Resilience

by Fletcher DeLancey

  And then it would be over. With both the captain and Cox here, he had no illusions about his ability to get out of hydroponics. The only reason he’d gotten out of the brig was because Cox wasn’t around. The man was a professional. He probably had the chase doors guarded, if he hadn’t already changed the repair code.

  Then again, it hadn’t ever been about escaping, had it? Deep down he had known he wouldn’t get off this ship. But there was a difference between prison when Sholokhov was pleased by a job well done, and prison when he was angry at a failure.

  Slowly and methodically, he examined the walls and ceiling beams, marking each of the security cams that he could see. The tree was both advantage and disadvantage now, blocking the cams’ view of him but also hindering his ability to find them. Still, he could see the pattern of their installation and fill in the blanks.

  Now it was a matter of mapping out the route. He would need to climb down this side of the tree and dash behind that rack of plants. Then to that bushy shrub that overhung most of the path between racks, and then to that blind spot.

  It helped immensely that the racks were three meters high, with upright plants on the bottom tiers and hanging plants on the top. In many places, those racks made a solid wall of foliage—and they extended for the length of the bay.

  Bit by bit, he assembled his approach. When he mentally reached the point where he would have to break cover and run to Sayana, he backtracked the route. From the base of the tree, he ran it forward again, and twice more for good measure.

  He shifted his weight, preparing for the first move, and glanced back for a final clear look at Sayana.

  What in the name of the Seeders—?

  The ramps leading into the tanks were full of small moving objects.

  And Sayana appeared to be in a trance.

  “You may be right,” Commander Jalta said. “There are birds and mammals that can distinguish Gaian faces, but only after time and association.”

  “Even Gaians have trouble with it when people look different from what they’re accustomed to,” Lhyn added. “Drop Ekatya on Allendohan, where we’re all tall and thin and a lot of us have green eyes, and she might not be able to tell me from the rest.”

  “Slight exaggeration,” Serrado said dryly.

  Rahel chuckled at her tone. “I understand. It’s about what you’re used to. Hoi—there’s something happening.”

  The Resilere were rearranging themselves. Two hung from the top of each crate, dangling over the eggs, while the rest were flowing down the ramps. They entered the water but didn’t fully submerge, instead remaining half out and plastered against the tank wall. Their eye stalks were extended and swiveled forward, facing the crates.

  In perfect synchrony, blue bioluminescence circled their bodies. Then green. Then red. Then the blue returned, drawing a different and more complex pattern. The green and red repeated it.

  Expecting a new pattern in blue, Rahel was startled to see a separation in their synchrony. The four hanging over the eggs sparkled in blue, while the eight in the water divided themselves into two groups: four with a pattern in green and four with a different pattern in red.

  “This is phenomenal.” Lhyn was speaking in a near-whisper, awe filling her voice. “The sound patterns—they’re identical. I mean, each group of four is doing precisely the same frequencies at precisely the same intervals, and the three patterns are interwoven and reflecting. It looks . . . musical.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I think they’re singing.”

  Never had Rahel wished so fervently that she could hear in low frequencies. She would have given almost anything to hear this the way the Resilere did.

  Judging by the ever-increasing complexity of their bioluminescence, the song was becoming more intense, more . . . profound, she thought. They didn’t move, their stillness unsettling after the constant shifting she had grown accustomed to. Even when a Resilere stayed in one place, at least one or two of its arms were usually coiling, extending, feeling, retracting—but not now. They were focused on their song.

  So focused, she realized, that their earlier maelstrom of emotion was dying down. One by one, threads were stripped away. Confusion was already gone. Relief was gone. Grief was fading, and the joy had changed flavor. It was no longer a shocked joy of discovery. It was . . .

  “Anticipation,” she whispered. It had hit her senses like a stave to the chest. “They’re full of joyous anticipation. They’re waiting, expecting . . .”

  “Expecting.” Commander Jalta’s voice was as awed as Lhyn’s. “Expecting their eggs to hatch. Holy crap, do you think that’s possible? Eggs that don’t rely on elapsed development time, or a build-up of certain chemicals. Or temperature or light levels . . .”

  “But on song,” Lhyn said. “On hearing these specific frequencies.”

  “We sing our babies to sleep.” Rahel could not stop her grin. “Why couldn’t they sing theirs out of the egg?”

  The anticipation grew, flooding her senses until she could feel it in her bones. Joy lifted her arms and increased her heart rate. It dropped her head back, opening her airway for the breath she needed now that her lungs were so much larger. Her vision darkened and her hearing dampened, until she was alone in the universe with a silent voice speaking solely to her. It caressed, comforted, encouraged. It told her that she was loved.

  Vaguely she heard distant sounds, a smaller voice trying to get her attention. She had no time for such irritants. The only voice that mattered was the one she heard with her heart. It was calling her out, and she would follow it anywhere.

  Her comforting, perfect universe shattered with a blinding slash of pain. Shards of reality shredded her awareness as her body crashed to a hard, unforgiving surface. She was too warm and too cold all at once.

  Voices shouted at her, their words confused and unintelligible. She dug them out of her ear and threw them away, hoping that would stop the pain, but it only worsened. Her vision cleared, revealing a man standing above her and holding something that dripped red.

  “Thought you’d be more of a challenge.”

  “What?” she whispered. She was dazed, still longing for the private universe that had been torn away. The gleeful malevolence soaking her senses could not be more shocking after what she had just experienced.

  Then she remembered feeling this once before. “Helkenn.”

  “Not so fast with that stave now, are you? I hear these things like blood. You’re losing a lot of it. Don’t you think it’s poetic, being killed by your pets?” With a laugh, he darted away.

  She pressed her hand to her side. The blood was flowing rapidly, and her body was already weak. Whether from the emotional impact or the physical one, she had no strength to stand, let alone fight.

  Rage coated her senses—protective, parental rage from multiple sources.

  From her position on the deck, she couldn’t see them, but she knew they were coming. And she was bleeding a hundred times worse than Murray had.

  They boiled out of the tanks, two heading straight for her while the others swarmed off in a different direction. She had no time to wonder where the others had gone before a heavy weight slid onto her abdomen.

  A Resilere was positioning itself directly over her wound.

  “No.” She pushed at it weakly. “I saved you!”

  It settled down, unaffected by her pitiful attempts. She dropped her head back and thought of the fish flopping on Dock One.

  Help me.

  She’d have to thank Zeppy and Kenji later, Ekatya thought as she watched the displays. They had set up a miniature command center outside the main doors, complete with multiple displays showing the sound frequencies and cam footage. Despite having four section chiefs and Lhyn crowded around, everyone had a good view and she didn’t have to pull rank to guarantee her own.

  Which she most certainly would have done. Overseeing first contact with a sentient, intelligent species? She had dreamed of this since her cadet da
ys. She could retire tomorrow and be happy.

  Nor was she the only one. Lhyn was practically vibrating with excitement, Jalta was only a little calmer, and Dr. Wells had been sucked in despite her earlier efforts to maintain a professional distance. Zeppy couldn’t stop grinning, and even Cox had loosened up.

  It was first contact, historic research, and a birth party all in one.

  “Look at that,” Lhyn said as Rahel lifted her arms and let her head fall back with a beatific smile. “I’d sell my left arm to feel what she’s feeling.”

  “I don’t know about that.” Zeppy glanced at her. “After those stories about Dothanor Prime, do you have any body parts left to sell?”

  “They didn’t all freeze off. Ask Ekatya.”

  “People, we’re still on the record,” Ekatya reminded them.

  Lhyn gave a dismissive shrug. “Not really. The events are, and the data, but I stopped keeping an official voice record the moment we rolled the tanks into those chases.”

  “You mean my statement about the cargo crew won’t go in your data packet?” Dr. Wells asked.

  “Only if you want it to.”

  “I might. Stars above, she looks like she’s going into an altered state of consciousness. At this rate we’ll need the gurney after all.”

  “Have you seen people in those kinds of trances?” Lhyn asked curiously.

  Wells nodded. “They tend to have a hard transition back to reality. They lose all sense of time and space. Proprioception goes out the window with it.”

  “Proprio what?” Zeppy wanted to know.

  “Proprioception. The body’s sense of itself.” She held up a hand and turned it back and forth. “Knowing where our various body parts are in space, and which ones are moving.”

  Lhyn snapped her fingers. “That did happen to her. Several times. When the memories were especially intense, she almost fell over. She didn’t hear me or even know I was there.”

  “I saw that. It shows how intense the sensory input is for her. I’ve rarely met anyone so exquisitely tuned to her body as Rahel. For her to lose that awareness, repeatedly—the Resilere must be extremely powerful empaths.”

  “And it wasn’t just physical awareness,” Lhyn added. “She lost empathic awareness.”

  “Which makes me wonder how a high empath would perceive contact with them.”

  Lhyn flashed a grin. “Considering the fact that we need empaths to learn their language, there’s a good chance we’ll find that out someday.”

  “Someday,” Dr. Wells agreed. “Phoenix, unmute. Rahel, can you hear me?”

  The video feed might have been frozen for all the indication Rahel gave.

  “Rahel. This is Dr. Wells. If you can hear me, please lift your right hand.”

  When ten seconds passed with no movement, Ekatya shifted closer to her.

  “Do we need to worry?” she asked quietly.

  “Not yet. Phoenix, mute.” Dr. Wells didn’t take her eyes off the display. “Wish I had a bioreadout on her, but I can see her breathing. She’s taking deep, regular breaths, and she’s still upright. If she falls over, I’m going in.”

  “I’m not sure anyone should be going in now.” Jalta pointed at the display showing several cam angles on the crates. “Look!”

  Everyone crowded around.

  “Great galaxies,” Ekatya said. “They really are singing their hatchlings out.”

  A tiny Resilere, half the size of her closed fist, was swaying at the top of a ramp. Bioluminescence played over its little body as both of the adults hanging from its crate touched it. Their arm tips were as thick as its body, but they kept their contact so gentle that the hatchling was neither bumped nor jostled. It simply swayed, as if in keeping to a tune.

  Then one of the adults gave it a pat from behind, and the hatchling began rippling toward the water.

  “That might be the cutest thing I’ve ever seen,” Lhyn said. “Look at its little arms go!”

  They were a flurry of motion, propelling the hatchling toward the waiting adults. When it was close enough, a thicket of comparatively massive arms reached out as every other adult in the tank made contact. The hatchling stopped and swayed, then rippled forward again and vanished beneath the water.

  “There’s another one.” Cox pointed at a view from the second crate.

  “And a third,” Zeppy added. “See it, coming out right behind?”

  Ekatya glanced back at the display showing Rahel, who had not moved and still wore that blissful, unguarded smile. “I know what you mean about Rahel,” she murmured to Lhyn. “I’d give a lot to feel that, too.”

  “Just not while being recorded, right?”

  “She does have a big pair of horns.” Ekatya couldn’t imagine putting her vulnerabilities on public record the way Rahel had.

  “Don’t worry,” Lhyn said, smiling at the Alsean slang. “Yours are still bigger.”

  “Sharper, too,” Dr. Wells interjected from Ekatya’s other side.

  The trickle of hatchlings became a stream, then a river. Ten minutes after the first hatching, the ramps were full of little Resilere sparkling with bioluminescence. The adults touched every one of them, and the hatchlings always stopped and swayed when they felt a caress.

  The underwater cams showed more and more hatchlings exploring their new environment. Without fail, each of them eventually found a mineral block and settled on it. Given the size differential, it looked like a person trying to eat a house.

  “They have the acidic capabilities of the adults,” Jalta observed. “I just saw one leave a block. It managed to round off some of the edges.”

  “Imagine the damage a brood of these could do to a Voloth ship,” Cox said.

  Dr. Wells shook her head. “Your mind is not a place I’d ever want to be.”

  “I’ll bet the captain thought the same thing.”

  “No comment.” Ekatya drifted over to Wells. “Any change?”

  “She hasn’t moved a hair. If we could bottle what she’s sensing, we could finance a new ship. I’m looking forward to hearing what she has to say about it.”

  “That makes two of us,” Lhyn said. “I wonder if it’s more memories, or something entirely different?”

  “If it’s memories, then I’m glad she has something that makes her look like that.” Dr. Wells frowned. “What—? Phoenix, unmute! Rahel! Wake up! Wake up, damn you, come on! Rahel! You’re under attack!”

  Helkenn had come out of nowhere. Before Ekatya could even move, he stabbed Rahel in the side. She collapsed immediately, her body slumping in the loose, liquid fashion of the newly dead.

  Cox turned and slapped his palm against the entry pad while pulling his phaser with the other hand. He was through the doors before they were fully open, speaking to his security staff as he ran.

  “Stay here,” Ekatya ordered, stopping Wells in mid-motion.

  “You can’t expect me—”

  “Yes, I can. Stay until I call.” She chased Cox through the doors.

  Hydroponics was normally a serene, fragrant slice of terrestrial life. Now it was an ominous maze of hiding places for a skilled assassin. She kept low, running in a crouch as she raced to catch up with Cox. He was moving rapidly but staying cautious.

  A thought struck, and she patted her jacket pocket. Yes, her spray bottle of Enkara seawater was still there.

  She wondered if it would be enough.

  It had gone perfectly, just as he planned it. Sayana had never known he was there. Even if Serrado and Cox ran right in and killed all of the aliens, they couldn’t do it before Sayana’s internal organs were dissolved. Not even Dr. Wells could fix a mess like that.

  He raced away, putting distance between him and the swarm of brain-suckers that were descending on her now. He had seen them starting across the tanks, already drawn by the blood. Poetic, indeed.

  The route back to his tree was easier when he wasn’t worried about security cams. In the unlikely event that her pet monsters took any interest in him, he
planned to be out of their reach.

  But mostly he wanted a good view of her death.

  He rounded the end of a plant rack and saw the bushy shrub that had marked his second waypoint. Its branches slapped against him as he ducked beneath, stinging his face and making one eye water, but he ignored it and kept going. At the tree, he jumped up and caught the first branch.

  A strong hand around his ankle jerked him to a stop.

  Fuck. Cox had been faster than he expected.

  “You’re too late,” he said, turning to look over his shoulder. His triumphant smile dissolved into a squeak of terror.

  It wasn’t Cox’s hand holding him. It was a tentacle. The alien sat below, reaching a second tentacle toward his other foot while three more of the slimy monsters slithered up the tree trunk.

  Frantic kicking failed to loosen the monster’s grip while endangering his own. With a surge of adrenaline-fueled strength, he swung up his free foot and managed to wedge it on the branch, then strained to free himself.

  One of the monsters launched off the trunk and landed on his stomach.

  Another slapped onto his chest. The third impacted his head and wrapped its disgusting tentacles around his face and throat.

  His foot slipped, leaving him dangling from the branch with three monsters weighing him down. He let out a despairing cry when his hands slipped free.

  They clung to him even as he fell.

  Searing pain roared across the top of his head. It could not have hurt more had he been set on fire.

  Never in his life had he screamed as loudly as he did now. It burst from him in a long wail of agony, and he drew breath only to scream again when his torso caught fire.

  It felt as if his skin and bones were melting. He thrashed and bucked, muscles convulsing as his body reacted to the unthinkable torment. His screams grew hoarser and his body was molten lava, and still he howled with every molecule of air in his lungs.

  The end of his life was measured in screams, each weaker than the last, but no less agonized.

  Death, when it finally came, was a mercy.