Stranded

by James Alan Gardner

She turned her eyes toward the Lorelei’s gaping wound. Even seeing that awful damage, Alyssa didn’t feel much sympathy. The Lorelei was selfish; she’d been ready to kill Balla without a moment’s hesitation. She was also responsible for the damage to Eve, and had brainwashed countless other robots. Perhaps turnabout was fair play, and planting leeches on her silver shell was just deserts.

  But was it good to make the Lorelei the General’s slave? Was it good to do anything the General wanted? From what Eve had found in the comm center, the General himself might be responsible for the plague. He’d contacted the aliens; he’d called their attention to Earth. Alyssa herself—bald, emaciated and weak—had the General to blame.

  Alyssa hated the thought of going along with the General . . . but to save Balla, maybe she had to be coldheartedly “strategic” herself. Was it so bad to hack the Lorelei? The big silver robot would be no great loss to the world.

  Alyssa sighed. “No. It would be wrong.”

  She lifted her foot and ground her heel into the leech closest to her. The leech crunched against the concrete, leaving a small tangle of wires and plastic. Alyssa lifted her gaze to the Lorelei. “I won’t make anyone a slave—not even you.”

  “Bad decision,” said Spymaster. “You need the General’s help, and now he has no reason to give it to you.”

  “Maybe we can pressure him,” Eve said. “If we threaten to tell Earth what we learned at the comm center . . .”

  “We’ll see what we can arrange,” Alyssa said. “But without hurting anyone.”

  No one said anything in reply. The vast room was hushed except for the faint lapping of water against the sides of the pool. After a moment, Alyssa realized that even Balla was silent.

  “Balla?” she said. “Balla?” She shook her arm hard. His screen had gone blank. “Balla!”

  “The aut is not defunct,” a voice said from Balla’s speakers. It was not Balla’s voice—it sounded like many voices speaking in unison, enunciating carefully. “We will remove ourselves from this body before the aut terminates, but we must briefly use him in order to converse.”

  “Umm,” said Alyssa. “You’re, uhh . . .” She considered the possibility that Balla was playing some enormous joke, or that the disease had made him delirious. She knew neither of those was true.

  “You’re aliens?” she said.

  “Yes,” the voice replied. “We received intelligible signals from this solar system and traveled here, expecting to meet creatures similar to ourselves. We erred.”

  “What kind of creatures are you?” Alyssa asked.

  “Communal cells,” the voice said. “On our planet, we live in colonies on the surface of the ocean, where individuals may combine into a unified thought-mass.”

  “Like . . .” Alyssa covered her mouth. “You’re algae!”

  “No. We merely have characteristics which are in some slight degree analogous to terrestrial algal life-forms.”

  “You’re algae,” Alyssa repeated. “Those algae mats we were studying . . . was that you?”

  “We are not algae,” the aliens said. “Admittedly, there is potential for confusion. We ourselves first believed your algae were our kin. We were attempting to converse with them when you first encountered us.”

  Alyssa covered her mouth again, this time to stifle a laugh. “You were trying to talk to algae?”

  “It was an understandable mistake,” the aliens said defensively. “We had been contacted by signals from this vicinity. We assumed that the transmissions had come from our kind. But the algae were . . . uncommunicative.”

  “I’ll bet,” Spymaster said.

  “It was an understandable mistake!” the aliens said.

  “How did you end up inside me?” Alyssa asked.

  “You were swimming near the algae. Your research team had diving tanks . . . boats . . . electronic equipment such as this aut.”

  “So you realized that humans were intelligent?”

  For a moment, the aliens didn’t reply. Then they said, “We committed another understandable mistake.”

  “Oh, this is going to be good.” Spymaster snickered.

  “On our planet,” the aliens said, “we are the only intelligent species. Other creatures are simpleminded. Over time, they have been adapted for our use. We can enter them and use their bodies; for example, if we wish to travel, we occupy a creature that can run, swim, or fly where we desire to go. If we wish to build a device, or use it once it is made, we borrow the body of an animal fitted for the purpose: perhaps one with hands, and sufficient strength to do what needs doing.”

  “In other words,” said the Lorelei, “you infect some animal’s brain and make it your own.”

  “We make use of the animal’s abilities,” the aliens replied. “This is no different from humans riding a horse or training a dog to perform tasks. We take excellent care of the creatures we possess—our presence in their blood causes no ill effects, and enables us to do much that is beyond our single-cell forms. You can therefore appreciate that when we saw humans making use of technology . . .”

  The aliens paused. Alyssa suddenly understood. “You thought humans were being ridden by algae like you! You thought we were possessed.”

  “It was an understandable mistake,” the aliens said. “We entered your bodies in the hope of making contact with those who were riding you. Alas, though we searched and searched, we could find no counterparts to ourselves within your anatomies.”

  “Meanwhile,” Spymaster said, “you were making everybody sick.”

  “That was not our intention. On our planet, our presence never harms other creatures.”

  “And it didn’t occur to you,” the Lorelei said, “that Earthling life-forms aren’t so well adapted to hosting alien parasites?”

  “We are not parasites! And we did not understand we were making humans ill. If you encountered a strange new life-form, could you tell which characteristics were normal and which indicated poor health? We did not expect to cause distress, and did not recognize what constituted symptoms of malfunction.”

  Alyssa said, “So you spread from human to human in search of creatures like yourselves. You infected me and everyone you met on Montserrat.”

  “Correct. We spread in search of the beings who contacted us. We were taken by surprise when those we rode were put into quarantine and brought to this place. We did not realize the sickness we caused until you, Alyssa, came so close to the point of death that your condition became obvious, even to us. From within your brain and blood, we saw your body shutting down. We therefore withdrew to your skin where we would cause no further deterioration.”

  “And the General pretended that he had cured you,” Eve said in disgust. “That liar. The germs left of their own accord.”

  “We believe he did attempt to find a cure. We were, however, immune to his efforts. Despite all that, his attempts were indirectly beneficial: in order to work on Alyssa, he kept her from being placed in suspended animation. Other humans were frozen, and our fellow cells were trapped in the ice. We, the cells who were in Alyssa, are the only ones free to think and act.”

  “What would happen,” Alyssa asked, “if the other plague victims were unfrozen?”

  “We would request that a number of us be nearby during the thaw. We would then be in a position to explain the situation to our fellows. Once they understand, they too will withdraw from their hosts. The ill effects should vanish immediately.”

  “Good disease,” said Og. “Tell it, ‘Hey, you make people sick,’ and disease says, ‘Oh sorry, we go.’ ”

  “We are not monsters,” the aliens said. “We are ambassadors. We were sent to establish friendly relations.”

  “That’s what you say,” the Lorelei growled. “Maybe the truth is you tried to colonize the girl’s brain and just couldn’t manage
it—humans are too different from the animals you enslave back home. You got forced out, but now you pretend you left willingly. Meanwhile, you’re making a cozy home inside that aut.”

  “You misrepresent our motives,” the aliens said. “It is true, however, that this device is more hospitable than a human body. It is simpler and more logical in design. It is also more comprehensible—it has provided us with a window on humankind.”

  Alyssa said, “When Balla was reciting the dictionary, you were learning our language?”

  “Not just your language. Understanding a word means understanding much else. The word ‘red,’ for example, arises from the nature of human vision: a complex subject which to us was unfamiliar. Fortunately, your aut is essentially a computer; it contains strict definitions for every concept. It has rules that say precisely, ‘Red is this, not that. Red lies within specific wavelength boundaries.’ That we could understand.”

  “So Balla isn’t sick?” Alyssa asked, feeling a wave of relief. “That was just you learning from him?”

  There was a pause. Then the aliens said, “Your aut is based on terrestrial tissues, and cannot tolerate our prolonged occupancy. Unlike humans, however, auts employ diagnostic software to measure the exact state of their health. This allows us to monitor the aut’s condition; we will take our leave before we have caused irreparable damage.”

  “Can’t you leave him right now?” Alyssa asked. “Balla’s my friend, and he’s been through enough.”

  “Regrettably, we need a place to live,” the aliens said. “If we do not occupy this aut, where else can we go?”

  “Don’t look at me,” Spymaster said.

  “Og volunteers,” the robot said. “Og is strong. Not get sick. And Og thinks it would be interesting.”

  “Do you have biological components?” the aliens asked. “We cannot survive long outside of an organic environment.”

  “No,” Og said sadly. “Metal all the way through.”

  “I can find a home for you,” the Lorelei said. Her voice was suddenly silky. “I’ll just leech something appropriate . . .”

  “No,” Alyssa said sharply.

  “Look,” the Lorelei said, “our honored alien guests need housing, and you don’t want them in your aut. Fine. I can get them a suitable home, as a gesture of friendship.”

  “Yeah, right,” Spymaster said. “You want to milk them for anything you can get.”

  “No leeches,” Alyssa said. “That’s right out.”

  “What if I gave them Viper?” the Lorelei suggested. “She’s already mine; she’ll do what she’s told.”

  “No,” Alyssa said. “Don’t you have anything without a mind? Maybe something just manufactured that hasn’t been programmed yet?”

  “Dear girl,” said the Lorelei, “there are no blank slates here. This space station isn’t a robot nursery, it’s a prison. We’re all nasty pieces of work, and Viper is worse than most. If we sacrifice her to some well-meaning parasites, it will be a better use of her miserable life than anything she’s ever . . .”

  Alyssa dived into the water. She had seen a slithery ripple skimming the pool’s surface toward the Lorelei. It took no imagination to guess what the ripple was.

  She reached the ripple in a few fast strokes. Mentally crossing her fingers for luck, she shot out her hand and snatched at the ripple’s tail, hoping she would grab far enough up Viper’s body to avoid the blade on the end. She felt sleek wet metal in her hand—not the knife, but Viper’s skin. It was slippery and began to slide through Alyssa’s fingers. Desperately she brought her other hand around, trying to keep herself afloat by treading water as Viper writhed in her grip.

  Suddenly, the robot snake became visible. Her tail-blade was millimeters from slicing Alyssa’s hand. At the opposite end, Viper’s wicked teeth were almost as close to the Lorelei—stretching toward the Lorelei’s great gaping wound, where her vulnerable interior was exposed. With a sudden heave, Viper shoved herself forward through the water, dragging Alyssa with her. Viper’s silver head struck through the Lorelei’s wound, biting into soft organic components.

  “I’m a nasty piece of work?” Viper said. Though her mouth was full of the Lorelei’s flesh, the snake’s voice synthesizer sounded with perfect clarity. “I’m worse than most? Me?”

  The snake shook her head, ripping at the Lorelei’s inner organs. Alyssa held on to the snake’s tail, trying to pull Viper loose but unable to do so. Viper’s tail-knife twisted wetly in Alyssa’s hands as the snake thrashed wildly. Alyssa managed to keep hold, but couldn’t stop the blade from writhing in her grip with a slashing splashing fury.

  Then green goo erupted from Balla, in his place around Alyssa’s forearm. The goo flowed smoothly to Alyssa’s hand, and as fast as running water, it gushed onto Viper’s metallic skin. It raced up her body in a gritty green wave; Alyssa thought of how algae had sometimes clotted on the outside of her scuba tanks if she got too close. When the green reached the point where Viper’s teeth bit into the Lorelei, the flow split in two directions: half the algae flooded down Viper’s throat, while the other half wormed into the Lorelei’s torn flesh, soaking into her blood.

  Suddenly, both robots fell still. Alyssa waited, until her heart had pounded out a dozen beats. She relaxed her grip and panted, treading water. She wiped her face hard; her nose stung from all the water that had splashed into her nostrils during the fight.

  “Breathe slowly,” her aut said. “Your heart is beating too fast.”

  It was Balla’s voice, not the aliens. “Balla!”

  “Now your heart is beating even faster,” he said in disapproval. “Maybe you’ve had enough exercise for today.”

  “Balla,” she said, “are you all right?”

  “My diagnostics are far outside acceptable boundaries,” he said. “But I feel fine. I’m afraid there’s a gap in my memory—my data-storage circuits seem to have been offline.”

  “I’ll explain later,” Alyssa said. Still treading water, she looked at the Lorelei’s giant silver sphere looming over her head. “Hello?” Alyssa said. “Anybody home?”

  “We are here,” the aliens said, speaking from both the Lorelei and Viper. “It will take time to accustom ourselves to these new environments. However, they have many similarities to the aut, so we should acclimatize quickly.”

  “Ball and snake going to get sick?” Og asked.

  “In time,” the aliens said. “Not soon. We are learning how to cause less metabolic flux in terrestrial tissues.”

  “You shouldn’t stay there indefinitely,” Alyssa said. “They aren’t nice machines, but it’s bad to enslave anyone.”

  “We can find other hosts,” Eve said.

  “Absolutely,” Spymaster said. “Some of the robots in this station are dumber than earthworms.”

  “But first we’ll go back to the comm center,” Alyssa said. “Call Earth. Tell them the plague isn’t a problem anymore, and that we have visitors.”

  “Oh yeah,” Spymaster said. “Nothing eases world tensions like telling folks that aliens have arrived.”

  “We have an excellent speech prepared,” the aliens said. “It is most reassuring. It mentions peace.”

  “I’m sure it will be great,” Alyssa said. “We’ll just take things one step at a time. I’ll call my parents . . . and the head of the Dolphin clan . . . and . . . I don’t know.”

  “We note,” said the aliens, “that this device called the Lorelei has an extensive list of contact persons on Earth. Many are tagged as having high political importance. The Lorelei also has a collection of files labeled BLACKMAIL INFORMATION. Is that of value?”

  “Oh baby!” said Spymaster. “We got leverage!”

  “Yes,” Eve said. “Over the years, the Lorelei has listened to massive amounts of coded message traffic. It’s not surprising she’s
collected blackmail material on people and governments.”

  “We also observe,” said the aliens, “that the largest blackmail file consists of data about the General. The Lorelei has labeled it DYNAMITE.”

  Alyssa couldn’t help smiling. She had no idea how one went about blackmailing a robot—or anyone else for that matter—but she assumed the Lorelei had figured that out. The blackmail files would surely contain detailed plans for squeezing “favors” out of many important people.

  Alyssa said, “We’ll talk this over on the way to the comm center.” She swam back to the edge of the pool. Viper and the Lorelei followed her docilely.

  As Og lifted her gently from the water, Balla suddenly let loose a squealing dolphin chitter. Alyssa looked at him in alarm . . . but the dolphin face on his screen was simply laughing with glee.

  About The Author

  James Alan Gardner got his Master’s in Applied Math (studying black holes), then decided to write science fiction instead. He has written seven novels and numerous short stories. He lives an hour away from Toronto, where he practices kung fu and tries not to waste all his time on the Internet. Just for fun, he’s started a B.Sc. in geology.

  A Strand in the Web

  Anne Bishop

  Dedication

  For all of us

  Author’s Note

  Many years ago, three things happened around the same time. I read a quote by Chief Seattle about humankind being one strand in the web of life. I was playing a game called Sim Park and not having much luck keeping my ecosystems balanced. And I saw a bumper sticker that said, “One Earth, One Chance.” I wondered what would happen if you could have a second chance. That wondering eventually became “A Strand in the Web.”

  Chapter 1

  “Oh, yuckit,” Zerx said as she looked at the cup in her hand and made squinchy faces. “I asked for it hot, and this is barely even warm!”

  “That sounds like the date I had last night,” Benj said, snickering as he walked over to his console to begin the morning’s work.