Jevelle thinks on this a moment, then regards Achi as if seeing him for the first time. “You have a very dark side. But I can understand why we must give thought to such things.”
Achi nods his head. “Any galan caught by this thing will be better off destroying its unitary than letting the shell have it. Each galan that goes to Earth will have to understand the necessity of installing a 'kill switch.'”
Fandtha walks over, hearing the last of their conversation. “Kill switch, you say. Yes, I can see the necessity. I'd given some thought to that myself. We can't allow any galan's unitary to fall under the shell's control.”
Jevelle looks at him. “Why am I not surprised to find you have also considered this eventuality? You and Achi seem to have much in common,” she says with a touch of exasperation at being blind to something that was obvious to her friend.
“Well, it’s just a matter of thinking of things from the shell's perspective. Based on its actions, it, ah, seems to want to 'get even' with the galanen by ruining our works, perhaps hoping we lose access to D-space and so fall with humanity. Pure speculation on my part, but one that, uh, seems to best fit what little data we have.”
Achi shakes his head.
“Do you disagree with him on this?” Jevelle asks.
“Perhaps so, though I think it matters little in gauging its ultimate behavior. I think this thing is filled with evil—motivated solely to oppose good. It seeks to destroy all that the Being of Light would create. Since it is on Earth, its target is humanity and their genetic twins, the galanen.”
“An interesting theory,” Jevelle muses. “We do not understand the nature of this shell, or of machine intelligences in general. But the observed patterns of behavior appear consistent. Perhaps Toshi has access to more information on this, but not I.”
Achi sees Clive approaching them, dressed in military fatigues in woodland camo with black boots. “Are you ready?” Clive asks.
Achi nods a greeting. “Nearly. I think we'll let our recruits have a day to socialize before we sequester ourselves. Fandtha, you're sure none have been exposed to any of our security upgrades yet?”
He shakes his head. “As we agreed, they have only been told they will be taking part in a new initiative related to Earth. They've been told to maintain strict silence on all information related to where they are and what they will be doing. The collective will not pass on such information, even if they try, so their ability to communicate such matters is limited to local range.”
“Or other means of communication,” Clive chimes in. “Just as we used to contact you. But your point is taken. Someone would have to go through a lot of trouble to set that up, and to get off Juruele it would still have to transit the collective.”
“Or travel at light speed. Either way, I think we're, ah, very secure for now,” Fandtha agrees.
“Good,” Achi adds. “I think tonight should be a grand social occasion. We'll get started with the real work with them tomorrow.”
Fandtha winks at him. “Right. And that'll give you an excellent opportunity to hack into them, won't it?”
Achi just smiles.
∞∞∞
Jevelle, Achi, and Clive take their recruits to the far side of Juruele. Here, Zaleria's influence has never touched the planet. It is primitive, wild, and largely barren. There is hardly any wildlife to speak of, beyond insect-like creatures. There is a wide variety of plants of all shapes and sizes, most struggling to out compete their neighbor for sunlight. Achi wonders if all galanen home worlds are this barren. They must be, for if they were rich in life, the galan would not allow habitation.
Their first task is to carve out a camp in this wilderness, using nothing more than simple hand tools. This has a purpose, not the least of which is to allow Achi and Clive an opportunity to assess how their new charges deal with abnormal situations. They aren't used to having to perform manual labor, or to not rely on their symbiot-based technology to do things. To their credit, none of them complain. They still haven't figured out why they have been told to follow these two humans’ instructions. They thought they were not supposed to reveal themselves to humans. So if anything, they are confused. But they are disciplined enough to not ask any questions. Not yet. Jevelle has closely watched this early phase, but per Achi’s recommendation, she has gone back to Zaleria’s home for the next phase of their training. Achi is determined to push them to their breaking point, to see when they begin to question his and Clive's authority.
Trègar isn't the only one that has met 'Clive' before; his entire squad was picked for this assignment. Beltare has assured them that Clive was not the person who attacked them, but that she can't tell them who had done it—which technically isn't a lie—so none of them know who Achi is. They've been told only his name, but since his history has been removed from the general collective, and none of the galanen shared it with them last night, his significance and purpose remain a mystery for them to solve, if they can.
Achi watches them. Trègar is a natural leader, as is Rialle, whose silvery hair falls in long wavy locks around a gray face with large silver eyes, perhaps the most exotic galan Achi has seen to date. She and Trègar work well together, using complimentary leadership styles. Trègar is methodical, the most senior within the cohort save for Beltare, and respected, so his opinion is usually followed if for no other reason. Rialle, on the other hand, is far more junior and very high-energy. She is hard driving and inspires others to join in when she throws herself at a task. Zargus, the other male in Trègar’s squad, is several centimeters taller than Zaleria and has a similar golden-brown skin, with long black hair and golden eyes. He is powerfully built and the second most senior after Trègar, but curiously, he eschews actively leading. The rest are all competent but seem to prefer following the lead of the others. They all seem comfortable with these patterns. Achi shakes his head, which Clive notices.
“They already know each other, their strengths, their weaknesses. They've been working together for, what, several thousand years?” Clive observes. “Two leaders, two squads?”
“Yeah, that was what I was thinking. For now. At some point, we'll have to see how the others operate without someone to follow. Don't you think?”
“Absolutely,” Clive agrees, “Ultimately, they'll only be as strong as their weakest link, so we'll have to start finding out who those are.”
Achi looks at the progress they are making. “It'll be time to move on to the next stage soon.”
Clive nods his head. “It'll be interesting to see how they react to that.”
Achi nods his head. “Indeed. How often do you think they receive shock therapy?”
Clive chuckles. “About once every 10,000 years, I bet.”
The group has now constructed basic shelter for all of them, including Achi and Clive, and have created a commons area to share meals and instruction. It has taken them two weeks laboring and lots of one-on-one instruction from Achi and Clive in how to work with primitive tools and techniques. It would have taken a lot longer were it not for their enhanced physiques, which even now are just coming into peak shape.
Achi and Clive head over to the commons. “Call them over, Mr. Robinson,” Achi commands.
Clive goes out and with a booming voice calls the squad over. “Fall in, let’s move it people!” They come on the run, as Achi and Clive had instructed them early on. They form up in three columns with four ranks—a dozen galan, not even breathing hard or sweating. The columns and then the ranks from the right are ordered with the tallest in the front, shortest in the back—a traditional military formation—even though they have no knowledge of it, or why sizing used to matter. “Left, face!” Clive commands. They turn to the left, making a reversed formation that puts the shortest in front, so all can see their instructors.
Achi walks out. “Congratulations, you have now managed to do in two weeks what it took your cousins on Earth a week to do 10,000 years ago, while also having to deal with sick children, pregnant wom
en, and enfeebled elders. Making a camp out of nothing, solely using your wits and simple tools, this was the height of galanen technology at one time.” They are silent but obviously wondering where he is going with this.
“It is time to start bringing you up to speed on why you are here, under the command of two primitive humans. Rialle, you're fairly perky. Maybe you are bold enough to answer me this. What happened the first time we met?”
She starts a bit at the familiar use of the word 'perky' and even more so because she doesn't know what he is after. “Uh, we had dinner with you at Zaleria's house?”
“No, that wasn't the first time we met. I mean the first time we met, on Earth.” Achi glares at her.
“I don't know what you mean; I met you for the first time here.”
“Incorrect,” Achi says. “Zargus, perhaps you can answer. What happened the first time we met?”
He stands there, puzzled for a minute, then has a sudden flash of insight. “It was you, on Earth, wasn't it? You changed your appearance to look like Clive. You shot me and the rest of my squad with a pair of galanen pistols, rendering us unconscious. You then kidnapped Beltare and stole our waverider.”
“Correct. Now, how the hell did I manage that, seeing as how I am nothing but a simple human?”
“Obviously, you are not human.”
“Really? I still remember my mother and father—both dead now. They didn't cross over; they died. And my brothers and sisters are dead now, too. Did I just imagine all that? I am as human as anyone living on Earth today. Yet I altered my appearance, took out your whole team, disabled Beltare, and stole your waverider. How?”
“I don't know. It shouldn't be possible, for a human,” Zargus offers.
“Thank you Zargus, Rialle. The simple explanation is there is far more to Earth than the galanen know, well at least most galanen. And your ignorance must come to an end, now.”
Ready guys?
And they do. Each one of them passes out as their symbiots pump their systems full of sedatives, because 'they' told them to do so.
After about 20 minutes, they begin to awaken. Some cry out, silently in their minds, and reach out for the others through local connections. Achi hears it all, but they still don't know about his symbiots, which he has kept hidden from them. They are hanging by their ankles from the roots of a few large telitorri trees on the edge of camp, their feet and hands bound by aluminum handcuffs.
Achi walks over to them. “Stop sharing and speak. You are not to communicate without speaking; those are the rules. Who can tell me what happened?”
“You attacked us!” Zargus says.
“Did I? Is that an accusation or a statement of fact?” Achi presses. “Don't just react emotionally. Something happened to all of you, and you find yourselves in a compromising position. How'd you get there? If you don't know, it'll happen again, and again; until you figure out how it happened and stop it.”
“Why are you doing this?! We've done nothing to you.” Rialle declares.
Achi walks over. “Maybe I just get my kicks from abusing supposedly superior beings.” He runs his hand down the side of her face; she jerks away. “Maybe Beltare lets me play with you because she liked it so much when I did it to her on Earth.”
“You are an animal,” Trègar growls at him.
“Oh, I'm sorry, did I hit a nerve?” Achi asks, actually pleased he reacted to that particular piece of bait.
“You have symbiots; you're galan. You've hidden them from us and ordered our symbiots to fill our systems with a powerful central nervous system depressant,” Cloufen says.
Achi swivels rapidly and rushes over to her side. She is hanging there, watching him with intense but calm rose-colored eyes, her curly golden-brown hair hanging down below her. Achi smiles at her ability to remain in control of her emotions during a stressful situation, to think through the problem, appearing curious as to how he was able to achieve such a feat. “Well, well, well. Isn't it interesting how adversity brings out the best, in some people, Mr. Robinson?”
“Indeed so, sir. That one has ice in her veins—unflappable, calculating, logical.”
“Yes, but I am human, so I challenge others to build upon her logic; after all, they shouldn't be deprived of the opportunity to learn just because we have one bright pupil.” He touches her head, and she falls asleep again at Achi's silent command.
“What have you done to her?!” Zargus demands to know.
“I've cast a spell upon her. Surely, you've seen magic before,” Achi says, mockingly, but taking note of his protectiveness.
“There is no such thing. You've commanded her symbiots to put her to sleep again,” he says.
“Accusation or fact.” He waits.
“Supposition. You must have symbiots, but I can't connect with them. You are blocking me, somehow.”
“Well, you had better figure it out,” Achi says. “Perhaps some inspiration.” he commands Zargus's symbiots to release a small amount of pain neurotransmitters in his buttocks. He lets out a hiss of breath, surprised, then starts writhing. Swinging back and forth, grunting and making sharp vocalizations.
“Why am I doing this?” Achi asks in a commanding voice. “I'll tell you. There is a thing on Earth. It was created 75,000 years ago, and it has been there all this time, genetically modifying my people to become more and more like the galanen. Its sole purpose is to ensure humanity becomes a failed race, and thus a mockery of the galanen. And if the galanen lose access to D-space as a result, because genetically, there is no! difference between our races, why that is even better. It is a monster, utterly evil, and you cream puffs will have to face it, and destroy it. This lesson is to make sure you understand; you are not ready to do battle with it—if you meet it now, it will make you wish you were dead. Not killed, not destroyed, not crossed over. Dead! It is the empty shell of a galan. That is what you must find, and eradicate.”
He hears several galan voice disbelief.
Zargus is glaring at him, back in control of his symbiots. “How does humiliating us help humanity?”
“Is that what you think I am doing? I believe that physical lessons make a greater mark upon the psyche. You need to experience your vulnerabilities. If the shell had you right now, it could do anything it wanted. Pain, ecstasy, confusion, sleep, death. Imagine the torture it could inflict. It could invent new and gruesome ways to kill you, slowly, all the time knowing you'd heal back up, so it could do it all over again. This is merely an opportunity for you to wake up from your sense of superiority and realize you face an adversary without morals, without decency, without a soul who utterly loathes you.”
They are all silent now, including Cloufen, who is awake again. He has their attention. He grows weary; he doesn't like doing this, but he really does feel they need to experience it to fully appreciate it. “I am human. 10,000 years ago I was unintentionally inoculated with galan symbiots. All that I have done to you, I figured out on my own, without contact with the collective. I never even knew about the galan until just a few years ago. The thing you will be expected to hunt has the life memories of a 200,000-year-old galan, and nearly 65,000 years of contact with the collective, before it was probably cut-off. Imagine what it will be capable of. You are not ready. My job is to help you think like evil incarnate, so you can at least be prepared for what you might face. This thing will hide behind humans. Do not underestimate them. Clive is here to help you understand how they might do battle with you, assuming they know your strengths and weaknesses. And I hope you now understand, you have weaknesses! While you hang here helpless, I want you to each think about all the different fates that a shell with 75,000 years of malice could impart to you that are far worse than death. Perhaps someday, we'll compare notes and see who has the most vivid imagination. In the meantime, I don't have the keys for your bindings, so you'll hang there until you figure out how to get down. My best time is six hours; see if you can better it.” He leaves them hang
ing there and heads back to the camp they've made.
Trègar shows up in eight hours to confront Achi, who is sitting on a log next to a campfire in front of the structure they use as a classroom. Trègar's left hand is mangled, and he is limping on his left foot. He is still wearing the cuffs on his right hand and foot. He is less angry than he was, but only slightly. Achi surveys his solution, poking at the fire with a stick. “I assume your right hand is dominate?”
Trègar nods.
“An inelegant solution. Let me guess, it took you two hours to think of it?”
He nods again.
“Did you try attacking the locking mechanism with your symbiots first?”
“Yes,” he says, curtly.
“That takes roughly 12 hours,” Achi states.
Trègar sits down on another log, in some pain. “So I calculated.”
Achi nods. “Sometimes four hours matter. Sometimes having full use of your extremities matters more. You may not yet know it, but the galanen are at war. Sometimes sacrifices have to be made. In this case, you chose part of your hand and foot to slip the bindings. They will heal.”
Achi fixes Trègar with his gaze. “You think my methods harsh? When I learned this lesson, people I loved were being tortured and killed. I could hear every scream of pain. My enemies underestimated me, but I could not save all of my friends. I love humanity; they are my people. If the galanen lose this war, humanity will fall.”
“And you are willing to sacrifice us if needed?” Trègar queries, with a touch of bitterness in his voice.
“Any or all of us, to be precise. What are our lives compared to an entire race? But if we're smart, and our objective here is to become smart, then for the galanen, the worse you'll face is a two-year wait for a new unitary. I lack a home if I am destroyed, and Clive is completely mortal. If our deaths can save humanity, we count that as worth the cost.”
Through the Singularity Page 38
