Mozari Arrival Page 19

  “That sounds familiar,” Carver muttered darkly.

  Daniel’s skin crawled. “The surfaces of whole planets that were just... molten slag flowing in regular shapes that must once have been cities, or roads—”

  “I think we get the picture, son,” Hammond said quietly. It wasn’t an order for him to stop speaking, but Daniel felt relieved that it offered him permission to do so.

  Nineteen

  Camp Peary, VA.

  The Exo-suit had come off easily enough, so that Daniel could shower, although he found that he didn’t even need one—despite the day’s exertions. He’d taken one anyway for the pleasure of it. Getting out of it, though, he’d forgotten that the suit went over bare skin, and realized why Hammond and Hope wore theirs underneath their uniforms.

  He realized that this was now his first chance to ask Hope face-to-face if the mental touch they had shared was actually real. The door to her office was open when he arrived, so Daniel rapped his knuckles on the jamb and leaned around to see if she was in. She looked up from some paperwork. “Daniel?”

  “Can I come in?”

  “Of course.”

  He stepped in, pushing the door closed behind him—an action that she noted with a raised eyebrow. “Is this going to be an on-duty or off-duty conversation?”

  “I’m not sure, actually.” He hesitated, searching for the best way to bring up the subject that might be purely imaginary anyway. Nobody had ever trained him in how to handle telepathic stuff, assuming that’s what this was—there’d been no reason to—or how to tell the difference between one’s own thoughts or feelings and another person’s. Or lack thereof. He sat opposite her. “Something happened when they gave me my Exo-suit.”

  “The reports say everything was fine.”

  “Of course, yeah. I just...” He met her eyes, searching them for a sign she understood what he was trying so hard to work out. “I just wondered if you had any thoughts on how complete the reports are.” Her eyes flickered, and he saw a flash of irritation there. If it was because he was referring to his thought to her about reporting their mental contact, then that contact must have been real. If it was bafflement, then... He tried not to grind his teeth, mulling the decision; he wasn’t a gambler, but he would bet he knew her well enough now. “I heard your voice when I put the suit on. Your thoughts.”

  She went to the door and closed it. “Yes. And since then I found I could cut you off.” A sliver of ice pushed into his gut at the words, but it was Hope who winced. “Shielded myself. I think,”

  “Why?” he exclaimed. Had he offended her, or hurt her?

  Seated again, she put her hand on his, the touch a reassuring warmth. “I’m not sure why, or even how. I just know that somehow my suit sensed that I didn’t want to be connected at that moment, and somehow made it happen. I think it’s how they’re meant to work. I can’t imagine how the wearers are supposed to have privacy if they can’t control that connection between wearers...”

  “Maybe they’re not meant to. I suppose it depends on if the Mozari like their privacy, or even understand what it is.” He shrugged. “I tried to send thoughts to the chief, but... I don’t think he heard them. Maybe one, but maybe not.”

  “I’ve never heard his thoughts between our suits,” Hope said. “Humans are not Mozari, so the suits may be adapting to us as we adapt to them. Or maybe they just don’t know how to work otherwise. But I know that sometimes I will experience a subconscious thought or feeling, and the suit... blocks it out. Like it wants to try to protect me.”

  Daniel was fascinated despite himself. “The same as it protects us from injury...”

  She nodded. “I think so. Maybe it can recognize emotional or mental stress, and the potential for an injury of the mind. If it includes mental and emotional functions, it would have some kind of safeguard for mental and emotional protection,” she said, apparently thinking aloud. “It would make perfect sense.”

  “You mean it’s logical. Thank you, Mister Spock.”

  “Logical is a good word. And it’s logical that something providing a mental safeguard would shield me, even from you. I’ve never been good at communicating how I feel, not with anyone. And I’ve never heard of this happening with any of the other Exo-suit wearers. So, when the suits connected our minds so directly... it creeped me out, you would call it... by doing that without either of us having to consciously agree to it.”

  “Consent,” he said with a nod. He groaned and wanted to smack his own forehead against the desk for being so blind as to have not thought of that. “You’re right; it was a surprise, albeit a pleasant one.”

  “I’ve never found surprises pleasant,” she answered.

  “I’m sorry.” He sighed thinking over the conversation and what they’d learned, or at least thought they’d figured out.

  “You are forgiven.” She leaned across to kiss his forehead. “We’re dealing with unknown technologies; we will all make mistakes.”

  His forehead tingled pleasantly now. “What if the telepathy thing starts happening with the others when they’re suited up?”

  “Then we already have an idea how to help them handle it, don’t we?”

  Doctors Martino and Gibson returned the next day, to give Daniel a check-up following his new experience with the Exo-suit. Admittedly, he was a little nervous of what they might find, given that the suit was a mixture of alien and experimental technology, but Martino seemed happy and in a chatty mood as the appointment went on. “Everything seems to be working fine on the technological level.”

  “And medically?” Daniel asked.

  “Medically, your vitals are fine. Better than fine, in fact.”

  “Actually, that’s something I wanted to ask about,” Daniel said slowly.

  Martino paused, eyeing him. “Go on. Are you having any sort of health issues with the suit?”

  “Not exactly. It’s just that… OK, right now, I’m not wearing it, obviously.”

  “Obviously.”

  “But, I still feel kind of, you know, more switched-on. Alert. Like you just said about my vitals being better than fine. I feel like I’m still experiencing some of the benefits of wearing the suit even though I’m not actually wearing it.”

  Martino didn’t seem surprised by the revelation. “Well, don’t try testing how you feel stepping in front of any bullets without it.”

  “Wasn’t planning to, Doc. But is it just a psychological effect, or is there something lasting going on?”

  “We know the suits bond during manufacture to the appropriate wearer’s individual DNA and RNA samples. Once worn, the suit also adapts to the brainwave pattern and nervous system. Single-operator isomorphic response, we call it: SOIR. The suit responds to one body wearing it, on a permanent basis. That has a downside in that, once the suit is made, it can’t be swapped around to someone else, but it makes for a far better fit in terms of operational parameters once the brainwaves and nervous system are brought into the mix.”

  “Which means?”

  “Well, we know the Mozari technology we have makes heavy use of nanotechnology, and that includes the suits. The nanites themselves interact with certain proteins in your blood—”

  “Yeah, I get that. A one-in-a-million person with the right gene in their blood can wear a suit, but nobody else, right? That’s why the others and I are in this unit.”

  “Exactly. Because you need the right gene and protein for the nanites to accept.”

  Daniel raised a hand. The Army had presumably gotten his DNA and RNA from samples taken at the MEPS recruitment station, but that blood must have dried or been used up by now, he would have thought. “Wait, we don’t have to bleed into the suits, which means that the only way the nanites and blood cells can interact is—”

  The doctor nodded as he answered, “By the nanites passing through your skin and entering the bloodstream, yes.”

  “Wait a minute. These nanites. Do they just plug in when we’re wearing the suits, and then leave
with the suits when we take them off?” Daniel was sure he already knew the answer to that. Logically, the nanites couldn’t be leaving, and the scientist coughed and looked away slightly. “They stay in.”

  The scientist blushed slightly. “As far as we can tell, yes. Certainly, since you’ve now adjusted to the suit, your blood has contained the nanites when we’ve taken these samples here. How long it will take for them to become inert, or decide to leave the body, or break down into their component particles, we don’t know.”

  Daniel imagined an itch, spreading through his body, and shuffled a little, trying to scratch it. “You must have some idea!”

  “The longest anyone has gone without wearing a suit, once bonded to one, is four or five days. We did wonder if new nanites replaced the old ones when the suits were put on, but if so, they maintain consistency of numbers in the bloodstream, as the numbers don’t seem to increase any.”

  At lunch in the Mess, Daniel headed towards Hope’s table, but she looked at him and shook her head as he got to her. “Not now, Lieutenant.”

  “I just—”

  “Is it duty-related?”

  “Not exactly—”

  “Then let me eat and get back to work, please.”

  Suddenly, he felt a prickly buzz of annoyance that wasn’t his, and then her voice, to his surprise and delight, continued in his head. ‘Someone is distracting me when I didn’t want him to. Do you think you might know who it would be?’

  ‘Sorry,’ he felt, and thought, automatically, before he could stop himself. A moment of guilt pricked him.

  She knew that, he could tell, and then he realized that it wasn’t his presence that was creeping her out; it was something in her. A sensation of a sensation, like something she was working hard not to think to him. Something she was thinking or feeling about him, and about her, and how it would feel if they were so connected that they could feel each other’s emotions while... He started. “Oh, that’s...” He thought, ‘Who knew you had such a dirty mind?’

  ‘Don’t all soldiers?’ She motioned to him to sit, with a sigh.

  “Soldiers don’t call the Air Force members soldiers.”

  “Maybe yours do not. But the PLAAF means People’s Liberation Army Air Force. So, soldiers.”

  “I won’t argue.”

  Her lips quirked upward. “Very wise.”

  “Thank you,” Daniel said. “For the thoughts.” Her communication, he understood now, wasn’t easy for her. The fact that she had used it made him feel trusted, more than anything else. That was a warm feeling, and too precious to want to play around with recklessly.

  “They say thoughts are what count.”

  “They’re not wrong.”

  She sat back, her meal finished. “I think I ought to be more thoughtful.” She smiled with a glint in her eye. “It might make for a good scientific exercise. So long as we don’t have to report it up the chain.”

  Daniel felt a stirring in his heart and parts south. “Exercise I can see, but scientific?”

  ‘Perhaps we’ll find out some other things this nano-radio in our heads does for us. I feel it’s our duty as specialist soldiers to conduct the appropriate technical research, don’t you?’

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Twenty

  Kevin Bailey grinned as he shook the first snow of winter off of himself. Being just one of a dozen soldiers with superhuman abilities didn’t make the feeling of being the next best thing to a real-life Superman any less cool. Someday, all this would be declassified, and he would regale Sam with tales of his dad as a superhero, leaping further and running faster than any regular Joe.

  And the Exo-suits had proven to have another unexpected benefit, in that that they maintained a comfortable body temperature. Nobody felt cold when they were out practicing in the early snow, nor overheated, no matter how many layers of camo and combat gear they wore or how much they exerted themselves. Kevin idly wondered if they would ever become common enough and declassified enough to be marketed as cool protective and supportive gear for active and extreme sports, but he knew it would be far in the future if that happened.

  Still, Sam could be a champion at anything when he grew up if he had this kind of back-up. As Kevin returned his M27 to the Armory—no-one was allowed to practice with the railguns solo, and the chief had made it clear that most of their operations could be expected to utilize regular military weapons—he passed by Evans, who was checking over an H&K at a bench, while humming something weird and discordant. “Hey, Jess,” he said, “What’s that weird stuff you were humming?”

  “What? Oh, damn, that Mozari music. Heard it in the Mozari Library. It’s freaky, but a really annoying earworm.”

  “Yeah, sounds as weird as their art gallery looks.”

  “Oh, Supes, could you do me a favor?” He nodded. “West’s in the Mozari Library now. Can you pull him out in five minutes? That’s when his study shift in there is up.”

  “Sure.”

  Daniel was indeed in the Mozari Library. Over the past several weeks, he and the rest of the so-called Exo-units had gotten used to spending time in it—studying the Mozari and trying to get any handle on how the OpFor, or Opposing Force, would behave, as well as learning what they could about the technology that had been acquired for them.

  They’d still never figured out how to disconnect from it themselves, however, and so they’d set up a buddy system of shifts. Nobody was left in the Library for more than an hour. At least time worked at the same rate both inside and outside, so nobody’s hour lasted for mere minutes or whole days of perception.

  Daniel had, like most of the team, occasionally gone asking the Librarian the simple question of “Why?”, but that tended to provoke data about the Mozari’s spiritual beliefs, which were essentially impossible to comprehend—though clearly very different from what the nutjobs like Charles Kebbell claimed the Mozari thought. But as far as Daniel was concerned, the big question remained:

  How was he supposed to understand the Mozari enough to fight them without meeting one? The Library contained images of them, of course, and recordings, but they weren’t real, and Daniel didn’t think they quite conveyed what he needed to know: their thoughts and feelings.

  “If only the Mozari were here,” he said to the Librarian. “If I could meet one face to face—” He paused as a thought struck him. “You’re the Mozari Librarian, but you have a human appearance, yeah?”

  “I was designed to disseminate information in an efficacious manner.”

  “And that works if you look something like us.” Daniel understood. “But can you take on a Mozari form, so we have information on communicating with Mozari?”

  The Librarian blurred and grew, and Daniel took an instinctive step back. He was shocked to see the figure beside him in the gallery, which wasn’t the Librarian he knew. It stood on two legs, and had two arms, and one head, but it was taller than any but the tallest humans, with an exceptionally triangular torso spreading from a tiny waist to massive shoulders, all of which were covered in some kind of scales. Seeing it in front of him was different from seeing it in smaller images, which was how he’d experienced it before.

  The creature’s deep-set eyes gleamed a chill gold, and it had a half-circle of spiky, plastic-like fibers jutting from its forehead. Daniel’s gut clenched as the creature stepped forward, raising a massive arm with long, claw-like fingers tipped by talons. It was both so unlike anything on Earth and yet also so much more real than the Librarian’s normal appearance that the sight of it threw Daniel off balance. There was nothing welcoming or benevolent about it, and he was suddenly certain this was all a trap and that it would tear him to shreds so viciously that his body would die out there in the real world.

  “Is this satisfactory?” it asked, in the Librarian’s voice.

  “Ah...” Daniel tried to speak through a horribly dry virtual mouth. “Yes, that’s... Yes. Thanks...” He was just about to regain his composure when a hand fell upon his shoulder,
and he yelled “Fuck!” before he found himself back in the secure lab used to house the cube. He had gotten so used to it now that he usually no longer even staggered when pulled out of the Mozari virtual world. This time, however, he took a moment to get his breath.

  Bailey was there waiting for him with a quizzical look. “You OK, West?”

  “Yeah, thanks, Superman. Just... helluva sense of timing you got there.”

  Bailey looked the cube over with a dreamy grin. “What do you think about when this stuff will get out into the world? Can you imagine my Sam winning, like, the X Games or something, with one of these suits?”

  “I think, if the technology was out there, all the competitors would have them.”

  “Yeah, but how many of them would be backed up by a dad who’d worn one back in this day and knew all the tricks? He’d be badass.”

  Daniel chuckled. “I’m sure he would, Superman. Maybe he’ll be Superboy.”

  “He always has been,” Bailey answered, beaming.

  “Don’t tell me you gave him that as a middle name?”

  “Hell no! I’m not—well, I’m not going that far.”

  “Thought it might run in the family. Your parents must have had a reason for giving you Superman as a middle name. Can’t imagine what it would be, though.”

  “I bet.” He frowned.

  Daniel wasn’t sure why he’d been picked to accompany Chief Hammond to the bomb range for another test, but he knew the chief would have had a good reason. Hope had taken the rest of the team on an infiltration exercise elsewhere, to get used to the stealth capabilities of their Exo-suits. They’d be practicing slow and quiet movement while he and Hammond were out here at the chief’s order. Daniel could sense Hope, though, and feel her concentration and focus, which was something they had both become used to over the past few weeks. He knew better than to think to her unexpectedly; since he wouldn’t interrupt her on a mission with a phone call or the like, it seemed sensible to treat their thoughts the same way.