“If they did this from anger and then broke when they realized what they’d done, what may they have done?” he asked.
“It is possible that they may have suicided,” D replied. “It would, for example, be possible for me to place Dauntless’s AI-driven systems under control of what would functionally be subconscious processes and terminate my primary consciousness.
“Such an action could not be undone, but the ship would continue to function and would have at least some of the independent operation you have me aboard for.”
“If that was the case, that would explain why they weren’t responding to our communications,” Siril-ki said. “The systems are there to respond to our ping, but the intelligence is gone.”
“Without that intelligence, are they still a danger?” Renaud said, the Captain butting back into the conversation to raise one of the critical questions.
The channel was silent for several seconds.
“Without a controlling intelligence to deactivate automatic defensive protocols, they will be less effective as combatants…but far more likely to actually attack us,” Siril-ki concluded.
“That’s not great,” Renaud admitted. “Because we just found your Sentinels and all three of them just powered up their engines and weapons.”
“Battle stations.”
Octavio waited for the first sounds of the alarm to ripple through the ship, lights shifting in the corridors outside to direct crew to their positions. As the bridge crew began to update the displays, he rose from his seat and tapped Aisha Renaud’s shoulder.
“I need to be off your bridge,” he murmured in her ear. “We have time for me to get to the flag bridge.”
“Agreed,” his Captain replied. She turned to look at him, holding his gaze for a moment too long. “You’re a distraction here. Go.”
With a nod, he strode out of the bridge as the big display switched over to a more-immediate tactical display.
“D, do we have any communication or response from the Sentinels?” he demanded, keeping up a brisk pace as he made his way across the ship to his battle station.
“Nothing,” the AI replied. “We’re trying everything in our databanks and the Assini databanks from Sina and Kora. They’re not acknowledging any codes or coms protocols, radio or tachyon transmission.”
“They’re not talking to us,” Octavio concluded grimly.
“Two of those protocols are command overrides, Commodore. They should not have been able to ignore them,” the AI admitted. “The likelihood that the core Sentinel AIs have terminated their primary processes is now approaching one hundred percent.”
“If the core personality has committed suicide, who’s left?” Octavio demanded.
“Autonomous combat programming. They could have shut it all down, but they obviously did not.”
“So, those ships are going to attack anyone who comes here?” he asked.
“Exactly,” D confirmed
“Is there anything we can do except blow them to hell?” Octavio asked as he reached the door to the flag bridge.
“That’s a question for Siril-ki, I suspect,” the AI admitted. “There’s nothing in the databases, but ki knows things that might be not be obvious from the data. That kind of synthesized connection is what you organics are better at than us still.”
The door slid shut behind Octavio, and he traded a nod with Courtenay as he slid into the flag officer’s seat.
“Get me Siril-ki,” he told the aide. “Private channel.”
“And the battle group, sir?” Courtenay asked. “Your orders?”
Octavio scanned the display. They were still over two million kilometers from the planet, but that distance could disappear fast if the Sentinels moved out. So far, the AI warships had brought everything online but were remaining in orbit of KB2N13-1.
“Begin deceleration for all units, attempt to remain outside zetta-laser engagement range,” he ordered. “Strike cruisers are to move into formation Delta-Seven.”
That put the lighter units out in front of the battlecruiser, using their lasers to try to herd targets into the path of Dauntless’s main gun. If he actually expected to stay out of range of the Sentinels, it would be unnecessary, but he could do the math.
“We can’t avoid entering at least the edge of their range,” Courtenay told him. “Not without—”
“Abandoning the freighters to enter that range on their own,” Octavio agreed. “We’re not doing that, so get the escorts in formation while I talk to the AI specialist about the AI warships. We’re playing for time, Commander Courtenay, not the endgame.
“Not yet.”
“What do you expect from me, Commodore?” Siril-ki asked bluntly. “I didn’t work on the Sentinels. They shouldn’t have been able to do any of this. They’re insane.”
“They’re dead,” Octavio told ki. “The core personalities are gone, Siril-ki. They realized what had happened, got very, very angry, and did something they couldn’t undo. When the anger faded, they killed themselves.
“Only three of them lived that long, but the actual Matrices in those ships are dead. Can we get the autonomous protocols to shut down?”
Ki was silent for a few seconds. Octavio bit down on demanding that ki think faster. Seconds could make the difference here, but he knew that yelling didn’t make people think.
“I am not sure,” ki admitted. “The autonomous systems are still AI of a sort, but they are so much dumber than the Matrices. All of our codes and overrides are for the Matrices themselves. The ships weren’t supposed to operate without a Matrix.”
“So, they’re limited in what they can do?”
“Yes. And it all depends on what orders the Matrices gave them before terminating their processes. The Matrices know the limitations of those secondary system, so they’d have given specific instructions, but the systems will follow them very literally.”
“And we’ve tripped a set of instructions that is causing them to at least prepare to fight us,” Octavio said grimly. “Is there any chance this is just a threat?”
“It’s unlikely,” ki told him. “Their power reserves aren’t infinite. Immense, even if they aren’t refilling their reaction-mass tanks for the matter converters, but not infinite. They’ll only power up like this and bring on the rest of their converters to go to war.”
“So, they’re going to fight us. Can we talk them down?”
“We can’t even communicate with those processes, Commodore,” Siril-ki admitted. “Not without creating a physical connection to the hardware.”
“But if we got that connection?” Octavio asked, an old engineering project running across his mind.
“There’s no security on these systems. They can only be communicated with through the Matrix itself. With the Matrix disabled, they’ll follow any commands fed into them.”
“Write that code, Director Siril-ki,” the ex-engineering officer ordered. “I’ll see about getting you a link to the hardware.”
“That’s impossible,” ki told him. “You’d need to physically insert a tachyon communicator into their hull, and they’d shoot down any missile you fired at them.”
“I wasn’t planning on a missile,” he told ki. “I’m thinking something they won’t see as a threat…and might well not see coming at all.”
50
“You need a breach and a mobile infiltration unit,” Osric Winther told his commodore. Dauntless’s chief engineer was an old hand—he’d first served under Octavio as a junior rating aboard the old Scorpion…when Isaac Lestroud had commanded that ship.
He’d come to Exile as engineering NCO aboard Vigil and found himself commissioned as one of their handful of warp-experienced engineers. Now he was arguing against his old boss about the crazy idea Octavio had.
“I know, the armor’s too much,” Octavio agreed. “We need to hit the target with the main gun and open a practical breach. Then we can land the connection unit and make a link.”
“But you have no id
ea what connections will be present or even intact,” Winther argued. “We need some kind of remote-access robot to find and make the connection. We don’t have anything that sma—”
“That is incorrect, Lieutenant Commander,” D interrupted. “Dauntless caries seven remotes designed to interface with my systems by tachyon communication. Their onboard processes are very similar to the systems we want to interface with, but that should suffice to establish a direct link to the Sentinel’s hardware. If it does not, I should be able to spare enough of my attention to make the connection myself.
“Once connected, the tachyon communicator used to control the remotes is entirely capable of delivering the code Siril-ki is developing.”
“Okay, so we have a payload and a target,” Winther said slowly. “How do we get it there?”
“I was hoping you’d have an idea, I’ll admit,” Octavio said. “The concept is solid, but no matter what happens, we’re in zetta-laser range of those Sentinels in just under five minutes. Less if either of us starts to close the range.
“I’d really like to launch as soon as the shooting starts. We need something slow enough that it won’t register as a threat but fast enough to cross half a million kilometers in a time period that’s actually going to be useful.”
Winther snorted.
“How badly do you need it, boss?” he asked.
“I’d really, really like to bring these ships home,” Octavio told him. “And I’d prefer not to get my entire battle group shot to hell. What do you need?”
“We have three reactionless-drive systems aboard that are sized for our shuttles,” the engineer told him. “EMC is still waffling on whether the trade-offs are worth it, but if I hack one of them to its lowest power setting and strap the remote to it, it should be able to make the crossing at ten percent of light without registering as a missile.”
“D?” Octavio asked.
“I assess a fifty percent likelihood of the remote being shot down under that scenario, but Lieutenant Commander Winther’s idea is sound. It may be the best chance we have,” the AI replied as it ran the numbers.
“We only have three of these drives, though. That’s one shot per ship.”
Octavio grimaced.
“I’ll leave that with you and D,” he told Winther. “I have to make sure you have holes to put them in. How long?”
“At least ten minutes, sir,” the engineer replied.
“You have five,” Octavio replied. “Because as soon as we start hitting those big bastards, I want those drones in space. Am I clear?”
Winther spread his hands wide on the holographic channel.
“I’ll do what I can.”
Formation Delta-Seven was a conservative one, a solid starting place for if Octavio wanted to get clever later. He still wasn’t entirely comfortable with the fact that he was in command of a five-ship battle group, let alone dealing with the freighters along to provide logistics support.
He’d spent a solid portion of his time on the flight out practicing in simulated engagements, but he knew that in his heart, he wasn’t a fleet commander. Starship command had been a stretch for him, but this was something else again.
But it was his job and he refused to do it badly. Of course, he realized he’d started by forgetting that his force was divided…
“Courtenay, can we get Prospero up here in time to make a difference?” he murmured. He was already running numbers, but a second set of eyes was never a bad thing.
Measure twice, cut once was even more true when there was supposed to be a high-energy plasma conduit behind the wall you were cutting, after all.
“Negative,” his aide replied. “She might get here in time to fire off fireworks over our wrecked hulls; that’s about it.”
“A more-optimistic metaphor would be preferred, Commander,” Octavio told the other man. They’d cut their own velocity down to a mere one percent of lightspeed, and he was waiting to see what the Sentinels did.
So far, they’d maneuvered to make sure their lines of fire were clear, and that was it. In fact…
“Captains, this is Catalan,” he opened his command channel. “Our friends over there aren’t maneuvering nearly as much as they should be. See if you can dial Bandit One in for long-range fire and stand by to engage at five hundred and fifty thousand kilometers.”
Fifty thousand kilometers wasn’t much…but it was enough that they’d get a hit in before they reached the range that the Matrices seemed to regard as maximum effective against a maneuvering target.
Even a single disabled laser would help change the course of the battle to come.
New data icons were flowing into his screens and the main holographic display now, as the ships’ tactical departments tried to dial in their enemies and sent their estimated hit probabilities back to command.
Between the energy-shedding ceramics both sides armored their ships in, evasive maneuvers and the inevitable dispersion of energy beams and packets in space, the ESF usually agreed with the Matrices on the effective maximum range of their weapons.
Armor and dispersion were still factors at this range, even if his target wasn’t maneuvering. He had five high-frequency grasers and one heavy particle cannon that would still hurt if they hit at this range. The light particle-cannon turrets that dotted all of his ships would be less effective.
“Hold LPCs for closer range,” he ordered. “All ships…execute prior firing orders.”
He gave the order about five seconds before his battle group crossed the line he’d given and every ship fired as one. It was another three seconds to see the result and… it wasn’t much.
“Multiple hits,” D reported. “Dauntless’s particle cannon missed, but three of the lasers hit. Analysis suggest mostly armor vaporization, minimal internal damage.”
“Understood.” The enemy was picking up their maneuvers now, a bit late and bit slower than they should have.
“All ships, continue firing on Bandit One until further orders,” he said into the command channel. “Adjust course thirty degrees by fifteen degrees. Warships to accelerate towards the enemy at standard thrust.
“Freighters continue decelerating. Get the hell out of this mess, people.”
If nothing else, his warships’ charge would keep the freighters clear. He was reasonably sure the Sentinels wouldn’t fire at fleeing vessels when there was a far more immediate threat.
Dauntless shivered beneath him as her main gun fired again. He had enough practice with the battlecruiser now to be able to tell that Renaud was going for sustained fire. The ship had enough cyclotrons running that she could fire a shot every seventeen seconds or so.
Or she could fire eight shots in under five seconds and have to wait two minutes for any of the cyclotrons to have worked up enough particles for a new shot. Which was the right choice depended on the circumstances.
It wasn’t a call he was going to override his flag captain on.
“Sentinels are returning fire,” Courtenay reported. “No hits so far, but that is one hell of a light show.”
The Sentinels were the biggest warships the Assini had ever built, dwarfing the combat platforms designed to secure the Construction Matrices or the Escorts built to safeguard the second-wave colony ships that had never launched. The dreadnoughts the Rogue had developed dwarfed them again, but those hadn’t actually been an Assini design.
Each of the Sentinels carried dozens of beams, each equal to the high-frequency grasers Octavio’s ships carried. Their accuracy, though…
“Is it just me or does their aim suck?” he asked softly as his people’s third salvo smashed into Bandit One and more Sentinel beams flashed off into space.
“They are performing significantly below expected parameters for Construction Matrix warships, let alone Sentinel Matrices,” D confirmed. “This is an expected consequence of operating on autonomous protocols.”
The Republic had never faced a late-generation Assini Matrix warship in its prime. The Escorts had
been driven feral by their long pursuit of Shezarim, and the Sentinels were basically lobotomized.
If only that had left them harmless.
“We have multiple debris clouds from Bandit One,” D reported. “I would assess a high likelihood of multiple practical breaches for your plan.”
“Winther? Do we have a drone ready to go?” Octavio asked, his use of the chief engineer’s name sufficient to open the channel.
“It is an ugly monstrosity I hate to admit I worked on, bu—”
The sound of a high-powered drill cut through the officer’s words.
“It’s done,” he concluded. “Drone one is ready to deploy. We just kick it out the shuttle bay and D remote-flies it over. The remote is the only thing making this work, Commodore. It’s basically flying the engine manually.”
“If it works, it works,” Octavio replied. “Kick it out the shuttle bay and then get me two more of them, Commander, because I’ve got three targets on the board.”
He waited. As he expected, Winther was as efficient as he could have hoped for. Thirty seconds after their conversation, a new green icon appeared on the board and he tapped his mic to open the command channel.
“All right, everybody, we have a joker on the board but we don’t know if it’s going to work,” he told his Captains. “Switch our focus to Bandit Two and leave Bandit One to the Joker drone. Try not to shoot the drone down, either.”
They were well within five hundred thousand kilometers, which left the newly named Joker drone a mere fifteen-second flight at thirty thousand kilometers a second.
The defenses of every ship in the fight were designed to shoot down missiles moving at over ninety-nine percent of the speed of light. If the Sentinels had decided that the Joker was a threat, it would have been a very short flight.
“Siril-ki, we have that code?” he asked quietly.
“D has it,” ki told him. “I can not guarantee it will work, but it should.”
“Should has to be enough,” he muttered. Another twenty seconds and they’d be in pulse-gun range, and that was going to hurt if the Sentinels still had three ships. “D?”
Crusade (Exile Book 3) Page 32
