“That is highly improbable. Only a handful of other realities have developed the technology, and there are infinite realities to choose from.”
Chief Billings spoke up. “Is that how come I can never find my blasted left sock after doing my laundry?”
“That is one theory, Steven Chief, but there are others. All races struggle with this phenomenon, but none so much as the Centipodus. They have abandoned socks altogether.”
Felix wasn’t finished. “Yes, but how can you sit there and—”
Allison raised a hand, and calm returned. “Let’s try not to get caught up comparing values. Each culture is unique, and what works for one can be anathema to another.”
Felix’s head sank a centimeter. “Sorry, ma’am. And you, Mr. D’armic.”
“That’s all right, Felix. Now, Mr. D’armic, I want to know more about this ‘Assembly’ you keep referring to.”
D’armic’s eye slits narrowed, and he shifted in his chair, lingering for a time before answering. “I must be cautious in this, but surely you have already inferred much of what I’m about to say from the buoy. The Assembly of Sentient Species is a coalition spanning the Six Worlds. It acts much as your American/European Union: to further common goals, promote trade, and mediate disagreements between members.”
“The Six Worlds? We identified six distinct languages on the buoy and in its transmission. Is it safe to assume that there are six species in your Assembly?”
“No assumption is truly safe, Allison Captain. But in this instance, you are correct.”
Felix looked surprised. “You’ve only found half a dozen intelligent races? Our estimates put it close to a thousand.”
“I did not say that, Felix Mister. There are many more races in the galaxy, but for one reason or another they have either chosen not to join the Assembly, or have not been invited to do so. That is all I feel empowered to say.”
“How much space does the Assembly control? Where are they headquartered?” Maximus demanded.
“I am not going to discuss those details.”
“I don’t think you understand. Our mission is to find your leaders and open a dialogue. It’s why the Bucephalus was built, why we are out here.” Maximus stood up and started to pace around the table. “The fence was the impetus, but now Solonis B brings up new issues—abduction, breeding, and the question we’re both interested in, the destruction of a colony we didn’t even know we had. Our superiors want answers to those questions. We’re going to press forward, with or without your help.”
“I do not doubt you, Maximus Captain. However, I have my own mission, which precludes me from assisting you. We would not be talking now had I not suspected your ships of geocide. That superseded all other considerations, temporarily. Now, to avoid further contamination, I must leave.”
Allison snuck back into the conversation. “What ‘contamination’ are you talking about?”
“To your natural progress. That is another hard-won lesson from our history. Advancement through outside intervention can be an unhealthy thing. The frozen world ahead of us is testimony to that.”
“Can you elaborate on that?”
“I suppose so. You will discover as much if you land. Okim was a pre-nuclear society until a few hundred cycles ago. That changed when an Assembly survey vessel suffered a catastrophic pressure loss in orbit, killing the crew. It didn’t take the native population long to notice the new star in the night sky, and even less time to grab a telescope and realize its true nature. Energized by the discovery, their development accelerated. They launched a capsule to study the survey ship within a century. A research team was living on it a decade later. By the end of that cycle, they landed it. Their tech level and industry exploded. Their population doubled in a generation, as did their demand for energy and resources. They tapped into large reserves of hydrocarbons. Huge cities were constructed. But there were consequences to the progress. Industrial pollution led to environmental instability. Temperatures rose, coastal areas flooded—does this sound at all familiar?”
Allison nodded. “You could say that, but how does it lead to a snowball event?”
“Rather directly, actually. The Okim embraced the miracle of technology, and they turned to it again for their climate crisis. The sun-weeds were their answer.”
“By sun-weeds, you mean the enormous membranes orbiting the star?”
“Yes. They are self-replicating, quasi-organic machines. Reducing their pollution would mean reducing their standard of living. So instead, they opted to dial down their sun. It was the ideal solution, for a time.”
“What went wrong?”
“A kimro.”
“Pardon?”
“Please excuse me. Kimros are small, sightless creatures that dwell deep in the caves of my world. They are drawn to heat and have a habit of crawling into machinery and wreaking all manner of havoc.”
Billings chuckled. “Literal gremlins.”
“An apt approximation. In this case, the kimro was a fault in the sun-weed’s design. From what we can deduce, the reproduction mechanism was tested in low temperature, microgravity, and high radiation, but not in all three conditions simultaneously. Once in orbit, it failed, and the sun-weeds reproduced exponentially.”
“Freezing the planet, and creating our Twinkling Star,” Felix said. “But why didn’t they remove the weeds?”
“They tried, but the sun-weeds’ growth is fueled by a modified photosynthetic process. By the time the Okim realized what had happened, the weeds already grew faster than they could be destroyed.”
“Did they go extinct?”
“Not entirely. Once their fate was discovered, the Assembly sent relief vessels to relocate the survivors, but only a few thousand remained. Plans were drawn to destroy the sun-weeds and set Okim on a path to recovery, but they have proven to be quite resilient, and the Okim in exile have little political clout. Getting sufficient resources has been a problem for many cycles. Whenever the effort stalls, the sun-weeds replenish, and the problem rolls back down to the valley floor.”
Allison nodded, understanding. “Back to square one.”
“If you prefer.”
“We faced a similar situation at about the same time. We delayed until the last possible moment before acting, and even then, there were people who still believed our impact on the planet was a mistake or even a hoax. Doesn’t reflect well on our prospects, does it?”
“Not necessarily, Allison Captain. Throughout space, life is like electricity, preferring the path of least resistance. Awareness of this tendency is necessary to avoid its perils. But now, I am out of time. I cannot delay returning to my cutter any longer. Please arrange for the buoy to be transferred to my ship.”
“Yeah, about that,” Allison said slyly.
“This is not a negotiation, Allison Captain.”
“Isn’t it? Because here’s what I see. Your people abducted our planet’s citizens; now their descendants are dead and there is no way to rectify the situation. We borrowed, as you so delicately put it, your buoy. We’ve already made huge advances from studying it, and that genie isn’t going to be shoehorned back into the lamp. So reclaiming it doesn’t help you contain the ‘contamination’ to our development, but allowing us to keep it might be interpreted as a sign of good faith on your part. We advanced far enough to reach your fence, and our species has laws regarding salvage rights. Isn’t a gesture of respect and goodwill between our people worth a single buoy among millions?” Allison folded her hands on the table, and waited.
“You make a persuasive argument, Allison Captain. I can see why you are a leader among your people. You make keep the buoy. My report will reflect that it had been damaged beyond salvage in the process of your research.”
“Thank you, Mr. D’armic. Lieutenant Harris will show you back to the shuttle bay.”
Their visitor stood and gave a deep bow to the room. Then Harris accompanied him into the hall as the door shut behind them.
“M
aggie?”
“Yes, Captain Ridgeway?”
“I want you to do a full-spectrum active scan of the planet below, but only until our guest is back aboard his ship.”
“Am I looking for anything in particular?”
“Yes, evidence of cities, heavy industry, anything that would support his story. Steven, I want you and Mr. Fletcher to run down to engineering and test that piece of sun-weed. See if it is what he says it is.”
“Don’t need to. The damned thing already grew by thirty square centimeters by the time I come up here for the meeting. It stopped when we shoved it in a box away from light.”
“All right. Fair enough.”
Maximus admired Allison as he leaned against the wall. “You don’t trust him, after all. Good. I was beginning to think you swallowed his story like a baby bird.”
“There is an old axiom I try to live by, Maximus,” she said. “Trust, but verify.”
* * *
D’armic’s cutter drifted clear before the Bucephalus and Magellan opened their high-space portals and aimed for their next target system. Moments later, he was alone.
Not what I had expected, but then, what ever is? He let his consciousness sink into the cutter’s systems, reviewing data it had collected in his absence. The Magellan had done a hard scan of Okim before he had returned. No surprise there.
A member of another race might have felt affronted by the human’s desire to confirm his story, but not a sober Lividite. After all, had he not done the same?
As inaugural greetings went, this one had been unusual. It isn’t every day that the first words said to a new species are an accusation of mass murder. Still, it could have gone worse.
Now there were more pressing matters to attend to. An updated report on his investigation had to be prepared for the bureau, and ultimately, the Assembly. Absolving the humans of the Culpus-Alam geocide was important, but it also meant he’d chased an echo while the scent trail weakened. Trimming the sun-weeds would have to wait. He needed to return to the scene of the crime and start over.
D’armic was coming about to leave when a new high-space portal opened ahead of him.
* * *
Vel Noric stabbed a claw at the Bureau of Frontier Resources cutter in the main display. “What the kark is that doing here?”
“Unknown, Vel. Why don’t you ask them?”
Noric’s arm lashed out and dug his claws into J’quol’s shoulder scales. He squeezed until the tips broke through the skin. Noric would have gladly kept on squeezing, but J’quol finally winced under the pain and went to a knee.
“You said something, Hedfer-Vel?”
“Forgive my imprecise speech, Vel.” J’quol kept his eyes averted, but otherwise seemed unshaken. The Hedfer-Vel didn’t reach to his shoulder, not even to staunch the blood as it pooled and ran down his uniform. “I merely intended to ask if we should hail the Bureau cutter and order them to account for themselves.”
Noric glared at his second-in-command. The whole episode felt calculated, and Noric wasn’t at all sure he’d come out ahead in the exchange. J’quol had again questioned his authority and challenged Noric’s strength. It hardly mattered that he’d relented. The crack in Noric’s foundation spread a little further regardless.
“It does not matter why they are present. The salient fact is, they are and are, therefore, witnesses. I am halting the operation.”
“What of the Kumer-Vel’s assignment?”
“It is fulfilled. The case against the humans is solid enough on the merit of Culpus-Alam alone. The Treaty of Pu’Lan makes that clear.”
“But Earth is not a signatory of that treaty,” J’quol said. “And a single incident can be argued to be accidental, especially with a race inexperienced in high-space travel. Only duplication would prove hostile intent.”
“Yes, our intent, when that cutter witnesses our involvement. Unless, of course, you suggest firing on an Assembly ship.”
“Not at all, Vel. I would never suggest harming a loyal servant of the Assembly. However, a human collaborator would be a different proposition…” J’quol trailed off to let the implication linger in the air between them.
Noric clawed at the thought. At first glance, the idea that a frontier manager, of all beings, would help a nascent human fleet to destroy a planet under his jurisdiction was laughable. But as he thought about it, Noric realized the preposterousness of the idea was probably its greatest strength. It was so ludicrous, no one would believe a sentient being could be stupid enough to invent it; therefore, it must be true.
Add to that the fact the Bureau of Frontier Resources was ironically overrun with Lividites, the very species who’d introduced geocide to the galaxy. The suggestion became irresistible. Snuffing the human fire before it could spread, while implicating the never-sufficiently-cursed Lividites? It was better than felling two jelbow stags with a single javelin.
The sensor interpreter intruded on Noric’s reflections. “Excuse me, Vel, but the cutter’s commander has just sent out a standard hail. Should we answer?”
“Of course we should. Tactical, unsheathe the ship. Sensor interpreter, open a channel and upload a slave protocol to the cutter’s computer.”
“Yes, Vel. What justification should I log for the slave?”
“Suspicion of collusion to commit geocide should do it, don’t you think?”
A sliver of sympathy went out to the commander of the cutter, who was about to have a very bad day indeed. But Noric’s sympathy for the stranger melted in the heat of his naked ambition. His lips pulled back to reveal double rows of serrated teeth.
“Should have stayed in the cave, my little Lividite.”
CHAPTER 34
The human expedition spent two weeks in transit to the next system. Upon arrival, they discovered the star sported two planets in the Goldilocks zone; one more than they had expected. The outer planet, P3X117-e, looked far lusher than its desert neighbor farther in. Allison elected to start there. Both ships prepared for the survey mission.
“I’m not going.”
Harris crossed his arms. “Felix, we both know you’re coming.”
“Okay, let’s review. The last time we went planet-side, you were shot in the face by an angry flower, I almost drowned, and then I got abducted by cannibals.”
“Yeah, and I pulled you out, didn’t I? C’mon, you gotta get back on the horse.”
“Horses don’t try to eat you when you fall off.”
Harris deployed the big guns. “Jackie’ll be there.”
“Let me change my shirt.”
There are four forces of attraction in the universe: The strong nuclear force, which holds atomic nuclei together. Magnetism, which holds refrigerators and amateur crayon art together. Gravity, which holds planets, stars, and galaxies together. And the most powerful force of all, sex, which holds genders together. The rest have nothing on sex, which not only has to overcome Newton’s laws of motion but free will.
So powerful is this force that even the static slugs of Osidious B manage. They generate a bioelectrical charge that stuns prey and wards off predators. However, their primitive nervous systems cannot differentiate between targets, so they indiscriminately shock anything that comes near them, including other amorous static slugs. Nearly half of the population dies of electrical burns each mating season. They account for this by laying an asinine number of eggs.
The things we do for love.
* * *
One of the human mind’s greatest coping mechanisms is its ability to take any activity, no matter how unnatural or dangerous, and make it feel routine after a handful of repetitions. This was the only way a dozen people could plunge toward an alien planet, at tens of thousands of kilometers per hour, in shuttles whose skin reached thousands of degrees, without screaming in abject terror. Two of the marines were so good at this trick, they took naps.
As they bored deeper into the atmosphere, things became tenser. Turbulent winds beat on the shuttles like stee
l drums. Rain pounded the hulls, each drop pinging against the armored fuselage with the force of buckshot.
Harris looked over his shoulder into the passenger compartment. “Everyone stay strapped in until we’re gear down on the ground.”
Felix pulled his lap belt tighter. “Like you needed to tell us that.”
Harris again faced the cockpit to confer with the pilot. “Find a good landing zone yet?”
“No, sir. The terrain is pretty rough everywhere, and vegetation is thick. Why anyone would build a city here is beyond me.”
“Devor, looks like you get to play with the emergency landing zone module, after all.”
A Cheshire grin bloomed on Devor’s face. “Yes, sir. How wide an LZ do you want?”
“Better make it seventy-five meters, just to be safe. We have to land Magellan’s shuttle, too.”
Devor pulled up a menu, then armed and launched the ELZM. The shuttle lurched as the module fell away. As it descended, the ELZM scanned the approaching ground in an outward spiral of focused sonar, cataloging every tree and rock by its density.
When it had fallen to two hundred meters, the module’s shell disintegrated, releasing a mob of hundreds of submunitions. The bomblets held a three-millisecond-long conference call to organize their assignments. The crowd dispersed as each one peeled away toward a specific tree or stone.
At a half meter above the ground, each bomblet detonated a shaped charge, sending destructive force out in a perfectly level disk less than a centimeter thick, shearing tree trunks and shattering boulders. When the debris settled, a perfectly flat circle seventy-five meters across appeared in the forest.
“Voilà! Instant LZ.”
“Just like Mama used to make,” Harris said. “Thank you, Devor. Simmons, set us down.”
Five minutes later, both shuttles were safely nestled on the ground. The rain outside didn’t come down in sheets; it started at reams and ended at complete sets of leather-bound encyclopedias. A man could drown while yawning. Their only protection from the deluge were thin plastic parkas.
Gate Crashers Page 28
