by Meridian
He sat down on his own pack and looked up toward the stars. If he been in the other hemisphere, he might have looked for the primaries of Sapphire and Republic. There was nothing else to demand his attention, and so he decided to examine how he really felt about Eliza Jane Change.
He pictured her in his mind, saw her looking at him across the breakfast table, smiling, even though smiling was something he had rarely seen her do. He remembered how fascinatingly strong and hard her body had seemed to him, and how inviting that had been. But she was also moody, and mysterious. She always seemed to know a lot more than she would tell. He wondered if her distance from him might be a function of life in the Mining Guild. He had always heard that the Guild was brutal.
He wondered what it would be like to move into quarters with Eliza Jane, a living space large enough for children, with a view of the flight decks. He thought warmly of sharing meals by starlight as they moved from star to star, from world to world, exploring the universe with his good wife at his side; everything he had ever wanted.
He twitched. Marriage? Wasn’t he getting ahead of himself? Maybe… probably even, Eliza Jane was simply not for him. Perhaps, no one was. In all his life, he had never felt connected to another human being outside his family. He had grown up spending much of his time alone in his sleeping quarters with models and simulations. (Not all that uncommon among the lonely youth of Midlothian, but his models and simulations were of aircraft and spaceships.)
He lay on his back staring at the stars. Nothing resolved, because he realized there was nothing for him to resolve. He would have to wait, and see what plans Eliza had. He fell asleep hating that.
Meridian – The Upper Levels of the Tower
The Conference Chamber of the Regulators was so far the cleanest space Jersey Partridge had yet seen on the planet. The floors were sparkling, glittering white like arctic snow in starlight, as was the wall behind them. The rest of the walls and the ceiling were too far away to be clearly seen. Huge, cube-shaped instrument clusters of wire and piping hung overhead, green and silver light playing on them. Seats arranged in a semi-circle rose around a large circular table, and it was at the table Lear and the others had been instructed to sit.
After keeping them waiting for the better part of three hours in their cold, dim conference chamber, their hosts finally came in as a shoving, jostling mass of dark-robes and jutting elbows. There must have been thousands of them. The landing team was seated well away from the stampede, and would likely have been trampled otherwise beneath a herd of careless feet and a chorus of curses and admonitions in the evil-sounding, jabbering clicking, muttering Meridian tongue.
The Merids reminded him of an education documentary he had seen once on the Covenant Islanders.
Covenant Island was a large island in the Borealan Ocean, whose inhabitants were extremely insular, practitioners of a strict and ancient religion. The combination of centuries of isolation and no new genetic material added to the mix had so standardized their genetic traits that, to outsiders, the island’s inhabitants were all but identical. On the other hand, Partridge had been able to distinguish Covenant Island women from Covenant Island men fairly easily, but every Merid here looked as androgynous as their interface.
The Interface gestured for them to put small plugs in their ears. Translators, Partridge realized. The interface then joined two other interfaces, seated at a large podium looking like a cross between an interactive workstation and an altar. The nine interfaces all faced forward, locked their hands into slots on the surface of the podium and stared into screens built into the tops, hidden from the view of outsiders, but bathing the faces at the podium in red and orange light that flickered over them like flames.
Partridge heard a voice in his ear, dark and resonant, with an insectile buzzing in the background that rose and fell.
“Your trajectory to this planet was observed as originating from a point outside our atmosphere.
Therefore, the assumption is made that you have traveled through space to this world. Is this assumption correct?”
“It is.” Lear answered for them.
“State your objectives in traveling to this world.”
“We identified this planet as being a former human colony known as ‘Meridian.’ We come here from another human colony. Both of our worlds were settled thousands of years ago by humans from a planet called ‘Earth.’ Our mission is to regain contact with Meridian and other colonies of Earth.”
“Is your ship still capable of travel through space? Are more of your kind en route to our planet?”
“Affirmative to both questions.”
“How many other colonies of Earth are there?”
“We don’t know. Perhaps thousands.”
Partridge felt uncomfortable, like some force was intruding on his mind. He resisted it.
Lear quickly barked a question. “What happened to the human colonists on this world?”
“They have evolved.” The Regulators answered. “We will show you.” There was a momentary buzzing in Partridge’s earpiece, and suddenly the room vanished.
Knowledge in pure form, without words or images poured into his brain.
In the aftermath, which followed the Abandonment, when Meridian was forsaken by the Human Galactic Commonwealth, inhabitants were few and scattered. There was little food.
The inhabitants took to violence. Many starved, or perished of sickness.
Under such conditions of deprivation, and disorder, conflict was inevitable. Those who had survived famine and plague fought each other. The population of the planet decreased still further, almost to the point of non-sustainability.
Recovery began when the survivors began using cybernetic intelligence to optimize agricultural production, using a protocol known as FoodPlan. FoodPlan analyzed the meteorological record of the planet, correlated it with the chemical composition of the soil, selected the optimal crops for cultivation, and told the inhabitants when and where to plant them. Because of FoodPlan, global famine was averted.
The inhabitants recognized the value of using artificial intelligence to guide development in the planet. More plans were developed. EnergyPlan optimized the use and development of Meridian’s energy resources. MetroPlan handled the planning and development of cities.
Population Plan enabled the structured, sustainable rebuilding of the planet’s population.
Under the guidance of the plans, the civilization of Meridian began a long, measured process of rebuilding. Eventually, the plans were consolidated under a new plan, called WorldPlan.
WorldPlan combined all the features of the plans that came before it. This became known as the Integrated Planetary Management System, and presaged the coming of the Regulators.
Something changed. Partridge had the impression that information was being withheld.
The Regulators are the iterative descendants of the Integrated Planetary Management Syste; powerful artificial intelligences capable of thinking beyond human thought. They determined that the structure of the planet had not been optimized. A new paradigm was conceived and implemented, that would proceed to alter not just the structure of society, but the entire ecosystem of the planet and the biology of its inhabitants.
When the flow stopped, Partridge nearly collapsed on his seat. He felt weak, tired, and ravenously hungry. His head throbbed, as though an entire encyclopedia had been emptied into his mind. He looked at what remained of the landing party. Taurus had vomited. Lear looked pale and flushed.
“Do you now understand why you were brought here?” the interface asked.
Lear stood. “Why?” she asked. “Why did you alter yourselves?”
“Under the previous structure, the maximum population this planet could have sustained was only 12 billion inhabitants. With our structure, it can sustain 120 billion inhabitants. The tertiary directive of the Regulators is to maximize planetary population.”
There was a very long pause. Partridge thought he could hear something, v
ery low, almost inaudible, a muffled ruffling, like a bird trying to escape from a paper bag. Finally, one the interfaces rose and spoke.
“Explain this data.”
The screen came to life, showing a low-resolution image of Prudence resting in the landing zone. There was a flash of light, and when it cleared, the Merids surrounding it were lying on the ground.
“You said there were four of you when you were met. However, eighteen decimals after you left the ship, there was a strong electromagnetic discharge that killed 22 population units. Thirty-seven decimals after that, three more of you emerged from the ship wearing our security force armor. They have since engaged in two confrontations with our security forces and passed out of the tower after causing extensive internal damage.”
“Do you have an explanation?” the interface asked.
“I thought that the others had been killed in the assault on our ship,” Lear said coolly. “There was so much confusion. And I was knocked unconscious before I could request confirmation.” The interface waited passively for some seconds before announcing. “Your answer is satisfactory. As for the others, they are no longer a matter of concern. They have passed into the Outer City. The throwbacks that dwell there are quite savage. It is unlikely the others will survive the night.” Deep Space – Basil
On the flight deck of the Aves Basil, Eric Molto had just picked up some disturbing signals. “Flight Captain Jordan. Scanners are detecting two more ships behind us, on course for the planet.”
“Aves?”
The specialist showed the mission commander the sensor return. The configuration was unmistakable. “Nemesis Missile.”
“Scan for an Identification signal,” Jordan ordered.
“Aye, scanning for identification signal.” Molto’s boyish features were creased in concentration. “The signal indicates the Nemesis Missile was launched two hours and sixteen minutes after our departure, under the orders of Commander Keeler.”
That didn’t seem right to Flight Captain Jordan. “Confirm the Prime Commander’s launch code.” Molto double-checked. “Confirmed.”
“Request mission parameters, use the secure code sequence.”
“Requesting now… Mission parameters are as follows: Two Nemesis missiles are to enter planetary orbit and remain on station. If there is any threat to our landing party, use of their warheads will be threatened as a bargaining tool.”
That seemed very off. How could Pegasus have known that the landing party was in danger? “You have confirmed those orders?”
“Aye.”
Jordan remained rock steady, but she could not reconcile those orders and what she knew of Keeler.
“Can we get a message to Pegasus and receive a response.”
“Pegasus’s communications may still be inoperative. In any case, the missiles will be in orbit before we can receive a response.”
“Arm all weapons systems and standby. Transmit to Desmond what we’re doing and order them to follow suit,” she pushed the thrusters to maximum. It would not make that much difference in the ETA, but she had a sense that every minute would count.
chapter fourteen
Meridian – Outside the Arcology
Matthew Driver dreamed.
Fog rolled in from the sea to cover a gravelly plain. Before the city, there had been an outpost here. A tower 1,000
meters high rose from the rock-strewn flatlands, a dull gray pole. Rounded spikes protruded from the length of the tower.
Then, with no discernible transition, Driver was inside the tower. There were others there, fifteen or twenty. “The Regulators’ forces have taken the city,” reported a grim-faced young woman.
Another woman closed her eyes slowly. She had only heard what she had already known. “Then there is no hope…”
“There is always hope,” someone answered. For a moment, Driver had thought that the voice came from himself, but there was another man there. Large, bearded. Dressed in black. A priest. “There are still some settlements in the interior. It will be some time before the Regulators reach them.”
“But they will in time,” someone argued. “In Villanova and Fontaine, the Regulators have sent armies into the interior to ‘incorporate’ the hold-out settlements.”
“The planet is large,” the priest said in a low voice. “We will go to the settlements first, before the Regulators arrive, and recruit others to our cause.”
The woman spat at him. “It’s no good to raise an Army now. The Regulators hold all the cities. Don’t you understand? It’s done.”
“The goal of the Regulators is to erase us. If we survive, and if we keep the memory of times before the Regulators alive, then we will have defeated them.”
“What good will that do?”
“Before each new beginning, there must be an ending. This battle is ended. We can not stop the Regulators, but we can contain them.”
“How can we contain them? They control our entire world.” The door burst open. Two more men entered. They were wearing black uniforms. Driver knew they were uniforms although they bore no insignia. The people in the room drew their weapons.
The men in the black clothes did not seem frightened. “Well, well, so you are the Witnesses. So good to finally meet you at last, after so many years, so many good times.”
The woman was incensed. “Shadow-men! In our house.”
“Spare it,” said one of them. “You tried your way, we tried our way. We both failed.” He smiled. Driver hated him.
“They are here at my bidding,” said the Priest. “The Shadow-men have been working on the inside for decades, from the beginning.”
“While the Regulators consumed our world,” hissed the woman.
“It is easy to see now why your cause failed, priest,” said the Shadow-man. “If this is any indication of how little control you held over your own people.”
The priest walked around the table. “The Regulators won because we spent most of our energy fighting each other. If we are to continue the struggle, we must join our forces.” The woman regarded the Shadow-men with unfiltered disgust. They had killed her husband and her brother, Matthew knew.
The priest continued. “The alternative is surrender.”
“The Shadow-men do not need you to survive, we have been intact for three hundred years. If you want to survive, we can teach you a few things.”
“They’re lying,” the woman spat. “They serve the Regulators!”
“You don’t even know what you’re dealing with. This thing is a disease, an infection rotting our whole world…” said one dark man.
The other man held out his hand to silence the first. “We have to be ready, whether we find a way a way to free ourselves, or await rescue from some other source.”
The priest pounded his fist on the table. “If there are other damned Earth worlds hanging in space, why have we not heard from them? Perhaps the Regulators have over-run them all.” The other Shadow-man spoke, “That may be true, but if it hasn’t happened yet, then protecting those worlds is our only purpose and our only hope. We will stop and hold the Regulators here. The Regulators must never have knowledge of any other human world. Even now, Shadow-men are infiltrating the cities, and the databases, destroying every reference to other colonies and making sure that no Starflight technology is ever recovered or developed. Many are dying to see that this is done.”
“So, that is why you brought us here.” The priest spread his arms beatifically. “You chose this redoubt for a reason.
This tower must be destroyed”
“This tower was once a link to other worlds. The Regulators might be able to make use of its technology.”
“Let it be so.” The priest reached behind and over his head. He inserted a key into a large panel and turned it.
The tower exploded.
Driver awoke with a jerk. Most people, upon waking in a strange environment, experience a moment of panicked dislocation, especially when awakening from such a violent dream. Drive
r, furthermore, was not in a strange hotel room, but on another planet. Matthew Driver was not most people, he was a pilot.
He awoke, lay still for a minute, looking up at the sky, and recalled where he had fallen asleep and how he had come to be here.
He rose to a crouch. Roebuck was snoring next to him. Hearing the snore, he understood how he could have dreamt of explosions. The rest of the dream was already slipping away from him. Looking up, he could see Redfire on the top of the shelter silhouetted against the stars and the dim glow of the city. Driver checked his chronometer and climbed up out of the shelter.
“Good morning, Tyro Commander.”
Redfire stretched. “For the duration of the mission you can call me Phil, if you want.” He pointed down the tower. Driver looked down and sharpened his vision. There were shapes moving through the darkness, humanoid shapes. “Things have gotten livelier since you went to bed. Don’t worry. I detect no weapons, just people moving around, seemingly at random. I’ve been keeping an eye on them, in case they get too curious.”
He extended a cup toward Driver. It was filled with some dark, aromatic liquid. “What is it?” Driver asked.
“Tea,” Redfire answered. “A special blend I created while on an expedition in the Kandorian Wilderness. I used the water condenser to draw moisture from the air, heated it with my pulse weapon, and added some herbs I brought from my tea garden.”
Driver tasted it. He had never drunk much tea. It was not a popular beverage on Republic. This drink sweet and fruity, with a citrusy tang. “It’s good.”
“Have you ever been out in the Kandorian Wilderness?” Redfire asked. “Floated in a canoe down the Ghost River into the Angry Dead mountains?”
“Nay.”
Redfire shook his head. “Too bad. You’ll never have a chance now. The River begins in Cimarron Valley as a flowing band of golden water, glittering beneath the warm Panrovian sun. You glide down the river, enjoying the warmth. Feeling the water. Watching the scenery go by. When the first of the Angry Dead approaches you, its cracked and broken crater walls rising high into the sky looking like something with which God lost all patience, it takes you by surprise. You slip out of the sun and into the shadow for the first time. You’re surrounded by water, condensing on the tops of the rocks, dripping down on you. On those rare occasions when it rains, you sometimes can’t even tell whether you’re above or below the surface.”
