by Mike Jansen
Jesus Almada Gutierrez Alvarez the Seventh looked out over the Cerulean Ocean that stretched from below his balcony to the horizon.
Life on Garuda III could be harsh, but for a member of the powerful Alvarez family many doors opened easily. However that path would have been too easy. Boredom was an ever present threat. It was the reason he had started a Quizling Bureau: ‘No question is too vague!’ was his motto. He rarely received questions that couldn’t be solved in a few days with some Web sleuthing.
“Busy?” came the tinny voice of Navodny Hekelbareth behind him.
“Nah. Which housekeeping bot did you seduce this time to open the barrier for you?”
“Harrumph, I say, I am here on a mission for the Sekretariat. The idea alone that I would stoop to something like that …”
Jeses interest was piqued. A drone that was allowed to cross privacy barriers was rare. “It happened before.”
“Don’t remember,” Navodny said while hovering next to Jesus at head height.
“Spill it, drone. What is this super duper double secret message from the Sekretariat that they couldn’t send it via personal message?”
An electric field appeared around them and the outside world was silenced and hazy.
“A secrecy field, Navodny? Must be important then. Do I need to sit down?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. We’re not in one of those Old Earth corny detective series.”
Jesus indicated the drone to continue.
“We’ve received a message from our research station Nautica Subcutanea.”
“Nice name. Personal choice?”
“Class IV AI. They have a weird sense of humor. She leads a research mission into the Pajero Cloud, a few light years from here.”
Jesus shrugged. “What can I tell a Class IV that she doesn’t know already?”
“We wondered about that. The images they sent us were quite educational, if you like vivisection.”
Jesus looked aside. “Vivisection? How should I see that?”
“Like I said it. People falling apart into small pieces, stripped layer by layer of skin, muscle, organs, bones. Yet no visible culprit, no sign of any tools or equipment.”
“How many on board?”
“Seven.”
“How many dead?”
“Six. The last one will be relieved in two days. A Gargantua class cruiser is coming to Garuda III to pick you up. You will arrive at the same time as the freighter.”
Jesus whistled. “A Gargantua class? For me? And you think I’ll just drop everything and agree to accepting this assignment?” A memory surfaced in his mind.
“You’re always bored. Our estimation of 97% certainty of you saying yes was enough to get Barsende Gevvalt to alter its course.”
Jesus sighed. “That’s what I thought. Again? What is it with that ship?”
The drone laughed a mechanical laugh. “He writes essays about ‘special humans’ and he apparently decided you’re one of those.”
“Do you have any idea how annoying he is? He keeps asking stupid questions.”
“And you keep answering them, again and again,” the drone said. The secrecy field switched off. “Your transport is descending from orbit, get your things, you’re leaving in five minutes.”
*
A journey with Barsende Gevvalt was as boring as Jesus had anticipated. Despite repeated attempts to hide, the ship knew where to find him, so he had questions asked of him in the weirdest locations and at the weirdest times: A mechanical bird flying by, an improved cat, a traffic robot, an information kiosk and even some of the people he met on board of the ship.
From the bridge of the cruiser the Pajero Cloud was an impressive collection of light emanating gas and dust clouds where hot young stars caused interesting color patterns that twisted across light years into curls and vortices to form a blinding kaleidoscope of colors.
The Nautica Subcutanea seemed dull and grey in comparison, a collection of tubes and habitats surrounding the original research ship which formed the core of the construction. Compared to the immense cruiser it seemed just an insignificant insect.
Jesus went to the departure hangar.
“Thank you for your mindful responses, mister Alvarez. I/we will be just around the corner, should a quick retreat be necessary.”
Jeses snorted. Just around the corner for Barsende Gevvalt was still almost ten light years. “Just keep your scanners open. Just in case.”
The messenger drone grumbled assent and left the hangar where the shuttle waited patiently until Jesus had boarded.
*
Inside the Nautica Subcutanea he was met by an identical messenger drone. This one had a clearly feminine voice. “Welcome aboard the research station, mister Alvarez.”
“Thanks, Nautica. Can I freshen up first, before we visit the crime scenes?”
“Of course. My drone will point you the way.”
They moved through tubes and corridors crafted from a variety of materials, ranging from metal to plastic and compressed stone. Gravity was kept at a comfortable zero point eight g.
The room Jesus was delivered to was spartan. A bed, a desk and a shower. A transparent plastane wall offered a beautiful view of the Pajero Cloud. He placed his suitcase on the bed and got out his space suit, an active polymer that fit seamlessly around his body and offered maximum freedom of movement. He washed his hands and had them blow dried. Moisture and fungi were a continuous problem in space stations, even with the current advances in technology.
The messenger drone waited outside his room when he left it with his favorite notebook and pencil.
“According to the dossier the first occurrence happened in section B22. I would like to visit that one first.” Obedient, the drone led him there.
Section B22 was a fairly wide tube with white walls, part of which was sectioned off using orange tape and thin, opaque fabric. Through a simple flap Jesus entered. The drone followed.
This part of the tube was a dark brown red. There was a scent of metal.
Jesus investigated the spots and blood patterns.
“Nautica? Can you isolate victim one and project here via this drone, exactly where it happened?”
“Of course, mister Alvarez. His name was Jeng Zi Huan.” Moments later a transparent form of a young man appeared. Jesus estimated him end twenty, well built, wearing a coverall.
“Time duration of the moment this happened until the end of the procedure?”
“Two minutes, fourteen seconds.”
“Show me.”
The transparent figure seemed to keel forward. Clothes were cut away in strips, then came skin, fatty layers, muscles. Jesus saw clearly the muscle contractions of the body of the man as his skin was cut away. “He was conscious as this happened,” Jesus said. The resulting skeleton fell to the ground.
“What … what happened,” he swallowed, “… with the soft parts?”
“Collected by a cleaning crew and placed in a special container, then put on ice.”
“When did number two occur?”
“Nearly eight hours later. Room three-two-four. Leisha Harare was in bed, undergoing REM sleep.”
“Show me.”
The room resembled his own quarters. The bed had not been cleaned and the sheets were blood soaked, although dry now.
“Do we have footage of this one as well?”
“Partially. When I received signs of extreme stress from her implant I activated the sensorium.”
“Recording time and estimated total time?”
“One minute fifty seconds. Considering the speed of the process the estimated total time is roughly two minutes and one second.”
“Faster than the first, right?”
“Clearly.”
Jesus nodded and noted the information. This room also had a plastane wall that displayed the Pajero Cloud. He felt a momentary shiver across his spine. “Number three?”
“Nikola Mendelsson. D18. Just outside the observatory.”
“Bring me there. After that I wish to talk to the surviving crew member.”
The drone went ahead.
D18 was a spacious area with a tube running through the middle, while habitat parts were connected all around. Here too was a piece that was sectioned off with opaque fabric. Jesus had the scene played here too. This time he measured the time himself. “One minute forty six. It’s accelerating.” He had the scene played over and over, at least a dozen times. “Can you compare the cut pieces? Size, width, height, length?”
“Compared to the previous incidents the reduction in size is a factor of five for each occurrence.”
“Please apply to the subsequent events.”
It was silent for a few seconds.
The drone grunted a few times, impatient. “With the next three size had decreased by a factor of five or more each time.”
Jesus nodded. “Take me to the survivor please. What was her name again?”
“Ellen DelaRocha, biologist, divorced, no kids.” The drone spewed more information while they traversed the station through tubes and corridors.
Sick bay was a separate module, containing all modern surgical equipment and a well stocked pharmacological printer. The woman lay on an examination table. She was fast asleep.
“I assume she is sedated?” Jesus said.
“She saw most of what happened. Sleeping seemed best for her. Especially if it should happen again.”
“I still need to talk to her. Wake her.”
Within a minute the woman started to roll her eyes behind her eyelids. Suddenly they sprang open and Jesus saw her fear.
“Ssht, relax, Ellen. My name is Jesus Alvarez, here on behest of the Sekretariat to find out what happened. Can you talk?”
Ellen swallowed a few times, then nodded. “What do you want to know?”
“First I would like to ask you if you have a clue about what happened to your colleagues.”
Ellen shook her head. “I saw Jeng and Lars fall victim to it. The rest I wasn’t around. I …”
“You are wondering why not you, why they?” Jesus sighed. “Understandable. Lars was the final victim, right?”
Ellen nodded. “It was terrible. Like he disintegrated right before my eyes.”
“Different than Jeng, right?”
She considered his words. “Yes, right. Jeng was much cruder.”
“Any other observations?”
“No … wait, yes. Lars’ head. I saw his skull being opened and his brain taken out. That did not happen with Jeng.”
Jesus made more notes. “Nautica? Who was number five?”
“Jenna Mbole.”
“May I make a guess? Skull lifted, brain in pieces removed?”
After a short pause: “That is mostly correct, Jesus.”
Jesus nodded softly. “Might I ask of you what a biologist is doing on board of this station, miss DelaRocha?”
“Of course. I research the complex organic molecules that are abundantly present inside the Pajero Cloud.”
“That sounds intriguing,” Jesus said. “Did you find anything special?”
“Yes, lots. The cloud is filled with complex carbon molecules with rare trace elements. The density is also much higher than we initially thought. I’ve taken countless samples and there is so much still to find out.”
“Nautica, I have a suspicion. We will convene at the loading bay to discuss.”
“If Ellen agrees and does not rather go back to sleep.”
Ellen shook her blonde curls. “I’ve slept enough. I’m quite curious to mister Alvarez has to say.”
The messenger drone went ahead and half an hour later they entered Nautica Subcutanea’s loading bay.
*
“Nautica, please project all six recordings next to each other right here, if that is possible?”
“Complying, Jesus. More than sufficient space in the loading bay.”
“Great, start playback then, on repeat please.”
One by one the transparent recordings began to play like a noiseless, macabre dance.
Jesus saw Ellen’s eyes grow moist. “Horrid, isn’t it?”
Ellen nodded.
“Our revulsion should not deter us from keeping an objective view,” Jesus continued. “We witness a refinement and acceleration after each subsequent incident. This indicated some form of intelligence. In the last two incidents we witness a novelty: the skull is lifted and the contents are scooped out in strops. This happened to Jenna. With Lars the contents seemed to disintegrate. But that did not happen. Deconstruction occurred nearly on a cellular level.”
“A drastic refinement then,” Ellen said.
“Indeed. And surprising too,” Jesus said.
“But how?”
The drone added: “My circuits must admit a modicum of curiosity.”
“We are missing something,” Jesus said. “I just do not know what, yet.” He looked at the panorama window that occupied a side of the loading bay and saw the colorful vortices of the Pajero Cloud. Then he looked at the continuing display of the recordings.
“Another question, Ellen, please?”
“Of course.” She sat on a pile of pallets.
“How do you store your samples?”
Ellen blinked. “Eh … magnetic containers. So that the molecules cannot be contaminated inside the ship’s atmosphere.
“Complex organic molecules?”
Ellen nodded. “Surprisingly long carbon molecule chains. Deeper inside the cloud it’s like flying through some kind of thick soup.”
“So funny you should mention that,” Jesus said. “Soup. Like some kind of … primordial soup?” He looked at her until he saw the light in her eyes appear. “You understand what I’m implying?”
“That … is impossible.” Ellen shook her head.
“Look outside. Can you explain the kaleidoscope? The complex patterns that are formed?”
“No. No, I cannot. It could be magnetic, electrical fields.” She turned paler than she already was. “And I’ve been cutting pieces from the cloud for the past few weeks.”
Jesus sighed. “My thoughts exactly. We think it’s normal to take samples. Perhaps ‘others’ will also find that normal. Nautica, can you cut up people using a magnetic knife?”
Nautica’s voice sounded inside the loading bay. “Confirmed. Humanity has used magnetic knives to dissect DNA and even single molecules.”
Jesus stretched his arm towards the panorama view. “Why shouldn’t there be an intelligence out there that has the possibility of performing these actions? We have seen clear improvements between each dissection. Nautica, can you visualize magnetic activities around the ship?”
“The sensorium can measure down to Pico-amperes. Standard is full amperes because the resulting amount of data might flood the memory systems.”
“Can you generate an image of electrical fields in and around the loading bay. Then slowly increase resolution?”
After a short pause, Nautica projected a uniform mist inside the hangar. The improvement in resolution was slow but steady. First the people present and the drone lit up like purple clouds. A few seconds later colored balls appeared inside the loading bay, each color denoting field intensity.
“Maintain, Nautica,” Jesus said. He walked carefully through the loading bay until he reached one of the colored balls. He tried to touch it, but the object moved away from him just in time. Jesus nodded. He tried again, same result. “What is their energy source, Nautica?”
Nautica answered by displaying thin strands running from the balls to the wall of the bay.
“Think they’re hostile?” Ellen said. “We did actually attack them and they have dissected several of our people.”
Jesus shook his head. “I think it’s curiosity. Like kids finding something new. Until they discover there’s more in their latest discovery than they first thought. Probably they only noticed the electric fields of our brains with the latest victims. Or perhaps the entire cloud is one big entity.”
“I think I’ll soon release my samples,” Ellen said.
Jesus smiled. “That reminds me of the release of the dolphins and whales.”
Ellen looked at him. “You think the Pajero Cloud has a similar intelligence?”
“Who’ll say? It took us centuries before we found out dolphins had similar IQ to humans and that whales were in fact more intelligent by a factor. Perhaps we humans are actually helping the Pajero Cloud achieve or increase its intelligence.”
Ellen nodded deliberately. “A beautiful thought. Now what do we do? Try and start up communications?”
“That seems a good plan. My quizling here is done. I shall report to the Sekretariat. Nautica, can you reach out to Barsende Gevvalt?”
“He is on his way, Jesus,” Nautica said. “He says he has many questions for you.”
Jesus sighed and his shoulders slumped. With mock derision he said: “Alright, one for the team, then.”
Mike Jansen has published in Dutch, German, Romanian, Estonian, Polish, Chinese, French, Finnish, Russian, Swedish, Catalan, Spanish and English anthologies and magazines. Since 2011 he has published over 100 English language stories in the U.S., U.K. and Australia. In addition, three fantasy novels, two story collections and several novellas in Dutch, a novel and a short story collection in English. He has won the Dutch King Kong Award 1992, an honorable mention for the Australian 1998 Altair Magazine launch competition, in 2012 the Baarn Literary Prize and the prestigious Dutch Fantastels award, in 2020 the GP Scifi/Fantasy Award and in 2021 the Mossy Statue prize for best promoter of Dutch SF, F and H. Since 2016 Mike organizes the Dutch EdgeZero awards, an attempt to get the best stories from Dutch language genre contests and magazines of the previous year collected and published in a year’s best anthology. So far eight anthologies have been published. In addition he publishes themed anthologies showcasing the best Dutch authors. Some of his recent work has appeared in Samovar and Strange Horizons.