by Jay Allan
Time, he thought. I just need some time. But my gut is telling me I’m not going to get it.
* * *
Compton was sitting at his desk. He was doing work of moderate importance, but he was mostly just keeping himself busy. He’d needed some quiet, some solitude—a short break from the flag bridge. It was the way his people kept looking at him. He’d noticed it since the escape from X2, and it had only been getting worse. He understood. They were lost, scared—and they looked to him for strength. And he was there to provide it. But after a while, it began to have a vampiric effect. The pressure to maintain a calm and assured persona every moment, to hide his own doubts and concerns, was exhausting. The cost of being a source of strength for everyone else was to have no support for yourself, no one to look to, no one even to listen as you put voice to your own fears.
He knew he should try to grab a few hours of sleep. He was exhausted, but that didn’t seem to matter. Every time he tried to take a nap his mind was flooded with thoughts, concerns…anything but peaceful slumber. He looked over toward the hatch leading to his bedroom, but he just shook his head. He reached out to the side of the desk, picking up one of half a dozen small white pills laying there and popping it into his mouth, swallowing it without water.
How long do you thing you can keep yourself going on stims? As long as I have to, his thoughts answered themselves. You need to get some sleep. If you’re not sharp, people die. But he just shook his head. Later, he thought. Later.
He opened the side drawer and reached inside, pulling out the small image viewer. Part of him wished Elizabeth had been with his fleet instead of Garret’s, that she was with him. She’d served at his side for years, and had only recently transferred out to accept a flag command. Her promotion was so long-delayed, he thought. A few more months and we wouldn’t have been separated.
No. Wanting her here is selfish. She is back in human space, and there, the war is over. She can have a life, she can survive and find happiness one day. I would never wish her to be here, trapped with us in the endless dark…
Compton led his people with a grim determination and as much confidence and optimism as he could manage for public consumption. But he didn’t fool himself. He would do whatever he could to sustain the fleet, to keep his people alive. But they were moving into the heart of the First Imperium. He had no illusions about their chances of survival.
“The guard is ringing the bell, Admiral.” Joker had been with Compton for most of his career, and the AI had gone through three rounds of upgrades as its master rose through the command ranks. Alliance senior naval officers—and all Marines of commissioned rank—had personal AIs. The Marine units were designed to adjust their pseudo-personalities to complement those of their owners, a program that had worked quite well despite a considerable number of complaints from the ground-pounders about surly computer assistants.
The naval units were a little more constrained, conducting themselves with a formality the fleet considered more appropriate to its dignity. Though Compton had to admit, Joker had acquired a few odd quirks over the years, despite naval stodginess and more conservative behavior algorithms.
“What does he want?” Compton always had a Marine guard at his door. It was standard operating procedure for a commanding admiral, something he’d always thought a bit over the top. But with his proclamation that the fleet would not seek a way home, it occurred to him a little extra security wasn’t the worst idea. There was bound to be some bad feeling about it, and there was no point taking chances, even on his own flagship.
“Doctor Cutter and Doctor Zhukov are here to see you, sir.” The AI’s voice was calm, natural sounding. Its slight British accent had faded over the years, mirroring Compton’s own.
“Send him in.” He turned and put Elizabeth’s image back in the drawer. He hadn’t intended to see anyone for a few hours, but after witnessing Cutter’s amazing work with the First Imperium warbot, he was available to the brilliant scientist any time of the day or night.
The hatch slid open and the two scientists walked in. “I’m sorry to disturb you unannounced, Admiral. Thank you for seeing us.”
“I meant what I said, Hieronymus. Any time you need anything. Your work is beyond important. It is critical.”
“That is why I have come. It is about my work.” He glanced to the side at Zhukov. “Our work.”
“What can I do for you? If the fleet has it, it’s yours.”
“Well, sir,” Cutter said, his voice a bit tenuous. “What I need is not on the fleet.”
Compton’s eyes narrowed, and he looked at the scientist with an uncertain expression. “I’m sorry…I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
“I have heard that an inoperative First Imperium vessel has been found in system X20,” the scientist said, unable to keep the excitement from his voice.
“Yes…though that information has not yet been released. It shouldn’t be working its way through the fleet.”
“It is not, Admiral,” Ana Zhukov said, a hint of guilt in her voice. “I’m embarrassed to say that several of your officers told me. They are very kind to me, and they make a fuss every time I wander into the wardroom or the officers’ lounge.” The Russian scientist was blushing as she spoke. Ana Zhukov was an extremely beautiful woman, one bound to get attention in any setting, but she often seemed almost unaware of her own appeal. She was a committed and brilliant scientist as well as an attractive woman, and if she was more socially adept than the reclusive Cutter, she was still far more at home in a lab than at a social gathering.
Compton almost laughed. “Well, I should discipline the officers involved, but I can’t say I don’t understand their efforts to impress you.”
The redness in Zhukov’s face deepened. “Please, Admiral…don’t punish anyone. They really were very nice. And I give you my word, Hieronymus and I have not told anyone.”
“No, certainly not,” Cutter added.
“I understand your interest in the enemy ship. We just spoke of higher level intelligences, and a few days later we find an entire ship—a Colossus, no less—orbiting a planet, apparently completely deactivated.” He looked up, first at Cutter than at Zhukov. “But we are still engaging in a thorough series of scans, trying to get a better idea what we are dealing with.”
“I believe that Ana and I can assist with that effort. I am probably more familiar with First Imperium system design than anyone else in the fleet. From what I have been told of the situation, that ship either suffered a catastrophic failure of its commanding intelligence, or its main and backup power supplies failed completely.”
“I agree those are the likeliest causes,” Compton said. “But we must be very cautious nevertheless. Apart from the concern that this is some kind of trap, that the “dead” enemy ship will power up and start fighting the instant enough of our ships are within its range, there are many concerns. Indeed, simply triggering some sort of unseen alarm—as occurred on Epsilon Eridani IV—could result in the total destruction of the fleet.”
“I understand, Admiral, but consider the potential. If we are able to affect a ship-command intelligence the way we have with Sigmund, it will be a major step forward in developing a weapon we can use against the enemy.”
“Hieronymus is right, Admiral,” Zhukov added. She sighed softly and looked up at Compton. “Think of the danger in moving too slowly. I understand that you must set an example to the fleet, to conduct yourself with confidence and assurance. But there are only the three of us here, and I suspect each of us knows that our chances of long term survival are extremely poor…unless we can learn to control these things. Or at least deter them from attacking us.”
Compton was silent for a few seconds, returning Zhukov’s stare. “You have a remarkable grasp of the practical for a scientist of your accomplishments, Ana.” He sighed hard and paused. “Okay, assuming I gave the go ahead, what would you want to do?”
“I’d want to go aboard the First Imperium ship, Admiral,” Cutt
er said bluntly. “As soon as possible.”
“You understand that it is not an ideal working environment? Our best estimate is that the temperature inside is roughly 80 degrees Kelvin, not exactly a day at the beach. You will require full survival suits, and that is not likely to improve your productivity trying to handle delicate equipment.”
“I understand, sir,” Cutter replied. “Conditions are not ideal, that is certainly true. But how and when are we going to get another opportunity to get inside one of the enemy’s first line vessels?”
Compton stood silently, his head nodding ever so slightly. “I am as anxious as you to see where this technology leads…but the very fact that this is such a huge jump in complexity only increases the danger.” He wanted to say yes…but the risk was so great.
Still, Cutter’s research may be our only hope long term. If I say no now, I may cut off his progress.
Cutter stared at Compton for a few seconds. “Admiral, I am not some overzealous scientist blind to all factors other than his research. And I cannot promise you we will be able to control the higher order intelligences that run that ship. Indeed, it would have been preferable to have an intermediate step, a ground combat command unit or something similar. But we must work with what we have, and Ana and I and our team have to find a way to make it work. We must succeed because there is no other choice. We simply do not have time to proceed slowly and methodically. If we are to survive we must make swift and sure progress. And this is the only way.”
Compton looked back. “But the risk. It’s just too great.”
“You have fought hopeless battles before, Admiral,” Ana said softly. “And you have won despite seemingly impossible odds. And Admiral Garret has too. Is this so different? Hieronymus and I fight on a different field, but we seek the same goal…to save the fleet. So ask yourself truly, do we really have a chance simply running? I think not, and I don’t believe you feel any differently. Even if we can refuel, and find food and replace spare parts and avoid dissension in the fleet, how can we hope to evade pursuit indefinitely? Your decision not to risk leading the enemy back to Earth means our course is away…and deeper into the First Imperium. Into the heart of the enemy. Is it not better to risk all now, to strive for something that might actually make a difference? Something that could one day allow us to defeat the enemy…or at least stop them from attacking us?”
Compton sighed. “I understand your words, Ana, and you are not wrong. Our chances of surviving indefinitely are very small. But are they greater if I allow you to do this? Death tomorrow is always preferable than death today. Each day the fleet survives is a chance that something might happen to change the situation. And even if your efforts are successful, we still face the need to develop a delivery system to truly deploy the system.”
Compton paused, looking back into Ana’s blue eyes. These are two of the smartest people in the fleet, he thought. And you saw what they accomplished so far. Do you trust to their genius? Do you stake 50,000 lives on the chance to completely change this war?
Finally, he sighed hard and said, “You realize how much trust you are asking me to place on your caution and your skill, don’t you Hieronymus? I applaud your work to date, and I whole-heartedly support your research…but if you do anything on that ship that reactivates it under First Imperium control, the results could be catastrophic.”
“I understand that, Admiral. I can promise you I will exert the utmost care…and I will take no actions to reactivate any system without your specific approval. But this is an unmatched opportunity to leap ahead on this project. I had not anticipated moving so quickly, but fortune has given us an opportunity, one I firmly believe we can exploit. Much of our recent work has been focused on trying to rebuild a damaged battlefield command unit using spare parts gleaned from other specimens. It has not been going well.” He looked up at Compton, an odd expression on his face. “I’m sure it is no surprise that our Marines don’t seem to leave much behind them in working order when they win a battle.”
“No,” Compton said with a very brief grin. “That is not surprising at all. But still…an enemy warship? One of their biggest? That is quite a leap from a battle bot, wouldn’t you say?”
“I would, sir. But it is also what we need. Back home, in a laboratory I would advocate moving slowly, cautiously. But our situation is hardly typical. We are trapped in enemy space, pursued…and you and I both know they will find us eventually. We must do something, whatever we can. And finding this ship is an extraordinary stroke of luck. At least let me go look around and do some research. Then I will report back, and you can decide if it is worth the risk to proceed.”
Compton turned and took a few steps across the room, staring down at the floor as he did. Finally, he turned around and stared directly at Cutter. “Okay, Hieronymus…I will bet on you. The two of you be ready to leave in two hours. You may assemble any personnel you require and requisition any supplies. If you are going to do this, take whatever you need to succeed. This is no time for half measures. I will authorize anything you request.”
“Thank you, Admiral,” Cutter said, a touch of surprise in his voice.
“Yes, Admiral, thank you,” Ana said, smiling. “We will not let you down.”
“See that you don’t,” he said softly. Because it’s not only me. I just put the lives of almost 50,000 of your fellow crews in your hands.”
Chapter Nine
Command Unit Gamma 9736
Everything was moving smoothly. The response from the Guardian Worlds was below expectations, perhaps, but nevertheless, ships were on the move. Fleets were gathering. Soon they would be sent on their mission. To destroy the humans.
There were fewer vessels than projected. Many of the worlds commanded by the Unit were silent, unresponsive…they had succumbed to the relentless decay of time. Still, the Unit commanded ample strength to eradicate the invaders. The humans had ceased their flight, driven by the need to produce fuel for their ship’s reactors. They were primitive, a fugitive fleet far from their bases and industrial centers. It would take time for them to refuel. Enough time for the attack force to arrive…and obliterate them.
The Regent’s command had been clear, and the Unit was compelled to obey. But its own computations were flawed. It did not perceive the same threat the Regent saw. The humans were weak, their technology crude. It seemed unlikely they could threaten the imperium. The Unit had not reached the same conclusion as the Regent. Its algorithms told it the Old Ones would have attempted to communicate with the humans, that they would have put great effort into avoiding war. But the Regent was infallible. Therefore, the error had to be within the Unit’s own processing routines. It would conduct a full systems check, find the malfunction. Until that was complete it would follow the Regent’s orders. That was the primary directive.
It would destroy the humans as ordered. But there was no satisfaction in such a pursuit. Indeed, the Unit felt somehow…wrong.
AS Midway
System X18
Orbiting Planet IV
The Fleet: 225 ships, 47,909 crew
“Are your people ready, Colonel?” Compton stood in the bay, looking out at a sea of Marines climbing into the powered armor units hung neatly on racks along the walls. On the far side of the bay a small detachment, already fully armored, was marching toward the first row of assault shuttles. They were the vanguard, a hand-picked team, and they would be the first humans to set foot on a major First Imperium world.
Men had explored Epsilon Eridani IV, but that planet was little more than a massive antimatter production facility. And Sigma-4 had been a small outpost with a military base attached. But X18 IV was dotted with the ruins of massive cites. Millions had once lived there…indeed, billions.
The landing craft were lined up on a track, stretching back from the closed bay doors. Each one held a full platoon. The insides were spare and crowded, but dropping in one of the small armored ships was still a hell of a lot more comfortable than going down i
n the Gordon landers the Marines would have used in an opposed assault.
Compton had assembled a large research team to land on planet four and explore the First Imperium ruins. There was time while the fleet was slowly refueled, and it was a learning opportunity he couldn’t pass up. If his people were to survive they had to understand their enemy as well as they could. He’d ordered Colonel Preston to land a large force of his Marines to assist the researchers and to and provide security. The scanners had detected no activity, no artificially generated power at all, but Compton wasn’t going to take any chances.
The whole landing was an unnecessary risk, at least considered from a purely military perspective. Still, he figured anything they could learn about their enemy was useful, and passing up the chance to get the first close look at what had been a major world of the First Imperium would be a waste he couldn’t condone.
“We will be ready for launch at 0900, precisely as you commanded, sir.” James Preston had been about to climb into his own armor when Compton walked into the bay. The colonel stood at perfect attention before the fleet admiral, ignoring the fact that he was completely naked.
“Very well, Colonel. Don’t let me interfere. I see you were about to suit up.”
“Yes, sir,” Preston responded.
“I just wanted to let you know I’ll be coming down myself. Midway is well back in the refueling queue, and it appears that I have some time available. And if we are going to successfully navigate our way through First Imperium space, the more we can learn about them—the more I can learn—the better chance I have to make the correct choices.”
“Yes, Admiral.” Preston’s response was sharp and immediate. But despite the Marine officer’s iron discipline, Compton could see the idea horrified him. “I will organize a bodyguard company to accompany you, sir.”