Chapter 17
So this was it, this was actually it. Everything over the last several weeks had been building to this point. I was about to find some answers to my impossible number of questions. The feeling of anticipation was building in me like a corked and shaken champagne bottle. I couldn’t decide whether I wanted to run in through the airlock, find the Rain Man, and blurt my heart out in one continuous, adrenaline-rushed snap; or whether I wanted to take things slowly and ever so carefully, maybe even reach out to catch the Commander’s hand and face this together.
My nerves were making me skittish, making my gait uneven and uncoordinated as we walked through a massive corridor. The hall before me was wide enough to park a small cruiser in and sufficiently long that I couldn’t see what lay in store for me at the other end. I was glad the Commander was several steps ahead; I didn’t want him to see me lumbering about like I’d been drugged. He already had enough reason to find me less engaging and capable than a scoop of space dust.
The corridor, fortunately, had its distractions. It was lined with art. With actual framed paintings, photos, and holophotos. They were of the most vivid, intricate, alien landscapes I could imagine. A two-meter-long painting of a double moonscape over the water planet Isis almost had me draw to a halt to contemplate its amazing color. The blues and grays made me feel as if I were standing in front of an active, billowing cloud. There was a holophoto of the great ravines and canyons of Acaria – a bare, rocky planet famed for its over mining and deadly cliffs. I felt like I was falling into some dark chasm just by walking past.
There was even a photo of Earth in there – an actual 2D, Old Earth standard photo from some time way distant. It was in black and white and showed the sunrise over some pyramids in a desert somewhere. I’d never seen anything like it, and if it weren’t for the two humans standing in the foreground of the photo, I wouldn’t have been able to place its origin.
Even as I walked, and every piece of art seemed to engage my senses like a blast of rain-soaked air, I still felt the nerves coalesce and climb within me. They mounted faster as I saw the sheer extent of the Rain Man’s ability to collect. If he had photos from Old Earth, what information might he have on my people? Could I hope for the same? Might he have a picture, a book, an object – even a holomovie?
I felt the anticipation in my face most of all – in the fullness of my nostrils as I sucked in each breath, in the tingling heat of my cheeks, in the stretch of my eyes as they opened fully.
We came to the end of the corridor. It opened up before us into a great circular room with a massive, domed ceiling. Though the room was amazing – this great orb, with curved walls packed completely with books of all shapes and sizes, data files, and holodiscs – my eyes skipped straight to the ceiling. It was a star chart. Except it wasn’t at the same time. It wasn’t some lifeless 2D painting of the stellar map of the Milky Way. Nor was it some cheap rendering of a huge holoimage plastered across the entire dome above. No, it was alive. It shifted and moved, pulsed and throbbed like it was the belly of some great creature that was made out of the stars themselves.
I couldn’t describe it, couldn’t understand what it was or where it came from. It was engaging, enthralling – like standing outside in space, seeing all its wonder, all the stars, constellations, gaseous nebulas – all at once. The colors were sharp, vivid like I could taste them on my tongue, roll them around until their sweet tang left me wanting no other food ever again.
My head had dropped back, my eyes completely locked on the ceiling above. I couldn’t help it; this was amazing!
That’s when I felt the Commander’s flexible, armor-covered hand gently drop onto the back of my head and push tenderly until my face came back to the vertical.
He looked amused, I noted with a reflexive dimple of my chin. I must have looked like an idiot gawking up like that. Who knows, my jaw had probably dropped open, and I’d started drooling on the ground.
“It’s a 5th Generation Star Gazer. It’s a sped-up version of the galaxy – shows the evolution of stars and nebulas from collated telescopic images from various races, various points of the Milky Way.” He pointed up to a device visible under the heavy blanket of stars. “It’s expensive stuff but nothing that fancy. We use the same technology in our Cartography room. It was developed by the Hantari, and it’s pretty cool technology. It allows us to have real-time estimates of the—”
I looked sideways at him, the fact he’d lost me as obvious as a forty-foot sign painted in neon green. “Oh, that’s—”
His chin wavered, and for a second I thought he’d break into one of his unnatural half-smiles again. He chuckled and shrugged. “I guess you don’t actually care about that. It still looks amazing, right?”
“Right,” I confirmed emphatically.
“That being said, you might want to look sharp, because our host is in this room.” Jason returned his expression to neutral, clasped his hands before him, and stood up until he looked the perfect picture of a capable GAM Commander while all I could do was press my lips in and let the flush take to my face like a soldering laser to a hull breach. I’d been gawking at the ceiling in front of the Rain Man – one of the most mysterious and knowledgeable races in the Galaxy. That being said, where was he?
I carefully pivoted my neck, peered this way and that while trying to maintain a ramrod position. Honestly, where was this guy? I couldn’t see a massive, tentacled alien cataloging the books, or some tall, scant apparition wafting up amongst the stars. Was the Commander having me on?
I went to step forward, to turn, to get a better look around me, but the Commander had a hand on my arm quicker than I could blink. It was firm enough to lock me in place.
“Don’t move,” he hissed quickly. “You have to watch where you’re putting your feet.”
I looked at him in complete confusion and shock then glanced toward my feet once he pointed a black-clad finger down.
There was a bug. No, more like an ant. It was blue and looked slightly larger than your average ant, with an opalescent exoskeleton that caught the light in a pretty way. Granted, this ant appeared to be staring up at me, but he was still an ant.
I flicked my gaze back to the Commander who was still holding my arm a tad too tightly. “What—” I began.
“Rain Man,” he mouthed. Carefully, he let go of my arm, and, checking behind him with a sharp sweep of his head, stepped backward. “Thank you for agreeing to my request,” he said, voice booming.
That was the Rain Man? He was a blue ant?
I stared down at the tiny creature, waiting for it to puff out its small chest and squeak back a polite welcome. I had seen a couple of things working in the diner, but never itty-bitty ants that were meant to hold the wisdom of races.
I tried not to look rude, tried not to let my eyes bulge – but seriously, I was waiting for an ant to talk back.
Talk he didn’t. He scuttled off right between Jason’s feet, causing the Commander to stiffen and track the creature with quick flicks of his eyes. I didn’t blame him – we were going to have a hell of a time trying not to squash our host if he was going to charge our shoes like a raging bull.
I expected the ant to patter off to the center of the room, maybe climb up onto some piece of furniture so he could be assured that the clumsy humans didn’t sit on him. He kept moving – shot straight past everything until he dived into a bookshelf, squeezing right between the spines of some dust-free tomes.
I looked at the Commander, too polite to ask out loud what on Earth was going on but hoping he picked up my implicit question, anyway.
“Watch,” he mouthed. He straightened up even further, shifted his shoulders and hips until they were in perfect alignment.
So I watched. The ant popped back out and stood there for a bit. Then another ant popped out from behind a neat row of data pads on a different shelf. Then, on a shelf housing stacks of holodiscs, several more ants appeared.
Then there were thousands of them. Fro
m every single nook and cranny, between every single page and data pad – ants came scuttling down the shelves. It was a sea of tiny, pattering blue.
I fought the urge to leap back – my body prickling with a surge of fear at such an uncommon, freakish sight. The Commander wasn’t shifting; he wasn’t heading for his gun or running down the corridor as he screamed about the insanity of it all.
So I swallowed hard and stood my ground.
The ants started to mass in the center of the room until, to my continued disbelief, they started to climb each other. I’d never ever seen anything like this before. The ants were jumping up on top of each other, forming pillars, trunks until eventually they merged into one.
The Commander watched, his expression still neutral but his eyes darting to take in every detail. He didn’t look overwhelmed by it, didn’t look that bothered. Hell, he probably saw things like this every other day. It was only me that was finding this strange, finding this jaw-droopingly insane. I’d never seen shape-forming ants in the diner – I couldn’t even imagine how I would go about serving one a Star Duster cocktail.
The ants started to move as a coordinated whole, standing on top of each other until the shape they formed looked human. It was like a big, blue, spotty human who was staring back at me. They’d even formed the indents of eyes, the line of a mouth that opened like real lips, even two nostrils that flared like they were breathing in air.
“We only accepted to meet you because you brought us valuable data,” it said, if the noises that issued from its mouth could ever be referred to as words, that was. It was a sound made up of the tiny voices of each ant until they combined to one steady pitch.
Every single hair on my body stood more erect than a regimental soldier before the Central President herself.
“She is not data,” the Commander rebuked, voice harsh. “May I remind you that you were legally bound by Central law to accept my—”
“She is the last of her race, last of The People – she is data. Her story is data; her history is data; her future is data. We will collect it.”
Okay, so now I wanted to run. All my anticipation had flown out the airlock when the eight-foot-tall human ant-creature had started referring to me as a simple set of facts and figures. I tried to suck it in, to keep it together, but I found myself edging toward the Commander in the hope he could hide me from the creature’s gaze.
“I understand your culture finds no qualms in referring to living beings as data – just as I understand that you know our culture does. We do not refer to ourselves as objects, and neither should you when you address us.” The Commander crossed his arms and stared evenly at the blue ant-man.
The Rain Man didn’t have an expression – how could it? Perhaps each and every ant that made it up was staring back in mock horror, but the humanoid creation before me was as still and even as a cloudless sky.
“We understand your conditions and accept them for the terms of this meeting. We will exchange verbal information; we will not exchange data.”
The Commander didn’t roll his eyes, but I could tell he was close. “We have some questions to ask you.” Jason cleared his voice abruptly. “I have some questions regarding an official GAM inquiry.”
“You will go first; we will go second.” The Rain Man’s mouth actually moved as he spoke in perhaps the eeriest attempt at feigned speech since Old Earth ventriloquist dolls. “You will not ask – she will ask.”
The Commander blustered – his chest popped out that little bit more, his head ticking to the side. “Perhaps you didn’t hear me—”
“We heard. Her questions are more interesting; yours are dead and will bore us.”
The Commander put up a hand, ready to stop traffic or distract the Rain Man as he went for his gun. “That’s not how this is going to work. I need to—”
“Her needs are acuter. But we acknowledge your rules and your tenacity. You can ask one question.”
The Commander clicked his neck from side-to-side – either in a move of intimidation, or pure physical frustration at the blunt, impossible answers of the Rain Man.
“We will go into the Main Chamber,” the Rain Man continued without waiting for the Commander’s answer. “We will have privacy; we understand the GAM value a secret.”
The Commander slowly let out a breath. It was apparent that he had conceded.
The Rain Man turned to move, and it was horrifically fascinating to watch. Bits of him lagged behind as the rest of him stretched off in the direction they were all meant to be heading. Somehow, it maintained its form, lurching from side-to-side as it led the Commander out of the room. “You will have use of the Assistant Librarian,” the Rain Man called out as it headed off.
It took me a while to realize he was talking to me. “Wh—” I began. I didn’t like the sounds of an “Assistant Librarian.” The head librarian was already one of the freakiest things I’d ever seen; I sure couldn’t stomach being left alone in a room with his sidekick.
Before I could squeeze out the rest of my question, a simple hologram popped up in the center of the room. It was a line to begin with – a blue string of lights floating in the air. With a ping, it started to shift shape. “Analysis complete, primarily human life form identified – switching to Standard English and generic humanoid form.”
Sure enough, a fairly standard hologram of a human appeared in front of me.
It was an AI program, I realized with a relieved sigh. I’d dealt with these before – they were standard; we even had one on the station that operated as a tour guide.
“What is the human’s question?”
I relaxed, letting my stance soften, feeling the blood go back to my legs. “Ah, where am I?” I asked for no apparent reason. I mean, I knew where I was.
“You are on board the Registered Heavy Cruiser Raining, docked at—”
“Um, never mind,” I cut in before the thing could fill me in on our exact geo-location. Who knew how much time I had with this thing? And who knew how much information it could unlock for me?
I cast around for a question – a good question. “What… what information do you have on a race called The People?”
“We have 409,899 recorded references to the galactic race known as The People. Accessing files—”
“No, no! Ah, do you know what…. ah, do you know what….” I was choking. This was my big moment, and I was choking. I couldn’t think of a single question that wouldn’t end with this AI going off on some commentary of galactic proportions.
“Does the human require a suggested question?”
“Yes.” I leaped upon the suggestion like it was a rope thrown to me as I drowned in a storm. “Yes, the human does require this.”
“In referencing The People, I suggest the human begins with a succinct summary of their history, culture, origins, achievements—”
“Yes, yep – that sounds good.” I had to hurry things along; I couldn’t wait for this thing to take an hour to push out a single sentence.
“The People are one of the oldest sentient races in the known Universe. Their exact evolutionary beginnings are unknown, and due to the disappearance of all extant People, or any remainder of their genetic heritage – it is a secret unlikely to ever be answered. However, after undertaking a lengthy cross analysis of all available references to The People, their technology, and their fate across all galactic races – a vague history can be plotted.”
“Okay,” I said for the simple purpose of breaking up the thing’s block-like explanations. This wasn’t anything new – I knew all this already. Well, everything except the bit about there being no remainder of their genetic heritage. I was pretty sure there was a striking example of The People’s lineage standing right in this room – but I wasn’t about to put my hand up to the AI and tell it when it was wrong. “Continue.”
“It seems likely that The People possessed not only remarkable intelligence, enabling them to develop and adapt technology at speed, but sensory organs otherwise non
-existent among the other races of the galaxy. With a peculiar adaptation to their ocular organ, The People had an overdeveloped ability to perceive light. Due to the sensory and analytical resources that their brains would use to process such an ability – it is estimated that light would have played a central position within their culture. As smell is paramount to an Earth species of dog; and sound, via vibration, is the primary sensory function of Earth snakes; the perception of light would have been the main adaptive advantage of The People.”
I blinked at the sudden and overwhelming gush of information. So, we had a strange ability to see light? I kind of already knew that, though not in so many words. Still, the hair along my arms was starting to stand on end as an uneasy feeling spread through my gut.
“It is upon this assumed fact that the history of The People has been estimated,” the AI continued. “As occurs within any race that achieves a certain level of technology, intelligence, and environmental dominance – the conquering of life’s challenges would have led to the introspective analysis of the meaning of existence. Such an analysis, based on The People’s peculiar evolutionary traits, may have resulted in their concluding that light is the spiritual source of existence.”
“The spiritual source of existence?” I parroted, almost in the same tone of voice the AI used. “What does that mean?”
“Creative source, the force behind reality, the underlying origin and structure of the universe, the point from where all things began, and the point to which all things return, the—”
“Okay, so but light?”
“Yes, based on our calculations, this is what we believe The People would have—”
“Never mind, continue.” It was like a torrent down my body now – this shifting, wavering, flowing awkwardness that set my stomach to stone. I felt… I… did I want to know this? Wait, of course I did. So why was I having such a strange, ominous feeling?
“While the above is conjecture, one thing is known for certain about The People – they sought enlightenment. With all their technological, scientific, and intellectual skills – The People set about achieving the final goal in adaptation to existence. Based on their fascination with light – it is through this medium they considered the ultimate.” The AI never paused for breath, of course, and could keep going until I was long dead.
I needed time to analyze what it was saying – to take it all in. They wanted enlightenment? Was this AI right? Was that the sole, driving force of my people? What about the Twixts? Weren’t The People, in a way, honor-bound to fight them – to keep the scourge at bay? Why hadn’t they been mentioned yet?
My unease started to grow until I virtually had to clutch my stomach to keep it all in.
“Does the human wish to continue this line of questioning?” The AI changed its tone, sounding worried for me. “I have detected an elevated pulse, increased respiration, and galvanic skin response indicating—”
“I’m okay,” I whispered, touched by the computer’s programmed compassion. A part of me wanted it to keep on talking. Yet the other part of me didn’t want to know another word.
“You wish for me to continue?”
“I want you to—” For a moment that stretched on to eternity and back, I didn’t know what I’d choose. I didn’t understand the well of feelings inside of me. I wanted more than anything to run away. I equally knew that I couldn’t pass up this opportunity. Everything I had done in the past several weeks had led to this point. Everything I had become, even everyone I’d met – everything counted on me sticking this through, on finding out what the Twixts were and how to fight them.
I steeled myself with several steady breaths.
“Perhaps,” the AI cut in before I could finish grounding myself to resume our talk, “The human would like to temporarily switch to an associated topic?”
“Umm, ahh, I—” I could hardly think straight, let alone give a straight answer to the AI. What was happening to me? Had the Rain Man pumped dumb gas into the chamber, or had I reverted to a pathetic, overly emotional child?
“There are approximately 306 associated topics that I believe would be of especial interest to you, human. If you request, I could choose a random topic or analyze which I believe to be of the most rel—”
“I don’t mind,” I said quickly, happy I could do more than stutter, “just pick one.” I meant it. It might give me time to think, to reassess, to calm myself. God knows I needed time to readjust. At least if I were listening to an “Associated topic of interest,” it would still constitute as doing research on my people and the Twixts.
“I have chosen a topic which I believe to be of especial interest to the human.”
I wasn’t even going to ask how the AI had done that, but it had better not be something along the lines of “Relaxation techniques for the easily frightened.”
“The Dark Rift is an anomaly in a distant system – a massive spatial disruption caused by an unknown source that makes space travel in that area completely impossible. Even long-range sensors cannot penetrate the rift. Some believe it is the distortion created between two massive stars – though this cannot account for the sheer peculiarity of the anomaly. It is considered a No Go Zone (NGZ) by the GAMs – who maintain a general alert status concerning the Dark Rift – warning all space travelers not to get within a parsec of the system’s boundary.”
Well, that had been distracting. Interesting too, but what it had to do with The People or the Twixts, I didn’t know. Perhaps the AI was going to plumb me with bizarre and kooky galactic facts until it believed I was calm enough to continue. There was going to be a finite amount of “System Alpha Banta contains an estimated 10 trillion tons of space dust, yadda, yadda, yadda” that I could take before becoming too bored to worry. Not that this Dark Rift place didn’t sound interesting. But the galaxy was packed with NGZs – strange anomalies, tricky places to navigate, supernovas – all sorts of spatial peculiarities. After a while, they didn’t become that interesting anymore. So why did the AI think this one was?
“It has a place in galactic myth – some believing that it is the source of advanced technology. The legend tells that if someone were capable of making it past the initial disruptive force of the rift, they would be able to claim enough advanced technology to completely overcome the space-faring races of the galaxy. Hantari traders have their own version of the legend – a far darker one. They hold that the Dark Rift is the vanguard of galactic destruction. Somewhat akin to the human myth of Damocles’ sword, the Dark Rift is the reminder of the cost of power. An ancient race said to have reached the highest pinnacle of evolution tore itself to pieces in the quest for the final step – enlightenment. The Dark Rift is what they left behind. According to the Hantari, these creatures still battle on within the anomaly. The rift’s size and disruptive pull can be used to indicate who is winning – and what the likely fate of the galaxy will be. All galactic races have some theory on the End Time – the destruction of our Universe – the Hantari believe it will come to hand inside the Dark Rift itself.”
“End Time?” I said, not capable of containing myself. It was such a final phrase. An ancient race fighting amongst itself smack bang in the middle of a massive spatial anomaly? An ancient race that happened to be searching for enlightenment, that happened to have advanced technology. It couldn’t be….
I don’t think my heart was beating anymore, just grounding to a halt in one final flutter. I managed to get my mouth open. “It’s not… it’s not the ancient race… is it supposed to be—”
“Yeah, The People.”
I jumped a mile and turned to see the Commander striding back into the room. He gave me a curious, worried look at my overreaction. “It’s a myth, though, just some silly tale.”
“So the Dark Rift isn’t there?” I said, voice barely above a whisper – far more like the hush of sand on glass.
“No.” He walked over to me and stood, watching the floating AI, arms crossed as usual. “It’s there, alright. It’s a
n NGZ, and for a damn good reason. You go within a parsec of that thing, and it will rip any ship to shreds. The rest of that story is about as likely as the universe being made out of chocolate cows.”
I couldn’t help but give a quick laugh at that, though my unease settled back as soon as the humor had left.
The AI was watching us both, shifting its head to follow whoever was talking, copying the actions of a real person. But it wasn’t a real person; it was an artificial intelligence belonging to some computer. It could mimic compassion, empathy, maybe even warmth. How about cunning, foresight, wisdom? Why had it chosen to tell me about the Dark Rift out of all the possible topics at its disposable? Was it possible that it could have something to do with The People, with the Twixts?
“The human is sufficiently calm and supported to continue our original discussion.” The AI fixed its gaze on mine again, though it turned briefly to the Commander when it said the word “Supported.”
I closed my eyes quickly, squished up my cheeks, and let the hot goo of embarrassment trickle over me. Great, another reason for the Commander to think I’m a pathetic idiot. But there wasn’t going to be much time to wallow in this feeling; whatever the AI was going to say next would break me.
“We ended our previous discussion on the note that The People had applied themselves to gaining enlightenment.”
The Commander was looking at the AI, eyebrows cocked, arms crossed, and body a general lump of disbelieving.
“An interesting correspondence occurs between The People’s term for enlightenment and the Standard English Human term that this report denotes. Both have the same function, the same context, and the same root words as their base – light. Reference to this word assumes the total end-state of a being’s spiritual evolution in both cultures. Such a coincidence has been used to suggest that enlightenment is a shared ending for all intelligent forms of life.”
“Shared ending for all life?” the Commander interrupted. “That’s a bit presumptuous. What kind of evidence do you have to back up such a wide sweeping—”
“I have both evidence at, and beyond, your comprehension.” The AI’s voice was neutral. “To go into them would be to digress from this current topic. The validity of my assertions on enlightenment can be assessed once our original discussion is complete.”
The Commander didn’t interrupt again but did look my way as he and rolled his eyes obviously.
“I will continue,” the AI said, once again toneless and to the point. “It is with the term enlightenment that we can truly elucidate the historical fall of The People. Within their race, there appears to be a schism between what successful enlightenment entails. Is it the process of capturing the light, encasing it, containing it within oneself, so that one is always in possession of it? Or is it the ability to enlighten – the capacity to spread light, to give it, to bring it to others?”
Now the unease spread through me like wildfire through the dry grass of summer. It was picking at my stomach, pulling apart the soft, tender flesh as if some great vulture had descended upon me from the heavens. I swallowed, careful not to let the Commander see my tight, white lips.
“Gaps in data unfortunately do not allow us to map how this schism played out or even what percentage of The People’s population believed in either view. However, if the analysis is widened to include the Twixts, a probable outcome can be assumed. Based on the sum of existing data on the Twixts – gathered from Kroplin, Crag, Hantari and archaeological sources – it is clear their origin is linked with the disappearance of The People in this galaxy. Extrapolating from the known nature of their spirituality and the fact that The People are the only known race capable of seeing the Twixts – it is highly probable that they share an origin.”
I slowly, carefully traced a strand of my fringe, tucking it behind an ear. The Commander was looking at me; I could feel his gaze like a hot breath on my cheek. I couldn’t look his way; the AI transfixed me. What was this thing saying? Shared origins? Did it mean we came from the same system, the same planet even?
“This report concludes that the Twixts are The People, or those who chose to gain enlightenment through a process of trapping light within. Based on the assumptions and extrapolations made, we can be forty-nine percent sure of this conclusion.”
I leaned back, except there was nothing behind me. So I stumbled, shifted on my feet, wavered until I found my balance again. That news had shaken me – like an earthquake to my core. “We’re Twixts?” I asked as softly as my breath would come. “Oh god, I’m one of them? My People? We created them?”
Jason uncrossed his arms and stood closer to me until I could make out the worried grooves on his forehead like they were dark chasms in the ground below my feet. “Or it’s a convenient story.”
I looked at him, tried to maintain his intense gaze, but I couldn’t, and I turned to the side. “How could you say that? I’ve learned that what I came from – that who I am… that we created the Twix—”
“That’s not who you are. You’re standing in front of me right now, and I don’t see any Twixts, I don’t see any People – I don’t see anything but you. You are what you make yourself – the decisions you take and the ones yet to come – not where you’ve come from. Trust me, because I’ve learned this the hard way – it doesn’t matter who your parents were, the choices they made – all that matters is what you choose to do now.”
I was hot, my skin itching and tight like I was buried under hot desert sand. I couldn’t take this news. I couldn’t take it. I hadn’t even found my People, hadn’t even obtained a weapon – only to discover that my cause was not as I’d assumed. That my trail wasn’t as blazing, as glorified, as black and white as I’d hoped.
I’d gone from being the innocent waitress thrust into some impossible but noble situation, to being the one entity alive who shared the heritage and responsibility of those who created the Twixts. That made me the most responsible person in the Milky Way – the only existing person for anyone to blame.
I tried to put a hand on my chest, tried to ground myself – but I was too flighty, too overcome.
“Hey.” Jason stepped in again, concern rumpling his brow.
I stepped back. I wanted to disappear.
“Hey, keep it together.” He grabbed both of my arms above the elbows. His grip wasn’t dangerous, just firm enough to stop my arms from flailing. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay. You can’t believe this thing. I still don’t think the Twixt exist—” he began.
He must have seen the flash of desperation in my eyes – how could he still not believe in the Twixts?
He swallowed, his jaw shifting down, lips opening to reveal clamped teeth. “It doesn’t matter. Even if they do exist, this isn’t enough to confirm that. This information is too sketchy, just too many assumptions. The AI said itself that this was half-conjecture – half-guesses.”
“It makes so much sense.” I could barely even hear my own voice.
He shook his head. “Sense? Are you telling me that some long-dead alien race created a creature that lives between dimensions because they couldn’t agree on what enlightenment meant? That doesn’t make sense – none of this does. So how can it make sense to let this affect you?”
“We know—” I began, my lips limp as I tried to push my words out, my body feeling like it would collapse under me.
“We don’t know anything, not for sure.”
“I disagree,” the Rain Man said from the door, deeming to join us. “It is clear from the numerous references to the Twixts throughout this galaxy, and the technology and information that The People themselves left behind, that both these creatures exist.”
I felt the gaze of the Rain Man, or the million creatures that made him up, like lasers slicing through my skin. I could tell every part of him was watching me, observing, collecting data, waiting to see what would happen next.
Maybe Jason could see that too, because he whirled toward the door, expression twisted with a darker rage than I’
d ever seen before. “You set her up,” each word was slow and heavy and sounded like he squeezed it through a locked, clenched jaw. “You wanted her to ask the wrong questions, get the wrong answers – all so you’d come back into the room and see how she would react.”
“Yes,” the Rain Man answered flatly. “It fascinates us.”
The Commander was way past crossing his arms to show his displeasure. Both his hands were by his sides, arms straight and rigid. He was pumping his black, armor-covered fists one by one. “You know, to our culture, that’s profoundly insulting.”
“Yes. Though, the insult is worth the information we have gathered and will continue to gather.”
I couldn’t keep my eyes off the Commander’s hands as they stretched out and pulled back into tight, tight fists. It was the only distraction I had from the whirlpool of anxiety building within me. The news that my People were also the Twixts was smothering me, drowning me, all but killing me on the spot.
“You also know that manipulating a GAM investigation—”
“We didn’t manipulate it. We answered your question to our full knowledge. We confirmed your version of events, confirmed the existence of the creatures you call the Twixts. We even showed you their true origin – a fact few beings in this galaxy share. We gained from the experience as well – as all do in the exchange of information. We learned of the emotional reaction the last descendent of The People had upon hearing of her shared origins with the Twixts. This is invaluable—”
“This is a game. A disgusting game. Don’t think that because you hold diplomatic Central citizenship, that it gives you the right to play with people’s lives.”
“We have not broken any laws.” The Rain Man cocked its head to the side in a grotesque movement that looked more like the thing would fall off and hit the floor, exploding into a sea of ants. “You know this, but your reaction interests us. It is other than what we would have expected from someone of your apparent emotional control and someone of your rank also. Perhaps you have feelings for—”
“Perhaps I have common decency,” the Commander said, voice quicker and far harsher than a clap of thunder by your ear. “We’re leaving.” He turned to me and nodded toward the door.
“I do not believe that is wise. There is more that we can learn from one another.” The Rain Man, thankfully, returned its head to the vertical.
“There’s nothing more you can learn from us.” The Commander uncrossed his arms and turned to walk off.
“There is far more she needs to know, far more she must learn before she can do what it is that history tells us she must.”
I frowned at the Rain Man’s overly complex statement. I got the gist. He didn’t want us to go; he wanted to tell me more. What more could there possibly be? What would I learn next? That The People were also the origin of all sickness in the galaxy, of all disease, of all famine, poverty, and plague? They had already unleashed one unforgivable curse on the Milky Way, how could I hope they didn’t have more skeletons in the closet?
“Like I said,” the Commander didn’t turn back but didn’t keep marching off, either, “This game is over. Mini?” Jason turned to face me. “Mini, let’s go.”
I stood there, wavering, balance faltering. “What if it can tell me more? I can’t leave, not when the last thing I’ve found out is that my people are the Twixts!”
Jason steadied himself, took a breath, and marched my way. “Some information is not worth getting.”
The Rain Man hissed. I imagine to the Rain Main that was the greatest insult of all.
“Sometimes,” Jason drew to a halt beside me and placed a hand on the back of my shoulder, “You have to turn around and leave before you know all the facts.”
“You investigate things, collect information for the GAM. You wouldn’t walk away if this were some mission—”
“Yes, I would. Knowing when to leave is what separates an idiot from a success.”
His words struck me. I half-closed my eyes and nodded. “… Okay, let’s go.”
He curled his lips into a faint smile and turned to walk by my side, placing himself firmly between the Rain Man and me.
“You cannot leave,” the Rain Man said. “There is too much to learn.”
“We’re going,” the Commander said, tone twisting with anger.
“Not yet, not yet,” the Rain Man said. He was almost whistling, but I realized it wasn’t a whistle, just the high-pitched hysteria of a million ants all clamoring their displeasure at once.
I shifted closer to Jason as I walked, the sound of the Rain Man’s voice making me itch like hundreds of ants were crawling all over me at once, head to foot in a frantic frenzy.
“You must stay!” the Rain Man tried one final time before Jason and I had reached the door leading out into the corridor beyond.
Jason put a hand on my back and pushed me along faster.
“We hadn’t wanted to do this.” The Rain Man’s voice filtered in from the other room, all distorted and keening. “But you leave us no choice.”
Jason snapped his head around. “Did you threaten a GAM officer?” he called off down the hall, voice booming like a rocket blasting past my ear.
I felt trickles of fear snake across my skin. It was an empty threat, right? There wasn’t anything the Rain Man could do to us, right? I mean, Jason was here; he was a Commander; he still had his gun. How would the rain man attack, anyway?
I shivered on the spot as a horrible image filled my mind. Hundreds, thousands, millions of ants all running at us at once – covering the Commander and me, pulling us to the ground.
“Jason, let’s go.” I was aware I’d called the Commander by his first name, but it didn’t matter. I wanted to get out of here right now.
“You go ahead.” Jason nodded toward the corridor that led to the airlock. “I’ll have one more word with our host. It’s a crime to threaten a GAM officer.”
I pleaded with him, not with my words but with every movement of my eyes, my hands, my whole body.
“You’ll be alright,” he nodded, “Go.”
I didn’t care if I’d be alright; I didn’t want him to go back in there alone with that thing. Who knew what the Rain Man would subject the Commander to, all in the quest for more information?
I didn’t get a chance to throw out a hand and yank the Commander back; he turned and marched away before I even finished my thoughts.
I wavered on the spot, not sure of whether to follow him or follow his orders. So I didn’t move, just stood there staring at one of the paintings in the hall, trying so hard to figure out what I should—
There was a strange noise, loud enough to shake through the floor of the ship and up through my feet. It hadn’t come from the main room, that I could tell. I was sure it wasn’t possibly the rumble of Jason giving the Rain Man what for. No, it had come from outside the ship.
I looked up and along the corridor, up toward where the airlock stood at the other end of the hall.
The airlock was opening; I could see the cracks of artificial light streaming in from behind it. There were figures, or at least I thought I could make out shapes – but it was so far away.
Were those the Commander’s men, maybe? Had they come to check on his safety as a welcome cavalry to finish our battle and take us home again?
The figures walked down the hallway quickly.
It was when the first one raised all three of his guns in all three of his hands that I realized they weren’t GAM. Only Tarian Mercs have three arms – one to shoot you with, one to hold you, and one to punch.
The Tarian leveled his gun and fired.