To Well And Back (The Deep Dark Well)

by Doug Dandridge

  The missile popped from the launcher with a slight recoil, then ran with its spatial grabber engines to the target at a thousand gees acceleration. One of the workers must have heard the initiating pop, and he started to turn his head. He never completed that motion, at least not on this plane of existence. The missile streaked into the fuselage of the aircraft with a bright flash, soon followed by an earsplitting roar. The hull under the cockpit turned to metal vapor, while the rest of the aircraft shattered and flew in pieces across the hanger.

  When the flash cleared there was no sign of the people who had been working on the aircraft, and Pandora again felt a bit of guilt. They weren’t combat troops. But they were fixing an aircraft that would be used to attack friends, she thought, again dismissing the guilty feelings.

  Pandora looked up the hanger and saw the people who had been working on the shuttle were now picking themselves up from the floor. One was not moving at all, and the spreading pool of crimson under his body told of something penetrating him. The others were moving in a daze, and Pandora unslung the heavy laser and fired a blast into the ceiling overhead, burning into the hull with a shower of sparks.

  “Get the hell out of here,” she yelled over her suit speakers, her voice reverberating like that of a giant in the big open room. The techs looked around, then one pointed wide eyed at her while she walked forward, dropping the stealth field with a thought. “Get out of here,” she yelled, and the people started moving toward one of the hatches.

  As that hatch opened a squad of Marines ran through, shouldered the naval personnel out of the way. “Halt,” yelled one of the Marines, “you’re surrounded. There’s no place to go.”

  Pandi looked on her HUD to see that a hatch to the rear had also opened, and another squad was moving into firing position. She looked forward and saw the last of the techs exiting the chamber, so she initiated her next move.

  The main hatch to the hanger started opening at the center, normally something that wouldn’t be done while there was still atmosphere in the chamber. On a more advanced ship there would have been a cold plasma field to hold in the atmosphere. Though the Nation had made many advances based on the stolen tech, she knew from perusing their data banks that cold plasma fields were not one of them. Suit grabbers were not another one, and she watched as tools and boxes and anything not tied down were pulled out of the ship like they were dust sucked from a vacuum. The Marines were next to go, though a couple were able to grab onto something and stop their progress into space.

  Pandora balanced on her own suit grabbers and shot the two Marines who were not following her plan. The heavy laser punched through first one faceplate, then the next, not even giving the Marines time to scream. One let go of the handhold and start floating out of the hanger, which was almost completely void of air by that time. The other floated in the breeze as his suit gauntlet continued to clamp on the handhold, finally lowering to a rest on the deck.

  The woman from the past climbed aboard the working shuttle and hacked into its systems, which were even less robust than those of the ship. She started up the engines and lifted the ship, while programming a course into it that suited her plans. The shuttle moved out of the hanger, and when it was free of the ship she exited from the hatch and moved further out from the battleship.

  The second hyper-velocity launcher was in her hands, and she took sight on the remaining shuttle, locked the target, and fired. The missile streaked into the remaining shuttle faster than the eye could follow, and suddenly the hanger was filled with a brief fireball and pieces of shuttle flying all over. A couple of small pieces hit her armor, one scoring the stealth coating, which immediately started to repair itself. The woman then turned her suit and started forward, keeping close to the hull. She caught sight of some of the Marines on her HUD as they drifted through space, wondering if shuttles would be launched to try and pick them up. Not my concern, she thought, hardening herself to the guilt that she was causing so much death, while reminding herself that these people intended to cause even more.

  * * *

  “How many?” asked the Admiral, staring into the screen.

  “We have four Marines dead,” said the Security Chief. “There are still life signs on eight of the men who floated off ship. And six techs in the hanger bay.”

  “That many,” whispered the Admiral under his breath. “And the woman?” he asked, raising his voice.

  “A shuttle launched toward the planet,” said the Security Chief. “I have alerted our fighters to try and bring it down so that we might recapture her.”

  “Weapons,” yelled the Admiral, looking away from the screen and over at his Tactical Officer. “Open fire on that shuttle.”

  “To disable it?” asked the surprised looking officer.

  “No, dammit,” yelled the Admiral, standing up and stalking over to stand above the Tactical Officer. “I’ve had enough of this. Blow her out of space. Destroy her. I want to be done with her.”

  “Aye, sir,” said the Tactical Officer, sending the commands through his board. He tracked the shuttle with the main laser battery and a couple of particle beams, hitting the commit button when all locked on. The weapons fired, the laser striking first, followed a fraction of a second later by the proton beams. The hull of the shuttle flared, then blasted out in a quickly extinguished ball of fire. When the ball cleared there was only an expanding debris field falling toward the atmosphere of the planet, where it would soon burn up.

  “That’s that,” said the Admiral, slapping his hands together as if he were getting rid of dirt. “And good riddance.”

  “We’ve lost contact with Major Dumas,” called out the Liaison Officer, turning a grim face to his Admiral. “Last we heard they were being overrun.”

  “The other freak,” said the Admiral, his face reddening. “Hit that area with kinetic rounds.”

  “But our men,” protested the Liaison.

  “Are either dead or captured,” said the Admiral, turning and pointing a finger at the officer. “In either case of no use to me. And I want that Abomination taken out before he does any more harm.” He turned to the Tactical Officer. “Now hit that area with kinetic weapons. Ten to twenty kiloton yield. And pepper that area.”

  The Admiral felt a headache coming on. They had been getting worse lately, and though the doctors had told them there was no danger, he still didn’t like the way they destroyed his concentration. Especially at times like this, when he needed to think.

  “I’ll be down in sick bay for a little while,” he told his Exec, putting a hand to his temple and rubbing. “Keep me informed of any changes.”

  Without waiting for a reply the Admiral walked from the bridge and headed for the nearest lift. I got rid of one headache when I took out that bitch and her shuttle. Hopefully we’ll take out another one soon.

  His head still hurt, but he had a smile on his face as the lift arrived.

  * * *

  “We need to move,” Watcher told the Fleet Admiral as he watched the senior prisoner being loaded on one of the two remaining tanks. “Get all of your unarmored people either aboard one of the tanks or on the top. I’ll lead the armored troopers.”

  “You think they’re going to drops KE on us?” asked Krishnamurta, looking up at the canopy overhead. He mumbled something into his com, then looked back up at Watcher.

  “I’m sure of it,” said Watcher, looking at his HUD as the green dots began to move to where he wanted them, some heading for the tanks, the rest filing away in a winding path that would lead them to the next target. “I don’t think they will be very accurate, but then again they don’t have to be.”

  “Understood,” said the Admiral, again subvocalizing into his com.

  They do well with such primitive tech, thought Watcher. Catching some movement out of the corner of his eye he turned to see a trio or Maurids, the real thing and not his robots, looking at him in his armored suit. At least they’re better off than these aborigines. We can bring the Kingdom of
Surya into the Galactic age, even the Nations of Humanity, once we pound the xenophobia out of them. But these poor primitives may need a couple of generations to catch up. But they will. They will.

  The tanks started to move out, crowded with a score of people each riding on top or holding onto the sides. The Maurids moved off with them, their long lopping four footed strides keeping up easily with the tanks. Watcher looked back once last time at the mountain that had sheltered the Suryans, then turned away and started after the tanks.

  [Watcher] said the on-board computer in his mind, [there is activity around one of the ships in orbit.]

  The view came up in his mind and his HUD simultaneously. A shuttle was leaving one of the ships and heading down toward the planet. Moments later a trio of powerful beams intersected on the shuttle and it exploded.

  Pandora, thought Watcher, feeling his heart sink. He could think of no other reason for one of the ships to fire on its own shuttle, than to stop it from being used as an escape vehicle. And Pandora Latham was the only prisoner he thought capable of escaping the fanatical humans.

  [There is a very high probability that Pandora Latham was aboard that shuttle] came the computer through the link.

  [But there is still a chance that she survived] thought Watcher, clinging to the hope.

  [A very remote chance] replied the machine. [It would be logical to assume that Pandora Latham was destroyed, and to act accordingly.]

  [And it was logical to assume that she was destroyed many times before] sent Watcher, thinking of Pandora escaping the ship in the past that was blowing up around her, and then getting away from Vengeance. And why would she take a shuttle that she had to know would be targeted by the enemy. That doesn’t make sense. [I choose to believe that she was not aboard that shuttle, and act accordingly.]

  The computer didn’t answer, and Watcher knew it must think him crazy with emotion. And maybe he was. But he had learned in the past to not bet against the woman from the twenty-first century. It was smart money to bet on her.

  [There are incoming kinetic rounds] said the computer. [Time to target thirty seconds] A plot appeared in Watcher’s mind and he did a quick calculation.

  “Admiral,” he said into the com. “Get your men to head into those caverns I have marked on your map. Fast now, if you want to survive.”

  “What about my suited people?”

  “Into the caves or over the ridge line,” said Watcher, looking at the tracks of three kinetics rounds coming in that looked like they were going to hit within six kilometers, but on the other side of the mountain. As he watched three more rounds appeared on the display, plotted trajectory on this side of the elevation.

  “If you get your people under cover I think they can ride this one out,” said Watcher, boosting his own suit ahead to put some distance between himself and the strikes. “And we’ll just have to hope they don’t get a direct hit on those caverns.”

  “We will pray that they don’t,” replied the Admiral. “And may the Gods listen to our entreaties.”

  The ground rumbled underfoot, and Watcher boosted up to the top of the canopy and rotated to look back. A mushroom cloud was rising above the jungle on the other side of the mountain. The tree tops started to whip around in the fierce wind that was blowing from the blast. Two more bright flashes flared on either side of the cloud, and new mushrooms started to grow into the sky. They must have thought we would run the other direction once I freed the Suryans, he thought, watching the foliage around the mountain burst into flame before being hurled into the air. I guess they really don’t understand me very well.

  Watcher looked up, his HUD showing the incoming tracks of the next three rounds. Which were coming down right on top of his position.

  * * *

  “I’ve never seen anything like this,” exclaimed Commander Hanson, throwing his hands up in the air. “This thing is impossible.”

  “It’s not impossible,” replied Colonel Johanson, standing over the man. “Just extremely difficult. So what’s the sticking point?”

  “This is the most advanced processor I have ever interacted with,” said the engineer, pointing to the panel that his own comp was Jerry Rigged to. “As soon as I think I am getting close to cracking the code it changes, and I’m right back to square one.”

  “I know its millennia ahead of us, but surely it can’t beat a smart man like you,” said the Colonel, wondering if the Commander was a complete idiot after all.

  “It’s not just more advanced,” said the Commander, glaring at the panel as if it actually held the computer in question. “It’s a level above anything I have ever heard of, much less seen.”

  “Have you asked it for its help?”

  “Have I asked it for its help?” said the Commander in a quiet voice. “Have I asked it for its help? Station computer,” said the Commander, raising his voice. “Can you answer some questions?”

  “It depends on the question,” said a voice that seemed to come out of the air around them. “Some questions I may answer. Others are dependent on your clearance within this system.”

  “It answered,” said the Commander, looking up at the Colonel with a smile on his face.

  “You are a sentient creature,” said the computer in an of course kind of voice. “I am required to interact with all sentient creatures that access my functions on the station.”

  “Even aliens?” said the Colonel in disgust.

  “A sentient is a sentient,” said the comp in a patient voice. “No matter the shape of its thinking structures, or the physical structure that moves that brain around.”

  It will need some reprogramming, thought the Colonel, frowning. Only humans are worthy of this kind of tech.

  “So,” said the engineer, a look of triumph on his face. “What kind of computer are you? And where is your physical location?”

  “I am a Mark II quantum computer,” said the comp, pride in its voice. “The most advanced artificial intelligence in the Galaxy.”

  “Quantum computer,” said the engineer in a quiet voice. “No wonder I am having such difficulty breaking your codes.”

  “Something which you will never accomplish with the primitive computing device you have hooked up to that access panel,” said the computer. “And my location is in several places. I am scores of units, linked by quantum entanglement so that the parts form a unified whole.”

  “What is a quantum computer?” asked the Colonel. The term seemed vaguely familiar to him, but nothing of substance was tracking from his memory.

  “A quantum computer is an artificial intelligence that uses advanced computing techniques involving subatomic quantum states,” said the computer voice from the air. “Instead of the electrical or photonic transmission of signals through micro-circuitry.”

  “Which means it can compute over regions of infinitesimal space that takes almost no time,” said the excited engineer. “Which means it can process information at almost immeasurably greater speeds than the computers we have.”

  “Another secret of the ancestors,” said the Colonel, glancing up as if he were looking to heaven and whispering a quick prayer. ‘Thank God we will have this technology as our own,” he said, looking back at the panel.

  “There is no evidence that such a being exists,” said the computer, “and no logical reason to believe that one does.”

  “We use faith instead of logic,” said the Colonel, glaring at the panel as if the computer hid behind it. “It serves us much better than mere logic.”

  The computer didn’t answer, and the Colonel felt a twinge of triumph.

  “How do we gain access to your functions?” asked the engineer, rubbing his hands together.

  “I can grant you access to many of my functions from this station,” said the computer. “You will have access to my information libraries and comfort functions, as well as my full spectrum design and analysis functions.”

  “What about control of the defenses of the station?” asked the Colonel, l
eaning over the engineer, his arms on the chair back.

  “That can only be accomplished at one of the designated control stations,” said the computer, its voice flattening as if some other program was kicking in. “And only with the proper codes.”

  “And if we had a proper code?”

  “Then you could gain access to all station systems,” said the same flat voice.

  “And where are these designated control stations?” asked the Colonel, excitement rising.

  “I am not authorized to give you that information,” said the computer, the voice still flat. “Authorized personnel would already have that information.” The voice changed on the computer after that statement. “Perhaps I could interest you gentlemen in a history of the Galactic Empire.”

  * * *

  The quantum computer of the station didn’t really have a name. It didn’t need one, when it was synonymous with the brain of the Donut. But it did have a personality, a very defined one that its predecessors could not come close to. It liked Watcher and Pandora Latham, and had come to consider them family. And it was worried that neither of them were on the station, which had been invaded by over a thousand soldiers of a people the two considered enemies. (As a matter of fact, the computer knew there were one thousand, eight hundred and seventy-seven of the Nation soldiers, and was tracking the whereabouts of all of them).

  The computer was able to process information much faster than any computer extant or in the recent past. It had gone over every possible permutation in an attempt to outsmart the visitors. Unfortunately, it had not come up with any kind of foolproof plan. Its programming, running at a level below its personality, was an unbreakable prison. If these enemies found a way to gain control of the system it would have to aid them, as despicable as that seemed. But fortunately the program also allowed the computer to not answer certain questions, and it continued to play dumb, allowing the programming to work at stonewalling the Nation’s people. It just didn’t know how long that would last, and wished that Watcher would get back to the station, even as it transmitted what it knew of the intruders through the quantum entanglement link to his brain.