by CJ Williams
“They didn’t. Rico said the US government funded that research over ten years ago. But my point is that when the base station registers an event, it fires off a mini-drone with the data. The message, along with any other traffic, is sent to three other base stations, which send it on. What we wind up with is an FTL communication network. Not instantaneous, of course, but a lot faster than light.”
“So what does it give you?” Luke asked. “Sounds like a NORRAD kind of system.”
“That’s right. When the Bakkui move through our space, we know about it. After watching them for a few months, we’ve learned how they play hopscotch through planetary systems, and how much time they spend in each one. If we’re lucky, we can figure out where they’re going in time to intercept them. We’ve done that three times so far.”
“Carrie, this is phenomenal.”
The Commander’s praise fed a warm glow inside her chest. Not enough to burn away the darkness that ate at her heart, but it certainly helped.
For an hour Carrie talked about the sensor array’s many features, not the least of which was the replicator built into the base stations.
“Justin calls it the power of two,” she explained. “We had to include a replicator to manufacture all the message drones they send out, so Justin took it a step further. Each system duplicates itself once it’s in place. That means our network doubles in size on a continuing basis. The limiting factor is transit time. So far, it hasn’t made much of a dent in the scale of the space we want to protect, but over time it’ll make a big difference.”
“You’ve built the equivalent of a von Neumann probe.”
“Sort of,” Carrie agreed. She was somewhat familiar with the original concept of self-replicating spacecraft invented by a mathematician in the early nineties. “But we capped the top end. Unlimited replication wouldn’t work, obviously, or it would fill up the galaxy. So Justin included software to halt the process after thirty generations. We can change that or send out updates at any time to concentrate on one area of space or another, or if we want, to steer clear of a location.”
Luke shook his head. “I still don’t see how you get notification so quickly,” he said. “I understand that you can detect gravity waves from passing ships, but wouldn’t those waves be limited to the speed of light?”
“That true, Commander. If you only place one station in each star system, the array would work but there would be a significant lag in the updates. You could only estimate the Bakkui’s direction after they got to the next star system. And even then, you don’t know where they’re going next. But if you draw a line from every star to every other star, there are distinct areas where pathways cross. A lot of them can be disregarded for logical reasons. For example, the Bakkui probably won’t navigate through the middle of a star. So we put additional base stations near the obvious route crossings. It’s like a highway system. They have to go through those intersections; they don’t have any choice. When they do, it gives us their direction of flight much quicker.”
“That has to be thousands of points,” Luke said.
“It’s millions,” Carrie corrected him. “Even out here away from the galactic center, there are a lot of stars. We couldn’t manage it without AI support of course, but it’s doable.”
“It had to be a ton of calculations.”
“Yes,” Carrie agreed. “But that part is not really an issue. Look at credit cards. Back on earth, VISA computers handle a couple hundred million transactions a day. Our AIs are a lot more capable than that.” Carrie looked at the ceiling. “Little John, show potential Bakkui travel for this sector of space.”
On the hologram, a matrix of thin white lines filled the dark void between the stars. “That’s a lot of crossing points,” Luke said drily.
“You’re the one who told me how to eat an elephant, Commander.”
Luke chuckled at his remembered comment. “That’s true. One bite at a time. Okay, good job.”
“You’ve seen how I split up our fleet, right?” Carrie asked.
“Yes. Great idea. I agree with it completely.”
“Thanks to our communication array, our fleets can stay in touch a bit quicker than routing everything back here. You’ve still got time lag, but not quite as much.”
Luke nodded. “I see that. With the new weaponry that Sadie has introduced, I might split up our forces even more. That way we can operate as smaller packs of hunter-killers.”
Carrie watched Luke as his mind raced ahead, considering possibilities; accepting some while discarding others, only to come up with entirely new strategies. She’d see the look a hundred times before.
As if reading her thoughts, Luke glanced at Carrie and shook his head. “I’m getting ahead of myself. The main thing is you’ve set us on the right path. I can’t tell you how proud I am of everything you’ve accomplished. But you don’t have to worry about that now.”
Inwardly Carrie sighed. That was about as clear a message as she’d ever been given. Don’t worry kid, we got it now; so hit the road.
Carrie nodded at Luke. “I understand, Commander. I’ll leave you to your thoughts.” She started to leave the room.
“Wait, Carrie,” Luke called after her. “Sorry, that was pretty blunt. I didn’t mean for it to be. Let’s head over to the Officer’s Club; Annie wants to see you.”
I don’t really want hand holding, Carrie thought. But he was the Warlord after all. “Yes, sir,” she replied.
They walked in silence across the center of downtown Jabon City. When they were halfway to the Club, Luke spoke again. “I’m trying to come up with a gentle way of telling you that you’re relieved of command, but there’s not really a nice way to put it that doesn’t sound insincere.”
“Not to worry, Commander. Governor Lindsey told me yesterday. I took it that you guys had already decided.”
“Not really,” Luke said. “Brad and I were going to sort of wait and see how you felt, but Annie is the one who said no way. She said it wouldn’t be fair and that you probably didn’t want to fight, anyway.”
That much is true. Carrie wanted nothing more to do with the war effort. And she was totally surprised by the change. Just a few weeks ago she had been completely gung-ho about serving the Commander and his mission. Now, the very idea seemed foreign. Abandoning her friends; another thing to feel guilty about. She wondered if it would ever stop.
What she did want was uncertain. For the most part, she wanted to curl up in a corner somewhere and just fade away. But even that thought didn’t bring real comfort.
Annie was waiting at the club. She had situated herself under an umbrella-covered table in the outside dining area. The setting overlooked the crystal lake and to the north, gorgeous snow-capped peaks. Annie sent Luke away and dragged Carrie inside the mess hall.
The cafeteria line was open so Carrie took the opportunity to pick up a softball-sized cinnamon roll, fresh out of the oven. One thing the local Soyujans knew how to do was bake. What they had never discovered, however, was sugar. It made their baked goods seem almost healthy. Hundreds of freshly baked pastries had been added to the universal replicator menus, but there was something about an entire building filled with the aroma of the real thing that was impossible to replicate.
“Let’s sit here,” Annie said, selecting a modest table in the center of the huge dining room. It was called the officer’s mess but it was more like the luxury restaurant of an upscale vacation lodge in the Swiss Alps. The solid wood floors were covered in places by thick wool carpets, woven by the local population. Artistically shaped noise reduction structures hung suspended from the high ceiling, muting the noise level in the gymnasium-sized room. The spectacular outside view was visible through two walls of high-arched windows, framed with curved, darkly stained wooden beams.
The furniture was comfortably upholstered and Annie pointed to the chair closest to hers for Carrie to sit in.
“I thought we could chat for a while by ourselves,” Annie said. “And
I didn’t want Luke trying to interpret girl talk.” She shrugged matter-of-factly. “He wouldn’t be listening, anyway. He’s all wrapped up in that new sensor array you came up with.”
“It wasn’t really me,” Carrie said.
Annie waved away the denial. “Doesn’t matter. I just thought it would be good to discuss things, just the two of us. Did he tell you it was my idea to relieve you of all duties?”
Carrie nodded. “I’m not complaining, though. I don’t think I can do it anymore.” Carrie wanted to explain why, but her talk with Lindsey yesterday left her empty of words.
“Has anyone told you that I killed twenty million people on Earth?” Annie asked without preamble.
Carrie gasped and shook her head.
“It’s true, although everyone keeps telling me it’s not my fault.” A ghost of the same expression that Carrie saw in her own mirror appeared on Annie’s face while she explained. “My friends on New Hope insisted on throwing me a farewell party when I wanted to head back to Earth. I knew about the level-two threat, but I let them talk me into staying one more night so I could join in their celebration. By the time I got to our solar system, the Bakkui had been there for six hours. Washington DC and Beijing had been wiped off the face of the planet; over twenty million dead.”
“Oh no!” Carrie exclaimed. “That’s terrible.” But in the back of her mind a guilty voice whispered, Thank God. At least there was someone in the universe who could understand how she felt. Then she felt even more guilt-ridden for thinking such a thing. How could she be thankful that more people had died?
“I know what you’re thinking,” Annie said, ignoring the tears that were streaming down her own cheeks. “You’re thinking what a relief that someone else did the same thing. That’s what I felt a few days ago, when I heard from your crew about what happened at J99. It’s insane! How can we be happy about such a thing? Someone ought to lock both of us up and throw away the key.” She reached out to embrace Carrie, and for a long moment the two women shared the companionship of a common misery.
Annie finally released Carrie and leaned back. “But that’s the universe we live in now. Millions of people, billions on some planets, wiped out for no reason.” Annie paused and closed her eyes for a moment. She sighed deeply before continuing. “It turns out that Sadie has some pretty good psychiatric modules in her programming. I gather she used some of that on your trip back.”
“She did,” Carrie confirmed. “It’s like every single word was calculated to push me or pull me.”
“Exactly,” Annie said. “Same thing for me. I got seven weeks of the stuff on my way to meet up with Luke. I wanted to wring her neck, but I also knew it was working. At least it kept me sane. In a way, you were lucky that George went off the deep end when you were on the planetoid. It meant you were stuck with Sadie for a while.”
Carrie nodded, uncertain what to say.
“My point is,” Annie continued, “these days, I’m out of the war effort too. I stick next to Luke because he says he needs me, but I have trouble even lifting a finger. It’s embarrassing, you know? Because I used to do so much. I suspect you feel the same way.”
“I do,” Carrie agreed. “Even though I haven’t done anything for the past three weeks, I’m exhausted.”
“You need time. Luke and Bradley were talking about carving out a part of the fleet just for you, so you could get back on the horse. I told them they were crazy.”
“Thanks,” Carrie said. “I really mean that.”
“You’re welcome. Enough of that now; new topic. Did you see my new version of Sadie? Pretty cool, isn’t she? It turns out we have an extra one. I made a copy for Luke before we left Jigu, but neither Sadie wanted to stay behind. She said the technology in that version needed to remain in the custody of people that have level-one implants. I understand you’re a level-one now.”
“That’s right,” Carrie said. “Sadie thought Luke had been lost in the Jigu system, so she upgraded mine. She was really picky about that though. I told her to give it to Zach or Johnny, but she said that wasn’t allowed.”
Annie rolled her eyes. “As far as I’m concerned, these AIs just make up rules to suit themselves.”
Carrie couldn’t contain a small smile. “I’ve thought the same thing more than once.”
“Anyway,” Annie continued. “I’m going to give one of the new Sadies to you. And then I’m shipping you back to Earth. Go back, decide what you want to do with your life. If that means buying a small homestead in Kansas, then do it. No one will hold it against you, I promise.”
Carrie shook her head. “That’s not what I’m looking for. I don’t want to fight, but I’m not ready to give up. I just don’t know what.”
“Fair enough,” Annie said. “If you get to the point you want to come back, talk to Roth. I’m sending a message via Sadie that he is in charge of deciding whether or not you can return to work. And only because the fact is you did try to commit suicide. We can’t ignore that. Medical literature says that people who try may try again, especially if the underlying cause hasn’t changed. In your case that’s never going away. I hate to say that, but it’s true for both of us.”
Carrie looked around the officer’s mess. There was an invisible barrier of empty tables around her and Annie. Not too long ago, when she sat down for a meal, the table filled up quickly with people wanting to share her company. That wasn’t the case now. She had gone from being a respected admiral to a pariah in one breath.
“When are you thinking I should leave?” Carrie asked, afraid she knew the answer.
Annie smiled sympathetically. “You tell me when, but I’d say as soon as you’re up to it. I’m not trying to be pushy, but the sooner the better.”
Carrie cast a knowing glance at the empty tables around them and nodded. “I’m an embarrassment, I guess. I make everyone feel uncomfortable.”
“That’s not what I mean,” Annie countered, taking one of Carrie’s hands. “It’s for your sake, believe me. I was going to stay a few weeks on Earth after the Bakkui attack, but I just couldn’t face anyone. As the death toll from DC and Beijing kept climbing, I couldn’t deal with it. I’m glad now I left. Mostly, because I was able to save Luke. But Sadie helped a lot on the trip out. Let her do that for you on the trip back. And tell Roth I said sorry for running out on him.”
Carrie nodded. “Okay.”
“What’s that?” Annie smiled at the stuffed animal tucked under Carrie’s arm.
“This is Teeny Jim,” Carrie said, introducing her new companion. “He’s the only survivor of J99.”
“You shouldn’t punish yourself that way,” Annie suggested.
Carrie held Teeny Jim up to her face and took a deep breath before hugging him tightly. “I’m not. He’s the one keeping me sane. When I put him next to my pillow at night I can smell the grass of the playground where I found him, and the household of the little girl he used to belong to. It was filled with love and the mother used to make delicious meals for her daughter; I can tell by the spicy scent. It’s like an entire museum is in this one furry little guy, a reminder of a beautiful planet that believed in things like teddy bears. I don’t know why, but when he’s with me, my heart beats a little slower. From here on out, Teeny Jim is my co-pilot.”
Chapter 4 – Moonbase One
“Looky there, Teeny Jim,” Carrie said, holding the bear up to the canopy. “That’s the dark side of the moon coming up. On the other side, we’ll find Moonbase One and you can meet Uncle Roth. He’s a neat guy.”
“You’re not really going to call him Uncle Roth, are you?” Sadie wondered aloud.
“Why not? He would be a perfect uncle. And I think Teeny Jim needs a male relative, anyway. He needs a whole family with… Holy crap! What is that?”
What Carrie saw was not the moonbase she remembered. Back when she had done PR work for Amanda, Carrie had flown to the featureless crater many times. In the process, she had memorized the area around the original settlement.
During those early days, the only indication of Moonbase’s location was the single rectangular entrance into the side of the crater wall and even then, you had to know where to look.
That was no longer the case. A dozen magnificent obelisk-shaped buildings sprouted from the crater’s central plain. There were also elegant curved structures, sparkling with lighted windows.
The crater’s sloping sides had been terraced, like a Chinese rice field; except the scale was huge. From some of the flat terraces, broad skyscrapers rose. Slender spires sprouted amongst the imposing buildings, all glistening from within through floor-to-ceiling windows. The entire area around Moonbase glowed brilliantly with the light of human occupation.
“What did you expect?” Sadie asked. “You’ve been gone almost a year and the population is over three hundred thousand. They need a place to live.”
“But everyone lives underground!”
“Most of the locals still do; Moonbase interior is certainly more comfortable. But there are always people who want a view.”
“I can understand why,” Carrie said. In the distance, Earth was rising. The blue-and-white planet had just cleared the moon’s horizon, presenting a half disk in full sunlight. “This is just beautiful. It’s easy to see why they would want…wait. Are those balconies?”
“Indeed they are. If you look, you can see the glow of the force fields around each one.”
“Nice touch,” Carrie mused.
The roof of one skyscraper was topped off with a grassy park-like area. The faint shimmer of a crowd protection field surrounded the top of the building, keeping the area habitable.
“It’s like looking into the future,” Carrie murmured, awed by the spectacular lunar cityscape. “It reminds me how I felt the first time I stepped off the shuttle in the main Moonbase hangar. Back then I didn’t know if I should be scared or excited.”
“You helped build this place,” Sadie reminded her. “You were part of the very first construction crew.”
Carrie sighed. “I know. I used to be amazed at how fast we built things, so I guess this shouldn’t surprise me. But it does anyway; like seeing a childhood friend who’s all grown up. Then again, with Rico and Justin’s construction rigs, we built Jabon City almost overnight.”
