was a bad dream, but seven weeks ago, as he had experienced time, he’d come home to find her things gone and a message telling him that their sixty-three-year marriage was over. He’d jumped at a chance to head out here and put all the reminders far, far behind him. But his dreams and the emptiness beside him were the greatest reminders of all and they followed him everywhere.

  His com patch buzzed again. He shook his head, yawned and stretched. After almost forty hours in the field, his body felt like lead in spite of the one-tenth gravity. It had better be important.

  At least this was a cool day, not much over 30 Celsius, he imagined, and with just a faint but very welcome breeze. The vast cloudy globe of Shadow, overhead, was already a waning crescent and the upper reaches of the interforest were already lost in darkness; in less than an hour, their sun, Oshatsh, would vanish behind it for twenty minutes. Three hours later, true night would fall. Here, between the twin worlds, the exhausting pace of six-hour days nearly doubled.

  Buzz. “Hello?”

  He looked at the image on the tiny screen stuck to his wrist. The shaved head of a woman stuck out of the tall, gently undulating low-gravity waves in the nearby lake they used as a swimming hole. The subtext told him the call was from Marianne Jones, a biological researcher he’d met a couple of standard days ago when he’d come down to the base.

  “Akil Mateo?” she asked.

  In her Australian accent, the last syllable of his name came out “kill” instead of “keel.” He sighed.

  “Ah-keel here,” he said, exaggerating the pronunciation slightly. “Just woke up. What is it?”

  “Sorry, but you’re the only one around. Could you check Sharada Fina’s hut and see if she’s there?” Her voice sounded worried. “I’ve been getting no answer from her com patch for the last hour.”

  “Sharada Fina? The anthropologist? Rumored to be going native?”

  Jones frowned. “She may be up in the forest. If so, she’s overdue.”

  Akil blinked. “May be? Didn’t she check out?”

  “Maybe through her system, but it’s got a privacy block. Base ops says her com patch is still in her dome with vital sign monitoring off. That’s okay if she’s in her dome, but I’ll bet she left it there.”

  He automatically ran the fingers of his left hand over his com patch, feeling the discrete bumps of its few manual controls. A com patch was generally deemed too unobtrusive for the Forest People to understand as technology, as long as you didn’t let them touch it or use it in their presence. His matched his skin color so well that he could barely discern its circular outline. “Leaving the com patch behind is going a bit far, isn’t it?”

  “Tell me about it! Sharada talked Uma Weiss into keeping technology out of the forest. Uma made an exception for com patches, but Sharada doesn’t like even that. Look, com patches record everything, so I think tech transfer is a smoke screen–she just hates people looking over her shoulder up there.”

  “How does she record her data?”

  “She dictates it when she gets back to a stand-alone system, then puts out an edited report.”

  He looked at the darkening band of green between the worlds. While the interforest wasn’t particularly dense, there was a lot of it and, he recalled, some vines were actually conductive. “Maybe she’s shielded by the vines.”

  Jones shook her head. “I’ve never had any problem. I think she just wants to have her ducks in order without back-seat drivers while she fights the battle over how intelligent they are.”

  Akil sighed. “I see. I’ll check it out.” It made sense. In addition to technological hygiene, leaving the patch behind would help preserve Fina’s data monopoly.

  He got up, stretched, and swung his legs off the hammock. The curly “grass” smelled vaguely like ginger as it squished beneath his bare toes. He glanced at his shorts hanging on the hammock support and shrugged. The heat led the ground staff to be very casual around the complex, for comfort. Well, he’d held out for two standard days to the likely, though politely unstated, amusement of everyone here. To hell with it. He smiled at himself; talk about going native.

  He dug his toes into the turf and pushed off, remembering to lean well forward to minimize his air resistance and maximize his traction. People told him it got to be automatic in a few standard days, but it was still very artificial for him, fresh from the one gravity of the star base. It felt okay as long as he concentrated and didn’t have to react.

  Two modest gliding strides took him across the compound’s central area to Dr. Fina’s dome. Like all the others, it looked like one of the three-meter ramshackle nests of sticks constructed by the pseudosimians.

  But there was a modern door set back in the shadow of the semicircular opening, and the huts came equipped with all modern conveniences. Not too surprisingly, the door didn’t open as he approached.

  “Open,” he said anyway. It didn’t.

  Akil shrugged. She could, of course, be sleeping. Akil pursed his lips and ran a hand through his curly, jet-black hair. One didn’t violate a colleague’s privacy lightly.

  “Jones? Are you copying this?”

  “Yeah. She could be in there screwing that amber-furred Forest Person with the black ear tips.”

  “Screwing? Do you really think anything, uh, vaginal is involved?” The Forest People had only one area of anatomical resemblance to people, but that was a prominently displayed embarrassment. He considered himself open minded, but the idea of her letting one of the round, furry, vaguely spider-shaped beings stick its organ into her body in the name of science was a little beyond him.

  Jones groaned. “Akil, everyone knows she’s been screwing the things; she’s said as much herself. She likes to shock people. Like standing in front of me covered with nothing but dirt and scratches and saying

  ‘oh, yes, I did’ when I’m open-mouthed and saying ‘you couldn’t have.’

  “But she’s serious. She thinks they do it to exchange data encoded in molecules as well as to bond with their group, like the Bonobo. Well, she’s bonded all right. Addicted is what I’d call it. But I don’t think the Forest People are doing anything more than following instincts.”

  “I understand there’s some debate about that,” Akil said, with some understatement. The dispute concerning the intelligence or not of the Forest People was more like a minor war among the staff. He tried not to take sides, but if there were genuine intelligence on these worlds, it had reacted very slowly to their presence. Or maybe it was just watching.

  “Debate, hell! We’re just spinning our wheels. She’s got all the data because she’s the only human being on this planet the Forest People accept, because she’s the only one that would ever be willing to do …

  that! I don’t know why I care.”

  Akil found himself momentarily speechless at the display of feeling and wondering whether Jones and Fina had some kind of relationship. Meanwhile, he stood in front of Fina’s door feeling like an idiot as he confronted her dome’s cyberservant.

  “I’ll try again.” He spoke toward the door. “Will you at least tell me if Dr. Fina is in?” Akil asked it. “I don’t need to bother her, just tell me if she’s in. We are concerned. If she is in and you don’t tell me, she may be inconvenienced unnecessarily in our efforts to find out.”

  “I have been instructed not to answer any questions.”

  The hell with it, Akil decided, and struck the door with the flat of his hand. It made a low, hollow woody sound. “Sharada Fina!” he yelled. “We just want to know if you’re home.”

  “I’m doing something private,” her voice answered. “Please respect my privacy.”

  “Sorry,” Akil said and turned away, embarrassed, then stopped.

  Something seemed wrong with her voice, he thought–her intonation or timing. A lack of tension, perhaps, or natural irritation?

  “Dr. Jones… .”

  “I heard, and I don’t believe it either. It’s a sim. That woman’s headed for a disciplinary hearing. Base ops, I’m formally requesting authorization to take control of Dr. Fina’s dome system. Explain things to Commander Richards. Hang on, Mateo, I’ll be right up there.”

  The ground base computer acknowledged its instruction. Akil’s intuition told him that after the ten minutes of lightspeed delay plus however long it took to get Commander Richards’ attention and decision, they would find an empty hut with its robot AI dutifully following its master’s instructions to simulate her presence for as long as possible.

  Jones came bounding from her swim in long low-gravity strides, large droplets of water still trailing from her lightly tanned skin. She was a big, athletic woman, a bit darker than could be accounted for by the trickle of ultraviolet light that managed its way through the vast, distended Hazian atmosphere. Polynesian roots, he suspected. She was, perhaps, five centimeters taller than Akil’s 175.

  Like everyo ne in this hothouse climate, she shaved her head, but her fuzziness indicated the last time must have been a couple of weeks ago. She grabbed a tree to slow herself and her large breasts kept moving in low gravity slow motion for some time after the rest of her body. The effect was surreal and, involuntarily, Akil grinned.

  She rolled her eyes upward. “Low gee, Mateo–get used to it. She’s not in there, is she?”

  He shrugged. “I’d guess not.”

  Akil felt his com patch buzz against his skin. “Go ahead,” he said.

  “Marianne, Akil, Sam Richards here. We’ve done a minimal override of Sharada’s AI instructions to let you in. We’ve had a little discussion up here, but the upshot is that she’s not there and you should probably go after her, promptly, and reel her in if you can. The two of you should be enough–a crowd would probably upset her and the Forest People. Everyone else is out in the field anyway. So you two have got it.

  “I’m sure it’s not necessary to remind you, but for the record, please avoid doing any violence to the Forest People, even to save Sharada’s life; she knew the risks and took them voluntarily. If there is any hostility, we might lose any chance of a peaceful evacuation; not the sort of calling card we wish to leave.

  If you can’t reel Sharada in within a standard day or so, come back and we’ll regroup. If you have any questions, handle them locally. Don’t wait for another fifteen minutes of lightspeed delay. Okay, you’ve got the ball now. Get going. Stay in touch with the ground base and good luck. Richards out.”

  ” We’ve got the ball?” Akil said, wondering how he’d gotten himself in that position.

  “I guess so. I’ll go in,” Jones said, ignoring his qualms. She turned to the door. “Open.”

  This time the door slid open without a fuss.

  Fina’s hut was full of forest things and standard equipment. Everything was there in perfect order, including her field suit and survival kit. The com patch was lying on the pillow of her web hammock.

  “This isn’t like her, all neat and everything in order. It’s as if she expected people in here before she came back. Chaos!” Jones exclaimed as she touched the field gear. “I wonder if she took anything this time?”

  She seemed worried to Akil.

  “Is that dangerous?” he asked. He knew the biochemistry was different enough that people wouldn’t be nourishing to Hazian predators. There were some basic compounds in common: water, methane, alcohol, and some sugars, and a few other simple organic compounds, but most of the complex stuff had gone in different directions.

  She shrugged and pursed her lips. “Not as far as we can tell, at least for short periods. The biology generally leaves us alone, though you have to watch out for some plants that can’t tell us from the natives.

  There’s water if you know where to look and some edible fruit. We can do without the nutritional supplements for a few days.”

  Akil nodded.

  Jones frowned. “But, Mateo, we haven’t been here long enough to think that everything isn’t dangerous.

  Sharada’s given up thinking.”

  “You think she’s in over her head?”

  “You better believe it. A lot of people do. She claims she’s gained acceptance by mimicking all this touching, stroking, and screwing, and she thinks she’s picking up something at least on some level; she likens the process to averted vision–she says she now gets feelings about things after she does it, as if the Forest People are picking up on her chemical language and manipulating her feelings. But when you ask her what she understands, she can’t translate.”

  Akil looked her in the eyes. “It sounds like there were all sorts of warning signals that something like this was going to happen.”

  She shrugged. “Mateo, a warning has to be exceptional. Alarms that are on all the time are just noise.

  Uma Weiss is getting ready to recall her, but I think that’s more because of the time Uma’s daughter, Olympia, has been spending with her.”

  “Olympia’s what, twelve? You’re not suggesting …”

  Jones shook her head. “That would be going too far, even for Sharada. Besides, Olympia would never go anywhere without her com. But Uma’s getting worried.”

  Feeling he was getting in over his head, Akil wanted to change the subject and gestured to some long pointed wood poles leaned against one of the walls in Sharada’s dome. “Those look a lot like spears to me.”

  Jones shook her head. “No reports of them ever using them that way. I see them sticking out of vines here and there, with Forest People using them as perches, to avoid contact with the vine. If you come in contact with a vine, it starts to envelop you with sap and digest you; that’s how the forest stays clean.”

  “So the Forest People sit on the sticks and don’t get enveloped; that sounds intelligent to me.”

  Jones shrugged. “Look, ‘intelligence’ is a catch-all for a lot of different talents, and these things might even be able to do biosynthesis faster and better than we can, but for a race that’s supposed to be on the verge of intelligence, the Forest People don’t seem to interact with us as much as parrots or chimpanzees back home. Of course, I’m more of a biologist than an anthropologist.”

  Akil shook his head. “I wish we had plausible similicrons.”

  “In a month or two, we will. We need enough data on behavior and chemistry to fool beings that perceive right down to the chemical level.”

  “Like dogs?”

  “Dogs with hands smart enough to retroengineer the the robots and resent the intrusion. We aren’t there yet, and until we get there, our data gathering has to be open and in person.”

  “And that person is Sharada.”

  Jones smiled. “Look, I understand that much, about not wanting to leave everything to the robots. Maybe she thinks she can do something before they arrive. She’s probably just ten kilometers up at their usual meeting place. It should take us three hours to get there, max. A stroll through the park.” Jones smiled.

  “With a couple of surprises. You’ll enjoy it.”

  “Like this?” He spread his arms to indicate his nakedness.

  Jones shrugged. “She does.”

  Akil felt very uncomfortable about that.

  Jones laughed. “You should see your face. I was just kidding. Grab your coveralls and the standard low tech survival stuff. I’ll grab her kit, too; she’s been away too long and may need the supplies.”

  Akil was still nervous. “I’m going to ask Stavros to follow up, just in case.” The ground base geologist had struck Akil as reliable.

  Jones, who had started to gather Sharada’s things, turned and shrugged. “Whatever. It shouldn’t be necessary. By the way, I’m Marianne.” She stuck out a hand.

  He took it. “Ah-keel,” he said with a forced smile. He was not going to put up with “ackle” for hours on end. He looked into her eyes. He hardly knew her, but she’d been on the surface over a month. Was she someone he could trust?

  Her eyes were steady as if she were checking him out as well. “Ten minutes?” she asked.

  He nodded. “Sure. I’ll meet you at the north end.” Oshatsh vanished behind the limb of Shadow as he said this, and the sounds of the surrounding forest changed as the light dimmed.

  *

  Akil returned to his hut and found a fresh set of coveralls; they were light and roomy and as tough as a fabric made from local fibers could be. They had an open weave to allow plenty of circulation, but he started sweating almost as soon as he put them on. He pulled on some lightweight boots made from a stiff open weave with gripping soles made from some hardened local resin.

  His field kit was still packed from his previous foray, but he double-checked it. It held nutrient supplement pills, a roll of tissue, a pack of medical patches of various sizes, a polished obsidian knife in a fabric sheath, a mesh water flask lined with a rubbery native leaf, and some other useful things made of materials unlikely to surprise any natives. If, he reminded himself, they really had the wits to be surprised.

  He slipped the kit onto his back.

  Thinking of the nutrient pills, he took a couple and gulped them down with a glass of water. They could forage for bulk; several Hazian fruits and leaves were edible, though of incomplete nutritional value. Thus equipped, he hurried out the door to their rendezvous and waited.

 

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