Spindrift

by Allen Steele

“Destroying our ship and crew.” Ramirez couldn’t keep the edge from his voice.

  “Unfortunate, but not deliberate. We had no way of knowing that it contained a nuclear weapon.” Another pause. “Indeed, that was the first time in several generations that any of our people encountered such a device. The hjadd, along with most other members of the Talus, banned such instruments of destruction many years ago. It was only fortunate that our ship was adequately shielded. Otherwise, there would have been no survivors of this incident.”

  “Who are the hjadd?” Ramirez was confused. “I thought you said you were the Talus.”

  “No. The hjadd is my race. My race belongs to the Talus.”

  “All right, then…so who or what is the Talus? Did you construct Spindrift…Shaq-Taaraq, I mean?”

  Sinclair’s ghost became silent. It didn’t respond, but simply gazed at him with empty eyes. Again, Ramirez felt thirsty; he regretted having thrown the water glass, for there was no other apparent source of water. Looking around the room, he saw only artifice, nonfunctional and lifeless. How much longer were they going to keep up with this? The interrogation could last for hours, or even days. He had no idea where he was, and no more than a few clues about who his captors were. The hjadd? The Talus? Words, and not much else…

  “Dr. Ramirez?” The hologram suddenly spoke, startling him from his reverie. “Your cooperation in our inquiry has been appreciated. We thank you for your candor.”

  “You…you’re welcome.” Ramirez licked his dry lips. “I hope that’s cleared up a few things.” He hesitated. “May I see the others now…Harker and Collins, I mean?”

  “You may, very soon. Yet there is one more question we would like to have answered before you do.”

  Relieved, Ramirez let out his breath. “Sure. By all means…”

  “According to information stored within your craft’s data system, you are a convicted criminal.”

  Sinclair’s image dissolved, to be replaced by a holographic replica of Ramirez himself. Ramirez recognized the image: it was derived from a full-body scan that had been taken of him when he’d been processed through inmate control at Dolland.

  “You were sentenced to life imprisonment in a penal colony on your planet’s moon for crimes against humanity,” the pseudo-Ramirez continued, now speaking with his own voice. “To be more precise, you were found guilty of collaboration with a posthuman species, known as the Savants, in a plot that cost the lives of thirty-five thousand members of your own kind and would have resulted in the genocide of…”

  “Goddamn you.” Ramirez’s voice became a choked whisper. “I know what I did.”

  “Yet you were a respected scientist. A renowned leader in the field of astrobiology.” His mirror image, many years younger than he was now, stared back at him with the angry eyes he’d worn that day when he’d been entered prison. “Why would you, someone who believed that intelligent life existed elsewhere in the galaxy, assist in an effort that would inevitably lead to the deaths of so many of your species?”

  Ramirez said nothing for a few minutes. He stared down at the floor, wishing that he could take off the sha and, standing naked before his own image, repeat the lies that he’d told not only to attorneys and judges, the jury and the press, but also to his friends and family. Yet this cloak he wore, warm as it was, allowed no such subterfuge; its patterns had faded to pale blue, as if awaiting his response.

  “My planet was dying,” he began. “Every report I read, every scientific study that crossed my desk, told me that Earth was running out of time. All our resources were exhausted, and our climate had turned against us. We could no longer support a population of nearly ten billion people. Someone would have to…”

  He stopped, swallowed. “When the Savants came to me in search of access to vital information, I thought their solution was only hypothetical. Kill off one-third of the planetary population in order for the rest to survive. It was just a matter of numbers, statistics…almost like I was playing a game.”

  “Why did they approach you?”

  “Because I wanted to join them. Have my consciousness downloaded into a mechanical body, so that I might live forever. I was scared of…” He shook his head. “Never mind. We reached an agreement, so I conducted research, devised pathways that led to various scenarios, presented it to them…”

  “And the price for your efforts?” His image stared at him. “What did you expect to receive for your work?”

  “Immortality.” Ramirez coughed against the bile that rose in his throat. “I wanted to never die.” His breath rattled from him. “I was so young, so…so stupid.”

  “And you now regret your choice?”

  Ramirez thought about what he’d found within Spindrift—or Shaq-Taaraq, as the hjadd called it—and suddenly realized that this question was something he couldn’t answer now as he had before, even to himself. He took another breath and went on, knowing that the sha would forgive no lies.

  “I’ve seen a million or so beings who’ve sealed themselves inside an asteroid for God knows how long. I don’t know why they did this, but it must have been to stay alive, whatever the cost.” Ramirez looked up at his mirror image. “All my life, I wanted to discover a race out there that was better than my own kind…and when I finally did, it’s to find that they tried to avoid the only solution I thought possible.” He forced a grim smile. “So do I have regrets? Yes, I do.”

  His image was quiet for a few moments before it finally spoke. “Thank you, Dr. Ramirez. We believe you’re ready to continue this conversation with your companions.”

  He heard a hollow clunk, and a sigh of escaping air. Glancing to his right, he watched the hatch at the other side of the room open. When he looked back, he was startled to find that Sinclair had reappeared.

  “If you will follow me, please,” he said, “I’ll take you to them.” The holo turned and began to glide toward the hatch. Although its legs moved, Ramirez noticed that its feet didn’t quite touch the floor. “Your questions will soon be answered.”

  Ramirez expected to find the Deck B corridor on the other side of the hatch. Instead, as Sinclair stepped aside to let him pass, he found himself walking straight into a replica of Galileo’s library. Apparently the hjadd were unaware that the original had been located on another deck entirely; either that, or they simply chose to ignore that detail.

  Nonetheless, the resemblance was close enough that, if he’d not known better, he could have sworn that he was back aboard the Galileo. Same caged bookshelves, same crystal chandelier, same oak tables and leather chairs. The only differences were that the fireplace was cold, without a simulated fire burning in it, and nothing lay beyond the windows save for dark grey limbo.

  Harker was seated in an armchair, peering at a closed book in his hands. He looked up as Ramirez walked in, and quickly rose to his feet. “Jared! Good grief, man…I thought you might be dead!”

  “Happy to see you, too.” Ramirez noticed that Harker wore a robe identical to his own; its patterns took on a warm orange hue as Galileo’s first officer dropped the book on a table and rushed toward him. “Don’t know why you’re so surprised. Sinclair…I mean, the holo they made of Sinclair…told me you and Emily were here, too, so…”

  “You saw Sinclair?” Harker stopped short. “They sent Cole…or something like Cole…to see me.”

  “Yeah, I saw him. He’s right over…” Ramirez turned around, only to discover that Sinclair’s image had vanished and the hatch had shut. “Well, he was a second ago,” he murmured. “Guess they’re shy about two of us seeing their puppets at the same time.”

  “Either that, or they didn’t want us to compare notes.” A grim smile appeared on Harker’s face. “I knew he…or it, whatever…couldn’t be Sir Peter the moment he opened his mouth. Not arrogant enough.”

  “Can’t blame them for trying. They only had faces and voices to work with.” Ramirez gazed around the room. “So this is where they’ve been keeping you? I woke up in the hibernatio
n deck. Close copy, but they missed a few details.”

  “You noticed that, too, eh?” Harker walked over to the table, picked up the book he’d been examining. Holding it up by the spine, he shook it a few times. The covers remained shut, its pages unruffled; the book was a solid object. “Guess the hjadd have never seen a book before. They only knew how to duplicate its appearance.”

  “The tip-off for me was the biostasis tank I woke up in. Too clean to be real.” Ramirez strode over to the nonfunctional fireplace. “Been here long?”

  “A couple of hours or so. I came to on that couch.” Harker pointed across the room to the one within the study alcove. “Thought I was dreaming, at least until Cole showed up and began to ask questions.” Another smile, which quickly vanished. “Same interrogation? About our mission, and what we were doing on Spindrift? Or perhaps we should call it Shaq-Taaraq.”

  “That seems to be what they…”

  A door on the opposite side of the library opened, and they both looked around to see Emily cautiously enter the room, also wearing one of the patterned white cloaks. She halted just inside the door, staring around herself in apparent disbelief, until her gaze fell upon them.

  “Oh, thank God!” she yelped, then raced across the library to throw herself into Harker’s arms. “I never thought…Ted, you’re alive!”

  “It’s all right. I’m here.” Harker held her close, stroking her hair, whispering into her ear. Embarrassed, Ramirez turned his face away. As much as he once fantasized about having Emily, once again it was clear to whom she belonged. At least he should be grateful that the three of them were still among the living.

  “Let me guess,” he said, after giving the couple a few moments to themselves. “You woke up somewhere aboard Galileo and found someone waiting to ask a few questions.”

  “You, too?” Emily peeled herself apart from Harker. “I was in the command deck, all by myself except for Toni.” Her face went pale, and she clutched Ted’s hand as tears came to her eyes. “It was horrid. She showed me what happened…everything, right up to the point where we…our people, I mean…launched the nuke at her…I mean, their ship. And then…”

  “Questions.” Ramirez turned toward her. “She told you that if you didn’t tell the truth and nothing but the truth, then this”—he plucked at the sleeve of his sha—“would expose you as a liar, and the rest of us would die. Right?”

  Emily slowly nodded as she pulled Harker close again. “That’s the way it happened with me, too,” Harker said. “Guess we all received the same treatment, only with a few variations.” He shook his head. “Awful lot of trouble to go through, just to make sure we’d be honest.”

  “Never been arrested, have you?” Ramirez couldn’t help but chuckle. “Standard procedure…separate your suspects, tell ’em they’ll get the death penalty if they don’t talk, then wait to see who sings first and if their stories match.” He sauntered over to the fireplace, idly inspected the pewter model of the Galileo upon its mantel. “Suppose we must have passed the test, or they wouldn’t have allowed us to get together.”

  “You are correct,” Lawrence said.

  Ramirez looked around at the same moment as the others. The image of Ian Lawrence stood behind them, shoulders straight and hands at his sides, wearing his dress uniform. The dead captain didn’t look at any one of them, but instead stared directly ahead.

  “You have done well,” Lawrence said. “My kind appreciates your cooperation, as does the Talus. Now the time has come for us to reciprocate your candor.” He gestured toward the nearby chairs. “Be seated, please, and pay close attention. Here is the reason you have been brought to this place and why this encounter is important to the future of your kind.”

  EIGHTEEN

  UNKNOWN

  “First things first.” Harker remained standing after Emily and Ramirez took their seats near the fireplace. “You said our questions would be answered. Well, then…where are we? Why are we here? How long have we been asleep?”

  “All this in good time, Mr. Harker…or do you prefer to be addressed as Commander?” Lawrence’s image gestured toward the remaining armchair. “Please, make yourself comfortable.” He nodded toward a side table, where a pewter decanter and three crystal glasses had been placed. “There is water, if you so desire. We are still uncertain of what sort of food you consider palatable, however, so…”

  “I’m not hungry, and I’ve had it with your pretensions.” Harker’s voice rose. “Are you going to tell us, or…”

  “Ted.” Emily reached up to grasp his hand. “Calm down, please.” She looked at the front of his robe. “Your sha…”

  Harker glanced down at himself. The patterns of his garment had become dark red. She’d apparently discovered the same thing that he had; the sha detected emotions as subtle changes in electrodermal response, the ability of the skin to conduct electricity, and displayed them as subtle alterations in the robe’s colors. It wasn’t difficult to guess that this color scheme indicated anger and frustration.

  Emcee’s right, he thought. You’re in no position to be picking a fight. Slowly letting out his breath, Harker consciously forced himself to cool off; the patterns gradually faded to neutral grey. “Sorry,” he said, looking up at the holo again. “Didn’t mean to lose my temper like that. But you’ve told us nothing of what we should know…what we need to know…and I think it’s time for you to be as honest with us as we’ve been with you.”

  Ramirez nodded. “I have to agree,” he said quietly. “If this is as important as you say, then perhaps you should start by telling us what Ted…Commander Harker…wants to know.”

  For a few seconds, Lawrence’s ghost didn’t respond. Again, Harker had the impression that something was going on that he couldn’t see or hear, as if the holo was little more than a projection manipulated by intelligences as yet unseen. “Very well,” it said at last. “Since this is obviously of great importance to you, we shall comply.” Turning toward the alcove, it pointed toward its window. “Look there, and you’ll see where you are.”

  Harker walked toward the alcove, with Emily and Ramirez rising from their seats to follow him. He stopped, feeling his breath catch. Beyond the mullioned panes of glass lay the darkness of outer space, black as night and speckled by distant stars, save for one that shone nearly as bright as the Sun as seen from Earth’s orbit.

  Yet that wasn’t what caught his attention. In the foreground, stretched out before them, was an immense structure that, at first glance, resembled a magnified image of a snowflake, or perhaps a three-dimensional model of a complex molecule. Dozens, perhaps even hundreds, of forms of all shapes and sizes, some larger than others, connected to one another by a weblike network of threads that seemed flimsy until Harker realized that they were giant cables. Alien spacecraft, many of them larger than Galileo yet reduced to the size of insects, floated in and around the spars. A space colony, yet one more vast than anything he’d ever imagined possible. Perhaps several hundred kilometers or more in diameter, the largest orbital station yet built by humans would have been little more than one module among countless others.

  “This is Talus qua’spah,” Lawrence said. “In Anglo, the closest approximation would be ‘House of the Talus’.”

  “Some house.” Harker stared at it in astonishment. “And this isn’t…I mean, this isn’t another illusion?”

  “Only so far as you’re seeing a projection of something that lies just a few meters beyond the walls of this room.” Lawrence’s image vanished from behind him, reappeared an instant later beside the window. It pointed toward the nearby star. “This is what your race refers to as HD 143761, also known as Rho Coronae Borealis. A G0V-class star, of slightly lower magnitude than your own sun…”

  “I know it.” Ramirez moved closer to Harker, stared at it over his shoulder. “Located in the Corona Borealis constellation, what we call the Northern Crown. We…I mean, our telescopes…detected terrestrial-size planets there some years ago, but we…”
/>   His voice trailed off. Harker looked at him sharply. “But what?”

  Ramirez’s face went pale. For a moment, he groped for words. “It’s fifty-four light-years from Earth,” he whispered.

  “Fifty-four-point-four, to be exact.” Lawrence’s ghost dropped its hands to its sides. “Farther than anyone else of your race has yet ventured.”

  Harker felt his legs become weak. Turning away from the window, he staggered to the nearest chair, eased himself into it. “What year is this?” he rasped.

  “By your calendar, this is the year 2344.” Lawrence remained as placid as before. “Fifty-three years have elapsed since we found you on Shaq-Taaraq.” He paused for a moment, then went on. “Are you ready to listen now?”

  Harker needed a drink. He would have preferred a stiff shot of whiskey, but water would have to do. Trying to ignore the way his hand trembled, he picked up the decanter and poured a glass for himself. The water was tepid, almost lukewarm—apparently the hjadd were unaware that humans preferred to drink it cold—but it helped soothe his parched throat. Lawrence patiently waited until everyone returned to their seats by the fireplace, then continued.

  “To begin,” it said, standing before the hearth, hands at its sides, “you must understand that our galaxy is inhabited by many races. Most are separated from one another by vast distances and therefore never meet, even if they suspect the existence of others. Until now, this has probably been the situation with your own kind.”

  “It is,” Ramirez said. “We…”

  “Please, allow me to continue.” The holo raised a hand, and Ramirez went silent. “However, upon rare occasions, a race develops the ability to not only leave its own world, but eventually to leave its native system. Even then, however, the chances that they will encounter another intelligent species are remote. Inhabitable worlds are difficult to find, and even more difficult to reach. There are races that mastered interstellar travel quite some time ago and have yet to make contact with another species.”