by Isaac Hooke
The telepath smirked and then shrugged. He crouched and entered the tent.
“Seal it behind you,” Jonathan instructed.
He saw the zipper close as Barrick sealed the entrance flap from the inside.
Excluding the telepath from the channel, Jonathan said: “Connie, are we safe?”
“His psi powers should be shielded,” Connie said. “It shouldn’t matter whether he’s on the inside of the tent and we’re on the outside, or vice versa.”
“All right,” Jonathan said. “Any volunteers?”
Chief Galaal glanced at his LPO. “Helium, care to do the honors?”
The MOTH LPO removed his helmet and abruptly wrinkled his nose. “Gah! Smells like something died in here!”
Jonathan removed his own helmet. It indeed smelled like death—the scent of rot and putridity was almost overwhelming.
“Why would it smell like this?” Chief Galaal said. “There were no captured humans held here.”
“As far as we know,” Jonathan said. “Which is very little. We never did recover all the prisoners that were taken from the Selene.”
Beside him, Sil seemed visibly ill.
“I think it’s more likely they penned up some of the Raakarr from the opposing faction here after the uprising. At least for a little while.” The chief nodded toward one corner. “Those look like bloodstains to me. Who wants to hazard a guess what they did to the rest of the crew...?”
“I’m liking this mission less and less by the minute,” Rodriguez said. “Tell me again why I volunteered for this?” He glanced at Jonathan. “Oh yeah. To save your wrinkled behind.”
“If these are going to be our quarters, you’d think they could have taken the time to air the place out,” Rail said. “It would be the hospitable thing to do. Barrick, tell them I want this place fumed out and meticulously scrubbed immediately.”
Barrick’s muffled voice came from inside the tent a moment later: “I seem to be having trouble contacting them, at the moment.” That was a good sign that the psi-shielding was working. Assuming he was telling the truth. “But they told me earlier that your quarters were provided ‘as-is.’“ He sounded slightly tinny, which meant he still wore his helmet, and his voice was coming from the external speakers.
“As-is?” The disgust rolled off Rail’s tongue. “Surely they can afford to send in some cleaner robots?”
“I don’t think they have anything like that,” Barrick replied. “At least nothing I’ve seen. They have machines of course, but most are restricted to surgical or construction roles.”
“Tell them to bring some sanitation equipment then,” Rail ordered. “And we’ll do it ourselves.”
“I’ll see what I can get them to drum up later,” Barrick said.
“All right, people,” Jonathan said. “Helmets back on.”
When everyone had replaced their helmets, Jonathan switched back to the private channel that excluded Barrick. The built-in noise cancelers of the helmet ensured that without the external speakers turned on, the sound of his voice wouldn’t penetrate to the outside.
“Stay in the tents at all times when you take off your helmets,” Jonathan said. “We don’t need any psi interference from the telepath, or the aliens for that matter.” Switching back to the general channel, he said: “Barrick, you can come out now.”
The telepath unsealed the flap and emerged, all smiles behind his faceplate.
Jonathan removed his backpack and set it down against the bulkhead. “When will I be given access to the bridge?”
Barrick seemed puzzled. “Captain?”
Jonathan had trouble keeping his voice under control. “Again, I thought we had an understanding that I would be given access to the bridge. I need to be present when we enter United Systems space to ensure no misunderstandings occur between human vessels and the Talon.”
“Ah, yes. A moment.” Barrick’s eyes defocused. Then: “Valor is intrigued by you, Captain. He says he was impressed with the strategies you threw at the Raakarr in the last battle.”
“It was only partially me,” Jonathan said. “Most of the credit goes to my tactical officer, and the Callaway’s AI.”
“Even so, he admires you,” Barrick said. “And believes you are a great tactician. As a show of goodwill, he wants to offer you a place on the bridge as an observer.”
“That’s mighty kind of him,” Jonathan said, his voice oozing sarcasm. “Considering that we already agreed I would be given a place on the bridge.”
“Yes,” Barrick said. “Do you wish to come now, then?”
“Obviously,” Jonathan said.
“I’ll go as well,” Rail said.
“Me too,” Rodriguez stood eagerly. “It’s better than staying locked in this dreary compartment playing VR games all day.”
“Count me in,” Chopra said.
“Well if you’re going...” Chief Galaal said.
Barrick raised his hands. “I’m sorry, but I’m afraid Valor’s invitation extends to Captain Dallas alone.”
Rodriguez frowned in disappointment.
“This is an outrage,” Rail said. “We’re all of equal rank here.” She glanced at Connie and the MOTHs and sniffed. “Most of us, anyway.”
Barrick regarded Jonathan with an expression that seemed uncertain. “Captain? Do you want to come alone or not?”
“Tell your friend Valor we deserve better than this,” Rail said. “And we’re going to inform the fleet about our treatment when we arrive.”
“I shall,” Barrick told her.
“Sorry, people,” Jonathan said. “I’ll have to agree with Valor on this one. If it was my bridge, I wouldn’t want too many nonessentials standing around, either.” He turned toward the Chief. “I need to borrow two of your Centurions.”
“Alpha one and two, with the captain!” Chief Galaal ordered.
The specified robots formed up on either side of Jonathan.
Barrick gave him a look of surprise.
“You don’t expect me to travel this ship unescorted, do you?” Jonathan said.
“I suppose not,” Barrick said. “I’ll have to clear it with Valor.”
“You’re in charge in my absence, Captain Rodriguez,” Jonathan told the man. Excluding Barrick, he added: “I’ll grant everyone full remote viewing access to my aReal. You’ll see everything I see, hear everything I hear. We’ll maintain radio contact at all times.”
“It’s a big ship, and we don’t have HLED lights in the overhead to retransmit our packets,” Captain Rodriguez said. “How do we know the raw signal will pass through all the bulkheads in between our positions?”
“You forget that we have signal boosters,” Jonathan said. “The Talon contains an active comm node, previously captured from the Selene. And three more, if you include the comm nodes aboard the shuttle and the telemetry drones. Our aReals would have automatically logged into all of them by now. I didn’t see a ‘credentials refused’ message pop up anywhere on my HUD, so I know we’re using them all.” He passed his gaze over the other members of the party. “Any other concerns?”
There were none.
Jonathan turned to Barrick. “Let’s go.”
He soon found himself following Barrick and two Raakarr guards through the yellow-fumed passageways beyond; one Centurion marched directly in front of him, the other directly behind.
He switched to a private line with Barrick, excluding even Robert. His next words were for the telepath alone.
“I want to make something clear,” Jonathan told the telepath. “I don’t trust you, and I never will. I can’t forgive you for what you did. Bridgette almost died because of you. You could have kidnapped someone else. Anyone. But you chose her.”
“There is a specific reason I chose her,” Barrick stated flatly.
“Really? And what is that?”
The torso of Barrick’s spacesuit swiveled and the telepath glanced at him sidelong. “I can’t reveal that to you, unfortunately.”
&nbs
p; “When you released her from the ship while we were in orbit above the star, did you know she would survive?” Jonathan asked.
Barrick turned away. “In some futures, she died during the crossing between the ships. In others, she died shortly after retrieval. But in most of them she and her child lived. And they were strengthened by the ordeal.”
Some futures. He kept talking as if he’d seen multiple branches of the future. In her debriefing report, Bridgette said he had claimed something along those lines.
“So you didn’t know then, you’re saying,” Jonathan pressed. “Not for certain.”
“No, I did not,” Barrick admitted. “How is she, by the way. Bridgette?”
“She’ll live,” Jonathan said. “We think. No thanks to you. But the doctors don’t know if her baby will survive.”
“Did Bridgette tell you why I tried to take over the Callaway?” Barrick asked.
“Something about... you thought you were trying to save us.” Jonathan said.
“That is correct. There was a man aboard the prison ship, T300. An Artificial, to be precise. A prisoner taken from the Selene.”
“You’re talking about the Phant?” Jonathan said.
“So you know,” Barrick replied. “Good. Now you understand why I wanted to destroy that ship. He is the greatest threat to humanity.”
“But you were making us target the Salvador,” Jonathan said.
“She would have gotten in the way,” Barrick told him. “Once the Salvador was disabled, I would have concentrated fire on T300. And eliminated the Phant. But I failed.”
“You talk as if the Phant is still alive,” Jonathan said. “Even if it survived T300’s destruction above the subgiant, its body will be on a decaying orbit with that star. The Phant will never escape the massive gravity on its own. It is a threat to no one.”
“You’re wrong,” Barrick said. “Somehow the Phant always escapes the destruction of T300. Sometimes it stows away in the lifepod I take with Valor to the Talon. Sometimes it sneaks aboard Bridgette’s Dragonfly.”
“What are you talking about?” Jonathan said. “He’s aboard the Talon? Or the Callaway? Why didn’t you warn us before?”
“It wouldn’t have mattered,” Barrick said. “I tried that, in some iterations of the future. Didn’t help. The Phant always goes into hiding, surfacing again only near the very end. The Phants, they are a very long-lived, very patient race. It is not beyond them to plan the downfall of a species for millennia.”
Jonathan wasn’t sure what to believe. In any case he unmuted Robert and said: “Commander, I want you to perform a full sweep of the Callaway. Apparently there is a chance the Phant is still aboard.”
“I’ll get on it,” Robert replied a few seconds later.
“While you’re at it,” Jonathan added. “Have every ship in the fleet perform a similar sweep.”
“Will do,” Robert returned.
Jonathan turned back toward Barrick and switched back to the private line. “Some iterations of the future... you keep saying that, or variations on the theme, anyway.”
“And so I do.”
“How did you get this ability to see these different futures?” Jonathan asked.
“Do you remember the Raakarr we captured?” Barrick said. “When I linked with him, he used my mind to unveil humanity’s paths and way points.”
“So the Raakarr can see our future, too?”
“No,” the telepath replied. “I don’t believe the aliens can see those paths on their own, not without a human of my abilities. The alien had intended to report back on our future to its higher-ups, no doubt, but I grew too powerful. I lived many lives, you see, and retained all my abilities from one life to the next. I overwhelmed the creature and it died.”
Jonathan found himself losing patience. “That’s quite the good story. But why don’t these aliens use a similar mind link to accelerate their own development? Or to see their own futures?”
“Perhaps they do,” Barrick said. “Or perhaps my link was unique, because I am of a different species. I cannot be sure.”
“All right.” Jonathan grinned mockingly. “So you can see the future. Or different variations of it. Tell me then: what’s going to happen next? Lay out the different paths for me.”
Barrick shook his head. “I tried that. Never helps. In fact, it usually makes matters worse.”
“Try me.”
Barrick sighed. “I’m sorry, Captain. I cannot.”
The two Raakarr guards turned down a side passage, and Jonathan and Barrick followed.
Jonathan glanced at the telepath. “Did you ever bother to think that maybe, just maybe, the alien you linked with was planting false memories of the future into your mind to mislead you?”
“The thought has occurred to me,” Barrick said. “And in fact, I believe it was some subconscious suggestion on the part of the alien that caused my attempted coup of the Callaway to fail. I’ve since learned to protect myself, so the Raakarr will never use me like that again. And they’ll never know what I saw. Though Valor asks me at least once a day.”
“Can the Raakarr read these futures from me, too?” Jonathan asked. “Did they read Bridgette?”
“The alien minds can’t initiate a link with a human being,” Barrick said. “So unless you attempt a psychic connection first, you’re safe. Needless to say, while you and Bridgette both have psychic potential, neither of you are capable of such a thing.”
Jonathan wondered if Barrick was wrong. He remembered the visions the Elder embryos had sent him: those things had definitely initiated the link with him, or the Elder had, through them. And if they could reach his mind, it didn’t seem like too much of a leap for the Raakarr to do so, too.
He sincerely hoped that wasn’t the case. Either way, he was very glad he had a psi-shielded spacesuit. Then again, back on the greenhouse planet, the embryos had reached Robert while the commander was wearing such a suit.
Staring at those claustrophobic alien bulkheads, Jonathan suddenly felt very alone and vulnerable.
fifteen
Still wearing his spacesuit, Jonathan stood on the cramped alien bridge. The two Centurions resided on either side of him; Barrick lingered a meter away from the rightmost. Both Centurions were unarmed—the Raakarr had made the robots give up their weapons outside the entry hatch, with a promise to return them on the way out. Jonathan had readily agreed—in his mind the robots were weapons in and of themselves.
He observed his surroundings through the thick yellow mist of the alien atmosphere. The metal bulkheads of the bridge formed a seamless compartment so that Jonathan felt like he stood inside an elongated sphere. There were strange, seemingly decorative hollows in that sphere, matched symmetrically on three sides. Barrick had told him he believed the shape was based on the inside of a Raakarr skull.
A cylindrical pit resided in the center of the compartment, giving the impression that Jonathan occupied an elevated walkway. Six Raakarr, absent their usual darkness generators, sat side by side in the pit, their backs to a thin pillar that climbed to the overhead. Their heads and upper bodies overflowed onto the deck beside them; they appeared to be treating the surrounding floor space as one big armrest. Thanks to the cramped confines, Jonathan was so close to the pit that he could’ve touched the closest alien merely by extending his boot half a meter in front of him.
Clad in the living black of their darkness generators, two Raakarr stood guard by the main entry hatch. Another two bookended Jonathan’s party.
“Which one of them is Valor?” Jonathan asked the telepath over the comm.
“To be honest,” Barrick replied. “I don’t actually know.”
Jonathan stared at the unshielded Raakarr in the pit and tried to guess which one was the captain. They all looked the same to him. No, not quite. There were subtle differences. That one had a slightly smaller head. The horns on another were bigger. The mandibles slightly crooked on a third. Because of those differences he thought Barrick mig
ht be lying: perhaps the telepath was trying to protect Valor out of some misguided sense of loyalty. Either way, Jonathan decided not to press the matter.
He continued studying the aliens. Overall, they were vaguely insectile. Those large, spiky forelegs reminded him of a mantis insect. Horned plates lined their segmented abdomens. He couldn’t see their jointed hind legs from his current position, but he assumed they must be folded underneath their bodies in the pit.
The round heads contained bifurcated mandibles on either side of tube-like probosces. Three round protrusions on their crowns could only be eyes, protected by plates that extended from the sides of the head. According to Barrick, members of the Zarafe faction had slightly longer necks, and didn’t naturally possess those eye plates; the sleeper cell members who had commandeered the ship had apparently used gene-therapy to physically modify themselves, allowing them to blend-in with the “Elk” and pass on-board biometric security measures.
If these aliens were truly descended from the Elder, they couldn’t look that much different from their ancestors, even if they employed an accelerant to increase mutation rates as Barrick claimed. Only six to eight hundred thousand years would have passed since they branched off from the main species—assuming that was when the Elder left the galaxy.
After all, humans looked much the same as their own ancestors of eight hundred thousand years ago. Modern humans stood taller and had a slightly larger brain case, the product of an environment that selected for size and intelligence—ancient man didn’t have much leeway for stupidity.
Jonathan often wondered if humanity had come full circle, with the overall intelligence of human beings on the decline; many a Darwinist had argued that mental capacity was no longer an attribute selected against, nor had been for several hundred years thanks to all the comforts and automation of the modern era. Indeed, Jonathan was questioning his own intelligence at the moment: he had chosen to leave behind a perfectly good ship to board an alien vessel, after all.
Once again he wondered if he should have listened to Robert and stayed with the rest of the fleet.
