Solstice 31: The Solstice 31 Saga, Books 1,2,3

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Solstice 31: The Solstice 31 Saga, Books 1,2,3 Page 65

by Martin Wilsey


  He zoomed in further and began a simulation of the deadly heavy metal protons and neutrons, splitting in controlled explosions, with all the released energy and matter being controlled, precisely.

  “These kinds of reactors do more than generate power. It's why they consume so much fuel,” Barcus said.

  Elkin was crestfallen. She knew nothing about these kind of FTL drives. Just reactors.

  “What kind of fuel?” Worthington asked.

  “Various mixtures of plutonium-239 and uranium-235. The Renalo-class ships were made to handle a wide variety. Even shitty fuel. But, not dark matter.” Elkin knew that, off the top of her head.

  Worthington brought up another window as Barcus watched. It was the sensor scans from Hume's pass through the security net.

  “This is the dead weapons platform.” Jimbo brought up visual images of the small satellite. “It indicates the presence of plutonium and uranium. It's shielded, but it's there.”

  Elkin was getting excited again. “The nukes. We could harvest the dead nukes.”

  “The EMP cannon on this ship rendered them safe enough to remove?” Worthington asked.

  “Look here.” Barcus paused the image captured on a still frame, then he zoomed in. “These look like standard launch tube modules. Each one of the tube clusters is ten by ten, holding ninety-nine missiles and a control block. They are designed to be easy to swap out, once used. You can see these are intact.”

  “There are sixteen of those on each side,” Worthington said. “How many of these sats are there?”

  “Thirty-two, sir,” Ibenez replied.

  “That means there are over 50,000 of these nukes, pointing down at the planet, as well as out into space.” Worthington was incredulous. “We need to get off this rock.”

  ***

  Over the next hour, they planned how it could be done. With only one airtight, rigid maintenance suit, they could not figure out how to manage the task. The regular pressure suits would help, but they would end up as spectators.

  “I could help.” AI~Em's avatar walked into the conference area. It was obvious everyone saw her.

  “Take me up inside the STU, and I will drive the second suit. Barcus can drive his.”

  “Everyone, this is Em, the advanced AI from Chen's Emergency Module. She has a lot of upgrades,” Barcus said. “It's good to have you back.”

  AI~Em walked to the conference display and, with a gesture, wiped everything to the side, except the photo of the launch modules. Suddenly, a perfectly rendered wire diagram of the satellite appeared.

  “Based on the verbose sensor data, we are looking at this.”

  She ran a simulation. The STU slowly approached the satellite with the cargo bay ramp open. It stopped about thirty meters from the satellite itself. The Emergency Module gently launched from the cargo hold, to lightly catch the satellite in an eight-point grasp. The EM's rear ramp opened and the two black, faceless suits drifted out on tethers. One moved to the front of the unit and one to the back. Tools deployed from the forearms of the suits and one of the modules was detached and attached to cables. A person in pressure suit provided direct guidance as the unit came closer, until it was settled inside the EM. After everyone was onboard, the EM gently launched back to the shuttle and into the bay.

  “I could show you a simulation where the STU and I do it all. Everyone could remain safe, here. We will go much slower.” AI~Em added, “I prefer you come along. Like Chen always used to say. Shit happens.”

  “Em, how many repairs will you require before we can do this?” Barcus asked.

  “I made a list.” AI~Em popped the list up. “I took the initiative and made a recommended fabrication schedule.”

  “Why are these welders and cutting tools on the top of the priority list?” Worthington asked.

  “I also took the liberty to create a task list, to match it with the skills matrix I found, and to create a series of task lists for each of your crew,” AI~Em said.

  “You scheduled rotating, overlapping, sleep schedules?” Ibenez sounded amused. “That is a lot of sleep.”

  “This schedule allows an all-hands briefing over lunch, daily,” AI~Em said. “If you want off this rock quickly, we need you to be rested and sharp.”

  “This chart says FTL departure is in 15.45 days,” Hume spoke up.

  “Why are we installing these guns in the PT-137 and the Hammerheads?” Worthington asked.

  “Air support. Because shit happens,” AI~Em said, casually.

  A vid played of a large shuttle sliding a massive bomb out of the cargo ramp. Then, another and another. The scene froze, just before the first bomb touched down just beyond the willow tree. Six children were looking up at it, not knowing what was about to happen.

  “Any questions?” she asked.

  “I have built twenty-four hours into the schedule for you to review and discuss the plan with your command staff, sir,” she said, directly to Worthington.

  “I don't need twenty-four hours. Barcus, what say you?” Worthington turned to him.

  Barcus merely nodded. He trusted AI~Em.

  “Do it,” Jim said to AI~Em.

  “I am sending integrated task lists to everyone, sir. With timetables and dependencies,” AI~Em said. “One more thing, sir.”

  “What is it, Em?” Jim said.

  “To make communications easier, I will maintain open channels with everyone, full time. Please call me, Em. I will attend the all-hands meeting, daily. I want you to meet Stu.” Another avatar appeared of a young man dressed as a tracker. “He is an advanced AI. He now owns the planetary comms network, which is now being monitored. He can tell you the location of every shuttle on this planet. And, every unshielded plate. He will give you an overview at today's all-hands,” AI~Em said.

  Jim laughed. “Is that it?”

  “Actually, no,” AI~Em said, sweeping her arm around. “This is Ash. He has a task list, as well.”

  The big black suit bowed, before he spoke.

  “I will be working around the clock. As always,” Ash said, in a deep voice.

  “This is Pardosa.” The big, black spider limped around the front of AI~Stu, one arm still dangling, useless. “All of us can be addressed, independently.”

  “And, we will need a name designation for this one,” AI~Em said, as the other damaged suit descended the cargo ramp on the Sedna.

  Barcus laughed as it turned toward them. Richard Cook had spray painted a huge, happy face eye dots and a smile on its torso, so they could tell them apart.

  Jim smiled and shook his head.

  Barcus spoke, “Po, pick a name.”

  She walked up to the suit and it knelt before Po. It was still taller than her. She looked tiny before this thing. She still had to reach up to place her hand between its painted eyes.

  “His name is Peace,” Po said.

  “Thank you, Po. You honor me.” It had the voice of an old man, completely different than the other voices. It stood. “If you will excuse me, sir. We have much to do.”

  Rand looked at Barcus and said, shaking her head, “Chen was really something.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  The Plan

  “The AI was running us all. None suspected. We just puppets.”

  --Solstice 31 Incident Investigation Testimony Transcript: Ludmilla Kuss PhD, a member of the Ventura's advanced engineer team. NOTE: Dr. Kuss somehow escaped custody the day after her testimony and remains sought for additional questioning.

  <<<>>>

  “Will you look at the detail of these punch lists?” Ibenez said. Twenty-four of them were displayed in the conference area. “There are even lists for ‘off-line personnel’, meaning people without HUDs. Jesus, I've never seen anything like this.”

  “We had this kind of compartmented tasking all the time on the Ventura, run by master AIs on the ship,” Barcus said. “This is simple compared to tasking 2,000 people.”

  Worthington shook his head, smiling and pointing. “The
re are even ‘command recommendations’ for me. I am currently way ahead of my original schedule because I’m, apparently, so damn decisive.”

  “Dependencies have shifted left. We’re already yellow on some tasking, now,” Hume pointed. “The Fabricator in the shuttle is already making the components for the plasma torches and laser cutters.”

  “We have work to do, people, by noon. See you back here, then,” Worthington said, as they spread out. “You should be resting it says, Barcus. When was the last time you slept?”

  “Long ago,” he replied, as Po dragged him by the hand.

  “Enjoy. Today, it's strong tea and intel reports for me,” Worthington said, as he looked at a command screen in his HUD that no one else could see.

  “Let's go. Em has even assigned a bed,” Po said.

  As they moved to the Sedna, Barcus saw Olias, sitting inside the broken spider, performing a task at AI~Par’s instruction. “He will be fine, Barcus. He has slept at least.”

  “Go. Rest. Please,” came up in Barcus's HUD. “Four hours. I will wake you.”

  His HUD went quiet then. On the Sedna, they found beds in the cool, dark, bunk room. Sleep came faster than he expected with, Po in his arms.

  ***

  “Ulric. Wake up,” Chen whispered, into his mind. “Wake up, or I will kill everyone, but you. Today. Before your eyes.”

  “I'm awake,” Ulric said, out loud.

  “Today, you will go to Exeter with Grady. He has followed you for so many years, but today you will follow him.” The whisper always seemed to be behind him, no matter which way he turned. “And, you will take Olias.”

  “Why the boy?” he asked.

  “Are you questioning me? Again.”

  “No. I was just wondering what I will tell Barcus.”

  “He will go with you to the East Isles. To be safe.” The whisper was right at his ear, now. He felt her breath. “After he is there, I will tell you what to do. You have your pitiful tasks. You have been charged with the safety of these poor refugees.”

  Her quiet laugh made his skin crawl.

  Ulric rubbed his face, trying to wake up. He sat up. “Tasks? What tasks?”

  “Grady will go to Exeter. You will not be able to stop him. Help him. But, you must take Olias as well. Take him, or he is mine.” Ulric heard the voice, from across the room, now.

  He put his bare feet on the floor and kicked an empty bottle. He thought briefly about how Saay use to always make sure they were gone by morning.

  “Yes, there will be more bed wenches for you in the East Isles. And Exeter.”

  “What will Ronan say?” Ulric worried.

  “It will all be his idea.”

  ***

  Po was already awake, when the chime went off inside Barcus's head. She was up, on one elbow, watching him. They were in the last row of bunks, on the second level of the forward section of the Sedna. She was on the side by the wall. She was naked.

  “The schedule says we have twenty-two minutes to shower and dress, before the midday briefing,” Po said. “Apparently, they have replenished the water supplies on this ship already. I like Em’s lists so far.”

  Barcus sat up. His clothes were not where he left them on the next bunk. His belt, pouches, gun and other personal items were there. There was a fresh, dark blue flight suit for him, and a black one for Po. There were even two towels. Po smiled, as she absently scratched her healing wrist.

  She climbed out of bed, over him. She grabbed a towel and wrapped it around her small frame. She noticed the despair in his face. She knew he was thinking of the people that died at the Abbey. She lifted his towel and said, “I have never had a real shower before. I've heard of them, but never took one. Will you show me?”

  She tossed the towel at him and, somehow, knew where to go.

  When Barcus reached her in the shower cubicle, he was surprised how roomy it was. They were usually tight on space ships. Po stared at the control panel, not knowing what to do. He tapped the controls and set the temp to 102°F. Multiple, luxury showerheads activated as he unbraided Po's hair. There were dispensers, for shampoos and for body soaps that, somehow, still worked.

  He washed her hair. She washed his body.

  Their shower took longer than Barcus planned.

  They were late to the midday briefing.

  ***

  Po wore the black, one-piece flight suit that could only have originally belonged to Hume. She was self-conscious. Barcus saw it. She had never worn pants before, she had told him that. He joked, again, about the anvil. But, his heart was not in it.

  He thought about all the dead, again. On the Ventura and at the Abbey.

  The HUD display was even bigger, now.

  “Inventory is now complete. We’re in far better shape than we initially thought,” Worthington said. “Raw materials to feed the fabricator are plentiful in the shop, in the form of the old, milling machines in there. We can cut those up, easily. Ash and Peace have already begun.”

  “Teams have been created for the major tasks,” Jim continued. “At nightfall, Ulric, Grady and Hume will take Ronan and the remaining survivors back to the East Isles. Ronan is speaking to them now, in the cottage, while AI~Stu is en route, he will continue the manufacture of new joints for Par’s legs. In the meantime, a few things have come up that we need to discuss.”

  Tyrrell stood at this point. “We’ve been analyzing the comms traffic, to see if we can use that network for our purposes. Stu highlighted some communications of note. These are plate-to-plate comms, within the Citadel, between its technical staff. All the plates are configured by default to communicate via the sats.”

  Em played the intercepted transmission. There were two men. One was in a data center control room, and the other was outside, by a sat uplink antenna array. Both views were displayed.

  The man outside spoke. “Mason, if we bypass these encrypted units here, the sat side won't handshake. It's a nonstarter. You'd have to remove them from both ends. Plus, I’m fairly sure there are some anti-tamper devices here, as well. Bad ones.”

  Mason said, “What if we did a cold restart to initial factory settings on all thirty-two sats? We will never crack the control code password.”

  “Mason, a cold start? How do you know it won't just launch everything, if we do that. Do you know if the default password would be the same on every unit?”

  “Close it up, man. Come back down. We won't solve it, by you sitting there, wishing.”

  “Thanks, Mason. The view is nice, but it's scary up here.”

  The vid paused.

  AI~Em spoke after that. “It appears that this is the chief systems engineer at the Citadel. His name is Mason. He is trying to figure out how to regain control of the defense platforms.”

  “Are you saying these dumb-asses can't control their own nukes?” Richard Cook asked.

  “That is how it appears. Somehow, they have been deprived of control,” AI~Em stated. “It looks like they cannot simply nuke us from orbit. The outward facing defense grid is active, but not the inner. This is confirmed by the fact that there is high altitude traffic, often.”

  “Does this change anything?” Worthington asked.

  “It confirms that we will be able to harvest the missiles with less risk. Like a self-destruct signal,” AI~Em said.

  “I believe it also tells us that they are less competent than they want the world to believe,” AI~Stu said, as his avatar stepped forward. “They use the comms channels for almost nothing of note. The High Keeper has never used the comms network. Ronan checks in twice, daily. He doesn’t know he’s being monitored, as far as I can tell. He has his own segregated, virtual, private network, in addition to the global comms network. He has his own data center and staff.”

  “There is one more thing.” AI~Stu gestured to the paused videos. They played, again.

  “Thanks, Mason. The view is nice, but it's scary up here.” The man closed the panel and stood. “Got any plans for the weekend?” />
  Mason replied, casually, “Yes. I’m doing a favor for Wex. I’m meeting her at the Flask and Anvil, at midnight, on Saturday.”

  “What?” Grady said. He had been standing off to the side. “What did he say?” He held a plate.

  “Yes, Grady. We know where this man will be, in five days, at midnight,” AI~Em said. “The Flask and Anvil in Exeter.” AI~Em looked at Barcus now. “The High Keeper's chief tech, the man with global admin control on all the High Keeper's systems. I recommend we use him.”

  “Use him how, and to what end?” Jim was very curious.

  “I will use surveillance BUGs to monitor him and to obtain access to the systems, by simply watching him type. Once in, we will know how best to distract, to cripple or to destroy the systems. We will basically own this planet.” She looked at Grady. “We may also be able to extract Grady's wife at the same time, as an added benefit. It may be a good diversion.”

  “Ronan has an estate, here, in Exeter.” AI~Em brought up a map of the large city that indicated Ronan's considerable holdings there. “Here is the Flask and Anvil. This estate borders the mountain foothills where this forest could provide cover.” AI~Em indicated the area. “Here is the Citadel, on the opposite end of the valley, on the top of this peak. It can only be accessed by this one road along this ridge. Or, by air.”

  “How can you be sure Ronan will support any of this?” Rand asked.

  “Ronan has his own agenda,” AI~Em said. “As long as our purposes are compatible, he will do what he can.”

 

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