Camulos: And there is the terrifying unknown. Given what Xing demonstrates here and what your own research suggests, we might not know they are in pursuit until it is too late.
Xing: Hopefully we will remedy that soon enough.
[END STREAM]
Chuck
Doodling on his pad wasn’t helping Chuck to relax like it usually did. Still, he found it better than twiddling his thumbs while waiting. He had confidence in his work. This was just so much slower than usual. Fortunately, there was plenty to do now. Not as much for him as for almost any other staffer, given his role as a consultant—and a temporary one at that. But still enough to occupy him if he tried.
But the desire to know, to be sure, that Thys was free of the gravity sink still tugged at his mind.
Something else had changed. Jake was back, and since his return, the activity level seemed to have tripled. He knew they’d gotten approval for the salvage mission. That had to be the case, as all sorts of prep work had sprung into being immediately afterward.
He set aside his pad and the messy nonsensical doodling he’d done. Glancing at the workstation, he saw that there was a need for retrofitting some of the spacecraft with additional thrust reserves and hardware to use it. There were some engineering concerns with the retrofitting.
Perfect way to kill some time.
He dove into the graphs, equations, and schematics. After a couple of hours work on the retrofitting designs, Chuck needed a break. It was too late in the day for coffee, but a diet soda wouldn’t hurt. He stood, stretched, and strolled down the hall toward the break room. Staffers he hadn’t seen before filled the halls. He nodded casually at one or the other. They’d never seen him before either, of course.
The soda machine didn’t have his brand, but it would do.
Hey, they’re free. Can’t complain.
Hoping to find Jake, he sauntered back toward mission control, dodging various staffers, engineers, and interns. The facility seemed busier every hour.
This is a lot of energy for a salvage mission.
Opening the door after swiping his keycard, he leaned in and looked for Jake. Sure enough, there he was, holding court at the center of the room. An additional worktable was set up in the rear of the room, with additional monitors, keyboards, and chairs. Chuck noted a brand-new orange trunk of cable ran below the table, several lines zip-tied together. The cable snaked over to and then through a fresh hole knocked out of the Sheetrock of the rear wall.
That seems . . . excessive. Something’s definitely up.
He stood to the side, out of the flow of people coming and going. After a few minutes, Jake noticed him.
“Ah, Chuck! Things are looking up for Thys. Let’s keep our fingers crossed for tomorrow. Good job, man.”
“Uh, thanks, Jake. So, ah, it looks like we’re going back out there then?”
“Yes. Definitely, Chuck. We got approval for the follow-up salvage and exploration mission pending Thys’s escape. Since it looks like that’s going to happen, we’re already working on it. And some other things.”
“Um, yeah. That. This isn’t all for just that. There’s a lot going on.”
“Yes. Yes, there is. We’ve gotten instructions. Information. An immediate initiative. Ah, heck, Chuck. You’ll figure it out, but I’m not supposed to tell you yet. You see what’s happening. We’re launching everything. ASAP.”
“Wow. But that can’t be because of what’s happened with Thys.”
“No, this is something else. Basically, watch, help, but don’t ask, old friend.”
“Uh, OK, Jake. Whatever you need, man.”
6
Mare
The deputy director was handsome, Mare thought. He was about thirty and had light-blue eyes and sandy-brown hair.
Not as cute as Fletch, but easy on the eyes.
She stood in the deputy director’s office, along with Fletch. Management hadn’t split them up and thrown them in interrogation rooms, so she’d been right about that. But they weren’t in the director’s office yet. And they weren’t done with this process. Perhaps this was good enough for them, she thought.
The deputy director’s name was Aiden Smith, according to the engraved stainless-steel nameplate. Neither she nor Fletch worked with him directly, so she didn’t have an opinion of him, good or bad. Conversely, she didn’t know what sort of impression he had of the two of them. He had the clearance to know everything about them. Everything. She just didn’t have any context to tell whether that colored his opinion or his reaction.
“There is a rogue AI. Named Nick. And this AI has contacted both of you. And asked for your assistance. With what exactly? And why would an AI need your help?”
Fletcher said, “Well, we don’t know—yet—precisely what Nick wants or needs. I guess it has to do with our working here at CoSec. That makes the most sense. We’re in here and could do something that he can’t do from outside on the untrusted network. Something he can’t do out on Globalnet. Sir.”
“So you’re here but don’t have an actionable threat from him. He hasn’t said what he wants you to do, and you’re here telling me. Worse, he said he expected this and that it doesn’t actually matter?”
This time Mare stepped slightly forward and answered. “Sir, we have . . . history with this AI. He worked with Fletcher during his evaluation and training. Before he went rogue. And the AI contacted me. Before I joined CoSec. Just before that.”
“Right after he went rogue, then, if I’m reading this correctly? Hmm.”
“Yes, sir. The experience was very strange,” said Mare.
“I expect so. Back to you, Bish. You weren’t given any time frame when the AI reached out to you. Nor when he communicated with both of you most recently. You believe that’s correct?”
“Yes, sir. You see right there, sir. He says ‘almost time.’ That’s about as vague as you can get in AI terms. Sir.”
“Yes. And nothing else so far? This was the most recent communication? Nothing since this, last night? That’s your statement. Both of you?”
Mare said “yes” instantly, Fletcher answering a half second later. She flashed a glance at him, but he stared straight ahead.
“Is there anything else you feel is pertinent or absent from your initial statements before we proceed?”
Mare thought the deputy director tried to look friendly when he said that, rather than perturbed or impatient. He almost succeeded.
He’s OK. Seems OK. Doesn’t sound like he hates us.
Smith tapped something in on his secure workstation and then looked up at the two of them. He stood and gestured to his office door. Mare looked over at Fletcher, who shrugged meekly.
“OK, you two. Let’s go talk to the director. Although, given what you’ve told me, that might be exactly what Nick wants. You came up here without any electronics on you, though. Your devices are down in the lockers. Other than the information, I can’t see what he’s getting in here.”
The information.
Mare paused, then turned and looked Fletcher dead in the eyes, then turned back to connect with Smith.
“Sir, what if that’s exactly it? What if it’s a feint, and the knowledge that he wants in is part of the gambit?”
“Ms. Wiedeman, if telling us he’s going to attack is part of the AI’s strategy, so be it. If he were an ordinary enemy, sure, that would seem like a mistake. But with an AI? We’re outgunned in the strategy department, I expect.”
Fletcher spoke then, leaning forward as they headed down the quiet hall toward the elevator on the district’s senior management floor.
“Sir, even with my previous knowledge of the situation and defensive skills, Nick managed to reach us as if I’d done nothing. The apartment is isolated, but that’s it. It seems he already has access to traffic cameras and followed our license plate. If he has that level of access already—”
“Now that he does, not if,” the deputy director interrupted. “We wi
ll increase OPSEC accordingly. You’ll meet the director in person. We’re not headed to a videoconference, Bish.”
“Uh, yes, sir.”
We’re going to Langley? Now? thought Mare. But Nick would see us on the high-speed rail too. Driving isn’t any better; we just explained that. Plus it would take so long . . .
“Special circumstances, special privileges,” said Smith as he pressed the “up” elevator button.
The doors opened, and Mare saw the skyline through a metal screen framework that hung across the opening of a small hangar. They were on the roof, normally inaccessible. In the middle of the hangar, instead of a helicopter, sat a brushed-metal and ceramic lozenge shape. An aircraft only at a glance. This aircraft had no wings. Nor a prop. Nor a tail. There was an icy-blue glow from within, seen as it highlighted the interior surfaces visible through the broad sweep of the windscreen.
It was one thing to know alien tech existed—that aliens had been to Earth—and another thing entirely to be face-to-face with their technology.
“We need to get this thing out of here anyway,” said Smith.
Fletcher gawked. “That’s a—”
“Yes, it is. Now get in. The director is waiting.”
Thys
“Control, as you can see, I’ve reached what you’ve calculated as minimum safe distance to engage the drive for the ramp-up for a jump back home. I’m more than ready to try bringing this drive up from idle to see what result we get. Over.”
“Roger. This looked good after a closer look, even without the math,” said Jake. “There aren’t any ships drifting around up here above that orbital plane. It’s a good sign. Chuck’s nodding. When you’re ready, bring the throttle up to ten percent. You already have the coordinates entered if you have propulsion back the way it ought to be. Over.”
“Roger, Control.”
Thys settled his hand into the gel pad that served as the manual flight control. He wanted to do this initial test himself, rather than fly by wire. Somehow, it felt more right.
“Engaging throttle . . . now,” said Thys. He watched the translated interface screen, while trying simultaneously to detect any change in the hue of the glow from the engine.
There it is. That’s it. I’m free!
“Control, it’s working, thrust at zero-zero degrees. Five percent. Seven percent. Nine percent,” said Thys, excitement leaking into his voice. He heard the cheering in the background through the open circuit.
“Roger that. Continue up to twenty-five percent thrust, same coordinates. Once you’ve accelerated to that velocity, we’ll hold at that rate for a few minutes, and then you can prep for the translation to come back home. Over.”
“Thanks, Control. Increasing to twenty-five percent.”
The stars appeared open and friendly again, welcoming Thys back to the freedom he’d come to love while piloting the spacecraft. His fear had been very real. There had always been the underlying risk that something catastrophic would happen. And something had happened. But they’d beaten it. And Thys was alive. He’d felt sure a few minutes before, but there might have been a second trap.
There still might be.
If so, Thys might not have enough propellant to escape. He knew it was unknown. Although they didn’t have a large amount of data, Chuck’s calculations were sound. Given what they knew.
And now that Thys knew he wasn’t trapped by the gravity sink that doomed so many craft here, the explorer in him longed to return. This was a discovery that could change everything. Not as much as the Dhin’s gift of their own technology, most likely, but still an enormous potential for new knowledge. He considered his fortune.
Why did none of these ships escape? Were they entirely reliant on the alien technology? Perhaps some did. After all, if they escaped, they aren’t here.
Further exploration here was extremely important, he thought. What of the holes permeating the derelict? Were they, more so than the gravitational trap, what doomed these ships? They might know only if they returned. He knew that Jake had started preparations, contingent on his return.
“Thys, Control. Check your navigation numbers. Confirm that you’ve reached the next waypoint. Over.”
Thys heard the suppressed excitement in Murphy’s voice. He examined the numbers on the screen. He’d just reached what they’d prescribed as the distance to increase the throttle and try the jump—the brief skip across alternate vectors in space that would take him home.
“Control, confirmed. I’m going to try the translation. Entering galactic coordinates for home,” he replied, working deftly with the interface. “Control, here we go. Now.”
Thys watched as the stars visible wheeled up and then over as he rotated and turned toward Earth, twenty light-years away. At first, the direct effect was imperceptible. As he gained speed, he felt himself grow barely lighter, then slightly lighter still. The stars dimmed, ever so slightly, then dimmed more as he grew weightless. Then the stars abruptly faded to black. The only light was the glow from the LED screens, his work light, and the blue glow of the Dhin engine.
And then he was back. Out at the edge of the solar system, but back. Home. He heard the team in the control room cheering as the circuit clicked open.
“Yes! You made it!” he heard Jake say. “Congratulations, Thys. Welcome home.”
Thys grinned. “Glad to be back. Entering coordinates for orbital station. So what are we doing regarding quarantine? We haven’t talked about that.” Thys hoped he’d hear a certain answer but was prepared to accept whatever they instructed him to do. He wanted a shower. This situation hadn’t come up before. Not for the current teams. There had been concern when the Dhin engine and associated hardware appeared, of course. But that had been clean. Entirely clean. Sterile.
Thys had been in a ship with an alien crew. Granted, he’d been in a suit and in a vacuum, but given the nature of everything they’d encountered so far, he presumed they wouldn’t rule out the possibility of something surviving the vacuum. This was uncharted territory, biologically speaking. A scientist Thys didn’t know and hadn’t seen before appeared on the video screen.
“Hi, Thys. I’m on the exobiology team. We’ve only had retrospective and remote work to do till now, given the nature of the Dhin. As you can imagine, we’re thrilled with what’s ahead of us. But we don’t want the alien equivalent of a flesh-eating tardigrade coming home with you. We’re building out a quarantine room on the platform, at the bay and air lock. Bay two, I think? Let me confirm. Yes.”
“Hello. Understood. Better safe than sorry. I’ve not dealt with that sort of protocol so far. As you said, this is the first physical contact.”
“Right,” she said. “So I’m going to have control transmit the protocol and instructions to you. It’s straightforward, but we want you to review it beforehand. You have time while you fly in from out there.”
“Roger,” Thys said.
The makeshift quarantine chamber seemed effective to Thys. While such a room ought to be as close to perfect as possible, this was likely good enough. He had taken off his EVA suit while in the ship and packed as much of it as he could fit in the small storage box used for various tools and implements. He’d taken the various items out—the few food packets, the water bladders, the various few items and gadgets that some of the environmental engineers deemed worthy to include in the limited space of the ship. He’d swapped out the gloves of his suit before doing this, in the hopes of limiting contamination from them. Otherwise he’d just have spread whatever contaminant he might have touched.
The gloves he’d crammed into a ziplock bag used for storing several waste pouches, the equivalent of a garbage bag for anything that didn’t have reclaimable water in it. He suspected what he’d done was enough. Not all of the suit, particularly the helmet, would fit. He’d secured that to the pilot’s chair. Although the jumper he wore hadn’t been directly exposed, he’d stripped that off and pushed it into the small receptacle it usually went into. There really wasn�
�t much else he could do beyond scrubbing his face and lastly his hands with a towelette. Although he hadn’t directly exposed his face, it felt like the right thing to do.
The convenience and sheer speed of trips with the Dhin-engine-powered craft led to designs, at least initially, that while not suggesting total trust in the technology, didn’t have all the equipment in traditional space capsules. The engineers and managers, after initial successes in building engines, debated about how big to make the craft, how much gear and equipment to include, and what contingencies to cover.
Due to the nature of the technology, there wasn’t that much they had to take, while at the same time they could load far more mass into the craft. Simply enlarging the range of the field gave them all the space they’d need. They could put shipping containers in orbit or almost anything else so long as they provided the logistics for the crew to turn off the protective field when parking the payload in orbit.
This idea was enormously attractive to many engineers and thought leaders. Others—those with a more cautious disposition—proposed a more reserved and steady pace. So the orbital station had been a compromise. It was large but could have been far more massive had they had the will to make it so.
This meant that the quarantine room was quite comfortable and roomy for Thys. He smiled at the exobiologist. They’d rushed her up to the station along with the gear for the quarantine. He saw she forced herself to return his smile, not unwillingly, but because of the stress of the situation.
“So not that much more to go, then, and I’m free to go, yeah?” he said.
“That’s right, Captain Kritcher—”
“Thys, please,” he said.
“Oh, OK. That’s right, Thys,” she said with a broader smile. “You see there on the protocol. There’s one more wipedown and rinse, then you’re done with the sterilization phase. You’ll dry off, dispose of the towels, step over to the clean side, and then you can put on some clothes.”
The Power of the Dhin Page 11
