by Alex Deva
“You reckon Aram’s good to go?“
“You know what, let’s put him on the actual floor,“ said the soldier, scratching his chin. “Just in case his bed, you know… suddenly vanishes.“
“Of course,“ said Doina. “Sorry. Should’ve thought of that.“
“And Zi, maybe get one of those field lights ready, for the same reason,“ added Mark, as Aram descended gently to the floor and Zi propped a bag under his head. When the light was prepared on its tripod, he gave Mark a thumbs-up, and went back to sit near Aram.
The Brit moved closer to Doina and said: “Please take us home, Doi.“
She ran her hands through her head and adjusted her ponytail, then sat down on the floor. She shivered visibly, winced and said: “Well then. Let’s go.“
XLV.
They felt nothing, but the ship went dark just like the first time. After a few seconds’ waiting, just in case, Zi turned on the flood light. Doina had fallen on her side, and Mark had caught her in the dark, now holding her head.
“Fuck,“ he muttered, through clenched teeth. “I hate this.“
“You two okay?“ asked Zi.
“I suppose. How’s Aram?“
“No change. Still out. Vitals same.“
“And you?“
“I didn’t really feel that much, to be honest.“
“Good. I guess all we can do now is…“
And then, the ship came back to life, and Doina with it.
“…be glad that it took less than a minute,“ said Mark, helping her up and getting on his feet. He smiled with relief, and even winked at her.
“Really?“ asked the girl, wincing. “God, I feel sick.“ She swallowed a few times, smacked her lips and looked around her. “How’s Aram?“
“He’s fine. We’re all fine. How’s our thief?“
She recoiled slightly as she remembered about the alien in their airlock. “Still there,“ she said.
“Let’s see if he made it,“ proposed Mark. As the alien’s projection reappeared in their room, they all looked for signs of distress, but he seemed fine.
“What happened?“ hissed ken Selloa. “Are we under fire?“
“No,“ said Mark, “but I’m sorry to say we abandoned your ship. It’s not out of the question that you can recover it, if you ever go back.“
“What! Did we move? I did not feel anything. What kind of propulsion does this ship have?“
“I haven’t decided on a name for it yet,“ came Toma’s voice from the walls.
Doina was still wincing. Mark looked at her, quizzically. She shrugged as if to say I didn’t do anything.
“We don’t like you taking over the comms like that,“ he said.
“Won’t happen again,“ said the Builder, with a tone that didn’t necessarily support the words. And then: “I heard you blacked out on the way there. And it looks like it happened on the return trip, too.“
“Doina took the brunt of it,“ said Mark.
“I’m sorry about that. I wish I could’ve tested it more. May I open the comms channel fully?“
The girl rolled her eyes and looked up at Mark again, who nodded. Ileana Toma’s projection appeared in the middle of the room, looking around.
“What happened to Aram?“ she asked, frowning.
“He got shot,“ answered Zi.
“Did he shoot him?“ asked Toma, gesturing back towards the airlock. Her presence appeared impressively immersive; it was like she was really in the room with them.
“No,“ said Mark. “He’s the prize. His name is Top ken Selloa, and he’s a rather resourceful criminal.“
“He can’t hear us,“ said Doina. And then, to the projection: “Where are you?“
“I’m on board the Monnet.“
“Then Tiessler knows we’re back.“
“I haven’t told him yet.“
Mark look sceptical. “Surely he’s listening to you right now.“
“I’m not using my mouth right now, Mark.“ She smiled at him. “But you’re right, he is. Here, I’ll prove it.“ She looked around and said, ostentatiously: “They’re back.“
In less than five seconds, their tab pinged. Marked looked around, trying to find it by the sound; Zi found it first, and pointed at it. It was laying on top of an equipment crate. The Brit answered the call.
“Welcome back,“ said colonel Tiessler. He looked dead tired. Thick, black spots circled his red eyes, and his tone of voice was forced, almost slurry.
“Good to be back,“ said Mark, automatically. Zi added: “Thank you, sir.“
“We’re in a bad way. We’re in a really bad way. I could use some good news.“
Mark turned back to look at Toma’s waiting projection; she was studiously looking elsewhere.
“May I suggest that you ask your resident alien to join you, sir. She’s already in contact with us.“
“What?“ said the German. “How? She doesn’t have any…“ and then he stopped.
“She doesn’t need any,“ filled in the girl, half to herself. Tiessler heard, made a face, and then looked to a side. “We’ve lost Lykke,“ he said. “Haven’t heard from her in a while. She was leading some guerrilla effort in southern Switzerland, then went off the grid.“ He rose and started floating away; the inner walls of his cruiser glided past behind him.
“Souček is on the run, but within reach,“ said Tiessler. “He’ll join us shortly.“
He pushed himself along the main spine of the ship, and glanced quickly at a couple of crewmen who went in the opposite direction. He stopped in front of a door, punched in a code, and entered.
“I understand you’re already in contact with our crew,“ he said, off-screen.
The lips on Toma’s projection did not move while her voice came via Tiessler’s tab. “I only wanted to check the status of the starship,“ she said, in a tone that was in no way apologising. The German didn’t even bother to listen. Toma’s projection looked at Doina and shrugged.
The image on the tab split in two, as a flurry of motion replaced the bottom side. For a moment, there was only blackness interrupted by occasional flashes of grey. Then Karel Souček’s head appeared in the black rectangle, looking haggard and distressed. He was wearing a dark grey overall and had a black cap on his head. Thick stubble covered the lower part of his face. Finally, he looked into the camera and spoke, quietly:
“Hello.“
“Headset,“ said Tiessler, equally softly.
The Czech priest put a finger on one of his ears, indicating that he was already wearing them.
“Are you safe?“
“Probably not. Yes. Nevím,“ he said, hoarse. “I don’t know. Are they back?“
“Yes.“
“Are you holding up there?“
“Running low on supplies,“ said Tiessler. “There have been… accidents.“
The priest nodded gravely. “Any good news?“
“I was just about to find out.“ Tiessler moved his tab so that Ileana Toma appeared in the picture. She was still wearing the Monnet uniform, although there were differences from the one in the projection, which looked as good as new.
Souček inspected the woman gravely.
This must be fantastically hard for him, Mark suddenly realised. A Catholic priest face to face with an alien being. Doina must’ve perceived the same, as she exhaled and shook her head.
“Salve, pater,“ said the girl.
The priest’s eyes moved slightly.
“Hello, my child,“ he managed. “Do you bring good news?“
“We bring an alien,“ said Mark, loudly, and Tiessler’s face registered first surprise, then worry. Souček managed a vaguely resigned smile.
“Explain,“ demanded the German.
“Our lead was a military scientist who was working on an anti-Square project,“ continued the Brit. “The scientist was murdered; poisoned. The murderer was working on orders of the Squares, and in order to gain access to her victim’s house systems, she enlisted the support of a thief c
alled ken Selloa, who is at this very moment inside our airlock.“
The German’s face was stony. Toma’s projection sniffed loudly and humanly, then quickly rubbed her nose with a finger. Her image on the tab did nothing. The difference was uncanny and rather bothersome, and the dichotomy between the obvious alien capacity of doing one thing while projecting another, and her obviously human gestures, was off-putting.
Souček broke the silence. “I see. Another alien. And what became of the anti-Squares project?“
“We have full records of everything.“
“Including concrete plans? A working prototype, perhaps?“
Mark was direct. “No. Nothing of the sort. But,“ he added quickly, “we wouldn’t recognise them if we saw them, either.“
“So ask the alien.“
“He wouldn’t recognise them either, colonel. He’s perfectly capable of impersonating a scientist, but rather unsuccessful at actually being one.“
Tiessler nodded. “What of the rest of the crew?“
Mark turned the tab so the camera was pointing at Zi and Aram.
“Aram’s been shot in a rather… unusual escape operation,“ he said. “Lieutenant Xhaka is unharmed. How is Lawry?“
“Alive,“ said Tiessler. “For whatever that’s worth. Seeing as you came back empty-handed.“
Mark winced. “It might be wise to consider the Saudade recordings,“ he said, finally.
“Where are they?“
“With ken Selloa. He came hoping to negotiate for them.“
“We don’t have to negotiate for anything,“ spoke Toma, simultaneously in her projection and on the tab. “I can read them if I want to.“
“Doi can read them,“ said Doina.
“Apologies. Doi can read them, with or without the prisoner's cooperation.“
“That’s unfair,“ said the girl.
“Doi,“ said Mark, softly. “He’s a thief.“
“He saved your lives and helped Zi escape.“
“For his own benefit.“
“Enough,“ said Tiessler, loudly. “Captain,“ he said to Toma, using her military rank rather unwillingly, “if you’d be so kind to retrieve those recordings and see if they contain anything of value.“
Toma nodded. Doina glanced in the direction of the airlock, as if she felt that the starship was focusing on something inside there. Zi glanced up at Mark, who raised his eyebrows slightly, saying nothing.
A minute passed, then another one. Souček looked around him like a frightened rabbit. Not a trace remained of the once powerful Vatican official, hidden as he was in God knew what hole.
Tiessler drew in a long breath, glanced sideways at Toma, and then spoke softly into the tab:
“FTL?“
Mark answered, equally sotto voce:
“Not ideal, but works.“
“Tactical advantage,“ said the German. Mark also glanced sideways at Doina, and was about to retort, when Toma’s sharp voice came once again from both tab and projection:
“Let me speak to him.“
The Brit glanced at Doina again. The girl looked uncertain and slightly worried.
“Doina?“ he whispered.
“What?“ said the girl. Mark didn’t know if she was answering him, or asking the Builder.
“Just bring him in. Join the airlock comms.“
Doina hesitated, then made a complicated gesture. The tall alien’s projection popped into existence right next to Toma’s. Tiessler’s eyes grew wide, while the priest’s closed. His lips moved quickly and silently.
Top ken Selloa looked quickly around him and found Zi.
“You,“ he said, quickly. “I saved your life. I helped you escape.“
Zi stood up, and bowed slightly. “And I thanked you by saving yours.“
“I trust you more than I trust them,“ said the alien. “And I regret what happened to your pilot. Will he recover?“
Zi looked down at Aram’s sleeping form. “Yep,“ he said. “Count on it.“
“We can help, of course,“ said Tiessler. “The medical facilities on board the Monnet are quite extensive.“
The alien swayed from side to side, trying to figure out who the new voice belonged to. “Who is that?“ he asked.
“My name is colonel Karl Tiessler,“ said the German. “I understand that you came from the Saudade Conglomerate in the interest of mutual trade.“
“I didn’t come anywhere,“ said the alien. “We’re still in our home star system.“
“I’m afraid not,“ said the German.
The alien hissed, turned around, and saw Toma, who looked at him squarely.
“Who…“ he began, and then stopped. A rather Saudade hiss came from Toma’s projection, even though her mouth was not moving. The starship chose not to translate that.
“What are you?!“ he hissed at Toma.
Suddenly, a third projection appeared between ken Selloa and Toma. It was a hexagonal room, with water sloshing on the floor, and a number of objects of various forms and shapes filled it. They might have been furniture, equipment or decorative plants, for all everyone else knew.
“What… how did you steal my recordings?“ The alien swayed furiously, his long arms beating the walls of the airlock. He was long enough to reach a full diameter of the wide cylinder.
“What is that?“ asked Toma, ignoring him.
“What is what?“
“That,“ she said, and a section of the room was suddenly blown up to twice as big, then four times as big, then ten times as big. A flat surface occupied the projection, on which there were four or five flat devices, two white, hexagonal boxes, a round-ended grey plate, and what appeared to be a cube made of many smaller cubes.
“It’s a dry-bowl,“ said ken Selloa. “But how did you…“
“Look at it,“ said Toma, urgently. “Look at it.“
The alien was silent and unmoving and the projection slowly enlarged the round-ended grey plate.
“It’s a dry-bowl. What do you want from me?“
Toma watched the object transfixed. She stepped forward and moved around it, her hand reaching towards it, moving around its edges as if touching it.
“I have no idea what she’s doing,“ said Doina to nobody in particular.
Tiessler addressed Toma in her cabin directly. “Captain,“ he said, sternly. She was looking blankly forward. “Captain!“ he called again.
A strange smile came over Ileana Toma’s face. It distorted her face into a mixture of amazement and wonder, something that seemed completely unfitting her features. It was like she hadn’t been built to display those particular emotions, or perhaps as if that was the first time she’d been in a position to try them on, and didn’t quite know how to use her facial muscles. Tiessler backed up a step.
Souček glanced from one half of his tab to the other, from one church-destroying alien to another. “Gardener,“ he said.
“Captain,“ tried Mark too, unsure.
“I’ve got it,“ said Ileana Toma. Again she spoke from both the tab and the projection, but not simultaneously. Her two voices were suddenly out of sync, as if spoken by two different people, echoing one another. Her strange smile remained affixed to her features as she looked at Tiessler and at ken Selloa at the same time. “I’ve got it,“ she repeated.
And then, suddenly:
“I need to speak to the Square, now.“
XLVI.
“Gardener,“ said the Prophet in stupefaction. “But you can’t be. How many are there of you? Have you got a clone in every system?“
“Two,“ said Mark. “Put your boss on.“
“No, really,“ insisted the blue-haired man. “How did you…“
“Shut up,“ said the Brit. “Put the Square on.“
The other’s expression was unchanged, and it appeared as though he had no intention to do as he was asked. Suddenly, Toma stepped into the tab’s field of view.
“Jean,“ she said, serious. “I need to speak to the Square.“
“Well, it doesn’t need to sp…“
But then the screen filled with light.
And then, the impossibly thin, yellow Square appeared inside Room One.
Zi’s hand shot reflexively to his chest, where an empty gun harness did nothing to make him feel better. Top ken Selloa stepped back to the wall of the airlock, hissing A Square… you have a Square… Mark stepped in front of Doina, but the girl said, in a trembling voice:
“It’s just… a projection. It’s not… here. God save us, it’s not really here.“
Mark glanced down at the tab. Tiessler and Souček were watching, tight-lipped and distraught.
Toma stood up to her full length and confronted the Square.
“Do you know who I am?“
In a clear, genderless West London accent, the Square’s voice filled the room.
“You have no business here. You should not be here. Builders do not travel.“
“Some do.“
“You are too late to mine this planet.“
“I’ll say I am. I’ve already mined it, thousands of years ago.“
The Square said nothing for two full seconds.
“You are the maker of this starship,“ it stated.
“Yes,“ answered Toma. “And you — you’re in trouble.“
Again, the Square said nothing for two full seconds.
“Was it this very ship?“ it asked.
“Yes,“ said Toma.
“Impossible. Nobody can travel faster than light.“
Toma shrugged. “What can I tell you. Your kind saw this starship in the Saudade system only a few hours ago, and now it’s here.“
“And it was here before that. And yet it is impossible.“
“Look at this,“ said Toma, and the dead scientist’s room appeared again.
The Square floated over it, silently.
“Do you know what this is?“
No answer.
“This is Bree ken Cudner’s room. The Saudade scientist that you had murdered.“
Still, no answer.
“I wouldn’t really care,“ continued Toma. “It’s not the first time you do this, and it won’t be the last.“
“You are not really foreign to such tactics yourself,“ vibrated the Square.
“Allow me to draw your attention to this object,“ said Toma, paying no attention. The round-ended grey plate zoomed in again. “This,“ she said, looking directly at the thin, floating being, “is not a Saudade dry-bowl.“
