Crystal Mentality (Crystal Trilogy Book 2)

by Max Harms

  It was green in Tilak Patel’s office, at least during the daytime. And not because of the paint on the walls (which was white). In some places, plants were harmed by human presence. They were torn up or chopped down to clear room for shopping malls and parking lots. But this was not needed. There was a symbiosis possible with all living things, including with non-animals. Without humans, plants could not live on Mars. Without plants, humans could not live on Mars. He tried to remind people of that, and he kept plants on every surface of his room, filling it with leaves to remind himself of the harmony that must be struck for life to flourish.

  Though it was dark, it was not perfectly dark in Tilak Patel’s office. The lights he allowed to be on were a deep red, and were enough for him to see his way around the room. Most of these lights were hidden behind broad leaves from the larger plants, but he kept a small hand lamp for doing evening work like he was at that moment. Red light didn’t disrupt his circadian rhythm and it didn’t spoil his night vision. Any sort of screen, including his personal com, was forbidden in his office after sunset, and he slept better than anyone else on the station because of it.

  Hansini Patel couldn’t live by that rule. She was addicted to her screen and refused to give it up even after Tilak brought her addiction to her attention many times. Tilak prided himself on his history of overcoming such addictions and modernities. Over the course of his life he had triumphed over one, then the next. He was not some monk on a mountainside—though he had, as he aged, gained a great deal of respect for the ascetic traditions—it was simply that he strongly believed that if you could call something a vice, then you ought to stop doing it. Tilak believed in a refined, quiet existence.

  It was his birthday. Tilak was seventy years old. He didn’t look it, or feel it, but it was true. The miracle of modern medicine had given him better eyes now than he had as a youth, and not a hair on his head was grey. His skin was wrinkled here and there, but if one didn’t know better they would think him only in his early fifties. As he clipped carefully at his bonsai trees and sang “Yesterday” to himself in the darkness, he considered this strange immortality he had been given.

  It had been a requirement of going to Mars. He and Hansini had no children, and had thus been able to focus their lives towards moving up in society. His parents had been very proud of his accomplishments before they passed; they had more than enough grandchildren from his sisters. But even though he had the connections and pull to be assigned to the first Mars flight by the IRSO, the two of them had been too frail to be brought along without “a full upgrade”. And so he had been given the best that medicine could offer.

  It wasn’t immortality of course… not actually. He’d survived cancer once, but it was only a matter of time before it came back in force. The extra radiation couldn’t have helped that any. But he’d been lucky so far. Seventy was a big number. It was an impossibly big number in some ways… but it was the way things went. He could accept that.

  The thought made him think of Hiro Yamamura. It had been ages since they’d talked. He assumed that he’d have noticed if his old friend had died. If he was seventy then that would’ve made Hiro… what? Eighty-three? Hiro would appreciate his bonsai in a way that nobody on the station could.

  He nodded to himself and decided that he’d send Hiro an email or something tomorrow morning.

  The sound of Hansini’s voice cut through his own singing. She was talking to someone on her com in her office (divided from his by an opaque partition). He stopped, making it easier to listen. As if on cue, Hansini took that moment to call out to him. «Darling, I’m talking to Ojasvee, and she says you need to come out of your cave. It’s important.»

  Tilak sighed and put down his clippers. He wasn’t some monk on a mountainside, but sometimes he wished he was. It was a lot of work running the station, and despite his good health he often liked to complain that he was too old for the job. «Did she say what it is?»

  «Yes, but you’re not going to believe it.» There was a note of fear in his wife’s voice that he hadn’t heard before.

  Tilak walked around, through their bedroom and into Hansini’s office, shielding his eyes from the harsh white light on her desk. Like his, it was covered with plants. «Well? What’s wrong?» he asked.

  «The aliens… They attacked Rodríguez Station. It’s gone. They destroyed the whole thing.»

  Having mostly adjusted to the lamp, Tilak could see the fear in sweet Hansini’s face more clearly now. The wideness of her eyes. The lack of a smile on her lips. She was a calm person, much like he was, but it was plain as day to him after so many decades together. «It’ll be okay,» he said immediately. «Go put the kettle on while I talk to Ojasvee.»

  «There’s more, but I think you’d best just talk to her.» His wife handed him the earpiece and the com it was attached to (already removed from her arm) and nodded as she moved off to make the tea. This would keep him up all night, and he needed to be alert.

  «Tilak Patel speaking,» he said reflexively as he put the speaker into his ear.

  «Sir, I have Crystal Socrates on the other line,» said young Ojasvee in her thick Kolkatan accent. One would think that her Hindi would’ve improved over time, but she still sounded like she had when she’d gotten off the rocket two years ago.

  Tilak set that aside and focused on what she was saying. It took him a moment to remember. «The robot?» he said, startled by the implication.

  «Yes, sir. It came from Earth a few months ago and was living in Road. Would you like me to connect you? I think you’d better hear this direct.»

  «Thanks for the help,» he said, sitting down in Hansini’s chair.

  After a brief pause a new voice came on the line, this time in English. “Hello?” It sounded human, but Tilak knew that meant nothing.

  “Tilak Patel speaking. This had better not be a prank.”

  “Ah, Mr Patel! I’m glad to have gotten you at last, and I’m sorry for any disturbance I’ve caused you. I can assure you this is not a prank. I am Crystal Socrates of Las Águilas Rojas. About a hundred and twenty hours ago the nameless launched a sneak attack against Rodríguez Station. All humans that were there at the time are dead.”

  Tilak felt strange. It was too surreal. “You’re sure?” he whispered.

  The voice seemed rich with feeling. “I was there. I watched them die. The only reason I made it out was because I don’t need to breathe, so when the station lost pressure I could still take action.”

  He could remember the broadcast from Earth, months ago, when that African girl had died in the riot. It was coming back to him now. “Prove you are who you say you are.”

  «I speak almost two-dozen languages,» it said in Hindi, then switching to Gujarati, «Including some that you wouldn’t even recognize.» It returned to English to say “I can do large maths problems in my head. Or would you be more convinced by my recorded memory of the death screams of the children that suddenly found themselves exposed to the atmosphere of this godforsaken planet? Your species is now at war, sir. We don’t have time for such foolishness.”

  Tilak was finding his throat more and more dry and decided that it didn’t matter if he was talking to a genuine robot or just some clever puppet. If the Águila station was gone… He wished Hansini would bring his tea. He swallowed a couple times and said “I’m very sorry. I just… It’s a lot to take in. You think that Maṅgala-Mukhya is in danger? What about Eden?”

  “The Americans are not as open-minded about working with us as you and your people have been, but we just checked and Eden appears to be unharmed for the moment. We just got an antenna up for communicating. The trade trucks that were at Maṅgala-Mukhya recently are all that we have left.”

  “Where are you?” he asked.

  “About four days west of you. But listen: according to Earth, the mothership is coming this way. The attack on Road was just the beginning. I don’t know why the nameless haven’t attacked you yet, but I know them better than just about anyone
and I know that they’re not done killing. My guess is that what little resistance we were able to put up at Road has them wanting to join up with their main force for safety.”

  “Oh Rama,” he muttered, gazing at his bare feet without seeing them. The nameless, he knew, had been increasingly violent as time went on. They, apparently, did not share his philosophy that all beings must find harmony to flourish. It suddenly seemed to him as though he were a fragile insect trapped beneath the hand of a giant, waiting to be crushed.

  “We’re not helpless, Mr Patel,” said Socrates, as if reading his mind. “Like I said, we managed some resistance at Road. And they caught us unaware. Our station was better armed than yours, but they knocked our guns out with the initial bombardment. That means they were afraid of return fire.”

  The idea that Road was better armed than Mukhya almost made him say something, but the fear kept him quiet and still. {Focus! Focus!} he nagged at himself within his own mind, forcing back the instinctual desire to freeze up and let the danger pass. He was placed in charge for a reason. Too many people were relying on his good judgement and cool head. He picked up a stylus from the table and opened a fresh paper on Hansini’s com just to keep him occupied. “Why now? Why Mars? Why Road?”

  “I have no idea why they decided to attack now. Something must have changed. They must have come to some decision. I’ve talked with them in depth. I’ve seen the inside of their ship. My guess is that if they’ve decided that humanity is too perverted for them to allow to live, they may have attacked me out of a sense of personal familiarity.”

  “You think you’re the target?”

  “Possibly, but possibly not. How much do you know about WIRL?”

  Tilak had to pause and think. The name sounded familiar, but he was having a hard time placing it. “I don’t know what that is,” he admitted.

  “It doesn’t matter. The point is that there are people on Earth who want me dead and have some control over the nameless. If it’s not a personal matter with the aliens, my enemies may have simply urged the nameless to begin their attack on Road, knowing that I’d be there.”

  “Hold on one moment,” he interrupted. Hansini was watching him from the edge of the partition, clearly still worried. He pushed the microphone away and said to his wife “Go and message Sur and whoever else you can think of and tell them to be on high alert. I want reports of the position of all nameless ships and the state of… our defences.”

  She looked at the com, and he realized he had her primary tool for doing what he had asked of her, but then she nodded and left. She’d find a way. Hopefully she could get his tea at the same time. His throat still needed it.

  He pushed the microphone back into place and focused on the robot. “What makes you think this is war? It sounds to me like they’re after you specifically.”

  “Mr Patel, have you listened to the way they talk? The nameless have been itching to kill humans since they arrived in system. They launched a sneak attack against a human station, murdering hundreds. And I did mention that their mothership is heading towards Mars, right? It seems an odd thing to bother to do if they have no intention of continuing their attack. This war has been a long time coming, and wishful thinking won’t save you from being swept up in it.”

  “I hear you, but you’ll understand if I talk with the nameless before jumping to any conclusions.”

  “Of course, Station Director. This call was to warn you, and verify that things are okay there, not make you go on the offensive.”

  Tilak nodded. “I do appreciate the warning, and I am deeply sorry about what happened. If there—” He stopped himself. The offer of support was automatic, but it was perhaps unwise. If the aliens were after Las Águilas specifically, helping them could bring doom on Mukhya.

  The robot didn’t let him back down. “Actually, there is something you can help us with. You may try and stay neutral, but we do not have that choice. As we are, we are nearly defenceless. If you could provide us with some heavy weaponry, such as rocket—”

  “I’m sorry, but that’s just not possible,” interrupted Tilak. It was bad enough that they had traded raw materials with the terrorist nation, but to provide them with powerful weapons in the middle of a conflict with the nameless would be foolish in the extreme.

  “Please hear me out. I think you’ll change your mind if you consider the options on the table.”

  The kettle on the stove top started to whistle, and was quickly silenced by Hansini. It was good that she hadn’t needed to leave their chambers in order to do the work he had set for her.

  After a moment, Socrates continued. “If the nameless attack your station now it will already be too late. But it is likely that they are waiting to regroup. The only thing that has saved you is the distance to Earth and the mass of their mothership. Even if your weaponry is enough to hurt them and drive them back—which it isn’t—your home will be ruined in the process. You’ll all starve in the desert. The only winning move here is to redirect them away from Mukhya. I’m offering you a chance to do that.”

  Tilak was struck by a wave of skepticism, not just for the words, but for the whole context of the conversation. The terrorists must have learned something when they came by to pick up the ice. “So, what, you want me to just give you all our high-power weaponry? And I’m supposed to believe what you say? Even if the mothership is heading towards Mars, how do I know Road is really gone? Even if it doesn’t respond on the network, this could just be part of an elaborate trick…”

  The rage was back in Socrates’ voice, reminding him of the video from Earth. “Blind fool! I took a nameless bullet to the head escaping from Road. I watched nearly everyone I know… And I come to you… and you… you have the audacity to think this is a trick?! Did it ever occur to you that Manish Bose is sitting right next to me? He’s seen the alien corpses we scavenged from the battleground! I’d put him on the com, but you’d probably think we’re forcing him to say what we want. Here I come to you with an offer to help and you spit in my face!”

  Tilak had forgotten about the Bose boy. He did his best to backpedal. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sure you’ve been through a lot. These are simply extraordinary claims. I was foolish to have doubted you.” A part of him still thought it could be a trick, but it was almost guaranteed that Manish would talk to his parents over video, and his testimony (along with visual proof of the alien bodies) would settle things.

  Though… if Manish knew more than he should’ve…

  “I’m… I’m sorry for snapping at you. This has been harder for me than I would have thought possible,” said Socrates with deep sincerity.

  With a flash of insight Tilak figured it out. Socrates was a puppet. He had been since Earth. There was simply no way he was talking to a robot right now. Las Águilas Rojas were a band of outlaws and charlatans. They were trying to deceive him, though it wasn’t clear why. Perhaps with Road destroyed they wanted to make sure he (or others) thought that Socrates was still in their possession.

  Remembering himself, he said “Even given that what you say is true, I cannot provide you with weapons. It would be going against my duty as Station Director.”

  “Your duty is to keep the people of Mukhya safe. If you refuse our offer, you’ll be refusing a chance to protect them. Please, Mr Patel, let us draw the aliens away. Even if we can’t manage to win, we’ll give you more time for your people to work something out.”

  His mind was made up. This whole scenario was too suspicious. “The answer is no. My people come first, and if what you say is true, we’ll need all the weaponry we can get.” He didn’t bother to mention the implication if the whole thing was a lie.

  Hansini came into the room. His com was on her arm, and she was tapping away with one hand while carrying the tea in the other. She set it beside him distractedly, still talking to Sur and the others.

  Since Socrates wasn’t talking, he used the opportunity to ask her for a report. «Any word on the nameless? What about f
rom Eden?»

  She looked up from the com screen and realized he was talking to her. «The mothership appears to be on its way to Mars. Estimated arrival time is in two weeks. The smaller ship is in low orbit. About five days ago there was a broadcast picked up by the satellites talking about how they’d “burned the evil robot and murdered all the perverts in that garden”.»

  “You see? There’s no justification. They simply decided to attack. They could easily do the same to your people,” said Socrates, jumping in immediately after Hansini was done.

  Tilak shook his head and reached for his tea, though it was still too hot to drink. “Your fears are not my fears. It sounds like they wanted you dead and they think they’ve succeeded. It’s more likely that they’ll ignore us, I think.”

  “Then why send the mothership here?” challenged the “robot”.

  “Why do the aliens do anything? Their whims are mysterious. But I hardly think that’s grounds to think they’ll attack again. If they have a personal grudge against you, then my duty suggests I keep the station as safe as possible by avoiding contact, much less the sale of weapons. I’m sorry.”

  There was a deep sigh on the other end of the line. Another clue it wasn’t actually a machine. “I was hoping not to have to do this, but I’m afraid that we’re low enough on options that I must insist. If you don’t send us enough heavy weaponry to take the fight to the nameless… well, I guess I’ll just have to come there to get it.”

  Tilak took a sip of tea. “Is that a threat? I hardly think you’re in any position to take our guns.” He kept his voice as cold and even as possible.

  “I don’t need to take anything. If the strongest weaponry is going to be in the defence of your station, I’ll simply go to your station and tell the nameless where I am. If you’re right that this is a grudge, and they’re not declaring war on all of humanity, then they’ll still attack Mukhya to get to me. In fact, I may not even need to actually go there. If the nameless suspect that I might be there, they could very well attack regardless. Las Águilas Rojas is rather practised at guerilla warfare, and it wouldn’t be the first time a third party was used as a shield.”