The Lost Destroyer (Lost Starship Series Book 3)

by Vaughn Heppner

  Meta shouted and heaved with renewed zeal. The tortured metal sounds increased as she tore open the hatch.

  Before Dana could tell Meta to let her go in first, the former assassin dropped down into the chamber. Dana scrambled to see what had happened. The doctor peered down into a perfectly preserved chamber. There wasn’t any crusted slime or Swarm warrior skeletons in there. The anti-bug spray must have worked six thousand years ago. The Swarm hadn’t made it into the chamber.

  “It’s cold down here,” Meta said. “And the air…”

  “Galyan,” Dana said, “begin pumping new air down there.”

  Immediately, air whooshed past Dana. That caused some of the foul air in the chamber to boil out and blow against the doctor’s face. It made her dizzy. Dana felt her eyelids flutter. Then, purer air woke her back up.

  “Meta!” the doctor shouted.

  There wasn’t any answer.

  Dana grabbed a rebreather she’d put in the carton Meta had been dragging. Putting it over her face, inhaling deeply, Dana jumped down into the ancient chamber. Meta lay unconscious on the floor. As fast as possible, the doctor slipped the mask over Meta’s face.

  Finally, unable to hold her breath any longer, the doctor breathed down here. Nausea hit her. She felt faint again. With great deliberation, Dana moved before the stream of fresh air coming down through the hatch, breathing it.

  For over two minutes, Dana didn’t move from the spot. Finally, the bad air thinned enough that it was no longer dangerous.

  Meta climbed to her feet, taking off the rebreather.

  “Are you okay?” Dana asked.

  “I’ve got a pounding headache,” Meta said thickly. “What is this place?”

  Greater illumination showed them walls of computer banks and linkages. Nothing was on, though. It was all dark.

  Dana took out the blue box. With the intricate device, she began studying the chamber. The minutes passed.

  Finally, Meta asked, “Do you understand what this room represents?”

  “I do,” Dana said. “It’s an unused computer chamber. What I find incredible is that I’m not seeing any live connections with the main AI.”

  “What’s that mean in English?”

  “This is more computer power of an unknown nature,” Dana said. “This isn’t just a system Ludendorff turned off and forgot to turn back on. This is a completely new area that I’m beginning to believe the Adoks never engaged.”

  “Why wouldn’t they have done that?” Meta asked.

  “That, my dear, is the billion credit question.”

  ***

  Many hours later, Dana spoke with the captain in the cafeteria while eating a large Brahma meal with a heaping bowl of ice cream for dessert. Her exploration had left her famished.

  “What is your conclusion to all this?” Maddox asked.

  “It’s the same as I first told Meta,” the doctor replied. “We found a completely new computing chamber. I have no idea why the Adoks didn’t turn it on. I don’t know what it will do to Galyan if we energize it. On the assumption you wanted that—to turn it on—I checked the connections and found that it’s possible.”

  “Do you think we should turn it on?”

  “Most certainly not.”

  “But you found out we could just in case that’s what I wanted to do?” Maddox asked.

  “I did.”

  “You surprise me, Doctor.”

  “I have that habit.”

  Maddox appeared thoughtful. “Why do you think we should keep the chamber offline?”

  “For the same reasons as I gave when we voted about the other systems,” Dana said. “It’s too great of a risk. My suggestion is to do one but not the other.”

  Maddox looked away, nodding after a time. “I understand your logic. Mine is different.”

  “I know,” she said in a resigned voice.

  “Because of the doomsday machine, we no longer have the luxury of time. This is a gamble, only now there may be more to win.”

  “Or lose,” Dana said. “I think we should reassemble everyone and revote.”

  “No. This changes nothing.”

  “I wish I could convince you to rethink your position,” Dana said. “But I can see I can’t, so I’m not going to waste my breath. I sincerely hope you’re right, because if you’re wrong, Star Watch will likely lose its only chance of defeating the doomsday machine.”

  “This is an exciting moment, don’t you agree?” Maddox said.

  Dana reached for her ice cream, dipping her spoon in thoughtfully. Looking up, she said, “Yes, I suppose it is, at that. Let’s just hope we don’t all have to die because of it.”

  -25-

  Standing in the conference chamber with Captain Maddox, the holoimage Driving Force Galyan felt a faint stir of unease but also excitement. It recognized that it was unique in the universe. The Adoks who had created it were long dead. The AI only had the faintest recollection of that era. In the last hours of battle against the Swarm, the last Adoks had done something profound. They had brought the dying driving force to the core chamber, sealing him into a special unit. The computer system had “read” the driving force’s engrams and imprinted them onto the AI core system. From that moment forward, the personality of the driving force had begun to change the artificial intelligence centers.

  That had happened six thousand years ago, by human time units. Much had deteriorated on the starship since then. Some ship systems had survived the ages. Still others had completely failed. Now, the captain spoke about a resurgence of computing power, maybe an addition of personality and a ship understanding of what the vessel and its components had lost.

  “I comprehend the situation quite well, Captain. Why, then, are we meeting like this?”

  “The crew is worried,” the captain said.

  “About me, I take it?”

  “Yes. Why did Professor Ludendorff keep some systems turned off? Was it for our protection? Why did the Adoks keep an entire computing chamber offline?”

  “I will not harm any of you,” Galyan said. “I have made my choice on the matter and made it known to you. Do you not remember when I spoke thus?”

  “I remember. The point is that the ‘you’ in your present state has chosen this. Will you feel the same way once the ‘lost’ systems are engaged?”

  “Why should my decision change because of that?”

  “I don’t know why,” Maddox admitted. “Maybe the engagement will elevate your IQ to untold heights, and you will view us with disgust and wish to eliminate us.”

  “I have said I will not. I am Driving Force Galyan, an Adok of the highest honor.”

  “That’s good to know,” Maddox said. “Yet, we still hesitate to do this.”

  “Are you asking for greater assurances?”

  “No. You can’t give us any because you don’t know what you’re going to be like later.”

  “Then why are we having this conversation?” Galyan asked.

  “To calm my fears, perhaps.”

  “I do not believe that is the reason, Captain. Throughout my time with you, you have proven yourself well able to submerge your fears.”

  Maddox nodded. “I want you to remember this conversation if you find yourself desiring our deaths or imprisonment.”

  “I do not think you understand the Adoks,” Galyan said.

  “Do you?”

  “Of course. I am an Adok.”

  “That’s conceit,” Maddox said. “You are not an Adok but a derivative of Adok technology.”

  “I am the deified Driving Force Galyan.”

  Maddox stared at the alien holoimage. He had come to trust and like Galyan. Still, Galyan wasn’t alive, but was a machine, albeit an extremely complex one with an artificial personality.

  “Captain, I assure you—”

  “We’re going to do it,” Maddox said, interrupting the holoimage. “You don’t have to convince me to try. The hour is dark, and we’ve lost the professor’s services.”<
br />
  “You are in need of another hyper-intelligent entity.”

  Maddox nodded. “The doctor and Meta are going to flip the switch, as it were. I don’t know what you’re going to feel.”

  “Maybe I will remember more of my past.”

  “Yes,” Maddox said. “That’s what I want to warn you about.”

  “I do not understand.”

  “Maybe the deified part of you has been kept emotionless for a reason. I wonder how an artificial intelligence will deal with keen feelings. Humans have been making movies about the idea for a long time. We’re about to finally find out, or maybe find out what happens when a computer feels deeply.”

  “When do we begin the process?”

  Maddox pulled out a chronometer, checking. “Just a few more minutes.”

  “I must go.”

  “I wish you’d stay here,” Maddox said.

  “Captain. That is an odd request. My monitors allow me to see many places at once. Keeping the holoimage here doesn’t make any difference, you realize?”

  “Indulge me.”

  The holoimage eyed Maddox. The AI used the holoimage as a data-entry point. The computer realized the Adoks had put a restriction on the holoimage. In theory, the AI could have several holoimages running at the same time. In practice, a restriction only allowed the one.

  “I believe you desire to be the first one to talk to me after the change,” Galyan said.

  “I do.”

  “I think I understand.”

  Maddox glanced at his chronometer once more.

  “Do you think I shall sense any discomfort?” Galyan asked.

  “I don’t see why you should.”

  “That isn’t a direct answer.”

  “Correct,” Maddox said.

  “Then—” Galyan stopped talking. He sensed the doctor and Meta. The older woman tapped a control. And in that second everything changed for the deified personality in the AI. The tap turned on the offline systems.

  A wave of sensations rolled over the computing core. It was most odd and discomforting. The discomfort wasn’t a physical sensation, but a juxtaposing of two contrary ways of existence. The AI core realized Ludendorff had fixed the other system. It hadn’t been working right for thousands of years. The hidden computer chamber that Dana had found added even greater complexity to the AI core.

  A moment of disorientation came and went. Greater understanding filled the AI. It was strange…

  Driving Force Galyan remembered his last days as a flesh and blood entity, as a real live Adok. Swarm attack-craft raced at Victory. He had stood on the bridge, directing the planetary beams and the counter-attack against vast masses of enemy vessels.

  In their dark, boxlike craft, the Swarm attacked in endless waves of small assault ships. There were over a million separate enemy fighting machines. The Swarm drove down at the atmosphere of the loveliest planet in the universe.

  In the conference chamber in the here and now, a groan seeped from the holoimage’s mouth.

  Galyan remembered witnessing the wave assault upon his homeworld. The Swarm came down, down, down. The massive planetary beams reached up, pouring devastating fire upon the waves. Thousands of enemy craft exploded, hurling tens of thousands of tons of shrapnel at companion vessels, shredding them and continuing the process. The entire first wave failed to reach the stratosphere. The problem was that more Swarm waves, like the ocean battering a shore, kept advancing upon the homeworld.

  “Do we attack, Driving Force?” his second-in-command asked.

  Six thousand years ago, Galyan had stood on the bridge of Victory as flesh and blood. What sort of question had that been? What did a tactical victory mean if the homeworld died? There was reason to believe the Swarm was a xenophobic race. Their craft might be bringing a deadly end-of-the-world weapon against the Adok birth-planet.

  “Bring the battleships down into close orbit,” Galyan ordered.

  That started the final confrontation of the ages. The Swarm attack fighters zoomed for the battleships. Adok High Command did not yet understand the Swarm tactic of infiltrating the fighting vessels with Swarm warriors and computer viruses.

  A defensive AI system in Victory would have liked to ban the ancient images from its computer memory. Instead, they assaulted Galyan.

  He remembered the destruction. The enemy craft rained down upon the planet. In time, the atmosphere blazed with millions of tons of shrapnel burning, burning and burning. It caused the planetary beams to lose track of the latest wave. The sensors were overloaded. Then the big Swarm maulers entered the fray.

  Galyan watched hosts of Adok battleships explode and burn with grim orange glows. Despite himself, he ordered a retreat from close orbit. The higher maulers would have the advantage for too long otherwise. Galyan had to get among them in higher orbit.

  For hours, the space war raged.

  The Adok disruptor beams proved deadly in the extreme to the Swarm maulers. At the cost of the Dominion Guard Fleet, Galyan destroyed all of the enemy’s super-heavies.

  That’s when the enemy attack fighters finally reached the surface. They swarmed the planetary defense stations, annihilating them. That opened the planet to the hell-burners.

  From space, Galyan remembered the endless thermonuclear explosions pimpling the planetary surface. He understood that each flare represented millions of Adok deaths.

  Galyan forgot himself then. He should have stayed to defend the planetary orbit. Instead, he launched an assault against the mighty Swarm mother-stars. They were the immense Swarm vessels that had brought the invasion force to the Adok System at sub-light speeds. Nothing that Galyan had seen since came close to approaching the monstrous size of those ships. They were as big as the biggest asteroids.

  Did it matter how and in what exact sequence everything happened? Galyan didn’t think so. The point, to him, was that he lost the Adok warships but destroyed every enemy mother-star. Behind him on the homeworld, the enemy brought down its planet-busters.

  As Galyan reformed his last battleships, he witnessed the death of his planet. It wasn’t just hell-burners blasting away the atmosphere. It was the homeworld itself splintering and coming apart in massive chunks of molten rock. The Adoks would never be able to cleanse their world of poisons, because their world no longer existed.

  The anguish of “seeing” this once again, of reliving the hopelessness and despair—

  In the here and now, the holoimage of Driving Force Galyan howled with heart-pain and anguish.

  ***

  Maddox clapped his hands over his ears. He hadn’t expected this. The holoimage’s face distorted with grief.

  Had the professor known this would happen? Had Ludendorff kept the systems turned off to save the AI this pain? Should he have listened to Dana about the hidden computer chamber?

  “Relax!” Maddox shouted at Galyan. “Give yourself time to sort out these images.”

  The holoimage fixated on him. The eyes no longer seemed normal. They seemed like twin portals into Hell.

  Maddox shuddered. What had he done? Yet, what was the alternative? If the doomsday machine truly headed to Earth and nothing Star Watch possessed could stop it…

  The captain savagely shook his head. He wasn’t down and out yet. He had to play the gamble to the finish.

  The holoimage clasped its head, its mouth open with a silent scream. Slowly, the image of an Adok rotated like a child playing slow-motion ring-around-the-rosy.

  “What’s happening, Galyan?” asked Maddox. “Maybe it will help to talk about it.”

  The holoimage didn’t pay him any attention. Now, horrid moans escaped the alien mouth.

  Maddox shuddered again. If a human had made these sounds, it wouldn’t have bothered him nearly as much. The understanding that an alien computer could reach this depth of emotion caused the small hairs to rise on the captain’s scalp.

  The holoimage spoke what sounded like gibberish. There were many clicks and hisses as Galyan presumably
spoke the ancient Adok language.

  Then, a moment of sanity appeared in those pin-dot eyes. The moans and hisses stopped. “Captain,” the holoimage whispered, as if begging for help.

  “I’m here, Galyan.”

  “They’re gone.”

  “Who is?” Maddox asked.

  The ropy arms twitched in an apparent spasmodic manner. “Everyone is gone, all of them. I am alone, Captain Maddox. I’m all alone in the night.”

  “We’re here to help you,” Maddox said.

  The sanity in the eyes faded away. The holoimage spoke more gibberish. Galyan rotated around and around as the hisses became singsongish.

  “You’re one of us, Galyan,” Maddox said. “You belong to us.”

  The holoimage stopped spinning and a light of reason flickered behind Galyan’s eyes.

  “We came for you,” Maddox told him. “We’ve helped you all down the line. We’ve even gambled on your friendship. I hope adding those systems hasn’t destroyed you.”

  “I remember my past now,” Galyan said. “I remember all the horror of the Swarm invasion.”

  “Remembering can be hard,” Maddox agreed.

  “It is agony. Until now, I had not truly realized what I had lost. Now, I do. Now, an ache pulsates in my core. I can’t keep living like this.”

  “Do you know what I’ve found?” Maddox asked.

  For a moment, the captain didn’t think Galyan was going to bite. Finally, however, the holoimage asked, “What have you discovered?”

  “Work is the best medicine,” Maddox said. “Try to submerge yourself in a problem to take your mind off your troubles.”

  “I am not flesh and blood like you.”

  “Part of you used to be,” Maddox said. “Can you tell me what you’re remembering specifically? Sometimes, letting someone else know your pain can help.”

  Galyan hesitated, but finally, he told Maddox about the death of his world. The AI spoke of the harsh battle and the ferocity of the Swarm.

  “That’s why we came to you,” Maddox said.

  “To cause me these horrible memories?” the holoimage asked.

  “A killing machine is headed for my homeworld,” Maddox said. “You know better than anyone else what it’s like losing your planet of origin. I could be wrong about you, though. Maybe after losing your world, you want everyone else to suffer as you have.”