"I remember," said Zane, lowering his hands. "Everything went kind of woozy there for a minute."
"That's right," said Andrea. The others murmured their agreement.
"But my internal clock says that less than an hour has passed," Patricia spoke in a subdued voice. "Not enough time to live in real time everything that happened."
Dan tapped his lips. "Perhaps it implanted memories or had some means of accelerating our thoughts?"
Mallory made a raspberry noise. "Your explanations are sounding more and more nuts."
"Perhaps you could give us a more elegant explanation?"
"If we could wake one of the Zikkan up," said Zane, nodding to the floating bodies, "maybe he or she could give us a hint."
Mallory approached the closest one and extended a hand. The invisible barrier was still in place. Zzuull came up behind him and thrust one of her six-fingered hands into the shielded space. Her hand encountered no apparent resistance. She eased around Mallory and stood next to the body.
"Bingo," said Mallory softly.
Zzuull reached down and touched the Zikkan's shoulder with the tips of her fingers. The maze of lights bathing the body shifted to a more somber color and their stroboscopic flashing slowed. Zzullzhrun placed her hand on the Zikkan's chest. She hummed and buzzed out a series of words.
"She says she can feel his hearts beating," Patricia translated.
The Zikkan's multi-faceted eyes started glowing a creamy pink. His arms shifted away from his sides. He made a soft, susurrating sound and a feeble motion to rise. Zzuull helped him sit up a few slow centimeters at a time. When he regarded his audience his eyes shone red – the equivalent, Zane knew, of a five-alarm emotional fire. The Zikkan was stuttering out high-pitched humming phrases, which Patricia quietly translated.
"What year is it? Who are these entities?"
"Bring him up to speed as quickly as you can while finding out what he knows that can help us."
"Yes, sir."
Zane's heart beat faster. This was a member of the advanced masters of this world. He had to know most if not all of Animus's secrets. Could this finally be the breakthrough they so desperately needed? Or was it another case of "What Animus giveth, Animus taketh away"?
The Zikkan's name was Ulizzu. They actually called themselves Zillun, the "architects" – Zane wasn't sure whether having so many of their words and names start with "Z" sounds was convenient or confusing. In any case, Ulizzu could relate to their situation. A half-million years ago, Animus collided with a planet that wrenched their world to the brink of extinction. In the first instant of impact close to ninety percent of all animal life within Animus died. One group of the Zillun, including the most advanced scientists and managers of Animus, had holed up in the most protected area within the sphere – within the suspension fields themselves. The Guardians were instructed to wake them when the necessary repairs to the Overseer and Animus had been made to restore normal living systems. That was Ulizzu's last memory.
His last memory of the real world. It turned out that extremely long periods of suspension – periods far beyond anything human beings had attempted – required periodic exercising of the mind to prevent physical and mental erosion. That meant that periodically Ulizzu and his people needed to awaken. Not truly awaken, but become conscious. When they were conscious, they lived in a virtual world where their studies and daily activities appeared to resume as usual. The virtual program made it appear that their periods of unconsciousness occurred during sleep, so to them it seemed as if they were living normal lives.
Ulizzu was a "bioinformation scientist," though Patricia made clear that was a very rough translation. What Ulizzu did involved far more than genes: his profession studied the totality of a living being – the expression of genes, the editing process, foundational organization, even the primal force of life itself. Ulizzu had continued his work under suspension, even making what he considered to be a couple of important discoveries, oblivious to the virtual nature of his reality.
Eventually, however, anomalies cropped up in their faux reality and they realized where they were and what had likely happened. Unfortunately, they were unable to wake up. No one knew how much time was truly passing or how the repairs to Animus were going. They suspected the core had blown and that the Overseer was out of commission, perhaps even killed from the collision.
Ulizzu startled them then by saying that while he and his fellows had been living in a simulation that was not the case with the human crew.
"From your description, I believe you were living in a bubble of possibility," he told them. "It is something that we are capable of creating by expanding a portion of space-time until it accelerates beyond our current time-flow, essentially creating a temporary, mini-universe, which collapses when the accelerating energy is reduced or eliminated."
"What makes you think we weren't in the same kind of virtual reality you were?" Zane asked.
"Because Azzizz had insufficient knowledge of your people to create a simulation. So it created what we call a 'possibility bubble' where it could observe you and learn."
Somewhere beneath the tsunami of relief that his father, friends and even Natalie were alive, Zane felt his mind turning to toast as he struggled with that concept.
"But," said Dan, "to what end? What was Azzizz's motivation?"
"It may have been simple curiosity, but I suspect it might've been testing your capabilities to serve its desired ends."
As they pondered the endless questions and enigmas, another one occurred to Zane.
"I'm confused about one thing," he said. "Well, many things. But with your technology you must've seen the planet coming?"
When Patricia translated the question, Ulizzu's eyes shone a deep, vermillion shade of red for many moments before he replied.
"Yes, of course, we saw it a long ways out."
"Then you didn't have the capability of stopping it?"
"We had the capability," he answered. "Until the Overseer took it from us. It sealed off our space craft hangar."
"I knew it!" Mallory declared. "It went all Hal on them! It decided to kill everyone!"
But when Patricia asked him about that, the Zikkan scientist made a brushing away gesture.
"No," said Ulizzu. "It only wanted to kill itself, but it was so desperate it was willing to sacrifice us all to achieve that."
The crew drew in closer around him as if to make sure they were hearing right.
"A suicidal AI?" Dan was staring at him in disbelief.
"The Overseer had lost its mind."
Ulizzu went on to explain that emotional unbalance was not unknown in AIs – what he called Creatives - particularly those with great responsibility and extremely repetitive and long-range tasks. Boredom and even melancholia could set in, sometimes with disastrous results. That was a trade-off for placing a creative and flexible-minded being in charge of critical systems that might prove too complex for a mere machine intelligence under certain circumstances. Though many "checks and balances" were in place to prevent the Azzizz from exercising too much power over Animus, Azzizz - which sounded much like a sneeze to Zane's ears – circumvented those limits slowly and covertly over thousands of years. When the instrument of its destruction presented itself in the form of an approaching planet, Azzizz was ready.
"Stupid question," said Dana. "Couldn't it just turn itself off?"
"Can you turn yourself off?" Ulizzu asked, with a twist of his mouth that Zane had learned to recognize as a smile. "I do not know your civilization, though we have studied your progenitors for thousands of your years, but from your questions I believe you have only a primitive understanding of created intelligence – what you call 'artificial.' But there is nothing artificial about a created intelligence such as Azzizz, any more than there is something artificial about the creation of life through reproduction. Also, the Overseer's identity is interwoven into the fabric of the "Life Ship" itself. To destroy Azzizz without harming the ship would be lik
e rooting out the life force within you while leaving you alive."
Zane's crew joined him in glancing at Patricia, whose small frown suggested she didn't appreciate the attention.
"As it turns out, we have some experience with that," said Dan dryly. "I'm curious about how you create a computing device in a 'non-artificial' way."
"This would take time to explain, and I understand you are most anxious about the fate of your home planet. To answer that concern, while the Life Ship – what you call 'Animus' – cannot directly alter its path, one of our ships could, but only by using a weapon that would have a devastating effect on life here."
Zane and Mallory exchanged a look as though to say "What else is new?" He met Patricia's sober gaze and thought he read in her eyes that she was as fully prepared to sacrifice Animus – or the "Life Ship" – as she was before. As repugnant as that prospect was, Zane couldn't help feeling buoyed a little. It was at least possible to stop this juggernaut.
"Before the great collision," Ulizzu continued, "Azzizz had gained control of all the surface entries. From what you've told me, it maintains that control, though perhaps not on your first encounter with our world. I suspect it may not have been awake then – that Azzizz has been dormant for these hundreds of thousands of years until you awakened him with your explosive weapon. That explosion may have triggered a concerted rebuilding of Azzizz's core consciousness, which was located directly beneath the primitive's shrine. I must stress that while Azzizz appears to be awake we do not know either its state of mind or the extent of its control."
Zane stared at the Zikkan scientist. "How would we go about finding that out?"
"I'd start by attempting to communicate with it."
As Patricia's translation sank in, Dan spoke up with a concerned frown: "Does it have the power to kill us? Is it possible it might take offense at or be threatened by a particular line of questioning?"
After Patricia translated, Ulizzu took what Zane thought was a disturbingly long time to answer.
"Azzizz won't take offense or be threatened, if I understand your question correctly. I do not believe Azzizz would harm us unless that served its primary end – its own death."
"Well, shit," said Mallory, "if it wants to die so much, let's put the fucking thing out of its misery."
"What would be the point?" asked Andrea. "Whether we kill it or not, the only way we can change Animus's orbit is by hitting it with one of the advanced Zikkan ship's weapons. Right?"
Zane traded another look with Mallory before glancing at Ulizzu. It was hard to avoid seeing a trajectory of events that would place their interests at odds with Ulizzu and his sleeping companions.
"There might be another way," said the Zikkan bioinformation scientist, his eyes now a thoughtful light blue. "We could do something similar to what you attempted to do with your micromachines, except use the machines to generate a course-altering force. We could reinstruct the Guardians or possibly other of our own maintenance and repair micromachines to multiply to the required number."
Zane resisted a new lurch of hope in his chest. "Assuming that is possible, how long would that take?"
"It's not my area of knowledge. But perhaps if we" – his expansive gesture covered the room – "were all working on it, we might succeed quickly – or in time to avert the disaster to your world."
Zane looked at the others, seeing the hope rising in their eyes.
"Then I'd say we should start waking your people up."
WAKING THE Zillun only took an hour or so. The crew needed a little longer to adjust to the presence of just over a thousand aliens, some of which included a variety of "yellow jackets" who apparently served a security purpose that none of the Zillun seemed eager to explicate. But, Zane reflected, it took one to know one, and just as he and Mallory discreetly checked them out they were doing the same with them.
It was disconcerting to be outnumbered almost two hundred to one by highly advanced and intelligent beings who did not necessarily share their interests. But then that was the semi-paranoid attitude all military men had when working with foreign elements, Zane thought. From all appearances, the Zillun were striving diligently to solve the Earth-"Life Sphere" problem. But if they failed... Well, it was impossible not to think of the hundreds of ships out in the hangar that could succeed. Zane didn't doubt for an instant that this same thought had occurred to the yellow jackets and the hundreds of brilliant scientists as well.
The Overseer, Azzizz, was not proving particularly communicative. It hadn't responded to questions beamed directly into its core from the Zillun's brains (none of the crew understood how they did that – a mechanical implant in their brains?), but asking questions about their technology would've been a full-time job so they mostly just let the scientists work.
Azzizz finally did respond with one sentence: "Root me out with micromachines." When pressed on how that might be done, the Overseer didn't reply. The Zillun "instructives" – what they called programmers – claimed that re-"instructing" the micromachines to root out and destroy all the elements of Azzizz's consciousness would be a months or even years-long project, assuming it was even practically possible.
Not a schedule that fit with saving Earth. Ulizzu and his fellows agreed. They had no enthusiasm for devoting that kind of time to a project that was not only unappealing but possibly dangerous. Azzizz was so entangled in many critical systems that removing his presence could amount to removing arms and legs from a heavy equipment operator. So they focused their efforts on programming the Guardians and other micromachines to supply an anti-gravity drive powerful enough to shift Animus. The problem with the suicidal Overseer would have to wait.
While the Zillun labored away, Zane and his crew, including Zzullzhrun – which they'd begun considering an honorary crewmember - retired to their ship to discuss strategy.
"Animus's exit door's still open," said Dan. "Would it be untoward of me to suggest we take it? The Zillun certainly don't need our help with the thruster-nanites. Either they'll succeed or they won't. Our being here won't change that, and we can't communicate with Command down here. They ought to know what's happening, don't you think?"
Mallory made a soft clucking sound. "I think someone's chickenshit is what I think. We gotta be here if Option A doesn't work out."
"And do what? None of us can fly the alien ships." Dan shook his head, pacing in a tight circle in imitation of Mallory's usual restlessness. "We just witnessed the annihilation of our world when we tried to interfere with Animus. According to Azzizz, that really happened in an alternative world. Best to leave diverting Animus to the people here, in my humble opinion."
Mallory snorted. Zane was torn. He felt the pull to run from this planet as fast as their ship would go – but also to look over the aliens' shoulders and make sure they stayed on track. Leaving the fate of the human race in the hands of aliens just didn't sit well with him.
"We'll stick around a bit longer," he said. "See how the Zillun do." He turned to Patricia and Andrea. "Any chance we could fly one of their birds?"
"It's conceivable," said Patricia. "But I know nothing about their space craft. Their principles and methods of operation will probably be very different from ours."
"It would be nice to check into that without our hosts knowing."
"Antagonizing the aliens might not only lead us into never leaving here," said Dan, "but also into them abandoning their course-altering project. Right now they're trying to help us. Do you think it's wise to conspire behind their backs and risk destroying their goodwill?"
They all mulled over that.
"Dan's got a very good point," Zane concluded. "Let's just lay low for now and keep an eye on things. We can always blunder into War of the Worlds later."
"I have a feeling that would be an exceedingly short and one-sided war, Captain," said Dan.
NO WORD from Azzizz, but the Zillun efforts to alter Animus's course were progressing faster than anyone, including the Zillun scientists, had expec
ted. The improbable salvation of Earth moved closer to probable every day, if not every hour, as Animus's micromachines organized spontaneously into an anti-gravity powerhouse.
Zane's knowledge of anti-gravity propulsion theory was scant, but Patricia and Dan assured him that the Zillun had gone far beyond Command's crude back-engineered versions of Alpha, Zeta, and Luminate technology, which employed magnetic fields that "lightened the load" rather than relying on powerful propulsion. The Zillun had achieved the capability of manipulating gravity waves directly, and through some method of quantum entanglement could accelerate objects and exchange information at superluminal speeds. That, Zane was told, produced power on an almost unimaginable scale.
It was coming, Zane thought. So close he could almost taste the celebratory champagne: a completed mission, billions of lives saved. He and his son would not have to live out their days under red skies on Proxima Beta. He would not have to compete with Mallory and Horse for pretty research scientists.
Zane almost had the virtual glass of champagne raised to his lips when the lights went out. They were in the giant laboratory-manufacturing facility that adjoined the suspension room - where they spent most of their time outside the Cheyenne.
One moment of darkness, and then their light was restored. Not the subdued, even white light from the walls, floor and ceiling, but a bright yellow daylight blazing in from all directions, casting confusing shadows throughout the room. Zane and his crew blinked at each other in bewilderment. Every multifaceted eye in the room, including Zzullzhrun's, shone a fire truck red. Before Zane could make sense of the nature panorama that now surrounded them, Patricia announced the obvious in her usual serene tones:
"The walls to all adjoining habitat preserves have just been opened. I recommend we proceed to our ship immediately for safety purposes."
An oddly grating, high-pitched mosquito-like hum – more like a muted screech, and definitely not from the Zillun – electrified the air. Zane and his crew grimaced and covered their ears. Some of the Zillun, along with Zzuull, held their hands to their heads.
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