[Confluence 01.0] Fluency

by Jennifer Foehner Wells

  “Now? Right now?” Bergen stormed through clenched teeth. “What’s the rush?”

  Walsh glared at him incredulously. “What do you think that alarm was about, Bergen? It’s probably engineering another scenario for her to save us from, right now. It wants us running scared, dependent on Holloway. We’ve got to move before it can enact its plan. If you don’t think these scenarios are going to escalate each time, you’re crazy. That thing is going to ratchet up the stakes until one of us, maybe all of us, is dead.”

  Gibbs and Varma both seemed indecisive. Walsh was getting to them. Compton looked like he was falling asleep on his feet. What the hell was up with him? He normally contributed a tidbit with the ring of the sage voice of experience.

  Bergen said, “That’s speculation. You can’t know that. I can’t believe that the brass in Houston don’t expect us to put more time and effort into this. We’ve barely seen anything—just a bunch of tanks and crates and an infirmary. We need to give this more time.”

  “Your input is noted, Dr. Bergen. This is my call. Compton—go get Holloway. We’ll take turns carrying her.”

  Compton blinked, but didn’t move.

  Walsh sidled up to Compton. “You got something you want to say, Tom?”

  “Hm?” Compton roused himself and inhaled sharply. “You say something, Commander?”

  Walsh took a step back like he’d been slapped, his eyes roving over Compton’s face.

  Varma moved in. “Thomas? Are you feeling well?”

  Compton smiled, a slow, sloppy grin. “Sure. Whaddaya need?”

  She took a pen light out of her pocket and flashed it in Compton’s eyes. “What were you thinking about, just now?”

  His eyebrows crept up and his features contorted into a leer. “You sound like a girl I once knew.”

  Varma didn’t hide her dismay.

  Gibbs put his hand on Compton’s shoulder. “Is the alien talking to you inside your head, Pops? Like it is with Jane?”

  Compton made a face like that was absurd, but his words were slow and slurred. “What? No.”

  Walsh motioned them away from Compton, who didn’t notice or mind. “Do you see? It’s already starting. We’ve got to get out of here before all hell breaks loose.”

  Gibbs and Varma nodded.

  Bergen was so unnerved by Compton’s unsettling behavior that he kept silent.

  Walsh went out to check that the corridor was clear. Gibbs went for Jane while Varma coaxed Compton toward the door.

  Bergen stood there, clenching and unclenching his fists. They didn’t have the big picture, yet, he felt sure of that, but Walsh was right about one thing—it seemed pretty clear all hell was about to break loose.

  12

  Salvation? Dread filled Jane, a cold, paralyzing feeling. “From what?”

  “The Interspecies War. The Sentients from all corners of the known galaxies fight for dominance, for control of habitable worlds. Terra is untouched by this, due to its remote location. It was our hope that we would find you ready to answer the call.” It was clear from his mood, his tone, that he deemed Earth exceedingly unready to answer this call.

  Jane was reeling. “Are you serious? Earth will bring salvation from a war? But how? Why? I don’t understand.”

  “Your species is such a curiosity. You thirst for knowledge of the origins of life, but fill in the unknown with imagination. It is peculiar that the Cunabula should withhold from your kind that which is commonplace among the rest of us. Perhaps they intended that hunger for knowledge to inspire you to reach out, to search.”

  “Tell me about the Cunabula,” she urged him.

  “It is said they were a people without humor. Now that I have become acquainted with you and your colleagues, I am inclined to disagree.” He rumbled with something akin to laughter. Waves of amusement washed over her.

  She anchored herself, holding giggles at bay that were perilously close to breaking the surface. His moods affected her so easily when they shared this state. “Ei’Brai—you digress.”

  “A common accusation, you will find, in time. I have missed the company of others.” He paused in reflection. “The Cunabula are the oldest of the known races—arisen, it is said, from the farthest reaches of the universe, where the oldest stars are now burning out and dying—their light still illuminating our skies from such distance—just as the Cunabula still bestow their influence, though they may be long gone.

  It is said they were bipedal, quad-limbed, not derived of apes, but some other phylum, lost to the ages. They were scientists, perhaps not unlike the Sectilius. They mastered the physical sciences primarily and began, thus, to explore the stars, seeking out life, much as you have wanted to do. They observed, made alliances, and catalogued all that they encountered.”

  “But what does this have to do with Earth?”

  “It is said that the Cunabula began to see disturbing trends, species arising with greater aggression, seeking dominance over all—to the point of precipitating extinctions of more peaceful, benign races. ‘Evolution is inevitable, yet diversity shall be pinnacle, even to that.’ That is a quotation, often taught to school children, from a text attributed to them. They worked tirelessly to forestall the aggressors. The histories say that, to that end, they set their sights on mastering the biological sciences.

  “The earliest forms of genetic transmission at that time were more primitive, confined primarily to three types found throughout the cosmos. What you now call DNA, RNA and mitochondrial DNA once existed each in its own realm. They combined these three elegant systems, creating a more robust form of life, fit for their own purposes, in order to disseminate it as far as their reach would allow.

  “They seeded barren planets with this genetic information, programmed by their deft handiwork to make these lifeless bodies explode into lush worlds, like your own—worlds where the genetic information could subdivide and increase at will, filling every niche with extraordinary, diverse life.

  “You see, we—all of us—are alike at our core. From the lowest microorganism to the highest form of Sentient, we share the most basic aspects of all living things from protein folds to cellular organization. The secrets lie within the dual nature of intron and exon—expression and suppression and recombination of these—allowing life to seek infinite forms.

  “It is this duality, and the two strands of DNA, that are the source—and an Ark to usher that duality safely into worlds devoid of life—two of each?—two strands for each kind. Your kind misunderstands the literal nature of it, obscured by your ignorance, by the infancy of your science, by your violent, primitive history. But the knowledge resides within the collective psyche, despite the fact that you cannot name it.

  “The Cunabula continued thus, through the eons. Growing wiser, depending on their legacy as a defense against the growing giants, who were always grasping for more space, never satisfied. The Cunabula turned the tide with their cleverness, with sheer numbers of new worlds and the races that inhabited them.

  “It is said that they favored the ape-derived hominids as being most like themselves, though their many gifts extended to so many races that this hardly seems likely—my own race being a perfect example of this. Regardless, it is your form that they must have felt would be the one that would hold the line in the final fight. Some say that Terra was nothing more than a social experiment. Others give it rich religious significance. Only the Cunabula know the truth of it, and they are not here to tell us.”

  “A social experiment? I don’t understand.”

  “History suggests the Unified Sentient Races of that time had suffered a terrible setback. They longed for peace, but the hungry evil would never allow it. The Cunabula revisited their young, seeded worlds, seeking the fittest, the strongest. They found, on Terra, several races of ape-hominids developing into species with much potential. Terra was remote, distant from any busy nexus or hub. It is said that they took the most promising ape-races from several worlds—nine in total, the texts tell
us—and put them in competition for the resources of your world. They adjusted the genetics of each, amplifying aggression, entitlement, the drive to expand to all borders, making the need to lay claim to land as urgent as the need to reproduce—all attributes rampant among the enemy, but only mildly expressed among the majority of the Sentients of the time. These races competed, interbred, struggled for dominance. They may have expected your kind would quickly become prodigies among the stars. But you turned inward instead, to subjugate your own kind and to war amongst yourselves. An oversight? Perhaps you required more guidance. Left to your own devices, you disappoint.”

  “Oh, my God.” There was a truth to this story that resonated. It felt more true than any Sunday sermon she’d ever been forced to attend by her pious grandparents.

  “Many believed that Terra was a myth—that the Cunabula intended for their children to search for you so that, as a consequence of that search, we might start colonies, expand our boundaries, and make alliances with other species, rather than remaining insular, growing complacent, or accepting the inevitable. There have been Sectilius searching for you for all of recorded time. Now we have found you and still we have failed.”

  “But what did the Sectilius intend to do?”

  “Bring you into the Alliance.”

  “But how? Are there Sectilius on Earth now?”

  “Alas, no. We were implementing the early stages—learning about your culture, gathering specimens—”

  “What kind of specimens?”

  “Humans, of course. A necessary step. It was decided that a group of Sectilius would be surgically altered to pass among you, to infiltrate your government-military-industrial complexes, to gain trust before revealing their origins and goals. Specimens were needed to study certain features of human anatomy and physiology. We did not harm them. They were returned.” He sounded affronted in the face of her revulsion.

  “The universe is insane. The shuttle—the crashed shuttle in New Mexico—that was Sectilius too?”

  “Indeed. The occupants were en route to Terra when…”

  “Oh. I see.”

  “Yes. It led you here, however. Perhaps all will be well, Dr. Jane Holloway.” Hope surged in him again.

  Jane felt dazed. She struggled to make sense of everything she’d just been told. “We were meant to be this way. Not to fight the worst aspects of our nature, but to embrace them.”

  “Just so. To exploit your inherent qualities, in the service of others. It is the belief of many that they hoped to create a warrior class that would turn the tide, yet leave their brethren to live in peace. To respect the diversity and protect it.”

  “But they abandoned us. They didn’t follow through.”

  “A mystery, true.”

  “It’s too much to ask. They poisoned us. We’re not… happy.”

  “Many suffer. Many others exceed these limitations. Be grateful it is the Sectilius that found your world first. Not the Swarm.”

  Jane gasped. She inhabited the memory of a young Sectilius woman, fighting to squeeze herself and her children into an escape vessel. A fearful mob crushed them, bruising skin, cracking bones in the desperate struggle to survive. Shielding one child in her arms, another clinging to her waist, she could smell the coppery scent of blood. She could hear the clamor of the anguished, the plaintive. And over that, a deafening, ominous roar.

  Her eyes darted overhead, straining to see through the hazy grey atmosphere as she shoved forward, determined to survive. The sky darkened, seemed to lower, but she still couldn’t see anything for certain. She knew, though, what had blotted out the sun’s light. She pressed forward even harder. Ships took to the air around her—other life boats and precious few defense vehicles.

  There was little hope. They’d been caught by surprise. A young colony with few defenses. Those that they did have would last only long enough to allow a small percentage to get away. The rest would perish.

  The dark clouds pressed down, and then with her last glimpse over her shoulder she could actually see them as she finally forced herself and her child into the dark, reeking cargo space—a blanket of flashing, metallic bodies, alighting with obscene grace on homes, vegetation, people. With almost no opposition, the monstrous insects streamed over every living thing. She could already hear their mandibles breaking, grinding, killing.

  The hatch closed, severing limbs, and the vessel was away, sluggish, overburdened by a mass of frail, living mankind. Children cried. Men and women keened. She watched through the small window in the hatch as the new world disappeared forever under the gnashing jaws of the Swarm.

  “No!” Jane cried out, involuntarily—an outraged denial—and she wasn’t sure whom it came from, the woman who had lost too much or herself. She could not unsee the violence she had witnessed. She could not unknow the pain or terror.

  She curled into herself, fruitlessly trying to protect herself from the horror.

  “Dr. Jane Holloway,” Ei’Brai purred, buoying her into a warm embrace, tendrils of soothing thoughts flowing over her and through her mind. She began to breathe again in strangled, gasping sobs as the tightness in her chest slowly subsided.

  She choked out, “Why would you show that to me?”

  “I could not allow you to trivialize the need. This is what we face.”

  Images continued to trickle through the connection with Ei’Brai, gentler now, more like a documentary than first-hand experience. They seemed less immediately threatening. Her pulse slowed.

  Immense insectile creatures sunned themselves on a hillside as she watched. The scale was astonishing. The group of arthropods, all the size of elephants, roused themselves, lifting armored carapaces and unfolding monstrous leathery wings. They took flight, hunting a herd of deer-like mammals. The ruminant animals didn’t stand a chance. It was over in moments. The entire herd had become food for the insects.

  “The Swarm is a formidable foe. They developed first as you see here, large-scale, flying insects, dominating their home world, carnivorous and ruthless, with little to keep them in check. Their population reached unsustainable, peak levels. All of their prey species had been hunted to extinction. It might have meant the end of their species, or merely a chance for another species to rise to dominance. Then a single individual was born with a mutation that allowed it to seek prey under the surface of water.”

  A graphic formed behind her eyes—a 3-D, transparent depiction of the insect’s anatomy, highlighting a swim-bladder. “That individual survived to procreate, to create a new lineage that was more versatile. They ravaged their home world eon upon eon, populations rising and falling, multiple adaptations allowing them to consume more and more of their world, until the day came that that world could no longer sustain them.”

  There was now a large group of them diving in concert, scooping up sea-life, then basking on a sandy shore. The sequence changed smoothly from image to image showing the gradual changes in the insect’s evolving morphology. Words like “hydrolysis,” “storage organ,” and “organic fission reaction” were highlighted along with various parts of the arthropodal anatomy, now very much changed from its original form.

  Ei’Brai showed her a sandy ocean floor. A school of large fish swam into view. The sea-floor lifted as one. As far as the eye could see, streamlined aquatic insects burst from under the sand to devour every fish in sight.

  “They move in concert, like hive insects,” Jane murmured.

  “Indeed.”

  The insects rose to the surface in formation and soared into the sky, higher and higher into the clouds. Their abdomens blazed with light and heat, leaving thin, white trails behind them. As they gained altitude, their numbers became fewer as those who could not sustain the velocity needed to escape gravity dropped off. Only a few broke free of the atmosphere. The viewpoint zoomed in to reveal one of them was female with a fully mature egg-sac attached.

  They drifted through space, homing in on another blue-green sphere, the moon of a second planet in
the habitable zone of that solar system, also rife with life. One individual survived the heat and stress of reentry. A male. It found the female, dead. It fertilized her eggs, then began to hunt.

  Ei’Brai said, “A new species was born, their unique adaptations allowing them to eventually move between stars—to consume a world’s resources and lay eggs for the next generation of devastation to begin. They do not give themselves a name, do not communicate with their prey, never acknowledge sentience in another species. It is unknown if they have language or culture. The Sentients have given them the name, the Swarm.”

  Jane shuddered.

  “Your kind considers outsiders to be alien. The Swarm is truly alien, without conscience or soul. They care only about sating their hunger.”

  The lesson was over. The shadowy darkness returned.

  “You knew that woman? The one in the memory?” Even as she spoke, she knew the answer.

  “She was the Quasador Dux of this vessel. She gave her life to find your world.”

  “After surviving that… she… I don’t know what to do with this. What am I supposed to do now?”

  “Bring her voice to your people. Make ready.”

  “I don’t know how I could ever make them understand this. It’s not like I can show them the things you’ve shown me. All I can do is describe it. How can that ever be enough? They won’t see it the same way. They’ll want to protect themselves. They’ll want to stay in hiding, here, where we’re safe.”

  “You will convince them. There is no other way. Safety is an illusion. You know this to be true.”

  “I… do.”

  “You must go. Your companions have need of you. Tell them of this, Dr. Jane Holloway.”

  “Ei’Brai—I—you should call me Jane.”

  “Without your earned title? I will not be so disrespectful as this. Shall I call you Dr. Jane?”