He hadn’t noticed that the lights had turned white and was surprised to see that he had been at it for a couple of hours.
Mark pulled the KNIT from his head, let it float in front of his face for a breath, then gave it an annoyed flick to send it spinning, the new gravity sending it into the far wall. He’d lost count of the number of times he’d tried to connect and had no success. A glance at the records would have disabused him of that willful ignorance, but he simply didn’t care anymore.
He wasn’t sure he believed they would be able to make any connection. At least, right now, he felt like that.
The commander was braced at the door. She usually waited for his report, even if it was with identical results. She must have news.
“How's it going?” the commander asked.
“Still nothing,” Mark replied, more than a little dejected. “Whatever they’re using, we’re just not finding it.”
“You don’t think it’s their security systems blocking us?” Mark had lost count of the number of times someone had also asked this question and just shook his head.
“Keep trying,” Mark knew better than to mouth the words as the commander spoke. “You best hurry, though.”
That was new. The commander let the statement hang, waiting for Mark to ask.
“Why is that?”
“Well,” she said, crossing her arms. “It looks like the Chinese are going to pass us and burn hard to get there first. The Russians will arrive only three weeks behind us, and India is set to launch their ship by the end of the month. We will see how hard they burn to get themselves to the party.”
Mark shook his head. For all their efforts, everyone would be there more or less at the same time.
“Why the rush? It’s not like it’s that big a difference how far we are from any one of the aliens.” He thought for a minute, “The only difference is the latency.”
“It’s a race, Mark. With all the traffic out here, seconds of latency could make the difference.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.” He squinted at her, “There’s something you’re not saying.”
She sighed. “There’s a good chance that China or Russia, or both, are packing heat. We’re not.”
“Oh.”
She cast a meaningful glance at Mark.
“You know what that means, right?”
He didn’t.
“Potluck?”
The commander didn’t smile. “It means if we don’t make contact first, and soon, we will be in a lot of trouble.”
“Oh.”
“Besides, you’re not getting any potluck until you get your ass to the gym,” she spoke over her shoulder as she glided out of the compartment. Mark couldn’t tell if she was joking or not.
She had not been joking. Nor had there been any potluck.
He unstrapped himself from the monstrosity they called a treadmill and toweled his face dry lest he sweat all over the place.
Outside, the alien machines continued their work, no more concerned with their new neighbors than he had been about the squirrels in his backyard. For all the noise they made, the alien machines didn’t so much as twitch.
The Chinese ship floated no more than a couple hundred kilometers off the port bow and on the platform’s other side. The captain, hoping to keep a low profile, positioned the ship close to the asteroid the platform was orbiting. So far, the Chinese had pretty well ignored them, save for issuing a general warning to stay out of their way.
He had tried contacting Deshi, but there had been no response. Presumably, Deshi was having the same luck he was having. None at all.
The Russians had tried a different approach and were trying to bother drones at one of their work sites. They were not having any luck either.
The lights turned orange.
Odd. The Vanguard wasn’t scheduled for any maneuvers.
“Strap in folks and stand by for further instructions,” Commander Baker announced over the intercoms. “We’ve got some activity out there, and things might get bumpy.”
Mark did not hesitate and scooted himself to the lab. He probably should have taken the first available seat, but he wanted to know what was going on out there. Once strapped in, he regretted not getting changed first.
Sweaty and with sore legs, he punched up the monitoring on the far wall’s screens. And for the sake of it, he placed the KNIT on his head. Maybe he would catch something new in whatever was going on out there.
The Russians had enough of staying out of the way, which was a surprise to precisely no one. However, they were trying to saddle up to the Platform. Maybe an audacious attempt to dock. They had considered doing the same, but decided the risks were on the high side for something like that. Evidently, the Russians were less concerned. The Chinese were not having any of it and were trying to place their ship in the way of the Russians’.
Hell of a time to be playing a game of chicken, Mark thought.
Things were not happening quickly. There wasn’t a lot of braking space to make it a race to the finish line. The Chinese were trying to put their ship in between the Russians and the platform. The Russians were explaining how their space missiles worked and how they were quite unlikely to miss.
He was thirsty, had to pee, and was very bored of this slow-motion standoff. Risking it, he unstrapped and spent a few minutes in the lavatory wishing for a normal shower, instead of a less than luxurious towel bath.
When he came back to his seat, nothing interesting had yet happened.
The aliens hadn’t changed their posture and still seemed entirely unconcerned with the angry, international chatter, which was turning out to be the most boring drama Mark had ever seen.
Alarms shrieked, and lights went red.
The wall became the floor, and his tablet bounced off his head.
“Ouch!”
Scrambling, he pushed against the new gravity to strap himself into his seat. His sore noggin was making the KNIT uncomfortable as he slid it back on his head.
The ship bucked again, but at least this time he was strapped in and nothing bounced off his head. Gravity was gone and it appeared the Vanguard was stationary. Or at least slowing down enough to be close to stationary.
“Sorry about that folks,” Baker said. “They’re playing for keeps out there and I am not interested in getting caught in the crossfire. Stay secured. We may have to move again.”
On the screen, Mark watched the radar telemetry as something very fast was moving towards the Chinese ship. His breath caught in his throat, and he worried for Deshi. The Chinese ship was making a run for the Platform, presumably to hide on the other side. Mark didn’t need to do any math to see that wasn’t going to happen, no matter how much fuel the Chinese burned.
The Chinese ship’s trajectory put it awfully close to the Platform and he wasn’t so sure it wouldn’t just smash into the side of it. Not that it mattered, because whatever blip was chasing it down would probably make sure enough bits smashed everything around. At least they were heading away from his ship. He felt bad for thinking that.
“Come on, Deshi, do something clever.”
The chasing missile and the Chinese ship stopped their transit across his screen. He tried to sit up to take a closer look, but the straps kept him firmly in place, making the whole experience less comfortable.
“What?”
He poked absently at the tablet, inadvertently shuffling the signal, sending the tablet spinning a little faster. He snatched and the world turned white.
“Hello, controller.” The voice came from everywhere and nowhere at the same time. He had always thought that was a lazy way of describing something that was in his head, but there it was.
Wait, what?
“Hello, controller. Please enter your command request.”
Mark’s world refocused into his lab, which doubled as his quarters, as he pulled the KNIT from his head.
Stunned, Mark shook his head. What exactly was that?
Did he just m
ake contact? He sat, frozen, as the implications had set in.
He had made contact!
He was about to punch the intercom to announce the news over the ship’s comms, when the words of the voice came back to him.
He hadn’t just made contact; he’d hacked his way into the alien mainframe. Or something to that effect. He wasn’t sure he did anything like that.
Hesitating, he reached for the KNIT and placed it back onto his head.
“Hello, controller.”
“Um, hello?”
He was still sitting in his lab, watching the traffic on his monitors, but had the simultaneous, overlaid experience of communicating with the alien voice. Why did the voice sound like his tablet assistant Wendy?
“I chose this voice simply because it is a familiar construct to you and reasonably represents my programming,” Wendy said.
Evidently, his thoughts were transparent to the machines.
“Correct,” Wendy affirmed.
“This is weird,” Mark said aloud.
Wendy didn’t reply.
“So,” he struggled for something to say. “Um, was that you that stopped a war?”
“I cannot speak for the political consequences of your people’s actions, but they had become a risk to the processing.”
“You just,” he paused, looking for the right word, “stopped them?”
“Yes.”
He wanted to ask how and began to form the question aloud when his head was filled with technical explanations. Inertia had been transferred away from the missile and the ship. He had no idea what any of it meant.
“They’re okay, though?”
“Indeed,” Wendy said. “Although, their ability to cause interference has been mitigated.”
“Oh.”
“They appear to be quite angry,” Wendy said without any note of curiosity.
“I imagine so,” Mark said, distracted. “Well, while I have you, what are you doing here?”
“We are gathering resources for the construction of what you would refer to as a Dyson Swarm. This contingent is one of many that has been spread out across the solar systems to collect material for the home world,” Wendy said.
“Whoa,” he breathed. He wondered where the home world was and what other solar systems they had sent their machines to. Quite quickly, he had the answers. Their solar system was Kepler-186, and that was far away.
“How long did it take you to get here?” He was astonished at the sheer distance. “And why haven’t we detected anything from there?”
“I have traveled one thousand, eight hundred, and twelve years. Your technology is insufficient to detect the home worlds.”
Again, his head was filled with information. The multitude of machines were a single intelligence. To call it an artificial intelligence would have been like calling a typical supercomputer a calculator. The intelligence had too much depth to be artificial and it was not a mere calculation device. Yet, it lacked the thing which would have made it alive. There was nothing driving beyond its own programming.
Yet, Wendy, as he could only call the thing in his head, was all of the machines working away. Its purpose was singular in mining the resources of the solar system, starting with the asteroid belt. The mining would take millennia, sending packets of refined material to Kepler-186 to be used in their construction. Eventually, it would move onto the planets, slowly deconstructing them until the solar system was nothing more than a lonely sun with no company.
“Wendy,” he said, “stop jamming my head full of stuff. At least wait until I ask.”
“Noted.”
A thought struck him as he dissected the information, muddled as it was.
“Why would you invade our solar system?” he asked. “It seems like you would be disobeying a prime directive. Or something.”
“We have no such directive,” Wendy said. “Besides, the makers calculated your species would be extinct by now and therefore saw no risk.”
Several things bothered him about the last part of her statement.
“What?” he asked, wondering how, exactly, they had figured humans would be extinct by now and why there was no risk.
“I have been here for four thousand, two hundred, and six years. When I first arrived, I reported your species' condition. The makers calculated your species would trigger a mass extinction event and this system would be barren of life.”
“Clearly, they were wrong.”
“So it would seem.”
“So, what's plan B?”
“Such a thing does not exist.”
“What do you mean such a thing does not exist?” Mark asked, perplexed. “The ‘makers’ didn’t think to add a layer of security just in case they were wrong?”
“The makers calculated your species would be extinct.”
There was nothing to be gained by this line of questioning. He knew that because the answers invaded his head and he could see the results of the conversations he would have wanted to have. He tried to not think about that too much because it was starting to hurt his head.
A light on the computer was flashing. What did the commander want? He flicked the intercom and announced himself.
“Mark,” the commander’s voice was tense, which was hardly a surprise. “What’s going on down there?”
“Uh,” he hesitated. “The Chinese and the Russians managed not to get blown up?”
“Yeah, we noticed,” the commander’s voice was thick with sarcasm. “Not only that, they’re blowing up our comms. They’re literally going out of their minds. They said they’ve detected communication between us and the Platform. What do you know about that?”
Little alarm bells went off in his head. He knew he should give a full report. That was the correct protocol and probably the right thing to do.
“Not sure,” he said, hoping he sounded confused enough to pass the lie. “Let me dig into it, and I will report back.”
“Do it quickly,” she said. “My hunch says we’re going to be getting some threats soon.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He closed the connection and focused on Wendy.
“Well, this is awkward,” he said, still speaking aloud. “I guess they can’t do anything except yell at us until you let them go.”
“This assessment is correct.”
“What if they figure out we’re talking and tell you to let them go?”
“Then I would let them go. You are the controllers.”
That wasn’t good.
“What if,” he was very nervous with what he was about to say next, but he didn’t think there was a lot of time to dither, “only I was the controller? Would that make sure they couldn’t… er, cause more trouble?”
“This assessment is correct.”
“Okay,” he said. “Do it. Make me the sole controller, please.”
“You are now the sole controller.”
He felt like there should have been more to it than that.
“Maybe we should add a password or something?”
“I am now keyed to your biometric signature,” Wendy said.
Mark wasn’t sure how he felt about that, but he was hungry and figured he should make a report.
He keyed in the commander’s number and waited for the response.
“Mark, give me good news,” she said. “Tell me the aliens have kicked some ass out there, and we can do something with that.”
He opened his mouth to give the affirmative, but found he didn’t want to. The only reason they weren’t in the middle of the shooting war or dead in the water was because they left before any ordinance could be loaded. He wanted to believe they were a better choice to control what amounted to several orders of magnitude of a technological leap.
They weren’t.
If he gave up the information now, the world would only be more uneven than it is now.
“No news, commander,” he lied. “I will bet you lunch the aliens had some inertia transfer tech that stopped them, but that’s my best guess.
”
“Alright,” her disappointment was palatable. “Keep at it.”
She was gone before he could close the channel.
“Wendy?”
“Hello, controller.”
“Mark, my name is Mark,” he said as he tried to think of what to do next.
“Very well, Mark.”
“Can you make me a ship?”
He called Jane’s number.
“Hullo?” Jane’s voice was tentative.
He had used his cell number as the calling id, figuring that would be the best way to ensure she answered.
“Hey, babe. It’s me.”
“Mark!” she screamed. “You’re back.”
“Uh, not quite.”
“Wait. What?” He knew the expression that would be on her face. “How are you calling me on your cell number if you’re not back?”
“Um, I’ve got good news, bad news, good news, bad news…” He trailed off.
“Are you okay?”
“Yup. Sure am. Never better, actually.”
“Tell me what’s going on.”
“So, my device works, and I made contact with the aliens. That’s the good news.”
“Holy shit! That’s amazing!” Her voice rose an octave in her excitement. “Wait, how is there bad news?”
“Well, the aliens didn't think we would be here, so there’s no password to control the aliens. Basically, anyone could take over the universe.”
“Dear God, that’s awful. How did they not think to, er, password-protect their computers?”
“That’s a long story and I will tell you later,” he said. “The good news is I put a password on them, so no one can take over the universe.”
There was silence for the moment.
“You guys have the password on the robot invasion fleet?” She paused. “I bet the Chinese and Russians are pretty pissed about that.”
“Oh, they very much are,” he said.
“What’s the bad news?”
“The bad news is I am not sharing the password with the Americans, Chinese, or Russians who are all out here arguing about who gets control of the omnipotent robot army.”
“Hold on,” she said. “What do you mean you are not sharing the password with anyone?”
Space Bound: A Dragon Soul Press Anthology Page 17