by C. Gockel
“Androids kill humans without respect to women or children,” Alaric whispered.
The archbishop’s attention snapped to him. “Yes, some do. Which is why they cannot continue to have a technological advantage.”
Alaric straightened, eyes shifting between the two men.
The weere priest cleared his throat. “We had been informed that when you fired on Volka, it wasn’t because of her rejection.”
Alaric inclined his head. How could they have been informed of that?
The priest continued, “We wanted to hear you say it ourselves.”
The full significance of what the archbishop had just said began to sink in. The archbishop knew the android…before? Alaric’s men had risked their lives flying in a Libertan blizzard, in hostile territory, and Volka hadn’t been in danger. Alaric felt bile rising in his throat. His fingers flexed. He reminded himself this hearing wasn’t about him. It was about his sons and about his good name. “The charges against me—”
The weere waved a hand. “It was, as far as we are concerned, Counselor Abraham trying to tie up loose ends. All Abraham’s false charges of treason, terrorism, and murder against you have been dropped. No one else from the Libertas incident has spoken against you.”
Alaric felt a chill and not relief from his complete exoneration. “That was too easy,” he said.
The white-haired werfle’s eyes rose to his. Solomon slunk closer to Alaric’s side.
Ujk growled. “Except for Commander Ran and your engineer Agrawal, what remained of your crew is dead. There is no one to spread rumors.”
Alaric sucked in a breath.
Ujk’s lips twisted in a mirthless smile. “All victims of plague or Abraham’s men during the recent unrest.”
Alaric felt like all the oxygen had been sucked out of his lungs.
Pushing his glasses up his nose, Archbishop Sato said, “We need your help.”
Just moments ago, Alaric would have said his “help” would be a dubious prospect. Even with Abraham’s death and disgrace, rumors of the events on Libertas could taint his reputation, but all but Ran and Agrawal were dead. Agrawal hadn’t even been at the scene of the explosion, hadn’t seen Volka rescue him, and wouldn’t be a man to spread rumors anyway.
Mistaking his hesitation, Ujk said, “We realize you’re just recovering from your stint in prison…”
The archbishop blinked. “Oh, yes. That.” Alaric’s gaze shifted to the old man. The archbishop’s befuddlement filled him with envy and respect. He’d met Kenji’s type before in the seminary. The archbishop was a man so consumed by his intellect that the world of his mind was more real than the world of flesh and blood.
The weere priest continued, “And it will be dangerous. You may yet be labeled a traitor when all is said and done.”
“We all may,” said Kenji. “But the fate of all Luddeccea…indeed all humans may depend on it.” The white werfle cheeped, and Kenji smiled at it, a tight, barely perceptible pull of his lips. “And werfles, too.”
11
Shadows
Humans were screaming, and 6T9 could not see. Carl, when Sundancer’s emotions got the best of him, sometimes overwhelmed 6T9’s ether with the ship’s fear and caused blackouts in 6T9’s visual hardware. Before Carl had his ether-to-speech device, 6T9 needed a constant connection to communicate with the genocidal little weasel, but now he cut it off…and found himself still in darkness.
“It’s okay, Sundancer,” he heard Volka murmuring. “It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s okay. We’re here.”
“Get them off of me!” someone shouted, gripping 6T9’s arm.
There were lights in 6T9’s eyes, literally. He turned them on. Around him, humans were clawing at themselves, rocking on their heels, or sitting on the floor. Trinity was sitting beside Carl Sagan, who was lying flat on the floor squeaking plaintively.
James was looking around, face writ with confusion. “What’s happening?”
Volka cried from the floor, “Sundancer’s terrified. She’s in all our minds.” She was on her hands and knees, stroking the ship. “It will be okay, Sundancer,” she whispered. Where her hand touched, a faint glow bloomed.
The man next to 6T9 began raking his fingernails down his own face, leaving red welts. 6T9 grabbed the man’s wrists. “You’re caught in a telepathic nightmare,” 6T9 said in a cool, clinical tone. “It’s not real.”
Trying to pull away, the man whispered, “Insects. They’re everywhere.”
“Guardsman!” 6T9 said, switching to a voice he used for disciplinarian scenarios, “Get a hold of yourself. This is all in your mind.”
6T9 heard James saying the same thing to Young but was too busy fighting the man before him to see how that was turning out. Fighting against 6T9’s grip with cybernetic strength, the man muttered, “No, no, no…”
“Make them think of something happy,” Volka exclaimed.
Q-comm sparking, 6T9 commanded, “Think of your last great fuck, Marine!”
The man tried to tear away for a few seconds more, but then stopped struggling. “Nebulas…” he whispered. At his feet, a faint glow appeared in the floor. The man’s eyes met 6T9’s. “It was on Mars, the low gravity—”
“I want to hear this so badly,” 6T9 said, “but we’ve got to help your friends.”
A man nearby moaned.
“I can help,” the Guardsman said. Spinning from 6T9 to the man bowed beside him, the Guardsman said, “Jerome, remember the girl we picked up on Mars? Remember?”
6T9 almost groaned with frustration at not being able to eavesdrop properly but went to the next man down the line. Behind him, he heard Young saying, “Get a hold of yourself. Remember your kid’s birthday party. Come on…you remember…” and James awkwardly saying, “You’re being mentally controlled by the ship’s fear. Think of something…errr…happy?”
6T9 stuck to “last great fuck.” He didn’t know who had kids and who didn’t, and “happy” was too vague. Slowly, the humans in the ship started snapping from Sundancer’s mental control, or maybe Sundancer just felt better, buoyed by the humans’ improved mental states. The inside of the ship began to glow faintly all over, and when he reached the sole female Fleet Marine, she winked at him and whispered, “Should I think of my next great fuck, General?” before he could speak.
The slow smile and the wink he answered her with were completely pre-programmed. So was his immediate shift in focus to the rest of the group. Q-comm humming, he hastily evaluated the humans for any sign of serious injury.
Volka was still on the floor where she’d been before. Kneeling, she looked up at him and wiped her face. “This is the worst it’s ever been, Sixty.”
Nodding, he scanned the bridge. “Where’s Carl?” he called, worried that he might have gotten stepped on. He couldn’t help worrying, even when the subject of his worry was a genocidal weasel, and he wasn’t sure if it was just his programming. Carl had been the first being to ever believe 6T9 was capable of anything extraordinary.
“He’s over here,” Trina called from the far wall.
“Jerome, get local ether established,” Young ordered as 6T9 stepped quickly over to Trina. She was cradling Carl close to her chest. Less than two hours earlier, the werfle had wiggled happily in the arms of strangers, demanding belly rubs and scratches behind his ears. Now he was listless in the gate’s arms. His legs were splayed as though all ten of them had been yanked out from beneath him. His tail drooped. His eyes were blinking, but unfocused.
Biting her lip, Trina said, “He’s shaking.”
Taking the werfle from her, 6T9 began downloading all veterinary data on werfles. Gently touching the two points between his upper paw pairs, he found both of Carl’s hearts beating 33.4 percent faster than normal. Drawing his fingers down the creature’s sides, 6T9 didn’t detect broken ribs, but his basal temperature was depressed. “I believe he’s in shock.” To the nearest Marine, he said in his dominant voice, “I need a thermal blanket.”
The human’s head jerked back as though surprised at the order, but he swung his pack around and produced a silvery sheet moments later. 6T9 was distantly aware of Young storming up behind him, but he focused on swaddling Carl.
“What is going on?” Young demanded. “Where are the windows?”
“Sundancer doesn’t have windows,” 6T9 said, making the final tuck around the small creature. “She just occasionally allows us to see through her.”
“Well, why can’t we see through her?” Young said. “And why can’t we connect with the crew of Time Gate 33?” The last was accompanied by a hostile glare in Trina’s direction.
“I think we’ve left System 33,” 6T9 said, remembering the brief flash of light that accompanied faster-than-light travel.
Young stepped closer to Trina. Glaring down at her, he said, “You said they were all dead.”
Hand to her mouth, Trina searched the floor. “They are. It’s in my memory…John said they were lost. He wouldn’t lie.”
Young took another step closer to Trina, and the gate stepped backward, knocking her shoulders against the wall. Her obvious distress made static buzz along 6T9’s spine. Sliding between them, Carl still in his arms, 6T9 said, “Easy, Sailor.”
Young’s shoulders got tight. Sensing a physical altercation coming, 6T9 adjusted his internal settings and smiled. “Go ahead. Hit me.”
Young took a step back and a muscle in his jaw jumped. “If we’re not in System 33, where are we?”
Keeping his eyes on Young and his body between the lieutenant and Trina, 6T9 responded, “I don’t know. Volka?”
Volka’s growled response came from just behind Young’s shoulder. “Back off of Sixty. I’m right here.” The Marine spun around.
Volka’s ears were forward, her delicate bow-shaped lips were curled, and her dainty hands with their naturally dark nails were curled into fists at her side. She looked like she was ready to bite Young. And not in a nice way. Even though she was tiny, Young looked unnerved by her obvious fury. 6T9’s Q-comm sparked and began downloading useless data from Earth zoological studies on similar unevenly matched confrontations. “The two of you would be like a match between a lion and a honey badger or a wolverine and a grizzly,” he blurted. “Sometimes a battle with a smaller opponent is unwise.”
They both looked at him, Volka’s lips forming a small “o,” and Young’s brow wrinkling. “Stress-induced data dump, sorry,” said 6T9. His eyes widened at additional info. “A honey badger will run beneath a lion’s body and rip off its testicles.” That was when he realized the bridge had gone silent and all eyes were on him. Well, except for James’s eyes. James was pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head.
Attention going to Volka, Young said, “We have to get back to Time Gate 33.” His eyes shot to Trina. “The real gate.”
Volka’s hair stood on end and her ears curled submissively. “No…they were…wrong…”
Young retorted, “What’s wrong is that Trina told us they were dead.”
In 6T9’s arms, Carl’s ether-to-speech device crackled. “They’re worse than dead.”
The bridge went silent. Carl sighed. “Oh, pets…I am so sorry,” the werfle said.
“What is it, Carl?” Volka whispered. Normally, she and 6T9 rolled their eyes when Carl declared them pets, but something in the tiny animal’s plaintive words made 6T9 hesitate to twitch even a muscle.
“I’m afraid,” Carl replied. “More afraid than I have been in thousands of years. For all of us.” He squeezed a forelimb out of the blanket, and Volka held out her hand. Wrapping his tiny paw around Volka’s smallest finger, Carl bowed his head and closed his eyes. The little animal was only middle-aged for a domestic werfle, but he looked much older.
“Carl, perhaps you need to explain,” James said.
Carl lifted his head. “Yes, I must.”
Young shifted on his feet, and the other Marines came closer.
Carl’s ears flattened. “To fight it, Lieutenant, we must understand it. Put me down, Sixty.” When 6T9 hesitated, Carl said gently, “This body is no longer in shock.”
His pupils were normal. 6T9 ran a hand between his ears and checked his temperature. It was normal, and he unwrapped Carl and set him down. Rising to his four most hindlimb pairs, Carl began to pace. At his feet, the ship’s hull went from dull gray to transparent, and the transparency spread like ripples in water until every surface of the bridge was invisible.
6T9’s Q-comm sparked, and he gaped at the ribbon of stars around them. From a central cluster, they fanned out like wings. “Is this a new galaxy in the early stages of formation?” he whispered.
“Yes,” said Carl. “Sundancer has brought us to a place that will be safe for billions of years. A brand-new baby galaxy filled with brilliant stars and light that will be safe from the Darkness.”
“The Darkness?” said James.
Bowing his head, Carl said, “My species first became aware of Sundancer because she was telepathically transmitting her nightmares to us. The Darkness the humans just saw in their minds was overcoming every single one of us with increasing regularity. We believed that the Luddeccean’s plan to build a magni-freight line past Sundancer’s resting place was what was causing Sundancer’s fear, and that if we rescued her, the nightmares would end. It was 6T9 who first realized the fault in our analysis.” Carl held out a paw to 6T9.
All eyes in the room shifted to 6T9, their expressions hard and unreadable. His Q-comm hummed, not sure what to say, not sure what silent judgment was being made. Carl began pinging him madly over the ether. “Tell them what you realized. Take credit, General.”
“That name is ridiculous,” 6T9 answered silently. Besides the obvious fact that he wasn’t and had never been in military service, a general who couldn’t issue a command to kill wasn’t really a general. But aloud he said, “Sundancer rescued us from the Luddecceans. She is immune to phaser fire. She can withstand impacts that would destroy a Fleet ship of the same size; in atmosphere, she is at least faster than the speed of sound, but has no sonic boom; she is faster than light out of the atmosphere. The Luddecceans never frightened her. I realized it had to have been something else.” Something terrible. Bigger than pirates, bigger than the Fleet and the Luddeccean Guard. His Q-comm sparked, and he turned to the werfle. “How long ago since her nightmares began, Carl…?”
“Approximately 183 days,” Carl replied.
Trina’s eyes went wide. “That was when we noticed the asteroid’s collision course with S33O4.”
There were murmurs around the room.
Static crawled along 6T9’s skin, and he felt cold, though the temperature hadn’t dropped. Under his breath, he muttered, “I haven’t enjoyed being right lately.”
Beside him, Volka whispered, “I’ve heard that painful knowledge comes with command, General.” He looked down at her, prepared to retort he was no general, but her expression caught him off guard. He’d expected a smirk, or a lifted eyebrow, or some sign of teasing. Instead, her yellow eyes were wide and concerned. For a moment, it felt like his Q-comm had gone offline. Trina’s next words made it snap online again. “The asteroid caused a massive aquatic life die off, one too great to be explained by the impact alone.”
Carl rubbed a paw over his nose. “We’ve found the source of her nightmares.”
“But what is it?” Young asked.
Shaking himself, Carl said, “It is a species, not unlike my own, that can take up residence in a host species, but I don’t think humans are its desired form.”
“Another body-snatching species?” one of the Marines interjected.
The fur on the back of Carl’s neck rose. “The One don’t wish to destroy all life we encounter and reshape it into our own dark image. That is what it wants...Darkness. I could feel it.”
For a moment, there was silence. Volka stepped close enough to Sixty that her arm brushed his, and his synth skin heated at the point of contact. He obviously needed to run a diagnostic on his s
ensation receptors.
Young huffed. “I don’t buy it…‘dark image’ sounds like quasi-religious nonsense.”
“It’s a literal description,” Trina whispered.
All heads in the room swiveled to the gate.
“The water became dark where the asteroid landed,” Trina whispered. “We theorized it was some sort of blue-green algae. It was spreading incredibly quickly.”
Eyes on Trina, James said, “We can discuss the finer points of microbiology later—but I’m going to assume that these blue-green algae are dangerous?”
Trina nodded. “It made the humans exposed to it…sick, and then not themselves.” She blinked up at the group. “Doctor Lang would be able to tell us about it. But they’ll be maintaining radio silence planet-side…if they’re still alive.” Wrapping her arms around herself, Trina searched the floor.
“Dr. Lang said she’d isolated the pathogen,” said Young.
Trina nodded vigorously. “Yes, she had developed rapid tests to detect it, too.” She winced. “I heard them talking about it, but I don’t have access to that data.”
6T9 began downloading all the data he had on S33O4. It was a “Goldilocks” planet: temperate, gravity approximately .93 Standard G, breathable air, two relatively small continents with more than 80 percent of the planet covered by water. It was a younger system and a younger world. The amount of animal life was enormous. “We know where they won’t be,” he mused aloud. “Not near the asteroid drop site.”
“Still leaves a lot of ground,” said Young.
The female Marine said, “They think help is ten years away. Trina, you said that the blue-green algae is spreading…if it is the pathogen or is related to it somehow…they’ll want to hole up someplace as far from it as possible. They’ve been studying the planet’s currents and prevailing winds. They’d have a location in mind. You must know where it would be.”
Trina’s eyes got wide. “I do know.”
An image of S33O4 began playing in 6T9’s mind, and by the way James’s and the Marines’ eyes became vacant, they were sharing in the vision, too.
