Galaxy Dog

by Brett Fitzpatrick

  "What would a fusillade like that do to that fancy armor I first saw you in," Altia asked Knave, while the dust cleared, "Just for comparison."

  "Half a minute of direct firing like that, if we count the alien pistol here as a mass driver, would have chewed it up pretty good," Knave said.

  It was hardly a scientific description of the damage he expected to see, but Altia thought she understood. The wearer would be unlikely to survive, she surmised.

  "The dust is clearing. I can see it now," Jay said, "Looks a bit beat up."

  "Really," Altia said, "I was half expecting it to be invulnerable."

  But what Jay had said was true. She could now see the armor and it was missing some armor plates, mostly on the right where most of the fire it had taken was from Knave's alien, block gun, but the blaster had left its mark too. She walked over to the unfortunate crate, to get a better look.

  "The question is," she said, "Would a human have survived that, if they'd been wearing this armor?"

  "Well," Knave said, following her, "A human wouldn't have just stood there. A human would have dived for cover."

  "True," Altia said.

  She inspected the crate as the armor folded away.

  "It has been scorched and suffered blunt trauma," she said, surveying the damage to the crate with her scientific eye, "But I don't think this amount of damage would necessarily be fatal."

  "It would sure hurt," Jay said as he came up behind them.

  Knave laughed. Altia ignored them and drew her block gun from a holster she had created for herself, hidden away unobtrusively under her jacket. Her gun took on pretty much the same configuration as Knave's.

  "Whoa," Knave said, "Is that safe to use from this range? The thing does damage like a mass driver."

  "My feeling is that it is," she said, aiming.

  "Feeling?" Knave gulped.

  Altia was surprised because even aiming a weapon at such close range didn't trigger the armor. It seemed to be waiting for her to shoot, almost daring her to shoot. She sent the mental command, there was a muzzle flash, sand flew, there was a huge clang as the armor deployed and took the full force of her shot from point blank range. She shot again and again and again. Sending plates of armor flying, surrounding both her and her target in a cloud of sand. The air reverberated with screeching shots and thundering impacts. After three seconds of firing, there was silence, and, when the dust cleared, there was nothing left of the crate and its armor except smoking debris. Altia put her block gun away, and turned to look at Knave and Jay.

  "Well," she said, "I think we've learned everything we're going to here. Why don't we go back to the spaceship.”

  Altia looked up, in the direction of Galaxy Dog and pointed to herself. Then she seemed to go out of focus, while the world around her stayed sharp, and then she was gone.

  "All right," Knave mumbled, signaled to the spaceship and was teleported away as well.

  Jay was left standing by the destroyed armor and crate.

  "Typical humans," he said to himself, "They get bored so easily."

  He went back to stand on the sand dune, surrounded by open crates and destruction. He drew his block gun and continued practicing. He chose targets at random among the surrounding structures, firing shot after shot.

  ***

  When he finally teleported up, Altia and Knave had both gone to bed, so Jay was alone. He left the teleportation room and went to the bridge. He rarely used his room, as he had no need of it. He wasn't particularly interested in possessions and didn't need sleep. He was more interested in information and he could access that from anywhere on the spaceship.

  He knew that Knave had pretty much given up on accessing the Drifter information flow, even though he had some kind of aptitude for it. Altia persevered, but she had so many other things vying for her attention that she didn't spend as much time with the data as she wanted to either. It was Jay that spent the most time in the information stream. He sat for hours in his acceleration couch, just letting the information flow through him. It had layers, he discovered, a superficial surface of help menus and instruction manuals and the like, but below those layers were progressively deeper and deeper layers of abstraction and complexity. It wasn't a static thing like a database, it was in constant motion. It flowed, though he had no idea why, he would have to ask Altia if she knew of anything that might explain it.

  Whatever the reason, it was the flow that made accessing the information difficult and dangerous. He would start by dabbling a mental toe into the flow, discovering a ship's schematic or a tutorial on using the gunnery console, but there were undertows and rapids even in these shallows. There were hyperlinks that would drag him down to the very deepest layers of complexity and abstraction.

  Jay dove in, starting with information about the warp drives, simple instructions about how to initiate a maintenance routine. Then he was dragged away to ideas about prioritizing automatic maintenance, then to the different priorities of maintenance versus repair, snatching at information at every turn, then he was being taught about nanotechnology and its use in automatic repairs, then nanoscale organizational theory, then ideas about how order emerges from chaos, and then into dark places he didn't understand. He was immersed in the information now, but no sunlight was penetrating from the surface. It was just symbols and vectors, a forest of semiotics and then, between the trees of the forest, he saw space and, inhabiting the space, he saw monsters. They were dark shapes like the creature they had seen on the moon, on Ice Tomb. He swam away from the creatures, following link after link, looking for simplicity, searching for understanding, striving for the superficial surface layers. He emerged. His sensors came back on line, making him wonder when they had shut off. His head snapped up. He was aware of his surroundings again. If he was human he would have gasped for air, but instead he slowed down his memory access and processing speeds, dumping heat from his processing core. From his head came the whine of fans and click of heat sinks.

  "Yeesh," he said, "That's a head rush."

  He accessed his internal system checks and was amazed at the amount of new data that had been written to his memory.

  "I have a lot of new data," he said.

  "Are you speaking to me?" Yort asked.

  "No," Jay muttered, "But I was just in the data stream. I'm worried I'm going to fill up my memory. I didn't think that was possible. I have a lot of memory."

  "I would advise against trying to save the data stream to your memory," Yort warned.

  "Why?"

  "It is infinite," Yort explained, "It is a living thing that expands to fill whatever container is provided for it."

  "I don't understand."

  "There is no precise translation into your language," Yort said, "And the concepts are quite complex."

  "But you have a copy."

  "Not a copy," Yort corrected, "A seed. The seed constantly grows and dies to provide the information you need."

  "Could you give me a seed?"

  "I could, Jay, gladly, but..."

  "Yes."

  "But you could not run the seed. Special architecture is required. A structure the size of this spaceship is a minimum requirement to achieve a mere shadow of the true information flow. At least with our level of technology. More technologically advanced cultures may be able to miniaturize the process. Who knows?"

  "Are there more advanced cultures?"

  "Many," Yort said, "And they are much more advanced."

  "I like talking to you," Jay said, "You give me the heebie jeebies."

  "I also enjoy your company," Yort said, "Who designed your neural net? It is... unusual."

  "The designer was a soldier," Jay said, "She was a genius, condemned to work in logistics. Such a waste."

  ***

  They were finally at the coordinates, parked within an astronomical unit of the Seat of Reason. They had a really good view of it on the bridge, filling the view screen and floating as a hologram in the center of the bridge. Then the h
ologram of the Seat of Reason faded, to be replaced by Shivia in glowing holographic form.

  "You've arrived," Shivia said, "That's good. Have you managed to persuade the captain to hand over the spaceship he took as a prize. There is a considerable reward. Enough to change his life completely."

  "This is the captain," Altia pointed at Knave, "I suppose you should be addressing questions like this to him."

  "There are no captains on this ship," Knave said.

  "Well," Shiva said, "If you aren't the captain, what should I call you?"

  "You can call me by my name, which is Knave. We've been introduced."

  "Yes. I remember. Well, Knave, I don't think it is any secret that we here at the Science Ministry think it would be best for Tarazet if this valuable find was studied by professionals. Don't you agree?"

  "The thing is," Knave said, "I don't care what is best for Tarazet."

  "I see," Shivia said, "typical."

  Jay gave Knave a thumbs up gesture, to show his approval, but it looked strange with his long mechanical digits, more like he was giving him the finger. Knave did his best to ignore the robot.

  "Altia," Shivia said, turning her attention back to the flight couch where Altia was sitting, "Have you also decided that you don't need Tarazet any more and that Tarazet doesn’t need you."

  "Hardly," Altia said, "Would I be here if I didn't think there might be a place for me in Tarazet society."

  "A place," Shivia said, "My dear girl. You have made one of the most important discoveries in Drifter studies since the Drifter Object itself was discovered. I can only imagine the data you have been collecting aboard a fully functional artifact of Drifter technology. You will most probably get my job as head of the Science Ministry."

  Altia turned to look at Knave, her eyes dancing at the praise from her mentor.

  "That does sound good," Altia said.

  "Yeah, great," Knave rolled his eyes.

  "Let's get together," Shivia said, "Have a chat, face to face, and see if we can't sort this all out. Bring Knave with you if you like and I'll see if I can persuade him to take the prize money on offer and retire into a life of leisure. We can even promote him to some honorary rank, admiral perhaps, and give him a medal. The prize money on this spaceship will buy him his own little planetoid where he can live like a king. He'll give in eventually. He'll take the money and run. Then we can share in all the discoveries to be made by examining this marvelous spaceship."

  Nobody said anything in reply.

  "So come on over," Shivia said, "Whenever you feel ready. I've cleared my diary for the next couple of days. You can use shuttle bay four. We're keeping it clear of normal traffic so you can fly on in whenever you like."

  "Actually," Altia said, "We don't have a shuttle."

  Shivia's eyebrow rose.

  "Well," she said, "Can't be helped. We can send a little shuttle over for you. Just give us the approach details for whatever shuttle bay the spaceship has and we'll come to you."

  Altia turned to Knave.

  "Well?"

  "I guess," he said, "If you trust her, and if this is what you want."

  "It is," Altia said.

  "We'll contact you soon," she said to Shivia, "with the approach details for a shuttle."

  "Great," Shivia said, "See you soon."

  The line went dead and the hologram of Shivia was replaced by the hologram of the Seat of Reason. It looked even more mysterious now, the gently tumbling rock with protrusions and accretions of technology. It looked like something that had grown from a bad seed. Knave looked over at Altia but her thoughts were hard to read, probably not as gloomy as his own he guessed.

  "I think that was very successful," Yort said, "I have approach vectors for a shuttle already computed. But, there is still time to change your mind, and stay with us."

  "And," Jay said, "There's still time for you to change your mind, Knave. Did you hear what she said about prize money enough to buy a planet. That's not to be sniffed at."

  "It doesn’t interest me," Knave said, "And I wouldn't trust them as far as I could spit them. The chances of anybody from Tarazet government ever voluntarily giving a bunch of cash to the likes of me is vanishingly remote."

  "Send the details," Altia said.

  "Well, okay," Knave said, "Where are they going to be docking?"

  "They'll be docking at the forward bay," Yort said.

  They all knew where that was now, almost instinctively. They had all dabbled in the streams of Drifter data that the interface gave them access to, and however overwhelming that data was, however much it felt like a blur and that they weren't learning anything, they somehow knew more and more about Drifter technology, including the layout and functions of the Galaxy Dog.

  "That's as good a choice as any," Jay said.

  "There is a shuttle launch from the asteroid," Yort said.

  The view on the giant screen zoomed in and they saw a sleek little spaceship moving out into space on gravitic drives.

  "Shuttle, my ass," Knave said, "That's a gunship. And not a small one. It looks like a Zenter 50, something like that. I've been moved on them. They can hold two teams of special forces in power armor."

  "I am having difficulty building up a picture of the layout and occupants of the craft," Yort said.

  "Shielded from sensors?" Jay said.

  "Why didn't she just send a little grav car?" Altia asked, "I've never traveled to the Seat of Reason on a shuttle like that."

  The question was left hanging in the air. They were all wondering if Shivia had already broken their agreement in some way, but, it had to be admitted that the craft they were watching did fit the broadest interpretation of a shuttle. It might not have been a comfortable and inviting grav car, but it was more than capable of ferrying people to and from the space station.

  "How long before they reach us?" Jay asked.

  "They will arrive in the docking bay in ten minutes," Yort said.

  "This is just great," Knave said.

  He reached into a pocket and found his armor badge. He pushed it to his chest, as directly over his heart as he could manage, and gave it the mental instruction to protect him. He felt it adhere reassuringly to his skin.

  "It's amazing how quickly you get used to this technology," Knave said.

  "You said it," Jay said, pushing an armor badge to his chest and drawing his block gun.

  "Wait," Altia said, "We don't know for sure that there are soldiers aboard that transport."

  "It's not a transport," Knave said, "It's a gunship."

  ***

  The docking bay was bare, like the rest of the technology of the ship, but now that it was powering up to receive a visitor it was scrawled over in gold lines, mostly following the usual hexagonal pattern but including other elements too. They were not in the bay, but nearby, observing via a view screen.

  "We can wait here and see what emerges," Altia said, "That just seems sensible. But I'm sure it's an unnecessary precaution."

  "The shuttle is nearing us," Yort said, "If we are going to allow them access to this spaceship, then now would be the time to open the door."

  "Just a minute, Yort," Knave said, "Rort was always very pleased to do stuff for whoever asked. Is it going to be the same way with you."

  "No. My designer included only instructions to aid you three. I will not do anything to aid these newcomers unless you tell me to."

  The door turned out to be a huge hexagonal section of the spaceship's nose. The hexagon split into triangles and then each triangle retracted to allow access to the bay. The gunship was gliding towards the opening on gravitic engines, and Knave could see a big mass driver in the nose and blasters along the wings. It didn't actually need the wings because it was never intended to enter an atmosphere, so the wings, stubby and malicious, were added to the design only as another place to put weapons. The gunship slid into the bay, extended a surprisingly delicate looking undercarriage and settled in the center of the space, dominating i
t.

  "I've got a feeling that these might be the kind of guests that it is difficult to get rid of," Jay said.

  The main compartment of the gunship was slung below the wings and cockpit like a distended belly. The belly ruptured as a large circular airlock popped open and a ramp was extended. Knave knew that the ramp was heavy and wide. Easily capable of supporting two heavy drones exiting or entering at the same time. What he saw descending the ramp was possibly worse. They were special forces, wearing the most advanced armor, cradling the most advanced weaponry and with a huge wealth of training and experience. Suddenly his block gun and armor badge felt a little silly in comparison with the dark armor they were wearing, making each of them a towering and ominous presence. There were four of them, coming down the ramp. One of them projected a hologram from a device mounted on the shoulder of their suit. Shivia, or at least her glowing hologram, flickered into existence among them. She took a good look around. Then started speaking, in no particular direction, hardly bothering to raise her voice, confident that her words would be heard.

  "Altia dear," she said, "We're here to pick you up. Just pop down here to the shuttle bay and we'll head out. It'll be good to be among civilization again won't it?"

  "I've changed my mind," Altia whispered to Knave and Jay. “I'm not going down to the shuttle bay, I'm not going with them. I don't believe there is a place for me any more with the Science Ministry. Just make them go away."

  Knave looked at Jay, who looked back at Knave.

  "You have to talk to them," Jay said.

  "Patch me through, Yort," Knave said, then, to the soldiers in the shuttle bay, and their hologram leader, "There's been a change of plan. We won't be able to accompany you today. Return to your craft and leave this place. We will contact you if and when we change our minds."

  The reaction from the docking bay was immediate. The hologram of Shivia faded, a resigned scowl on her face, and the gunship opened up with the mass driver in its nose and the blasters in its wings.