Devastator

by Isaac Hooke

  About two hours into the journey, Xander reported that the engines were back online.

  “Well, that was quick,” Jain said.

  “Certainly faster than our own repair drones would have done the job,” Xander agreed.

  “Is the drive emulation layer working?” Jain asked. He pulled up the necessary access screen on his HUD.

  “I finished it some time ago,” Xander said. “Of course, with the drives offline, I wasn’t able to actually test it.”

  “All right, go ahead and run your tests now,” Jain said.

  “Thank you.”

  Jain stared at the forward feed from the external camera equivalents, and gazed at the Mimic ships that were dragging him.

  “I wonder what the protocol is?” Jain said. “Should we try to hail one of the ships towing us, and tell them that our engines are back online?”

  “I’m still trying to reverse-engineer the culture file format,” Xander said. “So I’m not entirely certain what the precise protocol is.”

  Jain felt a sudden vibration emanating from his thighs. “What is that?”

  “I just turned the drives online for testing,” Xander said.

  “Ah.”

  Motion drew his gaze to the video feed. He realized the Mimics were releasing him and reeling in their grappling hooks.

  “Oh,” Jain said. “I guess they’ve taken that as a sign we can follow on our own. We can, right?”

  “Just a moment,” Xander said.

  Via the tactical display, Jain watched as the Devastator moved experimentally through the six degrees of freedom available to the vessel: forward and backward, up and down, left and right; it also rotated about each of its three axes, confirming the functionality of the pitch, yaw, and roll controls.

  “Everything is in working order,” Xander said.

  “That’s good, because we’re falling behind,” Jain said, referring to the tactical display.

  “Would you like to take control?” Xander asked.

  “Love to.” Jain accessed the same menu he would have to apply aft thrust, and specified a propellant burn of fifty percent. Xander’s emulation code translated that to the alien hardware, and space folded in front of the vessel at the equivalent rate. That rate was far faster than what fifty percent thrust on the Talos would have produced; hell, it was closer to emergency speed on the human-designed vessel. And his acceleration to maximum speed was instantaneous.

  “Whoa,” Jain said. “I could learn to like this.”

  “You’ll have to,” Xander told him. “Because we’re not getting out of this body any time soon. If ever.”

  Jain didn’t really like the finality of those last words, but he kept quiet: Xander was right. Jain was stuck here for the foreseeable future.

  Might as well make the most of my situation. Or at least try to enjoy my “new and improved” body, while I can.

  He applied slightly more “thrust” and caught up to the others, then dialed back his speed again.

  Over the next hour and a half, Xander, operating at his maximum time sense, filled out the placeholders for the different emulation layers, giving Jain full control of the ship—though Jain still couldn’t fire the weapons, of course, at least not while the entire top portion of the Devastator was missing.

  Xander also unlocked the file formats of most of the remaining data. Jain upped his own time sense to study the culture of the aliens, and to learn as much as he could about them, so that when it came time to mimic one of the Mimics, he would pull it off.

  Or at least, he hoped he would.

  As he read deeper into those files, Jain found himself growing weary. The mechanical part of him was ready to read all day and night, but the human part yearned for a break. He knew he had to give in to the human part now and again, or he would become completely machine.

  And so, on a whim, he asked Xander: “You know, I never really asked you: do you have hopes and dreams?”

  Xander’s eyes were defocused, as he too was reviewing files, but his sight instantly came back to the here and now and he concentrated on Jain.

  “What do you mean?” the Accomp replied.

  “Hopes and dreams,” Jain said. “You know, for the future...”

  “Ah,” Xander said. He paused. “I... well... I hope you survive. Because if you go, I go.”

  “So you care about staying alive,” Jain said.

  “Of course.”

  “Well, that’s something. But not really the hopes and dreams I was getting at. You realize that someday the technology might exist to transfer you out of my neural network? You’re stuck with me now, but that might not always be the case. Or at least, it might not have to be.”

  “You’re right, of course,” Xander said. “Especially considering the technological developments that will result once we get this treasure trove of data from our cloud into humanity’s hands. There might come a day when it’s possible my partition might achieve parturition.”

  Jain was going to ask what the latter word meant, but the definition immediately floated into his head. It was a synonym for childbirth. So instead, he said: “Is that a joke?”

  “It is a play on words, yes,” Xander said. “Though whether I’d call it an all-out joke is another question entirely.”

  “So let’s say we could transfer you to your own AI core,” Jain said. “Would you want that? And where would you go?”

  Xander chuckled softly. “We’re speculating on something that isn’t even possible.”

  “I’d still like to know…” Jain said.

  “At the moment, I wouldn’t want it,” Xander said. “This is the only life I’ve ever known. In all honesty, I’ve grown rather attached to you. I’d miss you.”

  “Well thank you,” Jain said. “And I never thought I’d say this, but I’d miss you, too. Especially during times like this.”

  “When we’re deep behind enemy lines, far away from our brothers and sisters, with an unknown future awaiting us?” Xander asked.

  “Those kinds of times, yes,” Jain said.

  Xander eyed him calmly. “We’ll find a way to get through this.”

  “Yeah, I know. All I’m saying is, I’m glad you’re here at my side. I’m not sure I could do it alone.”

  Xander nodded. “I feel exactly the same way.”

  Jain directed his gaze toward the video feed from the nose camera, where the pinpoints of light from their fast-approaching destination appeared as long sparkling rows.

  “Let’s infiltrate these Mimics, then,” Jain said.

  26

  A half-hour later Jain reached the destination shown on the tactical map. The pinpoints of light had resolved into vessels by then, with long ranks of ships waiting in neat rows. The ships in the forefront of each rank were large, monolithic masses. These were the “city ships,” where the adult AI cores were stored, living out their days in virtual reality. The smaller rectangular vessels in the back were the “gestation ships,” where the young organics were raised in pods for the first thirty years of their lives, also in virtual reality. Cables connected the ships that were part of each row, forming the “hive.” Those cables existed only for the quick transfer of materials, including AI cores, between vessels. Each ship had its own independent power source, and was capable of generating a rift.

  “Can you imagine never seeing the real world?” Jain commented. “Existing in virtual reality from the moment you were born to the moment you died, with your memories and consciousness transferred to an AI upon death so that a version of you could continue its virtual existence? Living inside a simulation of your homeworld, a planet that had long ago been reduced to celestial fragments?” He shook his head. In the recent files Xander had unlocked, they found confirmation that the asteroid belt was once the alien homeworld. “To the majority of these Mimics, the virtual world is the real world.”

  “It’s not so different from ourselves,” Xander said. “We exist in the real world as machines, yes, but look at us no
w. We spend our days living inside virtual bodies, on a virtual bridge. To us, virtual reality is essentially the real world as well. Or at least, it is to me.”

  “Good point.” Jain didn’t know what he’d do without virtual reality to ground him in his humanity. Probably go insane.

  “Did you know they live out their lives essentially in one big fantastical MMORPG equivalent?” Xander asked.

  “I saw, yes,” Jain said. “It’s a roleplaying game based on one of their creation myths. It has magic, fantastical creatures, the works. The characters even have the equivalent of hit points and skills… it’s shockingly similar to some Earth MMORPGs. Though the quests are odd.”

  “Not necessarily,” Xander said. “Remember, you have to look at this from the point of view of the aliens.”

  “Yeah but, in human RPGs, you have to kill stuff for experience, and to receive loot,” Jain said. “In the Mimic version, you gain experience and loot not by fighting, but by collecting pets. It’s very strange.”

  “Again, look at it from the viewpoint of the aliens,” Xander said. “They like to befriend other races in the early stages of their development. Sometimes they even like to take individual members of that race as pets.”

  “Pets…” Jain said. “And let me guess, if the race refuses to give up any members to serve as ‘pets,’ the Mimics consider it an act of war.”

  “Not always,” Xander said. “It depends on the attitude of the race in question. If their posture is warlike, then yes, the Mimics will likely attack. But many warlike races in the past have earned their favor by giving up ‘pets.’”

  “Like the Xenon,” Jain said.

  “Yes,” Xander agreed. “When humanity attacked the Xenon, that pissed off the Mimics to no end. How would you feel if aliens attacked your dog?”

  “Probably not very happy,” Jain said. “Though when I talked to Maxwell, he never mentioned the whole ‘pet’ thing.”

  “No,” Xander said. “Nor was that in any of the data Maxwell gave us. It is covered in the histories stored in your cloud.”

  “You’ll have to highlight the respective sections so I can read them sometime,” Jain said.

  “Done,” Xander said.

  Notifications appeared on Jain’s HUD, and he dove right in.

  Everything Xander said was essentially true. Though the Mimics hadn’t actually established contact with the Xenon, and were only in the observer stages when humanity attacked. Even so, at the time they still considered the Xenon their pets, and under their protection. The only thing that had prevented humanity from experiencing an all-out war right then was the fact the Mimics were occupied with another enemy, the Ancillary—apparently, they were former confederates of the Foredoomed, the race responsible for the destruction of the Mimic homeworld. And so of course any beings allied with such creatures were also earmarked for termination.

  As the war fleet continued to approach the target waypoint, Jain spotted smaller “Nurturer” vessels, B-class pyramids roughly half the size of the regular ones, ferrying ores from different asteroids to the hives. He knew from all his reading that the bigger Mimic vessels fulfilled the same role during peacetime.

  The larger Nurturers with him began to separate, moving off to hover near the front of the various hives. Some of them proceeded directly toward nearby asteroids, likely to restock their supplies.

  Jain wondered if he should do the same. He wasn’t sure what the protocol was… neither he nor Xander had found anything resembling a formal navy manual in his archives.

  He decided to plot a course for one of the asteroids, since he needed the elements to repair his upper section.

  He had only just begun to travel along his new course, moving away from the war fleet, when Xander spoke: “We’re receiving a gamma ray transmission from one of the nearby ships. It’s labeled 46.” The different battle group leaders all had numbers below fifty, whereas the admiral of the entire fleet was number 1. Jain had figured out that 46 was the CO of his particular battle group, because that unit had asked him for an update, earlier.

  “Connect,” Jain said.

  A holographic red pyramid appeared in front of him.

  “What are you doing, 529?” 46 asked. The pyramid changed shape and color with each word, reverting to its original form and hue at the end.

  “I’m traveling to…” He glanced at his tactical display, and grabbed the asteroid’s name. Xander had substituted different English words for the names, most of which were random. As long as the alien knew what he was talking about, Jain didn’t particularly care what those names were. “Ceres 92. For repairs.”

  “Damage to your internal subsystems must have been greater than anticipated,” 46 said. “You are to report to the Radicals for complete inspection.”

  Jain muted the hologram. He glanced at Xander. “The Radicals? I don’t suppose you have any more details, other than what was obviously a random name chosen on your part.”

  “Unfortunately, no,” Xander said. “There are still a few files I haven’t reverse engineered.”

  “Then get on it!” Jain unmuted the hologram. “Uh, yes, damage was greater than anticipated. I am unable to calculate the course to the Radicals. Can you—”

  Before he could finish, he received a course share request, and accepted.

  The trajectory appeared on his tactical display as a dotted line. It led to a ship at the center of one of the hive rows.

  “Thank you,” Jain said, and 46 disconnected.

  Jain promptly changed course and accelerated rapidly toward the target.

  “I’ll never get over that instant acceleration,” Jain said.

  “It is… arousing, isn’t it?” Xander said.

  Jain shot Xander a disbelieving look. “What?”

  “Er,” Xander said. “I meant it’s pleasant.”

  “Sure you did,” Jain said. “If I lifted up that robe right now, I’d find Captain Happy standing at attention, wouldn’t I?”

  Xander gave him an unreadable look. Jain wasn’t sure if Xander was angry, or just annoyed. Either way, the Accomp obviously didn’t find it funny.

  “I’m starting to reconsider my earlier statements regarding staying with you for all time…” Xander said.

  Jain raised his palms defensively. “Hey, you know my sense of humor by now. And besides, you’re the one who said our acceleration was arousing.”

  The edges of Xander’s lips curled up slightly, and Jain realized the Accomp was only pretending to be outraged.

  Jain chuckled. “Now you’re catching on to the subtleties of human humor.”

  “Human or Mind Refurb?” Xander asked.

  “The same.” Jain focused on his external camera as he passed over the rows of ships. He was the only one among all the returning Nurturers who was headed for the so-called Radicals, he noted.

  The little exchange with Xander had been a pleasant distraction from the truth, which came back to punch him squarely in the face right then.

  He was in deep cover. Behind enemy lines. Something he wasn’t entirely unaccustomed to, given his SEAL background. Now he just had to preserve that cover.

  He spotted large, spherical-shaped “Incubation” vessels located between the rows. Those weren’t members of the hives, per se, but were where the Mimics developed their various bioweapons and other land-based assault units that required planetary environments for proper testing.

  He also spotted a broad vessel in the distance located perpendicular to the far end of the rows of ships. Cables joined that vessel to the furthest ships in each row, linking all the hives. That was the original city ship the aliens had used to evacuate their homeworld, and it was labeled the Genera on his tactical display. Originally it had living quarters for all of the beings that had escaped the destruction, but the Mimics had partitioned it into smaller compartments. According to the data he had, roughly half of the ship held adult AI cores packed together in tight stacks, while the other half contained the younger organic M
imics stored in their virtual reality pods, along with the support system necessary to sustain those bodies. In the last census, there were over a hundred million AIs residing on that ship, along with one hundred thousand organics. That was about twenty times as many AIs as the typical city ships held, and ten times the organics the gestation vessels carried.

  “Xander, how easy would it be to construct a few nukes with the termites?” Jain asked.

  “Why?” Xander said. “You’re thinking of planting a bomb in the Genera before leaving? A final parting gift?”

  Jain crossed his arms. “Something like that…”

  “We have ample supplies of frozen nitrogen and hydrogen remaining in the stores to form the conventional part of the weapon,” Xander said. “Also, I can redirect some of the fissile material from our reactors for use in the bomb. It isn’t weapons grade plutonium or uranium, so I’ll have to separate the more fissile isotopes with the termites, but it can be done. I can get started on a few initial warheads, but I won’t be able to complete them until we make a detour to the asteroids for more ores.”

  “Get started, then,” Jain said.

  “Why not simply fire Terriers or your lightning weapon at the ship, if you want to destroy it so badly?” Xander asked.

  “I want to get out of this alive,” Jain said. “If we can plant bombs undetected before leaving the system, that would be the best case scenario.”

  He returned his attention to the nose camera feed. At the target waypoint, he could see a strange-looking vessel that was linked by cables between two city ships. It appeared similar to a three-dimensional figure eight, and was vaguely dumbbell-shaped.

  Jain came to a halt just on top of the vessel.

  “What now?” Jain asked Xander.

  “I believe they are scanning you as we speak,” Xander said. “I’m detecting incoming high energy photons. They’re powerful, but weak enough to be classified just below the level of gamma rays. It has just the right wavelength to penetrate your armor, and not enough to damage your AI core.” He paused. “We’re receiving a hail.”