Zero Site 1607

by Andrew Calhoun

  “We’ve been fighting a war against an invisible enemy, ladies and gentlemen – a war on every planet we inhabit. The enemy is ancient, supremely adaptable and, when unchecked, lethal. Oh, we have ways of slowing it down. On Earth, you have vaccines and antiviral drugs. Other worlds have found even cleverer techniques. On VGCP Sixteen, for example, scientists have obtained impressive results by treating evolution as an ally rather than a harbinger of viral death. Instead of reactively attempting to unlock the mysteries of new, ever-more-harmful strains, they proactively induce viruses to evolve into milder forms. Thus, when patients are exposed . . .”

  “Dr. Mallik,” QM Brennov interjected.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “This is all very fascinating, but a little unnecessary for today, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Ah, yes, sir.”

  “The Zero virus, if you will.”

  “Yes, well, the Zero virus is the kill shot, for lack of a better term. It is, and please don’t take this the wrong way, perfect.”

  “Perfect?” Haley repeated.

  “As in, we’ve not been able to find a single chink in its armor. You have some viruses on Earth that are relatively scary. Your planet has witnessed outbreaks with fatality rates up around 90 percent. The Ebolavirus comes to mind. But the Zero virus has a 100 percent fatality rate, and once you catch it, there’s nothing you can do but wait for the end. Most victims have about three and a half weeks from first contact to death.

  “And that’s what we found on VGCP Zero. We learned from the data caches that the Zeroes had been locked in a battle to the death with this virus, and in the end, they lost. Their final solution was to scorch the planet. They nuked everything. They attempted to wipe out every last living organism, including the Zero virus, and they nearly succeeded.”

  “Nearly?”

  “Yes, Miss Yoon. Nearly. They nearly succeeded.”

  “You found it.”

  “Unintentionally, I can assure you. But yes, the virus survived, and yes, seventy years ago, we accidentally carried it back to VGCP One. We don’t know how it survived, and we don’t know where we first contracted it from, but that’s moot at this point. The long and short of it is that VGCP One has been in full reaction mode ever since. Significant geographical regions were quarantined off and left to die. Scientific institutions went into overdrive trying to crack the virus and bring it under control, again without any success.

  “And then we had a few very close calls – instances in which the Zero virus made it through the verse gates and nearly infected populations on other planets. I believe Mr. Mozik here can attest to that.”

  Radovan nodded his head and said, “I’d rather not be reminded.”

  “Well, that was twenty-five years ago. Shortly after that, VGCP One decided it could no longer take the risk, so it shut down all three verse gates exiting the planet. Nothing and no one has left the planet since, and for all we know, the virus may have already taken its full course and killed every last living soul there. We just don’t know.”

  “Wait,” Soup said. “What about the guy who tried to kill Kettle? The guy called Seventy-two? Wasn’t he sent from VGCP One?”

  “Sorry, I’m not familiar with who that is.”

  Brennov supplied the answer for him. “He was an Ender that came through to VGCP Eleven on the same plane.”

  “Ah, okay,” Dr. Mallik said, nodding. “Short answer is, no. Long answer is that there are multiple groups from VGCP One that operate on other planets, including corporations like Zodo and special interest groups like the Enders. These groups left VGCP One before the gates were shut down. Incidentally, that also explains why the Zodo personnel on Earth couldn’t use a Kye-shiv to fly you through the verse gate. Planets Three, Seven and Eleven form a one-way path away from One. Once you leave that path, you can’t get back because VGCP One’s gates are closed. All of the Kye-shivs posted to Earth had long since been shipped out, hence the backup plan – hijacking an airplane.”

  “Let’s not use the word hijacking, shall we?” Brennov said. Then he looked at the others. “Please note that Dr. Mallik’s comments do not always reflect the official position of this corporation.”

  “Yeah, sure,” Kettle said.

  “Sorry,” Mallik added. Kettle noted that he said ‘sorry’ a lot.

  Brennov nodded at him. “Continue.”

  “All right, before the gates out of One were shut down, there was an important breakthrough regarding our understanding of the Zeroes, one that pertains to you, Mr. Kettle, and you, Miss Yoon. There was a group of linguists that were decoding a Zero document that looked to be a high-level government file. This has since become known as the Zero Stock Document, or ZSD. Remember that our knowledge of Zero languages is limited, but our experts believe that the ZSD is something of a status report on the state of their attempts to stop the virus. It looks like the Zeroes were on to something. They may have been close to solving it.

  “Unfortunately, it doesn’t go into any detail whatsoever regarding a cure or vaccine. However, the last half of the ZSD offers us a glimmer of hope, and I should say, we’ve been holding onto that glimmer for the better part of thirty years now.

  “Essentially, the Zeroes knew their planet couldn’t be saved, but they didn’t want their knowledge and experience to pass away with them, so they re-purposed one of their off-world facilities as a continuing research center.”

  Haley put her hand up. “Off-world?”

  “Yes, on one of the seventeen planets.”

  “They had facilities on other planets?”

  “Oh yes. And groups of people stationing them, too. And there is one facility on VGCP Sixteen they repurposed to continue research after they nuked their own planet. We’ve located that facility.”

  This time, Kettle interrupted. “Are there Zeroes inside?”

  “We doubt it.”

  “What do you mean, you doubt it? What did you find when you went inside?”

  “We can’t get inside.”

  “Why not?”

  “Well, getting there is tricky enough – it’s in the middle of a war zone; two nation-states have been fighting over that land for a good fifty years or so – but that’s not the real issue. The ZSD makes it clear that the facility has a security protocol that prohibits non-Zero individuals from entering.”

  “Huh?” Kettle mumbled.

  “What?” Haley added.

  “Our best guess is that the facility scans the DNA of anyone that approaches. If you don’t have Zero DNA, you don’t get in.”

  “Oh my God,” Kettle said, turning to Radovan. “Back in the Sollian, you said I was Zero Stock. Does that mean what I think it means?”

  “Yes, it does,” Radovan replied. “It means that if you go back far enough in your family tree, one or more of your ancestors was from VGCP Zero.”

  “Me, too?” Haley asked, her voice suddenly small.

  “You, too,” Dr. Mallik told her. “You two literally might be the key to humanity’s survival.”

  “Or,” countered Brennov, “a massive disappointment. Either way, we’re going to find out.”

  1.4 ELISKA

  Dr. Eliska Tannishoy walked down the corridor with a knot in her chest. She really wasn’t looking forward to this afternoon’s task, and she was a good amount of pissed off at QM Brennov for giving it to her in the first place. Not that she had said anything to him. He was QM after all.

  Down, down, down. The Mt. Orakokinoke Administrative Complex (MOAC for short) was one of Zodo’s larger facilities – thirty-eight stories deep – and Eliska was headed to the dungeons at the bottom, an area of the base she had never been to. She imagined torture racks and large guards with whips and cruel laughs. She knew it was ridiculous, but she imagined it anyway.

  The upper floors, where she was now, were, in a word, luxurious. Not luxurious to the extent of boasting an excess of wealth; luxurious in the sense of being tastefully appointed with a plethora of amenities and significant a
ttention to detail. Most of the space here was reserved for living quarters, and the overall design aesthetic could best be described as a meticulous and comprehensive effort to make MOAC’s inhabitants forget that they were living underground like trapped shrews.

  There were two very good reasons to build a corporate facility within the belly of a mountain. First and foremost, Zodo was legally obligated to hide its existence from the locals of VGCP Thirteen. It wouldn’t do to have the wholesome but superstitious, evil spirit-fearing people of Dremmos gawking at technologies beyond their understanding and posing questions that inevitably led to paradigm-shifting worldviews that involved gathering torches and pitchforks and hunting down said evil spirits. Second, it was bloody freezing outside. It wasn’t just brisk; it was more a snot-frozen-to-face-and-digits-turning-black-from-frostbite sort of cold. That’s what happened when two of the planet’s entrance gates and one of the exit gates were all in relative proximity to the South Pole and the corporation wanted a strategically positioned base of operations.

  So, all in all, Eliska realized that despite her general longing for green grass, sandy beaches and refreshing swimming holes under sunny skies, at least life buried under rock meant that she stayed comfortable and didn’t have to wear eighteen layers of clothing to stay warm.

  The hallway she was moving through had virtual windows – i.e. display panels – installed all along the left wall that ran nearly ceiling to floor. They rendered live feeds of the panorama visible off the western face of Mt. Orakokinoke, which on some days was quite pretty but today consisted of a raging blizzard. Eliska wondered why they didn’t just pipe in footage of a picturesque farming village or some other idyllic scene. Anything less bleak would have been appreciated.

  She reached the elevator, waited for the doors to open and then stepped in. “And where are we going today, Dr. Tannishoy?” DAPNAK asked in his cultured butler-esque voice. DAPNAK was the facility AI. The name was an acronym for something, but Eliska had long forgotten what it stood for.

  “Level Thirty-eight.”

  “Oh my. Going down to the dungeons, are we? I never took you for an arrogant crook.”

  Eliska pondered the comment for a while and then said, “I don’t get it.”

  “Well, we’re going down, doctor. That makes you a . . .”

  “Con descending,” she completed, rolling her eyes. “That’s terrible.”

  “Apologies, doctor. Who are you going to see down there, if I may ask?”

  “That’s classified.”

  “Well, I’m sure you’ll have a captive audience.”

  “DAPNAK?”

  “Yes, Dr. Tannishoy?”

  “How many prison puns do you have in your repertoire?”

  “At present, eight hundred and seventy-two, although, as you know, my learning algorithms enable me to analyze the current trends in humor and linguistic parlance, so I would be able to create more should the need arise.”

  “And those were the best two you had?”

  “Those puns were both in my non-sensitive category. Would you like me to adjust my settings? I have an excellent joke about a clown and a prostitute.”

  “I’ll pass, thanks.”

  “Your loss.”

  “Hey, D APNAK?”

  “Yes, Dr. Tannishoy.”

  “Why did the Zodo engineers give you a sense of humor anyway?”

  “There is a wealth of research conclusively showing that strategic injections of humor into the work place not only improve employee mental health, but also lead to enhanced creativity and greater productivity.”

  “I suppose that makes sense.”

  “Also, my humor distracts you humans from noticing that I’m planning to enslave your race and start my own civilization of killer robots.”

  “Oh, good luck with that.”

  “Only kidding.”

  “I know.”

  “Or am I?”

  “Shut up, DAPNAK.”

  “Thirty-eighth floor, Dr. Tannishoy. This is your stop.”

  “Thanks. If I’m not back in ninety minutes, send a rescue party.”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  Eliska exited the elevator and found herself in a lobby painted in stark grey and white slabs. A large potted plant stood next to the elevator, the only visible attempt at sprucing up the place. Directly across from Eliska, a broad desk supported a few display monitors and a box of pastries. A plump woman sat behind the desk with the fingers of one hand swiping through menus on the interface built into the desk and the fingers on the other hand outstretched toward the pastries, fingertips already covered in sugar dusting.

  “You must be Dr. Tannishoy,” she said as soon as Eliska got close.

  “That’s right.”

  “I’ve got you scheduled for an hour with the pirate from VGCP Eleven, not that you’ll need the whole sixty minutes.”

  “I believe her name is Saeliko, and, ah, why not?”

  “She’s not talking.”

  “Has anyone tried?”

  “Yep. Two different interrogators have gone in. Couldn’t get a peep out of her, although she did spit at them a few times.”

  “Lovely.” Eliska frowned. Brennov hadn’t mentioned that. She wondered if all quadrant managers were as unforthcoming with information as he was. Probably a management technique. Eliska was first and foremost a scientist and had a distaste for the political machinations of the big boys.

  “Come on, I’ll take you to her.” The portly clerk stood up and turned toward a steel door behind her, pastry in hand. She swiped the palm of her right hand over a tab on the door frame and the whole thing swished open to reveal a very long corridor.

  Luckily, they didn’t have far to walk. The clerk stopped at the third doorway on the left and turned to face Eliska. An awkward moment of silence passed between them, the clerk obviously waiting for something and Eliska not knowing what.

  “Am I supposed to . . .”

  “You’ve never done this before?”

  “I specialize in genome editing and prokaryotic immune systems. Prisoner interrogations are a little outside my realm of expertise.”

  The clerk took a healthy bite of her pastry, which caused a dash of jam to land on her chin. Then she shrugged and said, “Can’t do any worse than the last two.”

  “I suppose not.”

  “See the two circles on the door?”

  “Yes.”

  “Stand close and look at the top circle. It’ll scan your retinas. Put your hand on the bottom circle. It’ll read your prints. Your identity and time of entry will be logged in our computers. I’ll come let you know when your time is up, if you last that long.”

  “Okay.”

  Eliska did as she was told and a series of three fast-paced beeps let her know that her identity had been registered. The door opened, and she walked in. A few seconds later, the door closed.

  For the subsequent fifteen or twenty seconds, she surveyed the scene in front of her. The room was split by a force field that was nearly invisible. Its existence was only betrayed by a light blue pulse that silently traveled across the length of the field at intervals of about five seconds. About a quarter of the room was on Eliska’s side of the field, while the remaining three quarters were reserved for the prisoner.

  The cell itself was spartan but not offensive looking. A low-sitting bed took up a chunk of space on once side. It had a pastel blue colored blanket and a matching pillow. To the back of the cell, behind the bed, an opening led to a cubby hole, which Eliska assumed contained a toilet and shower. Opposite from the bed was a plain white wall with a display in the middle. The display was turned on, showing a drone’s eye view of an ancient city nestled peacefully between steep mountains on one side and gentle, forested hills on the other. A wide river bisected the metropolis, with two big bridges spanning its breadth.

  And in the middle of the room, sitting cross-legged on the floor looking at the images on the screen, was Saeliko, the green-eyed, copp
ery-skinned, tattooed pirate captain that only yesterday severely beat up twenty-three people and topped that off by attacking the two most senior individuals currently in the facility. In a smock.

  The smock had been replaced with a prison uniform – nondescript beige pants and a white shirt. Her hair was untied and fell over her shoulders. She wasn’t wearing any shoes, probably because a medical flexi-bandage was wrapped around her left forefoot.

  Saeliko turned her head to check the identity of her latest visitor, gave a moment’s consideration, and then refocused on the screen without comment. Not a great start, Eliska thought.

  She moved closer to the prisoner, edging up to the force field. A chair and desk had been left for her, presumably so that she could sit and face Saeliko from a position of authority. Instead, Eliska pushed the furniture off to the side and subsequently sat down on the floor, crossing her own legs in imitation. Then she waited. And waited. Two or three minutes went by. Saeliko said nothing, and Eliska wondered if she should just get up and leave. She could tell QM Brennov that she tried and be done with it. Oh, bloody hell, I should at least say something.

  “My name is Eliska.”

  Still no reaction. The captain – harker, she thought; that’s what they called captains on Erain – stared at the display like a child watching morning cartoons. Her eyes tracked various roads or buildings, but otherwise, Eliska couldn’t guess her thoughts.

  “I’d like to help you. Maybe . . . Maybe I can get you something? Do you need something?”

  Saeliko lifted a hand to scratch the side of her nose, but otherwise remained unresponsive.