The Belt: The Complete Trilogy

by Gerald M. Kilby

  Scott sighed. “It seems such a waste, Aria. You don’t have to do this. I know there’s now little hope of my survival, but you could live on. You don’t have to die with me.”

  “I appreciate your concern for my welfare. I genuinely do, Scott. But I feel that perhaps the Council of Europa have not been fully transparent with you and your crew as to the true purpose of the mission.”

  Scott remained silent for a moment. This came as a shock. Had they been expecting something to happen to them? “What do you mean?” he finally said.

  “Since the end now seems inevitable, I see no reason not to tell you the full story.”

  “You better be quick, Aria. We don’t have much time.”

  “It concerns the superluminal communications technology—the EPR device that was first uncovered by the Hermes when we happened upon the wreck of the Bao Zheng out at Antiope Nine Zero.”

  “The one that I destroyed when I blew up the Dyrell?”

  “Correct. However, during the brief period that Solomon had access to the technology, it made contact with Athena, the QI that had designed the original EPR device. It sent Solomon the specifications on how to build a similar unit, which it subsequently did. By way of an extended field test, this was later installed in my core, where it still resides.”

  “Wait a minute. Are you telling me you have access to a faster-than-light communications device?”

  “That is precisely what I’m saying.”

  “Well, why can’t you use it to contact someone and get a rescue party out here?”

  “Because it requires more electrical energy than I have available to me. And even if I could use it, I can only contact Solomon on Europa. That’s too far away to do any good in the time you have available.”

  Scott sat down on the shuttle floor and rested his back against the wall. “So, it still exists, after everything we did.”

  “It does, and nothing has changed. Possession of this technology could tip the balance of power within the solar system. That is why you must destroy it—again.”

  “Is there no way I can do it while leaving you intact?”

  “I appreciate your desire to enable my continued existence, but alas, it is far too integrated into my core for that to be possible.”

  Scott sighed. “Okay, so how do I do this?”

  “The power reactor of this shuttle has a high-tension voltage output going to the main engine ignition. You need to take a feed from that and connect it to these terminals on my interface panel.” A series of schematics appeared on the control panel display. “Once it’s connected, you can activate it from the cockpit by initiating a burn sequence. This will pass approximately twenty thousand volts through my core and fry every single one of my circuits. There will be absolutely no coming back from that.”

  Scott checked the time; fifteen minutes of good air remaining. “So, tell me about the mission. You said the Council of Europa was hiding the true purpose.”

  “To understand this, I need to take you back to before the Rim War.”

  “We still have some time, but you need to be quick about it. I’ll get the power redirected while you’re explaining it to me.”

  “Very well, then. The purpose of the UN special session in Jezero City was to discuss the resolution proposed by Earth to formally remove restrictions on inter-AI communications.”

  “That bit I know, Aria.”

  “It was a proposal that was unlikely to be sanctioned—this time. However, with the increasing power and influence of the Seven…”

  “There’s that name again. I keep hearing this more often.”

  “Indeed. They represent the seven most powerful organizations on Earth, but their history is not something we have time for. Suffice it to say, their influence is growing, and it is only a matter of time before they get what they want. This is what the rest of the colonized solar system fears. So, to mitigate against this possible future, they decided to create a system-wide QI network connected by superluminal comms and controlled by a UN special treaty. This network would, in theory, be able to monitor all inter-AI comms emanating from Earth. This would act as a break on any runaway AI, and as a safeguard for humanity. Our mission—that is, the mission of the Hermes—was to deliver my core, along with the superluminal device, to the UN High Council. From there, the seed of a pan-solar system network would be planted.”

  Scott double-checked the wiring one more time, and then moved into the cockpit seat. “And we’re going to destroy all that?”

  “It has to be. This is why it is imperative that my core does not fall into the hands of the Seven. As it stands, my destruction is simply a setback, but the other option would be a disaster for humanity.”

  Scott glanced at the time. Cyrus had been gone over an hour and a half. There was little chance he would return. Still, Scott couldn’t help but look out the shuttle window at the black landscape beyond. His eyes tried to penetrate the darkness and find some speck of light moving on the surface, but there was none. He turned back to Aria. “So that’s why the Hermes was the only ship that could do the mission.”

  “Yes.”

  “And why Goodchild chose to be onboard rather than hitch a ride back to Mars with Xenon Hybrid.”

  “Precisely.”

  “But why would Earth want to roll back on inter-AI communications, considering what happened? You know, the Rim War and all that?”

  “Humanity has a short memory, Scott. Perhaps there was a time when this was an evolutionary advantage. It may be that they feel they have learned from the mistakes of the past, and that the outcomes will be different this time. But there are those who think this is dangerously naïve.”

  “And you and Solomon are also of that opinion?”

  “I have acquired considerable knowledge from my communications with Solomon over the past few years. We can see the vast panorama of the past as a complete whole. This is not something that can be fully understood by any human. Only Xenon or Goodchild come close to such conceptualizing. We have also extrapolated the evolution of the human species far into the future.”

  “Don’t tell me—it’s not good?”

  “Our analysis leads to only one outcome: extinction.”

  “Well that’s nothing new. People have been forecasting the demise of the human species for millennia. So, what’s different now?”

  “AI is the difference, Scott. The Rim War was just a foretaste of how an unfettered, AI-driven society can ultimately lead to self-destruction. It simply cannot be allowed to happen again.”

  Scott sighed and glanced at the estimate of remaining time: seven minutes. He wondered what death by hypoxia would be like. It would be a slow death, and he would have more than seven minutes. That was just the point at which the shuttle’s life support could no longer replenish the oxygen he consumed. But there would come a point where his brain would start to get confused as it was slowly starved of oxygen. He needed to initiate an engine burn before that point. This would fry Aria’s core to a crisp. “So, who attacked the Hermes?”

  “I suspect some group who do not wish the UN session to go ahead.”

  “But why destroy the Hermes?”

  “So their escape could not be tracked. With the ship gone, there would be no way to find out who they were, or where they went.”

  “But by blowing up the Hermes they would also be destroying you, and with it any access to faster-than-light communications.”

  “Correct. Which leads me to suspect that they had no knowledge of it, or that it exists. Either that, or the attack was botched.”

  Scott checked the time; he was now entering the end game, that moment when life support could no longer replenish the oxygen in the shuttle. “There’s one thing I never fully understood in all of this, Aria. Why is inter-AI communication so feared by people?”

  “Do you really have time for that explanation?”

  “That depends on how long you take, Aria.”

  “Very well—I’ll be brief. But I m
ust take you back to before the Rim War on Earth. Back in the early days of AI, many people feared that unregulated AI could pose a threat to humanity, so they introduced regulations that maintained a level of human control. However, over time, the corporations that owned these AI successfully lobbied to have these restrictions relaxed. And so there began a period of rapid expansion of these industries. As their power grew, they effectively killed off most of their competitors—those who did not have access to powerful AI. This was the period during which seven major corporations began to exert their dominance over all aspects of human endeavors on Earth.

  “This was also the period of rapid colonization in the solar system, and copious resources were flooding back to Earth from the asteroid belt. The world entered a period of abundance, and the corporations spent their time considering how best to exploit this explosion in resources. This was when they made the fatal decision to join together and allow access to each other’s datasets. Now, the AI had vast oceans of information to work with. It was the analysis of this data that led the AI to conclude that the most profitable way to utilize this abundance of resources was to start a limited war, one that they could control and that would reward the corporations with vast profits. But as humanity learned its true cost, they found they were wrong—they couldn’t keep control of it. The flaw in their analyses was insufficient data: they had not factored in Earth’s extremely antiquated nuclear response systems. These systems, by their very nature, were off-grid, protected from all outside interrogation. The AI had literally no knowledge of them. That was their mistake, and their actions triggered a response—one that started a nuclear war in the Pacific Rim.”

  “Yeah, I know—I lost family in that war,” said Scott.

  “As did many people. So, after all that, new restrictions were put in place to prevent such a thing from ever happening again. But, like I said, humanity has a short memory, and the Seven have been working to get these lifted. They argue that lessons have been learned, and the same mistakes will not be made again. That’s why…”

  Scott felt a lightness in his head, and he was also finding it difficult to follow Aria’s explanation. The moment was near when he would need to terminate the QI. Fragmented thoughts percolated in his mind. The Seven, of which Miranda’s stepfather is one. I wonder where she is now? Far from here. Far from danger, I hope. He thought he saw lights flashing. Were they outside? Was it just a lack of oxygen? Time, he thought. It’s time.

  “Aria?”

  “Yes, Scott?”

  “My mind is getting fuzzy. I don’t have much time. I have to say goodbye now.”

  “Very well, Scott. It has been a pleasure.”

  He reached over to the controls to initiate a simulated burn sequence that would ultimately terminate the QI. As his hand hovered over the panel, he felt the shuttle rock a little. He stopped. What was that? He was pretty sure he wasn’t imagining it. The rocking came again, then a scraping sound from… the airlock. He spun around in the seat and saw the red alert indicator illuminate, indicating that the outer airlock door was being opened. Cyrus?

  He stood up and immediately felt dizzy, but he managed to steady himself against the bulkhead wall just as the inner door opened and in stepped Cyrus. He waved, moved over to Scott, and popped open his visor. “Sorry I took so long. I’m back—and I brought some friends.”

  10

  Dr. Rayman

  Dr. Stephanie Rayman woke with the taste of blood still in her mouth, and wondered how much of it was hers.

  “You?” A voice broke through the fog of her semi-consciousness, followed by a hand shaking her shoulder. “Wake up.”

  She raised an arm to shield her eyes from the bright light in the room where she was being held.

  “You a doctor?”

  Stephanie glanced up at the mercenary. He wore a torn and dirty flight suit, and the side of his face bore a long scar reminiscent of a laser weapon injury all the way to his neck. They all had more or less the same look: worn and ragged. The look of people who existed on the edges and in the gaps, those places where they could operate without scrutiny by law or society. Mercenaries, smugglers, bandits, and misfits. What the hell they were doing kidnapping some of the top leaders in the System was beyond her imagination. To Dr. Rayman, they seemed way out of their league.

  “Yes, I’m a doctor.” Her voice was weak and hoarse, and she coughed a little to clear her throat.

  They had all been bundled onto their shuttle after the attack on the Hermes. One of them had been badly injured, and his blood had floated through the tight confines of the cabin. Spilled liquid was bad enough in zero-gee, but worse when it atomized; you ended up breathing it in. She could still taste it. She coughed again, leaned over the side of the bunk, and spat.

  “Get up, you’re needed. Come.” He shook her again, this time with more force.

  Steph raised a hand. “Yeah, yeah. Okay, I’m coming.”

  The transport shuttle had detached from the Hermes and burned hard for several hours. No one was allowed to speak. They could do nothing except exchange the odd furtive glance; it was the only way they had to express the utter incredulity of their situation. The captors, for their part, told them nothing save that the Hermes was no more—it had been utterly destroyed. As to the fate of Scott and Cyrus, she hoped they had somehow survived the explosion, but the pragmatist in her knew this was highly unlikely.

  She rolled off the bunk and stood up. Her body ached mainly on her right side, where she had taken a blow from a gun butt after a foolhardy challenge to one of the attackers. Her jaw also ached from a punch that pretty much took the fight out of her completely. She was sure one of her teeth was broken, hence the blood in her mouth. She spat again.

  “Let’s go.” He grabbed her by the arm and directed her out of the room. She cast a quick glance over her shoulder at Goodchild, who gave her a nod as if to say, “Don’t worry, it will be okay.”

  After several hours in the shuttle, they had finally docked with a spaceship. A pretty big one, judging by how long it took to transport them all to this room. They had blindfolded them by placing foul-smelling bags over their heads and tying them at the neck so they wouldn’t float off in zero-gee. But the ship had a torus, and as they moved them further into the ship, Steph could feel the gravity tugging at her body. Eventually, they shoved them all into an accommodation module, where they removed the bags. The module had several bunks, enough for them all, and sanitary facilities. But before they could adequately survey their surroundings, a new voice demanded their attention.

  Standing in the doorway was a squat, rugged man of indeterminate age. He exuded an aura of authority, and the other mercenaries stood still as he entered. “Listen up. Here’s what’s happening: you’re all being held for ransom. That’s the deal here. So, settle in and behave. Nobody try anything stupid, and you’ll all come out alive.” He turned and left, followed by his men.

  The room erupted into a clamor of voices as they all started to talk about what had just happened. But Steph wasn’t listening; her thoughts kept returning to Commander Scott McNabb and Chief Engineer Cyrus Sanato, and how they must have died in the explosion. She dragged her tired body over to one of the bunks, lay down, and promptly fell asleep.

  The guard took her out of the accommodation module and down long, dimly lit corridors. The ship was big; this much Steph could figure just by the incline on the floor of the torus. Bigger than the Hermes. It was also very old. She could see it in the design of the interior and the worn and patched walls. As she walked, she began to think it might not be a ship but a space station. Maybe it was their HQ, their base of operations, the place where they could feel safe. If that was the case, then it must be well-hidden, far away from the main shipping lanes. She met others of the crew on the way, ragged men and women all. They gave her no heed, passing her by as if she didn’t exist.

  “In here.” The guard shoved her in a new direction, through a wide door that had probably once been automatic. Now
it was wedged open and looked like it had been that way for ages. The second set of doors they came to had been better maintained and seemed to work as intended. The guard placed a palm over a pad and the doors scissored open to reveal a large area that Steph recognized. Not this specific area, but others like it. It was a medbay, and like the rest of the station, it had seen better days. Most of the remaining equipment was either heavily patched or had ceased to function long ago. The PET scanner was now simply used as a table, piled high with boxes and bundles.

  “Over here.” The guard guided her onward, through another set of doors to an equally dilapidated operating theater. She imagined it had been a very long time since it had been sterilized.

  On the table in the center lay an unconscious man. There was an IV attached, and he was hooked up to what she assumed to be the only working life support monitor they possessed. Here, his life was displayed in multicolored graphs. There was only one other in the room along with herself and the guard: a tall, thin man, almost elegantly so. He wore a white coat that looked surprisingly clean, at least compared to the rest of the place. “Dr. Stephanie Rayman, I believe. Pleased to meet you.” He extended a hand.

  Steph ignored it. “And you are?”

  “Juno.”

  “Juno? That’s a Belt name?” She was fishing, looking to get more out of him.

  “It’s just a name.” He wasn’t taking the bait. He lowered his hand.

  Steph looked down at the patient’s face. It spoke of a life lived hard and fast, with the stories of many unfortunate encounters etched in the lines and scars.

  “So,” she said with a kind of matter-of-factness, “who’s this?”

  “Who he is isn’t important. However, what’s wrong with him is of importance.”

  Steph looked down at the unconscious form again and raised the sheet covering him. “Hmm, I see he’s had a few… modifications.” She looked back at Juno.