by M. R. Forbes
He found Aiko at the singular working terminal. Two of the other techs stood on either side of her, Devin and Maria. They were all staring at the same kinds of things he had been sifting through with Steven. Query results of records dating back a dozen years or more.
Pulin had been off Tio's radar for years.
"Anything to report?" he asked, coming up behind them.
Aiko shifted in her seat, startled. "Colonel," she said, blushing. "I didn't know you were there."
"I could see how engrossed you were. Anything to report?" he asked again.
She nodded. "I haven't found any solid information, or even any leads so far. What we have done is write an extension of the search algorithm to include mentions of code names that were used for some of the projects he may have been associated with. Tio had surprising access to classified Federation data, so we've been able to pinpoint research details that fit Pulin's profile."
"Do you have an example?"
"Sure. Classified project PRFD-23451. A system for autonomous stream transmission. It's all technical jargon, but it appears to be work on a meshed network of jump-capable drones that would be able to synchronize to deliver long-range communications in less time. The goal was a four hundred percent improvement."
Katherine had called the science that kept recursion stable the Mesh. He doubted it was related. "Did it pan out? That kind of capability would give the Federation a huge advantage over the Alliance."
"The document is ten years old. They put together computer models, and there is a report about the AI systems required to handle the calculations and manage the pathways, but I don't think it has seen the light of day yet."
"Interesting. What about Pulin? Was he involved?"
"The data doesn't provide the names of the team members, sir. Only numeric designations. We're trying to match up the designations to other projects to see if we can identify any of the participants. Even then we'll only have a number."
"Which can be traced back to the actual human being with data collected from a Black Hole," Mitchell said.
Aiko nodded. "That is what I understood the situation to be, yes."
"Raiding a Black Hole is a fallback option. Focus on finding him without it."
Aiko turned to look at him. Her face was stone.
"You want to say something?" he asked.
Her cheeks were still red. She bit her lower lip and then nodded.
"Don't be shy. If you think you have anything that can help, say it."
"Well, Colonel," she said, her voice soft. "From what I gathered we're in a bit of a race, both against time and against the Tetron, Watson. I understand why you're hesitant to consider the Black Hole option first - it's risky and very dangerous. I would agree with you on that, except I believe this approach will be significantly faster. We may be able to narrow the list of numeric identifiers down to less than fifty. Then all you would need to do is get the master list from a Black Hole, and we can identify Pulin. Once we have done that, finding his current location should be fairly straightforward."
Mitchell stared down at her. Her lower lip quivered nervously while he considered her words. Going after secured data on a planet that he imagined would either be still in Federation control or occupied by the Tetron was a little more than what he would consider risky.
"How much faster?" he asked.
"We can probably make a strong, educated guess within three days."
"Educated guess? I thought you would have his number?"
She smiled meekly. "Well, of course, we can't be certain of Pulin's number without the master list. We can only make a strong guess. I would say the margin of error would be ten percent or so."
"You make it sound worse the more we talk about it," Mitchell said.
Aiko bowed her head. "My apologies, Colonel."
"No, don't apologize. This is good work. How long do you think it would take to track Pulin down purely on the data we have?"
"I don't know for sure."
"Make an educated guess."
She smiled. "Assuming we have the data we need, ten to fourteen days. But there is a good possibility we don't have the data, and then we'll be back to the other approach, anyway."
Mitchell paused to think about it. He glanced at Davin and Maria. "What do you two think?"
"I agree with Aiko, Colonel," Davin said. "Not that I want to see anyone else get hurt. This isn't going to be easy either way, and if we're still here when the Tetron come back, we'll all be hurt."
"Good point," Mitchell said. "What about you?"
Maria nodded. "I think that's the best of two bad choices."
Mitchell ran his hand along his head. Maria was right, too. Both choices sucked. "Okay, keep going with the numeric matching. I'll speak with Admiral Hohn and find out what the timing looks like for reaching one of the Black Hole planets."
"Yes, Colonel," Aiko said.
"Thank you all," he said. "Every minute you keep doing what you're doing, you're improving our chances of surviving this mess."
That earned him a smile from all three of the techs. They dove back into their work as he headed off to find Calvin.
8
Mitchell found Admiral Hohn in a small office directly off Asimov's Situation Room beneath Operations. It was a sparse workspace - a desk and tabletop screen combination that the Admiral was standing over when Mitchell entered.
"Admiral Hohn," Mitchell said.
Calvin looked up. "Colonel. You came to check on my progress?"
"Not exactly. You've only had a few hours, so I don't expect you to have a complete plan in place. What I need to know is the position of the nearest Black Hole planet. More importantly, how long will it take to get there, and how far from Earth will we be moving?"
Calvin smiled. "You have a keen interest in protecting Earth, and I understand that. Jingu has four billion people on it as well."
Mitchell felt a chill run down his spine. He hadn't forgotten the Federation's home world, even if he hadn't prioritized it either.
"Right now, I don't feel too great about reaching either one," he said.
"Neither do I," Calvin replied. "Of course, since the Black Hole planet is in Federation space, it will deliver us much closer to Jingu than Earth. Tell me, Colonel, given a choice would you allow my homeworld to fall to save yours, even if you knew it was too late?
"Wouldn't you?"
"Yes. I appreciate your honesty."
"I appreciate yours. Anyway, the Black Hole Planet isn't the final destination. We'll decide where to go once we've gained Tio's brother."
"Of course."
"So, let me ask the original question again. How long will it take to get there?"
"Two weeks, moving directly into Federation space."
"That isn't close."
"No."
"Aiko thinks she can make a good guess about Pulin's numeric identity in three days, and that there's an outside chance we can skip a step in ten to fourteen. I need to make a decision about which path to take and keep in mind the second may lead back to the first. You know more about the Black Hole than anybody. What do you think?"
"The Black Holes are meant to be secure. Getting into one won't be easy."
"Can we do it?"
"I don't know the capabilities of your forces, Colonel."
"Neither do I. Let's say it was your mission to infiltrate the system. Could you do it?"
Calvin was silent while he considered. "Me? No. I'm not a Marine, and I've never participated in a ground mission. With the right equipment and the right people, I would put the likelihood of your success at perhaps ten percent."
Mitchell sighed. That wasn't the good news he was trying to convince himself he would receive. "That's better than zero."
"If you're asking me if that is a better option than waiting and hoping we can determine Pulin's location without it, then I would say no, it isn't. There is a reason the Federation's most sensitive data is stored there, Colonel."
"Rig
ht."
"That being said, there is some merit to the idea. We could wait and end up with nothing, and then have to launch the mission anyway. If we assume the first option will fail, it will help us plan for and attempt the second more efficiently."
"So you're saying we should do it?"
"No, Colonel. I'm saying that my opinion is that we shouldn't, but there is an obvious benefit to the approach. I imagine you aren't about to make your decision based solely on the assessment of a Federation Admiral."
Mitchell wasn't going to tell Calvin how heavily he was weighing his feedback. He didn't feel certain about either approach and nothing in his subconscious was steering him in one direction over the other either. Had this present never happened in prior timelines?
"Thank you, Admiral," Mitchell said. "I'll consider your opinion along with my own and Steven's. I'll also check back in with Aiko with your estimate. Can you let me know once you've finalized your assessment of the Black Hole approach?"
"Of course, Colonel."
"Thank you."
Mitchell bowed and left the room. He could feel Calvin's eyes on him the entire time. There was something about the Federation Admiral that didn't sit well with him, but he couldn't quite place it. He had been fighting the Federation for so long; he wondered if he was simply struggling to separate the man from the nation.
He headed back to the lift, taking it down three more levels to the infirmary. He winced when the hatch to the lift slid open, revealing the results of a pitched battle.
The bodies were gone, but the pieces of debris from Watson's machines still littered the floor, and even the emergency lighting struggled to stay active, flickering and flashing and lighting the entire corridor in a grim way. According to Thomas, Millie had been a major reason they had won the standoff down here.
"Digger?" Mitchell shouted, stepping through the mess. He had assigned the mechanic to see what he could salvage hours ago, but Aiko had told him she thought he was still down here. "Digger?"
There was no answer. Mitchell crossed the corridor to the threshold of the infirmary. He gasped at the sight of the damage. Blood splattered the walls, and the medi-bot had been overturned and smashed. One of Watson's robots lay dead on its side, a limb twisted in on itself and stabbing into the battery pack. Mitchell smiled at the sight. Only Millie could have done that.
"Digger?"
The cabinets were all hanging open, the medicines already looted and packed. He heard the hum of a machine in an adjacent room.
He crossed over to it and peeked in. Digger was on his back beneath a large box, tools laying close to his right hand.
"Digger," Mitchell said.
The mechanic twitched before he pulled himself out from underneath the equipment.
"Shit, Colonel. You scared the frig out of me."
"Sorry. What is that?" He pointed at the box.
"Medical mainframe. When the medi-bot isn't a pile of broken shit, it powers it. It contains a database of everything the bot needs to know, including human genome sequences."
He got to his feet. Mitchell noticed blood stains on his overalls.
"Not mine," Digger said. "Such a frigging shame about Tio's people, and your Admiral. Did you know Tess bought it? The real Tess."
"No. I didn't know. I'm sorry."
Digger shrugged. "It's okay. Sometimes I think she's better off than we are."
"Digger-"
"Yeah, I know. You don't need to say it. Anyways, I figure if we can take the mainframe, and this other piece of tech over here, it's a high-powered microscope, and a DNA sequencer, we can maybe find a clue."
"Where's the sequencer?"
"Out there. The mainframe is the hardest to remove, so I started in on it first. I was going to check up on my crew once that was done. I put what was left of them in charge of the communicators."
"How many do we have?"
"We can make about twenty, give or take."
"Encrypted?"
"Yup. Hey, home come you came down here? You didn't need to climb into the bowels with me to ask me this shit."
Mitchell wasn't sure what to say. Why had he come down? He wanted to see the carnage. He wanted to remember it. He wanted to use it as fuel.
"I wanted to see if you needed any help," he said instead. "I can lend a hand for a couple of hours."
Digger's face lit up. "Really? You would do that for me?"
"Sure. Why not?"
"You're the frigging Hero of the frigging Battle for Liberty. That's why not."
"I'm-"
Digger didn't let him counter his statement. "I'm honored, Colonel."
Mitchell nodded. "Show me what you need me to do."
9
Admiral Steven Williams blinked his eyes a few times, forcing them to tear. Then he clenched them tight, holding the moisture in and feeling it burn against his retinas.
He had been staring at the projected data for a long time. He wasn't sure how long, and he had to remind himself that his p-rat was offline when he tried to check the time. He looked over to a simple digital readout on the panel behind him instead. It was early in the morning. At least three hours since Mitchell had left.
He had nothing to show for it. His digging into potential aliases had left him with all kinds of names, but he hadn't been able to place any of them anywhere near Kathleen Amway, Katherine Asher, or Christine Arapo so far. He had even tried Kristine Arapo, figuring that maybe the sleeping Origin had changed the spelling at some point over the centuries.
As usual, he had received zero results.
"We didn't expect this to be easy," he said to himself. "Did we?"
He sighed, stepping out of the ring. He wanted to keep going until he found something, but the truth was it could take days, if not weeks. He had to sleep eventually.
He couldn't leave, though. He had told Mitchell he would be there when he came back, and Digger was still working on getting interpersonal communications organized again. He couldn't believe the mechanic had pushed to develop a test for being a Tetron considering how much other work Digger had on his plate.
He wandered out of the study, moving back to the foyer where Watson's machines were still twitching. He stared at them for a few minutes, observing how the servos and gears moved. The machinery itself was so basic. It was the intelligence the Tetron had given them that made them frightening and powerful.
What if Watson gave that same intelligence to other machines? The Tetron on Liberty had done something similar. It was a side of the enemy they hadn't given enough thought to. How would they stop them if they built a massive fleet of even the most basic of starfighters? How would they overcome the enemy if the enemy built intelligent missiles to fire at them? Self-directed, able to learn from the fates of the others, and solely purposed to make a single destructive hit against a single target.
He felt the hair stand up on his arms at the thought.
No. He remembered what Mitchell had said about them being sick. He had said the machines the Tetron on Liberty had made were improperly constructed and didn't work the way they were supposed to.
Then why had Watson's creations been so effective?
He knew the Tetron had been present centuries earlier. Had it somehow avoided the fate that had befallen the rest of them? He wasn't sure. There had to be some kind of sickness in there, considering what it had aroused it. Maybe it was simply suffering in a different way?
He stood there and stared at the machines. At that moment, he realized that Watson was much more dangerous than they were even considering. He decided he would discuss it with Mitchell when he returned.
He moved away from the foyer, heading into the library. The hidden passage to the secret armory was still visible, Millie's blood running to it along the floor. There were even a few bloody bootprints still dried against the tile.
Steven made the sign of the cross in front of it before moving to the glass cabinets in the center of the room. He paused in front of them, looking in on the b
ooks. He tried to remember the last time he had seen an actual physical book. His father had collected a few over the years, but had there been any at the Academy? There was the singular copy of The Art of War that sat on a pedestal near the entrance to the main building, but other than that?
His eyes landed on the center book, a plain hardcover with a dust jacket photograph of debris laying on top of a field of ice. XENO-1, by Paul Frelmund.
He considered opening the cabinet and taking a look through it. Instead, he returned his attention to the broken robots on the other side of the entrance to the library.
He had always been a good soldier. He had always followed the rules, followed orders, done the right thing. He had been a successful starship pilot before he had become a successful Admiral. He had earned the promotions because he was good at what he did, and he did it to the letter.
Then he had followed a false General Cornelius into Federation space and killed thousands of farmers. He had followed that up by breaking surrender protocol to escape from the Tetron. Now he was an Admiral taking orders from a Colonel because the military he had transferred to didn't give a shit about rank.
Mitchell had told him he couldn't go to the coordinates Katherine had provided for him, and Steven understood why. It was a long trip that might be for nothing, or might leave them separated by weeks of hyperspace with no way to reach one another. At the same time, as he retraced his steps and returned to the foyer to look down on the Tetron's creations once more, he had a feeling that Mitchell was wrong. After all, as Mitchell liked to repeat, he had always lost the war.
Was this the reason?
Was it the most important misstep he would make?
Steven tried not to believe that it was, but he wasn't convinced. The longer he stood there, the more he thought about it, the more certain he became.
Origin had tried to leave them something for a reason.
