Call of Courage: 7 Novels of the Galactic Frontier

by C. Gockel

  “I’m here,” said Blick, “just tell me what to do. I wasn’t a maintenance baby like you and Emery here.” Rebecca shot him a grin and went back to the bridge. Spixworth was staring at the screen where Issk’ath appeared unmoving.

  “What’s it doing?” asked Rebecca.

  Spixworth shook his head. “Accessing files maybe? It said it needed to process. Not a bug thing. A robot thing. You’ll have to get another expert.”

  “It’s already accessed the files,” said Al Jahi, stepping away from her console. “It may be sorting the data or running some kind of internal program. It could be translating our data into whatever computing language it understands. Or it could be thinking about the massive amount of information it has just learned. It was able to speak our language in a matter of seconds, but that is just one tiny part of what’s in the Wolfinger.”

  “What else is in there?” asked Rebecca.

  “Everything. History, media, all the lab programs— it was meant to work like a mini-feed while we were out of contact with the Keseburg. Anything we could possibly use was checked and double-checked, because we weren’t certain what we would encounter.” She paused for a moment. “Also— it said Dorothy was inside it. I think.”

  “That is what it sounded like,” said Rebecca, “though I’m not sure that wasn’t a misunderstanding.”

  “Possibly,” said Al Jahi, “but if it wasn’t— with Spindling becoming more and more of a problem, the Admiral tasked us with finding alternative means of prolonging life. We’ve been researching artificial bodies, but the stumbling block has always been storage.”

  “We?” asked Spixworth.

  “Did you think I just chatted with other ships my entire career? I’m a communications officer, Spixworth. I know as much about the workings of the Wolfinger, and ships like her, as Liu. More, probably. And when we aren’t flying, I’m helping develop new systems.”

  “What did you mean about storage?” asked Rebecca.

  “Well, the problem of pinpointing the consciousness, what makes us— us , was solved a long time ago. That’s why we have the filaments. But extracting it— we aren’t like a neatly labeled warehouse or even a computer. There is no box or folder or cell that we can just hook up to another body and have it be the same. Our bodies aren’t like clothes, we can’t just shed them. At least, not so far. Leroux explains this stuff better. We’re all spread out. Chemicals and electrical patterns and cells. To replicate it would take so much space— we just don’t have it. Not with our technology. But if this thing does , and it figured out how to copy Dorothy— maybe it needs all its processing power to manage it correctly. To make sure she ‘saves’ in the right place. Or— or a replication of her does.” Al Jahi shuddered and Rebecca’s skin prickled with anxiety.

  Blick came to the doorway and nodded. Rebecca turned back to the screen. “You mentioned your colony,” she said, raising her voice slightly. The insect twisted its head toward her. “Are there many of your people here?”

  “They are here,” it said, a metal spiny arm clicking against its chest. Its head tilted slightly. “This is Emery’s voice?”

  “Yes,” said Rebecca.

  “Dorothy says, ‘thank you.’ You helped her when her adrenaline levels were not optimal.”

  “Do you— is she inside you?”

  “Yes. With the colony. I am uncertain if there was data lost in the transfer. The timing was poor.”

  “With the colony? What is the colony?” asked Spixworth. “Are they like you?”

  “They were organic. Like you. You saw the nest, you entered the nursery. You must have seen their depictions.”

  “The statues? They looked like you,” said Rebecca. “Did they make you?”

  “Yes. I was created to protect the colony.”

  “Protect it from what? From people like us? Were there other travelers before?”

  The insect scuttled forward a few steps, its eye close to the camera. “No. You are the first. I did not know there was anyone left. I thought I was alone.”

  “Alone? But I thought you said the colony was with you.”

  “It is. As Dorothy is. They do not speak to me. Issk’ath they named me. I was created to protect the colony but they hated me when I did.”

  “You mean— this area has no more of your people? Their— their casings are gone?”

  “There are no more casings on this planet. They were not optimal. Fragile and swarming. They would starve. I protected. I fulfilled my program.”

  “What happened here?” gasped Al Jahi.

  “Dorothy says, ‘A bargain.’ She says the record is not complete. A story for a story. Your planet for mine.”

  Rebecca looked at the others. Spixworth shrugged. “It’s got the files, what difference does it make? It’ll either find out from us or from the history files.”

  “And if we tell it ourselves— maybe we can make it sound more— ‘optimal’,” said Al Jahi.

  “Very well,” said Rebecca, “you first.” She could hear commotion in the hall behind her and held her breath. But Liu or Blick caught Stratton and silence returned.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “This world is ancient. A wide range of organisms developed and thrived and eventually dwindled before the People came to be. Animals like you— your metabolic requirements would not have been efficient enough in the beginning. The People had advantages over almost all the others. Their casings were optimal, their metabolic needs few, except in times of swarm. And the People had tools and language and mathematics. They evolved unopposed for some time. Until the Takesh.”

  “Takesh?” asked Rebecca, “Were they part of the People too? Another tribe?”

  “No,” said Issk’ath, “They were not of the People. Takesh were akin to your birds. Closer to reptiles than your Ornithurae, though. They were large, fierce. The People were their prey. The Takesh lacked the level of intelligence of the People, however. For a millennium they did not use tools and their language was auditory only— much like yours. Yet they were cunning and cooperated with one another. For centuries they hunted the People. My makers moved underground, in great nests, to avoid the Takesh. You saw part of a nest.

  For a long while, the People forgot the sky. Perhaps that is why they were never travelers like you. Their attention turned inward, creating more and more complex tools, creating vast cities beneath the stone as their technology improved. But above them, the Takesh evolved too. They began developing their own tools and mechanisms. Rudimentary, but devastating. All of their technology was bent upon capturing the People for food. In those days, there was only one great nest. Far from this place. There were many smaller colonies, but most of the People lived in the great nest. It drank from a great river that flowed beside it. The Takesh knew this and blocked the river, turning it away from the nest with great stones and earthworks and tangled thorn-trees.

  For many weeks, the People assumed there was a drought above ground. They waited while the hidden pools in the nest’s great chambers slowly dwindled and became thick with silt. At last, they knew they must go above and find out what had happened to the river or else move the nest. So the Queen first sent a few scouts. They returned several days later with stories of the river’s altered course and what had caused it. But the Takesh had hidden, made the scouts believe they were long gone. The Queen believed this trick and sent many warriors, many scholars and diggers. The best of the People. They were meant to make a hole in the dam, to return the river to its bed and save the nest. But the Takesh were waiting. So many that their wings turned light to dark and all the sky shook with their terrible war cries. At first, they were content to swoop in and take the People. In their beaks, in their talons. But the Takesh were many and the People who had been sent to the river were not enough to satisfy their hunger. They were impatient and enraged when the last of the People had been consumed.

  Those Takesh that had not yet eaten tore into the dam, scattering the stones, breaking the earthworks with their
great clawed feet. And the nest flooded. The People were caught unaware and were washed away, drowning even in the deepest chambers. The Takesh feasted upon their floating corpses. The few that were left fled. In the confusion and panic, many of the People in the smaller colonies scattered, spreading across the world, rebuilding. By the time of the great swarm, there were six great nests, each larger than the first one had been.

  But that was many, many mating seasons later. The loss of the first nest was disastrous. People, art, technology, knowledge, all washed away. And those remaining knew they must find a way to prevent it from happening again. The People went to war with the Takesh. At first, it was covert, quick and quiet to keep the losses minimal. Small strike teams would take out one or two Takesh at a blow. But it was slow, and the Takesh easily replaced their losses. After a time, the People developed large machines and weapons that could strike at larger groups. But they were not dependable and led to massive losses. Biological weapons were considered and developed, but the Takesh and the People were more linked than anyone realized and they were quickly abandoned. Until, at last, the People made me and all of my brethren.” Issk’ath stopped for a moment and pictures of row upon row of glittering golden machines filled the feed and Liu’s console.

  “How many?” she gasped.

  “Thousands. A vast army,” said Issk’ath.

  “But where are they?” asked Al Jahi.

  “Many hundreds terminated in the war with the Takesh. The guardians wiped out the Takesh, but it was not an easy mission. Even our casings were not immune to their weapons. But it saved the People. After the war, many of the guardians deactivated. Their purpose was fulfilled and they found peace in termination. Some were repurposed as laborers for new nests or, like myself, as repositories of gathered knowledge, much like this wire network Dorothy showed me. The People stopped manufacturing the guardians shortly after I was produced. They turned their thoughts to other machines. Other technologies. Many mating seasons passed until there were only a handful of us left. Just two others remained in my nest. The People thrived. Too well, in fact. Then came the swarming.”

  Again, images streamed through the feed. Sounds of unceasing chirps and whirs, thousands of the insects crammed into one of the caverns, then flying over the ground, sunlight glittering off smooth exoskeletons. The fields below were stripped clean, no vegetation, no animals. Just dust, thick and dark and roiling in the breeze of a million wings.

  “The swarming was like an illness. Lust and greed and madness. Made worse by touch, and there were so many of the People, it spread like flame in a dry field.”

  “Like locusts,” murmured Spixworth, his eyes flickering as he followed the images.

  “Locust. Schistocerca gregaria. Yes. Like locusts. It seems they were equally destructive. The planet was dying. It could not sustain the People’s numbers, especially in their devouring need. The last of my brethren met, one final time. We had been tasked with protecting the People. Protecting the colony. Even if it meant protecting them from themselves. We were not many, but we had learned much in the long span of our lives. We found a way to save them. We found a way to protect them. Their casings were inefficient. Unnecessary. They were susceptible to illness and death, they required too much energy. They swarmed. So we attempted to preserve what was most important. The People are here now.” Issk’ath tapped its chassis again. “With Dorothy.”

  “But— how ? What did you do? You just asked and they— what? Plugged themselves in?” asked Spixworth.

  “Some agreed. The old, the infirm. The larvae and the nymphs. Others had to be persuaded. Some had to be taken and did not understand. They understand now. That is why I am named Issk’ath. For the boy who burned the clutch.”

  “All of them? All of the people?”

  “Yes. It was the kindest way. We argued many processing cycles about it. Some advocated only for thinning the swarm, allowing space to quell the sickness. But the People might have retaliated. To keep their numbers at manageable levels would have been harsh and inefficient. Why tax the planet with supporting their casings when they could live wholly within us? And if some of them wandered off and died alone, without us, their data would be lost. Scattered. Irretrievable. It would be a loss, as the flood was. We had to gather them all. We had to transfer them all at one time.”

  “So you— you killed all of your people?” asked Al Jahi, rubbing her temple.

  “Termination of the casing was irrelevant. Their minds, their consciousness was simply moved into a new casing. Mine.”

  “And the others? Those like you, where are they?” asked Rebecca.

  “I am all that remains.”

  Rebecca was uncertain why Issk’ath’s statement left a cold chill in her gut. It ought to have been good news. There were no sentient creatures left, no real competition for resources, no one who would protest their colonization. “And what do you intend to do with us ?” she asked.

  Issk’ath was silent for a long moment. Rebecca thought that was probably a bad sign. And then orange flame and a loud boom erupted behind it. Issk’ath stumbled a step or two and then the camera flashed white and died. Al Jahi swiveled to her console tapping frantically. “It’s a fire— the exterior cameras—”

  “Get it closed, Liu!” shouted Captain Stratton. “I don’t care if you have to weld it, just get it closed.”

  Rebecca ran into the equipment lock where Titov and Stratton were backed against the heavy door. The lock was filled with a rapid whine as Liu reconnected the heavy hinge mechanisms.

  “What did you do?” cried Rebecca, “You said you only wanted to get the door open in case we had an emergency.”

  “Yeah, well, plans change. See if Al Jahi can find out what’s happening on the exterior cameras. We need to know if we killed that thing. At least we know it’s the only one— good interrogating, Emery,” said Stratton. And then he was flying across the lock. He toppled over Rebecca as the heavy door came hurtling after him. Her head slammed onto the steel decking as they fell.

  “I warned you that I wouldn’t let you terminate me,” came Issk’ath’s voice before Rebecca slid into unconsciousness.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “Leroux, Leroux, get up here. The Captain’s down— Emery too!” Titov shouted into the filament. Issk’ath towered over him and he could see Liu pressing himself against the opposite wall. Thick smoke billowed through the open door. The metal insect was sooty but whole. It seemed to be moving normally, whatever that meant. Titov wondered if it was angry. If it was capable of anger. They’d miscalculated. Badly.

  Issk’ath’s steps shook the Wolfinger as it moved forward. It lifted the door off of the Captain as if it were made of paper rather than steel, and set it carefully to the side. Titov scrambled toward Liu as it picked up the captain, hooking a sharp leg through his vinyl suit.

  “I would have let you go. Or stay. However you chose. I had no reason to harm you. My only purpose is to protect the colony. We could have been allies. We should have been allies.”

  “Why— did you trap us?” Captain Stratton’s speech gurgled and paused in the wrong places. Titov winced.

  “To keep you from trying to do what you just did. I only wanted to be certain you meant no harm. Dorothy was teaching me. Your ship was teaching me.”

  “You killed—”

  “Yes,” shouted Liu, “You killed your own people. Why should we believe you?”

  Issk’ath turned its pale eyes toward them. “Deception is not a priority in my programming. If it were, I would have hidden the past from you. I have chosen other methods to interact with you.”

  Leroux and Oxwell were in the doorway, Martham close behind. “May I—” Leroux started softly and flinched as it turned toward her.

  “This one dies. It is broken.”

  “Let me help, I might be able to save him.”

  “But if you fail, his data will be lost. I should upload him now.”

  “Let— go. Don’t want— to be stuck— f
orever,” said Stratton.

  Issk’ath laid him down on the steel decking. “Very well. I only wish to aid you.”

  Leroux darted forward, shooting a nervous glance up at the insect before concentrating on Stratton. Oxwell circled it to kneel beside Rebecca.

  “That one’s functions are within parameter,” said Issk’ath. “It seems to have entered rest cycle.”

  “She’s not sleeping,” said Oxwell. “Beck, wake up.”

  Rebecca groaned at the sudden burst of pain in her skull. Alice helped her sit slowly up. “What happened?”

  Issk’ath shifted and sunk down with a whir. “This is Emery?”

  “Yeah, I’m Emery.” She winced as Alice gently probed the back of her head. Leroux and Cardiff lifted the captain and carried him carefully out of the equipment lock. Rebecca watched them, dazed.

  “I did not intend you harm. Dorothy is fond of you. You were not part of the explosion. I apologize.”

  “I’ll be okay. And you?”

  “I am at optimal function. Your leader, unfortunately, is not. He dislikes the idea of transference.”

  Rebecca squinted up at the triangular face that lingered too close to her own. “I can’t say I’m comfortable with it either. You say you have Dorothy in there, but is it really her? Or is it just her data?”

  “What use is the distinction?”

  Rebecca shook her head. “Never mind. We can talk about it later. After Captain Stratton is treated. You never answered my question. What do you intend for us?”

  “My only mission is to protect the colony. As long as your presence does not threaten it, I have no intentions for you. Your leader seems opposed to that situation.”

  “I— I think there might have been some sort of misunderstanding—”

  “There’s no misunderstanding,” said Titov, “This thing is dangerous. It’s severely wounded the Captain and it killed Hackford—”