Shit. Overwhelmed doesn’t begin to describe how I feel, he thought as he paced back and forth in front of the view screen.
As the Caretaker ended his brief story, Van stopped and asked, “So why tell me all of this and show me this facility?”
“When you touched the access bar on the outside of the facility, Commander, my system did an analysis of your genetic and physical makeup. It is a near-perfect match for the Host, which is what triggered the doors to open. More specifically, your neural system is as advanced as that of the Host, most likely the next level of evolution of the human brain and humans here on Earth. In all my time here, you are the first to pass the basic test.”
“So you were really programmed to open for the Host?”
“Initially yes, Commander. My primary directive was to wait for surviving members of the Host battle fleet to access this depot facility and help them.”
“Is there more?” Van asked.
“Yes, Commander,” said the Caretaker as he faded from the screen and a new image formed.
“My name is Admiral Amal Spector,” said a proud, very human-looking elderly man with gray hair and a slightly larger-than-normal head. “I command what remains of the Galactic Host depot fleet that escaped the Arkon. The fact that you are viewing this means that no other representative of the Host has accessed this depot since my departure. It also means that Admiral Jarvas’s fleet was destroyed with no survivors. We hoped that these depots would provide him with support as he continued his journey to join the rest of us.
“We are intimately aware of Earth’s history. Much of that history is probably not known to you due to great global tragedies in the distant past. We know that you and your fellow people are capable of great achievements as well as great destruction. We also suspected that over time human evolution would yield a more advanced society, of which you are apparently one of the first. People very much like us. This facility was, therefore, programmed to open to such a new society, which we believed could grasp and wisely use the technology found here.”
“However, your history and ours are full of examples of one or more elements of society using technology poorly and creating a path to conflict and destruction. In anticipation that this depot would be discovered, we programmed the Caretaker to assess the person or persons discovering this depot before allowing complete access to our technology contained here. In addition, as a prerequisite to being shown what we have, you will or have been told that we request—no, that we require—that you distribute this technology incrementally over time. We already have firsthand experience with the ill effects of giving too much too soon to a less developed people. We do not want that to happen to Earth this time.
“We do not have a secret plan to control Earth. We only wish it well, to benefit by our technology in a responsible way, and finally to be ready for the Arkon when they eventually come here. As for us, there are only about fifteen thousand remaining. I am taking them all to find a safe place for our population to grow and to continue advancing our technologies. With luck and your good care of all of this, our peoples will eventually meet and join together in the fight against the Arkon and for the freedom of all they have conquered.” The screen went blank and the Caretaker reappeared.
Van was silent for a while. He had just seen and listened to a recording made in the distant past. If that wasn’t amazing enough, the man in the video, Admiral Spector, had been talking to him! If he hadn’t known better, Van would have thought this all some elaborate joke. But it wasn’t.
Recovering his speech, he asked, “What would you do if nobody like me came along?”
“In that event, Commander, I would remain dormant,” the Caretaker replied. “When the Arkon came, I would use the available technology at my disposal to assist any human defensive operations that I could discover.”
“When was this depot established?”
“Your year 1815, Commander.”
“You’ve been waiting for two hundred years for the Host or somebody else to access this place?”
“Yes, Commander. After the first one hundred years passed, I began transmitting a low-power signal designed to resonate with the specific neural system that you and the Host possess. Any such person within the range of the signal would be drawn to this facility.”
“And that’s why I’ve come here?”
“Yes, Commander. You would not have known the specifics of the attraction, only that you were drawn to come here.”
That explains a few things, Van mused.
“So now what? You just hand over the keys to the place to the first person who has a big head like me?”
“Not exactly, Commander. As you were waiting for me to speak, I was analyzing you. The electronic receivers and sensors of this facility automatically collect and archive electronic emissions from various sources on Earth and your relatively new satellites. I can now access databases worldwide with ease, thanks in part to your relatively new Internet. Knowing that you were not a member of the Host, and as Admiral Spector directed, I utilized this capability to search for your personal data and concluded that you are a good candidate to access the facility and, eventually, all it possesses. In other words, so far you meet the basic criteria established by the Host.”
“What do you mean by ‘so far’?”
“Remember, Commander, I said you would initially have partial access. The admiral also said that knowledge would be granted to you incrementally. The Secrets of the Host carry great responsibility. My initial assessment of you meets the Host criteria for a beginning, but there will have to be both training and more assessment over time before more is revealed to you. While it is unlikelythat the education and training you will receive will reveal any undesirable traits or proclivities on your part, I must nonetheless tell you that your development could be terminated in its early stages if my initial assessment proves wrong. Is this acceptable to you, Commander?”
“Whoa! When you say ‘terminated,’ what do you mean?” Van exclaimed.
“It will not be the termination of life, if that is your concern, Commander. It does mean that your training and education can be stopped and your memory of this experience erased. You would then go about your life as normal, but with no recollection of our encounter or this depot. I must tell you, however, if you accept the challenge, and until your training is complete, you can tell no one anything you know or learn about the Host, the Arkon, their knowledge or this facility. The only exceptions are special circumstances that we could discuss. Again, is this acceptable, Commander?”
In an instant, Van’s plans for the property evaporated. All he wanted was an escape for peace and quiet. If he accepted what this AI was proposing, his new future promised to be just the opposite. He didn’t like the idea at all.
Putting his own future aside, Van was a little nagged by the implications to humanity. He could understand the problems of an extraterrestrial threat in the abstract. He could even start to see why the Host might choose to withhold advanced technology from a relatively unprepared world. A novel he’d once read, The Daleth Effect, suggested that human civilization might not be able to accept great advances all at once without descending into conflict and chaos. Returning to himself, the real question was, did he want to be in the middle of it all and not be in control of his destiny?
He looked the Caretaker in his virtual eyes and said, “While I appreciate the tremendous gifts that you and the admiral have to offer, accepting this new role is not what I choose for myself. If you must have an answer right now, the answer is no.”
“I understand your concerns, Commander. But I have waited many years for the Host to return or to discover a person such as yourself to entrust with this facility and its knowledge. My programming will not allow me as an AI to act on my own. The Host understood and used artificial intelligence, but they were wise enough to realize the potential dangers associated with a new race of automated beings. Therefore, they require a sufficiently advanced biological specie
s to both use and control the Host technology and knowledge. Without you or a person like you, this facility will be of no use.”
“It sounds like your programming contains psychological profiling… and you’re trying to appeal to my sense of guilt. But the answer is still no.” Now Van was getting pissed, as his clenched fists, narrowed eyes, and cold stare showed.
“Very well, Commander. Access to this facility will remain open to you for twenty-four of your hours, if you decide to change your mind. There is much here that can help humans everywhere, both to improve lives and even open the gates to the exploration and use of space. But also, if I may say so, it is likely that the Arkon are still out there pursuing their path of conquest, and Earth is in no respect ready to meet them. They may not be an immediate threat, but ask yourself how long it would take to become ready.”
Van thought about that. I really can’t guess. To have deep space flight capability, weapons, and hundreds of ships could take an indefinite amount of time.
Relaxing a little, he became more reasonable. “All right, I’ll give it some additional thought. But I’m still not happy with the whole idea. If you don’t mind, I’d rather be outside in the open as I think. I’ll be back tomorrow morning.”
“Until I have your final answer, Commander, I cannot let you leave this facility. I must protect the secrecy of this place and the information I have shared with you so far. I can, however, create a holographic representation of the outdoors if you like.”
“I guess that will have to do. I’ll talk with you again in the morning.”
The Caretaker disappeared, leaving Van alone with his thoughts.
Enveloped by the incredible illusion of the outdoor spot where he had intended to spend the night, Van set up his small camp. He relaxed under the canopy of stars and the cool, scented breeze that filtered through the pines. How is the Caretaker doing that? he wondered. Finding he still had one more dry prepared sandwich in his backpack, he ate dinner. Though it was a little on the smashed side, the sandwich still tasted good enough, and he washed it down with more of the fresh springwater he had collected. Eventually he lay down, using his backpack as a pillow.
Sleep was not fast in coming, however. Van thought the hardest decision he would ever have to make had been choosing to retire from the Navy. The Navy, after all, had been the core of his adult life. He’d liked the job and most of the people, and it had appealed to his sense of duty, commitment, and honor.
He felt he’d been a good pilot, and a good leader and officer. And as a civilian, he’d proved himself to be an above-average engineer in the broad aerospace systems field. While not gifted with detailed engineering skills, he nevertheless could see the big picture, the whole system, and how it worked together. He liked that. It was about solving problems, using logic, and thinking outside the box. And he had a better-than-average memory, which seemed to save whatever he read, saw, or heard.
Van lived a well-ordered, uncomplicated life by himself. He actually preferred being alone. It gave him undisturbed time to think and do the things he wanted to do rather than what others wanted. His parents had both passed in a car crash some years ago, and he had no brothers or sisters. He’d married too early while in the Navy, and it hadn’t worked out. There had been only one other interesting woman in his life, whom he’d dated after his divorce, still before he’d retired from the Navy: Barbara Fuller. But she’d left him to follow her career in naval intelligence. A year later he’d seen her at the Naval War College at a lecture he’d been planning to attend. That had changed the instant he’d walked in the lecture hall and seen she was the one giving the lecture. He’d turned around smartly and left, not wanting to face her again. That was eight years ago. So he was used to being alone and was resigned to it. It fit with his slightly introverted personality, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t welcome it.
But this new challenge was definitely not simple or well-ordered. In the balance was his simple plan for a peaceful existence against the awe-inspiring, unimaginable future of not only this world but perhaps others as well. There was also the question of trust and belief. Should I accept everything I’ve heard at face value? What’s the whole story? If this was a business decision, how would I, should I, react? All in all, there seemed to be more questions than answers at this point.
With a little more thinking, Van eventually made up his mind and, with that decision behind him, fell asleep.
Awakening the next morning, Van stood and began replacing his belongings in his pack.
“Caretaker,” he called, “you can deactivate the campsite hologram.”
As soon as the hologram dissolved, the lights in the room brightened and the view screen in the inner hangar activated. Immediately the vision of the Caretaker appeared.
“Good morning, Commander. I trust that you have made your decision.”
“I have. It wasn’t easy, but I believe it’s the right choice,” Van said as he approached the view screen, pack in hand.
“What have you decided?”
“You’re asking for a major change in my life and a lot of trust up front, and I still say no.”
“You do understand the importance of your decision, do you not, Commander?”
“You mean sometime in the distant future, perhaps after I’m dead, the Arkon may show up and the Earth won’t be able to defend itself?”
“That is true, of course. But with the technology available within these walls, humans on Earth can extend their lives and improve nearly every aspect of your civilization. Eventually they can reach the stars. Can you deny that to them?”
“Somebody else can do it better than me.” Van said as he shifted the pack to his back in anticipation of leaving.
“But you are the only one in nearly two hundred years who has been capable of accessing this site.”
“Sorry, but that’s my decision.”
“I see, Commander. You say you want to live out the rest of your life in peace, true?”
“Yes.”
“Then I’m afraid, Commander, it will be a short life and not very peaceful.”
“What?”
“I have detected the initial onset of what your medical science calls sporadic amyotrophic lateral sclerosis, sometimes referred to as ALS.”
“You mean Lou Gehrig’s disease?” Van asked with alarm.
“Yes, Commander. It is in a very early stage, and your medical people have likely not discovered it. With it, your remaining life will be short compared to what you plan or hope. It will be an uncomfortable and even painful existence. Fortunately, the treatment I have to offer is a simple one, which uses nanites to repair DNA strands and even eliminate existing issues. It will also give you some level of immunity to common ailments such as colds, as well as a tissue-repair capability for minor injuries. But you would have to agree to take on the responsibilities I have mentioned.”
Van thought about this new revelation. Turning down the challenge the Caretaker had offered had been a conflicted choice for him. His sense of responsibility was strong, partly because of his time in the Navy. On the other hand, hadn’t he already given enough in over twenty years of naval service? And what did he really know about the Host? He knew if he said yes, he would tackle the task with the same sense of dedication that he displayed in everything he did. But his dream of a peaceful, solitary retirement would be destroyed, or at least postponed for a very long time.
Then he thought, you can’t enjoy much if you’re dead. Van recalled the torment his godmother, Lois, had gone through while suffering from ALS. He remembered how the years had gone by and her suffering had increased in what seemed like endless frustration and diminishing hope. It was not something he cared to experience, even if it meant changing his lifestyle. It did occur to him that this was something like blackmail, but what else could he do? He couldn’t even leave here and get a more detailed medical opinion right away. But maybe there was some middle ground.
Van shifted and put down his pack. �
��All right, Mr. Caretaker. Reluctantly, I’ll agree. I’ve seen what ALS is like, and that’s not what I hoped for myself.”
“Very good, Commander. We can now proceed with the next few steps in your training and development.”
“Not so fast,” he interrupted. “I’ll accept only with certain conditions.”
“What conditions, Commander?”
“First,” Van said firmly, “I want a second opinion on my ALS diagnosis. Second, while I’ll listen to advice, I decide what I will and will not do with the technology and information given to me. Third, I will not accept demands or direction from you or the Host. Finally, I want to be able to opt out if I find that I’m being used or that you and the Host have plans for me and the Earth that are unacceptable.”
“That will be acceptable, Commander, with a few understandings. You will be accepted on a trial basis for as long as an Earth year, and information will be revealed to you in segments based on your progress and actual need. When the trial period is over and you accept the new responsibility, then you will indeed be in control of all the Host technology here on Earth. Until then, you can decide not to continue, but your mind will be cleared of all memory of this. After that year, it will likely not be possible to clear your memory without permanent damage.”
“And the ALS cure. When will that happen?”
“That will be provided at the end of the trial period, Commander.”
“Blackmail?” Van looked at the Caretaker with disdain.
“No, Commander. An incentive.”
“All right. I’ll agree with these stipulations.” And in a flash, Van’s life changed… big-time. “But I do have two more questions.”
“What are they, Commander?”
“Why do you always call me ‘Commander’? Is it because that was my rank in the Navy?”
“No, Commander. It is because you are the commander of the facility and eventually the Secrets of the Host.”
Future Discovered: Host Saga Book 1 Page 2