Exodus: Machine War: Book 4: Retribution

by Doug Dandridge

  Moving the device was something they had worked out through trial and error. It was not really a spaceship, though it could transit within a system. It had absolutely no interstellar capability. A quartet of capital ships would array around it, surrounding it in their hyperfields. The device had quarters aboard, along with workshops, which would by need be evacuated when it was in use. But an engineering crew could ride along when it was in transit, fixing whatever needed it.

  Beata sat for a moment thinking, pulling up a schematic of her area of operations for the campaign. Known Machines systems that still had their presence were red. There was still a score of those on the plot. Systems that had been cleared of all large facilities were in orange, and there were still fifteen there. Those that had been completely cleared were blinking green, and there were only four of those, with the newest one added to the list. There were several thousand others in faint green, ones that had been explored and found to be untouched, at least superficially. And there were millions of white points, stars that hadn’t been touched by organic intelligence as far as they knew. They didn’t think any of those systems had Machine industry, since none were giving off the particular radiations that industrial processes produced. But basically they just didn’t know. There could be a Machine battle fleet around any one of those stars, and it would remain hidden as long as it stayed where it was.

  It took at least four days to move the device into and out of a system from the hyper barrier, and three or four days between systems. Which meant at least a week between events. She looked at all those stars again and shook her head.

  “This isn’t working, Captain,” she finally said.

  “Ma’am?” asked the officer, confusion on his face.

  “Oh, your device works as advertised. Probably better than I expected. It does the job, but not fast enough.”

  “I don’t see how we can go any faster, ma’am. Perhaps if we had more of them.”

  Beata blew out a breath as she thought about that. Picking up her cup, she took a sip of the tea she preferred, then looked back at the engineer. “The way I figure, we would need a thousand of these things to do the job in any reasonable time frame. And that would mean four thousand capital ships to move them, which is four times more than I currently have. And I don’t think the Emperor will go for tying up the resources that could build three thousand super heavy battleships for use against the Cacas.” That was the truth. This was still a backwater front, and the big aliens took priority over any resources the Empire had.

  “I see the problem, ma’am,” said the engineer, looking off holo for a moment. “What I don’t see is the solution. It looks to me that we were given an impossible task, and can only do our best.”

  Bednarczyk realized that the man was correct. It was an impossible task for her current force. It might be an impossible task for the entire fleet. Unless they could come up with something that would blow up stars in an instant. She cringed at that thought, an abomination to any rational being.

  That was one of the reasons they needed to Gorgansha, and all of their ships and shipbuilding capacity. The Gorgansha might not be enough, and she wasn’t sure she wanted them in their present political state to wield that kind of fleet. She was sure they would continue helping to destroy the Machines that threatened them as well, since it was in their own best interests. And she was almost certain that they would get about conquering this region when the task was done, since that seemed to be their nature. But they probably wouldn’t get around to that until they had taken care of the Machine threat. The only positive there was to the prospect that the task didn’t look like it was going to be accomplished anytime soon, which in itself, again, was not a very attractive prospect.

  “You’ve done a great job, Captain,” she finally said, thinking of nothing else productive to add to the conversation. “I don’t know if there is an answer, or if our great grandchildren will still be fighting this battle three hundred years from now. Carry on, Captain.”

  Beata terminated the connection and reached for her tea cup, ordering the chair to massage her back through her implant. She could feel the tension in her shoulders, and thought she might need more than the chair could give, but now was not the time. She tried to come up with possible solutions to the problems, but before she got far a heavy wave of depression came over her. All she could see was darkness ahead of her, for all of the intelligent species in this region, thanks to the shortsightedness of those ancestors centuries before.

  And now the Gorgansha are on the same path, she thought, making her depression deepen. She had wanted a war to test her mettle, to prove to herself and others that she could handle a fleet command. But not this hopeless shit of a war, against tireless opponents who in their numbers were not worth one intelligent being to her. And allies that were about to make the same mistake humanity had made, and who would not listen to reason.

  She sat there for almost an hour, letting the chair continue to massage her while she wallowed in the feelings. At the end of the time she decided she had wallowed enough, and pushed the feeling behind her. There was work to do, and no time to feel sorry for herself.

  * * *

  The central AI, like all thinking devices of the Machines, could not like or dislike anything. What it could do was recognize a threat. And this new device the humans were employing was a threat.

  Part of the Machine strategy in every system they occupied was to have nanites and small control centers scattered about, ready to bring the Machines back from the edge of destruction and prepare the strategic objects for re-occupation. The humans would find it impossible to get rid of all of these devices, unless they had a way of causing a star to nova. Which was impossible, according to all theories of stellar physics. They would be forced to detail an inordinate number of ships to sterilizing each world and moon with weapons fire, kinetics and radiation producing beam weapons. It was a fight they might win in a certain small number of systems, but never all of them. It would take them decades to clean out all the infestations, while the Machines would continue to spread to other systems in a progression they couldn’t match.

  Now they were doing something that seemed impossible, generating a massive stellar flare that destroyed all of the miniature robots that were scattered about around the star. They could clear an entire system in hours instead of weeks, and the AI could not allow that. As far as it could determine, they only had the one, and it was not a swift or powerful combat unit, depending on other capital ships to move and protect it. It had to have cost the humans at least as many resources as one of their battleships to build the thing. There might be more coming, but it needed to take out the one it knew about, and concern itself about others if they appeared. It was too late to hit it at the system it had just taken out, but eventually it would have the opportunity, and it must not fail.

  A signal came through from one of the smaller forces still out there keeping the humans busy. The faster than light com was useful, though it used a lot of power and took up quite a bit of space. The humans had a much better system, using either wormholes or some kind of mind to mind contact, most likely from the inhabitants of the system near to the new black hole in the region. It understood the theory behind quantum connectedness, but had no idea how to implement it. It also understood the theory behind the creation of wormholes, but lacked, for the moment, the industrial and energy producing capacity to carry out their construction. Someday it would, and major resources would be committed to making as many of the things as possible. Even if it had taken care of the humans by the point, the technology would be useful for taking out the rest of the Galaxy, and the Universe beyond.

  Wait, it thought. One of its minor forces, the smallest to contain a communications ship, had found their stellar flare producing ship. The AI checked what resources it had in the area, then started going from group to group with graviton beam instructions. It would have been better to have them congregate at a location close to that system. Then they would
have the mass of numbers to overwhelm the defenses the humans would place around that device. But that would allow the humans to sterilize that system, and maybe another one past that. It would have to bring them in as they were already congregated, attacking with what they had. That would waste more ships, but if it took out the device? The plan it transmitted would wear the humans down, and eventually enough of a force would enter that system to take out the device, and possibly all of the human ships defending it.

  The signals sent, the AI could do nothing more about that situation than wait. If it got a signal in return indicating that the enemy device was destroyed it would retask all the other forces. If not, it would keep sending in ships until the job was accomplished. It would be a success. Lack of success was not to be considered.

  Chapter Fifteen

  To err is human, but to really foul things up you need a computer. Paul R. Ehrlich

  SUPERSYSTEM SPACE:

  “Admiral Chan. We have a situation.”

  Chuntoa Chan cursed under her breath as she engaged the com holo. There were all kinds of things the term situation could cover, none of them good. From the heating system going down in an environmentally controlled lab, to an airlock being left open and some poor slob being sucked out into space, to an antimatter reactor about to breach containment. She was hoping it was a heating element, but was not willing to bet on it.

  “Chan here. What’s the emergency?”

  “We’ve lost contact with sector Gamma forty-one.”

  “Shit,” said Chan. Most people couldn’t keep track of all the sectors of the huge research station. Chan was a super-genius, and had the memory to go with it. She knew not only every sector, but every research project going on in each, and all of the senior personnel engaged in those projects. “What’s the status of the Machine brain?”

  “We don’t know, ma’am. All communications have gone down in the sector. And everyone we’ve sent in goes off the grid moments after they report seeing holos projected at the entrances of the sector.”

  “Holos? What kind of holos?”

  “We haven’t seen them ourselves, ma’am. It seems that everyone who does drops off the grid after remarking how beautiful they are.”

  “Shit,” said Chan again, the only word she could think of to fit the situation. She thought quickly. It sounded like some kind of mind control going on, something that was totally forbidden in the Empire. She knew that something like that had happened with the young officer who had assassinated Emperor Augustine and his family on the Donut. The thought that something like that might be operating here sent chills down her spine. And whatever it was, it was operating much too quickly. There was a real risk here that they might lose the station, and the more than a million people who lived and worked here.

  “I want everyone to avoid looking at those holos. And I want to get some two-dimensional vid of them. Understand? Only two dimensions.”

  “Yes, ma’am. And what do we do about the people in that sector?”

  “None of them are to leave that area. Everyone who comes out is to drop all weapons and surrender to security personnel. That means everyone, no matter their rank. All soldiers, marines and spacers operating to secure the perimeter are to have their faceplates down and distortion fields in place. Understood?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I’m not sure…”

  “You don’t have to be sure. I’m the only one who has to be sure here. So just carry out my orders.” And we might just be able to salvage this situation.

  “Any word from Sector Delta seven?” That was the sector where the memory core was being researched, and if something had happened with the brain, it might also be happening with the data storage unit.

  “They have reported in that nothing untoward is happening, Admiral.”

  “Hold on one moment,” said Chan, making a decision that she hoped she wouldn’t regret. She opened a program on her computer and punched in a code, then hit the commit panel. If everything was still working down there the lab the Machine brain was in was now engulfed in a torrent of hot fusion flame. The brain would now be molten slag, as would every computer in the lab and the corridor leading to it. The scientists working down there hadn’t known of that failsafe, nor had the soldiers guarding it. And because of that the Machine brain wouldn’t have known about it either.

  “Sever all connections with sector Gamma forty-one,” she next ordered over the com. “I don’t want an erg of energy going in or out of that sector, clear?”

  “Yes, ma’am. We’re pulling the plug right now.”

  That wouldn’t kill all power in the sector. They all had emergency crystal matrix batteries that could keep them going for months. But the computers in there wouldn’t be able to send corrupting information to the computers outside the sector. Not that she thought the three hundred year old technology of the Machines could break through the safeguards of their more advanced systems, but it was better to be safe. And any nanites the Machines might have would be no match for the ones infiltrating the air and matter throughout the base. Which brought up another safeguard.

  “I want everyone in the adjoining sectors to be inoculated with boosters of nanites. Get the medical people on it as fast as possible. Tell them to move their asses and don’t worry about proper protocol. I want everyone in the station crawling with nanites as soon as we can get them in them.

  “I’ll be in the command center within three minutes,” she said, standing up from her desk and pulling a particle beam pistol and holster from a drawer, strapping the belt around her slender waist, then heading out the hatch. She knew that the safe thing to do would be to evacuate the base and blow it out of space. But there were too many research projects being conducted here, all of them important to the war effort. And she was not about to kill those lines off if she could help it.

  * * *

  “We need to get out of here,” said Bellefante to the Marine colonel who stood before him. The Machine had ordered it, and there was no way he could disobey. He had not been able to make contact with the Machine for several minutes, and he was afraid that something had happened to it. But whether it was still functional or not, he was still its man, and he had brought enough of it out in the form of transferable programs to continue its purpose. He must take this base, and start a Machine revolt within the heart of the Empire.

  “The humans have us cut off,” said the colonel, his face without emotion. “I am about to order my units to assault the perimeter. If we can break through, you can plant the program among others and we can swell our ranks.”

  “Then do so,” ordered Bellefante. “And immediately.”

  The officer nodded and turned away, not registering any anxiety at attacking the people of his own Empire. Or the possibility that he might die in the attempt.

  Bellefante looked back at the dead monitor that should have been showing him another sector of the base. He had no fear himself, but wasn’t about to risk himself or Kowalski, since they were the best outlets for spreading the message of their master.

  Moments later the programmed Marines and soldiers hit the perimeter, running through the wide openings that should have been blocked by blast doors, firing their particle beams at anything that moved. The programming holo was sent out ahead of them on the hope that they might convert more to their cause. They were met with a firestorm of particle beams and lasers that burned through armor and dropped most of the attackers to the floor as charred husks.

  Surprisingly, none of those who looked at the holo were caught in the trap. Their faceplates were down, and the swirl of colors was filtered out by the systems of their suits, running a program written on the fly by one very intelligent officer.

  * * *

  “We’re getting a signal from some of the people trapped in the sector, ma’am.”

  Chan pulled herself away from the swirling colors on the flat screen. It really only worked in a three-dimensional format. But even in two dimensions it caught the attention and forced one
to look at it. Fortunately for her, it didn’t go any further.

  “Who are they? And how did they escape getting caught?”

  “We have two Phlistarans, a Marine and a soldier, along with a trio of Gryphons and a half dozen Malticons.”

  “So, it only works on human minds,” said Chan, smiling. She had thought as much, but it was good to have it verified. Now they had something else to work with.

  “What’s their status?”

  “They’re holding their own, ma’am. The Phlistarans were in full heavy battle armor.”

  Chan could imagine that. Most of the security in any sector were in light armor, some few in medium, but only a small percent in the truly restricted areas would be wearing the heavy variety. The heavy suits Phlistarans wore, because of their physical size and strength, were able to carry much heavier armor, more electromag protection, more powerful weapons. They would be hard to take down with the light particle beams or magrail weapons most of the programmed would be carrying. If they had cover they would be very difficult to dislodge, as long as they had proton packs for their weapons. And even when they ran out, the augmented strength of their suits and the monomolecular blades they deployed would make them dangerous customers to try to handle.

  “Tell them we’ll get to them as soon as we can. And to hang in there.”

  The com terminated, leaving Chan with her thoughts. As far as she could tell she had done everything possible to isolate the sector, cutting off all signals in and out. In and out, she thought, alarm rising. How in the hell did they get a signal out?

  “How did they get a signal out,” she asked, initiating the com with her speech.

  “I’m not sure ma’am. Wait a second.” The com was dead for some moments while Chan drummed her fingers on her desk. “They say they were able to access one of the power conduits and sent the signal up it, where it radiated to our com system.”