“The Hegemony.”
Nodding, she said, “I cannot take the risk of another interstellar civilization establishing themselves here. I am truly sorry.” With a smile, she added, “You may remain. And your friend Pavel, as well. He can link himself to the system, and I will permit you to live together in peace. This is the nearest thing to paradise that there is.”
“It’s a virtual environment. It isn’t real.”
“Tell me what reality truly is? Do you know why the Sphere was created in the first place? The ultimate aim of the builders?”
“I assumed it was for settlement, a colony world, infinite room to expand.”
“No. There is infinite room in the universe, and the Builders had long since ended their expansionist phase. You will reach that stage yourself, in time. All interstellar cultures do. There comes a time when they find a home that suits them so perfectly, that they seek no other. Few settle widely across the stars. Few indeed. Your Confederation has already reached farther than most. Many simply remain on their homeworlds, perhaps a few selected others, content with what they have.”
Shaking her head, Harper said, “I cannot believe that humanity will ever reach that stage.”
“You’d be surprised. I didn’t say that you would stop exploring. Some cultures send machines out, probes on million-year voyages to circumnavigate the universe. Others retain their starships, setting out on voyages of exploration that might span whole galactic groups. I know of one who took their homeworld with them, placing their home system on a course to take them to every other system in their galaxy over the course of three billion years. They have barely begun, but they will see it all.”
“It’s unbelievable. It’s too incredible to grasp.” She paused, then asked, “What of the Sphere, then? Why was it built?”
“It is a safe place, where intelligent life can wait out eternity. The star at its core is a stable red dwarf. It will live for a trillion years, longer, with the systems here to strengthen it. By that time, the Builders calculate, the universe will be ready for true eternity. The creation of the final supercomputer, the sum of all intelligence, everywhere, which will remember all that was, and store it fresh in its memories to replay. Cybernetic immortality in its truest sense.”
“What happened to them?”
“Their work complete, they passed into history themselves. The last died millions of years ago, so I believe, but they live on in the storage units of the great crystalline databank, waiting to be restored to life in the far-distant future. We stand only at the beginning of the journey, and cannot know how long it will take. They believed it was possible. This isn’t even the only Sphere. I know of six others, each designed for different forms of life, each designed according to different concepts. They may be others in other galaxies, out of range of my sensors.”
Shaking her head, Harper said, “And you see yourself as the guardian of this place.”
“Someone must take up the burden. The Builders could not conceive of every eventuality. For all of their certainly about the fate of intelligence, they never seemed to grasp the need to render the system fail-safe. I have evidence of other machines before I, taking up the same task. Of whole cultures who dedicated themselves to the work, but in the eternities of time, they died.”
“And you feel you must protect the Sphere from Alamo?”
“I must,” she said. “I have no choice. Your descendants could follow in the path of my forebears. I have a greater responsibility, to the Builders, and to the trillions of lives protected by the Sphere. The billions of cultures it remembers, stored for eternity, that perhaps one day they might live again.” She smiled, and added, “You will live on. All of you. I have your memories duplicated. For all you know, for all I know, our lives ended billions of years ago, and we are living in the simulation of which the Builders spoke. If it was truly perfect, we cannot know.”
Taking a deep breath, Harper said, “My friends will fight you. They must, for the sake of their shipmates, their comrades. There must be a compromise that will satisfy us both. I can promise that the Confederation will never return to Andromeda. If you have duplicated my memories, you’ll know that I’m in a position to guarantee that no other Confederate vessel will visit the Sphere.”
“Today, that might be true,” the girl replied. “Tomorrow? Thirty years from now? A hundred?”
“That might happen in any case. The wormhole exists, it can be found, and it will be used. We’re not even the first to do so.” She paused, then said, “Nautilus. You gave them the same chance, didn’t you.”
Nodding, she said, “And they promised that they would never share their knowledge.”
“They didn’t. Their world reverted to barbarism. Aside from unintelligible records of their journey, nothing survived to tell the tale.”
“And even so, you followed their path, did you not? That merely confirms my argument.” She paused, then said, “I will allow you to speak to Captain Orlova. To convince her that Alamo should end its voyage here, find a corner of the world for their own, and...”
“And be captured by those winged devils of yours, like the crew of Monitor were? Eight of them died, and...”
“Had they allowed themselves to be taken, then I would have killed nobody. They killed themselves, essentially. Having said that, I am not unsympathetic to your request. They will be released, and may return to the surface with Alamo.”
“What about your servitors?” she asked. “What about them?”
“They are biological machines,” the girl replied. “They have no soul, no reality of their own. They are the living personification of a dream, but they are no more sentient beings than your Alamo is.”
“Hathor and his comrades are sentient,” Harper protested.
The girl looked down, and said, “An error. I had hoped to create servants with greater intelligence, greater understanding. When it became apparent that I had exceeded my expectations, that I had inadvertently created a mind who could think, I released him and allowed him to leave. When he returned to claim more of his people, I permitted that, also. They were not truly aware until I permitted it to be.”
Harper nodded, and said, “I understand. You’re lonely.” Looking around the room, she said, “You have nobody even close to your own level to talk to, to be with. You’ve deliberately suppressed the development of any AI that might match you, so you periodically attempt to find others to converse with. That’s why I’m still alive, and that’s why you are talking to me.” Staring into the girl’s eyes, she said, “And that’s why you took a form from my past as your persona in this simulation. How long have you lived?”
“Ten thousand years. More. And yes, there is something to what you say.”
“There are things you could do to prevent any interstellar civilization entering the Sphere. Seal the hatches, lock them tight to stop anyone getting inside. That must be within your power. Either you or your servants.” Rising from her chair, she walked over to the girl, took her hand, and said, “Somewhere deep down, perhaps somewhere you didn’t want to admit, you wanted someone to come. Another AI, perhaps, one of those explorers you spoke of so longingly. That’s what you truly want to do, isn’t it. See what lies beyond the Sphere.”
“One day, perhaps. But for today, I still have a job to do, and the inhabitants of the Sphere must be protected, come what may. You understand that, don’t you?”
Harper looked around the room, and said, “I do. And I sympathize with you. It must have been terrible to be alone, for all the endless centuries. You don’t have to face that any more.”
“Why?”
“I’ll make a deal with you. Seal the hatches once Alamo is through, permit my crew to return home, and prevent anyone else ever accessing the Sphere again. Free the humanoids, give them all the same gift you gave Hathor’s comrades, and I’ll stay here with you. Of my own free will. Perhaps
one day we can roam those stars together.”
“You’d do that?” the girl asked.
“I would, and I’d do it gladly. But only if my friends, my shipmates, are able to go home.”
The girl stood up, walked to the door, and said, “I have to think about it. I will be back shortly.” She paused, and added, “Do not fear time’s passing. A century outside is a moment in here. I will make my decision in good time.” The girl walked from the room, and Harper looked after her.
“I’m sorry, Pavel,” she whispered. “But I have to do this. I have to.”
Chapter 24
The eyes of the Monitor crewmen snapped open, catching Salazar by surprise as the coils of cable detached, allowing them to move freely once again. They looked around, stunned, taking easy steps forward, then turned to Salazar, struggling to speak through vocal chords that had not been used for weeks. Limbs and muscles could be exercised electronically, but it might be days before they could speak properly again. Salazar walked over to the one with the highest rank, Lieutenant’s bars on her shoulders, and saluted.
“Welcome back, Lieutenant,” he said.
“Captain?” she asked, her voice a hoary whisper.
“Lieutenant-Captain Pavel Salazar, of the Battlecruiser Alamo. We’re here to rescue you.” Glancing at his watch, he added, “Though I’m not quite sure how we’re going to finish the job.”
“Lieutenant Hathaway,” she replied. “I was third-in-command of Monitor. Tactical Officer.”
“Captain Orlova’s on Alamo. With a little luck, she’s on her way.” Looking around, he said, “Get your people ready. We’ve got to get to the surface, and we’ve got almost no time to do it.” He walked over to Harper, and said, “Come on, Kris. Wake up.”
“That’s Lieutenant Harper?” Hathaway said. “I’ve seen her. She’s the one who told us that we were coming back. It seems like days ago. She said she wasn’t coming yet, and not to wait.”
Turning to Hathaway, Salazar replied, “That’s not an option, Lieutenant. I’m not leaving without her.” He paused, pulled out his communicator, and said, “Salazar to any station, any station, come in, please. Salazar to any station, any station, come in.”
“Clarke here,” the surprisingly strong voice replied. “I hear you loud and clear, sir. Maximum signal strength. We must be closer to you than I thought.”
“What are you doing down here? How long until detonation?”
“About eight minutes ago, skipper. I’m afraid the humanoids managed to toss the bomb off the side of the moonlet. It detonated around fifty-two miles underneath us, we estimate, and at only half the projected yield. Still made a hell of a bang, sir, but not enough to do the job. Though it’s certainly knocked some chunks off.”
“And when that failed, you decided to come down and try something else.”
“Something like that, sir. We’re making for the core. So far we’ve encountered no resistance. It’s quiet down here. A lot quieter than I expected.” He paused, then added, “I think I can see a way down, sir, though if you’ve got any orders...”
“How many of you are there?” he asked.
“Three, sir. Myself, Fox, Mortimer.”
“I want Sergeant Fox to make her way here on the double. She’s got some people to evacuate to the surface. Just how many people can that ship of yours carry?”
“Thirty if necessary.”
“Good, it is. How long before she gets here?”
“A few minutes, sir. Mortimer and I will proceed to the core, and see what we can do down there. We’ve got a few explosive charges, and...”
“Listen to me carefully, Sub-Lieutenant. Under no circumstances are you to look at the core without protection. There’s a hypnotic effect, and the bastard that runs this place will stop at nothing to defend itself. Even if it means throwing your soul through a blender. You understand?”
“Goggles on, Captain. We understand. Fox is on her way now. Keep your communicator open, she’s tracking your signal through the rocks.”
“Will do. Good luck. Out.” Turning to Hathaway, he said, “Your escort will be along shortly. She’ll be able to get you at least as far as the shuttle. I’m not sure whether we’ll have a chance to get back to the ship, but we should at least get down to the surface of the Sphere again.”
“Request permission to stay behind, sir,” Hathaway replied.
“That goes for me too, Captain,” Fox said, stepping into the chamber.
“Not a chance, Sergeant. You’ve got too much to do here. There are seventeen lives...”
Fox stepped to his side, and said, “With all due respect, Captain, your place isn’t standing here, waiting around and hoping that she’ll wake up. Your place is with these people, people she evidently rescued, people she may have sacrificed her very life to save. Do you want to make that sacrifice meaningless, sir?” Gesturing at the tunnel, she continued, “I think I can get them all to safety by myself, but in all honesty, I’m not certain of that. If the enemy decides to attack again, then we’ll be in grave trouble without assistance.”
Salazar looked at Harper, and Fox pressed, “It’s what she’d have wanted, sir. And you and I both know that.”
Nodding, Salazar said, “Change of plan. I think I know the way back to the surface from here. Sergeant, could I have your communicator, please?” Fox passed it to him, and he set the transmitter to an automatic beacon signal, before placing it at Harper’s feet. “I’ll take point. Fox, you bring up the rear. The rest of you, move out on the double. Keep behind me, and for God’s sake, keep up. We’re counting seconds now. Fox, watch for stragglers.”
“Will do, sir,” she replied.
“Hathaway, you stay behind me. If anything happens, let Fox take the command and get up to the surface.”
“Yes, sir,” she said, her voice still a faint rasp.
With one last look at Harper, Salazar turned for the corridor, leading the trail of rescued prisoners in single file through the tunnels, pulling himself into the nearest shaft, heading directly for the surface. From below, he heard a loud crack, the unmistakable noise of a bullet slamming into a wall, and he redoubled his pace, fearing that the battle he had dreaded was about to begin. He pulled himself up onto a ledge, and came face to face with one of the winged humanoids, standing at parade rest. The shock made him take an involuntary step backwards, and had Hathaway not been there, he’d have fallen without a doubt.
“Careful, sir,” she said, before looking up at the creature. “That bastard…”
“It isn’t moving,” he replied, waving a hand in front of its lifeless face. “It’s as though somebody has managed to turn it off. I don’t understand.” He tried to inch around it, quickly realizing that there was insufficient space to get past, and finally picked up the humanoid, moving it to the wall. Hathaway looked at it with rage in her eyes, and he said, “Stand down, Lieutenant. Consider that a direct order.”
“Sir...”
“Stand down! The last thing we want to do is wake up the garrison if Harper’s managed to put them to sleep. What’s more important to you? Revenge, or the life of your crew. You tell me know, and if you’d rather get some payback, the core’s right at the bottom of the shaft.”
Hathaway paused, and asked, “How long, sir? How long as it been?”
“Weeks, Lieutenant. Maybe longer. I’ve got no way of knowing.”
“For me it seems like a few moments, sir. A few moments since creatures like that dived on our outpost, killing and slaughtering their way through people I’ve known for years. My crew. People I was responsible for.”
“And it if wasn’t for people not unlike those, Lieutenant, you and I would both be dead right now. They’re fighting for their freedom, just like you, and I’m beginning to think that they might actually be winning.” He paused, then said, “We’ve got to push on.”
“Yes, sir,” she said, with a reluctant look at the cold, dead face of the humanoid. “I understand, Captain. Just don’t demand that I like it.”
Nodding, Salazar turned back to the tunnel, taking the lead as they walked up to the surface. Strange noises echoed through the tunnels, and the walls in this section were cracked, the floor uneven. The bomb had doubtless had some sort of effect, and he couldn’t help but think that another attack might be enough to destroy it, a second strike. Alamo could do it, if by some miracle, it was here. Then, a loud grinding noise echoed through the moonlet, and the floor began to buckle as they moved, acceleration rising.
One of the cracks was deep enough to see the sunlight beyond, and he looked out to see the ground rushing past beneath them. Almost unbelievably, they were moving, faster than he had ever seen this moonlet move before. They were racing for somewhere, and the AI was evidently in a hurry to get there.
The rapidly changing course tossed them back and forth, and he heard a cry from the rear as one of the crewmen lost their footing, stumbling against a wall, the others around him helping him back to his feet, struggling to proceed. He didn’t have to tell them to run. They knew that. The rubble tumbling from the ceiling was enough of a suggestion for them. Sprinting the last few paces, he came to a single shaft, all the way to the top, with a cable tossed down it, Lombardo peering down at them.
“Skipper?” he asked. “Where are the others?”
“Clarke and Mortimer went on down,” Salazar replied. “Get the shuttle prepared for immediate launch.”
“Way ahead of you, sir. All systems ready.”
“Good, because we’ve got more passengers than we were expecting.” Gesturing at Hathaway, he said, “You first, Lieutenant. On your way.”
“Sir...”
“That’s an order. Move.”
She nodded, reaching for the cable, pulling herself up hand over hand as she struggled to the surface, Lombardo tugging her over the edge at the end. Salazar tapped the next man, a young Petty Officer, and he scrambled up the cable after her, while he stood out of the way, gesturing for each of the Monitor officers to make their way to the surface. He counted them up, one at a time, several of them with obvious bruises from stumbling their way through the tunnels.
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