by I. O. Adler
Something about the One’s words kept rolling through her tired mind. This creature, which had been dismissive of every other race, now wanted to call humans allies? But it also considered the enemy to be real. Which meant all the trouble that had come humanity’s way was only the beginning.
Chapter Forty-Three
She found Jenna where she had left her. Her body was limp and cold, her lips blue, her eyes half-open.
Carmen kneeled next to her. Her mother joined her. There they stayed for a while.
More Melded came and went, and not just Ovo and the worm. Their ship must have docked, but Carmen hadn’t noticed.
Finally Sylvia said, “It’s time to go. I’ll have her taken to the One’s ship.”
“And then what? Are you going to strong-arm me to make me be your harvester pilot?”
“No, honey. The encryption has been scrambled and reset. Jenna must have done it before she died. It was a subroutine which was part of the emergency procedures. No doubt she found it when she activated the alarms.”
“Jen did that?”
“You girls were always so bright. You get your wish. It means the Cordice will have their ship back.”
Carmen wiped her eyes. Heard the worm somewhere barking orders. “So we need to send a message to the Cordice.”
“I’ve taken care of it. She Who Waits is on board with the One. But we shouldn’t linger. The shadow is dying. The One’s probes did their job. I had Ovo switch them off so we don’t get sick from the sound waves. We know where the shadow is and it isn’t moving. But it’s not a good idea to see if it has any last surprises.”
“If it hadn’t been there at the hospital, you would have stolen the harvester.”
“If the shadow and its kind hadn’t attacked the survivors, we wouldn’t have needed to. This is the fight.”
“Stop. I can’t…I can’t handle another recruitment speech. I take it you’re not coming home. You’re going to stay up here with your…your people. They’re your family now. But they’re not mine. I need to bring Jenna home. I’m going to look after the boys and Dad.”
Her mother kissed her and embraced her. There were no more words. She helped Carmen stand.
Carmen felt utterly drained. Spaceships. Aliens. Shadow monsters who tried to drink her soul. What would she tell anyone? What would she tell Zach and Landon?
Just trying to think what her next few days might hold made her dizzy. She couldn’t bear to look at Jenna anymore. The interior of the control room felt claustrophobic. Her stomach rumbled and her throat was parched. She hated the weight of her space suit. She wanted to get the last trip down to her planet over with so she could be back with what remained of her family, so they could mourn.
She almost kicked the robot. It remained against the back wall. She wouldn’t leave the room until they could take Jenna’s body away. Wouldn’t abandon her sister. She paced. But then she froze and looked again at the spindlebot.
When she had last seen it, it had been knocked over.
Some automatic subsystem, no doubt. Stupid spaceship. It couldn’t be bothered to have a routine to expel invading shadow monsters, but it could somehow see its way clear to stand a robot upright when it fell.
She chuckled and felt guilty for allowing herself a moment of levity.
The bot’s head lit up. Jenna’s face looked down at her. “Car, you’re here.”
Carmen approached the bot with her hand outstretched. If she moved too quickly, her sister’s image might vanish. “How is this possible?”
The spindlebot examined its hands, then took a step forward. “It’s like before, just different. It got fuzzy there for a moment. You were shouting, the alarms were going off, then I lost track of time. I waited for you to come get me and then—oh. Oh, no.”
The bot stepped past her and craned over her own fallen body. “What does this mean?”
Sylvia Vincent came up behind them and took her daughter’s metal hand. “It means you’re still alive. It’s the Cordice software. It backed you up.”
“What happened to me?”
“It was the One,” Carmen said. “It did it. It crushed the couch you were lying in.”
“No. No, no, no. How do I get back? How do I go back inside my body?”
“You can’t. Unless the Cordice or Melded have something I don’t know about.”
Sylvia guided the bot towards the hallway. “If we had gotten here sooner, we might have been able to save you. But Carmen’s right; your body is too far gone. But your life isn’t over. You have the simulation, once we get the Cordice home ship back online.”
“I don’t want a simulation. I want to go back home and back to my boys…”
“We’re going to figure this out. Carmen will help you. It may seem impossible now, but you need to realize you’re still you. You’re alive. You have us here. Do you believe me, honey?”
Carmen followed them towards the airlock of the One’s ship. She could barely believe what she was seeing and hearing. Her sister was alive. Not a recording, not a sim, but her consciousness, mind, or soul preserved within the circuits of the spindlebot. It begged too many questions, and only the Cordice would have the answers. She felt a hopeful stirring within her as her mother continued to speak in soothing tones to her eldest daughter. Despite the horror of seeing her sister die, Jenna now lived. And their mom might be once again invested enough that she would go with them.
But to where?
They had to return to Earth. Jenna’s family was waiting. But now she was linked to the Cordice. She Who Waits would need to establish communication. There was too much to do. Yet somehow, with their mother’s help, it would be okay.
Ovo and Four Arms caught up with them. They had Jenna’s body on a stretcher.
After the airlock cycled, Sylvia led them to an empty compartment on board the One’s ship. “We’re going to speak with the Cordice. I’m checking with our doctor. If there’s anything to be done, we’ll find it. Try to rest. Your body may not get tired, but you’ve been through an ordeal. We’ll be here.”
The Jenna bot closed her eyes. Carmen felt helpless and didn’t know how she might comfort her.
“Stay with her,” Sylvia said. “I was in her shoes when I woke up inside the simulation. It takes time.”
“Where are you going?”
“To get my crew off the harvester. I don’t want to risk anyone else until we confirm the shadow is actually dead.”
Sylvia joined the other two Melded at the airlock, but she stopped Ovo. Gestured. Ovo stepped back, apparently ordered to stay behind. The airlock shushed closed.
“You were upset earlier,” Carmen said. “Can you tell me what happened? Are you okay?”
He was absently touching his arm device. “I don’t know. I’ve been allowed access to the ship chat, but I sense everyone being evasive. It’s as if they have another chat channel and I’m not allowed to see it on our interface.”
“It’s the worm. It’s still calling the shots. All this ‘former Primary’ business isn’t real, is it?”
“I don’t think so. I believe it’s your mother. I’ve been with them both, and the worm defers to her.”
Carmen peered through the airlock to catch a last glimpse of her mom. Couldn’t see her. The door to the sphere was likewise closed. Then a cloud of black dust erupted outside, obscuring everything. As the bank of debris scattered, a gap between the One’s ship and the harvester became visible.
“Mom, what happened? Are you there?”
No answer came. She pressed her eyes to the viewing window. The dark shape of the harvester appeared to be drifting away.
“Ovo, can you reach her? Can you reach any of them? Call the doctor. Call the worm.”
“I’m trying. They’re not responding. They’ve once again excluded me from our network.”
“She can’t. Not again. Not after everything that’s happened.”
The Jenna bot stepped into the corridor. “Where’s Mother?”
Carmen want
ed to sag against the wall. But she gathered herself to face her sister. “She left us.”
Her sister stared as if the words had no meaning.
Carmen led her back into the room. “I’ll handle this. We got them back once. They can’t steal the ship. The One won’t let them. Just…wait here.”
From across the ship she could hear the One. It groaned in its multiple voices. But it wasn’t rage. Something about the sound was feeble and pitiable, like an old man, or several of them, crying out in agony.
Carmen found She Who Waits standing with the One. Somehow she had been brought on board and she was alive and functioning, her swirls a healthy shade of bright gray.
A dozen translation lights floated around them. Some of the garbled language choking the air was her replies being delivered simultaneously through the various lights. It was a traffic jam of phrases and words. Carmen’s own red light wasn’t letting her in on what was being said. And any reluctance or fear She Who Waits had previously experienced in enduring the One’s communications seemed to be gone.
They both stopped talking at once.
“Enter,” the One ordered. “I need to speak with you.”
“And I need to talk to you. The Melded just disconnected the harvester. They won’t answer. We have to go after them.”
“I know what happened.” A screen appeared on the wall. An image of the ships showed the harvester inching away from the One’s vessel. A portion of the harvester was missing. “They destroyed the command sphere.”
“I didn’t hear an explosion.”
“The Melded accessed a self-destruct function. The currently configured control sphere was atomized along with the remains of the shadow creature.”
The harvester began changing. The spheres moved apart and lined up into twin chains, with the reactor portion remaining at the rear. Each part of the harvester then fused together into its new form.
“They haven’t gone far. Why isn’t your ship moving? Hey! Are you listening?”
The dozen translation lights all blinked in distinct patterns. She Who Waits churned yellow and in diamond patterns as a series of verbal exchanges between her and the One began. It was like listening to a roomful of conversations, where one would have been hard enough for Carmen to understand.
“The One wishes to know who is aboard his ship,” She Who Waits said.
“We don’t have time for introductions. Doesn’t he have sensors?”
“It’s important, Carmen Vincent,” the One said brusquely.
“Okay. I’m sorry. My sister’s alive and controlling a harvester robot. We brought her on board.”
“And what is your intention with her?”
Carmen watched the screen. The harvester was moving. Would this mean another chase?
“I need to talk to Earth and get her back there,” Carmen said. “But I have to speak with the Cordice, too. The harvester might have uploaded part of her mind to them if their communications are back online. If there’s anything you can do for her—”
“Enough,” the One said. “You’ve answered my question. There is nothing to be done for your sister. My sensors show her physical body has suffered a complete shutdown of its central nervous system. The parts of her which have uploaded will be all that remains.”
“How did you do all of that so quickly?”
“An explanation would waste time. Stop talking and listen, Carmen Vincent. Even now the Melded are laying out a trajectory which appears to be taking them away from both your world and the Framework.”
“Then we have to stop them.”
“Do not interrupt. The Melded have access to the harvester’s command-and-control functionality. With the sphere which held the command functions destroyed and with your sister’s actions, the encryption is gone. The Melded own the ship now. The others of the Framework who shared the Melded’s desire to fight the enemy will doubtlessly join them, leaving the rest to fend for themselves. This last group includes my person, you, and those aboard this ship. It also includes your world.”
Carmen felt a dark rage building. Her mom’s cycle of promises. Lies after lies. And she had believed her at every turn. “Open a channel. Let me talk to her.”
“No. I’ve made my decision. They are playing their part. Perhaps they might discover something in their quest for war which untold thousands of races before them have failed to do. And I don’t have the strength to fight. I’m dying.”
She searched the dozen eyes for any sign the One might be joking. But then she saw most of the eyes had closed and more than a few of the mouths had tongues dangling, as if the creature was suffering from intense thirst. Dried foam crusted the lips.
The One took in a deep breath before sagging. “When the shadow took over my mind and I seized the sphere, I suffered too great an injury. Your mourning is palpable and expected. Yes, even I can perish.”
“If the Melded take the harvester, what does that mean for Earth? And everyone on the Framework?”
“The Melded have set their minds to leaving. Impeding them was a mistake and a waste of time and resources. While losing the Cordice’s magnum opus of a spaceship will be a setback, without the Melded’s interference and machinations, the Framework can survive. The purpose of this audience is that I’m giving my vessel to you and to the translator She Who Waits.”
Carmen didn’t know what to say. “Your ship? What are we supposed to do with it?”
“It’s not just this vessel but all of my assets. My race possesses starship designs which outstrip those of the Cordice. All my records will belong to the two of you. You and She Who Waits alone have demonstrated you are worthy to be more than the other fractions-less-than-one. And this will conclude my obligations as far as redress.”
“For what?”
“The damage to your planet. The shadows’ destruction of the star chasers caused it. And the two of you have proven yourselves capable of withstanding the shadow’s attack. So to you I pass on our wisdom and our ship designs. You are to be counted as close to one. And you stand the best chance to survive.”
Chapter Forty-Four
Furniture. Carmen needed furniture. The bare ship had nowhere to sit, and the floor was too hard. Her back ached, as did her legs, arms, jaw, and every muscle in between.
She Who Waits remained with the One. He was droning on in a dozen voices and making more body sounds. If the alien was dying, it wasn’t fast. The single translation light continued to follow Carmen as she toured the One’s vessel, although She Who Waits ignored her every time she asked her something.
Carmen didn’t believe for a moment the One was actually giving its spaceship to her, but at least she could look around. Much like the harvester, each compartment appeared empty, as if anything a passenger might need was tucked away out of sight and would be summoned by request, or else conjured by whatever printing medium the ship used.
She had to dismiss the notions that such things were magic. It was just same-day delivery, only faster and made to order.
Chairs. Crash couches for when they got underway. A bathroom. Food. Water. She wanted them now. Then she could try to make sense of her and Jenna’s situation. Jenna stood where Carmen had left her. Every time she checked on her, her sister said she was fine, which only made Carmen worry more.
Ovo fell in behind her. “She Who Waits sent me a device plugin. All actions will require her or your authorization. I can access ship controls or show you how. We can set up a command center and control room.”
“Is there anything we can do to make my sister more comfortable?”
“You would have to ask her. She remains in place. Her artificial body is resilient and won’t require the accommodations we will.”
We. His newly adopted people had once again rejected him, and this time for good. Carmen hadn’t taken the time to even think about what his presence meant, but she was glad he was with them and not the Melded.
“Ovo, you understand that what my mother, the worm, and the Melded did
was wrong. Not just in stealing the harvester, but lying to me and kicking you out of their family. While some humans act that way, I don’t.”
“I will find a place once we return to the Framework,” he said uncertainly.
“You have a place here. I need you. Even if you didn’t have the controls to this ship at your fingertips, you stood by me and my sister. Thank you.”
His throat pulsed a few times. Finally he looked down at his device and produced a blue display of menus. “I can select what you need here.”
“Go ahead. You have my permission if that’s what you’re waiting on. And you’ll have to make quarters for yourself as well. I don’t know what you eat or what else you might need. Assuming you want to stay here instead of finding another home once we return to the Framework.”
His fingers were a flurry of motion. Finally, he paused. “I’d like to stay. I appreciate your kindness.”
“It’s what my father and mother taught me,” she said with a smile. “I’ll need other things when you have a chance. A way to control the ship. A place to sit. And a radio so I can talk to Earth. I imagine there’s a lot of people wondering what happened.”
The process wasn’t as smooth as it had been on board the harvester. Ship components went to work, the walls clicking and hidden machinery humming. A console dropped from the ceiling. The room now had a suite of crash couches, a table, and a fixed long seat next to it that looked similar to a park bench: stiff, utilitarian, and uncomfortable.
Room for improvement, surely. Was there a way to print pillows and blankets? But at least with a place to be once they started moving, she could focus on what needed to be done next.
Ovo perched himself on top of the bench’s back. The sight of the gangly Melded sitting there reminded her of how as a teenager she and her friends would wait for the bus, before any of them had gotten their hands on a car. But it was all about spaceships now.
New wall screens appeared as he tapped away on his device. “I have accessed communications. The system will hear you when you’re ready to send your message. Just speak.”
She felt her mouth go dry. A fresh case of nerves reminded her of every time she had to talk to a doctor on her father’s behalf, knowing she was going to hear bad news. The Framework needed to learn they had lost the harvester. Earth had to know about everything: the shadows, the enemy, the Melded, and Sylvia Vincent’s deception.