Alien Enigma (27 page)

"Be sure you're clean,
Eve
. How about your second backup?'

"It is secure, Captain."

"Good." He stepped out of the way as the medical team. It arrived just as Levy's heart began to beat again. It had been a close call but
Doc Travis
and most of her crew still lived. They would fight again.

***

Two days passed before Keane felt sufficiently secure to allow normal ship's routine to resume, but he had allowed a team led by Doctor Henry Sorkalsky to autopsy the two Worms that had gone crazy at the same time the robots got loose. Harriette Juenne had also looked at the robots in an entirely new light, working with a bandaged shoulder. Sorkalsky and she were both in his day cabin now, ready to report.

"Coffee, Professor Juenne? Doctor Sorkalsky?" Keane asked after he'd been seated.

"Thank you, Captain. Please."

CPO Mura poured for them and left the carafe on the low table between them.

"And now, Doctor Sorkalsky, I understand you have some important news for us?"

"I think so, Captain. Up until the event of the berserk robots and Worms, is it correct to state that we thought the Worms were the dominant beings and the robots worked for them?"

Keane grimaced inside at the mention of so many deaths being referred to as an "event" but managed to conceal it, not without considerable difficulty. He saw that Dunaway, who was also present, flushed slightly with anger but suppressed his ire as well. No doubt he thought the doctor didn't know any better, and probably he didn't.

"That's not quite accurate. We had begun to have some doubts about who was really in charge on the two planets where we've fought them, but had reached no conclusions," Keane said.

"Oh," Sorkalsky said. He tugged at his beard, which was completely white. He was the oldest man on the expedition. Had he been in the military he would have been retired. "Well, in any case, I believe the robots have been in charge all along. We paid particular attention to the Worm brains during these autopsies. They had gone 'crazy', I believe is the term used?"

"Yes," Keane said shortly.

"Well, as I said, we gave meticulous attention to the Worm brains during the autopsies. We discovered that both of them were carrying a tiny artificial structure in what for them is the equivalent of our cerebral cortex, the reasoning part of the brain. The structure was encapsulated with what we believe to be the Worm equivalent of scar tissue. The presence of scar tissue indicates it had been in place a long time, probably since shortly after birth." He paused as if his explanation was finished.

"That's fine, Doctor. But what was the structure?"

"Oh. Yes. It took a very powerful microscope to determine its internal architecture. The Worms had a very, very advanced microchip inserted into their brains."

"And how about the previous autopsies that were done, Doctor?" Dunaway asked. "Were those brains imbedded with a chip?"

"Umm." A flush appeared on Sorkalsky's cheeks above his beard. "Yes, uh, Commander Dunaway. After finding them in the two Worms we autopsied we went back and looked in the preserved remains of other Worms we'd brought aboard and done autopsies on. I regret that we missed the implants then. In our defense, they are very tiny and we never thought ...well, no one thought of it."

Keane wondered how many lives might have been saved had the microchips, or whatever their Worm analogues were, been found to begin with. Had they known to go after the robots first in combat, both cities might have been more easily conquered. However, he didn't intend to cast blame. He hadn't even conceived of a whole species being enslaved to robots, if indeed that were the case. He turned to the physicist.

"Professor Juenne, you've stated in your report that you now believe the robots are controlling the Worms?"

She nodded. "Yes, Captain, but that's not all. During the MRI exam, we discovered two separate types of signals. After consideration of what happened, I think it's likely the smaller robot was in control of both larger ones. I have no idea how many Worms an individual robot can control yet. I'm still studying what's left of its CPU. Also, and I have no proof of this, but I think it's likely that there is a hierarchy in existence, something higher than the little master robot that might in turn control its class. It was certainly trying to signal to something else besides its subordinate robots."

"That sounds logical, sir," Dunaway said. "I'll have Major Rambling go back over his combat records with that in mind and see how it parses. It would be nice to know exactly what we'll be getting into when we reach Xanadu."

"That, XO, is an understatement," Keane said.

***

Rambling did as the executive officer asked and reported to Keane's cabin the next day. As requested, he brought Cindy along as well. Keane had also invited Dunaway to join them for the conference. After they had all settled, and after a brief 'Thank you for coming', Keane looked over toward Rambling. Both men were expecting the situation at Xanadu to be bad regardless of any new intelligence. They'd have to plan something really brilliant to get in and out of that hornet's nest with the human captives they knew were being held there. Each planet was getting tougher and tougher. Keane didn't like the idea that both the Worms and the robots were smarter and tougher at each planet. Or perhaps it was just the robots. Xanadu was the center, and the oldest. Its city would surely be complete.

Keane kept the four together for an hour of discussions and brainstorming but the best they could come up with was simply to concentrate fire on the small master robots during any fighting.

"I'm going to break out every heavy caliber rifle we brought along," Rambling said. "I don't know how many we have off hand, or how many of my troops can use them effectively, but they are the best weapon against robots in ground combat."

"Will you want Cindy to stay in the ship again to call in air strikes if you need them?"

"Definitely, Captain." He smiled grimly. "The assistance from the ship was a tremendous help and I'm sure it will be again."

"All right. If there's anything else you think of before we arrive be sure and let me know, anytime at all."

"Yes, sir. I certainly shall!"

With the
Doc Travis
due to arrive in the Xanadu system within two days, Keane pondered the fate of the crew, the possible hostages, and how the alien culture might relate to Earth's. It was the people who counted on him that he cared about most deeply. That had always seemed to be embedded in his DNA, or so he kept telling himself. After the meeting had ended, he took an extra cup of coffee to his lounge and pondered the likely tough decisions that would lie ahead. He knew he could make them. It was one reason he was chosen for this mission, but it was a dark and largely thankless task. Everyone thought they wanted to be the captain-that is until they actually found out what the job was really like.

Everyone wants to be something, he thought, usually something different than what they are. Keane knew there was some writer out there who wanted to be a Space Navy captain. Sometimes he thought he'd like to change places with that person. Although he loved his job, he dreamt as a kid that he'd write stories about the Universe. Now he'd discovered the actual Universe was wilder, crazier and more dangerous than anything he'd ever thought of writing about. Scientists consistently said that science fact was way stranger than any science fiction story. Maybe they were right, and maybe one day when he got back to Earth he'd retire and become a writer anyhow. Then again, maybe he'd be killed at Xanadu or on some other expedition. He strongly suspected the
Doc Travis
was already involved in the first interstellar war. Those thoughts rolled through his tired mind as he took his scheduled four shift of sleep. A shift that lately seemed to be regularly interrupted by one emergency or another.

Chapter Nineteen: Horrid Remains

I believe that the aliens are here primarily for their own purposes, one of which is to make sure that our brand of "friendship" is not visited upon other civilizations in the neighborhood. If we can't get our act together, they will keep us from leaving.

-
Stanton T. Friedman, Nuclear Physicist, Top Secret/ Majic

Clemmie went into the
Vivjo,
an orange glowing building, for her 'test'. She thought it strange that she would be required to take some kind of test after all this time. She was terrified that she had been picked as one of the subjects who were led off and were never seen again. She let out a sigh of tremendous relief when she entered a room as directed and realized it was a medical facility. Some of her fellows had been to it for one reason or another and returned to tell about it. The fat brown Sinchik who'd escorted her pushed her toward a cold grey table.

She sat down while a black furry Sinchik pressed a flat sticky device onto her stomach. It sent clicking sounds that changed tone as the alien adjusted dials. The Sinchik said something that loosely translated into 'fruit good'. Clemmie was horrified. She must be pregnant.
I must kill it!
She thought. There was no way she was going to allow a child be born on this god-forsaken planet. A tear ran down her cheek. She really didn't want to destroy a baby, but this would be a mercy killing if she could figure out a way to do it. She wished Doug was by her side, more than anything she'd wanted for a long time.

The brown Sinchik looked over at Clemmie and said in a heavy tongued voice: "Human tears of joy, what a waste of body fluids. Go to
Welshass
and see
Songorah.
"

"Jah. I obey," Clemmie said, while wanting to choke the fat ugly Sinchik.

***

Doug continued his walk back to his
Wah
, but since the rains had become ever more intense, he knew he had an excuse to delay his arrival. While being wet didn't particularly bother him, he knew the Worms didn't care for rain at all. They always stayed inside during downpours. The summer precipitation would sometimes undercut even the tough material used for the streets, and the one today looked like a real frog-strangler. He walked under any overhang when he could in order to shield himself from the downpour, but in the crazy-quilt pattern of structures of the Worm city that wasn't always possible. He knew they must have some rationale for how they arranged the city, but why and how a spire or a square or a dome was placed made no particular sense that he'd ever been able to figure out.

However, now that he knew the city had an underlying warren of tunnels which, according to Clemmie, were extensive enough to practically make up another city beneath the surface, perhaps they were somehow tied together. He stopped at another overhang and shoved his hands down inside his pants and then pulled out the little pouch that held the map of the known tunnels Clemmie had given him. The knowledge of where they went didn't extend as far as his
Wah,
but now that he knew they were there he intended to try exploring in his area. All he had to do was find an entrance to the underground system. Which might be easier said than done. While humans were frequently sent on errands, the Worms or robots always seemed to know how long they should take. Today, though, presented an unusual opportunity, if he could find a way to take advantage of it.

The map didn't help much. He sealed it back into the pouch and stuffed it back into his pocket. The persistent rain showed no signs of letting up any time soon. He decided to brave the downpour and hurry on back toward his
Wah;
at least now he could be alert for any signs of how the aliens descended underground. Probably the entrances were inside the buildings rather than outside, but one never knew. It became increasingly difficult to see where he was going as the downpour became even more intense. He walked on with his arm in front of his face, not only because it helped a little in keeping the rain out of his eyes but actually helped him to breathe!

This really was one of the worst storms he'd ever seen. Or at least the heaviest rain. He stumbled over something and held out his arms. The next thing he knew he was submerged in rushing water with his body being battered back and forth against unseen obstacles. He held his breath, not knowing what had happened and trying desperately to orient himself. Just as he was reaching the limits of his endurance he saw a glimmer of light. He stroked for it with the last of his strength. His head broke into air and he gasped, again and again, renewing his strength but still not knowing where he was. He clung to an abutment, barely able to hang on against the force of the water cascading past him. There was enough light to see that the flood of water was choked with debris and that enabled him to figure out what must have happened.

The hardest and most enduring downpour he had seen since being captured must have cut a section out of the side street he'd recognized through the pouring water. It had taken him for a ride, but at least a ride in the direction of his
Wah
. Now he had no idea where he was but he knew it couldn't be too far from home. The water, while swift, couldn't have carried him that far but he vaguely remembered a sensation of being washed down a slope. He must be underground in one of the tunnels Clemmie had told him about. Now the problem was getting back to his
Wah
before being missed.

It suddenly occurred to him that this was a perfect opportunity to look around while trying to find his way out of the labyrinth and without being found some place where he shouldn't be. He was still holding on to the abutment, a projection of rounded metal projecting from the side of the tunnel. A few yards beyond was an open entrance. It was elevated enough that most of the water coursed on past. He eyed the distance then let go and stroked vigorously for the opening. His feet touched bottom as he did, making him realize he had been standing all the while. He really had been disoriented. He made it through the arched entrance. A ramp led upward in one direction and down in the other. Across from him was another arch. Mentally flipping a coin he turned left into the downward sloping path, hoping he wasn't letting himself into more trouble than he could get out of.