[Confluence 01.0] Fluency

by Jennifer Foehner Wells

  They had taken turns daubing each other with the mineral dust—faces, neck, arms—giddy with the results. They had transformed each other into otherworldly-looking creatures. His lips had twitched when he’d said his mother had painted his sister’s chest to make her breasts grow. Jane had laughed and told him she didn’t need breasts yet.

  The sun had grown hot overhead and they had tired of smearing each other with the colorful rock dust, so they had crossed the dry grassland until they had come to a greener place with a rushing stream. They had splashed the pigment away with cool water and laughter, then had gone off to explore some other delightful thing.

  As the memory faded, Jane eased back into the stiff furniture. Ei’Brai had uncovered a long-forgotten memory of Australia that was untainted by the aftermath of her father’s death. He had made his point eloquently. She’d arrived in Australia, a child eager for experience—curious and open. The months and years that followed had changed her.

  It had been more than just coming of age, slipping into an adult skin. She’d always thought her proclivities toward adventurism, risk-taking, exploration, hedonism had simply been tempered by time. They hadn’t. They’d been crushed by fear—her own and that of her grandparents, who had feared losing Jane the same way they’d lost their daughter to the wildest corners of the world. Her grandparents had questioned her every inclination, had brandished the potential worst-case result of every action, relentlessly reminding her of her father’s death, until she’d begun to doubt all but the most mundane desires for herself.

  She’d learned never to trust herself.

  Yet somehow she’d still ended up here. What was keeping her from reveling in this adventure now?

  Some worry was normal. Paralysis was not.

  Ei’Brai was right. Just look at the child she’d been. She owed everything to that child—her language ability, her curiosity, her passion. How could she have ever buried that girl so deep?

  Jane slipped off her boots and pulled her feet up onto the low couch. She hadn’t slept properly for so long. The meal she’d just consumed was making her feel drowsy.

  She could hear Alan now, the murmuring of his mind as he worked. She could tune him out if she wanted, but she didn’t need to. It was comforting. She curled on her side and tucked her hands under her cheek, adrift on the sound of his mental voice.

  Jane woke to Bergen in her head, panicking.

  “Fuck! Oh, shit! Jane! No, no, no, no, no, no!”

  Jane sat up, wiping moisture from the corner of her mouth, struggling to shake off grogginess.

  “What is it, Alan?” she asked, scrubbing at her face.

  “We’ve got a problem. A big fucking problem.”

  Ei’Brai broke in without preamble, “Indeed. Countermeasures are already implemented.”

  Alan continued urgently. “These nanites are programmed to destroy the goddamn ship if they’re discovered, Jane. The only reason we aren’t dead yet is because there are so few of them left.”

  “There is no need for explication,” Ei’Brai said irritably. “I am presenting Qua’dux Jane Holloway with the particulars now.”

  She barely heard that, immersed as she already was in the memory stream of Alan’s thought process from just moments before. Ei’Brai had been monitoring Alan’s progress as he worked through the code when Alan had discovered that there was an additional layer artfully hidden in plain sight within the squillae’s most basic command code. Ei’Brai indicated that this was a section of code that the average Sectilius scientist would ignore or only look at cursorily, since it would vary little within the spectrum of types of squillae.

  But it was all new to Alan. He wouldn’t ignore any part of it. She felt Alan’s flash of insight as several seemingly disparate pieces of information had flitted through his mind and he’d connected the dots between them. Jane could see the pattern form just as clearly—as Ei’Brai interpreted what it meant in real time.

  If even a single squillae were discovered, scrutinized with this level of intensity, it was programmed to send out a signal, organizing all the rest of them to abandon whatever they were doing and congregate in groups along the major hubs within the network of the ship’s neural-electric pathways, where they would work together to build structures intended to create a series of feedback loops simultaneously.

  In other words, a self-destruct—a massive, instantaneous overload. And it was probably already underway. It wouldn’t take many squillae to make an explosion happen. With fewer individuals to do the work, it would take longer to accomplish, but they could still blow a very large hole in the ship. There was no way to estimate just how many of them there were, how long it might take them to cause an explosion, or where the explosions would take place.

  The ship was absolutely teeming with squillae, and they were impossible to sort. Only when directly adjacent on the microscopic level could one squillae potentially detect the difference between itself and an individual that was different. If a squillae worked hard at keeping to itself, which these clearly did, it could avoid detection altogether.

  Jane stood, fully awake now, blood pumping at an alarming rate, and left the room, heading for the nearest deck-to-deck transport, ready to go wherever she was needed. As she strode down the hall, Ei’Brai showed her how he’d already begun to organize the squillae in every sector of the ship to police the neural-electric pathways in search-and-destroy mode.

  Alan interjected, “That’s not enough, Jane. They’ve already missed a few of these before—and these things are capable of rapid replication, using whatever materials are at hand. They will miss them again. Eventually we’re going to go boom—unless we get rid of all of them at the same time, good and bad nanites alike. It’s the only way, Jane.”

  She’d heard this argument before.

  As well as Ei’Brai’s rebuttal, which he began anew. “Unnecessary and imprudent. Entire sectors of the Speroancora would experience explosive decompression from the Coelusha limax infestation, alone. Every system on board would be affected—repair and maintenance would be impossible. That course of action would have far-reaching consequences.”

  “More far reaching than all this shit blowing up? Really? Come on! This would only be short term,” Alan insisted. “We can make more nanites.”

  “You underestimate the amount of time it would take to repopulate the ship. You would leave us in a vulnerable state for, at minimum, a complete revolution around this star,” Ei’Brai protested.

  Jane hesitated in the deck-to-deck transport, not sure where she was going.

  Alan countered, “Jane—listen to me. I’ve only scratched the surface on this code and let me tell you, it was written by some devious bastards who did not want to be identified under any circumstances. We now know there were at least two different ways they intended to kill everyone onboard this ship. Who’s to say there aren’t three more ways to die programmed into these things? Every second we delay, we’re gambling. What if these damned things are already working on life support or the engines or something I can’t even think of? Jane—”

  Jane held up a hand as she came to a firm decision. It was time to exercise her new role. “Okay. I’ve heard enough. We’ll do it. Begin the preparation for an ionic burst, Ei’Brai.”

  His voice was acquiescent. “Acknowledged.”

  Jane felt a small measure of relief followed up by trepidation. This really was up to her.

  Ei’Brai continued quietly, “All Speroancora binary processors are locally shielded to varying degrees. However, most of the vessel relies on the escutcheon—external hull shielding. With your permission I will work to augment local shielding while simultaneously disabling the escutcheon. Such a precaution will take some small amount of time, but will greatly augment future probability of survival as we go forward.”

  Jane saw that he was troubled about deactivating the escutcheon. It was a risk, but that couldn’t be helped. “Yes, of course. We should protect the computers and anything else that co
uld be affected. You did say the ionic burst will be harmless for living things, though, right? We’re not going to be exposed to radiation or anything, are we?”

  “We shouldn’t be,” Alan cut in testily. “Tell him to show me what he’s going to do.”

  Jane smiled and bit her lip at the mental glower Ei’Brai emanated as he illustrated how he would modify the ship’s engines to create a burst of positively charged ions and send it on a magnetic wave coursing through every corner of the ship. The minute circuitry of every single squillae aboard would be overwhelmed and rendered inert, useless, effectively dead.

  “Ironically, it is the squillae that will perform this preventive work. Pay close attention to the details, Dr. Alan Bergen. You may be required to reverse these changes manually, without squillae to perform such functions,” Ei’Brai commented reproachfully.

  Alan responded without antipathy, completely enthralled with the images and concepts Ei’Brai was presenting. “Understood,” he replied eagerly.

  Jane watched with amusement as their interaction changed from antagonistic to one of esteemed teacher and earnest student.

  She hated to interrupt them. Her stomach churned with nerves, but she put an authoritative note into her mental voice. “There’s just one more thing we have to do, before the ionic burst.”

  26

  Jane perched herself upon the front edge of the oversized command chair and scooted back with a distinct lack of grace. It reminded her of being a child in an adult’s chair, and she was glad there were no other eyes on her. She’d have to work out a more dignified way to manage the seat eventually. It had some mechanism of adjustment, but she was too nervous to mess with it at the moment.

  The bridge of the ship felt absurdly large with only Jane’s solitary presence. She plucked and tugged at the complex latch to strap herself into the seat and noted that there were four rows of glittering consoles and their corresponding empty seats in front of her, as well as a large screen broadcasting the image of some asteroids and a distant grey ball she assumed was Jupiter. Ei’Brai had told her that she didn’t need to physically be on the bridge, but it seemed like that was where she needed to be.

  Her muscles ached with tension, but she was ready. If this went poorly, she had her seat belt on at least, she thought, shaking her head. Ei’Brai was waiting for her to begin, a palpable sense of excitement permeating his communiques.

  She gave the command.

  The bridge receded instantaneously. Her thoughts plummeted to the bowels of the ship with a sickening lurch. Time slowed to what felt like minutes between heartbeats.

  She felt the engines flare to life—a white-out that temporarily blinded her. The ship rumbled around her, through her. The heat made her vision hazy. Something was spinning, momentum was building… microseconds ticked by… the energy actively transmuted to force and then to motion.

  They were underway.

  She could sense the movement herself, through Ei’Brai.

  A triumphant laugh bubbled up out of her. She trembled, gripping the command console with white knuckles. I am doing it!

  She felt a release of tension from Ei’Brai. He, too, reveled in the sensation of movement. Waves of approval flowed over her.

  And, from the third party within the Anipraxic circle, she heard wordless cheering. Warmth and pride gushed from Alan. She heard him utter, the whispered words caroming around inside her head but not really taking hold, “That’s my girl!”

  Ei’Brai was feeding her the complex equations needed to move through three-dimensional space. Jane personified the physical command relay that was necessary between Ei’Brai and the ship’s computer in order to execute Ei’Brai’s calculations.

  She breathed deeply, striving to juggle this new level of control while staying in touch with herself and her surroundings. The distance was contracting quickly. The capsule came into view on the large screen in front of her. She felt herself grit her teeth as she began to turn the… force? emphasis? modulation? … of the engines forward, to progressively counter their momentum as they came closer and closer to the capsule. Don’t fly right past them… don’t run them over…

  Ei’Brai’s guidance made smooth curves in her mind.

  From appalling speeds, the ship had ended up moving toward a position alongside its gnatlike quarry at what seemed like no more than a fast walk.

  It was time to add another level of complexity to the mix.

  “Please reestablish communications with Providence, Ei’Brai.” she commanded crisply.

  “Hailing, Qua’dux Jane Holloway.”

  Jane straightened in her seat, concentrating on the image of Providence. Ei’Brai sifted through data coming from arrays of sensors that converged on the capsule.

  She was beginning to see the advantage of the Anipraxic link. It was pure genius, really. It reduced the amount of information that had to be articulated out loud—it was all right there—information streaming in real time. If Ei’Brai noted anything of importance, she knew it immediately. When every second counted, that could save lives.

  “I can’t tell, Ei’Brai. Are they still moving?”

  “Only under momentum. There is very little electrical output onboard. Channel is now open. You may speak.”

  Jane cleared her throat because she hadn’t spoken aloud for at least a day. “This is Jane Holloway. Providence? Are you there?”

  Worry sat like lead in her stomach. Would they ignore her this time? Had Walsh been so angry after their last communication that he’d decided not to respond when she called back?

  He’d been curt last time, dismissive, and barely able to make coherent arguments. It seemed clear that he was infected. This could be a rough encounter. He was opposed to coming back aboard. She was hoping that in the intervening hours Varma had softened him up.

  Jane tapped her fingers on the console impatiently. Was it too late? Had there been some kind of catastrophic failure onboard? “I repeat: Providence, come in. This is Jane Holloway. I’m ready and able to provide assistance.”

  Nothing.

  She leaned forward, the straps adjusting, moving with her. “Over?”

  Silence.

  They’d already conceived of several ways to deal with an unresponsive Providence. None of them were good choices. If someone inside the capsule panicked and turned on one of the ionic drives during the rescue, to try to escape… She cringed. Things could get very dangerous for the people inside that vessel very quickly.

  Why weren’t they answering? Could Walsh have gone nuts? Had they all gone catatonic shut up in such a small space together? Had someone made a fatal mistake? Oh, God—I should have done something sooner.

  “Do you sense them, Ei’Brai?” she asked him silently.

  He responded coolly. “I perceive three individuals. There appears to be a fracas in progress.”

  Jane knit her brow. “So they heard my transmission?”

  “I believe so, Qua’dux Jane Holloway.”

  “And the channel is still open?”

  “Affirmative.”

  Jane sat up straighter, never taking her eyes from the capsule on the screen. A drama was playing out over there and she was powerless to intervene. “Providence. Jane Holloway. I want you to know that Dr. Bergen has devised a permanent solution to the nanite problem. Here, on the Speroancora, we will eliminate all of them at once with a tightly controlled EMP. If you can’t or won’t dock with us in a timely fashion, I’ll be forced to use another method to bring you aboard. I won’t allow you to transmit the nanites to Earth. Please respond.”

  Again, minutes rolled by.

  Alan’s mental voice exclaimed, “Jane, we don’t have time for this shit! The clock is ticking on teeny-tiny nanite bombs with big booms.”

  Ei’Brai silently grumbled, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with any clear articulation.

  Jane frowned. “I know, I know.”

  Alan sounded impatient, “Just scoop them up, like we talked about.”

&nbs
p; She sighed. “Alan, I don’t have the finesse you seem to think I have.”

  “Jane, let me out of this damned thing!” His frustration was immense. Then he softened. “I want to help you.”

  “There’s nothing you can do out here. I have to make these decisions. I have to do this.”

  She shut her eyes, concentrating on the distance between the capsule and the ship, turning many miles into feet, until it loomed large on the viewscreen in front of her. She wished she could see inside.

  Then she remembered. She slipped her consciousness closer to Ei’Brai. It was like a mouse sidling up to an elephant. She knew it. But it didn’t matter, because this mouse was the elephant’s master. “I want you to show me what’s going on in there,” she told him.

  “Inadvisable,” he responded instantly.

  “Why?” Jane narrowed her eyes, but he was an open book. He may recommend she not go there, but he wouldn’t stop her, if that was her decision.

  “You are emotionally attached to your colleagues. At best, the experience could have a negative impact on you psychologically. At worst, it could be injurious to your nascent experience of Anipraxia. There is no need for such risk. There is significant evidence that they are not as they were. In my estimation, they are incapable of performing as you’d hoped.”

  She nodded, centering herself more fully inside herself. It was disappointing, but she was mentally prepared for this scenario. “All right. We’ll match their speed, like we discussed.”

  Alan’s voice tickled in the back of her head, a whisper, “I know you can do this, Jane.”

  Her mouth pursed in concentration, she put all her mental energy into channeling the commands correctly. The Speroancora eased back to cancel the last of its pursuit velocity and match the speed of the Providence.

  She told the ship’s computer, “Open the external service hatch on Deck 37, chamber 2-4-6, and terminate synthetic gravity to that chamber.”