Nightborn, page 15
“And thus the conceptual barrier between magic and science is breached,” Ian said quietly.
“All right.” Leo rubbed his hands together. “So let’s say for the moment that your theory is correct, and that’s the mechanism we’re dealing with. How do we keep the fae from reading us?” A corner of his mouth twitched. “Tin foil hats for everyone?”
Lise chuckled. “I don’t think we brought any of those with us.”
“But why is it doing this?” Johnny asked. “I mean, that’s the real question, isn’t it? What species would have a vested interest in replicating our memories?”
“A predator that saw us as food,” Pravida said. “The mimicry could be instinctive. Like a chameleon who takes on the appearance of its environment to get close to its prey. On Earth there are species that evolve to resemble their prey. This could be an Ernan version of that.”
“Not a comforting thought,” Dani muttered, and Johnny said, “How the fuck do we fight something like that?”
“We don’t,” Lise responded. “The thing that attacked Leo was withdrawn into the fae when I injured it. Once that happened, there was no further way to attack it.” She sighed. “We’re going to have to focus on keeping it out of our minds. Somehow.”
Dani leaned back in her chair. “That would require controlling our thoughts. And not just the ones we’re consciously aware of, but every neural pattern embedded in our brains.” She shook her head. “I don’t see how that would be possible.”
“It probably isn’t,” Ian said, “But maybe we could learn how to choose which patterns it reads.”
Leo raised an eyebrow. “You’re suggesting we try to control it rather than kill it.”
“Do we have any other choice?”
In the distance, the lunch bell sounded. After a moment of silence, Leo stood. “I think we all need some time to digest this. And I, at least, need some food.” He looked at Angie. “Thank you for sharing your perspective with us. It was . . . enlightening.”
“Thank you for inviting me.” Her eyes were sparkling. “A puzzle like this comes along once in a lifetime. I’ll do my best to help solve it.”
Leo watched as the others filed out of the pod. The exobiology team gathered right outside the doorway: Pravida, Ted, and Ian. They invited Angie to join them.
Four creative minds, Leo thought, trained to analyze unfamiliar life-forms. If they can’t figure out how to deal with this shit, no one can.
Soon only he and Lise remained in the pod.
“And then there’s Ian,” he said.
She sighed. “Yeah.”
“Something is up with him.”
“Definitely.”
“I’m not imagining it.”
She shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
“I’d ask you to keep an eye on him—because you’re the one I’d trust most with that kind of job. But I know how busy you are.”
“I can ask one of my assistants to keep an eye on where he goes. If there are any red flags, I’ll look into them myself.”
“Thank you.” He hesitated. “Discretion—”
“—Comes first, Leo. I know that. Especially when we’re talking about investigating one of our own.”
He looked toward the mess tent, where people were gathering up bowls and utensils, preparing for their next meal. “Is this when we’re supposed to feel optimistic?” he asked softly. “Or is it premature to invest any hope in these crazy theories?”
“They’re just theories right now. But they may lead to something constructive.” She smoothed his forehead with gentle fingers and smiled slightly. “I think a bit of hope is permitted.”
The framework for the chapel tent was already in place when Lise stopped by to see how Dani was doing. Some people were assembling benches while others hung up colorful pieces of parachute cloth to brighten the space, and still others worked at unfolding the thick canvas roof with its built-in solar panels. Dani was conducting the workers like an orchestra, with an authority that seemed to come naturally to her. Leo had talked about leaving her in charge if anything happened to him, and Lise could see why.
But nothing is going to happen to Leo, she told herself stubbornly.
Dani saw her standing there, grinned, and waved her over. “Come to pray?”
“Doesn’t look like you’re quite ready for that.”
“Soon enough,” she promised. “And people need it. That’s why so many came out to help. I’ve never seen a group of people so hungry for spiritual comfort.”
“Maybe it will cut down on your private counseling sessions.”
She chuckled. “One can only hope.”
“Has Jeff been helping you? I don’t see him here.”
“He may still be asleep.” She glanced over at the quarantine pod. “Though how he managed to do that with the place so noisy, I haven’t a clue.”
A man came jogging toward them, half a dozen religious pendants swinging from his hand. “Where do you want these?” he asked Dani.
The chaplain looked apologetically at Lise, who nodded. “Go. Do what you need to. I mostly came to see Jeff.”
“Tell him the dedicatory service will be at four,” she said as she walked away. “And that I’ll make sure the chapel tent is brightly lit.”
“Will do,” Lise promised.
It was a short walk to the quarantine pod. Lise knocked on the door, but there was no response. After a couple of tries she gently pushed it open a bit.
“Jeff?”
He was lying on the cot, probably asleep—though how anyone could sleep in a space so brightly lit was beyond her. Half the solar lamps in the camp must be here. She looked at him for a moment, then decided to let him be. He needed sleep too badly. But as she started away she caught a glint of reflection from his eyes, and she turned back to take a second look.
His eyes were open.
She felt a sinking in the pit of her stomach. “Jeff?”
No response.
Warily, she approached the cot. His body looked peaceful, utterly relaxed, and except for his eyes staring emptily in the distance and the eerie pallor of his skin, one would think him merely asleep. But he was clearly not asleep. There wasn’t a mark on his body, nor any sign of struggle, but there was also no sign of life.
She reached out with a shaking hand to feel for a pulse in his neck. Nothing. Then his wrist. Still nothing. His flesh was cool to the touch, but pliable, so he’d died a short while ago. Maybe right after the big meeting.
She drew in a deep breath and then began to search the body for some hint of what had killed him. Anything.
She found it, but not on his body. It was on the wall. The small locked cabinet in which she’d stored restricted pharmaceuticals had been pried open. On the bottom shelf a small plastic jar lay on its side, its lid beside it. She’d been giving him pills to help with anxiety, Lise remembered. One a day’s worth, maybe two at a time. Enough to blunt the edge of his fear, though not enough to banish it.
All gone now.
Frustration welled up inside her, and with it anger—at this world, and at herself. Jeff had been doing so well up till now, and Leo’s speech seemed to have calmed him. From what Dani said, it sounded like he had finally started coming to terms with the nightmare he’d witnessed, and was ready to move beyond it. So what had driven him to suicide today, just when things were looking more positive? He’d managed to survive in a much worse state.
Then she noticed the lamps.
There were more than a dozen of them in the room, all solar powered. He’d hung them at regular intervals, creating a palisade of light that no creature of darkness could possibly breach. But one of them was out now. Its didn’t make the room any darker; there were so many lamps that the loss of one was barely noticeable. But she remembered what Leo had said earlier, and realized with a sinking heart what conclusion Jeff must have drawn.
There may be some element unique to Erna that affects our equipment.
Devices were failing, in large enough numbers that Leo had warned the colony about it. Jeff likely hadn’t thought about the consequences of that at the time. Neither had Dani. But when he returned to the pod and saw that one of the lamps had failed, and he must have realized that soon another would follow, and then another, without end. Darkness would close in on the colony lamp by broken lamp, until only primitive fires were left to hold it at bay. And that would not be enough to fend off the monsters that had killed Wayne.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered hoarsely. “We should have foreseen this. We should have protected you. I’m so sorry.” Her sense of frustration was as powerful as her grief. After all the time they had spent trying to save him, the loss of a single lamp had undone all their work. At least he looks peaceful now, she told herself. The monsters that had stalked his spirit for so long no longer had the power to torture him.
Whoever was in charge of the afterlife, she prayed they would be kinder to Jeff than Erna had been.
Commander’s Personal Log
Year One
Day Ten
We buried Jeff this morning, right beside Wayne. Anna printed a new headstone to serve for both of them, with clasped hands under the names, and Dani offered prayers that praised the power of love. As far as anyone outside my inner circle knows, Jeff killed himself because he could not bear the loss of his lover. And of course, that is part of the truth; Jeff’s grief over losing Wayne played a clear part in his mental disintegration. But it was fear of Erna that eventually pushed him over the edge.
There was an undercurrent of relief among the mourners that no one would admit to, but one could feel it. The story of a man unhinged by grief, who had chosen to follow his lover into the lands beyond death, was something within the bounds of human comprehension. Tragic as Jeff’s death was, it involved no alien horrors. Even as people mourned for him, I suspect many were secretly grateful for that.
If only they knew.
Lise and Dani insisted that I move my office, as my current pod might stir memories of the attack there. I told them it was important for me to show the colony that I was strong enough to move past such things. They reminded me that the fae responded to strong emotions, and if being in that pod triggered memories of my son’s doppelganger, that might invoke another attack. Fair point. Dani said her office has very little in the way of contents, being mostly a meeting space, so a move would be easy for her. She’ll trade pods with me this afternoon.
Team Paleo has been setting traps in the forest, with decent success. Steve is accumulating small animals in his freezer, saving them up for when he will have enough meat to serve the whole colony.
Another true night is coming up. People are clearly nervous about it. Given that the fae seems to respond to human emotion, I am more concerned about their state of mind than mere darkness.
TO DO:
Trade pods with Dani.
Finish the observation tower.
Prioritize technology. Reports have come in of more equipment failures. If this pattern is going to continue, we need to prioritize use of the tools we can least afford to lose. Accordingly, I have assigned extra teams to farming, logging, and construction, in the hopes of tilling enough land and collecting enough lumber to see us through if our power tools all fail. I do not look forward to cutting down trees with a hand axe.
“Got a minute, boss?”
Leo looked up from his current project—cleaning the smaller branches from tree limbs to prepare them for use in construction—to see Sky, the head of Team Paleo, waiting respectfully for his attention. “Sure. What’s up?”
“Actually, it’s more like something I’d like you to come see. Is now a good time?”
Leo took a closer look at him, noting the tense posture, the hint of nervousness in his gaze: not Sky’s usual demeanor. Whatever the man wanted Leo to see, it wasn’t good. “All right.” He saved his work and turned off the tablet. “Do I need to bring anything with me? Or anyone?”
“It’s outside the camp, so if you’re fine with just two of us, no.”
Outside the camp. The words had a different flavor now than they had a mere week ago. Then, it had seemed like the whole planet belonged to the Terrans; now their dreams were constrained by a rough wooden wall. It was a hard thing to adjust to.
Wordlessly Sky led him to the north gate, opened it, and waved Leo through. He didn’t seem to want to talk about his business yet, and Leo didn’t press him. Clearly there was something Sky felt he needed to show Leo first. “This way,” the hunter said, gesturing toward a narrow trail marked by flattened grass and crushed branches. Humans were leaving their mark here.
The path led them into the deep woods; Leo followed Sky in silence. Now and then they passed a bright orange ribbon tied to a bush. “Snare markers,” Sky explained. “So we can find them easily, and so others don’t trip over them.” Finally they came to a place where two ribbons were hanging side by side, and he led Leo away from the trail, into the deep brush.
“There,” he said, finally stopping. “See for yourself.”
They were standing in front of a large tree with wide-spreading branches, in appearance somewhat like a Terran oak. Hanging from one of the branches was a large snare net made from salvaged parachute cords, intricately knotted. Its corners were gathered up at the top so that whatever was caught inside couldn’t climb out, each point held in place by a steel clip also salvaged from the parachutes. Something appeared to have triggered it, but there was nothing inside.
“We figured the colony would need domesticated species eventually, so we set this up to trap live specimens, to see what was available to work with.” Sky looked at the netting expectantly, as if waiting for Leo to comment on . . . what?
“Something triggered it without getting caught,” Leo said.
“Look more closely. The top edge.”
He did so. It all looked perfectly normal to him, except for a place where one of the steel clips was no longer attached. That part of the netting, robbed of support, sagged a bit. “You meant that?”
Nodding, Sky pulled down on that loose part of the net, showing him that with the clip gone there was a gap big enough for a man to reach into. “It caught something, all right. There are bits of fur inside, where an animal obviously fought to get out.”
“And eventually did, it seems.”
“Not on its own. The net is still intact.” He shook the net slightly, making the steel clasps rattle. “That clip was opened neatly, not mauled by an animal. A person did this.”
It took Leo a moment to process the implications of that; the process spawned more questions than it answered. “If you didn’t do that . . . or one of your team . . . then who?”
Sky snorted. “That’s the question, isn’t it?”
Who would want to rob a trap? And why? “Maybe someone wanted more meat than Steve was currently serving and decided to take matters into his own hands.”
“In which case the most logical target would have been one of our kill traps. No need to deal with an angry animal just to get food. Whoever did this wanted a live one. And I can’t think of a benign reason for that. Hell, I can’t even think of a malign one that makes sense. It’s just fucking weird.”
Like so much of this planet, Leo thought grimly. He walked up to the netting, pulled down the open section, and looked inside. Short orange hairs were visible in a few places, and the rope was frayed where a trapped animal had gnawed at it. Clearly whatever had been trapped in there hadn’t gotten out on its own. Which meant either one of the colonists had released it—for God alone knows what purpose—or something even more disturbing had taken place.
It was Sky who put a name to that. “What if there’s someone here other than us?”
“You mean, another sentient species?” To say that the concept was unnerving would be an understatement. Sentient natives, competing with us for food. That’s all this colony needs now. “If that was true, the seedship would have detected it. That’s what the survey period is for. And ours was ten times longer than usual.” But would the seedship know how to recognize that kind of intelligence? Humans had reshaped their planet and left monuments behind: every square mile of Earth bore witness to humanity’s reign. But what if an animal species were on the cusp of higher intelligence, but not yet at the human level? Reshaping no forests, building no monuments, but fully self-aware and capable of manipulating a simple mechanical trap like this one? What clues would there be for a seedship to interpret? Enough to extend the survey period, but not enough to record concerns about?
The thought that they might be sharing this planet without even knowing it, and trespassing upon territory a higher intelligence had already claimed, was truly chilling. But the last thing Leo needed to do was inject a new fear into the colony, when there was no evidence to support it. “We need to talk to Pravida about that. It’s her specialty. But honestly, I think a human agent is more likely.”
He helped Sky reset the snare, scattering leaves over the net so that animals wouldn’t see it. As they left the area he turned back briefly and looked at the land where an unknown beast had wandered, and another unknown beast had set it loose. Would he rather the latter be an indigenous alien or a member of his own colony? It bothered him that he couldn’t decide.
The girls wouldn’t let him help move his stuff. They said the colony commander had better things to do than carry boxes from one pod to another, and by the way, if he ever referred to them as “girls” again they’d stick his head on a spike to scare off the fae-monsters. Fair enough.
They said they were worried that if he returned to the place where “Julian” had appeared, his memory of that event might be traumatic enough to conjure a new visitation. But he didn’t think that would happen. Something about that confrontation had emptied him, not of sorrow but of obsession. He had seen his son. He had been able to say to his son all the things he had ached to say, and in return had heard the words he most hungered to hear: I forgive you. Yes, intellectually he knew it was just an illusion created by an alien predator, but knowing that didn’t diminish the power of the moment or its effect on him. As Angie would say, the doppelganger served as a symbol of absolution for him, and as such it had served a purpose independent of its lethal intent.
