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chair, and various other external conditions. Chairness is therefore not a
property of a particular object, but a set of relationships between the object
and external factors. This quality is shunyata... often translated as
"emptiness." In isolation, a chair may exist as an object but it's "empty."
Chairness arises only when the object relates in a specific way to the rest of
the world.
I ate more that breakfast than at any other meal in my life. And I'd never
been a hesitant eater: my high-powered gene-spliced metabolism always needed
plenty of fuel. But that morning, I surpassed all previous records. I just
couldn't stop shoveling in food.
The phrase "eating for two" kept echoing in my head. I pictured the Balrog
siphoning off my intake, not letting a single mouthful reach my stomach... but
even that image wasn't enough to slow me down. I remained so hungry I found
myself casting ardent looks at the mess's meat section bacon, sausage,
kippers, and slabs of dead animal I couldn't even identify to the point where
I might have renounced my lifelong vegetarianism if Tut hadn't walked in the
door.
He was looking surprisingly dapper, with his face burnished far beyond his
usual shiny-finey standards. Gold glinted like pure rich honey under the
mess's bright morning lights; either Tut had found some new metal polish or
he'd spent untold hours buffing it to a perfect mirror surface.
"Hey, Mom," he said, "I've been looking for you. Were you messing with the
door to the equipment room? It's locked, and it won't let me in."
"Festina did that. Admiral Ramos. She won't let us near the equipment, for
fear we'd do something bad."
Tut made a noise like his feelings had been hurt. I told him, "Don't pout,
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it's mostly me she mistrusts. Or rather, the Balrog inside me."
"Huh." He looked down at the dishes all around my place at the table. There
was nothing for him to steal this time I'd eaten everything and practically
licked the plates clean. "So when do we get to this planet?" he asked.
I tongued a control on the roof of my mouth. In the bottom corner of my right
eye, a digital time readout appeared. "We'll be there in two hours," I told
him. "Do you know what we're doing once we arrive?"
"Auntie gave me the basics last night. Mystery threat. Search for survivors.
Save anyone we find. I'm also supposed to stun the knickers off you if the
Balrog tries any tricks."
"Good luck. You'll need it."
My sixth sense was still in perfect working order; I hadn't asked the Balrog
to turn it off after the previous night. Not only did I know the position of
everything near me, including objects behind my back and out of sight around
corners, but I'd begun perceiving life forces again. If Tut decided to shoot
me, his intention would ring out loud and clear from his aura: enough warning
to let me dodge, or even shoot him first.
It seemed unfair, in a way having this extra edge over Tut's mere human
perceptions. But if I asked the Balrog to turn the sixth sense off, what good
would that do? The Balrog itself would still have its full mental awareness;
Tut and everyone else would still be at a disadvantage relative to the spores.
So why should I blind myself when it wouldn't help anyone? Staying augmented
put me on a more even footing with the moss inside me. It might even give me
the strength to resist any power plays the Balrog might attempt.
Yes. I'd keep the sixth sense for the time being.
As soon as I'd made that decision, my voracious hunger abated. It felt like a
return to sanity.
A short time later, Festina called to say that Tut and I could check out the
tightsuits we'd wear for the landing. She let us into the equipment area one
at a time and kept close watch on everything we did.
I wasn't allowed to touch anything except my own suit. Festina said she'd
checked the other equipment herself. I couldn't help asking a barrage of
questions, mostly about how Festina had dealt with new gear and
procedures things that had changed since she'd been on active Explorer duty.
But it turned out "Auntie" Festina had kept up with recent developments in the
Explorer Corps: she'd done everything exactly the way I would have. She even
let me look at the results of diagnostic tests she'd run earlier that morning.
All equipment was working at optimal.
Once we'd finished with the tightsuits, Festina took Tut and me to the
bridge, where she seated herself at the seldom-used Explorers' console.
Sometime during the night, she'd programmed four probe missiles to perform
initial reconnaissance on the site where we'd land. The missiles would be sent
down as soon asPistachio reached Muta orbit. Based on their data, we'd decide
how to proceed.
"And what site are we going to?" I asked.
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"The one that sent the Mayday."
Festina turned a dial on her console, and the bridge's vidscreen changed to
show a satellite photo of Muta one of hundreds included in the files we'd
received from the Unity. A red dot glowed in the middle of a region that
looked like a vast plain. "The Unity called this Camp Esteem." She made a
face. "Typical Unity name. It happens to be the newest camp on the planet...
so the survey team was fresher than any other team in residence. Maybe that's
why they managed to get out a call for help when all the other teams went
without a peep. Or not. It could just be coincidence."
"If that's the most recent site developed," I said, "it should be close to
Fuentes ruins. The last four teams were all investigating Las Fuentes."
"I know. Team Esteem was poking through an abandoned Fuentes city they
code-named Drill-Press." Festina made another face. I knew from the files I'd
read that the Unity had named all of Muta's geography after wholesomely useful
tools. (I was glad we weren't going anywhere near the Fuentes city called
Reciprocating Saw.)
Festina went back to the satellite photo. "For the sake of caution, the Unity
surveyors didn't pitch camp inside the city they set up quarters a short
distance away." She zoomed the view on the vidscreen. "That's the city,
Drill-Press, in the lower half of the picture. You'll notice a good-sized
river running through downtown. The river's called Grindstone. The Unity camp
is here: fifteen minutes upstream from the city."
The original photo had shown a good chunk of the continent, so the zoom had
disappointingly crude resolution pixels the size of fingerprints, with a
chunky lack of detail. Nevertheless, I could make out the features Festina had
described. A good-sized river ran vertically down the center of the shot; it
had a few gentle curves, but essentially flowed north to south (according to a
legend in a corner of the picture). In the north, just west of the river, the
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