Into the Darkness: Crimson Worlds Refugees I

by Jay Allan

  “Admiral, I have Colonel Preston on the com, sir.”

  “Colonel,” Compton said, sliding his headset on as he did. “What’s your status?”

  “The evacuation is complete, sir. The last wave has just reached orbit.”

  “That’s good news, Colonel. I want to hear from you as soon as you’re back on Midway.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Compton leaned back in his chair. He was relieved to have his people off planet four. He’d been beating himself up for authorizing the landing in the first place, his focus on the people he’d lost. The expedition had cost him forty-six Marines and eleven scientists and support personnel. Still, it hadn’t been a total loss. When he’d issued the final evacuation orders, many of the researchers argued, begging to stay, even without Marine protection. The planet was a treasure house, the greatest glimpse men had yet seen of the First Imperium as it had once been. The shuttles heading back to the fleet were stuffed full of artifacts, enough to keep every scientist in the fleet busy for years to come.

  Compton found it hard to convince himself so costly an operation had been worthwhile simply to collect bits and pieces of ancient equipment. But he also realized it was the scientists who would save his people…or not. His job was to protect them, to get them what they needed—and to buy them time. Time to make the discoveries that would give the fleet a chance.

  Just as Friederich Hofstader had saved human space from destruction, it was Hieronymus Cutter, Ana Zhukov, Sophie Barcomme—and their comrades—who held the fleet’s survival in their hands. Compton understood where the shred of hope for his people lay…and he was too old a warrior to fool himself into thinking he could do more than delay the end with pure military action.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Research Notes of Dr. Hieronymus Cutter

  As I make this entry, I am standing in front of the intelligence that controls this immense vessel. Just looking at it, the vastness of its systems, the magnificence of its construction, is overwhelming. I have designed hundreds of computers, artificial intelligences at the cutting edge of human science…but I have never seen anything remotely like this. I can recognize components only in the most theoretical way, as if I were writing a futuristic tale and trying to imagine what a computer would look like in a thousand years.

  I am scared, so profoundly terrified, I can hardly describe it adequately. I have nothing but respect for the Marines, and the other warriors who place themselves in the path of the enemy again and again. I’m afraid my background is in academia, where nasty rebuttals from colleagues are the greatest hazard. But the emergence of the First Imperium has changed all our roles. This is not a war where the loser will be stripped of worlds, of wealth. It is a conflict for the very survival of our race. And for that, each of us must find courage in our own way. My strength comes from curiosity, and my thirst for knowledge is so powerful it keeps my fear in check.

  I feel like I have stepped forward in time, been given a glimpse of the future, of what my work—and that of generations of my successors—might have produced. But it is not a dream. This amazing system lies before me, and my skill will be put to the test. Can I really control this intelligence that is so far ahead of anything I have seen? Is it merely my own arrogance that says I can? Can I even understand a system so complex, so far in advanced of my own knowledge?

  We use the term sentience often…and carelessly. I’m not even sure we know what it means. But this intelligence almost certainly meets most generally-accepted definitions. Can it feel emotion? I don’t know. What does it mean to “feel” something anyway? Almost certainly this intelligence can understand emotion, construct responses to emotional behavior. But does it make decisions based on emotional responses? If so, how does it balance between responses based on anger and others rooted in rationality?

  If I proceed, if my virus fails—or if I am unable to direct the intelligence to shut down all external communications before it receives any messages—we will die. Our deaths, here in this massive at least, will be quick. But if we fail everyone will die. Admiral Compton knows it. He is a military genius, but he is fully aware he has no chance of gaining final victory in battle. Even if the fleet moves on from X18, through this X20 system, our route takes us through the heart of the enemy domains…into the teeth of strength we cannot imagine.

  I was determined to proceed with my plan as we approached the enemy ship. I know my virus, however remote the chances of its success, is our best hope. But now, standing here on the precipice, I find it is taking all my resolve to move forward. I wish the admiral were here. I need his strength.

  First Imperium Colossus

  System X20– High Orbit Around Planet IV

  The Fleet: 202 ships, 44,711 crew

  “It’s the same as the one on Sigmund,” Cutter said softly. “It must be some kind of standard data port for First Imperium systems.”

  “That’s a break.” Ana stood right behind Cutter, peering around his shoulder, staring at the workstation. “We can use the adapter we already built.”

  Cutter looked over to his right, at the cluster of his people crowded around a portable reactor. “Have you connected to the system’s main power conduit?” At least you hope that’s the main conduit. It’s really no better than a good guess.

  “Yes, we’re connected.” Hans Darlton didn’t sound terribly confident.

  “You don’t sound so sure,” Cutter replied.

  “I’m sure,” Darlton snapped. “It’s just…we’re moving awfully quickly here, aren’t we? Recklessly even.”

  Cutter sighed softly to himself. Darlton was a pain in the ass, there was no question about that. But he knew the rest of them felt the same way. They were researchers, creatures of academia. If there was one thing they weren’t used to, it was time pressure. Cutter had been no different. He’d always worked to prove any theory, to repeatedly test every new process he developed. But he’d adapted to his new reality, and he continually chafed at the inability of most of his people to do the same. It was a simple concept…when you were in a fight to the death against homicidal robots centuries ahead of you in technology, laboratory protocols went out the window. He couldn’t understand what the other didn’t understand about that.

  “Well, Hans, ideally, I’d like a lot more time to experiment. I’d like to scan this thing about a hundred different ways and program some simulations before we even touch it. But I don’t think we have that luxury now, do you? If we’re lucky enough to get the fleet refueled and out of X18, it’s going to move right past this ship…and leave it behind forever. And it’s not like Midway can tow something that’s almost 19 klicks long.”

  The impracticality of scientists drove him crazy. Cutter fit a lot of stereotypes. He was introverted, more interested in his work than anything else—but he was a realist too. He could adjust to the situation at hand and do what had to be done, break out from stereotypes. He would pursue knowledge wherever it led.

  Unlike this pack of doctrinaire followers…

  Darlton just nodded. Cutter knew the pompous ass hated to admit he was wrong, and the grudging gesture was the most he was likely to get.

  “Now, if there are no other arguments, let’s do this.” Cutter sat down in the chair. He held a small data chip and a section of cable. There was a fitting for the chip on one end, and a plug designed to fit in the First Imperium data port on the other. He put the chip into its place, and he slid the device into the port on the workstation.

  “Now, in a minute, we’re going to start feeding in power—very slowly at first.” Cutter had no idea how to start the ship’s reactors, if that was even possible. Not that he would do it even if he could. It was one thing to activate an extremely advanced artificial intelligence and quite another to have it in control of a fully-powered spaceship. Ideally, he would be able to communicate with the intelligence, but if his efforts to control it failed, it would be impotent, able only to communicate and not to strike at them.

  The
portable unit could power the artificial intelligence, he was sure of that, but it didn’t have anywhere near enough output to activate the ship’s other systems. It was a much safer way to proceed, assuming the intelligence itself wasn’t able to simply start the ship’s matter/antimatter reactor as soon as it resumed operations. It was one thing to try to communicate with an artificial intelligence and another entirely to deal with one in full control of a gargantuan warship. But that was a risk they’d have to take.

  Cutter was working on the hypothesis that the intelligence had been deactivated by a loss of power and not a more complex malfunction. But that was only a guess. For all he knew, there could be extensive damage—and if that was the case, he’d have to find and repair any problems in the system’s circuitry. And I might as well be a child taking apart a spaceship…

  “Start the reactor,” Cutter said softly, his eyes focused on the spherical brain of the great computer.

  Darlton just nodded, and he looked down at the ‘pad in his hand, swiping his finger across. There was a brief delay, perhaps five seconds, and then a bank of lights on the portable reactor lit up. They all knew what was happening deep inside the heavily-shielded device. Over a thousand tiny lasers fired as one, their beams intersecting at a single point, where the massive heat they created sparked a controlled fusion reaction. Within a few seconds, the system was live…and power was flowing into the conduit.

  “Okay…let’s start feeding in power. Two percent to start.” He took a deep breath. He was well aware it was a longshot that the ancient system would simply power up, but it was something he had to try. It was a daunting enough prospect to take control of the intelligence with his virus, but the prospect of trying to repair a device he couldn’t begin to truly understand was overwhelming. It would take years, if we can do it at all. And we don’t have years…

  Nothing happened…for perhaps thirty seconds. The ancient computer was idle, cold, as it had been for almost 500,000 years. Cutter heard Ana sigh softly. They’d both known the odds were against them, that a quick success was a vanishingly unlikely prospect.

  Cutter started to turn toward her, but he froze. His eyes caught a glimpse, a faint light deep within the sphere. He felt his stomach twist into a knot as he watched in awe as the illumination grew brighter…and spread throughout the globe.

  The room was silent, everyone present staring in awe as the staggeringly ancient computer activated after so many millennia. Finally, Cutter shook himself out of his shock and pulled out a small ‘pad he’d had in a pouch at his waist.

  “The virus includes a mathematical data set,” he said as he stared at the ‘pad. “It’s how we communicated with Sigmund at first. It should provide a basis for the AI to respond to us in a way our translators can address. It’s not speech, exactly, but it’s…”

  “Greetings.” The voice was natural sounding, vaguely male.

  Cutter spun around, staring at the sphere with an expression of shock on his face. “Greetings,” he replied, struggling with everything he had to speak clearly and calmly.

  “This is an unfamiliar language. Its structure is odd, unlike most of those in my memory.”

  Cutter felt a wave of panic, but his fascination overwhelmed it. I am speaking to a computer that is half a million years old, a system more advanced than any I could imagine…

  “Yet you had no trouble learning it…” Was learning the right word?

  “The data unit in port 763 contained sufficient information to assimilate. The device is extremely primitive. What is its use?”

  Cutter felt a wave of excitement. It read the data on the chip. The virus!

  “It was the only unit available.” It doesn’t seem hostile, at least not yet. “You have been deactivated for a long time. Many things have changed.”

  “Indeed,” came the reply. “I have analyzed the radioactive decay of the fissionables in storage, and it appears I have been inoperative for approximately 363,445 revolutions of the homeworld’s star.”

  “I am pleased that you appear to remain fully-functional after so long without power.”

  “I have been running a self-diagnostic, and it appears my systems are 94% operative. Certain knowledge banks remain non-responsive, but I believe I retain completely functionality. Your portable power supply is insufficient for me to reactive major ship’s systems or to initiate outside communications, but I have been able to activate and dispatch a maintenance bot to repair the ruptured conduit that caused my malfunction. I expect to restore matter/antimatter operations and return full ship’s power shortly.”

  Cutter felt like he’d been punched in the gut. “You dispatched a bot? Already?”

  “Yes. It has completed its work, and I am now reactivating the annihilation chamber.”

  An instant later, the room lit up. Cutter looked toward the ceiling. It was covered with sleek panels, and a pleasant but bright light emanated from perhaps half of them.

  “I have restored primary ship’s power. There is considerable maintenance required in multiple areas, however I believe all main systems are responding.”

  Cutter felt a cold feeling in his stomach. Everything was slipping from his control. The ship was coming back to life. In a few minutes, seconds perhaps, the intelligence would control the engines, the weapons…

  “Cease all system restoration activities.” Cutter didn’t know if his virus had accomplished anything, but he had to try something.

  “Very well. All systems are on standby.”

  Cutter’s eyes widened. The AI had taken his order. The lights went out again, leaving only the dim illumination from the portable lamps.

  Let me see if this thing is really taking my orders. Cutter had come for this very purpose, but now he found himself shocked it was succeeding. “Restore lighting, but keep all other systems on standby.”

  The lights came back on. “Lighting restored.”

  Cutter felt a rush of excitement. It was working. “Is life support operational?”

  “Yes. There are multiple malfunctions throughout the ship, but all primary systems are operative.”

  “Restore life support to this room.”

  “Beginning restoration. Increasing temperature to optimum levels.” There was a short pause.

  “Hieronymus, it is getting warmer.” Ana was holding her own data unit, watching the readings increase. “We’ve gone from 80K to 200K in a matter of seconds.”

  “Beginning introduction of atmospheric gasses.”

  “Temperature has stabilized at 294K,” Ana said excitedly. “Atmospheric pressure increasing. I’m reading 78% nitrogen, 21% oxygen, 0.9% argon…” She paused and looked at Cutter. “Hieronymus, it’s almost a perfect Earth-normal atmosphere.” She looked down at her ‘pad. “Same gas concentrations, same atmospheric pressure…”

  “Life support fully operative as ordered. You no longer require the primitive survival gear you are wearing.”

  Cutter looked back at the others. “Stay suited up. We need to check for pathogens and other hazards before we even thing of opening our suits.”

  “There are no pathogens. Atmospheric conditions in this room are now identical to those on Homeworld. I have scanned for all harmful biologics.”

  Cutter sighed softly. And who the hell knows what deadly plague virus is ‘normal’ on the enemy’s homeworld? “We will remain in our suits for now,” he said.

  “As you wish. Are you sure you do not want me to reactivate ship’s systems? Your command is counter to normal protocol.”

  Cutter felt a pang of fear. He had no idea what was going through the…mind?...of the alien intelligence. It appeared to be obeying his commands, but how long would it continue to do so? Would it detect the virus in its system and eradicate it? The order to leave the ship deactivated could make it suspicious, he thought. But I can’t let it bring this monstrous vessel online. If I lose control…

  “I am sure,” he said simply.

  “As you command.”

  “Do yo
u know who I am?” Cutter blurted out. It was a dangerous question, perhaps, but it was all he could think to ask.

  “You are one of the Old Ones. You were gone for many thousands of revolutions of the sun, but now you have returned. I was built to serve your needs. I am at your command.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Admiral Compton’s Address to the Fleet Before the Second Battle of X18

  You have all seen the scans, are watching now, no doubt, as ship after ship transits through from X16. We fought a great battle together, all of us, not two days ago…and yet now another is upon us. We will do as we have always done…as each of you has always done. We will fight. And God help our enemies.

  You have all suffered in this deadly war, first in the battles along the Line and later as we advanced into the enemy’s domain. And we ourselves have been casualties of a sort, trapped in hostile space and cut off from home. Our comrades on the other side of the barrier mourn us as lost, and to them we are. But to the enemy we still live, and while we survive we will fight them. Here and anywhere else they come at us…and with the last of our strength.

  There are many who are not with us now. Comrades, allies…friends, dead in the many desperate struggles that have led us here. It is for them, as well as ourselves, that we fight, and we lash out at the enemy that took them from us. We fight for survival. We fight for justice. And we fight for vengeance!

  Let us forget our own quarrels, our shortsighted disputes. Stand with me now, my fellow spacers, stand with me and face this enemy…and show them that we will never yield, that they shall never defeat us! Remember your friends, men and women you who served alongside all of you, who died at the hands of this monstrous foe. Today we take our vengeance for them. Fight now…for those who stand alongside you, and for those you left behind. Let us show these infernal machines who we are…and what fury we can unleash on them!

  AS Midway

  X18 System

  The Fleet: 202 ships, 44,704 crew