Sarah Zettel - Reclamation

“Ordinarily I would agree with you, Bio-technician,” said Ivale, “but events are proceeding and we cannot be slow. You are to get what information you can from the artifact regarding the nature and function of its extramechanical abilities. You will use the same criteria in conducting your analysis of the female artifact when it arrives. These are the most pertinent to the Reclamation. We have less than twenty hours before the Second Company lands in the populated segment.”

“You hold my name, Ambassador,” Uary said. “We’ll begin now.”

The Ambassador closed the line and Uary forced his attention to his Beholden waiting by the tank. What Ivale didn’t know, of course, was that he had just played straight into the Imperialists’ hands. It was now a matter of record that Uary had been told to circumvent protocol and put the artifacts at risk.

Now he had his pick of ways to destroy the work of the Ancestors. There was too much that could go wrong with living cells. Too much that shifted and recombined. Too many factors had to be accounted for, no matter how great the capacity of the computer that oversaw the job and ran the projections. There were hints that the Ancestors had worked with living cells and living organisms like Engineers worked with ceramic and steel and with results that were just as steady and predictable. The Vitae were the best genetic engineers the Quarter Galaxy had to offer, but their Ancestors had been better. How they had performed their miracles was beyond Uary. It was beyond anybody. It had been stolen by the Aunorante Sangh. He regarded the artifact’s face, immobile behind the oxygen mask.

And I thought I’d be its rescuer. I thought I’d be able to force this artifact, this Aunorante Sangh, to give it all back.

Uary wet his lips as he sat down at his own terminal. Maybe I can still get some of it.

“Normally, by the time we begin investigating a biological system, we return the sample to an active state.” Uary reconfigured the board to bring his private notes onto the display.

“No,” Basq announced. “Not this one. You’ve seen the reports. We cannot risk it being able to use its…extramechanical abilities.”

There was an older word for it, but Uary knew Basq would not let himself be heard talking about anything so primitive and superstitious as telekinesis, even if it was a marvel engineered by the Ancestors.

“Very well,” Uary said, “but if we cannot trace any activity in its resting state to those ‘extramechanical abilities’, then we will have to wake it up.”

“Lairdin"—Uary opened the line between his terminal and the tank—"make sure its support signs remain stable and watch particularly for any rise in system temperature.”

By way of answer, Lairdin stationed herself in front of the monitors, like a conductor waiting to give the orchestra its signal.

Basq came and stood behind his right shoulder. The Witness stood behind his left. Uary felt his skin crawl but repressed the sensation. There was work to do and that made it easier. He laid in the primary search commands and moved the ACTIVATE key into position.

Catheters swam down the needles into the artifact’s veins. Its blood flowed into pipettes lowered by the delivery tubes. The pads gripped it and measured the type and level of electrochemical activity in its body. The analysis gel, an outgrowth of the organic chip technology, pressed close to its skin, creeping through its pores. The neurochemical reactions the gel encountered would rearrange its protein configuration. The changes would be replicated along its molecular chains. When the terminals analyzed the gel, they would produce a map of neurological activity, beginning at the epidermis and ending at the bone.

Analysis and simulations performed on samples of the artifacts’ DNA and RNA that had been obtained while it was under a Vitae contract had yielded five separate neurotransmitters that were thought to be involved in the generation and projection of the telekinesis. Locating their point of origin should not be difficult. Even so, this was no simple matter of matching chemicals to their receptors in the cells. The artifact’s synaptic layout had to have been redesigned from first principles that were vastly different from those that gave birth to the naturally born human race.

The differences should be quiescent while the artifact was unconscious. A telekinetic that wrecked havoc when it had nightmares would not be a useful tool. While the telekinetic receptors were quiescent, they would be next to invisible. There would be no choice but to apply stimulation. Which could quite easily terminate the artifact, as no proper analysis of the gel had been done yet.

But it did not necessarily have to terminate it quickly.

Raw data, little more than numbers and labels, flashed across Uary’s screen. Most of it flitted directly to storage to await further organization, but the levels and concentrations of the targeted neurotransmitters stayed in a tidy column on the left-hand side of the screen.

Uary frowned. The numbers were much higher than any that had turned up in the simulations conducted on the artifact’s blood samples.

And they were increasing.

“Bio-tech!” called Lairdin.

Uary vaulted out of his chair and ran to the tank. Inside, the gel churned around the artifact. Waves and whirlpools pressed against the lid and washed against the sides. Moisture appeared around the seals and a moment later the overload alarms began to shrill. Uary’s gaze swept the monitors. The numbers and levels jumped and flickered, fast, and faster, and far too fast.

“Get the neutralizer in!” he shouted. “Shut it down! Shut it down!”

They moved. Even Basq was bright enough to see something was out of control and the Ambassador dodged out of the way as Lairdin raced to the holding tanks and slammed down the key for the pumps. With a chugging that should not have been there, the siphons fought to drain the roiling gel. The pumps flooded in a saline and anesthetic medium as a replacement. It coated the artifact and the alarms quieted.

Uary looked up into Lairdin’s frightened eyes.

“What happened?” Basq demanded. His voice rasped in his throat.

“Ask the Ancestors,” snapped Uary. “Lairdin, what’s the status of the gel?” His robes swirled around his ankles as he hurried back to his terminal.

He drew out the data as fast as he could read it. It was a jumble of numbers and statistical ranges, concentration levels and a few sketchy diagrams. There was nothing to compare any of it to. There was no way to tell what was normal and what was abnormal, or what reaction had triggered the telekinetic processes.

“Bio-technician,” said Lairdin, “the gel has been… damaged.”

She touched a key and Uary looked reflexively down at his own screen as the new data appeared. His knees buckled and he sat down hard in his chair.

The gel was not just damaged, it was shredded. Molecular chains had been disintegrated. Cells had burst. Clusters of infant tumors were appearing throughout the holding tank.

The artifact had all but destroyed four cubic meters of gel in less than twenty seconds, and there was no way to tell how it had begun.

Uary lifted his head. “We are going to have to wake it up.”

“No,” said Basq flatly.

“Then we can go no farther.” Uary folded his hands. “I have nothing to work with. I have no pattern of brain activity. I have no baseline neurochemical activity for the active state. I do not know what the normal status of the artifact is, so I cannot tell what initiated the telekinetic, your pardon, Ambassador,” he said bitterly, “the ‘extramechanical abilities.’ I do not know the system. Without even a partial map, I cannot understand anything.”