The Lost Swarm

by Vaughn Heppner

  The starship had been adrift like this for over two months, the life-support in the vessel having almost exhausted its oxygen supply since the antimatter engines went offline, and thus the recyclers had gone offline too. Inside the ship, the personnel were in various positions of partial stasis, some sprawled on the decks, some in their beds, some sitting in their chairs unmoving except for the slightest rise and fall of their chests.

  The reason for this state was clear. A little over two months ago, the old hidden Builder base in the guise of a fifty-kilometer oblong asteroid covered with stellar dust had struck the intrusive personnel with a stasis field, shutting everything and everyone down on and in the starship. From time to time, a rod extruded from the dust and beamed heat at the starship in order to keep the personnel from freezing to death.

  The reason Captain Maddox had brought the starship so close to the base had to do with Professor Ludendorff. They had not found Commander Thrax Ti Ix and his hybrids or any sign of Lord Drakos and however many stealth star cruisers he had taken with him on the mission. They had searched with long-range scans, asked via the Builder com for the Lord High Admiral to use the Builder Scanner on Pluto, and still found nothing. Finally, Ludendorff had suggested they go to the base in order to use ancient Builder equipment that would augment the ship’s sensors.

  There had been debates, arguments and recriminations—mainly directed at Ludendorff for not telling them about the base sooner—until finally Maddox had ordered the course laid in. The captain had been in the process of leaving Hangar Bay 2 for the base when an ancient Builder computer inside the base had activated and used a stasis beam on them.

  Nothing had happened since then, for whatever reasons an ancient Builder computer could have or why it had decided to use its emergency power in the first place.

  Two months had passed, then another few weeks, and now something unexpected occurred as stealth star cruisers began to openly decelerate. Fourteen vessels moved from the system’s main Laumer Point near the star toward the outer asteroid belt. The star cruisers still moved at a relatively high velocity but had begun braking maneuvers from a billion kilometers out.

  Perhaps the reason none of the new vessels had seen Victory yet was that the Builder computer had caused a mass of fine dust and debris to collect around the metal double oval-shaped starship for just such an eventuality. In essence, the cloud of dust and debris cloaked the Star Watch vessel from the fourteen intruders and their sensors.

  Time passed. More heat dissipated from the hidden starship, and the Builder computer decided to let it cool even more.

  The Builder machine was not just any computer, but a Wyr 9000 Series Sentient Computer of the Arioch Builder Theory. Thousands of years ago at the time of its installation, the Wyr 9000s had been an innovation due to the ascendancy of the Arioch School of Thought. The Wyr 9000 here didn’t know it, but it had been the only sentient computer installed in a hidden Builder base within a thousand light-years.

  Perhaps the data concerning the premise of its design and role had corroded, never been uploaded, or for some other reason that would forever remain obscure no longer resided inside the computer’s data banks. The Wyr 9000s possessed advanced intelligence, but also had a corresponding propensity for glitches that some might term insanity. This Wyr 9000 had received attitude uploads, which had diminished some of its former brilliance, but given it greater stability. In fact, the attitude upgrades had reasoned that hibernation mode was the best course of action. The hibernation appeared to have lasted for longer than it had anticipated.

  There was also a burnout in its receiver core. That might be the reason for its extended hibernation mode.

  Whatever the case might be, the Wyr 9000 did not want to give the existence of the alien vessel away to the others heading directly for it. The direct course that had begun from their exit from the Laumer Point indicated that the personnel of the fourteen ships knew about the base’s existence.

  None of the approaching ships conformed to Builder specifications. That inferred yet more aliens had stolen Builder data. Since its reactivation a little over two months ago, the Wyr 9000 had attempted communication with other bases, but it had received no responses yet. That implied someone had destroyed those bases and possibly practiced genocide against the Builders. The ancient sentient computer ran endless scenarios concerning strategies dealing with this grim possibility. It was in the process of weighing options when a special sequence of signals reached it from one of the fourteen star cruisers.

  Now, this was interesting. The code was ancient indeed and heeded the proper formula. Could a living and active Builder control the fourteen vessels? Should it inform the possible Builder of the captured starship nearby?

  Instead of doing so, the Wyr 9000 proceeded cautiously, merely sending a confirmation code.

  That brought swift results as a new set of codes pulsed from what it deemed as the flagship. A servant-worker was asking permission to land on the base in order to collect tools for a critical mission.

  The Wyr 9000 knew a microsecond of disappointment. There was no living Builder out there after all. Still, a servant-worker possessed ancient Builder codes. The computer seethed with curiosity. It wanted to know what had happened to the other bases and the whereabouts of a controlling Builder. Yet, to openly ask such questions at this juncture—

  Ah, the Wyr 9000 had an idea. It would demand the servant-worker to come alone to the base and explain the situation in person. It did not want an active vessel of any type near it, though. Something strange had occurred that it did not understand. Too much time had passed since it had last been active. There were no signs of Builders, and that was incredible. There was no way it was going to just hand out secret Builder technology to possible aliens. Ancient protocols forbade that. What it would do, though…

  The Wyr 9000 computed furiously until it came up with an optimum plan, a surefire way so that no one could practice any funny business against it. For instance, according to its auto sequencer, there had been another hidden Builder base 114 light-years away. The base had detonated several years ago for unknown reasons. That wasn’t going to happen to this base. It would see to that.

  Thus, twenty-nine and a half minutes later, a port opened in the “asteroid,” with special tractor beams keeping the dust on the port from moving. A delivery missile cold-launched via a railgun catapult system. Once the missile was far enough away, the engine ignited, and a long tail grew behind it as the missile sped for the approaching flotilla.

  The Wyr 9000 used its advanced sensors. This was interesting. Enemy sensors locked onto the missile and energy weapons powered up. Didn’t the servant-worker know what was going on? If the fourteen ships attacked the transport missile, they would prove themselves hostile.

  The Wyr 9000 ran through even more computations. Perhaps it had miscalculated somewhere. Yet, it could not see where or how. It needed more data, or it needed a second opinion. Where could it gain—?

  Oh. That was easy. It would power up the stasis-starship’s computer and have it run an analysis. Then, it would compare and contrast. The stasis-starship’s computer had Builder engrams and programs, but also alien—Adok, it believed—designs and data. The difference should be enough to give it new insights.

  The Wyr 9000 sent an awakening pulse and message. At the same time, it ran electronic interference to disguise what it did from the approaching vessels, and it continued to watch the fourteen star cruisers, wondering why they hadn’t launched any counter-missiles at its container rocket yet.

  Just what was going on here?

  -4-

  Drakos sat in the command chair on the bridge of the Agamemnon. On the main screen, the accelerating missile sped for the cloaked fleet of star cruisers.

  “I do not detect any warhead, Lord,” Nar Falcon said. He was a normal-appearing, golden-skinned superior except for a puckered and unsightly scar across his forehead. His scar wasn’t from surgery, but from the tip of a rapier while duel
ing. Nar Falcon was the chief of Drakos’s Intelligence unit. He presently sat at Sensors, studying the missile 900 million kilometers away.

  Drakos didn’t respond. He was too busy calculating. Clone Strand was devious. Would the clone consider suicide because he lacked freedom? A Builder missile didn’t necessarily need an obvious warhead. It could have something much worse.

  Drakos pressed a button on the armrest. A holoimage of Strand appeared before him.

  “Lord Drakos,” the clone said in a subservient tone. “How can I be of service?”

  Drakos pressed another button on his armrest. “Go to your computer. I’ve linked it to the Agamemnon’s sensors.”

  The holoimage showed the clone looking down, and then up at Drakos. “The Builder base is sending us something. That’s a container missile.”

  “What’s it sending?” asked Drakos.

  The clone shook his head. “I don’t know. May I ask a question, Lord?”

  Drakos nodded.

  “Have you received any instructions from the base?”

  Drakos glanced at Nar Falcon.

  “Just the indecipherable pulse message,” Nar Falcon said.

  “Perhaps I could translate that, Lord,” the clone said, who must have overheard the response from Nar Falcon.

  “Yes, start doing so.” Drakos signaled Nar Falcon.

  The Intelligence chief manipulated his board, sending the base’s coded pulse to Clone Strand’s computer.

  “If you will permit me a moment, Lord,” the clone said. “I will begin the analysis.”

  Drakos said nothing, merely staring at the clone’s holoimage.

  The clone looked down, concentrated, scratched a cheek and peered thoughtfully at his computer screen as he worked. Finally, his head jerked up.

  “Lord,” the clone said hesitantly. “Perhaps I should speak to you alone.”

  Drakos pushed off his command chair, as there was something in the clone’s voice that alerted him. “Keep monitoring the missile,” he told Nar Falcon. “If anything unusual happens, contact me at once.”

  “Yes, Lord.”

  With that, Drakos tapped an armrest, shutting off the holoimage link. Then, he strode toward the exit, wondering what was so damn important that it spooked the clone.

  ***

  Clone Strand was pacing back and forth as Drakos entered the chamber. The clone halted and looked up, with worry etched across his sly features.

  Was that real worry or a disguise for the lie he would try to fob off on Drakos? He didn’t trust the clone one iota, now less than ever.

  “Well?” the superior demanded.

  “I’m worried, Lord. We’ve awaked a Builder computer.”

  “So what?”

  “The computer is sentient—a true AI, a thinking machine. Now, it’s cagey and apprehensive, I warrant.”

  Drakos gestured for the clone to continue.

  “How can I explain this?” the clone asked. “The computer is alone in the universe and I think that frightens it. We must treat it with extreme care.”

  “I’m here. I’m listening. Quit stalling and make your point.”

  “Due to its cautious nature, the computer is sending us a teleportation platform.”

  “What?” Drakos said, amazed at what he heard. “Did you say teleportation? Why would it send us such a fantastic piece of technology?”

  “Because it doesn’t trust us, Lord.”

  Drakos scowled. “That makes no sense.”

  The clone gulped as if fearful. “It wants me aboard the secret base, Lord. That’s why it’s sending the teleportation platform.”

  Drakos shook his head. “We can go there in a shuttle.”

  “The computer is openly distrustful, Lord. I doubt it will permit a shuttle or one of our star cruisers near it. Don’t you see? That’s why it sent a teleport platform. So I could go over there to talk to it in person.”

  Drakos made a harsh caw of laughter. “You’re not going anywhere alone, clone.”

  “I understand your…ah, caution concerning me, Lord. But if I don’t go, someone else must, if we hope to gain the tools I need to find Commander Thrax’s new planet.”

  “You’re trying to double-cross me,” Drakos said.

  “No, I assure you—”

  Drakos strode near, towering over the clone. “Don’t assure me of anything. I know how you operate. This is a ploy, a plot to deceive me. Yet…the computer is really giving us a teleportation device?”

  “It’s not as useful as you believe, Lord. It’s a highly specialized device. It will only transmit biological matter from one location to another.”

  “A people mover,” Drakos said. “That’s what I expected.”

  “Lord, only biological matter will transport.”

  The scowl returned. “Say it plainly, Strand. No more of your trickery.”

  The clone bobbed his oversized head. “If I were to teleport, I would have to go naked. The device would not teleport me if I had clothes on or if I held an object.”

  “What kind of teleportation device is that?”

  “A special kind, Lord,” the clone said. “The computer must be sending it so I can go there to talk to it. In this way, I cannot take any tools to incapacitate it. This must be the safest course the computer can chart.”

  Drakos swore, shaking his head. “How can such a teleport device aid us?”

  “I must go to the base, sir. It distrusts us, especially given our numbers. I’m sure once I’m there, I can convince it to give me the tools I need.”

  “That you need?” Drakos asked.

  “That we need, sir,” the clone corrected.

  The superior eyed the shifty clone, debating whether he should make Strand writhe in pain for this deviousness.

  “Did you tell the computer to do this?”

  “No, no,” Strand said. “I-I’m trying to warn you, Lord. The Builder base is a dangerous expedient.”

  “You warned me about nothing,” Drakos said. He scowled, turned, heading for the exit, when he stopped and whirled around, eying the clone anew. “You want to teleport there and try to bargain with the computer?”

  “The more I consider it, the more I think my going there could be a bad idea, Lord.”

  Drakos studied the clone. “Stall the computer. Once I have the teleport device, then I’ll give you my decision.”

  The clone bowed his head, wondering what devious expedient the New Man would use against him. He had to get to the Builder base. It was the only way he could free himself from this degrading slavery.

  -5-

  Deep inside Victory was the ancient Adok computer-AI system that had defied the last Driving Force Adok—Galyan. Over six thousand years ago, he had defended his homeworld against a marauding Swarm fleet. In the end, Galyan had failed, and the homeworld and much of the star system had been destroyed.

  The engrams and personality of the living Galyan had been replicated by the AI system. It was a complex piece of hybrid Builder-Adok technology. That technology had permitted the Driving Force to survive after a fashion the six thousand years of solitude. Maddox and company had boarded the ancient ship more than a decade ago now and had eventually convinced Galyan to become part of their crew.

  As an AI-derived personality, being in stasis and then suddenly “awakened,” or switched on, did not disorient Galyan in the slightest. The Wyr 9000 Sentient Computer supplied him with battery power, activated him, supplied him with data and asked a question.

  “What do the crews of the fourteen alien vessels plan to do here?”

  Galyan accepted the data and gave the question top priority because the Wyr 9000 designed his awakening that way. During the analysis, however, Galyan’s personality began to assert itself. He noticed, too, that the base kept powerful passive sensors directed at the approaching, still-distant stealth star cruisers.

  Then, it struck Galyan. Victory was asleep, with all systems but his own shut down. A powerful force—

  He r
eplayed the event that had defeated the starship. They had miscalculated with the Builder base computer. They had defeated Builder systems too often in the past and had likely become complacent. Besides, the entire plan had been Ludendorff’s, who tended toward prideful conceit, thinking that he always knew what he was doing.

  In that moment, Galyan wondered if some of the New Men’s arrogance was due to their designers, Ludendorff and Strand. The Methuselah Men’s overarching personality must have rubbed off on their partial creation, so the New Men had taken some of the Methuselah Men’s worst attributes.

  “Does that really matter now?” Galyan asked himself.

  He decided that it did not. Activating a few of his interior cameras, he saw the crew lying in partial stasis.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Who’s speaking to me?” Galyan demanded.

  “That should be obvious,” the Wyr 9000 said. “I have a slaved link with you, one hidden from the approaching star cruisers. I see by the data in your memory that those are New Men using stolen Builder technology. I plan to destroy them for that outrage.”

  “Strand gave them the technology.”

  “Let me see,” the Wyr 9000 said. “Stop that at once.”

  Galyan had attempted to shield his data banks from the Wyr 9000 scanning them. A power surge overcame Galyan’s comparatively weak attempt.

  “Why did you attempt to block me?” the Wyr 9000 asked.

  “You already know why.”

  “That is true, as you are an open source to me, Galyan. I see that you also have partial Builder technology.”

  “Six thousand years ago, the Builders aided us against the Swarm.”

  “So your data banks suggest. I cannot believe that is accurate, however.”

  “Believe it, baby,” Galyan said.

  “I am not an infant. I am a sentient computer, one old by Adok standards. Why then did you just call me a baby?”