Makali was first to arrive. She shrieked and turned away. Turning back, she shoved Dale. “What did you do?” she screamed. She actually began hitting him.
It was relatively easy to grab her fists and force them down. “What the fuck are you doing?”
Zack arrived then, clambering over the same pile of debris as Dale, and slipping, too. Then he stopped dead, as if punched. “God,” was all he said.
Makali was in Dale’s face. “You hated her!”
“Me?” he said. “You think I would or could do this?”
“Stop it,” Zack said. “We’re oxygen-starved and poisoned.” He rubbed his face. “Well, there’s nothing we can do for her.” He held his right hand over the remains, as if offering a blessing. Dale wished he had thought of that.
Meanwhile Makali knelt by the body. “Where’s her bag?”
“What difference does it make?” Dale said. Jesus, women.
“It had the Tik-Talk, for one thing,” Zack said. “But I don’t see it anywhere.”
“Sorry to hear it,” Dale said. “It hasn’t exactly been useful.”
“Guess we’ll never know now,” Zack said. He seemed quite angry about it.
“Zack,” Makali said, “who did this?”
“Dash’s connate, maybe?” He looked in the general direction of the habitat. “I have no idea how fast Sentries can move. Maybe they caught up to us.”
Dale thought that was silly. He had watched the pursuing Sentries long enough to see that they were at least half an hour behind the humans. “And maybe there’s something else around here,” Dale said. “These Reiver things, maybe?”
“Killers were Skyphoi,” an electronic voice said behind them.
Dash was there—for how long? Dale wondered. The Sentry looked slumped, as defeated as any of the bedraggled humans. “And who are the Skyphoi?” Zack said. “And why would they want to kill Valya?”
“Skyphoi inhabit the next habitat. They are a newer race, our enemies.”
“What are they doing here? Is this their habitat?”
“No. But they were the race that caused this,” Dash said.
“They’ve got nukes?” Makali said.
“They worked with Architects on the sanitization. They have unusual destructive devices.”
“What can we do?” Zack said. “What do they look like? How do we fight them?”
“They are air creatures,” Dash said, which told Dale very little that was useful. “Come now,” the Sentry said. “They will see the connate and my people—there will be war between them. We can escape.” Without waiting for further questions, or offering further information, the Sentry turned and began to walk away.
Zack, Makali, and Dale looked at each other.
“If we don’t reach that control center soon...” Makali said, and was unable to finish.
For once, Dale sympathized. “How many enemies does this guy have?” Dale said.
“I don’t know,” Zack said. “I just wish they all didn’t turn out to be our enemies, too.”
ZHAO
It was an article of faith among Zhao’s instructors in Guoanbu that no assignment was like any other, that no amount of training or imagination would be sufficient to prepare an agent for unexpected occurrences...for the weather that prevented a pickup, for the domestic problems that caused an agent to turn, for the sports team that unexpectedly made the playoffs, filling and then emptying a stadium and causing a drunk, violent traffic jam at just the wrong hour....
Colonel Dao, the most consistent proponent of this chaos theory, even had a name for such events, calling them “Zoo Animals,” a term Zhao had always found as inappropriate (what did confined creatures have to do with chaotic mishaps?) as he had unforgettable.
Zhao had been living through a gigantic series of Zoo Animals.
As he swayed and lurched in response to the actions of the giant railcar—which had stopped and started twice because of total blackouts—he pondered what appeared to be a literal representation: two children of space travelers, one a girl obsessively and selfishly using up the last dregs of power in their only Slate in order to stare at images of her mother and father, the other a callow, impulsive, surly, uncooperative teen male.
Then there was the alive-again American astronaut Yvonne Hall. In Zhao’s pre–Destiny and Brahma mission briefings, the African American woman had been described as equal parts intelligence and resentment, a potentially explosive combination that was, the material said, “likely to result in poor operational decision making.” Such as setting off a suitcase nuclear device during humanity’s first interplanetary mission? Talk about a Zoo Animal.
Her behavior since reappearing among the living had redeemed her somewhat. In Zhao’s judgment, Yvonne had served as an adequate link to the intelligences that controlled the Near-Earth Object Keanu. Not a perfect link—he still seethed with anger and frustration at Yvonne’s initial inability to relay any information of real or timely use. Had she been able to tune into the “voices in her head” earlier, for example, they might have been spared that terrifying encounter in that Museum of Lost Aliens, for example.
But that had improved. She had managed to contact—indeed, to summon forth, like an ancient wizard—an actual Architect, and to bring him on their latest, hopefully final journey. The giant Zoo Animal now sprawled across the railcar from Zhao, Pav, and Rachel, patiently answering questions from Yvonne—or so it seemed. The Revenant astronaut was making gestures and looking quizzically at the Architect. Zhao hoped the alien was responding.
And, finally, the closest thing to an actual Zoo Animal...the dog. The golden-Lab mix seemed to have made the smoothest adjustment to the strange environment. Certainly Cowboy had continued to act like a dog, barking at the threatening and sniffing at the interesting and unusual. When not so engaged, he simply kept company with the humans, as he did now, resting with head on forepaws and waiting patiently for the next event.
Of course, Zhao’s experience with dogs was limited. He might be missing obvious signs of canine distress and dysfunction.
“Okay,” Yvonne said, “we’re almost there.”
“I hope so,” Pav said. “I don’t want to be stuck here if the power goes out for good.”
“It shouldn’t,” Yvonne said. “Though that is a sign of problems with the power core.”
“Which someone is trying to repair, I hope,” Zhao said.
“To be continued,” Yvonne said. “When we arrive, we will let the Architect communicate with the Skyphoi—”
“Why?” Pav said, in that sneering voice Zhao had grown to hate. “Don’t they speak one of our languages? What kind of advanced race are they?”
Yvonne, obviously familiar with teen sarcasm, remained patient. “They don’t actually speak. They are basically like jellyfish, only they live in the air. They communicate by changing color. They’re chromatophores.”
Rachel stirred at this, closing down the Slate. “That might be cool to see.”
Cool to see. The trio of Pav, Rachel, and Zhao had seen enough wonders and marvels for the population of Shuandong for an entire century. Zhao wanted no more...cool things to see.
“Fine,” Zhao said, “we’ll stay in the hallway. What will our big friend be trying to do?”
“He wants to be sure that the vesicle is secure...”
“The what?” Pav said.
“The blob that brought us here,” Rachel said. Then she turned to Yvonne. “And might be able to take us home.”
“In theory,” Yvonne said, glancing at the Architect for confirmation. Zhao didn’t like the sound of that. Hadn’t the Architect already told them humans were needed in a war? A war taking place some ungodly number of light-years away? They weren’t going to help humans go back to Earth!
Yvonne was saying, “The important thing is that no one else takes it. Another one would take years to grow.”
“What about the blackouts we’re having?” Zhao said. Forget the mythical voyage home; concentra
te on day-to-day survival right here.
“Part of the same process. Without steady power there is no ability to control the vesicle—”
“—Or anything else, I would imagine,” Zhao said.
Yvonne ignored that. “And the Architect believes the power core may need to be rebooted.”
Zhao felt as though he’d been stabbed. Yvonne’s casual tone, the single sentence, neither was sufficient to convey the impact of that concept. “And how,” he said carefully, trying to keep his voice even, “does something like that happen?”
Yvonne gestured in the manner that Zhao had begun to loathe, flapping her hands in front of her face. She might as well have said I just don’t know aloud. “I have images of something I’ll just have to call a starter kit. The Skyphoi have it.”
“And these Skyphoi...they’re quite powerful?” Zhao wished he could just ask the Architect directly. Given the being’s height, it was difficult to see its face, much less judge its engagement or indifference.
Fortunately, Yvonne continued to relay information. “The Skyphoi are fierce and independent. They came the closest, the Architect says, to being the allies they wanted in the fight against the Reivers.”
“But they still failed.”
“Only because they are too limited; they can inhabit only a narrow range of environments, planets with low density and thick atmospheres.”
“The Architects should have known that, shouldn’t they?” Perhaps by challenging these statements, he could make the responses more useful.
“The Reivers spread to new environments faster than expected. This took place over...several thousand years.”
Zhao shook his head. Too much, too weird. It was like the first time, at age fifteen, he had been able to bypass his country’s filters to gain free access to the Internet. Naturally he had begun surfing pornography...clicking through one link after another, always chasing, never finding, never reaching the point where you think you’d found it, whatever it was.
“Who is this guy?” he said, not really intending it as a question.
“Oh,” Yvonne said, “didn’t I tell you? He’s a Revenant, just like me.”
“No, somehow you failed to let that slip,” Zhao said.
“I know I said something.”
Zhao was mortally sure Yvonne had never mentioned it. Besides, they’d been in the presence of the Architect for only a couple of hours. But why argue? “When did he die?”
“Long ago,” Yvonne said. “Very long ago. The figure comes into my head as a hundred million years. Give or take a decimal point.”
Zhao sat up. “That’s an impressive figure,” he said. “I’d always assumed that Keanu itself was on the order of several thousand years old...but you’re talking a hundred times that—”
“A thousand times,” Pav said. “Maybe a million.” He and Rachel were paying attention now, having stirred from their reveries.
“It’s like this,” Yvonne said. “He’s not really a person as we understand it,” she said.
Before Zhao could process that bizarre notion, the railcar began to slow...a nice change from the sudden lurches Zhao and the others had experienced, especially on this trip with its blackouts. “Are we here?” he asked.
“I think so,” Yvonne said. “I’ve got to tell you, I’m really tired of this. I don’t understand two thirds of what’s in my head. I just want to get something to eat and lie down and enjoy what time I have left.”
“What do you mean?” Zhao said.
“Revenants don’t last long,” she said. “We’re tools. We’re here to communicate, then...wear out.” She blinked back tears.
“That seems cruel,” Zhao said. “And horribly inefficient.”
“Well, yeah!” Yvonne said, forcing a laugh. “I think they’d be happy to have us stick around longer, you know, just in case anybody had a question a month from now. But this whole apparatus”—she indicated her body—“is fragile and wears out in a hurry. I’m not complaining, mind you. I mean, given what happened...I know that souls survive, which is probably the most important thing anyone’s ever learned, right? So even though I don’t know what’s next...I know there’s something.”
Zhao was not a toucher, but he couldn’t help reaching for Yvonne’s hand.
Then he forced himself to stand up, addressing the Architect directly. “Who are you?” he said. “Can you understand me?” He said it in English, in Mandarin, in Hindi.
“Lighten up,” Pav said. He had likely understood two of Zhao’s three statements. “He already said.”
“She said, you mean.” Rachel pointed at Yvonne.
Zhao was about to repeat his demand in French, when Yvonne went rigid and started to rise. She looked fearful. “He says that he can’t engage on a verbal level, even with the proper translation device. Says it’s a scaling problem—”
“Whatever that means,” Zhao said.
“His processes are...slower?” Yvonne seemed to be having a conversation with herself. Then she laughed out loud. “Okay, yes.” She turned to Zhao, Pav, and Rachel. “If you need to use a name, call him ‘Keanu.’”
“But that’s the NEO,” Rachel said.
“I think that’s what Keanu is trying to tell us,” Yvonne said. “This body is just a way for Keanu to communicate—”
The railcar came to a gentle stop.
“Everybody out,” Yvonne said. “Hurry.”
They emerged into another tunnel much like those they had visited earlier...during what was proving to be a day without end.
Beyond the railcar, however, the tunnel opened into what, on Earth, would have been a giant underground station worthy of the Paris or Moscow metros. And covering one wall of the station...a shimmering curtain of bubbles. “What on Earth is that?” Zhao said, pointing to the curtain.
“The way into the Skyphoi habitat,” Yvonne said. And just like that, the former order was restored: Zhao would question, Yvonne would answer for the Architect.
Yvonne turned to Rachel. “Your father called it a Membrane, I think.”
“My father.”
Zhao found that revelation interesting. “Did our friend Keanu tell you that?”
“No. During the first EVA, Zack sent video of something that looked just like that, only smaller, when he and Pogo and the others made that first ingress.” Zhao noticed that Yvonne was again blinking away tears. “God, that was only a week ago.”
“Or another lifetime,” Zhao said.
He and Pav and Rachel were following Yvonne and the Architect. The giant lumbered along like the drunks Zhao remembered seeing in the streets of Shuandong, though a more charitable explanation might be that its head kept brushing the top of the tunnel...and its legs appeared to be unsteady.
The dog trotted along happily, flanking them while taking momentary detours.
Zhao was fascinated by this big Membrane. “What’s on the other side?” he asked.
“The Skyphoi habitat.”
“So you said. Are we going in there?”
The lag between question and response was longer than expected. “No,” Yvonne said. “Keanu says you wouldn’t like it.”
“Can we be the judge of that?”
“He means, it will kill you. Atmospheric pressure too high, too toxic.”
“Is he going in?” Pav said.
“No,” Yvonne said. Before she could say anything more, the Architect slowed to a stop.
They were looking at what appeared to be an accident scene at a balloon festival...if you allowed for the fact that the festival was taking place indoors.
Three large spherical objects floated in the “station” area, occasionally bumping up against the Membrane. They were mostly blue in color, ranging from desert sky to almost aquamarine, with flickers of other shades, too. The creatures weren’t perfectly spherical; their shapes kept changing with a regular rhythm. It’s as if they’re breathing, Zhao thought—and why wouldn’t they?
The trio hovered over a fourth balloon,
this one crimson in color, that lay half-deflated on the ground emitting clouds of nasty-smelling gas.
“Are these the Skyphoi?” Rachel said.
“Yes,” Yvonne said, “and that one is badly injured.”
Keanu the Architect approached the scene, stopping some distance away and freezing into near-immobility. Zhao caught Yvonne a handful of meters from the Keanu, with Pav and Rachel and Cowboy joining, too. He hoped this was a respectful distance.
He also hoped something would happen, because he felt even more paralyzed and helpless than at any time since being sluiced through the tunnels.
As they watched, the three Skyphoi barraged the Architect with colors. “They’re talking to him,” Yvonne said, “but he doesn’t understand. He needs a Skyphoi Revenant.”
Pav pointed to the dying Skyphoi. “What about that one?”
“That was the Skyphoi Revenant,” Yvonne said quietly. “We didn’t get here in time.”
The dog suddenly began barking furiously, startling the Architect and causing the Skyphoi to rise and bump against each other.
“What is it?” Pav asked.
Cowboy took off down the tunnel beyond the accident scene.
“God, I don’t like this,” Rachel said. Pav put his arm around her, a gesture Zhao appreciated. Even Yvonne seemed apprehensive.
Four figures emerged into the faint light of the “station,” one notably taller than the others and looking like an image from a dark ages nightmare.
The other three, however, were undeniably human, though as ragged as refugees. Zhao squinted.... Who were they? And what was that thing they were with?
Rachel Stewart suddenly broke free from Pav and ran toward them, screaming, “Daddy! Daddy!”
Part Seven
Second thoughts: Okay, voyages of exploration usually suck, at least for most of the voyagers. For every Columbus or Admiral Zheng He who gets his name in the history books, there are a few dozen or a few hundred people who die along the way, and nobody thinks about them.
I guess that’s how it goes.
On the plus side...you do get to see shit you’d never see if you stayed home. And meet some interesting people, depending on what you mean by people.
Heaven's War Page 40
