Clement dragged himself out of the cold sleep room, and back into the computing center. He stopped to stare once more out at the display. The space around Vermillion was almost empty now, with only a few small satellites flashing by in the void. His hands fumbled with the cap on a bottle of tea, trying to wake up. He looked down at the summary of the communications traffic that the Ascent had been able to collect, but didn't see anything out of the ordinary. Officially the forces on Vermillion were being marshaled for undisclosed defensive operations, with the locations involved still not being officially announced. With the additional information from the Warmind however, Clement could clearly see that a massive offensive outside Imperial space was being prepared.
He felt a nagging guilt at having given relocation orders for Max and Rachel, without even saying goodbye. He tried out the rationalization again, that it was for their own safety, but it didn't help. The tea sat acidically in his stomach, not so much providing caffeinated clarity, as manifesting an additional source of discomfort. “It's not going to get any easier.” he thought abruptly, “Better start now.” “Warmind, let's begin.” His words sounded too loud to him, echoing in the empty room. “At once, Harmost.” the Warmind said. “Your equipment is on board the stealth insertion ship Apogee-at-Midnight in bay three. We can launch at once as soon as you are aboard.”
As Clement struggled into the unfamiliar power armor, he felt the ship begin a hard burn out of the docking bay. He checked the HUD on his helmet, saw a comforting scroll of text coming from the Warmind, informing him on the status of the mission. Even though the Warmind felt confident that it was in control of the flight control systems of Vermillion and could remove any trace of their passage, Apogee was engaging its electronic warfare systems, attempting to be as invisible as possible to whatever rogue sensors or satellites might still be in orbit. Clement’s knuckles went white inside his power armor as he gripped hard on the crash couch he was strapped into as the Apogee fell into the night side of Vermillion.
Chapter 5
Senior Investigator Nice, of the network security division was suffering from intense irritation. It would be too much to stay he seethed with it, since in his view such a high level of emotion wasn't permitted by the regulation, but it certainly came close. All his underlings had inexplicably called out sick or been reassigned. He was about three days behind on his department paperwork, and the division sub-AIs were inexplicably throwing a continuous stream of false positives, most recently suggesting he mobilize his division to conduct forensics on a satellite off system which he’d been able to determine functioned solely as the fleet entertainment and video relay. Nothing worthy of a priority one alert. He paged through the notes a subinvestigator had left for him, suggesting to investigator Nice that the sub-AI’s pattern of behavior had been very strange recently, but wasn't able to make heads or tails of it. AIs did funny things sometimes, and had for the duration of investigator Nice's career, he wasn't about to learn the arcane theorems that governed their behavior now. He dashed off an angry message suggesting that there was nothing wrong with Imperial AIs and the subinvestigator would be better off spending his time tracking down what data feed was corrupting the sub-AIs results. Maybe send a query to the Vermillion Warmind he wrote, see what that had to suggest.
Nice was about to switch terminals and return to his paperwork when he saw something odd. In the pile of papers on his desk there was a handwritten note from his deputy letting him know he’d been called out to a meeting and wouldn't be available. However, on the status listings of his terminal, it stated that he was off site at a research installation as scheduled. He picked up his phone and called the research station. The call went to voicemail instantly. He tried several other desks at the research site but none of them went through. He hung up, puzzled, and then redialed, calling the office where his deputy was supposed to be. A woman answered. “Yes, deputy Investigator Tanner was in a meeting. Would you like me to get him for you?” His heart began to race as he called the main security office. The phone instantly went dead. He raced over to another desk and picked up the phone, but it was also dead. Cursing, he rushed out the door of his office, the full emptiness of the building finally coming home to him. Sprinting down to the security office, he was not surprised to find it empty. He came upon the weapons lockers as he frantically looked around. Not surprisingly, it was locked. In an uncharacteristic moment of creative thinking he saw a metal folding chair. Grabbing it, he levered it under the rim of the locker door and applied his full body weight. The lock snapped. “Thank goodness for lowest bidder contracts,” he thought as he grabbed a standard Imperial battle rifle from the rack. Loading it, he rushed out to the empty parking lot. Inside he reached for his personal communicator, but it was reporting no service. He cursed again, and revved his engines, pealing out of the lot and onto the road toward the research station.
The navigation unit came to life and issued a warning that heavy traffic was reported on his projected route but he reached over and switched it off. He was not surprised to discover that there was no traffic at all as he turned into the wooded highway that lead to his destination. He screeched to a halt in front of the fence line, looking for the Imperial marines that should be at guard but there was no one, just an abandoned vehicle barricade. Vaulting the bar, he unshouldered his weapon and rushed toward the silent installation.
Chapter 6
Clement walked down the halls of the abandoned installation, his footsteps ringing in the empty hallways. Inside the offices he walked by he saw the glow of countless terminals, but no one was seated at any of the desks. The effect was eerie, and he shivered inside his power armor. He spoke into his helmet, “Warmind, what’s our status? Are we far from the Oracle?” There was the faintest of hesitations in the bright red text he saw scrolling across his HUD “(TS//WRMD)FINE SO FAR. NOT FAR NOW.)”
Clement came to the end of a final long hallway and arrived at two large steel blast doors, covered in warning markings telling of terrible injury likely to befall anyone not taking proper precautions, as well as horrible imprecations against anyone seeking to enter without proper authorization. Clement ignored both of these and started tapping at the control panel next to the door, following the instructions the Warmind flashed at him across his HUD.
The doors slid halfway open then stuck. A motor whirled somewhere, then gave up. Apparently this was as far as it was going to open today. Clement saw a message “(TS//WRMD) DOOR OVERRIDE NOT 100% SUCCESSFUL).” Shrugging, Clement wedged himself through the door. The action saved his life. Right as he entered, a burst of weapons fire lit up the door. Clement stumbled, falling hard into a conference room next to the blast doors. Warning lights lit up all over his display, and he felt a sharp pain in his left arm. A fragment of a projectile had wedged itself between the joints of his armor and he was bleeding profusely from the resultant wound. As the armor’s AI struggled to stabilize his medical situation Clement levered himself to his feet using his good arm, and fumbled for the sidearm strapped to his side. Holding the sidearm just to the opening of the gate he fired blindly until the magazine emptied, then withdrew. He heard more fire slam into the steel blast doors. “Good”, he thought dazedly, “at least he's not rushing the door”.
Suddenly he saw the same message scrolling constantly across his HUD “(TS//WRMD) HARMOST. EMERGENCY. MOVE NOW.”. “I know, I know,” Clement shouted into his HUD, ‘I can hear the firing.” “(“TS//WRMD) FIRING NOT THE THREAT. OTHER AI ON LOCAL SYSTEMS. WAS HIDDEN. REACTING TO NOISE DETECTED THROUGH TERMINAL MICS.” Clement felted his blood run cold “What AI?” “(“TS//WRMD)UNCLEAR. MOVE NOW. SECURE ORACLES.” Clement looked around wildly then saw blinking across the open gap: the door controls. Not stopping to think he hurled himself across the door’s opening, just barely being missed by another barrage from whoever was firing from down the hallway. He slammed the close button on the terminal and held his breath. At first, nothing happened. Then with another complaining whirl, the motors
reversed and the door clanged shut. A map was flashing in the lower left corner of his vision, indicating where the Warmind wanted him to go. He turned and sprinted down the hallway, his head reeling from blood loss and unaccustomed levels of exertion.
He crashed through a door at the end of the hall. Inside there was a table with a headset resting on it, wires running out of it into a grey slab standing on the floor next to it. Targeting reticles lit up across his hud, circling the headset and the connected machine. “(TS//WRMD) RETRIEVE. RETRIEVE. RETRIEVE.” scrolling across his vision in a red wall of text. With his good hand he awkwardly scooped up the machinery, slotting it onto automated grips on the back of his armor. Staggering slightly as the increased weight threw off the automated balancing algorithms stabilizing his armor he staggered out of the room. A new map appeared in his vision and he started jogging out the back of the room, looking for the emergency exit the Warmind was directing him to find.
After what seemed like an eternity of grungy corridors and empty offices with terminals flaring a hard crash message, Clement slammed into an emergency fire exit, kicking off the alarms behind him, just in time to see Apogee swooping down in front of him, landing bay sliding down and open even as it descended. He staggered aboard, his energy bleeding out as the dread began to crash home. “Warmind!” he shouted “What’s happening?”
Investigator Nice ran out onto the roof of the research building just in time to see Apogee’s thrusters flaring as it clawed for altitude. He fired a few desultory shots at it, but they bounced off harmlessly, as he’d known they would. “Damn!” he cursed to himself “If only I’d remembered the layout better.” He heard a low rumble and turning he saw blasting low over the horizon black snub nosed fighters, showing Imperial insignia. Relief filled him. “Finally! The cavalry's here,” he thought.
Clement heard the sound of shots pinging off the hull of the Apogee, then the noise of the main engines engaging drowned out the sound as well as the Warmind’s reply. He rotated in his crash couch to look out the porthole nearest him. He thought he saw someone running across the roof of the building they were jetting away from but he couldn't be sure. Suddenly the glass of the porthole went completely black, shutting out all light. At the same time, the Apogee rocked wildly, then begin executing such a high speed burn that it almost caused Clement to black out as he was pressed down hard by the frantic acceleration. “Warmind,” he choked, “what’s happening?”
The Warmind’s voice came in tinny over the Apogees speakers, making it sound like he was communicating from a great distance. “There is another AI in the system. It believes I have been compromised. It claims to represent the Imperial reinsurance fleet. It is quite urgently ordering me to disarm.”
“Reinsurance fleet?” spluttered Clement, “and what was all that shaking?”
“The AI I am in communication with claims it is a contingency plan, ordered to hibernate deep in the outer rim of the system, set to activate if it detects any sort of compromise to myself, or any threat to the Oracles or the Weapon. Apparently some of our recent orders raised its alert level and the firing in the research facility finally prodded it into action. The shaking was elements of their special forces arm attempting to hit us with tactical nukes. I blanked the viewport to preserve your vision, but the shock wave caused some damage to our craft.”
“A nuke? On an Imperial planet?” Clement gasped, “What are they thinking?”
“They appear to be extremely irate” came the Warmind’s reply. “They claim we dropped a moon onto their headquarters, and that it didn't leave many survivors.”
“Did we?” asked Clement in disbelief. “Not in this timeline Harmost. Possibly not in any timeline. The AI in charge of their forces seems to have been driven slightly insane. The divergence of its prediction engines and exposure to the Oracles seems to have corrupted its core axioms of operation. It is likely it can no longer fully distinguish between reality and the possible futures shown by the Oracles. It will blindly follow its orders no matter the cost.”
“Well, that’s just great!” shouted Clement. “What are we supposed to do now, with an insane AI who thinks we dropped a planet on its troops chasing us?”
“I suggest we complete our mission Harmost,” came the Warmind’s reply. “Feed the first scenario into the Oracle, interpret the results, and begin converging to a firing solution for the Weapon.”
Clements mind kicked into high gear, a desire to take action overriding his cloying fear. “The Oracle! Will it work aboard the Apogee?” he exclaimed.
“Of course, Harmost.” said the Warmind, “The connection is temporal, not physical. Select the scenario which you would like to start.”
Clement’s mind spun desperately. “The fleet withdrawal scenario. What if we gain control of a large enough portion of the Imperial fleet to prevent the full scale invasion of barbarian space?” A brief pause, then the Warmind came in over the speakers again. “The scenario is loaded Harmost. I have interfaced the Oracle with your suit. I can begin transmission any time.”
Clement paused. A sudden dread filled him, overwhelming the earlier fears that he’d managed to suppress. Before he could change his mind he shouted. “Start already, damnit!” He feels a flash brighter than white. Then nothing.
Chapter 7
The Sun of the People strode through the cheering crowd, crushing the petals that lined the street in front of him. This was the time of his greatest glory. The steel and glass skyscrapers of his city on Vermillion gleamed, scattering everywhere the brilliance of the sun, which was itself only a dim reflection of the brightness of his image. Everywhere, throughout the known universe, wherever the Terran people ruled, beamed through countless devices, screens and implants, his image stared down. From the highest tower to the lowest prison his visage was inescapable. The roar from the crowd was vaster than the sound of the sea, and just as deep.
Walking beside him in chrome power armor, his bodyguard strode in lockstep. He felt their devotion to him radiate out like heat. They longed for any attempt on his person no matter how slight, so they could lay down their lives and prove their devotion to him. Many of them were his former enemies or the final members of the resistance that the security forces had been able to round up, but his science officers assured him that this was in fact ideal, that the neural rewiring they’d undergone meant that they’d remember the hatred they used to feel, that it would drive them to attempt anything to atone for it. Hopeless of course, he thought. The love of a god cannot be brought so easily.
Another roar from the crowd. He’d felt that one in his bones this time. Normally the adulation was intoxicating. It was his due, his right as the supreme and only leader, the one whose rule had lasted over a millennia, due to potent combination of cybernetics and nano-machinery, who intended to reign forever, past even the death of the last star. Today though, something nagged him. The message from his commanders, urging him to come and shed his radiance upon them. Normally they couldn't keep him far enough away, the snivelling cowards. Could it be that the issue he had ordered closed had not been taken care of? The anomaly at the far edge of known space was still unsolved? He felt the stirrings of annoyance, but also a slight thrill. It had been awhile since he’d been really challenged.
The Sun strode through the doors of a vast building, the base of the planet’s space elevator. While the elevator necessarily towered over the planet, the real marvel of engineering was the shaft below it sinking deep into the planet’s core. There, shielded by the tremendous pressures of the earth, the deepest secrets of his rule were kept. The elevator door slid open, and The Sun and his guards entered. The door whisked shut, and immediately the elevator began accelerating into the deep.
Abruptly, they reached the depths that were their destination, and the elevator halted. A uniformed officer of the general staff waited at attention. When had he elevated this one, Sun thought idly? It must have been recently, given his relative youth. He gestured to him to lead on, and without a
word he turned and lead them deeper into the base. Some of the Sun’s guards moved soundless ahead, looking for hidden dangers. It had been over a hundred years since the last assassination attempt, more than that since the last fool had managed an attempt inside an official building, but they knew the Sun liked proactive measures.
The officer stopped in front of a blast door and waved his hand. Invisible sensors buzzed, analyzing his hand patterns, his retinas, the chemical and bacterial composition of his breath, the gait of his walk, and concluded that this was no imposter. The door slid open, and the party walked in. The air here was colder and smelt slightly bitter, as if the scrubbers were working too hard to ensure the purity of the atmosphere, and were burning out. The blast doors slid shut behind them and the Sun went straight to the large conference table in the middle of the room. Three officers were sitting at the table, but they instantly jumped to their feet. The Sun sat, starting at the three standing across the table. Two he recognized, the head of intelligence, and the head of the fleet, but the third he didn't know. Much younger than the other two, he appeared to be an infantry captain, some sort of weapons officer.
Pondering, he kept the three waiting for a full minute then said “Tell Me.” The officer in charge of the fleet cleared his throat, glanced at his companion then said “Radiance, as you know we have been tracking an anomaly at the far edge of the of known space. Two hundred years ago emplaced reconnaissance satellites out beyond the rim began to go silent. As you are aware, elements of the twelfth, fifteenth, and twentieth fleets were mobilized to investigate.”
Vision: A Story of Deep Time Page 3
