Relic

by Alan Dean Foster

  Ruslan’s minder was not being discourteous. Staring past the researcher, s’he was reduced to pointing.

  One of the larger wall outcroppings behind Bac’cul had quietly begun to emit a soft yellow glow. Pivoting, the startled researcher could only stare at it in silence. The same was true of the two wide-eyed humans close by him.

  Something was emerging from the base of the outcropping. Shocking in their simplicity and ordinariness, the pair of neatly booted human feet descended slowly into a lower portion of the protrusion. As they did so the outcropping began to emerge from the wall. Turning parallel to the floor, it slowly turned transparent. A tube, Ruslan thought, or capsule of some kind. The shod feet were followed by the rest of the body. It was male, less than two meters in height, and clothed in some understated, velour-like, dark blue material. Its eyes were closed, its hair close-cropped, its features unremarkable save for a somewhat prominent nose. It was undeniably human. Or at the very least, Ruslan told himself through his rising excitement, humanoid.

  One by one, ten similar capsules began to emerge outward from the seemingly solid wall. Inspection begat disappointment when it was discovered that the other nine were empty and devoid of internal illumination.

  Putting his face so close to the single occupied transparency that his breath fogged the curving exterior, Ruslan peered hard at the body within. It lay utterly still. The clothed chest did not rise and fall, the nostrils did not flex. Insofar as he could tell, respiration was nonexistent.

  In the hushed air of the chamber, the bold female voice that addressed them without warning but clearly and with great precision made the two humans jump and the tripodal Myssari quiver slightly.

  “Template established. Install pattern number one?” A single word pregnant with portent caught Ruslan’s attention.

  Swallowing, he replied as evenly as he could to the voice whose source remained unseen. “What template? What kind of ‘pattern’?”

  The synthvoice stayed silent. Insistent it was not, he decided, unlike thousands of other exchanges he had engaged in so long ago while working with artificial intelligences at his old profession on Seraboth. Irrespective of purpose, the build behind artificial intelligences on the world of his birth had been similar across all platforms no matter what their intended purpose. The lack of response to his query suggested design paradigms might be different here.

  That supposition remained valid for less than ten seconds.

  The hint of impatience in the AI’s voice was unmistakable and possibly deliberate. “Install pattern number one?”

  Before Ruslan could reply, Bac’cul stepped forward to place his hands on the human’s right shoulder, elbow, and forearm.

  “We are moving too fast here and now. Haste is the parent of mistakes.”

  “I know, but—”

  Quickly the researcher cut him off. “It is likely that this place has remained in a state of stasis for hundreds of years. Another few days of delay before observing it in full operation is unlikely to detrimentally compromise its functions, whatever those may ultimately be. Our group is only charged with exploration and discovery, not with explication.” He indicated the faceless imago lying within the capsule. “To ensure that everything that can be learned is learned and that no mistakes are made, we must inform Base of what we have found. Experts there can determine better than we how best to proceed.”

  Ruslan wanted to argue that he knew how to proceed, except that he realized he did not. The operative AI was being cooperative, if curt. He felt it would continue to be so. But he could not support what he felt with any assurance. So he hesitated, aware that as well as the Myssari, Cherpa was watching him closely.

  It was typical of the Myssari to be cautious. And Bac’cul was probably correct in noting that there were specialists at the outpost who would have a better idea of how to move forward with the investigation of whatever kind of facility it was that they had found and reactivated.

  What did the AI mean by “template”? Was it indicative of the clothed human form that now lay within the transparent capsule? When it spoke of installing “pattern number one,” was it referring to some generalized appearance, or to a ware component, or something else? His ignorance throbbed like a headache. Although the present surroundings were very different—the body was fully attired, and it was not floating in a liquid suspension—he could not escape memories of the ineffective resurrection center on Treth. Was the purpose of this deeply buried underground center similar to that of the revivification center on that colony world? Instead of row upon row of waiting people, there was only the single human shape. If the intention was resurrection, why were nine of the ten capsules empty?

  Bac’cul’s communicator abruptly hummed for attention. As the researcher listened his body seemed to sink downward on all three legs. This well-recognized Myssari posture immediately put Ruslan and Cherpa on alert. Their concern was thoroughly justified. As he closed the communication a disconsolate Bac’cul eyed them both. His tone was flat.

  “The Vrizan are here.”

  Cherpa’s expression reflected her shock. “How?”

  “I do not know. No one does. Perhaps one of their orbiters has been tracking our progress all along, and the length of our stay in this seemingly empty region has drawn their attention. I am informed that a large atmospheric transport of theirs has set down beside our vehicle. They are insistent to know what is going on and what we are doing here.”

  “Just tell them that we—” Ruslan began.

  The researcher cut him off. “They have seen the open entrance. I suspect it is unlikely they can detect lifeforms at this depth. Also, they have not yet alluded to such a possibility to my subordinates. They must be dealt with before they proceed any farther.” He locked eyes with first Ruslan, then Cherpa. “I must return to the surface and try to satisfy their curiosity while conceding as little specific information as possible.” At a gesture from their superior, the rest of the Myssari party started moving toward the open lift. Framed by the other five inactivated lift portals, they looked small and alone.

  “Someone should remain here in the event that the resident AI continues with its enigmatic questioning or offers alternative communication,” Bac’cul told the humans. “This is a place of your kind. None of us is better able to interpret its communications or tease out possible hidden meanings than yourselves. I will return as soon as the Vrizan have been persuaded to leave.” He turned to follow his colleagues.

  The Myssari did not depart as fast as Bac’cul wished, however. It took a swipe of Cherpa’s hand to activate the lift and send it accelerating upward. As it ascended, Ruslan considered the uncomfortable possibility that in the absence of an active lift at the bottom of the delivery shaft, the lights in the underground chamber might go out. That they did not, that they dimmed slightly but remained sufficient, likely attested to the presence in the room of the two humans.

  Neither he nor Cherpa had to activate their own communicators. Always on, these would keep them in touch with the surface. With the departure of the Myssari, they found themselves alone deep in the Earth, with only each other for company in the cool, featureless, glassy surroundings.

  Not quite alone, Ruslan reminded himself as he turned toward the single isolated source of warmer, yellower light. There remained the smartly clad slab of human within the capsule. Unlike the warm glow it continued to emit, the lack of motion within was not comforting.

  * * *

  —

  As researcher and historian, Bac’cul liked nothing better than to spend multiple three-days at a time in the field, studying the artifacts and remnants of the wondrous but ultimately self-extinguishing human culture. Today, in the company of the only two mature surviving specimens of that singular species, a discovery had been made that was potentially of great significance. All he wished for was to return to the outpost, lay out the preliminary
findings before his colleagues, and make preparations to return with some of them to commence an in-depth investigation of the fascinating newly discovered site.

  That blissful strategy had been interrupted by the arrival of a Vrizan aircraft much larger than the driftec in which he and his team had traveled. The visitors were correspondingly greater in number. Furthermore, they were plainly equipped to do more than defend themselves against wandering terrestrial carnivores. In contrast, Bac’cul and his team carried only a few small sidearms. While well trained, in a serious fight they would be no match for a coterie of Vrizan soldiers. He would have to do battle with different weapons. Subterfuge, misdirection, and that old Myssari standby, unremitting civility.

  Very tall, very determined, and very straightforward, the lead Vrizan would have none of it. Untutored in Myssarian, she utilized an electronic translator to address Bac’cul and the members of the scientific team who had gathered around him. The Vrizan’s immediate attention, however, was not on the tripeds but on the internally lit circular opening in the mountainside behind them. Their multi-jointed arms folded almost tentacle-like around large weapons, two soldiers flanked her.

  “I am called Zizanden Ait Orl.”

  “Bac’cul.” A three-fingered hand fluttered, respectively and accusingly, at each of the soldiers. “We are researchers. There is no need for heavy weapons here.”

  Surprisingly, the Vrizan responded with a conciliatory gesture. The soldiers stepped back, to be replaced by a pair of unarmed males. If they were research specialists, Bac’cul mused worriedly, he might have been better off not objecting to the presence of the guns.

  In typical forthright Vrizan fashion, Zizanden indicated the illuminated tunnel opening. “You have found something of significance.”

  “We have found something,” Bac’cul admitted. There was no point in denying what the Vrizan could see with their own eyes. “Thus far it has not proven to be of any especial consequence. It may be a human depository. That has yet to be determined. It may well be empty. We arrived here only this morning.” Striving to assume a defiant pose, he added, “Our agreement with Vriza allows us to study anything we discover.”

  Inherently imperious, Zizanden looked down at him. “You do not need to lecture me on the details of the agreement. Though I do not personally subscribe to its tenets, I am bound by the details.” Once more her gaze rose to the circular opening, trying to penetrate its depths. “I do not accept your claim to have found nothing. I do accept that you have not had time to study or evaluate it, because the same orbital locator that detected your presence here recorded it, as you truthfully declare, only this morning.” Her tone grew less martial. “Might I suggest that it would be of scientific benefit to all, not to mention conducive to the amelioration of relations, if examination of this site were to proceed on a joint basis?”

  Bac’cul tried to sound accommodating without actually committing to anything. “The ramifications of your suggestion extend beyond the limits of my individual professional mandate. It is something for my superiors to determine. Meanwhile, since we have found nothing worth examining, might I counter-suggest that matters remain as they are until those occupying more senior levels of responsibility than you or I decide how to proceed?”

  That put the Vrizan in the position of possibly making decisions that would later be overridden. Recognizing the ploy, Zizanden opted to change the thrust of the conversation.

  “Even at this distance I can see that the cave, or tunnel, is beautifully machined and internally lit. The ancient humans were not known for expending such effort to protect or conceal ‘nothing.’ ”

  Unable to deny this without admitting an ignorance he did not possess, Bac’cul countered, “I agree. As further study, quite possibly by the kind of conjoined research group you propose, may well prove.”

  “Come now, three-legs.” Zizanden stared hard at her Myssari counterpart. “You have found more than a hole in the ground. What does it hold? Plant material, like the celebrated island depository to the north of here? Preserved fauna? Miscellaneous relics, artwork…what?”

  “I have told you,” Bac’cul insisted, “we have been here only a very short while and have not had time to probe the interior and its possible contents in any depth. But out of common interest and amity, I will agree to call a halt to further exploration until the question of possible joint exploration is settled by our respective superiors.”

  The Vrizan commander hesitated. Then, sufficiently pleased by what she determined to be her counterpart’s willing acquiescence, she turned and snapped an order in her own language. To Bac’cul’s relief the regular soldiers turned and headed back toward their waiting vessel. Even at a distance, their weapons had been discomfiting. With one more constructive gesture he felt he could convince the Vrizan to depart, if only for the remainder of the day. Such a gesture would be by far the best means of demonstrating to them that he and his team had nothing to hide.

  “As a further indication of goodwill on the part of my people, I can tell you that the two well-known humans who advise the Science Sectionary are also here. They are present to aid in analyzing and identifying any artifacts of significance that may be found, though thus far none such have been located.”

  The Vrizan said something that was unrepeatable in polite company. Her translator struggled to convey it accurately. “There is no need to brag. We are aware of and envy the assistance they provide your researchers. By formal agreement between our governments, we are no longer permitted to try to persuade them to provide such services for us.”

  Meaning they are now safe from your egregious efforts at abduction, Bac’cul thought with satisfaction. Having more or less successfully befriended, discouraged, and finally misled the Vrizan, there was but one thing left to do to conclude the matter. He addressed his communicator, making sure the Vrizan could overhear him clearly.

  “Ruslan, Cherpa—everything out here has been settled satisfactorily. Please come out so that you can confirm to our Vrizan friends that the tunnel holds nothing worthy of immediate examination, and so that you may bid them a mutually agreeable farewell.”

  * * *

  —

  Isolated from the confrontation, Ruslan and Cherpa listened to the research team leader’s words—and worried, and wondered.

  “I’m sure Bac’cul wants us to close down the place. He just couldn’t say so in front of the Vrizan.” Ruslan’s words lingered in the still air. “As we leave, you or I will stroke the relevant section of wall and the outside barrier will come down. Then the Vrizan won’t be able to get inside no matter what they decide to do next. This place will be sealed tight again.”

  Bright blue eyes met his. “You think that will be the end of it, Bogo? I don’t trust the Vrizan no matter how much they quote the compact between their government and the Combine. You know me.” Her expression tightened. “I’d rather be talking from behind a gun.”

  He smiled. “Me, I’m used to fighting with pages and pages of detail. That’s what I’m really afraid of: that exploration of this place will get bogged down in bureaucratic infighting between both governments. And worse, that the Myssari will accommodate the Vrizan’s wishes and allow for co-investigation of this place. I don’t know that I like the idea of the broadheads wandering around in here.”

  Her words fell to a whisper. “Bogo, I don’t know that I like the idea of the Myssari doing so, either.”

  He frowned. “I’m not sure I follow you, Cherpa.”

  Spreading her arms wide, she indicated their subterranean surrounds. “This installation is special, Bogo. We don’t know special for what, but it’s special for something. If not revivification, then something else. I know it. I feel it. This place is not for the Vrizan. It’s not for the Myssari, either.” Her eyes met his once again. “It’s for us. For humans. Whatever it does. Whatever it means.”

  It was silent
in the chamber for some minutes. Eventually he looked back at her. “All right. I’ll stay behind. You bring down the barrier on your way out. Say that I’m waiting until everyone else decides what to do.”

  “There’s no food down here,” she pointed out quietly. “No water.”

  He shrugged. “I’ll come out when everybody else leaves. There’s water outside. Maybe you can leave me some rations where I can find them at the landing site. I won’t be here forever.”

  “You don’t know if the barrier will respond to you. So far I’m the one who has done all the touch-activating with it.”

  “I’ll take that chance.”

  She stepped back and shook her head. “If you’re staying, I’m staying, too.”

  “Cherpa…” he began, “what about the children at the outpost?”

  “Their Myssari handlers will watch over them. They do most of that work now anyway. Kel’les will be there to help them.” She smiled and began to laugh, her glee bouncing around the room like loose neutrons. Her laughter sent him back, all the way back to the first time he had heard it, wild and free, in the ruins of Daribb. It had not changed much. But she had.

  “If at least one of us doesn’t come out, the Vrizan are liable to get suspicious and decide to come looking for us.”

  A twinkle in her eye, she turned and started away from him. “I’ll fix that. I’ll fix them.”

  He started to call her back from where she had headed toward the lift, but relented. When she was younger, she would always listen to him, always take his advice. That had changed as she grew older and matured. She still listened to him…but she did not always take his suggestions. Nowadays Cherpa was going to do what Cherpa felt needed to be done. Contrary to his thinking, things usually turned out well enough. So he did what he always did in such situations.