“Right,” said Fermi. “Although none of the Seventeen had any concept of this condition, being the sheep that we are.”
“It doesn’t bother you to call yourself sheep?” said Erin.
“No. Maybe that’s what makes us sheep. We know that many humans would be irate if they were called this. But we know who we are. In the spectrum of societies, this is a fair analogy. And as I’ve said, wolves tear themselves to pieces before they become space-faring. Sheep don’t.”
Erin nodded. “Go on,” she said.
“Given all that we knew,” continued Fermi, “we resigned ourselves to our fate when the Hive arrived. We would be quickly exterminated.” His demeanor brightened. “But then we discovered you. It was a miracle. You fit the exact scenario we were long hoping for. We wanted to save a species like you from itself, and groom you to lead us. So we wouldn’t go extinct after millions of years of stagnation. But now this imperative had become far more urgent. So the four of us were chosen for the most important mission undertaken in the history of the Seventeen. To protect you so you could lead us against the Hive when they arrived. So we might have a chance of survival.”
Erin shook her head. “But our science and technology are thousands of years behind yours. And it sounds as though you’re thousands of years behind the Hive. I’m afraid we’ll be just as helpless as you are. We might be wolves, but wolves going up against tanks become just as dead as sheep.”
“No,” said the alien firmly. “The progress you’ve made just since your first signals reached us is ridiculous. Breathtaking. Your first radio broadcasts took place only about a hundred years ago, using vacuum tubes, and in a cosmological blink you’ve managed relativity, quantum mechanics, genetic engineering, cell phones, supersonic jets, and baby steps toward quantum computers. We were the fastest of the Seventeen to climb the technology ladder, and it took us four thousand years to make the progress you’ve made in a hundred. And your progress is accelerating. You have an insatiable curiosity. An endless drive. An itch you can never scratch. If you have a billion dollars you want a billion more. You’re never satisfied. If we can help you through this critical period, you may well be a threat even to the Hive. Even if you only had a thousand years to prepare instead of thirty-two thousand.”
There was silence in the room while Erin considered this. So the mission these four Wraps had been sent on had profound implications, not only for the future of their individual race, but for the future of the entire galaxy.
“So how were the four of you chosen to come here?” she asked Fermi. “You must have been pretty special.”
Fermi smiled. “Yes, but ironically, in a way that made us stand out in a negative way on Suran. After extensive testing, we four were found to be the most aggressive, competitive, and driven members of our species. The least sheep-like among the sheep. We’re still far to the left of the most pacifistic vegan on Earth, but we were rare individuals who might be able to handle the kind of onslaught of brutality we were sure to find here.”
Erin couldn’t help but smile. “No kidding?”
“No kidding,” repeated Fermi.
“Getting back on topic,” said Steve Fuller, “the Wraps only shared this information about the Hive with us recently. They didn’t want to spring such a wild story until they had earned our trust. And they have. The world will never know just how critical their contributions have been. But once they did disclose this situation, we began putting our minds to the best strategic steps to take going forward. A sheep, and even a sheep’s computer, can’t possibly strategize like a wolf.” Fuller raised his eyebrows. “This is where you enter the picture.”
“I have to say that I haven’t connected the dots to me yet at all.”
“We decided we had to accelerate the process,” said Fuller. “Add more humans to the team. Brainstorm. Analyze the enemy, starting now. The Wraps are nervous about giving us technology, so we don’t play with fire and burn ourselves.”
“We probably would, you know,” said Erin. “Not wise to give a loaded gun to the crazed teenage version of your future savior.”
“Regardless of whether it’s wise or not,” replied Fuller, “even without their technology, we can find better ways to accelerate our own development. My view is that if everyone knew the history of the galaxy and the Seventeen, and the leadership role we will be expected to play in this galactic community, along with the threat from the Hive in thirty-two thousand years, humanity would pull together. At least better than we are now.” He sighed. “But that’s a debate for another time. For now, we’re in a position to help the Seventeen understand the coming enemy. Their computer contains all the intel ever gathered on the Hive. When we realized that it behaved in many ways like the rare, Hannibal Lecter–type psychopathic killer, it occurred to us that an expert on psychopathy might come in handy.”
Of course, thought Erin. How could she have missed it?
“I saw the Wall Street Journal piece and did some background checks,” continued Fuller. “You were just what we were looking for. Brilliant. Single-minded in your goal of understanding psychopathy. Young. And your idea of finding remote ways to detect psychopathy could be helpful in what we’re trying to do to stop the most dangerous people here on Earth.”
“At last, your recruiting call begins to make sense,” noted Erin.
“The more I learned about you, the more perfect I thought you were for this job. I saw you as forming the nucleus of a team that would try to get inside the heads of our enemy. At least better than the Seventeen possibly could. Analyze everything known about Hive behavior.” He paused. “The larger team we plan to build will have exobiologists, of course. But we hoped you would be willing to lead a team of what we expect to call exopsychologists.”
Erin had to admit such a role sounded amazing. Challenging and important. Not as much fun as going into a prison every day …
“And as I mentioned,” continued Fuller. “I’m arguing that we should consider the possible effects of full disclosure to the world. Study if this is something we should do in five or ten years. So we would want top psychologists and psychiatrists to predict how people would handle learning of this. Would it bring our species closer together? Create widespread panic? Would this knowledge increase our resolve? Even though the enemy won’t be on the playing field for thirty thousand years?” He stared at Erin. “And I wanted you to be a part of this as well.”
Erin nodded. “It all suddenly makes sense. But to even begin to recruit me for this effort, you knew I needed to meet a Wrap. So I would believe what you told me. So you decided to fly me to your headquarters to initiate me.”
“Exactly. And we continued to vet you. Gather intel on you. We monitored your phone.” Fuller shook his head. “Unfortunately, I didn’t get the chance to listen to the recordings of your conversations until the day after I had set up the meeting with you. But you can’t even begin to imagine how startled I was when I did play the recordings and I heard Drake’s voice on the line.”
“I assume Drake wasn’t working with you anymore,” said Erin, “or you wouldn’t have been surprised. So what happened? Did he have a disagreement with the rest of the group?”
“No,” said Fuller, shaking his head. “He was incinerated in an explosion.”
46
KYLE HANSEN HAD been listening attentively to Erin’s tale of her meeting in Palm Springs with Steve Fuller and a very much alive alien named Fermi. She had been standing when she had begun, but five minutes earlier she had slid her hand down the steel strut to which it was attached to sit cross-legged on the cool garage floor. Soon after this she had begun to slump even farther and her voice had noticeably weakened.
Finally, she stopped altogether, and Hansen could tell she was struggling to keep her eyes open.
“Erin?” he said anxiously. “Erin, are you okay?”
“No,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “I’m feeling … dizzy. Insulin shock,” she mumbled.
�
�You’re diabetic?” said Hansen in disbelief. How had Drake missed this? Even if it was adult-onset diabetes, this was something that should have been in her file.
“I keep it … secret. Don’t like … showing … weakness.”
Hansen couldn’t believe it. He knew she didn’t like to show weakness, but she hadn’t seemed the type to hide something like this.
Could this really be happening? On top of everything else? Just when Erin was revealing to him the rationale for her seemingly inexplicable behavior. And given what she had said already, the rest of her story was critically important. If there was a God, he didn’t appear to be a big fan of Kyle Hansen and Erin Palmer. What next, an earthquake?
But worse than her not finishing her story, her very life could be in danger. Hansen seemed to recall that insulin shock in diabetics could be fatal if not treated.
Erin pointed at the display case on which Zalinsky had set the items he had taken from her. A silver cylinder still rested there. “Glucagon injection,” she whispered faintly. “For emergencies. In the … thigh.” With that, her eyes slid shut again and she looked to be unconscious.
Hansen shouted at the top of his lungs and continued to do so until both Gibb and Zalinsky raced into the garage, guns drawn.
As soon as the door opened, Hansen stopped shouting.
The two mercenaries surveyed the room for hidden danger and to make sure their prisoners were still restrained. Seeing no reason for alarm, they lowered their weapons.
Hansen gestured toward Erin with his free hand. “She’s in insulin shock,” he said rapidly. “That cylinder you took from her is an emergency dose of … I think she said glucagon. But whatever it is, you have to inject her. Now!”
The two men glanced at each other as if uncertain what to do.
“You know Drake wants to interrogate her,” barked Hansen. “You think he’ll be patting you on the back and giving you a bonus when he gets back here and she’s dead? Come on! Every second counts.”
Gibb walked over to the steel cylinder and carried it gingerly to Hansen, as though it were booby-trapped and might explode at any second. “Open it,” he said.
Hansen gestured for Gibb to put it in his right hand, which was cuffed to the home gym. When Gibb did so, Hansen held the metal tube between his thumb and index finger and used his free hand to press a small metal dot extending out from one end, hoping this would open it. Sure enough, one half of the silver tube rolled back inside the other half, lengthwise, to reveal a glass syringe, filled with a colorless liquid.
“Take it,” said Hansen. “Carefully.”
Seeing that the cylinder contained exactly what Hansen had said it would seemed to galvanize Gibb, and he took it as instructed.
“Now jam it into her thigh,” ordered Hansen. “Quickly! And make sure she gets it all. Go!” he screamed.
Gibb pulled a combat knife from a sheath at his ankle and cut a seam in Erin’s pants at the thigh so he wouldn’t have to risk damage to the needle by stabbing through her clothing. He plunged the needle into her leg and emptied the entire contents of the syringe.
Hansen exhaled loudly. “Thank you,” he whispered.
Both Gibb and Zalinsky remained in the garage to see what would happen. Within minutes Erin’s eyes fluttered open.
She caught Hansen’s eye and smiled weakly. “Thanks,” she whispered. She noticed that Gibb still had an empty syringe in his hand. “And you too,” she said to him.
“Will you be okay?” asked Hansen.
Erin nodded. “Feeling much better already.”
After another few minutes of recovery, Erin rose from the floor and looked over at Gibb. “Thanks,” she said again. “But I’m okay now. No need to babysit any further.”
Gibb thought about this for a few seconds. Finally, reaching a decision, he turned to Zalinsky. “Let’s go,” he said. Seconds later they had exited back through the door into the mansion and were out of sight.
After they left, Hansen stared at Erin reproachfully. “I know you don’t want to show weakness, Erin. But keeping something like that a secret is dangerous.” He turned away. “Jesus, we could have lost you.”
“It was stupid of me,” admitted Erin. “And very bad timing. But let’s talk about the wisdom of this another time,” she continued, her voice regaining strength by the second. “Right now, I need to finish telling you what’s really going on here.”
Hansen nodded. “Go ahead,” he said, eager to hear the rest. But also wondering what other obstacles the fates might choose to throw at them next.
47
“DRAKE WAS INCINERATED in an explosion?” repeated Erin. What did that mean?
“Obviously,” continued Steve Fuller, “reports of his death were greatly exaggerated.” He raised his eyebrows. “But we didn’t know that at the time. We only learned this recently. When we were gathering further intel on you. Imagine our surprise when we heard his unmistakable voice over your phone.”
“Did he stage his death so he could go AWOL?” asked Erin. “So he could take more dramatic steps than the rest of the Wraps were willing to take to save us?”
Fuller shook his head. “This was the most important assignment ever given to a Wrap in their history. There is zero chance this was his motive. And no one believed in what we’re doing more than Drake.”
“So what’s your explanation?”
“The Hive,” said Fermi grimly. “It must have found a way to penetrate his defenses and control him. Which is alarming on many, many levels.”
Erin’s eyes narrowed. “You actually think part of this hive-mind is present here on Earth?” she said.
“That has to be it,” said Fermi. “How the Hive managed to learn about this mission we may never know. But the truth is, this is a pivotal point in a war that won’t take place for thirty-two thousand years. So it wouldn’t surprise me if the Hive attempted to infiltrate Drake’s mind with more than the usual tiny fraction of its full capabilities. To gain a foothold. Given his genetically engineered defenses to this, the Hive must have had to work carefully over many years to breach. We didn’t think this was possible no matter how long it tried, but we must have been wrong.”
“But how can you be so sure this is true? You say yourself you thought a breach was impossible. So even an improbable solution makes more sense. Maybe Drake finally went crazy from being around us for so long.”
“I wish that were the case,” said Fermi. “But not only did we hear his voice, we heard what he’s been up to. With you. Curing psychopathy. Which we quickly recognized as a stunningly brilliant plan by the Hive to win the war before it begins.”
“I don’t understand. Curing psychopathy sounds more like a plan from an actual Wrap. One pushed over the edge and wanting to go on offense rather than defense to protect humanity. If Drake were controlled by the Hive, why wouldn’t he just nuke us into oblivion?”
“Too risky,” said Fermi. “Let’s walk through the scenario. The Hive finally succeeds in taking over Drake. All the Wraps on this planet are exceedingly well protected, and we’re never allowed to all be together at the same physical location. Similar to your president and vice president never flying on the same plane. There is far more security around us right now than is evident, believe me. So Drake—let’s now call him Hive Drake or H-Drake, since he’s no longer in control of himself—can’t be sure an attack on us will succeed. And if he fails, we’ll be alerted that the hive-mind has circumvented our safeguards. And the Hive may never get another chance.”
Erin pursed her lips. “That explains why he wouldn’t try to attack the other Wraps on Earth. Not why he wouldn’t try to wipe out the human race.”
“Because he knows we’re still out there, monitoring,” said Fermi. “Even if he did manage to produce a lethal, infectious bioagent and slip it under our radar, when it started killing people we’d be on top of it. We could use our skills and computer to counteract it. Even if this wiped out half of humanity, which might be devastating to yo
ur civilization for hundreds of years, the Hive won’t arrive for thirty-two thousand years, and our analysis suggests this setback would only make you stronger in the long run. Like a broken bone is stronger after healing, or a controlled burn can lead to a healthier forest.” He paused. “But we don’t need to speculate. Because we know what H-Drake has been up to. First, he faked Drake’s death. Any ideas what he did next?”
Erin shrugged. “None.”
“We’re almost certain the first thing he did was recruit Kyle Hansen,” said Fermi. “Kyle could help him build a primitive quantum computer, within the limitations of primitive Earth components, and work with the required human consultants and collaborators.”
“Based on what you’ve told us,” added Steve Fuller, “H-Drake must have convinced Kyle that along with running this show, I moonlighted as a dangerous arms dealer and killed off the other three Wraps. That’s probably why Kyle didn’t mention them to you. Not important at that point—at least given what he believed the truth to be.” Fuller shook his head. “Kyle also faked his death about six months later, probably so he could join H-Drake full time.”
Erin nodded, but remained silent.
“We had big plans for Kyle once he graduated from CMU,” continued Fuller. “And his supposed death hit us all hard. And not just because we thought we lost his brilliance, which is considerable, although he’s so modest you’d never guess it. But because we monitored and vetted the shit out of him, and had developed an affection for him. He’s a good man.”
Erin had quickly reached this same conclusion herself.
“Kyle spoke many times about Drake using a quantum computer,” noted Erin. “So they must have succeeded.” She furrowed her brow in confusion. “But I still don’t get it. The Hive’s grand plan after all of this is to cure psychopathy? How does this help them? Help it?” she corrected.
“Like I said, H-Drake knew we were still out there,” replied Fermi. “Along with our quantum computer and all of its capabilities. We screen for everything that could cause widespread destruction; nuclear, biologic, chemical, anything. And we correlate purchases and other information. If he tried to unleash any kind of WMD attack, we’d probably stop it, along with the Hive’s chances here. And as I said, even if not, if he didn’t wipe out the entire population, you’d only grow back stronger over many thousands of years.”
The Cure Page 29