by Ivan Kal
“The ship is obviously under power, yet these consoles show no sign of being active,” Seo-yun said.
Laura approached with her helmet removed; she had close-cropped black hair and was Caucasian with maybe just a bit of Asian ancestry thrown in. She peered down. “There doesn’t seem to be an on switch. Maybe the ship doesn’t have enough power or maybe it was damaged. We don’t know why it was at the bottom of the ocean.”
“Perhaps, though if it could remain under power for thousands of years, I don’t see why the consoles wouldn’t be active unless someone turned them off. As for them being damaged, I think there would be more of a physical evidence to indicate that,” Seo-yun said.
“Or we just don’t know how to turn them on,” Tomas added.
“Or that,” Seo-yun agreed.
Tomas sighed and looked around the room for a moment, looking for anything that stood out. “Well, this is a bit of a disappointment. There is nothing here that seems extraordinary; in fact, seems a bit too familiar. It all looks like something human hands could build.”
“Actually, this vessel was built by Loraru, as were most other vessels of the Union.”
Tomas whipped his head around to the source of the voice, and the rest of the team readied their rifles on the source of the voice while Seo-yun jumped back a step. It spoke in English, and though it sounded human, it was definitely not. It was too perfectly spoken, too monotonous—it was wrong. The source of the voice stood motionless on the floorplate further down in the room, its eyes staring straight into his. It had four arms, two on each side, and two legs. It was shorter than an average human, around a meter and a half in height, though it was wider in the shoulders by at least half as much as an average human.
It was dressed in yellowish clothing that hung loosely on its body. It had six eyes arranged in three rows of two placed at an angle, with the bottom pair being the closest together and the top pair the furthest from each other, making a V shape. Two vertical slits below the eyes were most likely nostrils, and below that a single horizontal line—the mouth. It didn’t have any lips. Its head had a vaguely triangular shape, with the bottom being narrow and the top of the head wide. It didn’t have hair on its body that Tomas could see. And the top of its head ended in six rigid spikes curving upwards. Its skin was a sickly gray color. The top arms were crossed on its chest with the bottom ones positioned loosely at its side, dropping to its knees.
“Tomas, Seo-yun, move back slowly,” Elias said while moving slowly forward, his rifle aimed at the being.
“There is no need for that, I assure you. I mean you no harm. Not that I could harm you even if I wanted. And I would appreciate it if you would lower your weapons; I do not know if they would damage anything if fired, but I would rather not risk it,” the being said.
“Elias, wait,” Tomas said, and slowly stepped forward and spoke to the being. “Ah, my name is—”
“Tomas, yes. I overheard the one in front of you, Elias, address you as such. I don’t know the designations of the rest, as you never addressed them within the ship or its immediate surroundings.”
“Well, it’s only appropriate that you introduce yourself as well, then. What is your name?” Tomas asked.
“A cultural convention? Very well, my designation is Autonomous Survey Unit Mark 77321, used in scout class ships, tasked with aiding the crew in analyzing raw data.”
For a moment, no one said anything, then Seo-yun broke the silence. “You are a machine?”
“That statement is correct, even though it is wrong. I am an interface; the thing you see before you is just a representation,” it said in its monotone voice. Tomas noticed that it mistook Seo-yun’s question for a statement, meaning that it didn’t have a perfect understanding of their language.
Seo-yun moved around the console and stepped onto the plate, reaching her hand through the being before anyone thought to stop her.
“A hologram…remarkable,” she said, still moving her hand through the being—or rather, a hologram of the being.
“Seo-yun, please step back behind me,” Elias said tightly, trying to aim his rifle at the hologram while not aiming at Seo-yun.
She looked back at him, surprised at seeing how he and the rest of the team were trying to keep their aim true while she moved. “Oh, you can lower your guns; this is just light, a hologram. He isn’t really here, see?” she said while repeatedly moving her hand in and out of the hologram.
“Elias, she is right. Bullets won’t do anything to it,” Tomas said.
They stood in the same positions for a couple of seconds, and then they lowered their rifles and moved about the room taking other positions, standing at the ready. They communicated through their helmets’ inner comms line.
“Is there anyone else aboard this ship other than us?” Tomas asked.
“No.”
“May I assume, then, that it was you who opened the ship’s door? And sent the signal that led to the recovery of this ship?” Tomas asked.
“Correct.”
“Why did you wait for months before opening the door if you could have done so at any time? Or why didn’t you contact us when we found the ship?” Elias asked suspiciously.
“Time was required for the workable translation of your language, which was impaired by the fact that you rarely spoke it in the vicinity of the vessel, and furthermore by the internal damage to the ships many sensors. Contact before now was impossible for the same reason; the only thing I was able to do was redirect a signal I received.”
“You are saying that the ship was damaged by landing,” Laura said.
“Incorrect. Landing incurred no damage to the ship’s systems. The damage I was referring to occurred due to lack of maintenance for approximately seven thousand cycles.”
“Then why didn’t you open the door earlier?” Seo-yun asked, moving off the floor plate.
“My programming forbids me from executing any action that may cause harm to the ship or its crew, without explicit orders from the crew, or a Union member of sufficient rank.”
Tomas looked around the room at the rest of the team and saw them do the same. He cleared his throat and asked, “And what is the Union?”
Elias turned sharply towards Tomas while his body grew rigid; he tightened the grip on his rifle and turned back at the hologram when it started to speak.
“The Union, created sixteen thousand cycles ago, is a union of fifty-four races, led by six founding races and eighteen other member races.”
They looked at each other again, trying to comprehend this information. A few moments ago, they’d learned that they weren’t alone in the universe. And now they learned that not only were they not alone, but that there was an entire Union of races out there. Seo-yun turned back towards the hologram. “You said that your programing doesn’t allow you to act other than on orders by the crew or a Union official, yet you contacted our submarine and you opened the door for us. Why?”
“My scans of your physiology couldn’t be compared to the Union races database, as that part of my core matrix has been corrupted. I concluded that there was a 0.05% chance that your race was a new member of the Union, and as 30% of my matrix has been corrupted, I accepted the probability that your race was a new member of the Union. This course of action was acceptable and more preferable than engaging the self-destruct protocol. Was I wrong?” It ended in the same monotone voice it used before.
“No, your choice was correct,” Tomas said, and got a sharp look from Seo-yun. She started to speak, but Tomas cut her off with a hand gesture and then turned back to the hologram. “We will need access to the ship, and its databases, and translated into our language, if it’s possible,” he said.
“You can access the ship’s databases from any of the consoles. The data is recorded in Union standard; I am not able to translate, as I have no access to those databases. I have access only to data which is included in my matrix or provided to me by the crew for analysis. I can translate that portion of the
data,” it said.
“That will be acceptable. But can you instruct my people on how to access the consoles and answer any of their questions, and can you open the doors to other areas of the ship?” Tomas asked.
“Yes.”
Tomas motioned for Seo-yun to follow him out of the room, but he stopped at the entrance and spoke again, “How far away from the ship can you monitor our conversations?”
“In your measurements, 10.7 meters.”
Tomas nodded. “Elias, secure the ship,” he said, and then left the room with Seo-yun following close behind. She caught up to him and tried to speak, but Tomas stopped her by putting a finger across his lips. She caught on and followed, although he could see that she was aggravated. They exited the ship and found Marcus and another employee there waiting for them. Tomas saw that he was eager to learn what they’d found inside and was barely containing his curiosity.
“Marcus, I need a room where the professor and I can speak privately.”
“There is a conference room. Nora can show you where,” he said.
“And I need you to gather all personnel and inform them that from now on no one is to speak anything near the ship, at least until proper guidelines are established. Also, no one is to enter until Professor Seo-yun briefs everyone.”
Marcus looked crestfallen.
“Don’t worry, all of those here will get their chance to explore inside. As soon as I finish my conversation with the professor, she will brief you and then you can start.”
Hearing that, Marcus cheered up a bit.
Nora guided them to the conference room and left them there alone. As soon as the door closed, Seo-yun turned to Tomas. “What the hell was that? Why did you lie to him?”
“I never lied,” Tomas replied.
“Never lied! You said we were part of this Union.”
“No, I said that its choice to let us in was correct. I never confirmed that we were a member of that Union.”
She looked at him with an open mouth. “Still, you lied by omission. We will need his help if we are to unlock that ship’s secrets. What do you think he will do when he realizes we aren’t who he thinks we are?”
“Blow us up.”
“What?” she exclaimed, surprised.
“We need to make it believe we are a member of the Union; otherwise it will self-destruct. It said so itself.”
“Oh,” she said in a soft voice. She clearly remembered what it had said.
“You need to make sure our people don’t say anything that will make it think differently. And you need to gather as much information about this Union as you can while figuring a way to isolate it from the ship’s systems. Its programing is obviously corrupted, and no wonder—it’s been here for thousands of years. You must also find out how it got here, and why.”
“Yes, I know.”
“You are in charge here, Seo-yun. Proceed in whatever manner you think is best.”
Chapter Five
February 2082
Seo-yun rode the elevator going down into the heart of Nephthys. She was on her way to the main office of Olympus to deliver her report to Tomas in person. It surprised her that Tomas had left so soon. She’d thought that he would want to be in charge, no matter what else he said. But the day after he’d officially hired her and given her a document detailing her job and responsibilities, he’d spoken with the rest of the team, saying how he had great faith in them, wished them good luck, and left. Elias had spent another week at Sedna coordinating with the security team and establishing new protocols, and then he too had left, and she’d found herself completely in charge.
It was strange at first how everyone followed her instructions without asking any questions, even though she was new at the job. She had spent every waking moment of the past two months working on the alien ship, inspecting its technology, reviewing the translated portions of its database (they had a team that was working on translating the Union languages), and speaking with its AI. It had been established that it was in fact an artificial intelligence—one that was severely restricted, but an intelligence nonetheless. It pained her to be away from the project, but she felt that she had been putting this trip off for as long as she could, and she knew that Marcus was up to the task of managing things while she was gone.
She had been sending status reports to Tomas every two weeks, but they’d included only the overview of the work; as for everything else, he’d said that it could wait until she was available to present it in person. She was very much surprised to see the way things worked in Olympus; at first everything seemed insane to her, but as time passed, she found that things worked, and worked well.
The elevator finally stopped on the Olympus office’s floor. The elevator was one of four in the leading deeper inside the building. No civilian could enter it without permission as the building was completely owned by Olympus. As soon as Seo-yun left the elevator, a security officer greeted her and said that he would escort her to Tomas’s office. As she walked, her thoughts turned to other things that she wanted to talk about with Tomas. With her position also came unrestricted access to all Olympus databases. She hadn’t had time to look into those until a few days ago, and even then she hadn’t even scratched the surface of all the projects Olympus had in motion. Not to mention those that were finished.
One of the reasons she’d finally decided to come here was so that she could talk with Tomas in person about the things she’d found. She couldn’t believe how much bigger Olympus was than what she and the rest of the world thought. Sure, everyone knew that they were one of the largest enterprises in the world, and everyone was wrong. Olympus wasn’t one of the largest enterprises, it was the largest. No other company had anywhere near as much resources, nor personnel. And she was amazed at the number of things Tomas managed to keep concealed. Olympus was an empire.
She believed that not even the world state leaders realized how much they depended on Olympus. More than 60% of the market was controlled by Olympus, although the public believed that the number was closer to 30%, as was always reported, which was already alarming. But what they didn’t know was that Olympus owned many smaller companies, companies that weren’t absorbed into Olympus but that it nevertheless owned. That accounted for another 30% of the market. Concordis employed Olympus security instead of police in many cities, just as they used them for many state functions and events. Most air travel in the world was done by Olympus transportation. Olympus manufactured more than 70% of all military assets for Concordis and 20% for the League. It had a monopoly on energy and food distribution in Concordis.
Olympus medical equipment was used in almost every hospital in the world. Frankly, Seo-yun was appalled that the world governments allowed it to happen. So she went back and reviewed all the records from the start of the company and realized how it did happen. After the war, the world was in turmoil, economy broken, people starving, and governments just didn’t know what to do. The League and Concordis were a short-term solution. Until Olympus. She could see how the governments were relieved that someone took the problem off their hands.
They helped as much as they could, aiding Tomas Klein and his conquest without even realizing it. And as Olympus grew, so did the standard of living. She could clearly see how the world governments let it happen without even realizing. Tomas was a very smart man. Olympus was always fair; prices were low enough to ensure the growth of the company without being overpriced. And with their slow conquest of the markets, it only became a matter of time before everything was controlled by Olympus.
And even then Tomas showed his skill. He was patient, and never greedy. He kept everything available to everyone, ensuring that no one would try to hinder his progress until it was too late. And Seo-yun was sure that the world still didn’t realize what he had done. The world was dependent on Olympus; without them, the world economy would collapse again. Tomas Klein was the most powerful man in the world. For all intents and purposes, he ruled it. And his greatest achievement was hi
ding that fact from everyone. She finally arrived at the office and the secretary motioned for her to go inside.
“He is expecting you.”
Seo-yun opened the door and stepped inside the office. It looked more like a command room than an office. Both the right and left walls were screens six meters wide and three tall. The one on her left showed hundreds of graphs, statistics, and projections, while the one on the right showed a multitude of data that was constantly changing, faster than she could follow. In the center of the room was a pair of comfortable couches with a low table between them. At the end of the room was a so-called “control desk”; a variety of windows were open on its glass surface or were floating just above it. Holograms similar to the one found on the alien ship, though much less advanced. Tomas Klein sat at the table, his hand furiously working bringing up new windows or dismissing them with a gesture, two comfortable chairs were placed in front of the desk. When Seo-yun approached the middle of the room, he cleared the desk of all the windows and then with a tap turned the wall screens off. They now showed a beautiful recording of a sunny day on a grassy plain. He met her eyes and held her glare.
“So you’ve finally found time to look through the files,” he said with a slight smile.
“Yes, and there is much I wish to discuss with you,” Seo-yun replied evenly. He stood up and walked over to the couch on Seo-yun’s right. He sat down and indicated that she sit on the other. She hesitated for a second before relenting and taking the seat across him. He watched her calmly, relaxed, as if he didn’t have a care in the world. She studied him for a moment before finally speaking.
“How is it that no one knows how big Olympus really is?” she asked.
“Oh, there are people who know. But they, like everybody else, simply don’t care,” he responded cheerfully.
“How can they not care? Olympus is a private company; a word from you can cripple the entire world economy.”
