Trident's Forge, page 39
It was a four-day trip up the beanstalk. It was also the first time Benson had been a passenger in the “up” direction, but the first time Chief Tuko, Under Chief Ryj, and the two dozen representatives selected from each village on the road network, and even a shaman from one of the larger nomadic tribes, had been more than ten meters above the surface of their planet.
The first day of the ascent was… trying. But after the alternating waves of prayers, panic, and protests, their guests came to accept the danger was not as immediate as it first appeared and settled in for the rest of the journey, the first among their species to witness their planet from such an illuminating viewpoint.
Which was how Bryan Benson came to find himself floating inside the Can where he’d led the Two-Eighteen Mustangs to the Zero Championship all those long years before. A lifetime before, maybe two. It would always be his old sports stadium, where he’d spent thousands of hours sweating in training, experiencing the painful disappointment of a hard-fought loss, and the electric thrill of a crowd as he pulled out some last-second heroics that vaulted their favorite team to victory. He saw the stadium in those terms, visualizing the goal hoops suspended at the ends, the arrows flying through the air swift as birds, and the ball, always focused on the ball, ricocheting off arms, knees, and walls.
But like Benson himself, the Can had undergone some painful, yet ultimately necessary changes to keep with the times. It was no longer a place of recreation. Hopeful, energetic kids from Avalon and Shangri-La modules didn’t come here any more waiting to get noticed by one of the Zero team scouts. Hell, Shangri-La had only recently been repressurized after the cataclysmic terrorist attack that had killed twenty thousand people and almost ended humanity forever. An attack Benson had only barely managed to survive three and a half years earlier. It had taken that long to ship enough nitrogen and O2 back up the beanstalk.
Instead, after waiting almost two and a half centuries, the Can had finally fulfilled its ultimate design intention as a manufacturing and sub-assembly center. It was, after all, the largest pressurized, zero-G open volume anywhere aboard ship. Both crew members and VI assembly robots and gantries toiled away furiously on new satellites, early-warning telescopes, short-range inner-system shuttles, and much more.
If everything went to schedule, the elevator system would soon start ferrying payload and people beyond the Ark, all the way out to the Pathfinder probe that now acted as the anchor on the far side of the space elevator system, some fifteen thousand kilometers further up the line from where the Ark hung in geosynchronous orbit. From there, cargo didn’t even need propellant to move deeper into the Tau Ceti system. All you had to do was wait for the appropriate moment in Gaia’s orbit and just… let go. Angular momentum would do the rest. There were two other entire planets sitting at the etreme ends of the system’s habitable zone just waiting to be explored and developed. The rest of the Tao Ceti system was about to open up to human and Atlantian alike.
“You look lost, Benson.” Kexx floated up easily beside where Benson hung, looking out a portal. The Atlantians had trouble with the null gravity at first, but owing to their aquatic heritage, they quickly adapted. Within a handful of hours of gleeful, almost childlike play, they’d mastered how to aim for hand rails, angle off walls, and hit their targeted landing spots like professionals. Their visual/spatial centers worked in three dimensions naturally, like fish or birds. Benson felt a sudden itch to coach an all-Atlantian Zero team. It would have to wait.
“Not lost, Kexx. Not exactly. Just… displaced.” Benson took a deep breath. “This place has changed from what I used to know. It meant something different to me before.”
“Really?” Kexx looked longingly, desperately out of the small portal to the perfect jewel of a planet hanging in space below them. “I have no idea what that must feel like.”
“Ah,” Benson said. “So you’ve discovered sarcasm. Who taught you? Theresa, Feng? I know it wasn’t Korolev. He’s too much of a straight man.”
“I managed by myself, thank you,” Kexx said before falling silent once more. The truth-digger had suffered severe burns to zer back, shoulders, and limbs from the laser strike on the bridge. Still, zer skin had healed with superhuman speed, which was apparently normal speed for an Atlantian. Their regenerative ability was simply astounding. It had taken multiple surgeries, skin grafts, nanite treatments, and many months of recovery before Benson had looked like his old self after his fight with Kimura. But only three months after the Battle of the Black Bridge, Kuul was walking around on zer hip like nothing had happened. Chief Tuko’s missing arm was already halfway to regrown, dangling as it did from zer side like a mismatched prosthesis.
But the survivors were not without their scars. Kexx in particular would bear reminders of Black Bridge for the rest of zer life. The burns on zer back had been deep. Deep enough to destroy the chromatophores and bioluminescent cells that gave zer skin its amazing glow and patterns. They did not regenerate. From then on, half of Kexx’s body would be dead skin. Benson declined to acknowledge the obvious metaphor.
“What’s different?” Kexx asked.
“Hmm?” Benson said, distracted by his thoughts.
“What is different about this place that makes you feel lost?”
Benson sighed. “We used to play here when I was a child. Actually, I used to play here when I was an adult, too. But then, I had to grow up for real.”
“That’s a hard thing,” Kexx said solemnly. “Some of us believed we were grown, only to be thrown back into childhood.”
Benson saw the look in his friend’s eyes. Recognized it. Lamented it.
“You’re no child, Kexx. And neither are the rest of your people.”
Kexx smiled. “It’s kind of you to say that. But look at where we are now.” Ze held zer hands toward the portal framing Gaia. “We are the children. You are the elders.”
“Hold that thought and follow me,” Benson said as he pushed back from the small portal and grabbed a rail, pulling himself up and around the circumference of the Can.
“Where are we going, Benson?”
“You’ll see, just trust me.”
“I do.” Kexx sighed. “Only Xis knows why.”
Benson ignored the barb and flew almost a quarter of the way around the inside of the Can to a prominently marked hatch, which unsealed at his touch. On the other side of a longish tunnel, an opaque, perfect half-hemisphere awaited them.
“OK, we can’t stay out here for very long because of the radiation, but there’s something I want you to see.”
Benson linked up with the simple controls inside the observation dome. In an instant, an electric current surged through the polymer structure of the dome, coaxing the molecules to turn in just such a way that light was allowed through. Suddenly, the black dome was a perfectly transparent crystal. Gaia hung above them. Kexx had already seen it, of course, through the small portals in the lift car, or on their “photorealistic” display screens, but nothing could compare to an unobstructed view.
With a force of will, Benson navigated the new plant interface still taking root in his frontal lobe. The one he’d been “born” with had been destroyed, shorted out and riddled with errors when Merick had tried to stop his heart. The new matrix was an upgrade, the first major overhaul of the plant wetware and OS in almost a hundred years. The bugs and backdoors that had allowed the cyber attack on his heart were closed, and both memory and processing speed were significantly enhanced.
But for now it was still weaving itself into his neural pathways. It would be months, maybe years before he achieved full integration, and it would never function at the same intuitive level his original plant had. Some scars were less obvious than others.
Still, Benson managed to link up the Ark’s mainframe and route a streaming data feed to the transparent display in front of him and Kexx. Alongside Gaia, a window opened streaming real-time imaging from one of the constellation of GPS/com sats in low orbit around the planet. It showed surveillance telescope imaging of the surface down to meter resolution. Benson scrolled through coordinates until he found what he was looking for.
“See these branching lines?” He pointed at the holographic image of the planet’s surface, Atlantis’s surface. “That’s your road network seen from orbit, Kexx. Your people built structures visible from space before we even showed up. That’s incredible.”
“That’s nice of you to say, Benson, but–”
“And your signal towers,” Benson continued, ignoring the objection. “You figured out how to use light to transmit information. We do the exact same thing up here with fiber optic cables. We move more data, but the idea is exactly the same. You were already on the path before we even left Earth, Kexx. The only difference between my people and yours is time. That’s it.”
Benson tried to read the emotions on his friend’s face as ze looked down on zer world. Was it pride? Hope? Embarrassment? Awe? All of the above? It was probably unfair to expect any one clear thought to take precedent. There was a lot of territory to fight over inside Kexx’s soul.
Instead, Benson closed the display and looked upon Gaia through the crystal clear observation dome, a perfect blue, lavender, and tan ball floating motionless in an ocean of black punctuated by starlight. He looked over at Kexx, staring wide-eyed and open mouthed like an overwhelmed child. He could relate. He’d never seen his home planet like this either. In truth, he didn’t have one. This was as close as he would ever get.
“You asked me once if your world was big enough for all of us to share. But that’s the wrong question. Gaia has been shrinking since the moment you started building your roads and signal towers. It was going to keep shrinking, but since we pulled into orbit, it’s going to shrink a whole lot faster. We’ll be on top of each other within a few generations. The truth is, it’s already too small not to share.”
“You really believe that, don’t you?” Kexx asked earnestly. “Why? You sit on this incredible throne, with all the power in this world, but you don’t want to use it. Why?”
Benson thought about the question for a long time, had been thinking about it since long before it was asked, really. “Because I gave my word a few years back to a confused woman who did all the wrong things for all the right reasons,” he said finally. “Her name was Avalina da Silva, and she tried to kill all of us to save all of you.”
“Why?” Kexx asked simply.
“Because she believed humans were inherently predatory. She thought we would take over your world and destroy you in the process. She thought we deserved our extinction.”
“But you won’t?” Kexx said. “Take over, I mean. Some of your leaders tried to do exactly that.”
“I promised her I wouldn’t let that happen.” Benson gripped the railing tighter, fury coursing through his veins. Fury at Alexander, Hitoshi, and Merick for trying to prove da Silva right at the first available opportunity. Fury at da Silva and Kimura for almost being right. Fury at all of them for all sharing the belief that humanity hadn’t learned a better way during its exile between the stars. His forearms started to burn from the tension. He relaxed. “I didn’t let it happen. And I won’t. Not so long as I’m breathing.”
Kexx put a strange, boneless, slightly clammy hand on Benson’s shoulder. He welcomed it. “I trust that is true,” ze said. “And I’m not the only one. These talks, up here on your Ark, they’ve brought our people a new perspective. We’re forging a trident, with G’tel, Dwellers, and Humans as its prongs. Three peoples, united into one weapon.”
“Nice symbolism,” Benson said. “Wouldn’t have anything to do with the trident I used during the battle in your village, would it?”
Kexx shrugged. “It’s a powerful image. Would be a shame to waste it.” Kexx’s eyes drifted around the rest of the observation dome, taking in the view of the Ark’s giant spinning habitats before coming to rest on an object floating just off the elevator cable two kilometers further up.
“What’s that?” Kexx asked.
Benson smiled and zoomed in on it with the display. Enlarged ten times, the display revealed the scaffolding of two emerging rings arranged around a central core. Something very early in the process of being born. Merely a skeleton, really.
“That,” Benson said with pride, “is the future.”
“A ship, like this Ark?”
“A ship, yes. But not like the Ark. Not like anything we’ve ever built before.”
An alert dinged at the edge of Benson’s vision. Another ritual ceremony was about to get underway down in Avalon module. Their attendance was not optional. “Ugh, c’mon, we’re up.”
“Ah, the sacrifice to Varr,” Kexx said.
“I really don’t like the sacrifices.”
“This one will be different.”
“Good,” Benson said. “I’m sick of smelling like fish guts.” There had been several sacrifice ceremonies over the last few days. The Atlantians had brought along mostly small, larval animals for the occasions, while the human delegation had opted for catfish, chickens still being quite expensive. The chicken Benson had called down to the surface, meanwhile, having survived its assassination attempt, had since found a comfortable niche in Kexx’s village being venerated alongside the rover as a minor deity.
They left the dome behind, flew through the Can, and settled into a lift car that would take them down to the bottom floor of Avalon. During the drop, Benson noticed that here and there, light bulbs needed replacing on the axle running through the module. Not quite as many people around to swap them out, he supposed.
Stepping out onto the vast, slightly curved inner hull of the module, held in place by centrifugal force equal to one G, Benson actually found himself feeling the tiniest bit sick. He still didn’t care all that much for the skies on Gaia, but now that his body had experienced real gravity, nothing else would feel quite right again. They walked down one of the old footpaths. The apple trees lining their way had grown a bit wild in the last few years, their leaves and blossoms left to clutter up the cobblestones just a bit longer than before. Not as many gardeners and arborists around to sweep up after them, he guessed.
Soon, they reached the small park his plant had designated as the staging point for the ceremony. It was an open-air affair with benches on three sides, while the fourth was a sandy beach overlooking Avalon’s large retaining lake. Benson had visited the spot many times, using it as a water stop on his morning runs around the module. Tuko was there, along with Kuul and old Chak, against zer better judgement, from the look on zer face.
Standing next to them was Miraculously-Still-Acting-Captain Feng, Ambassador Mei, and Theresa.
But most curious was who was absent. None of the other village reps were present, nor anyone from the Dweller camp. Benson sidled up alongside his wife and leaned in to whisper in her ear. “What’s going on?”
“Don’t ask me. I just go where I’m told.”
A small pedestal with a familiar bowl was set up in the middle of the park. Tuko and Chak handled the spoken parts of the ceremony, and despite the fact his translation matrix was still shoddy, Benson managed to kneel down at the right parts this time. Then, it was time for the sacrifice. Tuko reached down to a wicker basket at the foot of the pedestal and returned with a blanket, something squirming inside.
A deep, cold dread clenched at Benson’s chest. This wasn’t the normal sacrificial ceremony. It was close, but subtly different. He’d seen it once before. He took to his feet and made two bounding strides for the bundle even as Tuko set it down in the bowl. Benson snatched it up and dug through the folds of cloth, dreading what he might find.
And then he found it. A small, wriggling baby Atlantian, its skin pulsing without pattern or rhythm, its tiny, tentacle fingers reaching up from the blanket, grasping for Benson’s hand.
“No,” he said firmly. “Absolutely not. I’ve already been through this with you people.” Benson pointed a quaking finger at Chak. “With you in particular.”
“Benson,” Kexx interrupted. “Calm yourself.”
“No, Kexx!” Benson snapped. “We are not sacrificing this baby.”
“You’re right,” Kexx said.
“I am?” Benson said, his budding tirade cut short.
Kexx put a hand on Benson’s wrist. “No. We are giving it to you.”
“I’m sorry?”
Theresa stepped in. “You’re what now?”
“This is the same infant that you saved from culling a month ago when you stayed Chak’s hand. We know that you and your mate have not been able to have your own children. So, after much discussion, we have decided that since humans have sent Mei and her people to become part of our village, we will do the same. We give one of our own to join the family of humans in the home of the ones we trust the most. Ze will walk among you, learn from you, and one day become a bridge between our people. If you will honor us.”
“I’m sorry?” Benson repeated dumbly, but Theresa had already snatched the baby up and started coddling it.
“Oh, Kexx, we say yes!” she said between coos.
“We do?” Benson asked.
“Yes. We do.” There was no room for negotiation in her tone. “Ah, honey, look, she has her daddy’s eyes.”
Benson looked at the baby’s large, yellow irises encircling pupils shaped like the number eight filled in. A glint of light reflected off the backs of them. “Does ze?”
“Good, it’s settled then,” Kexx said, then translated the news to the other assembled Atlantians, who greeted it with cheers.
“It is?” Benson was starting to feel lightheaded. Was there a hull breach? His new baby, er, something, turned zer head and smiled at him, then squirted a stream of water out of zer right ear.
“Is ze supposed to do that? Hello? What the hell are we supposed to feed zer?”
Acknowledgments
Every author, every creative really, builds their house upon a foundation laid down by everyone who came before them. As an avid reader of sci-fi over the last twenty odd years, one of the most engaging and rewarding experiences I had was discovering new alien societies. Taken far beyond “Monsters of the Week”, the best of them blended not only plausible, yet unique biology, but language, morality, technology, and culture, all perfectly blended into their environment.
