by B. V. Larson
The minister snorted and tossed a file onto his desk. “All right then. We’re going to send you home. We’ve asked you every question we could think of over the last week, Sandeep. Now is your chance to ask us something in return.”
Sandeep looked at the minister seriously. “I thank you for the opportunity, sir,” he said. “All I can think to ask is this: do you believe your government is taking this threat seriously?”
The minister appeared thoughtful. “Undetermined. We’re in disarray, certainly. We went out there under the same preconceptions that you did, apparently. We wanted to grab a fresh source of technology before you could do it. This isn’t a secret any longer, and I don’t mind admitting it.”
“I will admit the same ambitions existed on the part of my government. They still do, I would imagine.”
“Yes. Our governments will be hard to turn from the path they know so well. They’re like two bulls, thinking only of butting heads. In short, to answer your question, I recognize the threat and the need for cooperation. I can’t guarantee the same from the rest of my colleagues.”
“It’s the shock,” Sandeep said.
“Excuse me?”
“Cultural shock. In history, whenever two very different peoples encounter one another for the first time, neither deals well with experience. They may become aggressive, or deny the realities of the situation. I’m hoping humanity doesn’t take the approach of the Incas when they first met the Spanish. Doom lies down that path.”
“So, you think a military approach is warranted?”
“We’ve already engaged in hostilities with these aliens. Like it or not, we’re in a de facto state of war. That isn’t to say we can’t attempt to reach a peaceful accord with them in the future.”
The minister leaned back. “You speak as if they comprised a large, organized force. For all their technology—which didn’t seem to be too far ahead of ours, by the way—there could only have been a small number of them on Europa. After your, ah, actions, they may well have been wiped out entirely.”
Sandeep squirmed. He wasn’t proud of what he’d done. He’d only done it because he’d seen it as a necessity.
“The aliens on Europa may or may not have survived,” Sandeep said, “but it is a practical certainty that their race exists elsewhere. They must have a home planet. Perhaps they have colony worlds—any number of them.”
The minister nodded. “We must assume as much. The only encouraging detail is that it’s been a long time since their last visit to Earth. A century, in fact. That indicates they won’t be back next week with an Armada.”
Sandeep wasn’t entirely sure of that, but he didn’t want to argue. “Let’s hope not, Minister.”
The minister eyed him coldly for a moment. “I know who holds your leash, Sandeep,” he said. “I’ve spoken with Secretary Clayworth directly. She’s most of the reason you’re getting out of here at all. We might even share some of the data you brought home with your government. She can be a very persuasive person.”
Sandeep nodded and manufactured a smile. “When do we go home, if I may ask, sir?”
“You’ll be released tonight,” the minister said, leaning forward and signing a document. He handed it over to Sandeep. “Here is the final order. Try not to commandeer any of our ships in the future, hmm?”
“Thank you, sir!”
Sandeep was quickly escorted out of the building, and he was the first in line at the American consulate the following morning. A group of marines met him and ushered him to a waiting helicopter, then a plane. He was beyond the borders of Russia three hours later.
For him, it was the best flight of his life.
Chapter 71
Washington D. C.
Midday
Secretary Clayworth had an even more impressive desk in Washington than the one she’d used at Livermore Labs. There, she met with Sandeep and the other survivors personally.
Sandeep was nervous. This woman was unpredictable and implacable. Today, there wasn’t a hint of humor or pleasantness on her face, despite all her soft words of greeting.
“Please, be seated,” she said.
There were five chairs in front of her desk. Sandeep and the others took them. Perez was the last man to sit down; clearly he would have preferred to be somewhere else.
Clayworth manufactured a smile that moved nothing other than her lips.
“Let me first say how proud your government is of all of you. Your sacrifice in space shall never be forgotten.”
Sandeep resisted the urge to roll his eyes.
“Madam Secretary—” he began.
She lifted a single index finger, and he fell silent.
“One moment, please,” she said. “Before you speak, Sandeep, let me go over the results of this mission.”
On a screen behind her, a computer displayed data. It listed the name of every lost crewman. It also listed Starfire and Troika as losses. There were dollar figures, too—staggering numbers each with a row of zeroes at the end. The amounts were hard to grasp. Many elements of the itemized list had price tags listed as question marks. They were, apparently, priceless.
Sandeep felt a red heat roll up his neck. They’d lost so much. They’d left behind the only alien ship they had. Most of the crew had died, and all of their hard won data was in the hands of the Russians.
Worst of all, Sandeep had been in command of this disaster. He could see his career folding into a dust-pile right in front of him.
“I have your reports here,” she said, rattling a dry pile of folders. They were reasonably thick, but there were no photos, no hard data. They had only words and judgments to go by. “Is this it?”
Jackie Linscott leaned forward, lifting a hand with timid fingers waggling slowly. “Um, no,” she said.
Clayworth fixed her with a deadly gaze. “Could you elaborate? What have we missed?”
Jackie turned her head, swallowed, and pressed her finger on a lump that appeared there when she moved in such a fashion.
“This,” she said, “the polyps. We all have them.”
Clayworth shook her head. “They’re too young, dear. And besides, they only record a few hours of data.”
“Not true,” Yuki said. “These are new. The one in Sandeep—that will have long since run out of capacity and recorded over his sensory data from Europa. But the new people—Perez’s polyp, Dr. Goody’s, Jackie’s and mine—they’ll store information for months. They were developed recently and have a new organic compression system.”
Clayworth’s turned toward Sandeep. “Is this true?”
“I…I don’t know. How is it that you know so much about these things, ladies?” he asked, turning toward Dr. Tanaka and Dr. Linscott.
Jackie smiled at him. “We didn’t have much to do on the return trip. We experimented and managed to read the data fractionally.”
Clayworth stood up suddenly, hammering a button on her desk. A rush of flunkies came in response.
“Get these people to the surgical center under the Pentagon, immediately.”
“I don’t see why—” Sandeep said as the rest of his former crew were hustled away.
“You don’t? Really? Didn’t you hear what she said? The polyps record months’ worth of data. Well, what if she’s mistaken? What if the limit is fifty days? That could mean the storage system is writing over itself even as we speak. We have to rip those things out of their throats and view the recordings.”
She pushed past him, taking an elevator deep into the earth. Sandeep followed her, rubbing at his throat and swallowing.
For once in his life, he was glad to have been implanted with out-of-date bioware.
Chapter 72
Moscow, Russia
Evening
Lieutenant Lev Burkov’s reception was hardly that of a returning hero, but the fact he’d managed to return Troika, several alien corpses and a few of their technological devices brought him some leverage. The science teams were particularly fascinated by the
advanced field-based spacesuits, which created a warm, oxygenated bubble over the wearer. Each of the aliens had worn a device that projected this field, which fit like a harness around their knotted body-cores. The neural-paralyzers, devices they’d used at the end in an attempt to capture humans alive, were also of interest. These had largely been foiled by the thick spacesuits of the humans, but they were still worthy of study.
Lev barely cared about these trinkets, but they did get him an audience with the Minister of Science. He used the opportunity to reveal the life-recording he’d hidden carefully until this moment.
Unlike the Americans, Lev didn’t have an implant that lasted for months. His was only capable of recording the most recent few hours of his senses. What he did have, however, was the recording of Kira Norin’s last moments. He’d taken her polyp shortly after her death, and he turned it in when they asked him if he had any specialized data he hadn’t shared with the Americans.
“Of course I do,” he said. “I have the best piece that exists. Dr. Norin and I encountered these aliens one-on-one. We attempted peaceful communication with them. As far as I know, this was the only such attempt made by either side.”
“You did?” the Russian Minister of Science said, his voice revealing a hungry excitement. “Share it with us Lieutenant—please.”
“Here it is,” Lev said, carefully depositing a frosty capsule on the minster’s desk. “It’s frozen of course. I didn’t want it to deteriorate on the return journey.”
A team of scientists and a half-dozen technicians worked on the prize. They restored it, warmed it, and connected it to a reader.
The final results that played back were remarkably clear. There was a little static and occasional glitches in the auditory track, but otherwise everyone present was able to experience the final moments of Dr. Norin’s life.
Lev watched grimly. He’d given them no warning. They didn’t deserve one, in his opinion.
When the final moments came and Kira was torn apart by vicious clawed starfish-aliens, after she’d clearly given them a peace offering, Lev stared at the audience, rather than the screens.
They gasped and recoiled in horror. They covered their eyes, but stared through their laced fingers. The gasps and cries of pain—they went on longer than Lev had remembered.
How could they look so shocked? They’d known what had happened to the crew. The ship had come back empty. It didn’t take a genius to calculate what kind of events must have transpired.
When it was finally over, they got a final treat: Lev himself, seen through Kira’s dead eyes as he cut the polyp from her.
Lev slammed his hands together, making a series of popping reports. It wasn’t exactly applause, but rather a mocking clap.
“And there you have it,” he said. “A first-contact report in full. I’m sure you’ll analyze her technique and tell us where she went wrong. Next time, I would recommend all of you head out into space personally to greet these aliens. They can be quite accommodating!”
The scientists and techs looked at one another in alarm. This did Lev’s heart good. They’d railroaded him into this trip. It warmed his soul to see they were now considering their own fates. If their skins had been on the line out there on Europa—
“Lieutenant,” the minister said harshly. “There’s no need for sarcasm. Let us adjourn.”
The science people filed out. The last of them had to be stared at by the minister before they got the hint and left.
“You suffered greatly on this journey,” the minister said when they were alone. “I appreciate that.”
“That’s not why I wanted everyone to see this, sir,” Lev said. “I wanted to communicate to you the true nature of the situation. These creatures pose a grave threat to Earth. I’m not a strategist or a politician—but this single thing I’m certain of.”
The minister nodded thoughtfully and steepled his fingers. “What would you have us do?”
“Prepare, of course.”
“Prepare for what?”
“For whatever happens next. The aliens could come here any day with their own ‘mission.’ Perhaps it won’t be exploratory in nature.”
The minister frowned. “Your friend, Sandeep Grewal, he said much the same thing to me.”
“I’m not surprised. Truth is a light that reaches beyond national borders.”
The minister sighed aloud. “None of this is what we were hoping for. You brought back a few trinkets, but nothing like the treasure trove of technology we’d anticipated. We’ve expended a great deal of budget and have nothing to take back to the Kremlin other than portents of doom.”
“Naturally, we were all disappointed,” Lev said. “But it is our fate to be left with this problem. What do you plan to do about it?”
The minister shrugged. “I’ll pass the data to the politicians. The military as well.”
Lev leaned forward. “Do this distribution at the same moment. Do not give it to your politician friends first, hoping they’ll send it further. Your kind doesn’t like to pass on bad news of any kind. It’s against your nature.”
The minister looked at him sharply. “You step beyond your station. In fact, you make a habit of it. I’m thinking of recommending the removal of your commission.”
“In that case,” Lev said, “let me go further as I have nothing to lose.”
“You’ll lose your pension.”
Lev laughed. It was the careless laugh of a man who’s seen the devil and is no longer impressed by the town bully.
“What good is a pension if I’m not alive to spend it?” he asked. “Minister, we must halt this silly Cold War. We must embrace the Americans, as dishonorable and irritating as they are. We need allies. The Earth must stand united. This enemy is not friendly, they never were and never will be. They’re a different species. A predatory species like our own. There can be no peace between us—other than the peace of the dead.”
“You can’t know these things,” the minister insisted.
“I know these creatures!” Lev said, pointing at the screen. “I know them better than any man alive, having been in their presence for longer than any other.”
The minister stared at him for several long seconds. Lev stared back.
“I will see what can be done,” he said at last.
Lev stood up and exited, wondering what the future might hold for his species.
Chapter 73
Arlington, Virginia
Evening
Yuki and Edwin, both with bandages on their throats, sat across from one another at dinner.
The place was a nice one, with a menu that listed every course and item separately with a dollar price beside it. There were no pennies in the prices, and most of the dollar amounts were double-digit.
“Wow,” Yuki said, “this is quite a change after eating Russian paste for a month.”
“My stomach is rumbling,” Edwin said, “but I’m not sure if that’s hunger or anticipation of the damage this rich food will cause afterward.”
They looked up and smiled at each other. It was a good moment, and Yuki held his gaze for several seconds before they both went back to their menus.
She chose the lamb entrée on a bed of rice, to be preceded by a calamari appetizer and a Caesar salad. Next, she turned her attention to the wine list.
“This is on them, right?” she asked again.
“That’s what Clayworth said. It’s the least they could do, really.”
“Here’s a bottle that costs two hundred and nine dollars,” Yuki said. “I’m getting that.”
“A whole bottle?” asked Edwin. “I’m not sure I’m up for that much drinking.”
“Who cares? We’ll pour it out, then. They owe us after slashing open our throats. I had no idea when they injected that little seed it would grow into something the size of a bullfrog’s tadpole in my neck.”
Edwin chuckled. “I can still feel the nerves throbbing,” he said, rubbing his larynx. “That’s supposed to go away, bu
t right now it feels like I’ve had something amputated.”
Yuki closed the menu and closed her eyes.
“Uh-oh,” Edwin said. “Have I blown it?”
“No. It’s not your fault. We’ve got to get over it, that’s all. We’ve got to let the memories fade a little. I hope this wine helps.”
Dinner came quickly. They ate it with gusto. Yuki really was impressed. Even her memory of fine dining had been exceeded.
“It figures,” she said, “that the best restaurants in the country are right next to our capital.”
“It’s always been that way. Paris, London, Berlin—the seat of power in any nation enjoys the spoils.”
Yuki caught Edwin’s eye then. “Have you forgiven me yet?” she asked suddenly.
Edwin blinked in surprise. “You’ve broken the rules. No one was supposed to bring up our fight.”
“I can do that whenever I want—break the rules, I mean.”
Edwin made a face. “Not fair. Males should have some power in relationships.”
“You haven’t answered my question.”
He sighed. “I guess so—yes, I’ve forgiven you. I still think it was wrong, but I can see why you four wanted to do it. Who knows if it means our salvation or our doom? It could mean nothing at all, though—in which case it was morally wrong.”
Yuki squirmed, but she managed not to start arguing with him again. What was the point? Both sides, alien and human, had committed crimes in her opinion. It was up to others now to repair the situation—or to finish it.
“It’s not up to us any longer,” she said. “Let’s try to forget about Europa and start over again.”
Edwin smiled at her words, and she smiled back. He poured the wine.
Chapter 74
Aptos, California
Afternoon
After the surgery on his neck, Sandeep was separated from the rest of the returning crew. He was greeted by a security detail.
Glum and only mildly surprised, he found himself led off into “quarantine.” The others thought this was odd, as none of the rest of them were being put into isolation.
