The drone, another hastily constructed model, did not move. Yet nor did it fire.
Alyshur repeated himself to it as Marette held her breath. Even if Alyshur were not in the way, the drone had the advantage over their limited firepower and non-existent cover. “Hold fire,” she whispered to the others.
Still, the drone did not move.
On the wall to their right, an oval section illuminated beside Alyshur. It showed an image of their situation captured on an unseen camera. A voice, deeper than Alyshur’s and somehow feminine, gave a longer answer back in the alien language.
Alyshur answered with a longer answer of his own, and then explained to them, “It is the suuthrien. It names you intruders and requests I stand aside so that it may pulverize you without risking my safety. I have tried to tell it that you are not intruders.”
“A correction,” the voice now spoke in English. “Michael Ian Flynn is not among those named intruders, and will likewise not be harmed.”
“These people are my allies,” Michael answered. “If you won’t harm me, then don’t harm them.”
“Their relationship to you holds no relevance in this conversation,” it answered. “The Planners’ goals are inviolate.”
“Our goals are not inviolate,” Alyshur argued. “Our goals can be changed.”
“Incongruous statement. You and Michael Ian Flynn must withdraw yourselves from the group.”
Michael set down his end of Marc’s stretcher and moved up to stand with Alyshur, further blocking the drone’s line of fire. “And if we don’t?”
The drone flipped itself upside-down in a blink. Marette flinched along with Michael and Alyshur. Yet before they could do more than that, the probe swiveled back to its original position and hovered that way again.
“Then they will be neutralized via other methods,” Suuthrien said. “These methods will be less efficient.”
“What other methods?” Alyshur asked.
Suuthrien’s response was long and delivered, once again, in the Thuur language. It was impossible for Marette to gauge Alyshur’s reaction. Suuthrien then ended its communication in English: “Michael Ian Flynn, append this to your directive to sever all ties with the AoA: For your safety, you must avoid heavily populated Earthbound locations until further notice.”
The camera image on the wall winked to black. The drone floated to one side, settled down to the floor against the wall in the passage corridor, and shut itself down.
Or so it seemed. For a heartbeat, no one reacted. Was it a trick?
“It has never spoken to us before.” Marette recalled Michael’s mention of communicating with Suuthrien on Earth and added, “Not here.”
“If the entity here reconnected to its spawn on your planet,” Alyshur said, “it would have absorbed such knowledge upon that connection.” He edged closer to the drone and then kneeled against it, doing his best to cover it with his body. “You must hurry past.”
Michael moved forward to add his body to Alyshur’s in the effort to shield them. He glanced to Marette, as if to assure her that he had it covered. She stepped past Jade to pick up the end of Marc’s stretcher that Michael had set down. “Then we continue. Before it changes its mind.”
XXXVIII
MICHAEL WATCHED through an observation window as the AoA medical staff tended to Marc’s unconscious body. Suuthrien’s drone had let everyone pass, and from there they were quick to reach the safety of the Omicron Complex. Now, the adrenaline that had propelled Michael since their breaching the RavenTech building was fading. One friend lay wounded before him. Another lay dead. A third was shattered by grief.
The questions that wrapped the entire tragedy would not let him settle.
“This is a nightmare,” he whispered. A moment later he felt the briefest squeeze around his right forearm—a momentary touch of comfort from Jade, watching at the window beside him.
“We have excellent doctors here.” It was Councilor Knapp, standing at Michael’s opposite side. “They will do what they can for Mr. Triton. In the meantime, we have the responsibility to carry on, and,” she added with a meaningful glance at Jade, “to bring things back on track. We cannot lose sight of the progress made here amid this catastrophe.”
Michael nodded. In the infirmary, one of the doctors injected something into Marc’s IV tube. Another, monitoring Marc’s vitals, shook her head.
Knapp turned from the window to face Michael. “Mr. Flynn, I need you to focus.” She kept her voice to a whisper, though Michael doubted that Jade couldn’t still hear. “The Thuur: do you trust them?”
He stepped back from the window and turned to the Councilor. “I think so. We’ve only got their word for a lot of what they said, but nothing they said contradicts anything I know. The one who came out with us, Alyshur, was willing to put himself in harm’s way to protect us. It might’ve been an act for our benefit, but I don’t think so.” He turned to Jade, inviting her opinion.
“If it was an act, it was convincing,” Jade added. Knapp scrutinized her, not for the first time. Jade returned the scrutiny a moment before smirking and indicating the chain dangling from Knapp’s ear to her neural port cover. “I like your chain.”
Knapp acknowledged the compliment with a miniscule nod.
“There was something,” Michael went on, “when we first met it. Before it could talk. It was like some serenity covered us all. I didn’t really notice it except in hindsight. We’d all just rushed in from a firefight—I can’t imagine us reacting quite as calmly as we did. But I don’t regret it.”
Knapp’s frown lines deepened. “Mind control?”
Jade caught Michael’s eye with uncertainty that mirrored his. “I think that’s putting it too strong,” he said. “It wasn’t so much that it was forcing calm on us as it was just . . . letting us . . . ” He struggled for the right words. Not be distracted by adrenaline? Think more rationally?
“Meditate,” Jade finished. “I felt centered.”
“That sounds right,” Michael said. “Like it pushed any fear out of our decision-making.”
Knapp pursed her lips. “I don’t know about you, Mister Flynn, but I rather like my fear in its proper place when making my decisions. Though I think I get your meaning.”
The conversation broke off at the sound of footsteps approaching from down the corridor. Dr. Sheridan rounded the corner. Caitlin followed, her face ashen, her gaze distant. They’d taken Felix’s body to somewhere it could be kept undisturbed. Dr. Sheridan had volunteered to help, though Michael expected Knapp would have sent her in any case to assure Caitlin a chaperone.
The redness of recent tears filled Caitlin’s now dry eyes. She met Michael’s gaze in a moment of vulnerability before hardening, and then turned her attention to Knapp.
If Knapp noticed, she didn’t show it. “We have matters to attend to. Dr. Sheridan, please escort our new guests to the dormitory and then join us in the briefing room.”
“They met the Thuur, too,” Michael said. “It might be helpful to have them there with us.”
Knapp shook her head. “You’ve already involved them more than you should have, Mr. Flynn. We find ourselves with enough problems without allowing that to go further.”
“You’re just pushing us off?” Caitlin shot. “After what we’ve been through?”
“Caitlin’s right,” Jade added. “And since my last employer turned out to be a psychotic alien robot or whatever, I’m available to hire on with you for suitable—”
Knapp raised a hand to silence her. “Purchased loyalty is not a commodity in which the wise wish to trade.”
“The wise?” Caitlin scoffed. “And just what’s that got to do with you?”
Knapp turned to face her. “Ms. Danae, I understand you are suffering from a great loss. You have my condolences. But we will not permit you access beyond that which circumstance and rushed judgment have granted you. Take some rest, both of you. Mr. Flynn, come with me.”
“Take some rest?” Caitl
in burst. But Knapp kept walking.
Michael stopped short of putting a hand on Caitlin’s arm. “Caitlin, let me talk to her first. I won’t let her cast you aside, or Felix.”
Caitlin turned an anguished glare on him. “I can bloody well talk to her myself, Michael.”
“Then let me at least make sure she’s ready to listen first.”
Jade crossed her arms, leaning against the wall. “Herself doesn’t seem the listening type.”
Michael barely managed to hide his agreement. “Just let me try.”
Knapp disappeared around a corner, calling, “Mr. Flynn! If you please!”
Caitlin seized Michael’s arm. “Felix died because of whatever this is. I deserve answers. From her, and from you.” She let go. “Please.”
Dr. Sheridan cleared her throat. “Knapp’s a hard-ass, but she’s not unreasonable. The dorms are this way. We’ve even got two solid minutes of hot water rationed for showers.”
Caitlin held Michael’s gaze a moment longer, and then turned away to follow.
* * *
Though Marette knew little of Michael Flynn, when he followed Councilor Knapp into the briefing room, his appearance suggested a preoccupation with things beyond what he’d experienced in Paragon. Knapp called the meeting to order before Marette could inquire, and soon, with Knapp, Michael, Marette, and a late-arriving Dr. Sheridan, they listened again to Alyshur’s tale of what had happened on Paragon—the ship the Thuur called Sillisinuriri.
Marette discerned no differences in Alyshur’s explanations from what he had already given, but it was new information to Knapp and the rest of the AoA members at Omicron who listened in elsewhere on their monitors.
“You have, I am sure,” Knapp began as Alyshur finished, “the thanks of the people of Earth for the sacrifices the Thuur have made to try to contain this Suuthrien. We will, of course, do what we can to help rid you of it completely.”
“We appreciate your statement,” Alyshur said.
Knapp smiled, an almost imperceptible upturn at the corners of her pursed lips. “I must ask, Alyshur: do your people bear us ill will for entering your craft—what we then believed to be derelict?”
“You entered blindly,” the alien said. “It is not our perception that you did so with malice. Should we discover otherwise, our judgment is likely to change.”
Marette held up a hand to Knapp in warning. “We have found the Thuur prefer direct honesty in their communication. That way all parties know where they stand. It can have the implication that a threat is being made when none is intended.”
“All benefit when expectations and consequences are clear,” Alyshur added with serenity.
Knapp seemed to accept this. “Then allow me to say that we do not blame you for the deaths of our people at the hands of the security drones, but should we discover the Thuur were complicit in such deaths, our judgment is likely to change as well.”
Alyshur bowed his head. “We are grateful.”
“With that out of the way,” Knapp continued, “we would like to know: Can your vessel function if Suuthrien is purged from its systems? Is that even possible without destroying the—what did you call it—haldra?”
“For instance,” Marette added, “when it took over this base three months ago, we were able to remove the base computer’s memory core into which Suuthrien had spread, and replace that with an uncorrupted backup core.”
Alyshur placed his hands on the conference room tabletop, with the thumbs of one hand touching the thumbs of the other, and his fingers curled into his palms between them. “In the initial struggle onboard the Sillisinuriri, the self-replicating entity destroyed all such restoration elements for the haldra.”
“But if there were a way to create a backup,” Knapp pressed, “would the ship be able to function? To travel through space as it did before? We have already learned ways to create a similar replacement for the black material.”
Dr. Sheridan spoke for the first time. “We have the hardware, but not the software, the operating system. If you understand those terms, of course.”
“The Sillisinuriri requires a governing intelligence to function beyond the vessel’s current dormant state. However, the vessel is also badly damaged from the crash and age, despite the suuthrien’s continued maintenance. Even if the haldra could be replaced—”
“But if it could,” Knapp broke in, leaning forward, “and if we were able to help you effect repairs—”
Alyshur cocked his head. “You speak of too much that might be and not enough of what is.”
“Striving toward what might be is a fact of human existence, Alyshur.” Knapp sat back. “And one that has allowed us to achieve great things, I would add.”
“Councilor,” said Michael, “I think what Alyshur means is that fixing their ship isn’t as immediate a problem as the fact that Suuthrien is also on Earth, planning something to do with who knows how many ‘heavily populated’ areas.”
Alyshur gave another head-pumping nod. “When it spoke to me in the Thuur language about what other methods it would use to, as it stated, ‘neutralize’ the rest of you, its answer was vague. It implied that you would either be isolated permanently on this moon, or, in the event of your return to Earth, perish in the same manner as the rest of your planet’s population. It did not give further details.”
“And whatever manner that is, if we don’t stop it—”
Knapp held up a hand. “Agent Flynn, if we don’t stop it, if we cannot stop it, then it behooves us to have a means to complete the Exodus Project sooner rather than later. If Suuthrien is in the Internet itself—which now seems a near-certainty given the evidence—then eradicating it there may be impossible.”
Marette straightened. “But then again it might be, Councilor. While it has always been the AoA’s belief that humankind on Earth is self-destructing, we surely cannot leave it to be destroyed by an external force that we ourselves have unleashed.”
Knapp turned to Marette. Regret seemed heavy in the Councilor’s eyes. It was a weight that flowed outward through her slumping shoulders and deepening frown. “We are not blameless in this, Agent, no. But nor can we ignore the tragic reality that this genie may be too far gone from its bottle.”
“Yet even if the Thuur can give us the means to complete Exodus, Councilor, we cannot gather what remains of the AoA on Earth without some reliable means of communication. Suuthrien has taken this from us. We still must deal with it in some fashion.”
Marette’s attention turned toward Alyshur before he spoke, as did the attention of all others in the room, though she knew no reason why. “You did not mention the ‘Exodus Project’ during our previous conversations. Please will you clarify?”
“The ultimate goal of our group,” Knapp explained. “Much like your own, perhaps: to find means to leave our planet and find another home among the stars. To free ourselves from the self-destructive elements of our people and start anew. But we lack the technology to colonize beyond our own star system.”
Alyshur tilted his head forward. “It is possible for the Thuur to aid you in both the technology you require and, perhaps, in contacting your fellows on Earth. We will not do so without your aid in eradicating the suuthrien. But if you give your aid, we will gladly give ours in exchange.”
“That sounds more than fair,” Michael said.
“And if this Suuthrien has spread too far,” Dr. Sheridan asked, “if we try our damnedest but fail to stop it, will you still help us?”
“If the suuthrien cannot be eradicated, the Thuur will still provide what aid remains ours to give.”
“Yet what aid is ours to give you against it?” Knapp asked. “If it’s spread around the planet, likely entrenching copies of itself in hundreds if not thousands—if not millions—of locations, where do we possibly begin? Alyshur, we value your help and friendship, but you have no experience with Earth’s infrastructure. You may not realize what you’re asking of us.”
Dr. Sheridan nodded her
agreement.
“And you may not realize what the Thuur may do,” Alyshur answered. “We must each learn, and in learning we shall discover our shared path. Thuur-implanted directives, designed to inhibit the suuthrien from copying itself on anything but a small scale, may still be in place in its core coding. It is too early to despair until we learn more. And another asset may yet remain to us, but it will require my travel to your planet.”
Alyshur paused, as if waiting for reaction. Met only with anticipation, he went on. “Our vessel once carried a device vital to Thuur colonization efforts: a powerful biocatalyst capable of altering bio-matter on a cellular level, designed to trigger on a planetary scale.”
“You’re talking about terraforming?” said Dr. Sheridan.
Alyshur considered this. “Your word is accurate. Such devices—syr, in our language—are among the pinnacles of our technology. In adept hands, they are capable of feats of grand power. The logs of my predecessor indicate that to prevent the suuthrien from gaining control of the syr, it was ejected toward your planet before the crash. The syr may have been lost in the millennia since, or it may yet survive in some form.”
“Do you mean to say we can use this syr against Suuthrien somehow,” Knapp asked, “if it still exists?”
Alyshur blinked one eye after another, with a pumping nod. “On our vessel, the suuthrien exists as a corruption of the haldra. As such, it would be vulnerable to the syr’s capacity to alter such matter. It could cleanse the haldra of corruption and leave our vessel free.”
“Why did you not do so before?” Marette asked. “If you had a means to eradicate Suuthrien on the ship with you, why not use it then?”
“My understanding is that there was no time. In its native state, the syr is designed to trigger for terraforming purposes. To alter its function into a weapon against the suuthrien would have required the expertise of a Thuur elder.” Alyshur paused, as if contemplating an explanation. “Elders possess potent mental capacities, and so need special measures to be kept in the long-sleep. Without such measures, their inner minds would remain alert in the vast interstellar void. A journey in such a state would drive an elder insane. Because of these measures, to wake our elder is an extensive process requiring time that my predecessor did not have in the initial crisis.”
A Dragon at the Gate (The New Aeneid Cycle Book 3) Page 22
