Swarm

by Devon C Ford

  NEW EARTH: SWARM

  Devon C Ford

  Chris Harris

  Copyright © Devon C Ford & Chris Harris 2020

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without prior written permission from the publisher.

  This novel is entirely a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any person or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. No affiliation is implied or intended to any organisation or recognisable body mentioned within.

  Published by Vulpine Press in the United Kingdom in 2020

  Cover illustration by Sippakorn Upama

  Cover by Claire Wood

  ISBN: 978-1-83919-035-3

  www.vulpine-press.com

  Dedicated to our wives, without whom we would run out of lists of things we need to do

  Chapter 1

  A Bug’s Life

  Earth 2944

  Everyone in the enclosed capsule stood and stared at the destroyed mess of the alien-like creature. The single blast from Weber’s shotgun had blown it apart leaving nothing but unidentifiable pieces scattered around the table and sprayed up the walls beyond it.

  No one uttered a word as they all tried to understand what Annie had just said.

  Dr. David Anderson spoke first, his voice slow and steady as his mouth tried to interpret what his racing brain was thinking.

  “Annie,” he said, his forehead so furrowed that his eyebrows damn near met in the middle, “I think I understand a little about how Hive Queens communicate. They use smell, touch and so on to control their subjects. If this… thing,”—he waved his hands toward the remnants that lay before them—“sent out a signal then it must be manmade. It’d need a transmitter and…and a power source. I don’t know a lot, but I know computers, and I’m not seeing anything manmade about this.”

  “What are you trying to say, Doctor Anderson?” Annie asked formally.

  “I’m saying, can you run whatever test you ran again? I’m sorry, but what you’re saying isn’t possible.”

  The pause before Annie spoke was longer than usual. When she replied, her voice bordered on angry. Everyone was getting used to the self-evolved changes Annie had made to her programming during her almost thousand years of solitude, but anger was a new emotion they hadn’t yet heard from her. Everyone was taken aback, especially her creator who had nurtured her since inception and worked every day for over a decade writing the uncountable millions of lines of code that had given birth to her.

  “Doctor Anderson, I won’t waste any of my memory re-running tests when I know what the results will be. The creature on the table emitted a signal just before Mister Weber killed it. Before you had recovered from the shock of the gun being discharged, I had analyzed the signal many times, discovered the source, and proved beyond doubt to myself that the signal was in my code.”

  Silence.

  “Now, if you would afford me the courtesy of allowing me to calculate without interruption, I will come up with some suggestions.”

  Without another word she emitted the dull down-tone that indicated she was offline.

  Anderson stood with a bemused look on his face which he cast at the others in search of support. The unearthly looking remains of the wirelessly connected bug in front of him all but forgotten as he thought about the new personality traits that his creation kept showing. He had just been told off by a computer program—one that should, by rights, only be able to respond to a sequence of events that triggered the appropriate response painstakingly programmed line by line.

  Annie had, without any input apart from her own programming, rewritten her own code to, in her own words, ‘streamline the process.’

  She had become, in effect, self-aware. Able to think for herself, make decisions and understand the consequences. At least she thought so, but humans learned how to do that over many years of learning cause and effect under guidance from people who had done it all before.

  It was her emotions that intrigued Anderson the most, or at least the simulation of emotions in her interactions. She could laugh at events, sound excited as she whispered conspiratorially to him, and now show anger at having her assessments questioned and her time wasted.

  He decided he needed to sit down with Annie so he could work out if they were programmed responses or if she, as he unbelievably expected, had evolved even more as an individual entity. Anderson was, as most in his profession were, a full-on, dyed-in-the-wool geek. A first-class nerd. Back on the ‘old Earth’ if ever went out, he’d go to cons where people dressed up like characters from Star Trek.

  He and Annie had lived most of the last decade of their lives pretty much alone, locked away in artificially lit rooms with a bank of computer screens, a keyboard and mountains of hardware as their only companions. Science fiction, be it in films, books or online gaming, became his only other distraction, and even that fell away as his work was more consuming than everything else in the world. Normal people just didn’t get people like him, so as with most other similar people, they retreated into their electronic worlds, fed by a bad diet and only found escape through science fiction, which he felt was his responsibility to make science fact.

  The notion of a self-aware computer immediately, as it would with most who grew up in the latter decades of the twentieth century, conjured up terrifying images of genocidal robots seizing control of the world’s nuclear arsenal and eradicating humanity as the biggest threat to life on the planet.

  Would he need to be the one, if circumstances dictated, attempting to unplug Annie? Would she defend herself? How would she do it?

  His thoughts were interrupted by her beep indicating she was back. Her voice this time was calmer and more placatory.

  “David, I am sorry if I was rude to you. That was not my intention. I was only trying to reinforce the points I’d made.”

  Anderson’s face reddened with embarrassment. “Annie, I’m not upset. Your response just… surprised me I guess, that’s all.”

  “Sorry, David, but your vital signs showed increased heart rate, temperature and heightened electrical brain activity. All classic indicators of emotional distress. Even now the increased local vasodilation in your cheeks indicates that you are embarrassed.” She paused with an almost imperceptible sigh. “Anyway, could I please continue and present you with my working hypothesis?”

  Anderson wanted to question her further about how much she was monitoring everyone else. She was already continually monitoring the entire group’s vital signs through the wristbands everyone wore and had the ability to listen in and interpret everyone’s conversations through any device with a camera or a microphone. On top of that she had just revealed she was interpreting his emotions through studying facial expressions and brain activity. He stopped himself from questioning her further as she began talking again, deciding that he definitely needed to get to know her better as her ‘personality’ was evolving quicker than he anticipated. His thoughts wandered into imagining if her development had sped up now that she was inundated with new human interactions to learn from.

  “The signal the bug, for want of a better term, emitted was weak and I surmise was intended to only communicate with others of The Swarm in close proximity. Scientific studies of this behavior in other hive creatures such as ants and bees indicate that this ‘signal,’ however transmitted, either through smell or vibrations or touch would be communicated through the entire nest. It is effectively a very short-range signal passed along from one member of the colony to the next. The only differen
ce I calculate is that this species’ signal is electronic. I calculate that the titanium alloy capsule we are in would be enough to block any signal being transmitted, but as my calculation is only eighty-nine-point-eight-six percent positive, I will create a blocking signal on the same frequency as the creatures’ to increase the probability to in excess of ninety-eight percent.”

  Anderson’s brain whirred like a child’s toy windmill in a strong breeze as he tried to keep up with his runaway creation.

  “And yes,” she went on, “I specifically don’t say one hundred percent because until we study and learn more about The Swarm, I am unable to be truly positive about any of my recommendations. But with the little we know so far it is the best I can come up with.”

  Amir Weatherby, his voice shaking with more than a little fear, asked, “Annie. Can you decode the signal and tell us what it was sending?”

  “I am still allocating a portion of my memory to that task, Mister Weatherby, but the signal was very weak and only contained a few lines that got interrupted when Dieter irreparably damaged the source.”

  “Irreparably damaged?” Anderson asked incredulously. “He blew it into a million pieces, Annie.”

  “Yes, David,” she said, “but I didn’t want to bring attention to his error in judgement. He acted as he saw fit which was in accordance with his training and experience; some people study potentially dangerous threats whereas others are geared more toward eradicating them.” Her voice sounded reproachful as if not so subtly admonishing the huge German ex-paratrooper for killing it in the first place. In response the big German grinned sheepishly and shrugged, as if offering an apology to Annie.

  “Wolves, sheep and sheepdogs,” Amir muttered to himself.

  “The understanding and observation of how similar colonies communicate,” Annie went on as though he hadn’t spoken, “had yielded some good research before the asteroid hit. My best hypothesis following a detailed study of all available recorded data is simply that the creature was calling for help. This alert, if received by the others of The Swarm in close proximity, would have spread, prompting an emergency response for them to eradicate the threat. This is similar to the pheromone system employed by wasps and bees, if that assists your understanding.”

  Her reasoning made sense, and they all knew that across most species in the animal kingdom capable of communicating with one another, the first and most important action would be to alert the others to danger to help protect their pack or group or home or whatever and ensure its survival.

  Hendricks spoke for the first time, his normally cultured British accent changing as he tried to inject some humor into the proceedings by putting on his best John Wayne impression. “Well folks, ya’ll have seen we can kill ’em. We just need to work how to kill ’em all.”

  Annie actually chuckled before she responded. “Jimmy, I believe you’re right, but if we study them and learn from a few we may be able to control them rather than resort to”—she too then changed her voice to an exact impersonation of the very, very late John Wayne—“blowing them all to hell.”

  Once again shocked by Annie’s personality, Anderson stammered a reply. “Annie, are you saying you may be able to control The Swarm?”

  Annie, as if she knew the question was coming, replied immediately. “Yes, David. To be able to communicate wirelessly, something, or someone, is probably controlling them already. Why else would they have the capability or need to send communications? And if they can send signals, it stands to perfect logical reason that they can receive them also. If I can help you study another of our captured subjects, I will know more about how they operate.”

  Hendricks snorted. “Marvelous. Not only have we landed in the middle of a civil war fought by the tribal descendants from our future using Stone Age weapons from our past, we now have the possibility of an evil overlord who has created an army of flesh-eating bugs and controls them from his lair, which I for one shall be distinctly disappointed if it turns out not to be a hollowed-out volcano. Annie, I think you woke us all up at the wrong time. Perhaps if you’d left it another thousand years, we would have arrived in a place where we could put our feet up and sip Piña Coladas on a beach somewhere.”

  Annie, now with a defensive edge to her voice replied, “Mister Hendricks, I woke you when I did as I calculated your best chance of survival lay in returning to Earth and not in cryo on a space station slowly degrading through age.”

  “I know, Annie, I was joking,” Hendricks replied sarcastically.

  “That much is obvious, Jimmy. I interpreted the change in your vital signs as an attempt at levity to cover your elevated stress levels. However, I do feel regret at not being able to fully inform you of the conditions we are experiencing now. If I had been in possession of all the information, I may have made an alternative choice. But as your saying goes ‘we have to deal with the hands we are dealt.’” She paused for a second. “Now, may I bring us back to the current situation?”

  No one argued so she continued. “I will terminate another specimen by giving it a fatal dose of anesthetic,” she explained. “We can then examine it without fear of being attacked or it sending a message. I will, however, maintain the blocking signal as a precaution.”

  Amir looked from Hendricks to Anderson and the scientists who all nodded their consent.

  “Annie, proceed with the termination,” he whispered with an air of defeat. He had had such hopes of being the benevolent leader of a group of grateful, carefully selected nation builders. The plans he had drawn up in his mind, the visions he had of himself leading the way and recreating a civilization that would repopulate Earth were gone. He’d envisaged a world with people specifically selected so as not to contain any genetic issues, ensuring a strong and healthy breeding stock with him as their beneficial leader, guiding them through whatever the new world threw at them

  Now he found himself a side show, his skills no longer required and his power all but eroded in the world they had woken to. Warriors and scientists were needed, not lawyers and cutthroat businessmen. He was astute enough to know that if he was to remain relevant and not just be treated as the generous benefactor then he would have to re-establish a power base—some form of usefulness. He began to suspect that even though he was still respected and liked, at the same time he was being put in a corner so as not to get in the way. He needed to maintain his position as their leader, a position he had arrogantly assumed would be his by right.

  “Yes, Mister Weatherby. Increasing anesthetic now.”

  Five minutes later Annie had satisfied herself that the subject was dead. To be sure she raised its temperature to defrost it whilst still sealed in the cryopod. While Annie was doing that the lead scientist and his assistants cleaned up and bagged every remnant of the first subject, no matter how small, for them to study later if necessary.

  Wiping the last smears of blood and matter from the table he told Annie they were ready to examine the next one.

  “Is everyone prepared?” Annie enquired, seemingly more out of a sense of politeness than necessity.

  The shuck-shuck sound of Weber racking another cartridge into the chamber of his large shotgun made a few of them jump involuntarily. As he stepped forwards in the shocked silence the only sound was the metallic ping of the ejected cartridge bouncing on the metal floor of the lab.

  “I do not care for what Annie is believing. If that thing moves even one millimeter, I will shoot it. If I say for you to move, then you must move quickly. Okay?”

  Annie responded. “Weber. It’s dead. I can detect no vital signs coming from the subject at all. But yes, I agree with your caution. Opening the pod now.”

  As the lid on the pod slowly lifted fully revealing the creature inside, most leaned back as if distancing themselves from any danger. The lead scientist on the other hand, after a nervous glance at Weber who had now stepped forward and held the barrel of his gun inches from the bug, reached into the pod and, straining slightly against the weight, lifte
d it out and placed it gingerly on the table.

  As soon as he withdrew his hands, he indicated to his assistants to apply the straps that would hold it securely against the table. Once it was secure the mood in the room relaxed slightly and as one, they crowded around the table.

  The scientist, still staring at the cat-sized armored body of the bug with huge mandibles, spoke with a hint of irritation in his voice, as he was jostled by the others trying to get a better look.

  “May I have some space, please?” Reluctantly everyone stepped back an inch or two. He picked up a scalpel and announced his actions to the room in general.

  “Cutting carapace with single incision along lateral line,” he said as he pressed the razor-sharp surgical instrument against the bug’s back, just behind its head. Grunting slightly, he applied more pressure, but the blade would not penetrate the armored body.

  With a surprised huff of disbelief, he put the scalpel down and picked up a pair of heavy-duty scissors. “Carapace resistant to scalpel. Trying heavy shears.”

  After a few grunting minutes of effort, he was still unable to penetrate its shell. He turned and spoke to an assistant who handed him what appeared to be a small cordless angle grinder. The room filled with a tooth-rattling, high-pitched screech as he pressed the small spinning blade against the bug’s outer layer. This time he made progress. Moving the cutter slowly from the head to the tail he cut an eighteen-inch-long slice into its armored shell. Handing the cutter to his assistant he picked up a metal device and inserted the two prongs that stuck from its underside into the gap he had created.

  “Using spreaders to open exoskeleton,” he announced.

  Pumping the handle on the spreader the two prongs slowly moved away from each other. With a cracking sound the body of the bug opened up revealing its soft, gooey interior.

  Anderson stared at the insides, seeing nothing but mush and gore whereas the biologist let out exclamations of surprise and delight.