“So can I get those pills, Captain? Doctor? Whatever you’d prefer I call you.”
“Tag is fine.”
Coren laughed. An actual, throaty laugh. “Not fine by me. You deserve a little more respect than that. Without you, we wouldn’t have gotten off Eta-Five.”
“I’m not sure about that.” Tag selected a pair of synthoids from the dispensary. Two purple pills spit out of the machine and into a small plastic cup. “You, Sofia, and Alpha were just as important, if not more, than me.”
“Ah, but that’s where you owe yourself more credit. You brought Alpha to life. You survived Eta-Five to bring Sofia here. And you gave me a chance. You learned our strengths quickly enough to take advantage of them. Most crews train for months together before their first flight. At least Mechanics do.”
“I suppose humans aren’t much different.” Tag brought the pills to Coren and dropped them into his outstretched, skinny hand. The Mechanic had no idea of the real cause of Tag’s diffidence, and it made the guilt weighing on Tag that much heavier.
Coren swallowed the pills unquestioningly. “You let us play to our strengths. That’s the best thing you can ask of a leader. A captain. One who recognizes what his crew can and can’t do.” He patted his belly as he continued. “Most novice captains will find the faults in their crew. They’ll run simulations and countless hours of training trying to correct those weaknesses. But what they neglect are their crew’s talents. They neglect their strengths. And even the brightest crystal dulls without consistent polishing. A good captain understands his crew’s imperfections, but he doesn’t dwell on them. Instead, he knows where they belong on the bridge. He knows how to assign them the right roles to escape an ice god, get them off Eta-Five, and avoid a fleet of hostile spacecraft when all the odds are stacked against them.”
The flattering words hit Tag like radiation leaking from a fusion reactor. He wanted to be energized by them. Any other day, they would heedlessly swell his pride. But now it only made him feel remorseful. And for what? It wasn’t as if he had personally enslaved the Mechanics through these nanites.
But he was the human that had to tell Coren about them.
“What I’m saying,” Coren continued, “is that for a medical officer and technologically inferior human, you performed admirably.” A crease formed in his fur-lined brow. “And you shouldn’t be so humble. Humility can be a becoming trait to my species and, as I’ve come to understand, yours as well. But you must also learn more confidence. You seem very uncertain right now.”
Coren was right, though the Mechanic had mistaken the reason for Tag’s reticence. Tag stepped over to a terminal and beckoned Coren to join him. “I need to show you something.”
“Please.” Coren folded his thin arms over his chest.
A holoprojection of the nanite structure appeared before them, magnified a billion times.
“This is what I think is responsible for the Drone-Mechs’ actions.” Tag clicked another command on the terminal, and the nanite shrank, then disappeared. The holoprojection of a Mechanic brain materialized, along with a diagram of the process depicting the nanites’ self-assembly into an antenna. “These nanites are turning your people into remote-controlled droids.”
“Grace be to the machines,” the Mechanic muttered, his good eye widening. He leaned toward the projection. “What a feat of engineering. I’ve never seen such technology.” He manipulated the holoprojection and scanned the data Tag had compiled. “This is rather intriguing. The chemical structures indicate this may be based on rather primitive nanoparticle technology, but this is the first time I’ve encountered nanites capable of self-assembly with the purpose of controlling another organism.”
Tag stood silent, letting the Mechanic soak in the ethereal radiance of the holoprojection.
“Such technology would be characteristic of a ruthless species. One baffles at the implications of species-scale enslavement. It’s almost tantamount to genocide.” Coren shook his head slowly. Tag looked up at him and saw both the bemusement and sadness in his single intelligent, golden eye. “If it’s our first time coming across something like this, it must be yours as well. So I don’t expect you to have an answer, but you don’t have any guesses as to the source of this material, do you?”
“Actually”—Tag gulped—“I do.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
Tag mustered all the confidence he could. It wasn’t much. “I’m not sure how to say this, so I’m going to ask that you at least hear me out.”
“Of course. One does not destroy the courier-drone if one does not appreciate the message.”
“Good. Let’s keep that in mind.” Tag rubbed at the stubble under his chin, trying to figure out where to begin. His mind whirled back to his hyperspace nausea medicine analogy. Best just to get to the point and get it over with. “These nanites are of human origin.”
Any lingering trace of confusion or sorrow in Coren’s face melted. His expression turned as frozen and solid as the ice on Eta-Five.
Tag continued before the Mechanic could say anything. “This technology was banned and was supposed to have been eradicated by our government over three hundred years ago. In fact, it was the old Earth government, the United Nations, that prohibited it. The SRE has never, as far as I know, pursued this type of nanite weaponization.”
“But humans developed the original technology.”
“Yes,” Tag said with reluctance. “I’m afraid so. But I want to assure you, as a medical and science officer, I’ve never seen any projects bordering on this kind of barbarism. And to top it off, we never even knew of your species’ existence. The only ships that ever passed this way are the UNS Hope and the SRES Hanno. We lost the Hope, and the Hanno never reported anything about aliens other than the Forinths. So it would be extremely unlikely that the SRE has been pursuing this project to enslave your people and turn them against your species.”
“As far as you know.”
“Sorry?”
“As far as you know,” Coren repeated in a menacingly calm tone. He jabbed a long finger into Tag’s chest. “You are only a medical officer aboard a small research vessel. Is it not possible that another group, somewhere in your fleet, was pursuing these technologies unbeknownst to you?”
“I suppose, but—”
“And is it not possible,” Coren said, louder and more forcefully, “that someone in your government or military did know about our species? And if so, they would have no reason to tell you. Especially if they had organized a campaign with the enslavement of our people in mind.”
“Yes, but that isn’t—”
“Now you’re bringing me to your capital ship. You bring not only me but also the knowledge of where the rest of our free civilization is sheltered.”
“And another species might be responsible for the nanites,” Tag said. “Something or someone neither of us knows about could be using this technology.”
“Do you believe that? Do you truly think that’s the case?”
Tag could no longer lie. His mouth went dry. “No, no.” He hung his head. “The nanites share an almost perfect match with the technology that was banned on Earth centuries ago.”
“I believe you humans have a term for such a dilemma as this. Occam’s razor, no?”
“Right,” Tag said, knowing full well what the alien referred to. The principle stated that the simplest explanation was often the correct one. None of the complicated scenarios, in which Tag had imagined another alien species stealing these nanites without a trace or developing them independently, held up to Occam’s razor. “But I assure you, I have nothing to do with this. I want to help you. I want to help the free Mechanics.”
“A fine, convenient thing for you to say. It doesn’t matter what your intentions are. It is the intentions of the humans I have not met, the intentions of your SRE fleet, that worry me.” Coren slammed his fist against a nearby exam bed. “I should be with my people. And here I’ve left them practically defenseless and unwarned.” His lips pee
led back into a snarl. “Maybe you were right. Maybe I should’ve stolen your ship and absconded with the rest of my people.”
Coren stomped out of the med bay and disappeared into the passage, leaving Tag reeling and alone in the med bay. He wanted to run after the Mechanic, to beg him to listen to him, to believe him. But he’d been hard pressed to show Coren the same respect before, so why should he expect anything different from Coren now, especially after what he’d revealed to him?
Another set of footsteps, heavier but less rushed, sounded. Then Alpha wandered through the hatch.
“I apologize for leaving my post, Captain, but I heard what I inferred to be a fight. You asked me to tell you if Coren might harbor any harmful intentions. I believe his current mood suggests that he does.”
“Thank you, Alpha. Your assessment is all too accurate, I’m afraid.”
“Shall I throw him in the brig?”
“No, no. Don’t do that.”
Alpha cocked her head. “Are you certain?”
“Yes. Absolutely.”
“Very well then. I’ll note your response. My assessments would suggest the pragmatic action would be to restrict the movement of a potentially dangerous lifeform within the ship. Though, I suppose I have much to learn about human logic and thoughts. I will devote this time in hyperspace to reviewing the human psyche. Is it all right if I observe and implement the mannerisms and thought processes you and Sofia exhibit?”
“Uh, sure.”
“Maybe a thorough study of human history and behavioral psychology is in store for me.”
“Just be careful,” Tag said. In his mind’s eye, he pictured the nanites again and the depravity of humans that had led to their invention. “On second thought, maybe hold off on integrating all that into yourself. From what I’ve seen so far, you’re an intelligent lifeform. Don’t go mucking that up by trying to be too human.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
Enough tension filled the next several days in hyperspace that Tag figured he could replace the energy shields with it. He had tried to reason with Coren, to tell him there must be a good explanation for everything that had transpired.
But Coren had refused to listen. Instead, the Mechanic relegated himself to fulfilling his duties and nothing more. He spent most of his hours in a small cabin he’d claimed as his own. Tag wondered if the only thing preventing Coren from taking the Argo straight back to Eta-Five was the vow he’d made before they’d left. He had proven time and time again that he was true to his word. The alien was bound by honor to a fault, and it pained Tag to have a crew member serving his role aboard the ship as no more than a husk of his former self. Every bit of personality, energy, and determination that Coren had once exuded—no matter how infrequently the Mechanic had shown emotion before—now seemed to have disappeared faster than light sucked into a black hole.
Tag couldn’t fathom being in Coren’s position. Couldn't imagine what it must be like to know he was headed into the hands of what he must perceive to be the aliens who had conquered and enslaved his own species. Knowing that he might have inadvertently already given up the last free remnants of his society to those same enemies.
But still Tag wanted desperately to extend an olive branch, something to win back favor with the Mechanic. He wasn’t yet convinced the SRE was behind this. He was willing to concede that the nanites had come from humans, but maybe it was a faraway colony or splinter group that bore the responsibility for the horrifying genocide. Tag couldn’t imagine that any of his SRE flag officers, on hearing about the Mechanics’ fate, would react with anything less than disgust and outrage. Surely, not only would a good admiral offer to shelter the Mechanics, but they would also begin an aggressive campaign to root out any malcontents within the human race who had decided to reawaken this forbidden nanite weapon.
“How’s research going?” Sofia asked, striding into the med bay with a cup of coffee and dashing Tag’s thoughts.
The aroma of the hot drink called to him, reminding him of the heaviness dragging down his eyelids and the exhaustion seeping through him. But he couldn’t rest. Not now. “We’ve characterized how the nanites affect the brain.” He gestured to Alpha, standing stern over a terminal, her eyes scanning it in rapid movements and her alloy fingers in a frenzy inputting commands. “Rather, Alpha has done most of the characterizing. I mean, good gods, soon enough she won’t need any of us on this ship. She can damn well do everything on her own.”
“That isn’t quite true,” Alpha said. “You all serve as admirable companions and provide me necessary social interaction. That is something I cannot do alone.”
Sofia grinned. “Eh, I’m sure if you try hard enough, you can find a way.” She set the coffee down on the terminal, and her expression grew serious. “Any progress on finding a way to reverse the nanite damage?”
Tag scrolled through the numerous simulations and experiments he and Alpha had run. As if that would help him find what couldn’t be found. “No. Nothing.”
Alpha didn’t look up from her work but started to speak. “Everything we’ve discovered points to permanent changes in the neurological tissue of the Mechanics. Not only that, but we have discovered that the nanites fundamentally alter the DNA of their hosts.”
“For what reason?”
Even Alpha appeared forlorn when she looked up and locked eyes with Sofia. “As far as we can tell, it is a failsafe mechanism. Should the nanites malfunction or an outside party attempt to remove them from their host, the host will die. The genetic alterations made by the nanite induce apoptosis—or programmed cell death—in all tissues. This leads to complete organ failure and neurological destruction.”
“There’s no way to bring the Mechanics back?”
“No,” Alpha said. “Our work demonstrates such recovery is highly unlikely—in fact, near impossible, given access to any and all SRE technology that is available to us.”
“Surely there’s something we can do,” Sofia said, tracing the edge of her coffee cup with a finger. “I refuse to believe the only solution is to kill the Drone-Mechs.”
“I wish we could,” Tag said. “But the genetic-engineering prowess required to alter the Mechanics’ DNA is incredible. There appear to be special protective enzymes and additional nuclear and cellular membrane-bound glycoproteins that—”
“Pardon me, Skipper, but can I get that in English?” Sofia asked.
Tag paused. The intricacy of the biological underpinnings of the technology they’d uncovered had astonished him. He imagined it felt to him what it must be like for a primitive human tribe encountering an airplane or spaceship for the first time. He could see the intent of the technology, but there was no way he could imagine understanding it in his lifetime. “Basically, whoever developed these nanites has a grasp on synthetic biology beyond anything I’ve ever thought humans on Earth were capable of.”
“But you said there was a very high probability these were manmade.”
“I did. And that’s why I’m afraid there’s something else going on here. I’m really hoping someone in the SRE has some answers.”
“Me, too,” Sofia said, gazing away distantly. “For Coren’s sake.”
A robotic voice—the ship’s AI—came over the intraship comms. “Normal-space Fidelity Sector ETA thirty minutes.”
Thirty minutes. The words echoed in Tag’s mind. Soon they’d be on the Montenegro. They would pass on word about the Drone-Mechs and the attack on the Argo. And Tag would find out if Coren was still on their side.
“Prepare for transition,” Tag said to the other two.
They nodded, and the trio made their way to the bridge. Sofia readied the manual controls should anything surprise them on their transition into normal space, and Alpha loomed over the Ops station to monitor their trajectory. Tag sat in the captain’s station and harnessed himself in.
A slight twinge of relief bubbled through him when Coren entered. The Mechanic gave him only a perfunctory nod—the same noncommittal mode
of communication he’d employed over the past four days spent in hyperspace. He wore no expression but sat rigidly in the weapons station with the weapons unarmed and offline. Tag considered Coren with a nervous glance. On one hand, he liked being able to keep an eye on the alien, and he wanted to prove he now trusted and understood Coren’s dilemma. But he also wasn’t confident the alien’s intentions were completely innocuous toward himself or any other humans for that matter.
Tag eyed the weapons override from his terminal. If Coren decided to turn on him, Tag was prepared to lock the Mechanic out of being able to launch a barrage against the Montenegro or any other human ship. He shared a silent, knowing look with Alpha. He’d asked her again to watch Coren. Thanks to her med-bay droid body with its biomonitoring sensors, she could sense even a minute mood change in Coren that might predicate any malicious actions.
“We’re approaching normal space,” Alpha reported.
The wisps of purple and green energy waves, characteristic of hyperspace travel, that had been visible through the viewport dissipated. Normal black space, distant pinpricks of glowing stars, and a nearby planetoid coalesced around them.
But those weren’t the only things welcoming them back to normal space.
Alarms rang from Alpha’s Ops station, and warnings blinked on Tag’s terminal. His mind immediately raced, churning with an instinctual fight-or-flight response.
“Captain, unidentified contacts!” Alpha said.
“Sofia, prepare for evasive maneuvers,” Tag said, sitting straighter in his seat, willing himself to appear the confident leader he didn’t quite feel like.
“You got it.” Sofia grabbed the manual controls, sweat glistening over her forehead.
“EVA suits engaged,” Tag said. Each crew member locked their helmet into place. In case of depressurization or significant damage to the Argo, at least they’d be protected from the unforgiving elements of open space. That is, unless enemy fire cut through them first. “Sofia, bring us forty points around port.”
Eternal Frontier (The Eternal Frontier Book 1) Page 23