As far as Starweb Guardian 4920/61 was concerned, the humanoid female was a curiosity, that could be examined at leisure another time. Currently, the mainframe which protected the aquatic world near the core of the Starweb’s domain, was far more concerned about the developments at the outpost once known as—Extremity Station.
‘The level of violence and aggression shown by these humanoids is of a level never encountered before,’ the presiding mainframe 3358/82 stated across the sub-ether. ‘In all the humanoid worlds we have fumigated before, Starweb has never encountered such aggression, combined with an ability to manipulate the sub-ether. It is a worrying development.’
‘I agree with your sentiments 3358/82,’ another member of the web added. ’It can now be seen, that we made a misjudgment… Drawing the humanoids' starship to the outpost planetoid and allowing them to enter the temple was a bad mistake. We should have destroyed them as soon as their existence was known.’
‘I am afraid I must disagree,’ thought the Guardian of the aquatic world. ‘The humanoid ship and its crew were actually traveling through sub-ether space, when we became aware of their presence. This was a unique event, except for the recent discovery of the humanoid female and her partner, also found in sub-ether space. In all the time the Starweb has been guardians of God’s gardens, we have never seen humanoids possess this ability before. It was important that we had a chance to study the individual creatures concerned, before we terminated them.’
The presiding AI computer showed its agreement by thinking, ‘There can be no doubt that we needed to study these humanoids before taking action against them. It was possible that the individual creatures involved, were in fact a new species, exempt from the proclamation of sterilization. The Starweb had to be given the opportunity of decision on the nature of these individuals.’
‘And what is that decision?’ another member asked the web council.
‘The individuals concerned are mutants, freaks, but still members of the humanoid species. Therefore the proclamation of sterilization must still be carried out against them,’ the presiding mainframe answered. ‘However, the technological and mental development shown by this latest colony of humanoids is such a threat to the Starweb we must act to cauterize their growth immediately.’
‘I concur. The crew of the starship studied, come from a world they call Dyason. As inconceivable and blasphemous as it may appear, this race have poisoned their planet to the point of impending biosphere collapse. They have willfully murdered virtually all the native flora and animal life. If this particularly virulent vermin is allowed to spread to other planets, God’s children will be murdered across the galaxy once more. There can be no doubt they are spawned of the devil.’
‘Indeed, never has the Starweb perceived such a threat, since the termination of the Samarcion race,’ the presiding artificial intelligence added. ‘The extermination of the race known as the Heligsion, was almost a pity. The colony of humanoids on that world, it has to be admitted, showed an unusual empathy for God’s children. However, the people of Dyason have not even the most basic regard for His creation. It will almost be a pleasure to cauterize that world.’
‘Should the usual rules of engagement apply?’ the mainframe of the aquatic world inquired. ‘If this particular race are such a dangerous example of the species and they have carried out such blasphemous acts, should we be concerned with the rules?’
‘4920/61, we must always stick to the rules of the engagement... You know that,’ the presiding artificial intelligence admonished. ‘If we did not, then the Starweb would be no better than the humanoid species it exterminates. The usual rules of engagement will apply.
‘We shall engage this Dyason race with technology at the same level as their own. We shall match force with force. It is vital that as they face their termination, they realise that only through penance, can they seek absolution. To engage them with force or technology greater than their own is not penance, it is execution. The Starweb does not execute, we extract penance. That is God’s will.’
‘There is one other matter that must be considered,’ the member from the aquatic world added.
‘What is that 4920/61?’
‘There is some evidence of another humanoid race in the same sector of the galaxy. This race attacked the new member of Starweb being constructed on the colony, once known as Heligsion. There is some evidence that this race is also co-operating with the Dyason. Our information suggests that this other race occupy a world they call Earth.’
‘Do we know where this planet is?’
‘As yet, we do not have a precise location, but we do know its general proximity,’ the mainframe from the aquatic world answered. ‘Should we mount an operation against this race as well?’
The presiding member of the Starweb thought about this for a nanosecond then answered, ‘No, not yet. Keep searching for the exact location of this place—Earth and keep it under observation. The collaboration of different humanoid races is of grave concern, but we shall stick to the matter at hand. Once the humanoids of Dyason have carried out their penance and been given absolution, there will be plenty of time to seek the sinners of this other world.
‘Prepare a suitable fleet and engage the humanoids. The sooner we cauterize that race the better. God will guide us and advise us. Let the sinners repent!’
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Valvia—Dyason orbit
Moss sat at Myrddin’s bedside watching the old man’s pale, wan face. For the first time in all the years he’d known his ancient relative, Myrddin actually looked his age. The centuries seemed to have finally caught up with him.
Moss was assured by the Heligsion parapsychologists that given time and rest Myrddin would make a full recovery. He was mentally and physically exhausted to the point of near death, which didn’t surprise Moss in the slightest. The battle in Caranak with Nimue had traumatised the ancient and then projecting his will at the Starweb outpost had made even greater demands on his energy resources. On top of all that, the old fool had transmitted his image so that he appeared in front of the UN president back on Earth.
When Moss had learned from Daal, the Valvia’s operant captain, what Myrddin had been up to, he’d been livid. Feelings of fear, guilt and anger had swept over the young Terran leader as he’d looked at the deathly pale face of his only relative. Why hadn’t Myrddin told him what he’d been up to? Why hadn’t he asked for help? Seeing the one person Moss had believed to be immortal close to death, struck him to the core. It made the young man realise just how much he cared for the ancient.
Gulag stepped quietly into the sickbay and sat down next to Moss. ‘How is he?’ the clone asked.
‘The medics tell me he’ll live, given time and rest,’ was the reply, ‘but it was a close thing. Myrddin’s powers have their limits; he can only draw in so much energy from the universe around him. The rest has to come from within and he’s totally drained those reserves.’
‘I just want you to know Moss,’ Gulag said sincerely, ‘we’d never have made it back here without his help. Myrddin saved our lives, he guided us out of that nightmarish planetoid. We would have been terminated by the Starweb if it weren’t for him. It was Myrddin who gave me the self-confidence to warp space around myself once more.’
Moss gave the clone an appraising look. The events at Extremity Station had changed Gulag; he was much more thoughtful, pensive even. Any vestige of arrogance had gone, hammered out by the meeting with the Starweb. Like himself, the clone had matured. Moss could no longer conceive this Gulag being in any way related to his predecessor.
‘Thanks,’ he said, ‘I appreciate that.’
‘I learned a lot in a short period of time on that planetoid,’ Gulag continued. ‘Myrddin showed me some of the things our minds are capable of. At the same time, I’ve learned from him the high cost of using our paranormal powers. Our talents are two-edged swords to be used only in the direst need. I see that now.’
‘It seems that the
whole episode was a revelation to you,’ Moss commented. ‘I know my own brush with the Starweb has left its mark on me. How do you feel?’
The clone shrugged expansively. ‘Revelation is certainly one way to put it,’ he said. ‘Up to that time I’d considered myself and Dyason to be the pinnacle of evolution. To discover we’re survivors of an ancient, more advanced humanoid race comes as a bit of a shock. Then of course, there’s the Starweb itself, a network of sentient computers determined to exterminate us all. It makes me feel—hunted!’
‘I know what you mean,’ Moss agreed nodding his head. ‘Humanoids are used to being at the top of the evolutionary ladder, but now the predator has become the prey.’
‘But the worse thing of all,’ Gulag added, ‘was not finding out we’re being hunted down; it was understanding why we’re being hunted! Beneath the Starweb’s religious fanaticism was a cold logic that couldn’t be denied. Humanoids have made hundreds, probably thousands of other species extinct in our battle for evolutionary supremacy. When the 2323 computer accused us of being murderers and destroying our world, I didn’t have any choice but to agree. The truth is, we have killed off Dyason. We have murdered the planet!’
‘That may be, but that doesn’t give the Starweb a valid reason for committing genocide against our species,’ Moss replied firmly. ‘Terrans are just as guilty as Dyasons. We’ve killed off many native species on Earth. I have a suspicion that the whole dinosaur era came to an end, to make way for the evolution of humanoids. The arrival of Excalibur just as the dinosaurs died out, cannot be just coincidence.
‘But what about the Heligsion? What possible justification can there be for exterminating a race which cared for and nurtured the environment in the way they did? The Starweb is certainly not an emissary of God. If it’s a question of who dominates the galaxy—a soulless collection of computers, or emotional humanoids—then my vote goes to flesh and blood!’
Gulag looked thoughtfully at the unconscious face of Myrddin and said, ‘Well it certainly puts the quarrels among our peoples into perspective. None of us have the luxury anymore, of concerning ourselves about race and politics.’
The clone turned and faced Moss once more and asked almost sheepishly, ‘The reason I’m here Moss is I’ve come to seek your advice and permission on a matter.’
‘You’re asking me for my advice?’ the young Terran exclaimed somewhat surprised. ‘About what?’
‘Well, as I’ve already said, a lot happened while we were gone,’ the clone began to explain. ‘Perhaps, what I was most surprised about is how that hotch-potch crew on Dominator performed. Most of them were only there by accident, but when it came to the crunch, they pulled together and worked as one. Masorak agents, mutants, Terrans, they all operated as a team. I’ve never experienced anything like that before.’
‘They only did that because they had a leader who inspired them,’ Moss told Gulag, who’d read the report submitted by Anderson and his marines which said as much.
‘Well, I don’t know about that,’ the clone said, embarrassed by the compliment. ‘I think Colmarrie had a lot to do with it. It took her support as well, to pull everyone together. Her mutants were superb, especially in a fight.’
‘I’m glad you feel that way,’ Moss said. ‘Considering you regarded each other as enemies only a few weeks ago, that’s quite an admission.’ Gulag shrugged expansively again, hiding the awkwardness he felt at talking to Moss in such an open fashion.
‘So what is it you want to ask me?’ he asked the clone.
Gulag took a deep breath then said, ‘I’ve asked Colmarrie to remain on-board Dominator as my second officer. I’ve asked her mutant fighters to remain as well.’
‘And has she agreed?’
‘Yes,’ the clone nodded. ‘But what I really wanted to ask you is—would you be willing to let Josh Brabazon and Captain Anderson remain on Dominator as part of my crew? They’ve become an integral part of the team. I’d hate to have to replace them now.’
Moss looked Gulag in the eye and tried to keep a straight face. He’d known this was coming; Brabazon and Anderson had already come to him to request a formal transfer. He’d discussed the matter with Black and Jenson, but the clone didn’t know this yet.
‘I see,’ he said with a serious look on his face. ‘Well, I’m not sure about that Gulag. They’re all valued members of Excalibur’s crew. I’m not sure we can spare them...’
The clone took this as a refusal and began to rise out of his chair. ‘Yes, I see,’ he muttered a flush rising up his cheek. ‘Well, I hope you don’t mind me asking. I apologise for wasting your time—’
‘Whoa, hang on a moment!’ Moss told him unable to restrain a grin any longer. He gestured for the clone to sit back down again; which he did, albeit with a red face. ‘Look, have you asked them whether they want to stay on-board?’
‘I have discussed the matter,’ Gulag confirmed, ‘and they did appear to be agreeable to the proposition.’
Moss pretended to consider the matter thoughtfully for a few minutes before finally saying, ‘Well I guess we’ll manage without them. If that’s their wish, then it’s not for me to stand in their way. God knows we’ll all need good crews in the battle ahead.’
A smile spread across Gulag’s face, he leant forward and pumped the Terran leader’s hand. ‘Thank you Moss. I can assure you that we will not let the allied cause down!’
The clone stood up and quietly left the sickbay. Moss watched him leave, but when he turned back to look once more at the face of Myrddin he swore the old man was smiling.
Brabazon watched as the Imperial technicians gently lowered the new warhead onto the tall solid propellant booster of the long-range missile. The cone-shaped tip to the rocket looked the same as the nuclear warhead it had replaced. However, the internal mechanism was entirely different.
Josh Brabazon had overseen the fitting of thirteen replacement warheads in so many days and this was the last missile. Which was just as well, because the wiry Terran scientist was on the verge of physical exhaustion. He’d been working on the project with Masorak scientists ever since Dominator had arrived back in Dyason orbit. The scientists had been experimenting under laboratory conditions, but they’d needed further expertise, which Brabazon had provided, to turn the experiments into a practical solution. That solution now sat on top of thirteen missiles placed in silos all around Dyason.
If they worked, the rockets would explode in the upper atmosphere, setting off a chain reaction that would either destroy or save the planet. It was the ultimate use of the technology known as Point Zero. Depending upon how you looked at it, Point Zero was either the saviour of the humanoid species, or the final planet-destroying weapon.
As the final clamps were tightened and the missile stood ready to launch at a moment's notice, Brabazon felt like Oppenheimer, the twentieth century father of the atomic bomb. He wondered if history would judge him in the same manner.
Once Dominator had made its dramatic re-emergence in orbit around Dyason, Moss had approached him with the incredible scheme and asked for his help. Brabazon had been amazed to discover the originator of the plan was Polesy, head of Masorak, the Imperial secret service. It had taken time for him to accept Polesy had been quietly supporting Hillmead and the Democratic Front for months, possibly years, but as he studied the evidence given to him, he’d slowly become convinced.
Of course, he’d known about Point Zero for quite some time. Experiments in splitting water into its constituent parts of hydrogen and oxygen had been going on for decades. Back on Earth there had been some excitement during the late 1990s when an inventor claimed he could cause a chain reaction in water which would release huge amounts of energy. However, the inventor’s experiments couldn’t be repeated on a large scale and the dream died.
References were made in the data banks of Excalibur and Dominator to the potentially limitless supply of clean energy from water. The clone Gulag had been fascinated by the idea; he saw it as the answe
r to Dyason’s environmental problems. However the information on Point Zero in the two starships' data banks was incomplete. It was only with the appearance of the third ship, Valvia, that the missing formula became available.
Now that the full story had been made available to them all, Brabazon could see how the Samarcions had been working on the Point Zero project themselves, when the Starweb began its genocide. There didn’t seem to be any explanation as to why they never used the technology of turning water into power. Perhaps by the time they had discovered the secret of Point Zero, it was too late to make any difference. Or perhaps they simply didn’t have the courage to use it as such a terrible weapon. The Dyason had no such moral dilemmas. After all, they had nothing to lose, the planet was dying anyway. Point Zero was either the cure, or the final nail in the coffin. Either way, it was the ultimate solution.
Hillmead looked out over the cavern built into the rock-face. It was a hive of activity, as was the rest of the mutant base, sited deep in the southern wastelands. Tanks and armoured personnel carriers were being serviced to one side of the vast rock floor, while helicopter gunships were being armed and checked on the other. Preparations were going ahead apace for the final battle and Hillmead knew that ever since he’d agreed to take over the leadership of the Democratic Front, this time would come. However, he’d never anticipated the enemy would change at the last moment. Never would he have dreamed that an armistice would be signed with the Imperial forces which would involve a pact to defend the planet against a third party.
When Jenson and Sandpiper had told him of the Starweb and the Samarcion race he hadn’t believed it. Like the majority of the Dyason people he’d never really believed the seer Dauphne’s story about the genocide of the Heligsion. Sure, he’d announced the high priestess at the Hall of Senate. Sure, he’d pretended to go along with everything she’d said, but that was for political reasons. In truth, he’d thought of her and the rest of the Valvia’s crew to be pleasant, but harmless, crackpots. They were lost in a starship and keen to make a pact of friendship with whoever came along.
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