by C H Gideon
The general sighed irritably. “They’re rather vague as to why they distrust our government.”
“I tried to dig for specifics, but I don’t think this particular Zeen has access to them,” Jenkins explained.
“If this is a designated Zeen representative, it seems impractical to keep such information from it,” Akinouye said pointedly.
“I don’t think the Zeen work that way, sir,” Jenkins said hesitantly. “From what Styles and Xi have worked out, the Zeen don’t have a standard hierarchical society like ours. And they don’t have a totally distributed social system like the Arh’Kel, whose lack of formal leadership is one of the only reasons we’ve managed to stay ahead in our ongoing conflict with the rock-biters.” He shook his head in mild frustration as he tried to relay his experts’ best theory. “It seems like the Zeen operate in some kind of interdependent caste system.”
“Castes are innately hierarchical,” Akinouye said flatly.
“Human castes are, yes, sir. But my people think this variant isn’t,” Jenkins explained. “The Zeen appear to have mastered bio-tech so completely that they’ve integrated multiple organisms into interdependent configurations which, for all intents and purposes, look like a single ‘Zeen.’ For example, each of the vehicles we previously engaged houses no fewer than eight distinct life forms, each of which has been specifically cultivated to serve a relatively narrow purpose. The ‘main vehicle’ is primarily an armored transport equipped with a mid-grade plasma cannon, and is controlled by a grub-like facilitator lifeform responsible for coordinating communication between the various Zeen caste members assigned to that vehicle. Inside the vehicle are two smaller vehicle-grade creatures, each of which bears a centaur-like exo-suit, which in turn houses a grub-like facilitator that controls both the vehicle and the exo-suit-like organism it rides. As far as we can tell, Zeen work together in relative harmony to produce a kind of gestalt organism. And while the communicator bugs are the most sensitive and critical to the performance of complex tasks, each organism in a given Zeen configuration is fully self-aware and actively participates in group actions and decision-making. Each organism is an individual, but linkable to adjacent Zeen, with the facilitator ‘grubs’ doing the heavy lifting of keeping everything moving smoothly.”
“It still sounds like the brain bugs are running Zeen society,” the general grunted.
“The Zeen might be misrepresenting the facts, or we might have asked the wrong questions,” Jenkins allowed, “but we’ve already seen just how differently the various League species are from one another. The Zeen don’t seem to deviate any further from the League norm than any other known non-human species.”
“Probably not,” General Akinouye grudgingly agreed.
“In fact,” Jenkins continued, “I think the concept of hierarchies disturbs the Zeen because they see the opportunity for catastrophic systems failures in hierarchical structures. When a relatively small group at the top of a hierarchy works against the good of the whole system, it’s difficult to counter their efforts.”
“I do recall my basic sociology, Colonel,” Akinouye rebuked his subordinate.
“Of course, General.” Jenkins nodded. “But the Zeen don’t have ready access to our same perspective. Think about this from their point of view. If they’re telling us the truth about how their society is organized, how could they view a hierarchical society as desirable? Or, even more importantly, how could they see it as trustworthy? When the potential failure points of a system are so blindingly obvious, it’s difficult to justify investing in that system,” he explained, seeing a look of comprehension dawn on the general’s aged features. “I think the Zeen mistrust our government because they’ve seen its failures, and those failure points are related to the way we structure our society. They dislike the Jemmin and are convinced that Sol is currently moving in lock-step with the Jemmin. It seems to me, while considering their perspective, that they’re taking an enormous risk by introducing themselves to us even though we are fundamentally identical to Solar humans.”
“What are you saying, Colonel?”
“I’m saying,” Jenkins replied with conviction, “that the Zeen see contacting us as a serious risk, but one worth taking. Why?” he asked earnestly. “The most basic rules of self-preservation dictate that, when given two options, you generally pick the less dangerous one.”
Akinouye’s eyes narrowed. “You think the Jemmin are plotting some kind of major offensive?”
“I think it’s possible,” Jenkins agreed, “but it’s almost certain that they’ve already got something underway that both the Vorr and Zeen are opposed to. And for whatever reason, the Vorr think the Terran Republic can help them. But more importantly from our perspective, they think that they can help us.”
The general leaned onto the arm of his chair. “I’m not a fan of all this cloak and dagger, Colonel…but it’s what we came here to do, and our primary objective is now complete. We made contact with an unknown alien species and negotiated an introduction while protecting Terran interests. But,” he said pointedly, “we can’t leave this rock until we know exactly what the Vorr, Jemmin, and Zeen were so interested in. I need you to realize just how bad the shitstorm will be when we return to Terran space, Lee.”
Jenkins knew that Armor Corps’ political enemies would have a field day with the fact that they engaged and destroyed a Jemmin warship in a relatively unimportant star system. A star system to which the Terran Republic had no primary claim.
“I’m aware there will be blowback, General,” Jenkins said firmly.
“And with my ship blown to hell,” Akinouye continued grimly, “we’re going to need to get creative if we want to keep your unit on active-duty where it can continue demonstrating the Metal Legion’s worth.” He sighed in resignation. “On top of which, I doubt Fleet’s going to prioritize the Bonhoeffer’s repairs in any of their shipyards. And the Legion doesn’t have the facilities to conduct those repairs ourselves.”
“Understood, General,” Jenkins said, knowing that the general’s preamble pointed to the necessity of another meeting with one of the wealthiest humans who ever lived: Director Durgan of DIE. “I’ll do what I can to secure the Legion’s interests via private support.”
“Good.” Akinouye nodded. “Which leaves us the matter of figuring out why these non-humans came to Shiva’s Wrath. Answer that question, and we can get the hell off this snowball.”
“Thank you, General.” Jenkins nodded, standing and making his way to Bahamut Zero’s exit ramp.
“We need to know,” Xi said urgently after receiving an update from Colonel Jenkins regarding the importance of solving the mystery of what the three alien races were looking for on Shiva’s Wrath, “why did the Zeen, the Vorr, and the Jemmin come here?”
“Symmetry,” the Zeen replied simply.
“Yes, I understand the reason was the same,” Xi said, working to suppress her mounting frustration after nearly three hours of circling this particular question. “But we still don’t know what that reason is. What is the purpose of your coming here?”
“Terran and Sol not symmetrical,” Zeen said matter-of-factly.
“I understand,” Xi said with growing impatience, “but why did you come to this world?”
“Terran and Sol not symmetrical,” the creature repeated.
Xi chewed her lip, stifling a scream of frustration as Styles sat down on the bench beside her.
“I think,” Styles mused, “that there’s something we’re missing about its transmission. I’ve noticed that it doesn’t use the terms ‘not symmetrical’ and ‘asymmetrical’ interchangeably. They seem to mean different things.”
“I noticed that, too,” she said irritably, “but how does it help?”
Styles produced a handheld scanner capable of detecting myriad types of radiation and pointed the device at the Zeen. “Ask it again. We have to be missing something fundamental here.”
Xi drew a cleansing breath. “Why did Zeen co
me to this world?”
“Terran and Sol not symmetrical,” the Zeen repeated, and Xi looked over at Styles as he flipped through screen after screen on the scanner’s interface.
“Anything?” she asked hopefully.
“Not yet…” He shook his head after scanning through the scanner’s settings.
“Wait…” she said, pointing to the translation device. “That’s Vorr, right?”
“Right,” Styles absently agreed.
“Don’t Vorr use a combined audio-visual communication system for person-to-person interactions?” she asked.
Styles stopped fidgeting the scanner instantly, his eyes snagging on the translator. “That’s right… They’re like octopuses.”
“Octopuses use skin pigment changes to communicate sensitive information with each other, and audio to communicate more publicly,” Xi continued, thinking they might finally be onto something. “What do we have on file for Vorr translation programs?”
“Hold on…” he said, switching over to a data slate and working to access Roy’s main computer. “There it is,” he said, pulling up a program designed to translate individual Vorr visual displays. “Help me link these things,” he urged, and Xi did as bidden. It took them nearly five minutes to establish a makeshift translator out of the two nearly-incompatible pieces of equipment, but when they finished, Styles pointed the scanner at the Zeen and said, “All right… Ask it again.”
Knowing they were near the end of their rope, Xi drew yet another steadying breath. “Why did Zeen come to this world?”
“Terran and Sol not symmetrical,” the Zeen replied, and as it did so, the Vorr translator pulsed with the same rhythmic, blue light.
Except this time, Styles’ scanner recorded every pulse and wave shift, which came back as a perfect match for short-range information burst codes employed by Vorr to communicate highly-sensitive information.
“Holy shit…” Styles muttered as hundreds of megabytes of data, pre-arranged to be easily understood by humans, streamed across the data slate.
“Are you saving all of this?” Xi asked breathlessly.
“You bet your ass,” Styles assured her as a stream of visual images populated the screen. “Wait…” he said in surprise. “Is that what I think it is?”
At first, Xi didn’t know exactly what he had seen, but then a schematic flickered across the screen almost too fast to register.
It was a diagram that any self-respecting nerd born after the mid-twenty-first century would recognize.
“I have to show this to the Colonel,” Styles said urgently, using his wrist-link to discretely contact their CO.
While waiting for the CO, both Xi and Styles had time to peruse the Zeen’s information-rich transmission burst. A few minutes later, Colonel Jenkins arrived at the APC’s outer door.
“What have you got?” Jenkins asked, causing Xi and Styles to share a brief but meaningful look. “Captain?” Jenkins pressed when the duo made no reply.
Xi was so utterly dumbfounded by what they had just seen that she could hardly clear her throat.
Thankfully, Styles was better prepared to convey their findings, though his voice trembled with anxiety as he said, “We found what brought the Vorr, the Jemmin, and the Zeen here, Colonel.”
“Let’s hear it,” Jenkins said, giving Xi a muted look of concern as she anxiously rubbed the back of her neck.
Styles handed the data slate to Colonel Jenkins, with the display prominently featuring a handful of nearly-identical images.
“What am I looking at?” Jenkins asked after perusing the series of images.
“One is a technical diagram of humanity’s first-generation quantum processor, which has not undergone serious modification since its inception,” Styles explained tremulously. “It was first mass-produced two full decades before humanity cracked FTL. It has only seen minor changes made to its supporting architecture over the last two centuries.”
Jenkins narrowed his eyes before looking back down at the slate. “The one with English lettering in the top-left is obviously the human schematic,” he mused.
“Correct.” Styles nodded, and Xi could hardly believe what she was about to hear him say in reply to Colonel Jenkins’ inevitable follow-up.
“Then what are the other three images?”
“The others…” Styles trailed off, causing Xi to step in.
“The others were reportedly found in a data storage device,” Xi explained, “which, until recently, rested below fifteen kilometers of water and ice beneath our feet.”
Jenkins’ brow furrowed in confusion. “Why would anyone care about schematics for two-hundred-year-old human technology?”
“That’s just it, sir,” Styles explained, regathering his wits in time to deliver the most crucial piece of the puzzle. “A header on the Vorr file which those images were packed inside show that at least one of the other three schematics pre-date humanity’s first FTL flight by over six hundred years.”
Jenkins seemed not to take their full meaning, so Xi clarified their findings in a tremulous voice. “Humanity didn’t invent the most fundamental piece of technology which ultimately became the backbone of our species’ virtual architecture, Colonel.”
Colonel Jenkins’ brow rose in surprise, suggesting he now understood the full meaning of what they had just learned.
“Put simply, sir,” Styles reported, his voice once again steady as he pointed at the data slate, “someone surreptitiously gave humanity that technology, and it looks like our species isn’t the first one to receive such a ‘gift.’”
“There’s also bits and pieces of the technology that weren’t incorporated. We were given a dumbed down set of keys to the galaxy, or humanity adopted a more restricted version. In either case, we can take this six-hundred-year-old technology to improve our current understanding of FTL engineering.”
Lieutenant Colonel Jenkins looked over at the serenely-situated Zeen insectaur while Xi could barely contain her disbelief at the magnitude of what they had just uncovered.
“You knew about this?” Jenkins asked the insect-like creature.
“Symmetry,” it replied in apparent agreement.
“Humanity didn’t reach the stars on our own feet, sir,” Xi said, flushing with anger at the reality of what she said next. “We were technologically uplifted.”
Colonel Jenkins’ brow lowered thunderously as he gave voice to what Xi considered the absolute worst revelation of all. “And we didn’t even know it.”
It was a stunning revelation. One which, if true, would re-shape the way humanity viewed the cosmos and their place in it.
“Zeen leave now,” the Zeen declared. “Zeen help Terran. Terran help Zeen.”
Colonel Jenkins nodded slowly. “Thank you for this.”
“Zeen help Terran,” the insect-like alien repeated, turning to Xi. “You brave Terran. Take.”
The thing’s frontal carapace slowly spread apart, revealing wire-thin tendrils that produced a small, spiral-shaped object very much like an elongated snail shell.
Xi bent down to examine the object closer before looking to her CO for approval. Colonel Jenkins nodded, prompting her to reach out and pluck the five-centimeter-long object from the Zeen’s grasp.
“Show to Zeen,” the creature explained, gesturing to the shell-like thing in Xi’s hands. “Zeen help brave. Zeen know brave. Zeen leave now,” the Zeen insisted. “Return us to Zeen.”
Colonel Jenkins nodded approvingly. “Chief Styles, conduct our guest back to the site of Xi’s…cultural exchange,” he finally said after apparently fishing for the right words. Frankly, Xi couldn’t think of a better way to describe their first contact situation with the bizarre species. “Captain Xi,” Jenkins said, looking down at the shell pointedly, “I suggest you make no reference to that in your logs.”
“Understood, sir,” she said, uncertain as to the meaning the token was meant to convey. She turned to the Zeen, holding the shell out between her palms. “Thank
you for this.”
“Symmetry.”
“Are you fit to escort our guest back to where you found it, Captain?” Jenkins asked.
“I am, sir.” Xi nodded.
“Good, then do so,” the colonel ordered before adding, “and then report to Doc Fellows for a full physical.”
She resisted the urge to groan at being ordered into Strange Bed’s clutches. “Yes, sir,” she acknowledged.
A little under an hour later, the Zeen disembarked the APC and rejoined its comrades aboard one of their large, living transport vehicles.
An hour after that, Xi reported to Fellows and survived the exam with her dignity mostly intact. But rather than succumbing to exhaustion as every cell in her body screamed for her to do, she made her way to Lu’s bedside where her Wrench-turned-Monkey was engaged in a critical battle for his life.
18
Tight Wraps
“Colonel Jenkins,” Sarah Samuels demanded after somehow escaping Doc Fellows’ watchful eye and finding Jenkins in the mess hall, “where are my video drones?”
Since the last of the Jemmin forces were confirmed neutralized, battalion HQ had transferred fifteen hundred kilometers from the irradiated ice-field. As a result, radiation protocols had been relaxed, and free movement was once again permitted throughout the camp.
“I already answered that question, Ms. Samuels,” Jenkins said, sighing in frustration at his half-eaten platter of food since he doubted she would let him enjoy the last of his meal.
“I don’t need answers, Colonel,” the reporter snapped, her head still wrapped with a bandage after sustaining a serious injury that had nearly cost the woman her ear. “I need my cameras. Their data integrity is covered by freedom of the press, freedom of speech, freedom of information, and by my charter approved by the Joint Chiefs of Staff!”
Jenkins closed his eyes, pushing the platter of food away. A soldier got precious little enjoyment on deployment, and Jenkins had worked hard to secure a talented cook to add some vitality to the otherwise-bland foodstuffs. As dozens of his fellow servicemen would readily attest, messing with Lee Jenkins’ food was a sure way to find out exactly what his bad side looked like.
