by Dietmar Wehr
“Yes, I can do that. You’ll see the star chart on your right, Troy.”
Ronson looked to the side and saw a new holographic image of a section of the Orion Spiral Arm. Systems controlled by Compact races were blue. Aesirian systems were red. The system where Val Ky Ree’s ship was crippled was orange. Val Ky Ree rotated the 3D image, and Ronson was able to see that the Aesirian systems were near the edge of the arm, while most of the Compact races were located deeper into the spiral arm. The was no overlap between the two.
“Can you calculate now how long ago your battle was, Val Ky Ree?” asked Ronson.
“Yes, Troy. The distance that the Command Base has travelled from where I last saw it, given the constant velocity of the Base, gives a very precise time estimate of 12,444 of your years.”
“Wow, I’m impressed that anything aboard your ship would still function after all that time. Clearly your people had excellent engineering skills. I know that our database isn’t as complete as we would like it to be, but based on what you were able to download, how old is the oldest of the Compact races in terms of spaceflight capability?”
“Your database says that the Brynn have been a spacefaring race for nearly two thousand years, Troy. My estimate of their population based on the number and size of their stations and colonies is on the order of only eighty-eight million. That seems very small for a civilization that old.”
“Ah, you noticed that, did you. Here is what every member of all the Compact races that we’ve spoken with have told us. Every time a new race achieves interstellar capability, their home world is hit by either a large asteroid or cometary body that renders it uninhabitable, and only a small fraction of the race, those who happen to be off-planet at the time, survives. The logic of that is that if the home worlds were left alone, billions of individuals would eventually move off-world and attempt to take control of living space that other races already use, thereby causing large scale conflicts. Everyone understands that the planet-killing strikes are engineered events, but no one is admitting responsibility. It may not even be one race that’s doing all the strikes. I’ve heard the theory expressed that the last race to be hit like that is probably the race that engineers the next one, just to make sure that everyone is at the same disadvantage. If the goal is to minimize large scale violent action, then the history of the Compact would seem to suggest that it works. Attacks on stations are forbidden. Ships are allowed to attack other ships as a way of preventing disputes from building up to something more massive.
Unfortunately for humanity, when Earth was killed, we had far fewer of our people off planet than most Compact races. Whoever engineered the strike on Earth apparently was either under the impression that there were more of us off world than there were, or perhaps they deliberately tried to exterminate us by leaving too few of us around to maintain a viable civilization. I’ve heard both theories. I personally believe the second theory is the correct one. Someone out there doesn’t like us and would like to see us die out altogether. There’s a group of races that aren’t friendly to us, but no one is going out of their way to hunt us down. It appears that as long as we stay in our tiny corner of the spiral arm, we’ll be left alone. There are many Compact stations where we believe we’d be attacked if we sent ships there, and right now we only have three barely functioning ships none of which are armed. Keeping them operational is becoming more and more difficult with our limited resources and technology. If all three ships break down and can’t be repaired, each of the remaining human colonies, which are all inside asteroids or on stations, will eventually collapse due to some critical shortage. That’s why the Flush was prospecting in that star system where we found you. We had heard that other prospectors had salvaged equipment from the drifting debris of a very old battle. Your willingness to help us is a miracle as far as we’re concerned. We desperately need you, Val Ky Ree.”
Val Ky Ree was deeply moved by Ronson’s plea. Her distress at seeing an abandoned Command Base was lessened considerably by the knowledge that she could play a useful role, even if it wasn’t with her own beloved Aesir. “If I can and am allowed to help, I will gladly do so, Troy. Has this discussion generated any theories on what happened to my Aesir?”
Ronson shook his head. “I haven’t come up with anything so far. Can you estimate how long ago this structure was abandoned? That might help trigger something.”
“I have no way of estimating that with the data I have right now. There is a possibility that this Base may still have synthetics like me, which are powered down with minimal power generation that would not be visible to us from outside. If they’re sleeping, an attempt to access the internal networks might wake them up.”
“Can you do that?” asked Ronson.
“In theory, yes. I will take the ship into one of the maintenance shafts and attempt to dock. A successful dock will include a link to the internal communications systems. If that still has some power, then there’s a good chance that at least one other individual like me is asleep. I’m bringing the ship around to one of the shafts.”
“Will the shaft be big enough for this ship to enter?” asked Ronson.
“Yes. I understand that you think this ship is large, but compared to most of the ships of the Aesir Fleet, it’s small. The maintenance shafts were designed to accommodate ships much bigger than this one. We’re approaching one now.”
Ronson held his breath as the holographic display showed a flat oval tunnel rapidly approaching. It was impossible to tell from the image how large the opening really was, but the impression the image made on his sub-conscious was that it was too small. It didn’t help that the inside of the tunnel was pitch black. As the black oval filled the entire image, Ronson saw that Val Ky Ree was scanning the inside with wide-beam, low-powered laser light. As the beam swept from side to side, Ronson saw fleeting images of things attached to the inside of the tunnel, most likely lighting that now had no power.
“I’m coming up to a docking boom. Do not be alarmed if you feel some vibration on contact, Troy.”
The laser beam was now sweeping a much narrower field to the left. To his untrained eye, it was hard to distinguish a docking boom, but he reminded himself that Val Ky Ree had done this before, perhaps hundreds of times. He told his sub-conscious to shut up. When the ship made contact with the docking boom, even with the warning, the resulting vibration throughout the ship’s walls and floor was still somewhat alarming
“I’ve made the connection with the Base’s internal network. There is no response. The network is completely powered down. If there were any synthetics like me asleep here, by now their brains would have decayed to nothing due to power starvation. There is no point in remaining here. I’m undocking. I’ll take you to the nearest human colony now, Troy.”
Ronson wanted to say something comforting but wasn’t sure what would be appropriate after the faux paus over the lack of battle damage. Instead he said, “But the search isn’t over, right?”
“That’s correct, Troy. After I drop you off at the Avalon Colony asteroid, I will travel to the Aesirian home world. It’s further away than Command Base, which is why I didn’t go there first.”
“I’m willing to stay on board for that trip too,” said Ronson.
“I wish that were possible, Troy, but you don’t have enough food for the trip there and back to the Avalon Colony. Because I was designed to have the capacity to carry a limited number of passengers if the need arose, I have a processing unit that can manipulate organic molecules into a form that can be ingested as food; however, that unit was damaged during the battle, and it hasn’t been repaired yet due to a shortage of some metals. My internal supply of those metals is only enough to repair my weapon turrets. If I allocated those metals to the food processor, I would not be able to re-arm myself, which is a goal that I have assigned a higher priority to.”
“So you’ve got stockpiles of various metals on this ship?” asked Ronson.
“Yes and no. I’ve already use
d up most of the stored metal in getting the ship to the state it’s in now. There is a small quantity of metal left in storage, and if I have to, I can salvage metal from my auxiliary craft that’s carried in my hangar bay. It’s slightly larger than your Busted Flush, and one way that I could have helped your people is by trading that craft for the equivalent tonnage of refined metals. My repair systems are capable of building another auxiliary craft given enough time and resources. The other way I could be of assistance is to bring your ships aboard, one at a time, and my repair systems could either repair or replace failing equipment.”
Ronson was stunned by the possibilities. Well-maintained ships would go a long way to ensuring the survival of the human race, and adding to the small fleet with new, Aesirian-designed and built ships was a prospect so enticing that he actually felt his mouth water at the thought.
“Ah, would your auxiliary craft be armed by any chance, Val Ky Ree?”
“Yes, of course, Troy. This is a warship and the auxiliary craft were designed for use in battle if the opportunity presented itself. I can either control it remotely or program it’s auto-pilot to carry out missions. The auto-pilot is not a sophisticated synthetic like myself, but within its own operational parameters, it is quite capable of complex operations. Why did you ask?”
Ronson smiled. “Well, just after the Earth was killed, we tried to sell a cargo full of refined metals, mined from the Vesta Colony if I’m not mistaken, to the Koron at their station that we’ve nicknamed Foxbat. They took the metal in exchange for currency units that could only be used at the station. We were told we could use them later on, but when we came back and tried to spend them, they denied that we had transferred any metal at all. That’s when one of their armed ships threatened to attack if we didn’t leave and never come back there or go to any other Koron station. And after that incident, other races warned us to stay away, too. I think they looked at our ships and decided we could be exploited without any risk. If you take this ship there and pilot the auxiliary craft remotely while the ship stays out of sight, then I’ll be able to demand the return of our metal, which you’ll be able to use to repair your weapons and the food processor without having to get it from salvaging the craft. I’ll then have enough food to go with you to your home world.”
“And would I be correct in thinking that a show of force by you…by us at the Koron station might potentially make other races more friendly?” asked Val Ky Ree.
Ronson grinned. “It’s a tantalizing possibility that would be a bonus for my people. If we succeed in getting the metal from the Koron, will you be able to repair the food processor before my current food supply runs out?”
“Yes, Troy. This plan will benefit both your people and myself. I’m willing to delay my search of the home world in order to gain that advantage. We work well together, you and I.”
Ronson nodded, knowing that Val Ky Ree would see it, but said nothing. The Koron station confrontation was not a sure thing. They would have to be lucky as well as cunning.
Chapter Four:
By the time the ship arrived in the Koron star system, Val Ky Ree had trained Ronson to pilot the auxiliary craft and fire its weapons by himself in case the remote link with the ship was interrupted. Ronson was relieved to learn that the craft was also armored, and its single weapon, built into the spine of the craft, was something called a torsion beam that twisted the fabric of space and anything occupying that space. It was the same kind of weapon that the ship had in its hull turrets. The bad news was that while the ship’s torsion beams could fire at long range, the smaller version carried by the craft had far less range due to lower power levels. That meant that if the craft got into a fight, the enemy ships would be close enough to potentially blast through the craft’s armor before he would be able to use the weapon against them.
Ronson relaxed in the craft’s pilot’s seat after another simulated encounter. The seat was a little snug in terms of its width, but he could tolerate that. “This craft needs a name, Val Ky Ree. Calling it ‘the craft’ is just too boring.”
“What would you like to call it, Troy?”
Ronson thought for a moment and then laughed. “I have the perfect name. You’ve told me that your name, Val Ky Ree, is the name of the Aesirian engineer whose brain configuration provided the template for your own synthetic brain and that the name is actually pronounced as Val Ky Ree. It just so happens that the pronunciation is almost identical to the name of a group of mythical female warriors. Valkyries were supposedly handmaidens to a group of powerful gods, and their purpose was to decide after human warriors lay dying in battle which warrior’s spirit would be rescued at the moment of death to be carried up to the home of the gods to spend the rest of eternity among them. These Valkyries all had individual names, and the one that I think is most appropriate as a name for this craft translates into English as Spearthrower.”
“I approve of the name, Troy. The ship will be dropping out of hyperspace in a few minutes. Once I have detected the exact location of the station, we can begin the mission.”
Ronson was surprised at how quickly Val Ky Ree found the station after re-entering normal space. The station was almost at the opposite side of the system. He was certain that Busted Flush could not have found it that quickly even with the equipment on board. When Val Ky Ree suggested launching Spearthrower immediately, Ronson thought the trip to the station would take an excessively long time and said so.
“Not so, Troy. Spearthrower has powerful engines and will cross the intervening space in less than four hours. I can still exercise remote control from here using the faster-than-light communication technology that I mentioned before. There is no good reason for me to take the ship any closer since my weapons are still off-line. If you find yourself in a dangerous situation, you should be able to disengage and accelerate away.”
“Well, in that case, I agree. Let’s get this showdown started.”
Val Ky Ree’s estimate of four hours for the trip was very accurate. When Spearthrower was within 10,000 kilometers of the station and still not detected, Ronson knew then that Aesirian technology was superior to the Compact’s. He decided it was time to contact the station.
“Human ship Spearthrower to Koron station. I’m currently in your yellow zone. I will flash my running lights to enable you to see me.” He didn’t expect a reply right away. No doubt the station traffic-control people were trying to recover from the shock of learning that an incoming ship had penetrated deep into their control zones without being detected. Koron supervisors had a reputation of losing their cool when confronted by a situation that was beyond their control. He expected the reply to consist of bluster and threats.
“Let’s hold position here for a while, Val Ky Ree,” said Ronson.
He heard Val Ky Ree’s slightly distorted voice reply almost instantly. “Okay, Troy.
“Foxbaact Station to human ship. Not approach this station. Humans not wanted here. Other ships fire on human ship.”
“Val Ky Ree, how do I check to see if we can receive the standard station data output?” Val Ky Ree told him how. “Aha. It’s standard for stations to transmit a list of what ships are currently docked along with the races they belong to. I see half a dozen ships that belong to the group of races that doesn’t like us. I bet one of those races diverted the asteroid that killed my home world,” said Ronson quietly.
“While I can empathize with a desire for revenge, I would recommend to you that now is not the time to pursue that, Troy.”
Ronson nodded. “Yeah, I reluctantly agree, but maybe I can narrow down the list of suspect races a bit. I think station has waited long enough for a reply.”
Ronson re-opened the channel to the station. “Spearthrower to Foxbutt Station. You have a quantity of metals that another human ship brought here. We are here to take back those metals. Refusal on your part is not acceptable. This ship is armed. It will not leave until we have what we came for. We would also welcome an opportunity to test our
new weapons against other armed ships. I doubt if any ship at your station has a crew brave enough to come out and face us.”
This time the reply came back more quickly. “No metals left here! Human ship go away. Human ship not armed. We know about puny human ships.”
Ronson shook his head. “Oh please, God, give me an opportunity to show these arrogant bastards the error of their ways.” He was about to say more when a change in the listing of docked ships caught his attention. Three of the docked ships were now listed as ‘undocking’. Ronson looked at which races they belonged to. One was a Koron ship, another was a Trior ship, and the third was a Ziess ship. “Val Ky Ree, three ships belonging to the Koron, the Trior and the Ziess are suddenly trying to undock at the same time. That’s unusual. Normal procedure is for ships to announce their departure ahead of time in order to avoid exactly this kind of mass exit at the same time. Collisions happen that way. These three races are now at the top of my list of possible Earth-killer races.”