by I. O. Adler
A display like Ovo’s appeared above the altar. An ellipse running across a portion of a wide sphere adjusted. Carmen guessed the sphere was Earth and the changing curve their trajectory. The ship felt like it was speeding up. The image zoomed back, confirming Carmen’s suspicions. It was a display of the shuttle’s projected path, and the path was now changing so it would begin a long swoop that would eventually climb back up into space.
Ovo continued to chitter unintelligibly from the front.
“Are you listening?” Carmen asked. “We can’t turn back. We need you and your shuttle. Where are you taking us?”
“Fuel reserves will allow us to return to the Framework.”
“No. The Cordice—all the Framework—need us to stop the Melded from taking the harvester for themselves. The One is still connected to their ship. Call the One. Ask it.”
“I am not qualified to speak with designate the One. I have not been sufficiently trained.”
Carmen tried not to let her panic sound in her voice. “You did it before. It’s what knocked you out. Don’t make it a conversation. Just send a message.”
“That would violate my training. You will want to return to your crash couch to avoid injury.”
The ship was accelerating and changing direction. Carmen crouched to hold on to the altar. Watched helplessly as the line indicating the shuttle’s plotted course now showed a flight plan that would take them past the moon.
“You told me yourself you were an apprentice,” Carmen said. “But you’ve proven you can do so much more. Talking to the One hurt you; I’m sorry that happened. It was a risk we had to take to prevent the Melded from taking what doesn’t belong to them. Your kind put you in a position to do good with the other survivors. You could try to ask any of the races of the Framework, but when we tried that earlier the communications with the Framework had been disrupted. There isn’t time for another long conversation. Can’t you trust me that catching the Melded is what they would ask of us?”
“That would presume I believe what you’re saying. And you, designate human, aren’t part of the Framework.”
The pressure on Carmen’s body forced her to sit. But she couldn’t retire to her couch. It would mean letting She Who Waits abandon their pursuit. Even speaking clearly proved difficult.
“What happened to you? Why can’t you remember me?”
The dark pink bands continued to roll through her suit’s atmosphere. “I partitioned my mind so I can resume functionality.”
“You split your mind?”
“The recent memories suffered corruption.”
“You’re not a computer, you’re a person. You know what I mean, right? There are things you have to remember. Like us working together. Can’t you access these things?”
The translator didn’t answer. Carmen’s arms were trembling from keeping herself up, but if she collapsed to the floor, she feared she might not rise again.
“If we could confirm that those on the Framework want us here without us having to speak to the One, would you help me go after the Melded?”
“As you indicated and I confirmed, communication is down. This discussion is moot. This compartment will soon fill with my requisite atmosphere so I can better assume ship functionality. You will need to return to the crash couch, as will the designate Melded, to avoid damage to your bioforms.”
Would She Who Waits actually gas them? “Ovo, come here!”
She instantly realized he wouldn’t understand her. But then a red light appeared at the top of the altar, and a croaking phrase was broadcast throughout the ship. Regardless of the state of mind She Who Waits was in, she was still committed to her job.
Ovo was standing in the doorway. “I can’t regain control of the shuttle.”
“Yeah, I know. She Who Waits is back, sort of. She’s breaking off pursuit and returning to the Framework. Ovo, your people—you called them your tribe—are part of the survivors on the Framework, aren’t they?”
He looked down at his feet. “Yes. They rejected me after my injury to preserve resources.”
“But you’re still one of them. Tell She Who Waits that you’re not Melded anymore. You’re working to stop them on behalf of the Framework. It’s what we’re both trying to do.”
His throat pulsed as if he was reluctant to speak. “But I am Melded. My original tribe disowned me.”
“But what will the Melded do to the Framework if they steal the harvester?”
“Abandon it to its fate. I wanted to help you because you were kind to me. But I won’t disavow my new family.”
Carmen suppressed the urge to shout at him even as she felt her strength continue to wane. He too was sagging as he remained in the doorway. What else was there to say? She Who Waits was taking them away from Earth. Sylvia Vincent and the Melded would claim the harvester and leave the system. And she would never see her mother again.
But then she looked up at She Who Waits. “You heard him. He’s Melded. But he’s also still part of the Framework and its survivors who you’re sworn to serve. We need your ship to take us to where they’re going. We also need you as translator. Because it’s not just the Melded we’re talking to, but my people. Will you do your job and help Ovo?”
“Designate Ovo,” She Who Waits said, “is it your wish to pursue the designate Melded frigate?”
“Yes,” Ovo said. “Yes, this is what I wish.”
She Who Waits’ colors went away, replaced by the gray patterns that Carmen believed meant she was at rest. The shuttle’s plotted path changed again. A high arc descended to Earth, intercepting the Melded vessel. A sharp series of thrusts made Carmen hang on to avoid getting slammed into the wall.
“I will remind you to take your seats,” She Who Waits said. “Our passage through Earth’s atmosphere will be bumpy.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
How big of a lead did the Melded have? Would they have hours on the ground before Carmen could arrive? And what would they do to whatever army or air force people were guarding the sphere?
Too many questions raced through Carmen’s brain as she endured the ride down. She didn’t want to think about the most obvious one: What was she supposed to do about the Melded?
Ovo reclined in the flight chair that had been prepared for Sylvia Vincent. He had said little since they had talked She Who Waits into not turning around and returning to the Framework. But if his facial fur was any sign, he was scared.
So was Carmen.
If Ovo hadn’t come for her, she would remain trapped on the harvester. The Melded would take what they came for and abandon Earth and the Framework. What had his decision cost him?
Carmen kept her head back as she spoke. “She Who Waits, are you there? We need to talk to Earth.”
The response was instant. The red light popped up next to her crash couch. She Who Waits hadn’t moved from her spot behind the altar. Carmen didn’t want to strain her neck to see if she looked normal, whatever that might mean for a Dragoman who had been talked into risking her sanity one too many times by a human to whom she owed nothing.
And then Carmen and Ovo had stolen her ship.
Two stolen spaceships were enough for one week, Carmen decided.
As Carmen stared at the light she felt a flutter of nerves in her gut. “Will they hear me? Do I just…talk?”
The translator’s response was crisp. “We are replying on the frequency they transmitted their landing instructions.”
“Hello, Earth. This is Carmen Vincent, daughter of Sylvia Vincent. I’m on board an incoming spacecraft. We received your message about Area 51. I need to talk to someone in charge. There’s a spaceship ahead of us that’s flying towards Garden Village, California. Is anyone listening?”
Was she supposed to say roger, copy, or over?
She was about to talk again when she received a response. A woman replied, her tone firm but oddly warm. “This is Golf Victor Actual. Carmen Vincent, we receive you. I’m Major Greta Leavitt. Good to hear fro
m you. We are tracking both your incoming vehicles. As we instructed your mother, Sylvia, we are prepared to receive you at Garden Village General Hospital. We understand there are operating complications with the first inbound vehicle and you have to land near the original sphere’s landing site.”
Carmen waited a beat before realizing it was her turn to talk. “I don’t know anything about complications. The incoming ship isn’t friendly. They’re coming to steal that sphere. You can’t let them.”
A harsh buzz of static blasted through the translation light, causing it to flicker.
“Hello?” Carmen asked. “Are you there?”
“Didn’t hear that last, Carmen. Your sister is okay. She’ll be glad to see you. I had my people checking with your father and assigned a medic to watch him. Your family misses you. You made it back. From what your mother said, you did an amazing job.”
“You have to listen to me. The Melded are dangerous. Their ship has weapons. Whatever they’re telling you is a lie. My mother is one of them—”
Another blast of crackling air cut her off.
“Your message isn’t coming clear,” Major Leavitt said. “If you’re hearing me, be assured that we have everything under control. Relax and get home safe. Welcome to Earth.”
“You can’t trust them!”
The sharp wave of sound made her flinch. It shut off. The light steadied.
“Our signal is being actively blocked,” She Who Waits said in a tranquil voice. It reminded Carmen of her father when he was high.
“What can we do to unblock it? They need to know what’s coming.”
Ovo swung out of his couch. “It isn’t possible with anything on this shuttle. The former Primary knows this. And now that we’ve communicated with your world, the Melded also know we’re coming, if they didn’t already.”
“She Who Waits, is there anything we can do?”
The translator didn’t respond. Was she busy piloting or had she checked out, unwilling to cooperate beyond what she was already doing? Then the red light vanished.
Had She Who Waits given up?
Carmen got up and tried to make sense of the display above the altar. New lines appeared that didn’t correspond to either their shuttle or the Melded frigate. The details of the ground they were flying over lacked geographic features and gave her no clue where they were.
“Ovo, how long before we land?”
Although the ship was now barreling through the atmosphere, Ovo wasn’t having much trouble moving. “We’ve slowed considerably and will continue to do so. If this estimate is accurate, then the frigate will make its destination fifteen minutes before we do.”
“Fifteen minutes. That’s not much time. Can we go faster? Can we catch up with them?”
“Not if we wish to stop safely. And I don’t know how much fuel we’re using. I don’t know if this shuttle is even meant to fly in atmosphere.”
Carmen bit her lip. “We haven’t crashed yet. Go faster.”
She Who Waits displayed a momentary streak of yellow. “Excess speed will risk vessel failure. Vessel failure will preclude my ability to perform my function.”
That was it. End of argument. Carmen decided not to press further. The pangs of guilt hadn’t gone away. She Who Waits would be whole if Carmen hadn’t demanded she talk again to the One.
“Keep trying to contact my people,” Carmen said.
Whatever that meant. Earth. The army. Humanity. Whoever this Major Leavitt was who had been so full of reassurances. Carmen had her fill of such promises from NASA after the disaster, and now her mother. Fifteen minutes. Or fourteen, if her mental clock was keeping track.
Too many uncertainties. At least someone was there to answer. Whatever the shadow was that had accompanied her to Earth hadn’t destroyed everything. Something else the army would have to deal with.
She was thirsty, but moving to get a drink of water would take too much energy.
Thirteen minutes.
“Ovo, why are you here?”
His response was instant. “You needed help.”
“Surely the other Melded aren’t happy you stole She Who Waits’ shuttle to rescue me. Why are you risking everything for someone you barely know?”
“I was redeemed by the Melded. Why shouldn’t I do the same for another?”
Carmen tried to read his face. “I wasn’t rejected by my people, Ovo. And you doing all this means you’re risking the Melded kicking you out, doesn’t it?”
“That doesn’t matter. Their principles are mine now, even if the former Primary ignores them. And didn’t your mother reject you by her actions?”
“I guess. But she’s not herself. And maybe if I can get her back to the Cordice, if we survive this thing, she’ll be whole again.”
“And I can help with that too.”
She decided not to press further. Was it misguided kindness? Pity? Or was Ovo pushing against his own race’s heartless rejection of him, which motivated his rescue and willingness to be ostracized yet again by his newly adopted family?
Twelve minutes. Eleven. Ten.
“Ovo? Your frigate doesn’t have missiles anymore, does it?”
“Not that I saw. We spent them after the Primary Executive’s attempt to destroy the Cordice vessel. But there are other weapons they have been working on, which I was not privy to.”
“Like what?”
The next expression took a moment to translate. “A rail gun. And fashioning new missiles isn’t difficult. I performed a cursory exploration of the computer files I had access to. It is possible to construct a nuclear warhead.”
“You have nukes? I thought you disarmed.”
His throat swelled and he sounded…cheerful? “Simple, actually. Hydrogen isotopes and an antimatter trigger. All accessible material.”
“Not for normal people,” she said. “So what kind of destruction could this cause? And would the worm actually use it?”
Would Mom use it?
She didn’t want the thought in her head. Ice ran through her veins. She could only hope Ovo was mistaken. The Melded wanted to take the harvester and wouldn’t need to wipe out all of Ross County to do that—would they?
“Too many variables,” Ovo said. “I’m a medic. None of my stored data packages cover ordnance specifics. The former Primary is resolute, as are most of us. But the devastation of such a weapon would be widespread and catastrophic.”
“Please tell me you’re not the only one of your kind who has a conscience.”
He met her gaze for a moment before pulling up several screens from his devices.
Nine minutes. Eight? Or was it less? She had lost count. She returned her attention to the ship tracker. The Melded were above their destination and arcing downward.
“Let me talk to them. She Who Waits, call the Melded. Tell them whatever they’re planning, I’ll give them the harvester. They don’t have to—”
The display of orange lines wavered. The distortion ripples caused the screen to go black for a moment before the image returned. Carmen felt a rising frustration as she tried to make sense of a new series of streaming characters.
“Communication isn’t possible at this time,” She Who Waits said.
“Why not? What happened? Tell me!”
“My readings indicate a high yield of neutrons consistent with a nuclear explosion. The epicenter of the blast was our destination.”
An iron hand grasped Carmen’s heart.
The Melded had just nuked Garden Village.
Chapter Thirty
Light, life, and what was a thousand pieces was once again whole.
The shadow didn’t react to the shifting collage of colors as it was probed, tested, and sampled. Couldn’t react at first. Couldn’t flinch. Couldn’t pull away when cut. Did everything in its power to avoid a repeat of the assault which had almost killed it.
All its instincts told it to do what it had to in order to survive. The deepest parts of its mind reminded it of its purpose. It ignor
ed them. The shadow didn’t want to suffer any more pain. Not like that.
It endured a fresh series of pinpricks, could hear voices again as those parts of its anatomy regenerated.
The human doctor, other scientists, and soldiers. Their words were meaningless. They shined bright lights. Applied electric shocks. More parts of it were sliced away and removed from the plastic and steel shell that contained it. Somehow it knew—it knew—if it moved, if it showed the smallest sign it was once again able to attempt escape, it would suffer true pain.
From what it knew of the humans, it understood that this wasn’t an execution, but science. They had encountered no extraterrestrials. It was the first. And they would want to experiment and learn what they could.
And what would they discover?
Perhaps what none of the races on the Framework knew. They might learn enough of its composition that they could design measures to discover and kill others of its brood.
What of it? It owed its brood nothing. It had never seen those beyond the Wall. None of its brood had. Service was to end in the bliss of annihilation, not pain. So why was it feeling like this?
Even as a syringe pierced its velum, it understood something was wrong.
It wasn’t pain or the fear of it. Another blast of the sonic weapon and it would surely perish. And what was suffering but a reminder that it still lived? Yet never had it contemplated not serving. Something else stirred inside of it.
After several hours, perhaps a day, the doctor came again.
An electric spark jolted the shadow. The shadow forced itself not to recoil even as its body convulsed. But it listened and felt and detected the cloying emotions emanating from the doctor, as raw and large as anything it had massaged from Agent Barrett.
Ambition. Pride. The urge to succeed at any cost, and it had cost her. The shadow felt nourished, as if it had found water after suffering a prolonged period of dehydration.
Too quickly, the doctor departed. And it was then that the shadow knew its newfound yearning wouldn’t be satisfied until it had more.