Black Sun (Phantom Server: Book #3)

by Andrei Livadny

  “He might not have known,” Jurgen snapped. “They used Oasis as a point of access. The hybrid may have been equipped with a communications channel of his own. We should have thought about it!”

  “So that’s his work, then?” Charon asked.

  “I don’t think so,” I said. “The hybrid is gone. He’d started playing up already before we left for Earth. I’m afraid, the Reapers got to his neurograms.”

  “Ripping him apart?” Foggs asked in disbelief. “You mean they got access to his skills? And used them to restore the communications?”

  Vandal cringed. “As if you can’t see.”

  Outer space was seething. The gigantic station resembled a cooling star surrounded by a newborn nebula. Its center kept disgorging more matter. The station’s outer structures were melting, their outlines growing porous and unstable. The Reapers must have removed reactor shields, causing reactor blocks to heat uncontrollably, melting the cargonite.

  New combat craft kept forming within the clouds of incandescent matter. The process, though, didn’t go as fast as Avatroid’s once had. Nor did their choice of craft impress us with variety. They were all Raptors and Condors, but they kept materializing in their hundreds. Reapers aimed for volume over quality. They had no experience or abilities of their own, so they were using military space programs which we didn’t even know existed.

  “Mnemotechs on duty, merge your abilities,” I commanded. “We need a scanner file — now!”

  Reapers kept arriving.

  What were they going to select as their next target? Or were their armadas prepared to sweep through space, indiscriminately devouring everything in their path?

  If there was such a thing in the Universe as Fate, today it wasn’t on our side. It was pretty clear that the Reapers weren’t going to stop at Oasis. Their synthetic intellects would continue to build up their military presence uncontrollably. Their mode of thinking was similar to that of the first primitive AIs. The neurograms they’d looted hadn’t breathed life into them, only confused them, plunging them into dismay and uncontrollable urges. Some of the Raptors kept breaking out of formation attacking each other, making the mass of ships resemble packs of fighting dogs.

  Surely someone had to control these hordes? While smaller dogfights remained unnoticed, any attempts at more serious conflicts were being nipped in the bud. Our tracking systems had identified several groups of modified Raptors whose job seemed to be to maintain order by sending the more quarrelsome of the sentient mechanisms back into the incandescent Inferno to be remelted.

  That’s exactly how it was. I’m not exaggerating.

  Finally, the scanner file arrived. I skimmed it and breathed a sigh of relief. “These are all made by Object Replication. It’s just some nanites forming permanent molecular bonds.”

  “Does that mean they can be destroyed with regular weapons?” Foggs asked.

  “It does. With the exception of a few Raptors,” I said.

  “This is scary,” Jurgen whispered. “Once they form a network and join their processing capacities, nothing or no one can stand in their way.”

  “We need to attack them first! Now!” Vandal tensed, watching a group of about fifteen hundred Condors break off from the formation and accelerate toward Darg.

  “Send some probes to follow them!” I snapped. “All mnemotechs to their positions! Remember the drill! Activate the multi-level shields! Level one: power field generators! Level two: Active Shield! Level three, external: Steel Mist! Use low thrust to clear the dock!”

  I laid the course. Once the Relic moved close to Argus, it would be very hard to detect on a low orbit. That would give us considerable freedom to maneuver.

  “Jurgen, give me the Manticore and the Disciples!”

  “Zander, we can’t stop them!” Arbido butted in. “They’re tens of thousands!”

  “I see. What do you suggest? Should we wait until they begin to recycle Argus?”

  “But they’re invincible! Even Avatroid wouldn’t do much against them!”

  “We’ll see.”

  “What do you want? To kill us all? We need to drive the Relic away! We still have time to lie low!”

  “We can’t lie low forever,” I snapped.

  Charon growled his agreement. Jurgen nodded. The argument died before it even started.

  “I have Aquilon on the line!”

  The Manticore leader didn’t look alarmed but rather puzzled. “Zander, I thought we had an agreement? What’s up?”

  The Relic had already entered its Argus orbit. I forwarded Aquilon the data from our tracking systems.

  “The Reapers? An invasion?” Aquilon was looking for a catch, refusing to believe me. He was still angry with me, blaming me for losing the half of his men who’d chosen to join the Daugoths.

  “Aha, you’re so stuck in your Corporation sector you can’t see past your own nose,” I said. “Send out a few scouts if you don’t believe me. Just make it quick. How many functioning corvettes have you got?”

  “Two out of five. Why?”

  “Don’t even think of flying them now. Wait until I have some mnemotechs for you. They’ll take care of your shields and camouflage.”

  “Is this some sick way of getting to my ships? You just don’t stop, do you?”

  “I don’t need your ships! But if you want to save lives, you’d better think fast! Argus is right in the path of the Reapers' fleet. The station will be either captured or recycled. Take your pick.”

  “Give me some time! I need to check it!”

  “Be my guest. Just keep in mind we deorbit soon.”

  * * *

  The Relic slid along Argus’ hull.

  All the primary hull modules had been depressurized. The crew were in position. We’d been preparing for more unavoidable clashes with Avatroid — but now life had banked into a new turn!

  “A compound group target, seventy Raptors and thirty Condors, in seven light seconds, heading on a course for Argus!”

  The Oasis station now resembled a melted candle enveloped in clouds of crimson, its incandescent depths constantly sparkling with new ship signatures.

  “Three of Avatroid’s fleets have left the asteroid belt!”

  It looked like the ancient AIs didn’t want to be left out. They must have assessed the danger and decided to attack.

  “Zander?” Liori turned to me. We were separated by personal force shields and the translucent holographic tablets that we’d used to divide the cockpit into work stations. “What do we do?”

  The Manticore hadn’t replied yet. We’d also failed to establish contact with Darg.

  Avatroid was our enemy. We’d tried hard to conceal our studies of the Founders’ technology from him. We’d been doing our best not to betray our presence at the station. All Relic repairs had been conducted under the protection of Steel Mist.

  “Set a course for Dock Two. Prepare tractor beams. Action stations, continue target surveillance. Maintain communications with the Manticore using a secure channel.”

  Aquilon came back online. Clad in a heavy armor suit, he was dragging some crates toward an open hatch of a corvette.

  “Hey man, what you’re doing?”

  “Evacuating the equipment,” he snapped back.

  “Drop it and get on board! Where’s everyone?”

  “They’re dismantling life support modules in the living quarters.”

  “Aquilon, leave it! We’ll share our supplies with you! You have two minutes before the Relic picks up the corvettes. Two minutes!” I repeated. “We won’t be able to come back and rescue whoever’s left behind!”

  “He won’t do it,” Charon said darkly. “He’ll try to drag it out. He doesn’t care about his people.”

  I made the only possible decision. “We stay on orbit. Jurgen, contact the Manticore players directly. Put them in the picture. Tell them to drop everything and board the corvettes. We’ll give them another five minutes.”

  You have an incoming call from D
arg

  Finally!

  The holographic avatar of the Disciples’ leader materialized at the center of the cockpit. “Zander?” he sounded surprised. “I didn’t expect to see you. Our meeting is scheduled for tomorrow. Are you in the mood for a chat?”

  “Roakhmar, I have no time! Listen carefully,” I gave him a brief run-down on the situation. “Why did you stop monitoring deep space?”

  “We don’t have the resources. The Raiders keep downing our probes. Thanks for the warning. We’ll meet them head on.”

  “Good luck!”

  The Dargian shrunk his head into his shoulders. Now the Reapers were in for a nasty surprise. True, the Dargian space defense systems were geared up against large ships, but I was sure Roakhmar would come up with something. The Disciples knew the ancient technologies like the palms of their hands. And they were excellent warriors.

  “Jurgen, what’s with the Eurasia?”

  “She doesn’t respond.”

  “But what about our probes?”

  “Neither. I’m afraid they’ve been shot down.”

  “Is the Colonial Fleet in any danger?”

  “Certainly. The Eurasia has a communications station too. We’ve changed the flagship’s access codes but it’s only a question of time until the Reapers hack them.”

  “Pick up the corvettes and adopt an attack course!”

  “Target?”

  “Eurasia!”

  * * *

  The Relic was ready for battle.

  We had enough cargonite in its holds to sustain a prolonged combat. Most of the areas closest to the airlocks had been turned into replicated nanites storage. There they swirled in vacuum, awaiting our commands.

  Avatroid’s fleets were heading for Oasis. I kept a watchful eye on them. The outer space between the two stations was littered with drifting debris — evidence of millennia-old battles. I’d often wondered who they might have been and why they’d turned this place into a battlefield.

  Now, as I looked at the Reapers' hordes, I thought I knew the answer.

  The Founders had created the interstellar network but they’d done little to protect it. Once they’d vanished into history, many other civilizations had gotten the chance to use their technologies.

  The Darg system harbored unique cargonite deposits in its asteroid belt. That made it a strategic location for any potential Universe pioneer.

  “We aren’t going to help Avatroid, are we?” Arbido asked grimly.

  “Zander, the corvettes are out,” Foggs interrupted him.

  Two ships sporting Manticore logos showed above Argus’ curving horizon. They had no camouflage at all! Was Aquilon out of his mind?!

  “Enemy Raptors have defined their goals and are zoning in.”

  “Continue on this course! Mnemotechs on Deck 10, release the nanites! Replicate on command!”

  “Let’s go!”

  At a safe distance from our ship, one of Argus’ hull structures began to melt, losing shape. We tried to use exterior sources of nanites whenever possible, saving our precious on-board cargonite stocks for an absolute emergency.

  The enemy Raptors activated their shields and dispersed, acting in twos and hugging the station’s hull.

  The Manticore’s corvettes fired their heavy lasers but without much success: they’d only just cleared the dock and Argus’ outline prevented them from laying down effective fire.

  My mind entered the Relic’s on-board network. Liori was busy controlling groups of replicated nanites, ready to send them to protect the corvettes as soon as she had the opportunity.

  Our main objective now was to stop the heavy assault craft. We’d developed this tactic in case of a mass attack of Phantom Raiders but hadn’t yet had a chance to test it under combat conditions.

  I turned the frigate around, accelerating smoothly. The station shifted in the screens, dropping below while falling behind us. Now I could clearly see the assault ships maneuvering amid the hull structures and a group of enemy Condors covering them.

  The Raptors’ powerful force fields didn’t allow us to use nanites against them. The simultaneous tracking of a hundred targets was the absolute limit for my mind expander. Each of the corvettes had already had numerous breaches trailing gas. Their engines were struggling. They wouldn’t last long.

  Obeying my mental command, the Founders’ navigation module began to rotate in the Relic’s hull radars. We’d adapted it, making it battle-worthy. Yes, we’d meddled with the ancient technologies, adding a few upgrades in order to create a dual-purpose device.

  A communications burst left the ship. The device’s range in combat mode was limited to one light second.

  Resonance frequency of the force fields established. Ready to transmit data.

  The load on my mind kept growing. This was the drawback of this particular technology: the device couldn’t be controlled by automatics. We’d done so on purpose, creating an artifact beyond the AIs’ control.

  Our numerous experiments had shown that whenever we used Object Replication, there was always a small number of unutilized nanites left over. Now these redundant nanites were entrusted with the task of transmitting the combat control code.

  The mnemonic hit reached the enemy.

  The targets’ markers changed their color from red to momentary green, immediately turning gray.

  The communications station switched off. Gradually I returned to my senses. Jurgen, Charon and Maurugael had taken over the frigate’s controls.

  Darkness receded, releasing my mind. I could make out Argus’ outline and the two corvettes sheltering alongside its hull. The Raptors had almost caught up with them.

  My heart was fluttering.

  “Zander, you’ve done it!” Charon’s voice shook with exhaustion.

  I watched the nearest Raptor. It didn’t fire. Instead, it was careening toward the nearest hull structure head-on, not attempting to change course.

  A bleak picture appeared in my mind’s view. I could see the Raptor’s cockpit and its pilot still in his seat. A plume of smoke escaped his visor.

  A burst of fire. The screech of deformed metal. A deafening pop of decompression.

  We’d won the first battle. More and more explosions came, followed by collisions. A group of enemy Condors passed Argus head-on at full speed and left on a blind course.

  The two helpless Manticore corvettes drifted dangerously close to the station, one moving sideways, the other spinning uncontrollably.

  “Grab the corvettes and let’s go! Set a course for Eurasia!”

  * * *

  Talk about the irony of fate.

  We’d thought we’d have to confront the AIs, mop up the stations, then bring the Earth’s Colonial Fleet to the Darg system.

  This plan had now collapsed.

  Once again our future was unknown. The Reapers' invasion had thwarted our plans.

  The enemy numbers continued to grow.

  The avant-garde of Avatroid’s Phantom Raiders had already engaged with the Reapers. Outer space in our path was seething.

  I switched over to the common channel.

  My throat was dry. Still, I had to say it.

  “Listen, guys,” I addressed the crew. “You’ve a difficult choice to make. We need to destroy Eurasia’s servers and communications. This is the only guarantee against the Reapers getting to the Colonial Fleet. At the moment, it’s Eurasia that provides your identities’ presence in the Darg system. Considering this, I offer you the choice to leave the Relic. You can do so via the personal navigation modules on your wrists. Your in-modes will be automatically switched to stasis mode.”

  I caught my breath and went on, “Those who are willing to stay should be prepared for their transformation. At the moment of communications shutdown, your identities and your appearance will be nanite-replicated. You have five minutes to make up your minds. The clock starts now.”

  “Zander?” immediately I received a call from Frieda. “How's this all going to happen?�
��

  “It won’t take long. We have plenty of nanites. Once the connection is broken, your personal navigation device will self-destruct. The nanites it’s made of will stabilize your identity matrix,” I told her what I’d already experienced myself. “More nanites will join in the process, forming your appearance almost instantaneously. If you don’t know the symptoms, you might not even notice anything.”

  “I’d like Liori to come to our room and conduct the initiation in person.”

  “Initiation?”

  “That’s what I told the children. That we were going to initiate them as astronauts.”

  “Very well.”

  “Let’s do it now. Before the attack starts.”

  “Liori, did you hear that? Can you do it? Or do you want me to go?”

  “Zander, you’d better stay on the bridge. I’ll do it.”

  You have an incoming call from Darg.

  Roakhmar’s avatar appeared in my mental view. Never before had I seen the Disciples’ leader looking so lost.

  “Speak up,” I said.

  “Zander, we’re suffering incredible losses. Our space defenses are useless against thousands of small ships,” he blurted out, afraid of a break in communications. The hissing and tweeting sounds of his speech merged into rapid trills. My semantic processor’s auto translate struggled to keep up. “I know I wasn’t too forthcoming! I know I tried to sabotage the negotiations! But they’re annihilating us! Help us, please!”

  “I can’t turn the Relic round at the moment. Think you can last twenty-four hours?”

  “If we retreat to our clan’s citadel, we’ll last longer! Will you help us?”

  “Yes,” I had to think on my feet. The situation unfolded too fast to allow me the luxury of pondering. “We’ll try to battle through to you and evacuate the survivors.”

  “Word of a Human?”

  “Word of a Human.”

  …

  Quest update alert: The Chasm!

  A representative of a third civilization nearing extinction has sought your help.