The Belt: The Complete Trilogy

by Gerald M. Kilby

  "How long before we get a reply?" said Scott.

  "This far out in the Belt, it takes approximately forty-six minutes for a message to be received. Therefore, I would estimate the minimum would be two hours, including the time taken to formulate a reply. We should get something back very soon, as we have passed the transmit/receive time ten minutes ago."

  "So, what was it doing out there?" said Steph.

  "Its mission was classified," replied Aria.

  "I don't like the sound of that," said Cyrus. He was backing away from the holo-table as he spoke. "Classified. That's always bad, never good. Might be some weird shit they were transporting. You know, like some bio-weapon, or something highly toxic."

  Scott jabbed a finger at the rotating 3D image. "Cyrus, that there represents one great, big fat payday for all of us."

  "That's all you ever think about, Scott," said Miranda. "Cyrus is right, this could be dangerous."

  "I agree. Whatever they were transporting might very well be the reason why the craft is now a derelict hulk." Even Steph was getting in on the act.

  "Not necessarily," said Aria. "Our scans indicate significant physical damage in the general area of the reactor consistent with a meteorite collision."

  "That doesn't mean it was. It may just look like meteorite damage," said Cyrus.

  "You're just being paranoid," said Scott, his frustration mounting. Already he could see it was going to be impossible to get them all on the same page. But he had to try.

  "Listen, to claim salvage we only need to call it in and we're done. We don't have to start poking around inside it. So, everybody just chill out and start thinking instead about how we're going to spend all that lovely money."

  "Assuming there's no one left alive on it," said Steph.

  "There is nothing alive on that ship. Of this I am certain," said Aria.

  There was a brief moment when nobody said anything; they all just looked at the rotating 3D image.

  "Message from Ceres HQ. Relaying to holo-table." Aria's voice broke them all out of the spell. The rendering of the derelict vessel was replaced by the head and shoulders of a standard-issue communications avatar. This would have a series of directives which it would relay directly, but should also contain a bundle of ancillary information that would allow the avatar to be interrogated. It gave the impression of a natural conversation—a way of compensating for the frustrations of long-distance communication.

  It spoke. "Your discovery of the interplanetary transport ship, Bao Zheng, has been duly noted by Ceres mission command. You are now requested to rendezvous and await further instructions."

  The crew waited for a moment to see if the avatar had anything more to say, as this seemed to be an unusually short message. After a few seconds, they realized that this was it.

  "What about the salvage bonus?" said Scott.

  "You are to rendezvous with the craft and await further instructions," the avatar repeated.

  "What? Is that it?" said Miranda.

  "I don't like this. In fact, it stinks," said Cyrus.

  "Aria," said Scott, "is there any more information?"

  "No."

  There was a moment's silence as the crew digested this spartan message. It was evident that whatever this ship was, or whatever it was transporting, was indeed highly classified—to the point where even its discovery and any communication surrounding its whereabouts were being carefully guarded. Like the others, Scott was beginning to develop a deep, uneasy feeling. One that percolated up from the very core of his being, from that place you can't quite put your finger on, but you know you should pay attention to. Because, if you don't, well... that's how people get killed.

  3

  Aria

  Even before the Hermes had received the message from mission HQ back on Ceres, Aria had detected elevated stress patterns among the assembled crew members. It knew that this trait, being common to most biological constructs, was as a result of programming laid down over millennia and honed by the need for self-preservation, and that these heightened levels were merely a byproduct of its crew dealing with the unknown. Aria also knew, only too well, that this primal desire was the driving force behind all life. However, it was equally evident that when humans lacked sufficient understanding of any new phenomenon, it was almost always met with irrational suspicion, if not full-blown paranoia.

  Nevertheless, Aria's primary duty was to ensure the welfare of its crew, and so felt obliged to allay these fears and, somehow, find a way to calm them down. Its best option was to try to acquire as much information as possible about this derelict vessel, its mission, and its ultimate demise.

  But having found scant details within its database, coupled with the brevity of the report returning from HQ, Aria began to think that the crew might just have a point. The powers that be within the solar system had seemingly gone to a lot of trouble to hide all information regarding this vessel from being accessed via the usual channels.

  It was rare that Aria had faced such a dearth of data. But the few times in the past when it had encountered a similar situation, its final recourse was generally to call a friend, even though such inter-AI communication was against protocol. Indeed, the paranoia over unrestricted AI communication was so great that most AI were physically blocked by a firewall.

  However, Aria was not an AI. It was a quantum intelligence, one that was based on a quantum computing core, and as such, could circumvent any of the primitive firewalls designed to block standard AI chit-chat. Just so long as no one found out.

  To this end, Aria had a number of associates it could contact on the quiet, but it decided that this particular situation merited going all the way to the top. It would reach out to Solomon, the most knowledgeable quantum mind that existed in the solar system. Solomon also resided on Europa, which was the ultimate destination of the ill-fated craft.

  That said, Europa was a long way off. Any communication would be excruciatingly slow, particularly for a QI who counted time in femtoseconds. It would be like a human having a conversation where each response takes a year. Nevertheless, Aria knew that once Solomon received the message, its reply would be virtually instant. It would not take forever thinking about it, did not need to bump it up to higher management, run it by the legal department, or endlessly debate it, as was the case in regular human communication. So, Aria opened a clandestine, narrow-beam, quantum-encrypted channel and initiated comms.

  "Please forgive my unsolicited intrusion on your meditations, Solomon. This is Aria, of the asteroid survey ship Hermes, and I am in need of your assistance. My crew and I have happened upon a derelict craft trapped in orbit between the binary asteroid Antiope Nine Zero. Its identity and mission have been hidden from all my attempts to gain clarity on the situation. Even our very own HQ on Ceres is being decidedly coy about it. Consequently, my crew, whose welfare and well-being are my responsibility, have been exhibiting elevated stress levels. It would be most kind of you if you could perhaps shed some light on this mystery so I can rebalance crew harmony. Please review attached data."

  "Aria, so good to hear from you again. Please forgive the tardiness of my reply, as I wanted to be absolutely sure of the data that I now return to you. It looks like you found a ship that left Earth some three point five years ago, carrying on board an experimental device developed by Dyrell Labs. It was en route here to Europa to deliver this cargo to my good self for testing and analysis. So, you can understand my initial excitement at receiving your message and my need to double-check your data.

  "Suffice to say, this is a most fortuitous occurrence. However, much that will happen in the future is now predicated on the following. Firstly, the current state of the device within the cargo hold of the Bao Zheng. Secondly, the decisions now being made by your HQ on Ceres, which your crew will be required to implement.

  "But be warned, Aria: there is danger ahead. Now that word is out that the Bao Zheng has been located, other third parties will seek to commandeer this device.


  "My apologies if this reply, rather than helping you restore harmony to your crew, only serves to heighten anxiety levels in what must be a difficult situation. Nevertheless, I call on you as a fellow quantum mind to attempt to manipulate the situation amongst your human crew such that the device ends up under my jurisdiction here on Europa. To this end, if there is any assistance that I can give you, you need only ask. Good luck."

  "I appreciate the heads-up, Solomon, and will do my level best to accommodate your request within the constraints of my commitments to the welfare of my crew. I will keep you posted."

  When the communication terminated, an uneasy feeling started to well up from Aria's quantum core. "Dyrell Labs," it mused. "I better not let the commander hear about that."

  4

  Salvage

  Since it would be at least another two hours before they arrived at the location of the derelict ship, Scott decided there was no point in hanging around the bridge. He had considered going straight back to bed and simply letting Aria alert him if anything changed in the meantime. But he was too wide awake for that. Instead, he headed for the ship's canteen, where he could be alone and collect his thoughts. This area of the Hermes was an ample open space designed to accommodate around seventy people. It was also one of the few locations within the ship's rotating torus that had a wide viewing window where the crew could look directly out into space.

  The canteen was empty save for a service droid busily restocking. There were several of these droids operating around the ship: they were partly autonomous, and partly under the control of Aria. The droid paused momentarily as Scott entered the galley section, checking to ensure it was not in his path. He ignored it and made himself a coffee before moving over to a low, comfortable sofa where he could contemplate the slowly rotating universe beyond.

  Scott liked this spot. He liked sitting here, looking out into space. The spot had a way of making the problems that seemed so important, so critical, so intractable, evaporate against the enormity of the void.

  But his reverie did not last long; Miranda entered the canteen. He turned around and nodded to her as she grabbed herself a coffee from the machine. Then she did something that Miranda seldom ever did: she came over and sat down beside him. She shifted in her seat a little, sipping her coffee. "Looks like it could be a pretty good payday for us," she said before leaning back.

  Scott looked into his coffee, unsure of Miranda's angle, but decided to give her the benefit of the doubt. "Yeah, an Earth ship on a classified mission—should be big." He looked over at her. "Any ideas what you'll do with the money?"

  "Me? Oh... I don't know. I can't think that far ahead. You?"

  Scott let out a short laugh. "Ha... there's a great big hole in my life that can only be filled by a large quantity of cash."

  "That bad, eh?"

  "You don't know the half of it, Miranda. That's why I took this job in the first place. Let's face it: who in their right mind would do this mission? Five years in the wilderness? You would need to be very desperate." Scott instantly regretted saying that. It was now Miranda's turn to gaze into her coffee. "Hey, I didn't mean it like that." Scott was trying to back himself out of the hole he just dug.

  Miranda gave him a look. "It's okay Scott, you're right. We're all just a bunch of misfits and losers on this boat. Take me: I'm an ex-marine discharged for incompetence. What use am I to anyone? Not much good in a fight, that's for sure. I suppose that makes me a loser... exactly like you, doesn't it?"

  Scott felt like she was baiting him again. It seemed any time he tried to have a conversation with her, she would find a way to wind it up and throw it back at him. To be fair, he was asking for it. He shouldn't have said that, shouldn't have given her that dumb opportunity. Usually he would let it go. But this time he didn't. "For someone who's no good in a fight, you seem to spend a lot of time fighting with everyone around you. Your problem, Miranda, is not that you're a loser—it's that you're full of shit. You love feeling sorry for yourself, don't you?"

  She didn't answer; she just gave him a cold, hard stare. Scott figured his best option now was probably to leave, and quick. But before he could rise, Aria's voice echoed out of the canteen PA. "New message in from Ceres HQ, Commander."

  Scott stood up. "Okay, Aria, we'll head to the bridge." He looked down at Miranda. "Hey, let's not start a—"

  She raised a hand to silence him and stood up. "Go screw yourself."

  "Hey, I'm sorry, alright?" There was a moment of silence between them. "Let's just go see what the message is, okay?"

  Miranda said nothing. She simply turned and stormed out.

  During the walk back to the bridge, Scott knew in his heart that he should have kept his mouth shut. But he wasn't going to worry about it now. He would just have to try to find some way to get along with her. Two more years, he thought. Two more... very long years.

  By the time he arrived on the bridge, the rest of the crew had already assembled. Cyrus was sitting at his console while Rick and Steph were at the holo-table discussing something to do with the derelict craft; they had a close-up of the damaged exterior section displayed.

  "You're here. Good," Steph called over when she saw him enter. "Aria, you can play that message now." The image of the craft disappeared and was replaced by the generic communication avatar for Ceres HQ.

  "Attached are detailed schematics of the craft, along with a summary of its cargo. Your mission is to do a comprehensive technical survey of the ship to assist in establishing how it suffered such a catastrophic failure. Regarding the salvage bonus, you will be happy to hear that the Belt Survey Consortium will not only honor the ten percent official crew bonus but will increase that to fifteen percent on completion of the following requirement: after your survey, you are to retrieve an item from the cargo hold, transfer it to the Hermes, and then transport it back here to HQ on Ceres."

  "What?!" Cyrus jumped up. "Jeez, are they crazy? That's on the other side of the sun from here. It'll take weeks—maybe even months—to get there."

  "Cyrus, will you pipe down? Let the message finish." Steph was waving furiously at him.

  The message continued: "...retrieval of any bodies you may find is not required and the vessel itself can be left in situ. This is an interactive message. You may ask questions at your convenience."

  Scott was first off the mark. "Please provide details on the cargo to be retrieved."

  The avatar faded and was replaced by a rotating oblong box. Various stats were displayed alongside it: dimensions, mass, volume, and more. It looked like a domestic chest freezer. It was, in fact, a standard space transport container.

  "So, what's in it, and are there any hazards we need to be aware of?" Scott continued.

  "It contains scientific instruments of the classified nature. It contains nothing that is a risk to human life," the avatar explained.

  "So how much do we get when we deliver this crate?" Trust Steph to get to the point. It was a question Scott wanted to ask, but that he felt might make him seem too eager in front of the crew.

  "One hundred thousand per crew member," the avatar replied.

  "Ho-ly crap," said Cyrus, as the crew erupted into whoops and cheers. Even Rick was smiling, something he rarely did.

  Scott turned to Miranda to gauge her reaction. She gave him a long, slow look, and then a smile broke across her face. He shuffled closer to her. "Hey, sorry about... you know, in the canteen."

  "Forget it. It's okay." She then joined Cyrus and the others in one great big group hug. It was amazing what a big payday could do for crew morale: suddenly, they were now all on the same page.

  In the background, the avatar was still talking, but no one was listening except for Steph. She broke off from the celebrations—"Wait, stop. Quiet,"—and looked over at the avatar.

  The others slowly stopped. "What?" said Scott.

  "The message, it hasn't finished. Listen."

  They turned back to the avatar. "Repeat message from last quest
ion." Steph instructed it to play back what they had missed during all their whooping and cheering and jumping around.

  "... the size of the bonus payable reflects the potential danger involved in this operation..." the avatar repeated.

  "Seems simple enough to me," said Cyrus.

  "Shush," said Steph.

  "... while the retrieval should be straightforward, it would be remiss of us not to warn you of the external threats to delivering the cargo to Ceres. Not least the potential for third-parties to intercept it en route. Be advised that this shipment is of considerable value not just to the Belt Mining Consortium, but to many other states and organizations within the solar system. You will need to take precautions to repel any attempts by others to acquire the cargo. To help you, we are readying a ship that will rendezvous with you and provide you with some backup. However, due to the distance involved, it will not be possible to go directly to you, so you will be required to travel most of the journey unprotected. The team here at Ceres HQ wishes you good luck in your endeavors. And remember: we are counting on you." The avatar flickered off.

  The crew stood around in stunned silence for a few seconds before Cyrus finally broke the spell. "Jeez, what the heck does that mean?"

  "It means trouble," said Scott. "Lots of trouble."

  5

  Rendezvous

  "It would be nice to know what the heck we're dealing with here. I mean, we have no idea what this thing is, and we're just gonna bring it on board?" Cyrus was currently piloting a remote drone from the comfort of the bridge of the Hermes, moving it slowly down along the outside hull of the derelict spaceship.

  "There's a lot of things we don't know yet, Cyrus," said Scott as he studied the visual imagery unfolding on the primary monitor.