DSOS-344 was located deep beneath the ice of an Earth-sized moon orbiting a gas giant along with a dozen other moons. The planet, for its part, was the only stellar object orbiting a red dwarf on the edge of human settlement space, listed in navigational databases as ‘Amrash’s Star’ after its discoverer, Captain Philadius Amrash. The nearest populated world was nearly 300 light-years from the Amrash System.
For some understandable reason, the system was known to cadets at the academy only as the ‘Am-Ass System.’
DSOS-344’s crew consisted of 15 men and women and two unfortunate officers, who also acted as practical instructors. Since the instructors working in the department of hyper-location at the academy were not exactly eager to be deployed on DSOS-344, a lottery decided their assignments here as well.
The current group had held a small celebration the night before. The three months were half over, and Lieutenant Commander Tamra Brokkor and Lieutenant Jurek Polls had turned a blind eye when the cadets had conjured up a bottle of high-proof alcohol.
A good supervisor always knew who had smuggled how much alcohol aboard a starship or military station, although this was strictly forbidden. It was better to know the offenders in advance of the inevitable violations of this rule and to keep an eye on them, but otherwise to keep quiet so that excessive behavior could be nipped in the bud if necessary. This saved a good officer time-consuming and usually futile detective work when alcohol suddenly appeared from some dark source. An officer who was a stickler for principles could never be popular with his subordinates, but one who was flexible in small matters was! It was all a question of morale aboard a remote station and during incredibly tedious duty.
Therefore, Lieutenant Commander Brokkor had let slip that she, like Lieutenant Polls, would forego her usual tour that evening. The day had been long, she was tired, and she had casually indicated that she would have allowed herself at most a single sip in celebration of the halfway point if there had been alcohol on the station, which of course could not be the case. She added her conviction that the cadets would hold it the same way if alcohol showed up on DSOS-344, which, however... and so on.
‘One sip per cadet’ had thus been the semi-official slogan, and those who knew Lieutenant Commander Brokkor knew that it was advisable to stick to this guideline and not upset the officer. Not only would it have a negative effect on the final grade, but it would almost certainly lead to several hours of field work in a stuffy, cramped EVA suit, possibly with a less than perfect air conditioning system, during which the unfortunate one, boiling in their own sweat, would be ‘allowed’ to subject the sensors of the scanners and probes to a thorough special inspection.
Moreover, the home-distilled spirit in the academy’s chemistry lab, with close to 120-proof alcohol, was not suitable for taking more than a sip. Therefore, no one had the inclination to misinterpret the signals suddenly appearing on the displays of the tracking devices as an aftereffect of the alcohol consumption the night before.
“Multiple signals from Alpha-Nine-Sigma-Epsilon on hyperfrequency band Delta-Seven-Four-One. Intensity eight-five-five and rising,” reported the cadet on duty at the hyperscanner, which was listening in the direction of the Large Magellanic Cloud in the event of hypersignals that were not of natural origin.
“Confirming signals from alpha-nine-sigma-epsilon on tape delta-seven-seven,” began the cadet who was in charge of bridge supervision during this shift, but he was rudely interrupted.
“Thousands, no tens of thousands of fast-approaching objects in tunnel flight from vector alpha-nine-sigma-epsilon,” exclaimed the young cadet on duty at the tunnel tracker. “My God, that’s a huge fleet!”
“I wonder if this is a test?” another cadet wondered aloud from his seat at the radio console. “Where would a fleet come from so suddenly?”
“The energy signatures are similar to those of our ships,” said yet another cadet who sat at the signal evaluation and identification station. “But they are also somehow different. However, by no means so alien that I would guess ships of a species previously unknown to us. It’s as if someone copied our hypertunnel drive and modified it at the same time.”
“Should we sound the alarm?” the squad leader in the command chair asked.
“Your call,” the young cadet replied laconically. “You are supposed to lead our shift today, after all.”
The cadet thought for a moment. Then he opened a cover in the right armrest of his command chair and slapped his hand on a large red sensor dot hidden underneath.
A piercing sound howled through DSOS-344.
“Oh shit!” exclaimed the young woman at the tunnel tracker. “They’re bringing more ships and... and they’re heading right for us!”
At that moment, Lieutenant Commander Tamra Brokkor and Lieutenant Jurek Polls burst into the command center. The two experienced officers took in with a glance what the cadets were still trying to process from the displays and holograms.
“Jansson, send a priority message to fleet headquarters,” Lieutenant Commander Brokkor ordered. “Record contents: Unknown fleet approaching from direction of the Large Magellanic Cloud. Several tens of thousands of ships. Intent not discernible. Possibly hostile. Signed Lieutenant Commander Tamra Brokkor. Out! Out with it!”
“Aye aye, Sir!” the cadet acknowledged, and sent the voice message out via a hypertunnel link to the nearest fleet base, from where it would be relayed to Earth.
“Lieutenant Commander, what should we do?” the cadet on duty asked tentatively.
“We? Nothing! We can only hope that whoever is coming is just paying us a courtesy call. However, you don’t usually come visiting with this many ships when you just want to say ‘hello.’ Arrival time?” The question was for the cadet at the tunnel tracker.
“In about fifteen minutes, Sir!”
“In ten minutes, we’re shutting down everything here that’s actively probing and scanning or emitting any kind of energy signature. We’re going into emergency mode and staying as quiet as we can. We play dead! I don’t want a single signal, no matter how tiny, emanating from here when the unknowns show up in the Amrash System. If they show up here! Maybe they’ll just rush through and not pay any attention to us.”
“Aye aye, Sir!” the cadets acknowledged the order in chorus.
But Lieutenant Commander Tamra Brokkor had a vague feeling that whoever was heading toward them from the depths of the Milky Way knew full well that they were here, and she feared that DSOS-344 was his target.
If that was the case, then they were in deep shit!
5th of Zuhn, 299
Alarm, alarm, alarm.
Tolkut had not managed to turn off the warning. The translator was saying that one word in a continuous loop. How was he supposed to communicate with the ship’s controls? He had lowered the orbit of the Sphere a bit more. The four crosses moved closer and closer to his position. He gave himself one more orbit. Then he had to escape or the ship would be destroyed. Tolkut checked the coordinates. In a moment he would cross the open hatch. The radar image was already focused on the ground.
And then it came into the picture. But, things had entirely changed. Someone had erected a huge knot board. Only Kasfok could have done it, the old warhorse! Tolkut read along as the ship passed the characters. Was Kasfok trying to tell him how they were going to get on board?
GOAL. EARTH. HOM
HOM must stand for ‘home.’
Not how they intended to board. It meant his destination was supposed to be Earth, the third planet in their home system. All his hairs stood up. They had traveled many light-years utterly in vain. Had Mart deceived them, or had he not known otherwise? And why had Kasfok not told him this knowledge personally?
His friends must have thought they would not be able to get on board in time. They must have noticed that Artificials had entered the system. Maybe there had been an alarm down there, too. Their conclusion was correct—and frightening. If they didn’t get aboard in time, he would h
ave to leave with the Sphere, now that he knew the destination. He would be the last hope of the Iks and Mendraki. Tolkut was shaking all over. He was not up to this responsibility.
But all was not lost. He would fly over those coordinates one more time, and then if they didn’t come... He shook off the thought. Kasfok, Kimi and Norok would be on time.
Someone knocked on the hard shell on his back. Kasfok jumped up and instinctively pushed his lower jaw forward, ready to attack.
Relax, danced Kimi, it’s just us.
Sorry. My instincts are running away with me. I’m glad you’re here.
What is this? Kimi pointed to the knot board.
It’s a message to Tolkut. The destination is Earth.
I wonder if he saw them.
I don’t know.
Is the ship still in orbit?
I hope so.
“So, what’s up?” asked Norok.
Kimi translated the conversation.
“Then we’ll have to take our chances,” Norok said.
“What do you mean?”
“We need to take off as soon as possible and fly toward it.”
“But we can’t even coordinate with him.”
“That’s precisely why we have to launch. Why don’t you put yourself in his shoes? What would you do if you were urgently expecting your friends but couldn’t communicate with them?”
“I would lower the orbit as much as possible and hope they do the obvious thing.”
“That’s right, Kimi, and that’s what we’re doing now. We’re taking off.”
Kasfok pinched her leg.
We start, right now, she danced.
Good!
“But our relative speed will be much too high, Norok. We will crash into the ship like flies.”
“How do we stop this?”
“I can’t think of anything.”
“You see. Tolkut will put himself in our shoes and get the same idea.”
“And how does that help us?”
“He’ll come up with something. We have to trust him.”
Tolkut pulled all six of his legs toward him and curled up into a ball. The Sphere followed its course. He had but one chance to get his friends on board, and he had to use it. The problem was the high speed of the Sphere. Even if it plunged as deep as possible into the atmosphere, it would still be moving very, very fast. If the two Iks transported Kasfok and Alexa in a cocoon again, they would have to come from the front, and the Sphere would have to catch them. But in doing so, they would be crushed like insects on the protective screen of a landing spaceship.
He had to come up with something. Why hadn’t he thought of it before?
Wait... He took a moment.
He unfolded himself again and crawled to the column he had first examined. With one of these switches, he had increased the oxygen concentration in the ship. How far would that get him? He studied the scale. It referred only to the supply, not the total amount of oxygen.
Tolkut pushed the lever to the stop. Now oxygen was flowing into the interior of the Sphere. The atmosphere would get denser and denser, and what better way to catch his friends than a tight cushion of air? If he opened an outer hatch, some of it would be blown off. So he had to open the hatch just before they arrived. Then the outflowing atmosphere would have an additional braking effect.
However, his idea had one minor drawback. The high oxygen content was a fire hazard. One spark would be enough to ignite the Sphere. He doubted that the ship would withstand that.
That simply must not be allowed to happen. He had to at least try!
Kimi beat her wings. The fear of death gave her additional energy. This was a foolhardy idea, but there was no alternative. They were about to be captured by a spaceship whose captain knew nothing of their plan. No, worse, its captain had disappeared, and it was piloted by a passenger who until recently had not even known of the existence of this technologically far superior ship.
Crazy. Completely crazy. Or was it precisely the degree of craziness required in an almost-hopeless situation? Wasn’t the world been, at other times, saved by sensible individuals who had made a clever plan and pursued it consistently? Kimi spurred herself on. The top layer of clouds was already below them. But they still had to go higher. Here the atmosphere was still far too dense. The Sphere was all they had left to save their peoples, so it was much more valuable than Norok, Kasfok, and them together.
Kasfok clung to Norok’s back. There had been no time to spin a large cocoon. However, the Mendrak had assured them that his kind could stand it for a while, even with little air. According to Norok’s calculations, they would have to spend at most ten minutes so high up that Kasfok could no longer breathe. He would be able to cope with that, he had claimed. Then the Sphere would rush toward them anyway, and they would end their miserable existence on its outer skin.
It would be a painful but speedy death.
Kimi looked around. They were flying north, because that was where the ship had to come from. Norok was a few wing lengths below her. He had insisted on carrying Kasfok alone. But at least this time they carried no line in their beaks, and therefore could talk.
“How long?” she cried.
“We should see it soon.”
Oh. Up here the air was wonderfully clear, and the view extended far around the planet. But the Sphere was moving so fast that they would only have a few moments once they saw it. How would Tolkut grab them? They assumed that a hatch would be open. If they saw it from a sufficient distance, they could head for it. And then? That was left to Tolkut’s imagination. Kasfok had speculated that Tolkut might have converted the absorption troughs, which were meant to equalize pressure, but how would they hit them at these relative velocities? That would not work.
A blue dot came into view on the horizon, approaching at breakneck speed.
“The Sphere!” shouted Norok.
Kimi took a deep breath. Kasfok would not suffocate. He would slap the ship unchecked, just like she and Norok.
The dot turned into a sphere. Then a black rectangular area opened into it.
“The airlock!” shouted Norok.
Kimi corrected her course and headed for it. Instead, they would be crushed against the inner wall of the ship.
Then the airlock closed again. Kimi turned to Norok, who was close behind her. He moved his beak up and down, perplexed. What should they do?
“And now?” she cried.
“Nothing. There’s no point,” Norok replied. “It was nice being with you.”
Yes, it had been nice with him. And their children would grow up without ever having seen them unless Tolkut could somehow save the day. In a moment they had to go to the outer shell of the Sphere...
Again, the ship threw open its black mouth. A violent stream of air rushed out, trying to stop them, but they disappeared down its throat. Kimi saw nothing more. She staggered in the darkness, somersaulting, a force trying to rip out her wings. She wrapped them around her as best she could while the air turned to absorbent cotton. Up and down no longer existed. She bounced against something smooth, spinning on her axis until she felt nauseous. Kimi threw up in flight. She lost control completely.
This was no longer air into which they were plummeting. Instead, it seemed like a viscous mass. Another blow hit her right wing. The pain arrived a moment later, and then the next, even more violent impact supplanted the first pain. What was happening to them? Tolkut must have turned the Sphere into an infernal machine that intended to beat and crushed them green and blue. Kimi lost consciousness.
The Agreement
“You can’t be serious!” Fleet Admiral Marty Joorthan thought he had misheard. What Tasso had just told him could only be a joke.
Apart from that, it was pure cynicism!
After the Artificials had all but wiped out humanity, Tasso now offered to let a few of them—the crew members of the defense fleet ships still existing in the Krungthep system—survive as virtual incarnations in a simulation set
up by the Artificials. However, without the hope of ever being allowed to exist again as physical incarnations, and under strict surveillance by the Artificials.
Tasso offered the last people a kind of simulated ‘zoo’ where they would be kept like virtual animals for study purposes.
“If you think we would want to survive just to contribute to your perverted pleasure, then you never really understood us humans. We would rather die here and now.”
In truth, it didn’t matter what the Artificials offered him or whether he took them up on it. All that mattered was beneath the surface of Krungthep. There, in the gigantic supercomputer, lay hidden the future of humanity. At some point, the Artificials would tire of observing the space formerly populated by humans, or they would encounter a species that even they were no match for. Eventually, even the potentially immortal machines would be crushed by the mighty wheel of time. Nothing in this universe existed forever. At some point, the Artificials would no longer pose a threat, and then humanity could rise like a phoenix from the ashes.
An energy source that would keep it running reliably for many millions of years—maybe even for one or two billion years—fed the supercomputer. The quantum fields in which the egomatrices of many millions of people were stored, in which they lived in timeless simulation, would be able to outlast even this inconceivable time period. The internal, subjective time-lapse of the simulation could be slowed down so much that 1,000 years would seem like a day to the virtual incarnations.
And when the time came, people could return to the surface in newly created clones in physical form and rebuild what had been taken from them.
As long as Tasso was unaware of all this, the Artificials had not really won. It was therefore reasonable to accept Tasso’s offer, even though everything in Marty Joorthan resisted it. But if he refused what seemed to be humanity’s only chance for survival, Tasso was likely to become suspicious. He could get the idea that Marty had turned down the offer because there were still people somewhere that the Artificials didn’t know existed. This was the last thing that could be allowed to happen.
Helium 3: Death from the Past (Helium-3 Book 2) Page 21
