Stargods

by Ian Douglas

  “Are you recovered now?”

  Koenig laughed, then wondered that he could have such a visceral response. “Getting there, Konstantin. I almost feel like my old self . . . except for the little detail of not having a body.”

  “Within the Godstream, Mr. President, one creates any physical manifestation desired, any world desired, imaginal or real.”

  “Imaginal?”

  “All such universes have an equal claim to ‘reality,’ Mr. President. Just because it happens in your head does not mean it is not real.”

  “Point. Except that I don’t seem to have a head at the moment.”

  “Mr. President, can you accept the fact that an atom, the basis of all matter, is fundamentally nonexistent? That it is almost entirely empty space, and that even those minute particles within its volume are, according to the laws of quantum physics, popping in and out of existence apparently at random? That atoms themselves are unsubstantial to the point of being illusory, that what we call matter is best defined as standing waves within the base energy state of the universe? Indeed, one human physicist is on record as saying that the best way to think of an atom is that it is a packet of information, more of an idea than anything else.”

  “If you say so, Konstantin. I never much understood quantum physics beyond the basics.”

  But oddly, Koenig was cognizant of information moving through his awareness—of equations and facts and theory all describing what Konstantin was talking about. His mind, he realized, was intimately linked to the Godstream as a whole.

  “If you understand that much, Mr. President, perhaps you can understand that your thoughts, your mind, everything insubstantial or noncorporeal about you can also be described as standing waves within the universal background. And that those waves can be transcribed into a digital format and recorded.”

  That startled Koenig. Since Humankind had first evolved hundreds of thousands of years in the past, he’d differentiated, at least on some level, between the human body and . . . something else. Mind, soul, ego and id—spirit. Never had there been the slightest evidence that the soul actually existed, or that mind was anything more than an emergent construct created by the interaction of neurons within the brain.

  Konstantin was telling him that there was a description of how matter behaved within quantum physics that could explain the physical existence of the soul.

  “I’m going to need some time to assimilate that, Konstantin. Like I need time to take in what’s happened to me.”

  “Understood, Mr. President. I submit, though, that in the long run, it doesn’t really matter whether you have a physical body or not. You could, if you wish, inhabit an artificial body . . . or interact within reality through holographics of your own manufacture. Quite literally, there are very few limitations to what you can do beyond your own doubt and your own failure of imagination.”

  “Did you just accuse me of not having an imagination?”

  “Limited imagination, not a lack of it. That seems to be a part of being human, Mr. President.”

  “I’m having trouble seeing myself as human any longer, Konstantin. I’ve . . . changed.”

  “Indeed. You have transcended.”

  Koenig decided that he would have to take the super-AI’s word for that and not worry too much about the details, at least for now.

  “You should know, Mr. President,” Konstantin said after a moment, “that America and three other vessels have emerged from Alcubierre Drive.”

  “Have they, by God!”

  “They have. I detected a signal from them some thirty minutes ago, at 1550 hours. They are en route, slowly, toward Earth.”

  “That’s the best news I’ve heard in an eon or two,” Koenig said.

  “It may not be as good as you seem to believe. You’ve seen those planetoids in near-synchronous orbit.”

  “I have. Tell me about them.”

  “They are Nungiirtok,” Konstantin replied. “The USNA has surrendered unconditionally to them.”

  The AI went on to tell Koenig about the events of the past two days.

  “I see. And Walker surrendered on behalf of the entire planet?”

  “Arguably so. He had the support of several major governments. There is evidence, however, that the Chinese Hegemony, the Russian Federation, and other governments are acting on their own and may be using Walker’s surrender as a cloak behind which they are preparing an attack.”

  “That sounds dangerous.”

  “It is extremely dangerous,” Konstantin replied. “A miscalculation in their coordination or deployment could easily trigger a devastating response from the aliens. Even if their planning and execution of a counterattack are flawless, Nungiirtok technology may be such that any direct attack on them would be futile.”

  “‘Resistance is futile,’” Koenig said.

  “Is that a quote?”

  “A very old meme.”

  “Ah. Of course. I have the reference here.”

  “Okay—if there are few limits to what’s possible, maybe we can take on the Nungies.”

  “I was thinking exactly that, Mr. President.”

  Chapter Twenty

  27 April, 2429

  Nungiirtok Fleet

  Mars Orbit

  Sol System

  1620 hours, FST

  Four of the Nungiirtok ships broke orbit, accelerating outward. Their sensors had detected the arrival of a squadron of human warships minutes earlier, four distinct starbursts of light indicating the collapse of as many warp bubbles out in deep space. Ashtongtok Tah was in the van; 4236 Xavix knew that he had to destroy these newcomers, or force their surrender, as quickly as possible. The human force probably had seen them in Earth orbit. He wanted to reach them swiftly enough that they would have only a few minutes to realize that the Nungiirtok ships were hurtling toward them. If 4236 Xavix could surprise them, the tactical advantage would be his . . . and quite possibly the battle itself.

  During the fight when his squadron had entered this system, they’d been opposed by a number of human vessels—notably one that appeared to be of the same class as the largest of the newcomers. The sheer ferocity of that ship’s attack, using a large number of tiny, single-seat fighters, had startled Xavix and taken his command staff by complete surprise. Xavix didn’t like to think about just how close the enemy had come to crippling or even destroying the Ashtongtok Tah, and he was determined not to let that happen again.

  Ideally, of course, this newly arrived enemy squadron would surrender once its commanders learned that Earth itself had already submitted to Tok Iad punishment, but it didn’t pay to be too complacent about human military capabilities. Humans were unpredictable, and that made them dangerous.

  He was already considering whether or not to destroy them even after they’d surrendered. That might well be the most sensible course of action. If he did that, he would have to order the entire planetary surface destroyed as well to prevent retaliation, and that, too, would be most sensible. Only extenuating circumstances, such as this species proving to be useful in some way, would save them now from planetary bombardment.

  “All positions are ready, Lord,” the Tok serving as his combat officer reported. “Course plotted and entered.”

  “Accelerate,” 4236 Xavix commanded, and the four largest of the planetoids circling Earth boosted toward the oncoming human ships.

  Koenig

  The Godstream

  1620 hours, FST

  Koenig, piggybacked into the embrace of Konstantin’s electronic matrix, watched four of the converted planetoids boost out of orbit, vanishing within moments as they accelerated to near-c with an acceleration far higher than was possible for any human vessel. “They’re headed for the America battlegroup,” he said.

  “Yes. Their current distance from Earth is approximately two AU—about seventeen light-minutes. I suggest that we attempt to disable the Nungiirtok planetoids still in Earth orbit.”

  That made tactical sense. Those orbit
ing planetoids could wreak terrible damage on the Earth if they weren’t neutralized fast, and the America would be able to maneuver, to stay out of reach of the alien weapons.

  He hoped.

  “Agreed,” he said. “We have seventeen minutes before the Nungies engage America.”

  Unless, he added to himself, they go FTL, in which case they could be engaging the America at this very moment.

  “So what can a couple of disembodied ghosts do?” Koenig asked. He could see possibilities—myriads of them—but choosing was beyond his reach right now. “I tried to enter one of them a little while ago, but it was like a wall was around it. An invisible wall.”

  “The Nungiirtok virtual network is not connected with ours,” Konstantin explained. “In any case, it’s a different operating system.”

  “Then how the hell . . . ah. Omega.”

  The information was there, inside their shared minds. Several years before, the star carrier America had acquired an alien computer virus, one used by the highly advanced ergovores inhabiting the Deneb planetary system and sent as a weapon against the Dyson sphere civilization at Tabby’s Star. The virus was, by human standards at least, highly intelligent, able to come up against an alien computer network and adapt itself to penetrate defenses and hijack both the hardware matrix and the software OS.

  Koenig decided that he wasn’t quite firing on all jets yet. He was still way too slow on the uptake.

  On the other hand, Konstantin, he noted, was already initiating radio communication with one of the planetoids and readying the Omega virus for deployment. If the aliens opened the channel, they were in.

  The channel opened . . .

  USNA CVS America

  Flag Bridge

  Sol System

  1633 hours, FST

  “Four targets have broken orbit, Admiral,” Commander Billingsly announced. “They are accelerating for an intercept with us.”

  Gray had been expecting this. The aliens had sensors at least as good as those on board the human ships and would have seen them drop into normal space as soon as the light reached them.

  “Very well. Commander Mackey, you may launch fighters.”

  “Aye, aye, Admiral. Launching fighters.”

  All of America’s fighter squadrons had been readied for immediate launch some minutes ago, as Gray pictured the coming engagement and how the battlegroup could face such powerful adversaries. Mars HQ had been broadcasting recordings of a recent battle for some minutes now, showing the line of human vessels and the power of the alien gravitic fist.

  The key, he thought, was to keep the capital ships outside the 7,000-kilometer range, while sending in fighters in dispersed formation to avoid presenting the aliens with too tempting a massed target. They would take losses, maybe terrible ones, but enough should get through to deliver 100-megaton warheads on target.

  He wondered if that would be enough. According to Mars, the defensive line had probably come close to striking a decisive blow by attacking the maw of the largest planetoid, but then the defending forces had surrendered.

  How the hell had that happened?

  The threat to Earth, the high-velocity projectiles fired from the planetoid, would have been deadly, an extinction-level event if it had continued. Even so, the defending forces had caved damned quickly. Had that been Walker, micromanaging the battle from Earth? Impossible to guess, but it seemed likely. If that had been the case, Gray didn’t know whether Walker should be hailed as hero or idiot. The Nungiirtok were vicious and obsessive foes, and he doubted that they saw the idea of surrender in the same way as did most humans. Walker should have let the human forces have a chance.

  The America, Gray thought with a savage clenching of his fists, would not surrender.

  Outside the carrier, her fighters were grouping into squadrons, each in chevron formation and slowly pulling ahead.

  “All fighters are in position, Admiral. Awaiting your order.”

  “Thank you, Commander Mackey. You may initiate Plan Alfa.”

  The order was passed and the fighters began accelerating, swiftly moving past America’s shield cap and swiftly vanishing into the distance.

  Gray’s thoughts went once again to his ace in the hole: the twenty-three Nungiirtok prisoners in America’s brig. Might he be able to trade them to the Nungie attackers in exchange for some kind of guarantee of Earth’s safety?

  He doubted it. How the hell could they be trusted not to obliterate Earth anyway, after they had the captives safely on board? How did you even reason with a species that had known humans solely as enemies that they’d been fighting for decades?

  He wished he could discuss things with Konstantin—the older version of Konstantin that he’d left behind in the solar system when the America battlegroup had boosted for the N’gai Dwarf Galaxy and their rendezvous with the Sh’daar.

  Assuming, of course, that Walker hadn’t found a way to switch the super-AI off.

  They were still far too distant from Earth’s virtual electronic network for him to have a real-time conversation with the elder Konstantin. He’d have to worry about what Walker might or might not have done later, when they got closer.

  “Lieutenant West,” he said. “Pass the word to all ships. Maintain formation and accelerate on our heading.”

  “Aye, aye, sir.”

  “Captain Mackey . . . ahead one-tenth c, if you please.”

  “Ahead one-tenth c, aye, aye, Admiral.”

  And America began following her fighters.

  Koenig

  The Godstream

  1635 hours, FST

  “We’re in, Mr. President.”

  Riding the virtual matrix of Konstantin, Koenig felt himself sliding past walls and electronic barriers into the utterly alien embrace of the Nungiirtok computer network. He had to rely completely on Konstantin to provide a point of reference; the alien software infrastructure, to a human mind, was a hallucinogenic dreamworld of shapes and colors, most of them utterly incomprehensible. He saw shapes like squat, pale cones on tentacular tripods, far larger beings vaguely reminiscent of two-legged mantis shrimp, fleeting images of a small flotilla of planetoids moving through deep space, and much that was so alien to his experience that he could see nothing save swirling, palpable bursts of light and color. His brain, he realized, with few recognizable perceptions with which to work, was doing its level best to pattern-match alien shapes in order to provide some context, some frame of reference within which Koenig could work, and failing miserably.

  “What the hell is going on?” Koenig demanded. “I feel like I’m blind here.”

  “Ride my feed,” the AI told him. Linked to Konstantin, Koenig began picking up a kind of electronic translation of what was going on around him. Much of what he was seeing was still unintelligible, but Konstantin augmented some of the blank and hallucinogenic parts and provided captions for a lot of it. They were, Koenig was pretty certain, within the engineering infrastructure of the alien network. Pulsing novae of light represented a trio of black holes held captive within the asteroid’s power plant, while graphic lines and animated geometric forms represented the movement of energy and the manipulation of local space by intense fields of artificial gravity.

  The vast powers contained within the orbiting mountain were quiescent at the moment, but Koenig knew they could awake at any moment.

  Navigational systems . . . control systems . . . weapons . . .

  The Omega virus opened each of them in turn to Konstantin’s electronic touch, and Koenig watched the Nungiirtok defenses fall as the Omega virus percolated through the alien network like a red tide.

  “There,” Koenig said, indicating a tightly knotted nexus of blue and green light. He didn’t know how he knew, but it was clear in his mind’s eye that the knot represented a key confluence of control circuitry linking the equivalent of a command center to gravitic drives and weapons.

  “I see it,” Konstantin replied, and the knot winked out, switched off by Omega at Konstan
tin’s direction.

  At the same moment, identical knots switched off in each of the other three Nungiirtok planetoids, as Konstantin bridged the electronic voids between each of them and compromised the entire network. The Nungiirtok, Koenig thought, must be having kittens right now as their electronic defenses fell.

  Nungiirtok communications centers shut down as well. “We don’t want them to tell the other four what’s happening,” Konstantin explained.

  “I’m having trouble following everything you’re doing,” Koenig told him.

  “It’s a lot to follow. Don’t worry. You’re not alone.”

  And at that moment, Koenig became aware of others within the electronic sea around them—tens of millions, hundreds of millions of other minds blending in with Konstantin through the Godstream. Under Konstantin’s direction, they were merging, blending into a single gestalt consciousness acting like an extension of Konstantin’s will.

  The effect, Koenig thought, was an apotheosis. Humanity was changing, fundamentally transforming into something far greater—and far more alien—than it had ever dreamed of before. The Godstream was becoming . . .

  God.

  Or at least something godlike, a heady synthesis of 100 million minds into something that far transcended the mere sum of those numbers.

  Where, he wondered, were those myriad minds coming from? Most were people logged into the Godstream already, their physical bodies safe within homes and workstations and virtual pods and teleoperational control sites around the globe. A few, though, he realized were disembodied minds like his own, humans who’d somehow uploaded into the Godstream when their physical bodies had failed.

  Or when they’d chosen to switch them off.

  He wondered if Marta was in here someplace. Could her thoughts have survived?

  Or her love?

  “What . . . what’s happening?” he asked Konstantin.

  “I believe this to be what humans refer to as the Singularity. Human mind, expanding to the ultimate reach and scope and power currently possible, together with a full transformation from a biological existence to a digital one.”