Fluency

5

Jane woke up groggy. She jerked involuntarily when she remembered that this wasn’t just another artificially constructed day among the endless, monotonous hours of drifting through space. Something had finally happened. Everything had changed.

The others were going to want answers from her, but she didn’t know what to say. She felt their eyes on her from time to time. She feigned sleep and listened to them making plans.

They were hashing out how to proceed, based on the information gathered so far. Under most circumstances, the crew had been encouraged to make decisions democratically, though the final decision would always be in the hands of the team leader—in this case, Walsh.

Walsh was arguing in favor of going back into the Target wearing EMUs. That pretty much guaranteed Bergen would argue the opposing position. Bergen contended that would waste resources and limit their mobility. When Ajaya, Tom and Ron chimed in with Bergen, Walsh backed down and they agreed to go in unsuited, taking precautions.

The haze of pain had subsided while she slept, leaving her with a dull ache and a fairly clear memory of a surreal exchange. Could that actually have been telepathic communication? Or was it a hallucination? Had the confinement finally pushed her over the edge into madness? They’d coached them in Houston to be prepared for anything, but nothing could prepare someone for this.

She cataloged what she knew. The voice had sounded analytical, cold. Had she been sucked into some kind of computer-simulated virtual environment? Something that tapped into the memory centers of the brain to pacify the user and get information?

She brooded over the memory the voice had conjured. It was always there, tugging at the corners of her mind, reminding her in quiet whispers how life should truly be. Now freshly and wholly manifested in a way she could never have imagined—the three of them, as they were before Australia, warm and loving, in a happy place. She’d never managed to fully recreate that feeling again.

She’d had something like it with Brian for a while, but career and work had come between them, driving it away. There was a time when Brian argued a baby would bring them closer, give them a common goal. It wasn’t a healthy solution for their relationship, but some part of her had longed for that kind of deeper bond. Brian had minimized her concerns about how it could impact her career, promised they would share the load, but he was always too stressed with his caseload or vying for partner to realistically contemplate starting a family at any given time until it was clear it would never happen. That was probably for the best, but it left her adrift, cut off from the warmth she craved.

Why would the voice remind her of that, of her personal failure? Was that memory seething so close to the surface that she selected it herself? Had it been random, or had the voice chosen it, somehow knowing the effect it would have on her?

Layered over all of these questions was a sense of unease. There’d been a disquieting kind of pleasure in hearing the voice that made her feel guilty, like she was a child who’d been tricked into taking candy from a stranger. It inspired an ominous feeling—she sensed that the voice was leashed, held terrible power.

She had so many questions and no answers. She peeked through her lashes at the others. Had any of them been touched by that disembodied voice in the same way? If they had, they weren’t fessing up. That actually seemed like a sound strategy. If it was real, it would try again. The voice had said as much.

With that thought, she set her teeth, released the harness and unzipped the sleeping bag. The movement drew their eyes, as she knew it would. They were gathering equipment. She’d have to hurry to catch up with their preparations.

“Good morning,” she said solemnly.

Ajaya pushed closer. “How are you feeling, now, Jane?”

“Better,” she hedged. “What’s the plan for today?” She met Walsh’s eye squarely.

“Exploration. We go further in.” He watched her warily.

She nodded. “I’ll be ready in moments. You should have woken me.” She pushed off for the food-storage locker.

Walsh’s next statement stopped her. “You and Varma are staying here.”

She grabbed the nearest handhold and twisted around. “What? You need me. I’m—”

“Varma has her orders. These are yours—tell her what happened in there yesterday.”

She stared at him in disbelief. “I’m fine!”

He held up a hand. “Save it. Gibbs will be taking pictures of any language or symbols we come across. They’ll download to your laptop automatically and you’ll be able to hear us over the two-way. Get your ducks in a row and you’ll join us tomorrow.” He turned away to check his gear. They wore oxygen monitors and carried harnesses with emergency air supply, as well as packs holding a day’s worth of ready-to-eat rations, tools and instruments.

Walsh and the three other men slipped out shortly thereafter. She could hear their surprise as they dropped into the corridor below, discussing the fact that the gravity now approximated Earth’s gravity. Was that confirmation that the alien was still working to optimize conditions for them?

Jane bit her lip indecisively. Should she stop them? Ajaya closed the hatch, and the opportunity to speak up was gone.

Ajaya held out a two-way radio. Jane took it from her and began to prepare breakfast out of habit. She hadn’t expected to be left behind. She sipped lukewarm coffee from a pouch and waited for the scrambled eggs to rehydrate. If they didn’t need her to be there, why did they drag her across half of the solar system? She opened her laptop and stifled the urge to slam it onto its velcro pad harder than necessary. She could have studied images on a laptop from the comfort of home.

Ajaya hovered nearby, clearly waiting for an opportunity to do an exam and ask a lot of questions. “Jane? We should talk about what happened yesterday,” Ajaya finally ventured.

At that moment, the first image from the day before came up on the screen. Jane inhaled sharply. Ok—she hadn’t imagined that. She could see the symbol for ‘open,’ even in this format, as having depth and meaning, though her reaction wasn’t visceral this time, only simple comprehension. She swallowed thickly. Maybe she wasn’t nuts.

Ajaya eased closer and peered at the screen. “What is it about these symbols, Jane? They seem to affect you.”

“I—you don’t see it?”

“See what?”

“When I look at this symbol, it expands like a hologram. It relays information.”

“A hologram?” Ajaya indulged her by looking again, then shook her head. “So, at first you saw them as I do and then they changed?” Ajaya’s voice sounded a little too sympathetic for Jane’s comfort.

“I know my reaction must seem extreme.”

“You are under a lot of stress.”

Jane grit her teeth. “I’m fine.”

Ajaya furrowed her brow. “Jane, you must know your guarded attitude is troubling. I would like to do a physical exam. Will you cooperate?”

Jane reluctantly closed the laptop. “Of course I will.”

She waited quietly while Ajaya took her pulse, tested her reflexes and other neurological signs, then asked a series of questions that were meant to determine mental status. She’d been through this exam before, several times. They all had.

When she was done, Ajaya turned to Jane, her fingers tapping the side of her laptop. “Your assessment is the same as it’s been for the last six months or more. You are mildly depressed, but show no other clinical signs of mental infirmity. Physically, you appear to be in good condition. I cannot explain what happened yesterday unless you divulge more.”

Jane blurted out, “Didn’t anyone else experience anything out of the ordinary? A buzzing sound inside their head?”

Ajaya was quizzical. “Buzzing? You spoke of bees yesterday. Why didn’t you say anything?”

Jane considered what to say. “At first I thought it was just nerves. But, it got stronger, building over time. When I deciphered the symbols, it suddenly became unbearable.”

Ajaya looked thoughtful. “And that is when you passed out. Have you experienced tinnitus before?”

“Tinnitus? No.”

Ajaya retrieved her otoscope, examined Jane’s ears at length, then pulled back. “It could be Meniere’s. That’s a disturbance in the inner ear. It can have sudden onset and lead to severe vertigo. Headaches are common with it, as well. It’s very treatable. Do you hear the buzzing now? Are you feeling dizzy or perceiving any hearing loss?”

“No. I feel fine.”

“It can be very intermittent. A year may pass between episodes or they can happen every day. Do you feel any pressure in either ear—now or yesterday?”

“None.”

“I wish I could perform an audiometric exam on you, but I don’t have the equipment. Stress is known to make tinnitus worse, though it doesn’t cause it.” She seemed vexed and stowed away the equipment as she continued, “Your passing out in that moment may have been simple orthostatic hypotension. More than 80 percent of long-flight astronauts experience it. I don’t know, Jane. It doesn’t fit well with one diagnosis and that makes me uneasy. Let’s cautiously watch this. You will tell me if you have any of these or any new symptoms, won’t you?”

Jane’s vision blurred. “Of course. Of course I will.” Perhaps Ajaya could understand if she told her the rest. She swallowed and blinked, then finally said, “I’m sorry. I’ll be more forthcoming in the future, I promise.”

Jane scooped cold scrambled eggs out of a pouch, but didn’t taste them. She was itching to get back into that ship. She didn’t want to stay cooped up in the capsule for another twenty-four hours, where she couldn’t see anything firsthand.

She resumed scrutinizing the symbols, concentrating on the images taken from the exterior of the storage crates with the granular contents. The cipher was elusive. She could almost see a hologram, but it was hovering just out of reach. It didn’t help that her mind kept wandering, going back to all the things the voice had said to her the day before.

“There is plentiful foodstuff, as you have already discovered.”

She blinked, stifling a startled gasp as the hologram sprang to life.

Nourishment, sustenance…palatable, appetizing…satiety…healthful, wholesome…aggregate, composite, blend.

She wrinkled her nose. The crates were filled with some kind of nutritive food-base, a raw material used to manufacture food. The concept that formed in her mind was completely foreign. She was puzzling over that as she cleaned up the debris from breakfast, when the radio squawked. “Providence. Gibbs. Over.”

Ajaya picked up her two-way. “This is Providence. Over.”

“Just checking in. Did you get the pictures? Over.”

Jane picked up her own radio. “Yes, Ron. I’ve got eight new images. I need a little more context to be able to decipher them. I’d like to join you. Dr. Varma has determined there’s nothing seriously wrong with me. Over.”

Gibbs’ cheerful drawl came back, “Copy that, Jane. We’ll get back to you. Over.”

Moments later, the radio came back to life. “Providence, this is Walsh. We’re splitting into two teams. Gibbs and Compton are going back to get some extra shots for context and Bergen and I are going forward. Walsh out.”

“I could meet you—”

“Stay put, Holloway. Walsh out.”

Jane ground her teeth. Hiding in the capsule couldn’t protect her from what happened the day before, she was certain of that. Of course, they didn’t know that.

While she waited, she prepared a pack of things she’d need when she did go back in there, all the while ignoring Ajaya’s disapproving eyes on her. As she pulled an air canister out of its compartment, a delightfully dreamy drowsiness came over her. She blinked slowly, her limbs drifting around her, pleasantly thick and heavy.

Her heart started to pound.

She fought down panic and contemplated her options. She could try to resist. That hadn’t been an effective strategy the day before. It had only served to wear her down, exhausting her. She’d gotten next to nothing out of that interaction—certainly nothing that anyone would believe.

The hum had already begun. It was happening again.

She reminded herself that this was an opportunity to get answers. She closed her eyes and concentrated on breathing deeply. The throbbing buzz grew stronger. Her thoughts slowed. She schooled herself to stop resisting, relax, stay in the moment….

She felt a surge of pleasure as awareness of a presence filled her mind.

She drowsily opened her eyes in the casita. “Hello?”

“Dr. Jane Holloway—you did not explain to the others about our arrangement.”

Jane snapped to alert. The voice sounded…pissed. Could a computer sound pissed? She slowly turned in a circle and forced her expression to be neutral, though it felt wooden and uneasy. “Hello? You haven’t told me your name—”

He interjected, sounding impatient, “I do not understand. This is vital information. You must make them aware.”

She shook her head. “They won’t believe me. They—I have no proof.”

She thought about what she was doing—producing virtual words from a virtual mouth—because her body was actually inside the Providence, unconscious, floating around, probably bumping into things. She sank on the bed, suddenly unsure. “Maybe I am crazy.”

“Dr. Jane Holloway, there is an urgent matter to which you must attend. This is no time to indulge in delusional fantasies.”

She stood, wary. This bizarre interaction had a way of disarming her. She was forgetting how precarious their situation was, forgetting her normal caution, forgetting all the questions she needed to ask. “What?”

“I cannot protect them from peril. I have attempted containment and exclusion, but the controls are not responding as they should. The nature of the infestation disrupts the applicable neural-electric pathways. I am fixed, immutable. You are the only possible liaison. The others are not open to me. I cannot influence them. You and you alone must act.” The voice resonated with a note of hysteria.

Jane tensed, suddenly filled with dread. “What are you talking about?”

“I presumed that your personage would accompany any exploratory efforts. I could guide you, dissuade you, if necessary. However, at present, there are four individuals occupying two discrete chambers and two of these are perilously close to endangering their very existences. I do not wish for their extinguishment.” He sounded haughty, self-righteous.

Her hand reflexively clutched the back of a chair. “Extinguishment? Are you saying the other astronauts are in mortal danger?”

“Dr. Jane Holloway, I expect you to forestall the impending disaster.”

“How? Tell me how. Tell me what to do. What’s the danger?”

“Standby. Sending data now.”

Jane staggered. The buzz inside her head magnified exponentially. Awareness converged inward with a new, unnerving acuity. She could feel the vibration on a heretofore unknown scale—the progress of each tiny bee, making connections, individual neurons firing far faster than they could possibly be meant to. She felt detached from herself, blandly observing, as the space between her ears expanded to accept….

She gasped. Three-dimensional maps of the interior of the Target, replete with what appeared to be itemized lists of each sector’s function and contents, swamped her conscious mind. She fell to her hands and knees and struggled to comprehend the deluge. “Oh, God,” she choked out.

“If you wish, I would be gratified to debate the existence of deitous life forms, but perhaps we should attend to the matter at hand? It would have been preferable to defer a bit longer before imprinting the command and control engram set. However, in this moment, it is expedient. Are you ready to commence?”

“No! Just…stop!” She writhed on the rough, dusty floor of the casita, her hands clutching her head. Tiny, blazing bees zoomed within, making connections, overwriting, leaving searing trails in their wake as they rendered data. “Make the bees stop! Please—it’s too much!”

“Dr. Jane Holloway, you are overcome. I will assist.”

She felt a lifting, a lightening, a shedding of pain. She opened her eyes to darkness, but felt no fear at the change, only simple curiosity. She felt embraced, warm and welcome. It was wonderful, but also worrisome. “What did you do to me?”

“I merely separated the cognitive layers. You are still there, and there, but also here. I dare not shield you for long. It could create cognitive dissonance. I have no idea how your species will react to such interventions.”

She felt like she was wandering farther and farther from reality. “Where is here?”

“With me.”

“Where are you? Physically?”

“I am here.”

This individual was not the straightforward type. If it weren’t such a dire situation, she’d laugh out loud. “What is this form of communication? How are we doing this?”

“I have tapped into a dormant area of your brain. Stimulating this area activates previously unexpressed genetic material, which, in turn, triggers ongoing structural refinements that facilitate this method of communication. In short, at my expert intervention, you are experiencing accelerated evolutionary changes.”

She heard the words. She understood their meaning. She could not fathom them.

He continued without stopping, “It is a curiosity. You are conceptually aware of individuals on your world with this ability, yet it seems your culture resolutely denies the possibility of its existence. Blind-sight like this is a blight on the progress of your world. A failure of science, if not of imagination. Yet, on the whole, the six of you are educated in the standard methods of scientific inquiry. Your species is vexing, Dr. Jane Holloway.”

She swallowed. “You’re communicating with the others this way, too?”

“No. That is not possible.”

“Why not?”

“I can skim the other’s thoughts and memories, learn from them, in a limited fashion, but I cannot communicate with them. Perhaps, in time, it may be possible. They are not fluent in Mensententia. This prohibits communication.”

She struggled to follow his train of thought. “Mensententia?”

“The common language.”

“What? Look, you have to explain yourself. I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”

“I would advise a patient attitude, Dr. Jane Holloway. I am not an educator. I have not received the instruction required.”

Jane took a deep breath to still her mounting frustration, then continued, “Please, tell me what you know of Mensententia.”

“I will be brief. The download is nearly complete. You must return. The common language was latent within you, a component of genetic memory, given to you by the Cunabula.”

“Genetic memory?”

The voice made a sound like a sigh and went on, “Unmasked by most species during the epoch of pubescent change, it marks readiness to enter into discourse with those outside one’s own kind. Your conversion was nearly spontaneous—quite unique and likely a product of your extensive linguistic experience. When I observed this awakening, I intensified my attempts at communication, leading ultimately to success. I must say, the Sectilius were intensely disappointed to learn that Mensententia was suppressed on your world, to discover that you had not been good stewards there, that your world was in such a state of disarray and on the verge of environmental collapse—”

Cunabula? Sectilius? She felt dizzy from the influx of information. “Wait,” Jane interrupted. “You’re saying that the symbols are…and we’re communicating now, in Mensententia?”

“It is time, Dr. Jane Holloway. You will awaken with comprehension of this vessel fully integrated, and must act immediately. It shall be quite clear to you what must be done. We cannot yet converse while you are conscious, but if you listen, you will hear my communiqués. I will offer assistance wherever possible. Go now.”

“Wait! Tell me your name!”

“I am the Gubernaviti. Ei’Brai.”

“Aiyee-Brai?” She repeated it automatically, to be certain she’d heard every nuance of the name and would remember and pronounce it correctly, but there was no answer. Only agonizing pain.