Peacekeeper- God Complex

by Doug Farren

  “It looks a lot like one of our own work drones,” Captain Harth said. “The nose looks like it’s padded.”

  “Slowly move our probe sideways 30 meters,” the Admiral ordered.

  The probe moved sideways. The drone did the same, maintaining the exact same distance from the nose of the probe.

  The Admiral’s tail curled then uncurled as he considered what to try next. “Alright,” he finally said, “Back away at one meter per second.”

  “The drone is also backing away at the same speed,” the science station reported after a moment. When the two machines were separated by a distance of a little over 100 meters, the drone spun around and headed back towards the warship.

  “Reverse course,” the Admiral ordered. “Drop your speed to half a meter per second.”

  As soon as the probe began moving forward, the drone stopped and returned to begin blocking the probe’s forward path.

  “Comms,” the Captain began. “Have we received a reply to our communication attempts?”

  “Nothing sir.”

  “The drone is now matching our speed,” the science station reported. “We are approaching each other at one meter per second.”

  “The centerline between the probe and the drone must be a line we are not allowed to cross,” Admiral Shurvith said. “Keep going but reduce your speed as you approach that line. Let’s see what happens.”

  The probe slowed as it approached the invisible line the drone had apparently drawn. The two machines got closer and closer.

  “Getting some drive field interference,” the science station reported. “The probe is compensating.”

  There was a short delay then, “Contact! Forward motion has stopped.”

  “Increase drive power,” the Admiral ordered. “Let’s see if we can’t nudge it out of the way.”

  “Increasing power … Ten percent … Twenty percent … Thirty percent. Still no forward movement.”

  “Keep going.”

  The operator complied with the order, ticking off the numbers as the drive power continued to increase. When the power hit 70% one of the drone’s large manipulator arms unfolded, reached out and crushed the probe’s camera.

  “Reduce thrust to zero!” the Admiral ordered. “Back the probe off about 10 meters.” Turning his head around to look at the Captain, he asked, “I wonder if that was a warning?”

  The Captain came over and stood next to the Admiral. “That was a pretty clear warning to me. I find it interesting that it chose not to damage a critical component. Given what we’ve seen so far, I’d say we’re dealing with a relatively non-violent culture.”

  “They’ve destroyed two of our probes so far,” the tactical officer noted. “And, they managed to capture a Chroniech warship.”

  “Speaking of the warship,” the science station operator said. “I wonder what’s happened to the crew?”

  “Killed, most likely,” tactical said.

  “Or they’re being held in the same location the drones are taking the parts of their ship to,” Admiral Shurvith said.

  “Why destroy two probes but disable another?” Captain Harth asked.

  A series of waves passed along Admiral Shurvith’s tail as he pondered the problem. “Let’s think about the circumstances involved in each case,” he said. “The first probe was destroyed after it attempted to capture one of the indigenous animals. The probe’s actions could have been interpreted as hostility. The second probe was destroyed because it might have encroached on a restricted area or whoever is controlling the drones doesn’t want us to know their location.”

  “And the Chroniech,” the Captain chimed in, “were acting like Chroniech and probably provoked whoever is down there. That might explain why none of the other probes were interfered with.”

  “Or the shuttle the Vartha’oon sent down,” the Admiral added. “We pushed a little too hard and whoever they are pushed back by giving us a clear warning.”

  “I’d like to take a closer look at the planet,” Captain Harth said. “The Vartha’oon deployed 200 planetary survey probes. All but two are still functional. Since survey probes are modified class-one military probes, our AI should have no problem using them.”

  “Agreed,” the Admiral replied. “I also think it’s safe to move one of our ships into a closer orbit. Keep the shield down and weapon systems off. We don’t want to appear threatening.”

  “I would recommend the Paranuth. It’s our smallest vessel and would indicate we are trying to be as non-threatening as possible.”

  “Agreed.”

  Orders were issued and the Paranuth began moving towards the planet.

  Twenty minutes later, a warning chime sounded as a yellow icon appeared on the tactical screen.

  “An unknown vessel has been detected!” the tactical station announced. The announcement was immediately followed by an urgent communications request from the captain of the Paranuth.

  The main screen automatically switched to a tactical display as Captain Harth took the call from his captain’s console.

  As soon as the connection was open, Captain Maresh made his report. “An unknown vessel is approaching at high speed. Its shield is up and our tactical computer believes its weapon systems are armed.”

  Captain Harth glanced at the tactical display on his command console taking in the details of the approaching vessel in a single glance. The ship massed a little over 14.2 kilotons. It had first appeared at an altitude of a little over a kilometer and was rapidly ascending on a direct course for the Paranuth which was now 1,482 kilometers from the planet’s surface.

  “Hold your current position,” Captain Harth ordered. “Keep your shield down unless that ship shows signs of preparing to fire.”

  “Yes sir.” Captain Maresh turned and issued orders. When he was finished, he turned back to Captain Harth.

  Admiral Shurvith had positioned himself so he could be part of the conversation. As soon as he saw he had Captain Maresh’s attention, he said, “Keep this line open. Are you picking up any signs of a communications attempt?”

  Captain Maresh glanced to his left, “None. The other ship has also stopped. It’s holding at a distance of 504 kilometers.”

  Captain Harth rolled his head back and looked at the Admiral. “Another line we’re not allowed to cross?”

  “Let’s find out,” the Admiral replied. “Captain Maresh, resume course, set your speed at one-half kilometer per second.”

  The Paranuth began moving forward. The unknown ship held its position.

  “Maybe not,” Captain Harth said.

  The Paranuth continued to slowly advance. A little over six minutes later, the Paranuth’s shield activated. Captain Snarth snapped his head to the right and demanded an explanation. After a moment, he turned to the camera and said, “We’ve been illuminated by a low-power laser. Our tactical computer interpreted it as a prelude to an attack and raised the shield.”

  Admiral Shurvith’s tail formed a complex pattern as he contemplated what to do next. “Keep your shield up and slow to one-quarter kilometer per second.”

  “Permission to charge weapons.”

  “No. They might be testing us to see what we’ll do.”

  Two minutes later, without any warning, a powerful beam weapon struck the Paranuth’s shield creating an incredible display of deflected energy. Even though it passed through the shield, the beam did not make contact with the Paranuth’s hull. It winked out one second later.

  “Tactical, power weapons and target that ship!” Captain Maresh said. “Helm, hold our position relative to that ship.”

  “Target locked,” a voice could be heard from the Paramuth’s open link. “Standing by- - -”

  The communications link abruptly ended. Captain Harth’s tactical display indicated that the Paranuth had been fired upon by an unknown weapon. All tactical data feeds from the ship were dead.

  “Visual!” Captain Harth ordered.

  The main screen switched to a magnified ima
ge of the Paranuth. Its reflective shield was down and the entire hull was covered by a web of quickly dissipating blue-white arcs.

  After taking one glance at the screen, the Captain yelled, “Battle stations! Arm all weapons and prepare to engage.”

  The unknown ship was slowly approaching the Paranuth. A ghostly blue tractor beam reached out and seized the disabled vessel and began dragging it towards the planet.

  “Warn them off,” Captain Harth ordered.

  The aft section of the alien shield glowed briefly as one of the Tharveth’s secondary guns directed a relatively low-power beam against it. The tactical display instantly detected a sharp rise in the ship’s power emissions. This was followed by the release of a blueish ball of energy that rapidly approached the dreadnought. It passed through the ship’s shield as if it didn’t exist and struck the hull.

  Alarms began sounding as red emergency indicators lit up on virtually every station on the bridge. The power fluctuated, causing the lights to alternately dim and brighten. Smoke began pouring from a panel on the port side of the bridge as the power stabilized.

  “Damage report!” the Captain yelled.

  “Multiple system failures,” the engineering station reported. “Main power has been stabilized but I’m getting reports of small electrical fires all over the ship. Most of our external sensors and communication systems have been rendered inoperable.”

  “Do we still have contact with the rest of the fleet?” the Admiral asked.

  “Yes sir.”

  “Tell them to stand down.” Seeing that the Captain was about to object, the Admiral added, “Whatever that was passed through our shield as if it wasn’t there. Do you want to lose the entire fleet?”

  Captain Harth’s tail was twitching with anger. It thumped to the floor as he accepted their defeat. “No. Comms, order the fleet to drop shields and power down their weapons.” Turning to the Admiral, he asked, “What about the Paranuth? We can’t just abandon it and its crew!”

  Admiral Shurvith glanced at the tactical display which showed that the Paranuth was still being dragged towards the planet by the unknown warship. “I don’t think there’s much we can do at the moment, Captain. Launch four class-one probes. Have them follow the Paranuth at staggered intervals of 400 kilometers. Keep the closest at least 1,500 kilometers away until the ship is on the ground then maintain a distance of no less than 1,500 meters.”

  The Captain turned to his crew and issued the appropriate commands. After passing along the Admiral’s orders, he added, “Communications, send a full SITREP and data dump to Central Command on Roulda. Tactical, perform a detailed analysis of everything that’s happened since our arrival. I especially want to know what type of weapon they hit us with. Senior staff will meet in the main conference room in an hour.”

  Chapter 4

  “The complex we are now approaching houses the Rouldian central government,” the computerized tour guide announced.

  Looking down through the transparent floor of their aerial touring vehicle, the passengers saw a massive complex of structures below. Three large circular buildings, each one measuring at least 100 meters in diameter were arranged in a roughly triangular pattern around a smaller circular building. The roofs, as were virtually all Rouldian buildings, were covered in lush greenery.

  “Our elected triumvirate and their immediate families reside in the closest structure. Guest rooms, banquet halls, and the offices of the triumvirate and their staff are in the same building. The building to the left houses the offices of the Rouldian central cabinet and their support staff. The building to the right is used by a large number of government agencies such as the departments of education, agriculture, science and technology, genealogy, extraplanetary affairs, and commerce to name a few. The smaller, central building is where all joint meetings of the central cabinet take place.”

  “Impressive,” Tom said.

  “The government complex on Fanish looks very much like that,” Lashpa said. “Only it’s much smaller.”

  Overhearing the remark, the computer said, “Most Rouldian worlds model their own government buildings after the central government complex here in Glurshvy. It’s an efficient and well-studied design. Our next stop will be the sports arena. If you see anything of interest while we are en route, please ask me about it.”

  They had already passed over the massive space museum giving Tom a chance to see just how large Roulda’s first primitive spaceships were. Other stops had included the starport, a large fusion power plant, and one of the massive planetary defense installations.

  Shava craned her head then pointed. “I wonder what’s going on down there?”

  Lashpa looked in the direction his mother was pointing. Red and blue flashing emergency lights were quickly converging on the area. “Computer, identify the reason for all of the emergency vehicles moving towards the area approximately two kilometers west of our current position.”

  “There has been a construction accident,” the computer replied.

  Unsatisfied with the response, Lashpa was silent for a moment while she communicated with her ship’s AI. The response was sent to both Tom and Lashpa. Using their cybernetic implants, Lashpa’s ship, the Krish, summarized the situation.

  “An automated backhoe suffered a control malfunction and struck the base of the construction elevator. Two workers were in transit to the top of the four-story building and are now trapped between the third and fourth levels. One of them is injured. The elevator tower is in danger of collapse. An aerial rescue vehicle is en route but is not expected to arrive for at least ten minutes.”

  “Computer,” Lashpa said, “Confirm that I am a peacekeeper.”

  “Identity confirmed.”

  “This is a peacekeeper order. Take us to the scene of the construction accident as fast as possible. Hover over the roof of the building and open the door.”

  “Override accepted,” the computer instantly replied. “All civilian passengers please move to the forward part of the compartment.”

  Tom started to follow Lashpa to the rear of the aircar where the door was located. Lashpa turned around and said, “You should stay here.”

  Tom was dumbfounded. “Why?”

  Lashpa put a hand on Tom’s shoulder. “You did not grow up on a high gravity world. Your low-gravity instincts could be a danger to you and others. Please, stay here.”

  Tom opened his mouth to object when his ship interceded. “Lashpa is correct,” the Orion said, speaking to him through his cybernetic ears. “I may not be able to anticipate your intended actions fast enough to override an action that might have disastrous consequences until it is too late. Remember what happened at dinner last night?”

  Tom closed his mouth as he recalled what had happened at the end of their meal. He had leaned back and casually tossed his Rouldian-sized cloth napkin towards the table. His intended target had been the empty spot to the right of his plate, but the trajectory was all wrong because of the higher gravity. The napkin fell far short of its goal catching the end of a utensil and flipping it off the table. The utensil cantilevered launching a piece of food into the air where it landed on Tom’s chest. Although embarrassing, it had been quite funny at the time.

  The look on Lashpa’s face indicated she had received the same message as Tom. “I see your point,” Tom said. “Be careful.”

  Warned of their approach by the Krish, the police made no effort to prevent the civilian aircar from approaching. Lashpa surveyed the situation as they approached the unfinished roof. The roof was cluttered with staged construction material and there wasn’t a space large enough for the aircar to land.

  “Hover over the roof and open the rear door,” Lashpa ordered. “I will direct you.”

  Grabbing hold of the edge, she leaned out. “Lower … One point six meters … One meter … Zero point five … Hold!”

  Lashpa stepped out of the aircar and onto the roof. Looking up, she yelled, “Remain aloft until aerial rescue arrives.”


  The aircar lifted away and assumed a hovering stance a few meters above the damaged elevator. Lashpa dashed across the roof, flung open a door, and descended the ramp her people used in place of stairs. Moments later, she was on the fourth floor. Sticking her head out the unfinished side of the building, she looked down and assessed the situation.

  The elevator was a simple platform inside an open steel frame bolted to the side of the building. The platform was powered by a small lift unit. The impact from the malfunctioning backhoe had severed the unit’s power cable. The elevator was now stuck about a meter below the fourth floor, held in place by the emergency brakes.

  “Combat mode,” Lashpa whispered.

  The computer embedded in her chest understood the command and instantly responded. The power limiter of her cybernetic limbs was lifted and a face mask deployed, surrounding her face with a thin sheet of armor. Additional sensors were activated, and a tactical overlay appeared in front of her.

  Sticking her long neck down as far as she could, she saw one of the workers looking up at her. “The tower is unstable,” she told him. “Stay calm, I’m coming down to get you out of there.”

  “Lurvith hit his head,” the uninjured worker replied. “He’s unconscious.”

  “I’ll be right back,” Lashpa replied.

  She went back into the building and quickly scanned the area. She spotted a heavy firewater supply line running along the ceiling and ran up to it. A small compartment built into her right front leg opened, allowing her to retrieve her service pistol. Taking aim, she pulled the trigger. The plasma bolt hit the pipe, blasting a cloud of vaporized paint off the steel pipe. After three more shots, the pipe was glowing yellow-white and near its melting point. The fourth caused the weakened section to explode in a shower of molten metal.

  She took aim at another spot two meters from the first and fired four more times. Holstering her pistol, she grabbed the pipe, braced herself, and pulled. The two supports that had been preventing it from falling tore themselves out of the concrete ceiling. Without bothering to turn around, Lashpa rapidly walked backwards towards the construction elevator. She could see her travel path thanks to a video camera built into the back of her permanently installed helmet that fed an image directly into her cybernetic eyes.