Kania was about to object when the hologram at the center of the room flickered into existence with a blinking green connection request icon.
“Accept,” Chao said, rubbing a temple.
The connection went through and an image of the inside of the lab with the optimistically named “containment chamber” appeared, guards and technicians swarming throughout the room. Someone whose shoulder stripes marked them as a specialist second class, but whose face marked them as barely out of the crew academy. Jian suspected they’d picked the short straw and had been given the unenvious job of delivering bad news to the old man.
“Yes?” Chao said. “What’s the situation? Have you recaptured the drone?”
“Ah… hello, captain. Sir,” the youth floundered. Jian felt a pang of sympathy for him.
Chao apparently didn’t. “Dammit son, we’ve been cooped up in here for seven hours. Did you retrieve the drone or not? Out with it!”
The specialist swallowed hard and started to blush under the lashing. Jian nudged his father with an elbow.
“Jurich,” he answered.
“Jurich,” Chao repeated back to him. “We’re all just a little tense in here. Please, proceed with your report.”
“Yes, sir. Unfortunately, we have not been able to recapture the alien drone, or even determine what direction it took after leaving the containment unit and exiting the lab.”
“I’m still a little fuzzy on exactly how it escaped your impenetrable, foolproof prison,” Chao said, shooting a pointed look at Kania.
“We may have an answer for that, actually.” The specialist’s eyes flicked as he dug through a plant menu in his augmented reality display. A moment later they saw a blown-up image of the outside of the clear ballistic polymer that made up Polly’s cage. Jian stared intently at it, trying to figure out what they were supposed to be looking at when he spotted it. It was a small circular distortion in the material about two or three centimeters across, barely a ripple, but Jian could see the slight bending it made in what should have been straight lines and angles in the shelves and cabinets behind it. A red circle appeared around the ripple to mark it for anyone without a pilot’s eagle eyes and attention to detail.
“As you can see, there’s a small but significant blemish in the polymer of the cage. After reviewing the security footage of the drone’s escape, we’ve determined that it was able to interact with the material of its cage at a molecular level, allowing it to temporarily unbind the covalent bonds between atoms and move through the material.”
“Wait, you mean it just passed right through solid matter like some kind of ghost?” Jian asked.
“Not exactly, more like it was able to cause a localized phase shift in the material, turning it into something akin to a non-neutonian fluid in a localized area. It did so without anything as blunt as melting it with heat. Possibly some sort of manipulation of the strong nuclear force. We really don’t know yet at this point. That’s why none of the sensors that would have triggered the safeguard system were tripped.”
“That’s impossible,” Kania said.
“Any sufficiently advanced technology will appear like–” Chao started to say, but Kania cut him off.
“Captain, I swear to God if you finish that tired old Clarke quote, I’ll shove you out a lock myself. Sir.”
Chao grinned. “Noted. But then the question is why didn’t it use this little trick as soon as we stuck it in there? Or even when you all had it locked up in a crate back on the shuttle for that matter?”
“I can’t answer that, sir,” the specialist said.
“I have a guess,” Jian said. “I don’t think it minded being in the box on the shuttle.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m the one who put it there.”
“So?”
Jian shrugged. “I think he trusts me. And as for why he didn’t use this trick rightaway in the lab, my guess is he wanted to exhaust all of the more conventional methods available to him before revealing this new capability.”
“You believe it’s thinking strategically?” Kania said, clearly unsettled.
“Yeah, I do. Polly is a smart little shit.”
“Well now that’s an unsettling thought,” Chao said. “Jurich, can the drone use this ability on any material?”
The specialist shrugged. “I couldn’t even begin to speculate, sir. We assumed it was a collection of networked nanites, but it’s acting more like a collection of networked molecules. For all we know, it could turn itself into a gaseous form and pass through the air recycling system undetected.”
Chao grunted. “Well then, staying locked in here is a huge waste of time. Lift the lockdown.”
“Sir?” Kania said. “We still have a hostile alien force loose on the ship!”
“He’s not hostile,” Jian bit back, but his father shushed him.
“I haven’t forgotten. But our little… guest… can pass through polymer at will. Do you know how much of our internal structure is made of plastics and other composites? It can pretty much go where it wants. So since we can’t possibly trap it, I don’t see how it helps us to stay locked in this cage while it roams freely. Do you?”
“Well, when you put it like that…”
“And that is why they pay me the big bucks,” Chao said. “Good meeting, everyone. Let’s head to the Koi Pond. Sushi’s on me. After I hit the head. I’m going first, captain’s prerogative.”
“How can you eat at a moment like this?” Kania asked.
“With chopsticks.” Chao pushed off and floated for the door. He punched a command code into the panel and it slid open. “Well? Who’s coming?”
* * *
His stomach full of blue gill rolls and more sake than was strictly prudent, Jian flopped down on his couch and breathed out the day’s stresses. His head didn’t quite stop spinning even once prone, owing in no small measure to his sake intake. He glanced up at his end table and realized he was seeing double as he couldn’t get his eyes to resolve the two images of his vase into one.
The door chimed.
“Oh for Cuut’s sake. Come!”
The door swung open as his father swept in.
“I’m having deja vu,” Jian said, looking up at Chao. “Didn’t we just do this like, nine hours ago? Same room and everything?”
“I need to speak with you.”
“We just had dinner! Before that we were locked in a room together for eight hours. We couldn’t have talked then?”
“Not privately, no.”
“You do remember we have computers in our heads we can use to send each other messages, yes? No typing or anything.”
“I’m just as eager to be in my flat as you are to have me out of yours, son, but I need you to listen to me right now. Sit up, please.”
Begrudgingly, Jian pushed himself up from the couch and was surprised to see only one of his father staring back at him disapprovingly. His eyes flitted over to the vase. Still two of them. A wave of anxiety rolled through his stomach. Jian waved a hand in front of his face.
“Is everything all right, Jian?”
“Yeah, I just,” he looked at the vases again. “It’s been a while since I’ve… indulged quite this much.”
“Why do you have two of those?” Chao pointed at the vases.
Jian shrugged, suddenly compelled to distract his father from it… er, them. “My Feng Shui girl said they focus the room’s chi. Did you really want to talk about my vases?”
“No.” Chao sat down on the opposite chair. “Of course not. You did well in the meeting, mostly.”
“High praise, there.”
“Just…” Chao raised a hand, flexed it a couple times, then lowered it again. “Listen, please. I’ve made the difficult, but necessary decision to neutralize the installation. Immediately.”
“You can’t do that,” Jian said.
“You shouldn’t, then. What about ‘consulting with our allies’? When did that go out the lock? It’s their moon, dad.”
“That went out the lock when your little pet escaped containment and gained basically unlimited access to the nexus of our space-based manufacturing, planetary defense, and power generation efforts. We still have way too many of our eggs in this old basket. You heard Kania during dinner. She believes it’s networked with the larger system on Varr, simultaneously being controlled by it and reporting back what it finds. I can’t allow that. If we destroy the facility, we probably cut it off, and stop any intelligence leak back to whoever left it there in the first place.”
“You’re overstepping your authority. Our treaty with the Atlant–”
“Our treaty includes a provision that allows ‘Commander, Ark’…” Chao looked at the stars on his left shoulder. “Yep, still me… ‘to take necessary action to ensure the safety of the citizens on the surface or in space in the event of insufficient time to gain approval through regular channels.’”
“That provision was written to allow us to shoot down any last second asteroids we spot before they can impact the surface without having to go through the usual religious rituals, not to deliberately place a nuke on the surface of one of their Gods.”
Chao just shrugged. “Well, Varr is technically a captured asteroid.”
“Don’t get cute, dad.”
“We’re past cute. This is about survival, for all of us, the Atlantians included, whether they’re savvy enough to really grasp it yet or not.”
“Oh yes, humanity charging in on our white horse to protect the poor savages from their ignorance. Because we’ve been so good at that, historically.”
“We’re turning over a new leaf down there.” Chao inclined his head to indicate Gaia, even though he couldn’t really know its position, spinning as they were at several hundred kilometers an hour.
“But it’s a complete waste!” Jian’s voice ratcheted up. “We’re pouring resources and man-hours into the Early Warning network when we have a listening post sitting right in front of us that probably makes anything we’re able to build look like a child’s telescope. We should be trying to use it to listen and look for the enemy, not blow it up.”
“That’s just the problem, Jian. It’s so advanced, we have no way of knowing whether or not it’s looking back at us while we’re looking for them.”
“But we should at least try.”
“That’s enough, Jian. It’s done. The decision is made and I will deal with the fallout. Of which I’m sure there’ll be plenty. But these are the sorts of calls a leader has to make. Because they’re hard and no one else really wants to take the blame later.”
Jian rubbed his eyes. They were starting to hurt. “Why are you telling me this, then?”
“Because I want you to command the shuttle that transports the nuke.”
“Ahh, whu…” Jian tried to work his mouth, but his teeth kept getting in the way of his tongue for some reason. “What?” he managed at last.
“I must admit, I was surprised when you volunteered to lead the mission to neutralize the installation. But it was a cunning move. You can’t do your reputation any good grounded.”
“My reputation?” Jian scoffed. “What does that matter?”
“Our reputations are all that matter, Jian. And right now, your reputation is in danger of solidifying into the insubordinate hothead who disobeyed orders and got his whole crew killed, lost his command, and nearly severed the elevator ribbon. But there’s a competing narrative. The quick-thinking hero who wrestled back control of his boat from a terrorist and saved the Ark with minimal damage and loss of life.”
“They’re both true,” Jian said.
“Yes, but people are only going to believe one. It’s a rare person who can hold contradictory views of the same thing in their head at the same time. We have to make sure more people believe the latter than the former. We do that by getting you back in the pilot’s seat as soon as possible, preferably in a high-profile assignment. There will be questions, I’m sure, and some objections. But nothing I can’t smooth over.”
“Jesus, dad. I just lost my friends. I almost died myself. I haven’t even been to the trauma counselor yet. I’ve barely gotten any sleep. I’m strung out. My nerves are fried.”
“We can get you something to help you sleep.”
“That’s not the goddamned point!” Jian immediately regretted shouting as a surge of pressure went through his brain. He put a hand on his forehead. Without a word, Chao got up and went to the small kitchenette and poured a glass of water, moistened a hand towel with cold water from the sink, then rolled it up and returned to place it on Jian’s head and set the glass on the table next to the mystery vase.
“You’re dehydrated. Drink. Sake hangovers can be life-altering.”
“Why do you care so much about rehabilitating my reputation?”
Chao rocked back in the chair, almost as if he’d been physically punched. “Because I care about your future, Jian. Don’t you know that? I want you to be happy and successful.”
“You want somebody to carry on the family legacy, and I’m all that’s left.”
Chao sighed and raised a hand at the ceiling. “Have I truly been so bad at this that our own son doesn’t know I love him?”
“Don’t do that,” Jian said.
“Do what?”
“Talk to mom like she’s still here.”
Chao rested a hand on his heart. “She is still here. I talk to your mother a lot. You’d be surprised how much she has to say.”
“Yeah? And what’s she saying now?”
“That the Alcubierre prototype will be ready for space trials in less than a year. That she’s going to need a captain.”
Jian swallowed hard, a line of sweat breaking out over his forehead. “Are you offering me command of the Enterprise?”
“No, I’m… Wait, the what?”
“The Enterprise.”
“We haven’t officially named it yet. We’re going to run a vote.”
“Oh please, dad. We named this bucket the Ark, didn’t we? Legends are important. Do you honestly believe mankind’s first literal warp-drive starship would ever be named anything but Enterprise?”
Chao smirked. “I’ve been quietly hoping for Yamato, myself, but you’re probably right. But no, I can’t offer you the command, I’m trying to make sure you stay in the running to earn it. And that means you being out in front of the public doing big, strapping, brave things.”
“Like nuking an alien facility before we have a chance to learn anything about it. Yeah, that sounds sufficiently macho and short-sighted to entertain the plebs.”
Chao sighed heavily. “I congratulate you, son. It took me a lot longer to become that cynical. So you won’t do it, then?”
“Of course I’ll do it. You’ll send somebody anyway, and how many chances do you get to set off a nuke?”
“Not many, if you’re lucky. Engineering is rigging up a remote detonator and transceiver to one of our remaining bombs now. It’ll be a few hours before they’re done fabbing it up and testing the system. Then we’ll still need to finish prepping one of the shuttles for flight. But we’ve got to hurry. The window for a return flight closes tomorrow at 2330. So get some sleep, but be cleaned up and in a flight suit for a mission briefing by 0900.”
“You mean I get to sleep in? That’s the best news I’ve heard in days.” Jian’s expression became somber. “Speaking of news, have we heard anything on Benexx?”
“No. I’m sorry. Bryan and Theresa are doing everything they can. But it’s not looking good. There’s been no ransom demands, no contact from the kidnappers, nothing.”
“Shit.” A hollow feeling gnawed at Jian’s stomach. It felt like impotent hopelessness.
He rolled over on the couch, away from his father. “You’re right, I need to sleep.”
“Of course. Now,
if you’ll excuse me, I have to go find your new pet before it tears the ship apart.” Without another word, Chao took a thin blanket off the back of the couch and tucked Jian in for the night, then dimmed the lights as he left.
As soon as the door latch clicked shut, Jian threw off the blanket and jumped to his feet. Probably too fast, as his head reminded him a moment later with a crescendo of hammers trying to pound their way out from the inside of his skull. He tried to push it to the back of his mind and turned his attention to the vases. He grabbed up one in each hand and headed for the bathroom, the only place in his flat that didn’t fall under a surveillance camera’s field of view.
He brought the vanity’s lights up to full and inspected the two vases closely. Their surfaces both felt rough to the touch like one would expect unglazed pottery to feel. Their weights weren’t perceptibly different. He squeezed them, then clinked them together and listened to the sound. The one in his left hand vibrated gently like a struck bell, as he anticipated.
The one in his right, however…
Jian set the real vase down on the sink, then held the imposter up to the light of his vanity. “OK, Polly. The jig is up. You can drop the disguise.”
Nothing happened. Frustrated, Jian shook the vase. “C’mon. I’m serious. I know it’s you, so knock it off.”
For just a second, the vase trembled. It was such a strange feeling, Jian’s hand nearly released it out of startled reflex. The trembling ceased as quickly as it began and the vase just… melted in Jian’s hand. The texture and color shifted in an instant from rough pottery to something very much like liquid mercury, only with less than half the density. However, instead of dripping through Jian’s fingers, its surface changed again into a more gelatinous form before sprouting legs, torso, head, and a familiar, three-eyed face.
“That was really creepy, Polly.”
Polly looked on impassively.
“How the hell did you find my quarters?”
Polly cocked its head.
Jian sighed heavily. “Well, I suppose I should bring you back to Varr with me…” He paused, realizing his stupidity. “Oh right, I’m going there to nuke it.” Jian shook his head. What a stupid, stupid waste. The place was swimming with tech breakthroughs that might take decades to reach at their current pace of development. Who knew what capabilities it had lying dormant, waiting to be discovered, perhaps even retasked and used for the Trident’s grand purposes?
Children of the Divide Page 21