Heilige Vergeltung, we have fought and engaged an enemy together. We are allies; comrades. We have no reason to fight. Please reconsider your actions.
“Voice contact is forbidden with suspected hostile units; you have 20 seconds to supply updated codes.”
993487794827735820295820896
“Code incorrect. You have ten seconds before hostile action commences.”
Last time you took me by surprise. This time I will show you how modern combat is really done by the pros. And it won’t take me five seconds.
The great power of a cybertank is not its massive cannons, or heavy armor, or dashing good looks – cool as these things doubtless are. It’s our intelligence, knowledge base, and flexibility. Since our first engagement I was concerned that there might be a second, and I had made preparations, just in case.
I hit Heilige Vergeltung with a volley of hypersonic missiles, that had specialized EM-pulse warheads, and took out his energy shield. Next came attacks by more conventional missiles, targeting his radars, optics and other sensors. He tries to intercept them but my systems are far more sophisticated and I achieve a 97% hit rate.
The big robot is now blind and defenseless. I shoot him clear through the chest with my main gun. I have to hand it to those ancient designers; this is one tough system. The reactor vents plasma trying to remain under control, it doesn’t go critical, but the robot loses power and topples over.
It’s majestic in a way, like watching a massive tree fall. It seems to take a long time, and when Heilige Vergeltung finally hits the ground there is a massive “cra-thump.” Dust explodes out from the point of contact and I can see the ground shake nearly out to the horizon.
Despite all that, the big robot still has some active systems. “I am a stranger to fear,” rasped Heilige Vergeltung from a half-destroyed speaker. Now I was tempted to taunt it – come up with a clever retort such as ”Allow me to introduce you!,” or perhaps ‘Then let me hook you up with death!” I could have shot him to pieces slowly using minor armaments while heaping insults upon his many obvious character flaws. But that would violate the fifth commandment of cybertank warfare: Thou Shalt Not Toy With an Enemy.
Make peace with an enemy whenever possible. Run away and hide by all means. So dazzle them with your wit and charm that they are left enraptured and wondering why they ever wanted to be your enemy at all, if you are able. But never, ever toy with them.
I shoot Heilige Vergeltung a second time through the chest. His reactor goes critical and he explodes, and that was the end of Heilige Vergeltung.
5. Shield
Zen Master: If a glass with a capacity of 200 milliliters has 100 milliliters of water in it, is it half-empty or half-full?
Engineer: Neither. The glass is twice as large as it needs to be.
Zen Master: Correct.
(From the video series “Nymphomaniac Engineer in Zentopia,” mid-22nd century Earth)
My friends are fond of reminding me that I have two major character flaws. First, I have a strong proclivity for attracting (if not exactly causing) extremes of chaos and destruction. Second, I often go on very long exploring trips alone. Personally I feel that these two flaws counteract each other, summing to a perfectly balanced personality.
On most of these long exploring trips nothing much happens, which does not make for a good story. Well, except for my old friend Wonderbear who is an avid fan of stories where nothing much happens. A connoisseur, even. He will cheerfully listen to me recite all the details of a completely routine mission with rapt attention. As they say, there is no logic to one’s passions. However, this was not one of those trips where nothing much happens – so very far from it that even I ended up wishing that it had been more boring.
In any event, I was indulging my second major character flaw and was scouting farther away from my home civilization than I had ever gone before. It was starting to hit me just how far away I was and how long I had been gone. It had been years since I had been in even the most low-bandwidth long-range communications with my friends and compatriots. Perhaps I had overdone it this time. I had to admit that I was far from any chance of help or rescue. I was starting to feel more alone than even I felt comfortable with.
Thus, I began the slow process of reversing direction and heading back. That’s when I got the signal.
It was faint, so very faint. I could easily have missed it, but a pattern recognition subprogram saw something and flagged it for my primary consciousness. It was inconclusive. I should have left, but I was intrigued. I decided to continue on for a bit and deployed a distributed antenna system across a light-hour of space.
The signal resolved and it became clear: it was from a human civilization. That’s not something that I would have expected. The biological humans left us cybertanks many thousands of years ago, under conditions that remain mysterious. The odds were good that this was some sort of fiendish alien trap, but I could not ignore the possibility of contacting biological humans. I pressed on.
Due diligence required that I leave word with my comrades. I may be eccentric (although that point is arguable), but I’m not stupid. I dispatched three ultra long- range message units. They will drift for several weeks at a low speed then accelerate via hard-burn to a substantial fraction of light speed, being careful to orient their exhausts in random directions. Once they are within range of one of our listening posts they will expend the last of their resources delivering an account of what I have found and what I am doing. If this does turn out to be a fiendish alien trap, at least my fellows will know what’s out here waiting for them.
I drift closer and the picture becomes clearer. There appears to be a single human-occupied planet in a nearby stellar system. From the transmissions the technology level is roughly that of old Earth, perhaps the 21st or 22nd century. Interesting. I re-search my databases; there are no records, not even any hints of traces of records of any human colony ship that had headed in this direction. Still, as I get more data, I see no inconsistencies. The odds that this really is a lost human civilization continue to climb.
I focus my distributed sensor nets on the upcoming planet, but I am not unmindful of guarding my flanks and my rear. I reconfigure my defensive systems and cannibalize a few small planetoids to construct more. If this is an alien trap I won’t go down without a fight, and I have a few surprises up my (metaphorical) sleeves. All of us cybertanks are first and foremost weapons systems and, besides, I do have a reputation for sneakiness to uphold.
I spread my resources throughout the system. This civilization has deep-space probes and long-range radar, but it’s primitive and lacking in coverage. I keep my distance and restrict myself to passive scanning only. Almost certainly my presence here is undetected.
It looks like the humans are restricted to just the one planet. Population about a billion, nice healthy Terran biosphere, not quite at the level of moving to fusion power, but probably there in another century or two. The broadcasts are mostly in English, which seems to be the dominant language, although there are significant enclaves speaking Japanese, German, and Latvian. The politics are unremarkable: three major nation states, several dozen minor ones, politics ranging from democratic-socialist to constitutional monarchy to a couple of sorta-kinda benevolent dictatorships. There are some minor border skirmishes, but no major wars; the usual divide between rich and not-so-rich but no widespread poverty. The environment reads surprisingly clean with only modest traces of industrial pollutants.
I am deeply suspicious. Humans at this level of development should not be this well off. At least 15% of the population should be chronically malnourished and there should be several ongoing slow-burn wars, untreated plagues, nuclear catastrophes, and toxic waste dumps. All of my simulations come to the same conclusion: there is something going on here that I don’t understand.
I analyze the broadcast transmissions - not as good as direct access to a major library or database but still informative. Apart from the suspicious lack of stri
fe, there is nothing out of the ordinary. Except for the plusses.
Apparently in this civilization there are humans termed plusses with genetic abilities well above the norm. Most humans are regulars, with the same basic set of genes since before recorded human history. This state of affairs was, if the broadcasts could be relied upon, a relatively recent development. It had started out about three generations ago as curiosities: a girl could change her eye color on command, a man could hear radio waves, another could induce seizures in rodents. Scientifically intriguing but not very practical. However, the last generation of plusses were getting more serious abilities. Superhuman strength, accelerated healing, the ability to shoot laser beams out of their eyes, things like that. Though still only a tiny fraction of the population, this dichotomy into genetic haves and have-nots was becoming a source of considerable tension, and conflicts between elitist plus and reactionary regular groups had already been responsible for a not inconsiderable amount of destruction and some deaths.
There is yet another anomaly. Here and there I get strange energy readings from beneath the planet’s crust. If it is from a more advanced civilization it is well shielded. I could tell more with active probes, but that could potentially give my presence away. So I have to make a decision.
I could (probably I should) just say hello and let what happens happen. If this place is a trap I will spring it and I can engage in a proper battle and forgo all this skulking about. Or I could just sniff around some more. I decide to send an emissary, and do some in-person scouting. That’s a risk. If discovered, sending in a covert scout could easily be seen as a provocation if not an outright act of war. On the other hand, there is something not quite right here and there is only so much that I can learn remotely, at least not without revealing myself. A physical emissary can see what it’s really like down there, ask questions, visit libraries, and query databases. Finally, a single unarmed emissary could at least potentially be explained away as the result of harmless caution. I decide to go for it.
I reinforce my holdings in the outskirts of the system, developing stealth bases and manufactories in the comets of the Oort cloud and distant asteroids. If there is trouble I will be as ready as I can possibly be. Then I start to prep my scout, and I am faced with the eternal question: what body to wear?
Human civilizations at this level tend to give males wider latitude to walk around unescorted, therefore my scouting android should be male. Nondescript goes without saying, and of one of the more common ethnic groups in this system. I settle on a mixed Euro-Asian. Clothes are trickier because they change faster than human physiognomy and it can be hard to judge the nuances of texture from primitive video broadcasts. In addition, judging relative status and who gets to dress in what is rarely written down in a manual. I end up with khaki pants with a white shirt, blue sports jacket, and shiny black ankle boots.
In the old days the humans used to fantasize about super-powered androids: a juvenile conceit. Missiles and blocky combat remotes are far more powerful than anything human-shaped could ever be. I still remember my first humanoid android. It was a crude thing, hardly stronger than a non-bioengineered human, awkward, limited endurance, only able to pass as human at a distance and even then only when wearing loose-fitting clothing and sunglasses. Things have advanced since those days and while my current android is no match for a specialized combat unit, it is still several times stronger and faster than any old-style human. It has extended senses, is superficially indistinguishable from the biological norm, and still has enough room for a few little tricks.
I package the android into a stealth pod and set it on its way. It slowly arcs across the system and splashes down into the middle of a large and isolated ocean. I am pretty sure that it hasn’t been detected, and even if it had, there was nothing in its trajectory to differentiate it from a meteor.
The pod uses water jets to silently coast through the ocean until it comes to an isolated shore. My android climbs out and I am finally on the surface of the planet.
My main hull – all 2,000 metric tons of it safely secreted away on the far side of a minor asteroid many light-hours from here – is massively multiprocessing. This android is just a single human-class sentient. I am in remote contact with my parent self via periodic data-packets carried by exotic subatomic particles that this civilization cannot (or at least, should not) be able to detect, but moment-by-moment I am on my own. A lot like a regular-style biological human used to be. Even without an instinct for self-preservation (reserved for my irreplaceable main self), the experience is a bit scary, but also bracing. If I call for help, within a few days the rest of me will dispatch forces that could scour this planet clean, but in this moment, this second, I’m just a single intelligence in a single body with a single point-of-view. These are the moments that make the drudgery of deep-space exploring so worthwhile. If this body survives it will be fun to share the memories of these moments with the rest of me, and with my peers.
My stealth pod sinks back into the ocean. It will slowly dissolve itself, leaving behind no trace. I begin the hike towards the nearest city about 150 kilometers away. The weather is temperate, and I notice that the flora and fauna are completely earth-derived. The section that I am in is mostly forest, mixed oaks and maples, with the occasional meadow. Crows see me and caw, mockingbirds sing their complex songs, and a rabbit peers nervously from behind a bush.
From my previous reconnaissance I know that there is a major road not far from my current location, but I keep to the forest. A single human walking by the side of the highway day and night without stopping to sleep, eat, or even go to the bathroom would cause suspicion. Besides, the forest is beautiful.
Eventually I come to the outskirts of the city. My main problem is how do I insert myself? How do I become a part of this society and gain access to the libraries and data networks? It can be surprisingly hard to place an agent de novo into even a technologically primitive society. It’s not about breaking their encryption, but about avoiding contradictions and making the story self-consistent. Even if you have hacked the databases and created a new person’s life from scratch, what about all of the real people who were alleged to have had relationships with this person? The inconsistencies will always add up.
The best thing would be to find a recluse who had died of natural causes and subsume his or her identity, but no such opportunity has presented itself. I decide to just brass it out with forged low-level ID and see what happens.
I walk along the sidewalks, watching the people go by. Busy streets are best because people naturally avoid social contact in crowds. Up to some level otherwise odd behavior will be ignored because nobody wants to get involved.
I have to admit that the city is quite lovely. Everyone seems healthy and reasonably well-off as they bustle back and forth. The buildings are a mix of styles, some sleek and elegant, some angular and functional, but the overall effect is charming. The sidewalks are broad and clean, and small city-tough trees line the way. The cars and trucks are electric and glide past with little noise. The traffic is heavy, but flows surprisingly smoothly. There are parks and cafes and office buildings and stores selling exotic lingerie and useless electronic gadgets.
I walk into a shop with a large selection of crystal plates and glasses. There is a video screen near the entrance. It’s playing a live speech from the president of this particular nation-state. I know from my intercepted broadcasts that this is Benjamin Roberts. His campaign slogan had been “Let’s just muddle along and try not to do anything really stupid,” which automatically makes me like him. He’s talking about the economy, and the conflicts between the plusses and regulars, and relations with a troublesome neighboring country. He is rational and calm and everything that he says makes sense.
Now in my long life I have been exposed to every sort of lie and half-truth and propaganda and false-front imaginable. When a politician seems too good to be true hold on to your wallet and make sure that your guns are close at hand, I
always say. But reconciling this speech with what I see with my own eyes I can find none of the telltale signs of deception. Can this president really be this good? I suppose that, statistically, in human civilization such outliers must occur.
I believe in the occurrence of statistically rare events. I just don’t trust them.
I surreptitiously gather a few random samples of skin flakes and hair. This body has a limited DNA analyzer built into it; sure enough, the genome comes back as 100% human. I think that I detect traces of genetic engineering in some of the samples – that would explain the plusses – but my current capabilities are too limited. I will need to get a sample out to my main hull to really know what this is all about.
I decide to start my investigations in a bookstore instead of a library. Libraries generally require ID to access, and there are any number of snoopy librarians and government agencies monitoring who is looking for what. Bookstores are much more open. The proprietors don’t want to put up barriers for the paying customers and somehow people don’t take bookstores as seriously as ”real” libraries, so official monitoring is less. I wander through the aisles. There are some physical books, but mostly there are displays that let you browse electronic offerings, and numerous kiosks where you can purchase overpriced snacks and moderately psychoactive beverages.
I sample things at seeming random, trying not to leave an obvious pattern. I check out some news feeds, scan a few history books as if bored, then spend more time looking through the music section sampling how-to-play-guitar instructional manuals. My seemingly casual browsing conceals the fact that I am recording every page that I see for later playback.
Confessions of a Sentient War Engine (An Old Guy/Cybertank Adventure Book 4) Page 8