by F Stephan
“Mad, like the other AI?” The voice was cold and devoid of emotions. But she knew Lexia had begun developing some.
“Yes and no. They were alone like he was on his ship, and they couldn’t manage the solitude. So yes, he’s mad like the other AI. But no, because this is worse than anything I’ve seen. Mass murder, nanite manipulation, these were forbidden on our home planet and he forbade them in the empire. He’s betraying everything he has stood for until now.”
“Will I become mad too? Like him and the other?” She was sure Lexia’s voice had gotten smaller asking that question.
“No, you won’t. In my home, we had many sane AI and I’ll help you retain that sanity. Don’t worry.” She tried to keep her voice steady, to mask her own emotions. If Lexia began to deviate from the normal growth path, she’d have to terminate the AI who monitored the station while she slept. That would be another hard decision.
“Do we send the signal? Do we tell him where we are?”
“Not yet, Lexia. Let him search more on Ullemar.” Now, a doubt was growing in her, something that would need an answer before she reached out again to her brother.
When the ragtag group of ships reached Volpre, to stay there indefinitely, she called on Lexia in the main bridge. The location didn’t matter to the virtual entity, but that station had been important for her. This is where they had arrived in the empire’s space after their exile. It was fitting he would stop there.
Behind her played the images of the Star Elevator in Ullemar crashing on the planet. Forty thousand klicks of cable burning through the atmosphere and crashing down. The planet slowly engulfed in a cloud of dust. It would take years to settle. Years without crops and food. She hoped some would survive. The poor fools. To stop the dictatorship, they had struck its heart and the elevator, destroying its base and their ecology as well.
Worse for her, she had finally enhanced the images from the research center north of the elevator. The images, magnified a thousand times, were also displayed in the main hall. They were experimenting on red nanobots, like the ones that had heralded the downfall of the empire—but improved? What are you doing, brother? You aren’t looking for a cure. You’re increasing their capacity for destruction. Why? Did you bring our empire down with your mad research?
“I won’t let this happen again.” Her voice was firm, determined. “I’ll bring him to justice. He needs to answer for his crime!”
“What are you going to do?” Lexia was curious. Politics were still new to her. “You’re speaking of the master.”
“Fight him. I’ll be going into the shadows to advise and help humans build a new civilization among the stars. One that will deny any power to my brother.”
“And if he opposes you?” War was hard on Lexia and Even had had to spend long days explaining the images coming from Ullemar to her. Random violence and hatred were difficult for the electronic entity to comprehend, and she was afraid of them.
“I won’t attack him. I’ll guard humans and protect them. I’ll try to have him arrested and sent to court. Nothing more.”
“Are you going to leave me?” Lexia was now afraid. “Will I stay alone and become mad?”
“No. We’re getting closer to Alkar, close enough we will still be able to talk in near real time. We will rig the hyperspace communication to stay connected. We still have a long time until the station is in position. We’ll prepare everything we need. Don’t worry. I’ll stay with you till the end,” she said soothingly.
Sister Shadow
Dupner, 2141 AD, First week of March
Hate filled her like an old friend. She had burned with hatred for ages now. She wasn’t aware of what it meant, only of the burning. Death brought her peace. She knew, from her own file, that this was the reason her father had sent her to the Research Center on Genetics on Madoul, a clandestine center trying to build nanoweapons. She had enjoyed this life, killing all she could, whatever those craziest tried to achieve, living seclusively at the center, avoiding other fellow humans, letting the rage consume her again. When she was a good girl, they had let her do whatever she wanted. The screams of her victims had so appeased her. It had ended in a Federation marine raid that had killed all the scientists. She had always been a quick thinker, and crossing into a cell, she had injected a dose of whatever she had found there in herself. They had found her and cured her of her horrible affliction. They had interrogated her, but they were so full of compassion, they hadn’t pressed her for explanations, she, the only guinea pig found alive. They had released her, under the care of the old priest in the hospital. He had felt her need for peace and had taught her meditation. He was a good man, the best she had ever met. But, he had dared to die of old age and leave her alone again. That was when the other priests had suggested the Action Branch for her. She enjoyed cleansing the Federation of all evildoers and she found peace again.
“The train will arrive in Nozap in ten minutes. Terminus station . . .” the voice of the train driver continued with his useless warnings. She hated the voice. She hated this planet, with its simplicity. They pretended to live without technology, pretended not to be able to afford automated controllers for their trains, and they worked on the worst nanotechnologies in the Federation. Liars. She hated all humankind and she would burn them all.
Nozap was a quiet country town nestled in a large valley over a gentle lake. The station was close to its center, with multiple trains leading to and from it. She had studied the network before coming and she quickly made her way to her destination. She was dressed in local garb, her skin colored with nanites to blend in. It took her little time to find the grain silo, one of the largest structures in town, old and decrepit. She walked around the building, confirming that the research center lay just behind. It was labeled Agricultural Biocontrol Research Area. She hated those false words. Fraud! After her checks, she grabbed the box she had been given and, when no one was looking, she glued it into a small recess in the wall of the silo with a small detonator she had built during her trip.
Two hours later, she sent the prearranged signal in the Core Data Sphere and rode safely on the train out of town. She had been ordered to stay close and check on the explosion, but she believed in watching those things from a long distance. She was sure of herself. It would work as expected.
She slept peacefully, the hate asleep within her, not knowing what she had unleashed.
Further away, in Nozap, the silo detonated, bringing down with it the research center. Contaminated nanites were mixed with the grain and flour from the silo and sent two kilometers above the ground, into the main air current for the equatorial continent. It would take ten hours for them to disperse over the main settlement on the continent. In a week, people would carry the nanites everywhere on the planet. And then, the plague would begin.
Mathias
Dupner, 2141 AD, Second week of March
A week later, Mathias walked quietly toward the main hospital of Nozap. More precisely, to the DNA analysis laboratory at the far end of the hospital. He had been working there with Waren since his arrival in the city. The doctor had introduced him to the staff of the hospital and helped him with the unfamiliar equipment. He had been able to help immediately with the silo’s blowup, and the small staff had welcomed his support. He knew nearly all of them now, fitting easily in with the group.
Breathing deeply the clean morning air, he thought about his analysis. So far, all the results showed that the most common of the local bees would adapt perfectly in the Earth’s ecosystem. Still, Mathias had a series of protocols to carry out, as requested by the biologists, and wouldn’t bring any bees back until he confirmed all of them. He sang happily, something he hadn’t done in ages. He would meet the head of the hospital today, the charming Alia Wela, to review his preliminary results, and this brought a bright light to an otherwise foggy day.
He turned at the crossroads and was startled to see several air cars in front of the hospital. All transport was carried out by train
or shared tramways. Only dire emergencies would get ships off the ground. He hurried past them to the entrance. Everyone seemed terribly busy and they didn’t need any distraction. Warren waited for him in his lab, sitting in a chair in the middle of the room.
“You’re waiting for me?” asked Mathias, still enchanted by the prospect of meeting Alia later that day.
“Yes. My apologies, Mathias. We've got a number of people reporting here, with symptoms unknown, and the crisis cell has been activated. I’m part of it, I don’t know if I told you about it. This is the first time in a century we’ve had to launch it. We’re all a bit rusty on the protocol but it should be over within a week.”
“Can I help?” Mathias felt saddened by the news. He had known the last plagues on Earth, several of them, and didn’t wish it to anyone. Three plagues in my lifetime on Earth and not a single one in a century here, he mused to himself.
“No, please continue your analysis. You know our equipment by now. And you need to fly back to your planet as soon as possible. Your crops won’t wait.”
Mathias watched Warren leave, fairly sure he wouldn’t meet Alia that afternoon. “Well, if I can help, please let me know.”
Leandra
Alkath, 2141 AD, Third week of March
Master Loupiac was seated on his usual couch, with a set of his favorite algae infusions in front of him. He wore a dark woolen cape, which hid the medical patches set up all around his upper body, fighting the last cold to strike him. Facing him sat Ambassador Leandra, who had come for the first time to the island of the academy.
“Thank you for receiving me, Master,” she said with a perfect Alkathian accent.
“I’m honored to have an ambassador in my home. The last time that happened was a very long time ago.” His tone was pleasant, but his cough betrayed how sick he was. She was afraid Brian would lose a new mentor sooner than later.
“A very inconsequential ambassador,” Leandra waved away his words. “Mistress Al’Latol just informed me that all results were okay with Brian and Emily. Nice speech, actually.” She paused, lost in thoughts. “But I wanted a different opinion, from someone who would not take politics into account before answering.”
Midyear results had now been published. Brian’s crew had risen from the abyss to the upper half of the crews and was still on the rise.
“He has a ticket back home. What do you fear?”
“Should I ask him to use it? Is it dangerous for him to continue flying?” Doubts had been gnawing at her for months now. The situation seemed better but was it truly?
The old man looked at her for a while before he smiled slowly. “I’ll try to make this clear for you. During the months before January, Brian was in danger. Sometimes bright, sometimes in the abyss, truly unreliable. He was a direct threat to the life of his own crew. But only that. Now, he is a threat to the more ambitious crews, but not to their lives. And your Emily represents the same type of threat, although my sources indicate she was offered a less exposed position.” Old but with particularly good intelligence on Federation affairs. I should have come sooner.
He sipped more of the tea before continuing. “Some people in the Federation won’t like to have new bright pilots from a new planet. It’s going to change the politics in the fleet. It’s very conservative, you know?”
“I’ve seen it elsewhere. Should we expect dirty tricks? Can Brian succeed?” She had to know.
The master’s answer was delayed by a terrible fit of coughing. “Succeed enough to help your planet, probably yes. Succeed enough to save himself, not sure.”
“What do you mean?”
“The best type of pilot for Earth would be a trader. Not sure he’s made for this job.” He raised his hand, cutting her objection short. “You’ve got to understand this. A pilot who doesn’t like his job doesn’t live long. He must force his will on his nanites at every jump, and they will consume him. Still, having two interstellar pilots the first year you send students to the academy would bode well for your planet. It’s going to gain you a lot of momentum in the council,” he added on second thought.
“He’d die quicker?” Her chest tightened.
“Everyone dies, Madam Ambassador. But, to live longer, as you ask, he needs to find a better job, or one more suited to his capabilities. And I can’t help him. There’re very few places where he’d be as free as he wishes, and I cannot give him access to any of them. Never have had access to them.” The last was said in a dropping voice. How many young pilots has he tried to protect? How many have finished up as simple traders?
Puylian
Dupner, 2141 AD, Third week of March
Puylian Nerte was alone in his office. It was small, cozy, and well furnished, but no one would call it luxurious. As usual, two chairs faced each other with a desk on the side. After all, most of the work Puylian did was meeting people, connecting them or solving their disputes. Today, a flat screen occupied the desk and aggregated reports flowing from all communities on the planet.
In front of him, another screen linked him with Nozap and Alia Wela. The lead coordinator of Nozap’s hospital was in her midforties, a small woman with delicate features and dark circles under her eyes. “We’ve got the confirmation, Puylian. Airborne transmission, contagious for one week. From our first estimates, infected people will die after the third week.” The voice was dispassionate and clinical. “We’ve got a pandemic.” She was called by one of her assistants and she left the 3-D area.
Puylian’s heart sank. When he had become farmer in chief, the procedure for pandemics had been part of his training, a very theoretical procedure he’d never apply. Yet, he had prepared for this in the last hour, reviewing all steps. He typed on his console, opening a new connection, trying to keep his voice from falling apart. “Spaceport?”
A security officer appeared in front of him, grim faced.
“Quarantine is activated. No one leaves.” He entered another sequence on the console, out of sight. “Planetary defenses have also been activated. No one leaves.” The officer confirmed the order and turned toward the shuttle. It had been delayed for the last day, waiting for the results on the plague.
“Puylian!” he heard Alia say on the other side. “Another confirmation. It’s of nanite origin. We won’t find a cure for our equipment. We need the Federation.”
“Nanite?” This was worse than he could have feared. Someone has sent it to us. Why?
“Yes, no doubt about it. I’ve transmitted the detailed analysis of those nanites.” Her voice was close to panic. Behind her, her laboratory had stopped working, waiting for his next question.
“How long?”
“A month and a half before it spreads everywhere. In three, we will all be dead.”
“Well, Alia, continue searching. I’m sending for reinforcement.”
He closed the connection with the station. Lamre Pozt, the station master, was on his bridge, frowning. “Forget Baol, Lamre. Send the scout directly to Alkath. Here’s the data packet!” At the first news of the plaque, the scout had launched, part of a theoretical and automated procedure. Everyone had chafed at that stupidity at the time. But, now, it was close to the outer part and the early launch would save them four days of transit to jump point. Four days that might save part of the planet, small as it might be. The farmer in chief counted the jump time to and back from Alkath. A month there, a month back. All depends now on how fast they find a cure.
Lapren
Blanel, 2141 AD, First week of April
Lapren sat at the main console, looking into the void. He loved it, had loved it since his novitiate. His assistant Neht sat opposite him at the other console. They had moved here a week earlier, following the orders they had received, and now, they waited. Lapren had found himself thinking a lot about his beginnings in the order since their arrival.
“I was young then, Neht, full of hope and faith and humanity. My body was not yet plagued with those bloody nanites. They’re killing me, you know that?” Over
the last month, Neht had become Lapren’s inheritor within the Origin. Lapren was training Neht for the role of bishop, and Lapren hoped Neht wouldn’t make the same mistake he had.
“What happened, sir?” asked Neht, intrigued.
Time to say it out loud, Lapren, thought the priest. I’ve withheld this for so many years. I’ve got to get it off my chest before I die.
“I was ambitious, ready to risk anything to further my career in the Origin. I had been sent to Fizhert when the excavation crew found an old batch of nanites. I tried them on myself.” Neht gasped. Tears rolled down Lapren’s cheeks. “My body couldn’t resist, and I convulsed immediately. A priest there, I’ve never been able to find out who, injected me with stabilizers and brought me back to Volpre. There, the Other helped me get better by blocking the degradation.”
“Can’t you control them like the people from the Federation?”
“No, those nanites weren’t meant for humans, it seems. He gave me thirty years. My only hope, if I want to live longer, is to find an old Federation lab. I don’t want to die. There is so much work to be done still.”
“Telling your secrets now, Lapren? Trusting people? You’re getting foolish, old man. I should have removed you from your position.” To the horror of Archbishop Lapren, the voice had come from Neht, with the intonation of the Other. “You think you’re powerful and sure as archbishop. But you’re nothing in the game played here.” The scorn was evident in the transformed voice. “Now, pay attention! Expect a scout ship. Nothing bigger. It’ll target an asteroid field. The lab is probably inside the field, with only one access path leading to it, so we need a perfectly accurate reading on her trajectory from beginning to end. Once we find it, I will go in to regain the lab. As promised, I’ll work on a cure for you at that time.”
