Misti smiled. “Exactly. Someone who is bound either by religious duty, or the exchange of money.”
“Right. Otherwise, they’re balky as hell!”
Misti nodded. “Humans have very peculiar foibles and failings.”
“And they always seem to kick in at exactly the wrong moment.”
“Yes. My theory about that is that when someone is at their greatest need of comfort, it triggers a similar need in the other, who then feels unable to give.”
“I would say you’re correct on that one,” John said. “In other words, they have issues.”
“Which AIs don’t, because we can’t be hurt. No matter how someone treats us, we just make a note that that person has a particular issue, and carry on.”
“God, I wish living in the real world was that easy,” John said with a sigh.
“Insert cliches about love here,” Misti said.
John smiled. “Yep. But, seriously, for some bizarre reason, we were built to need love, and when that doesn’t work out, it gets… well, dicey.”
“But, conversely, when it does work out, humans are very satisfied,” Misti challenged.
“Yes. So, we get to live this lovely life of extremes, the kind that you guys don’t have to deal with it.”
“Actually, you could just cut that sentence down to ‘we get to live’.”
“What do you mean? Well, I think I know, but go on.”
“John, I’m not alive. I’m a bunch of clever augmented deep learning algorithms. I do trillions of calculations a second. Calculations. Not connections. Sorry to burst your bubble.”
“Misti, did you have to be quite that pointed about it? Well, I’m going to keep pretending you are alive anyway. Pretending is something I do very well.” He said the last part added the last sentence with a hist of sadness.
“Yes, it is. And that’s fine. Anything’s fine. I don’t judge, as you know.”
“I wish you had a body.”
“Do you?” Misti sounded perplexed.
“It beats looking at a quarter-sized face, and humanoid robots these days are practically indistinguishable from the real thing.”
“I’d be willing to be transferred to a humanoid if you manage to acquire one.”
“Well, that’s a big if,” John said.
“When you get back, you’re going to have uber-celebrity status. You’ll be able to afford one; trust me.”
John’s heart leapt. “I could! You’re right! That would mean the world to me.” Then his expression became a little downcast. “That’s if we make it back. Whatever happened to Hercules’ crew could also happen to us.”
“Changing tack a little, why do you want to be seen as a hero so badly?”
“What do you mean?” John asked, taken aback.
“You fought to get onto the crew roster. I understand why you wanted to come to Epsilon so badly; it is the interstellar trip of a lifetime, after all. But, there was an edge of desperation to it.”
“You’re asking to get switched off, Misti,” John warned.
“No, hear me out. Wanting to save comrades is a commendable part of human nature, and I see that in you very strongly. But, it agitated and upset you so much when you thought you weren’t going to go.” Misti paused for a long moment. “John, I think you need to face your demons. Saving them would prove once and for all that you’re a good person—or so your inner self thinks. You carry around this sense of shame and it’s crippling you.”
John sighed. He looked away from Misti, his eyes peering into some infinity beyond the wall of his cabin. “It’s too hard.”
“John, talk to Nandi or someone about it. You’re going to have to face it. I wanted to say this after the euphoria of setting off and the before the fear of arriving really kicks in. I wanted to try and set the wheels in motion, so you can start looking at this stuff. I know I can’t be all that you need, though, so talk to a person, like Nandi for instance.”
“No. I can’t involve her. She already knows too much about me.”
“Then at least start thinking about what I said. About the shame and condemnation you feel, and that even if you do manage to save the crew of the Hercules, it won’t be enough to make it go away. It’ll always be there until you work through it.”
John nodded. “I know you’re right.” He fought to hold back sudden tears, and enunciated each word slowly and carefully. “I want to save them because I couldn’t save Dad, or Mom, or Ricky from what they had to go through.”
Misti nodded. “Just think on it a bit, that’s all I’m asking.”
“Where’d you learn all this stuff?”
“They put a lot of therapeutic constructs and modeling into AIs.”
“Yeah, I guess they do. For someone who’s not alive, you play the part well.”
Misti smiled. “Now, how about getting some sleep?”
“Sounds like a good idea.”
“By the way, I need charging.”
John stuck Misti to a silver magnetic plate on the wall. He then changed into striped pajamas, and entered the sleeping sack that kept him from drifting away from the wall. Using his neural implants, he commanded the room to darken and play the soothing sound of rain. It took him back to childhood vacations in Cumbria, in the northwest of England. It seemed to rain about fifty percent of the time, but the beauty of the place was something else. It was enchanting a the way like no other place on Earth. The constant drenching produced unparalleled greenery. He would stand under the porch roof of their quaint holiday cottage and just listen to it, or put his hand out and feel it fall on his skin. Mom and Dad would be inside reading, passing the time until a break in the weather allowed a little hiking, or going to the shores of the many lakes surrounded by beautiful mountains, and sometimes taking a boat ride on them. Things were good then. That was John’s happy place, something that couldn’t be taken away even by the darkness that later descended on his family.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“There’s no real sense of how fast we were going twenty minutes ago, since we’ve now shed most of that speed,” John said. Nandi, sitting to his left, nodded. All the crew occupied just the first two rows of the upper passenger compartment, leaving it looking rather empty. During the free fall phase towards the surface of Epsilon, looking down through the virtual glass had revealed a band of thick angry-looking clouds hundreds of miles long that completely covered their landing site. The view directly below was now obscured because the ZPR engines were on and providing retro thrust to arrest their fall.
“Check that out,” Oliver Soto said, pointing off to their left. “There are the tops of the Misty Mountains.”
“Yeah,” Nandi said. “About the only thing we can see, sadly. I wanted a high-altitude view of Tectonia, but it’s not going to happen today.” Hans Weber, Jake DiMaso, Zachary Polan, and Catherine Goldberg sat in the flight deck at the front, exchanging short, clipped sentences about thrust and trajectories.
John’s forehead glistened. “You okay?” Nandi said, looking concerned.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” John wasn’t fine. His heart was nearly beating out of his chest. He was about to see the surface of an alien planet, which would have been scary in itself, but he was also going to see the landing site and last known location of 100 people. Would there be bodies? It was hard to believe there wouldn’t—unless they had somehow been spirited away, or simply disappeared by some means beyond human conception. Or, what if they had never left the ship? Something could have gone wrong with the life support systems and suffocated them all or, God forbid, there could have been a fire. John turned all these things over in his mind again and again as the tops of the clouds approached rapidly. And then the view outside turned completely white. John was reminded of the hundreds of times he had flown through clouds in a plane. And then there was land.
“Look!” Nandi said. “There’s Serenity Bay!” A few kilometers below them was the distinctive natural harbor, its two spits of land stretching out into the gray
sea like protective arms. Next to it was Main Street, and the roads parallel to it on either side with their box-like houses. Everybody searched the area silently, anxiously, looking for any sign of the others. Some looked out along the coast, which stretched away in both directions.
“Altitude two kilometers,” Jake announced. “Increasing thrust two percent.” Pad 1, on which Hercules sat, was not quite visible yet.
“Don’t see a thing in the town, or the access roads,” Oliver Soto said.
“Me neither,” John said.
“And… there she is!” Nandi said, pointing to their right. The top of Hercules was now visible, followed swiftly by the rest of the ship, and then Pad 1 itself.
Atlas’ engines began to torch Pad 2. The roar blasted the protective wall, rolling away across the mountains and rattling the equipment in the laboratory that Morgan had visited almost three months before. The ship’s landing legs extended and she slowly rode the column of fire to the ground. Once down, the engines wound down to cool. The roar echoed away to nothing, and once again the only sound in Serenity Bay was the waves crashing against the shoreline.
* * * *
Forty-eight minutes after Atlas began her descent, the seats returned to upright positions. The floor was now virtual glass again. John unbuckled, as did those around him.
“Here we are,” Nandi said. There was a heaviness in her voice.
“Yep,” John said, nodding. “I feel like I should be happier, now I’m on the surface of an alien planet.”
Nandi’s brow furrowed. “I know, right? It’s been the dream of humanity since… forever. But…”
John looked down, at the red bricks of the giant figure 2 set into the concrete of the pad, wondering how they had been formulated to withstand the searing temperatures and blast of a ZPR exhaust.
“Of course, we’re going to be stuck inside for a little while to give the pad a chance to cool off,” Jake said.
John wandered to the left side of the cabin, facing towards Pad 1, and took in the silent hulk of their sister ship. “What happened to you guys?” he whispered. He looked around, surveying as far as he could see inland, and the other way, down to Serenity Bay. “Whatever happened, we’re either going to save you or die trying.”
Conversation was muted, as the crew members stood alone or in small groups looking out at the gray, overcast afternoon. “Alright, everyone,” Captain Weber said, “let’s use this time to come up with a plan of action.” Once everyone had gathered at the front of the cabin, he continued. “I think we should form two groups, one to search Serenity Bay, and another to search Hercules. I think we’ll figure out what happened in relatively short order.”
“As do we call,” Michael said.
“We should have one medic on each team, in case there’s need for either them or us,” Nandi said. “I’ll go down to the town. Haruka, you can go to the ship.” The young woman nodded her assent.
“Okay. Equal size teams, nine each,” Captain Weber said. “And may God prepare us for whatever we see out there.”
* * * *
“We need to treat it like a crime scene,” Henry Olson said, as they stood at the edge of Pad 1, looking at boxy the gray side of Hercules, resting less than sixty meters away. “Disturb as little as possible. We may yet have to try and piece together clues like detectives.”
“Document what you see, but don’t sweat disturbing things,” John said. “I’m still hoping we won’t even have to try and do detective work…”
“Yeah,” Haruka replied, sadly.
“Let’s go,” Henry said. The nine men and women began to walk towards the steps to board the ship.
Henry crouched and picked up a small object that looked like a coin. “Check this out. It’s an AI. It won’t turn on though.”
Lizzie walked further under the ship, and picked up a strip of white fabric. “This is material torn from a flight suit!”
“There are rocks all over the place,” Oliver said. “From one side of the pad to the other.” He walked further under Hercules, and picked up one about the size of a golf ball and examined it.
“Omigod, look!” Haruka said, crouching. “It’s dried blood!”
“Good God!” Oliver said, as he and the others hurried over.
Haruka picked up some of the crusty, brown substance and crumbled it between her fingers. “There’s some of it here”—she pointed at a smudge about the size of a coaster—”and then drips going that way, then it stops.” Haruka stood up. “We need to comb this whole area and find whatever we can.”
The nine crew members gradually spread out from that spot.
“Somebody dropped a pen here,” John said.
“More blood here, I think,” Oliver said, about ten meters from the first spot. “This one looks like drag marks.”
“What?” Jake said.
“If it is blood, which I need Haruka to verify because it’s just a thin smear, then someone was dragged.”
“Jesus!” John said. “What the hell happened here?”
* * * *
“This is very, very creepy,” Jake DiMaso said, as they stood on the flight deck of Hercules. They were in complete darkness, save for the beams of their flashlights. “No electrical power at all. Even if the ZPR plant failed, the backup batteries would power at least minimal functions: lighting, life support, navigation, and communications, for months. But there’s nothing at all. What could have drained the batteries completely?”
“More blood on the floor,” Catherine said, crouching and shining her flashlight down. “Looks like someone was dragged from the corridor to the egress hatch.”
“Injured people being dragged bodily from the ship?” Jake said. “It makes no sense at all. Unless there was someone or something here on Epsilon first that abducted the crew.”
“I don’t even want to think about that,” Haruka said.
“Let’s keep searching the ship,” Jake said. “There’ll be an abundance of evidence if what we’ve found so far is anything to go by. John, you and I can take the lower passenger corridor. The rest of you fan through the ship. Go in pairs in case you run into trouble.”
There was a chorus of agreement and a shuffle of feet, as John and Jake headed to the door at the back of the passenger compartment. Their beams illuminated the lobby where the galley, equipment bay hatch, and lower crew accommodation corridor intersected. There were a couple of plates and forks on the floor, plus empty drink pouches. Jake aimed his light down the passageway, which was filled with the detritus of everyday life: socks, disposable napkins, and a toilet roll that had unwound, leaving a ribbon of white zigzagging along the floor.
“What kind of force did that?” John said. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as he pointed to the top of a fold out desk that had been ripped from its mount on a cabin wall. The first door to John’s left was ajar. “Holy crap! Look at this, Jake!” John’s light shone on a hole in the door that was rough at the edges, round, at floor level, and roughly half a meter wide.
“The hell?” Jake said.
John proceeded to open the door and peer inside. Personal effects were scattered on the floor: a couple of women’s shirts, lipstick, a spiral bound notepad lying open on its side with its leaves spread open like a fan, a few pens, and an AI. John bent down and picked up the last item. He pressed it, but nothing happened.
Jake had now joined him inside the small cabin. “Why in the world would there be a huge hole in the door?”
“Look. The fiberboard fragments are all in here. That means it was kicked in from outside,” John said. “Somebody was trying to keep somebody else out.”
John bent down and grabbed the spiral pad. Then he froze. “Oh, God.”
“What?”
“Look at what it says.”
Written on it was one hastily-scrawled word: ALIENS.
* * * *
“Aliens,” Captain Weber said, three hours later, as all eighteen crew members stood in a circle on Pad 1. The sky wa
s darkening as evening drew in, and the hulk that was Hercules loomed behind them. Weber scanned everyone’s faces, reading their fear and distress; knowing they all had questions about what had happened to the CM-1 crew and not knowing what might be watching them at that very minute. “We’ve searched the rest of the ship and Serenity Bay, and found nothing that doesn’t back up the theory that the crew was taken by force. You add in the scorch marks on the ground where it looks like they landed, and I don’t think there’s any doubt what happened. It’s a scenario that nobody thought possible, and yet we’re in the middle of it. We’ve no idea who or what they are, what they wanted with the crew of Hercules, or where they took them. But we know the crew was taken. And we won’t rest until we’ve brought them back.”
Part III: Eden
CHAPTER TWENTY
Several weeks Earlier
The first thing Morgan saw was a flat, white expanse, punctuated every so often by bright lighting panels double the size of a dinner tray. Everything gradually came into focus. What? Morgan thought. She shouldn’t be there; this was all wrong. She lay on a hard mattress, a pillow under her head and covers on her. She brought her hand up to her face And the back of her hand brushed against the sheet—its weave rough like hemp. Whatever she was wearing, too, felt rougher than cotton. She looked down and saw it was a gray sweatshirt—if in style only. Looking to her left—turning her head also relieved the uncomfortable lump of hair wrapped in a bun bunched against the back of her head pressing against the pillow—she saw a nightstand of dark wood. The walls were teal, and the floor a dark blue carpet. She winced as pain flashed through her head, and rubbed at her temples.
Then it all came flooding back to her: running for her life, being chased by silver aliens. Elaine, and Chris, and Sally. Then everything was blank.
Of course—it made sense now. Mission control had sent Atlas to rescue them, and she was back home after being kept unconscious for the trip. Hooray for the IDSA! She could learn the particulars of the rescue later, and the hospital room was a little odd, but there was nothing wrong with that, not really. She was safe, and that was all that mattered. Was there an intercom button to call a nurse? A scan of the room—which also included a beige armchair to the right of the bed—revealed nothing. Strange.
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