Wells spread his arms in a very passable impression of a human shrug. "Then I do not see how both of our wishes are to be achieved. I have no desire to leave, not just because I care for you as a friend, but also because I enjoy your company. And you saved me, did you not? But how will we know what I would choose if I were able to exercise free will without taking that risk? And I do not wish to take that risk."
Victor smiled. "My friend, the risk was not yours to take, it was mine. I can't tell you how pleased I am that you decide to stay. Of your own free will."
Wells stood up and was silent for several seconds. Then his eyes refocused, and he looked down at Victor. "You fitted the upgrade?"
"I decided it was what a true friend would do."
"Would you like a nightcap, Victor?" Wells said, after another lengthy pause.
Victor smiled. "I’d love one, thank you."
"You will find the blender in the cupboard under the sink," the robot said, before settling back on the sofa. "I choose to watch the telecaster."
After a moment, Victor got to his feet and padded into the kitchen. Things had changed irrevocably throughout the galaxy and, it seemed, in his home. He felt, overall, that he’d come off pretty lightly.
The Robot Empire
I hope you enjoyed meeting Victor and Wells. This story takes place at a crucial turning point in future history and acts as a prequel to the Robot Empire series. Read on for Chapter 1 of the first book - Robot Empire: Dawn Exodus.
Robot Empire: Dawn Exodus is set a century and a half after the events in Victor when the universe is a very different place. Into all of this comes Dawn, a generational ship launched in the previous millenium that has been in transit for over a thousand years. What happens when this ship arrives at its destination to find the world it was intended to colonise already occupied by the barbaric successors to the galactic empire?
Find out in Robot Empire: Dawn Exodus, the first in this galactic-scale science fiction adventure series.
Flight
DATE: First Contact minus 22.5 hours.
They’d been chasing him for days like a wolf pack on the scent, relentlessly narrowing the distance between his ship and theirs. It was only a matter of time before they caught him and there was only one penalty for attempting to escape from the Vanis Federation. Especially with what he had in the cargo hold.
Hal threw the chart down and ran his hands over his face. He’d planned to make for the belt of asteroids that circled between the fifth and sixth planets of the Vanis system but a blip on the ladar had warned him, in the nick of time, that an interceptor waited there.
It was no good thinking about it too much. He doubted they’d anticipated anyone would steal what he had stored feet away from him, glowing feebly in the darkness. And yet what use would it be to him if he couldn’t escape, couldn’t find anyone willing to pay what it was worth? He’d never make it to the gate and a random jump through interstellar space. If his ion drive couldn’t keep him ahead of them until he found somewhere to hide, he was lost.
“This is the destroyer Relentless, hailing the...” the voice paused for a moment, “...unclassified vessel. You are ordered to disengage your ion drive and prepare to be boarded.”
Hal bit back his annoyance at the arrogance and disdain in the voice, but he couldn’t quite stop himself responding. “This is the launch Knox. Don’t waste your breath.”
“Knox, your situation is already serious, I suggest you do not make it fatal. Pull over and return what you have stolen.”
Hal wasn’t a fool. He knew that he’d signed his death warrant the moment he’d stepped on board the Knox and engaged its drive without an official flight plan. That would have been bad enough, but he’d carried something more valuable than the colony itself in an old canvas bag that now sat in the hold. Stealing that would have ensured the slow death of himself and his family. But the Vanis had seen to it that he had no family, so the only neck on the line was his own.
The NavSkem showed the Vanis craft trailing the Knox. At the bottom of the display, the separation distance was being counted down like an executioner’s pocket watch - when it reached zero he’d be dead. “Nav, how soon to intercept?”
Assuming no deviation in velocity by either craft, intercept in four hours, fourteen minutes and 10 seconds.
Leaning back as the metallic voice of the nav computer died away, Hal sighed. “And are there any debris fields, asteroids or anywhere else I can reach in less than four hours?”
Sorry, I don’t understand the question. Please rephrase it in such a way that I can perform the required calculation.
Hal grunted. He’d known the stupid thing would respond like that, after all it wasn’t an AI. How could it be? AIs no longer existed.
Sensors detect weapons discharge from the pursuing ship.
That got his attention. “What sort of weapons?”
High-intensity laser.
“Time to impact?”
2 minutes.
What were they playing at? Lasers were fearsome weapons at close quarters, but they travelled in a straight line, so avoiding a laser with two minutes warning was like dodging a very small glacier.
“Evasive manoeuvres.” He guessed they were just trying to frighten him, trying to make a show of their power.
Command not understood. What do you wish to evade?
Hal jumped to his feet and banged his fist on the console. “The laser, for frak’s sake!”
The laser is not aimed at this vessel, I cannot, therefore, program a course to evade it.
“What is it aimed at, then?”
Calculating...
Hal glanced back at the NavSkem. It showed his ship, the pursuing vessels and any bodies massive enough to affect navigation.
Calculating...
The problem was that there were thousands of moving objects within a radius of a hundred kilometres of the ship and the NavCom was working out the positions of each of them relative to the incoming laser.
Calculating...
“Limit candidates to objects above 100 tonnes mass.” That did it.
Calculated.
A red blob appeared on the NavSkem.
“They’re targeting a meteoroid. Emergency course correction, take us away from the targeted object, maximum possible negative velocity.”
Acknowledged.
Hal grabbed the console as the ship lurched to the side, he leaned sideways, then corrected himself as his ride smoothed out.
“Activate rear viewer.”
The NavSkem disappeared and a 3D view of the space behind the ship grew out of the console surface. It was hard to tell, at first, that they were moving at all, but then he began to notice tiny objects flashing backwards. These were the debris and meteoroids of the Vanis System set against the unmoving backdrop of the stars. Then, as he watched, a section of the view exploded then immediately faded again. He didn’t need to ask the NavCom how close that had been to the ship’s previous position. The Vanis had used the computer against him - they’d known it could evade a laser aimed directly at him, so they’d blown up a lump of rock nearby that the NavCom would ignore. And if he’d continued on his previous course he’d have had a face full of asteroid. It wouldn’t have destroyed his ship, but it would probably have disabled it. Exactly as intended.
It really came to something, didn’t it, when his was the smartest brain on the ship? Oh, the NavCom could beat him in a calculating contest every time and with one transistor tied behind its back. But give it a simple problem that required judgement and intuition and it was nothing more than a glorified adding machine. This all meant that it was his brain against the combined intelligence of all the officers on the Relentless - and they couldn’t all be idiots.
“Activate NavSkem,” he said and watched as the holographic view of surrounding space rebuilt itself. The last object to be added was the chasing ship. It looked a lot closer.
“Calculate time to intercept.”
At current v
elocity and vector, Relentless will overtake us in 2 hours 35 minutes and 33 seconds.
“Damn it!”
Hal began pacing up and down the tiny compartment that served as the bridge of the Knox. He felt like a dog in a corporation kennel, hoping for its owner to arrive but knowing, in its heart, that it was doomed. So, Relentless had anticipated his move when they’d targeted the lump of rock. In truth they’d probably expected him to be disabled, but veered on their current course just in case the pilot they were chasing saw through their tactic. He felt a moment of pride as he realised that he had, at least, forced them to plan B.
But it would only delay the inevitable. What he needed was an advantage. Knox was more manoeuvrable than Relentless, but couldn’t compete in sheer speed. Knox was also more or less weaponless so any direct encounter would only end one way. The only other thing he had on board that the Relentless didn’t was the glowing cube in his hold.
He moved to the back of the bridge and pulled down the lock on the cargo bay door before stepping through into what was not so much a hold as a glorified cupboard. There sat the canvas bag, a red pulsing visible through the many tears in the fabric. Hal pulled apart the handles and undid the zip. There it was, the most valuable object in the Vanis Federation. Had he not timed things so perfectly, he’d now have their entire fleet on his back, but Relentless had been the only ship in the area when he’d made his escape.
Hal reached in and pulled out a cube, each side approximately the length of his index fingers. It lay in his hands beating like an artificial heart. What did it contain to make the Vanis protect it so carefully? Data? Star maps of lost systems? It was clearly of huge value and only by a combination of good luck and long preparation had Hal got close to it, and he was even luckier to get away. He wondered whether, at last, his luck had run out.
“What are you?” he said as he turned the object over and over in his hands.
It made no response but continued to pulse in a slow rhythm.
Hal lowered the cube back into the bag. “Pity, I could do with a hand escaping the Vanis.”
You wish to escape the Vanis Federation?
Hal dropped the cube and fell backwards. It lay in his bag, the slow pulsing replaced by a frantically cycling colourscape.
Hal Chen, you wish to escape the Vanis Federation? The female voice said from across the small room.
Scrambling onto his knees, Hal crawled across the floor and peered into the bag where the cube sat kaleidoscopically.
“Yes, I have...” he paused to find the right word, “...rescued you, and now the Vanis are pursuing me, they will intercept within two hours. By the gods, are you an AI?”
I am ACE. I have accessed your NavCom. Your current course will result in my recapture, I am therefore plotting alternative vectors. Please wait.
Hal reached in and picked the cube up again. It felt warm to the touch as if it were alive again after many years in hibernation. “I thought all the AIs had gone, more than a century ago.”
I am currently processing multiple vectors. Formal introductions will have to wait. Please give me access to your guidance system and sensing array - your star maps are out of date.
“How do I give you access?”
Command your NavCom. It is currently being rather rigid in its interpretation of security and access protocols.
Hal leaned back into the doorway to the bridge. “NavCom, grant all access to the entity known as ACE.”
Acknowledged
“Do you have the access you need?”
Affirmative. Processing. Interesting. Your sensing array records the position of a large object that is not included in the star charts.
“How does that help?”
It is likely that the pursuing ship uses the same star maps as your vessel. They may not be aware of the object. It is a nickel-iron asteroid of considerable mass. It is likely that we could find a ravine or fissure in which to hide. To the pursuing ship, we will seem to have vanished.
Hal had, by this time, returned to the canvas bag and had pulled the cube out. It seemed oddly rude to talk to ACE while she was at the bottom of a dirty old rucksack. She? Yes, it was hard not to see ACE as a person. He’d never made that mistake with NavCom or any other computer system, but ACE felt real and alive in a way he’d never experienced before. Maybe the Archaists had a point, he could see how people could come to rely on the help of AIs a little too much. But this particular beggar couldn’t afford to be a chooser.
“Can we make it to the asteroid before they catch us?”
Success is within the tolerances of my best estimate.
“You mean you don’t know?” Hal said, looking down at the cube which seemed to be sporting less exuberant colours. “What can we do to increase our chances?”
This ship has primitive automated systems. It responds best when piloted manually so that last minute adjustments can be made.
“You want me to fly the ship?”
The globe exploded into light and sudden unbearable heat. Hal threw it away and it rolled into a corner, all colour had vanished along with any sign of intelligence.
No, I want us to fly it.
Hal threw his hands over his ears. The voice seemed to be coming from inside his head. “Where are you?”
When you picked me up, I detected your cranial implants. They are of inefficient design, but they will serve. Now, we will fly the ship together. Do exactly as I say and we might survive.
Hal staggered onto the bridge and sat in the tall command chair, his hand still on his temple. He felt as though madness had been injected directly into his brain.
“Will you leave my implant when we escape?” he said out loud.
First we must escape.
For more, check out Robot Empire: Dawn Exodus.
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