Echoes of Esharam

by Robert Davies

  She pulled him close and said, “Destroy this place, Darrien. If I don’t survive, promise me you’ll leave no trace.”

  “You’re going to be fine, do you hear?”

  “Promise me,” she said, holding tightly to his hand.

  He kept his palm to her forehead, stroking it gently with his thumb.

  “We’ll do it together.”

  Banen nudged Norris from the table, hurrying to begin the process of extracting blood and tissue samples to analyze and identify any changes in her body’s chemistry. Rantara was in no immediate danger, he said, but the tiny projectiles lodged within had become a priority. Hesset saw Banen’s frustration and she pulled Norris to wait with her and Theriani against a bulkhead to keep him clear. After twenty minutes, Rantara was stable and Theriani went quickly to the command station to take the ship’s controls. When the machine’s lift engines thrummed to life, she eased it upward from the compound to a hover at 300 meters as Norris waited behind the command chair.

  “Anyone moving into the system yet?”

  “No contacts, Darrien; the other Merchants not make the way to us yet.”

  “You know what to do.”

  Theriani nodded and opened an optical link to the ship’s weapons array. In seconds, twelve, high-yield plasma rounds sped in quick succession from their launch tubes. When the shimmering blobs reached their target below, the night sky was lit up in brilliant flashes of blue as powerful shockwaves pushed the ship violently upward until it settled and regained its hover. On the surface, a billowing mushroom cloud of smoke and dust rose high into the air, curving over at last to wander south on the cold, gathering wind. Only the scattered and charred foundations of the facility’s outbuildings remained, each surrounding a deep crater engulfed in swirling flames where the archive had been. Without a word, she tapped in the final command and the ship’s navigation computers engaged, speeding them through the atmosphere and into the black of space once more.

  THE SHIP TRANSITIONED through the Hyperthread entry gate and as it found its center within the tunnel’s dazzling light show, Norris stood outside the examination compartment, pacing while Banen completed his diagnosis. At last, he emerged, gathering the others.

  “Onallin remains stable, and I have successfully treated the injuries she sustained as a result of the explosive devices inside the barracks, but…”

  “Is she going to be okay, Doc?” Norris asked quickly.

  “I am not certain, Darrien. There is no longer a risk of infection, and her life signs are strong, but the small projectiles fired into her body must be removed.”

  “You can do that, right? This looks like a pretty good little hospital.”

  “Yes,” Banen replied, “I have all I need to perform the extraction procedure, but their purpose is troubling.”

  “What are they, Doc?”

  “The projectiles themselves may not be the problem, Darrien; they are simply not big enough, nor were they delivered with sufficient kinetic energy to cause any significant damage.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “The projectiles are hollow, and I believe they were intended only as delivery mechanisms for a poison or neurotoxin. I have heard of this weapon from my time as a battlefield surgeon, but the computer’s chemical analysis shows no foreign compounds, other than residue from the explosives’ blast.”

  Norris looked at the display, though none of the Anashi characters translated from Khorran held any meaning. Banen called up a magnified image of one projectile, filling the display screen as if viewed through a microscope.

  “As you can see, each projectile is thicker at its tip, with slender stabilizing fins at the opposite end.”

  “Like a dart, or an arrow,” Norris observed.

  Banen nodded and said, “Clearly, the intended effect was a clean entry, with no parabolic or tumbling action to slow the projectile and prevent it from penetrating well beneath the skin. Her armor stopped most of them, but others found the exposed skin of her face and neck, penetrating through the dermal layers easily.”

  “What’s our next step, Doc?” Norris asked.

  Banen pointed to another computer display.

  “Unfortunately, there is little more we can do. Onallin is stable for the moment and I have sedated her so she will not experience any pain or discomfort while the analyzing software does its work, but until it can identify a foreign material, we are forced to wait.”

  Norris looked at her for a moment, pulled between the competing emotions of dread at what happened to her and the hope Banen’s diagnosis had brought. She was in the best possible care, but the wait he described was only beginning.

  Banen smiled and said, “You should rest now, Darrien. You have endured a significant shock yourself today, and I have no way of knowing how long it will be until we understand precisely what we’re dealing with.”

  Norris shook his head.

  “I’m staying here; there’s no chance I could sleep right now, anyway.”

  Banen patted his shoulder and said, “I understand. You can lay down on one of the other examination tables to rest, if you like.”

  Norris nodded and said, “Thank you, Banen; just do whatever it takes to get her back to normal, all right?”

  Hesset and Theriani went forward to the command station while Banen returned to his analysis in the medical bay’s small administrative alcove. Norris waited a while, watching Rantara where she slept. He leaned close, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead.

  “We’ll get this figured out,” he whispered. “I’ll be right here.”

  WHILE BANEN PULLED the tiny needles from Rantara’s face and neck, it took the analyzing software less than an hour before the answer finally arrived. He nudged Norris gently from a fitful nap and called for Hesset and Theriani. When they arrived, Banen gathered them around a display screen.

  “I have successfully extracted the projectiles from Onallin’s body and treated the puncture wounds to prevent infection. The initial analysis found no toxins in her system, but a detailed scan has identified what appears to be the purpose of this weapon’s configuration.”

  Norris swallowed hard and said, “Let’s hear it.”

  “In the simplest terms, the projectiles were indeed a vector for introducing into Onallin’s bloodstream a foreign agent, but this one is not a poison. Instead, they have brought with them at least ten thousand Velaspheres and most of them are now imbedded in her tissues.”

  “Velaspheres?” Norris asked quickly.

  “Tiny machines first developed fifty years ago by the famed Khorran scientist, Guldram Vela. They are routinely deployed inside a patient’s circulatory system to find and repair an injury or damage at the cellular level, but given the nature of this system, it is reasonable to conclude these examples were intended to kill.”

  Banen’s words cut through them like a sudden, electric shock.

  “My people have been perfecting a design similar to this,” Norris said, “but they haven’t been weaponized.”

  “Velaspheres are common medical tools now, but I have not heard of anything operating in such a way,” Hesset added. “The more important question is how to stop them.”

  Banen moved them to another display and on it, an enlarged image of a single test subject transferred from the scanners.

  “I removed some Velaspheres lodged in the subdural tissue of Onallin’s neck and placed them into a suspension medium to isolate and examine their configuration and characteristics.”

  “What did you find?” Norris asked.

  “Some of the samples were analyzed to establish construction material, but others were subjected to various intrusion methods in order to discover their failure point. This medical bay’s sterilization chamber was serviceable for this purpose, but we must determine more than merely the parameters of each Velasphere’s tolerance to attack.”

  “Go ahead, Doc.”

  “It was surprising, but I found the Velaspheres are temporarily dormant; they will
not remain so for long, but this weapon seems to have been designed as a timed-release mechanism, reacting after a lengthy exposure to a victim’s blood chemistry before beginning their assigned tasks.”

  “Timed release?” Norris asked.

  “Yes. I have never encountered one personally, but I knew of their existence from a colleague in the Revallan Defense Force’s medical corps—a friend of Theriani’s family. I believe the weapon’s designers may have used this configuration for purposes other than immediate injury.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “The projectiles cause little damage themselves, other than discomfort and the potential for infection, but both are easily treated. The real threat lies within each Velasphere’s structure.”

  “Go on.”

  “In similar weapons, these tiny machines are typically coded to enter the bloodstream and release neurotoxins immediately, but the examples inside Onallin’s tissues were not.”

  “What was the point of making them timed-release?”

  “Even though the projectiles can be found and extracted quite easily, victims are led to believe they are safe, unaware of the hidden threat from each Velasphere that remains. If undetected, which is common on battlefields where medical care is often very basic, the Velaspheres lie waiting inside a victim’s blood and tissues to release lethal compounds long after. Death is usually slow and very painful; the weapon’s delayed effect is as emotionally devastating to others as the physical trauma it causes for its victims.”

  “They were built to send messages.”

  “That is correct, Darrien, but there are mysteries with this particular variant; look at the graphic,” Banen said, pointing to an elaborate schematic on the display. “As you can see, samples of the Velaspheres were suspended in an emulsion similar in composition to Onallin’s blood plasma.”

  “What did you find?”

  “After several hours in the emulsion,” he continued, “they seemed to remain static. However, I moved some of them into an adjacent medium bath and increased the temperature of the emulsion to investigate the likelihood of reaction to heat. Almost immediately, the Velaspheres began to vent a thin solution into the surrounding fluid, which tells us the weapon’s designers anticipated a fever condition after injury and coded the Velaspheres to release their contents accordingly. I now believe rising body temperature is the trigger.”

  “Is Onallin’s temperature holding?”

  “I have wrapped her in a cooling jacket to keep her temperature down, but this will change when her natural defense systems begin to override that temporary solution. In short, she will develop a much higher fever before long.”

  “You mentioned a solution released by the Velaspheres?” Hesset asked.

  Banen nodded and said, “This new material was difficult to recognize and isolate, at first, until I learned to position my extraction instruments properly.”

  “A poison?” Norris asked.

  “No,” Banen replied, “but its effect may be every bit as dangerous.”

  “What are we looking at, Doc?”

  “The analysis required variances in pressure and temperature in order to accelerate their responses, but ultimately, each Velaspheres’ contents were revealed as complex, organic molecules similar to ordinary nucleotides. You may remember nucleotides are the building blocks of nucleic acids necessary for the production of DNA and RNA.”

  “But they are not ordinary, are they?” Hesset asked.

  “I do not believe so,” Banen answered. “These molecules seem to be unstable. Without the ability to analyze further, I cannot say with confidence, but I can only assume this system is intended perhaps to cause damage or injury at the genetic level. I am developing hypothetical conclusions, but they are in the early stages of investigation. At this point, there is a possibility the molecules carried by each Velasphere may be impostor nucleotides intended to mimic naturally occurring molecules.”

  “Mimic?” Norris asked. “For what purpose?”

  “Unknown. Again, this is merely conjecture and speculation at a possible outcome, based strictly on predictive analysis; there is no direct evidence available, at least not yet.”

  “How the hell did a bunch of ignorant spiders get their claws on something like this?” Norris snorted.

  “This type of weapon is very sophisticated and difficult to manufacture; it is impossible they would have generated examples on their own. Instead, I would think Toa’s people made this mechanism and deployed it as a part of their security apparatus. I am confident the Kez had no direct part in the effort, other than activating the explosives when we attacked the archive.”

  Norris asked at last the question they all knew was most important.

  “How long until these Velaspheres start working?”

  “The test series shows her temperature is already beginning to rise in slow increments, but she is unlikely to reach the target temperature for at least twenty hours. The cooling blanket can delay a severe fever for a while, but her body will fight even harder, and when the desired temperature point is reached in another day cycle, the Velaspheres will begin to move.”

  Norris paced nervously, searching through his mind for solutions to a problem made by a science he was ill-prepared to consider. Broken machines held no secrets from him, but impostor nucleotides and the intricacies of genetic engineering were well beyond his abilities. Time, he knew, was not on their side; in less than two days, the microscopic army of Velasphere devices would soon begin their deadly work. Again, he walked in his mind down the paths of investigation, searching like a wanderer on a dark road. After a while, he felt only the compulsion to slow a process he didn’t understand—to delay its inevitable conclusion by any means necessary.

  “Isn’t there anything else we can do to hold off a fever? What if we hooked her up to one of the cryo-units down in the cargo hold? If they react to heat, then remove it!”

  “Those units are not designed for live subjects,” Banen replied quickly; “if we placed her inside, it would result in serious damage to Onallin’s tissues, or even kill her.”

  “There’s no way to get the Velaspheres out surgically?”

  “That is out of the question,” Banen answered; “there are too many of them to find and extract before her temperature rises and begins the activation phase. I am circulating her blood through filtration chambers as a make-shift cleansing instrument, but this process will take an excessive length of time which, of course, we do not have. I will get as many as I can that are free-floating in her bloodstream, but the rest will remain a deadly threat.”

  Norris turned away, if only to hide the frustration and fear.

  “There has to be another way!”

  “My resources are limited, Darrien; I simply do not have the necessary research information available to analyze and predict this weapon’s purpose or its potential vulnerabilities!”

  Hesset stood suddenly and turned for the command bridge, motioning for Theriani to join her.

  “I may be able to help,” she said as they followed her forward to the bridge. “There is a way, if Theriani and I can make the adjustments properly.”

  “What you are thinking?” Theriani asked.

  Hesset paused, gathering her thoughts.

  “While we were in transit to Esharam, Onallin and I sat here, simply chatting to pass the time. During one particular conversation, she showed me a new method of high-speed communication using the ship’s navigation array so that individual transmission bursts could be amplified and accelerated through a tunnel to a desired exit point.”

  “That’s not possible,” Norris said, shaking his head. “The Plexus can’t move anything faster than its static speed, Hesset, not even energy.”

  Hesset pointed to a data stream scrolling by on her monitor display.

  “Onallin was not referring to normal Plexus threads, Darrien; this is a new technology her sister has refined using Hyperthread tunnels, which is where we are at this very moment.�
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  “Aniesse is researching this?”

  “Onallin’s sister is renowned among Hyperthread theorists, it would seem, and accelerated communications through these tunnels was her prior area of study before the war. I did not understand the physics involved, but there is a way to establish a high-speed comm link under the proper conditions. I remember enough of our discussion to possibly recreate that process and with luck we may be able to contact Fells Moll directly.”

  Banen understood what it meant and rushed to Hesset’s side.

  “If you are successful, we could access physiology databases through Professor Tindas and bring the full weight of Khorran medical technology to bear on this problem, even from across the sector!”

  “Are you sure you can get a comm link opened through this tunnel?” Norris asked, suddenly buoyed by a possibility to save Rantara.

  “I believe so,” she replied. “We must try, at least, to establish a data pathway or…”

  They all knew how to finish her sentence.

  AFTER SEVERAL ATTEMPTS, the navigation array’s adaptive signal processors found the mark. When the initial burst reached Qural’s comm system on Fells Moll, it was garbled and incoherent, with no accompanying video. After another try, the signal faded, but Tindas understood enough to know the team was trying to make contact from within the Hyperthread. When Qural arrived in the laboratory beneath the big house, Hesset had made adjustments in the location software’s telemetry so that audio transmission, although plagued by interference, finally firmed until her voice came through.

  The suddenness of the transmission held them in a grip of uncertainty and worry; there had been no plan or method to communicate while in transit and Qural leaned close to a console.

  “Hesset?”

  “Yes, Ambassador,” she replied loudly. “We are in desperate need of assistance.”

  “Have you arrived at Esharam?”

  “We are inbound to Fells Moll now, Ambassador. Our mission was successful; we have the memories, but…”