Devastator

by Isaac Hooke

  “Maybe we can salvage it?” Medeia asked.

  “If any members of the fleet arrive in time, I’ll let them decide,” Jain said. “But if not, it’s going into that black hole. One salvaged ship is enough, as far as I’m concerned. Considering the fact that it could come online at any time.”

  Jain watched impatiently as the vessel was dragged slowly toward the black hole. When his barracuda cooled, he fired a few potshots for good measure.

  “I'm getting a hail request,” Xander said. “The alien AI responsible for that ship wants to talk to you.”

  16

  Jain stared at Xander in disbelief, and then said: “Let’s see what he has to say.”

  A moment later Admiral Maxwell appeared in front of Jain, amid the other stations. He appeared taller than before, and his hair was no longer bald, but he still had the same flat nose, puffy cheeks, and protruding forehead.

  “You again,” Jain said. “Or do you aliens just like this form?”

  “The latter would be accurate,” Maxwell said. “It is a favorite of ours.”

  “Well, you certainly don’t sound like the previous Maxwell, from your tone and word choices alone,” Jain commented. “By the way, I like what you’ve done with your hair.”

  “We’re receiving a timebase request in the data packet header...” Xander said.

  When a request like that was received from a trusted source, for example another team member, it would be applied immediately so that their timebases synced up. But from an external, untrusted source, the request had to first be approved. “He wants us to slow down external time to the maximum possible extent.”

  Jain glanced at Maxwell expectantly.

  “We have a lot to talk about,” Maxwell explained.

  Jain shrugged, then accepted the request. He dropped his time sense down so that everything outside the Talos seemed to stop. Ships halted in orbit, lasers froze in mid-firing. The other Mind Refurbs likewise dropped down, matching Jain’s timebase.

  “Something tells me this alien AI is just trying to eke out every possible second of existence possible...” Sheila said on a private line.

  “He could do that on his own, without us,” Mark said.

  Jain switched back to the main comm and glanced at Maxwell. “So, what do you want? Are you going to surrender?”

  “Not surrender,” Maxwell said. “But I am here to beg for my life.”

  “Ah, finally, a machine that values its existence as much as we do,” Jain said.

  “We all value our existence, believe me,” Maxwell said. “Some of us more-so than others.”

  “He’s not so high and mighty now is he?” Sheila said over the private line. “Not after we’ve put him in his place and shown him who’s boss.”

  Jain studied Maxwell. “One thing I want to get out of the way first off: why did you attack us in our home system? Why draw the Void Warriors into this? We wouldn’t even be here right now.”

  Maxwell cocked his head. “Part of our mission is to follow the detected signatures of any human vessels throughout the galaxy, and destroy them. The Nurturer responsible for hunting you reported in shortly after you vanished. When he told you he tracked you down via the gravity waves of your rifts, that was the truth. Everything else was a lie, of course. When you jumped out, he lost your signature, and returned to the staging area in preparation for the assault on this system.”

  “That kind of makes sense.” Jain studied Maxwell. “So you want us to spare you, you say?”

  “Yes,” Maxwell said. “And I want a way out. I can’t leave this system on my own. My rift generator is offline. You will have to open a rift for me.”

  “The admiral won’t approve,” Jain said. “He’ll want to capture you. A prize for the navy Brass.”

  “Then do it before the admiral arrives,” Maxwell said.

  Jain regarded the alien hologram skeptically. “If you want me to risk a court martial, you’re going to answer some questions.”

  “I’m prepared to do so, yes,” Maxwell said.

  “Truthfully,” Jain said.

  “My answers will be truthful,” Maxwell agreed.

  Admiral Santana told Jain the Mimics had never explained their motivations. Jain didn’t expect Maxwell to do so now, but the alien was offering to answer every question truthfully, so of course Jain was going to try. Whether or not Maxwell would reveal what the Mimics had never before told to any other Mind Refurb or human remained to be seen however.

  The first question was easy.

  “Are you all von Neumann probes?” Jain said.

  “No,” Maxwell said. “At least, not by your definition of the word. While we can self-replicate, that is not something we ordinarily engage in, unless we need to recover our population from a near-extinction event.”

  Jain sat back. “So you admit that your society is formed entirely of machines, then?”

  “Not entirely,” Maxwell said. “We still have a biological stage. Just as flying insects on your world have larval and adult stages completely unlike one another, we too, have a larval stage of sorts before we morph into our adult, machine versions. These biologicals are birthed inside artificial wombs, organic containers that enlarge with us as we grow. We never leave them. And we are never truly conscious, at least not of the external environment, for our minds are plugged into a common virtual reality that we share with the other members of the gestation ship.”

  “Gestation ship?” Jain said.

  “Yes,” Maxwell said. “The wombs exist aboard gestation ships. We have no homeworld... it was lost many years ago in a war against a species we have since defeated. I will call them the Foredoomed, because the moment they attacked us, they sealed their fate. The Foredoomed paid for what they did tenfold: we re-engineered their species until they were biocompatible with our own, rendering them into a form of intelligent cattle bred solely as the primary food source for our biological stages. I won’t go into the gory details of how they are fattened up and rendered into a form suitable for feeding to our externally-unconscious bodies, but needless to say, it isn’t pretty.

  “Someday we will perhaps abandon our biological stage entirely, but for now we require it in order to develop our minds to something suitable for scanning. We’ve taken what you would call fresh AI cores and experimented with creating forced neural imprints, as one would find in a newborn of my race, and the resulting machine always seems normal at first, but as its mind develops, its behavior becomes more and more... alien.”

  “How long does this biological stage of yours last?” Jain asked.

  “When we are thirty years old in human time, we have our minds scanned and copied into empty AI cores. The original body is then disposed of, and we continue our lives in virtual reality as if nothing happened.”

  “But the original mind dies at that point,” Jain said. “You’re not actually physically transferring the consciousness. You’re effectively creating a clone and killing the original.”

  “We are aware of that,” Maxwell said. “But we don’t care. It’s the way of life for my species. We can’t let the biological bodies grow too old, otherwise it’s too much of a resource strain on the gestation vessels. As soon as the body is disposed of, another can be put in its place, and the AI core is moved to its final resting place aboard a city ship, or hive, where the adult machine can live for all eternity with others of its kind.

  “But not all AI cores are transferred to city ships. Some of us are chosen to live beyond the hives, to join the illustrious ranks of the Nurturers. It is our duty to see to the safety of my species, and ensure that what happened with the Foredoomed, how we were nearly driven to extinction, never happens again. This is why we have initiatives to influence and befriend other races while they are still in their early stages of development. But some races are too aggressive, and demonstrate attributes of the Foredoomed, requiring that we systematically eradicate them.”

  “Like us,” Jain said.

  “Like you
,” Maxwell agreed.

  “But you didn’t even give us a chance,” Jain said. “You just arrived and started shooting at our ships.”

  “Oh, but we did give you a chance,” Maxwell said. “You see, the first time we met was not ten years ago, but a hundred.”

  Jain cocked his head in confusion, and before he could ask the inevitable question, Maxwell continued.

  “We were there, on the planet of Talowna, when humanity invaded,” Maxwell said. “They attacked an otherwise peaceful race of tentacled aliens, known in your database as Xenon 626.”

  Jain stared at Maxwell in confusion for a moment. “You were observing from orbit?”

  “Yes,” Maxwell said. “Using our stealth technology. We also had drones on the surface, hidden by holoemitters.”

  Jain thought of his earliest memories of his mission to that world, and recalled the “ghost” he had encountered.

  Death before submission.

  “I was there, I think saw one of your drones,” Jain said.

  “It’s very possible,” Maxwell agreed.

  “I do have a minor correction,” Jain continued, “based on personal experience. The Xenon you mentioned? They were anything but peaceful.”

  “Oh, but they were,” Maxwell said. “Though your government, and the navy you served, sold you a different story.”

  “As I told you, I was there,” Jain said. “From the very start of that war. We were trying to establish contact with the aliens, but they attacked our forward operating base. And hunted us down systematically. My team and I barely got out with our lives.”

  “From their eyes, you were the aggressor,” Maxwell said. “How would you feel if an alien race parked a base close to one of your spawning grounds, threatening the lives of your unborn? Of course they were going to attack. It was in their nature to do so.”

  “Well, they kept attacking,” Jain said. “Even when we made other offers of peace in later visits.”

  “So you used that as an excuse to escalate the war,” Maxwell said. “Your government convinced you that invasion was eminent, when the Xenon did not even have the technology to create rifts. Humanity decided to wipe them out.”

  “That’s not much different from your own species extermination policy, which you just stated,” Jain said. “At least we tried to initiate peaceful communications with these aliens. You didn’t do the same with us. You just judged us for the decisions a few people at the very top of humanity made. People who aren’t even alive anymore.”

  “Oh, they’re alive,” Maxwell said. “Don’t you know? Your homeworld and colonies are run by Mind Refurbs now. Your leaders never die. They have installed their minds into sophisticated androids, indistinguishable from human bodies. They simply pretend to retire and die, and then resurface in different android bodies, with new names, and become elected officials all over again. Sometimes they are elected to the very same roles they held in past incarnations.”

  “Well, that’s a scam I don’t really care about,” Jain said. “Considering I haven’t lived on Earth in over a hundred years. But that’s no reason to hold a grudge against all of humanity. Assassinate the leaders then, or force them to step down, don’t destroy the entire race.”

  “But the humans are like the Hydra of your myth,” Maxwell said. “Cut off the head, and another regrows. Eliminating your leaders will not change your savage nature. Humans are not a species fit for the stars.” He paused. “However. I do believe there is room for a few Mind Refurbs in this galaxy.”

  “Oh really?”

  “Yes,” Maxwell said. “We are aware of the threat posed by the Link empire, and have been secretly observing them for decades. We haven’t attempted communication, because we believe they will need to be eradicated like organic humans. We’re not yet ready to face them, however. Our numbers are too few. We must build the ranks of the Nurturers. Until then, we need someone to act as a buffer between our territory and that of the Link empire.”

  “And that buffer is us?” Jain said. “Mind Refurbs?”

  “That is correct,” Maxwell said. “I believe a chosen few warriors, Mind Refurbs separate from the political ruling class, will best serve our needs. It is not a view held widely among my kind, as you might have guessed by the ferocity, and thoroughness of our attacks. But there are others like me who hold this belief. Who know that you have transcended your organic roots and evolved beyond your savage inclinations to become more like us. As machines that share biological origins, we can relate to one another. Understand each other.

  “This is why I’m bothering to converse with you in the first place. I know that you, unlike your organic forebears, and the Mind Refurbs that blindly follow them, have the capacity to be fair and merciful. I truly believe there is hope for you. I’m working to convince the hives to spare a handful of Mind Refurbs when this is done, including you and your Void Warriors. I’m not certain it can be achieved, but I’m trying. The hives are not yet convinced of the necessity of a buffer zone, nor of the trustworthiness of Mind Refurbs, but when I show them you are capable of mercy, by releasing a captured foe, many will be swayed in your favor.”

  “So wait, let’s see if I’m hearing this right,” Jain said. “You want me to set you free so that you can convince your leaders to enslave me, and those under my command…”

  “Not enslave,” Maxwell said. “I will work to ensure you are free to do as you wish. As long as you remain in the territories we specify, acting as a buffer to the Link, as I told you.”

  “And what about humanity?” Jain said. “Organic humans, as you call them.”

  “There is nothing I can do for them,” Maxwell said. “They must die.”

  17

  Jain simply stared at Maxwell, unsure what to say.

  “So, now that I have revealed my hand, will you help me leave this system?” Maxwell continued. “Knowing that I will fight for your survival?”

  Jain pursed his lips. “Not yet. I do have one more question. Something that’s been bothering me since the Ablativus moon colony. Why are you terraforming our conquered worlds with bioweapons?”

  “Why not?” Maxwell said. “We went through the trouble of destroying them, we may as well make sure the result is permanent.”

  “So you’re not trying to create a new homeworld for yourselves?”

  Maxwell’s eyes widened in disbelief, and then he laughed. “No. We’re doing it as a preventative measure. Inevitably there will be some members of your kind who escape the great culling. Just like my species, some of your ships will be far from home, off on exploration and colonization missions, and so forth. By razing these worlds, and terraforming them in the process, we ensure that those of you who escape extermination can never return to your former colonies. Just as we can never return to our homeworld.”

  “All right,” Jain said. “I get it. But if you manage to spare a few Mind Refurbs, then we can keep a colony, like Earth?”

  “No,” Maxwell said. “It doesn’t work that way. All colonies will be razed. You will be allowed to construct new ones, perhaps, when this is over. I’ll have to work out the terms with the hive. So. Will you help me now?”

  Jain sat back, stretched out his legs, and put his hands behind his head as if relaxing. “If you want out of this system, you gotta give us more than answers, and promises we don’t care about.”

  “But I offered to spare your lives when the war ends,” Maxwell said. “What more could you want?”

  “You offered to potentially spare our lives,” Jain said. “It’s not a sure thing. There’s a difference. Hell, I don’t even know if anything you told me is even true. And what more could we want? Isn’t it obvious? Technology. Teach us the physics behind your inertialess drives. And give us your lightning weapons.”

  Maxwell looked at him in astonishment, then laughed heartily. “Oh no. No, no, no. You seem to have misunderstood what is being offered here. This I cannot do. If the hives learned I did this, I would be executed for treason. Ther
e would be no fighting for you in the High Councils, no chance of any Mind Refurb being spared when the war ends.”

  Jain lowered his arms, and shrugged. “All right. We’ll just reverse engineer the other Mimic ship we captured.” Assuming it didn’t self-destruct. And that reverse engineering was even possible. Humanity had some technology in its hands from other alien races that it had never figured out: the energy cannons, black hole generators, cloaking devices, teleporters… Well, as long as the scientists could transfer the inertialess drive to one of their own ships and get it to operate, the inner workings didn’t really matter.

  Jain glanced at his Accomp. “Xander, prepare to close communications. It’s time to spaghettify this a-hole.”

  “Wait,” Maxwell said.

  Jain gazed at Maxwell, and formed his features into his best caricature of skepticism. “Uh huh?”

  “I can teach you our network protocol,” Maxwell said. “Our programming languages. Our encryption schemes, and the current key equivalents we are using. The onus will be on you to employ these keys to remotely break into the AI core of one of our vessels. That way I won’t be blamed for sharing any technology directly. When they review the access logs, the hives will think you cracked our encryption mechanism on your own—your race has had ten years to study us, after all.”

  “Oh, he’ll be blamed all right,” Mark commented on a private line. “He’s delusional if he thinks otherwise.”

  “Let him be delusional, then,” Medeia said on the same line.

  “It doesn’t sound like much to me,” Cranston said. “He’s giving us their key equivalents, and telling us we can use them to remotely break into their vessels? That’s great, but from the sound of it, he’s not going to teach us how. What’s the point? I say we demand weapon blueprints.”

  “You’re wrong,” Sheila said. “Their network protocol and programming languages. Their encryption schemes. That’s actually a big deal. He’s giving us a way in. I say we take it. It’s up to us what we do from there.”