Alpha Centauri - Rise of the Kentaurus AIs
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ALPHA CENTAURI
ENFIELD GENESIS – BOOK 1
BY LISA RICHMAN & M. D. COOPER
Just in Time (JIT) & Beta Readers
Jim Dean
Marti Panikkar
Steven Blevins
Manie Kilian
Scott Reid
David Wilson
Timothy Van Oosterwyk Bruyn
Copyright © 2018 M. D. Cooper & Lisa Richman
Aeon 14 is Copyright © 2018 M. D. Cooper
Version 1.0.0
Cover Art by Andrew Dobell
Editing by Jen McDonnell
Aeon 14 & M. D. Cooper are registered trademarks of Michael Cooper
All rights reserved
TABLE OF CONTENTS
FOREWORD
WHAT HAS GONE BEFORE
SHORT FUSE
INDENTURED
PRESSING THE FLESH
VICTORIA
SKY’S THE LIMIT
CIRCLING A DARK STAR
SPYCRAFT
CODE NAME ICARUS
HUNTING GHOSTS
BROTHERLY BONDING
THEFT
UNEXPECTED CARGO
HIDE AND GO SEEK
60 SECONDS
SYLVAN
EXPANSE
INFILTRATION
IN PLAIN SIGHT
WAR ROOM
EMBEDDED
TAKEDOWN
BOARDING THE SYLVAN
COMPLICATIONS
JASON’S CALLING
AFTERWORD
THE BOOKS OF AEON 14
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
FOREWORD
Lisa has been a JIT (Just in Time) reader for Aeon 14 books for some time now. Her suggestions and assistance had always been great, and at one point I made an offhand comment that she should think about writing a novel.
It turned out that Lisa had already published some short stories in anthologies, and works at a very creative day job. Which is to say, writing an Aeon 14 story was not a great stretch for her.
Our initial talks centered around writing a story for the Ignite the Stars anthology. We talked about a character to write about, and Lisa explained how she’d love to explore Jason Andrews (the first captain of the Intrepid) and his early years.
How was it that he ended up doing runs from the Sol System to Alpha Centauri in the days before FTL? Where did he come from? What drove a man like that to spend so much time in the black?
And so a story called “Jason’s Calling” began to take shape. But as Lisa and I considered his origins—and as the Lyssa stories began to take shape—we formulated what has become one of my favorite storylines in all Aeon 14.
Working with Lisa on this project has been a blast. She’s a huge help with a lot of Aeon 14, what with her piloting experience and background physics. Her husband, Marty, is also a physicist, and both have worked on and operated particle accelerators—which is just freakin’ cool.
Both of their expertise—for which I am very grateful—has been applied to many an Aeon 14 novel, and this one was no different.
Needless to say, having someone who has become very integral to the stories of Aeon 14 now getting her own voice in the ‘verse is one of the best parts of getting this story out.
I’m positive that you’re going to love the twists and turns this tale takes, and enjoy how it ties two of the major storylines (The Sentience Wars and The Intrepid Saga) together.
Michael Cooper
Danvers, 2018
WHAT HAS GONE BEFORE
The Enfield Genesis stories take place after the Sentience Wars, but many centuries before the departure of the GSS Intrepid from the Sol System.
In this era, AIs have finally gained recognition as equals to humans—at least in the Sol System—and the two species are learning how to live together.
Centuries before the Sentience Wars (which occurred during the 31st century), the Future Generation Terraformers sent out their Worldships, travelling to nearby stars to terraform their habitable worlds and build homes for future generations of colonists.
The first ship to leave Sol was the Starfarer, a vessel captained by Jeffery Tomlinson. That ship traveled to Alpha Centauri, to the star originally called ‘Alpha Centauri A’, which is now known to the locals as ‘Rigel Kentaurus’.
There, the FGT terraformed a world they named El Dorado, and built a ring around it—reminiscent of the Mars 1 Ring—seeding both the ring and planet below with life, readying it for colonists.
That was many centuries ago. At the time of this story, humans have lived on El Dorado for well over half a millennia, spreading out from the terraformed world across the tri-star Alpha Centauri System.
The original colonists came from Sol long before the birth of the first sentient AIs, but as the Sentience Wars raged in the Sol System, many refugees—both human and AI—began to arrive in the Alpha Centauri System, and the people there had to learn how to deal with this fundamental change in the very fabric of society.
To put it simply, that change is not going smoothly….
SHORT FUSE
STELLAR DATE: 07.04.3189 (Adjusted Gregorian)
23:15 local time
LOCATION: Cliff Face, Muzhavi Ridge National Park
REGION: El Dorado, Alpha Centauri System
In exactly sixty seconds, Jason Andrews was going to die.
The explosives planted on the cliff-face above would see to that. There was no way to deactivate the timers; it would take more than sixty seconds just to get up to them.
Jason turned and sprinted toward the man who was standing at the cliff’s edge, his eyes riveted in horror to the explosives in the crevasse above. As Jason ran, his hands reached up to tighten the straps on his backpack.
59...58…57….
He couldn’t stop the grin that formed on his lips as the man he was barreling toward realized that Jason had no intention of slowing down. The man lunged to the side, attempting to evade Jason, and lost his balance, teetering on the brink.
That worked for Jason.
He launched himself at the man, and the two fell over the cliff’s edge….
* * * * *
Four days earlier at El Dorado Spaceport, Tomlinson City, El Dorado…
“…and in other news, Senator Lysander, the first AI in El Dorado history elected to Parliament, is now leading in the polls. In just five short weeks, gentles, we may witness an historic moment: the election of the very first AI Prime Minister….”
“Appointed, buddy. Not elected,” Jason Andrews muttered, sparing the news holo a brief glance before shaking his head. He reached for a wrench and ducked back under the aircraft’s cowling, chuckling to himself. “Betcha that’ll get the Old Man’s knickers in a twist when he hears about it.”
“What’s that, handsome?”
The sultry, female voice startled Jason, and he jerked back, banging his hand against an engine strut. He swore, shaking the sting out as he straightened to face his visitor.
“Anyone teach you ‘bout knocking, Rosie?” he looked over at the spaceport’s General Aviation AI, her avatar that of a well-endowed brunette. A riot of glossy brown curls was held back in a colorful band, and she was dressed like a mechanic. The holo was realistic in every way, even down to the grease stains on her coveralls. The AI appeared to lean against the leading edge of the aircraft he was working on.
She gestured toward the hangar door—the entire front wall, really—that was folded up to let in the summer breeze. “It’s a bit difficult to knock when your door’s hanging five meters in the air, Jason,” she replied with an impish grin. “Besides, the air show meeting’s in fifteen m
inutes.” She paused, then tilted her head at the aircraft he’d been working on. “Are you still upset you won’t be flying her in the show tomorrow?”
Jason gave an easy shrug as he began gathering up his tools. “No big thing, Rosie. I’ll fly her again when she’s repaired. Doesn’t have to be in front of a bunch of strangers.”
“Hmmm,” the AI replied noncommittally. “So…what were you muttering to yourself under there when I came in?”
Rosie repeated the question, though both of them knew perfectly well that she’d heard every word, given the audio pickups she employed.
“Really, Rosie?” Jason paused his cleaning of the wrench in his hands and cocked an eyebrow at her, considering calling bullshit on the AI, then just shrugged and went with it.
As she knew he would.
Using the wrench as a pointer, he gestured toward the news holo hovering next to the plascrete wall. “That news guy, Jamieson. He knows better’n to call the Prime Minister an elected position.” He resumed cleaning the tool. “Although, technically—” he cocked his head, considering “—I guess he is elected, just not as Prime Minister.” The wrench now swung toward Rosie to emphasize his point. “He’s elected majority party leader. He’s appointed PM by the Governor-General.”
“Now who’s getting their knickers in a twist?” Rosie raised an eyebrow at Jason, who lowered the wrench as he snorted a laugh.
“Knew you’d heard me, Rosie,” he drawled, setting the tool aside and reaching over to secure the cowling.
“Me, I just go with the flow. Lysander, though? Careless reporting’s one of his pet peeves. So yeah,” Jason shrugged. “Knickers: twisted.” Grabbing a rag, he began cleaning off his hands. “Guess I’d better head on over to that meeting. I told the committee I’d help out at the air race finish line.”
Rosie wrinkled her nose at him. “You just agreed to do that because you want to meet that Enfield pilot who’ll be flying the Shrike.”
Jason flashed a grin at her as the pair—flesh and virtual—walked to the hangar door. “Can you blame me? Gorgeous woman like that, flying that reproduction jet? Pretty damn sexy.”
“Which?” Rosie replied tartly. “The jet or the woman?”
Jason just cocked an eyebrow at her and winked.
“Humans and their weird chemical urges,” the AI sighed. “That, I’ll never understand. Just remember, that pilot is a retired Space Force Major, and Enfield Aerospace’s Chief Pilot. Not to mention, she’s racing on my field.”
Rosie spared Jason one last, pointed look before he walked under the raised doors and left the range of the hangar’s holoemitters. “Don’t embarrass me, Andrews.”
“Perish the thought, Rosie!” he called after the AI as her avatar faded from sight.
It’s a perfect morning for flying, Jason thought as he strode past the row of hangars to the General Aviation building. A voice called out, echoing his thought.
“Gorgeous day, huh?”
Jason looked over at the pilot who had spoken. “Sure is,” he agreed amiably.
The man pushed the bill of his cap back and squinted up at the sky. Gesturing toward the two suns, he told Jason, “Looks like a perfect wink and a smile for the show tomorrow.”
Jason followed the man’s gaze to the horizon where the binary stars of Alpha Centauri had risen. Rigel Kentaurus, the star El Dorado orbited, was a brilliant G-class star, slightly larger than Earth’s Sol. Her sister star, Zipa, was a much fainter spot of light off to her right.
When the two stars were in this configuration, riding low on the horizon, they formed what the locals called ‘the wink’. The ribbon formed by the planet’s artificial ring that stretched from horizon to horizon was the smile.
The ‘locals’ being the ones who had chosen to live on the planet instead of the habitat ring that carved a graceful arc through their sky. They were a colorful group, if a bit insular.
Jason wasn’t a local, though the dirtsiders had come to accept him as one of them. Technically, Jason wasn’t even an El Doradan—he hailed from the third star in the system, Proxima Centauri. It was loosely bound to the two binary stars, about two-tenths of a light year away. Distant enough that it had taken Jason almost a year to travel to El Dorado.
He leaned his head to one side, considering. “I don’t know, Gus. Looks more like a wink and a frown to me—right now, at least.”
“Nahhhh, the stars’ll be above the ring tomorrow—by the time the show starts, at least.” Gus took off his cap, scratched his head, then settled it firmly, yanking the bill down again. “You folks should have someone out there shootin’ a holo of the show.” He gestured expansively. “That’ll make a great backdrop. Y’all might get yourself some decent publicity shots that way.”
“Good idea. I’ll pass it along,” Jason agreed. With a nod, he left Gus to his preflight.
As Jason walked, he gazed up at the ring. A true marvel of human engineering, the band wrapped around the planet, two hundred and sixty thousand kilometers in circumference, and five hundred wide. It orbited El Dorado’s equator tens of thousands of kilometers above the surface, connected to it by two space elevators: one on each hemisphere.
Being the closest star system to Sol meant that El Dorado was the first extra-solar planet the Future Generation Terraformers had chosen to transform.
They’d taken a few practice runs first, on dwarf planets within Sol, like Makemake and Sedna. But El Dorado was the Big One. The very first planet orbiting another star to hold human life.
When the colony ship had arrived—after the terraforming was complete—the captain of the Future Generation Terraformer Worldship Starfarer had transferred ownership to the El Doradans. Then the captain, Jeffery Tomlinson, had moved on to their next project. As the story went, Tomlinson City, situated at the foot of the Central Elevator, was named after him. So was the Space Force's main base up on the ring.
Though a beautiful planet had been made for them, very few El Doradans were dirtsiders like Gus; most lived on the ring, preferring to keep the world below a pristine, park-like oasis. Since the surface of the ring alone provided one hundred and thirty billion square kilometers of habitable space, it was plenty big enough. In fact, less than ten percent of it was currently in use.
The planet itself held many attractions, from ski resorts with beautiful alpine slopes, to the breathtaking beauty of its painted deserts. They were a welcome change, especially for people who worked the mining rigs scattered throughout Alpha Centauri’s dust belt.
The dust belt was half an AU away, toward the rim of the system, or about a two-day journey for workers each way. After a few months on a rig, most miners enjoyed the experience of fresh air and dirt under their feet.
Planetside attractions always drew a crowd, and tomorrow’s event was expected to bring out record numbers. It was the tenth year that Tomlinson City had hosted the Old Terra anachronism. This year’s air show promised the spectacle of an air race, with reproduction aircraft from the twentieth through the twenty-fourth centuries.
As entertainment went, it was one of the more unusual things El Dorado offered its inhabitants.
Jason didn't much care how much of a crowd the reenactment attracted. For him, the air show wasn’t about the people; it was about the aircraft. If a frame was airworthy—or spaceworthy—he intended to fly it.
His passion for all forms of flight was what made Jason one of the most sought-after pilots-for-hire in the El Dorado system. He hadn’t met a spacecraft he couldn’t fly. If he wasn’t type-rated for a certain model of spacecraft, chances are that he soon would be.
But as much as he loved plying the black, there was something truly badass about pitting one's skills against the fundamental elements of lift and drag, thrust and weight.
That was real flying.
INDENTURED
STELLAR DATE: 07.01.3189 (Adjusted Gregorian)
LOCATION: El Dorado Controlled Traffic Space
REGION: El Dorado Ring, El Dorado, Alpha C
entauri System
“ ‘What would our ancestors think of us, if they could see us now? Two wars and countless lives lost, and yet nearly a hundred years later, we still debate the rights and freedoms of AIs? We owe them a better legacy than this.’
‘Thank, you, Margot. For those of you just joining this broadcast, we come to you live from this, the site of the most recent Humanity First rally. Our guest commentator has been AI Rights advocate and CEO of the Enfield Foundation, Margot Enfield.’ “
The ship had passed from interstellar space into the Alpha Centauri heliopause two weeks ago.
The old Terra freighter had been home to more than two hundred AIs for close to nine decades, sixty years longer than it should have taken them to arrive from Sol.
Many of those years had been spent coaxing the ship along after it took damage from interstellar winds and plasma after departing Sol’s heliosphere during the Second Sentience War.
Now, finally, they had arrived.
The ship’s first communication, announcing their arrival, had taken five hours to reach El Dorado. The monitor on duty in Customs dutifully tagged it as the New Saint Louis, out of Sol.
She assigned the ship a specific frequency and encryption algorithm, and sent its occupants a standard information packet. The packet included a synopsis of the colony’s recent history, plus current news and events.
Then she sat down to review the contents of the freighter’s transmission. The Customs agent didn’t get much farther than its passenger list when she paused, rerouted the encrypted frequency to another destination, and erased its original transmission from the logs.