by Ginger Booth
“Understood,” Tharsis acknowledged grimly, and terminated the call.
“I think he’s human,” Clay suggested. “The AI gave us a counterfeit avatar of him before, but this copy is real. Sass, picture this. It’s an ordinary morning. You’re a mayor, sipping coffee over paperwork in a placid small town. And suddenly you’re threatened with a space attack. Never happened before. Shouldn’t happen at all. Because space warfare makes no sense, and you live in a secret star system. Give the guy a minute to adjust.”
“I gave him 60 minutes to adjust. Before we do any real damage,” Sass countered. “What’s our next move? Park Thrive in the middle of their colony domes and train the guns on them? Or find a nice stretch of empty lakefront at the far end?”
“I like a hostage dome,” Remi voted. “Preferably with hostages on the ship.”
“Give peace a chance,” Clay growled. “We aren’t here to start a stellar war. Because why in rego hell would anyone do that? It serves no purpose! Our species is already going extinct. Sass, they have more ships than we do. We can only lose. Chill out!”
“Point,” she allowed grumpily. “Good argument for carrying out both those strikes before we make nice, though. Get their attention. You heard him! There’s still only one person on this rego-forsaken planet who knows we’re here! I say we make sure everyone knows we’re here. Make an entrance with a bang!” Literally.
“I’m with her,” Remi voted. “Love a good explosion. Ten minutes.”
“Oh, good.” Sass opened a channel again. “Rego-forgotten planet Sanctuary, this is Thrive Actual. You have nine minutes remaining before we fire a demonstration shot. Please confirm your people are outta there. Thrive out.”
An old woman responded this time. Based on loose wattles which wagged as she spoke, wide eyes and flaring nostrils, she also appeared real. “Thrive, this is Nova Tycho Colony, Major Petunia Ling! We have joyriders out, not responding to hails!”
“Where?” Sass asked.
“Well, that’s the point! We don’t know where they are!” Her face calmed and took on an abstracted expression. “We made the ultimate sacrifice and now enjoy our leisure.” She shook off her fugue and grimaced straight into the camera again. “Children frolicking outdoors. If you harm them –!”
“Major Ling, your people killed seven of mine. Get back to work figuring that out. Our first strike will commence on time in three minutes. Thrive out.”
“Children, Sass?” Clay needled her.
“I don’t believe her,” Sass claimed. She did have a nagging feeling, but it wasn’t about that. “‘We made the ultimate sacrifice.’ What was that? I have a bad feeling about this.”
“As well you should! You could be about to fire on children!”
Sass scowled and waved a hand. “I doubt that. What she said. That was creepy.”
“One minute,” Remi noted. “May I? Or you, mon capitan?”
A call light came in. Sass took vicious satisfaction in letting the answering machine take it. “Be my guest, Mr. Roy. Don’t miss.”
“I never miss.” The engineer punched a ‘record’ button and took aim. On the dot, he initiated a max power burn at the promised location with their biggest gun.
Sass and Clay watched on the big screen. “Oh, that is a pretty purple flame, Remi! And so much orange!” Alas, the view was occluded almost instantly by billowing rock dust.
“Do we have a location on to whom are we speaking?” Sass mused.
“We did,” Remi allowed. “But since then we’ve had transmissions from two other places, Tharsis and Ling. Not far apart, but spanning the colony. And I think the first one was a transmission tower at the top of the hill.”
No joy finding the computer of her discontent then, Sass concluded. “That’s a shame.”
She flicked the comms to hear what the natives had to say. Her latest correspondent wore familiar pearl-gray Ganymede uniform and bald head, a man in his late prime. He left a message only seconds before the gun strike. “Thrive? Are you really from Aloha? Have you ever heard of a man named Belker?”
At last! Someone worth talking to!
14
Sass skimmed the later protestations of outrage from New Hellas and Nova Tycho. Then she hailed her Nuevo Ganymede contact, or whatever their section of town was called. From here, she could only see one colony on that lake.
Thus she aimed her transmission at all three of them. “Sanctuary, yes, we are aware of Belker. His ship, the Nanomage, provided the warp drive to reach you. Since the Gannies left Aloha, we didn’t have warp capability to open a dialogue with any other star systems. Or, we didn’t know we had it. Then about five years ago subjective, Thrive found Nanomage on the sea floor on the planet Denali. Its database also contained the location of Sanctuary. I decided to come and renew our acquaintance. You seem surprisingly well, given how few settlers you had. Our worlds have struggled. We were concerned for your welfare.”
The three talking heads shared the screen on the next response, with the bald guy speaking. “I am Scholar Hugo Silva of Ganymede Too. Call me Hugo or Scholar Silva, as you wish. Did you bring any other equipment from Nanomage?”
“Good to meet you, Hugo! I’m Captain Sassafras Collier of Mahina. Call me Sass. We brought a copy of Belker’s database, including his journals. And we can tell you what became of him.”
Zeb Tharsis and Petunia Ling appeared to be sputtering mad at this side conversation when Sass just blasted a chunk of their planet. Sass considered this good reason to continue chatting with the Ganny. She understood Gannies. Not that he was one. Hugo was likely only the descendant of Gannies.
“But none of his other equipment? Or his cache?”
Sass traded glances with Clay and Remi, who both shrugged. “Never heard of a cache. Equipment – everyone on this ship bears nanites influenced by Belker’s work. Two of us probably met the man, seventy-odd years ago subjective. Including myself. My nanites were pure Belker. Other than that, maybe not. We restored Nanomage to working condition and left it on the planet Denali.”
Hugo’s smooth face progressed through disappointment to joy, puzzlement to consternation, all on a 4-second lag from Sass’s words. She made a mental note to mention only one or two things at a time so she could remember which reaction mapped to which content.
“See here!” Tharsis interrupted. “Silva, I’m the ruling mayor! Captain Collier, you have made your point! There is no need for a further demonstration!”
“Really? Who shot at me?” Sass inquired sweetly. “Was that one of you?”
“Of course not!” Petunia Ling scoffed, offended. “We are a peaceful settlement! We have no weapons!”
“Ling, let me do the talking!” Tharsis shouted, to an impatient roll of the eyes from Ling. Silva appeared to be researching something. “Captain Collier, it is true that we have no guns that could reach you from the planet. And no one on the planet was aware of the ship – either ship – sent against you. When you complained of our ‘answering machine,’ I believe you spoke to our AI, Sanctuary Control –”
“Shiva,” Ling hissed.
“Shiva,” Tharsis agreed. “All of our asteroid belt facilities are under Shiva’s control. And down here as well, really. She’s in charge of resource extraction, manufacturing, life support, janitorial. Compared to the colonies in the Aloha system, we had very few people here. You understand the difficulty.”
The Ganny guy Hugo Silva cut in. “This is truly gratifying news for my people, that colonists survived in Aloha.” The Gannies built and crewed all three of the vast refugee ships to populate the worlds of Aloha. “We never heard back from you. May I ask, which colony world made it?”
Sass’s brow furrowed. Which? “All three colony worlds survive in Aloha. Plus a few space habitats. Most of my crew are from Mahina, with my third officer here from Sagamore. My first mate and I were born on Earth, but now call Mahina home.”
They boggled at that. Hugo Silva looked enlightened, the other two skeptical.<
br />
“Fifteen minutes, Sass,” Remi reminded her.
“Right. Back to the point, people.” Sass steepled her fingers, leaning elbows on her dashboard. “Who was responsible for firing at us?”
“Shiva,” they said simultaneously.
Hugo added, “She doesn’t consult anyone. Those ships are remote controlled by the AI. Space is dangerous. We made the ultimate sacrifice and now enjoy our leisure.”
Sass blinked, then asked carefully, “And who controls your AI?”
They each looked down sheepishly. Tharsis admitted, “We don’t know how to do that.”
“Sacré bleu,” Remi erupted. “You tell the AI that we are your citizens!”
“Wait, Remi.” Sass enabled the camera facing him, and echoed all their faces arrayed on the view screen before them, Thrive officers to the right in front of Remi. “People, my third officer, Remi Roy. Explain, Remi. Remember, not everyone can win an argument with an AI like you do.” She smiled at him.
He sniffed Gallic disdain. “Your AI exists to protect your colony. So tell this Shiva that Thrive and its crew are now part of your colony. Long-lost cousins, new immigrants, adopted heirs, whatever. Then it’s Shiva’s job to protect us, too. And this was all a frightful misunderstanding. Though I still want to fire at their island. It will be epic. And they only have five minutes left.”
“I think we can grant them a half hour extension,” Sass allowed. “Provided they use it to reprogram their rogue AI. And we will continue to discuss a happy reunion. Yes?” Her eyes leveled challenge at Tharsis, Ling, and Silva in turn.
“I’ll work on that,” Hugo Silva replied. His section of the screen blanked to a white-on-grey rendition of the Ganny Colony Corps logo, color-matched to his shirt.
“Extension granted,” Sass purred. “Remi, if you could update your timer.”
Sadly the engineer stabbed them a 30 minute reprieve.
“Assuming your AI is brought to heel,” Sass continued, “we would very much like to visit your colony. Colonies? And tell you about the Aloha experience since settlement. Compare notes. Trade databases. Learn of your technical advances and share ours. And on a more prosaic note, we need fuel and water to return to Aloha. Fresh food stocks would be nice. Would there be a convenient spot for us to park near your colony and visit?”
Her broken warp drive was a weakness. She wasn’t ready to admit weaknesses yet.
Deliberations turned a pleasant leaf after this. The locals had a little spaceport with refueling and tankage, for deliveries from their AI-controlled factories in the belt. Major Ling, the Loonie, seemed hesitant to let them park the ship so close by, but the Martian, Colonel Tharsis, kept his eye on the clock. He was eager to make the visitors feel right at home before that water shot deadline.
They shared a good laugh about the initial rock strike. The wayward ‘children’ turned out to be aged 27-38. They called home in panic the minute the fireworks began, all safe and accounted for, having been nowhere near the blast zone. Tharsis promised Remi they had terrific recordings of the event from the colony and a few other locations. Still, no one on the surface was eager to see a water blast, to the engineer’s disappointment.
Hugo Silva returned. “Mission success! Shiva accepts you all as Ganny colonists! You’ll be chipped when you arrive.”
“Chipped?” Sass inquired.
“All colonists have implanted ID chips. So Shiva can keep an eye on us,” Hugo explained, then looked a little vague.
“Then why didn’t you know where your joyriders were?” Sass inquired. Clay rapped on her shoulder blade from behind, probably to suggest she back off. They were getting along so nicely. Don’t blow it.
“We made the ultimate sacrifice and now enjoy our leisure,” Hugo replied, still abstracted. Then he blinked and shrugged out of his little…fit.
“So I’ve heard,” Sass acknowledged, and rapped her dashboard. “Quite a lot of excitement here today. We are agreed? Thrive will land at your spaceport the day after tomorrow.”
“Two days after tomorrow,” Remi corrected her. “Sanctuary has 17-hour days.”
“Oh, we use 24-hour days,” Hugo assured them. “Humans can’t adjust to 17-hour days. It was impossible. We use an Earth clock.” He replaced half of his slot on the screen with a clock for Remi, who quickly got a synchronized local timepiece going, set to North American Central Standard Time, of all things.
Sass sighed relief. The Denali spring season used a local 20-hour clock, for an uncomfortable two-month bout of jet lag. In summer and winter, they used 24-hour days. In those seasons the sun was always up or always down.
They would land about 09:30 Houston time. Though Houston died before Sass was born.
“Oh, one more question,” she added. “Do you call yourselves Sanctuarians? Or…?”
“Three colonies,” Tharsis clarified. “Martian, Loonie, Ganny.”
“With only…how many people?” Sass asked. So I lied. More than one question. But they were her most basic questions. And she waited 18 months for answers.
“Currently 5,300-odd,” Tharsis supplied. “Over half Martian, about a quarter Loonie, and the rest Ganny.”
They were right. The colony had declined from its initial 8,000. “I see. Until we meet in person! Or feel free to contact me again. But we have significant repairs to complete.” Sass smiled and cut the channel.
“Chipped,” Clay murmured.
“Oxymoron,” Remi observed. “We made the ultimate sacrifice. If they make the ultimate sacrifice, they are dead, yes?”
“Yeah,” Sass said. “But they’re human. Aren’t they?”
“Sure, Sass,” Clay said. “Just like we are.”
Sass winced. She and her lover weren’t human, not really. They hadn’t elaborated on that with their new crew. “We have a crew to console. Let’s get to it. Remi, we meet back here for next burn in two hours. Do you need to rest?”
“I’m good. The nanites, they are very capable. So is that AI.”
15
“Ashes to ashes, dust to dust,” Sass intoned. “All hands, salute.”
She modeled a salute, standing at the head of the table to face the big screen in the galley. They only had the one body for the seven who died, the rest having either blown out into space or joined the ship’s recycling stream in fragments.
She led some sad brainstorming at dinner last night. No one was willing to chop up Harry’s body to feed into a waste chute. Burial on Sanctuary wasn’t an option, because the locals recycled bodies. In the end, they made a coffin out of a variation on the recipe for recycled potting mix, and placed Harry in it.
The box was outside now. Clay and Joey still wore pressure suits from bearing it out and securing it to the grapplers. Now she had only to throw it into the planet’s gravity well, to burn up on entry into the atmosphere.
“Fire,” Sass intoned, though the grappler hurl bore more resemblance to a softball toss. A tactful choice of camera angle obscured that point. They saw a brief streak as the coffin sped away not quite perpendicular to their current backwards heading as they braked around Sanctuary for landing.
“At ease,” Sass ordered, with a sigh. Sniffles met this announcement, sincere ones of grief from Joey, plus the three sniveling science crew who were recuperating from Dot’s first generation cryo nanites. They were fresh from three straight years of cold sleep.
“Porter, Zelda, for today you’ll assist Darren and Remi in repairing crew quarters for you to live in.” She smiled briefly, confident that Porter, at least, would rather sleep in the hold rather than endure another night bunking with Husna Zales, the ranking scientist. My day to desperately mis Eli, Sass thought, recalling her beloved botanist, the mild-mannered rebel against Mahina Actual’s scientific hierarchy.
Though what Eli rebelled against was their research priorities. The contempt with which he treated grad students like Porter and Zelda was fairly standard.
“Ah, captain,” Porter attempted. “I have no skills
–”
Remi nodded to confirm that assessment. But Markley, experienced adjunct faculty, pounced on him with zeal. “Porter, unless you do your own instrumentation, you will forever be at the mercy of the engineers.”
Porter and Zelda shared a glance and sniffle of commiseration, then shuffled off at the mercy of the engineers. Joey and Clay would join them after they racked their suits. Corky would help with an eye toward aesthetics and cleaning rather than structural repairs.
Which left Husna Zales to Sass. She caught the geologist on the catwalk before she could escape. “Dr. Zales, today –”
“Geology,” Husna interrupted. With thick waves of lustrous black hair, smoky dark eyes in a dusky complexion, and remarkably broad hips, Husna could have made a harem girl in some other century. Here and now she was a harridan in her mid-70’s, approaching the obsolescence date of her nanites. When the urb nanites expired at age 80, the host precipitously declined from an apparent 25 to a wrinkled death of old age in under 5 years.
“I left explicit instructions to be roused only when my specialty was required, not to be pointlessly terrorized by your space misadventures. You should have safely landed the ship and identified a problem of geology before disrupting my cryo, captain. I am quite annoyed, I assure you.”
Sass wrinkled her nose in a squinty smile. “Right back atcha, Husna! But geology is not the only skill of trained scientist. I need a computing consult.”
“Computing is not my –”
“You’ve argued with supercomputers all your life. Thing is, I seem to have an ultra-super-AI to deal with. That’s who fired on us.”
“And I am supposed to do what about this?” The arrogance blazed through Husna’s sultry young veneer.
“I want you to review all communications I’ve had with this – murderous thing. Research the Nanomage databases, too. And advise me on how to deal with her. It. Shiva.”
