Samara’s conversation with the others had left her reeling. Once she had considered them friends and comrades in arms, but now? It had become brutally obvious that they were afraid of her and no longer trusted her, all because of her relationship with Guardian. It didn’t matter that the alien Cognates had repeatedly saved their lives, or that she’d never sought them out. Because they possessed powers they could neither understand nor control, in their minds, Guardian’s ilk were a threat.
It was so damn... human.
She felt an itch tickling at her, one that didn’t seem to emanate from any particular spot. In fact, it felt less physical than it did meta-physical, and once she started down that pathway, she had a sneaking suspicion she knew where it was going to lead.
Samara sighed. Come on out, Guardian, I know you’re in there.
... Of course I am “In here”, he reminded her. Where else would I go?
Where, indeed? she acknowledged. I take it you heard all that.
... It would be all but impossible not to, he agreed. After all, I am tied into your nervous system at multiple points. Anything you sense or experience, I do as well.
We need to talk about that, she told him. Considering how long it’s been since I’ve gotten any, the last thing I want is you riding shotgun while I’m getting my freak on. Figure out a Privacy Mode, or something.
... I will investigate the matter, he promised.
If he was feeling any embarrassment regarding her amorous proclivities, she wasn’t sensing it. Probably sees it as a biological experiment or something, she thought to herself.
... Samara, it is fortuitous you have sought me out, Guardian continued. Had you not, I would have soon initiated contact myself. There are matters we must discuss.
Okay, she shrugged, so talk.
There was a brief pause, and then…
... I am afraid this method of communication is ill-suited for the discussion lying before us, he said somewhat cryptically. It would be best if it took place instead on a... deeper level.
A deeper level? she parroted, her hackles already rising. Just what the hell is that supposed to mean? Some sort of “My mind to your mind” mystical gobbledygook?
His confusion was almost palpable. If I am parsing that word correctly, what I am proposing is not... gobbledygook. Nor is it invasive, certainly not in the way you obviously fear. It is more akin to a deep meditative state.
So, you can do what, exactly? she thought suspiciously. Wind me up and program me like your little toy?
It was his turn to sigh. If I felt that necessary, I would not require an alternative method of communication, he reminded her. The preexisting ones would suffice.
Then what then? she pressed. What do you want from me?
... It would be simpler to show you, Guardian said, but if you require a format you are more familiar with…
There was another brief silence in her skull before he found what he was looking for.
... You still owe us for saving your lives. It is now time to pay up.
Samara blinked. What is this, a protection racket? she sneered.
... We can debate this another time, Samara, he informed her, though in my defense, I was merely attempting to explain the situation in terms you would understand. But this discussion must take place. For many reasons.
Still, she hesitated. Samara, I could compel you, Guardian continued, though I prefer to avoid that. This is simply a discussion, one that encompasses a complicated subject. This format will simplify matters on both sides. That is all.
She knew from firsthand experience he wasn’t lying. If he wanted her somewhere, he could damn sure guarantee she’d be there. That he was asking politely instead of just taking over…
... What do I have to do? she asked, as she felt a ghostly hand reach out and take hers.
... Nothing, he said gently. Merely close your eyes. I will do the rest.
Samara nodded, doing as she was bid.
Moments later, something whisked her away.
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She awoke to see a table.
It was round, conference-style, large enough to seat half a dozen, with cushioned chairs surrounding it. It was strictly utilitarian, made from molded plastic and colored in some off-white tint, and if she’d seen it on a human ship her only thought would have been it was an awful waste of space. Some sort of diffuse light illuminated it, leaving everything else in shadow.
As she moved forward, she could make out shapes positioned around the space, the sound of indistinct murmurs tickling her brain. Drawing closer, the forms coalesced into figures, figures that were suddenly familiar. She came to a halt as the whispers ceased; the shadows rising and snapping into focus...as six men and women turned to face her.
“Welcome, Samara,” a tall man in the center told her, inclining his head. “As you have no doubt surmised... I am Guardian.”
Samara stepped into the light, peering at him. “I know you,” she whispered. “You’re the doctor... the one my parents consulted when I was a child. But how...?”
“A memory, taken from your own mind,” he explained, as his hand swept around the table. “You will recognize other faces here as well. I did this to help put you at ease. Please, be seated.”
It was obvious they were waiting on her, so she did as he asked her, sitting down as the others followed suit. Looking closer, she realized there were name cards placed in front of each of them, names she knew all too well.
If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
Mashad Dillosh. Cherdor Hosk. Erhair Dresh.
Other names, unknown to her; Rithir Merkott and Sothan Golthe.
And in the center of it all, the master of ceremonies. Guardian.
“I imagine you have many questions,” he said as preamble, “and I promise we will answer them to the best of our ability. But we have questions of our own, and for now, I regret they must take precedence.”
“Why?” she asked.
“In due time,” he forestalled her. “I ask for your patience.”
Samara looked around the table, only to see each face staring back at her. There was something going on here, but she did not know what.
“All right,” she shrugged, “ask your questions.”
The one named Merkott leaned forward. She bore a striking resemblance to the Knight Blye Tagata, who had opened up her skull not so long ago. “Tell us of your homeworld,” she asked.
She stared in confusion. “You mean Earth?”
“Yes... Earth,” she agreed.
“Not much to tell,” she answered. “Earth was destroyed two centuries ago by the Yīqún. There were no survivors.” For the life of her, she couldn’t imagine why they’d want to know about Earth, of all things.
“These Yīqún,” the soldier Hosk probed, “what did they look like?”
This was making less and less sense by the moment. “They’re machines,” she told them, “a hive mind. At least they were until the Eleexx scrambled their systems.”
Looks were now being exchanged between the Cognates. “Did they resemble this?” the Artificer Dillosh asked, as a holographic image appeared in the center of the table.
Samara managed not to wince. “Yeah. That’s them,” she said quietly. The image was a spot-on match to the ones they’d encountered in Earth’s orbit. “But then you must have already known that too, since you had to have gotten it from my mind.” She shook her head in disgust. They really needed to discuss them rifling through her memories like that.
More exchanged looks.
“What can you tell us about your homeworld’s evolution?” Golthe inquired.
“What?” This was nuts. She couldn’t wrap her head around anything about this interrogation... and that’s exactly what it was, even if they were being polite about it. “Why does it matter? It’s gone.”
“Please... humor us,” Guardian said, speaking up for the first time since his introduction.
She rolled her eyes. “Look, I don’t know... same as most planets, I guess. Single cells got more complex, gave rise to other species, got even more complicated... then a few hundred million years later, we showed up.” Samara leaned back in her chair, eyeing the others. There was some deep shit going on here, and suddenly she was reminded of an adage: “If you’re sitting at a poker and you can’t tell who the patsy is...it’s you.” Her resolve hardened. “You know something, don’t you?” she said in sudden realization. “Why don’t you quit beating about the bush and just ask me straight what you’re really trying to figure out.”
Guardian looked embarrassed. “I’m sorry, but I cannot. There are some things I may not share.”
“Why not?” she demanded. “What the hell is stopping you?”
He seemed to take a deep breath... an affectation since this was all some kind of mental simulation... and yet seemed completely honest. “Despite what you know of me and the other Cognates, we do not possess unlimited power. We operate under stringent guidelines that our programming does not allow us to violate.”
She shook her head once more. “That still doesn’t answer why you can’t.”
His eyes searched hers as he considered how to respond. “The Guidelines... they are not simply a list of rules to follow; instead, they are more akin to an... operating system, if you will. A line of programming that has been hard-wired into us, that we are incapable of ignoring. It would be as if we removed your legs, and then asked you to run a race. You could not do so.”
“I could, in fact, with a wheelchair,” she pointed out.
“That is true,” he conceded. “Unfortunately, I have no such ability to... hack?... the Guidelines. There are loopholes I may exploit, but they are rare, and none cover this particular dilemma.” He spread his hands in apology. “Were it within my power I would answer your questions, but I cannot.”
“Wait… does that mean in the future you will be able to answer them?” she probed.
“Perhaps,” he said noncommittally. “It depends on several variables.”
“I look forward to finding out,” she told him, though she hadn’t given up trying to discover the truth. This was merely a pause while she regrouped to consider her options.
“I hope that someday I may share those answers,” he said honestly. “But until that day, what would be required for you to explain to us the processes involved with your species’ evolution?”
Samara just stared. “Why...?” before holding up her hand. “Never mind, you can’t tell me,” she sighed. “I’m not sure... I’d need to access a Terran database, I guess.”
Guardian glanced at the others, before returning his attention to her. “Then we would wish you to do so, at the earliest opportunity.”
“Yeah, I’ll get right on that,” she snorted, rolling her eyes. “At the moment, my biggest concern is finding food. Esoteric questions about evolution will have to wait.”
“We understand,” he nodded. “When the opportunity presents itself, we shall revisit the question.”
“Are you sure you don’t mean ‘If’?” she asked. “Considering our current situation, the odds don’t look great for long-term survival.”
“I have faith in you,” Guardian smiled. “You have proved quite resilient in the past, and in the future, we will be there to assist your efforts.”
“We’ll see,” she shrugged. “Anything else?”
Guardian and the others looked around the table. “There is one other question we wish to ask,” he admitted, “and again I am sorry for having retrieved this from your mind, but... this ‘New Terra’ that you and others speak of. Is it your intent to seek it out?”
Samara leaned back in her chair; her expression now guarded. “Maybe,” she allowed.
“I see,” he nodded. “If that is the case, then we will assist you in that endeavor as well.”
“Good to know,” she said a little too nonchalantly. “Is that it? Are we done here?”
“I believe so,” Guardian agreed. “If you would once again close your eyes, I will restore your consciousness to your waking self. It will also please you to know that only a very few microcycles have passed outside since we brought you here.”
She nodded, closing her eyes. “I’m ready.”
Once again, she felt an ethereal something take her hand, guiding her someplace far away.
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Opening her eyes, Samara scanned the compartment. Everything looked the same... but at the same time, nothing did. It was as if the universe had shifted slightly while she’d been away, nudged subtly out of place by some random cosmic accident. I wasn’t gone that long, she thought, although technically she hadn’t been “gone” at all. Her body had been sitting right here the entire time, making it something more akin to an elaborate daydream.
But something had changed. Oh, not with the compartment, or even the ship. Something within her, though she was damned if she could figure out what it was. She knew what Xeno and especially Kalypso would say if she brought it up to them; it would be just one more example of the Cognates tinkering with her brain, making her even less trustworthy in their eyes.
The small possibility they might be right didn’t help.
In the end, she simply shrugged it off. It had been a weird experience, and it was throwing her off her game. That was all. Nothing to get her panties in a wad about. Besides, she had bigger issues to deal with.
Guardian, think you can help me find some food? she asked.
... I am happy to assist your efforts, he agreed, as he set her hands to work on the Chell navigational system. She couldn’t read the alien script, but the Cognates seemed to have deciphered some of it. It took the better part of an hour of careful research, but between them they located a system worth exploring. She paged the others to the Bridge, bracing herself for yet another shouting match.
Fortunately, that turned out not to be the case. “I’ve found a place we might find some food,” she told them. “It’s not a Tu’udh’hizh’ak world, though it’s still within their sphere of influence. There’s not a lot we can do about that, unless you want to starve for a couple weeks.”
“Obviously not,” Xeno answered. “What is the system?”
“Mu’ussa,” she told them, pulling it up on the display. “More of a remote mining and trading post than anything else. They get traffic from various other races, so with any luck we won’t raise too much suspicion.”
“How long?” Kalypso asked, her face now a mask carved from glacier ice.
“A day and a half. Two, tops,” she answered, ignoring her attitude. “We’ll get hungry, but it should be fine.”
“Two days is not a concern,” Xeno agreed. “If it is a trading post, then I suggest we scour this ship for something we can trade with.”
“It’ll give us something to do at least,” Samara agreed, silently wondering if this cold awkwardness between them had become the new normal.