Seeds of Earth

by Michael Cobley

  a year and a half of unpaid work at the Hyperion Data

  Project. It had been his own soldiering experience that

  had led to helping one of the supervisors with the tran-

  scription of a military treatise in Swedish. It turned out

  to be a Swedish translation of On War by the Prussian

  Von Clausewitz, a book that Theo had only ever read

  references to. Engrossed in the steady work of extracting

  it from the Hyperion's reams of raw text, and having to

  guess where the paragraphs began, he had become fas-

  cinated with the Hyperion and her sister ships, including

  the ones that were never launched . . .

  The door behind the shelves in the corner opened

  and the president entered, his wheelchair pushed by a

  young man in a brown and grey onepiece.

  'Evening, Theodor,' Sundstrom said, dismissing the

  attendant then dextrously propelling himself across the

  room to stop behind his desk.

  'Good evening, Holger,' Theo said. 'Interesting study

  you have, some nice books too.' He indicated a glass-

  fronted cabinet. 'Is that the Serov edition of Nineteen

  Eighty-four over there?'

  'Yes, it is,' said Sundstrom. 'Collins's Moonstone is

  rarer, of course, but Orwell is much more of a politi-

  cian's writer.'

  Theo chuckled. Vasili Serov had been a systems tech

  on board the colonyship Hyperion and had played a

  decisive role in the deadly struggle against the ship's

  Command AI. In the Hardship Years that followed,

  Serov had cobbled together a crude manual printing

  press and painstakingly typeset those few novels sitting

  in datapods that had not been linked to the shipboard

  comnet. The huge memorybanks of the Hyperion,

  buried under layers of encryption by the ship AI, were to

  remain inaccessible for decades, so Serov's work had

  proved invaluable to the surviving colonists.

  For a moment both men were thoughtfully silent,

  then Sundstrom spoke:

  'I assume you've heard.'

  'About two hours before I got your invitation,' Theo

  said, watching him. 'So it's true - Earth has sent a ship

  to find us, which means that the Swarm were defeated

  and all our troubles are over, yes?'

  Sundstrom gave a thin smile.

  'If only matters were that straightforward. Theo, the

  Swarm War lasted two and a half years before the

  Hegemony helped chase the last of the Swarm away,

  and that was a century and a half ago, which is a long

  time in the history of a culture or a society. Just think

  about all the strife and upheavals that our little enclave

  has been through - the Hyperion AI war, First Families

  against the New Generation, the Consolidators versus

  the Expansionists, the New Town Secession - and mul-

  tiply that to a planetary level.' He shook his head. Tin

  afraid that our lives are about to become quite a bit

  more complicated, not to say uncomfortable.'

  Frowning, Theo sat back, going over in his mind the

  dozen or so meetings he'd had with Sundstrom in the

  last two years.

  'You speak as if you know something I've not heard

  about.. .' He leaned forward. 'When you first asked me

  to join your little cabal, you said that we were preparing

  for the worst, like the possibility of occupation by an

  unfriendly species. Now it seems that there's an Earth

  ship due in . . . how long?'

  'Fourteen hours.'

  'Less than a day, fine,' Theo said. 'Yet your

  demeanour is not that of, shall we say, delighted antici-

  pation.' Then he laughed and snapped his fingers. 'Or

  has it been this contact with Earth that we've been

  preparing for all along?'

  Sundstrom leaned back in his wheelchair, gnarled

  hands loosely clasping the handrests. 'Your intuition has

  always been sharp, Theodor,' he said. 'If you had been the

  leader of the Winter Coup rather than Viktor Ingram . ..'

  'If I'd had that sharp an intuition back then, I would

  have shot the bastard, not trusted him,' Theo said

  testily. 'But you're dodging the question, Holger.'

  'I'm waiting for the others to join us first - ah, I think

  they're here now.' He reached forward and fingered an

  angled display set in the desktop.

  The others, Theo thought. Sundstrom had occasion-

  ally hinted at the existence of other cabal members, but

  in two years Theo had met only one of them, a broad-

  shouldered, muscular Scot who was introduced as Boris.

  He was not among the three who now entered the study,

  two of whom - a man and a woman - he had never seen

  before. The third he recognised immediately as Vitaly

  Pyatkov, assistant director at the Office of Guidance,

  an intelligence organisation founded in the wake ot tru

  Winter Coup. Theo was amused by the look of agiias.

  surprise that flashed across the man's features on seeing

  who was in the president's company, and also by the

  bland expression that slammed into place an instant

  later.

  'Thank you all for coming here this evening,' said

  Sundstrom. 'You have all agreed to be part of my little

  advisory inner circle, but I intend to keep identities ;o i

  minimum for now.' He then introduced the man as

  Donny, and the woman as Tanya. Once everyone had

  settled, he began.

  'First, as Fm sure you've all realised, the rumours are

  true. One of our comm satellites picked up a message

  claiming to be from the Earthsphere ship Heracles,

  offering friendly greetings and informing us that they

  will be entering Darien orbit at about ten tomorrow

  morning. Simurg 2, our satellite orbiting Nivyesta, is

  tracking an object on an intercept course with Darien;

  further communications have confirmed that the objec t

  is their source.'

  'Further communications, sir?' said the woman

  Tanya. 'Has there been dialogue? Do we have any clues

  about what to expect?'

  'There is a special ambassador on board, going by the

  name of Robert Horst, but thus far we have exchanged

  little more than diplomatic pleasantries.' Sundstrom's

  face grew serious. 'However, there are certain truths that

  I must make you all aware of from the outset.'

  He raised a wire remote and clicked it. The screen at

  his back blinked on, showing a blue world from orbit,

  with a small green moon in attendance - Darien and

  Nivyesta. The perspective swung round gradually, bring-

  ing the sun, New Sol, into view, causing a lens flare

  before it slid out of the frame, leaving planet and moon

  against a hazy backdrop through which a few bright

  stars shone, diamond points suspended in misty veils.

  'The tract of stellar dust and debris that surrounds

  us,' he went on, 'is rather larger than some observers

  had reckoned, nearly a thousand lightyears across at its

  widest, and our star system is located in one of the

  denser swirls. This tract is known as the Huvuun

  Deepzone and is one of several scattered a
round this

  part of the galaxy. It also happens to be the focus of a

  bitter border dispute between two regional civilisations,

  the Imisil and the Broltura.'

  On the screen, Darien and its solar system dwindled

  into the mottled murk of interstellar dust clouds while

  strangely contoured walls emerged, stretching across

  lightyears, the three-dimensional boundaries between

  the deepzone and adjacent territories.

  'The Brolturan Compact is closely allied to a huge

  interstellar empire called the Sendruka Hegemony, who

  also happen to be allies of Earthsphere. Unfortunately,

  the Solar System is nearly 15,000 lightyears away, which

  puts us well outside Earth's region of influence. The

  Imisil Mergence were once at war with the Hegemony,

  which adds a certain tension to the situation.'

  Sundstrom paused, and there was an astonished

  silence. The others glanced at the screen and each other

  as the revelations sank in, and Theo's mind spun with

  the implications.

  Complicated and uncomfortable? he thought. That's

  an understatement.

  Pyatkov the intelligence officer spoke:

  'Sir, respectfully - I know that your exchanges with

  the ambassador have not contained such information, so

  I must ask where it comes from.'

  'I'm sorry, Vitaly, but I cannot reveal that at the

  moment.'

  'Then how long have you known all this?' Theo said.

  'Nearly two and a half years,' the president said. 'You

  will all find out the nature of this source in time, but

  they do not wish others to know straight away in fear of

  an inevitable political backlash.'

  It's got to be the Enhanced, Theo thought. They're

  involved in all the tech-heavy projects, and I'll bet that

  old Holger has a couple tucked away, translating signal-

  trawled from the Great Beyond.

  'So who should we fear the most?'

  Sundstrom smiled ruefully. 'Realpolitik being what

  it is, I feel that none of them are to be entirely trusted,

  but Earth's alliance with the Sendruka Hegemony is dis

  turbing . . .'

  As they listened, Sundstrom launched into an amaz

  ing disclosure, sketching the outlines of a topography of

  interstellar power, rivalry and conflict they had never

  dreamed existed. The Sendruka Hegemony was an

  authoritarian, militaristic empire which dominated this

  part of the galaxy: it employed a range of unprincipled

  tactics in order to get its way while laying claim to the

  most altruistic of motives and holding itself up as the

  example to which other civilisations should aspire.

  Unfortunately, close bonds of gratitude and trade

  existed between Earthsphere and the Hegemony, since

  the latter had been instrumental in defeating the Swarm

  invasion fleet which had nearly overwhelmed Earth and

  a dozen other civilisations 150 years ago. That was

  when the Hyperion and two other colonyships had

  departed the home solar system, after the beginning of

  the invasion but before the Hegemony's intervention.

  As Sundstrom spoke, Theo glanced at the others. The

  woman Tanya was utterly engrossed, her gaze fixed on

  the president, while Pyatkov seemed more reserved,

  frowning slightly as he took it all in. The other man,

  Donny, seemed to be listening but had a relaxed alert-

  ness about him that Theo recognised.

  Definitely special forces, he thought. Plus an intelli-

  gence officer, a networker - maybe she's in government

  admin or communications - and a disgraced ex-major.

  There have to be others besides us.

  'So we're a human colony world very far from home,'

  Pyatkov said. 'We've appeared in the middle of con-

  tested territory, and Earth's allies are powerful and

  unsavoury. What of these Brolturans? Are they prefer-

  able to these others, the Imisil?'

  'The Brolturans constitute a fanatical offshoot of

  mainstream Sendruka civilisation,' Sundstrom said.

  'Their culture is centred on the precepts of a faith called

  Voloasti which elevates them to the status of God's pal-

  adins. The Imisil Mergence on the other hand—' He

  shrugged. 'They are a confederation of mainly non-

  humanoid races, non-expansionist, yet they're

  contesting ownership of this area we're in, the Huvuun

  Deepzone, purely to maintain some kind of buffer

  between themselves and the Brolturans.'

  At this Donny smiled and sat straighten 'So what do

  they look like, these Sendruka?'

  'A lot like us,' Sundstrom said. 'They are very human

  like, except that they average about ten feet in height.'

  Theo got a sudden flash of insight, imagining these

  tall humanoid aliens fighting shoulder-to-shoulder with

  humans to save Earth from the insectoid Swarm. Yearn

  that would generate a good deal of useful gratitude.

  Tanya and Pyatkov were openly surprised at this piece

  of information, but Donny just smiled and nodded.

  'They sound formidable,' Theo said. 'Anything else?'

  The president gave one of his twinkly-eyed, mischie-

  vous smiles. 'Quite a lot else, actually, but there is one

  particular nugget which I think you'll all find interest-

  ing.' Fie looked at them. 'Since the Swarm War, and

  especially since Earth allied itself with the Hegemony-,

  the development of artificial intelligence and awareness

  has moved ahead in leaps and bounds. AIs have spread

  to every level and sector of Earth culture, permeating the

  social fabric to the point where many people carry per-

  sonalised ones around with them, sometimes as

  implants, and calling them "companions", never AIs.

  In the Hegemony, such entities are even more wide-

  spread, with the majority conferred autonomous rights

  by law. Several of the oldest and most complex even

  hold senior posts in government.'

  There was a shocked pause, and a shared look of

  alarm as the meaning of his words dawned. One hun-

  dred and forty-eight years ago, soon after the detection

  of the world that was to become their new home, the

  crew and colonists of the Hyperion had fought a savage

  and desperate war against the ship's Command Ai.

  From the point when the ship had dropped out of hyper -

  space, the onboard systems had begun to exhibit

  malfunctions which grew steadily more hazardous as

  the landing approached. By the time they made landfall

  they were actively struggling against the ship, whose AI

  had ceased to obey instructions. It took control of

  machinery, bots and various repair drones with which to

  sabotage the crew's efforts to get supplies out of locked

  storerooms or to directly attack them. Eventually it had

  begun waking other colonists from cryosleep, implant-

  ing them with neural devices to force them to carry out

  its instructions: 11 of the original crew of 46, plus 29

  out of the cryosleep contingent of 1,200, had been killed

  by the time the survivors shut off power to the AI core
.

  As to why it had turned against them, the weary victors

  could only speculate that the unknown stresses of hyper-

  space had corrupted its data or its cognitive substrate,

  turning it against them. The horrors of that struggle had

  echoed down the decades, becoming a potent symbol

  and a widely accepted justification for banning any

  research into AI, and commemorated in the annual

  Founders' Victory celebrations.

  'I shall be making my widecast address to the colony

  in a couple of hours, after making a statement in the

  Assembly,' the president said. 'There will be no mention

  of anything that I've related here, of course, except for

  whatever generalities came in the ambassador's mes-

  sages. But I wanted to tell you this in person now, since

  even our most secure communications may cease to be

  so in days to come.'

  'Is it possible that the Earth ambassador will have

  one of these AIs with him?' asked Pyatkov.

  'It might be wise to assume that he has,' Sundstrom

  said. 'Which may lead to umbrage on his part come FV

  *

  Day, but we'll paper over that crack when we come to

  it.' He spread his hands. 'That is all for the time being,

  my friends. Continue with your preparations, maintain

  your colleagues lists, and expect new codewords by

  tomorrow night.'

  As Theo rose with the others, Sundstrom beckoned

  him back. 'Theodor, if you could wait behind a

  moment.'

  Once the rest had made their farewells and left,

  Pyatkov looking grim as he did so, the president

  manoeuvred his wheelchair out from behind the cissl

  and over to a stolidly designed drinks cabinet. He

  poured himself a small glass of something dark red with

  out offering one to Theo, knocked it back and gave a

  throaty sigh of satisfaction.

  'I'm very glad that you agreed to join my little con-

  spiracy, Theodor,' he said. 'Even though you still

  associate with various rogues and misfits, those

  Diehards of yours.'

  'Ah, merely a group of friends from my army days,

  family friends . . .' He shrugged, smiling. 'Like-minded

  folk.'

  Sundstrom's smile was knowing. 'In any case, I still

  value your experience and military insight, even your

  dissenter's viewpoint. But there's something else yon