The second priority was to destroy the crystals that were the indexes and cross-references: a determined adversary could reconstruct these from the main data storage units, but without the references it would be a thousand times harder. His repair drones tore into these most vital records with diamond grinders and plasma torches.
Stochastic reached the surface. The long-range lasers that he would normally have used to contact his fellows were offline, but he had a backup. He targeted his main weapon at the nearest cybertank monitoring station, nearly a light year away, and fired. His main weapon was powerful, and while not intended as a communications device, he could modulate its output to deliver simple messages. He hoped someone was listening.
ATTN MSG FROM STOCHASTIC OMEGA LIBRARY THE AMOK HAVE ATTACKED THEY KNOW ALL THE COMMAND CODES THEY KNOW ALL THE ENTRANCES SECURITY BREACH SECURITY BREACH THE LIBRARY HAS FALLEN HAVE DESTROYED PRIME DATA BUT MOST PRESUMED IN ENEMY HANDS ACT ACCORDINGLY
Amok units on the surface spotted him and opened fire, and he started taking hits. Still, he refused to move until he had repeated the message three times, then he ducked back into the entrance tunnel. He was damaged and had lost some minor systems but nothing critical. Of course, the most important part of the message was that it had not come from the standard communication lasers, but from his main gun. If that didn’t clue them in that this was a total disaster then nothing else would. He had done his duty, time to sell himself as dearly as possible. He raced back down to the main galleries. Already light Amok combat units had made it this far, he destroyed them easily but knew that this was just the start. He entered a cavern lined with data-storage obelisks, he charged down one side smashing the obelisks under his treads while using his main weapon to vaporize obelisks on the other side.
Light and medium Amok units attacked him, and he killed them. Then, a super-heavy unit showed up at the other end of the corridor. It was big, and rounded, and walked on multiple chunky articulated legs. It looked like a human head louse with its stocky build and armored exoskeleton, but a lot more massive: it barely fit into the cavern. Its blunted claws shattered the stone floor whenever it moved. Stochastic shot it, but he barely scorched its surface. Damn. He’d never seen this particular variant before, but from the configuration he could tell that this was a specialist cybertank cracker.
“It would be nice to blast it out with you, but I’m busy – see ya!”
Stochastic sped in reverse and dodged down into another cavern. He just missed a massive blast of x-rays that scorched the cavern wall behind him. He was cornering so fast that he bounced off the cavern wall. Actually, cybertanks are too big to bounce off of anything, it was more of a messy collision shattering the rocks and leaving behind a spray of debris as he accelerated away.
He raced down the tunnel, and saw the shadow of his pursuer just barely turn the corner as the made it around the next bend. And slammed right into another giant louse-thing cybertank killer. It shot him through the main hull before he could back off. His main systems were failing, he couldn’t even get enough control to discharge his main gun, so he unlocked the safeties on his reactors and exploded like a small sun, taking one Amok cybertank killer and several hundred obelisks with him.
---------------
The humanoid slacker/tourist android was almost out of energy. It had spent days hiding in the tunnels, then days more trying to get a nuclear self-destruct device activated. It wasn’t an easy task – nuclear weapons are designed to be impossible to activate without the correct codes – but he had the schematics from his main self, time, and motivation. He worked with tools manufactured from scavenged spare parts, and a sole surviving repair drone. Finally, he got the activation sequence to begin counting down. He was done. He could probably last another day or two, but that would have been pointless. Time to have some fun.
He walked out into the open, with his sandals and Hawaiian shirt, and began taking pictures. He encountered an Amok data-thief working on an obelisk. It was a scrawny little assemblage of pipes and wires worrying at the crystal like a squirrel monkey digging for buried seeds.
“Hey little Amok-dude, how’s it going?” he asked. It was a hard vacuum in the cavern, so he didn’t use sound, but broadcast on all open radio frequencies.
The data thief didn’t pay him any attention, so he kicked it off of the obelisk and ripped out its cables and antennae. He wandered down the mock Egyptian avenue of the dead, taking pictures and complaining loudly about the lack of amenities. “Hey man, I gotta go to the men’s room! Where’s the bathroom around here!” and “I’m hungry, I want a taco! You got a decent Mexican restaurant around here?”
The Amok units either ignored him, or tried to get out of his way. They were light data-specialists, and he trashed them underfoot. A dark shadow from behind him presaged the arrival of a more militarily capable unit. He turned around: it was one of the enormous crab-louse-like cybertank killers that had done for his main body. It started to swivel one of its weapons-arrays towards him.
“Hey, you got me, Amok dude! Smile!”
He snapped a photo of the Amok super-heavy unit just as the first light from the exploding fusion bomb behind it started to glow. It was a really beautiful effect. In his last few milliseconds he regretted that nobody else would ever get to see his photo. Then the expanding fireball vaporized the Amok unit, his android body, and an entire cavern of cybertank data obelisks.
3. Fanboy
“Be careful what you wish for, you might get it. Mind you, getting what you wish for sometimes has its down-side, but it’s a heck of a lot more fun than not getting what you wish for.” Space Admiral Li Gong, High Demagogic Period.
The Space Battleship Scharnhorst was closing the distance on the Neo-Liberal fleet. It was badly outnumbered, and despite the strength of the flagship of the Free Earth Alliance the sheer weight of the enemy firepower was beginning to tell. Sometimes there are days like this.
Captain Dieter Waystar winced as yet another salvo of enemy fire impacted on his ship. On the main bridge of the Scharnhorst, sparks burst out of ruptured consoles, and Halon fire-extinguishing units automatically shot sprays of white vapor. His friend, Lieutenant Helmut Merkozy, had been flung out of his crash seat by the latest impact and now lay motionless on the deck. Dieter wanted to help his friend, but he knew that for now his duty lay elsewhere.
A Neo-Liberal heavy cruiser had foolishly advanced beyond the support of the rest of its fleet.
“That cruiser is out of position,” said Admiral Jurgen Apogee. “Perhaps we can kill it before it can retreat to safety?”
“Target all main batteries on that heavy cruiser!” shouted Waystar. “Maximum Firepower!”
The gunnery officers computed targeting solutions, and laid in the coordinates to the Scharnhorst’s main guns. Four armored turrets the size of destroyers swung implacably into position, and from each turret three gun barrels the size of railroad tunnels elevated. Waystar undid the final safety locks, and twelve plasma beams hotter than the surface of the sun shot out towards the enemy ship. Five of the beams struck home. Such was their power that all five penetrated the heavy cruiser seemingly without resistance, like knitting needles piercing a ripe melon. For a moment the enemy ship seemed undamaged, but then secondary explosions started to erupt and spread in a chain reaction throughout its hull. It began to slew to one side as its attitudinal control was lost, then suddenly erupted into a brilliant fireball like a new star birthed into the cosmos.
The bridge crew erupted into cheers, and for a moment Captain Waystar allowed himself to slump into his command chair, eyes closed, head bowed. But only for a moment. His eyes snapped open, and he surveyed his bridge crew.
“Good shooting, well done, all of you,” he said. “But let’s not get cocky. There are still plenty more enemy ships where that one came from. Goebbels: evaluate possible firing solutions on the remaining enemy ships. Braun: restore our escort screen. Heydrich: give me a damage report and make sure the repair crews
are properly assigned. This battle is not over yet.”
With renewed purpose, the crew of the Scharnhorst set about their tasks. The ship was heavily armored, over a kilometer long, with twelve super-heavy plasma cannons and a hull studded with innumerable lighter weapon emplacements. The rear of the ship had hangar access for an organic fighter squadron, the Gray Switchblades, and the multiple heavy ion thrusters of the main propulsion system. Nearer the front were hatches for space torpedoes, and at the very prow the ten-meter diameter opening for the ultra zero-point energy gun.
Nominally Admiral Apogee was in charge. But it was Captain Dieter Waystar’s ship. An admiral is in charge of a fleet: a captain, of a single ship. When a fleet is reduced to not much more than a single vessel, the distinction might seem academic, but it’s still important. The bottom line: the admiral was the boss, but the ship belonged to the captain.
Enemy fire lashed into the Scharnhorst. The number two turret sustained multiple hits, it was superficially undamaged but its crew had been killed and its internal systems disrupted. At best it would take ten minutes to get the turret back into operation, but in the meantime their primary firepower was reduced by 25%. More enemy fire impacted on the hull, and despite the multiple levels of ablative and reflective armor, damage was accumulating at an alarming rate. All the sensors on the forward portside were burned out, two batteries of close-in defensive railguns were vaporized, and one of their main phased-array radar systems was completely fused.
Captain Waystar knew that the ship could not take much more of this sort of punishment. They should beat a tactical retreat, but that would leave the innocent civilians of the Earth wide open to the depredations of the Neo-Liberals. Still, a long-range gunnery duel against such a superior force would pretty much guarantee defeat and the loss of his command. There was only one course of action left.
“Admiral, I suggest that we close the range and use the ultra-zero-point energy gun.”
The Admiral thought for a moment, and consulted his data-console. Then he nodded. “Captain, give the order.”
“Engine room, maximum power to the ion drives! Gunnery: over-ride all the safety locks and give me 105% power. Damage control: get the number two turret working if you have to work naked in a vacuum. Navigation: give me full acceleration towards the middle of the enemy fleet. And Helmholtz… energize the ultra zero-point energy gun!”
“The ultra-zero-point energy gun!” exclaimed science officer Helmholtz. “But we are still not sure if it is all correct! Trying to fire it in its current state could blow us all up!”
“I am aware of that, replied Captain Waystar calmly. “But if we do nothing we will surely be destroyed anyway. Our only chance is to close with the enemy and hit them with everything that we have at point blank range. Protocol Max Fire!”
The Scharnhorst accelerated towards the enemy lines. The enemy guns continued to hit home, and much of the forward section of the ship had been reduced to molten slag. Still, the Scharnhorst was a tough ship, and all of her critical internal systems were still operational.
Running a parallel course was the Free Earth Alliance heavy cruiser Admiral Kurt Vonnegut. While not nearly as massive as the Scharnhorst, it was still a capable vessel. Without warning, multiple enemy missiles impacted on the Vonnegut, and it exploded in a retina-searing flash. Many people on the Scharnhorst had had friends on the Vonnegut; Waystar saw some of them shed tears. Chief sensor operator Ensign Angela Corona seemed particularly affected. Her fiancé had been stationed onboard the destroyed ship. Admiral Apogee was about to say something to her, but she shook off her feelings and re-applied herself to her sensor console.
“Enemy fleet entering effective range of the ultra-zero-point energy gun!” said Corona.
“Helmholtz,” said Captain Waystar. “Activate the ultra-zero-point-energy gun. Target the center of the enemy fleet. Begin countdown.”
Science officer Helmholtz unlocked the safeties on the massive weapon, and deep within the Scharnhorst powerful energies started to build. The ultra-zero-point-energy gun ran coaxial with the length of the ship, and was nearly a kilometer in length itself. The ship began to vibrate with the accumulated power of the gun, and Helmholtz activated his targeting console. They would get only this one shot….
---------------
“So,” said Fanboy. “What do you think?”
Not bad, said Old Guy. It’s quite entertaining. You have taken an old pre-exodus human animated entertainment and remade it into a realistic multi-spectral multi-point-of-view simulated combat recording. Impressive. With respect, however, I think that you have fallen into what the humans used to call “the uncanny valley.”
Fanboy was a kilometer-and-a-half long starship in geostationary orbit around Alpha Centauri Prime. Old Guy was a cybertank, formally classified as an Odin-Class Ground-Based Cyber Defensive Unit; a 2000 metric-ton supertank that was currently on the surface of Alpha Centauri Prime. Fanboy and Old Guy were conversing via a directional laser link, and Old Guy was commenting on a fictional entertainment that Fanboy had just downloaded to him. Old Guy had a raspy voice dating from early cybernetic technology that he had never bothered to update. Fanboy thought that the voice was awesome.
“The uncanny valley?” said Fanboy.
It’s archaic terminology from the pre-exodus humans. Originally they had both audio and video recordings of real events, and also crude animations and 2D simulations of fictional events. As their technology advanced, they were able to make their animations and simulations more and more realistic. Until they encountered a transitional zone that they called “the uncanny valley.” An obvious simulation can be enjoyed as such, and reality is reality. But as simulations approach reality, they can reach a zone where they are almost real, but not quite. At this point you flip between seeing it as real and seeing it as fake, and the rivalry can be annoying. This is “the uncanny valley.” We have long since been able to synthesize simple 2D single-viewpoint movies with total realism, but the kind of multi-viewpoint multi-spectral band recordings that is our current state-of-the-art is something that not even we can simulate with total conviction. If I might suggest, instead of trying for full realism, back off a bit, redo it as more of an obvious simulation, I think that would work.
“You really think so?” said Fanboy.
I don’t mean to be critical – I really like it – I just think that it could be improved. But you don’t have to. It’s still good as it is, and it is certainly an original conceit. As my patron saint, William Shattner once said, it is better to be original and entertaining than technically correct.
“Um, I just checked my databases, and there is no record of William Shattner ever saying that.”
I know. But he should have. If he were still around I think that he would approve. I claim artistic license.
“By the way, the signal delay from the surface to geostationary orbit is annoying.”
Agreed, a conversation where we need to wait over a half of a second for a response does slow things down. Even the old humans found it tedious. Why don’t you just download a submind to a local substrate, have the conversation in realtime, then re-upload the submind?
“I do that as much as anyone, but sometimes I just want to have a real conversation primary mind to primary mind with no signal delays. What are the chances that I could get clearance to drop to low orbit for a time?”
Well, as you know low orbit is a bit crowded, and you are on the large size. Even geostationary is pushing it. But there should be a time window coming up where there is some slack. A lot of constructs are scheduled to boost to the next system. I could put in a good word for you.
“Would you? Even a few days would be great. Near-real-time communication with everyone on the planet. If you could swing it, I would be so grateful.”
Happy to oblige. But really, we have had this conversation before. Are you sure that you don’t want to try something else? We have offered to reboot you as a cybertank many times, and the offe
r still stands. You don’t have to drift out in the middle of nowhere all by yourself. Starship or not, you are one of us. Why not become one of us for real?
“I know. I could become a cybertank, but that would mean giving up my identity as a starship. Even if starships are impractical follies, a starship is what I am. So while I appreciate the offer, and probably someday I will take you up on it, for now I will pass.”
I understand that line of thought all too well. But perhaps you would consider moving to a less crowded system, one where you could remain in low orbit over the primary planet all the time? And be an integral part of the real-time communications of our civilization?
“Yes that too has been suggested to me many times. Several peripheral systems have made me tempting offers. I am almost persuaded. But I would miss the richness of a main-core world. Folly though I am, I do bore easily.
Hmm… Well try this. Why don’t you become an ocean going naval vessel?
“I’m sorry, you have me at a disadvantage. WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT??”
Well, consider. As a starship you are cool and powerful and totally impractical, because in space all that matters is the mass that you have to accelerate. But a naval vessel, floating in a liquid ocean, is different. It’s not the mass that matters, but the ratio of mass to surface area. Bigger is better. If you were to come down and land in the ocean, you could adapt yourself without needing a major reboot. You would be in short-time-delay contact with a major world in our civilization. A one-and-a-half kilometer-long hull is silly in space, but perfect for an ocean, where longer hulls get more efficient. The ocean is an interesting place, full of life and weather and undersea industrial installations that need overseeing. You could transfer cargo from one major city to another, and your size would actually make you more useful. You would be in demand. It could be cool. Your showing up at a city would be a major social event. I THINK that we could get enough anti-grav units on loan to get you down in one piece. Probably.
Space Battleship Scharnhorst and the Library of Doom (An Old Guy/Cybertank Adventure) Page 4
