Heaven’s Fall

by David S. Goyer

  Now Harley slid forward. “And this is what I’ve been trying to tell you,” he said to Jaidev. “Military operations aren’t engineering. There are never any certainties; the figures never add up.”

  “‘No battle plan survives contact with the enemy,’” Dale said, surprised that he remembered the old quote from Air Command and Staff College.

  “All you can do is make the best plans—which we have—then trust your instincts.” He turned to Dale again. “And my instinct says, go with Sanjay. One thing we can be sure of is that Keanu or the Architects don’t like the Reivers. Why would they bring our man back if not to get rid of them?”

  Jaidev stood up. “I’m still not sure.”

  “You’ll never be sure,” Harley said. “You want a vote?”

  Jaidev snorted. “On the principle that ten average people are smarter than one brilliant one? No, thanks.”

  “So what are you going to do?” Dale called after him.

  Jaidev turned just long enough to say, “You’ll find out.” Then he pointed to Harley. “And get him out of here.”

  “Since when did you become Jaidev’s errand boy?”

  Harley was escorting Dale to the passage that led to the tunnel.

  “I can see where you might think that,” Harley said, with the smooth, unexcited manner that had served him so well at NASA. “But we voted, and it was unanimous.”

  “Get me out of the habitat.”

  “Call it taking you back where you really want to be.”

  “Even after you picked my brain about Sanjay.”

  “I can welcome your opinion, especially when I agree with it, even as I dislike your presence.”

  “You’re a complicated man, Drake. Or confused.”

  “Cautious.”

  They were almost at the exit. Dale knew he could sneak back in any time he wanted; Harley and Jaidev knew that, too. But it would just make it difficult, and given the pressure of time, impossible to take action in a situation like that. “I really need to talk to Sanjay.”

  “Not going to happen.”

  “He’s a Revenant, goddammit, Harley. And you know I’ve got my own connection to Keanu.”

  “Good for you and so what?”

  Dale grabbed Harley’s shoulders. “He felt it. I felt it! It means something.”

  “It means shit. For God’s sake, one of you is twenty minutes out of the Beehive and the other is . . . dizzy from hunger and not right in the head.”

  Rather than slam Harley against the nearest wall, Dale let go of him. “You’re so fucking wrong—”

  “No,” Harley said. “You had your say and I listened. But don’t push it. Our whole survival—maybe even the future of the human race—depends on what we do, so it has to be right. You opted out of it a long time ago, and you can’t just walk back in now . . . not with some mumbo jumbo about communion with Keanu. It’s not happening.”

  Dale was already walking away. Fuck Harley, fuck Jaidev.

  Fuck them all.

  It wasn’t until he was a hundred meters down the passageway, headed in the general direction of the Factory, that he was able to stop.

  He had to—the noise and imagery inside his head had grown worse with every step. It was the Factory he was seeing, several structures he recognized but had never explored in any serious way. They kept leaping out at him, turning upside down and sideways, like children trying to get his attention—

  Feeling that he might faint, he leaned against the wall just as a voice called, “Wait!”

  Someone was following him. Who, why? Harley had just expelled him from the habitat, so this could hardly be friendly. Dale turned, prepared to fight.

  Sanjay Bhat was jogging toward him. “You are making my new life difficult,” he said, bending to catch his breath.

  The images relaxed and settled. Dale felt a calming warmth—a certainty. “Are you doing that?” he asked Sanjay.

  “I’m just the enabler.”

  “What does it mean?”

  “That is still, unfortunately, quite unclear. All I know is, I have been compelled to find you and . . . share this with you.”

  “A specific location in the Factory.”

  “Apparently.”

  “You have no idea why?”

  “I hope it will be obvious when you reach it. And you need to reach it soon.” Yes, Dale felt that, too.

  “What about you?”

  Sanjay glanced far down the tunnel the way he had come. “I am headed back to Earth.”

  “Of your own choice—?”

  Sanjay laughed. “Since when have we done anything by our own choice?”

  “Do you know why, at least?”

  Sanjay waggled a finger at him as he turned to go. “Yes, I do.”

  Dale couldn’t believe the man was leaving. “Tell me! I need to know!”

  But Sanjay disappeared into the darkness. Dale took several steps after him but was stricken by a headache so violent that he vomited.

  He wiped his mouth and considered his next move. As Sanjay said, there was no choice. In his many failed or partially successful communions with Keanu’s systems, Dale had learned that the NEO itself had weapons. It was the biggest, nastiest platform around, too, like an aircraft carrier—

  For him it was back to the Factory immediately.

  What is it like living under the Aggregates?

  Most Americans would probably never know the difference. For example, they still vote for their fellow citizens for city council or mayor or Congress or the Senate. And the president. The Aggregates have “representatives” in Washington and most state capitals that parallel bodies of government, but you never see them. (And there is no Aggregate shadow “president,” but rather an entire formation that is in and out of the White House every day.)

  Major corporations, and some not so major, also have Aggregate shadows. Again, you don’t see them. (Of course, the fact that the Aggregates shadow every media organization means complete censorship of those images.)

  Crime and punishment are a whole different deal, because the Aggregate shadows are particularly active in the penal system, scooping up habitual offenders for work camps and disappearing those who don’t or won’t perform.

  What we got: Relatively better national security. Access to new developments in technology. Fewer criminals on the street or in prisons (depending on how loosely you define criminal).

  What we gave up: Control of our own destiny as a nation. Free speech and press. Due process.

  The horrible truth is . . . a lot of Americans accept the Aggregates. For them, life is sweet and trouble-free.

  They just don’t realize that (a) it isn’t theirs any longer, and (b) the Aggregates have a history of using up planets and moving elsewhere, and what’s left behind is usually destroyed.

  Personal note: I had a good friend who grew up in the Soviet Union when it was still Communist, so a lot like that.

  GERALD MCDOW, INTRODUCTION TO STASIS:

  THE HUMAN RACE’S LOST LEGACY POST-2020,

  CONTRACTED TO YALE UNIVERSITY PRESS, UNPUBLISHED

  YAHVI

  “Mom?”

  No answer.

  “Dad?”

  No.

  “Zeds? Xavier?”

  Nothing.

  If Yahvi Stewart-Radhakrishnan disliked Earth based on her experiences at Yelahanka, her arrival at Edwards made certain she would never think of her parents’ home world with anything but loathing. Ever since being hauled up the stairs and shoved into this room by a pair of smiling humans in stupid black suits, she had tried whatever she could: shouting and pounding to start.

  Then she had searched for some way to break out of the room. However, with no tools and nothing but a door and a barred window to work on, she had little hope of success. She thought about
trying to dig a hole in a wall, but the surface was too hard. Then there were odd little slitted plates at various places—electrical outlets, she realized. (They didn’t have such things in the human habitat on Keanu.) But she had nothing to jam into an outlet but a finger, and she knew that wasn’t going to do her any good . . . and possibly a great deal of harm.

  Forced to leave her Beta unit and bag, Yahvi had been taken off the plane with no immediate violence but still found herself separated from her parents to be held by unfriendly humans in stupid black suits. There were also soldiers with guns, and several other people who all acted very concerned, important, and unhappy.

  When Edgar Chang was carried out, followed by Colin Edgely, things had just gotten crazy, with shouting and shoving. The Australian had gotten into a shouting match with one of the officials, a dark-haired man in a suit who had identified himself as Mr. de la Vega, and Edgely had been knocked to the ground.

  Rachel and Pav had emerged then, adding to the chaos, which ramped up to a whole new level once everyone got sight of Zeds.

  The problem was, the “welcoming committee” seemed divided about its behavior. One group was eager to hit and kick Chang and Edgely, while others kept trying to restrain them.

  Neither group seemed to know what to do with Zeds . . . the giant Sentry was goaded to an open area and forced to stand at gunpoint, like a trapped animal.

  Soldiers had also carried Xavier Toutant out of the plane, and one of them had shouted something about a possible bomb on board—

  That was when everything got worse. Shots were fired and Yahvi was pulled toward the nearest building with such force that she had bruises.

  Her last sight of Rachel was her mother reaching for her, shouting for her to “be careful!”

  Whatever that meant. She had been careful this whole trip, and look where it had gotten her.

  Oh, she was pretty sure they had shot Edgar Chang.

  As she was hauled inside the building, she saw something she had had nightmares about . . . an entire wall covered with tiny Reivers, the black units oozing and wriggling like bugs and obviously working with another thing Yahvi never wanted to see:

  A whole formation of Reiver anteater types. They were buzzing around like mechanical children, each group of three intent on some action, all of them making Yahvi want to grab a soldier’s gun and start shooting.

  Now it was night. She had been locked up in a small room with a cot and no furniture or fixtures other than a sink for several hours. She had no idea where her parents were, or Zeds, or Xavier. She was cold and hungry.

  And afraid. She had been so afraid for so long she forgot what it was like to be unafraid.

  Her room was on the second floor of the building and looked to the east. (With no experience of landscapes and directions, it took Yahvi a few seconds to make the calculation.)

  There, in the dark sky, though still lit by the sun setting in the distant west, was a giant cloud rising from the ground. It looked like a fire.

  She hoped it was poison gas. She hoped it would kill everyone who took a breath.

  “Hello,” a voice said.

  Yahvi blinked and saw that the door was slightly ajar. She had fallen asleep sitting on the bed with her back to the window. That had been stupid; now she hurt all over.

  She stood up as Counselor Nigel and his two companions, Counselors Cory and Ivetta, entered. Counselor Cory was holding a covered tray. “How are you feeling?” Counselor Nigel said.

  “Like shit. How do you think?”

  “Hostility is unproductive,” the female companion, Counselor Ivetta, said.

  “You started it.”

  “You invaded Free Nation U.S.,” Counselor Cory said.

  Counselor Nigel tried to smile. Yahvi realized that he was quite awkward for his age. He had dark hair, cut close, a rosy complexion and brown eyes. If he’d been closer to her age, she might have found him appealing. “Argument is unproductive,” he announced, directing it at his companions as well as to Yahvi. “We can offer you food.”

  “I’d rather see my parents and the others.”

  “Eventually.”

  “What did you do to Chang?”

  “I have no information about him,” Counselor Nigel said.

  “Or you just won’t share what you know,” Yahvi said. “Fine. Give me some food.”

  Counselor Nigel nodded, and Counselor Cory set the tray on the foot of the bed. He removed the lid, revealing several packaged items unfamiliar to Yahvi. “What do I—?”

  “That’s right,” Counselor Nigel said, “Keanu humans don’t have packaging.”

  He reached out to assist, but Yahvi deftly slid the tray away long enough to tear the first two packages apart. The first one held some kind of sandwich, which smelled pretty good.

  The second one held a purple drink that spilled all over the bed. “Oops,” Yahvi said, and drank what was left. Then she devoured the sandwich in four bites.

  “Now,” she said, offering not a thank-you but rather a belch. “What did you want to talk about?”

  Had she not been worried about her parents and other companions, Yahvi might have enjoyed the interrogation by the team from THE. It consisted of each of the black-suited idiots asking her questions about Keanu (“Can’t you just read all the stuff that got published? It’s sort of true”) or the Adventure mission (“We came to free you, is that what you want to hear?”) or what weapons they carried (“Hands and teeth for me”) or would she be willing to submit to THE training (“Do I have to wear those ugly suits?”).

  Every answer, no matter how snarky or snide it sounded, had this virtue: It happened to be true.

  Before the questioning, Counselor Ivetta had produced a small instrument with a pair of wire leads that reminded Yahvi of her lost Beta unit. Yahvi knew without being warned that it was a lie detector. As the woman from THE attached the leads to Yahvi’s arm and neck, she asked, “When do I get my things back?”

  “The plane and its contents have been legally confiscated by Free Nation U.S.” Counselor Cory said.

  “But,” Counselor Nigel said, “we might be able to retrieve personal items . . .”

  If you cooperate. Yahvi was able to finish the sentence for him. Well, she had, in her fashion.

  The last exchange led Yahvi to ask a question of her own: “Don’t you think I’m going back to Keanu?”

  Counselor Nigel assumed his more-in-sorrow-than-anger tone. “Given that your ship was damaged and is thousands of kilometers away, it seems unlikely.”

  “What would you do if you were me?”

  That question seemed to surprise him. “I’d cooperate,” he said.

  “What happens if I don’t?”

  Now he just looked at her, blinking. Rachel had told Yahvi once that blinking wasn’t a reflexive act, the eyes wetting themselves . . . it was actually the brain’s way of reloading information.

  Once he’d reloaded, Counselor Nigel said, “I’m going to be honest with you. You may not like us,” he said, indicating his companions, “but we represent a growing population that has adjusted to the Aggregates and maybe even made them work for us and not the other way around. We think there is a bright, human-dominated future waiting, if we’re smart. It’s time for you and your family and your friends to be smart. Consider Transformational Human Evolution.”

  Counselor Cory took that as a cue to deliver the sales pitch: “No matter what you’ve heard, THE isn’t a religion. It’s really just a better way of looking at the way humans and Aggregates can coexist . . . and how we can apply their knowledge to our evolution.”

  Yahvi registered very little of Counselor Cory’s message beyond the explanation for THE. But she had been genuinely interested in Counselor Nigel’s answer, right up to the word adjusted, which was one of those bullshit words grown-ups were always using to make you to do thin
gs their way. So far, in her fourteen years of life, Yahvi had yet to be convinced that grown-up ways were better. Look at this whole trip, which she hadn’t wanted to take—hadn’t wanted her parents to go on. They’d almost been killed at least two times while failing completely in their mission.

  And they had had no fun, none of the seeing-great-sites-of-Earth crap Rachel had promised. The new people they had met? Please.

  Yahvi wouldn’t have bothered. Going back in time even earlier, she wouldn’t have turned Keanu around . . . she and most of the yavaki were agreed on that: Go forward, into the universe. Earth was fucked up to begin with; the Reiver Aggregates only made it slightly worse. A group of a few hundred couldn’t change that, no matter how many Keanu-based weapons they cooked up.

  But now that she was here—

  “What does that mean, ‘be smart’?” She pointed to the lie detector. “I’ve answered all your questions. What else is there?”

  “I don’t know yet. Offer to help, maybe.”

  “Oh, come on, you aren’t going to tell me you have problems we could fix.”

  “Of course not,” Counselor Nigel said. “But right now your strategy and that of your friends seems to be—we’re the enemy and you’ve been taken prisoner. Every interaction is a struggle.”

  The man from THE was nothing but reasonable, but Yahvi not only didn’t trust him or respect him . . . she had no idea what she could do that would make her seem “reasonable.”

  Yahvi unhooked the lie detector, slid off the bed, and pointed to the window. “By the way, what happened out there?”

  “What do you mean?” Counselor Nigel said.

  “That big cloud to the east.”

  Counselor Nigel shrugged. “I must have missed it. Not important.”

  But Counselor Ivetta was blinking like crazy. Which suggested to Yahvi that this cloud had been caused by something other than a forest fire. Interesting.

  “We have to take her now,” Counselor Cory said.

  “To my parents, I hope.”

  “Eventually,” Counselor Nigel said, opening the door. Yahvi briefly considered resisting, but there were three of them and one of her.