Harvest

by Olga Werby

  “There are a number of different timescales,” Vars repeated. “There’s the life of the universe. The life of a star system. The age of the planet and when first life arises. The time span of the intelligent species. The age of the technologically advanced civilization. And then there’s the lifespan of an individual.”

  “We’ve discussed this before,” Ian snapped. His impatience was growing. Unfortunately, he was not the only one.

  “Yes. But there are multiple ways of passing knowledge to the next generation,” Vars said. “Coevolution of an intelligent species with a large stratification of cognitive abilities would provide for slave labor and would free up time to develop technology faster. On Earth, Homo sapiens exterminated all other hominids, but on other planets things could have evolved differently.”

  “What a shame. We could have used all those Neanderthals and Homo floresiensis to do our dirty work,” said Ibe in a loud whisper.

  “Oh, there were probably many, many more species of hominids than that,” said Vars. “And yes, if they were around, they would have suffered the fates of the great apes and whales. We humans have a weakness for thinking ourselves superior.”

  “So we would have developed castes of workers or soldiers, leaving the intellectuals to push the boundaries of science,” said Ian. “Specialization reduces the total resources necessary to train each potential member of the society, allocating more resources for exploration and further sub-fragmentation into skills-focused guilds. But are you saying Mims are like that?”

  “I’m trying to make sure we’re not making assumptions based on our own evolution. There are many paths to a star-faring civilization,” Vars said. “We use cyberhumatics. But we’ve only begun on what’s possible when it comes to augmenting human intelligence and memory capability. I’m sure you’ve all felt bereft of your implants. Those must have felt like part of your own intelligence, providing an instant access to all recorded human knowledge with just a thought.”

  Vars looked around and saw she’d hit a nerve. Back on Earth, unimplanted Seeds and augmented humans tested very differently on basic memory tests. As always, it was a case of use it or lose it. “If not for the nanobots,” she went on, “we could have pushed and pushed cyberhumatics until we managed to compress the transfer of knowledge from one generation to the next into an ever shorter time period. We were on that road already.” Ebi and Ibe were clear examples of a generation of humans that were enhanced practically since birth.

  “Having knowledge that’s easily accessible is not the same as being able to incorporate the individual data points into a coherent worldview,” Alice said. She had been quiet up until now. Vars knew Alice felt that the others hadn’t forgiven her for cutting them up the way she did. Maybe she was right about that. The others weren’t overtly hostile, but everyone seemed to sit just a little further from Alice, positioning themselves so as not to actually look at her. It was difficult enough to forge a team without awkward antipathies. Vars stifled a sigh.

  “True,” she agreed with Alice’s comment. “But cyberhumatics do give a big boost. Each generation stands on the shoulders of all who came before, and digital memory implants could significantly shorten the cycle of scientific discovery. Just imagine an instant informational update for the whole human race when a useful discovery is made. Or digitally implanting the memories and skills of each guild—”

  “Now you’re just spinning science fiction,” Ian interrupted. “There’s no evidence that Mims do this.”

  “Except the nanobots,” Vars replied. “And we know that these bots come in flavors. Alice managed to grow out a few ‘colonies,’ for the lack of a better word, from various implant sites. Not all bots grew the same structures, although the box fractal is the most common pattern of growth.”

  “Like the diversity of structures we’re seeing on Mimas,” said Trish.

  “So,” said Ben, “let’s imagine we have a super advanced civilization that sends a probe to our solar system. Would it send something big? No. It would send a small probe full of self-replicating nanobots.”

  Ian nodded in agreement. “Our own Mimas mini probe drones will gather samples for us. Same idea.” They had several ready to launch when they arrived at the Saturn’s moon.

  “I don’t think it’s a good idea to bring anything from Mimas on board,” Alice said.

  “Our ship is teeming with nanobots, and so far it hasn’t been a problem,” Ron said.

  “So far,” Alice echoed. “But something triggered the behavior of the bots back on Earth and the colonies. Would bringing a sample of the artifact into the ship trigger another set of unforeseen behaviors?”

  “How long have you known about the link between the signal and the nanobots?” said a voice from the doorway.

  Everyone turned to see Major Liut standing there. Vars wondered how long he had been listening—but then again, it wasn’t as if what they were discussing was a secret. All meeting notes were shared and posted for everyone to read or watch. Vars also noticed that Alice was facing the door—she knew Liut was standing there the whole time. Was her question for his benefit?

  “As long as you, I assume,” Alice answered.

  Ian looked from her to Liut. “Terry? Is there something you would like to add? We’re working on a very compressed time schedule. We won’t have the luxury to blue-sky like this once we land on Mimas.”

  Liut stepped forward. “Thirty-two years ago, Alice, your Seed Vault sent out Dr. Matteo Volhard and his daughter to study microplastics across Earth’s ecosystems.” Everyone looked to Vars. She sat stone-faced; she didn’t know what Major Liut wanted from her or Alice. They were all on the same side in this—humans versus Mims—they needed to start acting like it too. “And you left the Vault just a few years after that,” he said to Alice. It sounded like an accusation.

  “More than a decade later,” Alice corrected him. “But Ian knows all about my history.”

  “Isn’t it a strange coincidence that you and Vars and Matteo just happen to work on the most important project to face humanity?” Liut pushed.

  “What are you saying?” Vars asked. “That…that we somehow knew of the aliens and didn’t mention it?” It was preposterous.

  “Did the Vaults know?” Liut asked.

  “Of course not,” Alice said.

  “Then why is Dr. Volhard made to work in the lab in the far north of Finland?”

  “What?” Vars asked. She knew of no such thing. “My dad went back into the Vault?”

  “Of course not,” said Liut. “No one goes back into the Vault. And all the Vaults must be on lockdown on Earth and on Luna. They would have placed themselves into total isolation. And that only supposed to happen during an extinction-level event.” He glared at Vars.

  Ian got to his feet. “Do you have more information about what’s going on with the nanobots back on Earth, Terry?” He said the name Terry like a slap. “Because if you do, we need to know it now.”

  “We just got a report from Mars,” Liut said. “They’re having problems with their extons and other equipment.”

  “What does that mean?” Ron asked.

  “There’ve been deaths,” said Liut. “So if you know something and aren’t telling us…” He looked menacingly from Vars to Alice.

  “Matteo came to me with information about the nanobots just before liftoff,” Alice said.

  “You knew?” several scientists exclaimed at the same time.

  “Only that the bots existed,” Alice said. “Matteo didn’t want his daughter implanted. And I made my own decision to have the cyberhumatics removed.”

  “Anything else?” said Ian, frowning.

  Alice thrust out her chin. “The Vaults didn’t know about the Mimas artifact—I’m sure of it. But they were worried first about microplastics pollution and then about nanobots and the danger those bots might pose, even if at the t
ime there was no proof of any risks. And the fastest way to get going on this mission was to keep the existence of the nanobots a secret. The Vault Elders knew that it would only be a short time before everyone knew.” She turned to face Major Liut. “But it’s obvious you knew about the bots before we left Earth.”

  “I wondered why none of your crew had implants,” Ben said, as if just seeing the connection. “But of course it’s obvious. You knew! What else do you know, Major Liut?”

  “I came to ask you the same question,” he protested.

  “Alice? Vars?” Ian said. “Do you have anything else to add?”

  “We haven’t heard from the Elders since communications with Earth went down,” Vars said.

  “And before that?”

  “Just that my dad was working with various nanobot samples. Alice got a few basic updates from the Vault Elders and shared those with everyone here. The temperatures at which nanobots fell apart came from him. But I had no idea that my dad went north or was in some kind of secret lab. The Elders never mentioned anything, and we were never in direct contact with my dad.” Vars took a deep breath. “Is my father okay, Major Liut?”

  “I don’t know,” he said. “We lost contact with the Vaults a while ago.” Vars gasped. “But then we’ve lost contact with our mission control, too. We’re flying blind.” Every face in the room reflected the shock that Vars felt. This was worse than Liut hiding information...much worse.

  “Then I think we’re all in the same boat, so to speak,” said Ben. “We all have to work on solving the Mims problem. No secrets, right?” He looked at Vars and Alice. They both nodded. “Right?” he asked Liut.

  “I hope not,” the major said. He sat down, joining the meeting. “If this is an invasion, we’re on the front line. It’s our job to solve this.” He sounded tired.

  After Liut joined them, the meeting devolved into accusations, the twins started to scream, and Ian put an end to it by asking everyone to work alone or in small groups for the next day or so until the tensions had a chance to die down. Emotions were just too raw. Not for the first time, Vars regretted not coming clean about nanobots right away. It might have slowed down their departure, but it would have made them into a more cohesive team. And the excision surgeries wouldn’t have resulted in so much damage if performed back on Earth. It was one of the reasons Liut’s people were in much better physical and emotional shape than Ian’s. And that made the division between scientists and the military crew even deeper. The damage from all this mistrust was difficult to calculate.

  Vars suspected Ian was going to need to negotiate hard with Liut for control. Who was in charge of this mission now? Who got to make the ultimate decisions now that they were cut off from Earth? She was worried that Ian might be mistaken about his own position within the command hierarchy onboard their ship. But then if this was an invasion, Liut and his crew should take over as the military representatives of Earth. It would be hard to argue that was inappropriate. But were they at war? It was too easy to jump to conclusions. And they were all very jumpy...

  “Were you really a Seed?” Ben surprised her as he joined Vars on her way back to her stateroom. Vars tried to turn to face the man and overcompensated, smashing her head on the ceiling. “Are you all right?” he asked.

  Vars only grumped in return, stopping herself from rubbing the newly developing bump on her head. The corridors of the ship were equipped with hand and foot holds to help people move around in low gravity. One “step” was really a long jump, and Vars had more cuts and bruises than she cared to remember from hitting the walls and scraping the various storage compartment handles as she bounced around like a crazy ball in a marble maze.

  “I’ll just walk you back to you room,” he said with a smile. Vars turned like a sack of potatoes and, without answering Ben’s original question, pulled herself farther along the corridor. She didn’t know why Ben was following her. He was certainly better at navigating the turns than her, although far from graceful with his arm in a sling—the surgery made him a bit clumsy too.

  “Here we are,” Vars said. “Thank you for seeing me safely back to my quarters.” She was tired and cranky and wanted to try to contact her dad via the Vault again, regardless of the futility of trying. If he moved into one of the Vault-run facilities, there should be a better chance of establishing communication with him than if he was back at his civilian lab in Seattle. The Vaults knew why they were going to Mimas, knew the need for communication. How long ago did he move? Why didn’t the Elders mention something to Alice?

  “Do you mind if I come in?” Ben asked.

  Vars was so taken aback by the unexpected request that she just waved him inside, her social norms winning out. Ben slid in and closed the door. Vars looked at him expectantly.

  “Look, I don’t know if our rooms are bugged or anything,” he said. Vars nodded in acknowledgment—she didn’t know for a fact, but it was a safe assumption they were all being monitored. She wasn’t even sure that was a bad idea, given the nanobots and all. “But it doesn’t matter, not anymore,” he finished.

  “Why not?”

  “Well, if we’re really under attack by a superior alien force, then we’d better all work together.”

  Vars was silent. She still didn’t know what Ben wanted of her.

  “Do you mind if I sit?” he asked and slid into the only seat—Vars’s desk chair—before she had a chance to answer. “Let me get straight to the point. I want to work with you, Vars.”

  “What do you mean?” Bigger than most, her cabin still felt very crowded.

  “Like Ian said, we’re to break up and work in small teams. And I think we’d make a good team.” He beamed at her.

  Vars sat on her built-in bed pod. Her plan had always been to work with Alice. She knew and trusted the woman; they got along, whereas her communications with Ben had been limited to group meetings. Well, that and playing nurse when his D-tats started to act up.

  “I see you’re uncertain about this,” he said. “So let me convince you.”

  “Please.” Vars inhaled and settled down for his sales pitch.

  “Look, I think when we all get together, we never actually get to the point you’re trying to make. And it’s not you,” he waved his hands when Vars was about to cut him off, “it’s the room. We’re just a bunch of know-it-alls who’ve worked together for years and now resent having to listen to some stranger with a soft science background and a seedy past.” He smiled a crooked smile. “You are a Seed, aren’t you?”

  “Technically?” Vars said. “Not really. And I’ve only learned that my dad was one when Ian kidnapped me from my book tour.” She ignored the soft scientist jab—she was used to that one, even back at her own university.

  “Well, all of us have a tainted past. For instance, I went to Caltech.”

  “I’ve heard,” Vars said, but she found herself smiling. Ben was easygoing and kind. It was difficult to push him away.

  “So I think we can do great things together. Mix it up a bit. Because if we stick to our own groups, we’ll come up with the same solutions over and over again. That was the reason Ian brought you in, Vars—to shake things up.”

  “Did Ian suggest you work with me?”

  “Nah, Ian doesn’t get credit for that. This was all my idea. Besides, one can only take Trish for so long.” He imitated the scientist’s high-pitched voice: “I’m the smartest person in this room.”

  Vars laughed.

  “See? It would even be fun.”

  Vars knew when she was beaten. “So when do we start?”

  “Right away, of course. Now!” Ben pulled out his personal computing pad, and his demeanor changed from playful to serious. “What were the other points you were trying to make today?”

  “Okay, now’s as good a time as any, I suppose.” Vars pulled out her own pad and gathered her notes. All just random streams
of consciousness at this point, but Ben seemed willing to listen and help shape her thoughts. She needed that help. “I’ve been thinking a lot about the why question,” she said.

  “Why the Mims are here?” Ben asked. “Well that’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it?”

  “There has to be a good reason. Travelling interstellar distances takes so long that it doesn’t make sense to send species representatives just to go out exploring. It’s too costly. It requires an enormous investment of time and resources.”

  “Agreed—space tourism works only in the movies. Which is why the Mims didn’t come themselves. They sent a probe and nanobots.”

  “That is cheaper,” Vars agreed, “but it still requires planning and patience that spans thousands of years.”

  “If not more.”

  “If not more. So why bother?”

  “Curiosity,” Ben said. “We’d do it as soon as we’re able. Go where no man has—”

  “—gone before,” Vars finished. “Yeah, I get that. But that’s us. Humans. We’re driven by curiosity. Not all species have the same motivation.”

  “Okay, so let’s say an advanced species is looking to spread itself across several star systems,” Ben said. “We’ll be doing that too. We’ve already moved beyond Earth—all eggs in one basket and all that wisdom.”

  “Which saves us from some freak asteroid impact.”

  “Always fighting the last battle, right? But it doesn’t protect us from some stray stellar encounter or a speeding orphan planet zooming through our solar system, disrupting every planetary orbit, or a super nova in our galactic neighborhood, or a bunch of other freak cosmic mishaps. Humans have to spread into the stars in order to ensure our survival.”