Analog Science Fiction and Fact - 2014-05

by Penny Publications

  "I may be better off with the Jenregar."

  As Mike saw some sort of spacecraft silhouetted against the stars, he told Jeremy, "If we come out of this alive, you're welcome to go visit them again."

  Mike sat in the commons aboard the Earth Unity light cruiser Admiral Susan Kojima and wondered how long Jeremy was going to sit across the table from him and ignore him.

  Though given the alternatives, ignoring me might be the best thing that can happen, Mike thought. Jeremy represents my worst fear of the reception I might receive back on Earth.

  Mike had left his homeworld twenty-five years earlier, having grown tired of the irrational reactions so many people had to his status as an artificial Human—someone created "from scratch" in a lab rather than through "natural" means.

  Many organized religions didn't consider him to have a soul, and death threats were common. Artificial Humans were banned from coming into many governmental jurisdictions; never mind that the fear of them far exceeded their number; Mike, for instance, had never met another artificial Human.

  But Mike himself had never known the details of his own background that had only recently come to light—his genesis had been possible only after what he thought of as a "catalog of horror." The project that originated him, the Genome Advancement Project—had been successful only after countless failed attempts at creating artificial life. Mike had seen the holos of preserved specimens of newborns that had developed without a brain, or with vestigial limbs, or with a single eye in the center of their face.

  All that had happened before Mike's birth. But to someone like Jeremy, he thought, none of that matters. It's as if I'd created and killed those children myself to make sure I'd be born with a "normal" body. Not just normal in fact, but advanced—a little stronger than average, more resistant to disease. Even those slight advantages brought more resentment back on Earth than I could deal with.

  And now my homeworld expects me to risk my life to help save it.

  Mike wished Captain Lee would show up to give them their initial debriefing. Thank goodness they caught up to us, Mike thought. But Jeremy hasn't cast one eye my way since we entered the cargo bay and got checked out in the infirmary.

  Mike blew on the hot chocolate, which was the only thing he felt he could stomach right now. Later will come a more substantial meal, and a change of clothes, and maybe even a real-water shower, he thought. But right now I'd be satisfied to get a polite word out of Jeremy.

  Staring at the man didn't work. Neither did a discrete cough. He only sat there with a glass of water he hadn't sipped yet, by all accounts trying to ignore Mike's presence. Okay, fine, he thought. The direct approach. "Listen, Jeremy—"

  "I don't want to talk to you."

  Mike was grateful that's when Captain Lee walked in. She was a tall woman in her sixties, with silver hair that showed she'd never had youth-extension treatments. She's waiting kind of late to take care of that, Mike thought. If she wants to. None of my business, I suppose.

  Mike rose and shook Captain Lee's hand. "Thanks for rescuing us."

  Jeremy managed to set aside his sulk long enough to rise and accept a handshake, as well. "I appreciate what you've done for us, Captain."

  Captain Lee regarded Jeremy, then Mike. "I was told the two of you don't seem to get along. Anything I should know about?"

  Jeremy spoke up before Mike could get a word in: "I don't belong to an organized religion, Captain, but I do have a sense of God's word. And this—" He indicated Mike with a tilt of his head. "—person was a mistake. He isn't of God."

  Captain Lee looked questioningly toward Mike, who replied, "I'm the first to acknowledge that. Humans made me, not some sort of deity."

  Captain Lee said, "Since this has nothing to do with the issue at hand, I'd like to set this conflict aside. Jeremy, what can you tell us about the Jenregar?"

  "We were leaving Costaguana." That was a Human-colonized world whose inhabitants were largely devoted to literary scholarship and scientific research. "They attacked our ship, came on board, killed several people, grabbed others—like me—like my wife Julia. Captain, have you heard anything from Costaguana? Anything about Julia?"

  "I'm afraid we haven't. The first thing we knew about this Jenregar incursion is when some of their ships arrived in the outer system. The ship you and your wife were on probably isn't even overdue yet."

  Jeremy put his head in his hands and sobbed.

  Mike thought, I shouldn't feel so unkindly toward him. What he thinks about me isn't as important as the fact that he's concerned about his wife.

  Jeremy cleared his throat, swallowed, and wiped his eyes. "I'm sorry."

  Captain Lee said, "Nothing to be sorry about. What happened once you were on the Jenregar ship?"

  "Julia and I were separated. I don't know what happened to her."

  Mike said, "We couldn't detect any other Human lifesigns on that Jenregar ship."

  "I think we may have docked with another ship at some point. I heard a lot of activity from the Jenregar, and the whole ship shook a couple of times—I heard a couple large 'clunking' sounds. It all seemed like some standard thing, the Jenregar weren't all excited or anything."

  Captain Lee said, "You have to hold on to that little bit of hope about your wife."

  "This whole trip was Julia's idea. I resisted, but she convinced me to go along—I wish I'd put my foot down and refused. She wanted us to do something 'real,' as she put it. Instead of, you know, virts all the time. But I have to ask, Captain, do you have a virt center here on your ship?"

  "You're a virthead!" Mike blurted out.

  Captain Lee shot Mike a not-now glance, and Jeremy said, "I consider that term insulting—as if I'd called you a 'synth,' which I know is a hateful term for your kind of people."

  Mike couldn't help rolling his eyes. He knew many Earth natives had gone beyond using virtual reality as mere entertainment, or for informational purposes—they'd become addicted to the artificial realities created by total-immersion virtualities—some people spent significant portions of each day in such dream-worlds, slaying fantasy monsters, having sex with entertainment figures, even exploring hyper-realistic versions of real alien worlds.

  Mike said, "You've just been saved from torture or death, or both, by the Jenregar, rescued from deep space, your wife is still missing, your home planet may be in danger, and you ask about a virt center. Wouldn't that definition apply?"

  Jeremy started to reply, but Captain Lee said, "Gentlemen—we have more important matters before us. I'm supposed to make sure the two of you get down to Brussels as soon as possible for a more extensive debrief." The headquarters of the Earth Unity was located in Brussels. Captain Lee told Mike, "You were right about one thing, Mike. Earth is in danger."

  Mike was surprised at his own emotional reaction—concern, even fear, for a world whose inhabitants had often treated him so poorly. "What are the Jenregar doing?"

  "Attacking cities, trying to establish their own hives. Santiago, Chile, Tijuana, Mexico, Zhengzhou, China. We think North America's next."

  "I don't understand," Jeremy said.

  Mike told him, "The Jenregar live in these great mounds of earth—their hives. That's where they reproduce, bring all their food, establish living quarters."

  Captain Lee activated a holo of a view looking down onto a city from orbit. Several large fires burned in scattered sites all through the city. In the middle of downtown, Mike saw what he recognized as a Jenregar mound. "This is Zhengzhou. The Jenregar has established its mound, and it's sending troops out to create a perimeter to protect it. It's even sending squads out into rural areas."

  Jeremy still wouldn't look at Mike. This is why I haven't been back to Earth in a quarter century, he thought.

  "And they're purposely doing this in the middle of cities," Captain Lee said, "because they know that limits our response. We can't just start shooting or bombing indiscriminately, or we kill our own people. I'll leave the rest to the folks down at Br
ussels. I'd hope they could—"

  "Battle alert!" came the warning over the ship's P.A. "Incoming Jenregar ships—Captain to the bridge!"

  Captain Lee stood and told Mike and Jeremy, "Mike, access your datalink and the ship's computer will get both of you to your proper stations." Then she was gone.

  Jeremy just sat there at the table. "You heard her," Mike told him. "Let's go."

  "With you? No, thanks!"

  Mike grabbed Jeremy's arm and pulled him up from his seat. "How the hell did I get saddled with you? Do you want to live?"

  "Of course I do," came the reluctant response.

  "Then you're coming with me."

  As they went out into the corridor, Mike said, "Computer—action stations for Mike Christopher and Jeremy Sheffield."

  The answer came over Mike's datalink: "Lifepod two, deck four, corridor seven." A map of the route appeared on the inside of Mike's wrist.

  "Lifepod?" Jeremy asked. "Don't tell me we're about to end up out in the middle of space again!"

  "It's just a precaution," Mike said as he led the way down the corridor.

  The ship shuddered under an impact, and Jeremy said, "Precaution, huh? Why would they send us there if we're weren't going to have to use that pod?"

  "We don't have a combat role, so they put us into position just in case, so there's less last-minute scrambling around."

  They found themselves at a grav tube leading down to deck four, and Mike stepped aside to let Jeremy go first. Jeremy looked at the tube, looked at Mike, and said, "I'm not gonna just step out into thin air."

  Mike tried to keep the disgust out of his voice. "You can't tell me you've never used a grav tube before."

  "Not aboard a spaceship under attack—or that might be about to go into stardrive!"

  Mike tried to grab Jeremy again, but the man stepped back. "Oh, no—you're going to quit pushing me around. I can do what I want!"

  "What you want," Mike told him, "is to live—now get the hell down there!"

  Jeremy said, "I'm posting an official complaint about you when this emergency is over."

  Fine, Mike thought as the ship shuddered again. It sounds like that could be months or years away. He watched as Jeremy stepped into the grav tube and landed on the deck below. Mike followed, and he and Jeremy were standing before a row of lifepods of various sizes. "Here we go," Mike said, indicating a small two-person pod. "This is ours."

  "It's awfully damn small," Jeremy said.

  "It's just for the two of us. And being smaller means it's less likely to be picked up by Jenregar sensors if we have to use it."

  Jeremy began a verbal tirade of such vehemence and so many words that Mike could barely make out what the man was saying. In the midst of that, he heard over his datalink, "Mike and Jeremy, this is Captain Lee. If you're not in that lifepod yet, get in there and get ready to eject!"

  "Oh, crap!" Mike said, and opened the pod's hatch. Its internal systems powered up automatically. It contained two recessed seats side by side, but facing in opposite directions.

  Now it was Jeremy who grabbed Mike's arm. "Did she really say that? We really do have to blow ourselves out into space again?"

  "I thought that was your big prediction— now get in!"

  Jeremy stepped down into the pod. Mike followed and closed the hatch. "Strap in," he told Jeremy. "This thing's too small to have inertial compensators."

  Jeremy sat in one of the two recessed positions in the lifepod. Mike moved in next to him in the cramped space and started checking out the pod's systems.

  Captain Lee's voice came over his datalink as the ship rocked again: "I read you as inside the pod—is that correct?"

  "We're here and strapped in."

  "Stand by for launch."

  Mike told Jeremy, "Hold on—we're about to launch."

  "Wait a minute," Jeremy said. "Why can't we—"

  It was as if the bottom dropped out of the small pod. Jeremy yelped in surprise and Mike didn't blame him. I've never liked thrill rides, he thought. Give me some good old inertial dampeners any day.

  Something slammed into the lifepod, and Mike's head struck the wall, hard. I'd always believed "seeing stars" was just a phrase, he thought. All told, I'd rather look at them through a viewscreen.

  Another impact, and the pod began to spin, a movement Mike hated even worse than the falling feeling. He hoped his own expression didn't mirror Jeremy's—the man was grasping the sides of his seat and had his mouth open to scream, but nothing was coming out.

  Then the pod slowly stopped spinning.

  "Thank goodness," Jeremy said. "Did that stop on purpose?"

  "The gyros kicked in," Mike told him. He reached to one side to call up a readout on their trajectory.

  "Should we activate our lifesuits?" Jeremy asked.

  "They'll come on automatically if we lose air. But that's not what I'm worried about." Mike kept checking the readout, but to no effect. "The readout on our trajectory doesn't want to come up right."

  "What the hell does that mean?" Jeremy demanded.

  "It means I think we're coming down in the northern hemisphere, but I can't tell you exactly where."

  "That covers a lot of ground, you know!"

  "As long as we come down on the ground," Mike said.

  "What does that mean?"

  "It means the Earth's surface is covered by a lot more water than land. What if we land in the middle of the Pacific Ocean? We have to be ready for that."

  "Dear Lord, this thing will sink like a stone!"

  "It won't," Mike said. "And as long as its beacon is working, someone will find us."

  Jeremy looked all around the interior of the pod, as if it were closing in on him. "What if they don't know to look for us? We don't even know if the Kojima survived, if they got to tell anyone about us."

  "Brussels knows about us, Jeremy. They'll find us." I hope, Mike thought.

  Jeremy clapped a hand over his eyes. "We don't even know what the Jenregar are doing—they may have taken over the Earth by now."

  Mike put his hand on Jeremy's shoulder. "I've dealt with the Jenregar before. Being a hive mind makes them tough and efficient, but it's also their weakness. We have the advantage here on our homeworld. We'll beat them."

  Jeremy lowered his hand. His eyes revealed a determination and inner strength Mike hadn't glimpsed in him before. Jeremy told Mike, "Take your hand off my shoulder."

  Mike did. "I only meant—"

  "I don't want you to touch me."

  Mike made a show of examining the sensors again. "People like you are why I haven't been back on Earth in a quarter-century."

  Jeremy said, "You feel you've been wronged."

  "If you consider the other students beating me up in school. Death threats. Being spit upon. Yeah. You might say that."

  Jeremy shook his head. "The whole thing was wrong."

  Mike said, "How I was treated, you mean?"

  "I mean the project that led to your conception. I've seen the pictures of those monstrosities—those babies. They died so you could exist."

  "I never even knew they existed until a few weeks ago."

  "But their short and terrible lives define you, Mike, whether you like it or not—what's that sound?"

  A roaring that sounded at first as if it was coming from a great distance grew louder and louder, and a great buffeting rocked the pod. Mike said, "We're reentering Earth's atmosphere."

  Jeremy glared at Mike. "And you don't know where we're landing?"

  "Like I said, a water landing is most likely. But we could end up in the arctic, or the middle of a Siberian forest, or—"

  "Enough!" Jeremy said. "I don't want to hear all the different ways we might die!"

  "Then just hang on, and hope for the best."

  Mike gave up trying to get the sensors to reveal anything, but that meant his imagination ran free as he considered the force of the atmosphere trying to break the pod apart, its heat trying to turn it into slag. He imagined
what Jeremy didn't want to—the ocean splashdown, or being deposited within that thick Russian forest, the hopeful wait to be rescued. That's assuming anyone even knows to look for us, Mike thought. We don't even know what happened to the Kojima. It might've been destroyed before it had a chance to confirm to Brussels that we're on our way.

  The roaring of the atmosphere beyond the skin of the lifepod began to fade, replaced by a low rumbling. "What's that sound mean?" Jeremy asked, as he clearly fought to keep his voice from cracking.

  "It just means we're slowing down," Mike said. "Which is a good thing."

  "What's slowing us down?"

  "Pretty old-fashioned stuff—retro-rockets—"

  The lifepod shook violently for several seconds, then became still again.

  "—then parachutes."

  "What is this, the Dark Ages?"

  "This pod's too small for gravitics—just that simple."

  Their small craft shuddered again a couple of times, then came to rest. Then began to rock back and forth, smoothly, rhythmically.

  "Well, I didn't want to be right," Mike said. "But I was. Water landing."

  "How do we find out where we've landed?" Jeremy asked.

  "Well—the most practical way I know will be just to open the hatch and take a look outside."

  Jeremy said, "And let whatever's outside come in—it could be water, like you said, or if you're wrong it could be a mountain lion or some sort of diseased plant life!"

  Mike held up a hand and Jeremy wound down. "Gimme an alternative to just opening the hatch."

  Jeremy seemed to deflate. "I guess we don't have one."

  Mike stood up, made sure his stunner was handy at his side, and opened the hatch. A strong breeze brought in plenty of fresh, damp air. Funny thing, Mike thought as he started to pull himself up out of the hatch. The air doesn't smell salty like it would in the ocean.

  But before he could stick his head outside the hatch, Jeremy pulled him back down, saying, "The hell with it—I'm not afraid to face what's out there!"

  Mike could only watch as Jeremy stuck his head out of the hatch. "You were right!" he said. "Just water as far as I can see!"