by T. M. Catron
Doyle glanced at Grace. She looked uncomfortable, but she said, “How did you know? That’s not what Mina told you.”
“How do you know what she told me?”
“I heard everything you said. Dar Ceylin, she didn’t tell him. Lincoln's figured it out.”
Lincoln felt smug; he had just inadvertently tricked Doyle into confirming his suspicions. But before Lincoln could voice his thoughts, Doyle grabbed Lincoln’s arms and began hauling him toward an empty cell.
When Lincoln realized where they were going, he fought back. They scuffled a moment as Lincoln dug in his heels and tried to knock Doyle over. But with his bad leg, and Doyle’s superhuman strength, he only managed to make Doyle pick him up and throw him into the cell. He landed on the floor, up against the wall.
To Lincoln’s surprise, Doyle stepped into the cell with him. The door closed silently. Lincoln was panting from the scuffle. Doyle didn’t even look rumpled.
“You need to listen, Surrey. For once, don’t interrupt, and don’t jump to conclusions. What’s said in here can’t be voiced anywhere else, especially on this ship.”
Lincoln tried and failed to get his legs under him. When he couldn’t stand, he glared at Doyle. “What did you do to Mina?”
“The adarria marked her when we were in the silo. You weren’t supposed to know.”
Finally, Lincoln managed to get his good leg under him to push himself up against the wall. When he was on his feet, he said, “I thought you were filth, Doyle, but I assumed you cared enough about Mina to keep her safe.”
“I do care for Mina—”
Lincoln scoffed.
“—No matter what you say. But Grace is the only other person who knows the situation. No one can know. It could ruin everything. And by that I mean we could all die. This situation goes beyond you and your issues with me. Understand?”
Doyle looked earnest, almost afraid. Lincoln nodded. At this, Doyle visibly relaxed. Lincoln rubbed his elbow where he’d knocked it on the floor.
“Why are we in this cell?”
“So no one can hear us.”
“Are you that afraid of your own people?”
“Having humans on board has complicated things—I won’t lie about that. But the situation is under control, and it will remain that way as long as it looks like I’m in control.”
“Well aren’t you?”
“Depends on how you look at things,” he mused. Then, Doyle smiled. “She’s been wanting to tell you.”
“And you thought I couldn’t keep a secret.”
“Can you?”
“I can. Doesn’t mean I like any of it.”
“Noted.”
The door opened, and Doyle walked out. Lincoln followed, if more slowly. Now his limp had returned to a hobble. He placed his hand on the wall to keep from losing his balance. Grace had disappeared.
Lincoln followed Doyle over to the Glyph’s cell. The creature’s chest rose and fell, but its eyes didn’t track them as it had before.
“What happened to it?” Lincoln asked.
“It put up a good fight, but once I wrapped it in the aether, we were able to get our blood samples. Right now, it’s exhausted. I’ve never seen one get tired before.”
“You think because it’s young?”
“Maybe.”
Lincoln pressed his hands to the glass and peered more closely at the Glyph. It didn’t look damaged, just weary.
“I half-expected you to cut off its arm or something.”
Doyle struck the glass, sending vibrations up and down it. The Glyph jerked in its sleep but didn’t wake up. “I thought about it,” Doyle said. “But we need it in good shape.”
“Why did you bring me up here?”
“I haven’t stopped thinking about what you said—about separating the adarria from the Glyphs.”
“I have some questions about that.”
Doyle nodded for Lincoln to continue.
“First, the lights. How do the adarria get power?”
“The Core of this ship acts like a power station. The adarria control the reactor and harness its energy for use throughout the ship.”
“Are there channels in the walls for the power to flow through? And if we cut power, would the adarria quit working?”
“There are channels of some sort in the walls. Since the ship was built long before we were here, no hybrid has ever seen them. But if you cut power from the adarria, you might destroy them. It would be like starving someone to death.”
“So they feed off the energy.”
“Yes.”
Lincoln looked back to the Glyph covered in adarria. “What about these guys? They don’t have light, do they?”
“No, and I don’t know how these adarria stay alive.”
“Maybe your theory is false. Maybe the adarria don’t feed off the light.”
“I don’t know how the Condarri fuel themselves. Underneath the stone-like hide, they are biological creatures, but I’ve never seen one eat.”
“What’s going to happen to this one if it doesn’t?”
“I guess we’re going to find out.”
Talking about the Glyph starving to death made Lincoln uncomfortable. Then he remembered that its race had slaughtered billions of people, and he decided he didn’t care how it died. The survivors were down there now, starving to death themselves.
Grace returned. She nodded to Doyle and stepped up beside him. Doyle spoke of keeping control, but Lincoln had never seen the other hybrids treat him with anything other than respect. Nick and Li seemed to revere him. And the atmosphere on the Factory was peaceful, nothing like the violent den of thieves Lincoln had imagined. Of course, he’d only seen a small portion of it. Doyle made sure they came into contact with as few hybrids as possible.
Not for the first time, Lincoln wished he could communicate with the adarria. He felt a twinge of jealousy that Mina could. Had she been speaking to them all along?
Then, he thought of something else.
“Why don’t you just ask the adarria? You can talk to them, right?”
“They won’t tell me.”
“You’re hoping they’ll tell Mina.”
Doyle nodded.
Lincoln sighed. Then he turned back to the Glyph.
Its eyes were open now, watching them.
“Can it understand us?”
“It can’t hear us speaking in there.”
“But you can talk to it, right?”
“Yes. But as you can imagine, it’s not too helpful. Mostly it just tells me how it’s going to kill me as slowly and painfully as possible.”
The creature rose slowly. Although it had looked weak moments before, its movements were still graceful. As it stood to its full height, Lincoln said, “Is it just my imagination, or has it grown?”
Lincoln was right—the Condarri had grown. Doyle wondered he hadn’t noticed earlier. But he hadn’t left the detention center in days, so he hadn’t seen the subtle change in height until Lincoln pointed it out.
When Doyle drew its blood, the Condarri had fought him. But after his battle with the full-grown Condarri unit at the lodge, the young one hadn’t presented much of a problem.
After Lincoln and Grace left, Doyle paced around the detention center, checking cells even though they were empty, making sure the wing was secure. The last thing he wanted was for the Condarri to discover a weakness it could exploit.
When he had checked everything all over again, he left the detention center, locking the door on his way out. Unless the adarria betrayed him, no one would be able to get in there without him. And if the adarria betrayed him, he had bigger problems than the Condarri getting free.
Every hybrid he passed saluted him. Keeping a million hybrids on board without giving them something to do was like holding gorillas in a zoo. Eventually, someone would vent his frustration, and it would likely be dangerous. So, Doyle had set them to the tasks they’d had before the invasion—training, learning, researching, figh
ting. The fighting was especially important. They were gearing up for war. Although the humans knew, he’d kept the sounds away from them. He’d set a special task force over the ship for maintenance. If Condar ever discovered them, they could fly the Factory out of danger.
Hopefully. If not, they would stand and fight.
In the hospital bay, everyone except Mina was sleeping. She walked over to him when he entered.
“How long since you slept?” she asked.
“Do I look that bad?”
“I don’t know if anyone else would notice, but I see it.”
“Where’s Grace?”
“In the back room. I woke up and went to find her. She’s asleep too.”
Mina’s hair did look like she’d just woken up—brown curls were smashed against the left side of her head at awkward angles. Doyle reached up to smooth a few down. When he pulled the end of one down and let go, it sprang back up into place.
Mina smirked. “Amused?”
“I’m easily entertained.”
“Now that’s not something I believe.”
“No?”
“I bet you didn’t even know what entertainment was until you went to Earth.”
“And what else do you think?”
“That despite your cold upbringing, you’re not a lost cause.”
“Wrong on both counts. We had entertainment, and I most definitely am a lost cause.”
He wanted to say that he didn’t want to always be Dar Ceylin. That he’d changed the day Condar attacked Earth. But telling Mina would only complicate things more. She didn’t press him to speak his mind like she normally did. Doyle was grateful.
He walked over to her bed, amused at the tent she’d created to mark off her space. “You never did that with me,” he said.
“What?”
“Hide away.”
Mina shrugged. “You talk about it like it was a long time ago. But I never felt the need.”
Doyle hopped up on the table next to hers and lay down on the cold stone. “And you do now?”
He was tired, but not too tired to turn on his side to look at her. Mina lay down in her own bed and looked back at him.
"When we spend all day cooped up together in this room, yes.”
“I’m sorry. I wish it were different.”
“Not your fault, I guess.” Mina was already half asleep again, but she said, “Lincoln’s been quiet since he came back. Said he might have an idea.”
“He didn’t say what?”
“No, but give him a chance to put all the pieces together. My brother really is brilliant—except when it comes to me.” She smiled.
I’m not too smart when it comes to you, either, Doyle thought. But he closed his eyes and let sleep overtake him.
The adarria woke him an hour later. They told him to go to Condar.
Why? he asked.
But they didn’t answer.
Doyle stared up at the dark ceiling, listening to everyone around him sleep. Mina was snoring softly. He smiled, making a mental note to tease her about it when she woke. Wishing for more than an hour’s sleep, he closed his eyes again.
DAR CEYLIN.
What’s on Condar? he asked them.
No answer.
He sighed and sat up. The adarria never lied, but they could manipulate the truth—or at least be manipulated around the truth. Was the request a trap? Is that why they wouldn’t answer his question?
There was another possibility. What if there was something on Condar he needed to know, but the adarria couldn’t tell him without committing open treason against their masters? If that were the case, he couldn’t afford to ignore their request.
But he couldn’t afford to be stupid, either.
“Mina,” he whispered. He had an inexplicable desire to share this with her, to ask her opinion.
She didn’t stir.
Doyle paused in waking her. If he left now, she wouldn’t know until he was gone. But he couldn’t do that. What if he didn’t come back?
What if he didn’t come back?
What would happen to her and the others? What about the other hybrids?
He lay back down, watching Mina sleep. Leaving would be wrong. It would jeopardize the entire operation. He was the only one who could fly the Factory ship. The only person who could get everyone to safety. And he didn’t have time to teach someone else.
Doyle tried going back to sleep, but the adarria woke him every few minutes. On the fifth time, he almost shouted at them in frustration. Realizing he wouldn’t get any sleep until he did something about it, he got up and shook Mina’s shoulder. “Mina.”
“I always hope you’ll wake me with good news,” she said without opening her eyes. “But I’ve learned from hard experience that’s never the case.”
Doyle sat on the edge of her bed. The mattress was nice. Maybe if he had one, he could ignore the adarria yelling in his head. “I can’t sleep.”
“So you want me to be awake and miserable with you?”
“You always are grumpy in the mornings.”
“Ah. But I’m not even sure if it is morning. Can you have mornings in space?” She opened her eyes and then reached over to put her hand over his. He watched while she traced a circle on the top of his knuckles.
“The adarria want me to go to Condar.”
Mina blinked and stilled her hand. “You mean the mothership?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. There’s something there they want me to see.”
She sat up. “And you are thinking of going.”
He nodded, then remembered she probably couldn’t see him in the dark. The only light was in the far corner of the bay. “Yes.”
Mina gripped his hand as if that’s all she needed to do to keep him there. “Don’t go, Doyle.”
“I think I might have to.”
“But what about everyone here? What about the Glyph? And what if you get caught?”
“I won’t get caught.”
“You can’t know that for sure. What if it’s a trap?”
“I’ve thought of that. But what if the adarria are trying to tell me something important without alerting the Condarri of what they’re doing? It could change everything.”
“Especially if you’re dead.”
“I’m not going to deny that.”
“But you’ve already made up your mind.”
Doyle realized she was right. He had made up his mind before he woke her.
“If you’re determined to get yourself killed, I’m going with you.”
“That doesn’t make a lot of sense.”
“I notice you’re not arguing with me.”
“I can’t let you go. I think you know that.”
“What if you get into trouble?”
“I’d feel better knowing I didn’t drag you into it, as well.”
Doyle was surprised Mina wasn’t arguing more. But maybe she’d finally taken what he said to heart and had decided not to second-guess him in everything.
At the far end of the room, he heard Lincoln stir. Doyle turned and put his hand on the other side of the table, bringing him face to face with Mina. “Disappointed?”
“Yes. I don’t want you to go alone.”
“The bigger the party, the greater the likelihood of discovery.”
“Are we just going to be locked up here until you get back?”
That was exactly what Doyle planned. But one look at Mina’s face told him she wouldn’t go for it.
He heard movement behind him.
“I have an idea,” Lincoln said.
When Doyle turned, Lincoln was propping himself up on the table. Doyle had been so engrossed in his conversation with Mina, he hadn’t heard Lincoln hobbling over. Although he had no reason to fear Lincoln, Doyle did fear letting down his guard. And he only made those mistakes with Mina around.
Lincoln didn’t look happy about his idea. Or maybe he just wasn’t happy with Doyle in genera
l.
That seems about right.
“What is it?” Doyle asked, standing to face him.
“As short as the distance is, it took me a while to get over here,” Lincoln said. “I heard you talking. What kinds of computers do you have on board?”
“You’ve seen some of them. But are you asking about human computers?”
“At least something my team can work with. Do you have keyboards?”
“We have holographic keyboards. They’re not standard QWERTY.”
“Can you make them?”
“I think so. Why?”
“The adarria are sentient, correct?”
“Yes.”
“But they move predictably when they speak.”
“Yes.”
“I think we can write a program to speak to the adarria.”
“But what good would that do, Lincoln?” Mina asked. “All the hybrids can talk to the adarria.”
Lincoln glared at Mina, and Doyle knew he was thinking of her secret. “But I can’t.”
“It’s not a bad idea,” Doyle said, redirecting the conversation. “No one but me can pilot the Factory. And if I’m leaving—”
“You’re leaving?” Lincoln frowned. “I didn’t hear that part.”
“Yes. Are you suggesting you can write a program to interact with the adarria?”
“Maybe. With the right equipment.”
“If you can do that, you can pilot the ship if you need to. Or let a hybrid pilot it.”
If Lincoln and his team could design a program to pilot the Factory, anyone could move it. Doyle immediately felt better about leaving. “How long will it take you?”
“I have no idea. We’d have to start from scratch—well, almost. We could repurpose our old program to learn the adarria’s language. With just the four of us, it could take a while.”
“I can give you more manpower. Out of a million hybrids, I can probably find twenty thousand who can program.” Doyle smiled. “Some of them are probably better than you.”
Lincoln smiled back. “But how many of them have already programmed an AI that can talk to aliens?”
The tide of Condarri kept rising, spilling over into other chambers of the silo and eventually into the mine itself. Fearing discovery, the hybrids there had no choice but to flee.
They plunged back into the forests of Appalachia, this time hiding out in thick groves of mountain magnolias or under overhangs. With one hundred hybrids, secrecy was difficult but not impossible. They separated into groups of ten and kept watch day and night.
