Mapped Space 1: The Antaran Codex

by Stephen Renneberg

  After more than an hour staring at the ghost numbers and having made no progress, Izin said, “Considering the vagaries of human memory and the quantity of data involved, it’s unlikely you have accurately recalled the data. These numbers are almost certainly meaningless.”

  Normally he’d be right, except I wasn’t using human memory, I was using bionetic storage and I knew my transcription was perfect. Of course, I couldn’t tell Izin that. “Trust me, they’re the numbers and they mean something.”

  “Even if you have recalled the data correctly, the base’s system suffered a major malfunction. The numbers themselves may be corrupt.”

  “Corrupt or not, I need to know what they mean.”

  Izin reluctantly returned to his analysis, sitting like a statue amid his six screens, eyes darting back and forth as his focus constantly shifted. Occasionally he used the ship’s processing core to run tests, but mostly he did it in his head. I left him alone, certain that if he could find no meaning in the numbers, Vargis had escaped and the Codex was now free to do whatever the Mataron’s intended. I returned to my stateroom and drafted a report for Lena Voss, the first of its kind I’d written in years. The fact that I’d let the Codex slip through my fingers only made it harder to write.

  “Captain?” Izin’s voice sounded as I was reviewing the final draft hours later. “You were correct. These numbers have meaning.”

  “I’ll be right there.” I hurried across to engineering where Izin still sat in the same position I’d left him in hours before. “What have you got?”

  “There’s a highly structured logic behind these numbers, Captain, the like of which I’ve never seen before. It is far too intricate to have been conceived of by humans.”

  “Because we’re not smart enough to have thought of it?”

  “Isn’t that what I said?” Izin motioned towards the ghost numbers filling the screens to his right. “It is a complex, cognitive theorem, quite challenging until I was able to reconstruct the core algorithm.”

  “You mean you reverse engineered Mataron mathematics in your head, in one evening?”

  “I had no alternative, Captain. The ship’s processing core was unable to assist me.”

  No wonder the rest of the galaxy kept Izin’s species under lock and key. “You’ll have to do better next time,” I said, although Izin didn’t realize I was joking.

  “Now that I understand how their logic works, I will be able to solve this kind of problem faster in the future. It was the purpose of the theorem that deceived me.”

  “What purpose?”

  “It’s a synthetic intelligence, a mathematical clone of an actual Mataron.”

  “I’ve never heard of mathematical clones.”

  “Human technology is limited to biological cloning only,” Izin said. “This is something considerably more advanced. It is a virtual representation of the consciousness of a real Mataron known as Hazrik a’Gitor.”

  “Hazrik a’Gitor ?” With my bionetic memory wiped, I had no way of checking if the EIS were aware of this particular Mataron.

  “The Antaran Codex spawns the synthetic intelligence into human computer systems. The SI then functions as the actual Mataron agent would, drawing on all his experience and knowledge, making intuitive leaps when needed to carry out his mission, all without being detected. That’s why it triggered the core collapse of the base’s energy plant. The explosion would have destroyed the Codex, the base’s processing core and erased all evidence of the synthetic operative’s existence.”

  “But why destroy itself? It could have hidden, waiting for a chance to complete its mission.”

  “It did complete its mission, Captain. I said the SI erased evidence of its existence. I didn’t say it erased itself. You see, the Codex spawned twice. The first time into BBI’s processing core, which enabled it to lock down the base and overload the energy plant. That’s why the ejection pods couldn’t launch until after the Soberano destroyed the base’s processing core.”

  “Ah, so Vargis saved the terraformers.”

  “Yes. The Soberano destroyed the first spawning of the Mataron SI when she took off, although they wouldn’t have known that at the time. The Silver Lining picked up an emergency signal from pod control, telling the Soberano the processing core was blocking their launch, asking for help.”

  I guess it made sense. BBI and Vargis were both Consortium. Even so, Vargis had saved the lives of almost two thousand innocent people!

  “So what did this simulated Mataron agent hope to gain by destroying the base?”

  “When the energy plant went supercritical,” Izin continued, “the base’s emergency warning system automatically activated, giving the Codex access to every node on the base’s datanet. The ghost numbers you saw were the second spawning, piggybacking on the warning system.”

  “But the base is gone. What’s the point of spawning twice?”

  “The spaceport was a hub and every ship docked was a node,” Izin explained. “The Mataron synthetic intelligence spawned into the Soberano before she took off.”

  “What!” So even if Vargis locked the Antaran Codex away in his specially sealed vault, it no longer mattered. The SI had already infiltrated his ship’s systems without him even knowing it! “How long before the Soberano breaks down – like the Heureux?”

  “Marie’s engineer broke the link between the Codex and the Heureux’s processing core before the SI finished spawning. That’s why her ship became disabled. The spawning into the Soberano is already complete. The Mataron SI will not disable the Soberano, it will take command of her.”

  So that was it! The Matarons wanted control of the Soberano, a virtual battleship equipped with the latest Earth-tech weapons. Even Earth Navy frigates would have trouble taking her on, if they knew where she was headed and if they could catch her.

  Izin pointed to a group of numbers on one of the screens. “Those are navigational coordinates showing the Soberano’s destination.” Izin called up astrographics, displaying a soft orange star with a glowing red warning ring encircling it. “According to the Tau Ceti charts, it’s a restricted system.”

  Restricted systems were off limits to mankind for any number of reasons. If the Soberano entered that system, it would count as a minor Access Treaty violation. It wouldn’t be enough to cause another embargo, but it would add at least a century to our qualifying period. Another hundred years would hurt, but surely that wouldn’t be enough for the Matarons. They wanted to destroy us, not delay us.

  “Why there?” I asked warily.

  Izin’s vocalizer never revealed his emotions, but for once I sensed even my tamph engineer was on edge. “The Soberano is going to destroy an entire civilization. That will make mankind as hated in this galaxy as my own species, and you will no doubt suffer the same fate.”

  At last, I understood. The Antaran Codex was the means by which the Matarons would have their revenge!

  * * * *

  It was almost midnight local time when I entered the Tree House, Refuge’s noise and smoke filled tavern. Jase was engaged in drinking games with five leather-faced survivalists while Marie was line dancing with several dozen inebriated townsfolk. I caught her eye, indicating we were going. She thanked those around her and started for the door while Jase was singing some local song he’d been taught. There was a round of clapping in rhythm, then they gulped down a small cup of dark yellow liquid. A moment later, all the men were coughing and beating their chests as they swallowed the alcoholic poison.

  “Skipper!” Jase yelled drunkenly when he saw me arrive. “Sit down! You got to try this stuff. It’s made from kelp! It tastes terrible!” He laughed as his drinking friends raced to fill each other’s cups.

  I put my hand on his shoulder. “Time to go.”

  “One more round!” Jase yelled, eager to break into another song.

  “We really have to go,” I said, lifting him out of his chair. Jase’s band of new best friends howled in protest, demanding he stay for o
ne more song, inviting me to join them. “We’ll be back,” I promised.

  Klasson emerged from the crowd, a large drink in one hand, yet as clear eyed as ever. Obviously, he could hold his liquor better than my extroverted copilot. He stuck out his big calloused hand. “You’re going after them?”

  “I have to,” I said as we shook hands.

  “Good luck. I’ll be waiting for my guns,” he said with a crooked grin, not really expecting me to bring him any weapons.

  “If I’m alive, you’ll get them,” I promised, then supported Jase to the door.

  He waved to his drinking companions, who seemed genuinely sorry to see him go, then one pretty young woman stepped in front of us and planted a big kiss on his lips. She gave him an inviting look as she stepped aside, then he reached for her, but I dragged him back.

  “No you don’t!” I said, pushing him towards the door where Marie was waiting.

  Outside, she asked, “I take it Izin figured out where Vargis has gone?”

  “Yeah, and it’s bad.”

  Once aboard ship, Marie helped Jase to his stateroom to sleep it off while I went to the flight deck and started on our preflight checklists.

  Soon Marie appeared, taking the copilot’s acceleration couch. “He’s sleeping like a baby.”

  “Did all the terraformers make it out of the base?” I asked.

  “No. There are nearly two hundred missing, probably trapped in the base by the lock down.”

  After checking the airspace overhead was clear, we lifted off on low power. Once we were high enough that Refuge wouldn’t feel the down blast from our engines, I throttled up then activated the intercom.

  “Izin, how are those autonav safeties coming along?”

  “Disabling them now, Captain.”

  Marie gave me a wary look. “Sirius, what are you doing?”

  Every autonav had built-in safeguards preventing human ships from entering – or even approaching – restricted systems. Overriding those safeties was punishable by death, something even the most cold blooded pirate wouldn’t risk for fear of the navy’s retribution.

  “Going after Vargis.”

  “Vargis might be a slime ball,” Marie said, “But he’s not suicidal. He wouldn’t disable his autonav safeties.”

  “He wouldn’t, but the thing controlling his ship would!”

  She was about to argue with me when the neutrino detector began flashing. “There’s a huge energy source beyond the planet,” she said, “two million clicks out.”

  “How big?” I asked.

  “Big enough not to be one of ours.”

  Alien ships were always easy to identify by the immense quantities of energy they generated compared to human ships – except for the Tau Cetins whose ships generated no traces we could identify. It allowed us to spot most alien ships even when they were a long way off.

  “Izin,” I called urgently over the intercom, “How long for the autonav?”

  “Two minutes, Captain.”

  I turned to Marie. “Give me any change in the alien contact’s position.”

  Without waiting for her response, I set course to climb up from the system’s ecliptic plane, getting us clear of mass obstructions for a quick getaway.

  “It’s closing on us – fast,” Marie said.

  “Izin, I need that autonav now.”

  “Almost there, Captain.”

  I swung the optics towards the neutrino source, finding a stretched and flattened teardrop shaped hull silhouetted against the stars.

  “I’ve never a seen ship like that before,” Marie said curiously.

  “It’s a Mataron armored cruiser, Ortarn class.”

  “Since when did you become an expert on Mataron warships?”

  “I have my secrets,” I replied, playing down my knowledge of our reptilian adversary, certain it was the same ship that had stalked us in the Shroud.

  Marie gave me a puzzled look. Like all humans, she knew who the Matarons were, why they hated us, but very little else. Most information about them was classified and as there was no trade between our two civilizations, civilians rarely saw their ships. EIS agents, however, were given an Earth Navy familiarization course on the Mataron Fleet, although this was the first time I’d ever seen one of their ships up close.

  “They know where the Soberano’s headed and what she’s going to do when she gets there,” I said as the black silhouette grew rapidly in size. “And they know we’re going to stop her.”

  I knew it was useless, but I raised our shield to let them know we saw them coming. If they wanted to destroy us, they’d have to fire on us, which would leave tell tale weapon emissions. A simple collision wouldn’t be enough.

  When Marie saw me raise our shield, she could scarcely believe her eyes. “You don’t seriously think the Matarons are going to attack us!”

  An attack would give the TCs hard evidence of their involvement, something I knew the Matarons wouldn’t risk, not this close to the Soberano committing genocide in humanity’s name. “They just want to scare us.”

  The Mataron ship came in fast, passing so close I thought it was going to ram us. Its black armored hull brushed our shield giving us an up close and personal look at the overlapping scales of their metamorphic armor, the round bulges of their weapons and the sensor and shield ridges that ran the length of their ship. Static electricity from our shield tickled their hull so weakly its armor didn’t even activate. A radiation alarm sounded as the Lining detected a weak stream of charged particles slice through our shield for a fraction of a second, causing no damage. A moment later, the black hulled ship vanished.

  Marie studied the sensor display with growing confusion. “It must have bubbled,” she yelled over the radiation alarm.

  Suddenly main power failed, immersing the flight deck in an impenetrable, silent blackness. We floated off our acceleration couches in zero gravity, aware that even the sound of air from the life support system was gone. We were adrift, completely dead in space.

  “I don’t hear any decompression,” Marie’s voice sounded out of the darkness. “They didn’t hole us.”

  “It was too weak to be a weapon.” Whatever it was, they’d fired inside our shield so we’d scatter any residual traces, making detection impossible. It was clever, even for snakeheads!

  “If we stay like this, we’re as good as dead,” she said, always thinking like a spacer.

  With our engines silenced, it was only a matter of time before the planet pulled us back down. I was about to push towards the hatch at the rear of the flight deck, to feel my way blindly to engineering, when the lights blinked back on and we tumbled down onto our acceleration couches. A moment later, the wrap around screen and our consoles came back to life.

  “My apologies, Captain,” Izin’s voice sounded through the intercom. “The Mataron ship scanned our processing core. They detected the ghost numbers you recorded and uploaded the SI. I didn’t have time to block it, so I killed the power before it could take hold.”

  “Is it gone?”

  “Yes. It needs time and power to take root. That’s its weakness.”

  “Can you stop them doing that to us again?”

  “Now that I know what it is and how they use it, I can build a defense.”

  “Make it a priority,” I said, glad Izin was watching over the ship.

  “The autonav is ready,” Izin said.

  “All right, let’s get out of here!”

  Marie retracted sensors while I passed control to the autonav. It accepted what it would normally regard as a prohibited course and bubbled, rendering us safe for now. Not even the Matarons could intercept us while we were superluminal, although now they knew we’d cracked their little secret.

  “Izin, did the Matarons take anything else?”

  “No, Captain,” Izin replied, “But they may wonder how we recorded the ghost data so accurately.” That was Izin’s way of telling me he was wondering the same thing and knew I was holding something back.r />
  “Some humans have eidetic memories,” I said.

  “One in a billion humans, Captain. Do you have an eidetic memory?”

  “No, it was a memory trick. I’ll teach it to you someday.”

  “Thank you, Captain, but my species achieved perfect memory several million years before Homo sapiens evolved. However, if the Matarons believe you have such a memory, you retain evidence of their involvement in your head. Clearly, no human intellect could have devised such a complex theorem, so if the Matarons are to succeed, they will have to kill you.”

  For once, stupidity was an undeniable defense. If Izin was right about the complexity of the Mataron synthetic intelligence, the Tau Cetins would know humans couldn’t have designed it.

  “Cheery thought, Izin. I’ll keep it in mind.” And keep my gun close.

  “Because I solved their theorem,” Izin added, “the Matarons will also have to kill me, if they are aware of my presence on this ship.”

  “Assume they know you’re aboard, Izin. Take any precautions necessary to protect yourself.”

  “I always do, Captain.”

  His reply was so mild, so unassuming, I almost felt sorry for any snakehead who tried to kill my deadly little tamph engineer. The Matarons might be a xenophobic, aggressive, militaristic race, but they were amateurs compared to Izin’s people who’d almost conquered a third of the galaxy more than two thousand years ago.

  I switched off the intercom, feeling Marie’s eyes upon me.

  “So why exactly do the Matarons want to kill you?”

  Chapter Six : Vintari System

  Restricted System – Sanctuary Class

  Vintari System

  Outer Cygnus Region

  7 planets, Vintari II inhabited

  946 light years from Sol

  280 Million Indigenous (Non-human) inhabitants

  The Silver Lining unbubbled outside the Vintari System in the heliopause, that narrow expanse where a star’s plasma wind meets the interstellar medium. It was as clear a natural boundary as the coastline of a continent, and had defined the limits of stellar sovereignty since the dawn of interstellar travel. All that lay within the heliopause belonged to the system and its Bronze Age inhabitants, protected by the Access Treaty and closed to mankind.