Vinium (The Silver Ships Book 10)

by S. H. Jucha

  Mickey, the engineers, and the SADEs had chosen to construct a set of controllers that were prepared to review, sample, and analyze the data. The idea was to connect the first controller to a single crystal of the memory bank, with a cutout switch. The processed data would be held within the controller rather than be returned to the Trident’s memory crystal.

  A small operations device received a link from the controller to record the steps that the controller took. It was considered a backup, which few thought necessary.

  When all was prepared, Miriam signaled Mickey, and the remainder of the team assembled outside the lab. A simple switch was employed to start the operations. Mickey triggered a timer and exited the space. When the timer ended, the switch closed and completed the connection between the controller and the warship’s memory crystal. Soon, the team watched their first controller overheat and shut down, smoke pouring from its casing.

  “Black space,” Mickey whispered.

  Miriam immediately sent an image to Julien.

  “Set up the second controller,” Mickey ordered the lab techs. “Miriam, please recover the ops download.”

  This time, Mickey had no need to warn the SADEs to be careful. The operation had taken on a sinister aura for every digital entity.

  Little was learned from the analysis of the ops download. In order not to repeat the exact process, Mickey had the SADEs change out the warship’s crystal to test another. The memory bank held ten crystals.

  This time the controller lasted almost an eighth of an hour before it was ruined. And so the process went: pull the ops download, set up a new controller, trade out the Trident’s crystal, and repeat.

  After the third controller was smoked, the team immediately began making new ones. Initially, they’d only prepared ten.

  After two days of testing and burning through forty-three controllers, Mickey called a halt to the operations. Facing Miriam and the other SADEs, he said, “I believe the way forward lies in the ops downloads. We’ve tested each of the Liberator’s crystals four or more times. My question is: Why did identically built controllers last different times before they overheated?”

  A tech returned the latest crystal to be tested to the bank’s cradle. He waited until the tiny convertor box from the Trident registered it was online. When the device signaled the crystal was operational, he noted the bank’s capacity.

  Warned against using implants within the testing lab, the tech hurried over and tapped Mickey on the shoulder. “Ser, the convertor box indicates the memory bank has lost nearly 2 percent of the data.”

  Mickey was about to say impossible, but, then again, he was dealing with alien technology.

  Miriam said, “That explains the different controller burn times, Mickey. Conceivably, every time a crystal was reloaded, it had a little less data, and, with a shift in the data stream, we experienced a shift in the burn times.”

  Another SADE raised a finger to indicate he had a thought, but Mickey held up his hands. “Friends, let’s vacate the lab to talk. I’d feel a great deal better if this lab was sealed, while we conversed.”

  “Now, please, Luther, continue,” Mickey requested, when they were outside.

  “It occurs to me that we’re observing two different forms of data, Ser,” Luther said. “The first form passes through the controller’s circuitry without issue. Our device probably had relevant information stored for us before it was destroyed. The ops download indicates sampling and analysis was occurring. The second signal type is an ephemeral stream that’s destructive.

  “Are you suggesting that this other form sat in the crystal, inert as it were, until it had a target?” Mickey asked.

  “Precisely,” Luther replied.

  Mickey had little reason not to pay attention to Luther. The SADE had worked for a Méridien House that was responsible for comm systems.

  “There is another fact to consider, Mickey,” Miriam said. “If we calculate the total amount of time the controllers were in operation and the rate at which they consumed data, the loss in crystal data is not equivalent. Not even close.”

  Mickey examined the calculations Miriam passed the team.

  “This underscores Luther’s reasoning. A virulent data form might be scattered throughout the broadcast. This is good news,” Mickey said, clapping his hands in delight.

  “We await your insight, Mickey,” Miriam replied, placing her fists on her hips.

  Mickey recognized Miriam’s posture. She’d copied it from Pia, and it was equally effective for both females.

  “Sorry,” Mickey said contritely. “What we have to do is separate or filter the real broadcast from this virulent data.”

  “Okay, Mickey, how?” Miriam asked.

  “Luther?” Mickey said, turning to the SADE with a hopeful look. It generated a round of chuckles, not the least of which was because Luther appeared as if he had been handed an explosive device to diffuse without a manual.

  “This will require some thought, Mickey,” Luther replied, which was newly freed SADE speak for “I need a few moments, while I enter a fugue and focus on my kernel’s processing.”

  Humans took the opportunity to grab a bite and a cup of thé. They had missed the midday meal. In the meantime, the SADEs communed with Luther to offer their support.

  When Mickey, the engineers, and the techs returned, the SADEs were nowhere in sight.

  Mickey pinged Miriam and located her in the assembly lab, with the other SADEs. The humans discovered the SADEs furiously constructing a device, which was housed inside a large cabinet. Within an hour, the SADEs completed their devices and carted them to the testing lab.

  The SADEs set about hooking up two controllers in tandem. The first controller was also connected to the cabinet, and the second controller was connected to a fresh memory crystal bank. Finally, a squat-looking box was attached to the cabinet’s output.

  “We’re ready for the first warship crystal, Mickey,” Luther announced.

  “To quote, Miriam,” Mickey replied and placed his fists on his hips.

  Miriam laughed, not only at Mickey’s antics but the confused expression on Luther’s face.

  “Luther educated us on comm-filtering techniques,” Miriam explained, “it occurred to several of us that we are dealing with a malevolent entity, which seeks to destroy. Therefore, it was decided to emulate one of Alex’s techniques.”

  “Which is what, in this case?” Mickey prompted.

  “We will entice our adversary to make the first move and show its hand, Mickey. Whatever is buried throughout this broadcast data waits to attack sophisticated electronics. It’s meant to cripple them,” Miriam replied.

  “Am I to understand that it’s your plan to fool this dangerous stream into taking the path toward the cabinet?” Mickey asked. “What’s to prevent the broadcast data that we need from going the same direction?”

  “Digital gravity,” Luther replied. “We’ve added a small interface at the front of the first controller. The broadcast data will pass through the interface and into the controller normally to be sampled and analyzed. Then it will be sent to the second controller to be stored in the new memory crystal. However, the interface at the front of the first controller will offer the destructive signal a route toward a much more tempting target. We’re confident the malevolent data can’t resist our offer.”

  “I feel like I’m listening to a director explain the concept for an ancient horror vid,” Mickey replied. “There’s a great deal of equipment in that cabinet, Luther. Once a bit of Nua’ll treachery gets in there, it’s going to create a significant fire and probably destroy most of the lab.”

  “Negative, Ser,” Luther explained. “The cabinet is merely a delay device. It will add a significant amount of transmission time, while the destructive data flows through it.”

  “Then where’s the bait?” Mickey asked.

  “The temptation,” Mi
riam replied, translating New Terran speak for Luther, “is in that small box, which is heavily fire protected.”

  “Curious,” Mickey replied, examining the small enclosure. “What would interest this ugly data more than a controller?”

  “Embedded in the interface of the first controller is a set of algorithms, Mickey, which indicates a SADE’s kernel is on the other end of the link,” Miriam explained.

  “I’m confused,” Mickey said. “How does an empty kernel attract this data stream?”

  The SADEs grew quiet, and Mickey looked at Miriam for an answer.

  “It wouldn’t, Mickey. The kernel isn’t empty. It contains a copy of my kernel.”

  Mickey blanched, and he glanced at the other humans, who were as uncomfortable with the concept as he was.

  Miriam searched for a means of relieving the unease swirling through the humans’ minds. “I’m detecting some jealousy from the humans in this room,” Miriam said.

  “What?” Mickey asked in surprise.

  “You heard me,” Miriam repeated. “You’re jealous that the Nua’ll corruption stream finds SADEs more desirable than mere humans.”

  First a tech snickered. Then a couple of engineers snorted, and, soon, humans and SADEs were laughing.

  “Pretty good one, Miriam,” Mickey said. “Let’s find out how tempting you are.”

  “That aspect of my persona is not to be doubted, Mickey,” Miriam replied, with a nice touch of hauteur. “What we must discover is how tempting I am to the Nua’ll.”

  The engineering team wasn’t required to run another forty-three tests, but Miriam did have to copy her kernel nineteen more times.

  “Credit to Alex’s foresight,” Miriam said, when the team saw the malevolent signal’s definitive preference for a SADE kernel over a controller. And Alex protected you, Julien, Miriam thought with pride for the status that SADEs held in Alex’s world.

  That only twenty tests were required to run through the memory crystals’ entire data was credited to the copies of Miriam’s kernel fending off the initial attacks. The SADEs reasoned that the kernel succumbed only after the attack of a multitude of virulent streams.

  When the filtering process was complete, the team supposed that they had acquired a new memory bank of untainted broadcast data. The warship’s crystal bank indicated a loss of nearly a fifth of its original data total.

  “A clever integration of weaponized signal broadcasting,” Luther said admiringly. “I must consider a means of protecting our ships before they next meet the Nua’ll.”

  Luther found humans staring at him with expressions ranging from concern to horror.

  “That’s an excellent idea, Luther,” Mickey said, laying a hand on the SADE’s shoulder. “We mere mortals, would appreciate not being left to the mercy of the Nua’ll, when the SADEs and our ship controllers became permanently inert.”

  “I will be diligent in my responsibilities, Ser,” Luther replied with gravity, failing to recognize Mickey’s humor.

  “Okay,” Mickey said, clapping his hands enthusiastically, “I want to test our cleaned data. Reconfigure the original setup. Let’s pass the data from our second set of crystals through a new controller to a bank of clean crystals and hope we don’t produce a burned controller.”

  In little more than an hour, the entire trove of broadcast data was cleared by a single controller without a mishap.

  “The data should be safe now,” Mickey announced. “But there’s to be no sampling of the data. Instead, we’ll need some linguistic specialists to program a controller to decode the Nua’ll broadcast.”

  “We have linguistic experts?” Luther asked.

  “We have the next best thing, Luther,” Mickey replied. “We have the SADEs who deciphered the Swei Swee whistles and were some of the first to master the Dischnya language.

  -33-

  Master Race

  Alex convened a meeting in a Freedom conference room with Renée, Ellie, Mickey, key SADEs, and Yumi, who was surprised to have been invited.

  “Mickey, you have the floor,” Alex said, to open the discussion.

  Mickey walked everyone through what transpired in the Omnian lab. While it wasn’t news to Renée or any SADE, Ellie and Yumi were particularly horrified by what had targeted their Trident.

  “What about the next time we meet the Nua’ll?” Ellie asked.

  “Luther,” Alex prompted.

  “I haven’t yet devised the exact method, Sers, but it will be similar to what was accomplished in the lab. We can’t afford to change out equipment as it’s destroyed. It must be a permanent solution that filters their destructive streams from their broadcast,” Luther explained.

  “Won’t the Nua’ll change up their processes when they discover they’re ineffective?” Ellie asked.

  “Undoubtedly, Captain. I have considered that, which makes the design process ever more difficult. I must create a solution for today and one that anticipates what the Nua’ll might do in the future. I find the task … challenging, to say the least. That I have so many of my kind to assist me, makes me confident that we will be successful.”

  “I’ve every confidence that you will be, Luther,” Alex said.

  “Ser,” Luther replied, nodding his head and touching hand to chest.

  “Julien, you’re next,” Alex said.

  Julien explained that the SADEs weren’t able to decipher the broadcast in its entirety. They lacked sufficient references to translate the language, but he considered the portions they had gleaned were worth sharing.

  “We discovered that the broadcast repeated its message in several hundred languages,” Julien said.

  “Several hundred,” Yumi repeated in amazement.

  “Gives you an idea of the number of races that the Nua’ll might have conquered, Lieutenant,” Alex said.

  “We targeted one language in particular,” Julien continued. “It had words that resembled Swei Swee terms. We, the SADEs, believe that this particular portion of the broadcast was in the Nua’ll language. Our familiarity with the Swei Swee terms of the Nua’ll, such as world, traveler, star hunter, and others enabled us to tease out portions of the broadcast.”

  “What did you understand, Julien?” Ellie asked.

  “One moment, Captain. There is more to comprehend, regarding the origination of these signals,” Julien said, as politely as possible. “What we wish to bring to this group’s attention is that we’re certain it was the Nua’ll who were broadcasting to the Liberator. The carrier wave from the orb, at the wall, was the same technique used by the spheres and probes. However, in the case of our warship’s comm station, obviously, the orb chose a method of transmission that it perceived we would be able to handle. How it determined that is a mystery to us.”

  “But it’s one that I’m working on,” Luther added. “The capture of the broadcast and the Trident’s comm station logs are providing incredible insight into the Nua’ll comm techniques.”

  “We understand the Nua’ll broadcast was a ruse, while they bombarded our ship through their comm attack,” Julien continued. “But they sought to present a real invitation in case their attack failed. They were covering their bet, so to speak,” Julien said, tipping his head to Alex. “In their invitation’s repetition, the Nua’ll listed a series of proper names, which we understood to be the names of other races. And, here’s the critical point, Sers, it’s our belief that we were invited to speak with their masters, for lack of a better word, who these races serve.”

  “While you digest this idea,” Alex said into the conversation that ensued from Julien’s announcement, “I want to review the discussions I’ve had with several of you, but not with this group as a whole.”

  The table’s holo-vid sprang to life, and the various ships that the Omnians met at the wall were displayed.

  “Z, your turn,” Alex said.

  “Pilot Yumi noted that I should examine the arrival of the ships at the wall,” Z said. “Several of us have analyzed the ships�
�� propulsion methods and noted significant variations. These differences indicate a lack of a single, technologically homogenous population.”

  “Also evident are the tremendous ship design variations,” Miranda added. “Someone should help the poor dears coordinate. It would have been much more intimidating for them to have arrived at the wall displaying unique ship functionality, while constructed on a similar design principle.”

  “It’s our estimate that there were, at least, eleven unique races represented in the main fleet alone,” Z said. “Surprisingly, the fighters didn’t appear to resemble the carriers they exited.”

  “To sum it up,” Alex said, clasping his hands in front of him. “The Nua’ll, who we thought were intent on expansionism and wiping out any developing species, might be just lackeys, who, along with other races, work for even worse entities.”

  Yumi, who’d been ever more flummoxed as the information about the adversaries piled on, looked around the table. The concern of the faces of humans and SADEs reflected her own. “I know I’m speaking for myself,” she said, “but I feel thoroughly intimidated. Defeating a sphere or two was one thing. Defeating a civilization composed of hundreds of races seems like a daunting task, if not impossible.”

  “Undoubtedly, Lieutenant,” Alex replied. He sat with his arms crossed and one hand rubbing his chin, “if that was what you were trying to do.”

  “It isn’t what we’re going to do?” Yumi asked in confusion.

  “Z, Miranda, how different would you say these ships were from one another?” Alex asked.

  “Technology hasn’t been shared, Alex,” Z replied. “Propulsion gases indicate vast technological differences. It’s evidence of species eons apart in technology.”

  “Armament displays and ports speak to a variety of weapons among the different ships,” Miranda commented. “It’s a theme that echoes our analysis of the propulsion mechanisms: the older the drive techniques, the older the weapons.”