by B. V. Larson
A few minutes later the damaged battlecruiser arrived, moving slowly and carefully. It edged ponderously in closer and closer until it had all but docked against the ring itself. I guessed the remnants of the science team were going to try to replicate the “accident” that had activated the ring. They probably still didn’t know Marvin had done it. We watched personnel in suits exiting one of the sides and connecting cables, and then Turnbull announced they would try again.
Marvin mumbled something as they worked.
“What?” I asked.
“Nothing. I am busy only receiving input. Not transmitting.”
“I realize that, Marvin.”
“Then why did you ask?”
I stood up, looming over him. “What is it you know, Marvin?”
“Your question is overly broad and vague. Please clarify.”
“Is there something about the test we need to know?”
“Yes.”
“Well?” I gave one of his tentacles an emphatic kick. I guess it was my day to boot things. “What is it that we need to know about the test?”
Marvin shook the tentacle I’d kicked. “It won’t work.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s a one-way ring.”
“A one-way ring? What the hell is a one-way ring?”
“It means the ring is set to only work in one direction, even if it is activated with power. Before the Macros shut it down, it was draining the ocean from Yale and the Macros with it.”
“I learned about that. Can you change it?” I asked.
“It is possible, but last time it took many hours of transmitting random code attempts to find a command the ring accepted.”
“But you changed it before. Don’t you remember the right command code?”
“The ring seems to reset its encryption after each successful command according to an unknown algorithm. You father never gave me enough time or access to even minimally understand how to control its programming.”
I coughed a single harsh laugh. “I can see why. Somehow, every problem you solve creates a bigger one. What about the ring communications system? Can we transmit back through it?”
“I would be happy to make the attempt.”
“I doubt we’ll have time, with those aliens coming, if Turnbull would even allow you to try.” I asked Adrienne to call up the Valiant and explain all this to her uncle. After a few tries, the word came back from the scientists that they couldn’t get the ring activated, neither in communications mode nor for transport. The thing just stayed dead, and when Adrienne tentatively raised the subject, her uncle categorically refused to let Marvin get near it.
“Are there any more details on the alien ships?” I risked asking the captain.
Turnbull answered, “They’re all about cruiser size with one main energy gun, six secondaries, and six missile launchers.”
“They seem to like the number six,” I observed.
“Yes,” he said scathingly. “I deduced that.”
I gritted my teeth and held my tongue, knowing this was all part of being the low man on the totem pole and out of favor. At least he was talking to me. I guess he considered me the de facto captain of the yacht for now. “So their weapons technology level seems roughly comparable to ours? But they don’t seem to be very fast ships. Maybe we can outrun them. Certainly Greyhound can.”
“Thinking about running away, eh, Riggs?”
“Not at all, sir,” I said as evenly as I could, “but do you think we can win this fight?”
It was his turn to keep silent in the face of my logic. A battlecruiser was a faster, more heavily armed cruiser, but it lacked the armor of the next modern class up, a battleship. Undamaged, it should be able to beat any two or even three cruisers, but not six.
“We’ll give diplomacy the good old college try while the scientists keep trying to activate the ring.” Turnbull seemed to be cast in the old imagined British Empire mold of stiff upper lip and relentless optimism despite the odds.
“Yes, sir,” I said, relieved to change the subject. “I have a program working on trying to get at least a rudimentary translation going before they arrive.” I wasn’t going to tell him that “program” was Marvin. “Sir,” I went on, “have you found anything else significant in this system? Such as evidence of another ring?” If there was another ring, maybe we could outrun the aliens and get away through it, if we had to. If it was functional, that is. On the other hand, I would expect that any other operational portal would be guarded or in use, perhaps even mined.
Turnbull went on, “Yes, there is another ring on the other side of the system, in orbit around a gas giant, Tullax 5. There appears to be a large installation near it, perhaps a fortress, but it is too far away to be sure.”
“Then let’s hope we can talk to these people,” I said. I thought of making an observation about that other ring being our only escape if the aliens turned out to be hostile, but I was pretty sure at this point that Turnbull, or at least his crew, would have figured that out. Sir William seemed to be an arrogant and unimaginative guy, but not completely incompetent. And the members of his crew certainly knew their jobs.
“There is one other item we’ve found,” the captain went on as if I had not spoken. “The world below us, Tullax 6, has no atmosphere, no apparent life. We have detected residual radiation, evidence of a battle in which massive numbers of fusion warheads were used, enough to strip the planet of its atmosphere. There also seem to be installations of some sort.” He paused.
“Installations?” I prompted, getting the feeling the pause had been for effect, and Sir William, with an audience, was ready to make a dramatic announcement.
“Yes, installations. Shut down and dead, it appears, with no energy readings.”
“Made by these aliens?”
“That’s what we thought at first, but no. The installations,” he paused again, “look like those built by Macros.”
-9-
Adrienne and I exchanged glances across Greyhound’s bridge, ignoring Marvin for the moment. Captain Turnbull and his crew on Valiant were telling us about Macro installations on the planet below. Our two ships were still docked together and formed a single large green contact in the holotank.
With our command tables linked, Captain Turnbull’s unpleasant face appeared in an open window on the console in front of me. He looked away from Adrienne and me at the moment, studying something off-screen.
“We knew the Macros were here twenty-three years ago,” I said to the captain. “Dad flushed them back through the ring. This must have been a base. Maybe these aliens fought the Macros and beat them. That would be good news and a point of common reference at least.”
“So I hope,” Captain Turnbull said, his voice booming through the com-link. “The fact that they come from a life-bearing world would seem to indicate they’re a biotic species, which makes us natural allies.”
I winced. The man always cranked up his outgoing volume.
“Doesn't always work out that way. Remember the Blues, sir,” I said. “They’re biotic, but my father had to bomb them back to the Stone Age to keep them from causing any more trouble.”
“Effectiveness unconfirmed,” Marvin whispered. He said it just loudly enough for me to hear.
I glanced at him, but none of his cameras returned my gaze. It was a disturbing statement. Was he hinting that the Blues were not as badly hurt by the bombing as we’d assumed? He was correct that no one had ever gone down to the surface to confirm that the bombing had been effective.
I wasn’t even sure if he’d intended for me to hear him or not. If I hadn’t been nanotized and microbed, I wouldn’t have heard him at all, which might mean that he didn’t know about my capabilities. On the other hand, if he did know I was listening to his whispers, it might mean that he had spoken for my ears alone, which was another disturbing thought.
“If they encountered the Macros,” Turnbull said, “then I have high hopes for the situation. Just th
ink! I’ve discovered an entirely unknown alien species. If I can establish diplomatic relations, find out the fate of the Macros and open a way home for trade, I might be made a baronet, perhaps even a viscount.”
While Earth was now under one federal system, the UK had experienced a resurgent interest in feudal titles. They were handing them out as perks and status symbols to national heroes. A title didn’t have much functional meaning, but it was a source of pride among the populace. Dad said that with everyone at peace and getting rich, these status symbols were just another way of keeping score. It sounded as if Sir William was angling for a social promotion to go with the family’s wealth.
“I sure hope it works out that way, sir,” I said. Just as long as it kept him off my back, he could be crowned King for all I cared.
“Let me know as soon your program is able to translate some of what they’re saying,” Turnbull said. “Until then, I’ll let the scientists keep potching about with this ring. You might as well make yourself useful, Riggs, and go down to take a look at the dead world. Just keep my remaining niece alive, will you? Don’t stir up any unnecessary trouble. Valiant out.”
I didn’t appreciate Turnbull’s cutting sarcasm, even though I knew he had a point. I shot Marvin a glance. He blandly turned away one of his cameras, leaving only one looking generally in my direction. He said nothing, but it sounded like he was faintly humming. Not like a machine hums, with electrical resonance, instead—he was actually humming a tune. He was so quiet that I couldn’t make it out against the ship’s usual background noise. Maybe it was an indication of enjoyment or concentration. Or maybe he was just trying to bug me.
Marvin could make anyone doubt himself.
I sighed. “So, I have a make-work assignment to go check out some dead world. He’s just getting rid of me.”
“And keeping me out of danger from that alien squadron,” Adrienne said reasonably.
“Maybe. On the other hand, if it’s Macros, even deactivated ones…” I turned to Marvin. “Marvin, if it’s Macros, don’t even think about accessing them without specific permission.” My nightmare is that this might be some kind of dormant Macro installation that Marvin decided to jump start, just as an experiment. Greyhound had a general-purpose laser suitable for taking rock samples, blasting small meteors out of the way, or killing big animals in case of a planetary landing, but we sure as hell couldn’t handle even one enemy war machine.
“Instruction noted.”
“Making any progress on that translation?”
“Yes. I anticipate reasonable textual fluency in six hours. Voice simulation and transmission may take several days, due to the nuances of spoken speech.”
“How about in…” I checked the countdown that Adrienne had put in the corner of the holotank, “…four and a half hours when the aliens arrive?”
“Not able to estimate. Translation is not a linear process. Rather, it is more like decryption of unknown data streams, what you might call ‘code breaking.’ It often depends on serendipitous breakthroughs.”
“You mean you’ll have to get lucky?”
“I believe I just said that.”
I shook my head. “Well, hurry up then. When we get back to the ring, you’ll have to translate what you can and hope we can avoid an interspecies incident.”
“This conversation consumes processing power.”
Obviously that was his way of telling me to shut up and let him work. So I moved the short distance over to stand next to Adrienne at the holotank. Now she had the holotank showing a representation of the incoming alien squadron on one side, the ring and Valiant near the middle, and Greyhound heading for the dead world at the other end. All those elements were roughly lined up with the system’s star.
“Funny, it just occurred to me that the aliens are deliberately coming straight out of the sun, like an old-time fighter pilot swooping on an enemy,” I said. “I wonder if it means anything.”
“Maybe they’re just being cautious,” she replied.
“Or maybe they’re used to fighting.”
“Maybe, but not necessarily. Star Force hasn’t had a real enemy in twenty years, but we still know how to fight. If we were in their place, wouldn’t we want to have every advantage when facing an unidentified alien ship?”
She had a point. I guess we really couldn’t glean anything for sure from the aliens’ actions until they did something more overt such as open fire.
“All right. Your uncle seems to think there’s nothing to worry about, but we’re going to be careful. Marvin, monitor passive sensors and report anything unexpected or dangerous. Greyhound, shut down active sensors and reduce all emissions to minimum. Adrienne, run out that laser, and be ready to shoot. You sure you don’t want to be nanotized?”
“I already told you, no. I’ll be fine,” she said, irritated. I swallowed my misgivings and double-checked all our preparations, and then sent us spiraling down.
Soon we cruised in low over the dead world. We quickly found hundreds of ruined Macro complexes standing out like silvery sores against the lifeless brown dirt. Choosing one at random, we dropped in on repellers then made a slow circuit of the area.
“There, down in that crater, there’s a bunch of them. I’m bringing us lower.” Coming over the rim, we saw ruined Macros scattered around, half-buried in the surface. I wasn’t sure if they had been digging out, digging in, or had simply been partially covered by explosions.
“Real live Macros,” Adrienne breathed, sounding more like her sister all the time. She had more guts that I’d expected.
“Contradiction indicated,” Marvin said. “These have been deactivated.”
“I thought you were completely busy working on the translation.”
“I am not blind.” He waved his several cameras around on their stalks for a moment by way of demonstration.
“You are when you want to be,” I said. Then I turned to Adrienne. “Marvin’s got a point, though. Is there anything alive down there? Any power readings or detectable life signs now that we’re close?”
Adrienne worked at the holotank, controlling various sensors from its touch interface. “No, nothing that I can see.”
“Let’s set down and take a closer look.”
“I think we should keep our distance.”
“Come on, where’s your sense of adventure?” I tried to say it lightly, but I inadvertently let a little edge creep in.
Adrienne’s face darkened. “What, are you trying to get me killed too?”
That floored me. I actually had to grab onto my chair to keep in it as a fresh wave of emotion flooded though—shame at the kernel of truth in her words, anger that she would use Olivia against me that way and the unfairness of her words. Unfortunately, my mouth got ahead of my better judgment this time. “Your sister would never have said something like that to me.”
“Obviously, I’m not my sister,” she snapped.
I stood up to stare angrily at the holotank. “That’s crystal clear. She’d have stepped up and come along, or at least backed me up, not kneed me in the nuts. Greyhound, prep a suit.”
“Wait,” Adrienne said, reaching out to grab my arm.
I felt like shaking her hand off, but I let her hang onto me.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “That was a low blow. It just popped out. I didn’t mean it. I’ll come along.”
“No. You’re right, really. You should stay safely aboard the ship. I’m Star Force. It’s my job to take the risks.”
Shaking my arm, she argued, “Look, I take back what I said. I want to go along. I can’t just sit back here while you go facing danger.” Her eyes pleaded with me.
I almost said no just to put her in her place, but that would have been indulging my anger. I also got the feeling that if I did that, I would be turning a quick tiff into a major sore spot, so I forced a smile. Putting on my best caricature accent of Sir William, I said, “That’s the spirit! Give it the old college try, eh, what?”
A smi
le I knew so well broke out on her face. It was bittersweet when I saw Olivia in Adrienne’s mannerisms. She used my arm to pull herself up to kiss my cheek. “Thanks, Cody.”
I smiled back a little crookedly, not knowing quite how to take these mercurial changes in mood. “Now you’re talking. Let’s suit up.”
Putting on the gear was easy. Greyhound had expensive suits that were mostly smart metal with only a few manufactured parts. We just stepped into what looked like exoskeletons, activated them, and the rest flowed around us and encased us in self-sealing, flexible material. I took along a beam rifle. It made me feel better.
When we clomped to the edge of the airlock, we lost the one G we were used to. This world’s gravity was more like point seven, so we felt lighter and springier without being completely unbalanced. Stepping out carefully, we found the surface hard, like gravelly soil, with little dust in it. The horizon was close and sharp without air to fuzz it out, reminding me a lot of the moon – Earth’s moon that is. I’d spent a whole semester there as part of my Academy education, getting used to an environment where one mistake could kill you.
Walking up to one of the half-buried Macros, a hundred-foot-tall combat crab, was totally surreal. I’d seen them in museums, of course, and on vids, but these…objectively I knew they were powerless and dead, but it sure seemed like they could just come to life at any moment. Maybe it was because the thing appeared to be frozen in the process of digging itself out.
“Look, it’s almost cemented into the ground, like concrete was poured around it,” Adrienne said, prodding at the edge with her toe.
“Maybe it was,” I replied. “Maybe it’s a monument to the new aliens’ victory, like a battlefield deliberately left alone.”
“Then where are the other side’s machines? I mean, they might pick up bodies, but where are their tanks or battlesuits or whatever?”