Exodus

by Alex Lamb

  Then they started noticing the damage. Where not enclosed by magic bubbles, the surfaces of the moons had been scarred and scorched with huge craters and furrows. The more recognisable pieces of exposed machinery showed blast damage of a very familiar kind. There had been an energy fight here, a big one that not even the subsequent extensive weathering could hide. Suddenly, the idea that they were looking at ruins didn’t feel quite so unlikely.

  Ira watched Mark’s face and saw friction churning there more strongly than ever. This wasn’t what Mark had expected or wanted. He’d come hunting for solutions, not more mysteries. Ira had felt that way when he’d discovered the Fecund. There’d been an impatience inside him – a breathless desire to focus on his own immediate concerns rather than the strangeness being forced upon them. But from where he stood now, he could see past that. They were being handed a puzzle, whether they understood it or not. They ignored it at their peril.

  ‘You were right, Clath,’ he said. ‘All this smacks of the Transcended. The question is whether that’s good news or not.’

  ‘There’s always been speculation that the Zone was designed to keep species apart,’ said Clath. ‘It’s certainly starting to look that way.’

  ‘Okay,’ said Judj. ‘Here’s something else I don’t like. All those remains are in the out-system. Within the habitable zone, where you’d expect to see the most material, there’s nothing. Just the Diggory. The rest of space is so clean it’s wrong. I’m not even seeing normal debris densities. It’s been swept. And that planet the Diggory is orbiting is definitely a biosphere. I’m reading an oxygen-nitrogen atmosphere with a mean temperature of two-eighty-five kelvin.’

  ‘That’s practically Earthlike,’ said Ira.

  ‘It’s not like Earth,’ said Ann triumphantly. ‘It’s a Phote world.’

  ‘What?’ said Palla, her head whipping around.

  ‘You’re fucking joking,’ said Mark.

  Ann brought up a long-distance visible-EM image of the world ahead at maximum resolution. Despite the ugly pixelation, the signs of a tangled tubescape on the surface were unmistakable. You could even see the weird starfish blemishes of the world’s defensive nodes. But for a few spectroscopic subtleties, they might have been looking at Snakepit.

  ‘It appears to be inert, but the signature is undeniable,’ she said. A tiger’s smile stretched across her beautiful face, shading into confusion as it grew.

  Ira could practically hear the cogs turning in her head. She’d been cheated of her warrior’s death, but this was a respectable compensation: an entire world for her to burn. And yet the scientist in her hadn’t completely died. She still wanted to know why it was there. Ira gave thanks for that, at least.

  As Ann’s mood brightened, everyone else’s soured. It was hard to imagine worse news than finding another Snakepit. For the entire time they’d been fighting, the Photes had craved a homeworld more than anything else. Destroying the planet that Will had blockaded wouldn’t be much use if the Photes had a backup from which to pursue their fight, even if it was on the wrong side of the Flaw.

  Mark pushed the Dantes into stealth mode and brought up its cloak.

  ‘I don’t believe it,’ said Palla. ‘What are the chances?’

  ‘Do we think there’s any possibility our friends will get out of the bulk?’ said Ira.

  ‘The Academy guessed no,’ said Palla uncertainly.

  ‘I concur,’ said Ann. ‘Photes are pragmatists. They don’t innovate. They’ll conserve resources and fly home.’

  ‘But is it possible?’ said Ira.

  ‘Of course it’s possible,’ Palla snapped. ‘Anything’s possible.’

  Mark glowered at the blue world. ‘Perfect,’ he muttered. ‘I hope the Academy is happy that they pissed all over the mission plan. Did they think of this in their modelling scenarios? Apparently not.’

  ‘You’re going to blame the New Society for this?’ said Palla.

  ‘I’m not blaming anyone,’ said Mark. ‘I’m just not happy, that’s all. The irony here is making my brain hurt.’

  ‘You know, in security circles, we have three private theories about the Transcended,’ said Judj as he scrutinised the unwelcome image. ‘The first is that the galaxy is like an abandoned garden. The Transcended set it up as a farm for shaping young species but now the farm is all corrupted and overgrown. The second theory is that it’s in a state of slow-motion war. Species such as ours are like weaponised bystanders or proxy states in a battle between ancient races. And the third one is species-level vampirism. The Transcended somehow maintain themselves by stealing the bodies and minds of younger races, and that the Photes and the Transcended are somehow in fact one and the same. Right now, I’m leaning towards option three.’

  ‘Let’s everyone stay rational here, please,’ said Palla tersely. ‘I don’t think we have enough data to speculate yet.’

  ‘Palla’s right,’ said Ira. ‘It’s too early to draw conclusions. But for what it’s worth, my money is on the Transcended rigging this for us to find. All the hallmarks are there. You can practically feel the hand just out of sight. But I’m not ready to call that in as a threat. The big question in my mind is what they want, and why they’ve waited so long to show us this.’

  ‘They didn’t,’ said Clath. ‘They opened a door for us years ago. Humanity ignored it.’

  ‘I’m going to investigate that biosphere,’ Ann announced cheerfully. ‘A threat assessment is necessary.’

  Ira sagged inside. Of course she was. Why pass up a perfectly good chance at suicide?

  ‘No, you’re not,’ said Mark. ‘That’s insane.’

  She shot him a dark smile. ‘Try stopping me.’

  ‘Kids!’ said Palla, throwing up her hands. ‘There’s no point fighting about this. We need to understand what’s going on here, so everyone can work on whichever piece of the puzzle floats their boat.’

  ‘For how long?’ said Mark. ‘We have no idea of the risk landscape. And do I need to remind you that we have a mission to complete? We should get the hell out of here the moment we’ve made sure we’re not handing super-weapons to the Photes. We refuel, glass the planet and then leave. Another mission can come back and check out the bubble-ruins once they’ve figured out if they’re safe.’

  ‘A foolish assessment,’ said Ann. ‘An inert, untapped Phote world is a gold mine. There’s no comms traffic in this system. There are no energy signatures, and no life signs coming from those habitat structures, either. This place is dead. From my initial radioisotope scans of the bubble-habitat atmospheres, I estimate it’s been that way for at least two million years. That means an incredible chance to study and make a difference. If you really want to end the war, Mark, you’ll need bioweapons. And a Photurian planet that doesn’t yet recognise humans as enemies is the perfect place to start making one. Do I need to remind you that Snakepit was safe until humanity started playing around with its defensive technology? We studied it for years.’

  Mark threw a hand out, pointing back the way they’d come. ‘Even if you’re right, what if the Photes follow us through?’ he demanded. ‘That could still happen at any moment. Those raiders were right behind us and so far we’ve done a terrible job of predicting their actions.’

  ‘Actually, it’s not that bad,’ said Clath. ‘First, Ann’s right. The Photes always face losses with tactical retreat. But second, given the route we took out, we should have at least forty-eight hours of research time, even in the worst case. That could be all we need.’

  ‘How do you figure that?’ said Palla.

  ‘Their sub-light engines are less efficient than ours,’ said Clath, ‘and we were in the Zone for about two days before those warp-bursts registered. Which means that, even generously allowing for the Photes’ behaviour, they’d still be two days behind us.’

  Ira hoped Clath was keeping her optimism on a short leash. It was obvious that she wanted to take a closer look at the gas-giant settlements.

  ‘Plus there’s
some new physics at work here,’ she added. ‘I really think I should check it out.’

  ‘Not on your own, you won’t,’ said Palla. ‘There are three targets for investigation and we have the makings of three teams.’

  ‘Split up in the face of danger?’ said Judj. ‘Now there’s a great idea that’s never failed.’

  ‘I’ll stay with Mark,’ said Ira. ‘I’d like to see what happened to Rachel. She was my friend.’

  ‘Time-out, President Dentures,’ Palla put in quickly. ‘You don’t get to choose that. That’s my job. It’s an IPSO ship, and as SAO I should be present to handle any Fleet security issues that come up. Your job will be to accompany Captain Ludik.’ While her tone was sharp, Ira could detect a note of satisfaction. She was glad he was showing any preference at all.

  ‘No,’ said Judj. ‘If we have to split up, we definitely should not do that. Ann wants to examine a dangerous biohazard. That makes me the logical choice for her research partner.’

  ‘Judj!’ said Clath.

  ‘Honey, this is what I’m for, remember?’ he told her. ‘I wade into the Valley of Death and take samples.’

  ‘Fine,’ said Palla, looking peeved. ‘In that case, Ira, you’re with Clath.’

  Ira considered contesting that decision for a dozen reasons – not least of which was the fact that Mark was likely to need psychological support. In the end, he let it slide. After all, what was Palla there to do if not make interesting mistakes?

  ‘Sure,’ he said. ‘Dead species can be dangerous, too, Clath. There may be robotic systems out there that still work. Fortunately, I have some experience with that kind of situation.’

  ‘Okay,’ said Palla, eyeing him closely. ‘Looks like we have a plan. Clath, we’ll drop you and Ira off with a shuttle and some robot support near the gas giant on our way in. Then we’ll head for the L-two point of that Phote world. I’m not letting the Dantes any closer. From there, we can use robots to get a better look at both the planet and the ship.’

  ‘I’m taking a shuttle,’ said Ann. ‘We’re going to the surface. The work I need to do requires direct access to my smart-cells.’

  ‘Fine, crazy lady,’ said Palla, rolling her eyes. ‘You do that. Just remember that if you kick off a drone swarm, I will personally nuke you along with it, capish? Meanwhile, Mark and I will have a look at Rachel’s ship.’

  ‘We have quarantine protocols for that sort of situation,’ said Judj. ‘Please remember to use them. The Photes may have infected that ship. It’s entirely possible that they’re the ones who left the buoy. Likely, even.’

  ‘We’re on it,’ said Palla. ‘I assure you that I’m well aware of the Academic protocols for conflict situations.’

  ‘And let’s all keep to a time limit,’ said Mark. ‘Twenty-four hours, then we’re gone.’

  ‘Agreed,’ said Palla. ‘Our emphasis should be on rapid, safe assessment. Clath, Ira, we’ll pick you two up on our way out.’

  Ira nodded. A fresh clutch of woken emotions churned sluggishly inside him. Excitement, perhaps, and curiosity. But one of them, he was fairly sure, was fear.

  7: INVESTIGATION

  7.1: WILL

  Will stood on the narrow ceramic causeway and felt the cold air bite his skin. Glass crunched under his feet. In the canyon-shaped townscape far below, nothing moved. Everything was a mess of dust and crumpled machinery.

  The place oozed a half-remembered mood – a sense of dullness and antipathy that hung over everything. Stronger than that, though, was the feeling of mainlined déjà vu that sang in Will’s veins from just being there. He’d replayed his own memories countless times but never visited them as an interloper.

  Will glanced over the railing at the ruined town. He’d been sent here long ago to assess the damage and report on the viability of colony reconstruction after another of Galatea’s crippling storms. He’d used robots, of course. Had he been there in person, he’d have needed an environment suit because the atmosphere on Galatea had barely any free oxygen. Which meant he was remembering something he’d seen through the eyes of a machine. That didn’t appear to matter. The icy air and its acrid edge felt as real as everything else.

  He walked carefully over the broken glass to the hatch at the far end of the causeway and found it sealed shut. He glanced back the way he’d come. The other doorway was on the canyon’s far wall, several minutes’ delicate walk away. Still, if he couldn’t get the door open, that was where he’d have to go.

  So much for Moneko’s request for him to keep his hands to himself. Will threw his weight against it but it didn’t budge. He tried again, hurling his shoulder at the frozen hatch. This time it gave. Will stumbled through and sprawled onto the cheap spray-on carpet beyond. In the same moment, the air turned warm and grass-scented while the light swapped from a cold morning blue to golden afternoon.

  Will got to his feet and looked about. He was no longer in the ruined town of Fortitude but another Galatean settlement hundreds of kilometres away: Ninth Chance. And it was years earlier. He stood in the huge, empty lounge of the Roboteering Academy where he used to wait for Mr Nkoto-Carver to give him vehicle-inhabitation lessons. Mr Carver was always late. Beyond the lounge’s open balcony lay the lower slopes of another trench settlement lit by the setting sun.

  An abrupt jag of loneliness hit him. He’d hated this place: all those dull lessons, not being like the other kids, missing his parents even though they never understood him. Maybe other little boys dreamed of being trucks, but it was another thing to be forced, week after week, to become one for the sake of the public good. Training for roboteers in that era had focused heavily on the desperate needs of the colony and little on the satisfaction of the handlers themselves. He’d blotted the whole damned thing out of his memory.

  In realising that, Will understood. The Underlayer was like the dustbin of his mind, rendered in virt. It would be all the places he’d lost the conscious ability to recall, either because they were unimportant or he’d never wanted to revisit them. They played no part in the planet’s sanctioned history even though they lingered inside him, colouring his personality. And they’d all been lovingly brought to life by Snakepit’s vast computing array.

  He glanced about. In one direction lay the entrance to the bathroom. Behind him was the way out to the hall. Both doors, Will suspected, would be portals to somewhere different. But to where? How was anyone supposed to find anything down here? There had to be some governing logic to this memory substructure, otherwise there’d be no point in truth diving at all.

  Will picked one at random: the bathroom. He walked through into a waiting room in the Galatean Fleet Psychosurgical Centre, where he’d received his implant upgrades when he signed up to fight the Truists during the Interstellar War. His parents had hated that choice, but for him it had been a moment of hope – an end to digging tunnels and an escape to space.

  He smiled as he stared to clue in. Some doors felt more intimate than others. That gave the space an orientation. His first choice of door back on the causeway had felt cold. His second choice had been warmer. So long as he travelled in the intimate direction, he suspected, he’d be going inwards, away from conscious processing. The other direction would lead back up towards the surface memories of soft-space. For all their surreal, self-referential trappings, this layer of memories had structure.

  With that comprehension came an idea of somewhere he could go. Back when he’d been merged with Snakepit, he’d seen where the Transcended had located their tricky little device: right in the centre of the world’s mind. It had been far below the horizon of the planet’s self-reflective mechanisms, just like where he was now. Will grinned darkly. Now he had a goal: to find that damned machine. And in pursuing it, he’d get to test his theory about the Underlayer’s geometry.

  He picked another door, this time leading to the operating labs, and found himself on a beach on the world of Kurikov. A pair of setting suns hung over the water, one fat and red, one small and pink. Warm
surf tickled his feet. Behind him lay hills covered with shaggy pseudo-cycads in shades of black and brown. Will looked down and watched tiny crab-analogues explore his feet.

  It couldn’t have been more than a year after the Interstellar War ended. Will recalled the fever of that time, the sense of excitement and empowerment. He’d spent a lot of days like this – because he could. After the horrors he’d endured at the hands of Earth’s forces during the war, the peace and the liberation he’d felt were breathtaking.

  Nobody else had ever set foot on this beach. The antagonistic enzymes in the planet’s ecosystem would kill an unprotected human in minutes. But Will, with the changes the Transcended had wrought inside him, could wander under open skies to his heart’s content. He’d been full of hope, and confident that the gifts he’d been given would set the human race on a fresh course. There’d be no more insane religions. No more slaughter.

  Around that same time, though, he’d noticed a change in how other people looked at him. No longer was he a lesser person because of his mods – an embarrassment or a freak. Instead, he’d begun to see jealousy and fear. But the full implications hadn’t yet dawned on him.

  It occurred to him with regret that the deeper he went, the more recent his memories would be as they took him closer to that final discovery before his death. He looked back along the beach with a little sadness and then froze as he spotted someone standing there. Moneko had warned him to steer clear of other people in the memory landscape and this time he intended to follow the local advice. Will turned towards the dunes and walked quickly, hoping and guessing that another portal lay between them.