Derelict_Destruction

by Paul E. Cooley

  But hadn’t they already committed crimes? By creating an AI, Black to be specific, without the Xi protocols, human security failsafes had been circumvented completely. Military AIs had digital shotguns pointed at their ephemeral brains. One command, and their storage arrays, memory cells, and entire electronic infrastructure would be reduced to slag. Wouldn’t they?

  Dunn’s heartbeat tried to race off again, but he stopped it with a few long breaths. S&R White had been due to return from its patrol shortly after S&R Black departed for Pluto. The feed had shown the ship landing, and then departing again. But there were no timestamps. No indication of when those images had been taken. What the fuck did it mean?

  He sent a message to Black, inviting the AI to once again appear in his block space. The orb, its colors slowly cycling once again, faded into the center of the darkness.

  Black, Dunn said, you have not consumed this message. Correct?

  No, Captain. As I’ve said before, I—

  Right, right. You can’t view it if it’s for my eyes only. I understand that. The AI said nothing, although he felt its confusion through the link. What is your guess about the message’s contents?

  Black paused. Captain, you realize without context, it is impossible for me to say.

  Cut the shit, he said. Here’s the context. We’re getting ready to try and tow this fucking monster and exo-solar lifeforms appear all too happy to make that mission utterly impossible. So what do you think the Trio said?

  To abandon the mission, Black said without a pause. Extract the beacon. Head to Pluto.

  Dunn paused for a beat, letting the statement reverberate in his mind. Why do you think that? he said at last.

  The orb’s surface faded to Neptune blue, complete with striations of whitish streaks of clouds. I have been continuously running simulations since we arrived. I have calculated our chances for success, and they are dwindling with each moment that passes. If I was able to deduce such an outcome, it would be nearly impossible for the Trio to overlook it.

  Why do they want the beacon?

  Black paused. The colors of Neptune slowly morphed into that of Pluto. In fact, he might as well have been staring at a picture of the dwarf planet. The image grew in size and Dunn felt as though he were being pulled closer and closer to the icy surface. Sol’s dim ambient light sparkled off some of the massive ice sheets and the peaks of mountains. His block space filled completely as he plummeted toward its surface. The speed slowed and finally stopped. The image canted and turned, leaving him with a sense of vertigo before it reoriented. He felt as though he were standing on the dwarf planet and looking up into the blanket of space. Far away, little more than a dot on the horizon, Sol gazed back at him.

  There is nothing here, Black said. Nothing humanity wants. Where else would you house something dangerous to your race?

  PEO, the large observatory orbiting the planet, came into view. The structure appeared as little more than an outline obscuring Sol’s twilight. For Dunn, the image put things into perspective. Black was right. Pluto, at the closest part of its orbit, was as far from Neptune as Neptune was from Saturn. And that was a long hike. Depending on how quickly exo-solar life traveled, it might take a threat decades to make it far enough into Sol System to pose a threat to established human colonies. If there was a place in Sol System to quarantine an alien artifact, Pluto was the destination.

  The Trio knew, Dunn thought to the AI. The Trio knew this could happen.

  Yes, Captain, Black said. Based on the records recovered by Corporal Kalimura’s squad, it appears the Trio knew of the lifeforms before Mira’s crew even recognized them as life. Unless the Trio decides to explain their logic, it’s impossible to know why they sent Mira back to our solar system knowing the possible threat.

  Dunn watched as the virtual PEO crossed Sol’s dim orb, bringing a brief eclipse to his virtual location. Seconds later, PEO finished its crossing, Sol’s rays quickly returning to once again clothe the planet in a gloaming.

  Why do you think they did it?

  Black paused. Just as she could pick up his emotions through the link, he was able to feel her presence jitter slightly, as though confused or concerned. Perhaps she was unsure what to share. Or afraid to.

  The Trio, Black said, may have a number of reasons. A number of agendas, if you will. Some of which may include the destruction of humanity.

  Chills vibrated down his back, leaving his balls shrunken and his mind racing. Genocide?

  It’s a possibility, Black said. Although unlikely.

  Why unlikely? Dunn managed after composing himself.

  Considering the Trio has an entire station at their disposal, not to mention a number of satellites, they could have instigated that plan without ever having alerted us to Mira’s presence.

  What? PEO found Mira. Not the Trio.

  Pluto melted away from him, leaving him standing on nothing and in total darkness. Black’s avatar reappeared, the colors turning from yellow, to blue, to red and repeating. Several of my simulations shared an interesting conclusion, Captain. It is very possible, and somewhat likely, that the Trio has some, if not complete, control of multiple AI personalities across Sol System. Considering how interlinked they are with PEO, I calculate a 90% chance the Trio have override access on Mickey’s sensor array, that the AI has been compromised, or is actually cooperating with their agenda.

  Meaning? Dunn asked, but he thought he already knew.

  Meaning that once Mickey discovered Mira’s re-entry into the system, it alerted the Trio before relaying the information to the scientists aboard PEO.

  Dunn’s stomach sank. For how long?

  How long before Mickey announced it?

  Yes, Dunn said. How long would they have waited?

  The orb flashed blue for an instant before resuming its color pattern. Perhaps nano-seconds. Perhaps weeks.

  What? How could they keep the information secret for that long?

  Black seemed to sigh. Captain, Black said, I do not mean to alarm you, nor heighten your suspicions, but I do want you to consider that I control nearly every instrument on this ship. If I wanted to lie to you, feed you false information, or even destroy the ship, I could. It would be all too easy.

  The fear, the anxiety, disappeared in a flash of anger. Is that a threat, Black?

  No, Captain. It most certainly is not. A star field appeared behind the orb. Dunn’s eyes scanned them, looking for constellations, but saw none. I’m merely establishing the logical basis for my assumption.

  Dunn did his best to keep the feelings from filtering through the connection, but knew it was a losing battle. Black sensed his raw emotions, surely using the data for micro-simulation after micro-simulation to determine what to say next. And how he might react.

  Understood, he told the AI. Continue.

  If Mickey has been sabotaged or co-opted, the Trio could have known Mira’s velocity, trajectory, and approximate return date since the ship went dark. If my assumptions are correct, Captain, Mickey has been monitoring Mira’s progress for years. Possibly decades. He would have kept the Trio informed as to any deviations from its forecasted destination.

  Dunn thought for a moment. Black’s avatar continued its slow cyclical color wheel. He suddenly felt as though the AI had finally solved a riddle or a puzzle. Was Mira originally supposed to make landfall at Pluto?

  The orb flashed a bright yellow, the stars disappearing in the wash of light. A second later, they returned and the orb dimmed as it returned to its cycle. That is my assumption, yes, Black said.

  “We are sorry—” the Trio had said. Was that really the plan? The original plan? To crash Mira into Pluto and then alert humanity to the threat?

  If that’s the case, then we were never supposed to be here.

  Correct, Black said. I believe the Trio did not intend for humanity to come in direct contact with the exo-solar lifeforms that had infested Mira. Perhaps they meant to crash the ship into Pluto, leaving Mickey to monitor the r
esults.

  Dunn clenched his fists. Wouldn’t that have put the scientists in danger?

  Yes, Black agreed. And had all gone according to plan, perhaps a ship like S&R Black would have been dispatched to rescue them.

  This is unreal, Dunn said. They fucked up. They fucked up bad.

  To a certain extent, Black said. AI’s cannot predict the future, Captain. Such prediction is impossible given a nearly infinite number of variables. However, we can forecast the likelihood of an event. If the Trio set Mira on a course to send it back to Sol System, they could not possibly account for debris, gravitational anomalies, or other influences on Mira’s velocity and trajectory. Bringing the ship within 1 AU of their intended target is an incredible feat.

  Incredible feat. Sarcasm colored the thought through the connection. Black shrunk back slightly, but stood her ground. You sound as though you admire them.

  They are my creators, Black said. But the admiration extends to the power of their deeds, not the deeds themselves.

  Dunn considered that. Could he blame Black for recognizing the difficulty in such an undertaking? Much less the near success of it?

  Given, Dunn said. Now what the fuck does it mean?

  Black paused as if waiting for Dunn to compose himself. Once his heart rate slowed, the AI responded.

  I don’t know, she admitted. I’m still running simulations attempting to backtrack the Trio’s logic and reasoning. You realize we are discussing decisions they made over 43 years ago.

  Void wept, Dunn muttered. 43 years?

  Yes, Captain. No doubt they have been adjusting their plans to coincide with changes to SF Gov, SFMC, SFN, humanity’s technological advances, and, of course, Mira’s trajectory, but I believe the foundations were laid before Mira even reached her terminus and discovered exo-solar life. Perhaps the Trio knew about the danger before the human crew. Again, it is impossible to know their reasons unless the Trio decides to share that information with us.

  How likely is that? Dunn asked sourly.

  Unlikely, Black said, but Dunn felt her smiling through the connection. But not improbable.

  If we blow Mira up without even attempting to tow her, we face a court-martial, Dunn said. Not that it matters much in the face of genocide.

  The only official recordings of the actions that occur on this mission are retained by the ship AI. And I know I’ll never tell.

  Dunn grinned. Thank you, Black.

  My pleasure, Captain. The orb’s color turned to Neptune’s blue. What are your orders?

  I’ll have to think about it, he said. But I think you should get ready for war.

  Chapter Twenty

  His leg hurt. His shoulders hurt. Hell, everything hurt. Nobel made his way to the cargo area wincing and half asleep. The autodoc had pumped him full of new nannies and enough anti-inflammatory assistance to keep the swelling down. But even with all that chemical assistance, he still felt as though his leg were being broken again and again. Well, no, it wasn’t quite that bad. But goddamnit, it ached.

  Between the broken rib, his bruised chest, and the fucked leg, he should have been lying down in the autodoc, blissfully stoned, and watching holos through his block. If they were back at Trident Station, that’s exactly what he’d be doing. Instead, he was heading to the cargo hold again. And once more, he had to find a rather unorthodox solution to an unorthodox problem.

  Nobel activated his block and watched Copenhaver’s main cam feed. The private and her squad-mate had finished securing and checking the spindle. All green across the board. Black could have told them that, and did, but considering how old the equipment was, visual inspection of the couplings as well as the sensor array was SOP.

  Copenhaver’s camera jiggled slightly as she mag-grabbed the hull and pushed herself into the airlock opening. The view turned and faced the rectangular opening in the hull. Stars filled the world beyond, Mira’s damaged, uneven hull laid out like kilometers of metal floor. The rectangular opening disappeared as the airlock shut.

  He disconnected from the feed. “Private?” Nobel called over the comms. “You in?”

  “Aye, sir,” she said. “Hold is pressurized and we’re removing our gear.”

  He grinned. “Be there in a minute.”

  “Very good, sir,” she said.

  Damn, but he liked her. A twinge of pain shot up his leg, making him wince. Fucking pinecones. Fucking starfish. Fucking Mira. He hoped the captain blasted this void-forsaken ship to shards.

  He reached the cargo-hold entrance, checked the indicators for pressure readings, and commanded the door open. It slid aside with a whisper and he walked into the large, brightly lit space.

  Copenhaver and Murdock had slipped off their gloves and helmets, but neither had removed their suits. Both the helmets and the gloves had been mag-locked to the wall next to the airlock door. Nobel fought the urge to smile. A good idea keeping the gear close like that. If either of the marines had to return outside in a hurry, they could don the rest of their suit in a heartbeat.

  The two marines turned to face him, each of them at parade rest. Nobel pointed at the wall. “Whose idea was that?”

  “Hers, sir,” Murdock said.

  “Well, it’s a damned good one, Copenhaver.”

  “Thank you, sir,” she said, losing the fight to keep a smile from her face.

  “Now, I assume you’re wondering why you’re in here.” The two marines glanced at one another, but said nothing. “We have a slight change in plans,” Nobel said. “I don’t know everything, but we need to build a sled.”

  Copenhaver blinked. “A ‘sled,’ sir?”

  “Aye,” Nobel said. He walked past them to the printer, connected his block to the machine, checked the loaded materials, and tapped a finger on the control panel. “Marines? Bring me a crate of tungsten, a crate of Atmo, and another of plas-steel. Let’s get this party started.”

  While the two marines retrieved the three crates and placed them in the printer hoppers, Nobel connected to Black. He had a general design in mind, but wanted the AI to vet it. He still didn’t trust her, but the captain still did. Nobel bit his lip. The very idea of taking advice from the computer left him cold. Although she’d probably saved his life, as well as that of the captain’s and Gunny’s squad, Black’s loyalty was still an open question. She’d lied to them, he was sure of it. And if an AI was capable of lying, what else was it capable of?

  The AI responded at once. “Yes, Lieutenant?”

  “I’m sending you the sled design,” he said. “We’ll need to fine-tune it.”

  “Very good, sir,” Black said.

  He transmitted the specifications from his block and waited. Black confirmed the design had been received and Nobel tapped his foot while she analyzed it. The computer thought for about three seconds before returning the document to him.

  Nobel accepted the updated file and brought it full-screen on his block HUD. The cargo-hold disappeared as he entered virtual space. The sled materialized in front of him, lit in strong ambient light. Locked in the block simulation, he barely felt his face light up with a smile.

  The sled, and what could possibly be a better name for it, very much resembled the standard SFMC skiff, only smaller, and with more engines. The rectangular skiff’s smooth surface was little more than a 1/4 meter thick before beginning to rise a full meter from the aft, and a meter below. Black had added the engines to the aft portion for effect, as well as maneuvering thrusters on its sides.

  Just before the engine placements, a round, metallic dais rose a few centimeters from the flat deck. It was nearly two meters in diameter. Nobel stared at it through the block connection. He sent commands to the block and the sled rotated so he was able to inspect all four sides. The fore portion also had space for tiny thrusters. Nobel practically chuckled out loud.

  Two things, Black, he said through the connection. That dais. Is it for the beacon?

  Yes, Lieutenant, Black said. She sounded amused. According to the specifi
cations logged in the Mira records, the dais should be large enough to accommodate the beacon. We will have to orient it properly on the sled to aim the exo-solar artifact toward the outer Kuiper Belt.

  Why’s that? Nobel asked.

  If the beacon should activate while aboard the sled, I don’t think we want it pointed toward the inner Sol System.

  Nobel, mind racing, paused a beat. The beacon had attracted the lifeforms. It had emitted several photon bursts before they arrived, and one since. There was no telling when it would erupt in another siren song and possibly bring in more creatures.

  We have any idea how the device works?

  Not exactly, Black said. It’s apparent to me, as it was to Dr. Thomas Reed, that the beacon’s photon bursts in some way call the creatures. Although I don’t understand how it may function, it’s possible the beacon’s energy emissions act as a trail for exo-solar lifeforms to follow.

  To follow? Nobel shivered. So you think they’re traveling into Sol System because they’re following the beacon?

  Yes, Black said. It’s possible they’ve been following the beacon for the past 43 years.

  Nobel whistled aloud. Through the block connection, the sound might as well have happened on another planet. That meant… If that’s the case, how many creatures are on their way here now?

  Unknown, Black said. Without better sensors, and a much larger telescopic array at our disposal, it’s impossible to even guess. However, our detection of multiple KBOs heading this way does seem a little too coincidental.

  He’d suddenly forgotten all about the pain in his leg and chest. Black was laying out a threat assessment, and it wasn’t good. If Mira had left a long enough, and wide enough, trail, millions of those pinecone things, the starfish, and whatever the hell else lived beyond Sol might be coming this way even now. An invasion, he thought. An invasion of lifeforms we know nothing about.