alt.human (14 page)

Now, with Sol captured and me somehow leading my nest, I thought back to that time when Sol had identified my leadership potential. How could she have thought such a thing? The only time I’d shown any kind of leadership it had been to lock Skids up in a storeroom and drive him away from us for good. Me, a leader? I couldn’t see it, didn’t want it.

Back then I had just fucked up the life of my closest sib. Now
everything
was at stake...

Chapter Eleven

C
ALLO RUSHED
H
OPE
through the early morning streets of Angiere that morning, still clicking and tutting at Marek for having failed to prepare her.

The air smelled of chemicals and burning, and Hope knew there had been another strike, although she did not know where. It must have been nearby, and recent, from the smoke hanging in the air and the ominous drone of troopships somewhere over the rooftops. She wondered how much longer the Tween would remain standing.

As she walked alongside Callo, the streets woke up. Shutters banged open, babies cried, men and women shouted and laughed as they hauled bundles of clothing and other possessions out of doorways to stack in the streets.

Down by the banks of the Cut, the homeless were stirring among the trees where they had slept, some on the ground and others in rough platforms built into the branches. In the streets, there was more activity than was usual so early: wagons being loaded, family groups shuffling by on foot with their possessions slung across their backs. It looked as if the city was moving out.

Hope and Callo came to the commercial district just south of the harbour, a quarter Hope had always avoided in her wanderings. The atmosphere here was tense and hostile, and there were armed grunts guarding every junction and sentinel bots skimming along above the streets, constantly monitoring.

As they passed one building, Hope heard gunshots and the triumphant battle cry of an orphid grunt from within.

Eventually, Callo led Hope into a quiet alleyway on the fringe of the commercial district.

“!¡
caution
¡! I can’t go any farther,” said Callo. “I have to keep a low profile while I remain in Angiere.”

Hope had thought Callo would be fleeing with her, not staying behind in what remained of the city.

“!¡
reassuring
¡! It’s okay,” Callo went on. “We’re meeting a friend who will take care of you. !¡
matter-of-fact
¡! We’ve arranged passage for you away from Angiere. You’ll travel on a transit to Laverne. Once there, you just need keep yourself safe. Mix with the trogs, sleep where the clanless sleep, do as they do. We’ll follow soon. Go to Precept Square, just off the central commercial district, every midday and we’ll find you again. !¡
pressing
¡! Do you understand?”

Hope nodded, because that was expected of her and she did things to keep people happy. At times like this, with Callo so strident, almost haranguing in her intensity, and what was another voice to add to those in her head?

The aliens took her by surprise, a chlick and a bulky four-legged creature she did not recognise, like some kind of pack animal but with strangely intelligent eyes, faceted and glistening black like an insect’s.

The chlick was ancient, its stone-coloured skin ravaged with scars and folds. It stood almost as tall as Callo and its lower torso was encased in some kind of plastic shell. One of its eyes had been replaced with something mechanical.

“!¡
deference
¡! Saneth-ra,” said Callo, dipping her head. “This is Hope.”

Hope needed no introduction to the ancient chlick. She knew the being from Anders Bars Infirmary. That kind of thing sticks. She remembered the wires all over her body, too, the smothering masks, the phreaks that made her head feel as if it had been emptied and then the aftermath when the first thoughts that had returned were dark and twisted and filled with self-loathing and she had wanted to hurt herself, do harm, die.

The voices were a fever of sound. She clutched her skull, pressing at the temples, wanting it all to just
stop
.

“!¡
urgent | concerned
¡! Hope. Hope!” Then Callo turned to the chlick and said, “!¡
factual reporting
¡! She does this. Has blanks. I’m sorry. I know you need to–”

“!¡
admonishing junior scholar
¡! Human Hope is undergoing mental placement trauma. Senior scholar Saneth is cognisant of junior human’s condition.”

Hope stared. She understood that Saneth was familiar with her condition. At the infirmary, Saneth had tended to Hope, studying her, maybe causing whatever it was that was in her head.

“!¡
reassuring
¡!” Callo put a hand across Hope’s shoulders and hugged her. “It’s okay,” she said softly. “Saneth is a friend. Trust us.”

“!¡
matter-of-fact | dismissive
¡! The transit leaves imminently,” said Saneth. “Junior human Hope must be prepared.”

“Deep breath,” said Callo with one last squeeze of Hope’s shoulders.

Hope had been so focused on Saneth that she had paid little attention to the other alien, dismissing it as some kind of menial commensal species in the service of the chlick. It was bulky, about twice as broad as the already stocky chlick, and it was shaped like a massive dog, or a squared-off pony, with a great slab of a head and those glistening black eyes.

Now, the thing moved forward in an uncannily abrupt motion: one moment it was there, behind Saneth, and then it was... facing Hope, so close she could smell its briny breath.

It reared up on its hind legs.

Hope flinched, tried to turn, tried to take a step, but the thing came down on top of her in an instant, engulfing her in its mass.

Wet flesh surrounded her like a damp fist, and her chest was pressed tight so that she couldn’t breathe.

“!¡
authoritative
¡! Now to transit,” said Saneth, and Hope heard it clearly, and she saw the chlick before her in vision that was somehow both sharper than she had ever known and more granular, with colours doing strange things as they rippled across the chlick’s skin in patterns she had not seen before with her own eyes.

The chlick turned and headed out of the alleyway towards the commercial district of Angiere, and Hope followed. Or the thing she was in followed.

She could not work it out.

She could not breathe. There was no way she should be able to see or hear. And yet... her senses were richer than ever; the world had greater definition than before, the colours more vivid.

And her head was quiet.

She knew this state would not last, and already she missed it in anticipation.

She followed Saneth through the tightly-packed crowds. There was an urgency here, where there had been a more resigned desperation in the refugees earlier in the Tween. She did not know if this was normal for this district or not, but she sensed that tensions were higher. There was an air of something about to happen, to change, a buzz in the atmosphere that again she realised was a heightened perception, something picked up by this commensal creature and which any mere human would have missed.

The transit station was a building made of sheer glass, half-mirrored so that only indistinct shapes moved within. Its walls sloped back at strange angles and gun-pods were grafted onto the walls beside every entrance, scanners turning, fixing, following as travellers passed within.

She followed Saneth, and scanners to either side locked onto them. With her enhanced vision, she saw every little twitch of the things, and she realised that they were alive in some way, sentiences devoted to their unceasing observations and analyses. Sentiences that lived only to watch, to monitor, to act. The air between the gunpods was buzzing with communication.

And then the scanners swung back and Saneth and the Hope-commensal were inside.

They passed through a vertical sheet of blue light which Hope somehow knew was another scanner. She relished the fizz in the air, tasting its blueness as they passed.

They pushed through crowds, the Hope-commensal clearing a path for Saneth, who now followed in her wake. They stepped straight into a small carriage, shaped like a bullet and resting on a cushion of air above a single line of track.

They were the only passengers in the small compartment.

Saneth settled on a jelly bench that shaped itself to her-him. The Hope-commensal just hunkered down on the floor, becoming instantly passive.

The bullet carriage started to move. Through the translucent walls, Hope could see buildings rushing past, then trees and fields.

She did not understand why she was getting this special treatment.

“!¡
informative | objective
¡! You are special,” said Saneth. “You are all special. Each one lost is a crime against the Great All.”

The chlick was inside her head, she realised. Or inside the commensal’s head. She was struggling to see boundaries between her and her alien host now.

“!¡
approval for junior scholar
¡!”

She felt defeated. She had been trapped at the infirmary, but in Tween she had known some kind of freedom. Now... she was trapped again, and at the mercy of an alien who had kept her imprisoned at the infirmary. An alien who was working with the humans she had tried to trust. She was powerless. At Saneth’s complete mercy.

“!¡
impatient | dismissive
¡! Concern yourself with your own value, not that of those you encounter.”

She wished for the voices, the clamour. A screen of sound to block out the prying chlick.

There was a long silence.

Outside, the world passed by, a blur of fields and woods and small settlements.

It was true, for all that Saneth might be dismissive. She was powerless. Saneth was in control. Saneth could do whatever she-he wanted. Saneth was as a god to humankind.

“!¡
intrigued
¡! Life evolves,” said Saneth. “Intelligence is emergent. It will always appear, given long enough. There are billions of inhabitable planets in the Great All, and there are billions of sentient species. With those numbers, ungraspable to your mind, for any species that has evolved and in which intelligence has emerged, it is improbable to the degree of near-impossible that many more have not emerged sooner. For every intelligent species, there must be multitudes more that evolved earlier in the history of the Great All.”

Wishing for that wall of voices.

“!¡
patient
¡! Those that evolved earlier progressed farther. Intelligence so advanced as to be incomprehensible to even the next most advanced. Intelligence passing beyond a level that those in earlier stages can even see as intelligence.

“They would be, as you say, gods, scholar pup.”

She felt frustrated. How could she even begin to understand a god?

“!¡
gently leading
¡! By riding the crests of the waves,” said Saneth. “A pebble does not need to understand the dynamics of the ocean in order to skip across its surface.”

Then what was the point? She felt frustrated. She didn’t know how to argue, or how to draw a line under a debate.

“!¡
patient
¡! The gods understand the ocean,” said Saneth. “The gods understand the pebble. The gods
understand
. But what do the gods do when there is nothing left to understand, scholar pup?”

She waited, but the chlick would say no more.

I
N
L
AVERNE THEY
emerged at the transit station on Precept Square, stepping out into harsh sunlight. The Square was a wide space, paved with wide slabs and surrounded by low, blocky buildings.

The Square was thronged with many different species, most of which Hope had never seen before. Hope remembered Marek telling her that Laverne was larger than Angiere, packed with aliens, more heavily militarised and with tight controls on the Ipps.

She found this new city heady, disorienting, confusing.

She followed Saneth down some wide steps to the Square, and then across to one of the low buildings. The smooth wall parted before them like thinning mist, and then flowed back to close behind them.

They were in a small chamber, sealed off from the outside world. The walls were a sheer off-white, without texture or features.

“!¡
matter-of-fact
¡! This is a private location,” said Saneth. She-he gestured with a gnarled hand and gave a rapid sequence of clicks.

Hope felt a sudden convulsion passing through her body, and then she was up on her rear legs, twisting, tearing,
pushing
–

and she was on her knees, catching herself on the floor with her hands, gasping, sobbing, head spinning.
Wet
.

Head-to-toe wet.

She looked around. The world was a duller place. More
muffled
. And in her head: a subdued murmur, growing louder.

Saneth indicated a canvas bag on the floor. “!¡
terse
¡! There are clothes, some local money.”

And then the chlick was gone through the wall, accompanied by the commensal who had been Hope’s host for the journey.

Hope went to the bag, found a brown one-piece that had seen better days and a pair of battered knee-high boots. She stripped out of her wet things and used the bag to swab herself down. She stank of the commensal’s juices and her mouth was full of a salty, pissy taste.

Dressed, she turned a full circle, surveying the blank walls of the small chamber.

Panic rose. Saneth had kept her at the infirmary and now...

She stepped towards what she thought was the outer wall. Nothing happened, and her heart began to pound harder, and then... it thinned, it dissipated, and she was able to step through.

The Square was a hubbub of noise and activity again. A welcome din, vying with the noise in her head.

S
HE STAYED IN
the vicinity of Precept Square for several days. There were food stalls around the fringes, with lots of pickings among the garbage.