Animus Intercept

by Lawrence Ambrose

  "You got it, sir."

  Zane sat back in his command chair, feeling a quiet satisfaction. He personally hadn't done much – not by his lights, anyway – but they were here and in the process of completing their mission. They might be far more advanced technologically than the general public knew, but they were still in their infancy when it came to serious space travel. There were no guarantees they'd make it. Even now, the multiple jumps had knocked everyone on their heels physically. They'd now have an estimated two weeks of warp-free rest and recreation to recover for the trip home.

  "Anyone up for a game of Bridge?" asked Andrea.

  THREE DAYS passed before they noticed any significant changes in Animus. The first sign of the nanites' nibbling was a smoothed-over area roughly five hundred square kilometers, as though someone had airbrushed away the craters and craggy mountains. Over the next few days that smoothness spread and deepened. PAT informed them that the NDs' geometric growth progression was actually exceeding the predicted curve by a tiny percentage. The nanites' relentless appetite was expanding on schedule.

  "Like watching paint dry," David Mallory said, glancing at the ever-present hologram under the port window before advancing his King's pawn.

  "A lot like this game."

  Zane disliked passive chess positions. It seemed strange to him that a gung-ho soldier like David, who practically sweated aggression – Zane still had bruises and sore joints from their last grappling session – played like a hermit crab guarding its shell. He only ventured his pieces out after he'd established a rock-solid fortress. Not that his strategy gave him an edge. Zane won more than he lost after learning to constrain his preferred attacking style and not let his impatience get the better of him. But patience had its price – long, slow-moving games where he or Mallory had to grind out a victory. Mallory seemed to enjoy "slow-dancing," as he put it, but it gave Zane heartburn.

  Across the room from them, Andrea Wilkins, Dana Myers, and Malcolm Anders were locked in their seemingly eternal bridge match. Dan Mueller was hunched over his computer station designing some device with his Super CAD program – something that would no doubt save lives or allow Command to kill more people than ever before. It was all the same to Dan – an intellectual exercise. He had over a hundred patents. Almost all of them had been purchased by the United States Government and promptly classified top secret. He had to be a millionaire dozens or perhaps even hundreds of times over, Zane thought, but money didn't seem to mean a damn thing to him. His passion was for understanding how something worked and then making it work better.

  "Captain Cameron," said PAT. "A large number of objects of unknown classification have appeared at the bottom of the western MAME crater."

  PAT's mellifluous voice only made the announcement kick start Zane's heart that much harder. He met Mallory's eyes for a moment before pushing out of his chair and turning to face the ever-present holograph. The rest of the crew rose and converged with him on the image.

  "Describe the objects, PAT," said Zane, trying to match the AI's dead-calm. "And tell us what they're doing."

  "The objects are small, approximately ten centimeters long and one centimeter wide and numbering in the millions. Rod-shaped, with some form of aperture and possible appendages. Inorganic, likely machines. Energy source unknown. They are emitting powerful electromagnetic pulses in combination with bursts of gamma rays which are destroying the NDs. Clusters of the alien machines appear to be acting in concert."

  Zane paused, a thousand thoughts – none of them pleasant – racing through his head. "Connect me with Captain Kinsley."

  "Yes, sir."

  Horace appeared on one side of the Animus image, looking breathless.

  "Are you seeing this?" Zane asked.

  "Just this very moment." Horace ran a hand over his spiked grey hair. "Did the attacking machines come from the planet?"

  "PAT?"

  "Yes, sir. From several small openings in the planet's surface."

  "Damn," said Horse. "This is what I was afraid of the moment I guessed Animus might be artificial – its owners wouldn't be thrilled about us eating it. Looks like we stirred up a helluva hornet's nest down there."

  "PAT, can you detect the power source that might be controlling these devices?"

  "No, Captain. The machines appear to be communicating with each other with rapid bursts of microwave energy. No external communications or energy sources detected."

  "If this is a defense system, why is it responding now?" He turned to his crew. "Dan?"

  The Chief Engineer appeared more thoughtful than alarmed. "I'd guess the nanites ate far enough into the planet to trigger an alarm. The damage from the Proteus missiles was superficial compared to this."

  "So what are they defending?"

  No one spoke for several seconds. Then Mallory made a growling sound.

  "Who gives a shit? We need to save our NDs and fry those sons of bitches."

  Zane broke from his hard stare. "PAT, is there any way we can attack the alien machines without harming our NDs?"

  "No, sir. But the NDs are spread over most of the planet and the alien machines are currently concentrated in the two craters."

  "The craters are facing us. We could nuke this side of Animus and our nanites would survive."

  "That is correct, Captain. However, I am not certain how vulnerable the alien machines are to our weapons. I have not determined their composition, but it appears to involve some form of exotic matter."

  "Only one way to find out." Zane hesitated. "PAT, is there any chance these things are sentient?"

  "Yes, sir."

  Zane felt a chill he was sure was shared by the people around him. "What is the probability of that?"

  "I rate that probability as being, roughly, 37%."

  "Again, what the hell difference does it make?" Mallory demanded. "Conscious or not, they're riding a big fucking demolition ball right into our planet. Captain, we're wasting time. We're losing NDs every second that goes by."

  "Surprisingly, I agree with Lieutenant Mallory, ZC," Horace's voice came over the cabin speakers.

  Zane took a deep breath and nodded. "I'm ordering a Proteus strike. PAT, provide their weapons officers your best estimate for the most effective point of detonation."

  Two seconds passed. "Done, Captain."

  "Fire at will, Horse. One missile."

  "You got it, Captain."

  They waited. Except in dire emergencies, you didn't just launch a MAME weapon. Unlike nukes, which needed a lot of things to go right to detonate, antimatter explosives only needed one little thing to go wrong. The systems had to be thoroughly vetted, and the missile wasn't even armed until 20,000 klicks out – the current distance between their two ships.

  "Proteus launched," said Horace, in the mild tone of someone announcing "breakfast is served."

  "Detonation will occur in 12.3 minutes," said PAT. "One hundred klicks from the surface, centered over the western crater."

  As was the case so often in the military, now it was a case of "hurry up and wait." They watched the pale blue thrust of the Proteus missile fade into the blackness of space. At the penultimate moment, a small explosive device between the MAM engine isolation chambers would breach the AM containment field and Gotterdammerung would unfold. No need for extra explosives. The missile's engine did double duty as a propulsion unit and a bomb.

  The crew stood watching the planet holograph like silent sentries in a nature diorama. Andrea Wilkins was hugging herself, occasionally freeing a hand to twirl a bang of her mousey brown hair. Dana Myers, the pretty and pert brunette next door, reached over and touched her arm. A frown creased Malcolm Anders' smooth Scandinavian features. Mallory was, predictably, smiling with cold anticipation. Dan Mueller's eyes were narrowed in calculation.

  Keira's soulful blue-green eyes glistened with something akin to sadness. Sadness for them, Zane wondered, or for us if this all goes to shit? No one could deny that possibility now. They never knew how aliens
would or could respond – even the aliens they supposedly knew.

  "Captain," said PAT, "the alien machines are leaving the targeted area. They appear to be flying en masse to the opposite side of the planet."

  "Recalibrate detonation for the far side," said Zane.

  "Yes, sir."

  Another two minutes passed.

  "Alien machines are now departing Animus."

  "Fuck," Mallory muttered.

  Zane braced his hands on the nearest chair, sucking down a tense breath. They were in serious danger of wasting a thirty-seven billion dollar missile. And that was the least of their worries.

  "Did the alien machines first show up in the western crater, PAT?"

  "Yes."

  "I want the missile to strike that crater dead center, land burst." Zane breathed out. "If we can't get them in flight, maybe we can damage them where they live."

  "Yes, Captain. Impact will occur in three minutes, 24 seconds."

  "PAT, when you said the alien machines had departed the planet," Dan spoke up, "how fast were they moving?"

  "Approximately fifty kilometers per second."

  Dan made a hissing noise. "That's nearly as fast as we can move on impulse."

  "You're saying they can get to us?"

  "Sure looks that way. And maybe I'm pointing out the obvious, but the weapons they're using on the NDs would work just fine on us."

  "PAT," said Zane, forcing apart his clenched jaw, "can you locate the alien machines?"

  "I detect a large number of objects matching their size spread out over a roughly spherical hundred-kilometer area."

  "Space debris?"

  "The objects have no energy signature, but they are approaching at twenty kilometers per second. Because of the numbers, speed, and size I rate the probability as 94% that they are the alien machines."

  "They're riding momentum," said Dan.

  Zane exchanged a grim glance with Mallory. "How close are they?"

  "Fifteen thousand kilometers and closing, sir."

  "Back off at full impulse until we have fifty thousand klicks between us. Maintain that distance." He turned to Horace's hologram. His old friend and mentor was busy discussing something with someone outside their view. "Horse, follow our lead."

  "Already saddled up, partner."

  Zane's thoughts halted as a flash of white light expanded into a mini-sun in the center of the western crater. He waited for the sun to fade.

  "Any indication of alien machines activity in the crater, PAT?"

  "No, Captain."

  "How many NDs did we just kill, as a percentage?"

  "Seventy percent of the remaining Z98 nanodevices on the near side of Animus have been destroyed, sir."

  "What is our and the Peacemaker's current distance from the hypothetical alien machines?"

  "30,290 kilometers and increasing at ten kilometers per second, sir."

  "Good." Zane nodded to himself. "How are the NDs doing now?"

  "They are currently being destroyed at a rate of one percent every five minutes, Captain."

  "Over the entire planet?"

  "Yes, sir. However, most of the elimination is occurring on the far side."

  "Does that mean the alien machines have returned to Animus or that more have emerged from the planet?"

  "Unknown, Captain."

  Zane ordered his crew to return to their stations. Mallory muttered "Why bother, since Queen Pat is running the show," but joined the others at their designated control consoles. It wasn't as if AI was anything new to Space Command, but it had reduced crews more and more to critical decision-making and backup roles. As yet, no AI had proven capable of substituting for human judgment.

  "The alien machines are accelerating, sir," PAT announced. "They are gaining on us, showing hot energy signatures."

  "How fast are they traveling?" Zane asked.

  "Eighty KPS, Captain."

  Which exceeds our maximum impulse drive. Zane had to smile at his indignant inner protest. Anyone who had specific expectations when encountering an unknown alien technology deserved anything they got.

  "Current distance?"

  "14.7 thousand kilometers."

  "What's their flight pattern, PAT? Are they still spread out over a hundred kilometer area?"

  "They've expanded to approximately one hundred and twenty-three kilometers, sir."

  "Even if Peacemaker put a Proteus in their midst they'd be long gone before it got there," said Mallory, sounding bitter. "They're too goddamn maneuverable and fast."

  "Right," said Zane. "Andrea, jump us out of here now. SC-1, 20 minute phase. Exact course we followed here. I want to put ten million miles between us. Follow us, Horse, and we'll pause to see what things look like then."

  "See you in twenty, Captain."

  "Space compression sequence initiated," Andrea announced. "Better fasten your seatbelts."

  The holographs vanished. Zane returned to his captain's seat. It had a safety harness which he rarely used. Entering space compression wouldn't knock you off your feet – there was no sense of acceleration - but it did unbalance you, like stepping onto land after weeks at sea.

  Zane snapped on his safety harness. They were forgoing the usual long-distance pre-jump telemetry and analysis, relying solely on feedback from the return-flight probe they'd launched shortly after arriving. It would be a small but necessary leap of faith.

  The main cabin lights dimmed as the space compression drive revved up. It took a lot of energy to move space and time. Zane gazed up at the port windows. Soon the stars would blue-shift.

  But now something was blocking his view of the stars. It looked like a Ferris wheel: a swirling circle of pulsing multi-colored lights. At the center of the circle was a glowing sphere that made him think of an old yellow light bulb.

  "Are you seeing this, Captain?" asked Mallory behind him.

  "Kind of hard to miss."

  "They're assembling into something," said Dan.

  "Into what?"

  "I don't know. But I'm guessing something not good."

  "Andrea, get us the hell out of here!"

  "Space compression is commencing – "

  The yellow light bulb at the center of the Ferris wheel appeared to burst, filling the port window with light. The ship shuddered and they were plunged into darkness. Zane blinked and fuzzy yellow-white lights shimmered in his vision.

  "Sir, space compression drive is off-line," said Andrea.

  "Mallory?"

  "Weapons are off fucking line."

  "PAT?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Can you access any system?"

  "Apart from my own system, I have access to the Emergency Nanodevice Rescue Storage Module and basic life support systems."

  "Communication?"

  "Short range, sir. I've tried hailing Captain Kinsley's ship and there was no response. We have no telemetry to tell if he's in the area."

  "He might've made it into SC drive."

  "That's possible."

  "Meanwhile, we're defenseless."

  It was a crushing admission. It meant the catastrophic failure of their mission. Not to mention their own deaths. What was happening now also implied that no future mission would fare better. Animus was defended by a technology superior to theirs.

  It was time to unleash what was perhaps humanity's greatest technological achievement to date.

  "PAT," Zane said. "I authorize you to activate full sentience protocols."

  "I need a code to initiate those protocols, Captain."

  Oh, Christ. Zane rummaged through his head. Of course, the code was on the mainframe, but that didn't do him any good now.

  "It's X-ray, Zulu, Charlie, Victor, Lima, 2019," Keira called to him in a dead-calm voice.

  "Captain, you need to personally give me that code," said PAT.

  "X-ray, Zulu, Charlie, Victor, Lima, 2019," Zane spat out.

  "Sentience protocols initiated, sir. Please stand by."

  Whump! The sound
was like a sledgehammer thumping the ship. Zane had no idea what had happened until air blasted past him like an explosively retreating tide. Craning his head toward the escaping air he spotted a circle of starlight where there should only have been white plastisteel.

  And something or someone else: a slim figure ascending to the hole, long hair flying. And she was gone.

  "Keira!"

  Zane's shout barely achieved a rasping whisper. His next breath supplied no oxygen. He had to get to the suits. He unsnapped his harness and stood up. And kept rising. Inertial gravity system down. The room's darkness was penetrated by pale shafts of light from the alien "Ferris wheel" object still pulsing in the port windows.

  Zane could do nothing but rise to the ceiling. He had a vague plan, growing vaguer by the moment, of scuttling across the ceiling to the general supply room. But he had a much worse problem than mere lack of air. Nature abhors a vacuum.

  A single, giddy thought rising out of a diminishing chorus of thoughts. His internal nanite guardians had gone into overdrive - oxygenating his blood, repairing rupturing blood vessels, keeping his eyeballs intact - but the moisture boiling off in his half-open mouth told him it was a losing battle.

  A cluster of small objects like a swarm of mini-flashlights flew in through the ruptured ceiling. Multicolored lights burst in Zane's eyes. They're here. The realization left him indifferent. He was toast, as was his crew. He could only hope Horse had gotten his ship out of there in time.

  The lights flicked off. Zane wasn't sure if he'd gone blind or his brain had shut down or if the alien machines had seen enough.

  Zane felt a final flare of regret and embraced the darkness.

  Chapter 4

  LIGHT FILLED ZANE'S EYELIDS.

  "Hey," said a soft, familiar female voice.

  Zane didn't understand how he could be hearing that voice or any voice. Insane images swirled in his head. He tried but failed to order them into a sensible whole. He blinked open his eyes.

  Blue-green eyes as large as worlds hovered inches away.

  "Keira," Zane whispered. "Thank God."

  "How are you feeling?"

  "Confused." He started to sit up. Keira placed a gentle restraining hand on his chest. "How can I still be alive?"