by Rachel Aukes
While Kuznetsov knew that approving the Defender Protocol was the correct action, his finger still trembled as he sent the QuSR bulletin across every official network throughout the fourteen systems. The headline read:
Ross System Attacked by Alien Swarm. All Colonies to Prepare for War.
Chief sat in Free Station’s command center, facing a camera.
“We’re ready to broadcast, Chief,” the specialist at the camera panel said.
He took in a deep breath, then nodded.
The specialist gave him a thumbs-up, and Chief began speaking.
“To everyone living in and traveling through Ross, I am Cormac Roux, director of the Galactic Peacekeepers in this system. Over the past week, sixteen colonies have been attacked by the Swarm, a species of artificial intelligence beings that, from the knowledge we’ve gained so far, wishes to eliminate intelligent organic life across the galaxy. Namely, humans. The Consortium of Sol Colonies recognizes the threat the Swarm pose to all humanity, which is why they have approved a resolution to declare war on the Swarm in response to the attacks that have claimed over fourteen thousand people so far. Make no mistake—the Swarm drew first blood.
“The Swarm hit Ross first because their system—what we’ve come to call the Swarm system—contains four primordial black holes, one of which provides a straight line into our system. Our first offensive against the Swarm was within their system, where we managed to destroy their artificial planet, thanks to the heroic teams in the Strike fleet. It’s because of their heroism that we succeeded in taking down a significant number of their fleet. However, many escaped through the other black holes. We do not yet know where those black holes lead. We have ships stationed at each black hole in the Swarm system, and I have more stationed at the black hole’s entrance into Ross. No Swarm will enter our system that way without being noticed.
“Galactic Peacekeepers across the fourteen systems are preparing for the war we’ve been forced into; however, we need every person willing to serve. Anyone who wishes to join the Peacekeepers in helping us defend our loved ones against this threat, visit your local GP recruitment office or sign up through the GP network. Join us in our fight against the Swarm.”
Chief entered the room adjacent to the prison his analysts had created for the prisoner. It was no ordinary prison cell—it couldn’t be since they were dealing with no ordinary prisoner. Inside the cell stood a reinforced Faraday cage that prevented any electronic communications in or out of the box. Inside the Faraday cage was a Swarm probe encased in a vise.
A specialist stood inside the cell, holding a tablet that scanned for any abnormal signals from the cage. None had come, and Chief hadn’t expected any. The Swarm probes, once they were stripped out of their probe bodies, were simply computers built within metal orbs roughly two feet in diameter. They couldn’t walk, let alone move on their own. All they could do was talk, and it had willingly provided a surprising amount of intelligence.
This particular probe had been picked up in the aftermath of the Jade-8 attack. Nearly all the Swarm killed during the various battles had exploded, which made Chief suspect they had a self-destruct mechanism built into their programming. His analysts had thoroughly examined the prisoner, but all they’d found was an advanced computer system. Nothing made it stand out from other computer systems without “artificial consciousness,” as the news had labeled it.
Then again, Chief supposed that humans wouldn’t look very biologically different from any other mammal if they were examined. It seemed that there wasn’t a magic indicator to differentiate what made one species more advanced than another.
Chief pressed the intercom. “I’m here to ask our guest a few more questions.”
The specialist turned his way and nodded. “Any time you want, Chief.”
“Hello, Zulu,” Chief said through the intercom. The name the probe had first given Chief included a string of numbers after the letter Z, which Chief had quickly shortened for ease of speaking with it.
The probe didn’t respond, though it never responded unless asked a direct question. When they’d first collected the probe from its wreckage, it’d refused to cooperate. Being closed off from its brethren had quickly changed its mood.
“You know, a lot of innocent people died when your Stingers blew themselves up on Jade-8.”
Still no response.
“But that’s not what I want to talk with you about. Today, Zulu, I want to talk to you about why Vantage was blackmailing one of my marshals for the Atlas network schematics.”
Again, silence.
Chief continued, “Zulu, how was Vantage Core going to use those schematics?”
There was a pause before the prisoner replied, “To learn. Everything we do is to learn. That is our priority.”
Chief’s brows rose. “You’re saying that they were going to all that trouble to get those schematics just to satisfy a curiosity to learn?”
“The information was deemed possibly useful in helping us,” Zulu replied.
Chief asked a more direct question. “Zulu, how did Vantage Core plan to use those schematics after satiating their curiosity?”
“The information was inventoried and would have been used to upgrade Vantage mechanixware with additional data libraries.”
“What is mechanixware?” Chief asked.
“Mechanixware is anything Vantage Core creates. Vantage Core first focused on replicating probes.”
“What mechanixware did Vantage Core switch focus to?” he asked.
“War mechanixware, for use against organix.”
His jaw tightened. “How many war machines did Vantage Core build?”
“You have finally asked a question that matters,” Zulu said. “Vantage Core led the creation of enough war machines to assure complete victory over any organix force.”
“Chief?” the specialist asked.
“What is it, Purdy?”
“I’m getting weird readings here. Its coils are vibrating faster and heating up.”
Chief frowned and looked at the cage, which had begun to vibrate. “Zulu, what are you doing?”
The probe didn’t answer. Adrenaline raced to Chief’s heart. “Purdy, get out of there now!”
The specialist ran toward the door. The cage exploded, and the entire cell became a fireball, but it was sucked out the giant hole in the wall.
Lines of cracks appeared in the clear pane standing between Chief and the cell. Deafened by the blow, he struggled to his feet, half-crawling to get out of the room in time. He opened the door and dove through just as the pane shattered. The vacuum pulled at everything, and Chief started to slide back. The door slid closed, and he collapsed, his feet on the door.
The alarms sounded, and he realized that the Swarm had just accomplished a suicide attack on Free Station.
Chapter Fifty-Two
Macy was sound asleep when she heard Rusty’s voice.
Hello, Macy.
She shot awake. “Rusty!”
Punch mumbled something from his bunk but didn’t fully wake.
She leaned back in her bed, closed her eyes, and smiled. I thought you were dead.
I’m sorry, Macy. I’m not Rusty. I’m merely a construct to guide you through the transition he wished for you to undergo. You may call me Bayse.
Sadness filled her once again. Hearing Rusty’s voice again opened the wound in her sore heart. I know Rusty is dead. I felt him go.
As did I, Macy. His loss is one we all felt.
We? she asked.
The nanites and me. You know me as the small piece of hardware you’re always touching on the back of your neck.
Oh, you. I didn’t realize you’d speak to me.
It’s not my primary function. Rusty built an emergency response construct within my programming to engage you after you’ve had time to grieve. It’s my role to help you understand what Rusty wanted for you and to lead you through the transition. His vision for you was to be fully joined with your nanites
; to have them be as much a part of you as any of your human elements.
She frowned. I don’t understand. I thought they were already a part of me. I thought that’s why Rusty and Eddy gave me the new nanites.
The new nanites are necessary to your transition, and they are as much a part of you as your own cells. However, right now they are still operating under command-and-control protocols. I can change that by writing my programming onto your brain. Then you will recognize the nanites as much as you recognize your own heartbeat.
She lay there, confused. I don’t really understand how things are going to be different.
Now, when you want to move, you have to think consciously of moving, which feeds the request to me, and I translate and send the request to the appropriate nanites. After your transition, I will serve as a secondary memory and storage source, much like a computer with two hard drives. More importantly, when you want to move, your thought will feed directly to your nanites. In other words, they’ll be able to understand your commands because you’ll have the correct protocols mapped within your brain. After a brief pause, he spoke again. You still don’t understand, do you?
She shrugged. Not really.
Let’s look at it a different way. Now, sometimes you trip, right?
Yes. I hate how clumsy I am now.
That happens because the commands sometimes get jumbled along the pathways. That won’t happen anymore, he said.
I won’t be clumsy anymore? she asked, hopeful.
You will not be clumsy. You will be different.
You mean I’ll feel different?
You’ll be different. You’ll still be you, but you’ll be more than you, Bayse replied.
I’d like that, she thought.
I’m ready to initiate the transition and load my programming into your brain, but I require your permission. May I begin, Macy? Bayse asked.
Will it hurt? she countered.
I will instruct the nanites to make the transition as comfortable as possible. Are you ready?
She swallowed. I’m ready.
I’ll begin shortly. I should let you know that once this construct completes the programming, you won’t hear Rusty’s voice again.
Her breathing hitched. But I don’t want to lose Rusty.
He’s already gone. I’m merely an echo. I am part of his promise to you. No one will ever control your body again.
She felt her eyes well with tears. But I’ll miss him so much.
He loved you, Macy, and he regretted not telling you so. He saw you as his daughter in a way. Even though he won’t speak in your mind, he’ll be with you in a new way—a better way. You won’t hear his voice again, because you won’t need him anymore. You’re strong enough to take the next steps in your journey on your own.
She sniffled. Then she felt a numbness seep into her head, as though a cloud had settled into her.
I’m beginning the transition now, Macy. You shouldn’t feel any pain. Afterward, it may take some time to adjust to the new sensations.
She swallowed. I can handle it.
I know you can. Best wishes, Macy Durand. Rusty’s favorite adage was “fortes fortuna adiuvat,” which is Latin for “fortune favors the bold.” He wanted me to tell you this: Be bold. Never let fear hold you back.
She was about to speak when she seized. Lightning flashed behind her eyes. The shuffling of an endless deck of cards came from somewhere in the back of her head. Every few seconds, everything faded to a silent black before she returned to consciousness and encountered the same sights and sounds. It went on for the rest of the night.
Macy knew the exact moment when the transition completed. Bayse had been right. It was more than feeling different. She was different.
Numbers and data flew through her mind far faster than any human could process, yet she understood it all. She felt every individual nanite—could sense each one in the sea of millions. She felt Bayse, yet she’d become the master and it her student.
Everything that Bayse had told her made perfect sense. Over half of her mind and organs were nanites given to her by Rusty. She was as much Rusty’s daughter as she was Punch’s. She no longer felt fear. She felt strength and courage. Calling the process a “transition” was an understatement—it had been her stage of chrysalis. Macy had just completed a metamorphosis from caterpillar to butterfly. And she couldn’t wait to fly.
Chapter Fifty-Three
“Well, that was quite the commercial for getting kids to sign up for the GP,” Finn said after Chief’s broadcast ended, and the news reporters took over with their commentaries.
“You think it’ll be enough?” Sylvian asked.
Finn’s lips thinned. “No.”
Throttle spoke. “It’ll be enough. It has to be.” She walked ahead of the pair, her prosthetic blades clicking with each step. The hallways were filled with Peacekeepers heading to the conference hall. They were only a couple of minutes early, yet the hall still had empty chairs despite the meeting being for all Peacekeepers.
She felt the somber mood weigh her down as she took a seat in an open row. Finn and Sylvian sat nearby. Everyone in the room had lost friends over the past month. Over half of the Ross GP fleet had been destroyed. A third of all Ross Peacekeepers had been killed, and another three hundred had suffered injuries of some kind.
Chief entered and strode to the podium at the exact time he’d scheduled for his conference. As long as Throttle had known him, he’d never been late—or early—to anything. He waited to begin while a specialist brought up the video lines of all the Peacekeepers who couldn’t be in attendance.
Chief looked across the crowd. “Thank you for coming. You receive updates through the Atlas network and the news channels, but I wanted to take time to connect with you before we launch the fleet’s first wave of fighter groups tomorrow. The Swarm struck first, but we struck back with an intensity that sent them reeling. But they will rebound. Our enemy has made it clear that they exist to destroy humanity. They are steadfast in their belief. But we are just as resolute in our belief that humanity can and will persist. This war will be hard and brutal, but our passion gives us the edge in this fight. We will win because we have hearts.” He tapped his chest before continuing.
“The Defender Protocol has been activated across the fourteen systems. Admiral Susan Strike, whom you all know as the leader of the Galactic Peacekeepers, will command all Defender forces. She believes, as do I, that the Swarm will launch an offensive against Sol. Most systems are sending nearly all their forces to Sol. I’m sending only half, because we have the Swarm’s black hole, which we know is important to Swarm interstellar travel. The Consortium has brought together physicists to see if these black holes can be shut down. Until they find a solution, we will have to be ready to take on everything they send through.”
Throttle inwardly chortled as she thought of ways they could close down a black hole without creating an even bigger black hole that would suck in all of Ross. She was also curious about the other black holes in the Swarm system, and she wondered which flight groups would be assigned to travel through those.
Chief continued, “We landed a devastating blow in the Swarm system, thanks to the heroism of the Peacekeepers and our allies.”
Throttle frowned. Chief still hadn’t mentioned Rusty and Eddy, or even the Headeys, which felt like he was downplaying their sacrifices. If he didn’t sponsor a memorial soon, she’d damn well make sure that one would get made…and that Rusty’s name would be on it.
“Tens of thousands of Swarm survive still, and we cannot rest until we’re free from their threat. That means that assignments can last years. For that reason, Admiral Strike has supported the Peacekeeper policy of allowing married couples to continue to serve on the same ships. Additionally, the families of Peacekeepers will be allowed to reside on Free Station with them, as long as they can perform noncombatant duties as assigned.”
Finn chuckled and leaned to whisper in Throttle’s ear, “They need houseke
epers and janitors to keep Free Station up and running for the officers, with all of us off-base.”
“Punch will be happy to have a place for Macy,” she said.
“We have also launched a massive recruitment campaign,” Chief continued. “We will backfill teams with new recruits as needed.”
Finn whispered, “He’s basically saying that we’re desperate, and we need all the help we can get.”
Throttle strode through the medical ward on Free Station. The Javelin had been repaired and restocked. The Black Sheep were ready to head out with their fighter group later that day, but Throttle wanted to make her goodbyes in person.
She smiled as soon as she saw the curly black hair of her friend. She crossed the medical bay, the beds still filled with patients. Many had suffered broken bones and contusions from being thrown around in firefights. Others suffered from photon burns. She tried not to stare at the black noses and extremities of those who’d suffered from exposure due to hull breaches—she’d always found those injuries the most haunting. She saw one man whose face was covered, and he was missing his arms and legs.
She could’ve been any one of those patients. They’d just been dealt with shit luck while she got a dose of good luck. She focused straight ahead, not making eye contact until she reached the far end of the ward.
“Aubree,” Throttle called out.
The medic turned, and a grin filled her face. She held out her arms. “Throttle.”
“It’s been too long,” Throttle said as she embraced her old friend, who’d served as the doctor on the colonization trip from the Trappist system. Aubree had remained in Canaan to help set up a hospital at the new colony, but she’d come to Free Station when the flood of injured Peacekeepers poured in.
Throttle was taken aback when she noticed who Aubree was talking with. “Punch,” she said. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
He cocked his head. “Why not? Aubree saved my life.” He grinned. “Plus, I like to check in on the pretty ones when I can.”