by Anthology
“What do you mean?”
When Jase did not reply, Ranael spoke. “They may have left a…a gatekeeper of sorts. Guides. People who know how to keep the AI safe. Perhaps to be used later, when they are ready for such a tool.”
“For such a weapon,” Jase amended. “They have barely left their own surface. Imagine what they’d do with the AI’s computing power, even without a database to give it meaning.”
“This was not our intention!”
“So it would seem,” Ranael said. “So far, I’ve not found any indication that the natives are aware of the Chidean presence, or at least it’s not common knowledge. But there are rumors of others.”
“What sort of rumors?”
“I’m not sure. There is so much information. This planet holds many species and some are distrustful of others. Fearful. Like on many worlds, they compete for space and other resources. So there is much disagreement. But they have started to look to the skies in fear.”
Ocia shrugged. “Ancient gods, probably.”
“Perhaps.” Ranael smiled. “Very likely, actually. There are references that make more sense now. I’ll have Zio pull them together, but my guess is that the Chideans have been here more than once. Perhaps over hundreds of years.”
“Scouting,” Jase said. “Checking up on their creation.” He kept his eyes on a screen showing little more than desert, afraid he might get the urge to strangle Tenzo. Or Ocia, for that matter. None of this had seemed right from the start. “We will inform others of what you have done here, Tenzo. They won’t let you bring your people here. They will send guards to that gate stop you.”
“Why do you care!” the Chidean raged. “This has nothing to do with you. People migrate, people colonize. Such is life.”
Jase looked over to Ranael, who regarded him calmly, her gentle smile telling of her approval and agreement. He doubted Ocia was currently smiling. She’d be the one to explain the lack of full payment to the boss. “That planet already has a colony. We have learned from our past.”
“What about our future? How dare you interfere?” When Jase didn’t bother to answer, Tenzo turned to Ranael, but she simply returned to her work on the incoming data. At last, the Chidean stormed from the bridge.
“We are interfering,” Ranael said to the silence that followed. “If we stop the Chideans, those who are left down there could suffer. Someday, the people will discover DNA. Or find the moon base. And they’ll track down the hybrids among them. That may not go well for anyone.”
Ocia made a scoffing sound. “They’d better start breeding like mad, then.”
“Zio,” Jase said, unwilling to ponder Ranael’s suggestion. “Please monitor Mister Tenzo from here on. Let me know if he goes anywhere but his cabin. He’s not to communicate with anyone once we get back into home space. We’ll take him to the Powers.”
“Understood, Jase.”
“There’s an easier way,” Ocia said.
Jase furrowed his brow. She had a thoughtful look that he didn’t like. “What way?”
“Leave him here. Get rid of him. Let them think his mission failed. That the Kasant mission failed.”
He heard Ranael’s small gasp. “They’ll just send someone else.”
“It’ll buy time. There will be war over this,” Ocia said. “If his people are desperate, they won’t be stopped from coming here. This planet has no defenses. We’ll end up having to guard these people until they can defend themselves or someone gets tired of it.”
She was right. Probably. Their history was filled with bitter wars, and sometimes entire planets were lost to the conquerors. Some prospered. Many didn’t. He glanced at Ranael. She stood in wide-eyed silence, shocked by Ocia’s suggestion, but as always unwilling to insert herself into the endless push and pull of their contentious relationship.
A long, silent moment ticked by before he shook his head. “We’re explorers for hire. Prospectors. Maybe we’re also smugglers at times, but we are not murderers. I left the military for a reason and so did you, Ocia. We’re going to try to grab the AI and then we’re getting back home before breakfast, like you promised, to make our report. Let the Powers figure this out among themselves.”
Ocia’s icy glare was well practiced but had long ago ceased to have any effect on him. She backed down. “So are we keeping the AI, at least? If we can get it wiped and sold on Duoro, it’ll pay for this trip.”
“Damn right we’re keeping it.”
***
“That’s it down there.”
Jase checked their coordinates once again and then looked up at the screen. Naka, sitting at the helm beside him, eased the ship down toward the sprawl of buildings surrounded by scrublands. They had come in silently, two ships in the dark, their shielding too slippery for any of the planet-bound scanning and tracking systems. He supposed that someone out here, looking up into the sky, might have noticed their vague shadows hovering in the night. Or watched them seemingly disappear again, their movement too fast to track with the eye.
“Why am I not surprised to find the AI so heavily guarded?” Ocia said, scanning the perimeter of what looked like the sort of bunkers they had seen in other places. “There is a warren of tunnels beneath all that. Fortified.”
“We can get through that?” Jase said.
She waved a long-fingered hand as if nothing they saw here was of any consequence.
“Can you do this without shooting anybody?” Ranael, still strapped into her seat behind them, asked.
Ocia glanced at the woman with a hint of a sneer. “As long as no one gets in my way, sure.”
Jase turned as well. “We have little choice, Ran. I don’t think they’ll have any way to stop us. There is nothing down there that can harm us without causing a whole lot of damage to their own people. There’s no reason to hurt anyone.” Ocia pretended not to notice that his words were directed at her as well.
Ranael glanced at Ocia. “Let’s hope so,” she mumbled.
The drones had done their job. The Kasant AI was located here, below ground, transmitting little more than a thread of a signal. Zio—their own, more advanced system—stayed safely on the moon, its signal amplified by a nearby drone and picked up by their exocortices. The interference that was currently frustrating the ground-based scanners affected them too, but they had covered their heads with protective hoods that matched their tight grey body suits.
Minute filters inserted into their nasal passages sufficed down here, and none of them carried visible weapons. It made all of them feel absurdly naked, but Ranael hoped to present them as unthreateningly as possible. The locals would likely not comprehend the firepower of their ships, and it would take only a thought to enable their individual shields if the need arose.
“Here we go, friends,” Naka said.
Before they had even touched down, a surge of people emerged from the buildings, some of them clearly armed. Judging by the raised voices and arm-waving, Jase guessed that no one here had been prepared for the visitors dropping from the sky into their yard.
“Look at them all,” Ocia said, amused. “They really do look an awful lot like Chideans.”
As they had planned, Jase, Ranael, Ocia, and two of Senda’s crew emerged from their ships without fanfare, closing the gates before anyone thought to even take a look inside the airlock.
Jase had no intention of indulging in proper first-contact ceremonies with these people. He led the others toward the building Zio had recommended, not surprised when some of the tall natives stalked toward them, as lumbering and stiff as Aga Tenzo, who was still sulking in his cabin on the moon.
“Are you detecting any of those Chidean hybrids here, Zio?” Jase transmitted to the AI as he raised his hand in what they believed to be a greeting. A small patch on his palm sampled the air.
“Yes, Jase. Three at least. There may be more below ground but I cannot probe that deeply. The stout male without hair on his head to your left. Also the one beside him in the blue clothing.”<
br />
By now they were surrounded by people dressed alike in colors as drab as the desert, guns aimed at the visitors. Ranael stepped forward. “Please let us pass,” she said after signaling Zio to translate via a speaker embedded in her exocortex.
There was an astonished silence, and then one of the people before them spoke, saying something in a harsh voice that made clear his objection to her request. Zio had to fill in a few patches and omit some phrases, but the language it had learned was sufficient.
Ranael looked up at the tall native. She hid her fear well, Jase thought, but then it wasn’t likely that this person would interpret her expression anyway. She turned to the broad-shouldered male Zio had pointed out. “We know who you are. You have something that doesn’t belong here. We have come for it.”
The hybrid glanced at the other, looking nervous and perhaps a little angry, if their experience with Tenzo’s people allowed them the comparison. After a moment, Zio translated his words. “We can’t let you.”
“You have no choice,” Ocia said, already impatient with this palaver.
“Who are you?” the hybrid said, his voice thin. “Why are you doing this?”
“That doesn’t matter. But we are watching you. You—”
“Zio, cease translation,” Ranael snapped.
“Understood.”
“Tell them nothing!” Ranael said to Ocia. “They don’t need to know. Let’s be gone and let others handle this.”
“Agreed,” Jase said. He activated his shield and took a step forward. “Stay together, just keep walking.”
One of the men aimed at his chest when he moved to walk between them. Someone else shouted something. A man reached out to grasp Ranael’s arm, which slipped out of his grasp as if oiled. More shouting.
It did not take long before someone fired a projectile weapon. The bullet glanced off Ocia’s shield and struck the ground beside someone’s foot. Jase’s small group moved steadily forward, untouched by the attempts to stop them. Uncaring of the live fire. Unstoppable by hands and fists. When another bullet deflected from Jase into a man’s leg, someone apparently gave the order to cease fire.
Now three hulking males blocked their way into the broad entrance door of the building.
“Ocia,” Jase said. “Just demonstrate. Nothing more.”
She bit back a grin and touched the emitter at the tip of her finger, briefly unshielded, to a man’s leg. He screeched, surprised by the sudden pain, and collapsed on the ground, twitching. More shouting erupted when the others jumped aside. When Ocia turned toward the small crowd behind them, the Chidean hybrid among them made himself heard above the din.
“Translate, Zio,” Jase said.
They listened to a somewhat-garbled interpretation, but the meaning was clear. The man, perhaps some sort of leader, urged the others to stand down. Grudgingly, the men backed off, but guns remained fixed on the newcomers. Jase almost expected Ocia to buzz one of them just to make her point, but she kept her fingers to herself.
“Tell them to stay out of our way,” he said to the man. “You know they can’t stop us. It is not our intent to hurt anyone.”
The Chidean regarded him warily, then looked back at the two ships crouching in the gloom behind them like some mythical menace come to life. “You’ve come for the ship?” he said, his voice barely audible.
“Just a part of it,” Jase replied. Aided by Zio, he managed the door’s locking mechanism, and they stepped into the building. The hybrid and two others followed after motioning their people to back away. The ship’s parts would be useless without the AI. Before any of these people learned enough from the design to replicate a useful power source, the Chideans would be standing at their gate, ready to take their world from them.
“Zio, monitor their movements and make sure they don’t find a way to barricade us in here,” Jase said after they had traversed harshly lit corridors and several stairways. Zio’s signal suffered from the layers of rock and metal that made up the underground installation, and each step down seemed like a descent into a tomb. They met no one along the way; perhaps the people who staffed this place had been ordered away.
Ocia snickered. “With what? There is no security here to speak of. No cohesive network, not even electronics. Brawn, bricks, guns is all they have.”
“It’s in here,” Jase said finally, pointing at a door.
The hybrid, silent during their descent, moved to open it for them. Jase wondered if his earlier manipulation of the locks had broken something.
They entered a storage room, or perhaps a workshop. Jase peered into the dim, cavernous space. No one waited here for them. Equipment and pieces that seemed to belong to planes and other airships cluttered massive shelves and had been collected in piles everywhere, leaving space between them for people to get around. Zio’s interpretation of their hidden scanners led them to a heap of twisted metal.
Ranael gasped. “They crashed?”
The hybrid nodded. “On their last trip here from…from up there. We believe it was done on purpose. The fire consumed much of it.”
“Did they survive?”
“We found no…no bodies. If they lived, they did not stay with the wreck.”
Jase prodded a shred of a tail section with his foot. This, then, confirmed it. These hybrids were experiments, never meant to leave this place again, serving only to support Chidean theories. For how many generations had the mission experts visited to inspect their progeny, perhaps to cut one or two of them up to see how their bodies fared in this environment? And did this person know? How much did any of them know? He ached to ask them; this man seemed to be one of the gatekeepers Ranael had assumed would be here. But this was beyond his skills and experience. He said nothing.
“What did you come for?” the hybrid said to Ocia, who was inspecting a jumble of parts on a long counter.
After a little rummaging, she held up a diamond-shaped object, rounded on one end and somewhat spongy to the touch. “This.”
“What…what is it?” he said. “We’ve not been able to identify it.”
“Piece of art,” Ocia said and marched past him back to the door.
***
Brigadier General Malcolm Groves barely waited until the jeep delivering him from the airfield came to a halt before the administrative bunker of the base. Leaping from the vehicle, he ignored the salutes of the personnel who got in his way and strode past the startled secretary sitting outside Colonel Farrow’s office.
“Farrow!” he barked when he entered without knocking.
The sight that met him was not what he had expected. With a quick look over his shoulder, he slammed the door to the hall.
Glenn Farrow sat behind his desk, uniform jacket carelessly unbuttoned, a cigarette smoldering in the brimming ashtray before him. His slack-jawed stare was on a calendar across the room. The corner of the June page moved listlessly in the current of a desktop fan, revealing and hiding Marilyn’s glorious legs as it oscillated.
“Glenn?” Groves said. He noticed a half-empty bottle of booze on the cabinet behind the officer. “Dammit, what’s gotten into you? Report.”
Farrow turned his head. “Damage control’s under way. We’ve moved personnel. Sanitized the landing area. Destroyed all recordings. This didn’t happen.”
The general frowned. “What about the men?”
“Do you want to know?”
Groves started to say something and then just exhaled sharply. He shook his head. “Do you think they found the Luna site?”
Farrow’s pale eyes traveled to his. “We didn’t even see them coming. Of course they saw it. For all we know they’re living up there right now.” His listless fingers spun a piece of paper on his desk. “They are watching. So they said.”
“Did they say how many there were? What they wanted, other than that rubber thing?”
“They said nothing. But they know who we are. And don’t seem happy about it.”
Groves sighed. “We need to regroup. We
can deal with this. I’m flying on to Langley to report. Did you get any photos of them?”
The colonel looked down and then pushed the piece of paper toward the general, turning it as he did so. “This is their leader. At least we can pick them out of a lineup if they come back.” He thought about this. “When they come back.”
Groves whistled under his breath as he studied the drawing of the aliens that had come to visit. Thin and grey, with arms reaching nearly to their knees, their slight bodies looked as if they would have a hard time supporting their massive, hairless heads. It was the eyes, even in this crude sketch, which caught his attention. Dark and flat, they seemed to mock him, taunt him, with a promise.
Ethan Reid
http://www.ethanreid.com
THE UNDYING: SHADES(Novel excerpt)
by Ethan Reid
From THE UNDYING: SHADES by Ethan Reid. Copyright © 2015 by Ethan Reid. Reprinted by permission of Simon & Schuster, Inc. All rights reserved.
YEAR FOUR
GRANADA, SPAIN
She dreamt of the past, of the old world, her world, when planes polluted the skies and the great machine of humanity cogged forward ignorant of the approaching doomsday—of sitting with her mother in the kitchen drinking coffee, neither speaking—when people took the train, currency still had meaning, and the dead stayed so.
A vision of being wrapped in a bathrobe, perusing friends’ updates as Mom read the morning news from a tablet—a time prior to the worldwide electromagnetic pulse, and Paris, before darkness spread from the mysterious epicenter in South America, before fireballs, the long winter, and her years of trudging through the ruins, scavenging in the dirt.
Instinct forced Jeanie awake. For a moment she held her breath and listened, in case something hungry fumbled about the gardens outside. Hearing nothing, she stared through the latticed shutter as her mother’s face melded into obscurity and the new world took hold. Hints of a nightmare failing to fade, of walking the highways for weeks on end, of a familiar evil lurking in the dark, wanting in, wanting them.