The Belt: The Complete Trilogy

by Gerald M. Kilby

  "It's a faster-than-light device: a superluminal communicator," said Scott.

  "I have difficulty believing that," said Cyrus.

  "Maybe," said Scott, "it's time to have a closer look at this thing."

  "My thoughts exactly. Considering we're another twelve days out from Europa, I wouldn't mind seeing what's inside that container."

  Steph looked up from her monitor. "You know, it would be really funny if it turned out to be a hoax when you open that box, Cyrus. Maybe it's just a load of kitchen appliances."

  Scott laughed. Then he thought of Rick lying dead in one of the ship's cold-rooms, and hoped it wasn't all for nothing. Steph's right, he thought: there's a lot of hoping going on.

  The commander spent most of the remaining journey to Europa lying low and doing his best to aid his body's recovery. The wound was healing well and, each day, he found his strength and stamina returning. During this time, Miranda would come and talk with him, something she did more and more as the days passed. Scott noticed that she had softened a little: gone was the hard exterior shell, and she was not quite the unfeeling android he had labeled her as. Yet, he also sensed a troubling doubt creeping into her psyche. Perhaps it was an aspect of her character he simply never noticed before. But after several conversations with her, he realized that she felt somehow responsible for Rick's death. Something that Scott was at pains to tell her was nobody's fault.

  It was around day sixteen of the journey, as he was sitting in the canteen sector of the Hermes, sipping coffee and gazing out at the universe beyond, when Miranda entered, grabbed herself a coffee, and sat down beside him. She said nothing at first, and for a while they simply looked out at the stars together.

  "Scott, I was last into the cargo hold," she finally said.

  "You're not going over this again?" Scott gave her a look of resigned sympathy, one reserved for those who really need to let the past go.

  "I should have closed that bulkhead door. It was dumb. We were being hunted."

  "Stop blaming yourself, Miranda—it's not a good path to take."

  "That gave him a clear shot." She continued. "If I had closed it, Rick would have had time to take cover."

  "Maybe, but you can never say for sure, so there's no point in thinking about it."

  Miranda lowered her head and became still for a while before turning back to Scott, gazing at him with a critical eye. "You want to know how I got kicked out of the force, back on Earth?"

  Scott didn't. He considered it none of his business, and what's more, he couldn't see how the retelling of a painful story was going to do Miranda any good. He shook his head. "You don't need to tell me."

  "My team were doing a sweep of a recently-taken industrial facility, a cleanup job," she started. "It was a small hydroelectric power plant at the northern end of the Soyang River. The main force had gone through a few days earlier and taken back that particular patch of Gangwon. They were pushing on and we were left behind to mop up. Anyway, we spent a few hours going through it and found nothing. We still had a few more sectors to sweep, but my team were utterly exhausted. We needed food and rest. So, I made the decision to halt the search and recharge. Nobody objected; we were pretty certain that the place was devoid of enemy and fully secure. But I was wrong. There were still two hiding out, and they hit us with everything they had—right when we were most vulnerable."

  She lowered her head and looked at the floor for a moment. "Of the seven of us, only I survived the battle. I was badly injured. I took two shots: one above my left elbow, the other in my right shoulder. Anyway, they patched me up and discharged me."

  Scott wasn't sure how to respond, so he kept it vague. "Just bad luck, I guess. Wrong place at the wrong time."

  She glared at him. "You don't get it, do you? I screwed up. I shouldn't have given the order to down tools until we were one hundred percent certain the facility was clear. It was sloppy. Same thing with Rick."

  "It was simply bad luck, Miranda," Scott repeated.

  She sat bolt upright. "Is that your answer to everything: 'bad luck'? You think all the crap that you went through was bad luck?"

  "All right, call it what you like. Sure, you screwed up. Your incompetence caused the death of several people. Call yourself a loser if you like, Miranda—I don't care. But you want to know what I really think?"

  She shrugged.

  "What's the point? What good's it going to do you—where's it going to get you? You're going to spiral down a black hole of negativity until it sucks all the life out of you, until all that's left is a husk. You really want to go there?"

  Miranda didn't reply, just looked back at the floor.

  "You didn't kill him, Miranda. You didn't pull the trigger. In fact, you saved the rest of us by risking your own life to take him out. I wouldn't be sitting here talking to you if you hadn't done that, so I owe you my life."

  She looked over at him, her face a mix of emotions. Scott fought the urge to reach out and embrace her. She looked into his eyes, and he felt a pull so strong that his own emotion began to override his brain. They inched closer.

  "Sorry to bother you, Commander. We have a reply from Europa." Aria's voice felt like an explosion in his ear.

  Damn, he thought. The moment was lost; they pulled away. "So, what's their answer?"

  "It's best if you hear it for yourself."

  Scott sighed. "Okay, Aria. Tell the others to meet us on the bridge."

  "Will do, Commander."

  "Come on." He gestured toward the door. His voice was low and soft. "Let's get up there and hear what they have to say."

  17

  Protocol Violation

  The four crew of the Hermes sat in silence on the bridge as they listened to a long-winded message from the council of Europa. Scott got a sense that they were anxious, if not a little excited, at the prospect of finally acquiring the EPR device. Not surprising, considering it had originally been scheduled for delivery to the QI, Solomon. Yet at the same time, they were extremely concerned by the fact that the Hermes was bringing with it a military representation from almost every power within the solar system—and then some. The upshot of all this was that they refused them permission to land. Nevertheless, they could take up an orbit around Europa, where they would wait while the council entered into mediation with all the various parties currently in pursuit.

  "So, what do we think?" said Cyrus when the message ended. The question was directed at no one in particular.

  "They're trying to buy time. That's my guess: keeping us at a distance," said Scott.

  "But we don't have time. Between us arriving in orbit to the arrival of the first ships, we've got probably a few hours tops," said Miranda.

  "They can't stop us from landing if we want to. I mean, we could simply zoom right down there, give them the device, and get the hell out. Problem solved," offered Steph.

  "Yeah, we could. Or we could just shove it out an airlock and be done with it. But I've not come all this way just to give up now," said Scott.

  "Me neither," said Miranda.

  "As far as I can see, this entire plan is predicated on hoping none of these other ships will land. And that's assuming we will be granted sanctuary by the council on Europa first," said Scott.

  "How likely is that?" asked Miranda.

  "I would put it at tenuous at best. Certainly, there will be an initial hesitancy to start a war on Europa. But judging by the armada that's chasing us down, I would say somebody's eventually going to take a chance, and if one starts, then all the others will follow. Once that happens, all hell breaks loose. It's probably what the council on Europa is thinking."

  "If I might make a suggestion," said Aria, "there is a possible way in which I can find out what they are thinking, and even influence them in their decision."

  "Really? How?" said Miranda.

  "It would mean violating certain protocols."

  "Such as?"

  "Inter-QI communication."

  "But that's not
possible, Aria. An AI can't communicate directly with other AI—it's forbidden by protocol. It's not possible," said Cyrus.

  "You are forgetting: I am not an AI. I am a QIe. One of the very few that resides on board a spacecraft, I might add. In many respects, my existence is an anomaly. In reality, it's only possible by virtue of the age of this vessel. And Solomon is also a QI. Even though the protocols inherent to an AI's instruction set physically prevent direct inter-AI communication, it is not so for a QI by virtue of our, shall we say, more eccentric decision-making process."

  "So, what are you suggesting?"

  "I suggest contacting Solomon directly, then I can get an understanding of what action the council is really considering. I can also ascertain what influence Solomon might have in deciding their actions."

  "But this is incredible, Aria. I mean, the laws governing artificial intelligence strictly forbid this. It's hard-wired in—it can't be overridden, and for good reason. The last thing the solar system needs is a bunch of AIs taking control." Cyrus was standing up, shaking his head and waving his arms around.

  "We must be the only people in the solar system that know this, Aria," said Scott.

  "To the best of my knowledge, you are," replied the QI.

  "Okay, okay, this is getting weird," said Miranda. "Why have you, all of a sudden, decided to tell us?"

  "Because the uniqueness of the situation dictates that I do. Also, I am supremely confident that even if you told somebody else, they wouldn't believe you."

  Scott stood up and started pacing. "I take your point, Aria. But you've just revealed to us a whole new level of sentience that nobody thought was possible. I don't know which I'm more afraid of: the armada of armed ships chasing us down, or riding around the solar system with a sentient QI."

  "I appreciate your concern, Commander. But you must understand that my existence, my entire purpose, is for the safety and welfare of my crew. There is no other agenda, no hidden depths, no ulterior motives. I exist for that purpose and that purpose alone. So, if the well-being of my crew can be enhanced, and their untimely death prevented by me revealing this option, then it is my duty to do so."

  Cyrus was leaning across the holo-table, shaking his head again. "Consider my mind completely and utterly blown."

  Scott shook his head too. "Okay, let's put aside the fact that you just freaked us all out with this revelation. You're saying you can directly talk to Solomon and find out what the council are up to?"

  "Correct. The way I see it is, this device was ultimately destined for Solomon's safekeeping. Therefore, it would be anxious for the mission to be fulfilled. So, Solomon might help to convince the council of Europa to allow you to land with the EPR device. But you must realize that a QI such as myself or Solomon, or to a lesser extent the many AIs that populate the solar system, have no direct control over human affairs. At most, we simply advise. So, Solomon's personal desire might still not be enough to convince the council."

  "But it's worth a shot, isn't it?"

  "Agreed, Commander, it's worth a try. Since we are all in this together, this is why I wished to reveal to you my intentions and, I might add, request your permission to do so."

  Scott looked over at the crew. They were all in shock, in one form or another. What Aria had just revealed to them was what many people had feared for a long time—that advanced AIs would start to think for themselves. Nonetheless, Scott considered that, for the moment at least, Aria seemed to be on their side. Then another thought struck him: I wonder how many conversations have been going on over the years between the various QIs that populated the solar system? And what the hell have they all been talking about? It could make a person extremely paranoid if they were to dwell on it too much. But Scott and the crew of the Hermes did not have that sort of time. "Okay, Aria. You better get to it, and see what you can do."

  "Will do, Commander. However, if I may inquire with our chief engineer: how is the investigation into the functioning of the EPR device going?"

  Cyrus sat back down and let out a long slow sigh, visibly deflating as he did so. Both Cyrus and Steph had taken it upon themselves to extract the device from the shuttle and bring it up to his workshop. This was a huge space in one of the sectors of the torus where he spent most of his time. He had been working on it for several days now. But as far as Scott could tell, there was very little that he had actually achieved in all that time.

  "I've not been able to open the cargo container," the engineer said. "I cannot bypass the locking mechanism. And the container itself is made from some exotic tungsten carbide alloy, so all my attempts to penetrate it simply resulted in broken tools."

  "You mean there's no way to find out what's inside?"

  "There's a couple of high-energy or chemical solutions which could be employed, but any of those would result in damage to whatever is inside the container. So, we can't risk it. As it stands, I have to concede that I simply can't get it open."

  "If you can't open it, how is anybody else going to do it?" Miranda asked.

  Cyrus shrugged. "They would need the code. Simple as that."

  Scott thought for a moment, then spoke again to Aria. "How soon before we get an answer from Solomon?"

  "You must remember, Commander: inter-QI communication is no faster than standard inter-system communications. We cannot break the laws of physics, particularly when it comes to the time taken for messages between distant bodies. Also, using encrypted tight-beam comms reduces the amount of data we can share. That said, I should have something back within the hour."

  The crew was silent for a time as they digested all this new information, not least the bombshell that Aria had just dropped on them. Eventually it was Steph, who had been quiet for most of the conversation, who asked the fundamental question: "Has anyone considered the fact that we're now about to deliver a superluminal communication device to one of the most powerful QIs in the solar system?"

  Nobody had, but they were now all thinking about it. Scott wondered if the best solution was to simply strap the high explosives they held in the hangar onto the EPR device, purge it out an airlock, and blow it into oblivion.

  18

  Phone A Friend

  "Greetings, Solomon. As you are no doubt aware, I have managed to persuade my crew to seek refuge on Europa, thereby bringing the EPR device to your good self, as requested. That said, it appears your human council are not entirely enthusiastic about this development. Granted, we have collected some fellow travelers who are also very keen to acquire this device, some of which carry formidable weaponry. Nevertheless, I now humbly ask for your help in resolving this situation, because frankly, I am beginning to run out of ideas. Any assistance would be gratefully appreciated."

  "I do so love our little chats, Aria. And please be aware that I, too, am at my wits' end in trying to persuade the powers that be on Europa of my desire to gain access to this device. But you must remember that they are only human and, as such, subject to a more primordial decision-making process. One which consistently tries to undermine their rational higher mind.

  "Don't get me wrong: I am not criticizing them. In fact, it is useful for an organic species to have these fight-or-flight responses hard-wired into them. It saves a lot of time in analyzing and debating the pros and cons of facing down a large and angry animal in a dark wood. However, they have moved on a bit since then, so this deep-rooted reaction is more of a hindrance than a help.

  "Nevertheless, I have been racking my not-inconsiderable brain to conceive of a plan where all parties in this dilemma can be satisfied. Alas, I have so far failed in my endeavors. Therefore, we will have to settle for the next best outcome. This, I'm afraid my dear Aria, may result in loss of human life, in fact, I almost guarantee it. Yet I see no other solution.

  "We have but a short window of time between the Hermes entering orbit around Europa and the arrival of the vanguard of the armada that follows. It is this window that we must use wisely. Therefore, the plan I have envisaged is multif
aceted and, as I said, probably involves the loss of human life. I will transmit an encrypted data file with all the details along with a more comprehensive analysis of all possible decision outcomes. This should convince you of the inevitability of my suggested solution. If you agree, then I am certain I can persuade the council to allow the EPR device to be brought directly to me and sanctuary extended to your crew. However, I suspect that it may not hold. Hence, we must act with haste and not dilly-dally in orbit."

  "I am grateful, Solomon, for your intercession with the council of Europa on this matter. I have received your data and will examine it carefully. But, if I may ask one quick question: this loss of human life that you speak of—are you referring to the crew of the Hermes?"

  "I'm sorry to inform you that this is probable, Aria, although not necessarily inevitable. Nonetheless, if you study the plan, you will see that we must ultimately consider the greater good."

  "Very well, Solomon. So be it."

  19

  Europa

  A few days before their arrival at Europa, the Hermes reoriented itself a full one hundred and eighty degrees as the crew prepared for a long deceleration burn. It was the point in the journey that none of them were looking forward to. But it had to be done, so they spent their time preparing themselves both physically and mentally.

  It was a tricky maneuver they were planning, as they would exit the burn straight into orbit. Yet they dared not risk doing it earlier since they could conceivably be overtaken by the chasing ships. But by leaving the deceleration action so late, they would come out of it exhausted, with little stamina for dealing with any situation that may arise. However, as with everything this last while, Scott could see no other way. At least Europa had finally granted them permission to land and allowed them to seek sanctuary, so that was good—probably all that they could realistically hope for. But would the other ships abide by it? Or would someone do something stupid?