This is where the Artificials came in! They were not subject to biological aging and functioned for an extremely long time. Moreover, they did not mind having to spend years aboard a spaceship by themselves. But they had a serious disadvantage compared to humans—their emotional reactions to external stimuli were, despite all efforts to make them as human-like as possible, still too different from those of a human to understand and comprehend human needs 100 percent. That was precisely what mattered in the end, because the sending of the exploration ships served the sole purpose of providing for the human needs of the future.
So the Exploration Office turned to Martain Joordan when he once again became available as a physical incarnation. He had created the Artificials, after all, and no one understood them better than he did, even if he had lost some of his knowledge through the centuries in the multitude of copies of consciousness he had already had, due to the inevitable copying errors. Nevertheless, he was the cyberneticist who was most likely to solve this problem.
Alexiana shook her head sadly. “So you’re really planning to give Tasso your upgrade?”
Martain could see in her eyes how dismissive she was of his plan. He even feared that this would tarnish their mutual relationship for a long time, over many incarnations. And yet he believed he had no other choice.
“Tasso is my creature, almost like my child. If I can lead him to a spiritually higher level, it is my duty to do so.”
Again Alexiana shook her head, this time as a sign of her resignation. “Then I can only hope you aren’t making a terrible mistake!”
5th of Zuhn, 299
First he saw the red flicker. Tolkut startled. Streaks of red light were traveling through the control center. They climbed the walls and ran across the ceiling, only to turn around at the other side and run back across the floor. What was its purpose? Red was a warning color for both the Iks and the Mendraki. Had the ship sounded an alarm?
The translator answered his question: Alarm, alarm, alarm.
Crap, so it is really an alarm!
What’s going on? he drummed.
Tolkut could not hear the translation, but the ship must have understood him, because the wall in the middle turned into a screen again. It showed the local system—the sun, the planet Krungthep, and the blue sphere—as a single graphic symbol because of the scale.
And then there were the red crosses flashing at the edge of the display. Tolkut counted four. If the scale was correct, they were about five times as far from the Sphere’s current orbit as the planet was from its sun. That was close. The Sphere was certainly not warning without reason.
Who is coming to visit, and when will he arrive? he asked.
The available data only allow a forecast. There is a ninety-six percent probability that the ships are Artificials. That is why I have triggered the alarm—estimated time of arrival, twenty-four hours.
Can you establish a radio link?
Maybe there was something to talk about with the Artificials? A diplomatic solution? Perhaps they could avert the destruction of the solar system? Tolkut was an optimist. Back when they had first met the Iks, it had been worthwhile to negotiate instead of shooting.
I have already tried that, replied the ship. However, I do not get an answer.
Do you have any idea what they want from us?
The people have made a contractual commitment to not visit Krungthep again. Therefore, I must assume hostile intentions.
Great! So they had entered forbidden territory, and the guards apparently couldn’t take a joke. Alexa had not informed them about this. Was the ship’s control system playing its own game?
How endangered is the ship? he drummed.
The answer came again, a little delayed from the translator. Simulations based on historical data show that this ship will be ninety-six percent destroyed. I therefore strongly recommend an early departure.
How much time do we have?
The ship should leave orbit around Krungthep in sixteen hours at the latest. Otherwise, the Artificials will destroy us before we reach the speed necessary to open the hyperspace tunnel.
That was an announcement Tolkut could live with. He had to reach the ground crew as quickly as possible.
Then they had half a day to smuggle themselves back in.
What does ‘no connection’ mean? I have to warn my friends! Tolkut drummed.
I’m sorry, but the away team is not available, the system replied.
He could have guessed that. The four of them must have reached the planetary supercomputer, and there was no radio signal coming through from the depths. Tolkut marched through the control center. His fine black hair had been standing for hours, something that had never happened to him before. And at his age! Every female would be courting him now. He crawled up the wall and hung from the ceiling. The change of perspective usually helped him, but today the same thoughts haunted him again—he had to warn the others. But how?
He continued to crawl along the ceiling until he was suspended above the colorful glowing control cabinets. The software Alexa had left behind could perform localized maneuvers, but was incapable of flying the ship through a hyperspace tunnel. But the Sphere could be controlled manually. All instruments and displays were directly below him. He had no idea how they worked, but he would figure it out.
He couldn’t wait too long for the others, because then he risked the Artificials destroying the ship. There was no way that he was going to let that happen. The Sphere was the last and only hope of the Mendraki and the Iks. If there was no other way, he had to abandon his friends. They would certainly act similarly in his place and understand him.
Tolkut rappeled down. He landed directly in front of one of the cabinets. The console was divided into several sections, but which one might be responsible for the hyperspace tunnel? Some of the switches and displays were indeed labeled, but he did not understand the strange signs of the people. Why did they have to draw silly squiggles instead of encoding the words with knots on a few threads? That way you could read them without having to look, something that was much more practical! A spaceship’s pilot was bound to be distracted if he looked at any output on the screen instead of his target.
But he could not change all that. He had to proceed with trial and error.
Ship, can you delay the execution of commands on these consoles until you explain their effect to me? he drummed.
This is not possible. The manual control always acts directly. But I can describe to you what happened, if you don’t notice it yourself.
What could happen like that?
Everything, up to the self-destruction of the Sphere.
Can’t it be canceled once I’ve triggered it?
No. However, with about three hundred and sixty-eight controls, the initial risk of hitting them is less than zero point three percent.
The initial risk, of course. But the more switches and buttons he tried, the more the risk would grow. Alexa and the others simply had to return in time.
“She’s back,” Norok said.
“What? Who?”
Kimi had been dreaming of the gas giant. It had been wonderful to glide through the dense ammonia clouds. Couldn’t Norok have let her sleep a little longer? Now her partner also took away the wing he had put around her shoulders. Kimi shivered.
“Alexa,” Norok said.
“Alexa?”
“You asked who was back.”
Krungthep. They were many wing lengths below the surface of a destroyed planet. She shook off the fatigue. Inside the column—Alexa’s home—the blue light had turned back on, and clouds of steam swirled through the cylinder. They formed into the bipedal figure they knew as Alexa. Kimi, however, still wasn’t sure who Alexa really was.
Her eyes fell on Kasfok. The Mendrak was standing next to the column, turning his head back and forth while seeming to fix each of his eyes on it, one by one.
What did you find out? he drummed with his front legs.
“Did yo
u find anything?” asked Norok, who must have missed Kasfok’s movements.
“There’s good news and bad news,” Alexa said.
“First, the bad,” Kimi said.
“Mart will not accompany us,” Alexa replied.
“You looked for him in here? In the computer?” asked Kimi.
“Wait a minute. Why are you talking about Mart?” asked Norok. “What does he have to do with this?”
“Alexa confessed to me after we arrived that she flew here because of him.”
“And why didn’t I know about this?”
“I didn’t want to make it more complicated than it already was. It’s nothing against you, Norok. It just didn’t seem necessary.”
“Not ‘necessary?’ I thought we were a team?”
“Please speak more slowly,” came from the translator. “I can’t follow you.”
“Can we work this out later, Norok? Alexa, what about Mart?”
“There is an old backup of him in the supercomputer. But it refuses to join us.”
“That doesn’t seem like much of a loss, does it?”
“Maybe it is. Mart might have been able to help us negotiate with the Artificials.”
“Why?” asked Norok.
“He is, after all, one of their fathers.”
“One of their fathers? What do you mean by that?” asked Kimi.
“They’re not called Artificials for nothing. Somebody designed them. We designed them, Mart, me and a few others. And then they—”
There was a deafening crash.
“What was that?” asked Norok.
“I don’t... Wait, I’m using my sensors.”
The elevator door won’t open, Kasfok drummed.
The Mendrak’s front legs slipped again and again on the transparent material. Earlier, it had been enough to approach the door for it to open. Without the elevator, they would never be able to reach the surface again. A technical error?
“I’m getting the radar echoes much faster,” Alexa explained. “The ceiling is lower than before. Probably the shell has closed over us.”
“The shell?” asked Norok.
“It’s an emergency lockdown that protects the computer in the event of an attack.”
“Can this have anything to do with us?”
“No. We weren’t classified as attackers by the system, or we wouldn’t have made it this far. We would have been killed in the elevator.”
“Excuse me? The elevator could have killed us?”
“The cabin can be evacuated. If the system had classified us as attackers, it would have simply cut off our air.”
“You didn’t tell us about any of that.”
“I didn’t want to worry you unnecessarily, Norok. Wouldn’t you have refrained from trying then?”
“Of course.”
“There you go.”
“What about the attackers? Who can they be?”
“There’s only one threat that comes to mind,” Alexa said, “Apparently, the Artificials are attacking the system.”
“That, too,” Norok said with a sigh.
“You still owe us the good news,” Kimi said.
“Oh, yes, although it may not mean anything now. The Artificials home is on Earth.”
“On Earth?”
“The third planet of the solar system where you have just settled. If we want to solve the problem, we have to go back. After all, you can then die among your own kind.”
“At last—some really good news,” Norok said cynically.
What’s good about that? Kasfok drummed.
That was a joke, Kimi danced, before the translator had transmitted everything. In hopeless situations, some Iks tend to do that.
“We need to get out of here,” Norok said. “Even more so now that we know where to find the Artificials.”
“It’s a good thing we left Tolkut in the Sphere,” sounded the translator. “He’ll do what needs to be done.”
“But how would he know?” asked Kimi.
It was frustrating. If they had known from the beginning that the Artificials were to be found on Earth, they could have started there with one of their exploration ships. Iks and Mendraki alone might have been able to do even more than if they had been accompanied by the humans, who seemed to have a troublesome history with the Artificials.
Why hadn’t Mart told them the destination right away? Had he not known it? Had he also been just a backup from some ancient time? The strange manner of his disappearance spoke to that. The whole story was so different than it had looked. Should they not have been so trusting? But after all, Mart’s intervention had saved the Iks from annihilation. Why shouldn’t they have trusted him?
“Can we send a signal outside?” asked Norok. “Tolkut seems to be the only one who could finish this now, if he can manage to steer the Sphere to Earth.”
“For security reasons, the outer shell of the computer will block anything I send,” Alexa said, “but maybe I can convince the system to send a message directly to Tolkut on our behalf.”
“Please try,” Kimi and Norok said at the same time.
A Strange Tactic
Fleet Admiral Marty Joorthan was amazed. The Artificials’ ships evaded the approaching units and did not engage in battle after the first exchange of blows, although they were in the majority. He did not understand the strategy behind this behavior.
Not understanding the enemy’s actions in a battle was worrisome, and it gave him a headache. “Battlefield analysis!” he shouted into his acoustic field.
This time, the ship’s positronics felt it was appropriate to also involve the tactical officer and the commanding officer of the weapons control room in the analysis.
The two officers received a request from the ship’s computer to join a meeting. The visors of their VR hoods lowered, and the virtual reality of a small conference room appeared before their eyes. Captain Grumelk from the tactical command post and Commander Kollsok from the weapons control center had to wait for half a second until Fleet Admiral Joorthan also appeared at the small, round conference table in front of them. The standard avatar represented the ship’s positronics.
Not even three seconds had passed since the fleet admiral had given the order.
“Situation report,” the admiral demanded curtly.
The positronics played the numbers into the three men’s field of vision as they verbally reported.
“Our total losses stand at five hundred and thirteen units. No survivors. Thirty-seven ships are temporarily disabled. They are retreating to a tight orbit around Krungthep to make repairs. Eight of them could be fully operational again in a day or two. The others will require a longer stay in a repair facility. Enemy losses two hundred and forty-two units. Fifteen enemy ships apparently badly damaged and rendered inoperable.”
If a space torpedo managed to penetrate to the target and overcome the ship’s shields, the vessel was usually destroyed. Therefore, there were significantly fewer damaged ships than destroyed ones.
Fleet Admiral Marty Joorthan also knew all too well that they would not have time for major repairs, let alone have the opportunity to have repairs done at a shipyard. Humanity no longer had a functioning shipyard!
But this was not the question that was his priority at the moment.
“Why haven’t the Artificials followed up? They have lost only half as many ships as we have. On the contrary, it looks like they are deliberately avoiding the continuing attacking formations of Generals Chen and Koppa. Do you have any explanations?”
“Maybe they’re shying away from high casualties in a battle they’re going to win either way,” Captain Grumelk suggested. “They have time on their side and don’t need to rush into anything. If they go for attrition warfare, they’ll win later, but probably with significantly fewer casualties from their ranks.”
“On the other hand,” Commander Kollsok countered, “they are giving the population of Krungthep more time to evacuate the planet and flee the system,”<
br />
“The Artificials know full well that there is nowhere left for the survivors to escape to,” growled Grumelk. “Whoever escapes from the Krungthep system will have to wander through the Milky Way aboard an escape ship for the rest of their lives. The Artificials have taken all the habitable systems. So why shouldn’t they let the few million escape, those we can evacuate? A few ships full of nomads pose no threat to them.”
Grumelk’s argument did not convince commander Kollsok. “Except as a matter of principle! They have sworn to destroy us all. Letting a few million escape, even if only to leave them to eke out a miserable existence as galactic nomads, doesn’t fit their previous strategy of ruthless vengeance.”
Fleet Admiral Joorthan had listened to the two officers in silence so far. Nothing they said sounded convincing to his ears. He turned to Commander Kollsok. “What do we know about their weapons systems? Are they perhaps less effective than we’d previously thought, and is that perhaps why the Artificials are still holding back?”
“No,” the commander replied. “What we have been able to observe in the course of the battle so far corresponds very closely to the specifications we are familiar with. The range and firepower of their guns show the same values as in all previous space battles.”
And in all these battles, humanity lost, Fleet Admiral Joorthan thought. So why are the Artificials behaving so strangely in this last of all battles? Then a thought occurred to him. “Maybe they’re trying to tell us something with their behavior. We just don’t know what!”
“If the tin heads want to tell us something, they can do it over the radio. Why this damn cat-and-mouse game?” The captain was visibly frustrated. Being presented with a tactically impenetrable situation by the enemy made it difficult for him to develop a reasonable counter-strategy on his part. If you didn’t know what the enemy was planning, it was almost impossible to react in a goal-oriented way yourself.
“When do the Artificials encounter the first line of defense of Generals Hooloor and Fallok?” the fleet admiral wanted to know.
Helium 3: Death from the Past (Helium-3 Book 2) Page 14