by Hugh Howey
“Who were these people that did this to you?”
“Humans trapped in hyperspace. Remnants and new recruits from an old terrorist group. They think the Bern are onto something. They see aliens as a problem—and that includes themselves and other Humans. They’re pretty convincing, too. Of course, the other side also had a way with words.”
“The other side?”
“The Underground. I spent some years with them as well, after one of our raids didn’t go so well and I got captured.” Cat looked up. “It wasn’t long after I fell in with the Underground that your parents came to Lok, but of course I didn’t know about that ’till later. We eventually made a huge push, one of those raids that grows into a war, and it nearly wiped out both sides. The fighting spilled out into Lok, pretty much leveling the village where that rift is now. Most people got trapped on the hyperspace side. Me and a few others got stuck back here. I kept up the fight for a while, tried to talk sense to some people, but kept getting numb to it all. I eventually stopped caring. Hell, now I go back and forth between the two sides, seeing how one’s right and the other’s wrong, then changing my mind.”
“How we’re wrong?” Molly asked. “Wrong to want to live and be free?”
Cat shrugged. “Free and bumbling around aimlessly. Hell, your side might mess up the universe for a whole load of future people. You might unwittingly end life for everyone.”
“How would we do that?”
“Buncha physics I can’t half understand, but it’s possible. The universe goes ’round and ’round, you see? If it gets different enough, it might be the end of everything alive. The Bern basically make sure the universe is kosher for living things each time it resets itself.”
“It sounds like they make the world hunky-dory for them, but what about us? And why are you helping me if you aren’t sure who’s good or bad?”
Cat tilted her mug up and tapped the bottom, letting the last few drops fall on her tongue. She put it back in its holder for the final time and wiped her chin with her sleeve.
“These days, I just go wherever the pain is,” she said. “And you seem to be doing the same, so here I am. Here we are, you and me.”
“Belay, ascenders here. Coming up with the first load. Should be able to get it all in two, over.”
Cat grabbed the radio. “Roger,” she said. “Copy. Belay is over and out. Ten-four.”
She smiled up at Molly and winked.
But Molly wasn’t finding anything humorous at the moment. She frowned and stared off into space, thinking about the things Cat had said. There was something familiar in the argument, the claim that it might be worth it to sacrifice a few million lives to prevent the possibility of some future, even larger calamity.
“Glemot,” she whispered to herself. Cat’s claim was that the Bern might have a right to torch them all, just to keep her people from performing some unknown evil in some unseen tomorrow.
Her mind felt fevered at the thought that it all came down to that. Another calculation of risk, another bout of destruction on such a grand and unfortunate scale, and all over a bunch of what-if’s.
“What’s Glemot?” Cat asked, having overheard Molly’s disgusted whispers.
“It was the biggest mistake ever made,” Molly said, tears welling up in her eyes at the memory of that beautiful and haunting planet. “It was the biggest mistake in the universe up until this one.”
13 · Walter’s Room
Walter leaned his head out the doorway and peered to the side; Molly and Cat were still in the cockpit, talking. He stole across the hallway and let himself into Molly’s room, moving immediately to her bottom drawer. He caught the hair lodged in the drawer’s frame as it fell to the carpet, dug under her clothes, grabbed his spoils, and returned the single follicle to its place. He had raided the drawer so many times, he often worried he’d do it in his sleep one night and get caught.
He laughed to himself at the idea. There’ss no way I’d get caught, Walter thought. Not even in my ssleep!
He padded out of Molly’s room and back across the hallway, the red band from Drenard clutched in his silvery fist. As soon as his door slid shut, he pulled the band on, the seam lined up in back. Walter jumped in his bed and slid under the covers. He started thinking as loudly as he could, wishing the voice on the other side wasn’t so fond of always keeping him waiting—
••••
“Sir? There’s a message coming in for you.”
Byrne turned to his assistant and waited. The young officer pressed a finger against his ear, holding tight the small radio receiver lodged there. Byrne assumed the gesture helped block out external noises. He could only imagine how such a messy interplay between flesh and machine would work, for he was one hundred percent the latter. His assistant nodded and raised one hand to signal it might take a moment.
Byrne settled back in his chair and looked around the suddenly quiet conference room. If he still had arms, it would’ve been a fine time to cross them, signifying his comfort with the wait. He would show his creators that he was quite confident in the invasion’s progress, dispelling the worries that had drawn them together in the high command ship’s main conference room.
“It’s from the latest ship to pass through the rift,” his assistant said.
The scattered whispers around the table died down as everyone listened for the latest news from the home galaxy.
“Go on,” Byrne said. It would’ve been a fine time to wave his hand in small circles, but he had to sit, an expressionless torso, and pour as much meaning as he could into mere words.
His assistant coughed into his fist and then cleared his throat. “The Senate is not happy with the timetables, sir. They’ve sent a spreadsheet showing a revised invasion schedule, with or without the, uh… the data stored in your arms. I can send the file through to your internals if you like.”
Byrne felt his programming stutter at the mention of the damned arms. That was all anyone around the conference table wanted to discuss. His arms. When would he get them back? Why weren’t there backup copies of all the intel he’d gathered on the Milky Way? How had he not foreseen one day being without them?
Right then, all Byrne wanted his limbs for was to pound the conference table to bits. He wanted to wave away the criticisms, to dispel the nonsense made by hindsight. He wanted a fist to shake.
“So the Senate wishes us to hurry,” he said, forcing a smile he didn’t feel.
A scattering of laughter floated around the table.
Byrne nodded to the invasion fleet’s head physicist. “What’s the latest on the rift?”
“The size has stabilized, sir, but we’re still showing a massive strain on local spacetime with each ship that comes through.”
“So there’s no bringing them through any faster?”
“No, sir. Not and still give each of the six folded dimensions time to properly recoil—”
“We take your word for it,” Byrne said, the interruption feeling rude without a polite raise of his hand. He looked around the table at the various heads of invasion divisions. Most of the eyes pointed his way were of the fleshy variety. Not for the first time, Byrne wondered what they felt of his being in charge. Was he seen as an abomination? One of their tools out of control? He didn’t think so. He often felt something more humiliating: That they just looked at him the way they did their communicators after they’d been popped out of their ear canals and set on the table before them.
“I understand the Senate’s impatience, and I understand each of yours,” Byrne said. “However, if the science says we can’t bring the fleet through any faster, I don’t see that we have a choice. It’s not as if this galaxy poses a threat to us, so we form up as steady as we can right here until the jump data is retrieved.”
The Personnel Chief raised his hand. “But when will that be?” He glanced at the others as they turned to face him. “And it’s not that the crews are grumbling about the time away from home, they just want to know when t
hey’ll see some action.”
“I thought you were expecting your—” The Weapons Officer looked away from Byrne’s gaze and glanced at the knotted and empty sleeves at his shoulders. “—your data back days ago.”
“I was,” Byrne said. “I am. The agent I have working on this has our coordinates. I’m just waiting for the delivery.”
“While we wait, the Drenard invasion against the Humans continues and is taking a heavy toll.”
Everyone around the table turned to the other automaton in the room, the only figure among them who didn’t look anything like a good Bern. Agent Bodi stood in a far corner, preferring as always to keep his blue-tinted skin in the shadows. As uncomfortable as his presence made the others feel, Byrne felt a sort of connection to his mechanical brethren, his fellow plant among the enemy. But he also felt a twinge of disgust. So many other, more primal circuits inside of him had been designed to loathe the appearance of anything un-Bern.
Cinthya, the fleet’s Cultural Advisor turned to Bodi. “Are you really worried about the loss of Drenard life?” Byrne thought she sounded more professionally curious than shocked.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Bodi said, which caused more than a few spines to stiffen. “The start of our invasion was coordinated to ease the progress of this one. If we wait until the Drenards have already wiped out the Humans, I assure you we’ll have a messier time scrubbing their blue filth out of this galaxy than we would have otherwise. They’ll be battle-hardened and they’ll be everywhere.”
“Bodi is right,” Byrne said. Chairs squeaked as everyone turned their attention back to the table. “But we still have plenty of time before we need to worry, and every passing day, more of our ships arrive from hyperspace—”
“Hello, hello, hello. Testing. One. Two.”
“I’m sorry, more of our ships arrive from—”
“Hello? Is anyone there?”
“Pardon me,” Byrne told the division heads. He turned to his assistant and nodded. “I believe our agent is making contact.”
The young officer jumped up from his seat and inspected the band on Byrne’s forehead. “Is it coming through okay? Do I need to rearrange anything?”
Byrne wanted to wave him away. As he collected his thoughts, forcing them into the circuits of the Drenardian Communicator, he suddenly realized why the fleshy Bern touch their ears while talking to distant people. With all the curious gazes pointed his way, Bern had an overwhelming urge to rest his missing hand along the band’s edge, signifying to the others that he was speaking to someone not present—
••••
“I’m here. Iss that you, Walter?”
Walter nodded. He reached out from the covers and flicked off the overhead lights. He could pretend to be asleep and continue to talk if Molly barged in.
“Walter, iss that you?”
“Yeah,” Walter thought. “Lissten, about that meeting—”
“Yess, Walter, I wass jusst disscusssing that with my ssuperiorss.”
Walter dug his fingers into his ears, as if he could plug the annoying hiss.
“I loaded the coordinatess you gave me into our hyperdrive, jusst like you ssuggessted,” Walter thought, “But sshe didn’t make the jump.”
“But you promissed,” the voice said.
“I know, but there’ss been a change of planss. I don’t think we’re jumping to hypersspacse anymore.”
“What’ss going on, Walter? I can’t promisse you all thiss gold if you can’t come through for me—”
“I think we’re gonna be jumping individual people to ssomewhere tonight,” Walter interrupted. “I’m gonna have to undo the changess I made to the hyperdrive or they’re gonna find out. I’m ssorry.”
“Individual people? What do you mean?”
Walter pulled his sheets up over his head. “There’ss thesse sshipss here keeping uss from going anywhere, sso I think ssome friendss of mine are gonna ssend people ssomewhere with the hyperdrive. I’m gonna have to change it back to the way it was.”
“Walter, iss there any chancse you could ssend yoursself ssomewhere with the hyperdrive?”
Walter thought about that.
“I’m not ssure,” he thought.
The voice in his head was silent.
“Hello?” Walter thought.
“One ssecond,” the voice said.
“I don’t know what to do,” Walter thought miserably.
The intolerable silence grew.
“Okay, Walter, I’ve got ssome numberss I need you to jot down.”
Walter fumbled at his belt for his portable computer. He powered it on under the covers, filling the small tent with an eerie luminescence.
“Okay,” Walter thought, as soon as the screen lit up. “What kind of numberss?”
“Thesse are ssome new coordinatess,” the voice in his head hissed. “I want you to jump to them asss ssoon asss you can.”
“I’ll try,” Walter thought.
“And, Walter?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t forget to bring Molly along with you.”
“Okay,” Walter thought.
Images and dreams of a cube of gold the size of a moon filled his imagination, as vivid and bright as the voice invading his mind.
“I promissse,” he hissed out loud, enraptured by the vision of so much shiny goodness, all of it soon to be his.
14 · Parsona
Molly clipped her harness to the eyebolt by the cargo door and stood ready to haul in bags of supplies. Each of the climbers had at least one black duffle, which they pushed ahead of themselves using ascenders that ratcheted along the ropes in one direction while refusing to slide down in the other. The sound of the thrusters holding Parsona in place erased the labored grunts of the climbers as they made their way up to the cargo bay and handed off the gear. Walter even emerged from his room to help out. He took one of the bags from Molly, nearly dropping the heavy sack as she let go.
The climbers scampered into the bay thankful for the grav plates, which altered the downward direction their bodies felt. Molly joined Walter and Cat in bringing them refreshments, nobody commenting on the blood stains on their boots and knees, the marks from their climb through a stairwell littered with the day-old remains of their crewmates.
“Are you sure we need another run?” Molly asked. She felt like doing anything she could to spare them another taxing ordeal, physically as well as emotionally.
One of the Navy men nodded as he sipped from his thermos. Behind him, Scottie leaned back against a bulkhead, taking deep breaths. Molly glanced out at the system of ropes rigged up across the decking beyond. Because of the grav plates and the thrusters holding them in place, it looked like she could just stroll out and walk along them. She had to remember the way the Firehawks had fallen the other day to appreciate the forces at play beyond her own decking.
The climbers rested for almost an hour before setting off again. Cat volunteered to spell Scottie or Ryn, but neither would hear of it. After they disappeared down the ropes, Walter made himself scarce as usual, and Molly and Cat returned to their boring duties as radio sentries and gossipers.
As before, they picked up sporadic chatter from the ships overhead, but nothing that seemed important. It wasn’t long before Cat and Parsona resumed the argument they’d been in the middle of before the climbers had returned and interrupted them:
“I just don’t see how you can sympathize with the Bern,” Parsona said, not for the first time.
Molly looked to Cat and watched her shrug. The Callite turned to gaze out her porthole. “I didn’t say they can do no wrong. All I’m suggesting is that the Underground might be the rebellious upstarts, and the Bern maybe got a right to try and quash them.”
“Now it’s them, huh? What happened to us?”
Cat waved her hand. “What’s it matter in the long run? Can you really think in absolutes like this? It’s like—”
Molly smiled and fed some of her protein bar to the Wadi as C
at struggled for the right word.
“It’s like what?” Parsona asked.
“Aw, hell. I was gonna say it’s like you can think like a computer, or something, but it wouldn’t have come out right.”
Parsona and Molly both laughed.
“I don’t mean to be obstinate,” Cat said. “I guess I’ve just thought on these things so long that I’m pretty sure there ain’t an answer.”
“Wait a second you two.” Molly leaned forward and turned up the ship’s radio.
“Affirmative, group designation four. Maintaining coordinates relative to—”
“It’s nothing,” Cat said.
“Yeah, it’s just that voice. I swear it reminds me of someone—”
“—approximate vectors. Edison out.”
“Flank me,” Molly whispered.
“No,” Parsona said. “It can’t be.”
“You two wanna fill me in?”
“Can we can transmit?” Molly asked.
“Yeah,” her mom said. “We’re riding the same frequency in order to listen in. I’m patching it together right now. But you don’t really think—?”
“I don’t know.” Molly shook her head and reached for the mic. She thought for a moment, then squeezed the transmit button. “Hello? Does anybody read me?”
The radio popped, and then a voice announced: “Carrier frequency compromised. All groups switch to secondary.”
A round of “copies,” followed, and then the radio fell silent.
“Well that sucks vacuum,” Cat said.
“Give me a second,” Parsona told them.
They waited.
“Try again. I think I have it, but there isn’t any chatter right now.”
Molly bit her lip and thought about what to say. “My transmission is scrambled too, right?” she asked her mom.
“Yes, but if the entire fleet is using this carrier wave, they’ll all hear you. Keep that in mind.”
Molly keyed the mic. “Mechanical bear, this is the Wadi queen, over.”