by I. O. Adler
Chapter Eleven
Carmen began doubting the plan the moment she squeezed into the printed Dragoman shell. It was a frosted glass coffin. With the opaque shell, the sentries outside wouldn’t see her hiding within. But it also meant she couldn’t see out.
Stupid plan.
Carmen sized up the interior. The shell had a warm plastic scent. “New car smell?”
She Who Waits stood nearby, her sands colored yellow. “This is inadvisable. While the Melded guards may show some restraint in harming you or me, they may not hesitate when they encounter this unknown suit.”
“Tell them what I told you to say. Will you do it?”
“Watch your fingers. I will close the suit and seal it. You have enough air for an estimated thirty minutes before suffering hypoxia.”
Carmen slid inside the shell and got her hand out of the way of the door. It shut and sealed with a soft hiss. The surface of the shell near her face fogged instantly. She pushed on the door. It didn’t open. She felt a jolt of panic as she pressed harder.
“I thought there was an air supply. Can you hear me? I can’t get out!”
She Who Waits’ voice sounded muffled. “The suit is but a replica without its standard features. I can reopen it and we can abandon this ploy. Do you wish me to release you?”
Carmen tried to calm down. Breathed slower. Closed her eyes and tried not to think about being buried alive. “No. I’m okay. Let’s go.”
The suit wobbled as it lifted. She was hovering. The motion was smooth as the suit trailed after the blurry shadow of She Who Waits. Carmen heard the hum and click of the airlock, saw the shifting lights as one hatch closed and another opened a moment later.
Moment of truth.
If the ruse convinced the Melded there were two Dragomen, then her plan might work, assuming she didn’t suffocate first.
Between her hearing and the fact she was locked inside what was effectively a stuffy vertical old-timey phone booth for skinny people, she could make out little. The voices were soft and muddled. A red translation light bobbed next to She Who Waits. A Melded guard stood blocking her path.
Carmen’s remaining shred of confidence withered.
Turn around and go back! she wanted to cry.
At any moment, the sentry’s weapon would fire. They’d both be gunned down. What was she thinking? Better to go quietly and have another chance talking with her mom on their voyage to Earth.
But the version of Sylvia Vincent wandering the Framework wasn’t herself. She had become someone—something—else, part human, part Melded. And the other races on the Framework had done nothing to check the Melded from once again doing as they pleased.
The sentry was making a high-pitched squeak, which rang inside the suit. The second sentry pushed She Who Waits and sent her slamming into Carmen, almost knocking her over but for whatever gyroscope and hovering device in her suit that corrected her fall.
But then they were moving, racing past the sentries. The Melded were shouting from behind. She Who Waits and Carmen made a series of turns and she kept bumping her face and head as she was jostled.
Carmen tried to turn to see if they were being followed. Too cramped. Barely room to adjust herself to breathe as she realized she was hyperventilating. She hadn’t known She Who Waits could move so fast, and she was getting dizzy. And the shell Carmen had squeezed herself into followed along like a hitch trailer with balding tires.
The gravity increased as they headed down towards the interior of the Framework. The air inside the shell had become stifling.
Carmen pressed her face against the hazy glass. The lights beyond were dim, and she guessed they had made the first platform above the tentacled statue.
“Let me out!”
The door to the shell clicked open, and she tumbled to the unyielding floor. It appeared darker than before, as if someone had turned most of the lights off within the Framework.
In the dim illumination, She Who Waits glowed with a soft violet hue. “I still cannot find an open com link to anyone. Whatever jamming designates Melded are performing is a widespread disruption.”
Bright lights approached from above. The sentries were coming.
Carmen led the way down the ramp around the monument. But from below, another light flashed up in their direction. They were surrounded.
“You got any weapons?” Carmen asked.
She Who Waits stopped, showing yellow bands. “Negative.”
“I just thought I’d ask.”
Carmen peered over the edge of the ramp. The blue-lit trails below were far enough down that she would break something if she jumped. The guards above were almost out of the chute. And whoever was approaching from below was running now and would be on them in seconds.
She Who Waits darted down the ramp. Carmen hurried to run after her. The Melded who ascended towards them was a round-bodied creature Carmen had encountered on board the Cordice home ship. She knew a touch of its tentacles could stun. It lashed out at She Who Waits. But the translator wasn’t stopping. She collided with the Melded and bowled it down. Its weapon skittered off the ramp and splashed into the pool.
Carmen leaped over a sweeping tentacle and stumbled as her tingling legs couldn’t keep up. They rounded a sweeping corner. But then Carmen bumped into She Who Waits, who had come to a dead stop.
“More Melded are coming,” She Who Waits said. “They have their own suit bandwidth and system of codes which I can overhear. Translating. Some of it remains encrypted. But they know you’re out and are guessing we’re going to the Cordice vessel.”
“Then we head any direction but there.”
From behind them, dancing shadows were coming their way.
She Who Waits led Carmen down one of the illuminated pathways. But the translator was a giant glow stick, and there was no way anyone following wouldn’t see them.
“Split up,” Carmen hissed. “You keep going. Get to the One.”
“I won’t be able to properly relay your requests to designate—”
“There’s no time. You can do it. I’ll distract them.” Carmen stepped off the trail and ran across the slick rock towards another path that descended downward. “Hey! I’m right here!”
The lights caught her. The Melded suits had reflecting surfaces and glowing screens, making each guard look like a neon display. The blinding weapon lights followed her. And she continued to shout as she sprinted towards the meeting pool where the Framework council had met. But from there, which way? Without her suit, she might suffocate if she ran into another curtain separating different atmospheres.
The broad round chamber echoed the footfalls of the chasing Melded grunts. She came to a junction where a bridge connected the platforms. She also had a choice of three new pathways, two leading up and one moving around the water’s edge.
A figure stepped out from the shadows beneath the bridge.
A Melded.
She recognized Ovo’s hairy face and metal arms. His green eye winked at her. Unlike her pursuers, he wasn’t carrying a weapon.
He reached for her while simultaneously flashing a half-second long animation of two stick figures running.
The others would see her at any moment. No time for a discussion. If this was a trick, she was caught. If he had a concealed firearm, she couldn’t outrun a bullet, and his arms might be lethal if he got a hold of her.
When she stepped in his direction, he grabbed her hand and yanked her beneath the bridge. Instantly the animation vanished and the lights of his gadgets went dark. He crouched and tapped something on his belt. It sent a tingle up Carmen’s spine and a grating electric sting across her teeth.
She tried to jerk away, but he held her fast and planted a firm hand on her shoulder. They huddled together.
The chasing Melded ran to the bridge and stopped above them. Lights played every which way, sweeping the platforms. They spent a silent moment at the intersection of pathways before splitting up. Each Melded vanished down one of the pat
hs. But they would be back.
Carmen slipped her hand out from Ovo’s. The off-putting tingle stopped. “What are you doing?” she hissed. “Why are you helping me?”
He tried to lead her out from under the bridge and across the shallow water. The fish scattered before him, leaving traces of ripples in every direction.
She didn’t follow. “She Who Waits is out there and in trouble because of your people.”
Again he showed the animation of the running pair, followed by another half-second animation crossing out one of the stick figure’s mouths.
Shut up and run.
Reluctantly she waded alongside him to a recessed alcove beneath one of the farther platforms. The water here drizzled down in a soft spray. She wiped her face and tasted sweat on her lips. Strained her ears. For the moment, she couldn’t hear any of her pursuers. Were they close? Right above her somewhere? She forced herself to take a deep breath.
The chamber had enough soft white noise from the water that perhaps the Melded wouldn’t hear the hammering of her heart.
Ovo adjusted the device on his belt. The electrical sensation returned, now running inside Carmen’s mouth and across her skin. It sent her arm hairs standing on end.
When he spoke, his words came in the halting voice of his translation app. “This will mask us from their audio scans. You wish to go to the Cordice ship.”
“Is that what they told you? Why did your people block all the communication signals?”
“We didn’t. The doctor—our Pro Tempore Executive—suggested it was She Who Waits.”
“It started right after you showed up. You’re the ones who came with weapons and shot one of She Who Waits’ robots.”
“Our former Primary Executive recommended we secure the vessel in case you and she were trying to make your own bid to reacquire the harvester. Were you?”
It was impossible to know if he believed the accusation. “No! I wanted She Who Waits to come with us. That was my condition. We were supposed to be going with you when your people locked us down. And She Who Waits has nothing to do with the jammed communications. Why would she do that? Now answer my question, Ovo, and don’t lie. Why are you helping me?”
He appeared to be typing, deleting, and retyping. His animations popped up but vanished before she could make out what he was trying to communicate. His throat swelled. Finally he said, “Because none of my people will listen to me. I believe there’s another intelligent race on board the Framework which caused the disruption and it might be responsible for your losing your connection to the harvester.”
Chapter Twelve
Specialist Ryan Brody’s rifle emptied after a couple seconds of continued shooting. One human lay dead. The other soldiers and medical staff had hit the floor beyond the central nurse’s station as Brody’s mind fought to understand what was happening.
Echoes of the weapon’s fire rang in his ears. It jangled the shadow’s nerves as well, and it almost released Brody before reaffirming the connection.
Shouts came from outside. The hospital doors slid open as two guards with identical rifles peeked into the room.
Brody’s radio in his suit was blaring. Someone he recognized as Staff Sergeant Taylor was calling. “What’s happening inside the hospital? Brody? Sanchez? Report!”
Specialist Brody wanted to scream for help, but the shadow wouldn’t let him. Remarkably, the human fought for control hard enough to prevent the shadow from reloading.
Motion from the front. One soldier ran from the door to brace his rifle against a corner. “Drop your weapon!”
Brody whimpered. His heart was hammering. Sweat bathed him inside his hazard suit. He could only manage a strangled cry.
The shadow let go and dropped to the floor. Keeping low, it slithered back to Barrett, who continued to cower in his bed. No time for subtleties. It grabbed him by the face and slid down around his body.
Brody raised his hands. “Nngggahhh! Don’t shoot! Don’t—”
The soldier at the corner fired. Brody went down. Both soldiers closed in, one pointing his firearm at the fallen Brody while the other pulled his weapon away. More men followed. They swept the emergency room, pointing their weapons into every corner. The survivors raised their hands. The soldiers inspected them before ordering them out the exit.
A soldier directed his rifle’s light on Barrett. “Hands. Let me see your hands.”
The shadow fought to raise Barrett’s arms as they got tangled in the sheets. But Barrett was spent and barely resisted. He was still attached to a line running from a saline bag.
“What happened in here?” the soldier asked.
The shadow couldn’t answer and prepared to assault the soldier if he got closer. But the rifle lowered. Barrett’s eyes took a moment to adjust. The reek of cordite permeated the air. More soldiers kept trickling in until the emergency room had a dozen or more humans brandishing weapons. Their voices were urgent. Beneath it all was a current of fear.
Dr. Leavitt appeared and crouched over Brody’s body. “Someone report.”
The nearest soldier stiffened inside his hazard suit. “Specialist Brody opened fire. He killed Private Sanchez and was reloading when we entered.”
“Clear this room. Get my team back in here. I want Brody up on an examination bed.” The stream of orders continued, but the shadow became distracted.
Agent Barrett, calm and clear, sent the thought: Who are you?
With so much going on, with so many spiking emotions in Barrett, and with the heady afterglow of Brody’s last moments, the shadow didn’t immediately understand that Barrett was communicating with it.
Who. Are. You? What. Are. You?
The shadow couldn’t answer in words. At first it ignored him, intent on what was happening within the emergency room as a few of the evacuated medical staff got Brody’s body onto a rolling bed. At Leavitt’s instructions, a soldier pulled back the curtains, leaving little privacy. A pair of nurses pushed the bed towards a nearby wall. More of the team brought carts with medical equipment and a light stand.
Leavitt began cutting away Brody’s suit with a pair of scissors. Other personnel crowded around, and it was impossible to see what was happening.
Barrett’s thoughts grew pointed. You did that. You controlled him and made him murder that soldier.
The shadow had Barrett shove the blanket aside and rise from the bed. But one of Barrett’s hands shot out and grabbed the railing. He almost fell.
You won’t do that with me.
The shadow pushed. The hand released the rail and Barrett rose to his feet shakily. He pulled the PICC line from his arm. The shadow stifled a cry of pain. But then Barrett’s other hand grabbed the pitcher of water from the rolling tray and threw it on himself. The shadow pushed harder and locked him down. He managed a strangled urrk! The shadow tried to walk, but they stumbled, falling against the base of the bed.
No. Tell me what you want. Why you’re here. I can help you.
The shadow tuned him out. Pushed harder. Barrett’s head throbbed with a blinding pain. Prisms flashed in his vision. The bright lights of the emergency room became painful to look at. Barrett bit down on his tongue. The act surprised the shadow. It pushed with all it had and swallowed back oozing blood that threatened to run down Barrett’s lips.
Had anyone seen? The splashed water, the near fall, and now this? But everyone’s attention was on Leavitt and her team.
I’ll cooperate. But you have to tell me what you want.
The shadow considered its options. Fleeing was always the best solution. That was what it had done for so long. Hide. Wait. Strike from the dark corners. But now time might be critical. It had allowed itself to become distracted by the humans and their overflowing feelings that poured from them in torrents.
It conjured the image of the sphere.
Barrett only took the briefest moment before understanding. I’ll get us there. No more violence. Don’t hurt any—
The shadow pushed again.
The image of the sphere grew and became a thing not only of vision but sound and smell and struck harder than the growing migraine threatening to split Barrett’s brain. If the shadow asserted itself further, the man’s fragile mind would break.
Barrett relented. Let go. Thought no more and stopped resisting. He knew where the shadow wanted him to walk, and it saw within him the urge towards self-preservation. It would work with that.
With the shadow directing Barrett, he straightened up. Saline dribbled to the floor behind them. A line of crimson ran down his arm. But there was no more wobbling, no more tantrums, no more questions.
They headed for the emergency room exit.
Chapter Thirteen
Carmen studied Ovo as if she could interpret the expressions on the alien’s face.
He looked pitiful with his normally matted hair now wet, as if he had been swimming or standing beneath one of the council chamber’s waterfalls. His artificial arms and brilliant green eye were reminders that he too had surrendered part of himself to become one of the Melded. If that was the condition for belonging to their kind, was there any going back?
He switched off the humming device he had referred to as a sound blocker and aimed his wrist across the pool. Turned the humming device back on.
“My fellow Melded remain close.”
If this was a ploy, then to what end? Why was he risking his place among his kind to help her? But one thing was certain: until Carmen could find She Who Waits, she needed a guide.
His throat swelled. “Once the way is clear, I can bring you to an unguarded airlock where we might steal a couple of space suits. From there we can connect to the Cordice home ship, bypassing the sentry who is waiting for you at their arrival platform.”
“That’s not where I want to go.”
He scrunched his face. “Your mother convinced the Pro Tempore Executive this was what you desired.”
“Oh? Why would she think that?”