by I. O. Adler
Carmen whispered, “You’re eavesdropping?”
“Yes. Designate former Primary Executive is currently upset.”
“Some things don’t change. What’s going on?”
“Earth’s reply. They haven’t responded to any inquiries from the Melded. And their message is succinct: ‘Greetings and peace to our incoming visitors. Please land at the indicated coordinates.’ I have a visual of a geographic grid.”
The display showed a map of the globe that centered on North America. As the view zoomed in on the western half of the United States, it descended into Nevada to a single blinking point.
“That’s not Garden Village,” Carmen said. “We’re supposed to be going to where I left the sphere.”
“My geographic data files report that this site is called Homey Airport. It is part of designate Nevada Test and Training Range A, and is commonly referred to as Area 51.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Carmen had heard of Area 51. Wasn’t it an air force base in Nevada where they tested secret aircraft and where supposedly they took captured aliens and any crashed ships? Had the army or Men in Black already moved the harvester sphere? And what about Jenna?
It was all pointless speculation until she could talk to someone on the ground. And as long as their shuttle remained muted, that wouldn’t be possible. Mom and the worm weren’t sharing what they were planning, but Carmen guessed it wouldn’t be good for human-alien relations. If they swooped in to steal the sphere with guns blazing, it would mean the Melded were intent on burning down any possible allegiance with Earth to get what they wanted.
Her stomach ached. “Hello to the Cordice operator. What is the status of Sylvia Vincent within your sim? What does it mean that you’ve archived the simulation? Can she be allowed to speak?”
Carmen tried to imagine the amount of data that went into their artificial universe and how much memory each individual Cordice might take up. Was their archive a low-power mode or was it some form of backup? She had the grim image of flash drives or cloud storage and realized she had no point of reference for the amount of information the Cordice were handling. And their computers were failing.
She chewed her thumb as she thought. “She Who Waits? We can send and receive the Cordice transmissions, can’t we? Is there any reason we can’t use them to talk to the One?”
“I can bounce a signal if designate Cordice operator allows it. It will double the time delay.”
“Do it. Tell the One what’s happening. Let it know the Melded are blocking our communication.”
Again she looked at her mother, but Sylvia Vincent hadn’t stirred. With nothing but the red lights shining above the altar, she had no way of knowing how long it was taking. She began curling a strand of hair around a finger, nibbled on a jagged corner of thumbnail, stood, and paced.
Her feet felt as if they were swelling. At first she thought it was her imagination, but every move grew harder. Her limbs had become heavy.
“Answer, answer, answer,” she whispered.
How many minutes had it been? She had lost track. The fuzz in her brain had only worsened.
She Who Waits spoke crisply through one of the red lights. “The Melded have signaled us they will begin performing maneuvers for our eventual deceleration. You will want to return to the couch.”
“Did bouncing the message work? Any reply from the One?”
“Negative.”
The shuttle lurched. She grabbed a wall as the vessel began to turn. While she wanted to stay close to the altar, she knew it was time to return to the couch. It felt as if the shuttle was moving end over end. A sudden stab of reverse g’s almost made her fly across the hold, but she gripped the couch and climbed inside and hung on for dear life.
She strained her ears. A thrum of vibrations rolled through the vessel. A distant pulsing cadence built up in her ears, as if the surrounding air was being squeezed. She felt herself fading. She fought it as long as she could but finally succumbed to darkness.
When she came to, she had crust on her eyes. She tentatively raised her head. If the Melded had made the turn for a deceleration burn, the worst must have been over, as the pull to the shuttle floor felt approximately normal.
Both red lights remained above the altar.
Her mother emerged from the airlock. She carried a plastic case in both hands. The bug doctor—the primary executive pro tem, she corrected herself—trailed after her.
Carmen rose and would have stood, but a wave of dizziness struck her.
Her mom rushed over. “Easy, honey. We just finished a hard few hours. Lie back down.”
The doctor skittered up next to Sylvia. He consulted a device on his arm before producing what might have been a thermometer or voltage meter and reaching for Carmen.
She kicked at him. The bug sprang back, clicked his mandibles, and cocked his head back and forth a few times as if looking between her and her mom.
She kept her foot poised and ready to punt. “Keep him away from me.”
Her mom relieved the doctor of the probe and examined it. “He was just going to check your vitals, that’s all. You’re probably dehydrated. But it’s more important that we check for anything like blood clots or other abnormalities. Will you let me do this?”
“No. Give me some space.” She tried to gain her bearings. “Where’s She Who Waits?”
“Still in the front of the shuttle. She hasn’t come out.”
Both red lights remained floating on the altar. Had either the Cordice or the One replied to her messages? She Who Waits would know.
Carmen got up. “I want you to leave.”
The bug retreated behind Sylvia.
“Honey, it’s just a medical check. It’s nothing that will hurt you. The doctor and our software can find any problem before it becomes a life-threatening emergency. If he finds anything he’ll let you know.”
She searched her mom’s face for any tells that she was lying. “If you want to check on me, send in Ovo.”
“He can’t come. He’s recovering from surgery.”
“You were operating on him while we were moving?”
“The nanobots were. He had damaged components on his implants from whatever attacked him. I can bring you to him if you’d like.”
It would mean boarding the Melded ship. Carmen weighed whether her mom was being polite or if they were building up to jumping her. If blocking communications was the first step in the Melded’s attempt to seize the harvester, what else would follow? Carmen realized she could do little to stop them. It was only her relationship with her mother that had gotten her this far. If Sylvia Vincent was nothing more than a Melded puppet, there would be no reason to bother with the pretense.
Carmen had believed they needed She Who Waits, but if they had the means to capture the harvester, they might proceed with their plans without her. With Sylvia Vincent on their side, they could talk to Earth.
The One remained the variable. The Melded feared him and he was along for the ride, assuming his ship remained docked on the opposite side of the frigate and the Melded hadn’t dislodged it.
Had he received the message?
“I need time to think,” Carmen said. “Please go.”
Sylvia glanced at the doctor. Without a word, he headed for the airlock. “I’ll check back soon. I don’t want to alarm you, but getting checked out is important. You’re not built for this kind of travel and we’re going to do another burn soon.”
The airlock door slid silently closed.
Carmen was once again alone. Her hoodie was dry. She pulled it on.
“Did you hear any of that?” Carmen asked.
When she didn’t get a reply, she went to the door separating the front of the shuttle. “Did the One or the Cordice answer? Hello? She Who Waits, are you still there?”
Both red lights on the altar winked out. Carmen waited a moment, but when nothing happened, she pounded on the door. No answer. Then she started banging as loud as she could.
The door slid open.
A thick bed of mist rolled about at knee level. It smelled of compost and damp soil and reminded Carmen of hiking the hills of Ross County after a rainstorm. She Who Waits stood at the front of the narrow chamber in the center of a floating ring of smooth metal. But her shell was dark and empty of its sandy atmosphere.
Something in the air tingled in her throat and made her sinuses ache. She pulled the front of her hoodie against her mouth and nose. “Are you there?”
She waded forward, cutting a path through the fog. Her foot touched something soft. Holding her breath, she crouched down and touched a slimy tentacle. The limb was mushy and cool like a soggy washcloth and it slowly curled around Carmen’s wrist.
“What happened to you? How can I help?”
The act of speaking caused her to cough. Her eyes stung and she began to tear up. She tried not to inhale as she felt along with her hands until she came to the thicker part of She Who Waits’ body and scooped her up. She was as light as a small child. More tentacles brushed Carmen’s hands and arms. When Carmen had helped her after the worm’s bomb destroyed her shell, She Who Waits had been a sickly pale, but now her color was a rich green.
When Carmen carried her to her shell, the tentacles reached for a previously unseen opening. Carmen let go as the alien translator pulled away and climbed into the suit. The suit glowed as the churning sands returned. A storm of diamond patterns erupted but vanished just as quickly.
“Can you talk—” Carmen tried to say but began gagging. She shook her head, tried to blink her eyes clear. But the air in the room threatened to overwhelm her. The scratching in her mouth and throat was too much, and she realized she was going to pass out.
She made it to the rear hold before she felt safe enough to suck in a lungful of air. Spat a few times. Curls of mist made it to the doorway but dissolved, as if the rear shuttle bay had its own invisible layer of air preventing the other atmosphere from intruding.
She Who Waits emerged, appearing as if everything was normal, as normal as could be for a ceiling-high pillar of glass piloted by a tentacled alien who lived in a swirling sandstorm.
“I did not require aid, designate Carmen Vincent. You should not have risked yourself entering the forward compartment without a suit helmet.”
Carmen let out a series of dry hacks. “You were gone for hours.”
“Yes. You asked for me to communicate both with the Cordice and with the One. I did both. The Cordice operator’s reply was only repeating what it said during its second communication. But then your suggestion of using their com system as a relay bore fruit. I spoke with designate the One.”
“And?”
“The conversation proved overwhelming. I had to disconnect myself to recover. After I shared your suspicion with the One it was like I opened a conversation with a hundred minds all screaming in more tongues than I could bear. I was unprepared.”
“What did the One say?”
She Who Waits took a moment as she flashed bands of yellow. “I am still processing which message is the primary one. But my understanding of the One’s tone is certain. It’s furious, and its last message says it is going to tear the Melded’s ship apart.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
“Can you call the One again?” Carmen asked. “You have to tell him not to attack the Melded!”
She immediately understood what she was asking. Contact with the overbearing alien had caused the translator to suffer a minor breakdown. But what other choice was there? If the One damaged the frigate, they would all be in trouble. Retrieving the harvester and making it to Earth might be out of the question, and their survival could be at stake.
“The delay will prove troublesome,” She Who Waits said. “I will attempt to make contact. I am also listening to the Melded. They are agitated and have suffered a breach of the airlock connecting the One’s vessel to theirs. Apparently they attempted to detach the ship.”
Carmen went to put her suit on. But even as she pulled her arms into the snug sleeves, Ovo entered their airlock. His green eye peered through the viewing window.
“Stay there,” Carmen said. “I’m coming to you. She Who Waits, can you translate for me once I get out the airlock?”
“Yes, using your suit. But I need to replicate a new drone for superior mobile translation assistance. It would be easier if designate Ovo came inside my shuttle.”
“No. We’re done letting them overhear what we’re doing.”
A faint boom reverberated through the hull like the echo of distant thunder. If the One was indeed assaulting the Melded, it meant their frigate wouldn’t last long.
Carmen stepped through the hatch and joined Ovo. Once the airlock sealed, the opposite door slid open. A red light popped up next to her.
“Let me guess,” Carmen said, “My mom sent you and you’re being attacked by an angry blob with a hundred mouths and very large teeth.”
Ovo’s fur was flat. “It’s not funny. It means to destroy our ship.”
“I heard. That must be it now.”
With the double hatchway to the Melded ship open, the sounds of carnage carried. Rending metal. Screams. The fup-fup-fup of the Melded firearms. And above it all, the mad chorus of shouting that was the One venting its rage. If the Melded defenses were doing anything to prevent the One’s intrusion, Carmen couldn’t tell.
“The former Primary…” Ovo stammered. “The worm requests you to tell the One to stop his attack.”
“Why? Why would I do that? Your people can’t operate on good faith. You’ve blocked our communication, have basically kidnapped us, and now you’re upset that you got caught trying to screw the Framework a second time? Why should I or She Who Waits do anything to help you?”
A boom made them both flinch. But Carmen tried to regain her composure and not let her own fear show as she faced Ovo down.
He fidgeted. “We will restore communications.”
“She Who Waits will be able to talk to Earth? And the One? And anyone else she wants to without having to ask permission?”
He appeared pained as he consulted his wrist screen. “I’ve confirmed that communications are no longer jammed. Please relay this information to the One.”
“She Who Waits, can you do that?” A second red light appeared. Carmen waited a beat before adding, “You can talk to it again, can’t you?”
“I would prefer to simply translate. I have been granted access to designate Melded’s ship intercom.”
What had happened to the translator when she had engaged with the One? Was she now afraid? But there wasn’t time. They needed the Melded to be their ride.
“Hello, the One. This is Carmen Vincent. I’m on board She Who Waits’ shuttle. We once again have access to communications. The Melded have disabled their jamming device. Can you hear me?”
The cacophony of shouts from inside the vessel went quiet.
“This is Carmen Vincent—”
“We heard you,” a rich, deep voice said. “There is no need for repetition.”
There followed the echoing whispers of other voices at the edges of Carmen’s hearing. It was as if they were speaking to her from just outside the airlock. She tried to ignore the sounds but they made her shiver.
“You’ll stop fighting them?” she asked. “We need them and their ship to make it to Earth and get us the harvester.”
“It would be simpler to destroy all the Melded to prevent further acts of treachery.”
Ovo visibly shrank.
“They’re not all bad,” Carmen said. “And while I’m not part of the Framework council, I understand it’s a group decision to enact any kind of punishment.”
“You are correct; you are not part of the council. I will withdraw to my ship. But this is the last time the Melded will be permitted to risk our life.”
“I think they got the message. But we need to talk about what happened outside your ship. The intruder—”
The second red light winked out.
Had the One ended their conversation? Then the other red light vanished.
Ovo let loose with a series of croaks which didn’t translate. He fussed with his device, no doubt trying to communicate, but Carmen wasn’t waiting on him. She shut the airlock door with Ovo still inside with her and waited impatiently as the door to the shuttle opened.
“Where are you?” she cried as she ran into the cargo bay.
She Who Waits stood beside the altar. Her sands had gone all black.
Carmen rushed to her side. Touched her shell. “What happened? Are you okay?”
The dark currents within the translator’s suit eddied about like tar.
“Open up. Let me get you out of there. Let me help.”
Ovo had come up behind her. “She is sick,” his makeshift translation voice said.
“Yeah, I know. It’s something about talking to the One.”
“I have summoned our doctor.”
Carmen almost vetoed the idea. After what had just transpired, did she want the Melded back inside the shuttle? With Ovo present, they surely already knew what had happened to She Who Waits. And Carmen couldn’t help but wonder if this was some new act of aggression on the Melded’s part.
She pressed along the sides of the suit, unable to detect a seam or latch or door. When she pushed, she couldn’t move the Dragoman. It was as if She Who Waits were rooted in place.
Her mother entered the shuttle a minute later with the doctor scurrying behind her. The doctor wasted no time in clambering over the altar and dropping next to She Who Waits. Out came the floating displays. The doctor probed and inspected the shell, but either couldn’t or didn’t want to breach it.
A series of clicks from the little bug did nothing for Carmen’s confidence.
“Does he know what he’s doing?”
“He has access to all of our archives, which are extensive,” Sylvia said. “But the Dragomen have never been ones to share much about themselves.”
“I take it there are no Dragomen Melded.”
Her mother paced. She was giving Carmen a hard look. “You could have cost us our ship with your stunt.”