Alien Artifacts

by Seanan McGuire

  “Maybe someone should wipe us from the Galaxy,” Linus whispered to himself. The thought was strangely soothing. He finally closed his eyes.

  Maybe…if it wasn’t for the fact that there’s no one to do that—but ourselves.

  There was no galactic club; no Federation; no wise, insanely old civilization guiding the wild youngsters; not even a common enemy, something to unite the forever quarreling humans.

  Just a vast lonely emptiness.

  Humans tried to fill it with their presence. And since they didn’t have anyone else to define themselves against, some outgroup to make them think they were a unity, they just continued comparing themselves to other humans.

  We needed an outside reference frame for our species, and found none.

  We still need it, desperately. At least an indication that we’re not alone.

  Some forms of conflict seemed inevitable under such conditions. But to think that a war of this scale would come…You’d need to be the most misanthropic pessimist to believe that, yet it had happened. What did that say about humanity?

  Maybe he should have enlisted. Maybe he’d be dead by now and everyone would be better off. Maybe if everyone was dead...

  He blinked, vaguely surprised at the direction his own thoughts had taken.

  Maybe he should try to get some sleep after all.

  * * *

  When the alarm clock woke him up, Miranda was no longer there. Linus found her in the main cabin, sweet and breezy, watching some show and holding a cup of coffee. She was always up and about first, ahead of the station schedule; another of the many things he had no idea how she could manage.

  “Morning. Care for a little forecast for today? We’ve got a large titanium oxide cloud 11 km above the terminator, so we can expect a lot of snow!”

  Good that I don’t have to go outside today, Linus thought and poured himself a cup.

  His night ruminations now seemed ridiculous to him. Another day of routine chores might, with some luck, cure him of those. And then another, and another, until he got out of here safely.

  He closed his eyes and imagined, for a sweet short moment, that he was home.

  He almost didn’t realize the sound of Miranda’s show had stopped.

  “Hey…one of the probes picked up something near the terminator,” said Miranda slowly. She was staring at the screen, no longer occupied by the old comedy. “See it? Seems like a really big chunk of metal—pure, solid metal.”

  Linus skimmed through the data. A chill went through his veins. No, he stopped himself, it’s inconclusive. On the verge of the probe’s sensor range. All kinds of weird effects happen to electronics here, especially by the terminator with all the metallic snow and radiation.

  “We’ve gotta confirm it,” Miranda whispered.

  “Agreed. Let’s send a drone.”

  “No. We won’t get anything useful. Hell, our machines have a hard time just mining there and coming back. The probe’s got about the best sensors here and you see the results.”

  “You’re not going to propose...”

  “It’s the only logical solution, Lin.”

  Linus felt his insides shrink. He knew where this was going. I’m a software engineer, Lin. You’re the scientist. I can back you up from here.

  “No,” he said, hardly audible.

  “Come on, Lin. You’ll just take a rover and then a really short stroll. It’s no more dangerous than walking on Earth’s Moon.”

  It is. The gravity is higher here, help is farther away, we’ll lose connection before I get there.

  But she was right on one thing. One of them needed to go. He just had the bad luck of being more qualified.

  * * *

  Three hours later, Linus found himself driving to the terminator. So far, the rover more or less drove itself and he just sat there, looking out nervously. He was on the verge of panic.

  I should have told her, admitted I’m more and more scared every time I go out. Sweat ran down Linus’ forehead. But she’d either laugh at me or get upset. And even if she offered to do all the future inspections herself, it wouldn’t be fair.

  The rover was still able to receive transmissions from the station, even though they were distorted by the microscopic metal snowflakes. “I’m bored,” he managed to say in a casual voice. “Tell me something before we lose connection.”

  “You can watch movies on your HUD. I’ve got work to do.”

  “Please.”

  A moment of silence. Linus almost thought he’d lost the signal before Miranda spoke again: “What do you wanna hear?”

  “Anything. What about your family? You’ve barely spoken about them.”

  “Yeah, for a reason.”

  The pause was filled by silent crackling of white noise.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “Then…anything else. Anything you like.”

  “I guess it’s okay. I just get angry whenever I think about them. They were always fighting, mom and dad. Five minutes in the same room and they were at each other. But see, they belonged to one of those sects that don’t believe in any kind of marital separation, so there was no escape. Sometimes I just wish they’d kill each other.”

  There was another pause. Linus couldn’t think of any appropriate answer.

  Miranda continued in a lighter tone: “I guess that wasn’t the kind of thing you wanted to hear because you were bored, was it? Never mind. We can always...”

  Linus didn’t hear the rest. The static grew louder. He was on his own now.

  They were always fighting. He’d never imagine such a background for Miranda—so joyful, decisive, reasonable. Maybe she was one of the lucky few who discovered this was the best survival strategy. Or maybe she just learned how to control it in adulthood, how to pretend—and maybe become the mask.

  His thoughts shifted to his older sister Talia, always so proud and successful in everything. He could never compare. Oh, how he envied her at times. And what good did it do him? He stayed so distant, timid and low-esteemed. He never fought for anything.

  And neither do I now, Linus thought bitterly, hiding from the war in this hole because I conveniently majored in geology and started my doctorate when I was supposed to be enlisted. In someone’s eyes, that made me suitable for work here.

  Suddenly, the drive came to a halt.

  He checked the nav: too fragmented land ahead. The rover couldn’t go any further. Linus groaned silently. He had no choice but to continue on foot.

  Linus hesitantly emerged from the car and made a first step outside. Then another.

  Eventually, he calmed himself enough to follow the instructions on his HUD. But all the same, he couldn’t wait to disappear from here and never come back.

  After all, this very planet is disappearing beneath us, he thought. So far, the erosion was slow, only the lightest particles freeing themselves from the grasp of Tartarus’ gravity. But soon, from a geological time perspective, the planet would cross a threshold under which catastrophic mass loss would occur. In a mere hundred million years, there would be nothing left, not even poor remnants of the metallic core. It would be boiled and carried away, leaving a thin veil of metallic dust trailing behind the evaporating planet.

  From up close, the land was heavily fractured, covered in deep cracks. The surface of Tartarus looked dead. But beneath it, furiously powerful convective cells spanned the entire depth of its mantle. In the substellar point, magma bubbles greater than man can imagine kept bursting, constantly staring at the face of Tartarus’ sun.

  No one had ever seen it. All craft orbiting Tartarus had an orbit permanently locking them to the nightside. None would withstand the heat of the dayside. Few land probes ventured behind the terminator. Even fewer survived and brought back data.

  Heat almost prevented people from coming here. But once on the nightside’s surface, humans were all right. It was the voyage that threatened to kill them every time.

  Thick ablative shielding was barely capable of preventing appr
oaching ships from overheating. Every vessel had to spend as little in the sunlight as possible—which meant a nearly straight trajectory from some point directly into or from a deep gravity well. Ridiculously high thrust was necessary—meaning that any humans would be exposed to extreme acceleration. Each time, their insides had to be filled with aerofoam. Linus hated the procedure even more than he hated spacewalks on Tartarus. Despite analgesics, he always felt like he was being stuffed alive.

  Setting these painful memories aside, Linus walked further. He could almost see the sunset on the horizon. Just a few kilometers further and he’d enter the permanent twilight zone. After a couple of minutes, he’d bake. Even further in the land of perpetual day, vast oceans of magma boiled and erupted.

  Linus realized he had stopped for a moment, and made himself continue. He was safe here, after all. If he didn’t take an incautious step and damage his suit, what could possibly happen to him? The suit was made to be very sturdy. His oxygen tanks were still almost full. He could survive here for a couple of days if necessary.

  Fifty meters to chosen destination. Linus carefully avoided another small ridge. Thirty meters. He could see it now: just glimpses, most of it was still hidden behind the ridge, but it was enough to make out its rough shape. Linus stood there motionless, speechless, staring at the thing.

  It was clearly artificial.

  Linus finally collected himself and took a couple of more steps towards it.

  What is it? It looks almost like some kind of a large scientific probe. There is its engine section. There might be an antenna, broken but still recognizable. But it’s all so strange! And…beautiful. Doesn’t look constructed for landing. Maybe it had crashed?

  He had completely forgotten about everything else. Filled with curiosity and enthusiasm, he went closer.

  * * *

  Back in the rover, Linus finally heard a voice in his comm, almost obscured by static.

  “Miranda!” he called out. “Can you hear me?”

  “Y-yes…found?…ear me?”

  “Barely. But if you can hear me—just wait for what I have to tell you!”

  “…sn’t a measurement error?”

  “No! There was...” Linus fell silent for a second. “An alien spacecraft. I’m sure of it.”

  “…craft?…sure?”

  “Yes. A probe of some kind! I’ve taken pictures. If only you could see it with your own eyes!” Had he ever felt so overwhelmed in his life? So happy and excited in this hellish place? “I couldn’t get directly to it, the terrain was too hard, but I was so close! It looked like an orbiter, I guess. As soon as we report it, the command will surely send experts! It seemed so intact given the circumstances—we can investigate it and learn so much!”

  Miranda was silent.

  “But most important for me is,” Linus said in a more quiet voice, “that we’re not alone. Finally, proof. Even if they were long dead, they lived and fared among the stars at some point. Like us. And if they’re truly all dead—isn’t that a reminder that it can happen to us, too? Maybe…just maybe…it could end the war. Or at least let people realize how fragile it is, what we have. I don’t want to set my hopes too high but I just see it this way. Is that stupid of me?”

  After a pause, Miranda spoke: “Yes.”

  He hadn’t expected this.

  “No one will know for decades, Lin. If we report it, can you imagine command making the discovery public? It would stay concealed until it leaked someday. By then, we would have learned a lot—and used it to fight the rest of humanity. I hate to shatter your illusions, Lin, but that’s exactly what they are.”

  “Then…what do you propose? We can’t keep it hidden!”

  “We can. It has been here all along and our machines only noticed it today by chance. If we keep our mouths shut, it can wait to be discovered until there’s peace. That’s what I propose.”

  “I...” Linus’s voice trailed off. “No. Sorry. We just can’t keep it to ourselves!”

  Maybe he was still a hopeless idealist, despite the war, despite everything, but this was such an extraordinary discovery that he’d regard it nearly a sacrilege to stay silent. What if something happened to them and no one else ever found out? Such a horrible thought! Maybe he’d be disappointed. But he’d never decide otherwise.

  He tried to explain to Miranda. She listened without interruption.

  “So I won’t persuade you to keep it quiet?”

  “You won’t.”

  Then, in a somewhat hoarse voice, she said: “I’m sorry.”

  “What?” Linus asked, uncomprehending.

  The rover changed course. It deviated from the one plotted on Linus’s HUD. He blinked. “Miranda…what’s going on?”

  “I’m sorry,” she repeated. “But you’re being so stubborn. You gave me no other option.”

  “What is happening?!”

  “I…I don’t consider you an enemy. I suppose I owe you an explanation. Even though it doesn’t matter. Have you ever wondered about my previous life, Lin?”

  He still didn’t understand. A horrible feeling crept up his spine but his consciousness refused to accept it.

  “Lin, I…I am the enemy.”

  No, no, not Miranda, this is not happening, this must be a dream, a nightmare.

  “I’m really sorry.”

  She severed the connection. Linus tried to re-establish it, feverishly tapping the screen. “No, no,” he kept whispering.

  His eyes went wide as he saw the ridge in front of the rover.

  * * *

  His head hurt. He felt disoriented. What had happened?

  Linus opened his eyes. Strange colors were flickering across his HUD. He had trouble making out the shapes.

  Then he remembered.

  Miranda? An enemy? That’s not possible.

  But what other explanation was there?

  He heard his breath wheezing within the helmet.

  He realized he had tears in his eyes. That’s why he saw everything so blurred.

  Miranda, a traitor. A sleeper agent. The enemy.

  He tried to collect himself and blink away the tears. What did the signs say? Irreparable damage to the rover. Emergency supplies destroyed. Suit’s systems working. No serious injuries. His body was aching but he managed to pull himself up and have a look around. The rover was badly damaged but its safety systems had protected him. The front window was breached and it took just a few blows with an emergency hammer to smash it. Linus climbed out into the vast cracked landscape.

  He was nearly seventy kilometers from the base. Cold sweat ran down the back of his neck.

  I can’t do it, I can’t.

  If you don’t, you die.

  Something switched inside his head. He started climbing and walking. His HUD showed him the shortest route accessible for an ill-equipped human. He shut doubt, desperation, and oh so many questions out of his mind and just walked on.

  He kept going like an automaton. His mind resembled the landscape right now: strange, fractured, but in the end, dull and empty.

  Once, Linus made a wrong step and fell. He almost landed in a deep pit. The fall left him at the edge, staring into the darkness below. For a moment, he lay there unmoving, looking up at the endless cracked landscape extending to the horizon, everywhere around, and he thought how easy it would be to just lie down and wait peacefully until his oxygen ran out. He might even disable some controls and let the suit pump enough anesthetics into him so he’d never wake up again.

  So easy.

  You coward.

  Linus raised his head and could almost make out his sister’s contemptuous face in the nearest rock formation.

  You always give up, don’t you, little brother?

  Linus collected himself, terrified by the train of thought he had followed just seconds ago. He checked the suit’s systems. No further damage. He could continue. He must.

  Get up now. Go. Faster. Move it! Imagine it’s a race. You never wanted to finish last at school.
You were never first, but you couldn’t be last. So damned stubborn. You just couldn’t bear it. No matter what Talia thought, you’re too proud for that. So push hard, damn it.

  He walked on. But the fragile equilibrium of his mind was unsettled by thoughts of his sister—she reminded him of Miranda.

  After several turns of walking and resting, more than thirty hours later and exhausted to death, he came into visual distance of the first furnaces. The station was so close now!

  Each of the furnaces had a small supply stack in case of emergency. Linus’s oxygen could still last two more days but he didn’t need to stray far from his route to re-fill it. He got everything he could: more water filters, protein drinks, additional power cells.

  As he set out to walk again, a bright blast almost blinded him. If it wasn’t for the helmet’s adaptive glass, he likely would have been blinded.

  He blinked away the dark spots and looked at the horizon in disbelief.

  The station was gone.

  His suit confirmed the sight: an explosion of some kind had destroyed the whole habitat. Nothing of use remained.

  “How could you?” Linus whispered.

  Miranda must have seen him coming; the furnace’s sensors had detected him. To prevent him from reaching the station, she opted for killing herself. She couldn’t have thought that she would survive without the base in the current situation, could she?