by Cam Daly
She did a very human ta-da hand motion. He just stared.
“I see something like subtitles when you do certain things. Humor is especially tricky for us.” Certain awkward moments from their conversations at Alcatraz suddenly made sense.
“This is all…this is kind of. Hmm. I have a million questions.”
“I’ve had this conversation more than once, and it tends to go the same way even on different worlds. But I need to jump ahead to the part where you understand our immediate situation because there are decisions to be made. The Tumorish are not the ‘most dangerous’ aliens I meant. That title belongs to their masters, the Craven. You need to tell us what you have been up to for the past twenty four hours that could have made them decide to snatch you in such a public place.”
He started to speak then stopped again. “Us?” He recoiled and looked her up and down. “You look human but you keep talking about your body like it's a separate thing. Are there a bunch of little…yous…in there?”
“No. Just me. My support team can see and hear everything I do.”
“Are they close by?”
“No. We have a way of instantly sending signals very long distances. Your people would probably call it quantum entanglement based communications.”
“Tangle…what?”
“Let’s give it a simpler name. Tangle…comms. Tanglecomms. That’s how I talk to my people.”
“Okay. So you are just ‘you’ like I am just ‘me’. What I am seeing is the real you.”
“Umm, not exactly. The body I am wearing is just a machine to carry my cranial pod around.”
He stared at her forehead. “Cranial pod? So you’re sitting up there in your head, pushing buttons and stuff?”
“No. I am, or was, around the same size as you. There’s a race called the Molu who are much smaller. They do travel together in vehicles that can look exactly like other races. They call them familycraft. My brain is a lot like yours, but in a protective enclosure called a cranial pod.”
“How would I recognize a Molu person, or a Tumorish. Or Craven?”
“If there are any live Craven on this planet, which is not definite, they will be hidden in the last place that we would ever look for them. They avoid direct contact with anything that could potentially hurt them. The other two will look and act pretty much exactly like any normal human. Under some conditions even I can’t tell the difference with certainty, and my body is designed to spot them and notify me.”
“How does your body work?”
She stared off into space for a long moment. “Okay. So we’re going to do this after all. Let’s keep it short. There are some things I can tell you about us and what brings me here because either you need to know in order to help me, or if you told anyone else they would just think you’re crazy. But I’m not going to give you specific details about a lot of things, especially science, because just mentioning to one of your physicists that something is possible or some fundamental assumption is wrong will alter the course of your development.”
“But you just told me about the tanglecomms.”
“You humans are about to work those out already. But if I told your scientists that their universal constant for gravitation was neither universal nor constant, that would mean something to them.”
“I don’t really get what…never mind. What-“
“Uh-uh. Hold your questions.” She took a conspicuously deep breath. “I’m not a machine. My brain was changed through a process we call Activation and placed in a synthetic body called a Paleon Industries Interloper. We Actives use different bodies for different roles. My original body didn’t have a fifth digit on each extremity, or breasts, or lips. We aren’t mammals like you. One does not choose to be an Active, one is selected. Fleet Four consists of a million starships carrying billions of sentients. There are other Fleets. We know of hundreds of star-faring alien races as advanced as us but most of them keep to themselves. There are tens of thousands of intelligent races in the galaxy at any one time but most of them will never make it off their home planets. We call the most interesting inhabited planets ‘Labworlds’. Fleet Four is responsible for monitoring several hundred nearby Labworlds and we have an Active on most of them.”
He held up a single finger as a question. She gave him a reprimanding glance then seemed to think better of it, allowing him to ask. “Why don’t we know about some of them? All of our SETI stuff, do you sabotage it or something?”
She laughed at him. Maybe she did have a problem understanding humor, since he hadn’t meant that as a joke. “Nobody uses electromagnetic radiation to send information long distances. Your arcane system is an example of something that makes your world potentially interesting.”
“But surely someone must have noticed our signals, and thought to reply back?”
“How many satellites do you have in orbit looking for smoke signals from primitive tribes?”
“Oh. None, I guess.”
“No more interruptions. Where was I? I’m the only one of my people here. My brain was sent here and placed in a body which was assembled in orbit before I arrived. Our fabrication technology works better in space. There's a team back in Fleet Four which does most of the real work of tracking your society and watching for interesting developments. Our Activation technology was actually discovered by a Labworld a long time ago but we refined the process and made it safe for ourselves. No, you can’t become an Active, we wouldn’t even bother trying to adapt the process for your biochemistry. We aren’t going to abduct any of you, or eat you, or take you with us, or give you any of our technology, because you really are more valuable to us as a self-contained research project. You have a saying about what a million monkeys can do and that’s exactly how we view you collectively. Nothing personal about it - you seem like very nice people. But that value goes away if you know about us, so we go to significant lengths to keep you oblivious to our existence. There are sometimes other visitors to Labworlds with different ideas about the best use of the natives. As a result there are sometimes conflicts. Which is why Actives are armed.” She stopped.
He could feel himself blinking, but the rest of his body seemed far away. “I need a minute.”
“Sorry, you don’t have a minute. You need to tell me what you’ve been up to recently.”
“Can I get dressed first?”
“Can you do both at the same time?”
He looked down towards what would be exposed when he stood.
“None of us care about your sexual organs.”
He blushed anyway as he changed.
#
“See that? I think he has romantic aspirations towards me. That’s interesting.”
“Ugh. Now I am glad that I skipped becoming an Active and went straight to Shadow. I might have ended up like you.”
“Every individual benefits in different ways from their time as an Active. That in turn helps all of Fleet. Perspective.” Keryapt’s response was more serious than Shadow expected.
“True, perhaps. But I think your time changed you more than most.” After a pause she changed subjects. “While he talks, we should review a few things. The Craven have sent out Tumorish with short range scanners posing as city survey crews. They think you’re still in the city somewhere.”
Keryapt switched to the Planning Stage and studied the map showing enemy scanning signals. Even backed up by the computing power of Labworld Command, the Observatory couldn’t track every possible Tumorish.
“Do we know anything about who they are?”
“Facial recognition has matched a few of the Tumorish to a social media posting for an alcohol addiction treatment group. The Craven selected individuals without any immediate relations and used them to convert everyone in the group.” They would have targeted physically capable or situationally useful humans from law enforcement, heavy industry or the military.
“How long until you have a new identity set up for Connor?” With the Craven after him, there was no way that he could safely retu
rn to his old life. Keryapt didn’t look forward to the moment when he realized he had lost everything because of his contact with her.
“Another hour or so. A&O is using one of the male identities they created before you came and just need time to include his physical details.”
An informational alarm sounded and both women looked up. Someone in the support team had just sent over data from some of the long range sensor satellites in the asteroid belt. A quick series of commands from Shadow changed the virtual room from a cube to a pentagonal chamber. The fifth wall now showed a scaled map of the Sol system with several objects marked between Martian and Jovian orbits. “Gradient drive activity, ships and missiles. Looks like someone is getting rid of the competition.” Whatever the Craven plan was, it seemed to be entering a new phase of active hostility. Extremely powerful gravitic distortions were an indication that ships were using their gradient drives to engage in - or escape - attack.
For the advanced races, an asteroid belt was a great place to hide a ship or covertly gather resources. Fleet had one of its two local Factories out there, gathering material from smaller metal-heavy rocks and spitting out long range observation satellites to send throughout the system. The Factory in earth orbit received stealth packages of exotic resources from its larger brethren in the belt.
Kery stared at the map, trying to avoid saying anything incorrect. The initial version of Ruut’s expert advisor program was now running, but all it would do is flash a positive or negative sign if a question she posed could be answered by her own past experience.
She decided to test it. “Okay then. The Craven are attacking at least two other race’s ships in the belt, but aren’t apparently near or headed towards our assets there. They don’t care if the humans notice something going on in space, and have mobilized Tumorish on a limited scale. They are actively and obviously searching San Francisco for me. They must know that we can detect their searches, but they don’t care. What does that tell us?”
The advisor system didn’t respond, but Shadow did. The question must have been too vague for the advisor.
“Tactically, they are trying to pin you down. So it must be something on the planet with you. They don’t want you…somewhere. They went after Connor, possibly as a route to you. None of Maxwell, DeVries, either of the Ormlans or anyone at ESWAT registered as hot enough to be a recent Tumorish conversion. But DeVries interacted with them directly, maybe on Farley’s command.”
“How would you interpret the strategic picture?”
Shadow brought up an overlay showing all the Fleet assets in orbit and the belt. “Something is about to happen. Something major, and possibly very bad for humanity. But it hasn’t happened yet. The Craven are clearing out everyone they can find. They have to know that they can’t possibly find all of our remotes and satellites with tanglecomm capability, so we will be able to observe what happens. They don’t care if we know, but they don’t want anyone to directly interfere with it. Or…have access to it.”
Both women pondered the unknown. Keryapt wished that Ruut’s expert system could provide more general answers. She decided to ask more direct questions.
“Can we tell which races are being targeted by the Craven?”
The advisor replied YES. Kery already knew that was true, but it was good to see the system work.
“Gradient drive signature analysis is underway. All parties involved are using standard configurations with multiple attractors ahead and repulsors behind. Acceleration rates are in the range of hundreds of gravities, so they have organic crews. None are anywhere near light speed yet.”
One smaller ship, identified as a Vreen exploratory vessel, was being pursued by two larger unknowns. If the Vreen ship stopped accelerating then they would catch it within an hour. Another unknown vessel was 20 light seconds farther around the main belt than the Vreen ship and headed almost directly towards it. They would cross paths in a few hours.
Shadow received an update from the team. “Those three unknowns are using hexagonal drive formations, probably a variant of Craven Retreater-class cruisers. Those are suicide to pursue but not great on offense. If they are willing to expose three ships of that size to take out one Vreen, they must have something even larger in reserve. An Abdicator, maybe?”
“That’s a slightly scary thought. I wish that our support squadron wasn’t weeks away. The Craven usually have a soft touch until they are certain of the outcome.”
“Still 36 hours until Horseplay is ready. It might be best for you to stay with Connor until then.”
Kery had a brief daydream about flying through blue skies while wearing Horseplay. Someplace wide open. Then she realized something. “Texas.”
“What about it?”
“There was a deorbit event there yesterday. What if that was related? Some piece of equipment or something. How quickly can I get there?”
“Discreetly, three hours or so by charter jet.”
“Should I just run there?”
The advisor had an immediate response for that. NO. Or maybe it was responding to the question about the events being related? It was hard to tell.
Shadow thought for a moment then gave the same response. “No. Too visible. I’d use human transport.”
“Do it. Let me know when you can arrange it.”
“I assume it will be you by yourself?”
“Yes. Connor needs to get someplace safe.”
Shadow took a step away from her console on the Stage, towards the view from the Interloper. “Actually - he doesn’t look too good.” The human was leaning on the table, his skin pale. “I think we might have missed some Tumorish. I’ll get the xenobiologist.”
#
“Connor? Does something in particular hurt?” She was looking at him with concern. He felt exhausted. It took both hands to just hold his head up off the table and return her gaze.
“I feel like crap. Tired. Can I go back to bed?”
She gently supported his head and peered close into his eyes, then let go to retrieve her injector hypo. He hadn’t expected the sudden release and almost let his own face smack into the table. “Your bedside manner needs some work.”
She extracted a small amount of blood from his neck. “We have a xenobiologist who has experience with races similar to yours. I’m giving her data on the state of your cardiopulmonary system. What she will probably report is that some of the Tumorish material entered your deep muscle tissue. We will need to give you a larger does of the counteragent and you’ll need to exercise vigorously. Can you do that?”
“Does vomiting count as vigorous exercise? I think that’s going to happen pretty soon.”
She paused for a moment, apparently consulting with her alien doctor for aliens.
“What happens if I don’t exercise?”
“Over the next few hours, the hidden alien cells in your body will find your brain and begin to consume it. They will digest what you know and who you are, but add in their own genetically programmed knowledge. Your body will become a vehicle for the Tumorish infection. It will drive your husk to its physical limits to fulfill the wishes of the Craven and act as a mobile factory for more Tumorish.”
He slumped lower. “So. Exercise or become an alien zombie. Give me a minute to decide which is worse.”
She gently put a hand on his shoulder. “I'll give you a stimulant in addition to the counteragent. It will make you feel quite a bit better and more energetic but shouldn’t affect your mental competence. You have some important decisions to make soon.” She leaned in close again and he felt a quick pinch in his neck. “There.” She smiled at him.
“Your smile is weird.”
“It is supposed to convey my anticipation for a positive outcome without exhibiting any signs of fear.”
“You look more like a mad scientist. One who is about to perform an experiment that goes against the laws of nature.”
She raised her brows in puzzlement.
“Well, they aren’t ‘laws’ l
ike the ones that a government creates. I guess they are more like…patterns. That happen over and over again. And the mad scientist always wants to change the way that nature works, to his own benefit, but then something goes wrong and the army has to come in. And-” He realized he was babbling. “Should my heart feel like it's speeding up?”
She stepped away from him as he raised his head and looked around. “That would be the stimulant starting to take effect. It’s something that your military recently invented for pilots.”
“What? Oh shit. Shit! What was it? I have to be able to pass a drug test for work!” He stood up, knocking the chair backwards.
“That was the only compound we could synthesize quickly which wouldn’t compromise your judgment.”
He paced around the kitchen area, feeling the rush spread through his entire body. “No no no. You can’t have just given me that. You can’t! What about my job?”
“If you show up anywhere that the Craven would expect to find you, they will kill you. You don’t have a job any more. We have more than adequate resources to help you leave this area.”
“That won’t work! That can’t work. We have to come up with a better plan. Can’t you just put that counteragent stuff in the water supply or something and kill them all?” He stopped and pointed at her with a finger that seemed to vibrate with its own energy. “I know! Kill the head Tumorish and then the rest won’t have any orders any more. Where would he be?”
“It doesn’t work like that. They aren’t telepathic. They get direct orders from the Craven through the phone or whatever.”
He was already pacing again, making wider and more varied paths each time. The pain he had felt only a few minutes earlier was barely a memory. “Craven. Raven. Rave. Crave….earn…cavern.” He smiled.
She looked at him with mild alarm. “What are you doing?”
“When I think I’m drunk, I do anagrams to test myself. I’m really bad at them when I am. If I can do them, I’m not drunk. And whatever that stuff was, it makes me feel even more like…me. Crane, carve, raven, near. Ha!”
“That’s why your military uses it. It will last for a few hours.”
