by Alex Lamb
Ann nodded. The prospect of obliterating Will’s surreal refuge filled her with a sense of despair. She kept it bottled. She knew it made sense.
‘Any further questions?’ said Ira.
‘None,’ said Ann.
‘Good. Ludik, you’ll be heading up this fleet. You are hereby promoted to Overcaptain, effective immediately. You’re carrying Will’s ghost with you, so you’ll be filling the role he would have had.’
Ann blinked in shock. ‘Yes, sir. Despite my involvement with the League?’
‘Yep,’ said Ira. ‘You dropped those dumb fucks when it counted. Good for you. And you have to live with a very annoying superman in your head. I’d call that punishment enough. Mark, you’ll be running transport. From this point forward, you and Doctor Tamar are a team, answerable directly to me. The Gulliver is yours, if you want it, or any other ship you need.’
‘The Gulliver works fine,’ said Mark. ‘Presuming you can fix the security lockdown and give it some basic armaments.’
‘Consider it done,’ said Ira. ‘And put Venetia Sharp on the next shuttle headed my way,’ he added. ‘If she has input on this monstrosity, I want to hear it. Now both of you get the hell out of here. I want this problem closed down while we still can.’
21.3: MARK
Two weeks passed in breathless flight. At the end of their desperate race back to Tiwanaku, Mark sat in his preferred couch in the Gulliver’s lounge and held Zoe’s hand while they counted down the last moments of their approach. On the other side of him sat Ash, officially reinstated as his subcaptain.
There was now a fat-contact hook-up installed in Mark’s chair, and with the security protocols adjusted he had full control over the ship’s interior. The Gulliver had been reconfigured as a guide-ship for their co-opted Nem carrier and armed to the teeth while they made the flight out from Sol under vacuum-drive. Now their target system lay dead ahead. Their new crew of battle analysts and tacticians sat tense and silent, awaiting the moment.
‘Dropping warp in ten, nine, eight …’ said Mark. The envelope popped. ‘Warp dropped. Deployment Alpha is clear to go.’
‘Deploying,’ said Ann over the fleet channel.
Sensor drones and battleships raced outwards to form a defensive sphere around the carrier. They held position with the Ariel Two up front, ready for anything.
‘System survey underway,’ said Ann, the tension clear in her voice. ‘Sorting for primary targets.’
In his sensorium, Mark watched the data pour back and held his breath. At first glance, the system looked surprisingly quiet.
‘In-system traffic levels: zero,’ said the primary assessment SAP. ‘Industrial activity level: zero. Drone count: zero. No out-system target sites located.’
‘Don’t assume anything,’ Ann said quickly. ‘Stay vigilant. Scan for stealth shields. I want a deep-sweep for tau-charger emissions.’
Over the tense, grinding minutes that followed, they didn’t find a single ship. Tiwanaku was empty. The system before them made graveyards look busy.
‘There may not be anyone here now, but I’m detecting extensive signs of recent activity,’ said one of the analysts. He slid them a window with his findings. ‘The Fecund remains in this system have been heavily depleted. About eighty per cent of the mass logged at last survey appears to be missing. And the colony planet’s surface has been scoured clean. Not just picked clean. Actually scoured.’
He showed them a digital deep-view composition of the planet’s surface which was covered with huge, linear scrape marks, some of them a kilometre deep. A light haze of industrial particulates filled the atmosphere.
‘It’s been mined out,’ said Ash in awe. ‘All of it.’
‘They’re gone,’ said Zoe.
Mark stared. Something about this scared him more than any of the horror scenarios he’d dreamed up on the flight out from Earth.
‘Where are they, then?’ he said. ‘They can’t be back at Snakepit – the planet won’t take them. Did they all head for Carter?’
Zoe covered her mouth with both her hands. ‘Oh no.’
A hideous possibility started to dawn on Mark.
‘Where has a large human population and no remaining Fleet presence to speak of?’ she said. ‘What’s the perfect strategic point to capture?’
Mark’s throat went dry. ‘New Panama,’ he said. He felt as if he’d been dropped off a cliff. His insides twisted. ‘What have we done?’ He grabbed the comm. ‘Recommending immediate withdrawal,’ he shouted. ‘Updated target: New Panama System.’
A grim hush fell over the task force’s channels while that sank in.
‘Agreed,’ said Ann, her voice strained. ‘Alert to all ships. We’re leaving.’
As the carrier’s fronds accelerated back to full speed, Zoe’s eyes filled with tears.
‘No,’ she said. ‘We didn’t do this. This has to be wrong.’
Mark held her tight. ‘Let’s go and make sure,’ he said.
21.4: ANN
Ann was already wired into every sensor suite in the Ariel Two when they dropped warp at the edge of the New Panama System. Again, initial scans suggested the place was quiet. She experienced a surge of hope. Maybe they’d got it wrong. Maybe the Nems had all decamped to Carter.
But during the minutes that followed their arrival, the true picture became clear. The normal comms traffic that usually filled the system had vanished. In its place was an ominous mechanistic chatter – a uniform spread of compact signals that Ann knew well. It was the one the Nemesis machines used during their reflection phase swarm.
An involuntary cry of despair broke loose from her throat. She aimed her telescopes at the colony world and peered deep. Everything on the surface looked miraculously intact but a cloud of drones as thick as fog surrounded the planet itself.
Her shadow spoke for her. [They took it already.]
Ann stared at her former home and struggled to breathe. While she blinked and fought for control, Mark Ruiz signalled her from the Gulliver. Ping icons from each of her captains started arriving in her sensorium.
In that moment, Ann wanted to curl up and grieve. Instead, she opened a meeting channel, surrounding herself with video feeds.
‘What next?’ said Tak.
Pain leaked out of his gaze like blood from a wound. The man was getting ready to burn his own home. His family had been down there. Ann wondered what they were now.
‘Are we going for a direct strike, as discussed?’ he said.
She checked the window for Mark Ruiz. The poor boy looked ruined by guilt. His eyes had a hollow desperation in them that she couldn’t bear to see.
‘First,’ said Ann, ‘we all need to remember that this situation isn’t anyone’s fault. We needed to rescue the home system and no one foresaw this simply because we didn’t have time to work it out. Tak, your choice to fly with Mark was the correct one.’
‘They had this in mind all along,’ said Mark flatly. ‘That’s why they only raided the home system instead of trying to take it. As soon as they got smart enough, they knew this place would make a better target. That’s why they were so confident. And it didn’t even occur to us.’
‘That’s almost certainly true,’ said Ann. ‘We were snookered. But it doesn’t change what we need to do next. Overcaptain Tak, prepare your team for a precision strike.’
[We have incoming message traffic,] said Ann’s shadow.
[That’s too fast,] said Ann. The Nems must have seeded the out-system with sensor drones. [They knew we’d come. Show us.]
The face of Yunus Chesterford appeared. Ann stared at it without understanding. Hadn’t they already captured Yunus? In which case, who – or what – was this? Had the recording been made before the attack?
‘If you can see this, then we have detected the presence of an IPSO Fleet assault. There are several i
mportant things you should know. First, be aware that New Panama has converted to the Photurian Utopia. We are a peaceful and autonomous world that does not recognise the authority of IPSO.
‘Second, by the time you hear me, defensive machinery will have been activated all across this system. Any attempt to attack Photurian territory will result in immediate retaliation. During the example visit made to your home system, you will have noticed how easy it is for us to hurt you. That will happen again, and next time you will suffer. Stealthed weapons bearing antimatter bombs and bosers have been situated within striking distance of Earth. Attack us and those weapons will be activated immediately. We will destroy Earth, Mars and your remaining population centres. Leave us in peace and you will be allowed to live.’
Ann’s throat closed up as she watched. Given what they’d already seen, it was entirely plausible that the Photurians could strike at Earth again. What was she supposed to do? She addressed her captains.
‘I don’t like this,’ she told them, ‘but we have to assume that some part of this is bluster. Even with careful planning, the Nems can’t have done all that they claim. And we can’t afford to let them live. They’re like a virus.’ She paused and shook her head. ‘I take that back. They’re worse than a virus. They’re the end of everything. Leave them alive and we make a food-source out of the human race. We will never be safe again. I am initiating our attack. If you wish to register your dissent, do so now.’
Not a single captain spoke up.
‘Very well then. Go to attack pattern Baron’s Fist.’
The ships manoeuvred into a conical spearhead configuration with the Ariel Two taking point. As a single weapon, they warped towards the occupied colony.
Almost immediately Photurian drones started dropping stealth all around them, popping into visibility in a wave that propagated out with the Ariel Two’s light cone. Ann’s tactical display became a blizzard of warning icons. The local space around them was measled with death.
Just ten light-minutes deep into New Panama’s local space, Ann called her force to a halt. She lay in her crash couch and watched wordlessly as thousands upon thousands of warp-enabled munitions lit up. Not a single one of them fired or moved. The task force’s preliminary scans had missed all of them. The Photurian message was far more eloquent than it would have been if they’d started shooting.
This was the curse of the Chiyome. The League should have guessed that as soon as they repurposed the Nems’ own engine design as a stealth shield, there’d been a chance that the machines would notice and use it against them.
Or more likely, she realised with horror, the Chiyome had made it back here before the attack. The Nems had copied the design after killing her crew. Ann’s hands flew to her mouth. She’d sent the crew of the Chiyome here. She’d sent Kuril. That last favour she’d asked, the one she’d meant to be an honour, had actually killed him.
[They’ve won,] said her shadow. [Earth’s still too vulnerable. We have no choice but to retreat.]
[They could still be bluffing,] Ann said hopelessly.
[Yes, but why would they bother? The Photurians have nothing to lose. They’re a brand-new species, born out of conflict. They either establish themselves here or die.]
[We can’t—] said Ann.
[Ann,] said her shadow softly, [I know I’m not all here, but even what’s left of me can see the truth of this. These machines were designed for retaliation. It’s what they do. It’s the one trait they’ve exhibited very reliably. And now we know why. It forces everyone to take them seriously.]
Ann’s cheeks tingled. She didn’t want to be the person who had to do this. She hated it so much that she wanted to die. If the universe had decided to mete out the cruellest possible punishment for her involvement with the League, this had to be it. She signalled a slow, cautious retreat. And, with a regret that burned in her throat, she started back towards the carrier.
As soon as they were in range, Mark opened a channel.
‘What’s going on?’ he said. His eyes burned. ‘We can’t afford to let this happen! The Photurians are just going to predate on the human race. They’ll take out our colonies one by one. They’ll keep evolving.’
‘I agree,’ said Zoe from behind him. ‘This is inviting disaster.’
‘Then we’d better get our shit together, hadn’t we?’ said Ann.
‘Overcaptain Ludik,’ said Tak. His face was grey. ‘Do I need to remind you that New Panama is strategically situated at the Penfield Lobe? If we let the Photurians take it, we risk having the entire New Frontier cut off from us. That’s over a dozen worlds, and all of Fecund space. We can’t afford that.’
‘I’m well aware of the risks,’ said Ann, ‘but Will and I are making an executive decision. There will be no fight here today. I expect everyone to obey orders and resume formation within the carrier envelope. You may register your dissent. Your opinions will be presented in my report to Admiral Baron.’
What she wanted to say was, They’ve taken my home. And all of her friends. And everything she’d built for herself. The world she loved was already dead. She wanted to burn the Photurians more than she’d ever wanted anything, save perhaps rescuing the human race from immediate oblivion.
An icy pause followed. One by one, her ships complied. Ann moved the Ariel Two in last. And with a regret that screamed inside her, she gave the order for them to depart.
21.5: ANN
As soon as they hit the home system, Ann went to see Ira. He’d received their message from the edge of the out-system and pushed the Knid to meet them at maximum thrust just to spare a few minutes of their time. She arrived at his study on the habitat ring with self-disgust chewing a hole in her, as it had for every second of the trip home.
Ira stood by the wall-screen looking out at a synthetic view of the stars. In reality, his room lay buried deep inside lead shielding in a modular habitat component that could operate as an armed shuttle in its own right if the Knid broke up.
Ira had seen her briefing package already. He said nothing, so she spoke.
‘I tried to make the best decision under the circumstances, sir,’ she said, holding her chin high. ‘The options weren’t good, and I’m aware that many of the captains disagreed with me.’
‘I don’t want to hear your defensiveness, Ludik,’ Ira snapped. ‘I’d have done exactly the same thing that you did, so quit feeling sorry for yourself. You didn’t have an option. We all fucked up. The whole human race has fucked up.’
He gestured at the artificial window, stabbing the sky. ‘We were offered a chance and we pissed the thirty years of peace they gave us up against the wall. And why? Because we were in love with our own stupid ideas of how everything was supposed to be. Of what we were due. Whether it was money, or religion, or high-handed notions of what was right or good.’ His voice dripped scorn. ‘We didn’t spend enough time thinking about the obvious threats that were staring us in the face. We couldn’t think past our own tiny fucking perspective and the economics of the now. We bickered like children over the scraps of someone else’s dead. We weaponised migration, for crying out loud. And now we don’t have a choice any more.’
He fell silent again and hung his head.
‘Sir?’ said Ann quietly. ‘No choice in what?’
‘The Earth’s too fragile,’ said Ira. ‘So are the colonies. We can’t have worlds so full of people that we can’t afford to lose them, or which are too thinly populated to defend. Humanity needs to be strategically spread, on planets with enough industry and firepower to look after themselves. Up till now, we’ve done the shittiest possible job of getting people off Earth. The Photurian carrier removes any excuse for that. So we’re going to pick up people by the million. Every single world will have to be on high alert until we solve this. If we solve it. If it’s not too late already. At the start of all this, I asked Will to bring me a miracle that would chang
e politics. He achieved that, all right. It’s just a shame we might go extinct because of it. Everyone is in the Fleet now. Every single human being is at war. Unless they want to give up their identities and go and join the fucking Photurians.’ He shook his head. ‘I don’t know. Maybe we should just spare ourselves the worry and admit defeat.’
‘I assume you’re not being serious,’ said Ann.
‘You’d like to think so, wouldn’t you?’ said Ira. He turned to look at her for the first time since she arrived. His eyes were red. He scowled. ‘I have a memory dump for you.’
Ann still hated sucking down other peoples’ thoughts, but she accepted it anyway.
[Let me help,] said her shadow.
Experiences from their prisoner observation SAPs came streaming in. She watched the Photurians standing patiently in their cells, smiling like priests. They looked healthier, happier and stronger than ordinary people, at peace and reconciled to their situation. Their faith in their superiority never wavered. When given the opportunity, the Photurians chatted engagingly with their captors, offering charming insights on how much their lives had been improved by absorption. The process was painless and instant now, they said. They could administer it themselves, like a baptism. And the beneficial effects lasted for ever.
According to SAP-based Turing assessors, their probability of achieving full sentience kept rising. By some measures, the prisoners were smarter now than they’d been before the swarm took them. Ann might have found them convincing but for the perfect, serene, uniform gloss the Photurians presented. They were too ideal as an advertisement, and not quite human enough.
She shivered. She knew there’d be many who’d look at that cartoonish strength and envy it. Inevitably, word of their survival would leak out making the situation even more complicated. The Photurians would get their converts, all right.
‘It’s all a facade,’ she said.
‘Undoubtedly,’ said Ira. ‘But we still don’t really understand what’s underneath it, and eventually it’s not going to matter. People won’t care. The angry, the disillusioned and the just plain desperate – they’ll see what they want to see. The Photurians will use our needs and vulnerabilities against us.’
