Firebird

by Jack McDevitt

  Alex cleared his throat. “Ready?” he asked.

  We got out. There was some rain in the air, but not much more than a sprinkle. I dropped down onto the ground. A car moved past on one of the side streets. It had flared tailfins and looked unlike anything I’d ever seen at home. It was automated, of course. Empty.

  Before I’d taken more than a few steps, two trucks rumbled by out front. We hustled around to the side of the church so we could see. They were going in different directions. One had an open bed filled with boards. The other was covered, but there was lettering on the side. I used my link to ask Gabe for a translation.

  “Toco Liquors,” he said.

  I looked at Alex. “AIs drink?”

  “Maybe here they do.”

  “I don’t get any of this,” I said.

  “I think what’s happening, Chase, is that the controlling AI is simply continuing to do what it’s always done. We might be seeing the resolution to the old debate about whether AIs are actually intelligent.”

  I heard a noise that sounded like air moving through a vent. It was the equivalent of Gabe clearing his throat. “Alex,” he said. “Don’t jump to a hasty conclusion. They may see no reason to break clear of their programing. It is what keeps them going in difficult times. Like people, if I may interject a thought of my own.”

  We walked around to the front and stood admiring the angel. It was weather-beaten, and had probably never been considered exemplary sculpture. I suspected it had been cranked out by some mass-marketing process. But somehow that didn’t matter. In that vast, empty place, it possessed a badly needed nobility.

  Like the sign at St. Monica’s, it was tilted by the passage of time and the erosion of the soil. There was something heart-stopping in that angel, trying to soar above and beyond all that desolation. “This one,” I said, “would be worth making off with.”

  Alex smiled. “It would.” There was a line of symbols across its base. Three words. Badly worn, but still legible.

  “Gabe,” I said, “translation, please?”

  He needed a moment. Then: “Going to Heaven.” And, finally, “No, I think ‘Heaven-bound’ more closely captures the spirit of it.”

  I looked up at the large stone cross on the roof, standing directly over the main entrance. Somehow, the architecture suggested that everything emanated from that cross.

  “Chase.”

  “What is it, Alex?”

  “The car. Look.” An automobile was slowing. It was a blue four-door sedan, with its windows rolled down. It pulled toward the curb, close to where we were standing, and stopped.

  The engine continued to run. A sudden gust of wind shook the tree limbs.

  We were in plain view from the car, so there wasn’t much point trying to hide. We walked toward it but halted a few steps away. “Hello,” it said. And I froze: The thing was speaking Standard. “May I offer you a ride?” It had swept-back headlights, and it looked comfortable.

  “No, thanks.” Alex backed away a step or two. “But it’s very kind of you to offer.”

  “It is my pleasure.”

  “Who are you?” Alex asked.

  “A friend. It would please me to be of assistance if you will allow it.”

  Alex glanced over his shoulder. A small truck was pulling off the road, easing onto the grass. As we watched, it started slowly toward the lander. I glanced at Alex, but he shook his head. No way we could get back there without being intercepted. “Gabe,” Alex said, “get off the ground.” Then he turned back to the car: “You speak Standard.”

  “Of course. We would not expect any other language to be understood by a visitor.”

  “How does it happen that you know the language?”

  “We have learned it from those who have come to spend time with us, of course.”

  “I see. Do you have a name?”

  “You may call me Roam. And you are—?”

  The lander lifted off.

  “My name is Alex. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Roam.”

  “And the lady?”

  “I’m Chase,” I said.

  Alex looked my way. Do not get any closer to the car. Don’t get in front of it. Don’t even get too close to the doors.

  “The pleasure is mutual. May I ask what brings you to Villanueva?” Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Gabe pass over the roof of the church.

  “We’re admiring your churches,” he said.

  “Why, yes, they are admirable, aren’t they?”

  “Are there others that carry the same motif?”

  “Which motif is that?”

  “Heaven-bound.”

  “Ah, yes, an objective we should all seek. Would that we could all find the road to Heaven.”

  “Yes. Would that it were so.” Alex looked at the angel, then back at the car. “It is something you seek?”

  “Indeed it is. It is something all right-thinking entities should aspire to.”

  “We would like very much to tour other churches that have this same theme. Can you possibly tell us where we might find them?”

  “That would be a rather esoteric piece of information. I suspect it would be available at the office.”

  “Which office is that?”

  “The Malcolm Library Data Center. You’re in Malcolm, you know.”

  “No, I wasn’t aware of that.”

  “Oh, yes. Malcolm is the cultural heart of the entire state. The Data Center is only a few minutes from here. If you’d like to go, I’ll be happy to take you.” The back doors opened.

  “Thanks. That’s very generous of you. But we’d better pass. We’re running late.”

  “There’d be no problem coming back here. I’d bring you myself.”

  “That’s quite all right, Roam. But we appreciate the offer.” The doors closed again. The car backed up and angled its front wheels toward us. “It’s a beautiful day,” Alex told the car. “Is the weather always this pleasant in Malcolm?” And without looking my way, he gave me a nod and formed a single word with his lips: “Go.”

  We bolted for the church. Roam beeped a horn and jumped the curb. It plowed across the lawn and came after us.

  The church was probably three times the size of St. Monica’s, with three big double doors at the top of a set of stone steps. We charged past the angel and ran up the steps. Roam sideswiped the angel, smashing its right bumper. But it kept coming, bouncing up behind us, its bottom screeching against the stone.

  Alex fired his pulser, and the engine exploded. The car veered to the right, came the rest of the way up, and crashed into the front of the building. The truck that had chased Gabe came around the corner, and two more vehicles, a gray two-door convertible and a small van, came in off the street.

  Alex tried the church doors. The first wouldn’t open, but one of the center ones swung out. “Yes, indeed,” he said. “Welcome to Villanueva.”

  The door was heavy. As at St. Monica’s, the hinges didn’t squeal, and one would not have guessed that worshippers weren’t coming in regularly. We slipped through and pushed the door shut behind us. All three sets of doors had bolts, which slid smoothly into place.

  The church was big. The benches could have accommodated upward of a thousand people, which was considerably more than St. Monica’s. I was surprised at first to see what appeared to be a pair of candles burning on the main altar—I thought maybe I’d spoken too soon about the divine presence—but they turned out to be electrical. A choir stall overlooked the rear pews, and above that, the overhead arched into a dome. Sunlight filtered through stained-glass windows that looked as if they’d been cleaned the day before.

  Both walls contained alcoves. Several held statuary; others contained small altars. Holy-water fonts stood at the back. As at Monica’s, they were filled.

  “Alex.” I kept my voice down. “I think we can get out one of the side exits.”

  “This stuff is priceless, Chase.”

  “Alex—”

  Someone, or something, bega
n banging at the doors behind us.

  Then I heard Gabe: “More vehicles are arriving. Suggest you consider departure at earliest convenience.”

  Alex took over: “Which exit do you suggest, Gabe?”

  “The truck has returned to the area where we touched down. It appears to be waiting there, on the west side. Two other cars are joining it as I speak. A van is now pulling up on the east side. There is also a small truck in the rear.”

  “Is there an exit at the rear?”

  “Nothing that I can see. There does not appear to be a clear area anywhere at the moment where a pickup can be made safely.”

  “What’s happening out front?”

  “More vehicles are arriving. There are now four of them close to the angel. All are passenger cars. One is a small two-seater with no roof. It has climbed the steps, and I assume you can hear it trying to break through the door. I think you are safe for the moment, however, until something heavier arrives.”

  Side exits flanked the altar. The one on the right also had an elevator and a marble staircase. Alex signaled me to follow, and we headed in that direction. “Gabe,” he said, “we’re going to take a look at the opposite side. On the east.”

  “Okay, Alex.”

  We heard another loud bang at the front door. But it seemed to be holding. “Gabe, be ready to move quickly. Are there any aircraft?”

  “Negative. I’m alone up here.”

  We hurried to the front of the church, circled the altar rail, and stopped at the exit. I heard nothing outside the door. Alex twisted the knob, pushed, and it opened out. Three steps went down to a short walkway that led to the adjoining building. The rectory.

  But nothing was moving. “Okay, Gabe,” Alex said. “Come—”

  Somewhere, out of sight, an engine roared to life. “Heads up,” said Gabe. “It’s in the rear.” It was a truck, and we heard it start moving. Gabe was descending quickly but he broke off as it rounded the corner and came into view. “No chance,” he said.

  The truck bounced across the lawn, turning sharply in our direction.

  Alex fired his pulser. The engine choked and died. The vehicle rolled over and lay with its wheels spinning.

  “More cars out front,” said Gabe. “And another one pulling around in the rear.”

  “Can you land safely?”

  “Negative.”

  We pulled back out of sight. I heard sirens from somewhere.

  “Police?” asked Alex.

  “Two police cars and an ambulance. They’re pulling onto the church grounds now.”

  “Okay.”

  “And the spider.”

  “The what?”

  “The thing with the multiple legs from the construction site.”

  “That’s not good,” Alex said. “Where is it now?”

  “Approximately seven and a half kilometers. But coming fast.”

  “How long to get here, Gabe?”

  “I would say about six minutes.” He sounded worried. “What are you going to do?”

  Alex looked across the front of the church, past the altar, to the other exit. “I don’t think we can get out over there, either.”

  His gaze went back to the marble staircase. It went up and down. “Gabe,” he said, “we have a stairway and an elevator on this side. Can you see where they lead?”

  “I can’t actually see them, Alex, but they’d have to provide egress to the bell tower.”

  “Alex,” I said, “there’s no way Gabe can do a pickup out of the tower. The wings won’t let him get close enough. Unless we want to try some serious aerial acrobatics.”

  “There’s an exit directly onto the church roof,” said Gabe.

  “That’s what we want. Come on,” Alex said, “let’s go.”

  They were still battering the doors at the front of the church. I pushed a button for the elevator and it opened, but Alex pulled me away. “We’ll use the stairway,” he said. “It’s safer.”

  “Why not ride up?”

  He tilted his head at the open elevator. “They might have control of it. If we get in there, we might not be able to get out.”

  “You worry too much,” I said.

  We started up the stairs.

  “Alex,” said Gabe. “A large truck has arrived. It’s unloading smaller versions of the spider. Looks like about six of them.”

  We climbed four or five flights. I’m not sure now. But we reached a landing with a door and a shoulder-high, foot-wide window covered by a dusty curtain. It looked out across the roof. Alex released a bolt and tried to open the door, but it wouldn’t budge.

  I got my cutter and he stood back to give me room. Below us, we heard a loud bang and the sound of the doors splintering.

  “They’re into the building,” said Gabe. “Bots.”

  I started cutting.

  “Okay,” Alex said. “We’ll be on the roof in a minute.” The lander was visible through the window. Coming down.

  I heard a clicking sound at the bottom of the stairwell. “Hurry,” said Gabe.

  Alex looked uneasily down the stairs. “Gabe, what are we dealing with here?”

  “The bots appear to be specialized for construction purposes, so they may be equipped with lasers. I assume they can rig explosives. A few are carrying what appear to be blunt instruments. Most are on multiple limbs, but I see three or four that are bipedal.”

  “Gabe, can you tell whether they’re directed by a single source. Or—?”

  “They are part of a network, Alex. But they seem to be individual intelligences.”

  “Okay, Gabe. Thanks.”

  “And the spider’s here, too.” He flashed a picture of the thing. It was striding in off the avenue and, as we watched, it moved swiftly across the lawn among the cars and trucks to the base of the church wall.

  And it began to climb toward the cross.

  TWENTY

  In hoc signo vinces.

  —Reportedly seen in the sky, along with a cross, by Constantine, prior to the battle of the Milvian Bridge

  “Hurry up,” said Gabe. “Quick!”

  I got the door loose, finally, opened it, and looked down the sloping roof toward the front of the church. A traffic jam had formed out on the street. We were close to the peak, in the shadow of the bell tower. Gabe was hovering just above the roof, as close as he could get.

  “It’s here,” Gabe said. “Too late.”

  A pair of grapplers, attached to tentacles, sailed over the edge of the roof, dropped, and took hold. Two stalks rose into view. Each held a flexible lens. An eye.

  Alex shouted for me to move, simultaneously pushing me aside and stepping out with his pulser in one hand.

  “Get back inside,” said Gabe. “You don’t have time.”

  The thing clambered smoothly up onto the roof, long, flexible struts and golden lenses and more tentacles. A spade-shaped disk held everything together. Alex fired and one of the tentacles whipped toward us and wrapped around his arm. The pulser went flying. Alex yelped, then screamed at me to go back. It lifted him into the air.

  Gabe roared forward, revving his engines, making all the noise he could—which wasn’t much. Alex yelled something as he was hauled toward the edge of the roof. But Gabe’s charge distracted the thing. I took a desperate swipe at the tentacle with my cutter, got lucky, and sliced through it. Alex came tumbling down. Gabe roared past, just out of its reach, and began to circle back.

  Alex half rolled, half scrambled to his feet. And while Gabe continued to distract the thing, we stumbled back inside. “For God’s sake, Gabe,” Alex said as we pushed the door shut, “stay out of its reach.”

  “Alex,” I said, “you okay?”

  “Yes.” He looked shaken.

  “I’m glad to hear it. What do we do now?”

  “Hide.”

  We slid the bolt back in place. Through the window, we could see the spider standing quietly, watching the lander. Gabe was gaining some altitude.

  Alex looked around fo
r a weapon and broke a long piece of wood off the doorframe. I had my cutter.

  “Alex,” Gabe said, “you might want to warn them before you go ahead with the plan.”

  There were sounds at the bottom of the staircase. More clicks. Starting up. Alex tightened his grip on the piece of frame.

  “What plan?” I said.

  Good idea. He mouthed the words.

  “What’s a good idea?”

  “Follow my lead.”

  “Alex, what’s a good idea?”

  He warned me off with a raised hand. No time for explanations. He spoke into the link: “Chase, I think we’re trapped.”

  He held it in place for me to use. “I agree.” Dumb, but it was the best I could think of.

  “I can’t see that we have any choice now.”

  “Probably not.”

  “But even if we can’t get out of here alive, we’ll have to do what we came here to do.”

  “Yes,” I said.

  The noises on the staircase were getting closer.

  He covered the link. “Ask me why we’re using the links.”

  “What?”

  “Just do it. Ask me.”

  “Alex, why are we using the links?”

  “Because, when we destroy this blasphemous temple, Okar would not want us to destroy these unhappy infidels along with it. It’s not entirely their fault that the darkness has fallen on them.”

  “Ah,” I said. “Yes. We would not wish to see them mangled and burning after we blow this place to hell.”

  “It is behavior that is required of us. It is written in the book to give fair warning. That they may save themselves if they are so inclined.”

  I whispered: “What makes you think they’re listening?”

  “Right now, it’s our best shot.” His voice took on a note of resignation. “Chase, I’m sorry it’s come to this. But we can’t allow these acts of blasphemy to continue. We have no choice in the matter and we haven’t much time.”

  “I know.”

  “They’re coming up now. Take a moment to pray to Okar, to thank Him for all His gifts. And then we’ll do it.”

  The sounds had reached the landing below us. Suddenly, they hesitated.