Live Echoes

by Henry V. O'Neil

  The scene dimmed, and then Olech was back in the empty hallway.

  “That was a rotten thing to do, Mirror.”

  “So was the Purge.”

  “I didn’t know that was going to happen!”

  “But what did you do, when you found out about it?”

  The raised hand dropped to Olech’s side. His lips puckered, and he slid down the wall until he was sitting on the floor. “I told myself the same thing I told myself in the war. They were gone, and nothing was going to bring them back. I had to deal with the present reality. I had a responsibility to hold it all together.”

  Mirror squatted down. “And that was your mistake. That rationalization allowed you to tolerate a long string of crimes you should have opposed. And to commit some of those crimes yourself.”

  Olech shook his head before raising red eyes to Mirror. “Don’t you think I know that? Weren’t you listening, when my capsule was launching and you grabbed me? I know those were my thoughts. That I’d done terrible things in the name of defending humanity.”

  “Of course I heard. But you told yourself your heart was pure the entire time, no matter what heinous acts you ordered. And you still believe that.”

  “Is that what this is all about? Convince me I was wrong?”

  “No. I’m answering your original question. You climbed into that capsule to find out why, after giving you the Step, my race never contacted yours again.” Mirror touched his cheek. “Our study of humanity in Step sleep showed there was no way for us to ever safely interact with you.”

  “Because we’re capable of such barbarity?”

  “No. Because you’re capable of committing that barbarity and then convincing yourselves it wasn’t barbaric at all.”

  “Timothy, for an intelligent man you’re being awfully stupid.” Reena didn’t look at her guest. Her gaze swept out over the grounds of the Unity Plaza campus, from an outdoor pavilion high on the central tower. “I told you to get me evidence that Zone Quest has been colluding with Asterlit.”

  “You think there’s any proof of this?” Kumar cast a worried glance at Ulbridge. “They’ve discussed it in meetings I’ve attended, but apart from that there is no way for me to substantiate a thing.”

  “Your testimony is going to be a bit weak without it.”

  “Testimony? You never said anything about that. In what proceedings?”

  “Why, the senatorial investigation that’s going to lead to the dismantling of a much-hated megacorporation that’s guilty of war profiteering and other crimes.”

  “There is no way I’m going to testify against Zone Quest. Even if you managed to break them up, their last act would be my murder. And you’re not going to break them up. They’re too powerful, their friends are too high-placed, and they’d only appear to be dismantled. You have no idea what you’re fooling with there.”

  “Thanks to Nathaniel here, Damon Asterlit is about to become the face of the ongoing oppression on Celestia. Those accusations are going to cause quite a few of ZQ’s high-placed friends to distance themselves. And when you prove that Asterlit and ZQ were joined at the hip, the whole thing will be a fait accompli. So get me the proof.”

  “What proof?”

  “The ore is moving again. That’s the evidence. So get the data showing the link between the minerals leaving Celestia and the raw materials coming into Zone Quest’s hands. I’ll do the rest.”

  “I don’t know anything about that industry.”

  “You were one of Horace’s top counselors, so play that up a little. Tell the ZQ board that your knowledge of pre-rebellion Celestia—you might want to suggest you know Asterlit better than you do—puts you in an excellent position to help make sure Asterlit’s not robbing them.”

  “Madame Chairwoman, I cannot approach them that way without creating suspicion.”

  “Suspicion enough for them to throw you off of a tall building?”

  Stone-faced, Ulbridge took a single step forward. Kumar shrunk back from the railing.

  “I’ll try. But it won’t work.”

  “You’re a very devious man, Timothy. I have faith in you.” Reena looked at Ulbridge. “Nathaniel, have our guest escorted to the station.”

  Alone for a moment, Reena looked down on the long shadows stretching across the trees and lawns of the campus. Night would fall in only a few hours, and she would finally be away. Off to a sector of deep space where a specially assembled armada waited.

  “Ma’am? I’ve brought Doctor Harlec.” Ulbridge approached, with Dev Harlec in tow. The diminutive genius wore his trademark warm-up clothes and thick-lensed glasses.

  “Dev.” Reena extended her hand. “I apologize for interrupting your work, but this conversation had to take place in person. How is the translation software coming along?”

  “The tape of the negotiation with the Sims has been a goldmine. Until now, our linguists only had intercepted transmissions to work with. They’d been forced to guess at the meanings of the different bird-like sounds, with limited success. However, having the precise translation allowed us to apply a range of metrics that have provided a key missing piece.

  “In even the most basic conversations, the Sims appear to repeat the same sounds—the same trills, caws, and chirps—over and over. But we now know that the human ear simply can’t detect the different warbles of those sounds—their pronunciation, if you will—which makes all the difference.”

  “So you’ve cracked it?”

  “I wouldn’t go that far. It was, after all, a recording of a discussion that only lasted a few hours.”

  “A conversation that had never taken place before in history. Sims speaking with humans through an alien translator. Every moment of those few hours was groundbreaking.”

  “I didn’t mean to trivialize the event. We’ve made great strides in identifying actual words in the Sim vocabulary, and part of our team has started applying what we’ve learned to the database of intercepted transmissions. But the translation device itself is still a long way from operational.”

  “I’m going to need something from you in the near future. We’re going to be broadcasting an urgent message to the Sims in the war zone, and it has to be accurate.”

  “Accurate or not, it will serve little purpose if we can’t follow it with more communications. And the translation software is simply not up to that.”

  “Keep at it. Night and day.” Reena placed a hand on his shoulder. “I can see you’ve burned up another set of eyes already, but we must be able to communicate with the enemy within the next month.”

  “It sounds like you’re not telling me everything.”

  “That’s fair.” Reena raised a restraining hand when Ulbridge opened his mouth. The security man subsided, and she went on. “I’m about to go on a trip. When it’s done, I hope to be able to tell the Sims that they’ve just lost the war and that it’s time to talk peace.”

  Chapter 14

  Ayliss wandered the quiet warship, unable to sleep. She knew that the stillness had been ordered from on high, to give the assault troops a chance to rest before the battle. The veterans in the squad had dropped off to sleep at once, but she’d found it impossible.

  The tumultuous events of the previous days had ended so abruptly that they all ran together. The notice to cease training at the domes and prepare for immediate loadout. The shuttles taking them to the transports, and the transports Stepping them to the invasion fleet. The urgency and excitement of everyone she met on board, the atmosphere charged with the momentous nature of their mission.

  She walked the passageways of the ship alone now, save for the occasional sighting of a crewmember soundlessly going about a task. The difference was stark, and unnerving. The entire vessel had hummed with activity, and she and her squad had moved from update briefings to suit prep to rehearsals and more update briefings as if on a conveyor belt.

  Ayliss smiled involuntarily, remembering the delivery of paint tins and long brushes in the cavernous hold whe
re Blocker’s people had been running final checks on the suits. Command frowned on the Banshees’ practice of painting female genitalia on their armor, an age-old tradition when fighting the all-male Sim combat troops, but General Immersely herself had ordered the distribution of the pigments and tools across the fleet.

  Their armor had been colored an ashen shade that would allegedly provide some camouflage on Omega, and so the paint was a dark gray. The markings added by the Banshees had ranged from modest to outrageous, and Ayliss had walked around the bay to view the artistry. Returning to her own simple renderings, she’d burst out laughing to see that the top half of Dellmore’s torso sported two demure circles with dots in the center that made them look like eyes. Blocker’s man Orton had been standing in front of the rig, confounded by the difference between the symbols and Dellmore’s ample bosom.

  “Hey mister.” Dell had spoken in fake annoyance, pointing at her T-shirt. “My tits are up here.”

  The joke had caused the squad to erupt in laughter, and Orton had blushed madly. Walking away quickly, he’d been heard muttering, “That’s just not accurate. It’s downright dishonest.”

  Ayliss finally reached the compartment toward which her wanderings had always been pointed, and she keyed in her identification before requesting admittance. The hatch opened with a burp, and she stepped inside a small room decorated with monitors and control panels. Its lone occupant sat facing her, a set of headphones down around his neck.

  “Hello, Minister.” Christian Ewing greeted her with a smile. “I thought you’d be resting.”

  “Minister.” Ayliss snorted, pulling up a chair. “When are you going to stop calling me that? I’m just a private now.”

  “I dunno. In some way I’m always going to think of you as the governor of Quad Seven. And who knows? If this thing’s as big as Command says, you may not be a private much longer.”

  “I’m going to need a lot more time in grade to get promoted to corporal.”

  “Not what I meant. If this does end the war, you’ll be able to go home.”

  A sudden memory, of Ewing straddling the body of the Zone Quest manager Vroma Rittle. “You will too, if I have anything to say about it.”

  “That wouldn’t be a smart move. The Guests have long memories, so even if you got me pardoned it wouldn’t make a difference in the long run. No, looks like ol’ Christian is going to be a deep-space cowboy for the rest of his days.” He tapped the headphones. “Not that I mind.”

  “You still hearing the music that nobody else can? Even without . . . you know.”

  “You’re not offending me. I used to wonder myself if it was the drugs.” He seemed sad for a moment. “Honestly, I was a little afraid of that. But I’ve been straight since re-upping, and I get as much long-range signal duty as I want. It’s still out there. I still hear it, and it’s even more beautiful than before.”

  “What do you think it is?”

  “It’s too intricate to just be background, or bouncing waves of whatever. Somebody or something out there really has an ear for this.”

  Out there. The phrase brought back visions of the briefings and the footage of Omega and the dread of being stuck on the surface when Command blasted the planet into nothing. It made her heart thud, so Ayliss tried to focus on Ewing’s story. “Ever try recording it?”

  “Oh, lots of times. Funniest thing. When I’m listening to it, I can hand the ’phones to somebody right next to me and they don’t hear it at all. Then, when I put ’em back on, the music’s right there. So of course I recorded it, and you know what? I can’t hear a thing on playback.”

  “You’re a lucky man.”

  “That’s not the word most people use.”

  “That’s because most people can’t see that something out there picked you to hear this. I envy you.”

  “Everything’s going to be all right, Minister.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Never seen you this keyed up before. Is it possible that you got your fill of the action, these past few months?”

  “Given what we’ve got ahead of us, let’s hope not.”

  They both laughed quietly, and Ewing reached out to the controls. “Wanna see the latest updates?”

  “I’ve had my fill of that, thank you. It’s all the same stuff, anyway.”

  “Ayliss.” Ewing raised his eyebrows. “You forgotten my special skill set? I’m not talking about the diluted intel they pass out.”

  “You’re kidding me.” She leaned in, whispering, “You snatched the high-level info? Command will crucify you, they catch you with it.”

  “Nail you up right alongside me, they find out you watched it.” Ewing’s eyes burned with a crazy challenge, and his index finger hovered over a button. “So what’ll it be?”

  “Play it.”

  Ewing activated the largest monitor, showing the gray planet Omega. Colored lines slowly extended through space, indicating probes flying past the target. “Surveillance is getting closer and closer. If the aliens are watching, there’s almost no way they could miss this. We’re not even disguising the robot recon flights anymore. At first they just flew past at a distance, but when nothing happened they started working in wide orbits.”

  “Has there been any reaction?”

  “Nothing. We’d already established the long-range coverage, concentrating on the identified craters, but there’s been no response. It’s driving Command crazy. Some of the honchos think it means the aliens are asleep down there, others think they’re waiting for us to make a move, and a few even think the bad guys went overboard on staying hidden.”

  “Meaning what?”

  “Even passive defenses can give you away. Scanners, antennae, telescopes, they all emit something. When your goal is to remain undetected, sometimes your best bet is to stay blind.”

  “But you don’t believe that’s what’s going on.”

  “It doesn’t fit the story. Command assumes that the shapeshifters captured one of the old factory ships a long, long time ago. They altered the human DNA on that ship to make the Sims with all their special characteristics. Then they made a whole lot of ’em, outfitted ’em with ships and guns, and the tools to make more ships and guns, and sent ’em out to fight us.”

  “You mean they’re too smart to just be hiding in there?”

  “Yes. When we finally get into those craters, I think we’re going to find something that is going to absolutely astound us.” They watched the different series of surveillance tracks crossing the blackness near the target, and when Ewing spoke he didn’t look at Ayliss. “You know how I managed to kill Rittle?”

  “No. I only saw the aftermath.”

  “Big son of a bitch, stronger than he looked.”

  “I know. I went straight for him, and he threw me into that bulkhead so hard it almost knocked me out.”

  “He tried the same with me, pulled me in close.” Ewing’s lips disappeared, and he shook his head as if to ward something off. “I grew up in a lousy neighborhood, no father, no brothers. Always getting beat up. So I got tired of that and started carrying a knife. Got it taken away from me a couple of times, but that taught me the secret. You want to cut somebody, make sure they don’t even suspect you’ve got a blade until after you use it.”

  He wagged a finger at the screen. “I’m worried they know that.”

  “What’s wrong?” General Immersely had donned her facial prosthetic, but the synthetic skin only moved near her mouth. “What did you see?”

  General Merkit was waiting inside a small briefing room aboard the flagship Aurora. He activated the compartment’s main screen, to show a view of Omega from space.

  “We’re close enough to detect large-scale motion on the surface, provided it’s not blocked by cloud cover.”

  “Large-scale motion.”

  “Very.” The planet enlarged until it blotted out the darkness, and then the picture resolved until it focused on a broad plain. “This location is three miles west of Cra
ter Number Ninety-Three.”

  The view seemed to be miles above the plain, but even from that vantage point a trail of dust was evident. It rose for several hundred yards, forming a cone that bloomed at its far end. At its origin, what appeared to be a freight train was running across the open on no tracks.

  “Once we detected the activity, the satellite gave it priority.” The view resolved yet again, swooping closer until the eddies of the gray cloud could be seen in motion. The train stormed over the dirt, but it was not a machine.

  “It looks like a combination of a worm and a centipede.” General Immersely walked up to the screen. “Must be enormous.”

  “We estimate it’s five hundred yards long, and fifty yards in diameter. See the segments? It’s like a string of spheres joined together.”

  “What’s its locomotion?”

  “Hard to tell, but your centipede analogy seems correct. Look at the tracks behind the cloud.”

  “Lots and lots of feet.”

  “Here’s where it gets interesting.” A shadow grew on the marks of the creature’s passage, and then crossed over the dust plume. It rippled and heaved like a set of rapids, and then caught up with the beast.

  “Shapeshifters?”

  “Yes. The scans match. We’d only seen them once before, at night, but that there is a gigantic swarm of the moth-things.”

  The creature became aware of its aerial pursuers, and started weaving in a serpentine gait as if to shake them off. The moth horde spread out along its length, and appeared to touch down on it.

  “What are they doing?”

  “After running this through a series of filters, our analysts believe they didn’t land on it. They seem to be forming a kind of flying cocoon. As you can see, the creature didn’t take kindly to that.”

  The dust storm grew in intensity as the beast accelerated, tearing up great clods of dirt in its desperate flight. With no warning, a tentacle many yards long erupted from one of its segments and swung at the air above it. Moments later it was joined by many others.