The Orion Plague (38 page)

“Hmmm. What did I do?” She ran her hands over
the walls, which began to rearrange themselves into more human
contours.

“It was your body. I thought it was the Eden
Plague interfering with my nanos, the interaction unbalancing me,
but it wasn’t, was it?”

Raphaela folded her hands and sat down on a
newly-extruded chair before it was really ready, gesturing at
another. “Like most things, the answer is no, and yes.”

“Explain that please.” Where once he would
have been angry, now he was serene. Perhaps without biology, he had
little emotional amplitude.

“Meme communicate with biochemicals, but
nothing so crude as hormones and pheromones. My human body has
those, sure, and plenty of them, and don’t think I have complete
control either because I don’t. What happened, rather, was my Meme
physiology trying to communicate with your human one, that’s
all.”

“What was it trying to say?”

She smiled with sad eyes. “Everything humans
want to say to each other but often can’t.
I love you, I despise
you, I want you, I hate you, I need you – I am family
. Did you
know that in humans, the myriad colonies of bacteria that inhabit
our bodies – skin, digestive system, even our tears – exchange
populations through touch, especially intimate touch? When a
husband and wife come together, they are literally growing
together. Becoming one flesh, because a human isn’t human without
all those little inhabitants. We’d die in short order without them;
they do many vital jobs. Meme biology is just a bit more directed
about the whole thing.”

“So you weren’t trying to program me?”

“Not at first. But once I had access to the
Watcher Base, I did a little tinkering, just around the margins. It
was more like, oh, baking cookies and rubbing your feet to put you
in a good mood, than some kind of mind control. I wouldn’t do that.
Love that’s not freely chosen has no value.” She got out of her
chair to kneel next to his, to hold his ghostly hand. “Your will
was always your own. It’s what made you Alan, and what made you
Skull. I loved both of you.”

He leaned to kiss her, a faint electric
sizzle in their virtual world. “They love you too.”

“And I have something to tell both of them.”
She placed Skull’s transparent hand on her abdomen. “You’re going
to be a father. Again.”

“I’m all right with that.”

They stayed that way for a time.

“Tell me something else,” Skull said. “Why
did the…did Raphael choose that name?”

“Why not? He’d been called many things,
depending on the role he played. He’d impersonated many gods to the
primitive cultures.”

Skull looked down at and through his hands.
“Are you trying to say he really was God? Like…God God?”

“Oh, you mean like Jehovah to the Hebrews?
No, not at all. That would be…that would be a kind of
blasphemy.”

Skull snorted. “What? I thought you said
neither of you believed in the supernatural.”

“No, but we both believe in truth. To claim
to be the creator of the universe would be…dishonest. Not blasphemy
against a deity, just against truth and morality.”

“Raphael had no problem claiming to be Ra, or
Zeus.”

She shrugged. “All I can say is that was
different to him. Claiming to be a greater being was no problem. He
was a greater being after all, by access to technology, by superior
knowledge, and by biological abilities. That’s the best I can
explain it.”

Skull relaxed perceptibly and Raphaela knew
that the question had been important to him. Despite his lack of
adherence to the Catholicism of his upbringing, somewhere deep down
he believed in some kind of God. To be told it might be just a big
Wizard of Oz act wasn’t likely to keep peace between them. If she
had to shade the truth a bit…so be it.

“So the Raphael thing…when did that start?”
He looked at his hand, which was becoming more solid-looking by the
second.

“When he became old enough, and had consumed
enough of his siblings, to become sentient. The Watchers had
collected many ancient writings as part of their assignment. It
appealed to him to be a guardian angel. Why, don’t you like
it?”

He smiled widely, a rarity. “I can’t think of
any name more appropriate. But I believe from now on, I’ll call you
Rae.”

She smiled in return. “Rae Denham. I can get
used to that.”

A thoughtful look came over his face.
“Denham. Heh. Seems moot now. You want to marry a ship?”

“I want to marry a man, whatever body he
inhabits. Children do better with parents that are married,
regardless of your wishes or mine. Besides…let me just say that
this ship has possibilities.”

“I don’t know what that means, but…I’m all
right with it, I guess. I’ll be your ship.” He was now fully solid,
fully realized, looking just like his old self.

“Oh, Alan,” she cried as she came into his
arms. “I love you.”

“Yeah,” he smiled, “I knew you’d say
that.”

Two grueling days later filled with repairs,
compromises and Intelligence analyses of the battle,
Orion
was under weigh for home. Along with the newly-christened Earth
Space Navy Frigate
Alan Denham
– they even found a bottle of
smuggled champagne to break on her prow by a spacesuited volunteer
– they were pushed by the four modified Meme drones bio-welded to
the back of the battleship. While relatively small compared to the
enormous weight of
Orion
, the fusion engines of the
fighter-sized biomachines imparted enough speed to take them back
to Earth orbit in an estimated four weeks, leaving a week of air to
spare. All
Orion
had to do was run a water feed and a
control cable to the drones.

Even that was a flexible estimate, as
Raphaela, now obviously in control of the scout ship, informed
Captain Absen that
Denham
could manufacture oxygen for
breathing if necessary. After several days, the frigate had been
recast on the inside into a ship that could be more or less run by
humans. He let Raphaela do her work for two more days, until
eventually it appeared she had the time to meet with him and his
senior officers.

They met in the Captain’s Mess, impeccably
served by his Stewards, though the fare was mundane. Much of
Absen’s personal stock had been destroyed by one of the many shocks
to the ship. But dinner with the captain was a naval tradition.
Talking ship’s business only after dinner was also a tradition, so
the meal went quickly and soon Absen got to the real reason for the
meeting.

But first he loosened his collar to signal
the change and said, “I just wanted to say again, on behalf of
everyone here, how sorry we are about Denham and how proud we are
of his heroism. I’ve spoken with the President and the Medal of
Honor is the least we can do. I think a few dozen other countries
are lining up similar awards.”

“Thank you, Captain,” she said. “I’m sure he
will – would have – appreciated that.”

Absen took another sip of water, wishing he
had some port or sherry. “I need to know more about the alien ship.
What went on, what’s our prisoners’ status – your reports have been
brief and vague.”

“I understand, Captain, and I thank you for
the time you’ve given me to put Earth’s newest vessel in order.
Starting with the ship: it will live.” She did not say anything
about the Denham engram, which was slowly extending itself within
its namesake. There was no telling how they would react to the
oddity of a living ship with a formerly human mind.

She went on, “It is relatively young as these
things go, grown for the voyage, which lasted several hundred years
and originated in a star system the location of which I have
provided to the intelligence people. But you have no prisoners,
Captain.”

“What do you mean? We have the Meme.”

“In human terms, you have sacks of meat. All
that is Meme has escaped.”

“Explain please.” Absen sipped at his water
glass, making a face at its recycled taste.

“Even more than humans, Meme are just a body
that carries memories. In their case, their memories are encoded in
complex molecules and can be moved, transferred. So what you have
is the physical remains of three Meme after they detached their
essences and crawled into a tiny ship, that then fired itself back
the way it came, probably to rendezvous with whatever is coming.
It's as if three people loaded their brains into a missile and sent
themselves alive out into space.”

“Thus the remaining protoplasm…and why there
wasn’t more resistance. But I read the report: they were
alive.”

“They are alive, but have no mind. You make a
good point, however. They will be very useful to us.”

“For research?”

“And more. I can induce them to divide and
replicate. Each new blank Meme thus created could Blend with a
human. Without Meme memories, the Blends would experience little in
the way of mental stress, but could gain some abilities, not the
least of which would be that they could help me genuinely crew this
ship.”

Absen nearly dropped his glass. “We are
really in the realm of fantasy now, miss. You actually think I’m
going to let you create a bunch of Meme and hand a weapon like that
ship over to you?”

“Captain,” her voice was exasperated. “I
understand you not trusting me, but these new Blends would be the
same people after the process as before. Think of it rather as
infecting them with new abilities without changing their minds. In
an Earth full of biotech and nanotech – and cyber-tech – what is
this but just a leap forward? It’s using the enemy’s abilities
against him, again.”

“I won’t make that decision. I won’t
authorize it, not unless the situation was dire. We have time.
Don’t we?” Absen leaned forward. “We do have time?”

“Unfortunately they wiped their main
databanks before they left. These individuals were not warriors but
they were also not entirely stupid. However, like all complex
information systems, there is a lot of residual and backup that I
am still working through.”

“Cut to the chase, please,” Absen said
mildly.

“Nine years.”

Everyone in the room let out a sigh of
relief. “That’s…we have a chance.”

“A chance, yes. Nine years…and then the
Destroyer comes.”

“A destroyer?” Absen’s eyes narrowed. “In our
terms, that’s bigger than a frigate. So, one or two classes larger
than this ship? That will be nasty.”

Raphaela’s eyes grew bright, and she seemed
to gain presence with the gravity of her expression. “No, Captain,
not a destroyer, as in a very small cruiser. I found a reference to
a ship they sent for as soon as they realized our technology
included nuclear weapons. It’s a Destroyer like the Hindu god
Shiva. As in, ‘
I am become Death, Destroyer of Worlds
.’ That
kind of Destroyer.”

“They mean to wipe us out.”

Raphaela nodded grimly. “They
always
meant to wipe us out, ladies and gentlemen. It doesn’t really
matter whether it’s by plague or asteroid or absorptive Blending or
by fusion hellfire weapons. This is what Meme do. They are a
predator species, except instead of merely eating their prey, they
Blend with it, ‘improving’ both life forms. But unlike in me, if
they do, all of your humanity will be erased.”

Absen rubbed his face with his palms. “Nine
years. Against…what? A death machine big enough to destroy a
planet? How can we fight that?”

“How did you fight the scout ship? Human
cooperation leaped forward a hundred years in its natural
development to build
Orion
. Human ingenuity and courage and
sacrifice helped it win against a foe that should have beaten it
hands-down. Have faith, Captain, and tell your crew to have faith.
We have nine years.” She looked over at Jill Repeth, unconsciously
placing her hand on her belly in a gesture familiar to mothers
everywhere. “Let’s make them count.”

The trinity slept and dreamed in its tiny,
crowded prison: Commander, Executive, Biologist, like three very
intelligent rats in a very small cage. Had it not slept, they would
have gone mad. There was nothing to do, no one to talk to except
themselves, so it lived in worlds of the past, dwelling in the
memories of their molecules.

At two-thirds of lightspeed the probe coasted
and occasionally pulsed with a radio beacon, announcing itself to
the entity it had summoned when they first learned of the Watchers’
failure and the humans’ technological aspirations. When the time
was right, the tiny vehicle would match velocities to be consumed
by its gigantic cousin, and trinity would tell its tale of woe.

When that happened, it knew it would be
reborn. And better yet, it would be afforded a role in the
inevitable conquest to come.

End of
The Orion
Plague

Continue for a preview of
Cyborg Strike - Book 5
of the Plague Wars
Series.

Book 5 of the Plague Wars Series

Repeth’s blast blew open the hatch and
struck pillow blows against the two cybercommandos. Armor and sound
cancellation reduced it to almost nothing. From the outside,
though, it must have been quite a shock to those nearby.

As soon as the explosion passed, she leaped
upward, catching the lip of the opening. The hatch cover itself had
embedded itself in a nearby building, now gleaming under the harsh
glare of industrial arc lamps. Several screaming people ran away
from the blast.

One didn’t, and opened up with an AK on full
automatic. Bullets ripped chunks out of the wall around the heavy
steel lid, a natural enough mistake in the confusion:
misidentifying the threat. Repeth heaved herself out of the
manhole, somersaulted, and simultaneously pulled out the PW5 on her
thigh. Its tiny Needleshock rounds put down the gunman and three
other guards that were staggering to their feet.