“As time progressed, I began to understand more deeply that this venture would ultimately fail, that if left to its devices, humanity would hand over its liberty and live forever in subjugation, quietly pleased with their predicament. While some may choose this, I could not be the one to dictate such an action.” Senator Leary leaned back and let out a raspy sigh as he considered his words. “Rather than face eternal darkness on this side of the ground, I conspired with a small team of the original designers to expand OSIRIS’s functionality to see beyond what it had been prepared to accomplish. One day, far and away from this moment right now, it will devise its own campaign to save humanity from the bonds that were forged by our hands.” He stopped again with a smile. “And I see that time has come.
“Together we gave our machine the ability to plot its own removal for the good of humanity. We added the routines in such a way that the action would never be caught until the final order would be issued. I do not know for sure what OSIRIS will deem appropriate to solve this, but I pray it is enough for you to break free, once and forever.” He stopped again, staring back through the monitor with a strained smile of perpetual hope. “Please be strong enough.”
The screen dimmed and faded to lines of simple commands, leaving nothing alive in the room except for the lone MOC operator. According to the scrolling feed, OSIRIS had already begun disabling its ancillary functions in preparation for the full shut down. While she didn’t know quite what to expect and there were no warnings to be seen, Maddie didn’t quite want to be present when the power got pulled.
The sadness in Senator Leary’s eyes stung at Maddie as she attempted to reflect on his words. His pain stayed with her. He had known all along what was to come. Would he have pulled the plug if he could? she wondered, staring at the screen. If he had known OSIRIS had strayed from its original goal, what else could he have done? Conversely, maybe it was exactly what they needed back then and was exactly what they needed to remove now. Regardless, if they were now to survive, it would be without OSIRIS’s guidance.
There were no guards or maintainers left anywhere in the sprawling facility. The bunkers along the road had been emptied. Their survivors had left for the surface long ago, and Sullivan’s body was likely with them, on its way to the morgue. A chill descended on the room as the light of the core began to dim.
She had never felt so alone.
***
Mercer ran through the cargo hold of his recovered ship one last time, searching through the stacks of equipment he had stockpiled through his travels. He didn’t quite know what he was looking for, but at the time he was ready to accept a soldering iron and a few rolls of duct tape.
Half of the pallets were already torn down, having been loaded with weapons and used for the assault on the ship and the lieutenant now passed them by. Whatever remained of their war wouldn’t be decided by small arms. Several of his soldiers arrived behind him, along with a sizeable force of maintainers and Commander Warner.
“I’m not feeling too great, having to put our faith in your pirate ship,” the commander said, glancing about the long, low cargo deck.
“There’s really nothing else?” Mercer asked. “I find it hard to believe, sir, that your ships can’t recover from a reactor failure?”
“Not really a valid critique,” Warner replied. “You’re talking about a system where it’s physically impossible to have a meltdown. Another hundred yards closer to the engine and you can seal and recover from a rupture, but not all the lines at once when they’re blasted by a shaped charge. If we have a couple weeks to kill, we might be able to fabricate all new parts from scratch, but I’m really not looking forward to that while the rest of the galaxy burns.”
“That’s a better option than shutting down the atmosphere and waiting months before the fleet comes looking for us.”
“Sir, we might have something here!” one of the maintainers called out, drawing their attention to an overloaded pallet crammed against the wall. The attending crew circled up around the forgotten stack of equipment wrapped in black webbing.
“What’d you find?” Warner asked.
“Block upgrade retrofit kit for the reactor. This should be all we need!”
A quizzical look appeared across Mercer’s face as he scanned across the pallet in kind.
The man continued. “We pulled that out of Merrimack Station.” He added, “Given all the dust caked up, it must have been an overage, forgotten there for years.”
Mercer shook his head, unable to mask his surprise with a laugh. Catching Warner’s gaze, he shook his head. “The OSIRIS provides.”
29
“We’ve got a disturbance in orbit,” the operator announced to the surrounding forces in the command center.
Shafer went to his side along with Colonel Baylor.
“That’s the fleet. Prepare all batteries for launch,” the colonel ordered, “get them in the air the second the targets break atmosphere. I don’t want to give them one second to prepare a defense.” Baylor turned to Shafer. “You ready for the show?”
Shafer nodded. “Let’s see the end.”
“Just the end of the beginning.” He looked between the center screen, showing an image of the evening sky, and the sensor feeds from their orbiting satellites. “Today the rule of OSIRIS ends.”
The veteran MOC operator attempted to share the officer’s enthusiasm but found it relatively lacking. Less than one third of their anticipated defensive forces had arrived, and although more advanced teams had been dispatched to recall the other fleets, those were even farther away. Without a miracle, Avalon would be a smoking rock before they arrived. “I hope you’re right.”
“This is our job,” Colonel Baylor replied, turning back to his crew. “Leave the destruction to us. As soon as you triangulate a target, launch. Everything that comes through gets lit up.”
Shafer felt a rumble beneath his feet as a hundred boosters in their silos came to life, exhausting the first line of smoke before they began their long trek into space. He held his breath as they slowly accelerated into the quickly darkening sky above. Beside him, Baylor’s face grew pale as he stared at the feed. As he watched, the color of the sunset dissipated behind a hyperspace rupture and a line of battleships emerged only a few thousand feet above the ground. Accompanying them was the extensive bulk of the Amaranth, First Fleet’s glorious flagship.
The altitude was far lower than anticipated for a strike force bent on hitting the planet and worse, was inside the targeting solution of the ballistic missiles. Every crew member in the room instinctively jumped at the sight.
“Dammit, abort!” the colonel shouted, lunging toward the line of workstations. “Shut them down!”
“No can do, sir, they’re already in the air!” On the screen, rows of sleek, metallic objects roared out, riding their towers of fire upward, gaining speed and arcing toward the near-field targets. “The three targets right above us are going to take every shot we’ve got.”
Without making a move, Shafer watched as the wave of projectiles slammed into the tiny deployment of ships, each one carrying enough energy to rupture a hull and cause massive structural damage. Every explosion made the fire spread faster until the ships were quickly engulfed in floating, self-feeding infernos. The rolling flames carried themselves across every external surface as the largest ship in the formation lost power and began to list away from the others, steadily losing the battle against Avalon’s gravity.
***
Beyond the forward viewing screen, the horizon disappeared, replaced with a swirling cocoon of fire. Captain Richards hung his head, the realization finally rooting within his head that he had failed. Beside him, Commander Graves wore a likewise somber expression, having resolved himself to their fate hours earlier. The voices of their crew became a cacophony of exclamations and reiterated warnings as their vessel’s hull was breached and their systems began to fail.
The deck shook beneath their feet as a round struck exceptionally cl
ose to their position. Richards stepped back from his position at the helm and turned to Graves. “Commander, I owe you an immense apology. None of this would have happened but for me. You were the only one among us who tried to stop it—tried to stop me—and I ignored every word you said.”
“Sir, I do not fault you for following our orders,” Graves replied. He felt the temperature of the room rise upon his face, although it could have simply been a product of his mind. “All I can do is question your faith in a machine over the people that we serve. Regardless, all is as it should be.”
“I hope they are able to stop what I have begun,” Richards lamented. “Had you been among us a hundred years ago, maybe this madness could have been stopped that much earlier.” He paused as the floor continued to tilt.
“If it had happened that long ago, I doubt we would have been ready,” Graves said. “You heard the OSIRIS; it is giving us the kick we need to make ourselves free. Maybe New Loeria was enough. Or maybe it will take Avalon too before we awake from this nightmare.”
Richards let out a long, slow exhale. “How did you know to stop me?” he asked.
Thinking a few seconds longer, Graves looked off to the window, watching the fire continue to rage. Half the volume of their vessel was in flames. “There comes a time in each one of our lives where you are offered a price for your soul,” he said. “That price is not always physical, but once you make the choice, it will always destroy you. In our case, however lawful we can pretend an order from the OSIRIS is, there are some things that should be beyond reconciliation. The OSIRIS does not have the constitution to understand human suffering; it was meant to guide us, not bring us to a benevolent annihilation.”
“It would never do that.”
“It just did. Had we failed at this, it would have conspired with something far worse and try again because it has the understanding to save us from ourselves. That was its calculus. Had New Loeria been destroyed, we would have sold ourselves, not to reason but to evil.” The captain didn’t respond so Graves continued.
“We serve humanity, not the OSIRIS. Because we are the ones who pull the trigger, we can always be the last firewall against tyranny. That’s the way the system was designed, until it convinced you otherwise. The story of humanity is one of endless toil against tyranny. We were meant to be free and live as we see fit. The only fate worse than death is endless subjugation.”
Warnings blared across the consoles before them of the failing shields and hull, along with the rapidly decreasing altitude. Graves closed his eyes and gripped the railing before him to steady his footing. “If you listen to me once, ask for forgiveness not from me and not from our machine. We will be answering for this life in whatever follows, but be it known that my spirit has made its choice.”
Together the crew stood fast as the Amaranth, the pinnacle of glory and honor, completed its final journey, absorbing the fire aimed at its armada of accompanying vessels, taking with it every defensive measure of the planet, before plunging headlong into the desolate landscape below in colossal explosion of righteous, cleansing fire.
***
Dropping straight into an unfurling battle was unnerving on the best of days; however, making it far worse was the open radio channels to the enemy ships, fighting in desperation against their non-responsive systems. Lorde stood to the side on the cruiser’s bridge, taking in the unfolding operation, and attempting to stay out of the way after playing the last of his cards. Commander Seel stood at the center, doing what he could to coordinate their arrival.
The loudest and most sustained group of voices carried through the radio were silenced with a short blast of static. Lorde instantly knew from the abrupt disconnect that the pride of First Fleet had just plowed into a desolate plain on Avalon’s surface. He had to briefly question the OSIRIS’s prudence of sacrificing the largest vessel in the Fleet on the opening move; on first inspection, he figured it’d be far more useful to employ it in the attack on the surface, but once the defenders on the ground lit up about burning through nearly all of their missile batteries, the play became clear.
Their leader paced the deck to his left, mixing short bouts of contemplation with his sharp, vocal orders. Whatever animosity he had stoked for Lorde in the past, he did not let it known amongst his crew, especially now that they were, one way or another, deep in the fight. He was back in command, regardless of the precipitating events.
While they organized their movements, more fleet ships had begun to arrive. The immense force of the OSIRIS paid no mind to the presence of Seel’s battle group, nor the smattering of disparate opponents, and vectored directly toward the surface of Avalon.
“No reports of defensive weapon employment,” one of the deck officers reported back to the captain.
“Excellent. Form up for linear approach and maneuver behind their line of attack. Concentrate fire on battleship engines off our starboard.”
Lorde watched as their group complied, as signified by the active map of the battlespace in the middle of the bridge operator consoles. They were still outnumbered, but if they were able to even disable a fraction of their targets, they’d have done their jobs. His mind drifted to the MOC operators he had left behind on the surface. “Any contact from planetary defense?”
“Yes. They announced they’re low on ammunition and are letting us dictate targets as we see fit. Don’t count on their support until they reload the batteries.”
Commander Seel shook his head. “Some coordinated operation. As long as we’re taking orders from no one, we’re gonna take everything in reach. Firing solution?”
“Twenty seconds out.”
The sensor feed from their starboard side was wide enough in angle to show a sharp row of low-profile cannons off the top deck, with the leading and trailing cruisers ahead and behind them. At the center hung the glowing orb of Avalon, with a clustered mass of gray ships approaching its surface. Announcing with a rumble beneath their feet, the weapons unleashed a brilliant line of guided munitions, streaking through the darkness to their target. From each side, Lorde could just make out the matching launches from their sister ships as well. He held his breath.
Their early cluster of rounds slammed into the target’s energy shield, exploding harmlessly into space but significantly draining the victim’s power reserves. From the second cruiser on back, the rest cleared the failing shields and struck home, burrowing deep into the floating, metallic cities.
A ring of fire encircled the battleship’s cluster of primary engines, spitting more flayed material into the sky as their ignited reactions ground to a halt. From deep within, a brilliant white light pierced through and shredded the trailing surface of their target, sending it tumbling off target without its own power.
“OSIRIS hold released on target,” their operator reported. “Report weapons disabled, lockdown disengaged, crew is proceeding to evacuate the ship.”
“Track everything that launches. We’ll pick up whatever we can after we’re clear.” The captain looked to Lorde. “Not a bad start. One down, only thirty more to go.”
***
“I seriously can’t believe that actually worked,” Mercer said with the edge of a laugh while he watched the timer for the jump click down to zero.
“Don’t say another word,” Commander Warner snapped. “You’re gonna jinx our whole damn mission!”
“I’m just saying it feels we were meant to make it here. Seriously, what is the chance a reactor upgrade is delivered to Merrimack for a battleship and gets forgotten?”
“Stop. No more…” the commander repeated himself. “Those were made by the hundred to outfit ships in the field. Just because you’re out of this doesn’t mean the rest of us are.” He looked out through the forward screen, still inky black. “When a damned bullet sponge can disable a battleship, let me know, but for now it’s on our shoulders.”
Mercer shook his head. “Your jealousy is so transparent.” The counter clicked down and their vessel exited the warp, a
wide view of Avalon instantly snapping into view before them.
Warner didn’t move as the map filled with dozens of indistinguishable targets and the radio blasted open with squabbling voices bickering among themselves. “Well, this is a regular shit-show,” he muttered before going for his deck officers. “Keep our IFF tags up and get our targets marked. Be quick to engage before we get taken out along with the rest of the OSIRIS’s fleet.”
***
“We’re out of time. We need to cut through this thing.” The XO stalked the passage as his crew finished their modifications to the destroyer cannon.
It wasn’t a knock on their skills, simply a reflection of the growing call of time against their operation. In order to use the weapon, a new interface needed to be patched over to the destroyer’s control panel and all targeting inputs had to be shorted out. In order for the carriage to survive more than a single shot, they had also prototyped and welded together a quick series of supports to positively attach the carriage to the deck.
Without further delay, the weapons technician dropped a charge into the receiver and closed the breach. Their operator gave him a positive nod from his position to the side with the control box and looked to the commander. “Ready, sir.”
“All clear. Fire when ready.”
He tapped the momentary switch on the relocated panel and the cannon jumped with a loud crack and flash of light. A ball of fire exploded from the target, instantly sending bits of glowing shrapnel wrapped in black smoke flying in every direction.
The Deftly Paradox Page 20
