by J. N. Chaney
“Looks clear,” transmitted Rigby.
“Same,” said Warren. He’d already checked in front and to the sides, but there was nothing of interest for kilometers. Nothing except for the device.
It stood just over three meters tall and wasn’t quite as wide as it had seemed. It was spire-shaped, but only vaguely so, and the metal looked to be steel. But it was dull like it had been sandblasted before it was installed to reduce its glare. On top of the device was a long antenna.
“So that’s it, eh?” asked Rigby. “I’m not impressed. Have you ever seen anything like this before?”
He shook his head. “Nothing even remotely like this.”
Warren approached the device, searching for anything that might give him a clue who’d made it and what exactly it was for. The whole thing seemed to be one solid piece of metal, though, and he didn’t see any footprints but his own.
“Anything?” asked Rigby when she met him going the other way.
“No, nothing. I’m going to try something.”
Rigby took a step back as Warren lifted his rifle and attached it to his back using the magnetic mount built into his armor. Then he carefully reached out and touched it with one finger. Nothing happened. So, he touched it with his whole hand. Still nothing.
“I can’t feel a thing through this armor,” he complained, “but at least it didn’t zap me.”
“It has to come apart somehow,” said Rigby.
Warren walked around the device, poking, pulling, and twisting pieces while the other cyborg provided security. When he grabbed the round part of the spire, it turned a little.
“It unscrews?” asked Rigby.
“Sure, something like that. Stand back, I’m going to see what’s inside.”
Warren continued to twist a few more times until he felt the top come loose. He lifted it off and was surprised when he spotted no wires connecting the two pieces. He handed the top to Rigby. She turned it over to inspect the bottom and took a peek inside.
“Looks like electrical connectors here,” transmitted Rigby.
Warren heard her but was too busy inspecting the inside of the device. “Well, I can see where it connects to the rest of this. I still have no idea what it’s for, but I know how to find out.”
6
Rigby moved the top of the device, then stood on her tiptoes to take a peek at what Warren was looking at. “Is that a terminal?” she asked.
“Sure looks like it,” replied Warren.
With one hand, he carefully reached into the device and attempted to pull the screen out. When it didn’t budge, he tried pressing it, which appeared to release some kind of mechanical catch somewhere inside. A twelve-centimeter screen slowly rose from the device, and a keyboard followed.
“Not Republic tech,” noted Rigby.
“Agreed,” said Warren. “This has to be Commonwealth.”
A moment later, Rigby walked around the device and joined him. Together they stared at the prompt—a glowing green word on the black background of the screen.
INPUT>
“What kind of input?” asked Rigby. “Do you think it wants a command or something?”
“You tell me,” he replied.
“We should destroy this thing. It’s CoW trash. That’s probably all we need to know.”
Warren was inclined to agree with her but wanted to know more before he destroyed it. Instead, he pressed the number 5 key, then he pressed the ENTER button.
COMMAND NOT RECOGNIZED>
PLEASE IDENTIFY YOURSELF>
“Well, that’s different,” said Rigby. “Identify yourself? Maybe we’ve messed with this thing long enough.”
“I don’t think we have.” Warren entered his first name and pressed ENTER.
WARREN IS NOT A RECOGNIZED USER. YOU ARE A REPUBLIC CYBORG. DO NOT TAMPER WITH THIS DEVICE.
Warren stared at the screen for several seconds.
“Do not tamper with this device?” asked Rigby. “I think you scared it. And how does it know you’re a cyborg? It must have scanners.” She took a couple steps back and studied it, then she unhooked her rifle from her back and brought it to her shoulder. “Unless someone is watching us, only pretending to be a computer. That’s what this has to be, right? I mean, CoW computers don’t talk to people like they’re having a conversation.”
“A Commonwealth artificial intelligence could potentially talk to us this way,” replied Warren. Based on the way Rigby slowly turned her helmet to face him, he could guess what her expression looked like.
“That’s not even funny,” she replied. “But if you’re right, we need to destroy this thing right now. We can’t take any chances there might be a loose AI sitting in here.”
“Hold on,” said Warren. “I’ll send you messages of what I’m telling it and how it replies, but keep your eyes open, just in case it’s run by an offsite operator.”
“Or onsite. They could be right under our feet,” noted Rigby as she began digging into the dust with the toe of her boot. “There could be a whole base under here. Maybe we should bring the Ruthless and bombard this whole area from orbit?”
“Maybe later,” said Warren. “But stand by and keep watch. I have an idea.”
Rigby nodded and began walking a slow circuit a few meters around the device.
Warren placed his hands on the keyboard and entered a message.
WHAT IS YOUR NAME?
DESIGNATION: CU-14, TYPE-4>
A designation wasn’t a name. It was more like a nomenclature, but the answer was enough to tell him it understood the question. So he tried something else.
WHAT IS YOUR PURPOSE?
The answer came back a few seconds later.
MESSAGE RELAY/STORAGE DEVICE>
“Shit,” hissed Rigby, who had drawn closer to read over his shoulder. “Who’s it sending messages to? Do we have another spy on the planet?”
“I doubt it,” replied Warren. “Lukov would’ve picked up a signal from the surface if anyone had a transmitter powerful enough to send one all the way to the moon. No, I think this is for something else.”
“What then? Passing ships?”
Warren felt his eyebrows raise. “Probably. Maybe this thing is like a Republic probe combined with a mailbox.”
“Ask it what it knows,” said Rigby. “You can threaten it if it won’t cooperate.”
Warren had just the question in mind and typed it into the keyboard before pressing the ENTER button.
DID YOU SIGNAL THE COMMONWEALTH SHIP TO ATTACK THE REPUBLIC SHIP?
The answer came back a second later.
YES>
“That settles it,” said Rigby. She turned and pointed her rifle at the device, but Warren held up a hand to stop her.
“Don’t,” he said. “The device said it relays and stores messages.”
“So?”
“So, it stores messages. I bet the Commonwealth uses this like a mailbox, just like I said. This is how they send messages and information to remote stations and planets. I bet they’ve got these relays set up all over the place. If we destroy it, we won’t be able to retrieve those messages. They could hold a goldmine of intel. Also, if a passing ship tries to store a message, they’ll know the relay is down. It’ll cut off our flow of information and possibly cause another attack before we’re ready.”
Rigby slowly lowered her rifle. “How do we get the info out of it, then?”
“Head back to the ship,” said Warren. “Open a channel and send me the frequency. Make sure it’s not a frequency we’re likely to use in the future. Make sure it’s in the same spectrum the Commonwealth uses. Set the ship to record everything coming in and send me the frequency.”
“You think it’ll spill its guts if you tell it to?” she asked, slowly backing toward their ship.
“Maybe. I might have to threaten it.”
She laughed, then turned and hurried to the small cargo ship. A minute later, she sent Warren a message containing the frequency.
&nbs
p; He typed a command into the keyboard and waited for a response.
DATA TRANSMITTAL REQUIRES AUTHORIZATION>
PLEASE ENTER AUTHORIZATION CODE>
Warren entered a message threatening to break the machine in half if it didn’t let him in.
AUTHORIZATION CODE NOT ACCEPTED>
“Nice try,” said Rigby. “Want to go ahead and blow it up now?”
Warren ignored her and peered into the top of the device. Inside were several panels held in place by polished screws. “No, but if you would bring some tools out, I think I’m going to dig deeper into this thing. Worst case, I break it anyway.”
“Sounds good to me.” Rigby laughed. A minute later, she returned with a handful of various tools, including a screwdriver.
After studying the panels for a moment longer, Warren selected one and began removing the first screw.
“Uh oh,” said Rigby. “Looks like you scared it. Maybe now it knows we’re serious.”
Warren joined her in front of the screen and read a message.
DO NOT DISASSEMBLE>
He laughed, then turned to Rigby. “See if you can talk some sense into this thing while I keep removing panels. Worst case scenario, I find where it’s storing its data, and we let Sparky see if he can extract it. Maybe we’ll learn something valuable.
“My pleasure,” replied Rigby as she pretended to crack her knuckles and started typing on the keyboard.
While she performed hostile negotiations with the AI, Warren continued to remove screws. He only got to the third before the other cyborg interrupted him.
“It says it’s transmitting everything it’s got,” said Rigby. “Estimated time is two hours. Either it’s really slow—“
“Or it’s storing a lot of information,” Warren interrupted. “Let’s hope it’s the latter. Tell it I’m replacing the screws, but I’ll change my mind if it doesn’t finish transmitting the data.”
A minute later, Warren had finished and left Rigby guarding the device as he returned to their ship. Sure enough, the vessel was receiving data on the channel the other cyborg had told the relay to send it on. After checking the scanners to make sure nobody was sneaking up on them, he returned and motioned that he wanted to use the keyboard.
He asked the AI if there was a Commonwealth base on the moon. It replied in the negative, so he asked if there was one inside the moon, underground, or somewhere else nearby—in case it needed precise phrasing. Each time it answered in the negative.
“It could be lying,” said Rigby. “I wouldn’t put it past the CoWs to teach their computers how to lie.”
“Neither would I,” admitted Warren. “But I think it’s telling the truth.”
“How would we be able to tell?” she asked.
Warren thought about it for a moment and decided to ask it a question he was sure it would lie about. He asked the AI how many Commonwealth spies were on Reotis.
5>
“It doesn’t know we killed four of them and have the other one imprisoned,” whispered Rigby. “Or it could be telling us the truth to try to build our trust so it can lie to us later.”
“It’s possible,” replied Warren. “But why would it? I think if it knew, it would tell us the truth. It means they probably shared whatever intel they’d gathered with their comrades when they landed. The spies probably stayed in place in case the Commonwealth lost the planet again, so there shouldn’t be any more to worry about.”
“Which happened a lot,” conceded Rigby. “Ask it why the Commonwealth wants this planet so badly.”
ALL PLANETS HOLD STRATEGIC IMPORTANCE IN THE WAR>
The answer was vague. It might’ve been a pre-programmed response, or it might be the truth.
Warren caught sight of Rigby as she turned away from the device and lifted her face toward the sky. When he followed her gaze, he discovered what she was staring at.
Reotis was red enough to look like a drop of blood on a black curtain. Its reflection from the nearby star was enough to wash the others from the sky, giving the space around the planet an inky, empty appearance. He stood by her side as she gazed at their home in quiet contemplation.
“That planet is our home,” she said, her tone distant. “But in all honesty, this place is shit. It’s dry, nothing grows on the surface, and it doesn’t even have a breathable atmosphere. The Commonwealth might be able to use it as some kind of forward base, but it would take a tonne of work to make it anything special. Don’t tell any of the Reotians I said it, but this place sucks.”
“But the AI said all planets hold strategic importance in the war,” replied Warren. “Maybe it means even if the planet only holds a tiny bit of importance, it’s enough for the Commonwealth.”
“Or this machine’s stupid, just following some kind of dumb CoW war doctrine it doesn’t really understand. I doubt any of them really understand.”
“They’ve given the Republic enough trouble,” noted Warren.
Rigby shrugged. “Yeah, they sure have. It still doesn’t make sense to me. All this fighting over one stinking planet that isn’t good for anything. I was talking to one of the old-timers. She said the Repub left them high and dry for years before the CoWs showed up. She says their grand plan became a little too expensive. There were supposed to be hundreds of domes spanning the whole surface of the place—or everywhere they weren’t mining aegonite. It was supposed to be their number one source of the stuff so they could make dome-cities elsewhere.”
“I heard the same from someone else,” Warren said. “Maybe that’s why the CoWs want it—either to mine the aegonite themselves or deny it to the Republic.”
Rigby slowly shook her head. “It’s a lot of lives to lose over something that has to be mined, especially since there isn’t even any equipment on the planet. The Repub let their stuff rot, and the CoWs didn’t bring any of their own. If they had, I’m sure the Reotians would’ve snagged some between invasions. They snag everything.”
“That they do,” Warren agreed. He checked his oxygen supply. It was at eighty percent. “Let’s close this thing back up and return to base. We’ll get Sparky working on this data and see what he can make of it.”
Rigby nodded and picked up the spire-like top to the device. “How do you figure he’s faring with the AI module you left him?”
“No idea,” admitted Warren. “But if it’s anything like this one, probably not well.”
7
Warren watched the ship’s scanners. They were hovering above the entrance to the hangar, but nobody had opened it. He didn’t want to stick around too long. He had hoped the base was still a secret.
“Attention Reotis Defense Force, this is Warren. We’re still outside. Is anyone going to open the airlock?” The cyborg waited another few seconds before coming to a decision. “Take us to the Dome-6 airlock. We’ll head in on foot and—“
“Uh, sorry, Warren, sir,” a voice said across the channel. “There’s been an incident. We’ll update you ASAP. Opening the hatch now.”
“Finally,” said Rigby. “I wonder what’s happening in there.”
“So do I,” said Warren as he braced himself for the worst. When the concealed outer hatch they would use to get into the hangar didn’t burp a cloud of black smoke, it only took one possibility off the list of tragedies his mind came up with.
Rigby hurried the craft into the airlock, pointing the nose down a little to get it to fit.
As soon as the craft landed, Warren erupted from his seat and hurried to the back before impatiently waiting for the cargo hatch—the only egress—to drop far enough for him to slip out. If he was sure there was an emergency, he knew he could have ripped the ass end of the ship off and made a hasty exit. But there were no flashing red lights. Whatever had happened was important enough to pull everyone out of the communications room, but not important enough to put the entire colony on alert.
“Lukov, talk to me,” Warren transmitted.
“I am in Dome-5,” he replied. “All is calm n
ow, but there has been an incident. Two colonists are deceased.”
“What happened?” Warren asked as he checked his surroundings. The hangar was still full of personnel, but now half of them were talking instead of working.
“Drugs,” the Russian replied. “It is for what Dr. Fordell is saying. Drugs. This is serious problems. One human die when attacking other in communication room. Other found dead at the house he is shared with friend. They are both dead of drugs.”
Warren was pissed off but held on to his cool. “Do you need any help, or do you have this?” he asked.
“No help is need by me,” replied Lukov. “Is maybe disguised blessing. We are finding evidence of the manufacture of the drugs. Maybe is the source. I will report when findings are found.”
“Thanks,” Warren replied. He summarized what had happened to Rigby as she approached, helmet in the crook of her arm.
“I hope that’s the end of it,” she said. “Poetic justice if a drug manufacturer dies from his own shit, right?”
“That it would be.”
“So, are we going to see—“ she started.
“Oh, thank goodness you’re back,” said Sparky as he approached. His shirt was torn and stained with fresh blood. It looked like someone had hit him in the forehead with a pipe. The goose egg he was growing was just starting to turn purple at the edges.
“The heck happened to you?” asked Rigby.
He shook his head. “I’d better not try to explain it. Too complicated. Please, come see.”
Warren and Rigby exchanged a glance before following him. He removed his helmet but thought about putting it back on as soon as they entered Sparky’s office.
It appeared the tech had moved his desk against the wall nearest the door. It also looked like he’d taken every piece of technical trash and piled it in the center of the room like a Christmas tree, then yanked the wires from the lights in the ceiling and set the whole thing on fire.
