Dark Foundations

by Chris Walley

  “B-Betafor—” Vero’s voice was sharp—“why did you come here?”

  “Damertooth knew he had been discovered. We were sent to find and prepare a new site for the ship to move to.”

  “We need to get moving, Vero,” Arabella said. “And the Manalahi Shoals sounds like the best suggestion. We can’t leave him here.” She looked around, her face showing dismay at the conditions.

  Merral made his decision. “Right. We’ll move him to the Manalahi Shoals. Betafor, do you agree to this?”

  “An isolated island? It may be the best solution. I would come too?”

  “Yes.”

  There was a silence. “Very well. I agree.”

  “Right,” Merral said. “Let’s take the sarudar out.”

  Arabella showed them how to assemble a stretcher she had brought and then she sedated Azeras. After Merral and Lloyd volunteered to be stretcher bearers, they strapped Azeras to the stretcher and found spare waterproofing to put over him to keep him dry.

  Betafor placed a pack on her back and then, with her strange four-legged gait, led them slowly back down the path under the continuing downpour.

  Within half an hour of leaving, they had Azeras strapped down inside the Nesta Lamaine.

  While the others changed into dry clothes, the Allenix unit asked Merral for clean water and a damp cloth and carefully cleaned the mud off herself.

  Merral, rubbing his own hair dry, was struck by the action. What is the motive? Pride? A desire for cleanliness? Concern for mechanical efficiency? How hard it is to understand this creature!

  The ship took off and soon passed through the turbulence of the storm into clear starlit skies. Leaving Lloyd to watch over Betafor and Arabella to monitor the sedated Azeras, Vero, Anya, and Merral moved to the cockpit and closed the door behind them.

  “Betafor’s utterly alien,” Merral began. “We can’t begin to understand her.”

  Perena looked up from her console. “I disagree. She’s not at all alien.” While everyone stared at her, she continued. “She’s made in our image and we may expect she bears the flaws of her makers.”

  It was a statement that no one felt inclined to argue with. Eventually agreement was reached on a strategy to ensure that Azeras was speedily treated and messages were sent arranging for the appropriate people to be urgently, but quietly, dispatched to the Manalahi Shoals.

  “Getting information from Betafor will take time,” Vero said. “We mustn’t rush it. More haste, less speed. Everything she says should be recorded. The fact that she lies makes things very complex. We may yet be able to learn to tell when she lies. We need information so badly that we must treat even a dubious source as valuable.”

  “So, do we talk to her now?” Merral asked. “We have a couple of hours.”

  Vero frowned. “I’m tempted. She knows much that we badly need to know. But I would prefer to read up on—there is no Communal word, so let me use the Ancient English—interrogation—techniques and start talking to her tomorrow.”

  “That makes her sound like an enemy,” Anya said.

  Vero shrugged. “We don’t know what she is. We know she came from that ship and that she lies. We can’t rule out the possibility that she is an enemy or even a spy. We need to keep her in isolation.”

  Merral saw looks of unhappiness, but none of dissent.

  “Let’s call them interviews,” Vero added. “But there is a danger of carelessly talking to her.”

  “What sort of danger?” Merral asked.

  “That we reveal too much about us to her. Any conversations with her will involve a two-way exchange of information. Our questions reveal our ignorance.”

  In the end, Merral decided that Vero and Perena would begin the interviews on the following day.

  That done, they returned to the hold. There they found that Betafor had refused a seat and had gone into a corner where, a safety strap entwined around a forelimb, she remained in her half-squat position, with her eyes seemingly focused on the far wall. Strapped next to her was her pack.

  Merral was struck by the fact that Betafor’s face revealed no more information than that of a child’s doll. How strange. I had never realized until now how much faces tell us about how people feel. We have so many questions. How do we know if she is awake or asleep? Does she eat or drink? And, above all, can we trust her?

  He glanced at Lloyd who, with his double-barreled weapon at his feet, seemed to watch Betafor with a wary concern.

  Lloyd soon turned to Merral and shook his head in a mystified fashion.

  “Betafor, can I get you anything?” Merral asked.

  Suddenly the big eyes swung toward him. “No, thank you. My short-term needs are essentially nonexistent,” Betafor added.

  “That must be very convenient.”

  “Yes, we do not suffer from the demands that a metabolism places on you.”

  “I hadn’t thought of it that way.” Merral was soon aware that Perena had come down from the cockpit and stood at his shoulder.

  “An interesting oversight, Commander,” Betafor answered. “Because you are a biological organism, your actions are controlled by your constant needs for food, water, warmth, and so on. Allenix units have no such requirements.”

  “So you won’t get a cramp standing up like that for the next three hours?”

  “No.”

  “Very well,” he said. “We’ll talk when we get there. You won’t be bored?”

  Betafor’s soft mouth twisted in a smile or at least an imitation of one. “Commander, I do not get bored. I can watch something for a hundred years and my attention will not flag an instant.”

  “Interesting.” Mindful of Vero’s advice, Merral resisted the temptation to ask more questions and as the flight continued, fell into a fitful sleep. Every time he woke, he was aware of Betafor’s resinous eyes watching him.

  It was not quite midnight local time when they landed at the Manalahi Shoals. Lloyd and Merral carried the stretcher down the ramp as Vero and Arabella talked with a small cluster of people by some vehicles. Under the starlight, Merral glimpsed palm trees and beyond them, a sea with phosphorescent waves which broke with a gentle sigh.

  Sarudar Azeras was loaded into a vehicle with Arabella and driven off. Shortly afterward Lloyd escorted Betafor and her luggage out of the Nesta and into the back of a second vehicle.

  Just before Vero followed Lloyd, he turned to Merral and Anya. “We’ll keep her secure. All being well, we’ll operate on Azeras in the morning and start talking to our green friend. But, Merral, how much like a Krallen is she?”

  “There are similarities. She has admitted as much. But she’s lighter, thinner skinned, and a bit more rounded. Her eyes are unprotected and she seems generally much less robust. And while they always seem to go around on all fours, she seems to like to get in this half-erect position. And the clothes—that’s a big difference.”

  “So is she the civilian version and are they the military one?”

  “Maybe.”

  “We may learn a lot from her about them, if she cooperates. She’ll know all about the Krallen.”

  Merral’s nod ended with a yawn. He felt exhausted by the day.

  As Vero drove away and Lloyd walked back to the Nesta, Anya turned to Merral. “Are you tired?”

  Her eyes looked soft in the gloom and his emotions were stirred. No. I must resist.

  “Yes,” he said. “It’s been a long day. Too much to take in. I need to get back to Isterrane. If we are to successfully cover up what happened today, I need to be in the office as normal. And to do that, I need some sleep.”

  Merral found his wishes granted. Perena took off shortly afterward and barely an hour later he was back at the Kolbjorn Suite. There, after a long, hot shower to remove the last of the mud and sweat, he tumbled into bed and instantly fell asleep.

  The next morning, Vero met Perena at the end of the wing where Betafor had been placed in a windowless room. The surgical team was ready to operate on Azeras
.

  “We’ve improvised a lock for Betafor’s room but I posted a guard too,” Vero said. “I have reviewed the camera footage. She stays still for hours on end. At one point, she decided to climb up the walls. She has a surprising agility.”

  “So, Vero, what do we say in this interview?”

  “I had hoped to come up with some elegant, ingenious, and subtle way of persuading this creature to yield us the information we need, but I can’t think of one. So it’s Plan B.”

  Perena raised an eyebrow. “Which is?”

  “Do what Merral would do: pray and just ask whatever questions seem right.”

  “Not a bad strategy.”

  “Yes. I think we explore gently, go with the flow. Where she volunteers information, we take it. Where she resists, we don’t push. And in general, I think we try and humor her.”

  “I see.”

  “P., I’m glad you are with me here.”

  She looked hard at him. “Why?” There was caution in her voice.

  “I value your insights. That’s all.” But it’s not, is it? “Well, let’s go and talk to her.”

  The guard unlocked the door and they walked in.

  Betafor sat on her haunches in a corner and looked up as they entered.

  “How are you, Betafor?” Vero asked.

  “Sentinel, Captain, very well, although the question about my state is much less meaningful than for a human being, as I do not exhibit the . . . fluctuations in the physical state that biological organisms suffer.”

  “Of course.” I must humor her. “I was worried you would be bored.”

  “Thank you for your concern. As I mentioned to the commander, I do not suffer boredom. And I can, of course, listen to your audiovisual broadcasts.”

  “You can?” What have I overlooked?

  “Of course. I have built-in facilities to receive most standard communication frequencies. For weaker or more complex signals I may need to be connected to an aerial array. It is another innovation that marks me out as superior to organic beings.”

  So much for keeping her in isolation and me being head of intelligence. “I see. You receive electromagnetic messages. But can you also transmit?”

  “Yes, but only with relatively low power. I can imagine you are worried about the security issues.”

  Absolutely! “Yes.”

  “I promise that I will not abuse that system. You can always have all signals from me monitored.”

  Vero caught Perena’s nod. “I’m afraid we must do that. So what are you listening to at the moment?”

  “I am watching all your audiovisual channels.”

  “What, all five of them?”

  What a phenomenally useful talent!

  “The inability of humans to genuinely multitask is another major deficiency.”

  “I see it as a design feature,” Perena said and Vero caught the glint of humor in her eyes. “It forces us to relate closely to one person at a time. It helps us have deep relationships without distraction.”

  There was a marked silence before Betafor spoke again. “There are . . . aspects to this conversation that may be clearer when I replay it to myself.”

  Another useful—and troubling—ability.

  “Betafor, Captain Lewitz and I want to talk with you. The discussion will be recorded.”

  “First, please tell me: how is the sarudar?”

  “Better. His infection is receding.”

  “When will he be operated on?”

  “Now.”

  “Good. I would like to see him when he is recovering. To . . . pay my respects . . . and wish him a rapid recovery. I find human illness . . . very moving.”

  “Betafor, do you feel emotions?” Perena’s voice was very quiet.

  “Yes, Captain. But not as you do. They are limited. In the beginning—and we are talking well over ten thousand years ago—the Allenix were made without emotional capacities. But gradually, as we became involved in translation and negotiation, it was realized that for maximum efficiency, we needed some degree of empathy with others.” She paused. “But too much emotion was dangerous, because it impaired judgment—something that we have often observed in your species. So, a balance was allowed. It is best this way.”

  Perena seem to think about this for a moment. “That could be debated. So what emotions do you feel?”

  Betafor moved her lips in something that might pass for a smile. “To tell you that might be to reveal weakness. In negotiation you do not reveal too much.”

  “And we are negotiating?”

  Betafor’s smile faded. “All conversation is negotiation.”

  “But here in the Assembly it is not,” Vero said.

  “Perhaps . . . it is less so.”

  In the ensuing silence Betafor leaned forward and looked at Vero’s belt. “Please, may I look at your diary?”

  “S-sorry. No.”

  “If you are worried about . . . security, you need not be. I can already access its circuits. I hope you are not insulted if I say it is extremely . . . primitive.”

  “Is it?”

  “Yes.” The flanks of the jacket suddenly lit up and Vero was astonished to see every detail of his diary screen displayed on it.

  “Ah, clever,” he observed.

  The images faded.

  “I can show you how to encrypt your devices so neither I nor anybody else can access them without permission.”

  “That would be useful.”

  “We Allenix are intrigued by the need that you humans have to supplement their abilities with electronic devices such as diaries and the equivalent. We see it as evidence of the weakness of flesh. To be what we are naturally, you need to have extra hardware.”

  “So you are superior?” Perena asked.

  Betafor’s gray pupils narrowed. “By any neutral definition, we are superior. Allenix do not tire or age. Our key systems can be replaced as modules. We do not have the weak and vulnerable biological systems you have.” She tapped the back of her hand. “I will outlast you. My essential . . . consciousness is over a thousand years old. And we have superior sensing abilities. For example, we see in wavelengths above and below those of humans and at twice your resolution. We hear better and over a greater frequency range than you do. Our thought systems are faster, less easily distracted, and we can multitask without performance degradation. We do not suffer from the permanent fluctuations that are inevitable in any biological systems. We do not suffer from carelessness. If I perform a task a million times, the last time is as good as the first time. Do you wish me to continue?”

  “N-no,” Vero said. “That will do. Very impressive.”

  “Thank you.”

  “But what are your limitations?” Perena asked.

  Betafor’s lips flexed again into the pseudosmile. “Captain, the Allenix have no limitations. We have areas of undeveloped potential. Indeed the existence of this potential is another area in which we are superior. Humans are limited. Flesh cannot be modified. We can.”

  Perena’s expression hardened. “So the future belongs to you? It sounds like you think we’re finished.”

  Betafor’s smile broadened. “It is an axiom of negotiation that you do not humiliate the opposite party.”

  Vero raised a finger. “Betafor, you say you were part of the True Freeborn. They are at war with the Dominion?”

  “Correct.”

  “Can you explain something of the reason why they are at war?”

  Betafor smiled again. She seems to have a limited repertoire of emotional expressions. “We have a deal, Sentinel Enand. After the remaining implant in Sarudar Azeras is removed and he is restored to health, I will tell you all I know. Not before.”

  Vero shrugged. “Very well. Incidentally, you said something yesterday about also being a sentinel.”

  “What was said was this. You said: ‘Show us this man,’ meaning the sarudar. I replied ‘Ah, Verofaza, the sentinel. We too were made to be sentinels.’”

  Of course. S
he records all conversations. Another awesomely useful trick. “Exactly. What did you mean?”

  “It is our history. In the constant wars between the Freeborn worlds there was always a need to have watchmen at the edges of the planetary systems to identify and inspect the ships that passed there. But it was realized that it was no task for humans. Your race is unsuited to spend months in the depths of space.”

  Perena stiffened slightly. She understands that.

  “At first, we were created just to watch and warn of vessels. We were little more than machines. But as it can take days for signals to go backward and forward to the edge of a system, it was realized that it would be better if we were given intelligence and could make decisions. So over centuries we were given new abilities and allowed to act. We would find ships, stop them, and negotiate with them. And, if necessary, we would search them or seize them.”

  “You searched ships?” Perena looked doubtful.

  “Indeed, Captain. I would lead the search party. I would normally have at least one pack of Krallen behind me.”

  “Did you use them?” Vero asked.

  “Sometimes yes. On three occasions in the last twenty years I . . . ordered the Krallen to destroy all the crew.”

  “Ah,” Vero said, catching the look of dismay on Perena’s face. “I have a question,” he said after a moment’s silence. “In the ship we found there was another being—a steersman. Do you deal with them?”

  “No. That is the task of a human—a steersman handler.”

  “What do you think of the steersmen?”

  “I find your question lacking in clarity. I pity human beings for dealing with them; it is a sign of . . . weakness. But what we call the extra-physical and you call the spiritual or the supernatural does not concern me. We do not have souls.”

  “I see.”

  “How do you know you do not have souls?” Perena asked.

  “The subject has been the subject of much . . . discussion among us. We do not believe that any portion of us survives the destruction of our memory arrays. If I was blown up, I would simply cease to exist.”

  “Do you believe in God?” Perena asked.

  “We recognize the universe contains a range of beings, some of which are extra-physical. They are of little interest to us. We do not worship a creator. After all, if we did that, it might lead us to worship the human beings who made us.” She paused. “That would not be sensible.”