The Dark Between the Stars

by Kevin J. Anderson

  NINETY-FOUR

  ORLI COVITZ

  Orli had been exposed to the plague, and she knew it.

  The clan Reeves compies worked throughout the Onthos space city, rewiring the power blocks and the alien energy reactors, setting up a thorough network of detonations. Meanwhile, Orli tried to convince herself that her racing pulse, feverish feeling, and nausea were just a response to stress. The disease’s incubation period had to be much longer than this. She wouldn’t know for some time yet if she was infected.

  But judging from the mortality rate—one hundred percent—if she did contract the plague, then she was going to die. She couldn’t go back to civilization and risk exposing anyone else. Meanwhile, BO and the other five compies were precluded from destroying the infected city while she remained aboard.

  The other compies were focused on their task, which was not so difficult as it was time-consuming. The sequence would have to be carefully synchronized and monitored, and the five compies, plus BO, would take separate stations . . . or they would have to spend even more time to automate the process. While two Worker compies primed the reactor for an overload, two other compies went up and down the spokes of the city, opening every module to hard vacuum, venting the air to space, just in case some self-contained sections survived the massive planned explosion. They were meticulous and thorough.

  Olaf Reeves had been careful in his instructions, insisting that the compies must be vaporized along with the station. No trace. BO repeated the man’s words to Orli, even imitating the clan leader’s gruff voice. “By the Guiding Star, I know how people are, especially greedy ones. A dire warning will only make them more curious. Bleeding hearts will try to save us long after we’re dead. Prospectors and historians will come here to poke around, looking for lost treasure, convinced that a few sterilization routines are good enough. No, I’m not going to doom the whole damned race because somebody will be an idiot—it might take years, might take centuries, but they’ll come. We have to wipe out this city, every speck of it, at all costs. Leave no chance whatsoever that this disease can spread. If it ever got loose in a populated area . . .”

  Orli’s gut twisted, and her head was pounding. She closed her eyes, even though she knew BO and DD were staring at her, waiting for a response. “He’s absolutely right,” she said.

  At all costs.

  Since Orli and DD’s unexpected arrival, the Retroamer compies had reassessed their timing and instituted a delay—for her, even though Orli hadn’t asked them to do so. BO said, “If you are still alive, Orli Covitz, we cannot trigger the detonation, because then we would knowingly be causing your death. Our programming precludes that.”

  Orli thought she could probably alter their basic routines, adding logical loopholes and justifications. They had to know that by obliterating the plague, they would save millions, if not billions, of human lives at the cost of one. It was simple mathematics.

  Or, she realized, instead of making such a complex argument, Orli could just rig the reactors to explode by herself.

  “I’ll live for a week, ten days at the outside, right?” She had made the grim calculations herself. “And if you refuse to destroy the station until I’m dead—that might give someone else enough time to get here. I am the first, but there’ll be more soon. The green priest sent out his warning through telink, and other people may already be on their way.”

  DD said in his usual naïve fashion, “If others were warned to stay away, we will be safe. Why are you concerned, Orli?”

  “Because the louder you tell someone to stay away, the more eager they’ll be to come here. Olaf Reeves knew that, too.”

  “That is illogical.”

  “Yes, people often are.”

  But Orli realized there was another consideration if this ancient city was destroyed without a trace. BO took the time to show her the Onthos library chamber, the images and records of the small group of aliens, remnants of their waning race who had fled out here in the hope of remaining safe. According to translations by the green priest Shelud, most of the Onthos had been wiped out by some great disaster even before the Klikiss swarm wars, but BO didn’t know the details. Every bit of information was entirely new.

  That would all be lost.

  As she looked at the images of the strange, small-statured aliens, Orli felt sad to know she was destroying the last remnant of an intelligent civilization. No one had previously encountered any Onthos relics, as far as she knew. Neither the Ildirans nor the humans had any inkling that the race had existed. The worldforest held only a faint memory of the Onthos and had asked Shelud to transmit every bit of information he could. But according to BO, the green priest had barely begun the task before he succumbed to the plague. And once this station was vaporized, all that knowledge would be gone. . . .

  DD sounded dejected. “I spent many years with Margaret and Louis Colicos when we investigated Klikiss ruins. We were proud xeno-archaeologists and discovered many important things. That was before we knew how evil the Klikiss robots were.” The little compy paused as if dealing with his own fears. “There is much knowledge in this ancient city, Orli. I am sad to see it all lost.”

  “But we can’t risk infection—the danger is too great,” she said. “We don’t dare let other archaeologists have access to this place. One small slip, a careless exposure . . .” Then she realized the solution had been in front of her all along. “BO, can you help me compile a digital summary of this station, the Onthos history, everything that happened?”

  “Already completed,” the Teacher compy said. “I also have full documentation of clan Reeves and their time here, as well as records of the spread of the plague. The green priest used his treeling to communicate the basics to the worldforest network, but the complete library of Onthos records remains intact. It would be good to preserve it.”

  Orli said, “Let me take those records aboard the Proud Mary. DD will accompany me, and we’ll fly close to some human outpost where we can transmit the data. At least that way it can be preserved and shared—the information is too important. But we’ll remain isolated aboard the ship. Proud Mary will be my quarantine.” She drew a deep breath. “And when the plague gets me—” Her voice cracked, and she felt dread and despair rising within her. “When I die, DD will have the same instructions you do. My ship has to be destroyed in space, and no one else need ever contract the disease.”

  “A very good solution,” BO said in a voice that sounded much too cheerful for the subject matter. “And we will not need to delay the destruction here.”

  Orli thought of all the work she had done on Relleker, trying so hard to save compies. “In fact, BO, I want you and the other compies to join me aboard the Proud Mary. We can detonate the station remotely.”

  “That will not be possible, Orli Covitz. Our explicit orders are to remain here and complete our tasks, then to perish with the station.”

  “But it’s not necessary. I’m giving you new orders. Come with me.” Her mind raced to find a way to ensure complete sterilization of the compies. Simple exposure to vacuum for an extended time should be sufficient. And there were numerous backup decontamination routines, which she explained to BO.

  “I see no flaw whatsoever in your reasoning,” the Teacher compy said. “But we have prepared the detonation so that all compies must act in unison. To reconfigure now would take an extra day. An extra day could again change the parameters. If yet another unexpected visitor arrived, it would change our timing once again. Any delay increases the danger.”

  “Then DD and I can help. We’ll work together to make it possible.”

  BO turned to face her. “I appreciate your earnest desire to save us, but our orders are explicit and inflexible. I will not allow you to rationalize a way for us to escape—any such deviation increases the risk. You know this, Orli Covitz.”

  Orli remained silent, her stomach knotted, as she tried to think how she might convince the willful Teacher compy. But BO’s argument was sound, even i
f Orli didn’t like it.

  “I will be your companion, Orli,” DD said. “And I will follow whatever instructions you give.”

  “I know you will, DD.” She felt tears filling her eyes.

  The Teacher compy marched off. “I will retrieve the records I assembled. The compies here have nearly finished venting the modules to space. We will be ready to detonate the Onthos city within two hours.”

  “Two hours . . .” Orli said. “You’re being very brave, BO—you and all of the compies.”

  BO swiveled her head. “We do what is asked of us.”

  Orli and DD went back to the control chamber and watched a Worker compy connecting power blocks to the alien reactor, as if it were simply another task. These compies knew they would cause their own destruction, but Olaf Reeves had given them commands. Even though compy core programming had self-preservation subroutines, they understood the larger picture. Their work and their sacrifice would save human lives, which took precedence over their own self-preservation drive.

  Orli could not convince the compies otherwise.

  Watching them, she thought fondly of the misfit compies she had rescued, retrained, reprogrammed, and sent out in civilization again. She thought of LU and the too-diligent Domestic compy, MO. They’d been her companions when Matthew was gone. She was glad that they, at least, would have stable and satisfying lives.

  The Worker compy turned from his work at the reactor and directed bright optical sensors at her. “We can complete our preparations within fifty minutes. You should get to safety.”

  Orli loaded the files BO had collated into the Proud Mary’s computer and then stood on the boarding ramp with DD. All six clan Reeves compies gathered with her in the launching bay, their work done. She said goodbye and tried to tell them how much she—and by extension the human race—appreciated their efforts, but she ran out of words. The compies understood anyway.

  She and DD stepped inside the Proud Mary and sealed the hatch. “Time to retreat to a safe distance, but I want to stay until the end. We owe them that.”

  “I agree, Orli,” DD said. “We can record the image to complete the story.”

  She replaced the hand jazer in the captain’s locker, bitterly amused at herself for thinking that a hand weapon could have protected her against what had killed the Retroamers. She had been cautious, but not in the right way. Orli powered up the systems and eased the Proud Mary away from the derelict city.

  DD said, “You called those compies brave, Orli. Do you truly believe that? They were merely following instructions, as compies do.”

  “I choose to think they were brave, DD.” She looked through the windowport of the Proud Mary, studying the strange beauty of the dead city.

  “Are we being brave, Orli?”

  “Yes, DD, I think we are.”

  “My self-preservation programming compels me to avoid being destroyed. And I have a great many fond memories. My existence has been filled with experiences, but I cannot say that I am afraid to die. Are you afraid to die, Orli?”

  She swallowed hard and avoided the answer. “I know what we need to do, and it’s important that we survive for just a little longer. We have to deliver this vital information so that it isn’t lost forever. Also . . . Rlinda Kett deserves to know what happened to us. I suppose even Matthew deserves to know.” Otherwise, she and DD would have just disappeared in space, leaving only a void of questions.

  As the Proud Mary hung at a safe distance from the derelict city, Orli considered her life and now her own mortality. She had been with old Mr. Steinman when he passed away, and she knew he was at peace. She thought of how Rlinda Kett kept BeBob’s small capsule of ashes with instructions to join him when she died. Orli didn’t have anyone . . . except DD. The little compy would have to be enough.

  “I’m not necessarily afraid to die, DD, but I’m not looking forward to it, and I don’t want to hurry it along.”

  In the last minute, BO transmitted, “We are prepared, Orli Covitz. Final countdown initiated. We have thirty seconds.”

  “I’m proud of you,” Orli said. “All of you.”

  The Teacher compy stared back, as if she were contemplating the proper response. “Thank you. And we are proud to do our best.”

  The space city exploded.

  The first eruption blossomed bright as a star in the central hub, the nucleus of the jagged metal snowflake. Heat and shock waves radiated outward while additional explosions rattled along the five spokes, detonating the separate modules.

  The compies had been very thorough in their planning. Orli felt a pang as she saw the bright flash, the expanding cloud of debris. She knew that nothing would be left. The disease was eradicated.

  Except in her.

  She used the medical kit and took her temperature to find that it was elevated—possibly because of her anxiety, the effort of rushing to get away—but she had been sitting in the cockpit for some time, resting in the Proud Mary’s worn pilot seat. No, the fever was already starting. She would finish her work, deliver the data and her messages . . . and then DD would complete his job, too.

  A sensor blip alerted her to another ship approaching. As the debris of the Onthos city continued to spread and the thermal glow faded, the new ship raced in like a projectile heading toward a target.

  “Now who the hell is that?” Orli already guessed it was some treasure hunter, do-gooder, or curious spectator, just as Olaf Reeves had predicted. She let out a sigh; the Retroamer compies had done their work just in time.

  “DD, open a comm channel.” She turned to the Proud Mary’s screen. “Incoming ship, please stay away from the vicinity. This was a quarantine station, all members of clan Reeves are now dead. The area has been sterilized.”

  The other pilot responded, “No survivors?” His voice was clipped and businesslike. “Everything destroyed?”

  “No survivors of the original group, but I believe I’ve also been exposed, so please keep your distance. I’ll maintain a self-imposed quarantine until . . . until everything else can be taken care of. But I have a compilation of data I can transmit to you. That should give you all you need.”

  After a long silence, the other pilot appeared on the screen. His face was lean, his skin a dark brown as if carved from mahogany. “My name is Tom Rom. I will accept your data, but that is not my priority. If you’ve contracted the disease, you have something that I need. Stand down and prepare to be boarded.”

  NINETY-FIVE

  ADAR ZAN’NH

  His maniple of warliners was en route to the Plumas system, ready for an exhilarating test engagement with the Confederation Defense Forces. He had new information about the Shana Rei to share, as well as a surprise or two. He liked it when he could surprise General Nalani Keah.

  Zan’nh considered Keah a tactical genius. Fortunately, she intended to remain in the background for the Plumas maneuvers, merely observing how her Grid Admirals handled a realistic combat scenario. Adar Zan’nh would do the same, allowing the maniple commander Qul Uldo’nh and his seven septars to demonstrate their prowess in the space engagement near the ice moon.

  A clash with the CDF, however, would be quite different from a battle against the Shana Rei. On Ildira, Anton Colicos and the rememberer kith had been discovering information about previous battles with the creatures of darkness, stories of Tal Bria’nh’s engagements and his plans for unusual weapons that might have some effect on the Shana Rei. But they remained to be tested.

  The grand procession flew through space, forty-nine warliners closing in on the Roamer water-pumping station, precisely on schedule. The Solar Navy crews were drilled, the ships in perfect shape.

  As the maniple approached the system, however, three fast CDF Remoras soared toward them. The lead warliners in the formation immediately went on alert. “Human ships approaching rapidly, Adar,” Qul Uldo’nh reported.

  Zan’nh was immediately wary. “Shift warliners to defensive formation. Are their weapons active?” He suspected this
was some surprise from General Keah.

  “They are coming too fast for us to tell, Adar. The pilots are sending an urgent signal.”

  One of the techs in the command nucleus activated the comm screen so they could hear what the Remoras were broadcasting. “General Keah has declared an emergency. Our ships are under attack.”

  The Adar frowned. Maybe General Keah wanted his ships to race directly into a trap—so she could laugh, having tricked him again. “Let me speak to those pilots.”

  Even though the Remoras decelerated at maximum thrust, they overshot the oncoming maniple of Ildiran warliners. It took them several minutes to wheel about and streak back toward the Solar Navy ships.

  Zan’nh crossed his arms over his uniformed chest. “Is this part of our exercise? If General Keah is attempting to trick—”

  “Good Lord, no, Adar!” squawked the Remora pilot. Zan’nh was familiar enough with human expressions to see the genuine alarm on her face. “One of those black nebulas appeared in the system, like the one at Dhula. There’s a swarm of black robot ships and three gigantic vessels of unknown origin. It isn’t a joke, sir! This is not a war-game exercise.”

  Zan’nh knew Keah would not undertake such an elaborate ruse. Black robots and a shadow cloud. A smile crept to his lips. He had not expected an immediate opportunity to use the new prototypes the engineer kith had built from the old designs. “Engaging a real enemy will be a far superior experience to any war games. Full acceleration!”

  The CDF Remoras led them into the Plumas system, and Zan’nh saw that indeed this was no trick.

  Mammoth hexagonal cylinders had emerged from a cavernous black cloud, and he knew they were Shana Rei battleships. The smaller, frenetic attacking vessels were of Klikiss robot design, but far more numerous than the few they had pursued at Dhula. The robot ships harried the CDF Juggernauts and Mantas.

  Zan’nh opened a direct channel to the Kutuzov. “General Keah, the Ildiran Solar Navy is at your service.”

  On screen, Keah appeared flustered; her bridge deck seemed canted at an odd angle. “It’s about damned time, Z! We could sure use the cavalry.”