Moving Earth

by Dean C. Moore

“No, I mean beyond the TGE. Can this thing locate other galactic federations?”

  Samson, the Bulldog one, got on his TomTom wristwatch GPS fitness tracker slash phone slash any number of things—a relic from the past—that was his favorite possession. He barked and hissed and dog-communicated to his subordinate. He waited for the clicking, yapping, yelping replies to return from the other end of the line.

  “He says the scanners go to the edge of the universe. So far they’ve picked up five more Trans-Galactic Empires. Any number of Galactic Civilizations. He didn’t bother drilling down further to a galactic-level or solar-system-wide civilization.” Samson said.

  “It stands to reason, sir,” the wolfhound one, Bella, said, “that the more advanced sectors might have the retrofits we need to upgrade the scanners so they can see across parallel universes.”

  Sonny staggered. The other two had to grab hold of him. “Sorry, just a bit giddy with excitement. This is my birthday, boys and girls, the day I inherited the universe.”

  “Sir, you’ve already seen what the Nautilus can do. She’s been able to keep us in check using far more primitive technology than a lot of these TGEs—ah, Trans-Galactic Empires—are likely to have at their disposal.”

  Sonny smiled. “But across a canvas that large? We’re good at lurking in the shadows and biding our time. Time enough for our Shadow Warriors to inherit eternity.”

  Samson and Bella grinned like only humans embossed with canine genes could—that is to say those grins could easily be confused for menacing snarls a dog might make. Though in this case, Sonny didn’t think the intent behind those smiles was confusing at all. He laughed and barked in one.

  “Shadow Warriors. I like that,” Bella said.

  “Yeah, I think Leon will, too, once I’ve sold him on the idea,” Sonny replied.

  “I think we’re about to rapidly outgrow that guy. He only has a spaceship at his command. Soon, we may have our own space fleet,” Samson said.

  “Don’t sell Leon short. Like me, there is no bottom to his abyssal depths. There may come a time when we’ll want to gift him a space fleet from our rapidly compounding wealth, just to save our own asses.” Another puff on his cigar and Sonny said, “Samson, I believe you were about to show me the war room. Bella, I’ll catch you later.”

  They walked on in the direction of the weapons area, side by side this time, Sonny’s pace bolstered by recent news of just how rapidly his good fortunes were spreading.

  “What shall we call this place, sir?” Samson asked.

  “I rather like the Lucky Streak. It’s certainly brought one to me. Let our customers think it’ll bring one to them.”

  Both men laughed as well as their dog-like larynxes would allow before wandering on.

  “It’s easy to forget there’s a war on,” Samson said.

  “Who cares? You can’t kill pond scum like us.”

  The two men reprised their laughter.

  EIGHTEEN

  THE DEAD ZONE

  RAMA-1 CYLINDER WORLD

  Technically, Theseus was acting in an admiralty capacity, with the various Theta Team members, broken up into smaller teams exploring the numerous Dead Zone habitats, each led by a captain elected by their own unit. “Rama-1?” Theseus asked this cylinder’s female Theta Team leader.

  “Sorry, sir. Bit of an Arthur C. Clarke fan. A lot of Theta Team grunts are sci-fi nerds. I guess it’s the only way we can truly feel connected with the humans on Earth that gave rise to us. Otherwise we don’t seem related at all.”

  They were marching through a wild area surrounding a city, a desertscape to be more precise. The cylinder seemed laid out this way along its inner circumference with cities overhead instead of sky, also surrounded by wild areas. There was no sign of water, just various kinds of rock, sand, and earth, some flowing rivers of molten metals of different kinds. And yet, Theseus could sense that the place was pulsing with life.

  A shriek cut through the sounds of heavy breathing coming from the two Theta Team operatives. They turned in unison in the direction of the disturbance. A giant winged creature that looked like a stealth bomber was flying toward them, its beak parted just enough to swallow them whole.

  Captain Roka caught the creature by the wing in one hand, squeezing it hard to grip it fast. The creature shrieked all the more loudly.

  “Its biology is a blend of various rocks and molten metals in polymer form,” Roka explained. “It should weigh tons and lack flexibility, and yet…” She demonstrated by bending the wing and fighting to hold on to it as if it were lighter than a kite catching the air.

  She adjusted her hold rapidly as the creature suddenly grew heavy. “Its actual mass varies from lighter than balsa wood and more bendable than rubber, for casual flying, to heavier than solid iron, and rigid, as it is now, when it feels threatened. It currently weighs over fifty tons. Its jaw crushing capacity adjusts to suit.”

  “How does it support itself in the air when it’s this heavy?” Theseus asked, petting the bird on the beak to calm it down and feeding it treats he was synthesizing out of his own body’s nanites in the palm of his hand, which the flying reptile took to. Its shrieks now were of an entirely different nature, communicating pleasure.

  “That’s the best part. This thing was flying around in here before we even dialed up the atmosphere.”

  “Flying in the total absence of an atmosphere?” Theseus balked. “Impossible.”

  “And yet… we have someone working on the problem now. We suspect his mix of metals, when properly activated, provides him antigravity abilities. As for flying through an atmosphere, the working theory is a kind of aerogel that is lighter than air but that can adjust the porous material at will. We suspect extremophiles living within the countless air bubbles of the aerogel that can fill those hollow bubbles with whatever they want as needed. They must communicate with one another in a hive mind array made up solely of bacteria which themselves may well not be conscious, not at their level. But the abilities of the extremophiles can certainly be tapped by the bird itself. We suspect its brain is a tangle or intersection of these various hive minds, which it likely calls upon to perform the antigravity tricks as well.”

  “So, bacteria controls this thing even more than it controls us,” Theseus said, continuing to stroke the winged reptile.

  “Perhaps, or, as with us, more of a symbiosis. We suspect the extremophiles that contribute to its flexibility and antigravity come from the metals, and the extremophiles that contribute to its varying mass come from the various earths.” Roka released the bird with a toss, sending it soaring upwards like a kite.

  It was unclear to Theseus how much of her strength was required to support the bird, or to launch it, even when it was at its heaviest, but his guess was not a lot. Her body was a lot sleeker than his, and yet she seemed like she might be stronger. The one-of-a-kind Theta Team operatives never ceased to amaze him as much as it did the other humanoids. She looked as if she was carved out of obsidian, every bit as black, shiny, and smooth. But he doubted that was the whole story. She had no hair, but then many military cadets from all their regiments kept it that way so it wouldn’t be an impediment during battle. Or she may not have been able to grow any.

  “I wouldn’t expect to win over the rest of the locals quite so easily,” she said, as they resumed their march across the desert toward the nearest city.

  Before she could finish the sentence, a desert snake, rising out of the sand, had Theseus entwined, and, much like any boa constrictor, was unhinging its jaws intent on swallowing Theseus whole. Roka looked on with some amusement, refusing to come to his rescue, which he supposed would have been insulting indeed.

  The snake was nearly as wide as Theseus’s leg, a good forty feet long. He wasn’t sure how to untangle himself without killing the beast. So far its fangs were not penetrating Theseus’s hide, despite being longer than a Sabretooth tiger’s teeth, and made of solid diamond. The snake just didn’t have the crushing capacity to g
et past Theseus’s tough exterior, a good thing, since that drool, whether or not it was venom, likely was meant to digest him from solids to liquids in no time at all. Theseus couldn’t imagine a snake sitting around unable to move for long periods while it digested its kill surviving in this place. And, no doubt, even if he were dragged underground as the snake was attempting to do to him, there was no shortage of predators there as well.

  He realized the snake had evolved in this place, made of similar metal and stone composites made flexible and conscious by extremophiles. Otherwise Theseus wouldn’t be struggling so hard to get clear of it without hurting it. He didn’t know what Roka’s crushing capacity was, but he could hammer the Nautilus into a pancake with his bare hands. He’d have to take breaks, and he’d tire, and it would take him a lot longer than it would Cassandra or the nun, but, he could do it.

  Roka decided he had provided enough laughing amusement for her, and she untangled the snake from him—gently, amazingly enough—and threw it off him far enough it would forget where they were by the time it closed the gap again.

  “Thanks,” Theseus said, standing up.

  “I know you didn’t want to hurt it. I figured I better intercede before your pride got the better of you.”

  He grimaced and they continued their hike. “What else have you got to report?”

  “The robo spiders maintain the actual cylinder and its structures that provide all life support. They’re clearly designed for a purpose as opposed to allowed to evolve on their own.”

  Theseus was almost afraid to ask. “The robo spiders?”

  “Yeah, ironically they’re a lot more fragile, possibly meant to do double duty as food stock for the local life in times of emergency, so long as the replicators can continue to replenish their numbers. But there are enough of them to thoroughly menace the Theta Team operatives, slowing our work tremendously.”

  “I’ll take the matter up with the nun when she arrives,” Theseus said. “Until then, do the best you can.”

  She nodded her salute and returned to her work, taking to the air and flying from thrusters in the balls of her feet. Was she nuclear powered? Was that what the “impurities” in her obsidian crystal body were about, the glimpses of flecked gold he would see fire up from certain angles or in response to certain questions? If the flare-ups corresponded to her thinking, that meant her mind was as nuclear powered as her body. In which case, Theseus surmised, the team had chosen their captain wisely. Of course, it might be something other than nuclear power, some more exotic form of energy only a supersentience like Mother could have cooked up. He added it to his already long list of wtf questions regarding his own people to inquire into later. He could only hope the actual aliens were half as interesting as Theta Team.

  Theseus decided to take the long way across the landscape of Rama-1 to better absorb its ambience rather than teleport to the city.

  It wasn’t long before he was swarmed by the maintenance spiderbots treating him as an unwanted biocontagion. He was a little pissed at Roka for not warning him a little better as to just how aggressive these things could be. But then again, maybe she felt he hadn’t shown her and her people sufficient sympathy when she’d voiced her concerns earlier, and that had only pissed her off.

  He was becoming exhausted pulling these things off him, each the size of a large dog, and tossing them. Screw this!

  Theseus used his third-eye organ in the center of the forehead, which in his case, also allowed him to teleport, and to teleport others, to sweep the area clear of the robot spiders, launching them into outer space—well outside of the cylinder.

  The robo-spiders were relentless as he continued his hiking, and a complete menace. If Roka hadn’t imparted a necessary sense of urgency earlier, he was getting the point now.

  In the same way, they kept coming at the Theta Team operatives in the city—who Theseus spied by zooming his eyes at 3000 times magnification—like biological infestations to be scrubbed clean. Theseus could see his own people had lost patience, smashing the things violently by how hard they threw them against various surfaces rather than just brushing them off.

  Theseus continued to sweep the vista with his third-eye, functioning like a lighthouse beacon protecting ships at sea—passing the teleporting organ over the other Theta Team operatives tired of being menaced, in order to teleport the spiders harrying them outside the cylinder as he had taken care of the ones disturbing him.

  The nun was arriving.

  Not a moment too soon.

  She materialized out of thin air at some elevation above his head and marched downward as if hiking an invisible hill’s downgrade. The robospiders swarmed her before she even put her feet on the ground, and then backed the hell off. They were smarter than they looked.

  “You’ve got to keep these things off us,” Theseus bitched. “My people spend half their time battling them. We don’t have time to waste.”

  It appeared the nun didn’t have the time to waste answering him. She just craned her head and stared blankly, curing the robo-spider problem by hacking the Rama-1 cylinder AI. The robot-spiders stopped showing any interest in Theta Team and returned to their regular duties maintaining the cylinder.

  “I presume that was a system-wide hack?” Theseus asked testily, glaring at her, wiping his lip of blood. “Because I’m guessing the problem persists throughout the Dead Zone.”

  She didn’t bother answering him, just kept marching along, which he took as a “Yes.” Never mind how you hacked an entire galaxy at once. Technically, Theta Team interfaced with alien life and alien civilizations better than anyone on the Nautilus; it was what they’d been bioengineered for. But when it came to the nun, she, like Solo, had abilities not everyone understood. Solo’s heritage was ultimately alien, whereas the Nun had been cooked up by Natty and Laney with Mother’s assistance. Mother’s tweaks were what put the nun’s actual abilities beyond anyone’s understanding, except perhaps for a supersentience.

  Theseus marched along beside her. He gave her the data dump because Leon back on the Nautilus was incommunicado, fishing timelines from inside his rejuvenation tank—which would have its hands full keeping his mind from unraveling after bouncing from one timeline to another. And well, because, besides Leon, she might be able to do the most with the information.

  “The microbes we’ve found are all extremophiles,” Theseus explained, “despite the environments within the cylinders being fairly accommodating. We surmise that’s because, like with the Kang bodies, whichever peoples once occupied this galaxy, or at least this cylinder, were harder than rock, and making them porous and receptive to microbes that could insert DNA strands, bacteria, viruses, that could help upgrade them, took the extremophiles. If humans had never been invaded by bacteria they couldn’t even digest their own food. These alien extremophiles are advancing our science in leaps and bounds. We’ll be able to terraform a much wider swath of planetary bodies now with their help, and do so much faster.” Theseus could say as much with confidence because he was picking up on the chatter from the other Theta Team members. They could all signal one another by opening singularity channels in their minds that allowed them to communicate vast amounts of quantum encoded information to each other, no matter how they were distributed throughout a biosphere.

  “We’re at war, soldier. Colonization takes a back seat to that.”

  “Yes, of course. But the ramifications are hard to ignore.”

  “Give me some that impact on the war effort.”

  Theseus took a deep breath. The nun’s figure was diminutive next to his; hell, Leon’s figure was diminutive next to his. And she looked, if anything, all too human. Theseus had a tough time reconciling the non sequitur with her place in the scheme of things. He ignored the errant thoughts flitting through his mind and continued his data dump. “We believe we can manipulate these extremophiles to cobble the Kang, transfer sickness to them, even bring them down without so much as swinging a sword.” Theseus didn’t relish th
is part of his duty. Theta Team resorted to violence only as a last resort, if dialoguing with Gaia, or the eco-consciousness of a new world suggested no other out was possible. Granted, the Kang were a warring species that would respect no other language, but even now, his mind raced for alternatives. With any luck, the nun would show tact with playing this trump card at any time prior to an all-is-lost moment. She, too, after all, had been built to respect life in all its diversity.

  More of the local wildlife decided they were curious what the nun tasted like.

  Before he could react, she had switched into attack mode, undoing her belt, which was a giant rosary with enlarged beads, and she was using it like a lasso. Only there wasn’t a ring of rope at the end. The crucifix at the end extended into a dagger that sliced off the heads of anything that got too close to her, including the giant snakes leaping from beneath the sand, the giant horned-lizards—the size of adult crocodiles on earth.

  When her rosary didn’t look like it was going to cut it, as the attack worsened, the nun’s eyes began to glow.

  He had already teleported a contingent of Theta Team operatives to run interference for her. They would brush the creatures back without harming them. And that’s exactly what they were doing, forming a ring about her that kept widening as they kept pushing the creatures back.

  Then Theseus teleported to the nun’s side, grabbed her by the waist, and teleported her and the rest of the team to the nearest city they had been hiking toward.

  Only then did he see the fire in the nun’s eyes dim, as she dialed the laser cannons off line.

  The nun’s eyes had gone to the buildings. By then Theta Team on site had already downloaded more of their collected intel to him.

  “The urban wear and tear you see,” Theseus continued as they marched alongside one another, “is just a result of the extremophiles making do without the flesh of humanoids to feed on.”

  The nun arrested her march. “You say these cylinders and every other artificial habitat in the Dead Zone is not decaying of necessity, or even for lack of maintenance, but because the bacterial life has nothing else to feed on?”