“Again, I can only guess, but maybe they have automated defense nodes sprinkled throughout space, lying in the dark between stars where they’re unlikely to be detected, just waiting for a new fire to break out, as it were. Maybe we were just incredibly unlucky and happened to be close to one.”
“So Earth was murdered by some long-forgotten alien sprinkler system?” Devorah said. “I don’t know if I should be terrified or insulted.”
“I think it’s possible to be both,” Chao said. “But that brings me to my next question. If one of these facilities was watching Earth, why did we never discover it? We had entire cities on Luna by the end, to say nothing of our massive mining efforts.”
“That I can answer,” Kania said. “Even at the height of human activity on Luna, we never directly explored more than a few percent of its total surface area. Varr’s surface area is geometrically smaller than Luna’s, and yet we still only stumbled across the facility by pure dumb luck. And that assumes any facility in the Sol system was placed on Earth’s moon in the first place. Depending on how long it was intended to stay there, the asteroid belt would be an even better position for it, not only to avoid detection, but to be closer to all of the other potential starting points for new civilizations as the sun warmed with age and pushed the habitable zone deeper into the system. Mars would probably have had another shot at supporting life in a few hundred million years. At least one Jovian moon already had life, as did Titan after a fashion.”
“You really think the facility was intended to operate on billion-year timescales?”
“It’s a self-repairing station made out of nanotech. I have no idea how to even begin to calculate its expected service cycle. And it’s pretty obvious whoever this is thinks in much grander terms than we do.”
“Point.” Chao rubbed a temple and sighed. “What would you gauge the odds of this hypothesis being true?”
“I don’t even know where to start that calculation, captain.”
“Who cares?” Agrawal said. “If there’s even a one percent risk of tipping off the Nibiru race, we have to treat it as an… absolute…” Agrawal turned to face Devorah, who was busy laughing in her chair. “Something amusing, director?”
“Oh, no. Nothing funny at all, Dick.”
“What did you just call me?” Agrawal demanded.
Chao slapped a hand on the table. “Decorum, please.” The Ark’s captain shook his head in frustration. “We’re not just supposed to be adults here, but leaders. Is it too much to ask that we pretend to act like it? Just for a few minutes?” The room answered with cowed silence. “Better. Now then, Director Kania, if we pulled one of our remaining propulsive nukes from the inventory, would it have enough yield to do the job?”
Jian bristled at the question.
Kania referenced her pad for a moment, pulling up specs on the beach-ball-sized nuclear devices that had propelled the Ark to Tau Ceti by the tens of thousands. Like nearly everything aboard, the Ark’s engineers had included a little fudge factor of a few percent. Better to cart along a few hundred extra nukes than flip to the ship only to discover they were a few hundred short of what was needed to enter orbit and watch their salvation float out of reach.
“This is just some quick back-of-the-envelope calculations, you understand.” Kania clipped her pad back to the table to keep it from floating off. “The individual devices are pretty low-yield when compared to the sorts of strategic nuclear weapons we’re used to seeing in old war movies. And we haven’t fully mapped the facility to know how extensive the tunnel system is.” She paused. “However, their uranium chambers were shaped in such a way to direct the majority of their force in a thirty-seven degree cone pointed directly at the pusher plate, which drastically increases their propulsive force, and conversely, their destructive potential in that direction. Couple that with the fact the facility sits in an entirely contained space that will further concentrate the energy, not to mention the EMP effects… No, I can’t imagine anything of use surviving that.”
Jian reeled. They were going to blow up the whole thing, he knew it in his bones. But he knew his father, and knew that he was already resigned to the path Kania already seemed to be coming around to, and Agrawal was pushing hard for. He’d have to disrupt it another way.
“I volunteer to command the mission to deliver the device,” he blurted out. “Should there be one.”
“Are you kidding?” Agrawal said. “You’ve been fighting the idea from the beginning. Now you want to lead it?”
Jian cleared his throat. “I’ve lost friends, Administrator. Good ones. I’d like to be the one to finish what we started down there out of respect to their memory, even if I don’t entirely agree with it. Duty comes first.” Jian liked the sound of it. Almost believed it himself.
“Commander Feng’s flight status will be decided later,” his father said. “For now, I’d like everyone to ruminate on what we’ve discussed here before we reconvene to decide on our course.”
“And when will that be?” Agrawal said tersely.
“As soon as we can prepare a briefing for our allies, Administrator,” Chao said. “I understand that time is critical here, but I’m not willing to throw out fifteen years of cooperation and goodwill just to–”
“Um, captain?” Kania interrupted quietly.
“What?”
“We have a more immediate problem.”
Chao’s fists clenched before he forced them open again. “Yes? What is that?”
Kania swiped the display above the table back to the lab where Polly was held. Or, more accurately, where Polly had been held.
The entire room stared slack-jawed at the empty cage. No one spoke. No one dared to breathe.
Except for Chao Feng.
“Oh for fuck’s sake!”
Fifteen
“Well that was exciting,” Benson said as the holographic display of the meeting with the Fengs and the rest of the Ark bigwigs suddenly went black. “Thanks for inviting me.”
His wife slapped his shoulder. “Only you would make a joke right now, Bryan.”
“What? I thought this was going to be a waste of time. It was, but at least it wasn’t dull.”
“Ha!” Devorah laughed. “Good for that little guy. His cage seemed too small anyway. They didn’t even give him a little house to hide in or anything.”
“Are you insane?” Administrator Agrawal said, operating near the capacity of her wits. “It’s not a pet, it’s a hostile, shapeshifting, alien, artificial intelligence and it’s loose on the Ark! We could lose the whole ship, or worse still have it turned against us.”
Devorah waved a hand dismissively. “Oh calm down, young Jian seems to be rather fond of it. Maybe it’s just scared.”
“The possibility of that drone or whatever it is grabbing control of Ark’s navigational lasers and burning this city down to its foundations doesn’t concern you even a trifling bit?”
“Eh,” Devorah shrugged. “I’m eighty-six, I’ll probably be cremated in a couple of years one way or another anyway.”
Agrawal threw up her hands. “I’m surrounded by crazy people. And you two,” she pointed at Benson and Theresa. “You were invited to sit in on this meeting because it might help the Chief Constable in her investigations, and because the government of Shambhala has learned through long experience that there’s really no point trying to keep our Director of Recreation out of secret meetings his wife is attending. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that everything you just heard was confidential and not to be shared publicly.”
Benson pushed up from the table. “Share what? I’ve already forgotten the last forty minutes. My memory isn’t what it used to be. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to pick up a friend at the airport.”
Theresa stood up too. “And I have a
terrorist attack to solve.”
Agrawal looked at her, perplexed. “Don’t you mean a kidnapping? I assumed you’d be searching for your child.”
“If I can solve who bombed the parade, I solve who took Benexx. Besides, one of my more… aggressive deputies is on zer scent.” A look passed between Benson and his wife in that moment. It did not go unnoticed.
Agrawal ran a hand over the brown skin of her taut, tired face. “Mr Benson, I’m sure I don’t need to tell you how critical maintaining a peaceful relationship with our neigh–”
“You’re awfully sure of a lot of things, Administrator,” Benson said with a smirk. “I know what you’re worried about, and no, I’m not going to go on a rage-fueled quest for vengeance that leaves the native quarter a smoking ruin. I’m just going to get my kid back. No fuss, no muss.”
“And if someone gives you ‘fuss’?”
“It will be handled proportionally on an individual basis.” His tone was playful, but his tone invited no further conversation. He put a hand over Theresa’s shoulder. “Now, if you’ll excuse us.”
The two of them left the room, leaving Devorah, Agrawal, and a handful of other underlings to stare at each other.
“That man is dumb as a rock,” Agrawal finally said.
Devorah chuckled. “Oh, no doubt. But he’s also as hard as one, and he’s picking up momentum. A smart person knows when they see a boulder rolling downhill there’s no point throwing themselves in front of it.”
“What does a ‘smart person’ do in that case?”
“Simple.” The persistent scowl weighing down on Devorah’s mouth turned up at the corners. “Get out of the way.”
* * *
Benson jumped out of the transit pod before it came to a full stop. He was late, having wasted time on the meeting in the Beehive, even if it had provided some valuable intel on the rest of the playing field. But Benson didn’t care about the rest of the playing field right now. He was laser-focused on his one-on-one matchup.
Someone had kidnapped his kid. Someone had forgotten who he was and desperately needed a reminder. He was Bryan Fucking Benson. Two-Eighteen PE Zero Championship MVP. Savior of Mankind. Hero of the Battle of the Black Bridge. And while he might be missing a step these days, and his left knee was better as a barometer than a joint, and he had to get up at three o’clock every night to pee, he sure as hell had enough gas left in the tank to yank Benexx back from whatever dux’ah-shit-for-brains had come up with this ill-advised, doomed-by-Xis-to-fail, suicidal scheme to mess with his family.
He’d come a trigger pull away from killing a village elder to protect Benexx before he’d even met zer. Now, fifteen years of life and memories and love later, Benson couldn’t even guess how far he’d go to get zer back. And a very immature, very angry little voice in the back of his head that hadn’t seen the spotlight in many years was eager to find out.
But, with age came patience. After finding the flop house, he’d wasted a day canvassing the neighborhood, interviewing potential witnesses and getting stonewalled in a way he hadn’t experienced since the Laraby investigation back before they’d landed. The problem wasn’t a language barrier. In the years since First Contact, Benson had learned to speak Atlantian almost as fluently as English, and perhaps even better than Mandarin. Even with the strange and constantly-shifting hybrid slang used by both Atlantian and human teens alike in Shambhala, Benson rarely needed to consult the translation program in his plant anymore. Which was fortunate, considering how glitchy his replacement had proven to be, even more than a decade after it had been reimplanted.
No, the problem wasn’t linguistic. It was cultural. Invisible walls that might have been there all along, separating the refugee Atlantians living in the native quarter from their human hosts, had grown so tall in the days since the bombing that neither side could reach over them. Or, at the very least, was unwilling to try.
With age also came humility. Even to Benson, in small measures. Just enough, in his case, to know when to ask for help.
“Kexx!” Benson spotted his old truth-digger friend as ze emerged from the jet way and into the terminal with zer gangly teenaged female human apprentice in tow.
“Benson,” Kexx wrapped zer noodly arms around Benson’s shoulders. “Your hair is losing its color, my friend.”
“Not as fast as your crests. Did someone put you in the wash with their whites?”
Kexx ran a four-fingered hand over the half dozen parallel rows of crests folded flat against zer scalp. In the years before zer transition to elder, they had been a riot of purples, greens, and blues in swirling, almost tie-dyed patterns. But, like the black in Benson’s hair, they were fading fast.
“Time is catching up with both of us, it seems.”
Benson untangled from the embrace and held his friend’s slim shoulders. “I’m relieved to see you.”
“Of course. We came as soon as we heard about Benexx.”
“I see that.” Benson looked back at Sakiko, wrapped in traditional Atlantian vestments with only the barest enhancements to ensure her modesty among a human population. She stood aloof and scanned the platform as if she was hunting for something. Which, in truth, she was. “I wasn’t expecting you to bring your student as well. Or her… pet.” Sitting obediently, if nervously, behind Sakiko was the ulik she’d taken in. Benson couldn’t believe the plane’s crew had allowed it onboard.
“Chief Kuul insisted,” Kexx said. “In fact, ze nearly sent a full hand of G’tel’s finest warriors to escort us. It took some time to convince zer that they would only be in our way.”
“Hello, Sakiko.” Benson smiled warmly at the girl.
“Hello, uncle.”
“I see you brought your, um, friend.”
Sakiko scratched the creature behind its head crests. “Wouldn’t dream of leaving zer behind. Best sense of smell on the continent.”
“You do know I was almost eaten by a pack of those things, yes?”
Sakiko just shrugged. He’d not seen her now in two, three years? She’d grown, but still looked like a bag of beanpoles. She was taller than Mei, and her face wasn’t nearly as soft or rounded. More angular, although not unattractively so, just more European, doubtless her father’s contribution to her genetics. A father she’d never known, due to her mother’s… occupation at the time of her conception. She’d been offered the opportunity to run a gene search to identify him, if only to answer if he was still alive or if he’d been one of those lost in Shangri-La module. She’d declined in terms that left no ambiguity in her feelings on the subject.
Benson had always been strangely proud of her for that.
“How’s your mother?” Benson asked.
“The ambassador is well. She sends her regards.”
A very formal answer. She was here for business, then. That’s how Sakiko was coping with her best friend being kidnapped. Good. White hot rage got people in trouble. Got them hurt or even killed. But cold, calculating anger? That he could use.
“Theresa and I are glad you’re here. I’m sure Benexx would be relieved to know you’re here for zer, too.”
“Only one way to make sure ze finds out.”
Benson peeled his lips back and exposed his teeth. Only someone who had never been the hunter would mistake it for a smile.
“Then let’s stop wasting time standing here flapping our gums. We have work to do. Zer birthday is in three days and I want zer home for cake and ice cream.”
The trio walked briskly back towards the transit pod station. “What do you know so far?” Kexx asked.
“Very little. We don’t even have much video footage of the attack. All of the CCTV cameras along the parade route went down when the power from the beanstalk was cut and didn’t come back on until someone in the Beehive remembered to loop them into the backup power distribution a few minutes later.”
“Unlucky timing, there.” Kexx ran a hand over zer crests. “Much too unlucky. The attacks were coordinated. You can’t throw an a
ttack like this together in a handful of seconds. Who just has a bomb that powerful handy just in case the lights go out? They knew when the Ark was going to be hit, down to the minute.”
“No doubt. Anyway, all we have are a few blurry seconds of plant footage from a couple of bystanders showing a handful of Atlantians and humans pulling Benexx out of the rubble. There’s too much dust still in the air to ID any of them, although Theresa is trying to get something out of the plant GPS records to peg the humans at least. But at this point, I don’t even know which if any of them are the kidnappers, or if they were legitimately just good Samaritans trying to get zer to safety only to have zer yanked on the way to the hospital.”
“Samaritans? A new faction? We could speak to their leaders and perhaps find the individuals who pulled Benexx free,” Kexx asked.
“No, it’s not new. It’s…” Despite being an ambulatory, sentient cuttlefish, Kexx had become such a fixture in Benson’s life, it was easy to forget ze hadn’t actually grown up among humans. “It’s just a turn of phrase, means people doing the right thing for its own sake.”
“Ah. I see. Thought you were going cold in the head for a moment.”
“Why so little footage?” Sakiko asked. “It was a parade. Surely there were more witnesses.”
“It was a parade,” Benson corrected. “Then it became a terrorist bombing and most of our potential witnesses were busy running the hell away from it.”
“Cowards,” Sakiko said as they piled into a waiting pod.
“Don’t judge them too harshly, Sakiko,” Benson said once the door clicked shut. “You weren’t born when Shangri-La happened. It left most of us kind of twitchy where bombs are concerned.” Benson turned back to Kexx. “Anyway, we tracked Benexx’s locator to a, er, residence in the Native Quarter, but someone had gone to the trouble of removing it from zer and sticking it in one of the other victims of the bombing.”
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