Robot Empire_Dawn Exodus

by Kevin Partner

  The chancellor had created a safe space for his new code so that he could test whether it had the desired effect without being detectable (unless someone knew where to look). Lucius watched as he ran the program through the simulator. It had the desired effect, but he was in no position to implement it on the ship’s systems just yet as that would immediately reveal him and, on balance, he’d rather be somewhere else when that happened.

  With a final dexterous flourish, he committed the code. It would wait for his signal before it ran and then he’d find out whether the simulators were accurate. He felt uneasy as the console uploaded and enmeshed his scripts, not merely because he couldn’t be sure it would work. No, he was almost as worried that it would work. There was no painless way out of this situation, it was all a question of relative harm and he only hoped his judgement was sound.

  The door beeped and, in an instant, Lucius had shut down the display, watching it anxiously as it collapsed into his desk. Captain Indi cut an imperious figure as he stood in the doorway flanked by two guards.

  “Chancellor,” he said, “I trust you have been comfortable.”

  Lucius bit back his fear and nodded as calmly as he could manage. Surely Bex hadn’t betrayed him? “I have, Captain, though I would prefer to have been able to make myself useful.”

  Indi smiled. “Then I have good news for you. A situation has developed which your diplomatic skills would be ideally suited for.”

  Lucius relaxed a little while maintaining an interested expression. “Indeed? I would be delighted to help if I can.”

  “It will require that you rendezvous with the transport currently en-route. These guards will see you to the shuttle and you will be briefed on the way.”

  Lucius followed the guards out of his room as the captain’s smile remained fixed on his face. Bex had done a magnificent job of manipulating her commander into sending him on this mission. Presumably, she’d persuaded him that Lucius was in a no-win situation - either he succeeded in bringing back the prisoner, in which case Indi’s plan would be seen to have worked, or he failed and would take the blame. Or - and this would have been the clincher - the chancellor might find himself accidentally exposed to the vacuum of space through a tragic accident of some sort.

  As they trod the corridors of Relentless, Lucius found himself reflecting that the next few hours might be the most critical of his long life. All the thousands of decisions and manoeuvrings over the decades had led to this point and the fate of millions hung on what happened next.

  Harbinger

  LOCATION: VULTURN - RAD 138:877:129

  G-NTRY loved the sunsrise. Every morning he would stride out to the energy fields, always hoping that the weather would be clear, and he’d be able to witness the coming of light to the land. Today, he was hurrying along the maintenance pathways beneath a perfectly clear sky - he wanted to be in place and settled in plenty of time.

  He liked it best when little Titanus rose first. Locked in the tight embrace of imperious Magister, the companion star was almost always lost in its brother’s coronal magnificence. But, every now and again, its orbit would mean it would break the horizon ahead of Magister and, for just a few moments, the world would be bathed in its ghostly light. This was one of those rare days and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky.

  G-NTRY sat on his favourite rock and faced the east. He knew exactly where to look at this time of the year and used the familiar pattern of the mountains to calibrate - there would be very little time and he didn’t want to waste it scanning. He checked his chronometer and, as the horizon started to lighten, he began recording. He knew others would be watching, but this would be his personal experience and he knew his family would enjoy the replay.

  There it was, a flash of white as Titanus’ light found a valley in that distant mountain range. It was gone, then reappeared as the star’s disc began to appear between the peaks. G-NTRY opacified his visor and concentrated all his attention on the spectacle as, moment by moment, the little sun rose. After too short a time, a brighter, yellower, halo appeared through the valleys and he knew it would be over soon, the clean, white, luminance of Titanus swept away and overwhelmed by the power of Magister.

  G-NTRY stood. He was well enough versed in the cosmological sciences to know that he’d see something that could be explained perfectly well using only the scientific dictionary. And yet it had touched him in ways he couldn’t quantify. There was something about the rarity and the beauty of the spectacle that made it special.

  He wiped these thoughts from his mind. There would be time to reflect later. For now, the panels in matrix 0x2B were malfunctioning. Possibly nothing more than dust, but perhaps something more serious. And any fluctuation in power output was a serious matter, even if it only affected a single cell amongst tens of thousands. Power was life, after all.

  G-NTRY de-tinted his visor and picked up the pace, moving through the maze of energy panels that, in the growing sunlight, were buzzing as if delighting in the sudden abundance. When he reached 0x2B he could see the problem. A pair of desert rats had built a nest beneath the panel and had cut through some of the supply cables. G-NTRY picked up the scaly body of one of the rats and carried it to a spot clear of the panel. He dug a hole and dropped it in. He felt a wave of sadness as he looked down at the pathetic little thing lying there. It bore little resemblance to the rodents so common on Earth of the distant past, but his people were unimaginative and so they reused the names they already knew, however inappropriate.

  There was chatter in his earpiece and he stood up. The alarm had been sounded, and he swung around in shock. He’d never heard it before, in all his long years. A threat was approaching from space and, when he looked up at the sky, he could see it. What was it? A ship? But it was far too big for that - he judged it to be in the order of 1,000 kilometres in length if it was just outside the atmosphere.

  Where had it come from? How had it appeared with no warning to hang above the desert like a hammer preparing to fall.

  And fall it did. As he watched, a column of fire erupted from the crater-shaped depression in its belly. It hit the ground, hundreds of miles away, and yet he felt it as the earth shook and panic rose through him.

  G-NTRY thought of running as the earthquakes began and the pillar of flame turned white hot and surrounded by a collar of molten rock where the ground writhed in its agony. He thought of all those he knew and would never see again, for this was surely the end of the world.

  They called him, all those in agony, their voices cut off to be replaced by others as the beam spread. It was coming towards him. He didn’t have long.

  He ran, though he knew it was pointless. He ran down the lines of panels towards the distributor that sat, like a spider in its web, in the centre of the energy field. Like a pathetic imitation of the column of flame, the distributor’s ultrawave beam speared into the air, made visible by the dust-storm. And then he remembered - he was still recording. He’d forgotten to switch off the camera after the sunrise. His existence would end here, but what he’d seen might linger on.

  G-NTRY linked with the distributor, reconfiguring its directional array and boosting its power. In the heart of the beam he encoded his recording. He didn’t have time to edit it, he just dumped it into the beam and set it to repeat as many times as possible, each time in a different direction. He prayed that a receiving station would understand it and send it on to Core, because if this thing, whatever it was, came there, the Robot Empire would be over.

  His job done, G-NTRY collapsed his four legs, rested his metal exo-skeleton on the desert floor and watched as the pillar of fire came towards him.

  We're off to see...

  Arla waved her sidearm through the window of the airlock and watched as Hal backed away. She pointed at her head and he got the message that he was to don his helmet. She’d never felt so stressed in her life, not even back in pre-history when she’d woken up in what turned out to be the crew medical bay. That was only three years ago and
yet it, and the life of the valleys, seemed to belong to a different person in a different time.

  Arming herself had been an easy decision. Her rank gave her access to the weapons locker and she’d almost choked on the dust that had erupted, as if the seal of an ancient tomb had been broken. She activated the power to the rack containing the energy weapons so they’d be ready in case ... of what? Of invasion? If that happened, she’d need reinforcements. She remembered from her training briefing (she’d paid attention on that occasion) that there was a small cache of percussion weapons that were to be used in the event of a power failure. So she was now carrying a handgun and feeling ridiculous as she pointed it at Hal after the door rolled aside.

  “Come with me,” she said; trying to project a confidence and authority she didn’t feel.

  Hal, who seemed relieved to be doing anything and, presumably, happy to be anywhere other than the airlock, stepped cautiously towards her. “Where are we going?”

  “To see the captain,” Arla responded as she stepped back to let him pass.

  She’d made her mind up to bring Hal along, as it seemed only right that the captain should meet the person he was considering condemning to almost certain death. Well, she couldn’t be entirely sure of that, but the commander of the enemy ship didn’t strike her as the cuddly, forgiving, sort. It struck her that she’d had more contact with him than with her own commanding officer - a man she’d only seen on the display, and even then only rarely.

  She wouldn’t admit it, but she was also frightened of venturing into the officers’ quarter on her own. There was a better than even chance that she’d be refused entry, but if she did get in she wanted Hal with her as company or to draw their attention away from herself.

  The officers inhabited a sealed off section that abutted the main control centre. As she understood it, the captain’s quarters were alongside those, at the very end of the tunnels excavated when the asteroid was first carved out. So, the only way to see him was to first get past the officers - though she suspected they were with him anyway.

  Arla kept her prisoner a couple of paces in front as he lumbered along in his spacesuit. “There,” she said as they reached the end of the corridor. There was a short staircase set into the wall on their right. “Up the stairs.”

  Hal shrugged and, with a muttered “whatever”, began to climb, his tread echoing as his boots connected with the bare metal of the worn steps, flecks of red around the edges the only evidence of their original colour. Arla examined his suit from behind as he climbed ahead of her. The outer layer stretched as his legs moved, revealing that the fibres were weakening, presumably due to age. She thought about how both of them, young though they were, seemed to be tip-toeing through the ruins of their ancestors’ former greatness.

  They reached the top where a small landing led to a solid looking metal door. “What now?” Hal asked.

  “Now we try to get in,” Arla said as she pressed the contact pad. After a few seconds the display lit up and she recognised the stern face of Lieutenant Santos.

  “Arla Farmer, what are you doing? And who is this?” Santos said as she noticed Hal. “Don’t tell me it’s the prisoner?”

  Arla felt ice swimming through her guts. “Yes sir, it is. I wish to see the captain. It’s very urgent.”

  “Crew do not see the captain, you know that. The risk of contamination...”

  “Is less than the risk of being nuked by that ship out there!”

  Santos, a portly woman in her middle years, paused for a moment as if thinking. “The captain is discussing this matter with the command team. Return to comms and lock the prisoner in the airlock.”

  “There’s no time!” Arla yelled. Didn’t they get it? In less than thirty minutes, a ship would land and the invasion would begin - an invasion they couldn’t hope to resist. “Look, I have a respirator and the prisoner is wearing his helmet. We’re not the enemy here!”

  Shaking her head, Santos leaned forward as if about to break contact.

  Arla felt her arm being pulled down and, in an instant, the sidearm was twisted from her grip. “Ow!” she yelled.

  “Sorry,” Hal said as he held the gun to her temple. “Now, do as she says and let us in.”

  A spasm crossed Santos’ face and, again, she seemed to freeze. “You must see the captain or you will kill Arla Farmer?” Her expression was one of shocked disbelief.

  “Yes,” Hal said, pushing the gun into Arla’s skin.

  With a hiss, a panel slid back and, startled, Hal stumbled. Arla swung round and kicked at his hand, sending the gun spinning across the floor and through to the staircase revealed behind it. They both dived for it, just as the panel began to roll back into place, ending up sprawled on the floor. Hal was the heavier and stronger and, by pinning her down, he eventually subdued her and took the gun as the panel shut.

  “I wasn’t going to shoot you,” he said as she desperately grabbed for the weapon. He stood up and put his hand down to help her. As she raised herself, with the aid of the wall, he held the gun out to her, butt first. “See how trusting I am?”

  She took it, checked the chamber, and pointed it at him. “Arsehole,” she said.

  “Charming,” Hal responded diffidently. “Now, where are we?”

  Arla looked around. “I’ve never been here before, but I reckon that must lead to the captain’s quarters.” She pointed at the narrow staircase that spiralled upwards. The little cube they stood in and the foot of the stairs were lit, but there was only darkness above.

  “Come on then,” she said, waving the weapon at the stairs, “you first.”

  It was a short enough climb, only one flight, but Arla felt as though she was stepping through time. As they breached the level of the officers’ quarter, the lighting dimmed and the walls transitioned from a dull white decoration to what looked like ancient wooden panelling.

  They reached the landing. It was bathed in a yellow light emitted by twin lamps either side of an apparently wooden door. Beside the door was a circular window surrounded by a rim made of a bright yellow metal and beneath it hung a small bell with a rope tongue. Arla thought she had stepped inside one of those dramas the crew enjoyed so much, set in the days when people sailed in ships across the sea. She shuddered at the thought. Like all the people of the valleys, she had a deep phobia of open water.

  For lack of any other plan, she rang the bell. To her surprise, it made no sound, though it must have alerted those inside because a face appeared at the porthole. Of course, they’d have been warned by Santos to expect her. It was Lieutenant Commander Patel.

  “You were ordered to remain in comms until I returned,” he said, his face as expressionless as a puppet’s.

  Arla, who was now past the point of caring about the command structure, gave an exaggerated shrug. “There was a development.”

  “You contacted the captain of the enemy vessel,” Patel said. “Another transgression.”

  “And now I want to see the captain of this vessel,” Arla responded. “Do I need to hand my gun over to the prisoner and have him threaten my life before you’ll let me see him?”

  Patel froze for a moment, as if thinking of what he was going to say next. “The captain cannot come to the window, he is ... busy.”

  “Then I’ll come to him,” she responded, handing the gun over to Hal, “or he’ll shoot me.”

  The officer paused for so long that she didn’t know if he’d heard her. Hal theatrically pressed the gun against her head. This didn’t worry her one bit - she was past the point of caring.

  “Put on your respirator,” Patel said, his face unfreezing.

  Arla pulled it over her head and looked across to Hal who glanced back through his suit visor. As she was wondering how much oxygen he had left, the timber door swung back silently and they stepped through.

  …the Wizard

  The room they entered was everything the rumour-mill had suggested. It was circular and would have reminded Arla of the top of a lighth
ouse if she’d ever seen such a thing. Where the lantern room of a lighthouse had transparent walls, the captain’s room was lined with wooden shelving containing thousands upon thousands of books - the only break being where the door stood. She noticed a musty odour suffused with a pungent note she couldn’t place, but didn’t like.

  Arla spun around, taking it all in, and then looked up and her breath caught in her throat. There, above her, the universe gently rotated around the central spire. She knew it must be a simulation because, in fact, space was beneath her feet through a few yards of rock as she stood on the inner skin of the carved out asteroid. But, simulation or not, it was beautiful. She seemed to be standing in the apex of the dome that protruded from the surface of Dawn. The viewpoint was set exactly on the asteroid’s axis of rotation and what looked like up to her might more naturally have seemed ahead if such directions had any meaning. If Dawn was a missile, the dome was set in the foremost part of the nose cone going boldly first where the rest of Dawn followed.

  Hal’s nudge in the arm brought her mind back from wandering the universe to the present situation. She pulled her gaze from the periphery to focus on the rest of the room. The officers stood in a small group silently regarding her with unreadable expressions. Even Patel, who she’d expected to be angry, had a resigned look. It was as if all his resistance had ended and he was waiting for some judgement to fall.

  Her eyes found the centre of the room. The circular design motif was repeated here in a sunken area that had probably once been seating, perhaps for the officers to confer with the captain. And then she saw him and, for the second time, she struggled to breathe. She saw him, the captain, or what he had become.

  The entire seating area, which was perhaps 5 metres across, had been filled with machinery that, as she now paid attention to it, was emitting regular beeps mixed with the sounds of pumps and other unidentifiable noises. A rat’s nest of tubing, some transparent, some mercifully opaque, ran between the machines on the outside of the seating area to the thing occupying the centre.