“We know the dangers,” Elyria said quietly, although she wasn’t sure if that were true. It was quite common to run into danger on primitive worlds, but they had always been able to withdraw, even if they did have to teleport in front of the locals. Darius, on the other hand, might not allow a teleporter to work. And if communications systems began to glitch too...
“I sincerely hope so,” Thor said, quietly. “If worst comes to worst, I have orders to pull back and abandon anyone on the surface to their own fate. The safety of this ship and the security of the Confederation comes first. I know that Interventionists are fond of knocking over planetary societies, but Darius might just be able to bite back.”
“With all due respect,” Elyria said, “isn’t the prize worth a little risk?”
“Yes,” Thor said, “but I am not prepared to hazard the entire Confederation.
“Accordingly, I expect to be kept informed of all plans to operate on the surface,” he added. “I will have final approval – if I reject a plan, it will not be put into operation until you convince me that it is safe. We will also be taking extreme precautions with our technology and datafiles. Nothing is to go down to the surface without being cleared by me personally.”
Elyria frowned. “You do realise that most of our technology would be completely incomprehensible to a pre-singularity society?”
“This is no ordinary society,” Thor said. “I do not know if Darius is the result of random mutation or if one of the Elder Races has decided to play games, but we are not going to take chances. I’m sorry that this is going to be hard for you...”
“I understand,” Elyria said. Thor wouldn’t have been given any choice – and probably much less latitude than would normally be granted to a starship commander. But then, the Grand Admiral did have a point. Darius was a fascinating puzzle – and, given the ultimate potential of quantum foam manipulation, a deadly threat. “We will keep you informed of all of our research.”
“Thank you,” Thor said. He sounded rather more than a little relieved at how calmly she was taking the restrictions. “Do you have any plans for infiltrating their society?”
“None as yet,” Elyria said, after a moment. “We really need to survey Darius for several weeks, at the very least, before we start going down in person.”
“At the very least,” Thor confirmed. He smiled, suddenly. “It is a fascinating puzzle, Professor. I think you’ll enjoy yourself; after all, you will be doing genuinely original science.”
Elyria smiled. The Confederation had pushed most technological fields as far as they would go, with only a handful of exceptions. She’d heard that most breakthroughs consisted of minor improvements to existing technologies, rather than something fundamentally new. It was at least partly why every research institute in the Confederation had a program for investigating, analysing and eventually manipulating the quantum foam. Studying the quantum foam might just lead to the next great breakthrough – and humanity’s jump into transcendence.
Or it might destroy us, she thought, and shivered. Maybe the Ancients had destroyed themselves after all.
“I look forward to it,” she said, as she sipped her tea. “Tell me something; why did you decide to join the Peacekeepers?”
“I was seduced by the uniform,” Thor said, and winked. Bland though it was, the uniform was honoured throughout the Confederation, because it had to be earned. Elyria had achieved a certain prominence in her field, earning her plaudits; the same was true of a Peacekeeper officer. “And why did you start intervening in primitive societies?”
“Someone had to do it,” Elyria said, dryly. The Confederation was founded on the basis of equal opportunities, if not equal outcomes. Primitive worlds, on the other hand, tended to be exploitative and rigged against those who had no power. There was no moral justification for tolerating such worlds any longer than strictly necessary – and few reasons to hesitate. “And besides, we learn much more about ourselves every time we intervene.”
“I’d keep that impulse in check on Darius,” Thor said, rather sardonically. Who knew what quantum manipulation had done to their society. “We really don’t know what we’re playing with, not there. I’d prefer not to discover that we’re suddenly in over our heads and drowning fast.”
“I understand,” Elyria assured him. She couldn’t really blame him for being cautious, whatever orders he’d been given. “It won’t come to that.”
CHAPTER
FOUR
The main briefing compartment on the Hamilton was large enough to hold upwards of fifty humans in reasonable comfort. Dacron found it rather odd. Surely, the research team could get along better in a virtual environment, where they could have all the data they wanted at their beck and call. But humans did like to be social, far more than did any of their creations. It was just something he would have to learn to tolerate.
No one spoke to him as he took his seat, unsurprisingly. He’d worked hard to achieve at least a semblance of humanity, but it probably didn’t fool any of them. Even the discovery that his new body was fully functional – and it could feel things that were forever denied to the AIs – didn’t make him human. Some of them probably found him more than a little disturbing. Others would see his mere existence as a challenge.
He looked from team member to team member, matching names to faces and datafiles. Once, he would have been able to recall anything instantly, but his new memory – while excellent by human standards – seemed to work achingly slowly. There was Professor Elyria, the leader of the team, seated beside Captain Thor and sharing a joke with him. Dacron could tell that there was a certain tension between the two, although he couldn’t decide if it was over conflicting interpretation of the mission orders or simply unresolved sexual tension. So many human morals concerning sex still escaped him. Surely they could just have slept together if they wanted each other.
Professor Adam, one of the foremost researchers into the Ancients, was seated next to Elyria, glaring around the compartment as if he found the entire meeting to be beneath him. He looked like a cross between a human and a monkey, complete with fur and tail, both of which would have to be removed if he wanted to go down to Darius. His file stated that he was responsible for no less than three theories into the disappearance of the Ancients and was among the loudest voices demanding a return to Essence. Given what had happened the last time anyone had set foot on the cursed planet, Dacron was inclined to view that as indicative of a rather questionable level of intelligence.
Beside him, trying to look anywhere else, was Professor Gigot, an intervention specialist with ninety years of experience. She looked baseline human, with dark skin and darker hair; she spent so much time on primitive worlds that she never bothered to become one of the Changed. That would save her time if she wanted to go down to the planet. It also suggested a lack of vanity that was reassuring when compared to most humans. What did it really matter if one human was prettier than the next? She started to chat to Adana, a sociologist who had spent two centuries studying pre-singularity societies, casting Dacron an odd glance that he couldn’t interpret. So much of humanity was still a mystery to him.
He looked up as Colonel Jorlem sat down on the opposite side of the table, facing him. Jorlem was a tall, powerfully-built man with a military haircut, a rather rugged face and a grim expression that suggested that there would be personality conflicts in the future. Even the AIs hadn’t been able to share his complete file, although what they had forwarded to Dacron suggested that Jorlem had been involved with the Essence Incident and later served as an envoy to the Sphere, both missions touching on extremely advanced alien technology. And there were a whole host of combat notations in his file. Jorlem had seen more action than the average Peacekeeper.
“So,” Jorlem said, in a dull rumble, “you’re the AI?”
“That is correct,” Dacron said. There was no point in trying to conceal it. “I am an embodied AI with...”
“I don’t need your statistics,” Jor
lem said, cutting him off. “All AIs ever do is boast about the size of their computer cores.”
Dacron felt an odd sensation that might be taking offence. “We are merely informing you of our capabilities,” he said. If they’d given him something to keep his emotions in check... but they hadn’t. Most humans had to learn to control themselves. “Why are you here?”
“I was sent here,” Jorlem said, which wasn’t quite an answer. “Does Calculus not trust us to handle Darius?”
“Calculus feels that you should be offered as much assistance as we can provide,” Dacron said. “I am that assistance.”
“Except that everything the AIs can offer us can only be done at a distance, at least on Darius,” Jorlem pointed out. “How much help do they expect you to be able to give?”
“Whatever I can,” Dacron said. It wasn’t entirely true. The AIs, when they absorbed him back into the Gestalt, would have a full record of what had happened on Darius. Assuming he survived, of course. “I am fully functional.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” Jorlem said. He sounded rather sarcastic. “And if you get in the way, I will send you back up to the ship before you can say a word.”
Dacron was still mulling over possible retorts when the Captain stood up and opened the meeting. “For those of you I haven’t already met, welcome aboard,” he said. There was a brief chorus of welcome. “Hamilton has been placed at the disposal of the research team, provided that the instructions laid down in our orders are followed. Those who wish to read the orders for themselves may do so after we have completed the briefing.”
He smiled. “Professor Elyria will give the briefing,” he added. “I think you will find it fascinating.”
Dacron already knew about the mission, so he concentrated on studying the group as Elyria explained what made Darius so interesting – and dangerous. Jorlem didn’t seem surprised, although it was hard to tell; his features were so inscrutable that Dacron wondered if he’d had them deliberately engineered to betray nothing of his feelings. Adam seemed shocked, then disbelieving; Gigot seemed as if she couldn’t decide which way to jump. Adana looked excited, rubbing her hands together in glee. Outside VR simulations, no one had ever studied the effects of magic – or something that might as well be magic – on a human population.
Captain Thor seemed more inclined to be cautious although, like the Colonel, he was skilled at concealing his expression. His XO appeared astonished, studying the files Elyria presented as though she expected them to be lies, or fabrications. Dacron couldn’t understand how anyone could seriously expect to fool the AIs, who could query a situation far more extensively than any mere human, but there were incidents when people had tried. And then there were the strange stories of encounters out on the rim of explored space, none of which had ever been substantiated.
“I trust that you all now understand what is at stake,” Elyria said, into the silence. The recorded images had been very convincing. “We have two main priorities. First, we are to study Darius and attempt to determine how they manipulate the quantum foam; second, we are to attempt to duplicate the technique for ourselves. Right now” – she held up a hand to stem unvoiced objections – “we are not considering outright intervention on Darius. That will have to come later.”
“I protest,” Gigot said, at once. “It seems to me that Darius is a prime candidate for intervention. They still use slaves... they may be able to manipulate the quantum foam, but they’re primitives. We should intervene for their own good.”
“The Juba were primitives too,” Captain Thor pointed out. “That didn’t stop them from obtaining advanced weapons and setting off to conquer the galaxy.”
Dacron nodded. The Juba had been little better than tribal warriors when a research ship had arrived from an advanced alien race. Being smart, if primitive, the Juba had captured the ship and enslaved the crew, eventually using their knowledge to jump into space and invade the crew’s homeworld. Quite how they’d done it hadn’t been recorded; they’d exterminated the entire race before taking a number of other worlds and running into humanity. The remaining Juba were slowly being re-educated by human sociologists, while their former slaves were rebuilding their societies.
But they’d been barbarians at heart. They hadn’t bothered to build a real empire, or lay the groundwork for assimilating their slaves... indeed, they’d really been glorified raiders. The humans of the First Expansion Era might have had primitive ships compared to the Juba, but they would probably have beaten them. Juba commanders had never grasped the art of being subtle, or – for that matter – working as part of a team.
“This isn’t the same,” Gigot pointed out. “If they were as... peaceful as the Minoz, there might be some justification for refusing to intervene, but they’re just barbarians.”
Dacron listened silently as the debate raged back and forth. Every human seemed to have an opinion on the intervention program, but he had none. From a strictly ethical point of view, Gigot had a point, yet Darius was a riddle that needed to be solved before they did anything else. Besides, their strange abilities had to be catalogued before risking open contact. Who knew just how far their abilities reached? Quantum foam manipulation didn’t obey the normal laws of science, even as the AIs understood them.
Elyria tapped the table, silencing the debaters. “I concede that we will eventually have to help them overcome their backwardness,” she said. “However, our priorities are fixed. Besides, looking at the data, I have yet to come up with a theory as to how their society actually works. We will need to establish that before we do anything more... proactive.
“Even in hyperspace, it will take three weeks to reach Darius,” she continued. “During that time, we will go over all the data collected by the first survey ship and attempt to draw up a plan for completing the survey ourselves. Once we have a rough outline of questions we need to have answered, we will start planning our first mission into their society. Luckily, there does seem to be some population movement, so we may be able to use a standard traveller disguise.
“I told you all that there might be some danger involved in this mission,” she concluded. “If any of you want to walk away now, you can be transferred to a planetoid and held there until the mission is completed. I do feel that this is likely to be the most remarkable mission for centuries, but I will understand if you want to leave.”
There was a long pause. “No one wants to leave, then?” she asked. “Good. Welcome aboard.”
“I have an issue to raise,” Jorlem said. “I believe that we may be looking at Elder intervention, rather than spontaneous mutation.”
“Go on,” Elyria said, before everyone could start talking at once. “What do you mean?”
“Quite apart from the... magic,” Jorlem said, “there are three other oddities about the Darius System that are immediately noticeable. The first one is that it is thousands of light years from Earth. If we assume that the settlers left Earth during the First Expansion Era – quite a few colony missions left Earth and were never seen again – they still travelled a remarkable distance to reach Darius. I rather doubt that any starship launched during that Era could have reached Darius, at least under its own power.”
“They could have encountered a wormhole,” Adam said, thoughtfully. “We know of at least one other colony ship that passed through a wormhole while attempting to reach a new world.”
“It’s possible,” Jorlem agreed. “However, even if they left during the Second Expansion Era, they’d have problems reaching Darius, not least because there would be plenty of other worlds to settle closer to Earth. The last great exodus was during the Thule War, but those ships should have had the technological base to support themselves, wherever they went. None of the surveys located the remains of a colony ship. It seems to have vanished completely.”
He brought up a star chart and pointed out Darius’s location. “The second major oddity is just how isolated Darius is,” he explained. “There isn’t a world with a native s
entient race for just over a thousand light years and no major interstellar power – apart from us – for nearly two thousand light years from Darius. Indeed, given that the exact concept of what is our space is a little flexible, we may be further away.”
Dacron nodded. The early interstellar empires had defined whole volumes of space as belonging to humanity, but as technology advanced that concept had become increasingly outdated. Right now, the Confederation was spread over a vast region of space that happened to include several alien races who were not part of the Confederation. Why would humanity and a species that happened to live in stars rather than planets go to war? Even with the AIs, communication between humanity and the star-born was close to impossible. Most recorded interstellar wars had been fought out between races that needed the same planets. More advanced races moved away from planets altogether. The Confederation covered a vast region of space, but only included five hundred planets, mostly terraformed by human technology.
“They could have been seeded by the Killers,” Adana pointed out. “Have those worlds been surveyed for their plants?”
“Not yet,” Jorlem said. “The possibility has been considered.”
Dacron saw several humans grimace. Centuries ago, humanity had discovered a number of planets that looked surprisingly habitable, almost perfectly compatible with human life. They’d been colonised, of course, before anyone could look for the snake in the garden. Eventually, they’d discovered that a number of very tasty fruits and berries on the planets were deliberately designed to cripple intelligent life. Those who ate them didn’t notice anything until it was too late to prevent severe brain damage, while their children came out of the womb mentally disabled. Later, nanotech and careful survey work had eliminated most of the threat – and humans had been engineered to make it impossible for the poisoned fruit to do their work – but no one had ever identified the race that had created the weapon. The only thing that could be said for certain about them was that they didn’t want intelligent life to emerge anywhere else.
Sufficiently Advanced Technology (Inverse Shadows) Page 4
