‘The other Arachne was distributed through space.’
‘We differ – my essence is much more tightly bound to Crucible.’
This was such an odd admission of vulnerability that Chiku was unsure what to make of it at first. Why would this Arachne bind herself to a planet rather than smear herself out across light-seconds or -minutes of space? Surely it was better to be diffused – even at the expense of light-travel time – than glued to a ball of rock?
‘I had no other choice,’ Arachne said, as if Chiku had voiced a question.
Chiku did not wait for a third impactor to hit Crucible – she knew it would only be a matter of time before another arrived. She had spoken to the others, and they had arrived at a brittle, provisional consensus – a grudging agreement that this action was the best of the bad options currently available to them. No one liked it. After all they had been through, collectively and individually, parlaying for something almost indistinguishable from surrender by the caravans left an ineradicable sourness in their mouths.
Chiku merely had to utter her statement. Arachne would deal with the practicalities of transmitting it to the holoships, which were still many light-weeks away from the edge of the solar system.
‘We’re alive,’ she began.
She was standing in front of one of her tower’s windows, backdropped by a vista of colourless forest and sackcloth skies. The trees were in constant motion, stirred by winds that had been gusting in without cessation for several days. Another effect of the first two impacts, Namboze had explained: the dust thrown up blocked the sun; the land and the ocean cooled; and the cooling ocean brewed frigid new sea-currents and chilling jet streams, shifting global weather patterns into some ugly new configuration. Namboze spoke of trophic cascades, of catastrophic ecosystemic shifts that could not be easily undone. And although the planet’s mantle of living organisms had evolved under a rain of comets and asteroids, these impactors were an artificial intrusion, their frequency surely too high for any natural coping mechanism.
‘We’re alive,’ she repeated, ‘and well, five of us awake and – as far as I’m aware – the other fifteen still asleep on Icebreaker. We’ve been down on the surface since my last transmission. I suppose you could say we’re prisoners, but we’ve been treated well and allowed to communicate with each other. My words – these words – aren’t being censored or manipulated. I’ve been told I’m free to say anything I like, so I’m about to put that to the test. The thing keeping us here is an artificial intelligence modelled on the real persona of a woman called Lin Wei. Yes, that Lin Wei. The intelligence is called Arachne. We’ve been in contact with her from the moment we were forced out of orbit. Arachne both controls and is the Providers – they’re an inseparable entity at this point. You’ll know from my transmissions that there are no cities here, and you won’t be getting the welcome we were expecting.’
Chiku swallowed, gathering her thoughts. She was determined to keep this message as brief as possible. ‘Arachne has reason to be nervous of our approach,’ she continued, ‘and we have reason to be nervous of Arachne. She’s something most of us haven’t encountered before. She’s still trying to make sense of herself, and how she fits into . . . well, let’s just say there’s a hierarchy of intelligences at play here. By now you’ll have independent knowledge of the orbiting structures. We’ve seen them up close, but I’m sure your own observations are already leading you to the same conclusions we reached. They’re some kind of machine sentience, called Watchkeepers. Arachne’s been trying to establish a dialogue with these machines for as long as she’s been here. That process is still ongoing.’
After a pause, she said, ‘I believe we can find a way to share this planetary space with both Arachne and the Watchkeepers, but it’ll take time. Our immediate priority is mutual survival and the establishment of a basis for future cooperation, however far off that future may be. But all-out war isn’t the way to proceed! You’ve launched an attack on Crucible, I’m guessing on the presumption that we’re dead, and that there’s nothing but machines down here. I understand your motives, but you must desist from this attack immediately. The impactors are damaging Crucible, and sooner or later you’re going to wipe out me and my crew. Mandala’s at risk, too, and sooner or later a rogue shot’s going to strike one of the Watchkeepers. Most importantly, though, you simply can’t succeed. You have the advantage now, but Arachne’s far from powerless. Forced to defend herself, she’ll deploy her own weapons. Travertine’s run some calculations, and there’s a very high likelihood that Arachne will be able to target and destroy incoming holoships. You’ll have no more warning than we did, but we have a planet under us, and you’re perched on about fifty kilometres of bonded rock and ice. The caravan might eventually overwhelm Arachne’s capabilities by attrition – but not before tens of millions of lives have been lost.’
She paused to let that sink in, then continued, ‘But it’s not too late to avoid an escalation! I doubt you have the means to destroy your impactors ahead of their arrival, but you must have data on their speeds and trajectories. Transmit that information to us and Arachne can coordinate her long-range planetary defences to minimise the chances of a collision. At the same time, disengage your slowdown engines. Arachne will allow the holoships to pass through the system unchallenged, provided there are no more acts of war.’
Sensing the crucial moment now, Chiku clenched her fist in emphasis. ‘This doesn’t have to be a surrender! I want Crucible as much as the rest of you. Gonithi Namboze has walked in the forest and seen the wonders awaiting us. You should have seen her face! We’re not ready to give up on our mission! But a de-escalation will buy us all time – time to continue negotiations, time to build a basis of trust. The five of us here are willing to take on the task of forging better relations between the caravan and Arachne, but the attacks must end now. Transmit the vectors of the impactors to us. Do this one good thing, and we have a chance – all of us.’
Another pause before she added: ‘I am Chiku Akinya. I am the daughter of Sunday Akinya; I am the great-granddaughter of Eunice Akinya – Senge Dongma, the lion-faced one, mother of us all, the very reason why we’re here in the first place. She asked us to be wiser than our natures. Well, this is our great chance to be wise. I’ve made mistakes, I know – and I’m prepared to answer for them, too, when the time comes. But here and now, only one thing matters. All of us – human and machine alike – must choose the wise path. We both have the means to do harm to each other – the strength to destroy. But there is also a strength in not being strong. I beg of you to find that quality, and use it well.’
When she was done, Arachne permitted her to review the message. There were a thousand things Chiku might have changed, given time, but now was not the moment for perfection. She had given the best of herself.
‘Send it.’
‘Done. You did well, Chiku.’ Arachne mimed applause. ‘Bravo, magnissimo!’
‘It won’t make any difference.’
‘Perhaps your words will change their minds.’
‘They’ve already started trying to wipe you off the planet and they won’t stop until you’re dead. They’re going to assume you’ve cooked up a simulation of me. They might even believe it’s me and carry on anyway. There are twenty of us, Arachne – we’re less than nothing against the tens of millions on the holoships. If I was making the decisions back there, I’d consider us expendable.’
‘You’re not that cold, Chiku Akinya, no matter what you might think. You’d find a way to make this work.’
After a moment, Chiku said: ‘How many months until my statement reaches them?’
‘Nine weeks, and a similar interval before we can expect any response.’
‘I can’t bear to wait that long.’
‘Then don’t,’ Arachne said, as if skipping time was as trivial as catnapping.
Chiku’s life had been episodic from the moment she arrived on Crucible, but now the episodes assumed the fractured, st
accato quality of half-recollected dreams. With her kinetic defences amplified to detect objects moving much faster than any natural bodies, Arachne deflected about four-fifths of the impactors aimed directly at Crucible. The frequency of projectiles had increased, though, so an unhindered impactor made its way to the surface about once every five days. In addition, Arachne’s intercepts were not always totally effective, sometimes shattering impactors into smaller fragments rather than obliterating them. Arachne’s systems generally could not deal with these co-moving fragments, and most of them were too large and fast to be burnt up in the atmosphere. Smaller impacts peppered Crucible’s surface, adding to the megatonnage of uplifted dust. Ravenous, wind-whipped firestorms advanced their all-consuming fronts through the dry temperate forests in the northern and southern land masses. At the time of Chiku’s transmission, there had been only two direct hits, but within a month the number had increased to nine. All but two had struck land rather than ocean, confirming once and for all that the impactors were being directed against the Provider surface installations.
‘They’re fools,’ Travertine said, during one of their conversations. ‘This isn’t how you prepare a planet for colonisation – by turning it into a corpse!’
‘Gonithi says the effect on the biosphere is still fairly small,’ Chiku said, with the uncomfortable feeling that she was justifying the actions of the holoships. ‘I mean, compared to what it must have endured over early bombardment phases, and what it’s capable of bouncing back from. Maybe this is just a wave, a salvo or whatever, that they’ve already stopped. They can’t be this wrong!’
‘Even if they’ve stopped sending the projectiles, that won’t placate our friend with the violin, will it?’
‘Her terms were clear enough,’ Chiku admitted.
‘I don’t know how far out her defences reach,’ Travertine said, ‘but I wouldn’t be at all surprised if she’s in a position to retaliate soon. For all we know her kinetic cannons may have launched their slugs already, without waiting to see what effect your piece of heroic oratory had on whoever’s in charge there now.’
‘Would she go all the way – total destruction?’
‘Of those five holoships?’ Travertine’s shrug was indolent and unconcerned, like a lioness bothered by a fly. ‘Why not? They’re doing their best to destroy her, so why not return the favour?’
‘I thought, no matter how bad things got, we’d be able to talk our way to a resolution. It’s not going to work, is it? They don’t want to listen.’
‘We’re just noise to them now,’ Travertine said.
After the tenth impact there was a lull. Arachne’s sensors swept deep space and found no more incoming objects closer than the holoships themselves.
‘Your transmission will have reached them by now,’ Arachne explained, ‘but that can’t be the reason for this ceasefire: there hasn’t been enough time for light-signals to return from the holoships, even if they sent some kind of self-destruct order to the impactors as soon as your message arrived.’
‘Perhaps they’ll send those coordinates you asked for,’ Chiku said.
‘That would be propitious, but I’m not particularly confident that any such gesture will eventuate.’ She paused, then added, ‘I’ve been spending far too much time around humans – your cynicism’s beginning to rub off on me.’
‘Do you still intend to keep your part of the bargain if they stop their deceleration burn?’
‘When you stated my terms, only two impactors had struck Crucible. In the wake of the continued onslaught, however, I find myself somewhat less inclined to generosity of spirit.’ She composed her features into a mask of stoic resignation. ‘But I still intend to honour my commitment – for the moment. Your holoships aren’t within my kinetic cannons’ effective range yet, anyway. You were right, when you spoke of the need to avoid escalation. I’ll strive to avoid that eventuality until all my options are exhausted.’
‘And then what?’
‘I’ve computed simulations, Chiku. I wish they’d been ready at the time of your transmission as they would have made my case much more forcibly. Even with the modest resources at my disposal, it is really not a problem for me to destroy at least three of those five ho-loships. I may do better than that if the balance of odds falls in my favour.’
‘Why would you tell me that now?’
‘I just thought you should be properly aware of my, well, I shan’t say confidence. But the strategic advantage is mine. You said it very well, Chiku: this is a planet, not a ball of rock and ice.’
‘If it comes to a fire fight, you can’t lose – not this first battle, anyway.’
‘Perhaps, and tomorrow is another day. I’m learning, and evolving, and my capabilities will continue to improve.’
‘Good for you. I do find myself wondering why you’re bothering to keep the five of us alive if you no longer need our advice.’ Chiku nodded to the window. The forest’s vibrant green had deteriorated to an exercise in greyscale, from the ash-covered, withering canopy to the skull-coloured sky. ‘Sorry to sound like an ungracious guest, but even the scenery’s really not up to much.’
‘It’ll recover. And you underestimate your amusement value to me. You’re a system I can’t model to perfection, which is both a frustration and a fascination. I do also still need your opinion on a certain matter. Would you indulge me, Chiku?’
Between one thought and the next it was night time, and they were standing beneath the dome again, high on the elevated disc. Arachne swept her hand overhead, dusting aside the clouds in broad swathes, leaving dark velvet brushstrokes in a grey sky moted with countless stars. The Milky Way was a spray of tiny phosphorescent plankton, surging and ebbing on the night’s sea foam. Two or three planets, bright and unwavering as panther eyes, slinked along in the same ecliptic plane as Crucible.
‘What now, Arachne?’ Chiku snapped. ‘I’m sick of being shown things I can’t touch. Sick of being asked for my opinion on things I can’t influence. You’re going to destroy us, no matter what happens. I’m sick of you, sick of this dying planet, sick of being imprisoned here.’
‘I found Zanzibar.’
And with a kind of grand showmanship, knowing exactly the effect her words would have on her guest, she added, ‘It’s still out there, to the best of my knowledge. Still travelling. It appears to be intact. But something has happened to it.’
‘What? Where is it? It’s not one of the first five, is it?’
‘I thought it might be, for a while, but I’ve refined my identifications and am quite confident that Zanzibar isn’t among them. They are Malabar, Majuli, Ukerewe, Netrani and Sriharikota.’
‘Why the hell did you wait until now to tell me this?’
‘I wanted to spare you the agony of false hope. Now I have some concrete data to back up my hypothesis and you need to know a couple of facts. Zanzibar’s very dark, whereas when you left, it was bright with the evidence of human occupation and activity. It’s also quite some way from its predicted position and still travelling at twelve-point-seven per cent of the speed of light.’
Arachne conjured an image in the patch of cleared sky. Sketched in spectral blues was a walnut-shaped smear lacking almost any distinctive features.
‘That could be anything.’
‘Or it could be a holoship, at the limit of my optical and radar capabilities. My assessment is that the profile matches Zanzibar’s characteristics, within the errors of resolution. There is a brighter spot, an area of enhanced reflectivity – do you see it? That could be the repairs you effected after the Kappa event.’
‘You’ll need to give me more information than that to convince me.’
‘It could be another holoship, it’s true, but I also detected a burst of communication. It was very brief, devoid of any obviously useful content, but it utilised the same encryption embedding as the signals you’ve sent back from Icebreaker. It appears to have been a unidirectional signal, aimed crudely in our direction – possibly an
attempt to re-establish communications.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me as soon as you detected it?’
‘I’m telling you now. Zanzibar hasn’t decelerated, so is much closer than the other holoships. I’ve computed the effect of light-travel delays and concluded that there’s been time for it to have witnessed the surface impacts; ample time also for light to reach us from Zanzibar after anyone aboard witnessed them. The transmission may have been precipitated by the attacks.’
‘When you say “devoid of obviously useful content” – why don’t you let me be the judge of that?’
‘You should also be aware that there’s a sixth slowdown signature, but this one’s much less intense than the others and not part of that formation. I saw something similar when I detected your own approach. It’s not a holoship. It appears to be a vehicle of the same approximate size and capability as Icebreaker, perhaps a little smaller, and if I backtrack the point of origin, it could well have come from the object we think might be Zanzibar. Might that be a second expedition, Chiku, following up on the loss of the first?’
‘How would I know?’
‘Work with me. Offer your insights. This could be crucial.’
Chiku forced patience and composure upon herself. Of course it might be crucial, but then so had every other decision she had made since arriving on Crucible. She still had absolutely no idea how her words and reactions were shaping Arachne’s ultimate policy, and she was weary of being Arachne’s focus.
‘The last thing I heard from Mposi was that Zanzibar was on the brink of social collapse. After that – nothing. That was years ago. How am I supposed to begin to speculate about what’s happened since? Until now I didn’t believe Zanzibar was still out there. I’m still not convinced it is.’
‘This other artilect – the one you call Eunice – could she have played a role in events?’
On the Steel Breeze Page 51
