The Mothership (18 page)

A moment later Virus appeared in her place.
“Nice ride.”

“It’s an elevator,” Beckman concluded,
realizing they had travelled straight up one level.

Xeno glanced at the four vacant seats.
“Where’s the crew?”

“There isn’t one,” Beckman said. “It’s
either automated, or remotely controlled.”

Xeno was drawn to one of the wall screens
flowing with curling, geometric symbols. They swirled around and
into
the screen in complex patterns that constantly changed. She moved from left to
right, seeing how her shifting perspective moved the symbols relative to each
other. “These displays are three dimensional.”

Beckman glanced at the screen, realizing
the swirling three dimensional turmoil was what he’d found disorienting. The
illusion was so perfect, when he looked into the screen, he lost his capacity
to determine where the screen’s surface was. “Have you seen those characters
before?”

“No, they’re not familiar.” Xeno slipped
out of her backpack and pulled a notebook computer and digital camera from it.
She plugged them together and began recording the wall screen images which the
computer checked against its language database. After a few minutes, she said,
“Not one symbol match. It’s a totally new language.” She glanced at the wall
screen again. “I’ve never seen information displayed like that before.”

“Yeah.” Beckman winced. “It’s a mess. Maybe
it’s broken.”

“It looks chaotic, because it’s so complex
and changes so fast.” She typed some instructions into her computer. “I’ll run
a pattern search. The computer might recognize the structure of it.” Soon the
computer began plotting recurring patterns. “There’s information in the spatial
relationships between the symbols, in the way the symbols change from one shape
to another, as well as in the symbols themselves. They’re using more dimensions
to transmit information than we do.”

“It gives me a headache,” Beckman said,
looking away.

“They must have a talent for multidimensional
thinking,” Xeno said thoughtfully. “Or seeing? Even if we knew what it meant, I
doubt we could process the information fast enough to understand it.”

“Record as much as you can. It’ll keep the
Groom lab rats busy for years trying to figure it out.” Beckman turned to the
two front facing seats. He’d assumed, because of the low ceiling, that the
occupants would be small, but these seats were wider than the average man would
need. “They might be smart, but they’ve got big asses,” he muttered.

Xeno aimed her camera at the seats, being
sure to capture Beckman in the shot as a point of reference. “The physiology is
different to the few species we know about.”

“I guess we can add short, fat-assed aliens
to the list.”

Xeno gave him a reproachful look.

“OK, we’ll call them obese aliens.
Obesians!” Beckman smiled. “Just don’t ask me to sit next to one on a plane.”

“Wow!” Virus exclaimed. He stood staring
down at a panel on the right side of the compartment alive with the same
disorienting three dimensional colors and shapes as the wall screens.

“What happened?” Beckman asked, as Xeno
aimed her video camera at the display.

“I went to touch it,” Virus said, demonstrating
by hovering his hand over the display, “And it just came on. There must be a
proximity sensor somewhere.” He dumped his pack on the ground and slid into the
seat, then moved his hand experimentally over the top of the panel. Nothing
happened. He lowered his hand toward the surface, intending to touch it, but
his fingers passed through into the display’s interior. Suddenly aware of what
he was doing, he pulled his hand out. “Did you see that? I could have sworn it
was solid a minute ago!”

“It was solid,” Beckman said, “Before you
turned it on.”

“I felt something! It was electric and …
oily.” He reached out to try again.

Beckman put his hand on Virus’ shoulder.
“Careful.”

“Major,” Virus said, “We’re not going to
learn how this stuff works by watching pretty light shows.”

Reluctantly, Beckman released his shoulder.
“OK, but take it slow.”

“Yes sir,” Virus said, sliding his hand
into the display toward a glowing yellow helix. “It’s got hold of my hand.” His
eyes widened in wonder. “It’s in my head!” He took a deep breath, as if bracing
himself for what flooded into his mind. “Oh man, there’s way more here than
what you see on the panel.” His fingers touched the helix, changing the
swirling patterns, as if he was drawing his finger through water, then the vehicle
shuddered, the first sense of movement they’d felt since climbing aboard. Virus
immediately withdrew his hand, and the lights returned to their previous
settings. “It’s a power control! I knew what it wanted me to do. It’s like
sculpting. If I change the shape of the helix, by touching it and by
visualizing the change, that changes many settings at once.”

“Is it dangerous?” Beckman asked.

“Doesn’t seem to be.”

“What did you mean, it’s in your head?”
Xeno asked.

“It’s teaching me, not with words, more
like impressions.” He searched for a way to explain it. “There’s a lot I’m not
understanding. It’s using my nervous system to communicate directly with . . .
my brain.” He slid his hand back into the control interface. “I’ll get the hang
of it. I just need a little practice.”

“OK, but don’t run over our people
outside.”

“I’ll try not to,” Virus said as he
cautiously slid his finger tips toward the helix.

Beckman turned to the front control
consoles, passing his hand experimentally over one, testing for a proximity
sensor. The panel flashed on, displaying a perfect three dimensional map of the
region a hundred kilometers across. It showed every hill, escarpment, river,
stream and gully in perfect detail.

“Finally! Something I recognize,” Beckman
said, amazed at the topographical map’s three dimensional detail.

Overlaying the map were four glowing yellow
markers, each trailing a series of red dots which formed four segments of a
partially completed circle. The circle had the Goyder River crash site at its
center, and Beckman realized, the most easterly yellow point represented the
vehicle they rode in. He counted the red dots, guessing they were the deployed
poles, and tried to estimate when the circle would be complete.

“They’re creating a perimeter around the
crash site,” Beckman said, “about fifty kilometers across.”

Xeno turned and filmed the screen in front
of Beckman. “Maybe it’s a giant antennae, and they’re going to call for help.”

“Whatever it is, it’s almost complete,”
Beckman said apprehensively.

“Ugh!” Virus groaned and passed out. His
head flopped forward into the display console, and sank up to his ears.

The vehicle lurched suddenly, almost
knocking Beckman off his feet, then he grabbed Virus and dragged him away from
the display. Virus’ head rolled back, eyes closed and breathing shallowly as
his hands fell away from the display, then the vehicle quietly returned to
autopilot.

Xeno put her camera down and pressed her
fingers against Virus’ throat. “He’s alive, but his pulse is erratic.”

“God damn it!” Beckman knew he shouldn’t
have let Virus experiment with the strange technology. “Let’s get him out of
here.”

Beckman pulled Virus out of the seat and
carried him into the alcove at the rear of the control room. A moment later,
they were in the pole compartment. He hauled Virus halfway to the armature
machine, then lay him on the floor as Xeno appeared at the end of the
compartment carrying Virus’ pack. Beckman slapped Virus’ face gently, trying
unsuccessfully to rouse him. He lifted his eyelids, finding Virus’ eyes had
rolled up, then he thumbed his mike, “Hooper, this is Beckman. Virus is down.
We’ll need help getting out.”

“Roger that, we’re right outside.”

“Have Timer standing by with two shaped
charges, rigged for remote detonation.”

“Understood.”

Xeno gave Beckman a curious look. “You’re
going to destroy this vehicle?”

“No, just buy some insurance.”

Two flexible arms extended from the machine
in the center of the compartment, brought a pole and a crossarm together, then
the wall irised open and the cradle carrying them both slid out. Beckman
dragged Virus to the circular opening and passed him down to Hooper, waiting
below with Timer and Cougar. Once Virus was clear, Xeno dropped the packs down
and climbed out.

Beckman pulled Timer up into the vehicle.
“Put charges on two of those cross arms.”

“You got it,” Timer replied, pulling two
radio controlled explosives from his pack.

Outside, Virus was carried into the trees,
then Xeno retrieved the med kit from her pack and began checking his vitals.
Beckman watched the pole finish sliding into the earth until the cradle
released it, then glanced at Timer who was taking forever to attach the
explosive.

“What’s the hold up?”

Timer shook his head in frustration. “Can’t
attach the C4. No grip. These things are nonmagnetic, nonstick. Got to tie them
on!” He pulled a reel of wire from his pocket and cut a length, then wrapped it
around one of the cross arms. Once the wire was secure, he began attaching the
first explosive package to it.

“How long?”

“Almost got the first one,” Timer said,
tying a knot.

The arm and cradle slid back into the
beetle signaling the circular opening was about to close.

“One will have to do,” Beckman said, wary
of being trapped inside the vehicle. “Get out!”

Timer checked that the first explosive was
secure, then pocketed the second charge. He darted past the cradle as it slid
back towards the machine in the center of the compartment and leapt out.
Beckman dived after him as the hatch began to iris shut. They landed heavily on
the artificial surface near the newly planted pole while the beetle began
creeping forward again toward its next delivery point.

“Should I blow it now?”

“No.” Beckman said, dusting himself off as
he climbed to his feet. “Set up a radio relay. Put your detonator close enough
to blow the charge, but rigged so we can radio detonate it from twenty-five
clicks away.”

Timer looked confused. “That’ll take most
of my radio detonators.”

“Understood,” Beckman said as he headed to
where Xeno was attending Virus, silently watched by the rest of the team. The
communications specialist’s skin was pale, his body trembled and his eyes
fluttered as if he was dreaming intensely.

“He’s in shock,” Xeno said. “There’re no
physical injuries, but we need to get him to a hospital.”

“There’s no possibility of evac.” Beckman
said. “Even if a chopper was available, it would probably be shot down. We’ll
carry him. Rig a stretcher.”

Tucker produced his bowie knife, and began
cutting branches from nearby trees for stretcher poles.

* * * *

While Xeno tended
Virus and the others prepared his stretcher, Markus slipped silently away to
the edge of the spongy road. He checked no one was following him, then used the
tiny digital camera mounted above the LCD screen to photograph the beetle and
the pole-like device in the center of the road. Markus knew sending pictures
would extend the burst transmission time, but he decided the building of a
permanent construction had implications the assessment team at Langley needed
to consider.

He slid out the small keyboard and typed
rapidly, describing the photographs:

Ground vehicle constructing perimeter.

Purpose unknown.

When finished, he extended the
transmitter’s antenna, preparing to transmit.

“What are you doing?” Laura asked.

Markus turned slowly toward her, shielding
the transceiver with his body. She stood a few meters away, watching him
curiously. He wondered how she’d gotten so close without him hearing her approach.
“Taking a last look at that machine. That is what I do, you know.”

“What’s that thing?”

Markus hid his irritation with a smile.
“Spy stuff,” he said, ceasing any attempt to hide the transceiver. “I could
tell you what it is, but then I’d have to kill you,” he joked, then added,
“It’s a communications device, simple as that.” Markus glanced back through the
trees, ensuring none of the military team were in sight.

“I’m alone. Should I be worried?”

“Not because of me.” He said, then hit the
transceiver’s send button. “I’m going to have to ask you not to mention this to
the others.”

Laura gave him a doubtful look. “Why should
I agree to that?”

“Do you want to see your husband again,
alive?” This time his tone was serious.

She sobered. “Of course!”

“Then you need to trust me.” He kept his
eyes on the LCD screen until the acknowledgement came back from the DSD team to
the south, indicating the signal strength had dropped to eighty-two percent due
to the increased distance separating them.