Meru, p.22
Meru, page 22
The next day, Jayanthi found herself irritable and achy with a pall of doom cast over the world. Pamir rose into the violet-hued morning, bright and clear, but clouds obscured her thoughts. What right did she have to be optimistic about anything? She’d come to Meru hoping to accomplish something worthwhile, and barely two months into her stay, she wandered alone, without proper food or shelter, in a desperate search for a way to communicate off-planet. She had no idea what she was doing, and she’d be lucky to get through this alive. Who did she think she was, an alloy? She couldn’t dynamically change her gene expression, she wasn’t born with any enhancements, and nobody would expect her to survive for long.
Yet she trudged ahead, forcing herself to put one foot in front of the other. Within thirty minutes, she had to stop for an analgesic. Once it took effect, she continued to follow the bright-green line she’d drawn the day before. Not a speck of life in any direction. Just rocks and sand and more rocks. She knew on an intellectual level that all matter had some amount of consciousness, woven with the quantum fabric of reality that humans couldn’t sense. Conscious didn’t mean alive, though, and her instincts screamed that Meru was dead, dead, dead. Nothing moved of its own accord. No speck of green or blue touched the landscape. Her little Earth-based primate brain knew the inherent hostility of her environment even if she didn’t want to admit it.
She made a deal with herself: she’d walk until she reached the shiny thing. If it turned out to be water, she’d refill her bladder and head back to the camp. She couldn’t handle days more of wandering like this with no guarantee of finding the construct. What if it had left the planet? What if it had been affected by the same thing that had incapacitated Vaha and Kaliyu? She could search until she died of exposure and never find it. Maybe you should have thought of that before striking out. Maybe you’re too much of a human to handle anything on your own.
She passed a mound of giant boulders and saw the glint again. Now she could also make out smaller reflections sprinkled around a large central one. Puddles? Some shiny metal sensors in the rocks?
The land sloped downward from where she stood. Boulders dotted the ground, thrusting up from the surface like the fingers of a tawny giant. Based on the scale of the ones around her, her target couldn’t be more than half of Vaha’s size. That would be a very small body of water. She picked her way through narrow, sandy pathways that threaded between the iron-laced formations. Every so often, she’d scramble up a slab of rock and reorient herself. With each view, her steps gained strength and speed. The object in question was definitely not made of water.
She encountered a small six-legged construct first. The little one came up to her waist, its multisegmented body sprouting a variety of sensors. It danced away from her, then beckoned with one leg in a very human follow me gesture. She obeyed. It led her to a megaconstruct, one with a squat, rectilinear body on eight cylindrical legs that stood two meters off the ground. It stretched about eighty meters from end to end, its underside punctuated by three doors. The sides and upper surface resembled the small construct, built of sturdy metal and bristling with equipment.
Jayanthi opened a public emtalk channel and sent, “Hello? Are you getting this?”
She had no idea whether all constructs had emtalk capabilities the way alloys did. Back on Earth, many of them used speakers to communicate, since that was all the humans could understand.
Something swiveled atop the megaconstruct. “I’m receiving you.” The voice sounded low and feminine to Jayanthi’s mind.
“Oh, thank the Nivid. My name is Jayanthi. I’m a human working on some experiments near the coast to the east, collaborating with Vaha and Kaliyu.”
“I inferred as much. My name is Varshaneya. Why are you here? I haven’t received a request to assist with your objectives.”
“I need help.” Jayanthi took a deep breath and explained her situation. “Do you have a way to communicate with those in orbit?” she concluded. “Or deliver me to someone there who can house a human?”
“I will begin with the former and inquire about Vaha’s and Kaliyu’s status.”
When Varshaneya sent nothing for several minutes, Jayanthi found a nearby boulder and sank against it. Her shoulders and back felt a million kilos lighter with the pack off. She drank some bhojya as she waited and rested. The construct witnessed her breach of the enviro-suit, but she was too relieved to care. The first sip of the slurry tasted better than anything in her life. After she drank her fill, she leaned her head back and closed her eyes.
She woke with a start as Varshaneya spoke.
“One being in orbit witnessed two alloys departing Meru several kaals ago,” the construct sent. “They did not travel along the same vector. No one has arrived or departed since then.”
“That’s . . . that’s all? No solar flare? No widespread loss of communications? No message for me?”
“They mentioned no evidence of those.”
Jayanthi sat back down. Both Vaha and Kaliyu gone, and not together? What did that mean? Kaliyu had said that Vaha was badly injured and needed medical attention at Sol. Had Vaha recovered enough to return to the Solar System by zirself? But then what happened to Kaliyu? For someone so suspicious of humans, zie wouldn’t have left her unattended on the planet.
One other explanation presented itself to her. One that she did not like. “Varshaneya, what happens to alloys when they die?”
“They cease to function as living beings.”
“I mean, what happens to their bodies? What do they do with their dead?”
“I don’t know.”
Suppose Vaha had died. Suppose Kaliyu had sent zir true body toward Meru’s star for a fiery end. That didn’t explain why Kaliyu had abandoned her with no word, though. I need more information!
“Varshaneya, is there any being in orbit around Meru who can transport me?”
“There is currently one construct in the vicinity whose registration indicates life support for human beings.”
“Can you ask them to pick me up?”
“He is not equipped to land. What is your purpose?”
What indeed? What did she think she could do alone, friendless, hundreds of light-years from Earth? Whether they were dead or alive, neither Vaha nor Kaliyu could help her. She could stay and continue the project and hope that the Meru Exploration Committee dispatched a human-capable pilot to pick her up. Surely they would send someone to investigate when she and Vaha didn’t return to Sol as scheduled? But she would need periodic food deliveries from Vaha’s pack to survive that long. And tools to repair their shelter and equipment. There was also the matter of the potential baby. Every piece of the project depended on another, like a tower of cards, and the alloys formed the base. She was useless without them.
She had to leave. I should go home. If I’m pregnant, I’ll need help, especially for the delivery. The thought of sitting in her house with her parents and Mina crashed over her like a stormy wave. She shut her eyes against the sting of tears and surge of longing. To feel safe again, comfortable, unworried. Why had she believed that she could do any of this?
Because of hubris. You thought you were so special, the child of alloys. You thought the rules wouldn’t apply to you, that you could do more than the average human.
Vaha had helped fuel that belief, too. Zie had inspired the confidence that she could be zir equal. If zie could accept her, respect her, love her, then perhaps other alloys would, too. Why did you leave me like this? Where are you?
She hugged herself and took a deep breath. Varshaneya didn’t appear to have noticed or cared about her long silence.
What is my purpose?
Megaconstructs were conscious, sentient intelligences who didn’t think like living beings. They might lack empathy and have different goals than an alloy or a human, but that didn’t mean this one wouldn’t help her.
At last, feeling heartsick, she sent, “I’d like to return to Sol. I need someone to transport me there who has a human-habitable chamber. My air supply is limited to thirty hours—Earth hours. If you can get me to the construct in orbit, perhaps he can take me back to Sol or transfer me to an alloy pilot who can.”
“No such pilot exists in the vicinity of Meru,” Varshaneya replied immediately. “However, I will be launching into orbit in 1.2 Meruvin rotations. You can ride in my cargo chamber and transfer to Manib, the construct I mentioned earlier, if he’s willing. He’s a sovereign being, not contracted to any registered exploratory projects. He has no obligation to assist you. If he declines, you will return to Meru with me. Do you find this acceptable?”
“Thank you. Yes, I accept.”
She hugged her knees. What her future held beyond the next two days, she had no idea. Everything she’d read about free-agent constructs indicated that their interests rarely aligned with anyone else’s. Some of them had vastly developed intelligences, far beyond that of any human or alloy, and many of them had little to do with the day-to-day affairs of living beings. At least Varshaneya had a contract with the MEC and would therefore act in a responsible manner. What Manib would do with her, she couldn’t guess, but if he had a chamber for her, perhaps he had a soft spot for humans. Regardless, she had no other option if she wanted to get off Meru and get home. She had to rely on herself from now on. She was done putting her life in the hands of alloys.
NASHTA—LOST
Vaha drifted. Through space, through time, through consciousness. The pain from zir injured tail and wing pulled zir back to reality once in a while, but zie couldn’t attach zir mind to anything in zir surroundings. After the third day adrift, dehydration kicked in, and zie lost track of what day it was. The patterns of stars looked different from what zie was used to. The Sun’s spectrum didn’t quite match, either. There weren’t enough planets, or padhrans, or people. Not the Sun. Pamir. Meru’s star.
Zir state of mind reminded zir of the days zie had spent in the womb, healing from zir childhood injuries. How many times had zie gone through that? Enough that zir maker had made the uncomfortable decision to own one.
Ever a failure. I couldn’t even come up with a new way to hurt myself. Gravity and atmosphere caught me again. At least I saved Jayanthi and the project. She can handle living on the surface alone. She’ll be fine. She doesn’t need me.
Nobody would care if zie lived or died. Some other pilot would bring Jayanthi home. Some other pilot would get credit for helping to prove that humans could adapt to Meru’s environment. Some other pilot, who had better coordination and strength and didn’t hurt zirself while doing stupid tricks.
In more lucid moments, Vaha could feel the resistance of Kaliyu’s wing tendons under zir hand as zie yanked them. What a terrible thing to have done to a friend. I’m sorry, but you tried to cancel the project. You could’ve left me in orbit. I wasn’t going to die once my true body was back in microgravity. I never asked you to take me back to Sol.
Now zie went in the direction that the universe took zir. Vaha could sense thamity fields all around, but zie couldn’t get the organelles in zir tail to activate. It left zir mental map of gradients incomplete and partly obscured. If zie didn’t traverse the gradients properly, zie could end up getting stuck in a dark well instead of sliding around it. Venting was impossible. Zie had run out of water, and anything zie drew in from zir body would dehydrate zir further. With one functioning wing, zie barely had enough energy to think, much less broadcast a request for help. If only zie had zir pack. It contained emergency supplies, including a distress beacon, but it was tucked safely in the berth back at Meru. The odds of someone finding zir in a highly populated system like Sol’s were already small. In one like this, zie didn’t have a chance.
And now zie headed . . . zie didn’t know where. Some eccentric orbit around Pamir, most likely. Zir maker would be so disappointed. Or perhaps not. Veera had predicted that Vaha would end up in stasis with no contributions to the Nivid. Now zie had proved zir maker more than right—zie would be lost forever, drifting until death. Zie only hoped that zir actions had helped Jayanthi and would ensure the success of the project. Having known only one human, it wasn’t fair to generalize, but she seemed exceptional. If others on Earth were even half as determined and intelligent and creative as she was, they deserved Meru. They deserved the stars.
Zie thought of the first tickle of her hand against zir inner chamber valve. Of her arms around zir incarn body. Her laugh at zir bumbling attempts to be human. Her dark eyes reflecting zir phores, trapping zir soul with their depth. Her fierce expression in the womb, half-naked, holding her precious embryo.
An alert pinged from zir extended memory: a reminder to take shelter. A large coronal mass ejection from Pamir had erupted the day before zir fight with Kaliyu, and it was expected to reach Meru shortly. Zie should take cover in a berth or deploy a shield. Isn’t that just stellar? The shield was also in zir pack.
Technically, Kaliyu had been within zir rights to terminate the project, but zie should have given Vaha the choice of staying behind with Jayanthi. The injuries to zir tail and wing weren’t life-threatening. Zie didn’t have to return to Sol for medical attention. It felt like a cheap excuse, one that Kaliyu seemed glad to have. Had it tied into whatever zie and Pushkara had planned? Vaha wondered for the hundredth time if zie should have allowed Kaliyu to drag zir back instead of letting zirself drift away, but it had seemed like the only way to guarantee Jayanthi’s continued presence on Meru.
Zie already faced the likelihood of drifting to death. Depending on the strength and direction of the CME’s shock wave, it might speed up the process. Either way, zie would find out soon enough. As zie waited, Vaha replayed clips of Jayanthi from zir extended memory. If zie did get hit by Pamir’s solar wind, those areas would take more damage than the organic parts of zir body. Zie wanted to remember her face.
The radiation began as a gradual sensation of warmth on Vaha’s skin. Zie shut every lid over zir eyes as it built into a feverish heat. The conduits from zir wings to zir extremities blazed with uncontrolled current. Vaha shuddered. Perhaps this would be the death of zir, alone and ignominious.
Jayanthi’s face filled zir thoughts with its beloved contours. It was a fitting image to zir end.
But no, as her smile cradled zir, zie felt the solar wind abate. The absolute cold of space gave some relief to zir skin. The fire withdrew from zir conduits. Zie . . . zie couldn’t remember zir name.
Who am I, and where am I?
Zir eyes snapped open. Somewhere in space . . . That was briefly comforting, but the stars held no helpful information. Zie stretched out zir arms. Blue-black skin covered in angry pale patches gazed back at zir. Burn marks. Zie twisted and caught a glimpse of two wings, one that looked quite broken, which zie confirmed with a slow, painful shrug. Something had gone wrong with zir tail, too. What had happened to zir body? Had something impacted zir? Whatever it was must have given zir amnesia as well.
Zie tried to vent, to turn around, and found zir lungs empty. Zie began to draw water in from zir body but stopped almost immediately. Zir flesh was like a husk. Zie could feel it in the tightness of zir muscles and the rawness at the back of zir throat. Zie had just enough water to live. To draw out more was to risk zir life. Zie felt behind zirself for a pack, for something that might help, and found nothing but zir body.
Zie probed zir memory delicately, as gently as zie had with the injured wing. The extended portions were gone, like dark clouds against a starry sky. How do I know about clouds? In zir organic recall, zie could vividly picture the retreating body of an alloy with similar coloring and markings to zirself. That’s . . . my maker! The name had vanished, but zie knew that zir maker had left to explore the galaxy.
A twist of loss accompanied the realization, which triggered another recollection: zirself leaving a blue-gray alloy, another pilot . . . a friend! Zie could remember the relationship, but not the name to go with it. As frustration washed through zir, a face popped into zir mind, as clear as a picture received by emchannel. The face belonged to a human, and it filled zir with a sense of protectiveness. Why? No other details came forth.
What is wrong with me? Stuck in space with no idea where zie was headed or why. Adrift without water or sustenance. A broken wing. Radiation burns. All evidence pointed to something terrible, and zie could do exactly nothing to figure out what, when, or how it had happened.
I should call myself Nakis. The word meant “nobody” in an ancient language whose name zie couldn’t recall even though zie knew for certain that zie understood it. With a sense of fatalism settling around zir like a cloud of vapor, zie tried to accept that as another mystery about zirself. Whatever had happened, zie had some momentum, and zie could only hope that it led to someone or something that would explain zir situation.
Nakis drifted for an unknown amount of time, zir body working hard to repair itself with what little nutrients it had, until zie received a signal. A cry for help . . . from a construct. What can I do to help someone else? Zir wing had given zir a trickle of power, and zie expended a good amount of it to triangulate the source and chart the being’s course. They would almost intersect in four kaals, passing each other within less than two kilometers.
Zie would have to use zir vents to get closer to the construct. That meant diverting some of zir body’s water back to zir lungs, as dangerous as it was. The reverse osmosis process would expend more of zir precious power, as would the subsequent electrolysis to make hydrogen for zir bladders, but between that and the extra oxygen, zie would have enough gas to alter zir heading such that they would meet. If the construct had water or bhojya, it could save Nakis’s life. Perhaps they could help each other.
