Spindrift (57 page)

“Perhaps.” Again, the pseudo-Sinclair displayed no emotion. “I still do not understand why the
Galileo
launched a missile at our vessel.”

Our
vessel. A small clue there, however minute. “Nor do I,” Ramirez said. “My best guess…that is, my conjecture…is that something occurred that gave our captain reason to believe that his ship was under attack. He may have been trying to defend himself, or…” He shrugged. “I don't know. Your guess is as good as mine.”

The hologram didn't respond for a moment. “Your captain was afraid of us,” Sinclair's doppelgänger said at last. “He may have misinterpreted our attempt to contact you as hostile action…is that what you believe?”

“Believe, no. I can only speculate…but I can't do that without knowing more than I do now.” Ramirez crossed his arms. “You said you attempted to make contact with us. When was that?”

Another pause, one that lasted a little longer than before. “When our vessel transmitted a message to the
Galileo
,” Sinclair replied at last. “Since you were responding to the signal transmitted by our starbridge, we deduced that you had interpreted its meaning, and therefore were capable of interpreting…”

“Stop. Wait just a second.” Ramirez raised a hand. “What signal? You mean the one we…I mean, my people…picked up when we detected Spindrift?”

“Unless there has been a misunderstanding among our races…”

“I think it's safe to say that there's been one, yes.” Ramirez nodded. “Please, go on.”

“The signal transmitted by our starbridge was a warning to all races that might happen to discover
Shaq-Taaraq
…what you call Spindrift. If it had been correctly interpreted, it would have told you that
Shaq-Taaraq
was under the protection of the
Talus
…”

“The what?” Ramirez peered more closely at the holo. “The
Talus
? What's that?”

“That is difficult to explain.” Although Sinclair's expression didn't change, the short pause that followed was as close to any emotion Ramirez had yet detected during the entire discussion. “We will return to it later. A message was sent, instructing your people not to attempt rendezvous with
Shaq-Taaraq
…”

“Which we didn't understand. We only saw that it was an alien transmission and decided to investigate its source.”

“We understand this…but only now.” The holo remained stoical, yet Ramirez detected a tinge of regret in its mimicry of Sinclair's voice. “If your kind had only taken the time and effort to interpret its message, all this could have been avoided.”

Ramirez let out his breath. “Perhaps…but you have to understand that we've been anxious for so long to make contact with another race. When we detected Spindrift…or
Shaq-Taaraq
, as you call it…our curiosity compelled us to find out what it was.”

“This may be so.” The ghost of the dead political officer stared at him. “If that is the case, then we may also share the blame, for failing to realize that emergent races might be so enthusiastic that they would make such a venture without knowing what was there.”

“Look before you leap,” Ramirez said quietly.

“Leap where?”

“Sorry. Old expression among my kind…not to be taken literally. Go on, please…you were saying that we didn't understand your language.” A new thought occurred to him, one so obvious he was surprised it hadn't occurred to him before. “You seem to understand ours quite well. Or at least Anglo. Do you also speak Spanish?
Se habla español?
”

“
Sí. Un poco.
” The holo didn't bat an eye. “This is only because Spanish is among the languages stored in your shuttle's data retrieval system. There are many others. Russian, French, German, Italian…”

“So you've been able to gain access to our comps. That means you've also read everything else that was stored there.” Remembering now that
Galileo
's flight recorder had been automatically backed up by the comps aboard the
Maria Celeste
, he felt uneasy. How much else had the aliens learned about them?

“Correct. Your craft's memory was quite extensive. From our study of it, we were able not only to decipher your languages, but also construct a facsimile of the
Galileo
's hibernation facilities.” The holo spread its hands apart. “As you can see, we were also able to form an image of your political officer, using samples of his voice to duplicate it. Donald Ramon Sinclair, born April 5, 2246, in Mobile, Alabama, Western Hemisphere Union…”

“I believe you.” Ramirez shook his head. “But why go to all the trouble? Why not simply ask me what happened?”

Again another pause. Whoever was controlling this puppet, Ramirez was beginning to realize, was inherently cautious. Indeed, they were probably just as wary of the intruder they were interrogating as he was of them. If not even more so.

“We were unsure of your motives.” Sinclair lowered its hands. “Try to understand our point of view. Your ship made rendezvous with
Shaq-Taaraq
despite warnings transmitted from our starbridge. You sent an exploration team to its surface, again despite warnings to stay away. When we learned of this incursion and dispatched a vessel to investigate, our efforts to communicate were unsuccessful. Your ship launched a missile at us, which our own commander was forced to detonate by remote means in order to protect his vessel…”

“Destroying our ship and crew.” Ramirez couldn't keep the edge from his voice.

“Unfortunate, but not deliberate. We had no way of knowing that it contained a nuclear weapon.” Another pause. “Indeed, that was the first time in several generations that any of our people encountered such a device. The
hjadd
, along with most other members of the
Talus
, banned such instruments of destruction many years ago. It was only fortunate that our ship was adequately shielded. Otherwise, there would have been no survivors of this incident.”

“Who are the
hjadd
?” Ramirez was confused. “I thought you said you were the
Talus
.”

“No. The
hjadd
is my race. My race belongs to the
Talus
.”

“All right, then…so who or what is the
Talus
? Did you construct Spindrift…
Shaq-Taaraq
, I mean?”

Sinclair's ghost became silent. It didn't respond, but simply gazed at him with empty eyes. Again, Ramirez felt thirsty; he regretted having thrown the water glass, for there was no other apparent source of water. Looking around the room, he saw only artifice, nonfunctional and lifeless. How much longer were they going to keep up with this? The interrogation could last for hours, or even days. He had no idea where he was, and no more than a few clues about who his captors were. The
hjadd
? The
Talus
? Words, and not much else…

“Dr. Ramirez?” The hologram suddenly spoke, startling him from his reverie. “Your cooperation in our inquiry has been appreciated. We thank you for your candor.”

“You…you're welcome.” Ramirez licked his dry lips. “I hope that's cleared up a few things.” He hesitated. “May I see the others now…Harker and Collins, I mean?”

“You may, very soon. Yet there is one more question we would like to have answered before you do.”

Relieved, Ramirez let out his breath. “Sure. By all means…”

“According to information stored within your craft's data system, you are a convicted criminal.”

Sinclair's image dissolved, to be replaced by a holographic replica of Ramirez himself. Ramirez recognized the image: it was derived from a full-body scan that had been taken of him when he'd been processed through inmate control at Dolland.

“You were sentenced to life imprisonment in a penal colony on your planet's moon for crimes against humanity,” the pseudo-Ramirez continued, now speaking with his own voice. “To be more precise, you were found guilty of collaboration with a posthuman species, known as the Savants, in a plot that cost the lives of thirty-five thousand members of your own kind and would have resulted in the genocide of…”

“Goddamn you.” Ramirez's voice became a choked whisper. “I know what I did.”

“Yet you were a respected scientist. A renowned leader in the field of astrobiology.” His mirror image, many years younger than he was now, stared back at him with the angry eyes he'd worn that day when he'd been entered prison. “Why would you, someone who believed that intelligent life existed elsewhere in the galaxy, assist in an effort that would inevitably lead to the deaths of so many of your species?”

Ramirez said nothing for a few minutes. He stared down at the floor, wishing that he could take off the
sha
and, standing naked before his own image, repeat the lies that he'd told not only to attorneys and judges, the jury and the press, but also to his friends and family. Yet this cloak he wore, warm as it was, allowed no such subterfuge; its patterns had faded to pale blue, as if awaiting his response.

“My planet was dying,” he began. “Every report I read, every scientific study that crossed my desk, told me that Earth was running out of time. All our resources were exhausted, and our climate had turned against us. We could no longer support a population of nearly ten billion people. Someone would have to…”

He stopped, swallowed. “When the Savants came to me in search of access to vital information, I thought their solution was only hypothetical. Kill off one-third of the planetary population in order for the rest to survive. It was just a matter of numbers, statistics…almost like I was playing a game.”

“Why did they approach you?”

“Because I wanted to join them. Have my consciousness downloaded into a mechanical body, so that I might live forever. I was scared of…” He shook his head. “Never mind. We reached an agreement, so I conducted research, devised pathways that led to various scenarios, presented it to them…”

“And the price for your efforts?” His image stared at him. “What did you expect to receive for your work?”

“Immortality.” Ramirez coughed against the bile that rose in his throat. “I wanted to never die.” His breath rattled from him. “I was so young, so…so stupid.”

“And you now regret your choice?”

Ramirez thought about what he'd found within Spindrift—or
Shaq-Taaraq
, as the
hjadd
called it—and suddenly realized that this question was something he couldn't answer now as he had before, even to himself. He took another breath and went on, knowing that the
sha
would forgive no lies.

“I've seen a million or so beings who've sealed themselves inside an asteroid for God knows how long. I don't know why they did this, but it must have been to stay alive, whatever the cost.” Ramirez looked up at his mirror image. “All my life, I wanted to discover a race out there that was better than my own kind…and when I finally did, it's to find that they tried to avoid the only solution I thought possible.” He forced a grim smile. “So do I have regrets? Yes, I do.”

His image was quiet for a few moments before it finally spoke. “Thank you, Dr. Ramirez. We believe you're ready to continue this conversation with your companions.”

He heard a hollow clunk, and a sigh of escaping air. Glancing to his right, he watched the hatch at the other side of the room open. When he looked back, he was startled to find that Sinclair had reappeared.

“If you will follow me, please,” he said, “I'll take you to them.” The holo turned and began to glide toward the hatch. Although its legs moved, Ramirez noticed that its feet didn't quite touch the floor. “Your questions will soon be answered.”

 

Ramirez expected to find the Deck B corridor on the other side of the hatch. Instead, as Sinclair stepped aside to let him pass, he found himself walking straight into a replica of
Galileo
's library. Apparently the
hjadd
were unaware that the original had been located on another deck entirely; either that, or they simply chose to ignore that detail.

Nonetheless, the resemblance was close enough that, if he'd not known better, he could have sworn that he was back aboard the
Galileo
. Same caged bookshelves, same crystal chandelier, same oak tables and leather chairs. The only differences were that the fireplace was cold, without a simulated fire burning in it, and nothing lay beyond the windows save for dark grey limbo.

Harker was seated in an armchair, peering at a closed book in his hands. He looked up as Ramirez walked in, and quickly rose to his feet. “Jared! Good grief, man…I thought you might be dead!”