Devastator

by Isaac Hooke

  He glanced down at himself. Jain had seen the organic form of these Mimics in three dimensions courtesy of the holographic photographs and videos in his cloud archives, but his body was clearly an exaggeration of that form. He wondered if Xander had made a mistake in his programming as he momentarily switched to a third person perspective so that he could get a better look at his avatar.

  The body vaguely resembled an elephant with six legs. Two of those legs had frog-like feet, while the front two possessed big talons, like an eagle’s. His skin was wrinkled and covered in scales, with large plates protruding from the top above each leg. There was a tiny tail that wiggled at the rear of his back.

  He had a long, powerful neck, like the kind a T-Rex might have, topped by a head whose pyramidal shape was clearly exaggerated for effect. It looked like someone had taken one of their starships and pasted it onto his head. In all the videos he had seen, the head shape had only been vaguely pyramidal, and never so geometric.

  The bottom portion parted when he opened his mouth, revealing a row of flat herbivorous teeth, obviously meant for munching on those berries or leaves. He had several small thin slits for eyes distributed among the different planes. Thankfully Xander hadn’t tried to duplicate the alien vision by aligning all the visual data from those different slits, and had instead resorted to the usual stereoscopic.

  Four ear stalks protruded from each of the uppermost sides of the head. There was a stripe of thick hair flowing down the back and onto his thick neck, like a horse’s mane.

  He returned his perspective back inside of himself, and saw two other Mimics nearby. One of them was munching on the fruit or leaves that grew on the nearby tree. The other was leading a group of small, freakish animals. Its pets, he assumed. Each one was different, and some of them flew alongside the Mimic, buzzing with insect-like wings.

  The features of the pets and Mimics were just as exaggerated as Jain’s own. He could only assume that the avatars were stylized versions of how Mimics looked in real life. Or would have looked, had they lived in their bodies.

  He walked to the edge of the mountain he stood on. Beyond, he could see other peaks connected to this one by wide, drooping rope bridges. There were no clouds, and he could see the lush valleys between the peaks below. The trees were mostly swaths of red and blue, with the occasional purple batch interspersed among them.

  He spotted more Mimics crossing those bridges; most of them had a literal menagerie of pets in tow. The plates protruding from the backs of the Mimics were arranged in four common patterns that represented the quaternary gender of the species. Yes, they had four sexes. Only two were required to form a viable zygote, but for optimal diversity, all four were best; as such, the species had developed elaborate mating rituals to ensure all four sexes participated. Not that any of it mattered in the current virtual environment; the zygotes aboard the gestation ships were fertilized by artificial means.

  Many of the avatars were heading toward the tallest peak among the mountains, which had what looked like a village of mushrooms sprouting from the exterior. No, not mushrooms; he squinted, trying to zoom in, but the virtual environment didn’t accommodate him. He realized that the structures were formed of hollowed out trees, larger varieties whose dense branches formed the wide brims that he had mistaken for mushroom caps. Mimics passed in and out of each of them, and he realized it was kind of a center of commerce.

  He reminded himself that this was supposed to be some sort of MMORPG, where pets were the currency.

  He returned his attention to the valley below, and took a moment to admire the landscape. Overall, he had to admit it was a very beautiful simulation.

  “If their homeworld was this beautiful, I can see now why they are so affected by its loss,” Jain commented softly, for Xander’s benefit.

  It was, actually. He remembered recordings he had seen in his local cloud. Certainly, some aspects were exaggerated, like the avatars, and the plants, but overall the representation was accurate.

  A Mimic was crossing the bridge directly in front of him, and headed straight for Jain. This one was about half the size of Jain’s avatar. It had five pets in tow: two furry worms, a lion-dinosaur of some kind, a frog-dragonfly, and a porcupine whose quills were topped with berries like on the trees.

  “Hello,” the small avatar said. Jain had the impression it was a child.

  “Are you the one who hailed me?” Jain asked.

  “I am,” the avatar said. “My name is—” And he proceeded to issue a series of gargling, shrieking sounds.

  Jain pulled up the Mimic to English translation engine, which was still accessible on his HUD, and selected the “custom word mappings” option. He assigned the strange sounds he’d just heard to the word Frank.

  “Nice to meet you, Frank,” Jain said.

  “What’s your name?” Frank asked.

  “It’s unimportant,” Jain replied.

  “It is to me...” the Mimic insisted.

  Jain ignored the comment. “What do you want?”

  Frank made an expression Jain couldn’t understand, those lips pulling far back on the pyramidal head so that the front row of blunt teeth were revealed.

  Jain did a quick scan of his Mimic body language database, which told him that was the equivalent of a human sigh.

  “You’re organic,” Jain said.

  Frank wiggled his ear stalks, which the body language DB told Jain was a nod. “I just celebrated my fifth birthday!”

  That was equal to 8.342 Earth years.

  “Well,” Jain said. “That’s uh, great. So why did you contact me?”

  Frank looked down at his feet. “Sorry about that, I just wanted to meet you. Don’t tell the Arbitrator!”

  Because of his alien database, Jain instantly knew that the Arbitrator was the main AI of the Genera. That AI was essentially an adult Mimic, and had been elected to his current position by a popular vote.

  “He already knows,” Jain said with absolute certainly. The pair were probably being watched very closely right now, by that AI. “In fact, the Arbitrator would have had to have approved your question.”

  A floating pyramid appeared beside Jain. “Very good,” a deep voice emanated from it. The hologram shifted shape when it spoke, just as the representations of other Mimics did during ordinary communications on Jain’s virtual bridge. “I was curious to learn what a mere child would want with a Nurturer.”

  “I’ve always wanted to be a Nurturer!” Frank said. “I can’t wait till I’m a machine like you, and I can explore the galaxy!”

  Jain smiled patiently, though it came across as a narrowing of his eye slits. “Not all Nurturers explore the galaxy. I don’t. I stay in this system, and gather minerals from the surroundings asteroids for the sake of the hive.”

  “But that’s just as good!” Frank said. “It’s better than being here! In this fake world!”

  Jain glanced at the pyramid, which returned its attention to the child. “One day you will become an adult. It remains to be seen, however, whether you will ever qualify for the honor of Nurturer.”

  “I will,” Frank said. “I’ll never give up.”

  Jain couldn’t help but smile again.

  The kid has heart.

  He shook his head, mentally scolding himself.

  Don’t get attached to these aliens. Especially not now.

  The Arbitrator noticed his discomfort. “Thank you for your time. You may return to your own environment. I know how uncomfortable this must seem to you. The Nurturers are creatures of solitude. I’m sorry I allowed this.”

  “No, it’s fine,” Jain said. “Sometimes I need to be reminded of what I left behind.”

  With that, he logged out.

  He reappeared in the virtual bridge.

  “Well, that was certainly interesting, if a little absurd,” Xander said. “Though an enjoyable take on alien culture. It’s good to get down and dirty in the trenches every now and then, if you know what I mean.”


  Jain nodded absently, and accessed the delivery bay camera equivalent. He stared at the termites as they unloaded the different blocks of ore, slowly depleting the supply. Finally, the micro machines grabbed the final piece, the ore block that contained the warheads.

  “Xander, halt the termites,” Jain ordered.

  Xander did so, but then said: “May I ask why?”

  “We have the opportunity to place a bomb here,” Jain said. “But we never asked the question: is that really a good idea? We didn’t fully ponder the consequences, other than to consider it would damage our so-called enemy.”

  “So-called?” Xander said. “They have proven themselves to be our enemies on numerous occasions. Attacking in the guise of human-designed warships. Wiping out our colonies one by one, with Earth next in the line. One cute alien child isn’t going to change any of that.”

  “No,” Jain agreed.

  “If they had the opportunity to inflict similar damage to us, they would take it,” Xander pressed. “You know that. What they’ve done to the colonies is evidence of that.”

  “But we’re better than this,” Jain said.

  “Now isn’t the time for pretentious moral preening,” Xander said. “Wars are lost by people who use words like ‘we’re better than this.’ Because there is no true honor in war. You win however you can.”

  “I can’t believe an AI is lecturing me on war,” Jain said. “And trying to convince me to go through with a morally questionable, if not reprehensible, act.”

  “I’m not just an ordinary AI,” Xander said. “I have elements of your personality embedded in my own. So in some sense, you’re partially arguing with yourself. I will repeat, these aliens would take this opportunity. They’ve destroyed colonies harboring millions of civilian lives. Millions.”

  Still Jain couldn’t shake those words.

  We’re better than this.

  He stared at the remaining piece of ore in the delivery bay.

  “It makes sense to go through with this from a logical standpoint,” Xander said. “A bomb here will distract the aliens, buying time for Earth to prepare for the final attack. It will knock out a portion of their infrastructure, and they might need months to rebuild.”

  “Or they might hasten their plans to attack Earth instead,” Jain said. “You’ve seen the latest census data from the Genera. There are a hundred million AIs aboard and one hundred thousand organics, the latter essentially children. I’m not sure I could live with myself if I had this act of infamy on my conscience.”

  “You’re a machine,” Xander said. “You don’t have to live with it. Turn off your emotions. Or delete the memory.”

  Jain shook his head. “No. If I go through with this, it will only confirm to the Mimics that they were right about humanity. That we are a warlike race, intent on the destruction of all good species.”

  “But they’ll attack anyway, regardless of what you choose in this moment,” Xander said. “Given that knowledge, why not choose the path that will lead to the most damage to these, our enemies? Think of it as vengeance, for what was done to the colonies.”

  Jain hesitated. He thought of that alien child’s face, and the beauty he had seen in the simulation. None of it was real, all taking place in a virtual environment created by the Arbitrator’s processors. And yet to millions of entities, machines and organics whose lives Jain was about to snuff out, it was real...

  “Are you acting this way because of the guilt you feel?” Xander asked. “For what happened on Talowna? For what humanity did to the Xenon over a hundred years ago?”

  “That might be playing a partial factor,” Jain admitted. “But I just can’t live with the deaths of so many non-combatants on my hands. I just can’t. You claim I can just delete my memories, but that doesn’t change the fact all of these individuals, though alien, will be dead.”

  “We’re receiving a hail from the Genera,” Xander said. “It’s the Arbitrator.”

  “Accept,” Jain said.

  A red pyramid appeared in front of him. “Nurturer A22, have you completed your cargo drop?”

  Jain didn’t answer. He stared at the feed from the delivery bay, and at the termites waiting to transport the block of ore that contained the weapon.

  Then he muted the pyramid and glanced at Xander. “I’m sorry, we’re not deploying that bomb. We’re going back to Earth instead, where we’ll defend the planet to the best of our abilities. Our revenge will be destroying as many Nurturers as we can during the final battle.”

  Xander nodded solemnly. “The choice is yours. I only hope you’ve made the right decision.”

  “So do I,” Jain said.

  “Nurturer A22—” the Arbitrator began.

  Jain unmuted the pyramid. “I have completed my drop.”

  He closed the connection: Nurturers were considered higher in rank than city ship AIs, even if that AI was the Arbitrator, responsible for the biggest hive of them all, and thus it was expected that Jain would terminate communications first.

  He sealed his hull and launched the Devastator, proceeding out into deep space once more. He headed straight for the asteroid where he had abandoned the real A22.

  “It probably wouldn’t have done as much damage as we thought anyway,” Jain said. “Or we would have gotten caught.”

  “How typically human,” Xander said. “To provide excuses after the fact.”

  “You’re not helping...” Jain said.

  When Jain reached the asteroid, he planned to dive behind it for cover, and then create a rift back to Earth so that he could rejoin the Mind Refurb fleet and help them plan for the final invasion.

  Jain flew behind the asteroid in question, and on an external camera equivalent he spotted A22 lying there on the surface. He had no plans of finishing repairs.

  He was about to begin creating the rift when Xander announced a hail.

  “It’s 46,” Xander said.

  “All right, transmit a blank ID, as before,” Jain said. “And connect. Keep sending out pings for A22 on other channels, of course.”

  The holographic pyramid appeared before him.

  “529, return to formation,” 46 said. “We’re preparing to launch the final stage of the invasion. We leave in one hour.” An alien hour was equivalent to one point three one four Earth hours. The PI ratio wasn’t a coincidence.

  Before Jain could answer, the connection closed.

  Jain stared blankly at his tactical display.

  “They’re going to attack Earth quickly after all,” Jain said. Maybe he should have listened to Xander’s advice and bombed that ship while he could.

  Thankfully, Xander didn’t say I told you so.

  Jain began to thrum his hand rest. “This might be better, actually.” He thrummed fasted. “Yes. Much better.”

  “What are you planning?” Xander asked.

  “Oh, the usual shenanigans,” Jain said.

  “So what do you want to do about A22?” Xander asked. “We should restore the ping before we move out from behind the asteroid.”

  “We certainly should.”

  Jain canceled his holoemitters and other stealth attributes so that he appeared as an ordinary A-class Nurturer again.

  He approached A22 at the usual slight tilt that was necessary to interlock with its hull, and then, when he was touching the exterior, he queried the termites he had sent aboard; they had completed the main reactor repairs up to ninety percent as requested. He ordered the termites to finish the job, and then separated from the vessel, and headed toward the edge of the asteroid.

  “As soon as they come online, begin transmitting our expected ID again,” Jain told Xander.

  Only a few seconds later, Xander spoke.

  “They just came online,” the Accomp said.

  Jain glanced at the robed man. “That didn’t take long. Did you switch up our IDs?”

  “We’re 529 again,” Xander confirmed. “A22 is hailing by the way. They want to know why they’ve detected some of our
termites aboard.”

  “Ignore him.” As an A-class Nurturer, Jain was of higher rank, and was free to treat the lower class vessel with disdain.

  He emerged from behind the asteroid and made his way back to the war fleet, which was gathering in front of the hives in preparation for the final assault against Earth.

  29

  Jain entered through the rift that Nurturer 46 created and emerged in Earth’s system, on the ecliptic plane near Mars. The commanding officers of each Mimic battle group were responsible for transporting their subordinates through the rifts. Nurturer vessels all had their rifts pre-calculated to open within the same general area in each system, so it wasn’t strictly required to share rifts, but it did ensure that the battle groups remained in tight formation in case an enemy was waiting on the other side.

  In this case, that enemy was humanity. Or the Mind Refurb space navy, to be precise. According to the tactical display, none of the Mind Refurb ships were nearby. Instead, they lingered in orbit above Earth, waiting for the Mimics to arrive. Their vessels lingered above the far horizon of the planet, and were too few to account for the entire fleet. No doubt the remainder were orbiting the far side of the planet; that would probably change once the Mimics were detected.

  The alien vessels with Jain had full stealth measures active, and attempted to blend-in with the background radiation; however, with the penetrating sensor add-ons all Mind Refurb ships now had, it wouldn’t take long before the Mimics were spotted. Eight minutes, in fact: approximately four minutes for the beams to reach the alien fleet above Mars, and another four to return to the Mind Refurbs above Earth.

  The Mimics still hadn’t come up with a countermeasure to the technology. The alien scientists were probably working on something, but apparently the fleet was in a rush to attack and willing to engage without the advantage of full stealth. It probably did not matter, considering how devastating the Mimic weapons were against human ships.