‘So were you dying?’ Yirella asked.
‘Hell, no. I’d had plenty of full cellular rebuilds by then. My body was in good shape. Our rejuvenation techniques on the exodus habitats were pretty good. The early ones back in Sol not so much. My neurons got screwed over at the start. Nothing big time, but enough to change me. I had a couple of flaky centuries back then, let me tell you.’
Dellian gave the white figure a surprised glance. ‘You mean your original body – the actual you – is still alive somewhere?’
The android’s face managed a thoughtful frown. ‘I don’t remember. There’s a memory of me on a bed in some fancy clinic; Emilja was there, some of my family – Gwendoline, for sure. Then I reactivated in the ship. But, two of me? Fuck no, that would just be weird. I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have done it. There’s only me, and this is it – the genuine Ainsley Zangari, accept no substitute. My core identity is running in an exact copy of my original neural structure, but most of my thinking takes place in quantum arrays; that’s what give me speed and ability in a fight.’
Dellian grinned. ‘And that’s the non-weird part?’
‘Hey, grab what the universe has to offer, kid.’
‘So your body’s dead? I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t be. It lived for thousands of years, and not in some goddamn domain-time cheat. I lived them all for real. And I can do it again.’
‘Wait. What?’
‘See, this way my personality is frozen, locked into what it was the instant my body passed. The ship’s neural core doesn’t have the kind of randomness that biological brains are subject to. I’m unchanging. So, when all this is over – and assuming I survive – I have a choice. I can carry on as the ship, or I can clone myself a new body and transfer my mind back into it. I’ll be me again, exactly the same as before.’
Dellian risked a glance at Yirella, knowing what he’d see: a face devoid of expression – except maybe a slight crinkling around her flat nose. It didn’t matter; he knew exactly what she was thinking. What about your soul?
‘Continuity seems to be a theme here,’ she said, ‘on quite a few levels. Did you know about this group of ultra-Utopials Emilja put together?’
‘Kind of. I knew she and some level-one Utopials had formed a political group, a loyalist movement. Again, the memories aren’t too firm. I know Emilja and I were concerned by the lack of success in the exodus habitats. When we fled from Sol, we believed we’d be laying siege to the enclave within a thousand years. Well, that never happened. By the time we put the Factory together we knew we had to change the whole aspect of the exodus. Our technology had plateaued, but it was good enough to allow humans to adopt the Neána approach to surviving the Olyix. I never knew who she’d recruited, but we agreed on a programme of soft influence with long-range objectives. We’d keep our civilization going, but slowly change the goal, turning the generation ships away from planetary life. Gotta admit, though, I wasn’t expecting it to be quite so soft and slow. People like your Kenelm . . . sie could’ve been a bit more proactive.’
‘That’s not the impression of you that I got at Vayan,’ Yirella said. ‘You’re focused on attacking the enclave, not fighting a protective campaign to keep the Olyix away from this part of the galaxy.’
The android’s plain face managed to approximate a pensive expression. ‘Yeah, well. I might not be able to change my mind, but I’m not a Turing with preset operational targets. All I ever wanted, from the day the Salvation of Life turned up at Sol, was to nuke those Olyix bastards into oblivion. This was my greatest chance.’
‘Did the Factory know that when they installed you in a ship?’
‘Emilja did. It doesn’t matter. There are plenty of other Factory ships in these parts that can dump a shitload of grief on the Olyix if they start sniffing around.’
‘How many ships?’ Dellian asked.
‘Dunno. That’s strategic information. But we know now that there are more than just me; that Signal from the Lolo Maude is proof of that. Lucky coincidence, huh?’
‘What? That the other Factory ship beat the Olyix?’
‘No.’ The android faced Yirella, his face unnervingly blank. ‘That you’d decelerated mid-flight. Those fleet ships weren’t built on a government contract, you know.’
Dellian started to open his mouth –
‘Every component built by the lowest bidder,’ Ainsley told him. ‘That’s how they used to build space rockets, back in the day. Made riding them kinda interesting. You just sat on top of a pillar of fire and fury wondering which part would fail first.’
‘I wanted to give the neutron star civilization as much time as possible to develop before we arrived,’ Yirella said. ‘Decelerating from relativistic speed, then accelerating back up again, added years to our flight here. A non-critical unit failure was a harmless way to achieve that.’
Dellian clenched his jaw. Saints! I should have worked that one out. He didn’t dare look at Yirella.
‘Got to love the irony,’ Ainsley said. ‘As soon as they cracked exotic matter manipulation, the corpus humans literally had as many centuries as they wanted to take.’
Yirella shrugged. ‘Hindsight.’
‘But we’re here now,’ Dellian said.
‘And so are the Olyix,’ Ainsley said cheerfully.
‘Immanueel has detected them?’
‘Yep. Eleven Resolution ships, two hundred and eighty AUs out and closing; they’re down to point two lightspeed. And they’re all carrying a wormhole terminus. There will be more Resolution ships backed up inside the wormholes, too.’
‘They got here fast,’ Yirella said.
‘We’re sixty-seven lightyears from the sensor station,’ Ainsley said. ‘They knew we’d come here as soon as we kicked their asses at Vayan. It’s the culmination of the whole Strike plan, and the Olyix know that better than everyone by now.’
‘I have to question how many human societies would actually do that when they pick up a Signal, or pulled the enclave location from a onemind,’ Yirella mused. ‘I mean, if your closest neutron star is a hundred and fifty lightyears away . . . why bother? Leave it to someone else. You probably wouldn’t get there in time anyway.’
‘Irrelevant,’ Ainsley said. ‘The corpus humans are going to strike in another twenty-three minutes.’
‘They’re already out there?’ Dellian asked in surprise.
‘Oh, yeah.’ Ainsley produced a disconcerting grin. ‘They used portals to send ships through behind the Olyix. Now they’re accelerating at about a hundred gees to catch them while the Resolution ships are decelerating.’
‘And they’re stealthed?’
‘Let’s just say they’re quite hard to detect. We don’t know the absolute capabilities of the Resolution ships, but Immanueel is quietly hopeful.’
‘You destroyed all the Resolution ships at Vayan,’ Dellian said. ‘I’m sure the corpus humans can do the same here.’
‘No question about it, kid. It’s just how fast they can kill them. Think of this as a big trial of the corpus armada’s capabilities before we get serious and go visit the enclave.’
‘But the sensor station is going to know they’ve suffered a momentous defeat,’ Yirella said. ‘Once the wormhole generators are destroyed, the wormholes will collapse. All eleven wormholes collapsing together will tell the Olyix that humans have developed something formidable out here – especially after Vayan and whatever Lolo Maude did to the Olyix at the other Signal star.’
‘Bring it on,’ Ainsley said.
‘I want to actually watch what happens,’ Dellian said. In a way I can understand – but he didn’t say that out loud.
‘Popcorn’s ready and waiting at the congress hall,’ Ainsley said.
Dellian used his databud to request a portal. Within seconds, one dropped down onto the path and expanded.
They walked through it into the hall. Immanueel’s strikingly lofty body was already there, along with a good number of fleet humans who’d acce
ssed the news. The wooden chairs had gone, leaving everyone to stand as they watched a big tactical display that was projected into the air before the central column. Today the prismatic light inside the crystal was noticeably subdued as the corpus humans concentrated on the approaching Resolution ships.
Dellian and Yirella made their way over to Immanueel.
‘How’s it going?’ Yirella asked.
‘No deviation in the Resolution ships’ trajectory,’ they replied. ‘We believe they haven’t detected our forces, yet.’
Dellian studied the big display. The graphics were easy enough: a clump of eleven scarlet icons with violet course vectors crawling towards the glittering emerald dataclump that was the neutron star. Behind them, arrow-shaped formations of violet attack cruisers were racing after the Resolution ships. It took a moment for him to grasp the scale; the eleven Resolution ships were occupying a bubble of space more than an AU in diameter. The cruisers were already travelling at point four lightspeed, and accelerating hard.
‘What are you going to attack them with?’ he asked.
‘First barrage will be simple kinetics,’ Immanueel said. ‘The cruisers can fire them at relativistic velocity. There will be no plasma exhaust or gravity wave emission for the Resolution ships to distinguish. Once they become aware of our assault, we’ll switch to active weapons. That should come between ten to a hundred milliseconds after detection.’
Dellian’s instinct was to make an incredulous grunt.
‘We need to be fast,’ Immanueel said. ‘Given enough time, the Resolution ships can simply close the wormholes around themselves and fly back down them to the sensor station, or wherever the other end is. That, if you remember your history, is what Alpha Defence forced the Salvation of Life to do above Earth, once the Avenging Heretic was safely on board.’
‘Yeah. But . . . how long do you think they’ll need?’
‘We are working on one to one point five seconds. As they approach the neutron star, they will be very alert for our response. That would include an immediate escape trigger. It’s what we would do.’
He couldn’t even imagine how many factors the corpus humans were incorporating into their attack scenario. ‘You don’t really need us at all, do you?’ he said quietly.
‘This is just basic orbital mechanics,’ Immanueel said. ‘Simple maths. The enclave will be a lot more complicated.’
‘Huh.’
‘If you do not wish to join us on FinalStrike, we will understand.’
‘Oh, we’re coming with you, all right,’ Yirella said as the display’s projection light sent faint strokes of colours playing across her face. It heightened how intent she was – a determination that always captivated and unnerved Dellian.
He exchanged a knowing glance with the white android, which raised a whole new level of questions. Is Ainsley actually looking through those blank eyes?
When it happened, the attack was completely anticlimactic. The scarlet icons simply vanished. That triggered some cheering and clapping across the hall, but otherwise people just accepted the outcome tamely. Dellian was almost resentful they had no immediate sensor coverage; it took several seconds to get a visual image of the Resolution ships exploding. Even then it was just white-sphere-on-a-black-background – nothing really to indicate the true violence of the spectacle, the success they should feel.
‘Did the wormholes collapse?’ Yirella asked urgently.
Immanueel nodded. ‘Yes. The Olyix will not be able to return here for sixty-seven years. So the sensor station will believe – until we arrive there.’
Dellian watched the tenuous white plasma blooms diminishing. The tactics in play here were too much like a horribly advanced chess game that he could never quite fathom, making him thankful that his own part was just going to be storming an arkship and killing quint – nothing complicated. Destroying the Resolution ships’ wormholes had been a misdirection by the corpus armada, intended to keep the Olyix concentrating on the enigma of whatever dwelt at the neutron star. They’d be desperate to return – in force – to confront the challenge. In reality, thirty-four years ago the corpus humans had launched a starship, carrying a wormhole, towards the sensor station. It would arrive decades before any Olyix force returned here, catching them unawares and unprepared.
‘What happens if the Olyix have a second wave of ships behind the ones you’ve just taken out?’ he asked. ‘Or a third – or more?’
‘We will remain alert for any further ships approaching,’ Immanueel said. ‘There will be an unknown number of Olyix ships materializing in real space between here and the sensor station as the wormhole collapses around them. Some might decide to travel here rather than return. We do not anticipate them being a problem.’
Yirella stared keenly at the fading explosions. ‘Good. We can start the real fightback now.’
*
Two hours later, Dellian walked through a portal back into the rebuilt Morgan. The ship was completely different from the one that had left Juloss. Where before it had been a stack of spherical grids, this iteration was a streamlined five-kilometre cone of the same protective copper mirror shell that encased all the other neutron star ring particles. Its base was a simple shallow hemisphere, fluoresced by the aquamarine light of an advanced gravitonic drive, with a rim that had sprouted long scarlet and black needles like a crown of bloodied thorns.
A layout unfolded across Dellian’s optik. The forward section was mostly hangar space holding a range of weapons and ancillary craft, while behind that were all fifty-two decks of the life-support section, with the engineering deck aft. That was it. The Morgan no longer had any of the complex asteroid mining and refining equipment, nor the von Neumann replicator systems to begin a new civilization. This was a purebred warship now. There was no compromise, no allowance for failure. He had to concede the logic was impeccable. If they lost at the Olyix enclave, there would be no running away and hiding to regroup somewhere safe amid the lonely stars. They’d be dead or worse. But if – when! – they won, there was an open future with the human race reunited in victory and rich in possibility.
That outcome was so close Dellian was practically living it as he walked along the circular main corridor of deck thirty-three to the cabin he and Yirella had been assigned. The floor was flat, which he wasn’t used to, but this version of the Morgan didn’t spin to provide gravity.
‘Artificial gravity is only one function of manipulating exotic matter,’ Yirella said approvingly. ‘It’ll provide time-flow control in here, too. They’ve really mastered this technology.’
‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘You know, I’m really not convinced they need us.’
‘They don’t. But I need to go.’
‘Sure. I’m with you on that, Yi.’ The decision hadn’t been that difficult, at least not for him. And thankfully the rest of the squad had chosen to face FinalStrike together – though a good portion of the warship crews who’d arrived at the neutron star had chosen to go their own way and build habitats adrift in the vast gulfs of interstellar space. Surprisingly, Kenelm had chosen to stay with the Morgan.
Dellian didn’t resent those who’d left, nor even the ex-captain for staying. When they did finally arrive at the Salvation of Life, he only wanted the truly dedicated to be storming it with him.
He sank down on their bed – bigger and softer than before. The walls were blank, awaiting Yirella to format their texture.
‘How long do you think you’ll need to adapt to all the armour upgrades?’ she asked.
‘A couple of months, at least. I’ve been reviewing the capabilities. They’ve gone micro and macro. Some of those weapons could take out a whole squadron of huntspheres, while the subtle ones can wipe whole sections of the neuralstratum.’
‘Saints, you be careful using anything that interfaces with a onemind again.’
He spread his arms wide. ‘I learned my lesson, trust me. There’s some kind of failsafe in these new systems.’
‘Riiiight.’
>
‘There is! A nuanimate routine analyses any impulse coming out of the neuralstratum. It’s like an independent corpus sub-aspect – smart but not self-aware.’
‘Well, listen to you: the coding master.’
‘I just read the instructions. But the tough part is going to be training the cohort to deal with all the new hardware we’ve got. That’s a whole fresh set of response reflexes we’ve got to build in. It’ll take time.’
‘Well, that’s the advantage of controlling time. You can have as much or as little as you want.’
Dellian propped himself up his elbows to look at her. ‘I can think of a few other things we could use all that extra time for.’
‘I’m sure you can,’ she said with a roguish grin.
‘No! Well – yes. But no, I meant we could do what all those neutron star people did, the . . . what did Immanueel call them, naturalists? They lived for thousands of years. They had a life where they were never burdened by the threat of the Olyix. We can have that life.’
‘Everyone can have that life, Del. Once we liberate them from the enclave.’
‘Yeah. I suppose so. Put it like that . . .’
‘But I do understand.’ She sat next to him and started rubbing his back between the shoulder blades.
‘Doesn’t it bother you how . . . different the corpus humans are?’ he asked.
‘Bother me? No. I’m a bit in awe of them, to be honest.’
‘Saints, really? So would you elaborate yourself? Become corpus? Like they’ve done?’
‘Not today.’ She flashed a flat smile, which did nothing to reassure him.
‘But you’ve thought about it?’
‘Haven’t you?’
‘Not really. But . . . Saints! In this place, with all their domain timeshift technology, you could walk out of here and come back an hour later my time, having spent fifty years a full corpus. I’d never know.’
The Saints of Salvation [British Ed.] Page 31