* * *
He gave himself two days to rest. He thought about using them to write down his last thoughts, but what did he have to offer? Tequila was good, aliens were bad? The things he knew weren't beliefs that you took on the word of others. They were beliefs you fought tooth and nail to reject. They could only be believed after your teeth and nails had been worn down. Only when you couldn't fight it anymore were you able to see it for what it was.
He stretched his ankle. Drank some, but less than before. He tried to read, but the stories of a world with airplanes and supermarkets felt like fairy tales. Mostly, he remembered. He made no distinction between the good and the bad. The things that had happened to him were more like a photo album taken by a stranger. He was more drawn to the images, the colors and light of them, than what was happening in the scenes themselves.
When the second night fell, he laced on his shoes, put on his jacket, got his pack, and strolled outside. The sea breeze was crisp and smelled less like smoke than the last few days. He walked through the night without any real haste; now that he knew his fate, there was no need to chase it. At the site of his last battle, the bodies had been dragged away, but dried yellow stains remained at the fence and the street corner.
Seeing no patrols of any kind, he made his way toward the park. The bodies of the humans were still at the corner where he'd first spiked the aliens. As he walked away, a flap of white caught his eye. A sheet of paper was attached to the poop bag dispenser where the park path crossed the road.
He circled the neighborhood, making sure nothing was lying in wait, then moved to the sheet of paper.
"HELLO TO THAT WHICH KILLS US." The letters were block capitals, written as though the author had only encountered the English alphabet a few weeks earlier. "IS IT WANTED TO STOP THE KILLING? OF US AND ALSO OF YOU? RESPOND HERE."
There was a gap on the page. The note concluded: "THIS IS NOT A TRAP!"
Walt tipped back his head and blinked at the sky.
17
Fifteen men and women walked down the slope to the sand, shielding their eyes from the glare of the Pacific. They made no secret about the guns they carried. Beside Ness, Tristan swore. Her hand twitched toward the pistol at her waist, but she stopped herself. They weren't five miles south of the old California border. Rather than the tidy jogging/biking path that bordered the L.A. beaches, here, a dirt path ran to the hollowed-out hotels up the shore. A few cars sat on the sand, paint cracked and peeling, bodies rusted through. The sand was streaked with the gray-black sheen of offshore oil.
The group reached the sand, stopping twenty feet from Tristan and Ness. A man in his forties detached from the others and nodded to Ness. His dark hair flapped in the wind. He had the stubble and jawline of a movie star, which Ness did his best not to be intimidated by. He'd be Memo, then. Head of Tijuana's security.
Tristan glanced pointedly at his troop. "We said you could bring four."
Memo smiled with half his mouth. "And we don't know you. So we brought as many as we needed."
Ness shuffled his feet, mildly comforted by the fact Sam and her rifle were covering them from the sub's tower. Memo spoke with a light Spanish accent. Most of his people looked Hispanic, but there were some white and black people with him. Close to half were women. It was funny. Since all the shit had gone down, some places had seized the opportunity to go full-on Dark Ages. Ness understood that the previous incarnation of Better San Diego had been one of them—knights, serfs, women held captive for the pleasure of the nobility. Real savage stuff.
Most places, though? They seemed to have gotten less awful about hating each other for differences of skin or gender or so on. He figured a lot of that had to do with the coming of the Swimmers, and the accompanying revelation that maybe humanity's many different shapes and shades weren't so different after all.
But there was something else going on, too. So many people had died that you couldn't really afford to discriminate against so-and-so, or to only allow the big tough men to serve in your militia. Not when the group across town was accepting all comers and arming their women.
"Lying at the first meet isn't a great way to build trust." Tristan pointed out to sea. "So in the spirit of honesty, we've got a sniper on the tower of that submarine."
Memo laughed. "Thank you for your candor. But I'm guessing that's not the news you came to share with us."
"There's fighting in Los Angeles."
"What else is new?"
"This time, it's not humans. It's the aliens. They've brought a new mothership."
He pursed his mouth. "We'd heard that. I was hoping it was a nasty rumor."
"They're wrecking up the city," Ness said. "Bombing the hell out of it. We put together a counterattack—Walt Lawson, the guy who brought down the first ship, was gonna do the same to this one—but it didn't work out so hot."
Memo scratched his thumbnail against the stubble on his neck. "So why are you here? To warn us?"
"We're looking to scare up some help."
"From us?"
"From everyone," Ness said. "We're touring the whole coast. Getting everyone we can. Before there's no one left to get."
Memo squinted at Ness. "How do you know they're here to wipe out the world? Maybe they're just here for L.A."
"Why the heck would they travel billions of miles to destroy Los Angeles?"
"Because that's where their first ship was knocked down. You know how the Snappers are. They got a hard-on for vengeance."
Ness looked to Tristan for help. She jerked her head in the vague direction of L.A. "They didn't come here for vengeance. They came here because Earth is this close to being theirs. They'll be down here the second they're done with us. Don't make me recite 'First They Came' to you."
Memo's smile went somewhere else. "What do you expect us to do? Loan you our F-16s? Our nuclear missile silo? We barely have what we need to hold this place together against the outsiders. I can't loan you anyone. We'd be overwhelmed by raiders. Even if I could spare you some troops, what could they do about an alien warship?"
"They've got infantry, too. Burning and killing their way across the city. We need boots on the ground to combat them. We can do this. We just can't do it alone."
The man gestured down the coast. "There's a whole lot of world left out there for you to rally. Best to quit wasting your time here and be on your way."
Tristan's hand tightened in a way Ness didn't like. He touched her arm. "Come on."
She pointed at the man's chest. "When they come for you, and you're hiding with your friends, waiting for the bomb to drop? I want you to remember this."
His face hardened. Ness gave him a shrug that he hoped was too subtle for Tristan to see. He had no need to worry: she was already striding down the sand toward the blue waves beating at the shore.
"I can't believe this," she spat. "How far are we from L.A.? A hundred fifty miles? The Swimmers' jets could be incinerating this place twenty minutes from now. And he's worried about raiders?"
Ness glanced over his shoulder. The locals were already on their way back up the scrubby little bluff overlooking the shore. "Queen Georgia only offered to cough up twenty people. And San Diego's supposed to be our ally."
"If we got twenty people from every group we find, we'd come back with an army. These people are so short-sighted."
"The further we get from L.A., the more short-sighted they're going to get. Nobody's going to want to send their best soldiers a thousand miles from home to fight a new invasion they haven't even heard about. Why should they? They didn't have to do anything last time, did they?"
"The world fought the aliens wherever they went." Tristan waded into the surf. "We're not giving up yet."
Ness leaned into the water, swimming for the sub. Its top was scuffed from the rocks in the underwater canyon, but was otherwise none the worse for wear after its duel with the enemy ship. As he climbed up the hull, he gave it a friendly slap.
Sam leaned over the rim of the to
wer. "No luck?"
"They turned us away." Tristan's words dripped with contempt. "Said they have their own battles to fight."
Sam nodded. She stayed in the tower with her rifle in hand until Ness and Tristan were safely inside. At the base of the ramp, Sebastian loomed from the shadows.
"WHILE YOU WERE OUT," he signed. "THERE WAS A MESSAGE"
"A message?" Ness gestured back. "From Memo? We just talked to him."
"NO NOT HIM. FROM US. FROM ALIENS"
"What is it?" Tristan said. "You look like Sebastian just tried to cop a feel."
Ness ignored her, continuing to sign. "They contacted us specifically? What do they want?"
"IT IS NOT KNOWN. I DIDN'T REPLY"
"Why not?"
"BECAUSE SUCH THINGS AS THIS MAKE HUMANS ANGRY WHEN I DO THEM ON MY OWN"
"Do you have any idea what this is about?"
Sebastian wagged his head. "WHEN YOU ASKED THIRTY SECONDS AGO, I DID NOT KNOW. WHEN YOU ASK NOW, I STILL DON'T KNOW. IF I GUESS? I GUESS THEY WANT TO SPEAK TO US"
Ness bit the inside of his lower lip and turned to Tristan. "The Swimmers tried to contact us. We don't know why."
"They want to talk to us?" she said. "Could this be a trap?"
"Sebastian," he gestured. "If we reply, can they track us?"
"NOT WELL." Sebastian cast about with tentacles and claws. "TO TRACK IS LIKE TRYING TO FIND THE SOURCE OF A BAD SMELL IN A DARK ROOM"
"Do you know where they signaled from?"
"LOS ANGELES OR CLOSE TO LOS ANGELES"
Ness relayed this info to Tristan. "Maybe this is some dirty trick. But if so, they won't be able to find us if we keep it to a brief chat. I say we find out what this is about."
She pinched her upper lip. "Take us out to open sea. Deep down. Once we're done talking, let's put as much space between here and us as we can."
They gathered up Sam and Sprite and convened in the command room. After their failure to recruit anybody from Tijuana, Ness had veered toward his too-common emotional states of frustration and give-upping-ness, but the news about the Swimmer signal had tossed all that into the trash. Sebastian took up position in his seat while the others moved to the side of the room, careful not to bump into any of the controls.
Sebastian motioned over his computer. "REPLY SENT"
Ness was afraid they were going to sit around like dorks for the next half hour while they waited for a response, but a few seconds later, symbols popped onto the screen. Sebastian gestured over his sense-pads. He was speaking in his native language. Ness knew a touch of this—their own sign language was adapted from it—but not nearly enough to keep up with.
"WE ARE HEARD," Sebastian signed. "THEY WILL SPEAK. THEY ASK IF WE ARE THOSE WHO FOUGHT THE SUBMARINE"
Ness didn't translate this to the others. "Tell them we are."
The screen changed slightly; most of the "talk" was through electromagnetic pulses that Ness couldn't feel any more than Sebastian could hear.
"THEY ASK WHY WE DID SO"
"Quit holding out on us," Sprite said. "What are they saying?"
"They want to know why we blew up their sub," Ness said.
"Because they were being total dicks!"
Tristan's eyebrows crunched together. "They wouldn't be asking that if they knew we were working with Raina. Do they even know we're human? We're cruising around in one of their submarines and Sebastian's talking to them—do they think we're from the first Swimmer group?"
Ness relayed this to Sebastian. Sebastian swayed his tentacles in thought. "THEY WOULD NOT THINK WE MIX AS WE DO. IT WOULD BE AS IF THE PREDATOR LIVED WITH THE PREY"
"So if we're all Swimmers in here, why would we have wanted to attack the other sub?"
"IF THEY CAME HERE TO PERSECUTE US. OR TO UNDO WHAT WAS DONE"
"That fits with what Raina's soldiers were saying. That there was unrest between the two groups. So what should we tell these guys?"
"IF THEY SEEK TO SPEAK TO US, THEY SEEK TO UNDERSTAND US. SO WE MUST BE WORTHY OF UNDERSTANDING"
"This is our chance to learn why they're here," Ness signed. "Tell them the sub was coming after us. That we tried to run, but it wouldn't quit chasing us. We had no choice but to fight back."
Sebastian's limbs moved over the controls. "NEXT THEY ASK WHAT WE SEEK"
"An end to the fighting? That's what we want, isn't it? Tell them the invasion was a disaster. That they shouldn't make the same mistake we did."
Sebastian passed this along to the aliens on the other end of the line. He sat back, waiting, then gestured to Ness. "THEY SHUT THE CONNECTION"
Goosebumps ran down his arms. "Maybe they are tracking us. Let's floor it."
"FLOOR WHAT"
"Remove ourselves from the area as fast as possible."
Sebastian gunned the engines. The sub surged forward.
Tristan grabbed for one of the bars running along the ceiling. "What's happening?"
"We don't know," Ness said. "So we figured the best thing to do about it was run away."
"WE GET SIGNAL," Sebastian gestured. "TIGHT BAND"
"Tight band?"
"LIKE WHAT YOU CALL A WHISPER. SUCH THAT NONE MAY HEAR BUT US AND THEM"
Ness frowned. "Who else would be listening?"
Sebastian leaned over the monitors. He began signing steadily to Ness. In a daze, Ness translated to the others. "The aliens we're talking to. They don't represent the aliens in the new ship. Well, they used to, but there was a rebellion of some kind. See, when they showed up, the idea was to put a stop to what the first batch of Swimmers had done. To gather them up, find out what was going on down here, and sort out what they were going to do next."
"Vague language," Sam said. "Watch out for the ugly truths they're trying to mask."
"Anyway, they got down here and started bringing in the Farschool. That's the name of the original invaders. But things started getting messy with the natives—the humans, they mean. Opinion was split on what to do about us: leave us be and continue with the mission, or adopt more forceful measures. When the natives moved on the colony, the discussion came to a head. The original leadership was overthrown. Replaced by those who want to finish what the Farschool started."
Sebastian ceased gesturing, giving Ness a moment to process what he'd been frantically translating.
"'When the natives moved on the colony'?" Sprite said. "What's that? When Raina's dudes attacked the airport?"
"That'd be my guess."
"Why are they telling us this?" Tristan said.
Ness asked Sebastian, who asked the Swimmers, then signed their response. Haltingly, Ness said, "Because they can't retake the whaleship on their own."
"So these guys are with the original leadership group. They're looking for allies to restore themselves to power. When we took down the other submarine, that indicated we might be sympathetic to their goals."
Ness conversed with Sebastian, then turned back to the others. "They won't come out and say as much. They say it's too dangerous to talk more over radio. Even on the tight band they're using. They want to meet in person."
Tristan's eyebrows swung together. "Now that smells like an ambush."
"Could be. But it could be a chance to win the war."
"What's more likely, though? That they represent an overthrown government reaching out to total strangers for help? Or that they're trying to get revenge on the people who blew up their submarine?"
"Their story's a bit convoluted. But it's plausible, isn't it?"
"It is," Sam said. "But so is an ambush."
"They won't tell us anything more over radio. The only way to take this further is to go see them."
Tristan shook her head. "If they're telling the truth, surely they'll understand our concerns."
"YOU ARE ARGUING," Sebastian gestured.
Ness signed back, "They're afraid it's a trap."
"YOU ARGUE MUCH. YOU MUST LIKE IT. ALSO THE PATTERN IS TO ARGUE FOR LONG TIMES. I WILL TELL THEM TO WAIT UNTIL REASON HAS BEE
N REACHED"
He went back to the controls. Ness took a seat. "I think we should consider meeting them."
Sam gazed across the command room. "They were fast to trust us with this information. If they think we're aliens, that means we'd be from the Farschool. Presumably, the Farschool would be more sympathetic to the new leadership's goals than to theirs."
"So they can't trust us, either. That's actually a valid reason for them to want to meet in person."
Tristan leaned forward. "But we can't rule out the possibility this is a trap."
"Why would they want to kill us if they think we're aliens?"
"Because we killed their friends and they want their weird vengeance on us? Or maybe this is sectarian violence. The Farschool versus whoever these guys are. The new guys want to stomp out the Farschool and take Earth for themselves. It could be any one of a hundred reasons, Ness. The only one who could decipher their motives is Sebastian. Conveniently for the new arrivals, however, they can't say anything more over the radio."
Ness squeezed his temples. "It was risky for Walt to go up in another balloon. It was risky for Raina to take a run at the airport. But we agreed that was worth doing."
"Those had the crucial difference of being plans against the enemy. You're asking us to work with them. That's an infinitely riskier bet."
He stood, pacing around the room, gesturing as broadly as he could with Sebastian. "Of course it's riskier. What does it matter?"
"What does it matter if we die?"
"A situation like this, you can't just look at the risk. You have to weigh the reward, too. If these guys are on the up and up, and they mean to beat down the rebels and remove the Farschool, then the potential reward is peace. We get our planet back!"
Silence fell among the other three. Never being one to mind standing out, Sprite was first to break the quiet. "What they've told us fits what we've seen. If these new dudes had wanted to kill us from the start, they would have been killing us from the start. Instead, they waited until we made our big attacks. I say we go for it."
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