Artifice

by S. H. Jucha

  “That’s correct,” Tranimus admitted. His eyes were sad, and the Omnians, Sargut, Taralum, and Suntred realized that the grand commander had been too careful. After decades of fear under Artifice, he’d taken one significant step for his race, but he’d failed to follow through with what he started.

  “I will accompany Z and Luther,” Suntred said. “I’ll speak in your name, Grand Commander, and make the commanders heed my requests.”

  Tranimus regarded the defiant expression on Suntred’s face. The liaison position was one of facilitation and communication. It carried no weight within the command structure. But the heat in Suntred’s eyes indicated that she considered that a minor hurdle.

  “Commanders Sargut and Taralum must return to their ships,” Tranimus said. “They must be in command when Alex and the Omnian fleet return.”

  “You need have no worry, Grand Commander,” Suntred said defiantly. “They will listen to me.”

  Z and Luther packed up their sisters and equipment and followed Suntred to a different bay. Tranimus had thought of one thing to help Suntred. He’d given her his personal shuttle. It would indicate that she traveled through the fleet with his permission.

  Z and Luther could only be perplexed by a race that had advanced starships which were relegated to antiquated forms of communication. Then again, he knew Omnians didn’t live in fear as the Toralians did.

  While the grand commander’s shuttle had nicer appointments, it didn’t fly any better or the pilot didn’t have any better skills. However, the SADEs were careful to repack the grav pallet, park it at the shuttle’s aft bulkhead, shut it down, and strap it in place. Suntred occupied a bar, hanging upside down, and closed her wings across her face and upper chest.

  This flight was shorter. They’d traveled to the nearest battleship. Z had requested that they work outward from Tranimus’ ship, as if the grand commander was making a round of visits to the fleet commanders.

  After the expected thump, indicating they’d landed in a bay, Suntred said that she’d speak with the ship’s commander first, and that Z and Luther should wait aboard the shuttle.

  The SADEs heard Suntred politely greet the ship’s commander and subcommander, who had expected to meet Tranimus. Suntred’s explanation grew lengthy, and the conversation grew heated. Central to the argument was that the commander expected to be consulted before Suntred brought aliens aboard his ship. He was insisting she leave, while he took a shuttle to meet with Tranimus and hear from him directly.

  Z sent to Luther.

  Z jumped through the open hatch, clearing the ramp, and landed with an enormous bang on the metal deck.

  “We’re ready to begin, Liaison Suntred, per the grand commander’s orders,” Z announced in Toralian. He walked to stand beside Suntred, deliberately making his footfalls sound heavy, and he accorded her a tip of his head, a courtesy to her position.

  The commander and subcommander stared in a combination of awe and horror at Z.

  “Is everything in order, Liaison Suntred?” Z asked. “Time is wasting for the return of our fleet. I’d hate to see this battleship reduced to space dust because we didn’t clear it of Artifice’s code in time, as we’ve done for the grand commander’s ship and three others in the fleet.”

  “Four ships are clear of Artifice’s code, Liaison Suntred?” the female subcommander asked dubiously.

  “Didn’t Z just state that clearly in our language?” Suntred demanded. “You know, you have a point, Z,” she added turning to face the SADE. “We can’t waste time here arguing about the merits of what we’re trying to accomplish. We’ll move on to the next ship.”

  “As you order, Liaison Suntred,” Z said, tipping his head again. He turned his back on the group and stomped toward the shuttle.

  “Wait,” the commander called out. “I’ve some questions.”

  “And we haven’t the time,” Suntred called in a dismissive tone over her shoulder, as she followed Z.

  The subcommander hissed to her commander and whispered something urgently that Suntred couldn’t hear but Z could.

  Z sent.

  “Forgive my abruptness, Liaison Suntred,” the commander called out, which halted Suntred’s retreat. “We do wish to have our ship cleared of Artifice’s code.”

  “Without further questions or complaints?” Suntred asked, unwilling to let the commander off the hook so easily.

  “We’ll accommodate your every request, Liaison,” the commander replied.

  “Very well,” Suntred allowed. “Z, you may proceed.”

  Suntred followed Z up the ramp into the shuttle’s interior. Once inside, she had to cover her mouth to prevent her whistling from being overheard.

  “Well done, Liaison Suntred,” Z said, giving her an exaggerated bow.

  Suntred clamped both hands over her mouth to smother her whistled delight at Z’s performance. “I could get used to being treated in this manner,” she said, when she regained control.

  “Don’t let it go to your head,” Z warned. “We’ll clear the remainder of the ships. Then comes the hard part. We fight our way inward.”

  The reminder sobered Suntred, and she stepped aside to allow the SADEs to carry off what they needed. This time, they could leave the pallet and the majority of equipment behind since the grand commander’s shuttle would remain their transport.

  The ship’s commanders hurried to clear way for Z and Luther, who carried armloads of material. In the airlock, Suntred introduced the Omnians to the two commanders. She confused them when she said that three SADEs were present.

  “SADEs are digital entities,” Suntred explained. “Two are standing before you, and the third is in the box. She’s called a sister by the Omnians. It’s she who will clear your ship of Artifice’s code, and she’ll protect your ship from any subsequent programs that Artifice sends, as long as you protect her.”

  “What do you mean protect her?” the subcommander asked.

  “We had an incident on another ship,” Suntred replied, as the group traveled down a long corridor.

  The commander recognized the awestruck stares of his crew, as similar to the ones he’d had. I need to make an announcement quickly, he thought.

  “A subcommander exhibited erratic behavior toward the Omnians,” Suntred continued. “He and a few of his followers tried to take the bridge. We believe he intended harm to the sister.”

  “What is his condition now?” the commander asked.

  “As you would expect,” Suntred said offhand, “he and his followers have been locked in their cabins until suitable arrangements can be made.”

  On the bridge, the commander ordered the crew to stand aside. He had to repeat his order more loudly because they were frozen in place. While the SADEs worked, the commander made a shipwide announcement that they had special visitors, and they’d learn more, in good time. He was loath to be more specific until he was told his ship was clear and his crew verified that.

  “So, we’ve contacted the Omnians, and they’re here to help us?” the subcommander asked Suntred.

  “They’re definitely here to help us,” Suntred assured them.

  “How do you know this?” the commander inquired. He was careful to keep the dubiousness he felt out of his voice.

  “The Omnians eliminated a battleship fleet that was sent to destroy the Chistorlan home world,” Suntred explained. “Three of our ships were sent to observe, and we carried the Omnian leader, Alex Racine, aboard Commander Sargut’s ship. Afterwards, the Omnians discovered why Artifice wanted the planet reduced to rubble. The Chistorlans have been creating a unique digital entity to take on Artifice.”

  “If the Omnians are so powerful, why don’t they destroy Artifice themselves?” the commander asked.

  “Think on what you said, Commander,” Z said. He watched the crew gawk at his perfect rendition of their language. “Our fle
et heads inward, and then what does Artifice do?”

  The bridge crew stared open-mouthed at their commander, surprised that he’d not thought through the ramifications of his question before he asked it.

  Suntred felt sympathy for the credibility the commander had lost in front of his crew. She said, “The issue is complex, and we don’t possess the final pieces. Neither do the Omnians. The strategy will evolve even after the Omnian fleet arrives. By then, our ships will be clear of Artifice’s influence, and Grand Commander Tranimus will communicate with the fleet in the clear for the first time in Talus space.”

  What Suntred said cheered the crew, and they whistled their approval at the thought of becoming a fighting fleet free from Artifice’s threat.

  Z and Luther stood up and began collecting their equipment.

  “Is that it?” the subcommander asked Suntred, who shook her head.

  A few moments later, the bridge audience heard the sister say, “Greetings, Toralians, your ship is clear.”

  Most of the bridge crew whistled and celebrated, even while two officers and a tech checked every system.

  “Confirmed, Commander,” the senior bridge officer said. “The areas that encapsulated Artifice’s programs are gone.”

  “Does anyone want to play?” the sister asked. She displayed several favorite Toralian games that Miriamelle had learned from Sargut’s crew.

  The bridge officers and techs stared at their commander, who raised his hands, as if to say enjoy yourselves. Immediately the crew clustered around various monitors. They were sure that they could beat the entity in the box. Little did they know that the sister would initially allow them to win. Then, over time, as they got comfortable with her, she would make it more difficult for them, but she’d never reveal the true extent of her skills.

  The commander escorted Suntred and the Omnians to their shuttle. The last thing he said to Suntred was, “I hope you have better success communicating with the other commanders than you did with me.”

  Suntred sucked in her breath, creating a soft whistle. “I’m sure I won’t, Commander,” she said,” but I’m prepared for that. I want to bring an end to Artifice’s dominance over our race. That’s my motivation.”

  * * *

  “Is that the best image we can get?” Chandra complained to her sister.

  “You do recognize that we’re a mere shuttle, sitting behind a massive blast door, trying to pierce a thick atmosphere to examine details on a planet that’s completing a far pass around its star,” Miriamtess shot back.

  Chandra examined the blur of images on Toral’s surface. “I don’t see any value in this telemetry,” Chandra said.

  “And you wouldn’t,” Miriamtess allowed, “and neither did I until I ran the telemetry at an accelerated pace. Observe.”

  Chandra watched from the beginning of the telemetry reception through the seven days that they’d been collecting data. Miriamtess compressed the imagery into an hour’s span. Chandra witnessed the small blurs coalesce into pools. Then those pools flowed toward the planet’s polar region — toward Artifice.

  “Are those bots?” Chandra asked.

  “There seems no other likely explanation,” the sister replied. “I will play another sequence for you. The magnification is greater, which means the imagery will be more difficult to discern. Relax and take in the vid.”

  A second sequence played, more compressed than the first one had been, and Chandra struggled to identify objects in the imagery. Miriamtess’ words repeated in her mind, and Chandra let her mind drift, while the vid rolled.

  “The area appears to be undergoing construction,” Chandra said, after Miriamtess’ presentation ended.

  “Agreed,” Miriamtess replied.

  “Conjectures?” Chandra requested.

  “Let’s assemble some points along our timeline,” the sister suggested. “We return from the Chistorlan home world. A probe downloads these ships’ data streams. There’s a time lag of nearly two days before we can begin surveying Toral. When we’ve collected days’ worth of telemetry, we perceive a bot migration to the polar region and the construction of new structures.”

  “I’m following you,” Chandra commented.

  “It stands to reason that Artifice is reacting to the data downloads,” Miriamtess continued.

  “Not to editing errors?” Chandra suggested, momentary panic gripping her.

  “That’s unknown, but I believe it to be improbable,” Miriamtess replied, noting the elevated biorhythms of her pilot. “What’s more probable is that Artifice has observed the Omnian fleet appearing in the Chistorlan system and protecting the native race. It would perceive that action as interrupting its strategies, which are meant to ensure its domination.”

  “Then you think Artifice is anticipating the attack of our fleet,” Chandra said.

  “That’s a premature supposition, Chandra,” the sister replied. “It’s more likely that Artifice observes the Omnian fleet continuing to be a contentious element. It’s extrapolating futures and preparing for the worst conditions.”

  “If that’s so, what would you expect Artifice to be doing at the pole?” Chandra asked.

  “The battleship sisters and I believe that Artifice is taking two steps,” Miriamtess explained. “The first step would be to create an alternative to the comm platforms that circle the planet. Those platforms are vulnerable to long-range attacks. If it loses control of the protective fleets by being unable to activate its codes aboard those ships or send directives to them to eliminate renegade races, then it becomes vulnerable.”

  “So, it would need a powerful array to reach the probes or fleets around the system’s periphery,” Chandra said.

  “Take your thought one step further,” Miriamtess suggested. “Artifice won’t rely on a single array. The bots will be laying connections to the primary and secondary antennas. Those lines will stretch to new locations, and several arrays will be added.”

  “Those arrays will need power,” Chandra objected. Then a thought crossed her mind, and she added, “The bots.”

  “Now you’re in tune,” Miriamtess complimented her pilot. “Despite the time that has passed since Artifice took possession of this system, the data from the Vivian’s Mirror indicates that the single station above Toral continued to receive deliveries that were transferred to the surface. Artifice was forced to build bots to replace the efforts of the Toralian population.”

  “Then these bots would be everything from small service units to heavy construction types,” Chandra mused.

  “And this leads us to our second conjecture,” Miriamtess said. “The bots, in themselves, represent a serious deterrent. In addition, we must not dismiss the possibility that Artifice might have directed the construction of armored units with military capability.”

  “Black space,” Chandra whispered.

  -21-

  Days Passed

  The days passed for the SADEs servicing the Toralian fleet.

  Emboldened by the initial success with the first battleship’s commander, Suntred adopted the attitude of a grand commander’s liaison in the manner Tranimus hoped she would acquire in time.

  Suntred assumed the commanders’ cooperation, as a courtesy due her, and she acted highly indignant when she didn’t receive it. In the circumstance of meeting an obstinate individual, Z and she played their game. It helped Suntred’s progress that she could speak to the number of ships already cleared.

  When their job on the fleet was completed, Z and Luther returned to Sargut’s ship. Suntred requested permission to stay with them, and Tranimus granted it.

  Aboard Chandra’s traveler, Z and Luther examined the telemetry data that Miriamtess had collected. They reached the same conclusions as the sister.

  “Will this change Alex’s plans?” Chandra asked.

  “It certainly makes things more complicated,” Z replied. “We have the weaponry to eliminate Artifice outright, but that’s not the goal.”

  “We have
to protect the other races from Artifice’s revenge,” Chandra said.

  “Precisely,” Z affirmed.

  “Well, we can’t do anything else but wait ’til our fleet arrives,” Chandra said. “And while we wait, I need a dance partner, and you’re elected, Luther.”

  “I’m disappointed that I’m not the one selected,” Z said, pretending to be hurt.

  “And just how am I supposed to hold your humongous avatar in the recommended position, Z?” Chandra demanded.

  “A mere detail,” Z replied, with a grin.

  “And I’ve never participated in Ser’s fêtes,” Luther said. “If I practice as your partner, Chandra, I want the first dance with you at the next occasion.”

  * * *

  In Sargut’s quarters, Suntred and he discussed what had been accomplished for the fleet and the next challenges, as they saw them.

  “I perceive a significant problem, Commander,” Suntred said, “but I’m loath to discuss it.”

  “I can see three,” Sargut replied. “The codes Artifice will send when we sail inward, the diverse reactions of the fleets surrounding this system, and Tranimus.”

  Suntred was shocked that Sargut mentioned Tranimus. It wasn’t that he was wrong. She just didn’t expect him to list the grand commander as an obstacle to their success.

  “By your widened eyes, Suntred, I think you have the same thought about the grand commander as I do,” Sargut lamented.

  “It saddens me to say that Tranimus’ time has passed,” Suntred replied. “He, like every grand commander, hoped to be leading his fleet, when Artifice was defeated. Unfortunately, it’s his time.”

  “Yes, I noticed the graying of his ridges,” Sargut said. “The Change is coming fast for him.”

  “I wonder if his cognizance is sufficient to recognize the danger for him and us. If he doesn’t appoint a new grand commander, he could endanger the entire plan.” As she spoke, Suntred left her stand to pace. It helped her think. She might have whistled in mirth if she knew she imitated the Omnian leader.

  “I’ve confidence in Tranimus that he’ll make the correct decision when the time is right,” Sargut said. He tried to sound confident in his assessment of the grand commander, but his tone fell short of the mark.