Border Patrol
Page 9
"Sacrifice ourselves?" Don pondered the idea. "Well, I guess you can say that. Eventually each of us would—will—die out here. But I had hoped not to die before detecting at least one Oort Cloud object, something none of our probes have ever been able to do in two hundred years. Voyager 2 was calculated to reach the cloud in another hundred years or so, hence why we planned to rendezvous with it and replace its power cell and wake it up for the first time in a hundred and fifty years. I mean sure, we would have beaten her to the cloud with our ion drive, so really it was more for nostalgia than anything else. We humans are sentimental like that."
"Like I said, you were going to sacrifice yourselves," §9ylÎx said.
"Well not anytime soon."
"On the contrary, it would have been much sooner than you likely believe. As I'm sure you're aware, the Explorer Two could not have protected you from the interstellar radiation that would have flooded the ship as soon as you fully crossed the heliopause of your sun."
Don noticed Adrienne staring at him, her brows together. "Actually," he said, "we were counting on Explorer Two's H₃O-filled exterior walls and its magnetic field to protect us from the background cosmic radiation we knew we'd encounter. It has done a good job up to this point, our detectors still read radiation levels far below—"
"Oh, Commander!" The gray insectoid chuckled. "There is a reason our ships' hulls are engineered with the ¤-* mineral married at the molecular level with the metal. None of our spacecraft have windows, which you may have noticed. Not even our tough exoskeletons can take the pounding the stars extol for very long. No, I'm afraid your mighty little vessel's protections were about a thousand times too weak. I'm sorry to say, you wouldn't have lasted much past where we intercepted you. In fact, when I tricked the Constable into allowing me to perform my facsimile scan, you were nearly to the edge of your sun's heliosheath. If you had passed the heliopause and actually made it through the bowshock in your little tin can, and truly entered interstellar space, your bodies would have been eaten alive by cancer within a months' time. You never would have come close to reaching the sphere of icy little objects your star has collected on its trip around the galaxy. What do you refer to it as again? The Oort Cloud? It's not a cloud. It's more like a botchy sphere of—"
ß7ylÎx seemed to do the equivalent of clearing her throat.
§9ylÎx nodded. "You're right, my <3. My apologies, Commander, Ms. Perle. I digress onto tangents quite easily and often."
"We never would have made it…" Don whispered.
§9ylÎx shook her head. "You see? It's just one more reason the military should have simply left you be! This may sound cold, and I apologize in advance, but the problem would have taken care of itself. Your world would have learned of the crew's illness over the coming years as you relayed your status regularly, and your people would have realized they weren't ready to tackle interstellar space. There would be no more ships trying to leave the solar system. Not for a very long time, anyway."
Next to her, gurgling. Howling.
"Oh, I agree, ß7y! I'm done with those amoeba-minded cockroaches. If the Constable had his way, there would be a spherical wall of plasma turrets all the way around the Sol system! All they had to do was fix the human ship, spin it around, give them a boost, reiterate the warning, and let them be on their way. But him, he's driven by ego and pride, and sees the world in black and white. He has zero room for gray."
The last howl sounded like a frog had given up and died.
"The Border Patrol!" §9ylÎx muttered. "To quote a famous French General of your history, 'They are an obstinate lot.'"
"France…" Adrienne said, staring off into space again. "I never made it to France." She looked up. "Ma'am—I'm sorry but I still can't pronounce your name—have you ever been to Earth?"
§9ylÎx made a sound Don interpreted as a sigh. "I hate to admit it, but I've never set foot upon its surface. I've only enjoyed it from orbit. ß7y, on the other hand, was a part of seven reconnaissance missions to your planet before the treaty came into being and policies were enacted. Before any physical contact with your species was forbidden. She has regaled many stories of your vast rain forests and all the delicious plants and insects there!"
Exuberant chirping followed.
"Oh rub it in, why don't you!" she chided.
ß7ylÎx then emitted a series of chirps and clicks.
After she was finished, §9ylÎx turned all eyes to Don and Pearls. "She wants me to ensure you understand that she is not being rude by not speaking directly to you. She hasn't yet had her vocal chords modified in order to do so. Few have. It's a painful process."
More clicks and a screeching buzz reached Don's ears. He thought it somewhat painful in itself.
"Really?" exclaimed §9ylÎx. "That's wonderful!"
"What's wonderful?" asked Adrienne.
"ß7y just informed me that she has now decided to have the surgery, now that we will have humans to speak with in person on a regular basis! My <3, I'm so proud of you!"
The whirling and chirping that followed seemed exuberant. ß7ylÎx's top two appendages fluttered in the air.
"Wow," said Bouchard. "That seems like a tremendous sacrifice. I don't know what to say."
"Oh, just say 'It's about time!'" §9ylÎx rubbed a claw-like hand on ß7ylÎx shell. "I've been hoping for this day for a Mji1»¥coy!"
"So," said Adrienne, "all the um, people in your society can understand us when we speak, they just can't physically make the sounds? I guess the Constable was struggling to even manage 'Go' and 'Earth' when he first spoke to us?"
"The Constable!" spat §9ylÎx. "We're fortunate he can say two words in our own tongue!"
Don laughed. "§9ylÎx, you might tell your companion—or wife?—that my father's generation really had to fight to prevent those rainforests she spoke so fondly of from going the way of the dinosaurs. They're protected by international law now, so they'll still be there if she ever gets the chance to return to Earth."
"Well, well, look who's more observant than I gave him credit for!" §9ylÎx's mandibles spread wide, as if in a smile. "But ß7ylÎx is not my wife as you define the word. Yes, we're companions, and we share living accommodations and the workload in our mini hive, but there is not a strict bond like the one you share with Ms. Treadwell. For instance, while we are very often by each other's side through 'thick and thin', I think is the term, we share a similar bond with several others in the lÎx hive. However, we do not marry nor mate like Earth companions do. Mating in our culture is a special ritual between select males and our Exalted Hive Queen, performed at regular intervals and on a tight schedule. ß7ylÎx and myself are workers. Neither of us can bear offspring like the Queen can. But we don't die as early as the males do!"
"Similar to bees and ants," Pearls said. "In a way."
"Yes," said §9ylÎx. "Actually we're not that different from—"
Glurping and clicking emanated from ß7ylÎx.
"Did I do it again? Oh. My apologies! Where was I?"
ß7ylÎx chirped several times in rapid succession.
"Yes, thank you, I should mention that. Just so you two know, my next scheduled fake transmission will commence tomorrow morning."
"Your next what?" asked Adrienne.
"Commander, Ms. Perle, your people will become worried if you don't report in on a regular basis, correct?"
"I'd say that's a given," Don replied.
"And they may come looking for you?"
"Eventually."
"How often do you send updates?"
"Reports are expected at least daily. And we often send and respond to messages from friends and family as well."
"I assumed so," said §9ylÎx. "Over the last seventy-seven of your hours, I've been faking your reports back to NASA and Space X headquarters, Commander. I first assured them everything is under control, that the 'non-natural source' you reported earlier was merely unusual radar reflections from a meteor storm, one that did zero damage to the ship. I
told them this so they do not become alarmed and draw any unnecessary attention of the Border Patrol and the Council. NASA responded appropriately and no questions were asked that I could not answer. However, I feel I can only send so many of these messages before the Earthlings will become suspicious. I do not talk like you do, and I don't know personal things only you know. I thought I would ask, now that you're fully functional, would you like to start sending the reports yourself?"
"Surely you jest," said Pearls.
"Not at all."
She scoffed. "Okay. I assume you're sending text messages from the Explorer Two's computer?"
"No," §9ylÎx replied. "They are being transmitted from a moving beacon back to Earth that has exactly matched your spacecraft's last known speed and location."
"A beacon?" she repeated. "Why not use the ship itself? You could get the frequency wrong. The sine wave and the amplification. And NASA knows exactly where we are. If all these things aren't exactly like they've calculated, someone will take notice. They'll start asking questions. I thought you didn't want that before the big decision is made?"
Bouchard turned to Adrienne and studied her. "I'm impressed. I didn't know you paid that much attention to Ray's duties."
"It's a hobby," Pearls said. "I spend a lot of time with Ray. He has more patience than anyone I've ever met, and since he never sleeps or has any hobbies of his own, he's always at his station. Plus he can do a hundred things at once, so he can still do his work even when he's educating us "inferior beings", as he likes to jokingly put it. Sometimes I think he's serious."
Don smiled. "I can see that."
"All these things you mentioned have been taken care of, Ms. Perle," §9ylÎx assured her, ignoring their banter. "ß7y programmed the drone herself."
"But why?" asked Don. "Why the elaborate deception all of a sudden? Why not just use Explorer Two's systems?"
"For one thing, I do not have enough room in the hangar of the )I(J&)I( to recreate and assemble the Explorer Two piece-by-piece in my machine lab. For another, I am allowing you, and all your crew, to remain guests on my science vessel, which can take you wherever you want to go in a fraction of the time Explorer Two could have. Why would you want to travel throughout the galaxy inside such a slow machine?"
"Because it's our home," Adrienne said. "We don't need a recreation. We just want to go back to the actual spacecraft. We belong there. All our belongings and experiments are there."
"I can recreate some of the smaller items for you, if you wish," said §9ylÎx. "Even the experiments. The facsimile scan fully captured everything on board."
Adrienne's face scrunched up. "I don't get it. Why do you keep bringing up this recreation business? And that's three times now you mentioned a 'facsimile scan'. What is that?"
"I told that dung-headed roach it was standard procedure for the archives, if you remember. That was a lie, but he's too hard-shelled to actually read up on the protocols of my ministerial department. Oh don't worry even a bit, Ms. Perle. I not only gave you your natural legs back and removed all hint of those artificial cybernetics, I also repaired the recently-damaged DNA from your digital pattern! Our printer formed perfect strands in each and every one of your cells. Yours, too, Commander!"
Clicking noises came from ß7ylÎx.
"Yes," said §9ylÎx, turning one eye to her wife, "a printer. I'm pretty sure that's what they call it." She then addressed Bouchard again. "That's correct, isn't it? You had similar although quite rudimentary devices on board your own vessel."
Bouchard stared at §9ylÎx.
"Please, there is nothing to be concerned about. You and every member of your crew will be fine, I promise you. In fact, not only are your bodies free of cancer, I corrected your chromosomes to their pre-treaty configuration! Isn't that wonderful? All of you could potentially live a thousand Earth years! Barring any accidents or disease or war, of course."
Clicking.
"Yes, ß7y, or being discovered by the Border Patrol or the Royal Guard, which is basically what you would call the 'police' of this sector. Who would likely call for your immediate execution for being outside your quarantine zone in violation of the Earth-ØÝ*#Îm Pact. But we'll do our best to stay far away from them."
ß7ylÎx glurped and adjusted a glistening metal tendril. A series of purple dots appeared overhead, overlaid on what appeared to be a star map.
§9ylÎx pointed overhead. "These purple globes represent the Royal Guard. We will plot a path around them. And speaking of disease," she continued, "when your doctor wakes up, you can ensure her that she doesn't have to worry about any of us contracting something from the other. I've used ß7y's data from her visits to Earth to not only protect us from your pathogens, but also you from ours!"
ß7ylÎx almost squawked.
"Well of course I'm proud of myself!" §9ylÎx replied, waving several wiry appendages about. "I'd like to see my egotistical sister do any of that! She and all the other 9y series might be good at stellar navigation, but none of them can weave deoxyribonucleic acid like I can!"
Bouchard wanted to ask something, but his jaw merely opened and closed, and nothing came out. He was almost afraid to ask any more questions, afraid of the answers. For instance, he could read a few of the symbols in the star map. Locations of enemy vessels. Identifications of stars.
"Of course the one you call X-Ray would be much more interested in all of this talk! For him I naturally had to make zero adjustments! His synthetic body would not have been significantly affected by the interstellar radiation, at least not in this sector. He could hypothetically have made it all the way to the Centauri system, had your tiny tin can actually held up for the next five or ten thousand of your years, and had the military allowed it. For a moment I thought they were actually going to let him and the ship continue on, considering he is not exactly 'human'. But, the Constable reasoned, he was designed, built, and programmed by humans, so he was just as likely as serious a threat as you all were."
Bouchard blinked. It was all he could manage.
"No matter. With machines, as I mentioned before, our ability to create an exact copy is one hundred percent. With organic matter, however, especially advanced life forms such as yourselves, I'm sad to report that errors do enter the system. So unfortunate; the facsimiles are never one hundred percent like the original. 91.5 percent on average, but never a hundred." The alien shook her head.
Don swallowed. What is she saying?
ß7ylÎx rested a claw on §9ylÎx's thorax, and chirped quietly.
§9ylÎx's head tiled sideways. "Of course, my dear, of course. Please ignore me, Commander, Ms. Perle. I should not be discussing such things in front of you, and I won't do so in front of your crew."
Bouchard was numb. He looked at his hands. Turned them over once. They looked the same as they always did. He put a hand to his chest. Felt his heart thumping there. The taste in his mouth, the one he couldn't quite make out. Being able to make out some symbols of the aliens' language without being taught. Things were starting to explain themselves.
"My legs?" Don turned to see Pearls squeezing her hips, then her thighs, her knees, her shins. Her breathing quickened, and a tear rolled down her cheek. "Not my magical legs..."
Bouchard could only stare at her as she repeated the process, seemingly trying to verify that all her prized cybernetics were indeed gone. Sure, he himself had lived with the heart of an andoid, his wife had her crystal blue, cybernetic eyes, and the others had various small artificialities. But no one had fully-actuated prosthetic limbs like Adrienne. They set her apart from the pack. They made her a superhero. Now, she was as normal as everyone else. His heart, his now human heart, ached in sympathy as he watched her crumple to the floor in tears.
"By the way, Ray Isley's facsimile is being constructed in a different lab than yours, our machine lab. It's just down the hall. I will allow you inside now. I will allow you inside each of the labs. You can go in and see your android being reconstructed!"
&n
bsp; Don's blank stare shifted to the alien woman.
"I think you'd find the process extremely fascinating," §9ylÎx went on, "even though you aren't the science officer."
"Donnie," Adrienne whispered between sobs, "if she's saying what I think she's saying… where are our souls!?"
One of §9ylÎx's many appendages touched a mandible. "In hindsight, I should have re-constructed Mr. Isley first, so he could observe the others being 'birthed'. Oh, he would have enjoyed it so!" She turned to her companion. "Now why didn't you think of that?"
ß7ylÎx shook her head, clicked twice, and pointed at the display boasting the colored circles that §9ylÎx had checked earlier.
"What?" §9ylÎx asked, leaning over the console to see. "Oh yes, thank you! Look at that timing. Right about now, Commander, the next two members of your crew should be nearing completion. Would you like to greet them as they wake up? One is your lovely wife."
ELEVEN
OFFICIAL ØÝ*#Îm INCIDENT REPORT: Rendezvous with Explorer Two
DATE: M1L^ 3.2, ȴcoy 625-N23 (7 May, 2177, Earth Common Era)
Vessel: Name: Explorer Two. Type: Exploration, non-military. Design and construction: Earth, civilian/government project (multi-national). Perpetrators involved: United States, United Kingdom, China, Japan, Canada, France, Germany, Australia, Russia, India.
Crew: Seven. Three married couples, one synthetic human. In order of command structure:
Donald "Donnie Darko" Bouchard. Male, Mission Commander, Canadian.
Adrienne "Pearls" Perle-Liev. Female, Pilot/First Officer, Indian.
Jack "Scales" Scalia, Male. Navigator, American.
Lawrence "Mag-Lev" Liev. Male, Mission Specialist, Russian-American.
Brea "Treads" Treadwell-Bouchard. Female, Payload Specialist, British.
Melodi "M&M" Meng-Scalia. Female, Medical Specialist, Chinese-American.