Rain begins to fall, lightly at first, and then in sweeping lashes, as Mirem shoves clothes into Lanis’ duffel bag. Lanis watches her, hands interlaced behind her head, trying to calm her breathing. It’s as if the effect of Peter’s words was a blast charge on a delay timer, and is only now beginning to detonate the world. This can’t be happening, she thinks, breathing through her nose, out through her mouth. She begins muttering a navigation mantra under her breath, this one a prayer in classical arabic.
Mirem stands, giving the duffel bag to Lanis.
“Let’s go, the shuttle is here,” Mirem says, hoisting her own bag over her shoulder. She’s halfway to the door when she realizes that Lanis hasn’t moved from the hallway. She turns to see Lanis rooted to her spot, gaze unfocused, mouthing strange words. She holds her duffel bag in front of her with both hands like it’s some piece of flotsam at sea, the only thing keeping her from drowning.
“Lanis. Lanis,” Mirem says again, more urgently now, moving back to where she stands. “You heard what Peter said, we need to move, now.” She feels another ping from the waiting shuttle’s AI, this time more insistent..
Lanis doesn’t respond.
God, is she having some sort of mental break? Mirem thinks; she moves directly in front of Lanis, trying to meet her eyes, and grips her shoulders.
“Lanis, look at me. Look at me! We’ll be safe at the Versk Hanger. Goddammit Lanis, I don’t know what’s happening, but I’m carrying you to that shuttle if I have to.”
Mirem is just about to follow through on her threat when Lanis’ whispers suddenly stop. She clenches her eyes shut, and when she opens them, her eyes have refocused.
“Ok; I’m ok. Let’s go,” she says, her voice firm.
The lobby to Mirem’s apartment complex is empty at this time of night, but the outside street isn’t. Lanis imagines some deeper shadow, waiting to pounce in every passerby’s wet, neon-lit face as they walk quickly through the foyer, out the complex’s heavy double doors, and into the wet night to where the ground shuttle waits like some slick black beetle. Mirem has her arm under Lanis’, ready to drag her if the need arises, as she guides her into the shuttle’s back seat, following quickly behind.
Mirem turns to Lanis as the shuttle begins to gently accelerate through the wet streets.
“Are you alright? What the hell happened back there?” Mirem asks.
Lanis shakes her head.“I- I’m sorry. I don’t know. I just froze. I couldn’t move,” Lanis says quietly.
Mirem exhales and leans back in her seat, her eyes intent on Lanis. She seems pale, but otherwise normal now. After a long moment of silence, Mirem asks her, “What were you saying? I couldn’t understand it.”
“It was a prayer. The Al-nas from the Quran,” Lanis says.
“A prayer? From the Quran?” Mirem says with surprise. “Why?”
Lanis nods slowly, her eyes tracking the city’s darkly lit buildings as the ground shuttle accelerates onto an express-way, making for the industrial edge of the megacity.
She tries to explain, her voice halting. “I know this sounds crazy, but we were taught portions of every major religious text during navigator training. Sutras, prayers, mantras. They had a positive focusing effect during the early stages of AI pairing, and were useful meditation triggers. And in other ways, too, that are harder to explain. They had a sort of… shielding effect. One of my Fleet instructors called them an ‘an elicitation of communal psychic power,’ though I’m still not completely sure I understand what that means. I honestly don’t know if he did either.”
Mirem considers this as the ground shuttle humming along, the rain pounding against its transparent canopy.
“Shielding effect?” Mirem says, her face furrowing.
Lanis shrugs. “The Demeter told Fleet that I was repeating the Gayatri Mantra while I pulled the ship through warp space. That and something in Aramaic, though it was mostly nonsense. Maybe it helped protect me, maybe it didn’t. But they’ve been hammered in as tools, and I suppose I reach for them by instinct.”
Unsaid is the implication of why Fleet chose religious texts as its focusing tools. The word that Lanis used… Mirem can’t shake it. Shield.
Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.
Finally, Mirem chokes out a question into the hush.
“What do you think the anomaly is, Lanis?” She struggles for the word, and reluctantly chooses the first that springs to mind. “Some kind of demon, or something?”
Lanis scoffs at the ridiculous idea, but swallows. Hearing the words spoken out loud forces her to confront the idea, which had always been there, lurking. She hesitates, and when she begins to speak her voice is soft and faltering.
“I don’t know how to answer that. What is a demon? Something unknown, something uncanny, from the depths of our collective nightmares.” She turns to Mirem, her eyes bright with the fluttering reflections of the rain-swept lights that whip past them.
“Our oldest stories must come from somewhere, Mirem.”
----------------------------------------
They arrive at the gates of the Versk suit complex at nearly midnight. There’s no polite guard to greet them now, only the harsh glare of a lumbering auto turret that chirps with menace at the shuttle as it rolls to a stop before the dark, shuttered gates. An electronic interrogation commences over a long twenty seconds as both Lanis and Mirem ping over their Versk identification codes, which are checked and re-verified. Eventually, satisfied for the time being that they are who they say they are, the blast gates slowly roll open and an armored guard, face shield glinting in the dark rain, waves them in.
Ash is waiting for them just inside the reception area. She always seems to be looking tired these days, her curly blonde hair somewhat limp, but her Versk technical uniform is as spotless as ever.
“Well, this is late even for you Lanis,” she says in a slightly bemused voice, her eyebrows raised. “Or should I say early. And you too, Mirem? Hm, this is interesting.”
“We need to stay here tonight,” Mirem says, watching behind them as the reception doors hiss shut. “And I need to speak to Renfol first thing tomorrow morning.” Something in Mirem’s voice immediately turns Ash’s look of tired bemusement into concern.
“Ok… Well, there should be room in the communal bunks. That’s where I’ve been sleeping myself off and on for the past few weeks,” Ash says, leading them down a long corridor to a common room stocked with a small kitchen. There are several branching rooms where particularly dedicated or masochistic employees sleep on-site. She opens one of the doors with her keycard, punches in a code at the terminal beside the door, and the bunk room is lit with a soft light: two beds, one against each wall, with a small adjoining bathroom.
She leans against the door, watching as Mirem and Lanis set down their bags.
“Is this something we should be concerned about? I can ping security and raise our readiness level, but I’d then need to wake Renfol and explain it to Versk HQ.”
Mirem gives a tired sigh. “I’m not sure yet. But for now I’d rather not stir the nest,” Mirem says. The compound is well protected, and she doubts that adding another patrol would dissuade Kaisho-Renalis if they actually decided to attack the compound. Anyway, the idea of trying to explain her uncle’s visit seems far too daunting at this hour. It’ll be trouble enough tomorrow.
Ash nods reluctantly. “Well, there are full showers down the hall if you want them, and food in the fridge. I’m going to bed, but let me know if you need anything,” she says, clearly still hoping that Mirem or Lanis will expand on what’s going on; however, it’s apparent after a moment of exhausted glances that this is a vain hope. She gives a friendly pat to Lanis’ shoulder and leaves them be.
They unpack in silence. It’s the first time since Seto’s visit that Lanis feels like the world is finally settling into its new configuration. Even if this new world’s geography is nightmarish, she can at least begin to puzzle it out. One thought has been nagging at her this whole time, and feels she can finally verbalize it to Mirem.
“Mirem; should I ping my handler from Fleet?” Lanis asks. “If what your uncle said is true, then an entire ship could be compromised.”
Mirem leans back on her bunk against the wall. She, too, has been thinking the same thing, and a part of her has been trying to ignore its implications.
“I don’t understand how something like that could happen and no one would notice.” Mirem says, running a hand through her hair. “I mean… surely the ship AI would sense something like that, and alert Fleet?” she says, but Lanis grimacing.
“If the commander and navigator were somehow compromised while integrated with the ship’s AI then I don’t think it would have any means of fighting off the… infection.” She hesitates over the word, but it feels right to describe the idea of what might happen. She feels the slow sinking sensation in her stomach once again.
Lanis says, “If Alain was in fact infected by it, and then he was still allowed to return back to Terra, that means that Fleet would either be unaware of his infection, or complicit.”
The second idea is almost too terrifying to comprehend, but there it is. Fleet, infected. God. How many ships would the anomaly have touched? How deep could the rot possibly go?
“I guess if Fleet is complicit, then we’re all screwed anyway,” Mirem says.
Lanis leans back against the wall as well. They stare at each other for a few long seconds.
“When you put it that way, there’s not much to lose,” Lanis says quietly.
Mirem slowly nods.
“I’d say do it. Ping them. Tell them what’s happened,” Mirem says.
Lanis sighs, and her gaze momentarily unfocuses.
“Done.”
She hopes Lieutenant Tran believes her. And she hopes he has some good news.