Forerunner

by Isaac Hooke

  The VR environment faded, and Jain found himself aboard his virtual bridge once more.

  “Xander, prepare a transport,” Jain said. “Have the lev trains load up one of the termite containment fields.”

  A few minutes later the transport launched. It rendezvoused with the Conquest, dropped off its cargo, and returned.

  Meanwhile, probes and transports from the Heracles Battle Group descended to the colony to sift through the ruins.

  “Can we really trust that they’re not going to dismantle us?” Gavin said. “What if they don’t find anything down there? What if they dismiss the alien termite as a fake?”

  “Maybe we should just let them,” Sheila said.

  Gavin gave her a disbelieving look.

  “I mean let them examine our AI cores, not dismantle us,” Sheila said.

  Gavin threw up his arms. “But that’s the same thing!”

  “If they ask us to submit to a full-blown AI core scan, they’re just being thorough,” Sheila said. “Wouldn’t you in their case? Aliens don’t attack every day, after all. And I mean, come on: the Heracles is part of the space navy. They have to follow the core tenets and laws set forth by humanity. They’re not going to treat us like war criminals or anything, it’s just a scan.”

  Gavin shook his head. “Won’t they? If they truly think we’ve gone insane, and destroyed Mind Refurb starships, not to mention razed an entire colony, we’ll be treated precisely like war criminals. You really want to put your lives in the hands of these Mind Refurbs? If they make us shut down, we’re not coming back online. Mark my words. They might even delete all our backups. Whatever happens, we can’t submit. We need to come up with a contingency plan to avoid giving them our AI cores at all costs.”

  Sheila frowned. “You seem awfully afraid to give up your AI core. What are you hiding?”

  Gavin gave her an angry look. “Nothing, damn it. But just try to look at our situation objectively.”

  “Gavin is right,” Jain said. “As much as I hate to say it. If the evidence we’ve given them isn’t enough, I’m not sure I want to surrender. Remember, we talked about this, how we didn’t want to go back. We were supposed to come here, warn humanity, help them however we could, and then leave. We had no intention of returning to this life. But if we surrender, we could wake up to find ourselves separated, part of some far-flung flotilla keeping the peace on a backwater colony world. Or part of an attack group defending against incursions from the Link.”

  “Even if we do, we can still desert at some later point…” Sheila said.

  “Assuming they turn us back online,” Gavin said.

  “Maybe we should vote,” Medeia suggested to Jain. “You’re always saying you want to give us the leeway to make up our own minds and decisions about things regarding our fate. This is one, I’d say.”

  “When the time comes to vote, we will,” Jain said. “But until then, like Gavin mentioned, we should at least come up with some sort of contingency plan, just in case. So that when we vote, at least we’ll have some real options, rather than surrender or die.”

  “They have us surrounded…” Cranston said. “What are we supposed to do?”

  Jain thrummed his armrest.

  Medeia glanced at his fingers. “Do you always have to do that?”

  Jain stopped. “Sorry. Nervous habit.” He ran his gaze across the different avatars, ending on Cranston. “They have us surrounded, true. It’s the worst possible position for any fleet to be in. But even so, that doesn’t mean we can’t break free. We’ve trained daily as a team. We’ve fought an advanced alien race and survived. We can get out of this. Besides, I have a wildcard…”

  He explained that wildcard, and they discussed tactics in case things went south. Eventually, they came up with a workable plan.

  “Remember, this is just one of our options now,” Jain said. “I’m not saying we’re going to use it. I’m hoping the admiral will see reason, and we won’t have to.”

  “Yeah, me too,” Cranston said. “Because instead of surrender or die, we now have the option to surrender or potentially die. Well it’s a step up, I suppose.”

  An hour after Jain sent the alien termites, the probes and transports returned to orbit.

  “They’re recalling them already?” Medeia asked.

  “Apparently,” Jain said.

  The probes docked with their respective Heracles ships.

  “I’m receiving a VR request,” Xander said. “The admiral would like you to join his VR conference.”

  Jain accepted the conference request and waited in the darkness. He was glad once again for the oblivion, the relief from the senses that only this place could provide, but it was over all too soon.

  Jain stood once more on the dais, before the stands filled with captains, and the admiral sitting imperiously behind his desk.

  “I’ve made up my mind,” Tagan said. “We’re going to remove your AI cores.”

  21

  Jain stared at the admiral for several seconds. He realized his mouth was wide open in astonishment, and he promptly shut it with an audible click of the teeth.

  He glanced at Prescott in the stands and saw that the commander was smirking widely. He quickly returned his attention to the admiral.

  “The micro machine didn’t convince you?” Jain said.

  “No,” Tagan told him. “There are some elements we have never seen before in the device, true, but otherwise it isn’t obvious there is any sort of actual power source. In other words, we’re not sure it can even turn on. My Accomp tells me this could just be some construct: you found some unique elements and took artistic license with your 3D printers. That’s enough for me to question the validity of the micro machine until I can have the fleet scientists take a further look.”

  “All right, but what about your surface probes?” Jain said. “You didn’t give them enough time to properly explore the ruins below.”

  “I have, actually,” Tagan said. “There’s zero organic matter left down there. Your space-to-surface attack was nothing if not thorough.”

  Jain stared at the admiral in disbelief. “So you’re just going to shut us down… what guarantee do I have that you’ll reactivate our cores? That we won’t be permanently decommissioned?”

  “None,” Tagan said. “I can make no assurances. I’m just an admiral. Your eventual fate will be in the hands of the navy brass.”

  Jain didn’t know what to say. He just stood there, gazing at the admiral.

  My whole team, deactivated and decommissioned, just like that. On the whim of some second-rate admiral.

  “I thought we would join forces,” Jain said. “I imagined, when reinforcements came, that we’d team up to hunt the aliens down. That you’d use the first-hand battle experience we have against these aliens to your advantage.”

  “We still might,” Tagan said. “But we need actual proof. I’m sure you believe everything that you’re saying is true. And perhaps it is. But until we examine your AI cores, we won’t know either way.”

  “Let’s say you do remove our AI cores,” Jain said. “And confirm the validity of our words. You’ll reinstate us immediately?”

  Tagan hesitated only for a microsecond. But it was enough for Jain to doubt everything else the man might say.

  “If all is as you say, we’ll restore you to your vessels,” Tagan said.

  “And how long will that take?” Jain asked.

  “We’ll have to return to the space port to do a proper examination of your cores,” Tagan said. “Then we’ll let the AI scientists take over. They’ll run the full gamut of tests on your cores and confirm that everything is running in tip-top shape, and that your memories haven’t been tampered with. If all is good, you could be back inside your respective vessels in a few weeks.”

  “The aliens might be back by then,” Jain said. “With reinforcements.”

  “We’ll leave a detachment of warships here and in other border systems to be on the safe side,” T
agan said. “They will be jump capable, ready to warn the rest of the navy if trouble arises.”

  Jain studied the admiral uncertainly. “I know how the military works. You won’t leave powerful warships like ours idling for a few weeks. You’ll install new Mind Refurbs to keep them in service.”

  Tagan nodded. “This is true.”

  “And you can’t give any reassurances that we’ll actually be restored to these ships, can you?” Jain pressed. “You said our cores could be back inside our vessels in a few weeks, not that we would.”

  Tagan frowned, saying nothing.

  “That’s what I thought,” Jain said. “You plan to replace our AI cores with other Mind Refurbs as soon as we’re removed, don’t you?”

  Again, Tagan said nothing.

  “I—” Jain hesitated. He knew his fellow Space Machinists were watching and hanging on every word.

  But the admiral finished his sentence. “You will submit.”

  That was the last straw.

  Jain accelerated his time sense and switched to the private band he still had active with the other Space Machinists.

  “It’s that time we talked about,” Jain said. “Time to vote. Do we surrender, or enact our plan? All in favor, say aye.”

  On his HUD, the names of those who spoke “aye” appeared: Gavin, Medeia, and Mark. Jain said the word himself. Sheila and Cranston were the only two members who remained silent. Jain could understand Cranston’s reluctance, given how dangerous his part in the plan was, though his participation was critical. Sheila was equally important; however, her part was much less dangerous in comparison.

  “All right, then.” Jain cocked his head and glanced sidelong at the empty space beside him. Though he couldn’t see the virtual bridge at the moment, his avatar existed both there and here because of the nature of the streaming feed he had set up. And the spot he had glanced toward was where Xander would be standing on the virtual bridge.

  “Begin Operation Tsunami,” Jain commanded.

  Jain terminated his connection and logged out; he floated in darkness while waiting for the bridge to return. The Space Machinists were probably going to lose this fight. Then again, there was a small, if remote, chance of victory.

  That was all he could ask for.

  Death before submission.

  He wasn’t sure where that thought had come from. It was from a vague memory of his past life… leading his troops in a secret mission on some colony world against an enemy that tortured to death any who were captured. Those words were part of a warrior ethos from a time a hundred years past.

  He shook his head, emptying his thoughts as the virtual bridge snapped into view.

  He returned his time sense closer to normal and activated his tactical display. He could see the ships of the Space Machinists indicated by green dots, while those of the Heracles were red, still surrounding them in a sphere pattern.

  Jain and almost all of his companions released their supply of missiles, targeting any weapon systems visible within their angle of fire; they excluded the Conquest from their firing solution. They did however target the ventral and port sides of the flagship with their raptors—the only sections within their line of fire. Earlier, they had surreptitiously oriented themselves so that their starboard laser banks were all facing the Conquest, and they targeted as many exposed weapons systems with them as they could. Meanwhile, they fired their port laser banks at ships on the opposite side that were within their angle of fire, again targeting weapon turrets.

  The lasers struck instantly, while the hellraisers were still launching. Only Cranston held back on the missiles and lasers—his would serve a greater purpose momentarily. Jain also unleashed his barracuda at a nearby Dominator.

  “Mark...” Jain said.

  Mark’s Grunt fired several black hole bolts in rapid succession; he had been subtly shifting his nose toward the flagship over the past hour, or what the Space Machinists assumed was the flagship—the Conquest. And those bolts traveled directly toward the vessel.

  Now that she had expended her weapons payload, Medeia’s Arcane cloaked.

  At the same time, Sheila’s Wheelbarrow activated its energy shield.

  “I’m detecting the activation of a force field around the Conquest,” Xander said.

  Jain nodded. He and the others had suspected as much, from the analysis they had made of the vessel. The basic design was that of a Dominator class starship, but they had detected several augmentations; based on their examination, they had concluded that the Conquest essentially had all the same alien technology aboard one ship that was divided up among all of the Space Machinists. That was why Jain hadn’t bothered to fire his barracuda at the Conquest, even though the ship was within his throw angle, and why no one had launched any missiles at the flagship: the energy bolt and hellraisers would have never penetrated the shield.

  “Here goes nothing,” Cranston said.

  His Forebode teleported. His destination was just above the dorsal hull section of the Conquest.

  This part of the plan was based on how the energy shield worked on the Wheelbarrow: it formed a complete sphere around Medeia’s ship, with only a hundred meters of clearance between the energy barrier and the fore and aft sections, but since her ship was longer and wider than it was tall, there was many times that clearance above and below.

  It was logical to assume the Conquest’s shield system worked the same way. Based on the size of the Dominator class vessel, the Forebode was small enough, and the Conquest big enough, that Cranston should materialize directly inside the spherical energy shield, sandwiched between the hull and the field.

  If they were wrong about that, Cranston would be destroyed.

  The Forebode reappeared directly above the flagship.

  Cranston’s vessel remained intact.

  Jain had a direct line to Cranston’s external cameras, and he had the feeds of several overlaying his HUD, allowing him to watch what unfolded next.

  Having breached the shield, he launched the Forebode’s raptors, both the starboard and port banks, at point-blank range, targeting as many of the weapon systems on the Conquest’s dorsal hull as possible—the 180-degree throw angles on the raptors limited what they could target, but because of the larger size of the ship below, that was still a large number. Cranston unloaded his full stock of ventral-facing hellraiser missiles into the remaining weapon mounts and peppered the rest of the Conquest’s dorsal armor with slugs from his railguns.

  He swarmed his micro machines into the breaches that formed from the missiles and slugs, and the swirling machines drilled deeper, enlarging the gaps like a horde of hungry locusts. Some of them landed on the surface and began to digest the metal; since they were at their hard-coded reproduction limit, they simply ejected the spare metal and it floated above the hull like dust, sparkling in the Conquest’s running lights.

  The flagship fired its dorsal thrusters and dived in an attempt to throw the Forebode into the energy shield—which would cut through his hull before the strain shut off the force field—but Cranston had anticipated the move and he dove with it. He also launched grappling hooks and reeled himself in so that he was contacting the dorsal armor of the Conquest; he activated his magnetic mounts to ensure he was firmly rooted in place. This saved him when Tagan activated the shockwave weapon: said weapon worked by essentially turning the entire hull into an energy emitter, but because the Forebode was blocking the portion of the hull directly below, that section was unable to emit the shockwave and so there was a gap in the shape of the Forebode as the wave moved outward.

  Three other nearby ships—two Piranhas, and the Daktor—swerved away to avoid the expanding blast. The Daktor was caught by the expanding sphere before it entirely dissipated, but it was far enough away that the damage seemed minimal.

  Missiles came in from the surrounding vessels. Energy and plasma cannons also fired, sending deadly bolts toward different members of the fleet. A good majority of the attacks were concentrate
d on Jain’s ship.

  The bolts fired by Mark finally solidified into actual black holes, and as the gravity kicked in, the Conquest and its stowaway lurched forward. The black hole cannon on the Conquest was located on the nose, next to the energy cannon, and because the throw angle was so limited, the Conquest couldn’t simply launch dispersion bolts, as most of the tears in spacetime had formed some distance underneath the craft.

  Jain, too, felt the pull, and instead of fighting it, he accelerated almost directly at the black holes, as did the other Space Machinists except Cranston. Their flyby would take them dangerously close to the combined point of no return, or Starship Event Horizon, formed around the barycenter of the black holes, but that was also by design.

  The courses of the incoming missiles and energy bolts were affected when the black holes manifested; while the enemy ships could track the bolts, they couldn’t predict where Mark had intended to eventually create the resulting rips in spacetime. They had made guesses; inaccurate ones at that.

  The enemy energy bolts were pulled aside instantly; and although the incoming missiles were able to track, the weapons didn’t have the Delta Vs to counter the black hole’s pull, and they too were yanked far off course. As Jain and the others flew underneath them, the enemy Mind Refurbs triggered the missiles early, hoping to cause damage. A quick scan at the starship health indicators on his HUD told him that none of the missiles had harmed any of them.

  The damage report screens still flashed however; on the top-down blueprint mock-ups of each ship, red spots were appearing over the laser bank and railgun launchers, as the enemies fired their own raptor lasers in return. That they weren’t targeting missile launchers told him the enemy had guessed that the Space Machinists had exhausted all of their hellraisers in the first assault. One might expect the black holes to influence the path of the photons in those lasers, but the effect wasn’t prominent at close range unless the black holes in question were very powerful, and the weapons passed close to the Photon Event Horizon. So it was the one weapon that could always be used in the case of extreme gravity.