by B. V. Larson
I thought about what I could deduce so far. If the world was big enough to generate that much gravity, it would almost certainly have an atmosphere. The enemy was described as a biotic, which further supported the idea of an atmosphere. If it had been a gas giant, that would have meant a much higher gravitational pull, so the logical world to expect would be a solid, rocky planet with a thicker atmosphere than Earth.
“In order to adapt our equipment for the coming assault, we need to know the target planet’s surface conditions. Temperature, pressure and atmospheric composition.”
“Incoming message…” Macro Command proceeded to answer my queries concerning the target world. As long as I worded each question as a demand and gave a reason why they must answer, they seemed willing to tell me anything about the planet we were heading toward. They would not answer questions concerning the location of the world, or the star system, or the enemy strength.
After an hour of demanding information, we’d pieced together a fairly-detailed idea of the enemy we faced. They were larger than humans, maybe twelve feet in length. They were short, however, standing perhaps three feet tall. The average adult weighed in at about a thousand pounds by Earth standards. They were considered highly dangerous.
Their atmosphere may or may not be breathable. It had oxygen and nitrogen, but with measurable levels of argon, krypton and carbon monoxide. It was this last gas that worried me, as it was dangerous to breathe in any appreciable amounts. I couldn’t get the exact percentages out of the Macros. I suspected they hadn’t bothered to make a detailed analysis of exact levels of trace gases as they didn’t need to breathe. The atmosphere was thicker than Earth’s, about three times the pressure at the surface-which was hardly surprising given the higher gravitational pull.
I couldn’t get much out of the Macros concerning the mission itself, or the weaponry of the enemy. They were technological, and I had to assume they had given the Macros a hard time so far, or they wouldn’t have called us in for this mission.
After about an hour of demanding information, something triggered in the Macro software. I suspected they had an algorithm running in their system software that detected the repetitive demands. Maybe it had counted the number of times I’d said we need to know. Whatever the cause, the Macros refused my demands after that.
“Incoming Message: Session timed out.”
I tried several more times, then decided I’d pushed things far enough. My nervous crew seemed to think they were on the edge of jettisoning us all into space.
A few more days rolled by, and they were filled with frantic activity. We had an idea now of what we were up against, and we had to gear our troops to face an environment where the air was unbreathable for extended periods, the gravity was nearly twice as strong as on Earth, and a very vicious enemy had to be eradicated.
I often overheard my people talking about what kind of creatures they thought we would be facing. The type they least wanted to find was some type of insect. That didn’t align with my thinking. I rather hoped they were giant bugs. It would be easier to slaughter giant bugs than a race of big-eyed bunny rabbits, for instance.
On the third day, according to our chronometers, I felt a small shudder. I was in my quarters at the time, trying to talk Sandra into a team shower. She wasn’t overly interested as the shower stall was cramped even for one person. My talk of conserving water wasn’t flying either, as she knew as well as I did that we had plenty in the storage tanks and our nanotech systems were very good at recycling the basics.
“Did you feel that?” Sandra asked me. Her eyes were wide and dark.
“Yeah. That felt like we went through a ring.”
“Could we have gotten there so fast? Wouldn’t we know if we had reached Venus?”
“No, maybe not,” I said. “We’ve got no way of knowing what is going on outside this tin can. And it has gravity-stabilizers. We aren’t feeling the acceleration and deceleration the way we did on the Socorro.”
“I want you to put them into your ship-if we ever get home.”
“Agreed,” I said. I put my shirt back on. Somehow, I’d managed to get it off, but hers was still on. My efforts had been dogged, but had yet to bear fruit. “I’ve got to go check things out on the command deck.”
Suddenly, her arms encircled my waist. “Do you have to go? You smell so good.”
I looked down at her in mild exasperation. “Now you tell me?”
I shook her off and tapped my way through a few melting doors. I soon stood on the command deck, tucking my shirt into place. Captain Sarin gave me a strange look with raised eyebrows.
“What?” I asked.
“Nothing sir.”
“We just went through the Venus ring, people,” I announced loudly. That got their attention.
“How do you know?”
“I’ve been through it before. Twice,” I told them.
“That little shiver? The feeling like you were falling sideways for a second?” asked Captain Sarin.
“That was it. Now, we are in orbit around the blue giant, if the ring works consistently. I need radiation readings. These bricks should keep everything out that can leak into the hold, but I want to make sure.”
“What kind of radiation levels are we talking about? What did you experience?”
“We really don’t know. When we came back, we took a few handfuls of potassium iodide. No clue if that stuff helped. We didn’t have dosimeter badges out there or a Geiger counter. We know we got a dose, but we had nothing handy to measure it with.”
“You seem healthy, so what is there to worry about?” asked Captain Sarin.
“We arrived pretty far out from the blue giant, and we flew away from it to a nearby planet. But this time we are probably going to another ring in the system-something that links this world to the next one. That could mean we pass right by the blue giant.”
Captain Sarin nodded slowly. She had a large graphic up on the computer now. I studied it in detail.
“Nothing?” I asked.
“Nothing. No radiation at all.”
I rubbed my chin and frowned. Either the Macro transport was highly resistant to radiation, or things weren’t as bad as I’d figured they were.
“Dammit,” I said. “I wish I had a sensor array up. Our passive sensors still aren’t picking up anything?”
“Nothing, sir.”
“Prepare to turn on the active systems,” I said.
Everyone in the room tensed up. Captain Sarin’s hand strayed to the computer. I stared at her.
“That’s not the sensor control system, Captain,” I said.
She jumped. “No, sir.”
I stepped beside her. She had sent a message to someone.
“Who are you contacting?”
“I had that messaging system up before, sir,” she said. “I was just closing it.”
Her forefinger stabbed the ‘X’ in the corner of the application. It vanished. Quickly, she dialed up the sensor controls.
The door opened behind me. I turned to see who showed up with interest. It was Major Robinson.
“What’s up?” he said, looking from face to face.
“A minor conspiracy, by the looks of it,” I said sternly.
Major Robinson paled. I waved away my own words and called him over to look at our supposed location in the universe. We had a chart up of the blue giant system. We’d taken it from the memory of the Socorro. All of the sixty-odd planets and other bodies were displayed in their relative orbital positions. We’d been there long enough to track and plot their paths and had programmed the system model into the tabletop computer. Overall, even though the nanite brainboxes were smarter and more flexible, I still preferred the interfaces of our own homegrown, electronic machines. They certainly were easier on a man’s vocal cords.
I crossed my arms, put my butt against the tabletop and leaned against it. “I hate this blindness. I’m going to turn on our active scanners.”
“Sir,” Robinson sa
id, “As a marine officer, I have to warn you that is strictly against protocol for any insertion mission. In our own military forces back on Earth, you don’t start pinging when you don’t even know what is outside the ship.”
“That’s the whole point of pinging, Major.”
“But sir, we don’t know the tactical situation. We can’t do something like that unilaterally. The enemy might be listening for just such a signal to locate this convoy and destroy it.”
I cleared my throat, knowing he was right. “Okay, I’ll talk to the Macros about it.”
Robinson gave me a look that indicated he didn’t think much of my chances, but I ordered the command module to open a channel to Macro Command anyway.
“Relay to Macro Command: We would like to turn on active sensors.”
The answer came back immediately, and it was definitive. “Incoming Message: Permission denied.”
“Why not?” I asked. I closed my eyes and sighed the moment I’d spoken the words.
“Incoming Message: Cargo is not permitted interrogatives.”
“Yes, right. Send them this: provide us your passive sensor feed so we can monitor our approach to target.”
“Incoming Message: Request denied.”
“Then at least allow me to place my own passive sensors on the ship’s hull!” I shouted.
There was a long pause. Everyone looked at the walls around us.
“Incoming Message: Permission granted.”
“Ha!” I hooted and clapped my hands together. “We’ll be able to see what’s around us in an hour!”
Everyone tried to look happy for me. It took a moment to notice they looked a little green, too.
“What’s wrong now?”
“Who’s going to install the sensor array, sir?” asked Captain Sarin.
I suddenly understood her concern. “Send two of our best techs.”
Everyone in the command brick relaxed a little. They were all happy they didn’t get the assignment.
— 39-
We watched on the cameras as two suited men strapped sagging tool belts around their waists and lifted a barrel-like container between them. They were unarmed and anxious. The weightless environment made things much easier. They simply walked out onto the top of a brick in the maintenance and supply area and jumped toward the ceiling. They did a slow spin and landed on their magnetic boots. They were about thirty yards from the four Macro guards. They stepped toward the guards, who didn’t move except to swivel their weapons systems. They tracked the approaching men flawlessly.
I frowned. “They could at least move out of the way,” I said.
My marines took ten steps closer, then twenty. They walked slower as they approached. They tried waving at the Macros and gesturing for them to move aside. One of the machines twitched its gun-mount, tracking the gesturing hand.
One of the staffers in the command module waved to me. He handed me a com-link unit. “It’s the two engineers, sir. They don’t like it.”
“I don’t blame them,” I said. “Just tell them to standby. I’ll talk to the Macros. Maybe they don’t quite get that we have to enter their ship in order to do the job. Damned machines.”
“Command module, relay to Macro Command the following: Allow my technicians to pass your guards and set up the sensor array.”
A few seconds passed. I watched as the two men stood there, moving uncomfortably.
“Incoming Message: Give us your location.”
“We’re right there, standing in front of you.”
“Incoming Message: Give us the location of Kyle Riggs.”
“Me? I’m right here. I’m in my command module, my brick, just where I’ve been every time I-” I said, then suddenly I halted. Something was wrong. “No, wait I-”
But it was too late. The four Macro guards in their diamond formation were carefully placed. All of them had a free field of fire and could burn down my men without injuring one another. Two of them fired on each of my unarmed engineers. The men were cut in half by the initial blazes of energy. They hadn’t even had the chance to scream. But the Macros weren’t done yet. They kept firing on the floating pieces until nothing bigger than a burnt finger drifted around in the hold. A mass of vapor, much of it atomized particles of my marines, floated in a steamy haze that obscured the Macros. The four machines still twitched, as if looking for fresh targets of sufficient mass to warrant further blasting. I noticed the sensor unit was still there, magnetically attached to the roof of the hold. They had not damaged it in the slightest.
I ripped my com-link off and threw it onto the table. “Dammit!”
The link beeped and I snatched it up again. A familiar voice spoke in my ear. It was Sergeant Kwon. I’d placed him on operational security. Apparently, he’d watched the fiasco on the ceiling.
“Sir, I’m requesting permission to burn down those machines.”
“No. Request denied.”
“Sir, I won’t lose a single trooper doing it.”
“I know you won’t, Sergeant. But I don’t need to compound this misunderstanding.”
Two seconds of silence followed. “Yes, sir. Standing by.”
I took a deep breath and looked around at my stunned command staff.
“Are we prisoners, sir?” asked Captain Sarin.
“What did we misunderstand?” asked Major Robinson.
I looked at them both. “The Macros are very literal. They gave me permission to install the sensor. That’s because, as I recall now, I demanded they allow me to install it.”
Major Robinson got it first. “Ah… so they figured out it wasn’t you standing there at the exit when you contacted them.”
“They confirmed I wasn’t one of the engineers, yes-and then they burned down two perfectly good men because they were too close to the portal,” I said. I was angry with myself and the Macros. I stepped to an emergency locker and broke out a combat suit.
Major Robinson came around to talk to me quietly. “Sir, you don’t have to go out there.”
I looked at him. “No. But I’m sick of sitting here in the dark. Don’t you want to know what this ship looks like? Don’t you think it would help our assault if we could see the world we were landing on?”
Tight-lipped, he nodded and backed away.
“You’re in command while I’m out of contact, Major,” I said, slipping on a hood and tapping to activate the nanites. They sealed the hood into place and I touched another contact to pressurize the suit.
I left them there, at the command table. I walked out into the airlock and jumped to the ceiling. I was glad for every zero-G training exercise I’d participated in. I did a somersault and landed on my feet on the roof of the hold. Clanking along, I soon stood amongst the burn marks that represented two of my men. I eyed the Macro guards with disdain.
“I’m Kyle Riggs. Let me pass.”
After a few tense seconds, they broke formation and revealed a dark hole in the ceiling between them. I released the magnetic clamps on the sensor array and picked it up. The sensor array was about the size and dimensions of a trashcan. It was bulky, but weightless, as the Macro ship was now coasting.
I entered the portal and awkwardly levered the sensor array in behind me. Once through, I found myself standing in a dark, tube-like corridor that ran length-wise down the ship from bow to stern. I snapped on my suit lights and did a com-check with my command post. The signal was there, but it was sketchy. I looked up and down the tube, which was festooned with hanging cables. Some of the cables were semi-opaque hoses that ran with slow-moving, gelatinous liquids. Pinks, golds, blues and mauves slid this way and that toward unknown destinations. Other cables carried wires that showed bare metal. These were twisted-pair sets with only a tray-like guide of thin shielding between them. I suspected these were low-voltage data cables, but I couldn’t be sure. I worked to avoid contact with all the cables, in case they carried a jolt that would blow my magnetized boots off.
I flicked on every recorder my suit h
ad, relaying the recordings to the command brick where it would be digitally stored for posterity. As I roamed the dim tubes I took passages that led upward toward the outer hull whenever possible. The plan was simple: I would plant the sensor array as close to the outer skin of the ship as I could. The unit should operate through anything solid up to a foot of thickness, depending on the composition of the hull. The best spot I could find would be a simple window, but I doubted I was going to see any of those. The Macros didn’t strike me as star-gazers.
After traversing two upward shafts, I lost contact with the command brick entirely. It was an odd, lonely feeling, moving around like a secret mammalian spy in the midst of the Macro stronghold. I felt like one of those squirrel-rats that used to sneak around in the nests of dinosaurs. In this environment, I was the alien.
I finally reached a tight tunnel with a lower ceiling than the rest. The hard, flat ceiling bent my back and made me drag the sensor array behind me, bumping over the uneven surfaces. This had to be it. I had to have reached the outer hull. I reached up and touched the smooth, solid surface overhead. Beyond this wall was the vacuum of space.
I searched for and found an alcove and tucked the sensor unit into it. I activated the unit and had it run a self-diagnostic. I should be getting readings soon, and these would be transmitted along a self-adapting wire made entirely of chained nanites to the hold below. The sensor array had its own internal reactor, so there wouldn’t be any power problems.
I watched as the sensor-nubs self-modulated and scanned their environment. The final verdict was a yellow bar-not great, but much better than nothing. We would no longer be flying blind if I could get this signal down to the command post.
I flipped a valve open. A trail of gleaming nanites, looking like a mercury spill of deadly proportions, slipped out of the opening and snaked toward the nearest exit on their own initiative. Like a trail of ants, I knew they would find their way back home to the command brick. The nanite stream thinned until it was almost unnoticeable, no thicker than a human vein.
I stood up, pressing my back against the low ceiling. I followed the shiny nanite strand with my eyes until it disappeared. This place was oppressive, and I felt an urge to get back to the command brick. I turned my helmet right and left, looking up and down the remote tunnel. I’d only seen a few of the Macros, and they had been much further down, closer to the level of the hold itself. I bared my teeth, debating my next move. My mouth suddenly felt dry.
