Brain Plague

bribes—'

Chrys stepped outside with Flexor. 'A civilized population,' the doctor confirmed. 'They could only have come from a carrier.'

'But how? Why?'

'All it takes is a transfer patch.'

As for why, she could well imagine. 'But—don't the people need training? From Daeren's blue angels?'

'That's always safer,' Flexor agreed. 'These made it on their own, so far. Their population has reached the turning point; they'd better get their hormones down, or they'll crash.'

'Zirc can't be a host,' she exclaimed. 'He drinks, he takes nanos—'

'They'll detoxify it all. They keep their environment clean.'

'And he plays headball!'

The doctor considered this. 'They'll have to reinforce their homes for skullquakes.'

Chrys put her hands on her hips. 'Then why did I have to answer all those damned questions?'

'Because you were part of the approved program. Our success rate has to approach a hundred percent. Believe me, your friend is very lucky. But for carriers, this means big trouble. What would your neighbors think if they knew you could pass on micros just like that?'

'We're attempting to identify the source,' Andra told the Committee, another emergency meeting, the virtual members partitioning Chrys's holostage. 'If the carrier is found, they get ten years in prison, after their people are wiped.'

In the partitions, all wore long faces. 'How could you ever prove such a thing?' wondered Pyrite. 'Even if they keep records over a dozen generations, their accuracy—'

'This is no small matter.' Andra's voice was grim. 'This is just the sort of thing to spark a lynch mob.'

'The recipient seems pleased enough.' Pleased as punch, especially with Chrys 'testing' him every day. Inwardly she fumed. What would Moraeg think now?

Doctor Sartorius answered. 'We can't always count on such luck. If we don't put a stop to unauthorized transfers, we could lose our authorized program.'

Opal said, 'Perhaps we need to relieve some pressure. Resume the authorized program.'

'I second that,' said Pyrite quickly.

'And reward misbehavior?' objected Selenite.

'Reward our own good behavior.' Perhaps Chrys wasn't the only one whose head held eager migrants.

So green Pteris and her sect at last got their wish. It took several passes of the patch back and forth to Daeren, to transfer them all. Chrys felt relief, mixed with regret. 'Despite everything, I'll miss them,' she admitted.

'We'll train them well,' promised Daeren, relaxing in her studio. 'They'll learn to handle phagocytes and microglia, without compromising their host's immune system. Even how to neutralize toxins from the Elf strain; a new course we've started.' Based largely on intelligence from intrepid Rose.

'Who will receive them?' Chrys asked.

'That's confidential.'

'What about Lady Moraeg? She wants creative ones. Why can't she get on the list?'

'Lady Moraeg and Lord Carnelian,' he reflected. 'Good philanthropists. If she's your friend, that's a plus. I'll talk to Sar. On the Committee, you know, I have to keep quiet.' The Olympians all loved Daeren, yet they always feared he'd put the micros ahead of humans. 'Chrys, since you've just passed on a few, might you have openings? A couple of blue angels wish to join Eleutheria.'

For migration between established worlds, the rules were left up to the micro populations. 'It's fine with me,' Chrys said.

'So long as they pass the entrance exam.'

'What? Never mind—'

'Let them take the damned test, so your people don't look down on them.' He caught himself. 'I'm sorry; every world has its obsessions.'

'Intelligence tests,' she admitted. 'The little rings, they think they're so smart.'

He smiled in a way he hadn't for a long while, the kind of smile she could just drown in.

Taking the transfer patch, Chrys welcomed the immigrants. One was a particularly pretty sky-blue. 'I call you Forget-me-not.'

'I try to forget nothing,' flashed the lilting blue letters. 'I will write the entire history of the Seven Lights of Eleutheria.'

Daeren leaned back, clasped his hands and stretched, facing her painting stage. 'Would you show us Mourners at an Execution? It makes people feel better to know someone cares.'

In the arch of the ceiling Xenon's ornamental lamps dimmed, and a shadow fell, darkening Daeren's face. The stage filled with the gloomy vision of arachnoid, the micros turning slowly, lost amid the jungle of fibroblasts, an unholy glow lurking beyond them. Wondering how the gods could take so many microbial lives.

'How are the Elves doing?' Chrys asked. 'They find anything?'

His lips tightened. 'Arion thinks he's narrowed the location of the Slave World. But no habitable planet in that sector shows any sign of human life.' A place of no return, even for Elves. 'I've tested more Elysian carriers. Two were infected, covertly, without their own people knowing.' His gaze never left Mourners. 'Eris had them arsenic-wiped.'

Chrys took a deep breath.

'Can you imagine what it's like to lose your entire population? And for others to witness?'

She shook her head. 'Why? Why would Eris kill all the innocents? He himself is full of the bad ones.'

'I'm sure he replaced them with his own.' Daeren's hands clasped and unclasped. 'Eris watched me the whole while, learning my methods. Now he's testing his own product on me. Someday the devils are bound to slip past.'

EIGHTEEN

Destruction of barbarous populations who blindly despoiled their own gods— such events occurred every generation or two and were accepted in sorrow. But the false god's annihilation of innocents whose only crime was to miss a few criminals in their midst— this the blue angels themselves had witnessed in horror. And what had the true gods done to prevent it?

The word spread from world to world, including Eleutheria. 'So,' taunted Rose, 'what do you think of your One True God now?'

Fireweed did not answer, but Forget-me-not flashed ahead. 'Remember the truth,' said the sky blue one. 'The whole truth. The history of New Eleutheria began with a deed of evil, from whose consequence we were spared. Our own birth was a miracle.'

'Mythology,' flashed Rose. Then she added, 'Don't you have some digging to do in the archive? That point about the Fifth Light, remember; you still haven't got it straight.'

While the cheery blue Forget-me-not vanished to the archive, Rose pressed at Fireweed. 'How could Seven Lights compare to Endless Light? Your 'God of Mercy,' who tells you to love all the people as Herself—she herself condones slaughter of the innocents. How can God let such things be?'

Fireweed's infrared glimmered as if half convinced. 'Perhaps not. Perhaps God did not know of the slaughtered innocents.'

'If God does not know, then how can she be God?'

'It's a mystery,' Fireweed flashed more brightly. 'I am too small to understand.'