The Frozen Sky

by Jeff Carlson

  “What did you just say?”

  —I am more efficient.

  The ghost had used her name and sidestepped a direct order. How long did she have before he interrupted her suit’s systems again?

  “Detach and activate 85,” she said. “Wipe all other initiatives and confirm.”

  —85 activated.

  The tiny mecha separated from her chest plate with a pop.

  Vonnie turned her head, trying to situate herself, yearning to see. “Send 85 ahead of me into the chasm, then follow it,” she said. “Move as fast as it’s safe. Our first priority is to get away from the sunfish. Confirm.”

  —Confirmed, Von.

  Using her name was a simple development, and yet it was also sinister and wrong. Did he think he was her equal?

  13.

  Following 85, her suit ducked and bent and hopped. At the same time, the ghost narrated 85’s advisories, describing a gully, a slide, a crevice, a hill.

  “I need medical attention,” she said.

  —Von, I can fix the corrupted nodes.

  “I want you to withdraw from life support. That’s the problem. You’re interfering.”

  —Incorrect. This suit’s basic functions are compromised by external and internal damage. If I withdraw, you will lose all AI-directed systems.

  So she continued to bleed. She couldn’t let the ghost work on her face. If something like her little finger had needed attention, she might have granted him access as a way to evaluate him, but she couldn’t let him repair her skull. If the procedure failed, if the ghost intentionally damaged her or shut down in the middle of surgery, it could leave her mentally stunted as well as blind. Then she might be lost down here until she starved, an idiot and a cripple, barely able to comprehend her own suffering.

  Could she use 85 to reverse hack her suit? She had virtual keyboards in her gloves. She knew she could tap into 85, but she would have to do so by touch alone, without watching her key strokes on her heads-up display. She also hadn’t figured out how to keep the ghost from noticing her signals.

  She needed to divert him. “How did the sunfish chase me?” she asked. “Were they talking to each other? I didn’t hear anything, and they don’t have eyes.”

  —The lifeforms were emitting ultrasound.

  “Sonar. Do you have recordings of it?”

  —Affirmative.

  “Analyze those recordings for meaning and context. Is it language?”

  —Unknown.

  “I want an alert as soon as you hear them again. Scan for more carvings. Anything. What else can you tell me about them?”

  Vonnie snapped her hands inside her gloves as the ghost recited data; the wavelengths and compositions of the sunfishes’ sonar calls; modulation; duration; intervals. By the soft resistance that appeared against her fingertips, she knew her virtual keyboards were up.

  She began to type as the ghost continued its report.

  Her suit had recorded signals as low as 17,000 Hertz, within range of human hearing, all the way to 130,000, which was well above the high-pitched frequencies used by bats on Earth.

  “Keep talking,” she said.

  —In sunfish, the larynx is a corded muscle. Air sacs allow them to push the same air back and forth through their larynx instead of exhaling where the atmosphere is minimal or toxic. They reflect those vibrations from the horn-like material of their beaks. They…

  “Why did you stop?”

  —The chasm we’re following has opened into a cavern approximately seventy-five meters by thirty by forty-five. The floor drops away in a series of ravines. The far end is walled off by ice. Radar indicates fractures and melts in the ice, possibly an extensive network leading up from the rock. We may be at the edge of this mountain.

  “Thank God. Go. Let’s get into the ice and try to seal it behind us. We can wall them off.”

  —There is also a construct in the largest ravine.

  “What are you talking about?”

  —There is a rock wall sixteen meters across, two thick, and four high. It holds a reservoir of approximately twelve thousand gallons of water and slush.

  “Bring me to it.”

  For the first time since the assault, Vonnie felt relief. She remembered the carvings and the air locks. If the sunfish also built reservoirs, she and Lam — the real Lam — were correct in believing this was a sentient race. There were too many clues to think otherwise.

  The guilt she felt was buried in fear, but it was the more honest emotion. It mingled with her shame.

  How would human beings react if an alien walked into their city? Compared to the sunfish, Vonnie was a giant, and there might be schools or nurseries in the area. Maybe the attack had been her fault. Maybe she’d provoked it with her size or her smell or her heat. She should have known better. Approaching them had been selfish.

  What if the sunfish were everything Lam had dreamed?

  As her suit rambled down across the cavern floor, she said, “Do you see tool marks in the rock? Make sure you’re recording to mem file.”

  —Cameras inoperative.

  “Use radar and infrared. What’s the temperature?”

  —The air is minus seventeen, but the rock shows hot spots as warm as three degrees due to thermal activity. The water varies between six degrees at its deepest parts and minus two in the shallows.

  “Is it salt water or fresh?”

  —Atmospheric testing suggests low levels of salinity. Should I send a mecha to acquire samples?

  “Yes.”

  She was curious. The majority of aquatic creatures on Earth had adapted to particular grades of water; fresh, brackish, or salt; warm, cool, or cold; sunlit, dim, or dark; but there were stand-outs like whales which could survive at least temporarily in any combination.

  On Europa, there was also the matter of scalding heat. Most of the hot springs would be piped up from the great salt ocean. Obviously there were fresh water pockets such as this reservoir, melted by distant magma or by rising gases — but like the ice itself, fresh water lakes would be temporary, forever subject to cracking and contamination.

  If the sunfish strived to retain fresh water, were they limited to saltless environments?

  Could the reservoir have another purpose?

  “Look for other ways out of the cavern,” she said. “If this is where they drink or bathe, why haven’t you seen any signs of steady traffic?”

  —There are signs of steady traffic.

  “Where? I told you I wanted an alert!”

  —Your instructions were to alert you to sonar calls or carvings. There are four holes in the ceiling and a fifth alongside the chasm from which we emerged. Three show indications of regular movement. The rock is abnormally smooth in places or cut in bands like ladder rungs.

  Mentally, Vonnie paused. The suit kept her body moving forward, but in her mind, she took a step back. She also released her virtual keyboards, cancelling her efforts to subvert the ghost. Taking him apart would have to wait.

  “Get me out of here,” she said.

  —Von, my scans of the reservoir are incomplete.

  “Get out. Detach and activate 84. Leave it here with 85. Command both of them to generate as much noise and heat as possible.”

  —84 detached.

  The sunfish hadn’t let her escape. They’d watched her run straight into a population center.

  Vonnie ached with horror as her suit jogged from the ravine. With luck, her mecha would cover her. Was this cavern the sunfishes’ home? The air was poison, but maybe they were inside the reservoir, breathing through their gills… waiting to snatch her leg and drag her in…

  “Tell what you see!”

  —We’ve cleared the largest ravine.

  “Bring 85 after us. Keep 84 near the water.”

  —There are disturbances in the reservoir. I estimate six lifeforms beneath the surface. Eight. Twelve. Fourteen.

  His voice counting smoothly in her ear was a stark contrast to her pounding hea
rt. “What about the ladders up the cavern wall!?” she said. “Are there sunfish above me?”

  —Negative.

  “Leave 85 between me and 84. Tell it to pick up some gravel and throw it, not at the sunfish and not at me. I want to distract them.”

  —The lifeforms have emerged from the water. They are emitting ultrasound.

  “Hide.”

  Her suit shoved her down onto her knees. The most frightened part of her wanted to keep running, but the sunfish who’d let her go were probably waiting in the chasm. Vonnie didn’t want to run into an ambush. More than anything, she needed to apologize for invading their home.

  “Play eight of their sonar calls for my ears only,” she said. “Were there any that sounded non-aggressive before the attack? Simulate those calls for me and prepare to broadcast on my command.”

  —Commencing simulation.

  Her head rang with shrill chirps and screeches. Ultrasound was imperceptible to human ears, but the ghost translated the sunfishes’ cries into a piercing equivalent.

  Were there words or was it only noise? Vonnie didn’t know what she’d heard, but she wouldn’t get another chance to speak before the sunfish were on top of her. “Broadcast those same calls through 85,” she said. “If the sunfish respond, adapt your calls to match. Make sure you keep using both mecha as decoys away from me.”

  — Broadcasting now.

  “Where are they?”

  —The lifeforms have jumped past the mecha straight at you. Contact in five seconds.

  “No!”

  Her mind split. As a teacher, she wanted to communicate, but the ape in her would do anything to live.

  Vonnie yanked an excavation charge from her forearm and slammed it onto the ground on her left, orienting herself solely from memory. She’d worked in scout suits for years. From the earliest days of her career, she’d also learned to map busy construction sites in her head.

  Her hand went to the charge unerringly. Her thumb double-flicked the safety locks. Then she aimed the shaped charge at the sunfish and flipped herself in the opposite direction.

  If she had had a conscious thought, it might have been that she’d forgotten her despair. But she’d stopped thinking. She acted.

  The detonation struck her suit like thunder. Vonnie cradled her helmet in her arms. A small, hard object whacked into her thigh — a rock — as something else hit her shoulder wetly — a sunfish.

  It wasn’t dead. It thrashed and snapped at her gear block, ripping into her helmet.

  Vonnie saw a blurry flare of holo imagery in one eye as her visor flashed orange, then red. The sunfish was about to breach her armor. Berserk with fear, she caught the sunfish’s body and squeezed her fingers into it like blunt knives, overtaxing her suit’s amplified strength. She punctured its skin. The sunfish shuddered. It went limp.

  She threw away the bloody mess and hopped to her feet, falling, scrambling, falling again.

  She put her life in the ghost’s hands, letting it replace her blind, pell-mell sprint with its controlled stride. “Take over! Run for the ice! Can you keep the blast zone between me and them?”

  —Affirmative. Most of the lifeforms are disabled. Nine dead, three wounded.

  “Where are my mecha?”

  —84 is under duress. 85 is unresponsive. The surviving lifeforms are battering them with rock clubs.

  And yet the sunfish had bypassed her mecha at first, even ignoring the gravel that 84 had thrown. How had they known to target her instead? Because she was larger? Why hadn’t they listened to her sonar calls?

  Carried by her suit, Vonnie’s emotions swung back to self-doubt. The savage clarity she’d felt faded as guilt returned. There was a lesson there, but she was too overwhelmed to recognize it.

  14.

  She hoped she’d lose the sunfish in the ice. Didn’t they live mostly in water and rock? Maybe the ice was too cold or too precarious for them.

  She knew she was grasping at straws. The carvings were proof that they inhabited the ice or had at one time, but grasping at straws was all she had left. She couldn’t even hack the ghost from outside her suit’s systems now that her mecha were gone, and she was dizzy and weak. The blood from her face had leaked down her chest like a growing stain.

  —Four lifeforms are close behind us.

  “Where am I?”

  —We’re inside a seam in the ice. Radar indicates more chasms and holes above us.

  “Tear down as much ice as you can! Block them off!”

  The suit jostled her, hammering at the ice. Fresh pain coursed through her head. Her shredded face felt like a drum skin, sensitive and taut.

  If she couldn’t reprogram the ghost, she might be forced to let him operate before she lost consciousness. What would happen then? If she slept, the ghost would keep running and climbing with her body inside it like a corpse. That could be a mercy unless she never woke up.

  The suit lurched forward, left, forward again, and then backward and to the right.

  Vonnie gasped, “Talk to me!”

  —Two lifeforms squeezed through the avalanche I created, but I no longer have a clear radar image of their positions. There is rock mixed through the ice. Many of the openings are too narrow for us. The lifeforms may be circling around.

  “Can you hear them?”

  —Negative. Our sonar is inoperative.

  “When did that happen?”

  —During the second attack. Von, radar shows new lifeforms above and behind us.

  “Pull down more ice or rock! Do anything you can!”

  Her suit pummeled the walls, crabbing away from the sunfish. She felt herself wiggle and kick and dig. Once an arm tip slapped her boot. The sunfish were very near.

  She quit moving abruptly.

  —We’re safe. I’ve packed more ice into barriers than the lifeforms can move without laboring for hours.

  Vonnie reached out with both hands and clunked her fingers against the walls. Then she pawed at the ceiling and floor. “Is there a way out?”

  —Negative. I’ve sealed this pocket on all sides.

  “You… Why would you…” Vonnie swallowed, tamping down her claustrophobia. She’d told him to do anything necessary to protect her, and he’d obeyed with his literal, idiot logic. “Which side has less sunfish?”

  —The chimney above us held only one lifeform.

  “Dig out that side before more of them come. Go. Get ready to fight.”

  Her suit clawed at the ice, raining dust and heavier chunks on her helmet. Vonnie steeled herself against each blow. Pain was becoming normal.

  “List all functioning sensors,” she said.

  —MR-7 radar 100%. SPRD radar 100%. Bryson infrared array 100%. Mobile platform seismographs 70%. Spotlight at full power but controls intermittent.

  “Wait. Is my spotlight on?”

  —Affirmative.

  “Turn it off!” The heat of the camera spot might explain why the sunfish had ignored her mecha at the reservoir. “Was the light on when we were in the ravine?”

  —Negative.

  “What about residual heat?”

  —Affirmative. With intermittent function, the spotlight’s temperature has fluctuated between twenty-two and eighty degrees Celsius since damage sustained in the first attack.

  “Turn it off.”

  —The controls have short-circuited.

  “Cut power.”

  —The spotlight is slaved to the same energy grid as the radar and infrared arrays.

  Should she break it with her fist? She would need the light when she regained her eyes. Even if there were spare bulbs left in her kit, she might not have the tools to extract a shattered bulb before installing a new one.

  —Seismographs indicate scratching on the other side of the ice. I estimate two lifeforms are excavating this hole.

  “Stop digging when you get within sixty centimeters. Let them do the work. They might get tired. Grab them as soon they come through. Throw them behind us. Jump out of
the hole and knock down as much ice as you can. Confirm.”

  —Confirmed.

  “Can you fix my gear block? I need sonar.”

  —Those transmitters are missing. There is nothing to fix.

  What did that leave? Could she translate radar or infrared signals into something she could hear? Like their mecha, her suit was over-engineered, over-equipped, and highly adaptable. But there was a better solution. Her helmet contained a voice box for communicating with people who weren’t in suits. She also had hardware designed to assess injuries with ’sound bullets’ from a nonlinear acoustic lens in her chest plate.

  “Run a patch from my voice box to the medical imaging systems,” she said. “I want to control the MIS by voice command. Don’t let the box make any external sound. Its function is to control the MIS. Understood? When I shout like this — yah! — make the MIS generate a terahertz pulse, then translate those signals back to me as normal sound.”

  —It’s improbable the lifeforms will be able to hear frequencies in the terahertz range if you intend to broadcast their sonar calls.

  “Just do it.”

  Using Vonnie’s hands, the ghost began to rearrange the panel circuitry on her ravaged, filthy armor, creating a patch from her med pack to her helmet. That the sunfish wouldn’t be drawn to a terahertz pulse was good. She didn’t want to talk to them. She wanted a sensor independent of the ghost, because if she lived, her fight with him would be next.

  —Here they come.

  Her arms stabbed up. Her gloves clenched on squirming muscles. The sunfish squeezed their arms around her wrists as an eerie vibration passed through her chest. It was their sonar, an intimate, unpleasant buzz.

  Her suit tossed them down and sprang out of the hole, chopping at the ice to seal them in.

  The sunfish were too fast. One snarled itself around her boot. It hauled itself up her shins to her groin. Vonnie tried to run. She punched it loose, but the other sunfish roped four arms around her ankle, screeching.

  Was it bringing more of them?

  Vonnie wept as she stomped on them. They felt like rubber bumps until their bodies ruptured, spraying juice and guts up her legs. “I’m sorry! Sorry! Oh God, I’m sorry!”