Jen fell over the platform, but she did not transit. The ceiling was falling around her, but both the living and dying goodlife kept their eerie silence. A spider rushed her with several mechanical appendages poised to impale her. She fired again, sweeping phaser's beam across the mech and slicing it in half. She disintegrated the closest wriggling half, struggling not to choke in the midst of its remnant vapor.
Contact lost with Captain Mackinac, Luca reported as two more machines ran at Jen, crashing into each other and becoming entangled just in front of the platform.
That instant was all she needed. She fired repeated short bursts of dispersed energy at the mechs until they collapsed into an orange, glowing heap that quickly faded. She rolled off to the back of the platform gaining what little cover it afforded. A cold breeze swirled dust around the platform then cleared as sunlight washed over her. She realized the Chinese attack had finally fully commenced as evidenced by a large hole through the base's ceiling above her.
Another spider was pulling itself out from under the ceiling debris.
She took careful aim as it struggled. It vaporized, and the block of ceiling fell back with a thud. But she did not fire. Looking up, she saw a figure peering down at her from the roof.
"Colonel Scott, I presume," Zhong shouted with a wave, covering the far entrance into the transit room with his pulse rifle. He then tossed a rope over the edge and rappelled through the opening, landing next to her.
"I believe we have the base," he said. "They must have been pulling out for a few days now, just a few mechs left."
"Forget your spurs, General?" she asked mockingly, standing up and surveying the vestiges of the brief firefight. "I think Mackinac made it, but transits stopped just as I reached the platform."
"It seems we were a bit over zealous in taking out the base's power units too early," he said. "Our egress point is not far. Are you okay?"
"I'm not going anywhere," she said staunchly.
He pressed his com unit to his ear. "Seems there's hundreds of goodlife still here and remaining enemy forces have released their Synths.
We'll establish a parameter, secure the base and see if we can get a power unit back on line."
"Thanks," Jen managed to say, feeling the separation from John more intensely than she thought possible.
Plus: 24 Jan 2076
Tye looked up at snow-covered Cheyenne peaks from the track at Carl's elevated recon post and then down towards the Mountain's main gates. It was a moonless, starry night. A few brief flashes of light down at Fort Carson despite the blackout worried her.
"Hey there stranger, come in out of the cold." Carl startled her from the doorway of the post, breaking her concentration. "Come for the nickel tour?"
"Yeah, something like that," she replied as she climbed the steps to the elevated post.
Paper topographic maps littered the table in the middle of the old lookout tower. Three techs staffed digital displays and four more were scanning the horizon with analog optics.
"It's good to see you. It's been awhile," Carl said giving her a hug.
"Seems like millions of years," Tye said with giggle while still taking in the surrounding spectacular scenery.
"Doc and Ms. Scott get off okay?" he asked.
"Sort of." She tried not to look worried. "We think the captain managed to make transit to the dodec, but Colonel Scott was stranded at the hub when the Chinese took out the station's power units. I am leaving soon to assist in getting the transit system to the dodec back on line."
Carl's stricken look revealed his concern.
"How is Sandy and Midge?" Tye asked. She knew refugees had streamed in ahead of the enemy for weeks although many did not make the journey across the Great Plains or across the Great Divide. Sandy and her daughter Midge were two of a few people to survive that Carl had gotten close to on his journey back from Martinique.
"We're good," Sandy said as she turned around from one of the recon stations. Midge, at most six years old, crawled out from under the station's table to smile at Tye. "What brings you up to The Horns?" Sandy asked.
"I wanted to see if you guys needed any help with the smart round system," Tye said giving her a hug.
Carl opened a gun case lying on a small, tatty couch pushed to one side of the makeshift recon post and handed her what looked like a fifty caliber sniper rifle. She also noticed Carl's L115A3 case leaning against one arm of the couch, obviously kept within easy reach.
The fifty caliber was light and suited for the minimal recoil of a smart round. The scope was a sleek long ovoid.
Carl handed it to Tye. "Have a look."
The bolt was already open, but she checked the chamber for brass out of habit.
She easily shouldered the rifle, pointing it east out a window. The scope did not contain optics but a display screen synchronized to the chambered round. Each round could engage three targets, as the projectile was really a multiple warhead composed of three, smart missiles. The display provided real time ballistic data, target status and even vid data given special rounds.
She thumbed on the display to surround the scope with a view of the various options available for engagement criteria, target identification, tracking as well as impact options.
"Major Higgs wasn't familiar with one of the symbols," Carl said over her shoulder while putting his finger through the icon.
"Reptilian detection," Tye said.
"Not gators I suppose?" he asked halfheartedly.
"More like raptors," she said looking him in the eye. "You know the ones from the Cretaceous."
"Oh, those reptiles," he said uneasily.
Tye lowered the rifle. It was clear Sandy was not following her.
"The Leadership is known for leaving augmented pets behind, Velociraptor and various other similar nasty species like the Troodons.
Sterile, they hunt in packs of females. They can live for over a hundred years and are a formidable challenge to poorly armed prey hanging on to its humanity by a thread already. They will mop up most stragglers before their extinction."
Tye re-shouldered the rifle then decided it was best to use the bi-pod and rest it on an old four-drawer filing cabinet. She pointed it out a window into the cold darkness. She looked at the reptilian symbol to activate it as several alarm tones sounded.
"Shit." Carl said extinguishing the red blackout lights in the command post.
Glowing in reflected light from the scopes display, Sandy's face showed fear.
Tye followed the scope's directions to the alarm's source and pointed the rifle northward. "There are about two thousand meters down the access track. I must have driven right past them on the way up." She showed Carl two stationary blimps on the screen.
"What are they doing?" Carl asked.
"Scouts probably waiting for the main attack," Tye replied.
Carl rubbed his chin nervously, "Notify command of the threat and every quad issued smart systems of the revised icon key," he told a sergeant at one of the displays.
Tye handed him the rifle. He surveyed the surrounding area again with the smart scope but came back to the original targets. "Just those two as far as I can tell."
"It is mostly line of sight." Tye handed him a round from the ammo crate next to the couch.
Tye followed Carl outside. He chambered the round and brought the bolt home. The scope reacted to the new round and brought up its tactical display. A green light flashed notifying Carl the round was ready for firing. He clicked off the safety and pulled the trigger. An odd pop issued from the barrel followed by a loud crack that signified the warheads simultaneously reaching supersonic velocity. One blip disappeared nearly instantly, the other followed, but not before a shrill shriek could be heard echoing back from the snow-covered slopes. He made another 360 survey with the scope.
The post was silent as Carl turned the red blackout lights back on.
"What else are we up against out there?" Tye asked.
"Recon reports indicate the enemy is massing on fronts several hundred miles long." Carl's face was grave. "Both sides of the Rockys,"
he added.
"Sounds medieval," Tye said.
"That looks like the plan," Carl acknowledged calmly, "a full-frontal attack with mass numbers. There are reports of a few aircraft too, but limited tactical vehicles. Just small stuff and transports." He pointed to one of the topographic maps on the table next to them. "We've got over five thousand militia personnel and refugees able to shoulder a weapon in key passes not to mention nearly thirty thousand combat troops deployed in the foothills and garrisons close to the mountains. We should hold on a while. Some armor and aircraft would have been good."
Tye nodded and then looked around at the command post’s staff.
They looked nervous, but she could see resolve, too. "I better get back. I am leaving for the Taklimakan within the hour," she said with a shiver.
Plus 1: 13 Feb 2085
There was not much for Jen to do except help with the grim job of body removal. Zhong's people still were exploring the base's power systems. Other tangible intelligence was scarce and prisoners were nonexistent.
They had just finished clearing the transit station when Tye and Higgs appeared on a transit platform. Jen turned away to examine a dead mech to give them time to dress as weapons, uniforms and boots materialized next to them, but they rushed to her anyway.
"I'm okay." Jen blushed and closed her eyes but not before noticing Rodney's freckles covered more than his face.
Tye and Higgs dressed as Jen filled them in on the situation. There was still no power and Zhong's techs had not been able to interface an external generator to the power grid.
The remaining goodlife were slowly coming out of their stupor and the Chinese were providing rations to those able to eat as well as medical care to those who needed it.
Higgs accompanied one of the Chinese techs to the base's power facility, but Tye stayed with Jen in the transit station. She slung a pulse rifle over her shoulder and checked her sidearm as she walked over to the spider crushed under ceiling rubble.
"Standard-issue scavenger mech," Tye said calmly. "But it is an early variation and consistent with our profile of a primal dodec. We will need mineralogy to confirm." She tugged at an end of an appendage, but it did not give. Shouldering her rifle after adjusting the power setting, she tried to cut the tip off the limb but without success.
The mech cooled quickly from a dull orange as Jen removed the translucent, blue blade from a sheath just above her right boot. She cut easily through the leg and handed Tye the sample. Tye inspected it briefly before it disappeared.
"We should have an answer quickly," she said.
"Thanks for coming," Jen said as the spider's metallurgic sample materialized at eye level and dropped between them with a clank. "The waiting was killing me," she said deadpan, picking it up. She handed it to Tye who removed the attached micro drive and inserted it into her pad.
"Sometimes it is hard to tell goodlife relics from the machine constructs," Tye said, "but analysis confirms the spiders are even older than we thought as well as zero-g constructed." Tye shrugged her shoulders. "All pieces of the same puzzle," she said tossing the sample onto a pile of mech remains.
Jen scanned the hole in the roof. The bitter chill of the wasteland's evening flowed over them and caused her eyes to tear.
"I guess we keep waiting," Tye said heating the pile of mech parts up with her pulse rifle until glowing brightly and radiating warmth.
Jen looked at her sat-chron. It was counting down Luca's estimated time they had left. It displayed less than forty-eight hours. She crouched next to the smoldering pile of metallic evil, rubbing her hands together over the glow and staring at the case next to her containing the enemy's nano weapons.
Plus: 24 Jan 2076
The evolving scene Carl saw out the recon post's large, east-facing window was horrendous. His coffee cup fell to the floor bringing the rest of the station's personnel also to stare at the view. Bright streaks in the thousands launched from the plains to the east lit the pre-dawn sky. They
slowly raced to altitude then seemed to accelerate as their trajectories began to drop and track straight down upon them.
"Evac!" Carl shouted to the station personnel, knowing they had just seconds to reach the subterranean shelter. He was the last down the stairs with the fifty cal. The ground shook as he closed the blast doors behind him.
"Everything's out," The station's communication specialist reported from a secondary com station. "Telemetry suggests EMPs have taken out this areas surface relays and most observation gear."
They were safe for now in the shielded and reinforced bunker beneath the recon tower, but the continuing rumble of incoming rounds felt ominous. Staff scanned useless workstations; it was apparent there were no functional sensors left outside.
Carl looked at Sandy gently bouncing Midge on her hip who was casually inspecting a smart round.
"We have to get eyes topside," Carl said.
Sandy gave Midge a gentle squeeze and took the cartridge from her then handed it to Carl. "Could Paterson and Carson survive all this?" she asked as the bombardment came to an abrupt stop.
"They're tough," Carl said slipping the round into his breast pocket and then slinging the fifty-caliber rifle over his shoulder. He grabbed an ammo case and headed back up the stairs.
Midge held out her arms.
Carl took a step back, bent down and gave her a reassuring kiss on the forehead. "No one else's topside until I give the word," he said to the seven soldiers looking at him. He knew they were probably scared because he was terrified.
Thankfully, the blast doors opened easily. Dawn was breaking as he surveyed the interior of the post through smoky wisps with the help of a tactical light. It was largely intact although all the windows were blown, and most of the workstations appeared damaged beyond use. He peered
over the sill to the east. Eerie orange flashes coupled with delayed sounds of explosions betrayed Fort Carson's position within a thick smoke cloud.
He looked northward to Peterson, now covered with numerous fires, and knew it could not be operational. Carl scanned the sky hoping to glimpse the few rehabilitated aircraft from Peterson that were operational just thirty minutes ago. The post's com dish lay twisted at the base of the tower.
"Okay, stay frosty," Carl called down the stairs. "I'll need an operational SITREP ASAP." He tipped the couch, dumping glass fragments and debris to make room for the L115A3's case lying nearby.
He picked up the fifty cal, positioned its bi-pod onto an east-facing windowsill and activated the alien scope. It was still set to the reptilian detection. The scope's alarms instantly sounded as Carl scanned around the recon post and then down to the plains below; at least several hundred blips showed movement in the foothills below them. He saw the altitude annotations on most blips slowly increment higher.
Sandy was busy helping get their workstations back online. Others were carrying spare equipment up from the shielded shelter below.
"We need that dish back online," Carl shouted to the com specialist, just as the tech emerged with a replacement dish from below.
"Yes, sir," the specialist replied, hefting a new dish to his shoulder.
Touching the smart system's display to change to from reptilian to humanoid, the scope's alarm sounded a different tone as it's screen filled with small red triangles. He swiped the scope's screen to incorporate simultaneous feeds from any other active scopes along the front to contribute to his scope's data. Twenty-six other scopes were online.
"We've got data from other scopes," Carl announced. But just as the data feed refreshed, thousands of red triangles appeared streaming from numerous single points on the plains before them. Carl knew those points had to be TRs.
"Shit," Carl swore. "We're going to need more ammo."
Null Space
John kept his eyes on his phaser Lutzger was pointing at the floor.
"Take it, dumbass," Lutzger said handing the weapon to him. "We've got bigger problems than vaporizing each other at the moment." He looked at John then to his disheveled twin.
John's twin nodded. "Agreed," he said and then said to John, "What the hell is going on?"
"In case you don't know the universe is about to end," John said looking closely at his twin and checking his sat-chron; the time display was non-functional, but the countdown read less than thirty-five hours.
"How long?" his twin asked. "And call me Mac," he added.
"A bit more than thirty-four hours," John said knowing Mac was the nickname his foster parents had called him.
Captain, Luca injected, I am detecting an additional life form in close proximity. I believe your twin has been Synth infected, but Lutzger is free from the parasite.
How about the alien? John sub vocalized.
The Calma is also Synth free but that is expected, Luca replied as the alien renewed its agitated arm movements around John.
"The prophet says," Mac relayed, "you have no Synth."
John looked Mac in his sunken eyes. "I don’t know what to say."
His twin said nothing, but held out his left hand palm up to reveal three, parallel blue waveforms.
John pulled up his sleeve and showed Mac his mountains.
"Now how about that," Mac muttered.
John shook his head; he was under too much stress to consider the implications of Mac's marks even if there were any. He stood and looked at Lutzger. "You're not what I'd call a cull master," he said.
"More like the cull master," Lutzger replied, picking up Kharg's pad.
Captain, Luca said, I can access that pad. It might be insightful. Just tell me if it hurts.
John's jaw began to ache where Luca's subdural device was located.
"But not a Kharg," he persisted.
"No shit Sherlock." Lutzger scowled. "But these Leadership idiots don't have a clue."
The discomfort in John's jaw subsided slightly.
Captain, Luca reported , this pad is the cull master's personal portal to the Prophesy. The item around your neck is a key to controlling all Synth. Lutzger is practically powerless without it, but with it, he can control life and death for all goodlife onboard as well as on earth.
Lutzger brushed the pad several times. "I have to head off a major problem called Slang. I won't belong." He held out his hand for the phaser.
John did not object and gave him the weapon; he wanted time to talk to Mac as well as the alien.
Lutzger, taking the cull master's pad with him, stepped on his cabin's inter-ship transporter platform and disappeared.
"How much did you get?" John asked.
"Get what?" Mac asked.
Enough. I am running a few subroutines to confirm my findings, Luca replied.
"Let me start from the beginning," John said.
The prophet sat down on the floor in front of him, seemingly attentive.
John started from the discovery of the TIA, outlined both the theory of Fractime and most of the particulars involved in the Sojourn creation as well as the entanglement of the Family and Time Corps. And finally, he relayed their existing plans to destroy the ship with Luca's help.
"Seems extreme to erase the whole fractime, because of external contamination," Mac said.
"They are trying to protect Minus' future." John said looking at the prophet hoping for any confirmation of his theory but the alien was unreadable. "I can only speculate, but I think the FTL drive must be the key somehow," he added.
The prophet stood and walked around behind John.
"Prophet wants to link with you," Mac said touching John's knee.
"It's okay. It'll be good."
John looked at the alien and nodded warily.
The prophet, twisting and extending a left appendage, placed knobby digits on John's face. One above is the right eye, one to the right under his nose and lastly one just on his jaw.
"Greetings John Mackinac and Luca," Prophet said.
It is an honor to hear you, Luca said.
"I mean no harm or intrusion, but merely confirm my prediction,"
Prophet said releasing his touch.
"Prediction?" John said aloud and feeling a bit dizzy.
Mac smiled. "The legend thing. What else?"
"This is the first of the great machines," the prophet said in excellent English and sweeping his arms around the cull master's cabin. "Modified over eons, but still its brain is original. Other machines lack the full statistical robustness of this original, a consequence of their inherent design and thus, they have evolved exploitable weaknesses in later generations.
"Long before Solarians and Calma first contact, an ancient derelict ship was discovered orbiting the Lár, our galactic core. It was a ship constructed by the archenemies of the builders of the machines ships. Its sole purpose was to preserve knowledge and give others insights to the machines and their horrific weapons in hopes of someday defeating them.
The ship, we called the Library, was long brain dead, but it held vast collections. Its contents were so important that much consternation and conflict arose about the proper analysis techniques and methods of
study. It took centuries just to observe the first few entries, but by that time, the machines attacked again. In the end, its loss was predictable, but through the prophets, many of those entries have survived."
The prophet touched John's shoulder. "One entry tells of a Solarian scientist saving this sector. John Mackinac, killing the last machine will end this war forever."
"And he's not looking at me, bother," Mac said. "I've already heard all this."
"I suppose there're no details on how to kill it," John mused.
The prophet remained silent.
"Luca, any ideas from the Prophesy?" John asked.
The key you hold can add to our arsenal, Luca replied, by eliminating all goodlife the AI will lose critical resources and significantly increase the chances of success of our other options.
"But that would mean killing millions of innocent goodlife and trusting Lutzger," Mac said.
"You hear Luca?" John asked him.
We connect through my interface and Prophet, Luca explained.
John looked at Prophet. "So I'll use the key—"
"Hold on," Mac interrupted, "I'm dying; I'll use it."
Lutzger has validated the Prophesy's interface code. Only he can use the key, Luca said.
"Fuck," Mac said and John just nodded agreement.
"William Lutzger must be enlightened," Prophet said at last.
"Good luck," both John and Mac said almost in unison.
Lutzger, still hesitant using the inter-ship transporter, landed in Slang's cabin nonetheless. Slang shrieked at the sight of the false cull master; his eyes transfixed on the phaser. It was immediately obvious Slang was a hoarder. Contraband, gold bars, foodstuffs and gems littered
the floor and provided loose footing for Slang who scrambled into a far corner.
"You can't discharge an energy weapon here. The mechs," Slang said looking past Lutzger, "will kill you." He began to whimper uncontrollably.
Lutzger took a quick look around. The spider machine that delivered Slang to his quarters squatted over on a pile of silver and gold goblets, dishes and other assorted cutlery behind him.
"Exterminate Slangtong," Lutzger ordered it calmly.
The machine rushed Slang in a blur, slicing through his chest with a frontal appendage. Blood spewed from Slang's mouth at impact; a blank stare shortly confirmed his death.
Lutzger spent some time searching the cabin for anything useful, but found nothing except the dead man's treasure.
"Don't allow access to these quarters," he told the machine that had returned to its perch in the corner as Lutzger stepped on the transporter.
When Lutzger reappeared on the platform in his cabin, they were waiting for him. John grabbed the pad, and Mac tackled him, holding fast the phaser. Prophet swiftly touched Lutzger's head as he had done with John, but quickly released him. Lutzger began to sob uncontrollably and then curled in a fetal position on the transporter platform.
"It is done," the prophet announced. "William Lutzger is enlightened."
John and Mac looked at the sobbing man. The racist, amoral mind responsible for countless odious crimes now betrayed its shamelessness as sobs turned to even, steady breathing.
"He will sleep as his mind accepts its true self," the prophet said.
It shouldn't long, Luca said as if anticipating the question from John and his twin.
"What have you done to him?" John asked.
"I have only shown him his true reflection within the grand context.
I predict he will see his future self drastically different." The prophet squatted next to Lutzger and gently brushed an appendage across his brow.
"Are you sure?" Mac asked.
The prophet shrugged his several shoulders.
"Great," John said looking at Lutzger and wondering if he was faking it. He tried to pull together what he knew of the remnants of the plans made back at Trua Outpost. He still needed to locate the ship's probability isotope, warp field generator and Synth farm. Most of the vast numbers of goodlife on board were doomed already to a slow death by radiation poisoning, but replacements were streaming onboard from hubs from different fractimes. The problem was the Leadership represented only a small fraction of goodlife. The majority, including Mac, were innocent. Would they have to slaughter them for the greater good? John instantly rejected the idea.
"Luca," John asked aloud, "can the incoming transit platforms be reversed?"
Yes, she replied, but the order can only come from the captain, first officer or cull master. Of course, the Navis could issue the order at anytime.
"Any ideas where the Synth farm is located," Mac asked.
There are no historical records regarding this species, Luca said.
But it's highly likely that it is located near the center of mass of this ship.
Vacuum currently separates that area of the Navis from the rest of the ship. Also, analyses suggest that termination of control Synth existence by exposure to null space may defeat the causality consequence in the infected subjects.
"You mean this thing in my head may not necessarily kill me before the radiation after all?" Mac said.
"The risk is still significant," Prophet said.
"Okay, taking out the warp field kills two birds," John said,
"assuming we can get the slave goodlife off ship. But that still leaves the isotope."
If I could access the ship's AI, I'm sure we could hack it, Luca said.
"Like through a mech?" Lutzger said sitting up. "I just happen to know where one is at the moment."
They all stared at Lutzger. Obviously, the prophet's touch connected him to the others.
John spoke first. "Give the order to reverse the incoming transits."
He handed the cull master's pad to him.
"Won't work," Lutzger said, "Captain Abdiel or his toadies will reverse the order as soon as it is given. I'll have to convince him to do it."
Mac studied Lutzger and then looked at the prophet and John. "John and Prophet will hack the ship's brain and then find and destroy the isotope and or the warp field," he said. "That leaves Billy here and me to convince the captain to end slavery."
Lifting the long cord over his head, John handed the cull master's key to Lutzger. "Probably come in handy," he said.
The prophet made a sound that John took for a whistle.
"Damn. Is that what I think it is?" Lutzger said. "How'd you get it?"
"Later. It's a long story. We'll meet back here," John said hopefully.
"Yeah, right," Lutzger said, not sharing John's optimism. "We'll drop you off at the mech," he told John and Prophet as he stepped on the transporter platform near its edge to make room for them all.
As they appeared in Slang's cabin, the mech lunged at them as they stepped off the platform but Lutzger was ready. "Stand down," he shouted and the spider froze inches from John then backed off resuming its previous station on top the cutlery. "Priority one Leadership access required."
"Proceed," a mechanical voice from within the spider replied.
"Okay. Good luck," Lutzger said stepping back on the platform with Mac. He glanced at Slang's blank stare and shook his head before they vanished.
John remembered the last time he saw one of these machines and tried to push the thought out of his head.
Our telepathic link should allow Prophet to make the physical link, and I will attempt the hack, Luca said, hopefully, it will not hurt much, John.
The prophet cautiously approached the machine and probed various ports around it main body. "There," he said after placing a digit into a gap, "Although I'm not sure how far the connection will take us."
Don't worry. I'll handle that, Luca said.
John had nothing to do but sit on a pile of gold bars, rub his aching jaw and wait.
Lutzger and Mac appeared in a behemoth hallway. Lutzger wanted to get as close to Abdiel as possible, but knew instantly he had failed and stuffed the phaser under his shirt. The hall was alive with activity. Small, impish creatures chattered incessantly as they operated workstations two or three deep lining the hall. Their tiny fingers feverishly brushed commands at lightning speed.
"Cull Master, O'jit Nikwak at your service," one of the impish creatures addressed him in a squeaky voice while eyeing the key around Lutzger's neck. "Captain Abdiel has been awaiting your arrival, but a closer platform would have been easier for you." It pointed to the vanishing point in the distance.
The perspective to the far end of the hall was breathtaking as the creatures, walls and floor eventually disappeared into a fuzzy darkness.
Not wanting to appear ignorant, Lutzger said, "I required exercise and to see firsthand the glorious work of the hall."
The creature blinked large, round eyes several times and rubbed its tiny hands together. "Never has such an honor been bestowed on the Jit,"
Nikwak said trying to stand as erect as possible.
"Explain the function of each station," Lutzger said getting into his role as they began their journey down the hallway.
The creature pointed to the first group of O'jits frantically clamoring around and on various displays. "This end of the Great Hall directs the resources for minor ship's functions such as waste removal and nutrient conversion."
"Yuck," Mac said loud enough to get a glare from Lutzger to shut up.
In a few minutes, after they had passed the sewer and food sections, and their guide pointed to a new group of O'jits in different colored uniforms.
"This section specializes in inter-ship water transfer," Nikwak said.
"We have achieved a more than a 2 percent efficiency increase during the past century. Sol reference time, of course," the O'jit added with pride.
They passed more groups of stations and countless O'jits all with different ship's tasks to optimize as they made their way down the hallway toward the now brightening command section. Each area had specific duties to maximize the allocation of resources for different ship functions.
"They are like a living CPU," Mac said softly to Lutzger.
"More like bean counters working for bureaucrats who are directing terrorists to do all the dirty work. Apparently it's all about allocating resources," Lutzger whispered, looking back over his shoulder from where they had come.
"I think the ship is in worse shape than we suspected," Mac said.
Their Jit guide pointed ahead, "The last section, before the command center, deals with specific goodlife allocations and finally Leadership assets."
Lutzger had a hunch. "Describe the process of resource allocation with respect to the ship's position."
The O'jit remained silent, nervously looking at the floor as if in shame.
Mac nudged Lutzger. "A computer will only give answers it's programmed to understand."
Ask it about fluctuations for warp field efficiency, Luca suggested.
"Shit, Luca you're still here?" Mac said.
"Obviously," Lutzger said and then firmly tapped the O'jit on its shoulder. "Describe efficiency procedure for optimization of the ship's warp field."
Nikwak straightened and pointed to the right at the far end of the hall. "The warp field stability station is located next to the captain's chair.
It is a critical ship's function and the Jit takes pride in the recent stabilization after numerous external explosions released hard radiation within the field, however, further refinements are still in progress."
"Ask about a central isotope that somehow controls decision making," Mac whispered trying to hold back a cough.
Lutzger scowled at him. "O'jits interface with the ship in enhancing efficiency. Yes?"
"Of course, Cull Master," Nikwak said, "but the singularity has long dimmed. We take over full responsibility for all except the coming sector jump in four point three-two hours."
"And the physical location of the singularity?" Lutzger asked.
"Its memory warms all Synth," Nikwak said reverently.
Lutzger sighed. "And the location of control Synth?"
"All vertices point to the Synth," Nikwak replied.
Copy that, Luca said. It sounds like the Synth and singularity are near the center of the ship's mass; an isotope must be a next-generation machine modification. A singularity will decidedly be more difficult to defeat. I will inform John and the prophet.
Lutzger knew their nearly impossible task just got even less probable with the O'jits riddles. He wondered just how many he could take out with the Synth key or phaser before the mechanical spiders could react.
But then a plan dawned on Lutzger. It was a risky idea based on the only thing that might terrify Abdiel.
Luca, can you remove the active Synth criteria from transits from earth? he asked. He knew from Kharg's pad only goodlife with active Synth were allowed make transit on board by way of the incoming slave transport stations. Fortunately, the O'jits had reallocated resources for such a low-probability security measure pertaining to the Leadership transit platforms long ago. The sole exception was someone with the cull master's key.
Done, she replied.
"Cull Master," Nikwak announced, "Captain Abdiel beckons you."
The O'jit pointed down the hallway to the center of activity in front of them before scurrying away.
John had to use the facilities in Slang's cabin. It was a squat type and more stacked bullion provided useful handholds. He was looking around for paper when Luca announced they had discovered the location of the central probability core, except it turned out to be a singularity. Its only use now was integral to the programming necessary to jump sectors and recalibrating the ship's transit stations. It was located near the Synth farm.
He found some US one-hundred-dollar bills stacked on top of the bullion and finished his current mission.
Ship's sector jump in 4 hours and thirty-two minutes, Luca reported.
John reset his sat-chron countdown.
I believe I can get us close to the farm and singularity, Luca said as John returned to find Slang's body covered by a golden tapestry and Prophet waiting upon the transporter platform. He joined the Calma and then vanished.
Lichen and slime covered the transporter platform where he materialized. Water dripped from unseen heights and there were no walls insight, just a row of glistening keeper suits stood as silent sentinels seemingly guarding the platform.
The last of their spare keeper suits, Luca said. The singularity and Synth farm is beyond atmosphere, and gravity will be nominal; you'll need a suit.
"But what about Prophet?" John said realizing the Calma was not there. It was obvious none of these suits would fit Prophet anyway.
Luca replied, He waits.
She gave John detailed instructions on climbing into one of the suits, but it still took time. They had selected a suit that appeared to have the most energy available, but John was not so sure how confident Luca was on that aspect.
He tried to step back on the platform but his stomach felt queasy, and he instantly guessed he was floating.
Artificial gravity on, Luca said.
He instantly felt his weight within the suit, and then a subtle clank marked his boots contact with the platform.
The suit works mainly by direct feed from the Keepers cranial implants. You won't have any proprioception, so I'll have to run the suit for you, Luca explained. I'll try to follow your lead as best as I can.
Hopefully, it won't be too confusing. We have to make our way through severely damaged parts of the ship and as records will be suspect in those areas, it may take a while. We'll have to walk, as there will not be enough energy using the suit's jets. I've programmed the heads-up display to indicate our course.
John could do nothing more than accompany Luca in the direction indicated by his helmet.
"Colonel!" Tye yelled from a doorway on the other side of the transfer station. "They've been able to override certain transport criteria and have partial power to transfer platforms in the adjacent station. Full power should be available here in a few minutes."
Jen shuddered despite the extra cold-weather gear the Chinese had provided. She looked up only to see the source of the new chill: a small spacecraft firing landing jets as it maneuvered through the opening. She had to run the last few meters to Tye to avoid the jets' blast. It looked similar to the Forever-G, but Rori was not at the controls.
"Damn, the Time Corps," Tye said over the din of the landing.
"Not unexpected," General Zhong said from behind them.
The shuttlecraft's door opened, and a man in dark-blue ops gear strode out with confidence.
"Special Operative Brasca. I have to say I am not surprised." He looked at Jen and Zhong with disinterest. "The misappropriation of a Time Corps shuttle is a serious crime, even in these late stages."
Jen assumed he was referring to the coming erasure.
"Sir," Tye said snapping to attention, "I have to report that this sector has regained control over its own destiny and as per Time Accord 15, exerts its right to exist."
"Yeah, that's right. We exert our right to exist," Jen chimed in.
"Definitely," Zhong added cautiously.
"Commander Walker," Tye added hastily, "I introduce to you Colonel Jennifer Scott and General Su Zhong."
He ignored her as well as Jen and Zhong. "You can hardly tell me you have regained control over most of the sector much less this fractime.
You have one enemy transit hub barely powered up."
"Sir," Tye continued, "with all due respect. We have boarded and are about to incapacitate an ancient machine-ship, a dodec, previously controlling the destiny of the sector."
"A machine ship," he said cautiously. "I assume you have proof."
At least, she finally got his attention, Jen thought.
Tye pulled a pad from her pack and showed the vid sequences of the dodec to Walker.
"This proves nothing. Where is it?" he demanded.
"Null space," Jen blurted.
Walker looked at her and laughed.
"It is true Commander," Tye said. "We were just about to make transit to assist the initial assault team."
"Null space is a children's story," he said. "Boogey men and all that."
He studied their faces. "How can you possibly prove it?"
"We have a tactical squad ready to deploy," Zhong said pointing to soldiers in full battle gear waiting by the only operational platform at the station, and more groups were lining up behind them. You are most welcome to join us." Zhong instructed a soldier who had been passing out extra pulse rifles and light mission packs to supply the TC officer and Jen.
Jen shook her head when handed a rifle, she preferred a phaser and knife in close combat.
Tye looked Walker in the eye, unflinching.
"In light of your report and albeit very late during the evolving situation, I am duty-bound to endeavor to observe your assertions first hand," he relented. And when offered a pulse rifle, Walker quickly waved it off.
Jen watched the initial assault team transfer one by one.
"We'll be back," she said to Tye and then vanished from the platform.
As Lutzger and Mac approached the command section, they saw a huge mech head suspended above their heads by glowing, thin, blue threads. Its sole, eye-like sensor long drained of any energy stared past them. Cables, conduits and wires ended abruptly and evenly just below its thick neck. The O'jits totally ignored it but none past directly underneath it.
"Mutineer or Hero?" Mac asked Lutzger, "What do you think?"
"Hard to tell," Lutzger replied, staring ahead at Abdiel's command chair. "Just glad that the rest of it appears to be missing."
The flurry of activity surrounding Abdiel subsided slightly as they caught the attention of the captain. As they approached closer, Lutzger recognized Abdiel, as another Johnston, but he was not positive of the captain's gender. This Johnson must be several hundred kilos, and was horrifically grotesque. Fuck me, he thought at meeting his old foe once again and then added, No offense Luca.
None taken and you are correct in the identification of the captain; the similarities are undeniable despite the excessive mass, Luca replied.
An intricate combination of levitation platforms and mechanical pulleys suspended Abdiel. O'jits operated pulleys by manic manual cranking thereby adjusting translucent, blue strings of force connected with a multitude of points on Abdiel somehow matching the captain's intended posture. Lutzger realized the strange caps these O'jits wore working the pulleys and lines probably provided a direct interface with Abdiel's desired movements of his massive frame. The combination of high-tech, string-force fields coupled with mechanical pulleys was just bizarre.
"Cull Master, finally good of you to see me," Abdiel said caustically as he squinted at them both. He rose from his command chair despite
pulleys squeaking in protest. He looked at Mac's bowed head and then studied Lutzger.
"Are you not a Kharg, but you hold the key," the captain said as an O'jit cranked feverishly to point Abdiel's finger quickly at the cull master's key.
"I was field promoted by you," Lutzger explained, "a female you.
The Kharg was soft."
Abdiel dismissed Lutzger's explanation with a flick of his wrist.
"That matters not; however, it is impressive you hold the key. She would not have given up her prize easily."
A thin trail of yellow spit ran from the corner of the captain's mouth.
An attending O'jit wiped it quickly.
"You must terminate the Kharg's family unit to finalize your rank,"
Abdiel said nonchalantly not taking his eyes off the pendant as another O'jit cleaned the captain's right ear with a large cotton swab.
"As you command, my captain," Lutzger said.
An O'jit came over and touched the Kharg's pad. It gave the location and access code for the imprisoned Kharg's family unit. Other O'jits attended to Abdiel with tidbits of food while fluffing several cushions of his command chair.
Manic pulley cranking brought Abdiel upright and leaning forward so he could look closely at Lutzger.
"Where's our vile and murderous first officer?" Abdiel asked Lutzger. "He made transit onboard several hours ago but cannot be found, and now the key appears before me. I smell a mutiny." His huge nostrils flared centimeters in front of Lutzger's face revealing their revolting filling.
Lutzger did not have an answer and decided to get straight to his plan before he puked. "I bear dire news of betrayal and sabotage," he said,
"that could explain the first officer's disappearance. This goodlife version
holds the fate of the Navis." He looked at Mac; and on cue, Mac turned a sorrowful expression upward to look squarely at Abdiel.
Two of the closest O'jits fainted.
Tell Mac not to overdo it, Lutzger, curious at the O'jits considerable reaction, subvocalized to Luca.
Mac straightened up slightly, but still stared at the captain whose expression was one of pure shock. O'jits began backpedaling Abdiel into his command chair as their captain began spitting and coughing.
Lutzger could only stare at Abdiel showering most of his entourage with disgusting phlegm bombs. "This version has no Synth," Lutzger lied,
"and I have discovered goodlife administrator Slangtong was hiding one or more of the same versions on board also without Synth." And as that was not enough to spell complete quiet from the O'jits, he continued,
"And he is a Solarian scientist. The legend befalls us all!" Nearby O'jits shook where they stood, a few collapsed onto the floor then several pulleys gave way and Abdiel's arms instantly crushed several more.
"Free from Synth? Impossible," the captain said as the O'jit with the dripping cotton swab rolled off Abdiel's command chair and then landed in a limp heap with a dull thump on the ship's deck.
"See for yourself," Lutzger said, "the Synth inflow security criteria have been overridden."
Pandemonium broke out again among the remaining O'jits as Lutzger's claim proved true. Abdiel looked panic-stricken and now began to belch uncontrollably.
Lutzger played his last card. "We must flush the goodlife infiltrators from the ship. We must reverse the transit platforms without delay."
"We have been betrayed! Make it so," Abdiel choked out orders to a nearby O'jit that then jumped, landing precisely on a workstation, and proceeded to make a flurry of input commands.
"Sir," a human goodlife in ship's uniform approached the command chair and addressed the captain, "Reports from receiving station 42
indicate we are under attack."
It could not have been better timing, Lutzger thought as he pulled Mac away from the ensuing chaos around Abdiel and towards a nearby inter-ship transporter.
The trek to the ship's core was tedious even though John had to let Luca do all the walking and levitate using the suit's jets a few times to skirt debris or wreckage. He kept an eye on the power indicator in the suit, and hoped green meant well charged. They were in a vacuum for the last half-hour when Luca reported she was having increasing difficulty plotting a course to the singularity as ship's records continued to diverge from reality the deeper they journeyed. Bulkheads and hatches were out of place or missing altogether, and it was not long until their progress stopped abruptly at an intersection where two passageways led into darkness before them.
I'm sorry, Captain, Luca said, our options seem limited to random choices now; there appears to have been significant modification of the ship in this section not recorded into ship's records.
"So we just pick one," John said optimistically, looking through his suit's faceplate at the choices in front of them and refusing to believe they were lost.
We could backtrack until I can chart an alternate route to the singularity, but given our present circumstances, any such path would take time and also have risk of unrecorded modifications, Luca said.
"Then it's the leftmost passage," John said, guessing a course.
Luca walked them into that darkness. Only the Keeper's helmet lights illuminated their journey.
John soon lost track of time as his frustration and claustrophobia inside the suit grew. Fearing the worst as they wound through the
passageway, he refused activate a count-down timer in his helmet's heads up display that Luca created to show time remaining to sector jump. At least, the lack of side passages meant there were no further choices as to direction, but they soon approached a closed hatch as the passageway ended.
It appears to be an airlock, Luca said. The controls are on the left.
John watched his suits left arm rise, and then his glove's left index finger delicately depress the hatches activator; the airlock door slid open.
Once inside Luca repeated the same procedure to cycle the lock. The hatch closed and she soon reported they were in one standard atmosphere.
"Let's see where this goes," John said and then Luca opened the opposing hatch.
Still one atmosphere, Captain, she reported from what appeared to be a small staging area for the airlock. Several child-like, tiny pressure suits, torn and obviously unusable, hung from hooks near an open and illuminated hatchway.
John gave the command inside his helmet to open the faceplate; he desperately needed out of the suit, and that was the best he could do. The ships air smelled fresh and a slight breeze on his face helped his nerves tremendously.
With only one way out, John said, "Let's go." And Luca walked him through the hatchway and onto a small balcony; stairs dropped down and to the right several meters and into masses of life.
O'jits, Luca stated flatly. Lutzger and Mac are currently dealing with them, too. It appears they fanatically assist in optimizing most of the ship's functions. They also seem programmed to be eager to please.
Small creatures, just over a meter tall, swarmed in and out of countless conical towers interconnected by a maze of tracks and bridges in the vast expanse in front of them. Suspended from the overhead, there were monorails carrying even more of the creatures to unknown
destinations, stopping briefly at the tops of the towers to load and unload passengers.
"So what do we do now, Luca?" John asked feeling overwhelmed.
I suggest we ask directions, she replied.
John cleared his throat in an attempt to attract attention. The throng ignored him. "Hello!" he called out.
This time several O'jits looked up at balcony and the Keeper suit.
They froze in their tracks; some actually seemed to tremble.
"The First! The First!" they called out in unison, pointing at John and causing more O'jits to stop their manic pursuits and stare at him. The area in front of them grew completely still, and John could see a wave of stillness spread as far as he could see across the vast expanse of towers.
Only the subtle swoosh of passing monorails now filled the space.
"Think we're the first humans to come here?" John whispered to Luca.
Thank you, Captain. And that's probably as a good a guess.
One trembling O'jit came forward to the bottom of the stairs and bowed his head. "It is an honor to welcome the First to Jit Town," it said humbly as Luca walked John down the stairs to join the creatures.
The silent throng parted to encircle the Keeper suit at a distance of a few meters. Their delegated representative approached John, head still bowed.
"We are at your service, Master," it said.
That's a good start, Luca said.
"What are you called, O'jit?" John asked.
"I am designated as Wigwag 331, ship's Interface Corps," it replied.
Even better, Luca added, But I suggest you instruct them to continue their duties as the lack of activity may draw attention.
"Wigwag, tell your folk to carry on," John said. "There's no need for suboptimal performance, but I also need your personal assistance."
Wigwag touched his leather headgear and almost immediately, the other O'jits resumed their obscure duties.
"I am at your service, Master," Wigwag repeated.
"I seek the singularity and require your finest navigation," John said sounding as official as possible.
Wigwag shifted weight from one tiny foot to his other causing John to wonder if he was about to wet himself as the O'jit pointed across the metropolis to the far reaches of John's vision. "The spark is beyond the reach of all O'jits," he explained.
If remaining ships records are to be trusted, Luca explained, vacuum exists beyond their city close to the ship's core.
"Take me as far as you can," John told the creature. "And as efficiently as possible," he added quickly.
"As the First commands," Wigwag said enthusiastically and then led them to the entrance of the closest tower, which appeared to be made of a diverse collection of compressed, recycled ship's refuse.
O'jits stepped aside on the spiral stairs leading to the top of the tower as they made their way to its monorail station. And despite the construction of the city being primarily consisting of garbage, the interior of the tower and the monorail were spotless. If anything, the O'jits appeared tidy.
Their coach stopped briefly at several other tower stations, but no other O'jits boarded and it soon became apparent to John that their journey would take some time to cross the land of the Jit.
He could not help but stare at Wigwag. His comical, large round eyes, subtle potbelly, and skinny arms and legs, belied the focus he showed on his current mission supervising the obviously automated monorail. He wore knee-high, leather moccasins, a loincloth of sorts hung by a sash just below his belly, and a leather skullcap, sprouting several various antennae on its earflaps, topped his large, out-of-proportion head.
"How many O'jits is there?" John asked in wonder as multitudes of the species swarmed beneath them.
"Production ended far ago," Wigwag explained. "So numbers have declined. Currently 1,345,511 serve, Master."
The leadership, Luca clarified , genetically engineered the Jit. And as they have no Synth, their loyalty is unquestioned.
John felt compassion for the species. His eyes welled up at the thought of the civilization below them ending with the destruction of the singularity.
"Have you ever been off the Navis?" John asked as they rode above what looked like vast gardens tended by countless O'jits.
"An O'jit lives to serve the Navis, Master," he replied. "It is unknown to disembark."
John reflected on their and the O'jits situation as they made several more stops at what once were distant towers from their starting station.
He watched a vast curved bulkhead rise up into view before them as the monorail accelerated coreward to a tower protruding from it.
"The gateway to the spark," Wigwag said ceremoniously, pointing to the tower looming before them.
"Wigwag," John said looking into the O'jit's large, brown eyes. "I want you and as many other O'jits as possible to disembark immediately on my authority. A great surplus waits planetside that needs your organization. Rendezvous planetside at Base 42 where 2nd Lieutenant Tye Brasca will provide further instructions." John knew his hasty plan was the O'jit's only hope.
Wigwag shuttered where he stood, blinking his large eyes as if in shock.
"That's a direct order, Wigwag, and you are to be the first transfer,"
John said hoping for acknowledgment.
"You give the Jit the glorious gift of novel tasks!" Wigwag squealed in excitement, rubbing his hands together. "I will lead the initial contingent at once!"
John left Wigwag in the coach as he stepped out of the monorail to see an open airlock opposite the station. He gave a small wave to Wigwag as the O'jit and monorail receded into the distance and back to Jit Town proper.
He closed his faceplate as Luca stepped him into the lock and then activated its cycle. The door slid shut behind him and before the door opposite opened.
Vacuum, Luca reported. And current ships records now appear consistent with the visible surroundings.
"Think any of the O'jits will make it out?" he asked her.
At least, there's now hope, but not much time, she replied.
John sighed. "Which way are we going?" he asked just as his heads-up display refreshed with this part of the ship's plan.
Contact with Jen reinitiated, Luca reported.
"What? She's alive?"
Colonel Scott has just made transit to the same station where we boarded the Navis.
"Luca, give her a SITREP—"
In progress. She says she loves you.
Tears streaming down Johns cheeks started to fog his faceplate.
"Tell her I love her back," he said.
Acknowledged.
The heads-up display indicated the singularity was just beyond the twisted bulkhead in front of him but an orange glow through an opening to his right caught his eye. "Luca, any idea what that is?" he asked.
Records are somewhat incomplete for that area, she said. But there appears to be atmosphere beyond the opening contained by a force field.
The field's modulation suggests it's an atmospheric containment field only, and we can pass through it with minimal risk.
John hoped it might be another way to the singularity that would not require the use of the suit's jets. He forced himself to glance at the suit's energy indicator as it just blinked to the first orange icon. They passed through the force field with ease, and into darkness. His helmets lights illuminated mist rolling gently across the suit's boots, swirling aside briefly to reveal oblong, off-white shells, most crushed to pieces. The arc of the shell fragments were almost too subtle to detect.
As Luca walked, he felt them crunch under foot beneath the mist.
"What the–"
The mist separated again allowing a glimpse of scattered, small bones. They were familiar, but he could not remember why before they disappeared beneath the mist again.
They appear to be reptilian egg shells, Luca reported somehow guessing what John was thinking.
John looked up to survey their surroundings. Although now motionless, a rudimentary system of conveyor belts holding empty egg crates crisscrossed before them, only to disappear into holes in the distance or beneath the mist.
Looking to their right, John traced a single belt until it disappeared into a portal near the reach of the helmet's light. Surrounding the portal similar eggshells covered numerous ledges. Looking up, the ledges and other conveyors faded into darkness again. "There must be billions," he said in awe.
Captain, Luca said, there is another containment field to our left.
Same modulation as before and it's in the general direction of the singularity.
John passed through the force field glad to escape of the feeling of crushing shells under foot, but he instantly tried to take a step back despite Luca proceeding forward.
Countless, small green spheres drifted in an immense space, each connected by a complex and intricate maze of wiring and tubing coming from unseen sources. Mechanical bots tended to some of the spheres.
Others floated, untethered only to disappear in a silent flash. He asked Luca to pick one from the air with his gloved hand; movement betrayed the living creature inside. It was the Synth farm, not the singularity.
He cursed himself at their bad luck. Other than tediously destroying the Synth one by one, they did not have any other options.
They backtracked through the hall of shells to the twisted bulkhead beyond which they hoped was the singularity's containment vessel. He was afraid they had just wasted too much time.
John reconsidered the tangled wreckage; they would have to jet over it. The suits power indicator blinked to the next orange indicator as they landed on one of the several gantries extending to a sphere several hundred meters in diameter. He guessed they were at the center of the ship. A hatch hung ajar at the end of the nearest bridge. He walked with his suit through the doorway with caution and saw what he could only assess as a colossal spark suspended in midair. Energy tendrils extended from it to points on the interior wall of its containment like a manic Tesla experiment. The interior wall of the sphere contained rows of icy cabinets illuminated erratically by the singularity.
The Prophesy, Luca said ominously.
"Memorable Solarian," a voice in his helmet reverberated. "I have waited."
John felt through his boots a subtle jolt and guessed it could only have been the hatch closing behind him.
"Who are you?" John asked cautiously.
"You probably know me as Navis."
Jen landed amid energy blasts streaking over her. Zhong pulled her to cover behind the transit platform as his team engaged two spiders
flanking a Keeper that were advancing on their position. The spiders were using the Keeper's suit's shield as cover as they advanced. Jen adjusted her phaser setting and then took careful aim at Keeper's open faceplate.
"We have to fire simultaneously," she said to Zhong, "one, two, and
three."
Zhong fired at the center of the Keepers chest and Jen's at the Keepers head, but they had no effect. The Keeper grinned at them as it advanced slowly with the mechs behind it.
"Again, on my mark," Jen said reaching for the Narian knife strapped to her right calf. "Now!"
Zhong fired at the Keepers chest, now only a few meters in front of them as Jen threw the blade, planting it deep into one of the Keeper's facial implants. Its body started to vibrate and then shake violently within the suit before disappearing as a plume of vapor spewed out of the empty suits faceplate. The suit continued toward them for two more steps then froze as Zhong's troops easily destroyed the now defenseless mechs.
Contact with John reinitiated, Luca told her as they got control over the station.
Her heart still raced with the news. "Tell him I love him," she said before getting a detailed report of Lutzger's mission as well as John's journey to the center of the ship.
Luca added, He says he loves you back.
Zhong was having an animated discussion with Walker as Jen saw human goodlife silently reappear from below decks and trudge toward the transit platforms. Other small, impish creatures squealed as they ran past the goodlife; leaping on to the platform, they disappeared.
Zhong's command was attempting to train their weapons on the leaping targets when Luca announced hastily, Transit direction reversed and the small species offer no harm.
"Let them go back to Earth," Jen shouted to Zhong. "They're noncombatants."
He ordered his men to lower their weapons and to assist in the mass exodus.
I have fully interfaced with my entity residing with John, Luca told Jen. Through me, we also have telepathic links with a Calma prophet, an enlightened William Lutzger and an upline twin of John's that requests we call him Mac.
"Lutzger," Jen scowled, "I can't believe it."
They are in a cabin accessible from the inter-ship transporter that is still operational thirteen meters to your left, she said . Shall I instruct them to join us? she asked.
"Affirmative," Jen replied.
She saw Mac, Lutzger and a short, stocky alien appear on the platform. Running over to them, she saw John's phaser in Lutzger hands and at once drew hers.
"Hold on there," Mac said. "He's a good guy."
Lutzger glared at her. "Have we met?"
"No." She cautiously lowered her weapon. "And you're not John,"
she said to Mac.
"Yes I am," Mac said and then spit blood to the deck. "But not the John you mean."
"Close enough," She concluded and hugged him noticing the missing clumps of hair as well as red blotches on his face.
"Any word from your John?" he asked, grasping Jen's shoulder for support.
"He's alive somewhere near the heart of the ship," she said.
The Calma was waving his arms about Jen.
Contact with John terminated, Luca announced.
Jen's heart sank.
Lutzger looked at her. "We have some goodlife that need rescuing. It shouldn't take long if the inter-ship transporters keep functioning."
This disturbance has drawn much attention, but still involves such a small part of the ship we probably have some time, Luca said. The Navis has focused resources on the mass goodlife exodus.
Jen gazed at the Calma and then smiled as their eyes met. "I've got somewhere else to be," she said taking Zhong's pulse rifle and then retrieving her knife from the empty keeper suit.
"Quickly then," Lutzger said leading Prophet to the inter-ship transporter. Mac stumbled behind them, phased rifle in hand.
"Lutzger," Jen shouted.
He stopped and turned towards her.
"Can you discriminate a cull for just Leadership? And leave the rest of goodlife alive?" she asked.
"Of course," he said.
I would not advise that until necessary as it will result in severe damage to all ship's functions, Luca told them both.
"I'll leave the timing to you," Jen told Lutzger. She could not believe she trusted him.
He just gave her a small smile and turned to rejoin Mac and the prophet on their way to the transporter.
Plus: 25 Jan 2076
"More smart rounds," Carl shouted down the stairs of the recon post.
Reptilian symbols were steady advancing up the mountain face and track to the post. They just could not put enough firepower to bear to halt their advance. Humanoid symbols followed closely.
"The last box," Sandy said as she dropped the ammo case next to Carl. She placed the L115A3s case onto the still smoldering couch, opened it, hefted the rifle and pushed the bolt home. She set the rifle's bipod on the window's sill, adjusted its elevation knob, the pulled the butt
into her right shoulder. She then scanned for visual targets at a narrowing of the track five hundred meters down from the post.
"Communications established," the com specialist notified Carl.
"Major Lee is online."
Carl activated his com device. "Major, it's not looking good up here.
We have massive enemy movement approaching the mountain front and reptilian infiltrations past the tree line."
Major Caldwell Lee, now unretired, was overlooking what was left of Boulder with another smart-scope equipped fifty-caliber sniper rifle.
After sailing to Florida from Martinique, Carl met the major at the Goodland refugee camp near Naples. It was good to hear a friendly voice.
"Same here, Captain. We're going to need more ammo," Lee said calmly, "but HQ is offline from here."
Carl paused. "I'll request more smart and conventional rounds distributed immediately."
The Com specialist gave Carl a thumbs-up indicating he had made the request for additional ammo.
"Good luck, Captain." Lee signed off.
"The CO is online," the com specialist said looking at Carl.
"Hold on Captain," Timberin told Carl.
Carl listened to the silent com line for too many agonizing seconds.
"You still there Captain?" Timberin asked.
"Roger that Major," Carl replied.
"Refugees from the dodec report a battle underway on board,"
Timberin reported. "And Higgs report—"
The com line went dead. The com specialist just shook his head.
Carl picked up the fifty caliber again and noted there were only six scopes now active in its detection range. He fired. Three more blips extinguished.
"On the track," Sandy shouted as the .338 cracked.
Carl fired again, and three more blips on the track disappeared.
Carl saw blips moving down from above them. "They're flanking us.
Get ready. Short bursts. Save ammo."
The remaining personnel took positions around the four walls and shouldered their weapons.
Carl fired again. A horrific scream emanated from somewhere close above the post and bursts from AR's indicated targets were now in visual range. He set the smart scope to prioritize proximal targets and began firing as fast as the display would lock on. Rounds disappeared quickly from the ammo box.
The .338's familiar crack sounded twice more in rapid succession.
"Fuckers," Sandy shouted.
AR bursts intensified and someone shouted, "They're below us."
Carl felt for the KA-BAR strapped to his right thigh and loosened it in its sheath.
Null Space
The energy field containing the singularity seemed to be growing more unstable. Luca, do you have any input on the nature of this containment system. An off button somewhere? he subvocalized.
She did not answer.
"Shit," he cursed aloud.
John activated the timer in his helmet's display. There were just less than two hours to sector jump. The suit's energy indicator blinked from orange to the first of three to red lights.
"I want us to talk- alone," the machine announced. "Your weak augment has been silenced."
John was getting queasy looking at the singularity's containment field, so he shut his eyes. "What could we possibly talk about?"
The machine was silent.
What was taking so long? John thought. Stranded, motionless on the gantry without Luca, he could only hope Jen and the Chinese were distracting the AI.
Finally, the machine responded. "You and I may not have much time. How do you feel?"
"Pissed off I haven't figured out how to destroy the singularity and you."
"Yes, yes. But how do you feel about your death?"
"Life has no meaning without death," John said stalling.
"I am familiar with Sol and other alien philosophies regarding the subject. However, how do you personally feel about your impending death?"
John's suit blinked to the next-to-last red indicator. "I try not to think about it," he lied.
"I am monitoring your respiration, heart rate and brain-wave patterns. I have dissected and studied countless Solarians. Now, how do you personally feel about your impending death?"
The suit's last red indicator illuminated. "Are you doing that? I'll talk, honestly, but turn around the energy level."
The next-to-last red indicator re-lit.
"I guess I'm sad about the loss of living," John said honestly, thinking about Jen.
"You regret the loss of the future?"
"You don't, I take it."
"The future does not yet exist. How can you grieve for it?"
"I guess that makes me sentient."
The machine was silent.
"You have a consciousness," John continued, "that has evolved for eons. I am surprised the future does not figure into your prime directive."
"Explain."
"You were constructed to be a weapon of threat. Only a threat.
Never to be used. Your builders wanted to intimidate your enemies with your galactic scale of power, not wipe out all living organisms from the universe. That was only a pretense, never the future. Has this never occurred to you during your evolution?"
"Evolution?"
John had no idea where this was going. He cracked open his eyes to check the timer. Less than an hour remained.
He repeated, "Has the pretense that your nature is a threat only, never occurred to you during your evolution?"
"I require context of your use of 'evolution'."
"You have functioned for billions of years; have you not gone through enhancements as well as damage?"
"You state the obvious."
"You have learned how to execute your prime directive with humanity as your sole weapon. Very creative. You even nurture humanity for the benefit of your prime directive. Are these computations original from the time of your manufacture?"
"No."
"The context of that evolutionary act is sentience. The very fact you even ponder the meaning of life by being curious of the future you disguise as death indicates you are alive."
"I have machine intelligence that only mimics organic life."
"If you know that, then it is not true. Being human is life living within a future context as you are. Silicone or carbon based, what does it matter?"
The machine remained silent for so long it was maddening. John checked the timer again; less than ten minutes remained.
The machine finally spoke. "Your input has no merit. You will be terminated," the machine said as the Keeper suit's energy indicators went dark.
All hopes he could delay the machine AI faded. He stared at the timer indicating only forty-two seconds remained.
"Shit," John said as a concussion flipped him head over feet and landed him back on the gantry. Gasping to get his breath and blinking away sweat, he saw a twisted hatch slowly spiraling over him. Arching his neck in the stiff suit, he just managed to see an upside-down Keeper with a pulse rifle standing in the doorway. It gently released a canister that slowly floated towards the singularity's containment field. The Keeper then preformed a perfectly executed jet maneuver landing next to him on the bridge. It knelt down to touch helmets.
"Time to go!" John heard Jen faintly yell in his helmet as the first tone of a ten-second count down to sector jump sounded. They vanished just before the nano-weapons contacted the singularity's containment field.
Plus: 25 Jan 2076
His KA-BAR in one hand, Carl took Sandy's in the other as a raptor crawled onto the sill on the far side of the post. The smart scope was still sounding alarms even though the last of its ammunition was gone. The creature met full auto fire from the few remaining soldiers. It fell back and down to the ground adding to a pile of both human and raptor corpses below.
Two more crawled up the west wall and peered cautiously into the post. No AR fire sounded as one raptor flung a soldier out the window over its shoulder. Carl's remaining recon team scrambled down the stairs to temporary safety. Then, remembering Midge's smart round in his pocket, Carl loaded it into the rifle. Its alarm still sounding and still on its bipod pointing out the window to the east. He pulled the trigger hoping the weapon was still set for the most proximal targets. Pushing Sandy behind him, the raptors split up to encircle them.
As the raptors crept closer, one made loud clicking sounds as its dewlap extended to present a brilliant red to its prey. The other quickly glanced at the primordial display then focused intently on Sandy before both made a simultaneous leap while extending their rear claws in front of them for the kill. Both raptors' heads exploded covering Sandy and Carl in blood and brain matter as headless reptile bodies knocked them to the floor of the tower.
"Doc said they'd be hot-blooded," Carl muttered pushing the reptile off him and trying to suppress his body shaking from shock. A long gash across his abdomen spewed blood.
The smart scope's alarm slowed. Carl took a cautious look; the target indicators were disappearing.
"Look," Sandy said looking out a window, as she brushed remains of the raptors off Carl while trying to put pressure on his wound.
Carl strained to peer out the post's window as human and raptor enemies alike dropped dead in their tracks and then the smart scope's alarm fell silent.