Netherspace

by Andrew Lane

  “They’re showing progress,” Tse said. “The last three being the Platonic ideal. The shapes upon which all other shapes are based.”

  “Are they?” Marc asked.

  “Of course. Anyone could see it.” He glanced sideways at Marc. “Anyone with a Classics education.”

  “Or,” Kara asked, “are they showing what was lost?” She noticed Tse’s hands curled into fists, knuckles white with tension.

  “Like they went down some sort of blind alley,” Marc added thoughtfully. “The aesthetic changed. Except…”

  “Except we’ve been here too long,” Kara cut in, “and we’ve seen what they want us to see.” An earlier suspicion about Tse’s personal agenda was now crystallising into certainty. “Whether or not we understand it is another issue. I’m getting worried about what everyone else is up to. Let’s go.”

  The Cancri led them back to RIL-FIJ-DOQ. They parked some distance away, presumably waiting for something to happen. Perhaps it already had.

  A small group of the tall, hard-shelled aliens had developed a rapport with a few Pilgrims. One Pilgrim would raise an arm; a crustacean would raise a spindly, thorned limb in return. The close-by Pilgrim whooped and cheered; others stood further away and radiated suspicion. No way of knowing what the aliens thought. Callisthenics? Galactic Simon Says?

  Perry, looking clean and wearing fresh overalls, greeted them with news that most of the Pilgrims were showered and now busy with freeze-dried food rations and that he and Tatia had cabins in the same shipping container as Kara and her team; Mariana had elected to stay with the crowd “to keep on eye on things”.

  “Remember the pricks who didn’t want to break out?” Perry said to Tatia. “Then wanted to apologise to the Cancri when we did? Well, that’s them over there. Told me they don’t want to leave, that this is the promised land, the Cancri will take care of them. Fourteen adults, no kids. Trying to convince others to stay as well.”

  “They understand the reality?” Kara asked incredulously.

  “You don’t understand,” Tatia said. “They believe it’s their destiny. Their right.”

  “What about the attack on the LUX-WEM-YIB?” Marc wanted to know. “What about being held prisoner in the desert?”

  “They’re saying it was a rogue group of Cancri who don’t want humans and aliens to mix, and that these new ones are the good guys,” Perry said with contempt, which changed to worry as Tatia swayed and then stumbled, would have fallen except for Marc’s sudden arm around her shoulders. “Are you okay?”

  Tatia managed a smile. “Thanks. I’m fine now. Hungry and tired, I guess.”

  “Debrief in the canteen in one hour,” Kara said. “We’ll eat then.” She glanced at Tse. “Sorry, no curry, for once. There’s a halfway decent beef casserole.”

  * * *

  It was less a debrief, more a restating of the obvious. A subdued meeting, the canteen table still littered with reconstituted food containers and plastic cups. Kara, Marc, Tse, Tatia and Perry faced the SUT’s staff across the table. Everyone seemed to have more questions than answers – except for Kara, who remained silent, letting the others talk it out.

  Henk observed that some aliens seemed friendly.

  “Define friendship,” Perry challenged. “Without emotion it comes down to self-interest. You have no idea if the eight-foot praying mantis has emotions, other than fear or curiosity which are both necessary to survive and evolve beyond the primitive.” Perry had been in space two, three times longer than any of the RIL-FIJ-DOQ’s staff. No one argued with him.

  Tatia, wearing a pair of Tate’s overalls, her newly washed strawberry-blonde hair cascading to her shoulders, said that any Pilgrims who wanted to stay had to be told that future contact with Earth would be difficult, if not impossible. “And why, given there are at least a dozen different alien species outside, all of whom seem fascinated by humans, are only three of them regular visitors to Earth?” she asked. It was another question that no one could answer, other than to say the galaxy was big and Earth very small. Or perhaps the Gliese had forbidden it. Or maybe there was a conspiracy to keep Earth’s location a secret from all but the most special customers.

  “I have a question for all of you,” Kara said and lit a joss, the first she’d smoked on the RIL-FIJ-DOQ outside her cabin. She hoped they’d see it as the arrogance of command. The truth was much more prosaic: her memory of her sister was trying to get out of its mental box. She waited for objections against her smoking – which she had no intention of heeding – and when there weren’t any, blew a stream of opium-scented smoke towards the ceiling. “Has anyone here seen anything that suggests the Cancri or any other aliens were capable of inventing the n-drive? Or the updown-field generator?” She’d decided not to say that Greenaway thought it unlikely. No point in alarming them with the idea of a hidden super race. Yet.

  Nikki laughed. “I’ve seen their spacecraft close up – I took a little walk – and they’re as basic as ours. Nearly all of them rely on the Gliese foam. I’d bet they’ve all got Gliese netherspace drives, too. Why, Kara?”

  “We might have to make a run for it. I have to know how smart the locals are.” She doused the joss in a cup of cold coffee. “So, they’re no smarter than us. Not bad odds.”

  “So why wait?” Tate asked. “We could go now.”

  It was out now. The staff wanted to leave immediately – and so, probably, did most of the rescued hostages. It was understandable. “If negotiations go nowhere tomorrow, we’re off,” Kara said.

  “Negotiations for what?” Henk challenged. “We got the Pilgrims. We should leave now. Right? And we can’t negotiate. We never could. We don’t know what they want now, any more than we did before we came down from orbit.”

  Kara was thankful she’d decided on no more sex with Henk. If there had been she’d have ended up beating the crap out of him. “Because,” she said patiently, “the RIL-FIJDOQ’s AI is still partly down, we’ve minimum sensors, therefore it’s riskier to take off at night. And because the Cancri could still blow us out of the sky.” She looked around the table. No one contradicted her. “Okay. Now let’s set duty rosters.”

  “You guys must be exhausted,” Nikki said reasonably. “No reason why Tate, Henk and I can’t keep watch overnight. Maybe with Perry to help? You’re going to need as much sleep as you can get.”

  Kara nodded, ignoring Marc’s warning pressure against her foot. “Appreciate it. Mainly, make sure the airlock’s closed. Keep everyone away from the control and engine rooms. Keep an eye on what sensors we’ve got. I’m worried about those stay-behinds – get weapons from the store, secure the entrance when you’re done.” She smiled across the table. “Wish all my colleagues had been as thoughtful.” She yawned mightily. “I do need some sleep.”

  Tatia echoed the yawn and left with Perry and the staff.

  “Are you crazy?” Marc demanded, once he, Kara and Tse were alone. “Giving control of the SUT to a staff who don’t want to be here and who you don’t trust?”

  “Do you trust me?” Kara asked shortly.

  He nodded. “Yes. I do.”

  “Then assume I know what I’m doing. Now go get some rest. Tse, hang about. We need to talk about tomorrow.” She waited until Marc had left, then briefly accessed her AI under the guise of rubbing her tired eyes.

  > Surveillance?

  < None I can find.

  Kara stood up, closed the door and moved to sit opposite Tse.

  “I can’t plan too much,” he said apologetically. “It’s what happens at the time, you know? Look at the point on the horizon of possibilities that we need to get to, then choose the simplest route.”

  Who chooses the point on the horizon we need to get to? Kara wondered, but said instead: “I know that. Tse, what I really want to know is why you killed the call-out fee and let Leeman-Smith take the blame.”

  He was quiet for a moment. “There’s no point in denying it,” he said eventually. He might have been discussing his
favourite curry. “You wouldn’t make the accusation unless you were positive. It was to get Leeman-Smith off the RIL-FIJ-DOQ. With him here the mission was always problematic. There was no path that got us where we needed to go. The fee would have died anyway…”

  “You know that for sure?”

  “None of them ever come back.”

  She knew he was referencing her sister, trying to keep her off guard. “And I’ve no way of knowing if that’s true about this fee dying anyway.”

  “Leeman-Smith had to go,” Tse insisted. “There were many ways of doing it but I saw that the fee would also die. It was a matter of connecting the two events.” He looked directly at her. “Pre-cog’s not easy, Kara. I never chose it. But I do try to use it the best way I can. That isn’t always pleasant and I have to live with my actions. I promised to try to get you here, help negotiate with the Cancri and get you home. I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure that happens. But if you knew all this, why force Leeman-Smith to become the fee?”

  Kara smiled without humour. “Because he was a threat. I could have kept him locked in his cabin, but what would have happened when we got home? Bastard was too well connected. Tse, I appreciate your honesty. But in future you do not, repeat not, operate independently, understood? If there have to be sacrifices, so be it – but I’ll make the final decision.” She sighed. “Okay, this remains between us. If you want to tell Greenaway when we get back, that’s your privilege. Officially, Leeman-Smith murdered the call-out fee while his mind was disturbed. Okay?”

  Tse looked relieved… as much as any emotion ever showed on his face. “Thanks. How did you know?”

  She was ready for this. “Luck, actually. Leeman-Smith kept a back-up of all internal surveillance for his own private use. He was a sad, sad man. I found the recording of you killing the fee in his cabin, after he left with the Gliese. Obviously he’d never seen it. Too busy watching a tape of me taking a crap.” She saw the obvious question forming on his lips. “The recording’s gone, Tse. Destroyed. Both of them. I wanted to see if you’d be honest with me. And give you a warning.”

  “Thanks.”

  “But if you ever do or try to do anything like that again I’ll kill you. Or Marc will.” It was what Tse would expect to hear. She also meant it.

  He smiled. “I know. I actually do know.”

  Kara nodded. “And you’re sure we have to meet with the Cancri tomorrow?”

  “It increases the odds of us getting home. I don’t know why.”

  “Okay. Now, go get some sleep. I need you fresh in the morning.”

  She watched him leave, surprised when he turned back just before reaching the door. She was even more surprised to see the sadness on his face.

  “She sighed, you know,” Tse said quietly. “When I took the tube from her arm. I was terrified she’d open her eyes. But all she did was sigh.” His voice hardened. “Life’s precious to me, Kara. You have no idea. I didn’t ask to be this way. I was made.” There was bitterness in his voice. “Made less than a man.” He seemed to snarl the next words. “Know about the GalDiv programme, do you? Kids growing up in institutions, their parents so proud at this great GalDiv honour. Someone figured out the only way we’d ever communicate with aliens would be using psi abilities. Like pre-cog.” His speech slowed, bitterness replacing anger. “Know anything about the history of psi, Kara? About poltergeists? The power of the prepubescent child? I mean, you’re the old movie fan, right? Ever wonder why virginity was once prized? It wasn’t just to make men feel in control.”

  “The seers,” Kara said softly. “Oracles. Women. Virgins.”

  “Not just them. Boys too. Except the emotional, psychic, whatever, needs are different. Having sex doesn’t stop male psi abilities. Being able to have kids does. All those priests who once thought they were saving themselves for their god. Abstinence only a shadow of forgotten practice: castrate the little boy so he won’t lose his gift. The ancient Chinese understood – all the court officials were eunuchs. Not to stop them fucking the Emperor’s wives and concubines, but because the State needed their insights, their gift.” Tse shrugged. “We can fuck. I ejaculate, orgasm. Just can’t have kids because they fixed me when I was eight.”

  “I’m sorry…”

  “Why should you be? Not your fault. Had to be done, to me and the others. Or humans get swamped by aliens. Or else Earth dies. Maybe. But I’m not like the man with weak sperm. It’s deeper than that. They took part of my psyche, Kara. Part of who I should be.”

  “Then why—”

  “Am I here?” He smiled sourly. “I see myself as a navigator for the whole human race. I don’t give a fuck about GalDiv. I do care about humans.” He nodded once. “I gave you my word I’d keep you safe, as much as I can. But this is more than rescuing a bunch of idiot Pilgrims. What happens here, what’s been started, is so much bigger than that.” He nodded again. “Good night.” He opened the door and left.

  Kara found she was close to tears. Before she’d considered Tse to be dangerous and untrustworthy. He still might be, but now she knew he was also a tortured, conflicted man. What was it like for the child Tse – taken from his family, castrated, raised in an institution, forced to develop an ability he’d perhaps never wanted – and how could he live with it afterwards, all for the greater glory and good of GalDiv? Of course he’d cherish life, unable to produce any of his own, other than by cloning, which was not the same thing. Despite all that she knew of him, Kara could feel compassion. And that was the most dangerous emotion of all.

  * * *

  Marc found his cabin door open, with Tatia sitting on the bed, still dressed in Tate’s overalls. He walked in and closed the door silently, then sat on the bed some distance from her.

  “It’s about Tse,” she said, then caught a flicker in his eyes. “Oh! Did you think…”

  “Male programming,” he said ruefully. “Why tell me?”

  “Kara’s got a hell of a lot on her mind.”

  He thought it a bit weak. Even so: “And the problem is?”

  “Tse is all wrong somehow. He’s been twisted. It’s sad.”

  “He said as much himself.” He looked at her quizzically. “What else?”

  Tatia looked away for a moment. “When I first went into that warehouse. There was something watching me, but from outside. From a long way away.”

  Marc didn’t blink. “You especially sensitive? I mean psi sensitive.”

  “My intuition’s getting stronger… You believe in psi abilities?”

  “They’re increasing worldwide, apparently. GalDiv thinks personal AIs may be involved.”

  Tatia smiled. “Mine won’t like you saying that.”

  It would be top of the range, too. “You’re not going mad, Tatia. And I don’t think you’re being singled out by whatever it was. There’s a great deal of truly weird shit going on. But that doesn’t make you weird, okay?”

  She nodded gratefully. “Truth is, I’m a spoilt rich girl used to being in control. What happened in that warehouse scared me more than anything the Cancri did. And then those bodies.”

  “You need sleep, Tatia. So do I.”

  She put her head on one side and examined him carefully for moment. “Nope. No bullshit. I could always stay…”

  “You could. And I’d love it.” He could scarcely believe what he was saying. “But not now. If we ever do, it can’t be because we’re scared or lonely or feeling grateful. You haven’t said anything about Juan Smith. But I gather he was a shit. And he conned you good. I don’t want to be your way of exorcising his memory, okay? Because that would only be a one-off. I’d want at least a return fixture. Even a World Series.”

  Tatia looked at him intently. “You’re not playing me?”

  He shook his head.

  “Just my luck,” she smiled. “Most attractive man on board is an adult.”

  “Also a borderline psychopath who’s just discovered a conscience. You’re too special for a consolation fuck, Tatia. Go get so
me sleep.”

  “That’s not conscience.” Tatia stood up. “That’s pride.”

  “Stupid pride,” Marc agreed as he opened the door for her. “I’m already regretting it.”

  * * *

  Marc and Tatia both missed the sight of two Cancri craft floating directly overhead the RIL-FIJ-DOQ for twenty minutes before moving slowly away. It could have been curiosity but Kara – who’d watched on screen with a private sense of relief that her point had been proved – had no doubt it was a warning. Try to leave and we will stop you, unless…

  Unless what?

  And what part was Tse really playing in all this? He spoke as if all humanity was his family. No one could be that noble.

  The answer arrived with a shock like being hit with a brick. Other pre-cogs. Other castrated pre-cogs. They would be his family. They would hold his true loyalties.

  And suppose, just suppose, that pre-cogs weren’t limited to the human race.

  The second shock was Kara’s realisation that she was thinking not as a soldier, but as an artist, with an artist’s ability to make a leap of imagination… or rather, to welcome a hunch or intuition and trust them more than cold logic.

  Three minutes later Kara pounded on Marc’s cabin door.

  “I need to talk to you,” she said brusquely as Marc stood yawning and wrapped in a sheet. “It’s to do with Tse.”

  “Ah.” He yawned. “Tatia says he’s been twisted.”

  “She’s here?”

  “No,” he said sadly, “she could have been but I got attacked by niceness. And pride.”

  Kara looked momentarily stunned. “This stays between us,” she said and closed the door. “What if there are alien pre-cogs?”

  Marc thought for a moment. All pre-cogs, all species, might well be aware of each other. There’d be a matter of loyalties. “Then I’d say we could be in trouble.”