by C. Gockel
“Absolutely not,” said Stratton, “No one is leaving the Wolfinger until the contact is secured. I’m sorry Oxwell, but I did try to warn you. You’re on your own.”
“You can’t—” started Leroux, but the feed cut out abruptly. Alice turned back to Dorothy who was heaving and clenching the cot sheets in her fists. Alice pried one hand free and held it tightly in her own.
“Listen, we’re going to get through this. It’s going to be all right. In a couple weeks we’ll be back in our own beds complaining about the wonky ring rotation, right?”
Dorothy tried to nod, her mouth still gaping open as she tried to catch her breath. Her lips were a cold gray. Alice thought that might be a bad sign.
“But first you have to calm down, Dorothy. You have to concentrate for me so that the sedative will help. Let’s—” she glanced around, looking for something that would help. “What was that— what was that cow thing you were saying to Emery the other day?”
“Memory device,” gasped Dorothy, “Emery was asking about earth geology dating.”
“Good, that’s good. Tell me the cow thing,” said Alice, her gaze flicking up to the flashing monitors.
“Cambrian first. Ordovician. Ordovician— Silurian…”
“There, deep breath. What’s after Silurian?”
“Devonian. Carboniferous.”
“Carboniferous, good era,” said Alice with a smile, her own pulse slowing as Dorothy’s breath became slower and deeper. The monitors stopped beeping, stepping down the alarm.
“Permian—”
A sharp clacking erupted outside and then a thick, sizzling hiss, like steam from the laundry receptacles on the Keseburg. Dorothy froze and turned her face slowly toward the sound. A shadow wavered against the translucent wall.
“She’s crashing,” shouted Leroux into the feed. “There’s too much adrenaline.”
The shadow swayed and a long chirp wavered out of it. Dorothy fell back onto the cot and Alice tore herself away from staring at the thing outside.
“You have to start resuscitation, Alice. The program should be coming through the monitor now, it will guide you.”
Alice glanced up as the monitor flashed.
Chapter Nineteen
The animals led Issk’ath to a hulking beast of metal. It had outstretched wings and a blunted beak, and Issk’ath’s first idea was that the enemy had created a counterpart. That they survived and had stolen one of Issk’ath’s counterparts to imitate. It tried to speak to the beast, clicking and hissing a greeting. But the beast did not respond. It made no sound or motion. Issk’ath wondered if it were dead. Yet the hum of electric power was unceasing. Issk’ath tried a visual display. Perhaps the beast had no auditory function. No response. It tried looking to the animals for assistance, chirping, but they had turned from Issk’ath, hovering outside a gray cube and rapid patterns of sounds passed between them. Issk’ath took a quick step toward the cube. It was flimsy. Textile? It pressed its maxillae against the material. One of the animals began pulling on its leg, indicating they should move elsewhere. Issk’ath turned its head to look at the animal, but something else hit its tympana. The vibrations inside the animals had been regular. Different from one another, some rapid, some slow, but pulsing in regularly spaced intervals. But inside the gray cube was a different pulse. Too far for Issk’ath to feel it clearly, buried under the others and the electric hum, but it wove in and out of the other input. Did it come from the cube? It flicked its tarsus up the textile. The material sheared away. The animals’ bleats grew louder. One was waving a tool again. Issk’ath peered into the open cube. Two animals— different, smaller. The one with the irregular vibration was not erect. Issk’ath stepped inside. A weak electric discharge from the animal’s tool splashed over its chassis. Issk’ath ignored it. It took another step toward the smaller animals and extended its maxillae, careful to tap lightly over the top of the animal. Soft, these ones. Furred. Vulnerable. But Issk’ath was not a predator. It pulled back and turned toward the animal lying prone. Another electric burst splashed across Issk’ath. The animals were squawking now, louder than expected for their number. As if there were more inside the cases. Issk’ath extended its maxillae again, touching the animal before it. The vibration was worse, erratic. Its electrical system was disorganized, chaotic. Issk’ath was unfamiliar with the organism, but that type of disorganization was not optimal for life. The animal’s vibration stopped. A mechanism made a loud, insistent chirp and all around it, the others scurried into far corners, picking up tools. The electrical function was stopping, becoming echoes, ripples stilling into nothing. All of its data would be lost.
Issk’ath located the center of its remaining activity and plunged its sharp tarsus through the animal’s skull. There was a wet cracking as it pierced the bone. Soft and hard and soft again. Little more than larvae. The others halted for a moment.
“Holy mother of man,” said one. Then they began running. It ignored them. The order of this animal was complex. There were many processes that had to be rewritten to accommodate the data. Issk’ath couldn’t even be certain it received all of it in the minutes that the impulses slowed and finally ceased within the animal. But it got some. Enough, perhaps. The other animals would have to judge.
It began processing, shuttling the data to a new pinpoint of light near the chassis center. Dorothy. That was this one’s designation. The language was imprecise. Vast. Ah, Issk’ath understood. They lacked suitably fine olfactory receptors. All of their communication relied upon auditory and visual cues. How inefficient. It would take time to parse the language and develop a lexicon. Mathematics. It could understand that. This one had some knowledge of it. Rudimentary, but sufficient for communication, if the others shared Dorothy’s experience. “Holy mother of man” the other one had said. Issk’ath was curious, but the flood of imagery and language that erupted from the query made it back off shortly. There would be time later. They were not the ancient enemy. Nor did they belong to the colony. That was enough for now. The animals were coming back. None soft now. Helmets, casings, the one designated Dorothy supplied. Armored. Not prey. There were many. All with tools. Not tools. Weapons, corrected Dorothy. Issk’ath raised its wings in warning, though the weapons had not affected it.
The animals did not understand, all shouting. Issk’ath processed rapidly, but it was still analyzing. It caught only “Stop” and “kill.” It pulled its tarsus out of Dorothy’s corpse, all of the data that could be gathered, it had already taken. It considered as the animals continued to shout. Its sound imitation programming was not designed for these modulations, but Issk’ath relished a challenge. It processed.
“No kill.” The sound was a cross between the colony’s chirps and the deep mating calls of a lesser prey. Issk’ath repeated it. “No kill. No hurt.” It tapped one of the gold sparks that speckled its chassis. “Dorothy Hackford.”
“Flaming core,” gasped one of the animals. Humans, offered Dorothy. Nicholas Spixworth. “It’s speaking. How is it speaking?”
“I don’t care what it’s doing, Spixworth. It killed Hackford. Everyone back to the Wolfinger. Guess we got your answer, Emery. No mercy for us.”
“Captain—”
“No kill,” said Issk’ath. “Mercy. Hackford safe. All safe.” This rudimentary language was limiting. Issk’ath clicked in frustration. The colony was awake, jostled from its long sleep. A thousand processes clamored for Issk’ath’s attention, cluttered the sorting.
“Not safe,” said Spixworth, creeping toward Dorothy’s body. “Dead. We’re fragile. Not metal. You killed her. She’s gone.”
“Not gone. Here.” Issk’ath tapped its tarsus against the spark again. “Safe. No kill. Casing not optimal.” It clicked the pattern of Dorothy’s dying heart.
One of the animals gasped. “Her heart— you heard her heart?”
Leroux, identified Dorothy, medic. Doctor. Healer. Help.
Issk’ath clicked the pattern again. “Heart not optimal.
No kill.”
“Then what happened?” asked Spixworth.
Issk’ath processed. “Need words. Dorothy help. Slow.”
“Captain, we should find a way to link it to the library—” started Liu.
“Are you insane ? This thing murdered one of us. We aren’t giving it a damn thing. Get back on the Wolfinger. Now.”
Only Martham headed for the ship. The others hesitated, watching Issk’ath for some reaction.
“That’s an order, people. On the ship, or get left here.”
“We can’t just leave Dorothy out here,” said Leroux.
“On the ship!” shouted Stratton, “We’ll worry about Hackford when we’re certain we’re safe.”
The humans backed toward the metal beast. Ship. For travel. It swallowed them one after another, leaving Issk’ath staring after them.
Chapter Twenty
“She was in arrest, Captain,” said Leroux. “Resuscitation methods weren’t working. The machine didn’t kill her, Dorothy was already losing brain function.”
“It ripped open the isolation chamber and stabbed her in the forehead. Are you seriously trying to convince me that thing isn’t hostile?” Stratton twisted off his helmet and rounded on Leroux.
“I’m not trying to convince anyone of anything. Just reporting the medical data.”
“Spixworth, I want eyes on that thing.” He unzipped the suit and shucked it off as he spoke. “Al Jahi, Liu, get preflight checks done. We’re leaving. Everyone else, secure the labs aboard the Wolfinger.”
“What about the field labs?” asked Blick, “You just want us to abandon all that work?”
“We have a conclusive answer about the habitability of this planet, do we not?”
“No,” said Rebecca, “we don’t. We’ve run a handful of initial surveys and encountered a dozen lifeforms. One possibly intelligent. We have no idea whether this planet is hospitable or not.”
“I’d say the past ten minutes have been pretty damn hostile, Emery,” Stratton snapped.
“We aren’t even certain about that. Do you really want to condemn the sixteen thousand people aboard the Keseburg to another century of wandering because we were too scared to make a thorough investigation?”
“This isn’t about fear, Emery. And you aren’t going to shame me into changing my mind. This is protocol—”
“Flaming core, is that what you’re hiding behind Gabriel?” asked Liu. “I’ve been flying with you a long time. You’ve never been a stickler for rules. But I’ve heard you quote regs more often in the past three days than in all the years we’ve been friends. Nothing about this mission was protocol. That’s why they picked you to lead it. Bringing Emery wasn’t standard procedure, but I’m sure glad we did. Letting Hackford slide through psych tests wasn’t by the book either. Or Blick dodge the physicals. They didn’t assign you because you’re good at sticking to the rules. The Admiral gave you this mission because you’re good at thinking on your feet. So— maybe we should see what the big bug does. At least we know it’s trying to communicate. We can try to find out if there’s more like it and where it came from. Don’t we owe our families that much?”
Stratton swore under his breath.
“Uh— Captain? You’re going to want to see this,” called Spixworth.
“Shut it off!” yelled Titov.
“I can’t, I don’t know how!” Spixworth mashed buttons as Liu and Al Jahi shouted for him to stop and ran toward him. Liu shoved him aside and Al Jahi’s fingers flew over the console
“What is it now?” asked the Captain.
“The bug-thing. It’s got Dorothy’s filament. It’s figured out how to tap into the feed,” said Titov.
“I can’t get it out— it’s already bypassed the clearances.” Al Jahi shook her head, typing as she spoke.
Liu swung around to his own station. “Every system, every file, even the flight map back. Everything. It knows everything. How did it do this so quickly?”
“It’s a complex computer. A string of math. Assuming it could process our programming, it would be almost instantaneous,” said Al Jahi.
“Especially if Dorothy is helping it,” said Rebecca.
“Dorothy is dead , Emery,” said Stratton, “she can’t help anyone.”
“That’s— not necessarily true,” Martham broke in. “That thing pulled something from her. Cells, electrical impulses, biochemicals— it took something. Look how quickly it learned to speak— even words we hadn’t used in front of it yet. It wouldn’t be the first organism to absorb knowledge from another’s corpse. Just— more completely in this case.”
“It said that Dorothy was inside it. It pointed to its chest,” said Spixworth. “Maybe it found a way to save her.”
“Maybe she’s wearing it,” said Titov, “like a spindling suit. Maybe she’s controlling the thing.”
“I’m hearing a lot of conjecture, people, but no answers. Meanwhile, that thing is running rampant in our systems. It knows everything about us now. How the Wolfinger works, what we came for, who we are— our flaming families. It has to be taken out. Now, before it can do any damage or communicate with its buddies,” said Stratton.
Rebecca watched as the glittering machine turned its triangular head slowly toward the camera that monitored the isolation chamber. Its sharp thorny tarsus dripped with dark blood where it had smashed Dorothy’s skull. A thick hiss erupted from it and its wings shot out wide, shimmering with electronic pathways. “I hear you,” it said.
Their electronics were rudimentary. Simple mathematics. It seemed even the ship was a tool. Not aware. Not like Issk’ath. Even without Dorothy’s help, it would have been an easy task. But the animals— humans , Dorothy corrected, the humans didn’t want Issk’ath to know their data. They would not have allowed it in. And Issk’ath wouldn’t have been able to help.
They were part of a great migration. Endless. Eggs and nymphs matured and gone and repeated, and still, they lived their lives in flight. All held in a giant nest of metal. Not so different from the colony. Did you run from the Takesh? it asked.
What is Takesh? asked Dorothy.
Issk’ath searched for a similar beast in the Wolfinger’s databanks. Ornithurae. Bird. Enemy.
No, said Dorothy, Our only enemy was ourselves. She directed it to a history file. But the humans interrupted. They were trying to push Issk’ath out. It simply rewrote its own access, but it stopped to listen as well. They did not know it could see them through their visual communications. They were soft again, and Issk’ath watched Spixworth intently. He had been the first human, after all. He was trying to defend Issk’ath, he understood the transference. Not completely, but enough. They thought Dorothy was in control. Issk’ath wondered if it ought to let them continue believing it. It could simulate Dorothy’s vocal pattern from her data easily enough. But they already suspected it of duplicity. It could not lie and expect them to cooperate. One of the men was shouting. It wanted to exterminate Issk’ath. It had allowed them enough time to deliberate. It turned toward the dark mouth that Dorothy said was actually an eye. “I hear you,” it said.
“Suit up,” growled Stratton, “it’s us or that thing.” He pulled his helmet back on.
“Captain,” said Titov, “our sidearms don’t seem to affect it.”
Stratton turned toward Liu. “We still have the mining explosives?”
Liu frowned. “One crate, I think. Down in the hold.”
“I cannot allow you to terminate me,” said Issk’ath. “My purpose is to protect the colony. We need not be in conflict if you do not threaten the colony.”
Rebecca exchanged a glance with Spixworth. Stratton was already headed for the hold with Titov and Martham. “Leroux, Oxwell, I want biological alternatives,” yelled the captain.
“But it isn’t biological…” said Alice, wandering after him.
“You will not be allowed to exit your ship if you continue your threats,” said Issk’ath.
But Stratton was gone. B
lick ran to the door. “Sealed,” he called back. “Can you override it?” Liu tapped for a moment and then got up. He grabbed Rebecca’s arm and pulled her into the equipment lock. He clicked off his feed and pointed to hers.
“No feed access back here, just in case,” he whispered after she’d disabled her own. “Did you see the old tool set in here when you were checking the gear?”
“Sure, but the Captain said it was just a sentimental thing. Your dad’s or something. We stowed it in the crawlspace.”
Blick joined them and Liu pointed to his filament. “You think you can get it open?” asked Blick.
“We’ll have to disable the controls. I can’t override them. This thing is too fast, I tried three times already. And we’ll need a distraction, if this thing knows what we’re doing it could turn every system in the ship against us. It could suffocate us or freeze us— I can’t use the new-gen tools, they’re all linked to the feed. I’ve got to use the old ones.”
“Do you think it’s such a good idea? It said it wouldn’t hurt us if we didn’t threaten the colony, whatever that is,” said Blick.
Liu shook his head. “I don’t know. Those kinds of decisions— they’re above my rank. And I trust Captain Stratton. The times we’re in a mess, that’s when he really shines. I’ve seen it before. But even if we make friends with this thing, it’s still nice to have the option, isn’t it? I don’t want to be trapped in here until some computer decides we’re going to behave, do you?”
“Good point,” said Blick.
Rebecca considered it a reasonable reaction. She felt along the side panels of the lock, searching for a catch. She wished she had spent more time aboard the Wolfinger before the mission. Even a familiarity with rudimentary systems would have helped. She found the panel and it slid open.
“I’ll get it,” whispered Liu, “I need you to keep that thing’s attention on you. Or on the Captain. Whatever it takes, just keep it from thinking about us or that door. Lionel, I’m going to need a hand—”
