Project Sail

by Anthony DeCosmo

  “Let me get this straight,” Hawthorne said. “The people who lived here moved on, they went someplace else. But before they left, they cleaned up their mess in case someone else wanted to live in this world?”

  Kost nodded.

  Hawthorne was nearly stunned into silence but he thought again of Lazarus’ ascension and told her, “You are wrong, Ellen, the people who lived here weren’t anything like human beings.”

  Warner asked, “And the signal the cylinder gives off, what is that about?”

  “It tells their story and is an invitation to follow them,” Kost said. “If the day comes that we advance into a sentient cloud, then we can follow that signal and meet them in, well, another plane of existence.”

  “So it’s like a guideline to them,” Hawthorne inferred.

  “Yes,” she smiled. “But I think it might be ten thousand years until we are ready to follow.”

  “Dr. Kost,” he said, “Lazarus has equipment that he thinks can suck out the knowledge, all the stuff, inside that cylinder. If he can do that, the alien race who left this gift-world for us might find themselves absorbed into his consciousness; the way he absorbed and imprisoned the other uploads.”

  She opened her mouth but then closed it again, speechless.

  Coffman said, “Thirty-five minutes until the cylinder emits its signal again.”

  Hawthorne translated, “You mean until they reach out their hand of friendship, and find Lazarus waiting to grab them.”

  48. Rally

  The cylinder-shaped alien artifact stood dormant over a quartet of dead bodies.

  New visitors broke the silence as two robots painted in safety yellow with black stripes rolled in on caterpillar tracks with their heavy-duty clamps pulling a thick cord. They stopped five feet in front of the artifact and dropped their offering. A third mechanical worker joined them, this one a flatbed carrier hauling a white orb. The three then attached the orb to the cable and propped it on a stand.

  With the collector in place and the transmission dish pointed at the orbiting battleship, Lazarus and his armada of automated slaves need only wait.

  ---

  “Twenty-eight minutes,” Coffman counted down.

  Fisk said, “Recall Thomas and King so we can leave.”

  Hawthorne ignored him and looked to Wren who stood at Kost’s shoulder as she sat in the XO’s chair. It seemed Wren would be standing by Kost’s shoulder for a long time, assuming they survived. He did not know what had changed, but Ellen Kost was not the only one who experienced a revival when Phipps and Soto rebooted her implant.

  “You had a program that found the virus inside the probe, right?”

  Wren nodded toward Warner and answered, “I used Leanne’s program.”

  Hawthorne turned to her and said, “Run that program on our systems; start with the external lighting. If you find an incursion, isolate it but do nothing; do not tip anyone off that we found it.”

  Fisk nearly shouted, “Why bother with that? Lazarus said we could go.”

  “Lazarus killed those technicians who were suspicious about someone hacking the probe’s QE link, he told me he destroyed Oberon UVI, he slaughtered the crew of that battleship, wiped out the EA cruiser, and nuked their ground force. He will not let us sail away.”

  Coffman tilted his head and reasoned, “Jonathan, if you are correct, why would Lazarus bother with a computer incursion when he has such firepower at his command?”

  “You do not understand him but neither did I until now. This isn’t just about his pursuit of immortality, it is about showing off how clever he is,” Hawthorne paced and felt anger boil inside like a teapot ready to whistle. “When I visited him on Pan, he told me his entire plan. He told me about the battleship he stole, how he manipulated the Chinese into taking out the Niobe, and how he killed the technicians.”

  Hawthorne pounded a fist into the nearest console and growled, “He told me his entire goddamn plan, put it right in front of me and dared me to figure it out! He will steal what is in that artifact, but his biggest victory was when he surprised me aboard the Sergey Gorshkov.”

  He glanced around the bridge and saw his crewmates staring at him through wide, scared eyes.

  “He won’t blast us with missiles from his battleship, he will wait until we think we have escaped, and then his last surprise will pop up and smother us.”

  Hawthorne moved to Leanne Warner’s shoulder as she started loading her security program.

  Fisk said, “So find the virus or whatever and get out of here!”

  Hawthorne did not judge Reagan Fisk a coward and he was correct; if there was an incursion into the computer and they could neutralize it, they might escape.

  However, just as Dr. Kost’s revival had changed Leo Wren, the revelation that the artifact was a lifeline to the civilization that once lived here changed Jonathan Hawthorne.

  “We can’t leave!”

  Everyone on the bridge gawked at the Commander.

  In a softer voice he explained, “Don’t you understand? They cleaned up their mess and moved on to something better, something more than a bunch of petty barbarians squabbling about land or hydrocarbon harvesting.”

  Jonathan Hawthorne remembered thousands dying around Jupiter; he remembered Russian and American armies playing tug-of-war around the lakes of Titan.

  The owners of G-Moon gave away the most valuable ball of real estate within thirty light-years of Earth, and they also took out the trash and wiped up the spills as if they owed a debt to the next tenants.

  In the weeks since arriving, mankind already stained the place and now Lazarus threatened to drag the former residents back into humanity’s filthy universe.

  “Whoever these people are, they are better than us. Now Lazarus will turn their gesture of kindness against them, perhaps even destroy whatever life they are leading on this, well, plane of existence or whatever. I saw what he did to the other uploaded humans.”

  “Jonathan,” Coffman said, “they are a far more advanced civilization than us, or even Lazarus for that matter, they can protect themselves.”

  Fisk jumped, “Yes, right, they can take care of themselves.”

  Wren did not agree.

  “Christ, if they are as evolved as Ellen says, they may have forgotten what it was like to be a barbarian, they might not realize what he is doing until it is too late. But even if this Lazarus fucker fails, what happens if he pisses off a civilization that can mine the quantum vacuum? I know what I would do if one of you assholes woke me from a good dream.”

  Hawthorne insisted, “For the first time in my life, I feel I cannot walk away, that I should not walk away. Not because I am brave or because I want to be a hero, but because we caused this mess.”

  He walked over to Reagan and put a hand on his shoulder.

  “Before we left, you told me you believed in this mission because we were doing something worthwhile, and the future could be new and different.”

  “I was naive.”

  “You were right and I was wrong, the people who lived here are proof. They changed and became something amazing.”

  Reagan fumbled to say, “Yes, their technology is beyond ours. I understand that.”

  “They did not evolve because of their technology!” Hawthorne argued. “Look at Lazarus. The technology that transformed him is incredible, but it only changed his physical form. He is still a petty, nasty person.”

  Coffman wagged his finger and said, “Yes, well, I see your point Jonathan. The race who built that cylinder has technology, but they also have something else. I suppose you can say they matured.”

  Hawthorne nodded and told them, “We can take our first step toward that for ourselves, but first we have to do what they did; we have to clean up our mess. Lazarus is that mess.”

  Coffman said, “Even if I agree, we only have twenty-five minutes until that cylinder broadcasts its signal again.”

  Fisk spat, “You are going to get us killed because you are mad
at an old friend for outsmarting you.”

  “He didn’t just outsmart us, Reagan; he killed hundreds including Henderson and everyone at Oberon station. If he succeeds here, think of how powerful he will become and how many more he will murder.”

  Hawthorne then turned to Coffman and said, “Professor, I need to hurt that battleship. Leanne, I need a secure link to Lieutenant Thomas on the surface…”

  He stopped speaking because nobody moved, clearly considering that Fisk might have the better idea.

  With less enthusiasm, he said to the Air Boss, “I need that link to the surface and I could use your help, please.”

  She paused her search for computer sabotage and worked her panel with both natural and artificial fingers while he went to his XO station, leaned in next to Ellen Kost who still sat in the chair there, and encoded a signal to the surface. Leanne nodded and Hawthorne sent what he hoped was a secure transmission.

  “Kelly, are you there?”

  “Yes, me and Dr. King are listening. A bunch of robots are outside the cylinder cave building a link of some kind.”

  “Yes, I know. Kelly, we haven’t got much time, tell me what kind of firepower you have left.”

  She replied with a question, “What do you want me to do?”

  Of course, she will do whatever you ask, Hawk. Just like every other man she has met in her life, she will aim to please. I bet she would even die for you.

  “Look, we have a problem.”

  Reagan Fisk said, “Just fly them back to the ship and we can leave. Don’t get us killed because you want to be a hero again.”

  Hawthorne stood straight and spoke to everyone, on the bridge and on the surface.

  “I was not a hero. On Ganymede I did not want to fight, I wanted to run and hide. But my crew showed me what we had to do; they taught me there is a time to take a stand.”

  “Twenty-two minutes.”

  “We are always fighting one another over resources and politics. Hell, they called me a hero for killing hundreds so my country could hold on to pieces of rock in a solar system full of rocks. But now I am going to fight for the people who once lived here, because they became something better than us. They cleaned up their mess and left behind the most precious gift in the universe: hope. They didn’t ask for payment, they didn’t expect a reward, they did it because they accepted responsibility for their past before they moved on to the future. So I’m going to do everything to stop Lazarus from ruining whatever life they made for themselves, because they do not deserve to be dragged into our cesspool. I will take responsibility for my past, so maybe—if we are lucky—this world will help us take a step toward our future.”

  Fisk was unmoved.

  “Commander, I understand, but I have too much to lose. I have a girl back home waiting to start a life with me. I don’t want to risk that, especially when there is nothing we can do against a battleship.”

  “The A-H drive,” Phipps spoke from the back of the group.

  “What’s that?” Coffman turned and asked.

  “The best weapon we have,” Phipps explained through the pain of personal loss, “is the Alcubierre—Haruto drive. It, well, took out the entire planet when the Alliance arrived…and killed two of our friends.”

  Coffman explained, “We do not have the time to generate the power needed to travel any appreciable distance, and that would be the only way to build up a destructive wash.”

  Wren suggested, “Couldn’t we jump between here and right in front of the battleship?”

  “That would not disable it,” Coffman said almost apologetically.

  Phipps volunteered, “We do have nuclear missiles onboard.”

  “A ship like that?” Fisk pointed to a screen displaying the massive battleship. “It will destroy any missile before it gets close and it would take a direct hit to do any serious damage.”

  Coffman tapped his chin.

  “I can’t speak to the missiles, but we would need minimal power from the RFPG to jump—if you will—three hundred kilometers, and it would be easy to plot a course, but Jonathan, the shock wave would be relatively insignificant.”

  “It might disorientate the ship; send it tumbling,” Hawthorne said.

  Wren snapped his fingers and joined in, “We have two bow firing tubes. Hit them with two missiles after the turbulence gives them a shake. Might be enough to throw off their defenses.”

  Reagan shouted, “This is crazy! The missiles will never get close enough to do damage!”

  Hawthorne ignored him and focused his attention on the battleship. Using the A-H drive could produce a wave of charged particles, plasma, and gamma rays, but the affect was based on distance. Jumping a few hundred kilometers would contort space enough to cause a ripple, but more like the wake of a small boat than the tsunami that had devastated 581g.

  Nuclear missiles could cause substantial damage if they hit the battleship, but that would only happen if they managed to mitigate Lazarus’ extensive defense grid first.

  A weary Ellen Kost suggested in a voice barely above a whisper, “Could we ram them, Commander?”

  Reagan Fisk nearly fainted, but it was Hawthorne who said, “We could, but while any action we take against Lazarus may be suicide, I would prefer to have a chance at survival, even a slim one.”

  “Our best chance at survival,” Fisk insisted, “is to leave now.”

  “We have one thing on our side,” Hawthorne started and Wren finished, “This Lazarus is an arrogant fuck; he thinks we will tuck our tails between our asses and leave.”

  Everyone looked at Wren who admitted, “Hey, it takes one to know one.”

  Hawthorne stepped closer to the comm panel and spoke, “Kelly, can you hear me still?”

  “Yes, what do you need me to do?”

  “Use whatever firepower you have left to take out that uplink before the cylinder emits its signal again.”

  Coffman counted down, “Seventeen minutes.”

  Silence.

  “Look, Kelly, I don’t want you putting yourself at risk—”

  She interrupted, “I can do it without getting killed, I think.”

  “Then I might I have a plan,” Hawthorne told her and then surveyed his audience on the bridge. A minute ago, they appeared ready to leave; now their eyes suggested they would at least listen.

  Leanne Warner interrupted, “I found it, same as on the probe, hidden in the external lighting systems.”

  “Quarantine it. As soon as we leave, that virus will infiltrate our environmental controls and kill us. If he finds out we found it, Lazarus will turn the battleship’s guns on us.”

  “Excuse me, Commander,” Phipps raised his hand like a kid in elementary school. “Even if the Lieutenant takes out the transmitter on the surface, Lazarus could rebuild another one.”

  Fisk said, “Yes, Commander, exactly how is a modified survey vessel with only two launch tubes supposed to take out a Russian battleship equipped with a defense grid designed to counter any foreseeable attack?”

  Hawthorne told him, “By not launching a foreseeable attack.”

  “Incoming transmission,” Wren spied a notification at the XO’s console, “from the Sergey Gorshkov.”

  Hawthorne worried Lazarus had intercepted his communication with Kelly. However, he realized it was just the common, every-day paranoia one would expect from an uploaded human consciousness.

  “Hawk,” Lazarus spoke to the crew on the bridge and the two women on the surface. “I notice you have not recovered your landing party and left orbit.”

  Hawthorne answered, “We were thinking of staying while you did your thing and then continuing our survey of the moon.”

  “I calculate a sixty-three percent probability you are lying and a thirty-four percent chance that you will attempt to disrupt my operation.”

  Coffman whispered, “Fifteen minutes.”

  “We do not care about the alien artifact, Lazarus, but we do have a mission to complete. You remember, the mission you
sent us on.”

  “I feel bad about how this must look to your crew. Let me make it up to you. I am in a position to do favors for your team. For instance, Lieutenant Thomas…”

  …Inside the research cave on the surface of G-Moon, Kelly stepped toward the receiver when Lazarus mentioned her by name.

  “Yes?”

  “I can help you, Lieutenant, or may I call you Kelly? Take no action against my equipment on the surface and I will provide you with valuable information about your family.”

  Dr. King walked up behind Kelly, placed a hand on her shoulder, and whispered, “Be wary of the devil’s silver tongue.”

  “I know something you don’t, Kelly; something they never told you when you were growing up at the orphanage in Fort Wayne. It is about your parents, about your father. Do you remember them?”

  To her mind, she had never told a lie about her father, just fantasies. Her mother and father were blank canvases to Kelly Thomas, on which she drew her dreams.

  “I have access to your files, Kelly, including the one that began the day you died.”

  Kelly’s eyes narrowed and she staggered as if struck.

  “That is stupid.”

  “You’re right, I should rephrase that. The day your parents thought they killed you. The government told you your parents died after you were born, but the truth is that you were part of the Demeter program.”

  “I’m not part of any program; I was an orphan because my parents were killed.”

  “No, they are alive, but they think you are dead. Of course, that is what they wanted when your mother chose to terminate her pregnancy. The government assisted in the procedure, paying for every expense and providing physicians. The trick, Kelly, is that you were never aborted, but harvested. ”

  “That makes no sense.”

  “It did for a nation rebuilding from the biggest natural disaster in history, a disaster that killed millions and left the nation in economic ruin. The Demeter program began after the Great Atlantic Tsunami and continued for decades rebuilding manpower in the United States military.”