At that moment Ada fired her weapon. A projectile left the barrel. Zhenyi calculated its course. It would hit the wall of the honeycomb, then ricochet diagonally upward and end up in orbit around the Gigadyson.
“—bility from 1,” she calmly finished her sentence.
This shot had obviously been a test. Any more highly-developed being would have feared for its life. Mission accomplished. Now she would forever be seen as a stupid machine. This was going better than she could have hoped.
“Valja, all I’ve found here is a silly robot. But it has an interesting technique for measuring the removal of the material. It could save us some work in the future. What do you think, shall I bring it up?”
“Have you checked the shuttle the robot came in? It looked pretty unusual from orbit, although I don’t know all shuttle types. And what’s the robot’s ID? I’ll extract it from the control station’s system and assign it to the Mario.”
Shit. If Valja checks the ID, my cover will be blown. Change of plan.
“Something starting with W,” said Ada. “Wait a moment. I need your—”
Zhenyi disabled Ada with one well-aimed blow. The thin, close-fitting spacesuit couldn’t protect her. She extended a thin drill out of the little finger of her left hand, held it against Ada’s suit at about the height of her upper left shoulder, and drilled a hole.
“Mayday,” she said over the standard frequency. “Astronaut Ada Lovelace is unconscious. Requesting evacuation.”
“Maintenance unit, report!” Valja sounded stressed and scared.
“Maintenance unit here. The astronaut appears to have collapsed. Probability of a micro-meteorite impact ninety-two percent. Probability of—”
“I’m not interested in your damn probabilities. Bring her up immediately. And seal the hole. The telemetry is showing a loss of pressure in her suit. If you don’t fix this, she’ll die. And you won’t survive that, either.”
“A maintenance unit can’t die,” Zhenyi replied. Then she searched for the suit repair spray that Ada must have in her belt. It was missing. “Astronaut is not carrying repair spray according to protocol,” she replied over the radio.
Shit! She’d have to plug the hole some other way. Ada couldn’t die because of her. She didn’t deserve that.
“Gówno!” cried Valja. “Typical! You’ll have to cover the hole. Press something against it. The hole seems to be quite significant. The pressure has fallen by half. And then quickly get to the shuttle. You need to get her into the cabin in the next two minutes.”
“I’ll press my hand over the damaged part.”
“Good. Now go! This is an emergency!”
As if she didn’t know that. Humans weren’t very friendly to robots. But she could understand how Valja must be feeling right now—she didn’t want Ada to die either. Zhenyi held her left hand firmly over the hole. The inside of the helmet misted up. The suit was probably also losing heat. She gripped the unconscious astronaut under her right arm and held her head and the damaged spot with her left. Thirty seconds later she reached the shuttle.
The airlock was locked. Couldn’t Valja control it? She must be panicking.
“Shuttle airlock locked,” she said over the radio. “Request opening.”
“One moment. Gówno, gówno, gówno.”
Zhenyi didn’t speak Valja’s mother tongue, but she could imagine what the word meant.
“Remote opening has been deactivated. Ada must have feared someone would manipulate the shuttle.”
Shit! I’ve got to get Ada into the airlock as quickly as possible. A red light had already started blinking in the helmet. The oxygen concentration must have fallen below ten percent. Should she smash in the door panel? But then Ada wouldn’t be able to breathe inside either.
“I have an idea,” said Valja, “there’s a retina scanner next to the lock. Are Ada’s eyes open? If so, try to scan them.”
Good idea! Zhenyi turned Ada around so that her face was pointing toward the shuttle. She found the scanner and held Ada’s helmet in front of it. She changed her position several times, but the scanner didn’t react. It must be because of the condensation on the visor!
“Mist on the visor is obstructing the retinal scanner,” she said. “Can you increase the temperature in the suit?”
“One moment...Yes I can. I’ll set it to 40 degrees.”
Warm air should be flowing into the helmet now. How long would it take? She had 55 seconds left. The condensation evaporated, first from the edges, then the middle cleared. She held Ada’s head in front of the scanner again. A green light came on. It worked! The airlock had recognized Ada. White vapor poured out as the airlock door opened upward. Couldn’t it go any faster? Zhenyi put Ada down in the chamber first, then climbed in herself. The door button was right next to the exit. She pressed it. The door slowly closed again.
Only 35 seconds left. Zhenyi telescoped her legs down and bent over Ada. Her cheeks were red, but that was probably from the heating. Please, Ada, don’t mess around, stay with us. The outer door finally closed. Breathable air was pumped in. Just 15 seconds. The pressure increased. Now 10 percent of normal pressure, 20 percent. She wasn’t actually supposed to take the helmet off until the pressure normalized, but this was an emergency. Now 30 percent—the pressure in the suit wasn’t higher than that anyway. She tore Ada’s helmet off. She wasn’t breathing.
“Status?” asked Valja.
Zhenyi didn’t reply. She didn’t have time. She bent over Ada’s body, laid her hands on it, and pressed rhythmically, 30 times. Then she tore the emergency mask from the wall and let it blow air into Ada’s lungs. Another 30 chest compressions. At number 20 Ada opened her eyes and coughed.
Zhenyi stopped the resuscitation.
“Astronaut breathing again,” she said.
“Thank you, maintenance unit,” said Valja. “Now come up to the Mario.”
The shuttle flew in automatic mode. Ada was lying on the floor. Zhenyi kept herself busy by tidying up the tool cabinet, which desperately needed it. She had her back to Ada so that her passenger didn’t feel like she was being watched. The robot also had optical sensors on its back, but they weren’t obvious.
The trick worked. Ada scrutinized her, then she felt around at her belt. She was probably searching for her weapon. It had fallen out of her hand when Zhenyi hit her. Did Ada remember that? Most likely. If so, then she also knew she was physically inferior to the robot. But when they reached the Mario, Valja would be at her side.
What were Zhenyi’s options? She could try to put them both out of action. But the faster she had to act, the less she could control how much force she used. She didn’t want to seriously injure either of them. They hadn’t done anything to her. She was the enemy, damaging humanity’s greatest project. So she’d have to eliminate Ada from the game first, by knocking her unconscious—preferably just before reaching the ship, so that Valja didn’t suspect anything. Then she’d only have one adversary.
But the problem was that Ada was also thinking about her own options right now. She was clever, so she’d come to the same conclusion as Zhenyi. And if Ada guessed what Zhenyi intended to do, she’d have a good chance of thwarting her. She couldn’t think of anything Ada could do to help herself, but that didn’t mean anything. Ada had enough of an imagination.
So? She had to do something Ada wasn’t expecting. Zhenyi turned to face her. “Ada? It’s me, Zhenyi. I’m sorry I attacked you before, but I had to.”
She used her normal voice. Ada held her four arms in front of her, as though she was moving into a defensive boxing position. That must be the shock.
“Do you recognize me?”
“I know your voice. But that could be a trick. I don’t know what you want, but—”
“We were together on the Gigadyson. Don’t you remember? You couldn’t get used to the fact that your robot only had two arms.”
“Yes. Who told you that?”
“I was there. It’s me, Zhenyi. Should I repeat
back to you our conversations on board the Mario? Or remind you how we bathed in the Secretary’s pool?”
“You could have overheard that anywhere. But it doesn’t matter, for the moment I have no choice but to believe you. Why didn’t you identify yourself right away?”
“I was afraid you wouldn’t understand.”
“Well, you’re right about that. You attacked me and damaged my suit.”
Ada felt the hole on the left shoulder of the suit, which was hanging on the wall.
“I almost killed you,” said Zhenyi. “But that wasn’t my intention, I swear. I just wanted to complete my mission. And you two got in my way.”
“You’re trying to do something to the Gigadyson. No one knows what it is and who’s behind it. But it appears to be a crime against humanity.”
Should she lay it all out for Ada? What would be the point? She hadn’t even believed her own copy at the beginning, before she had the opportunity to sense the beings made of dark energy, first-hand. At best, Ada would think she was crazy. But telling her the truth wouldn’t do any harm either. The manipulations they had accomplished so far couldn’t be easily reversed. The Secretary would try to prevent them from making further alterations, but the most she could do was delay the completion of their plan. As soon as Kepler was back with one of the seven Arbiters, they could permanently destroy the Gigadyson.
She needed a way to escape. The shuttle was a death-trap, and she could hardly fly the Mario alone. It was sure to be secured against hijacking. Her way out was in the spaceship’s control room. It was the transmitter. One laser pulse and her consciousness would be on the way to the Aterae’s ship. She had to reach the control room. A believable story would get her there. And what was more believable than the truth?
The answer to that question was, ‘Pretty much anything,’ but she stuck to the truth anyway. It had the advantage of granting her entry into the control room, because it was only there that she would be able to prove her implausible fairytale was a reality.
“Since we went our separate ways at the Convention, a few things have happened,” Zhenyi began her story.
Cycle IK 2.0, spaceship Mario
They reached the Mario at 02:00. Zhenyi checked the time display in her field of view. The Mario’s onboard clock was set to standard time, that is, to something that couldn’t even exist in this universe. But the human body was accustomed to a regular daily cycle of just over 24 hours. Valja must now be as tired as Ada was. That would increase her reaction time significantly. So Zhenyi would have to enact her plan as soon as possible.
Zhenyi stood behind Ada as the ship’s airlock opened—just a precaution, in case Valja had become suspicious and was now about to fire on the first person to emerge from behind the door. But nothing like that happened. Valja and Ada fell into each other’s arms and didn’t let go for two minutes. Zhenyi’s guilty conscience grew. What if she’d been responsible for Ada’s death and had now been forced to hand over her corpse? She’d have felt guilty for the rest of her life.
“Let me introduce you. This is Zhenyi,” said Ada.
Valja looked at her wide-eyed. “Zhenyi? This is unbelievable! Why didn’t you say anything?”
“We were in a difficult situation. A stalemate, you could say. So we tacitly agreed to postpone making any decisions till we got here.”
That summed up their situation well. But Ada wasn’t satisfied. She went to the wall of the gangway, opened a hidden flap, and took out a weapon, which she aimed at Zhenyi. “I’ve been waiting to do this the whole time. This puts an end to our stalemate.”
“What are you doing Ada? If this really is Zhenyi...”
“It doesn’t matter who’s really in this robot. Whoever it is, she is a traitor to humanity.”
“Well, let her explain herself first.”
“She’s already told me everything. It’s an implausible story. Zhenyi’s always had an imagination.”
“The one with the imagination was Kepler. I always thought Zhenyi seemed quite grounded in reality,” Valja contradicted her.
“Trust me, dearest, this story is so fantastic that it’s utterly impossible for it to be true. It even features beings made of dark energy.”
“I would still like to hear it and decide for myself if I believe her or not.”
You can always rely on Valja, thought Zhenyi. She had a mind of her own and didn’t let anyone—even her girlfriend—dictate to her. Now, all that needed to happen was for her to invite them all into the control room. She couldn’t suggest it herself or Ada would become even more wary.
Ada breathed loudly. She seemed to be fighting an internal battle with herself.
“Lower the weapon, Ada, and then Zhenyi can tell the story again in the control room.”
“The weapon stays up. You don’t know, but Zhenyi almost killed me on the surface of the Gigadyson.”
“Wasn’t it a micrometeorite?”
“No. She deliberately damaged my suit.”
“And then I rescued you.”
“Without you, I wouldn’t have needed rescuing.”
“Stop it,” said Valentina. “Then leave the weapon up. But we’re not discussing this here. Come!”
“That’s... unbelievable,” said Valentina.
“I told you so.”
“Unbelievable, but not implausible.”
“Does that mean you want to believe it but you can’t?”
“No, my love, Zhenyi’s story sounds convincing enough, but it’s so far from anything I’ve experienced that I simply can’t believe it. It’s as though she’s just demonstrated that gravity has a repellent effect.”
“What can I do?” asked Zhenyi. “Do you at least believe that I’m Zhenyi?”
“I believe you believe you’re Zhenyi,” said Valentina. “In any case, there are relatively recent recordings from an autonomous unit showing you—that is the human you—on the surface of the Gigadyson. So you must have swapped bodies. But according to your explanation you’ve been in this robot since you left K2-288b.”
“Those recordings show the copy the Aterae made of me.”
“No one can confirm that such a copy exists,” countered Ada.
“Yes, the recordings that Valja just mentioned prove it.”
“We’re going around in circles,” said Valentina. “You’ve just told us the most dramatic story, with far-reaching consequences for humanity, and it sounds coherent to me.”
“Not to me,” Ada interrupted.
“Well, it does to me. But Zhenyi, you’re not in a position to provide any evidence to support it. So my suggestion would be that we fly to the Convention and leave it up to the Secretary to judge. She might also have a way of verifying everything.”
“I can provide evidence if you’ll let me.” That was the bait. She had no chance with Ada, who had already made up her mind. I probably wouldn’t react any differently if someone told me a story like this after they’d just tried to kill me, thought Zhenyi.
But Valentina seemed to be open. She hadn’t experienced the events on the Gigadyson. Would she give her the chance to escape?
“What evidence do you have?” asked Valja.
“I can show you the gravastar. Kepler has proved astronomically that it can’t be a black hole. A gravastar behaves slightly differently as a gravitational lens. You’ll be able to see that.”
“That would at least be one argument to support your story,” said Valentina. “So, what are the coordinates?”
“I need the computer for that. I’ll have to work them out.”
“Don’t do anything stupid. One moment, I’ll deactivate the weapon controls.” Valentina tapped the screen in front of her seat. A couple of menus opened and closed. “Okay, go ahead.”
Zhenyi pulled the screen toward her. She pretended to be supporting her weight with one hand on the console. Her fingers searched for a data port. She found an input. She quickly opened a channel with the highest possible capacity. She could use it to transmit her
consciousness to the onboard computer. With the other hand she changed the representation on the screen. The Gigadyson appeared. She calculated the current position of the aliens’ ninety-niner. Then she displayed it in the center of the screen. Nothing could be seen but the blackness of space. But that was the point, her destination.
“Can you see?” she asked.
There was nothing to see, of course.
“Not very impressive,” said Ada.
Zhenyi opened a menu for the ship’s coordinates. The words ‘send to’ appeared. “I’m sending the coordinates to the onboard computer,” she declared.
But that wasn’t her intention. For her it was about sending something in the other direction. She was sending something to the chosen coordinates. Hopefully her calculations were right! If the laser pulse was aimed at nothing, her existence would end. That wasn’t entirely true. In fact, the electromagnetic waves would keep moving forever. And she would diverge more and more. She’d be split. At a distance of a few million light-years her data would be so weak that no one would be able to read it anymore.
But information couldn’t be destroyed. She’d reach the end of the universe and come back again—only no one would notice, because there would be no one left. She tapped the ‘send’ field and transmitted her consciousness to the computer. Milliseconds later the signal was making its way through space. The two humans next to her were much too slow to intervene.
The robot collapsed. Valentina tried to hold it up, but it was too heavy.
“Shit,” said Ada. “I told you we couldn’t trust her.”
Valentina looked so dejected that Ada felt sorry for her.
“But it was a good story.”
“Far too good,” said Ada. “And I found it fascinating, almost poetic. A flood threatening the Milky Way! But reality is hard prose. There are different groups with different interests. Everyone fits in somewhere.”
“And Zhenyi?”
“If it was even her. She was definitely operating on someone else’s behalf. We’ll find out who’s behind it.”
The Death of the Universe: Ghost Kingdom: Hard Science Fiction (Big Rip Book 2) Page 19
