Алан Дин Фостер - Relic

One by one, ten similar capsules began to emerge outward from the seemingly solid wall. Inspection begat disappointment when it was discovered that the other nine were empty and devoid of internal illumination.

Putting his face so close to the single occupied transparency that his breath fogged the curving exterior, Ruslan peered hard at the body within. It lay utterly still. The clothed chest did not rise and fall, the nostrils did not flex. Insofar as he could tell, respiration was nonexistent.

In the hushed air of the chamber, the bold female voice that addressed them without warning but clearly and with great precision made the two humans jump and the tripodal Myssari quiver slightly.

“Template established. Install pattern number one?” A single word pregnant with portent caught Ruslan’s attention.

Swallowing, he replied as evenly as he could to the voice whose source remained unseen. “What template? What kind of ‘pattern’?”

The synthvoice stayed silent. Insistent it was not, he decided, unlike thousands of other exchanges he had engaged in so long ago while working with artificial intelligences at his old profession on Seraboth. Irrespective of purpose, the build behind artificial intelligences on the world of his birth had been similar across all platforms no matter what their intended purpose. The lack of response to his query suggested design paradigms might be different here.

That supposition remained valid for less than ten seconds.

The hint of impatience in the AI’s voice was unmistakable and possibly deliberate. “Install pattern number one?”

Before Ruslan could reply, Bac’cul stepped forward to place his hands on the human’s right shoulder, elbow, and forearm.

“We are moving too fast here and now. Haste is the parent of mistakes.”

“I know, but—”

Quickly the researcher cut him off. “It is likely that this place has remained in a state of stasis for hundreds of years. Another few days of delay before observing it in full operation is unlikely to detrimentally compromise its functions, whatever those may ultimately be. Our group is only charged with exploration and discovery, not with explication.” He indicated the faceless imago lying within the capsule. “To ensure that everything that can be learned is learned and that no mistakes are made, we must inform Base of what we have found. Experts there can determine better than we how best to proceed.”

Ruslan wanted to argue that he knew how to proceed, except that he realized he did not. The operative AI was being cooperative, if curt. He felt it would continue to be so. But he could not support what he felt with any assurance. So he hesitated, aware that as well as the Myssari, Cherpa was watching him closely.

It was typical of the Myssari to be cautious. And Bac’cul was probably correct in noting that there were specialists at the outpost who would have a better idea of how to move forward with the investigation of whatever kind of facility it was that they had found and reactivated.

What did the AI mean by “template”? Was it indicative of the clothed human form that now lay within the transparent capsule? When it spoke of installing “pattern number one,” was it referring to some generalized appearance, or to a ware component, or something else? His ignorance throbbed like a headache. Although the present surroundings were very different—the body was fully attired, and it was not floating in a liquid suspension—he could not escape memories of the ineffective resurrection center on Treth. Was the purpose of this deeply buried underground center similar to that of the revivification center on that colony world? Instead of row upon row of waiting people, there was only the single human shape. If the intention was resurrection, why were nine of the ten capsules empty?

Bac’cul’s communicator abruptly hummed for attention. As the researcher listened his body seemed to sink downward on all three legs. This well-recognized Myssari posture immediately put Ruslan and Cherpa on alert. Their concern was thoroughly justified. As he closed the communication a disconsolate Bac’cul eyed them both. His tone was flat.

“The Vrizan are here.”

Cherpa’s expression reflected her shock. “How?”

“I do not know. No one does. Perhaps one of their orbiters has been tracking our progress all along, and the length of our stay in this seemingly empty region has drawn their attention. I am informed that a large atmospheric transport of theirs has set down beside our vehicle. They are insistent to know what is going on and what we are doing here.”

“Just tell them that we—” Ruslan began.

The researcher cut him off. “They have seen the open entrance. I suspect it is unlikely they can detect lifeforms at this depth. Also, they have not yet alluded to such a possibility to my subordinates. They must be dealt with before they proceed any farther.” He locked eyes with first Ruslan, then Cherpa. “I must return to the surface and try to satisfy their curiosity while conceding as little specific information as possible.” At a gesture from their superior, the rest of the Myssari party started moving toward the open lift. Framed by the other five inactivated lift portals, they looked small and alone.

“Someone should remain here in the event that the resident AI continues with its enigmatic questioning or offers alternative communication,” Bac’cul told the humans. “This is a place of your kind. None of us is better able to interpret its communications or tease out possible hidden meanings than yourselves. I will return as soon as the Vrizan have been persuaded to leave.” He turned to follow his colleagues.

The Myssari did not depart as fast as Bac’cul wished, however. It took a swipe of Cherpa’s hand to activate the lift and send it accelerating upward. As it ascended, Ruslan considered the uncomfortable possibility that in the absence of an active lift at the bottom of the delivery shaft, the lights in the underground chamber might go out. That they did not, that they dimmed slightly but remained sufficient, likely attested to the presence in the room of the two humans.

Neither he nor Cherpa had to activate their own communicators. Always on, these would keep them in touch with the surface. With the departure of the Myssari, they found themselves alone deep in the Earth, with only each other for company in the cool, featureless, glassy surroundings.

Not quite alone, Ruslan reminded himself as he turned toward the single isolated source of warmer, yellower light. There remained the smartly clad slab of human within the capsule. Unlike the warm glow it continued to emit, the lack of motion within was not comforting.

As researcher and historian, Bac’cul liked nothing better than to spend multiple three-days at a time in the field, studying the artifacts and remnants of the wondrous but ultimately self-extinguishing human culture. Today, in the company of the only two mature surviving specimens of that singular species, a discovery had been made that was potentially of great significance. All he wished for was to return to the outpost, lay out the preliminary findings before his colleagues, and make preparations to return with some of them to commence an in-depth investigation of the fascinating newly discovered site.

That blissful strategy had been interrupted by the arrival of a Vrizan aircraft much larger than the driftec in which he and his team had traveled. The visitors were correspondingly greater in number. Furthermore, they were plainly equipped to do more than defend themselves against wandering terrestrial carnivores. In contrast, Bac’cul and his team carried only a few small sidearms. While well trained, in a serious fight they would be no match for a coterie of Vrizan soldiers. He would have to do battle with different weapons. Subterfuge, misdirection, and that old Myssari standby, unremitting civility.