by P. R. Adams
For too long, they’d been caught in a battle of attrition with the genies. The numbers were set hard against him, and they had taken their toll. He needed that to change, no matter the risk to the final outcome.
Rimes shook his head, and Meyers hesitated.
In that instant, where the cruel calculus of war overrode Rimes’s compassion, the construct struck again, this time incinerating Watanabe.
Sung howled in despair, and the pitiful sound filled the ice-covered chamber.
Rimes fought back his own scream. He wanted only to undo his decision, to swap himself out with Watanabe. He couldn’t, though. Because of him, she was gone.
The construct struck again, this time slaying the genie at Sung’s side. Another deadly beam materialized, and another genie died.
The numbers now favored Rimes’s forces. “Now!” His head sagged.
Sung, still reeling from Watanabe’s death, was almost too slow activating the stun gun. The construct glowed as if to slay another, but the stun gun fired first.
Rimes cringed. Just as Meyers had guessed, the blast gained the construct’s attention. Electricity sprayed outward from the construct, arcing along the ceiling and walls. Rimes felt it through his armor. It knocked Fontana off her feet a few meters in front of him.
Finally, the stun gun stopped, its power spent. Sung fell back a microsecond before the construct answered the attack with a burst of its own, melting the gun and the cabling connecting it to the vircator.
But not before the blast powered up the vircator.
Meyers flipped a switch and the vircator hummed to life, filling the chamber center with a powerful electromagnetic pulse. Rimes’s BAS instantly shut down. He watched the construct through the clear visor for any sign the attack might have affected it.
Where the stun gun had irritated the construct—if an energy construct could be irritated—the EMP visibly drained it. The light matrix dimmed, now a reflecting moon where it had been a star.
Its form wavered. It released a burst of plasma that missed Theroux, then another that struck Andrea but didn’t knock her down.
It’s weakened. Fontana’s voice echoed in Rimes’s head. It’s vulnerable.
Rimes searched around, finally seeing Fontana. She was smiling at him. She’d regained her feet and moved to his left, holding a hand out toward the construct.
She’s in my head, and she’s not even exerting herself. How? “Sheila, no!” He reached toward her.
Fontana’s smile was serene. Her voice was in his head again. Don’t be concerned for me, Jack. We all have our roles to play. I’m doing what I have to do, just as Dana did. Just as you must. I’ve finally found peace. Tell Dana goodbye for me.
Fontana extended her arm fully, and for a brief moment became every bit as bright as the construct, vaporizing the ice around her and burning away the fungus for several meters around. Plasma flowed between her and the construct, its source impossible to determine. Somehow, she remained immune to the withering heat.
Time stood still, as if everything were playing out in a dream. Then, as suddenly as it had begun, it was over, and there was nothing left of Fontana but a fine rain of gray ash slowly drifting to the ground.
Rimes felt heat and smelled smoke. He looked down and realized his environment suit and armor were smoldering. All around him, the ice had melted and the fungus had been incinerated, leaving behind the scarred slabs of what he had previously assumed were indestructible materials.
Thick, ash-choked sludge—drained into the hole, carrying away the decimated fungi. Rimes expected the construct to finally unleash a merciful, obliterating burst of energy at him, to wipe away the pain of so much death and destruction—human and genie.
Nothing happened.
Curious, he looked up at the construct, imagining its appearance had changed. No. I’m not imagining it at all. It’s diminished, dimmer.
The plasma bolts had stopped. Duke had finally acted.
He had tough decisions of his own.
Unlike the struggle with Fontana, the construct’s battle with Duke was quiet, invisible. Rimes crawled out of the hole, accepting Theroux’s hand when it was offered. Once free, Rimes took in the devastation more fully. Of the genies in the chamber, only Andrea remained. She limped, the left side of her armor singed, but she was alive. Meyers stood at the base of the ramp. At the top of the ramp, Sung sat, sobbing, cradling Watanabe’s charred body.
Theroux took the scene in impassively. “This is it.” he said, his voice disturbingly flat. “We’re out of options. Either he destroys it, or we die.”
Rimes wondered for a moment if the attack had been for nothing, doomed to fail by Duke’s ego. Watanabe’s death in particular haunted him. Sung’s rocking made Rimes think of the tenderness the construct had unleashed in the two of them by suppressing their inhibitions.
Or did it create the passion in their minds altogether? He shivered, remembering his time with Kleigshoen in Australia, unwilling to think too deeply about what constituted real passion and what differentiated it from love. It had manipulated their thoughts and memories and emotions, but Rimes wasn’t even sure if it truly understood them or had equivalent experiences of its own.
Why don’t I hate this thing? He never felt hatred for the enemy when it was just some other human—mercenary, soldier, corporate operative—doing his or her job, but the construct was alien. There was no reason to identify with it or wonder if it had a family that would miss it. Hatred, especially given its casual slaughter of those it had drawn into its trap, made perfect sense.
And yet he felt little more than a detached sense of curiosity. Just another element of its emotional manipulation?
Another change in the construct’s appearance caught Rimes’s eye. Once again, it shrank and its lights dimmed. He blinked and it shrank and dimmed again.
Duke was winning.
For someone used to operations where opponents died quick and violent deaths, the construct’s destruction was anticlimactic. It was now half the size and brightness it had been.
Rimes limped up the ramp, now finding easy purchase with the fungus shriveled and the ice melted. He stopped for a moment to place a hand on Sung’s shoulder then jogged weakly to the passage above. Andrea trailed behind him, refusing to allow her injury to slow her.
They knew their fate lay in the dark passage ahead.
46
30 October, 2167. Fourth planet of the COROT-7 system.
* * *
Rimes froze at the passage entry, stunned. Bathed in the weak light of one of the genies’ abandoned lamps, Duke stood, hunched, sweat dripping from his brow, his fists balled so tight bone and sinew seemed ready to burst from his skin. Of the three genies who had been operating in concert with Duke, only one still stood, her posture mirroring Duke’s. One of the other genies lay at Duke’s feet, blood draining from his ears and pooling beneath his head. The final one seemed ready to collapse as well, her arms hanging limp at her side, her eyelids and lips twitching. Blood trickled from her nose and one of her ears.
Andrea stopped at Rimes’s side, quietly observing. Rimes looked at her, horrified. “It’s killing them. We have to do something.”
Andrea shook her head calmly. “There’s nothing to be done. They’re the ones attuned to him. They either have the strength to succeed, or they don’t.”
Rimes looked back at the construct. It had shrunk to the point it was half the size of a human. A soft thud brought Rimes’s attention back to the passage: the weakened genie had collapsed to the ground, gasping, her body convulsing. Duke dropped to a knee and shrieked.
Rimes took a step, but Andrea stopped him.
“We can’t interfere. This is his role. The family succeeds or fails with him.”
Once again Rimes turned to the construct. It pulsed now, its lights winking out, then flaring, then winking out again. The cycle sped, then slowed, but each time the brightness was diminished. Rimes thought about the vircator and what he might be able
to use to charge it for another pulse, but no energy source remained.
Then, with a final wavering, the construct winked out completely.
Rimes ran to the fallen genies, checking first the women, then Duke. They were alive, but the one who had earlier convulsed had only the weakest of pulses. “Corporal Sung!”
Long seconds passed before Sung stood in the entry. He hesitated, staring into the dim light, then ran to the wounded.
Rimes slapped Duke’s face. “Duke? Can you hear me?”
Duke’s eyes fluttered open. They were bloodshot and unfocused. He looked around, unseeing, lost, as if trapped in a dream, too weak to free himself. Finally, his eyes focused slightly.
“Duke?”
Duke managed a smile, slightly less smug than normal. “Captain Rimes.” His voice was weak, strained. “It would seem we have attained victory.”
Rimes’s attention was momentarily drawn to Sung’s frantic efforts with the fallen genies, then back to Duke. “It’s gone?”
Duke lifted his arms slightly and grimaced; they fell to his sides. “Dispersed.”
“We suffered terrible losses.” Watanabe. Munoz. So much death.
“You do not set foot on the path we have without the certainty some will not see the trip to its end. Those who died gave their lives for a greater cause.”
Sung stopped for a moment, then went back to work.
Rimes leaned in closer. “Are you sure you destroyed it?”
“You would not be here if I had failed in my efforts. This was a battle that could have only one victor, with the loser’s fate clear from the outset.”
Footsteps echoed outside the passage; Meyers and Theroux stopped at the entry. We have the advantage now. “Duke, when you’re ready to move, I think we need to get out of here.”
“Yes.” Duke rubbed at his face. “I have a people to lead to the promised land, and you have a people to save from themselves. These are grand destinies for grand men.”
Rimes wondered what Perditori might have to say about Duke’s imagined destiny. “Sung, when can we move them?”
Sung grunted as he shifted frantically between the two female telepaths. “Their blood pressure is dangerously low. I…I think we can put them on stretchers and carry them out, but I need to stabilize them first. Other than the blood pressure and the bleeding, I can’t find anything life-threatening. It must be something internal.” He looked around for assurance; the pain and uncertainty in his eyes was like a physical blow.
Rimes patted Sung’s shoulder and turned back to Meyers. “Go through that gear we reclaimed off the Commandos. I’m sure they had at least one stretcher in their packs.” Rimes turned to Theroux. “Let’s start getting the corpses up to the entry. I don’t want to leave them for the fungus.”
No!
Rimes staggered at the sudden burst of thought in his mind. It was desperate, terrified. An overwhelming, inexplicable sense of danger washed over him. He looked around, saw the same shock on everyone else’s face.
“Captain Rimes!” Sung pressed his head against the chest of one of the female genies. “Shit!”
The injured genies were convulsing again, gasping for air. Sung desperately tried to hold them, then he abandoned the idea and dug a syringe out of his medical bag. Before he could administer any drugs, the convulsing stopped, and the genies went still.
Duke looked at the suddenly still forms, disappointed. “After they sacrificed so much, to lose them like this. I had hoped for a different outcome.”
Sung tried to revive the genies, finally stopping when he felt Rimes’s firm grip. The pain and uncertainty that had been in Sung’s eyes before were magnified now, joined by a hint of despair.
Rimes stared at the genies, stunned. “What happened? I thought you said they didn’t have any life-threatening problems?”
Sung opened their eyes and shone a light. “I-I thought…they seemed…There wasn’t anything obvious. I don’t know how…“
Duke groaned and struggled to his feet. He shuffled around for a few moments as a child first learning to walk would, then finally regained his balance. “Captain, it may not be your way, but we accept that those we’ve lost have moved on. They fought bravely for their people. We must now move on ourselves.”
“That’s it?” Rimes looked at Andrea in disbelief, but she seemed unaffected by Duke’s words. “They die, and you’re ready to move on? No wonder we can’t understand each other. That’s just—”
“Inhuman?” Duke chuckled, the sound of an indulgent parent. “We never claimed to be human. In fact, our creators spent years constantly reminding every genie of just how inhuman we are. And, really, considering how you arrived at defining humanity, is it something to be aspired to? Human religions, at their heart, had nothing but primitive imaginings to enable control through fear. And at their best, human philosophies showed them to be nothing but hypocrites. Is it truly shocking that we spurned children should seek a different path?”
Rimes seethed, but there was nothing to say. After a long moment, he simply stormed away and waved everyone else over.
“I don’t give a damn about anyone’s philosophies; we’re not leaving these bodies for the fungus. Pair up. Move folks with care. I’ll take care of the ones that thing burned.”
Meyers and Sung headed down to the bug chamber to collect the Commandos and Kershaw; after a moment, Andrea and Theroux made their way over to the fallen genies. Rimes headed down into the cavern where the blackened husks still smoldered.
Each trip past Duke, Rimes never looked up from the charred remains he carried. There was a visceral pain carrying each body—so light with the flesh and fluids burned away. It was especially bad with Munoz and Watanabe, and the pain was worsened by Duke’s apathy toward the loss of his own. Even after gently setting the final corpse down next to the last of the telepaths to die, Rimes found he was still shaking with anger.
Andrea brushed hair from the dead telepath’s face. “Why are you so bothered?”
Rimes looked at the corpse. “What was her name?”
“Nadine. She hadn’t taken a last name yet. She had one in mind.” Andrea glanced at Duke meaningfully.
Rimes sighed. His heart was heavy, and his mind was troubled. “Do you think Nadine’s death was of no consequence? Or the deaths of all those we lost?”
Andrea looked back at Nadine. “We don’t all share the same views. Each brother and sister holds value. The strong rise to lead, the weak fall in service to the good of the rest.”
“Sure.”
“Your beliefs are so different?”
Rimes started to respond, then stopped. “No. Not so different, but maybe more empathetic. I think we all believe in the survival of the strongest at some level. It’s not really a philosophy, is it? It’s biology and evolution, right? It’s the way we became who we are. But what makes us human isn’t just worrying about being the strongest, it’s using that strength to protect the weak. Maybe it’s the surviving religious tenets, the ones drawn from our need to come together just to make it through the winters or to band together against predators greater than any one of us could handle, but I have to think there’s some value in building a community and caring for one another. Otherwise, why form one? And without communities, what are we?”
Andrea took his hand and pulled him close to kiss him. It was long and gentle, not animalistic like before. She released him, but stared into his eyes. “You should come with us. Your words won’t touch everyone, but your strength will gain respect and there are those who will listen. I have listened. You’re more than you realize.”
More than I realize? More than a father and husband? The animalistic lust was in her eyes still, same as he felt in the back of his mind, but there was something more, both in her eyes and in his heart. Can you feel love for us? Could there actually be a bridge between our people?
“I believe the time has come to bid this dreary place adieu.” Duke staggered toward them, beaming.
Rimes
looked from Duke to Theroux to Meyers then to the walls, then knocked on the wall they’d entered through. “To be perfectly honest, I thought this whole area would have opened when you dispersed that thing. It seemed fine letting people in but not out, and that made sense. Short of using the last of the explosives, I’m not sure what we could do to get out of here.”
“Then by all means, Captain.” Duke’s eyes twinkled as he waved at the wall. “Let’s set the charges. We have an agreement, and the universe awaits.”
Meyers tapped at the wall. “I hadn’t thought of it before now, but it is odd it didn’t open. Maybe it wasn’t a prison after all?” He ran his hands along the wall, testing its solidity, then he began scraping away fungus.
“Or maybe it’s still holding its prisoner.”
Meyers paused, then he returned to scraping the fungus from the wall. “You think we have enough to blow out a chunk big enough to get through? I mean, you’d think if this thing truly had the ability to think so far into the future, it would’ve had someone come in with enough explosives to blow the entire structure to pieces three times over.”
Rimes made his way to the pile of Commando packs, digging through until he found a detonator and a few bricks of explosives. Enough explosives to blow this place to pieces all right. He stopped for a moment to examine Pasqual’s pack, wondering if there had ever been a sense among any of them that they were being played with, or if they had walked into the trap completely oblivious. They had been the best-trained and equipped soldiers humans could muster, but they had died fighting a stupid alien bug.
The thought of puppets killing puppets to appease the needs of an inhuman master gnawed at Rimes. We all have our roles to play. What’s my role?
The explosives were heavy in his hand. They felt wrong, like so much else—the genies’ deaths, the walls not opening…