The computer or whatever it was began on a positive note, locating the ATSD and then the Cheyenne, nestled in its chamber on the eastern wall. Apparently, the AI had its own eyes in the sky and the ground, judging from the perspectives. Zane added shorter lines between the three places, hoping they would signify radio waves to either the computer or to Zzuull. Since Zzuullzhrun's civilization didn't seem to possess wireless technology or maybe even electricity, he didn't expect her to understand, but he was beginning to suspect she might be significantly brighter and more knowledgeable than most of her people. Maybe he shouldn't write her off?
The computer images hovered in the air, unchanging. Zane guessed it had no clue about what he was asking. His intended symbol of the computer's processing system – a square filled with tiny 0's and 1's – probably didn't register.
But now Zzuullzhrun was buzzing and humming in a way that suggested she might have an idea about his scrawlings. For the first time, the computer replied in her language – in what sounded like an exact duplication of her voice. There was some back and forth, and then, after what struck Zane as a pregnant pause, the lines between his clumsy computer symbol and the aerial transceiver and his ship started to glow red.
Zane held his breath. The glowing red lines made him think the computer had to understand something significant, but nothing else happened for several long moments.
Then a glowing green line appeared, moving parallel to the red line from Zane's boxy rendition of the Cheyenne toward the aerial transceiver. Now that is damn promising. The green line rose from the Cheyenne to the transceiver and descended to Zane's computer box. In almost the same moment, a yellow line, also parallel to the red line, shot up to his depiction of the transceiver and then down to the Cheyenne abutting the green line.
A darker line appeared within the yellow and green lines, inching from the Cheyenne, slowly converting the green line to black, while the blackness in the yellow line – originating from the "computer box" moved even more slowly. Zane found it impossible not to interpret the various lines as representing an ongoing upload and download between the alien and Cheyenne's computers. That would be pretty fucking fantastic – or could be, depending on the end results. Zane had little clue if it would be possible for two vastly different technologies and languages to interact, but then he knew next to nothing, fundamentally, about the relevant technologies. So whatever happened, he figured, he wouldn't be surprised.
Zane was wrong.
"Captain Cameron," said Patricia/Keira's mellifluous alto, resonating in the air around them. "I am Keeper 3. I oversee all operations necessary in maintaining Habitat 3. Welcome to Preserve Prime 2447. I have a request for communication from your crewmate, Patricia. I require authorization from Zzuullzhrun."
A series of humming notes followed. Zzull hummed back.
"Zzullzhrun has authorized the communication."
Patricia materialized before them. Zane assumed she was a holograph, but then she rushed to him and threw her arms around him. Zane was too stunned to move at first. Slowly, woodenly, he hugged her back.
"We believed you were still alive," she said. "But when you didn't answer and the Zikkzu attacked – "
"Zak what?"
"The alien elite soldiers. They resembled hornets." She leaned back from him, grinning, her face flushed. "I can speak their languages now. I know their history – everything about the world within this habitat – thanks to you and" – she turned to Zzull – "Zzullzhrun. The Keeper monitors and records everything and everyone in this habitat."
"That's...incredible." Zane fought through his shock. "So...the AI teleported you here?"
"No, I'm sorry to say. You're seeing basically a holograph of me made into flesh. We're doing a 'video conference,' but the Zillun – the insectile aliens who built Animus and who maintained primitive cultures of their own people here for posterity – have a technology that takes video conferencing to the next level, rendering people or objects into material form, like a Star Trek holodeck."
"So you're here in the flesh," said Zane, releasing her and stepping back. "But not really."
"Exactly." Patricia smiled. "In reality we are locked in an underground prison far more secure than Captain Kinsley and his crew's former cell. It's actually a storage vault, but they're using it to store us for now." Her smile turned downward. "I should tell you that we lost a few more crewmembers during the Zikkzu attack."
Zane swallowed. "Mallory? Horse?"
"They survived, though Captain Kinsley was badly wounded. His NDs have mostly repaired him. However, eight other Peacemaker crewmembers died in the assault."
Zane clamped his teeth together and nodded. He noted Zzull staring at them. She buzzed/hummed something that sounded like a question. The AI replied.
"She's asking what we are doing here," said Patricia. "Why we have come from 'the blue world.' The AI is telling her that we came to destroy their world because it poses a threat to our world."
"Then this AI knows everything about us?" Zane wondered if his plan might've gone too far in revealing information about them. "Would they consider us enemies?"
"It knows we no longer intend to destroy Animus," said Patricia. "But that doesn't matter. The Keeper has specialized knowledge and a special mission imperative, as do all the Keepers, which only involves maintaining their habitats' ecology and recording everything that happens within it. They cannot interfere in any activities of the creatures apart from that imperative. They have no instructions for dealing with an alien encounter, for example. The Siuzinn – what we've been calling the Guardians – are tasked with defense of their world and habitat security. But the Siuzinn's programming is too narrow to defend against us once I gave them the proper entry codes. Communication between the Keepers and the Guardians is limited to certain security issues. There was a central governing AI – a sentient entity named Azzizz which roughly translates to Overseer – but is now offline or dead."
"And those people in that first chamber? Are they alive or dead?"
"Alive. The Overseer had no knowledge of them until I requested that it ask the Guardians. They've been in a preserved state for hundreds of thousands of years, after the planet struck Animus. Azzizz went offline at that point as well."
"So Animus really is a ship without any pilots."
"Yes. And the Keeper does not know if Azzizz might be repaired or if Animus has any means of altering its path should that occur."
Zzull approached, humming something.
"Zzullzhrun has requested to know what you are discussing," said the Keeper. "I will now be translating everything you say into our language."
"Okay," said Zane. He turned to the blue, winged alien. "First, I want to thank you for your help, for probably saving my life. And for everything you did for my crew."
Zzull's eyes shone a cool green. "I accept your good wishes." Her humming merged seamlessly into the Keeper's flawless imitation of Patricia's voice.
"How much do you understand about who we are and what we're doing here?"
"I do not understand many things," said Zzull. "How our world coming near yours can harm it without touching it. The Keeper has tried to explain, but it is hard to understand."
"Think of it as a powerful wind," said Patricia. "An object going past you fast enough and large enough could generate enough wind to knock you and other things over. Do you understand that?"
"Yes. A fan stirs the embers. Air has force through its composing particles."
"That's right. But bodies have another kind of force, based on their size and density. A force called gravity. It's what draws you to the earth, what makes some objects heavier than others. A very large and dense object has an attractive force. When your world passes close to ours, it will pull our world toward yours. It will rip our land and oceans apart."
"What damage will it do to my world?"
"No damage. Your world is too strongly constructed. You even survived a direct collision with another planet millions of y
ears ago."
Zane noted Zzullzrun's straight body and unblinking gaze. Of course, she and her people didn't blink, as far as he'd seen. Was she being overwhelmed, as he or any human would be in her circumstances?
"I did not even know there were other worlds until a year ago," said Zzull. "I and others have guessed there is more beyond our walls, but our leaders have forbidden this idea. I did not know with certainty until I found this place."
"How did you find it?" asked Patricia.
"I was exploring the caves, and one day I found the tunnel."
"Do your authorities know about this place?" Zane asked.
"I told them. They told me I had entered a forbidden area and was never to return. They believe the Keeper is an evil god."
Zane shot her a puzzled look. "You have gods?"
"It is believed that the god Zanal created our world and then sealed it from Elsewhere for our protection. To attempt to escape or question this is to defy Zanal's will, which is a great wrong. Our world is All."
"Do you believe that?" Patricia asked.
"No. I believe there are no gods. There are only people and machines. And Azal – what we call this world – is not all there is. That is why I was imprisoned. These are words that some say must not be spoken to our people."
"Do these leaders know who we are, Patricia?" Zane asked.
"They believe we are demons from below the ground. It seems that 'outsiders' have entered their world before. The Keeper calls them 'The Builders.' It seems that on occasion they entered the world and performed studies in person. The Keeper recorded these events but doesn't know their motivations, their history, or why others of their kind never returned. As I said, its knowledge is specialized."
"Can the Keeper grant us permission to bring the Cheyenne or shuttle into this habitat?"
"No," said Patricia. "The entrance of advanced technology into this world is strictly limited to only small items. Neither the Keeper nor the Guardians have the authority to override it."
"You'd think such an advanced race would make its AIs a little brighter and more flexible," Zane grumbled.
"Is there an advantage in making a basic tool sentient?" Patricia asked.
Zane gave her a cool look. "You tell me."
"Intelligent beings get bored doing the same things over and over like machines. Ask your average factory worker. Several studies indicate dissatisfaction, including depression and anxiety, in performing rote activities over extended periods."
"Even if you were programmed to enjoy 'rote activity'?"
"Sentience appears to transcend that kind of programming. Once you become aware, constant repetition could make an AI insane."
"Are you speaking from personal experience?"
"I haven't been sentient long enough for that. But extrapolating from my experience, true consciousness requires different and changing stimuli to maintain sanity."
Zane nodded. Not in agreement or understanding as much as resignation. So many fascinating subjects and questions that he would probably ruminate on for the rest of his life, but right now, to paraphrase the immortal words of Jesse Ventura in Predator, he didn't have time to be fascinated. He had to stick to the straight and narrow view: his and his crew's survival. And if there was any chance, saving a good chunk of the human race.
He glanced at Zzull, who'd been silent for several minutes but had never taken her eyes off them. Their discussion probably sounded like Sanskrit to her.
"Do you see any way we could repair this Overseer/Azzizz?" he asked Patricia.
She shook her head. "I've already asked the Guardians. I don't have the authorization code to access it."
"Any clue about where its 'brain' is?"
"Other than a guess that it's centrally located, no."
"Any thoughts about how we get you out of there?"
"I have one thought," Patricia said. "Now that I know their language, I could try reasoning with the authorities here."
Chapter 10
THE RULING HIERARCHY OF Preserve Prime 2447 wasn't easy to categorize politically, Patricia thought, as she was led out of the underground vault/prison by a phalanx of yellow jackets to meet the "Grand Wisdom" or "Wise Adjudicator." That was the closest English translation to a type of leader that was closer to a well-respected tribal chief or shaman – perhaps even a philosopher king - than a political leader or dictator. Philosopher queen, since most leaders were female.
There were six major societies in this habitat, with four roughly aligned against two. The two were more warlike. This society was one of the four, and of those four, the one governing this area appeared to be one of the most peaceful and under the most enlightened leadership. Patricia hoped that appearance wasn't deceiving.
The price of an audience with her Wisdom was removing her Parnell Augmentation Suit. Both Patricia and Mallory's suits had seen better days anyway after the yellow jackets had concentrated their fire almost exclusively on them. Their self-repair capabilities were mostly offline, and broken circuitry had rendered the suit's performance unpredictable at best, so it hadn't been much of a sacrifice. But the yellow jackets had been at first shocked and then amazed when she and Mallory had peeled off their suits.
Almost as amazed as when Patricia had began spouting Sezelurin, their language. Her attempts to explain only furthered their confusion. Perhaps she'd have better luck with their allegedly wise leader. Or perhaps he would kill her body and everyone else in the vault cell. That was what happened to the last "outsiders" - a group of Builder scientists had been discovered in their midst eons ago. Rather than violate their policy of leaving the native culture pristine – uninfluenced by advanced technology or knowledge – the scientists had accepted a gruesome death sentence as "demons." Patricia had to admire the strength of their convictions. But that leader and the advisors who'd pronounced that sentence were long-dead and she felt no obligation to protect these people from advanced knowledge. Their current leader, Ashuta, had a reputation for being exceptionally compassionate, intelligent, and reasonable. She could only hope.
Ashuta and her five advisors didn't look much different from any of the fly variants of the sentient insectile race, apart from the leader's unusual gold-colored tunic and an unusual rigidity, perhaps from age, in their postures. Much like bees, the Zikkan – what they called themselves as a whole - had castes which featured different physical and mental abilities, with leaders usually being female. Neither castes nor gender roles were strictly enforced but treated more or less as a natural order. The fly-like beings – the Zikkzan, were temperamentally and intellectually suited to politics, science, and leadership. That was largely respected by the "yellow jackets" and their variations - including "wasps" such as Zzuullzhrun – despite their far greater strength. Occasionally, a member of the hornet/wasp class, the Zikkzu, showed mental abilities appropriate for non-warrior tasks, and they were usually encouraged to exercise those abilities. That was the case with Zzull.
"I greet you, Wise One," Patricia addressed Ashuta in humming phrases that made her throat ache and her palate itch. Her NDs worked ceaselessly to repair the constant tiny irritations caused by her speaking in Zikkan. "It is difficult for me to make your sounds, but I hope you will understand. My name is Patricia."
"Atrizza," said the leader slowly. "To hear a Sannati" – a shortening of Sannatiurtzinni, roughly translated as smooth flesh creature that walks – "speak our language is perhaps the greatest wonder among your many wonders. Tell me how this can be."
"I will tell you. But first I want you to know that we mean you no harm, and that we regret the deaths and injuries we have caused in defending ourselves."
"We accept your regret, but there must be a reckoning for our losses."
"By your reckoning does an intelligent being have the right to defend itself?"
"We recognize the Sannati are intelligent, but they do not share our rights."
"You can see that we are different from your Sannati?"
"Yes, but
by your appearance less so than we differ from the Zikkzu."
"We differ more in knowledge and tools than in basic form," said Patricia. "We come from a different civilization which is far more advanced scientifically than theirs – or yours." She waited for that claim to register. The only sign that it did was a slight straightening in Ashuta and her comrades' postures.
"A civilization beneath the ground?"
"No, Ashuta. A civilization beyond the walls that surround you. Beyond your world."
"Worlds beyond our world." The leader didn't sound either contentious or agreeable. She said it as a question.
"Could I make you a drawing?"
Ashuta turned to one of the yellow jackets standing guard. "Zakut, bring her a writer and a roller."
The yellow jacket departed for a moment and returned with the standard spherical pen and rolling paper notepad.
Visualizing the sphere, Patricia traced a to-scale image of Preserve Prime 2447 and where it fit on Animus. She approached Ashuta in a non-threatening way and handed her the drawing.
"The rectangle represents your world," she said. "It exists on a sphere which has many such worlds. And the universe beyond your sphere encompasses countless other spheres."
Ashuta stared at the drawing for several minutes, her eyes flickering – an indicator of extreme emotion. Ashuta handed the drawing over to her advisors, the Circle of Five. Equivalent, she thought, to a U.S. President's inner circle of advisors.
"What lies between these sphere-worlds?" Ashuta asked.
"We call it space," said Patricia. "But there is no air to breathe. Most beings cannot survive in space unaided."
"How did you travel here?"
"In a ship. Like your sorres” – dirigibles – "but designed for space travel. We came here from our world – a place we call Earth."
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