by Greg Bear
“What chance of that?” Ishida asks.
Borden shakes her head.
“What else can we do?” Jacobi asks. She sounds hoarse and exhausted.
“This may have been Mushranji’s plan all along,” Kumar says.
“Your ignorance is awe-inspiring,” Ishida says, and Tak gets between them, just to be careful.
WRAPPED IN A mat, I try to close my eyes, but there’s too much going on behind my head, wherever that is, to let me sleep. Bird Girl truly believes that the starshina and likely their own exposed soldier are crucial to piercing the nightmare gate, taking control of this ship and getting the hell out of the solar system. Crucial to going home.
My eyelids disagree with my brain. They become too heavy. I drift off.
Comes a sudden jerk-up to full awareness. Ulyanova is floating a few feet from me, suspended in shadow and the last few drops of cage-cleaning spray from our attendant bats. She looks at me as if she would solve all her problems simply by figuring out how I work, what I mean. Turnabout.
“What?” I say.
“Do not need live Gurus. Will be problem.”
“All right,” I say.
“Do not want this,” she murmurs. “I will not be me.”
As I have never been quite sure who Ulyanova is in the time I’ve known her, what can I say that might help? Nothing.
“I feel Antagonista who is connected to Guru,” she says. “Very unhappy. Others do not treat her well. Stupid, no?”
“Stupid,” I agree. Her English has improved. Is that some sort of proof of her connection?
“All Antag fighters are female,” she says, after a thoughtful pause.
“Interesting,” I say.
“Once I thought females in charge, bottom to top, would be good. Now, not so much. Well, she needs me to finish this work. Can you tell her that? Your Antagonista, your steward?”
“I’ll tell her.” I decide against passing along Bird Girl’s design for the starshina’s fate.
“Good,” Ulyanova says, then presses her lips together, as if evenly spreading lipstick. At least that’s familiar. She looks away, looks up, then focuses her pike-sharp gaze on me again. “Gurus know you,” she says. “I know what they know.”
“Okay,” I say.
“You brought dead girl from Mexico.” She gives me a disgusted look.
“True.”
“You almost died walking on railway bridge.”
“Yeah,” I say.
“And you killed your father.” She smiles with a sad, creepy kind of pride. “I stabbed my father. He did not die. Why I joined Skyrines. Anybody else know these things?”
Honesty is definitely the best policy here. “Joe Sanchez,” I say.
She shakes her head. “He is not like you, the corporal, or me, right?”
“Right.”
“Proof this comes from shithole Gurus. What they know, I know. Poor me! My soul is rotting. But is good.” She moves closer and grabs my arm. Her broken fingernails dig in. “Bits of Guru inside you, like bombs. No others needed. We kill other Gurus, and you help open gate.”
Before I can think of a response, she backs away, folding her arms. Joe moves into view as another volley of food is tossed through the cage. Nobody tries to catch the cakes. The bats watch, squeaking, then retreat. Maybe they need us fat.
“Borden’s getting bored,” Joe says, with a worried glance at the starshina. “Time for a conference.”
QUESTIONS NEVER ASKED
Borden’s bare feet just touch the mesh. She has reasonably long and grippy toes, handy under these circumstances. She folds her arms as Jacobi and Litvinov and their respective troops join us. Litvinov and Ulyanova are at the center of the cluster, Bilyk and Vera to one side. Vera seems deeply concerned about the starshina.
I’m curious about one big, important thing, especially after my conversation with her a few minutes earlier.
“Who set Ulyanova up for this?” I ask. I do not want to give Borden or Joe, or Kumar, control over the discussion. I’m not at all sure who’s on the side of those exposed to the tea.
The commander lets out her breath in exasperation, whether at me or at the cards we’re being dealt. She says to Ulyanova, “I’m not sure where we’re all at now—but we’d like to know how this happened to you.”
Ulyanova gives us a head-back, almost reptilian look, as if recovering from a punch in the jaw. Her brows draw together and she starts slow. “What I remember … On Mars, between big battles, we defend Voors and Muskies in station, when we are told important leaders, Wait Staff, come for visit.”
“When was this?”
“Last season,” she says, referring to the combat season I spent away from Mars, at Madigan. “They will inspect.”
“Inspect what?” Borden asks.
“Drifter, Voor camps. And another piece of crystal on surface, exposed by sandstorm. We are ordered by polkovnik to escort leaders sixty kilometers to this place, wait for them, then take them to lander. There are six, including polkovnik. We stay in tractor. Hours later, visitors and soldiers return with heavy box. They order us, put it in cabin, take all to lander. They have for what they come. No more talk.”
“They look human?” Borden asks.
For some reason, this seems to surprise Ulyanova. “They are Wait Staff!”
Jacobi looks back at Kumar, who as usual is staying a few meters from the group.
“An important pair of visitors, but just one tractor?” Borden asks. Ulyanova cocks an eyebrow at the commander. Is she the one who needs to explain the ways of rank?
“Only one,” she says. “Big enough.”
“Did they know about the other Drifter?” DJ asks.
“I think not. We carry them, try to make sure they get safe from Red. But strike happens—strong force, two millies, maybe one hundred Antagonista. Lander is in pieces when we arrive. We hear on radio is Russian force trying to reach us, join to repel enemy, but bolts strike tractor, throw bodies. Throw me on dust, but I am just shaken. Russians arrive, many die pushing back enemy.” She folds her hands. “Box is broken open, full of crystal and powder. Pieces inside are black.”
That sinks in. We experienced how dangerous the crystal is when it feels it’s in danger.
Joe says. “If they carved off samples … ”
Inevitably we all look Kumar’s way. “Please continue,” he says. “This is new to me.”
Ulyanova resumes. “Around what is left of tractor, we find four of our dead and both Wait Staff. One visitor is in pieces, turned glass—other badly injured. Soon, he, too, is dead. All are covered in powder. Two soldiers are also glass.”
DJ taps his head, then looks to me. “Hear any other Russians?”
“No.” I watch the starshina.
“We carry remains to another tractor. Not touch pieces. Then—one last bolt. My helm loses suck. I breathe powder and blood before troopers put me in safety bag.”
Litvinov looks haggard. “Unique orders from orbit,” he says. “Collect all dead. Collect visitor body. Nobody allowed to inspect.”
“Gurus,” Kumar says.
“But they look human!” Vera says.
“They usually present as one form,” Kumar says. “But can easily look human if they wish. Master Sergeant Venn has seen at least one such. However, I believe nobody, until that moment, had ever seen a dead Guru.”
“If they can be whatever they want to be,” Jacobi says, “they can look like a corpse, right? Fake us out?”
“And this one had turned glass, anyway,” Ishida reminds us.
A brief pause as we absorb more awkward implications.
“What would the tea do to them?” DJ asks. “They’re not part of our old family, like Antags—or are they?”
Nobody wanders up that sidetrack, but I’ve already figured it out. The crystals and the tea can be adjusted to do more than just absorb enemies. It can also link them into the bug network, with none of the advantages. A deep and dangerous espionage.<
br />
“Did Mushran arrange all that?” Borden asks Kumar. “Was there a plan to expose Gurus and humans to the tea together? To get a Guru to turn glass?”
Kumar considers. “I cannot deny that such a plan was a possibility, but I was not told of it, even after I arrived on Mars.”
“What happened to the casualties? The Wait Staff bodies?” Ishikawa asks.
“They were shuttled to Earth,” Litvinov says.
“More shit to turn Virginia Beach into black glass,” DJ says.
“Sacrificing Russians!” Litvinov adds, giving DJ a warning glare.
Kumar folds his arms and grips his elbows, as if he’s suddenly cold. “That must be when Ulyanova became important to the Antagonists,” he says. Admirably restating the obvious, or just bringing the point home to slow Skyrines?
We don’t bring back our dead. Scrap and stain forever. What changed, and who changed it? I try to imagine Ulyanova and Litvinov’s Russian troops on the Red, traveling in the presence of Gurus who look human—with a box full of Ice Moon Tea. Close, breathing the same air. Going into a trap designed to mix them all together, just to see what happens. Was Joe already involved? Conspiring with rebel Antags to undercut Wait Staff on both sides, screwing with those monsters who found advantage in sending us far, far out to fight and die? Joe would have loved that. A real upgrade.
But I don’t interrupt.
“Is Mushran really dead?” Ishida asks.
“He was in our Oscar,” DJ says. “I didn’t see him after we were dumped into the tanks.”
“Nobody saw him after that,” Litvinov says.
“Maybe he was a Guru after all,” Ishida says.
“Not possible,” Kumar says.
“How would you have known?” Ishida asks.
Kumar looks away. “Perhaps I would not,” he admits.
My thoughts are almost too dense and rapid to hold on to, so I keep my attention on Ulyanova. The starshina seems to be warming to her situation as a strategic asset.
“You’ve known about this how long?” I ask Joe.
“Parts of it since last season,” he says. “After I sent you home. But not the Guru bits.”
“Planned it?”
“Not me,” Joe says.
“Very likely, Mushran and a very few others in Division Four,” Kumar says.
“But not you?” Jacobi asks.
“Not me,” Kumar says.
Back to Joe. “You returned to Earth for a few months,” I say, “but avoided me—I was in Madigan, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Then you hopped a command shuttle to Mars. Who arranged that?”
“You saved the coin we found in the first Drifter,” Joe says. “Hidden up your ass, as I recall. I took it back to Mars to open the second Drifter station. But for some reason, you seem to think I’ve been deceptive.” He gets right up in my face. My turn to feel the burn. “Maybe you were the one who drew me in!”
“Fuck you,” I say.
“Shut it,” Borden says.
“We’ve known each other since day two, Vinnie, when I helped bury your fucking secrets. Look at me! I’m as confused and twisted as you are,” Joe says, then backs off. “You give me way too much credit.”
Borden pulls her way up between us. “Let’s put two and two together,” she says. “Mushran had to establish several things. One was that the Antags actually had their own Gurus—the ones they call Keepers—and that they were substantially the same as ours, maybe working to the same ends. He kept Kumar out of that loop. Kumar’s job was to track Wait Staff and Gurus on Earth, figure out how they were reacting. Right?”
“That is so,” Kumar says.
“Even before that, Mushran needed to confirm that the tea really gave you and Johnson and Kazak access to special knowledge and didn’t just make you see stuff. With that confirmation, Kumar and I arranged to get you out of Madigan and back to Mars.
“After Mushran had established an element of trust with rebel Antags, he told them what had happened to some of our Skyrines. In turn, they relayed to him that they, too, were aware of the crystal archives.”
DJ cocks his head. “We’re like detectives in the last chapter of a fucking mystery!”
This actually draws out a smile from Borden, the first we’ve seen in a while.
“We could use some more clues,” Ishida says. We’ve forgotten that not everyone in our group has the big picture, but now is not the time to fill in those details, and maybe they’ll pick them up as we move forward.
“On Titan, the one you call Bird Girl was channeling an Antag who turned glass. Isn’t that how it works?”
Makes sense to DJ and me.
“Keepers probably relayed that intelligence to Gurus on Earth,” she says. “Division Four noticed that Wait Staff and Gurus were paying lots more attention to suspicious communications, looking for exchanges between humans and Antags.” She looks to Kumar.
Kumar says, “When we weren’t doing our best to kill each other.”
“But how did Division Four, or the Antags, learn that Gurus could be hooked in?” I ask.
“I am not sure Mushran knew that was possible,” Kumar says.
“So it was just dumb luck?” Jacobi asks.
“I don’t think so,” Joe says, hot on the trail. Watching him, I remember what he was like as a teenager, and have my doubts he is deep in the conspiracy. After all, the source of my only info on these matters is the Guru at Madigan—and Gurus lie, right? “The rebel Antags must have discovered that the tea could link their soldiers to Keepers—give them access to shit from deep inside a Keeper’s mind, no filters, no sham. Gurus feared that prospect more than having humans dialed into ancient history. Mushran may have then set in motion the encounter on Mars.”
Joe grabs my shoulder and spins me around. I’m being grabbed a lot lately, but I don’t resist. Maybe I deserve this. “You’ve been blaming me since you came back from Madigan,” he says. “And maybe I knew stuff I couldn’t tell you right away. I put you into play, sure. But I never got clued into the big picture, just bits and pieces—orders with thin or no explanations. I doubt Mushran ever trusted any Skyrine. At the beginning, I had no idea you’d be so important. But it made things a lot easier.”
“Because I’m a sap.”
“Because you’re reliable. I knew that given the opportunity on Mars, everything would be easier for all of us—because of you.”
“I would like to have had a choice,” I say.
“Me, too,” DJ says.
“You knew pretty much when we knew,” Borden says. “And on some matters, you knew before.”
“What about Ulyanova?”
The starshina listens, eyes still narrow, lips tight.
“I can’t speak to what the Russians knew,” Borden says, “or when she awoke to her connection.”
Ulyanova lifts her hand and one finger, then folds the finger and looks away as if bored. Or in control, waiting for us to figure all this out so she can get on with her life.
“Bird Girl knew before we did,” I say. “She chose Ulyanova. Maybe their steward told them who to look for.”
“Who’s getting Wi-Fi and who’s not,” DJ says.
“Can you hear anything through her?” Joe asks DJ and me.
“Nothing substantial,” DJ says. “More like static.”
“Then nobody knows what she’s actually tuned into.”
Again her impatient, bored look.
“I do,” I say. “She’s been sharing some of my deepest secrets, and she could only get them through a Guru.”
Joe looks uneasy. “Or me,” he says.
“Yeah.”
“How did the Antags find this ship?” Borden asks.
“Let’s ask them later,” DJ says. “I’m so tired I could croak and not know the difference.”
“Right,” Borden says. “We’ll give it a rest for now.”
I’d like to sort things out further, but have to agree that would not be productiv
e.
“We are done?” Ulyanova asks.
“Done,” Borden says.
Vera brings up a rolled mat and leads the starshina to another part of the cage. Bilyk looks like a lost little kid. Litvinov is paying him no attention, and the others are scrupulously avoiding Russians—all but DJ. DJ spreads his mat next to Bilyk and conks immediately. Bilyk soon joins him.
But I’m buzzing.
We haven’t even got around to the caged dead and the gate.
SORROW AND PITY
We’re allowed a few hours of nothing like peace but at least quiet, and the rest of us are starting to rouse. We take advantage of a stream of water shot through the cage by a trio of bats, then intercept baseball-sized lumps of the cakes we’ve been eating for days and now hate like fury. But we’re hungry. We eat, then hold up mats as curtains. The bats obligingly wash away our by-products. I don’t know where the water and shit goes, but it doesn’t come back into our cage.
“More discussion, sir,” I suggest to Joe. “Debrief on our trip forward.”
He looks uneasy, as if his gut is bothering him, then says, “Let’s do it.”
Ishikawa and Vera escort the starshina to rejoin the main group. Litvinov and Bilyk flank them. Ulyanova’s attitude is again cool and calm. Litvinov is almost obsequious toward her.
Everyone forms layers around DJ and Borden and me, clutching arms and legs and rearranging until all can see and hear. Joe forms up beside Borden and they lead the brief/debrief.
DJ and I, Borden adding details, explain what we saw on the way forward, in the company of Bird Girl and her Antag commanders. We neglect to say much about the screw garden and its low, bushy forest—which nobody understands—but we do describe the tangle of human bodies in the second hamster cage. Borden’s face takes on a brief pained expression, like she knows something we don’t, and doesn’t want to know it.
The explanations wind on. Not all our group is clued into the weird details about Bug Karnak, the steward, and DJ’s and my off-and-on link with Bird Girl.
“Yeah, but why did they pick you four to go forward?” Ishikawa asks.
