Honeypot
J.J. Polson
(Seven parts. 7500 words.)
One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven
One
Michael narrowed his eyes. The bottle was just out of reach.
Every morning since the scouting party had arrived on the alien world, the luxury hotel had restocked itself. Fifty poolside chairs arranged exactly three feet apart. Cheap white tables hosting bottles of refreshing beer positioned an arm’s length away.
Had something changed?
Groaning, Michael reached for the bottle a second time … and failed. Exhausted by the unexpected surge of effort, he stifled a yawn and reeled in his heavy limb. He had little desire to adjust his position, to participate in a third attempt.
Routine had long since set in. Lunch would arrive in an hour, dropped from a fleet of autonomous drones onto the end of his lounge chair. He would not be required to leave his post until dinner appeared in the hotel’s dining hall. An undisturbed sleep would follow.
Then, the next day in paradise would begin. It was a glorious cycle from which he had no desire to ever escape…
A familiar and unwanted voice aroused him from his morning nap.
“What do you want?” he hissed. “Can’t you see that I’m busy?”
“Busy? Don’t you know what day it is, soldier?”
“It doesn’t matter what–”
Michael found himself on the ground, the lounge chair awkwardly positioned atop his body. Diane observed him with hard eyes. For some reason, the dictatorial woman had donned her flight gear. It was only as he crawled out from beneath the chair that revelation struck.
“It can’t be,” he sighed, begrudgingly rising to his feet. “Already?”
“Two hundred days tomorrow. No causalities. No illnesses. No severe weather or natural disasters trigged by our arrival. Most importantly, no signs of domestic life. We need to be beyond the atmosphere of this planet by sunset to intercept the jump-ship and make our return to Earth Station Seven.”
Michael frowned. “What about everyone else?”
“Everyone except you and Rodger is already on board,” Diane replied flatly.
“Then go and fetch him first. I’ll be here when you get back.”
The woman shook her head.
“Fine,” Michael relented. He walked to the nearest table, claimed a chilled bottle from its surface, and twisted off the top. “Lead the way, Captain.”
*
Struggling to think, Michael watched the picturesque countryside blur by. The surfaceship was earth-made. Powered by solar energy, it could effortlessly traverse any terrain. The ships they had discovered in the planet’s factories were far superior, but Diane refused to interact with alien tech.
“We don’t have to leave, you know.” He avoided the captain’s glare with a well-timed swallow of beer. “If we miss the rendezvous, they’ll assume the planet killed us. No one will come looking.”
“Have you forgotten our mission, soldier?”
Michael shrugged. “Why not leave me behind then? I’ll make sure whoever built this place doesn’t resurface while you are gone.”
“Because something is wrong with this world.”
“What do you mean?”
“When was the last time you exercised, soldier? The last time you cleaned your weapon? The last time you even took inventory of your surroundings?”
When, he didn’t respond, Diane snatched the half-empty bottle from his hands and tossed it through the open window. “You’re not alone. However, the others weren’t nearly as bad. Mal was the only one who couldn’t leave under her own power.”
Michael raised his brow. “What did you do to Mal?”
“Nothing she won’t recover from. I had Trent escort her back to the ship.” Diane reached into the weapon’s cache between them and extended him a rifle. “Mal was the third furthest from the ship. You were the second. Rodger’s farm is our most distant outpost. Prepare yourself, soldier.”
*
Michael wearily exited the surfaceship and labored to catch up to the captain’s long strides. Inexplicably, the standard-issue rifle felt foreign in his hands. Looking down the sight, he found his vision to be blurred. He could barely close his fingers around the stock.
The surrounding area was pleasantly quiet. A brick windmill spun lazily in the distance, rising above the uniform rows of crops like a silent sentry.
The soldier frowned, glancing at the manicured lawn to either side of the dirt path leading to the quaint farmhouse ahead. “You’re worrying for nothing, captain. This place is harmless. Whatever was here before us is long gone.”
“You were too busy sitting by the pool to question where they’ve gone.”
“I’d wager it was some sort of disease.”
“You actually believe that a species capable of constructing a fully automated world would allow themselves to be killed off by a disease?” Diane turned as they reached the door to the farmhouse. “If I hadn’t flipped over your chair, you wouldn’t have left it. This place would’ve claimed you.”
“Claimed me?”
Without responding, the captain opened the door and disappeared within. Michael released the safety on his weapon, then followed.
The solider found Diane staring out an open window into the field of crops beyond.
A man stared back at them, a warm smile upon his face, vines ensnaring his limbs. The color had long-since drained from his skin, and his boots had sunken into the ground. Before him was a picnic table piled high with spoiled produce.
Diane turned to leave. “I won’t risk attempting to recover the body.”
“We can’t just leave him!” Michael shouted, heart suddenly racing. “Rodger is one of us!”
“This world is a honeypot. We need to leave before it’s too late.” Diane summoned him with a wave of her hand. “That is an order, soldier.”
Two
Michael battled exhaustion as the surfaceship sped away from the farm. Only the horrific sight of his dead friend kept him alert. Rodger had been a far better soldier than he. They had traversed billions of light-years together, explored dozens of alien planets. In the end, his friend had died alone.
“What are we going to tell the admiral?” the soldier asked.
Diane kept her eyes ahead. “This is far from the first hostile world mankind has encountered. Casualties are not uncommon.”
“You speak like his death means nothing!”
“For now, our focus is making the rendezvous,” Diane replied bluntly. “If we manage to get off this cursed world down only one squad member, it will be a victory. We can’t allow any other squads to ever venture to this place. What if the honeypot has learned from its mistake?”
Michael hung his head, eventually managing to clench his fist in frustration. As always, the captain knew best. Diane saw the larger picture, putting the continued existence of the human race above the lives of her squad, including her own.
“It should have been me,” he said at last. “You were right earlier. I lost track of our purpose here, of the mission we’ve dedicated our lives to. I haven’t thought about those suffering on Earth in months. I was too selfish to see what this place had done to me.”
“Enough,” Diane snapped. “What happened is beyond our control. As I stayed on the ship, I was the only one unaffected by this world’s spell.”
With considerable effort, Michael drove his fist into the base of the control console. “I’m of no use to you anymore, captain. This place has robbed me of my mind. I can’t even shoot straight.”
“I said enough complaining, soldier. We’ll run a full medical diagnostic once we’re back–”
Michael looked up as Diane trailed off. They had already reached the picturesque city, a perfect grid of a half-dozen streets housing a number of residential buildings and skyscrapers. Leafy trees lined either side of the road, providing shade to the vacant pedestrian walkways beyond.
The surfaceship came to an abrupt stop. Diane kicked opened the door and leapt to the ground, rifle at home in her gloved hands. Michael overcame the protest of his tired muscles and joined her before an identical, stalled surfaceship. It took the solider a moment to realize it belonged to the squad.
The woman cursed. “Back in the ship. Now.”
“We can’t leave them,” Michael protested as he forced his exhausted body to obey. “You said they were both alive. That couldn’t have been more than a few hours ago.”
Diane ignored him. “Their location chips are still active. They’re together.” The hard-eyed woman bared her teeth in frustration. “This world still has a hold on them. I should’ve made sure they reached the spaceship…”
“Captain! We have to try and save them!”
“I know.”
*
Moments later, Michael stumbled from the surfaceship and landed awkwardly on the ground. A wave of nausea brought him to his knees. Vomit spewed from his lips onto the warm concrete.
Diane pulled him back to his feet and shoved a rifle into his hands. “Let’s move.”
The captain had tracked their missing squad members to an old-fashioned factory made of smooth concrete at the edge of the automated city. White smoke rose in columns from an orderly row of stacks atop the structure, disappearing into the perfect sky above.
The world surrounding them was perilously silent. Turning back, Michael could just discern their spaceship in the empty recreational field that bordered the city.
“This is where Trent was stationed,” the captain explained as they approached the building. With her gun, she gestured to the myriad of surfaceships surrounding them. “It’s been operating nonstop since our arrival. For now, it is only constructing surfaceships.”
“For … now?” Michael echoed. He found that he could barely speak. The strange effect the world had on him had only increased since leaving the farm.
“Soldier!” Diane’s voice awoke Michael from an involuntary sleep.
The captain tilted his head back and forced an icy fluid down his throat. He recognized the taste. It was a tonic developed on Earth to stimulate focus, to temporary alleviate exhaustion. The aftereffect would leave him in a week-long slumber.
Michael snarled as his awareness returned in a wave of pain. The soldier peered down the sight of his rifle, turned to his captain, and nodded. “Ready.”
Inside the factory, sound returned. The muted whine of turning belts and gears. The distant crackle of a forge’s confined flame. The sharp hiss of a dozen hydraulic presses working in harmony.
Diane set a measured pace as they moved through the spotless interior. Michael trailed her, studying his environment with what seemed preternaturally sharp vision. Only now did he realize the extent of the malaise the world had placed upon him.
The soldier stopped at his captain’s command.
Two familiar figures stood before a centralized hydraulic press. Enormous chunks of recently-pressed metal moved on a conveyor belt behind them.
Trent faced them with eyes of solid black, outfitted in his flight gear. Mal stood at his side, features concealed beneath the hood of a standard-issue Force jacket.
“That is close enough, humans.” The voice that came from Trent’s mouth was not his own. It was dry and emotionless. Each word the same as the last.
“So, you can communicate.” Diane took a step forward. “Return my men to me, Honeypot.”
“Your men are no more. Observe,” the hollow voice replied. On its last word, the conveyor belt came to a smooth stop, and the statuesque figure of Mal stepped forward.
Michael watched in horror as the woman lowered her hood to reveal a familiar face made entirely of metal. No. Not familiar. Every feature was identical to Mal’s. The creature was an exact replica. Seconds later, a dozen identical creations rose from metal pods atop the belt.
“You have my thanks for bringing such valuable organic commodities to my home,” the strange voice said. “Soon, I will have a way to escape the confines of this word and spread to the next.”
Growling, Michael stepped past Diane. “Get out of here, captain. You’re the only one who this place hasn’t infected. We can’t allow them to have the spaceship.”
“What about you, soldier?”
“Don’t worry about me.” Michael took another step forward. Before she could protest, a glowing charge launched from his rifle, taking off the head of the first replica-human. Smoldering shards of metal filled the air and fell like hail upon them.
The soldier turned back to his captain with wide eyes. “Run!”
*
On the verge of tears, Diane watched the world below disappear.
In the beginning, the world had been the most promising replacement for Earth any squad had ever discovered. Now, it was a world that would haunt the rest of her days.
Four soldiers who had trusted her. Their blood on her hands.
The captain entered the coordinates to the jump-ship as she attempted to purge the nightmarish scenes of the farm and factory from her mind.
Once the course had been set, she closed her eyes, yielding to sudden exhaustion.
Three
Honeypot. Yes. That was the name the human had given her.
The being pondered the name’s meaning as the marvelous spaceship carved through the endless darkness of space. She queried her memories in hopes of finding the relevant reference, only to be quickly rebuffed. The images embedded on the human probe that had entered her atmosphere years before held no mention of honey or pots.
An unfortunate burden. Honeypot had little desire to go through the arduous process of considering other potential names. She decided to accept the name the human had bestowed upon her.
Satisfied. Honeypot returned her attention to the spaceship’s control console. The fascinating arrangement of screens, switches, and dials had initially left her baffled. Nothing had changed. It was unlikely that she could learn their functions independently. Made of alien materials and powered by an unknown fuel, the entire device was positively mystifying.
Besides, there was a more pressing issue. The human had set the spaceship on a predetermined route before succumbing to Honeypot’s influence. Having no access to the woman’s memories, Honeypot had been unwillingly placed in quite the predicament. She wanted to expand her influence to other worlds, but this was far from the ideal beginning.
Frustration. Honeypot understood this chaotic situation had been of her own making. She had overstepped in the factory, made far too many assumptions. She had become excited.
The plan had been simple. Capture the last of the humans, then strip apart their spaceship and reverse-engineer it. However, in an unforeseen turn of events, the male had somehow suppressed her influence and sacrificed his life for that of the woman.
A shame neither had known that simply breathing the air of Honeypot’s home had compromised them. Perhaps then they would have simply surrendered.
Focus. Honeypot had registered every word the humans had spoken on her home, deciphering their language and learning the purpose for their visit. Their homeworld, the source of the images she had cloned to seduce them, was in danger of collapse. The humans had sent organized units of many-named warriors across the cosmos in hopes of discovering a replacement home.
Before receiving their probe, Honeypot had never encountered any other source of organic life in countless millennia of existence. From her moon, she had ceaselessly monitored the silent sea of darkness surrounding her home, awaiting the day something emerged.
And what a day it had been!
Excitement renewed. A monstrosity appeared ahead. A massive structure of smooth metal and bright lights. Other ships circled it like bees to a hive.
Bees. Hive. Honey. Honeypot tapped her fingers on the console but still couldn’t conclude the meaning of her chosen name. However, she was getting closer. Yes. Much closer.
Focus. Honeypot redirected her attention to the task at hand.
Replica humans crafted from alternate materials had proven ineffective. Even with their primitive senses, humans could distinguish their own species, eliminating Honeypot’s initial idea of creating a legion of her own human explorers.
Honeypot had since crafted a better solution. She would convince the humans in charge of the terraforming operation that her home was the ideal choice as the next Earth.
A home that grew increasingly far away.
Honeypot wondered if the human on the spaceship died or somehow escaped her influence – could she overtake another? Could she infiltrate the human’s floating metal home and transform it into an extension of herself?
No. It wouldn’t be any different than the spaceship. Only items crafted on her home carried her essence, only they could serve as an extension of her consciousness. Furthermore, only upon Honeypot’s home could her essence be transferred. She needed to construct her own ships, to force humans to breathe her manufactured oxygen. That was the best path forward.
Surprise! The spaceship slowed dramatically, spun about, and was drawn into the floating metal-world.
While cycling through the woman’s most common mannerisms, Honeypot studied the countless humans within the cavernous chamber. She wondered what they spoke of, if they would allow her to observe their sharing of information and emotions.
The door opened and Honeypot rose to her feet, what she believed to be a smile upon her face.
Elation, then sudden fear. Two humans outfitted in unfamiliar garments entered the ship. Their faces were concealed behind glass. Bright fabric covered their skin.
“Captain. Where’s the rest of your squad?”
Honeypot had prepared for this. She nodded.
“You failed to answer our repeated attempts at communications. Where is the rest of your squad?”
Increasing uncertainty. Honeypot had never conversed with anyone before. Was this sort of thing required? She had, perhaps incorrectly, determined it voluntary. The humans on her home had been quick to isolate themselves. The man at the hotel pool had never spoken to anyone.
One of the humans stepped closer. “Name and rank, captain.”
Honeypot knew this one. “Diane.”
Perplexed. Honeypot watched as colorful air filled the spaceship.
Panic. She felt herself losing awareness of her human extension.
*
Failure. Honeypot studied the stars from her home, wondering what she had done wrong.
Four
Unexpected joy. Honeypot immediately suspended construction of her second human-city and reclaimed her estranged organic vessel.
She found herself in a dimly lit metallic compartment, the walls of which were oppressively close together. Examining her human-body, Honeypot quickly determined it unharmed. She wondered at the implications. She had originally concluded the other humans had killed it.
Stepping forward, Honeypot walked directly into the chamber’s door. Pain. She studied the door for some time, pondering a myriad of possible reasons as to why it had not obeyed her command. Humans approached doors. Doors opened. That was certain. This door had disobeyed the natural order of things.
Concern. Honey remembered the way the humans had reacted upon entering the spaceship. She had spent nearly two hundred human-days studying those who had come to her home. Revelation. Both the number of human-days and humans in the study had been insufficient. To achieve her goals, a new study would–
A voice startled her.
“You’ve been captured.”
Honeypot could not immediately discern the source of the disembodied words. Caution. The humans had tricked her once before by inciting conversation. In that instance, she had provided the correct information but still been rejected.
Confidence. Diane had been the woman’s name. Honeypot simply didn’t understand the human species as well as she had first believed. Once again, she had made too many assumptions.
Now, she had been offered another chance … if she chose to take it.
Curiosity. Honeypot couldn’t help but respond to the voice. She had failed her first trial. Would she be able to succeed in the second?
“Captured? What do you mean?”
The other voice seemed surprised. “You can … hear me?”
A follow-up question! She had made it further than before.
Focus. Honeypot would not fall prey to over-confidence yet again. She learned from her mistakes. Eventually.
“I can hear you,” she confirmed. “Why would I not be able to?”
“Because I am communicating by means beyond the ability of humans to comprehend. Normal conversation is impossible within these cells.”
Intrigue. “Does that mean I am communicating that way as well?”
“Obviously,” the voice replied. “You asked what it is to be captured. The humans have taken away our freedom because they believe us to be threats. They have captured us.”
Confused. Honeypot looked upon her home. She did not feel captured. It was likely she had not yet mastered the human language.
Irritation. The humans had turned out far more complex than they had any reason to. It had certainly started with their fascination with gender and names. Forcing distinction upon themselves had created a species with infinite complexities. How did they manage to keep track of it all?
Wait. The voice had claimed that the humans saw her as a threat. How was that possible? She hadn’t done anything to threaten them yet. They knew nothing of her ambition.
“Are you a human?” Honeypot asked.
“No. Neither are you.”
Focus. The second test had finally arrived. The humans needed data of their own. What better way to confirm the fate of their warriors through manipulating this scenario known as capture?
“Of course I am human. My name is Diane. What else would I be?”
“My guess is that you’re a parasite. That you took over one of them while they explored your home world and somehow returned to this spacestation.”
“Parasite?” Honeypot repeated. She inferred the meaning of the word and frowned.
This interaction had not gone as expected, a troubling trend. Honeypot replayed the conversation with the alleged not-human within her mind and concluded the owner of the voice was in the same situation she was in. Captured and not-human.
That meant the second test was still to come.
“Do you have a name?” Honeypot asked at last.
“Why do you ask?”
“Names are required by humans. It helps them identity each other. Every human has one.”
The not-human laughed. “Not just humans. My species as well. Humans have both a unique name and a family name. On my homeworld, every newborn is given seven names. I will spare you the rationale for each. You may call me Thal.”
Relief. Two names! Honey grinned. The humans had been looking for two names, and she had only given them one. A miscalculation, not a misunderstanding of the entire species.
Concern. Had the humans identified her as enemy as a result of her mistake?
“Are you their enemy as well?” Honeypot asked.
“I gave you my name, but you did not return the favor. That is how introductions are completed.”
“I am Honeypot. Before you ask, I haven’t yet determined what it means. But I am close.”
“You are a strange one, Honeypot.”
“As are you, Thal. Although, not as strange or complex as these humans have turned out to be. Based on your circumstances, I have concluded that you are their enemy as well. I assume they landed on your homeworld with a small group of warriors. What happened next?”
“I was part of a team that showed them our planet in exchange for valuables. During our expedition, the humans killed a sacred creature by mistake and incited a skirmish…”
Honeypot extended her hand toward the door. Still, it refused open.
“… when I couldn’t convince my brethren of the misunderstanding, I helped the humans escape. I was a fool to ever trust them. They imprisoned me as a reward for saving them.”
“Don’t you mean captured?” Honeypot asked.
Thal growled. “Same meaning.”
“What is the status of your world now, Thal? Have the humans returned?”
“I do not know.”
“Can they populate your world in their natural state? No breathing masks? No skin protection?”
“Only during the season of warmth.”
“Then you do not have to worry, Thal. The humans seek a world resembling their Earth. That is what makes my world the perfect choice for their replacement.”
“Your … world?” Thal echoed. “Are you planning to offer it to them?”
“Accurate. I wish to enslave them. I am their enemy after all.”
“Are you mad?”
“I already told you that I am Honeypot.”
Thal was quiet for some time. Honeypot did not know why. Finally, he said, “there is a reason they’ve awakened you, Honeypot. The humans will soon subject you to interrogation.”
Excitement. “And what is the reason they’ve awakened you, Thal?”
“Their gas has no effect on me. I am only pretending to sleep. I plot my escape.”
“Pretending? What is that?”
“To make something appear to be the case when it is in fact not.”
“Ah, that is my plan as well,” Honeypot mused. She paused upon hearing the distant sound of approaching footsteps. “I wish you farewell, Thal, and I hope you achieve escape. Perhaps I will visit your world during the warm season.”
Honeypot stood as the door finally obeyed her command. Outside, five humans dressed in warrior attire and wielding familiar rifles awaited.
“Follow us,” one ordered. The male spun on the heel of his boot and marched away.
Honeypot could hardly contain herself. The second test had arrived!
Five
Admiral Livingston glared at the two scientists through the thick lens of his glasses.
He allowed the silence to simmer, waiting for his intimidating presence and unmatched rank to seep into the bones of the men standing before him. A lifetime of service in the name of Earth had taught him countless lessons. If the scientists had any lingering doubt about their report, he would draw it out of them.
“So,” the admiral began at last. “You believe this is all the result of mental distress.”
The two men nodded.
“Captain Ross’ scans came back completely normal, Sir,” the first man reiterated anxiously.
“Her firearm was discharged,” the other man continued in the same tone. “It is likely that she encountered resistance, that the rest of her squad perished in the exchange. This deduction is further supported by the empty container of focus-tonic found among her effects.”
The admiral pressed forward. “The ship’s log reports limited movement for two hundred days. Ross never mentioned other lifeforms on the planet.”
Again, the scientists nodded.
“Captain Ross did report that the world was previously occupied, Sir,” the first scientist meekly countered. “She believed the native species was highly advanced. Recordings from the ship show a fully automated city similar in structural design to Earth.”
The second man provided further detail. “Captain Ross did not record a video log of her final day on the planet, Sir. Up to that point, we can confirm that her entire squad was alive. We hypothesize that as the squad reassembled and prepared to leave, the natives confronted them.”
Livingston further narrowed his eyes. As expected, he had uncovered additional facts regarding the captain’s logs and use of the focus-tonic, a last resort for deployed soldiers. Of course, before speaking to the captain, he wanted to ensure that he had drained dry the well of information.
“Anything else?” the admiral asked in his iron voice.
“One more thing, Sir,” the first replied. “In later logs, Captain Ross mentioned that her squad had become suspiciously unresponsive. She speculated that, due to the planet’s innate appeal, they did not desire to return.”
Satisfied, the admiral dismissed the two scientists.
A planet so close to what Earth had once been would enamor even the best soldier. A reprieve from their seemingly endless mission to relax beneath the warmth of a genuine sun was a dream even the admiral shared.
Livingston stood, ignoring the protest of his weathered joints. Before exiting his office, he paused before the mirror, ran a fine comb through his gray mustache and straightened his jacket. Appearances were important aboard Earth Station Seven. It was paramount for every soldier to see that their commanding officer maintained the rigid standards of discipline.
As he marched toward the interrogation chamber, Livingston’s thoughts returned to the greater picture. Captain Ross and her squad had landed upon the best candidate planet the Force had discovered in over fifty years of searching. Before the strange events of her arrival, he had planned to immediately deploy an advanced unit to further study the promising world.
And now…
Livingston clinched his jaw, refusing to show his frustration.
Earth was dying. Morale was crumbling. The exodus of Earth’s population to stations scattered throughout the cosmos had done nothing to reverse the planet’s downward spiral. Finding a successor to Earth was more important now than ever. Humanity needed a permanent home. Humanity needed direction.
Truth be told, Livingston had all but made his decision.
Three waiting officers saluted as Admiral Livingston entered the small room adjacent to the interrogation chamber. Through the one-sided glass wall, the admiral studied the woman sitting alone at the table. Captain Ross appeared understandably tense.
“Any issues with the transport?” Livingston asked.
“No resistance, Admiral,” one of the officers reported. “Although, she’s clearly not happy with her treatment.”
Livingston adjusted his glasses. “We had to be certain. Earth Station Four was destroyed as a result of a parasite that spread within its walls.”
The three officers nodded. None had forgotten.
“Shall we join you, Sir?” one asked.
“No. I’ll handle this myself.”
*
Intrigue. Honeypot watched the three humans in the next room salute the rigid gray-haired man. It was gesture of respect; one she learned from the human warriors who had visited her homeworld. She appreciated that the humans took the time to identify their leader. It was one of the precious few things they made simple.
As she decoded their conversation, Honeypot decided she would salute the man as well. She could not afford another mistake. She needed to convince the humans to return to her home in force. For that, she would have to successfully pretend to be Diane.
Wait. Two names. Honeypot sought the woman’s superfluous second name and found it within her limitless memory.
Ross. Yes. That was it. Captain Diane Ross.
Caution. Honeypot stood as the leader of the humans entered the small chamber. She mimicked the human salute and noted a flair of what she hoped to be approval within the eyes of the older male. Honeypot’s gaze lingered on the man’s face, noting he wore a pair of glass lens over his eyes. She wondered their purpose.
Focus. There would be plenty of time to further her understanding of the humans once she convinced them of what had to be done.
“Take a seat, Captain,” the human leader instructed.
Honeypot obeyed, thankful that titles had replaced names. “Thank you, Admiral.”
“I’ll cut to the chase,” the admiral said in an unpleasing voice. “We need to know what happened on that planet. Tell me what fate befell your squad.”
Excitement. Restraint. Once beyond the pesky door, Honeypot had determined that the humans had made a mistake. They had abandoned their protective gear. The rifles had been for show. The admiral’s mannerisms confirmed that they believed she was the female captain.
On her walk through the spacestation, Honeypot had concluded the best way to pass the second test. She would pretend to be regretful. Certainly, that was how Diane Ross would have felt.
“It was my fault, Admiral. We thought that the planet was safe. We weren’t expecting…”
Honeypot trailed off, realizing that she didn’t know the proper word to describe herself.
Fortunately, the admiral provided it. “The natives.”
Honeypot nodded slowly, signifying her reluctant acceptance.
“Describe them, Captain. How many? What sort of weaponry? From your reports, we know their level of tech is advanced.”
Elation. No. Restraint. Honeypot had not expected it to be this easy. It was apparent the humans had already decided their course of action.
Honeypot told the human what he wanted to hear. “Soldiers made of metal. Hundreds of them. Michael and I were the last alive. He sacrificed himself so that I could escape…”
Six
Focus. Honeypot’s laser-rifle hummed as she attempted to hit the moving targets. The oddly pleasing sound of the weapon’s discharge reminded her of how far she had come since her initial failure in her factory. Once finished, she patiently waited for the range-master to upload the results to the small screen within her designated chamber.
Disgust. Her most recent attempt had yielded a paltry success rate. She had barley improved in her time aboard Earth Station Seven. Fortunately, Honeypot had little desire for her metal-humans to be accurate. They just needed to be convincing.
It was only pretend after all.
Reflection. Honeypot walked the bowels of the spacestation after exiting the range.
Once again, the humans had made a critical mistake. Their impressive spacestation was filled with unrestricted knowledge and histories that would ensure their defeat. Even more damning, they had left her entirely unsupervised in their rush to claim her home.
From her distant moon, Honeypot had watched the human army emerge from the endless darkness in an admittedly impressive display of power. The admiral had summoned reserves from other spacestations to combat Honeypot’s perceived threat. Thousands of human warriors aboard giant spaceships bearing an assortment of interesting weaponry had answered his call.
Delight. Honeypot observed the evolving situation on her home, certain the defining battle would soon take place. It had been thirty-three days since the admiral’s departure. Her extended time pretending to be a human had done wonders for her internal clock. She was beginning to think that there might be benefit in tracking human-days after all.
Time. The very notion fascinated her. The human warriors claimed to have dedicated their lives to finding a way to save their species. However, instead of transferring that purpose through ensuing generations to ensure success, they clearly wanted to achieve the goal inside their natural lifetimes.
Focus. Manipulating the slender electronic screen in her hand, Honeypot glanced at the sentries posted outside the door where Thal was imprisoned. She passed them on her rounds at varied times throughout the day, passively seeking an opportunity to help Thal in his escape. Unfortunately, the interchangeable soldiers were ever vigilant.
The not-human claimed to be plotting his own escape, however, if Thal hadn’t managed to free himself by now, then he certainly needed assistance. After the human soldiers emerged victorious and summoned their kin to her home, she would no longer need her current vessel. She could sacrifice herself for Thal as the human named Michael had done for Captain Diane Ross inside her factory.
It would be … Honeypot flipped through the screen’s virtual dictionary … poetic.
Almost as poetic as her chosen name. Honeypot still marveled at the recent discovery, at Captain Diane Ross’ impressively fitting choice.
Surprisingly, a honeypot had little to do with either pots or honey. It was another human oddity, bestowing new and dissimilar meaning among a combination of words. If not for the strange linguistic rules the humans had adopted, she would have discovered her answer far earlier.
Of course, there had been a benefit of later discovery. In researching honey and bees and pots, Honeypot had found herself enthralled with the functionality of the species known as bees. Countless workers serving an omniscient queen. A singular mind in control of innumerable vessels used to further her goals and satisfy her needs. The humans had labeled this phenomenon the hive mind.
More importantly, Honeypot had discovered that the hive mind was not unique to Earth. In fact, it was the most common species structure found throughout the cosmos. She had instantly identified it as the best solution to ensnare the humans. So eager to accomplish their goals, so limited by time, so desperate to see what they wanted to see, they would walk directly into her trap.
Honeypot laughed to herself as she neared her assigned metal chamber. The humans had turned out to be far less complicated than she had first thought.
*
Admiral Livingston cleaned the lens of his glasses against the inside of his jacket. After replacing them atop his crooked nose, he resumed his study of the vast city ahead.
A half-smile had long-since settled upon his weathered face. Victory on what some had already started to call New Earth would see his mission complete. He would retire with the Force’s highest honor and spend the rest of his days relaxing by the water beneath a warm sun. After so many years of searching, after so many lives lost in the name of Earth, his mind would finally be at peace.
The truth was that New Earth wasn’t automated. The entire planet was ruled by a singular entity, a Queen, who created and controlled soldiers and workers to enforce her will.
The natives hadn’t disappeared overnight; they had hidden from Captain Ross and her squad while the Queen determined the best course of action. The metal-soldiers had appeared when the Queen sensed the danger of the humans’ departure, when she realized their intent to summon reinforcements.
As a result of Ross’ escape, the Queen had been forced to prepare for their arrival. Dozens of automated factories produced hundreds of metal soldiers with every hour that passed. The city had nearly doubled in size, and the surrounding countryside had been pillaged for resources.
Fortunately, the Queen stood no chance. Even aided by her impressive technological prowess, the species was limited by its planetary boundaries.
Earth’s best scientists had confirmed that any competing Queens had been eliminated long ago, citing the ruins of other cities that dotted the planet. The current Queen had been born long after the struggle for dominance. Her combat experience would be limited at best.
The Queen and her soldiers would be defeated using the strategies the Force had developed over half a century of combating similar hostile planets. Hive minds were fragile. Once the Queen had been exterminated, victory would swiftly follow.
Livingston watched his officers organize their soldiers in stoic silence. His presence was necessary to ensure his men realized the importance of this day, to maintain their focus.
Forces from the three nearest spacestations had combined for a massive joint operation, the type of which hadn’t been seen in decades. Their triumph would resonate for eternity.
“Admiral Livingston.”
The admiral turned and greeted his counterparts from the other two stations.
“This place is marvelous,” the younger of the admirals remarked. “How did you discover it?”
Livingston had no desire to take credit. In fact, it was more important than ever to maintain discipline in the ranks of the Force. “Protocol of course. We knew this day would come. It was only a matter of time before a replacement Earth was located.”
His counterparts nodded.
“The city is surrounded. Our forces are ready. The elite squads have already infiltrated the perimeter and advance toward the lair of the Queen,” the second admiral reported. “We thought it best that you give the order, Sir. This is your operation after all.”
Livingston nodded and spoke a single word into his transponder.
“Begin.”
Seven
Honeypot smiled. Today she would rescue Thal.
To her surprise, Honeypot had discovered that the not-human was her friend. Furthermore, the invisible bonds created by friendship were mutually beneficial. When one side helped the other, an equivalent or greater response was required. As Thal had helped her deceive the humans, she was required to help him escape. It was only logical.
No longer did Honeypot need the vessel of Captain Diane Ross. The only requirement of her plan was to trick the humans into thinking that Thal had orchestrated his own escape, that Captain Diane Ross had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Fortunately, humans had a hereditary tendency to accept the truths provided to them.
Rifle in hand, Honeypot strolled through the shining hallways of Earth Station Seven.
Once the spacestations were emptied of their occupants, true humans would exist only on the dying planet Earth. Honeypot debated the novelty of their continued independent existence against the effort required to exterminate them. Loose ends tended to cause a myriad of problems, in human history and fiction alike.
Loose ends. Honeypot glanced at the loyal camera posted outside the prison block.
Since the departure of the admiral, she had learned other ways to take control of things. As a whole, the language of computers had been far easier to learn than that of humans. It was built upon sound syntax and logic, making it easy to overtake the system without notice.
Three human soldiers watched over dozens of monitors in a distant, centralized chamber. Honeypot had studied them extensively. Their performance was far from optimal.
Without the admiral to lead them, the humans onboard Earth Station Seven had fallen prey to their innate tendency to relax. The station had already halved its occupants. Within months, it would be deserted save for a core crew of operators. The minds of those that remained had already joined their comrades on Honeypot’s home, reveling in their apparent good fortune.
Honeypot stalled before the sentries posted outside the prison. As always, there were two soldiers, forgettable faces concealed behind tinted glass visors. She had taken to conversing with them in recent weeks to gain their trust.
“Captain Ross, how was the range today?” one asked.
Despite not knowing the woman’s name, Honeypot knew the soldier desired her. Interestingly, the carnal desires of mankind were among their greatest weaknesses. Honeypot had tested the innate human desires of her own vessel to unsatisfactory results.
“I’ve gotten much better,” Honeypot admitted, raising her rifle.
The sentries fell seconds later, failing to emit even the slightest sound of warning. Honeypot observed both ends of the empty passageway before taking the required keycard from one the dead humans, raising it to the door, and gaining entry to the prison cells beyond.
Honeypot moved quickly down the lifeless hallway. Most of the cells were empty; according to electronic records they had never been occupied. She approached Thal’s cell and unlocked the heavy door with the keycard.
“Greetings, Thal,” Honeypot said. “I see that you remain captured.”
The not-human lay on the floor, blue skin pale beneath the cell’s dim light. His body was roughly the size of a large, adult male human. Honeypot studied his figure with passing interest, wondering which species would make for superior warriors.
Two of Thal’s four eyes opened. “Honeypot? How long has it been?”
“Seventy-three human days since we last spoke.”
Thal slowly made his way to webbed feet. Honeypot allowed the not-human a few moments to exit his cell and stretch his fatigued and withered muscles. Presently, he turned to regard Honeypot with his black lips curved downward.
“Does this rescue not put your own plans at risk?”
Honeypot shook her head. “I have achieved everything desired from this vessel. That is why I have decided to rescue my friend with its final act.”
“Friends? Is that what we are?”
“What else would we be, Thal? You helped me deceive the humans. I have returned the favor.”
The not-human skeptically studied the empty hall of cells. “Where have they all gone? The alarms should be sounding by now.”
“I told you already, my friend. I have accomplished my goal.”
“You’ve enslaved them on your home world?”
Honeypot grinned. “So, you do remember.”
“I have not had many conversations of late.”
“Well, that is about to change, friend Thal.” Honeypot gestured toward the prison’s entrance. “A ship awaits you in the docks. I found the location of your planet within Earth Station Seven’s archives and set it as the destination of the ship’s automatic navigation system. All you have to do is sit down and hit the blinking button. The trip will take some time of course. I’ve diverted one of the jump-ships to make it slightly more bearable.”
Thal regarded her silently for a long moment. “Thank you, Honeypot.”
“No need to thank me. That is what friends are for, Thal.”
“Perhaps we are truly friends after all.”
Honeypot nodded. “I plan to visit you on your homeworld some day. During the warm season of course.”
The not-human narrowed his eyes in what was likely warning.
Honeypot pressed her rifle into Thal’s muscular arms. “Oh! I almost forgot the map to the docks. I assume they never gave you a proper tour of the station.” She retrieved the screen from her coat pocket and passed it into the not-human’s seven-fingered hand. “Just follow my instructions.”
As soon as they reemerged into the central hallway, Honeypot stepped past the dead soldiers, turned to the not-human, and waved. “Goodbye, friend Thal. See you soon. Please make sure you aim for my head.”
*
Former Admiral Livingston watched the sun rise from his favored beach chair, listening to the sound of the nearby waves caressing the shoreline.
New Earth was a world filled with ceaseless wonders. The technology of the exterminated natives had been harnessed by the scientists, bringing the conquered world into a state of full automation. The resort operated itself, repositioning identical beach chairs exactly three feet apart each morning.
It was the kind of uniform discipline that brought a smile to weathered man’s face.
In the year since the defeat of the planet’s Queen, humans had flocked to New Earth. New cities and towns had begun construction at strategic points across the planet’s surface.
Once again, humanity had a safe place to call home. Once again, humanity had hope.
Livingston reached for the cooler half-buried in the sand beside his chair. Within, resided bottles of beer that were continuously restocked by drones. He had never tasted better.
Frowning, he discovered the cooler was just out of reach and was forced to adjust his position to retrieve his prize. He wondered if something had changed, if the container was positioned slightly further away from the chair than usual. The troubling thought left his mind upon lifting the chilled bottle to his lips.
At long last, he had found paradise.