The Xenocide Mission Read Online Free PDF Page A

‘At last!’ when Oomoing appeared, accompanied by the Sharer.
    ‘I have Sharings from the Learned Mother’s family,’ Fleet said, stepping forward. ‘Three of them.’
    ‘Then you’ll need a while to take them in, Learned Mother,’ the Sharer said. ‘Come in here.’
    She led them into a cubicle halfway along the passage and drew the curtains behind her. Oomoing squatted down in the centre of the cubicle and the Sharer turned to Fleet.
    ‘Well?’ she said. Fleet squatted and drew a slim silver box from his tunic, which he laid on the polished floorboards in front of Oomoing. She opened it quickly and feasted her eyes on the contents: the three translucent, waxy nodules within.
    Her children’s Shareberries. Their memories of the last half year.
    ‘They’re in descending order of age, right to left, Learned Mother,’ Fleet said. ‘But first . . .’ Oomoing shifted her hungry gaze from the nodules and looked up at Fleet. He bowed, and his tone was suddenly shy again. ‘I have a Sharing of my own, Learned Mother, and I know my mother would want you to take it first.’
    ‘Well, really,’ said the Sharer, ‘this . . .’
    ‘Wait,’ Oomoing said. Something in Fleet’s tone had touched her, and she was having to face the fact that although the surroundings of the Waking Hall had done a lot to settle her, the whole scenario – being on the habitat, whatever mission Marshal of Space Barabadar had in mind for her – was most unusual. And as Fleet had pointed out, she was on the Reserve list, so she had responsibilities. She really should find out what was happening. ‘I’ll take his Sharing first,’ she said.
    Smothering a smile, Fleet sat down opposite her. ‘I must tell you,’ he said, ‘that my own information was given to me over a radio link, but what I have, I’ll Share.’
    The Sharer had moved round to stand behind Fleet. ‘And where is it?’ she said.
    ‘Lower left,’ said Fleet.
    The Sharer lifted his mane to show the back of his head and his Sharemass, the mass of dark, wrinkled spheres, hundreds of them and several layers deep, that covered it. She took a clip and pinned Fleet’s mane back, then ran a finger over the spheres at the lower left until Fleet said, ‘That one.’
    ‘I have it.’ She opened the small cupboard at the back of the cubicle and took out a small scalpel and a silver bowl. She turned back to Fleet with the scalpel in her hand and whipped off the Shareberry he had selected. A good Sharer could do this without even drawing blood, and she was a good Sharer. The nodule was small and dark and leathery. Then she held it carefully between two fingers of one hand and made a small incision in its rough surface with the top of the scalpel. She put the scalpel down and peeled away the surface of the Shareberry. All that was left was the waxy centre, which she put into the bowl.
    She squatted next to Fleet and held out the bowl to Oomoing.
    ‘Learned Mother, take this Sharing of your Loyal Son as your sacred duty,’ she said. Oomoing reached out, took the Shareberry and placed it reverently in her mouth. She felt the saliva begin to flood around it, the Sharing enzymes starting to break it down and feed the information to her brain. ‘Will you take the others now or later, Learned Mother?’
    ‘Later,’ Fleet said. The Sharer pointedly ignored him and continued to look at Oomoing.
    ‘Later,’ Oomoing agreed.
    ‘Later it is, then,’ the Sharer said brightly, packing her instruments away. ‘Just call.’
    She withdrew. Fleet studied Oomoing’s face carefully, waiting for her to absorb the new memory she had just been given. Oomoing shut her eyes, sat back on her haunches and let it come.
    Even though the Shareberry had come from the side of his Sharemass (acquired memories, incidental thoughts) and not the middle (personal information, to be Shared only among Fleet’s family) there was the inevitable echo of Fleet’s other memories – shades, textures, feelings