The Dead Sun

by B. V. Larson

  “Two reasons—the second of which only came up today. First, it is very odd to have seven comets coming in from the Oort Cloud to the inner planets of this star system in such close proximity. It’s almost as if they’re flying in formation.”

  “Yes,” said Jasmine, “but it could still be a natural phenomenon.”

  “Certainly. That was my theory until I noticed this. I will now time-shift the objects back two days and project their paths.”

  The image shifted. The objects did as well.

  “They changed course…” Jasmine said.

  “A slight correction. I think they will perform another such correction closer in, before impact.”

  “Impact with Earth, you mean?” I asked him.

  “Yes.”

  We watched as he fiddled with the screen controls. I was stunned. The evidence was clear: the Macros were throwing chunks of ice at us—planet-killers.

  I felt my heart begin to speed up as alarm spread through my body. How could we have missed something like this? How long would we have been in the dark if Marvin hadn’t spoken up today? The thought was chilling.

  “Once I saw these inbound objects,” Marvin said, “it became very clear to me why the Macros sent so few ships through the Thor ring to attack us. If you subtract the length of time it took these comets to reach this position from their starting point, I would say they were launched approximately four months ago. Calculating the normal Macro rate of production for two months, the fleet we encountered in the Thor System would closely match the fleet they should have been able to build up in the intervening time.”

  I glared at him, full of shock and anger. I didn’t like what I was hearing. None of us did.

  “You’re saying that there’s a fleet involved here as well?” I demanded. “In addition to the comets?”

  “Why yes, isn’t that clear?”

  “But where are the ships, Marvin?” Jasmine asked. “Are they too far out and dark to see?”

  “Probably. I expect them to be hiding behind the comets, undetectable, until they get closer.”

  “How do you know they have ships out there at all?” demanded Newcome.

  Marvin craned his cameras toward Newcome. “I employed a series of logical deductions. They sent only a few ships through the Thor ring to attack us, despite having had a very long period in which to build them. Where are the missing ships? Also, what is the source of thrust that is driving these comets? I would say the answer is clear: the ships are behind the comets and providing propulsion.”

  I nodded. I found his logic inescapable. I looked around the table at a circle of long faces. Everyone else was thinking the same thing: There had to be a fleet out there behind the comets. It made too much sense.

  I looked at Marvin suddenly with a new suspicion.

  “You knew this was coming, didn’t you? That’s why you wanted to send the probe so badly.”

  “Not exactly, sir.”

  “Explain yourself.”

  Marvin’s tentacles lashed for a second. He must have been doing some deep thinking.

  “Are you familiar with timer theory and interrupts?” he asked me finally.

  “Of course, they’re standard elements of any processor. But I don’t see what that has to do with—”

  “Indulge me, Colonel. When compared to human software, Macro programming is somewhat similar in design. They operate on the basis of preprogramed triggers—thresholds which will cause action when crossed. But they also have built-in timeouts to prevent them from getting stuck waiting forever for a trigger that doesn’t come. When an expected stimulus doesn’t materialize for a long period, they are kick-started into action independently.”

  “All right, I get that. But what has it got to do with the current situation? Are you saying the Macros sat on the far side of the ring for so long they must have been caught in an endless loop?”

  “No. I don’t believe they can be so easily disabled. They were up to something, I’m sure of that. I reasoned that since they couldn’t be doing nothing, they must therefore be doing something. With that basis for a theory, I began to examine possible activities they could be engaged in for such a length of time. After analysis of all their possible courses of action, a long range normal-space attack topped my list. All I had to do was look for their fleet. Once we sent the probe through the ring, I knew where to look. Finding the ice chunks and figuring out their purpose was then a simple matter.”

  I nodded. “I see. What I’m hearing is somewhat different than your carefully spun version of events. You suspected this was coming, and yet you said nothing.”

  “On the contrary, I was working on an unproven theory. I have many of them—thousands in fact—that are currently under investigation. Would you like a full report on each, Colonel?”

  I sighed and shook my head. I really didn’t want to hear Marvin’s list of predictions. I suspected most of them involved our doom.

  “Very well, sir,” he said when I passed.

  In a tired voice, I asked my next question. “Okay Marvin. I’m willing to swallow the idea that you figured all this out only recently, but how could you not know we were in the dark about the comets? What did you do when you figured that out?”

  “I’ve been studying Antarctic microbial life forms over recent days. I only left my specimens when you summoned me to this meeting. Due to my isolation under a glacier, I was unaware of Star Force Command’s ignorance of the true situation.”

  “You were studying microbes in Antarctica?” Newcome demanded incredulously. “Under an ice shelf, no less? Why?”

  Newcome was still a little new to Marvin’s behavior patterns. To the rest of us, that part of the robot’s story hadn’t come as a surprise. Marvin had been fascinated with microbial life since he’d taken his first wobbling steps.

  “The specimens are unique,” Marvin said brightly. “They have a very unusual cellular structure. I wanted to preserve their evolutionary adaptations—if only in a virtual form in my brainbox.”

  “Preserve them?” Jasmine demanded. “Why do they need preserving?”

  I knew the answer to that one.

  “Because he thinks we’re all going to die,” I said, putting my hands to my face and rubbing my eyes. “Everyone on Earth is going to die, right Marvin? Even the microbes?”

  “That is a likely outcome of the Macro attack,” Marvin said agreeably.

  “And when were you going to tell us that part?” Newcome demanded.

  “Please keep in mind that I’d assumed you already knew,” Marvin said. “The conclusions were so obvious—I didn’t think all five billion of you could miss them.”

  His subtle way of calling us a race of dummies didn’t do anything for the group’s collective mood.

  “Look, Marvin,” I said. “In the future—if there is a future for anyone sitting here today—I would appreciate it if you would immediately relay data concerning enemy activity to us.”

  “So noted, Colonel Riggs.”

  I let out a huge sigh. “All right then. Let’s get our heads around this. How long until they get here?”

  “Seventy-nine days, two hours and an unknown number of minutes.”

  “Missed it on the minutes, did you?” Newcome asked sarcastically.

  “Due to certain heat distortions and poor optical triangulation at this distance, I can’t be as precise as—”

  “Forget about that, Marvin,” I snapped.

  “Comment deleted.”

  “Let’s talk about this new situation. We’re going to be under attack in just over two months’ time.”

  “No, sir,” Marvin said. “That isn’t entirely accurate. We’ve been under attack for several months. Most of us were simply unaware of it.”

  “That’s great, Marvin. Just great. And how many ships do you think they have hiding behind the comets?”

  “I would estimate—and I must emphasize, this is a very rough estimate, with no more than a ninety-two percent confidence rati
ng—that they have the production capacity equivalent of four thousand, three hundred cruisers headed our way. That number could vary based on their precise fleet composition, of course.”

  “Of course,” I echoed.

  The meeting went on, but I don’t remember the rest of it. We planned, we talked—but mostly we stared at those graphics depicting twirling, black chunks of ice.

  It was hard to believe this fresh calamity was real. While we’d been farting around on Earth, toasting one another over our newfound peace and freedom, the machines had been out there in the cold darkness, building and building. They’d prepared for their eventual victory, even while we partied. It was an old story in the history of warfare, and the kind of trap my species was apt to fall into. But now the lions were awake, and they were hungry.

  The party was over.

  -18-

  The first thing I did after the meeting was get dressed in my finest uniform. I then made some vidscreen calls. Surprised officials climbed out of bed to take my call. When you’re the ruler of a planet, no one is too busy to talk to you.

  I summoned our newly hatched World Parliament. There had been an Imperial Senate, but in the dismantling of Crow’s Empire, we’d dissolved it—in truth, I’d killed most of the members in the process of forcing the world to sue for peace. I’d taken that route rather than bombing cities or destroying fleets. I needed cities and fleets much more than I’d needed politicians.

  Soon however, I’d figured out that politicians were like cockroaches. More always scuttled out no matter how many you stomped flat. I’d become resigned to the fact that I was going to have to live with them.

  To replace the Imperial Senate, I’d created a parliament with each member state being allotted at least a single member. The number of members was fixed at a thousand, and each nation had a number of members based on their population. You’d think that China would win out in that scenario, but due to years of warfare there were surprise winners such as Indonesia. They’d had about two hundred and fifty million citizens before the arrival of the machines, and as they’d never had much in the way of military, high technology or heavy industry, they’d never been targeted. Other countries hadn’t faired so well, and there were a few billion less people on Earth today than there had been a decade ago. As a result, Indonesia had forty-nine members of parliament to represent them.

  “Can this be right?” I asked my handlers. “Indonesia gets forty-nine votes?”

  “It is an impressive number, Colonel,” said one of my people, the guy who was supposed to arrange my clothing. He had a faintly British accent, perfect hair, dark eyes and a false, insipid smile.

  I hated my handlers. All of them.

  They were Jasmine’s idea. Sure, I knew she was correct in thinking that I needed help to look my best, but these people took it too far. They dressed me and fixed me up like some kind of plastic doll. I felt like a mannequin in a chair.

  The worst part was I found myself getting used to the royal treatment. I didn’t like that. I’d never wanted to be some fancy-pants guy in a suit. I’d never wanted fame, fortune or the guy I now found on his knees at my side, toying with a nickel-plated saber that didn’t want to attach properly to my cummerbund.

  To be certain that I never resembled Crow too closely, I made sure I wore a black uniform, cut along the lines of normal Star Force attire. It was formal, but not silly. I didn’t have a chest that jingled with medals, nor was my outfit shining white as Crow’s had been.

  “What’s with the sword?” I demanded from the sword-handling guy. “Why do I have to wear a sword at all? Whose idea was that?”

  My voice might have been a trifle harsh because the poor guy looked scared. His hands leapt from my side and hovered in the air. Down there on his knees, he looked pitiful.

  They all backed off in a chain reaction that had begun with the startled sword guy. The woman who’d been farting around with my hair took two steps backward. The makeup girl gasped and dropped a facial brush covered with skin-colored dust.

  Even the guy standing in the corner holding my overcoat chickened. He stepped into the bathroom quietly.

  The chief valet froze. He’d been the one who’d answered my question about Indonesia. He looked like I’d just strangled his kitten.

  None of them said a damned word in response to my question. I realized they were terrified.

  “Sorry,” I said, waving them all forward again. “Don’t wet yourselves. Let’s just get this over with.”

  They approached me like I was some kind of unleashed jungle cat. After a few seconds, they started messing with me again. I endured, telling myself they were only doing their jobs.

  I didn’t have a good reputation. People knew I might take a punch at someone who pissed me off. Hell, I’d personally torn the head off of Jack Crow, dethroning and decapitating him in a single stroke just last year. That gem of a clip had been replayed on the evening net vids non-stop for months.

  But I almost never abused normal people. It wouldn’t be right. I only unleashed my physical power on Star Force people, who I knew could take a hit.

  We men and women from the stars were different—almost like another breed of human. We’d spent years out there in space, and we’d changed. Our bodies and our minds weren’t the same anymore. We weren’t like these normal, soft folk. A nanotized marine could keep fighting with injuries that would kill a citizen outright. Knowing this, and being a rough group to begin with, we had many traditions of behavior that set us apart from the rest of humanity.

  My resulting reputation was a burden sometimes. I felt like I was visiting a kindergarten class and I had to be careful about what I did and said. If the big, bad man started yelling, the kids might break down and cry.

  When they’d all calmed down and gotten back to work, I noticed they were moving much faster, not touching me unless they had to, and keeping quiet. I kind of liked that part.

  “Could you tell me, sir,” I said, addressing the Chief Valet again. I knew he was the chief because the rest of them never addressed me directly, and he had a little nametag that identified his title. I read his nametag now, squinting to see the name. “Um, Sahir,” I said.

  He froze. He looked stunned to be referenced by name.

  “Yes, Colonel?” he asked querulously.

  “Just tell me,” I said, forcing a smile. “Whose idea was it to have me wear a sword? I’m just curious. Not mad. I’m not mad at all.”

  His answering smile trembled a fraction. He opened his mouth, took in a breath, but then closed it again.

  “I’m not sure, sir,” he said.

  I frowned, and he went back to work, avoiding my eyes. I didn’t believe him. I’m an old bullshitter from way back, and I know one of my own when I see one.

  Just then, I heard a laugh and a light clapping of hands behind me. Jasmine came in, cooing. It wasn’t like her to coo, and the sound made my frown melt away.

  “Turn around,” she said.

  “I’m not doing a spin.”

  “You’re no fun. But you look great.”

  “You’re sure you don’t mean fabulous?” I asked, resting my hand on my sword. The hilt was right there, and it was either hold it or let it rattle when I walked.

  “Oh, they put the saber on!” Jasmine said. “It looks quite good.”

  My lips compressed, and I nodded slowly. I had my answer now. The sword had been Jasmine’s idea. I looked for that Sahir guy, but he’d wisely ducked out of the room.

  Jasmine hugged me, and I ran my hand lightly over her belly. She allowed this, looking shy.

  “Feel anything?” she asked, whispering into my ear.

  “Not yet. Pretty soon, it will look like you’ve just eaten two dinners. Have you been to the doctor?”

  “They already know. I’ll take care of everything. Don’t worry.”

  But I was worried. The machines had killed my first two kids. Why not this new one? It was a disturbing thought.

  We walked tog
ether to the backstage area. Just beyond were glaring lights and an impressive lectern. I was due to give a speech there in a few minutes in the center of the Parliament chambers.

  After destroying Crow’s government, we’d had to rebuild the building in a new spot. Geneva was again the center of the world government but with a new, spherical building to meet within. The thronged delegates couldn’t see us, but we could see them. They were stacked very high, like an opera house going upward fifty floors or more. The distant dome above them was lit blue-white, as bright as a sunny sky.

  I left Jasmine backstage with a kiss and walked out onto the platform.

  Everyone stood and clapped. They didn’t cheer and howl, but they clapped for a long time. Crow had instilled that instinct into them. I’d read that he’d often had his own senators watched during his public performances. People who sat sullenly and didn’t clap had often mysteriously disappeared. The politicians had soon figured things out, and they’d given him a standing ovation every time toward the end of his reign.

  That same instinct had to be in them today, I thought. I knew they didn’t all love me. I ran my eyes over the crowd, which wasn’t easy. There were over three thousand present. Each member of the parliament had staffers of their own, and the place was huge.

  I’d started off with my arms upraised and my face wearing an indulgent smile. I walked to the lectern and lowered my arms. When I did so, the clapping died down.

  “Members of Parliament,” I began, “people of Earth, I come to you today as the bearer of both good and bad news.”

  Smiles died on a thousand faces as my words sunk in. They’d all thought I was going to announce everlasting peace had come to us and that it was all my doing. After all, the news reports were all glowing. I’d triggered a new Macro invasion and destroyed every ship they had with marginal losses. Riggs was a genius. Riggs was a hero.

  So, what was this good-news, bad-news stuff? No one liked that routine. Nobody. It always meant you had something bad to tell the crowd, and that you were trying to candy it up. That was exactly what I was doing today.