by Tim Waggoner
“Don’t be tiresome, Gerhard. I’d much rather continue investigating what happened to Rhea. Not only is it more interesting, but there may be survivors who need our help. We can’t afford any delays.”
“It would take only a few moments—” Mudo began.
“No!” Memory said forcefully. “And don’t ask me again.”
Mudo looked at Kyoto and shook his head. She still wasn’t sure what was going on with the AI, but at least those awkward pauses in her speech were gone.
“How much can sensors tell us about Rhea?” Kyoto asked.
“Most of what I have to offer is supposition,” Memory began. “I believe the hyperetheric bubble is responsible for Rhea’s transition into hyperspace. My guess is that when the Manti attacked the Rhea Colony, they attempted to destroy Influx. Somehow a massive amount of hyperetheric energy was released, resulting in the entire moon being shifted to hyperspace.”
“Like the wing of my Defender,” Kyoto said, “after I brought down the stargate on Mars.”
“Precisely,” Memory said. “Though I doubt we’ll find your missing wing. It was most likely caught in the gravity field of a mass shadow and destroyed.”
“Then why does Rhea remained unharmed?” Hastimukah asked.
“It is an object from realspace,” Mudo said, “and thus has real mass, which possesses far different qualities than the gravitational reflections we call mass shadows. That, plus the bubble of hyperetheric energy surrounding the moon are enough to keep Rhea safe, at least for the time being.”
Kyoto stared at the image of Rhea on the holoscreen. “What would happen if the bubble burst?”
“Rhea might be returned to its normal position in realspace,” Memory said. “It’s also possible that its gravitational field would then affect the mass shadows surrounding it, causing them to bow inward. If that happens —”
“Crunch,” Kyoto finished.
“Indeed,” Memory said.
“There’s also a possibility that Rhea could return to realspace at a different point from where it departed,” Mudo added. “Depending on where it re-emerged—say, close to another Colony site, or even worse, within the same space occupied by a Colony site—the results could be devastating.”
“So you’re saying the safest course would be to leave Rhea alone?” Kyoto asked.
“Undoubtedly,” Mudo said.
“But Memory said there might be survivors,” Hastimukah protested. “If there are, you can’t just abandon them.”
Kyoto turned to the alien. “I thought you Residuum types were all about survival of the fittest.”
Hastimukah’s cheeks turned red in an excellent imitation of human embarrassment. “Some of us believe that fittest also can mean most compassionate. For can a race ultimately survive if it doesn’t take care of and protect its own?”
Kyoto looked at Hastimukah in a new light. Maybe there was more to the Residuum than she’d thought.
“Even if there are survivors, which is doubtful,” Mudo said, “there simply is no way for us to safely penetrate the hyperetheric bubble without risking—”
“Of course there is, Gerhard,” Memory interrupted. “I can get us through without any trouble at all. My species has been traversing hyperspace for millions of years. Passing through a bubble like the one surrounding Rhea is larva’s play.”
Mudo instantly turned pale, and his eyes widened in horror. “Oh my God,” he whispered.
“What’s wrong?” Kyoto asked. “And what the hell is Memory talking about? ‘My species’… ‘larva’s play’… It doesn’t make any sense.”
Hastimukah glared at Mudo. “I’m afraid it makes perfect sense, Commander. It appears that Dr. Mudo has neglected to inform us about one very important aspect of the Janus. Haven’t you, Doctor?”
“I don’t…” Mudo trailed off then sighed. “It’s true. I didn’t tell anyone—not even General Adams—because I knew the GSA would never allow me to finish the Janus, let alone fly it.”
“I don’t understand,” Kyoto said.
“It’s simple,” Hastimukah said. “In order to camouflage the ship from the Manti, Dr. Mudo incorporated Manti biomaterial into the Janus’s systems.”
Kyoto was dumbfounded. “Is this true?” she demanded of Mudo.
“Yes. The GSA routinely experimented on captured Manti during the battle against the last swarm so that we might better understand our enemy and develop better methods of defeating them. After you and Memory destroyed the swarm’s base on Earth, the Council of Seven and the GSA brass decided that all captured Manti, as well as any leftover biomaterial, should be destroyed. I tried to argue with the fools, tried to tell them we might well have need of that biomaterial should another swarm arise, but they wanted none of it. They needed to believe the Manti had been defeated once and for all. So I defied orders and preserved some Manti biomaterial, which I later put to use when building the Janus.”
“But what does that have to do with how Memory is acting?” Kyoto asked.
Mudo scowled at Hastimukah. “I believe his nanoparticles have been busy little micromachines. Not only have they upgraded Memory’s navigational systems, it appears they have connected her directly to the Manti biomaterial. In a sense, she is now half Manti.”
Cold terror twisted Kyoto’s gut. Memory—the most sophisticated artificial intelligence ever developed by humanity—had been crossbred with a Bugger?
“And as if matters weren’t bad enough,” Mudo continued, “Memory’s command override function was damaged during our entry into hyperspace. That’s why she keeps refusing to perform a systems diagnostic—because now she can refuse.”
“So what you’re saying is that Memory is now half Manti and she no longer has to obey any of our commands if she doesn’t feel like it,” Kyoto said.
“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t talk about me as if I weren’t here. Don’t forget—I’m the one who maintains the life support systems.”
There was a lightness to Memory’s tone that told Kyoto she was making a joke, but it wasn’t funny. Not anymore.
“I wish you wouldn’t worry. I’m the same Memory you all knew before, only… better.”
“Of course,” Mudo said, his voice strained. “But even so, it might be best if we returned home. After all, we have demonstrated that the hyperdrive works, which was the main goal of the mission.”
“We also came here to learn everything we could about the Manti.”
“Given your, ah, recent enhancements,” Mudo said, “I’m sure you can provide a great deal of interesting insights into the Manti’s way of thinking. The sooner we can share those insights with the GSA – ”
“You’re afraid of me,” Memory interrupted. “That’s the real reason you want to go home, isn’t it, Gerhard? You don’t trust me anymore.”
Mudo looked as if he were struggling to think of a response to placate Memory but was coming up short. Kyoto knew that she had to do something before the mission degenerated into mutual distrust and outright paranoia.
“Memory, you said that you can get the Janus through the energy sphere surrounding Rhea.”
“Easy. It’s a piece of sugar-enhanced protein square.”
“Can you get just my Defender through?”
Memory was silent for a moment. “That would be a bit trickier since the G-7 doesn’t have a hyperdrive engine. If I channeled some small amounts of hyperetheric radiation from the Janus’s hyperdrive and adapted the G-7’s energy shield generator to store it… Yes, I think I can manage it, Mei. It’ll take a few minutes, though.”
“Minutes?” Kyoto said in surprise. From the sound of it, that sort of upgrade should take hours at least.
“It’s the nanoparticles,” Hastimukah said. “They are self-replicating as needed. Memory will just make as many as required to modify your starfighter.” The alien smiled. “They work quite rapidly, you know.”
Mudo threw up his arms. “This is just great! Not only is our AI now merged with Manti bio
material, but now she’s spreading nanotechnology throughout the ship at will—technology that she has sole control of, I might add.”
“You act as if it’s some sort of virus,” Kyoto said.
“In a way, it is,” Hastimukah said. “Nanoparticles make things so much simpler and more efficient that they just seem to spread naturally. There isn’t a single system aboard a Residuum starship that doesn’t host nanoparticles.” Hastimukah spread his arms. “Just as there isn’t an organ in my body that doesn’t contain them. But if they resemble a virus, surely it’s a benign one.”
“What about after they’ve merged with Manti DNA?” Mudo challenged.
Hastimukah didn’t have an answer for that, but from the expression on his face, the thought clearly disturbed him.
“Gerhard, I already told you once—”
“That you can be trusted,” Kyoto interrupted. “That’s why we’re going down to Rhea in the Defender, just you and me, Memory. We’re going to show Dr. Mudo and Hastimukah that nothing fundamental has changed and that you’re still as dedicated to the success of our mission—and the crew’s safety and well-being—as ever.”
Kyoto hoped Mudo wouldn’t object. Going down in the G-7 alone was the only way she could see to give Memory a chance to prove herself and scout the Colony for survivors. And since they could no longer order Memory to take them back to Mars if she didn’t want to, they all had to find a way to keep working together.
After thinking the matter over for several moments, Mudo nodded, as did Hastimukah.
Kyoto took a deep breath and tried not to sound worried as she said, “Then it’s settled. Memory and I will head down to Rhea and you two will remain aboard the Janus.” Not that Memory wouldn’t still be here, too, but it was the principle of the thing. Kyoto was going to entrust her life to Memory, just as she’d done many times before.
Of course, that was before Memory had been given an infusion of alien nanotechnology and been linked to Manti biomaterial.
Kyoto recalled a saying cadets used to chant during drills back at the Defender Training Academy: “It’s another fun-filled day in the service of the GSA!”
“Start working on the upgrade to the G-7, Memory, and I’ll start getting into a vacc suit.”
Unless I have a sudden attack of sanity and change my mind, she added mentally.
The clustered Manti clawed, chewed, and released burst after burst of hyperetheric energy at the point of spatial weakness, but despite their efforts, they’d been able to force the dimensional rift open only a few centimeters—not enough for even the smallest Baiter to get through.
Though the Manti were becoming frustrated, they redoubled their efforts, as they knew the Prime Mother would want them to.
And then, as if the Prime Mother was aware of their devotion and persistence, a great gift came soaring along the shadowpath toward them.
Reinforcements… hundreds of them.
Singing the praises of the Prime Mother, the Manti began tearing at the dimensional rift with renewed ferocity.
“Approach Rhea as you normally would, Mei. Gravity doesn’t behave exactly the same here as it would in realspace, but I’ll adjust for that.”
“Thanks,” Kyoto said.
“My pleasure.”
Memory had made no further references to her new Manti “heritage” since Kyoto had flown the Defender out of the Janus’s cargo bay. No “my species” or “larva’s play.”
But there was something different about the AI’s voice—a slight mocking undercurrent to her words, an almost cruel edge that hadn’t been there before Hastimukah’s misguided little toys had done their work. Kyoto hoped she was imagining it, but she didn’t think so.
Still, a change in vocal tone didn’t mean Memory’s entire personality had changed, didn’t mean that the Manti part of her was growing stronger and taking her over bit by bit until she began to see her passengers not as fellow crew members but as enemies to be destroyed.
Stop it, Kyoto! she told herself. Allow yourself to get distracted like that, and you’ll screw up your approach to Rhea, get caught in a flux zone, and won’t ever have to worry about Memory’s voice—or anything else—ever again.
Kyoto didn’t need to worry about keeping the Defender’s nose up. Since Rhea didn’t have an atmosphere, the angle of approach wasn’t much of an issue. She did reduce speed, though. Not because of the hyperetheric bubble they were approaching, but because sensors still couldn’t penetrate the energy barrier, and Kyoto had no idea what might be waiting for her on the other side, so she was determined to approach cautiously.
Besides, the Defender didn’t have any Manti biomaterial incorporated into its systems to fool any Buggers into thinking she was one of them, which gave her even more reason to be cautious.
“We’re getting close to the bubble, Mei. Activate energy shield.”
“Roger.” Kyoto reached toward the holoscreen, her hand feeling clumsy and awkward inside the vacc suit’s glove. She hated wearing a vacc suit when she flew, but since she had no way of knowing if any of the Rhea’s buildings remained intact, she couldn’t count on finding any oxygen on the colony. Besides, the vacc suit would help keep her from freezing to death if she had to go EVA.
She touched the holoscreen’s controls, and an aura of energy—blue-green energy—surrounded her starfighter.
“Sensors show that shield generators handled the infusion of hyperetheric radiation just fine, as I knew they would. I’m going to begin modulating the shield’s frequency now. With luck, this will allow us to penetrate the bubble around Rhea without disturbing the surface tension, though that’s an inexact metaphor at best.”
Kyoto smiled. “I’ll forgive you just this once.”
“My kind don’t believe in forgiveness, Mei. They view it as a sign of weakness.” An awkward pause followed. “Uh, I mean, ha-ha, very funny.”
Kyoto decided to let the disturbing comment slide, though it wasn’t easy. Instead, she kept her gaze fixed on the holoscreen. It showed an image of Rhea cloaked by hyperetheric energy, growing larger as the Defender approached. In the lower right corner was a distance readout counting down how many kilometers they had to go until they reached the bubble.
Mei watched as the numbers steadily decreased. 500… 450… 375… 325… 280…
The holoscreen filled with swirling, roiling aquamarine, and then it was gone, and Kyoto was looking at the icy surface of Rhea, with nothing to obstruct her view.
“Shield modulation successful. Integrity of energy bubble is holding steady, with only a three point two eight percent decrease in strength where we passed through.”
“Excellent! Good job, Memory!” As Kyoto deactivated the energy shield around the Defender, a thought occurred to her. “If the bubble is intact, and sensor and comlink signals can’t penetrate it, how am I hearing you?”
“Technically, you’re not. Just before contact with the bubble, I downloaded a small-scale version of myself into the Defender’s comp system. I may not be able to perform with the same speed and capacity as my ‘big sister,’ but I’ll be able to take care of you just fine, Mei.”
“Sounds good.” Kyoto shook her head in wonderment. She didn’t think she’d ever become used to all that Memory was capable of.
“Locate Influx facility and set a course,” Kyoto said.
“Yes, Mei.” There was a longer than usual pause—due, no doubt, to the diminished capabilities of this downsized version of Memory. “Facility located and course laid in.”
“All right, then. Let’s go take a look.” Kyoto angled the joystick to the left, pushed it forward, and the Defender turned and began to pick up speed. Within seconds, the starfighter was streaking high above the barren icy surface of Rhea, headed toward the colony.
CHAPTER
SEVENTEEN
“General, I’m picking up an energy disturbance off our bow,” the sensor officer said. “Whatever it is, it’s so close it’s almost on top of us.”
�
��That would be our new alien friends,” Adams said. He turned to the officer manning the defense station. “Activate energy shield.”
“Aye, General.”
Adams didn’t know whether the Kipling’s shields would prove effective against Residuum weaponry, but he wasn’t about to just sit here and do nothing.
At first the main holoscreen showed only empty space, but then there was a rippling distortion like a heat mirage, and the Eye of Dardanus was revealed.
Adams wasn’t sure what he’d expected of the first alien starship humanity had ever encountered (the Manti didn’t need vehicles to travel through space), but the Dardanus wasn’t it. The craft was only a quarter of the Kipling’s size and roughly triangular in shape, with the tip pointing away from the GSA Battleship. Its gray-white surface was sleek and shiny, putting Adams in mind of the skin he’d seen on dolphins in vids of Old Earth. The surface was covered by small, thin filaments resembling the cilia of one-celled organisms. If Adams hadn’t known the Dardanus was a spacefaring vessel, he might have thought he was looking at some kind of giant stellar amoeba.
“Now that they’ve decided to show themselves, can our sensors get a reading on the vessel?” Adams asked.
The sensor officer quickly performed several scans, but he turned to Adams and shook his head. “They’re still blocking us, General. I can tell that their ship is generating a hell of a lot of energy, but that’s about all.”
Adams had figured as much. “We’ll keep our shields up and wait for them to make the first move.”
The crew of the Kipling didn’t have to wait long. “I’m getting a comlink signal,” the communications officer said.
“On screen.”
Kryllian appeared in all his crustacean glory, the lumpy pile of gray sludge that might or might not be one of his crew at his side.
“My species isn’t known for its patience, General,” Kryllian said. “You’re blocking the Janus’s hyperspatial entry point. Move now and I won’t destroy you.”
