Authors: Sean Williams,Shane Dix
Orphans of Earth (23 page)
In the end, staying hidden was more important than letting Sol know what she was doing. The moment she used her ftl communicator, it would be obvious to anyone who knew how to track such technology where she was going. She didn’t doubt that the people who had killed the version of her from Tatenen knew all about that sort of stuff; they had certainly dispensed with her hole ship quick enough. Or at least they appeared to have. Whoever they were, Thor knew too little about them to take any chances. She knew just enough to be afraid.
Damn you, Peter. This is all your fault!
Briefly, she considered turning around. The screen glowed with the dull light of the red dwarf known as 4130-697-1. In the previous hours, she had visited numerous similar systems: 4134-318-1, Hipp43534, 4130-580-1, 4130-915-1. She was twenty-five light-years from pi-1 Ursa Major and seventy light-years from Sol. She had run out of likely targets in the range she was searching, but she wasn’t giving up yet. She still had a number of leads she could try:
All were possibilities, and
Pearl
had calculated the most fuel-efficient trajectories to follow to each of them. She knew roughly how far away to look, and the hole ship’s senses were uncannily precise.
Still, it was hard not to be daunted. In fact, she might have even given it all up for a lost cause, had it not been for that one, single clue she had picked up in 4130-580- 1.
“
Pearl,
take route four, please,” she said, picking the one leading to Hipp40918. In her hand she jingled a small metal disk; in her head she heard a distant voice: her own from another mouth in another time: “This is Caryl Hatzis of UNESSPRO Mission 805,
Paul Davies,
hailing UNESSPRO Mission 391.
Andrei Linde,
are you receiving me?”
Thor had detected the faint echoes of the transmission from the fringes of pi-1 Ursa Major the previous day, when she arrived in the system. A quick glance over the system showed nothing out of the ordinary, but Thor wasn’t taking any chances. The engram of herself from Tatenen had obviously been sent to look over pi-1 UMA as well, and she was dutifully following the next step of trying to hail the mission sent to that system. Tatenen broadcast the message several times while Thor triangulated on her. Then, following a lengthy pause: “Eos, this is Tatenen. If you’re reading me, please respond.” Eos had been on the first mission Sol had sent.
Pearl
found
Oosphere,
Tatenen’s hole ship, on the far side of the system’s primary and, at Thor’s request, locked in the destination. She fought the urge to send a reply, since it would take some hours to arrive at electromagnetic speeds. Once she was certain it was safe, she would jump across and greet her copy in person.
The standard transmission used near the Spinner and Starfish fronts followed: “This is an open broadcast to all vessels within range of this transmitter. I represent the sole survivors of the race known as human through whose territories you are traveling. We request the opening of diplomatic channels as a matter of some urgency. We desire nothing but peace. Please respond. I repeat: this is an open broadcast...”
Thor had only half listened to the broadcast while scanning through the data. There was no sign of the other hole ship sent to explore the system, and no sign at all of the original survey mission. If the
Andrei Linde
had ever made it, something very bad had gone wrong since.
“—request the opening of diplomatic channels as a matter of some urgency. We desire nothing but peace. Please—no, wait. I—”
The transmission had ended in mid-sentence.
Thor stopped what she was doing with a frown.
“What happened
, Pearl
?”
“The transmission has ceased.”
She rolled her eyes at the AI’s pedantry. “I realize that,” she said. “Play the ending again.”
She heard her own voice repeat the familiar words, exclaim in alarm, and then suddenly fall silent.
A chill tingled Thor’s spine. “Do you have an image yet?”
“Yes, but the quality is very poor,” said
Pearl.
“Show me anyway.”
On the screen a white dot appeared against a grainy black background. As the end of the message played through again, something streaked across the screen from the left side and struck the white dot. There was a red flash, then both were gone.
“They were attacked?”
“It would appear so,” said the hole ship emotionlessly.
“Can you tell who did it?”
“No.”
“Show it to me again,” she instructed. “This time give a wider angle.”
The attack repeated at a slightly decreased magnification. The streak of light that struck the
Oosphere
and destroyed it appeared to come out of nowhere. There was nothing visible at its source.
“Take us closer,” she said, recognizing in her tone the uncertainty she felt about taking such an action. “But be as careful as you can—and stay ready to get the hell out of there if whatever hit her comes at us. Understood?”
“Understood.”
The view of pi-1 Ursa Major faded from view. Thor worried at a hangnail while waiting for
Pearl
to arrive. Something was definitely up. They needed to know what it was, but Sol had already lost two hole ships and two copies of herself in pi-1 Ursa Major trying to find out. Thor was determined not to make it three.
The short hop seemed to take forever. When she finally arrived, she conducted a quick scan of the area. It was empty, apart from the billowing particulate residue of what had once been the
Oosphere,
still warm despite the hours that had passed since it had been destroyed. An itch in her back spread to become a stabbing fear in her gut as she found nothing suspicious that might explain the hole ship’s destruction: no strange artifacts, no threats.
Nothing.
That should have reassured her—that, and the modifications Axford had applied to
Pearl,
giving it a means of defending itself. But...
No
, she thought.
There is something here. Something nearby. I can feel it. It killed Eos and it killed Tatenen and it’s going to kill me, too, if I sit around here much longer.
“Take us out of here,
Pearl
.” The order came out as a whisper but, as the apprehension grew, she repeated it as a shout: “Get us the hell away from here! Now! Move it!”
Her fear peaked at the same time as the floor lurched under her. A searing white light burst out of the screen an instant before it went completely black. She fell sideways onto the couch, then onto the floor, jarring her left arm beneath her as she heavily hit the ground. There was a noise like tearing paper magnified a thousand times. She might have screamed, but she couldn’t tell beneath the sound.
Then, abruptly, everything went quiet. She held herself still for a moment, barely breathing, expecting more to follow. When she was confident that nothing would, she rolled over and sat up.
“What happened,
Pearl
?”
“We were attacked.”
“No shit?” she muttered, clambering to her feet. “Who by?”
“I can’t answer that question, Caryl.”
“But we’re okay, right? We didn’t sustain any damage?”
“Yes, Caryl. Minor damage has already been repaired.”
“Where are we going?”
“To our previous location.”
“No, wait,” she said slowly, thoughtfully. “Don’t relocate anywhere near the system. It’s—”
It’s what?
she wondered.
Not safe
was the obvious answer, but she had to have something to support her suspicions. And she knew that Sol wouldn’t be happy without hard data. There
had
to be a way to find out what was going on in the system without putting herself in any more danger.
A day later, she was still cursing Peter Alander for putting the idea in her head. Lucia Benck, had her exploratory mission succeeded,
should
have passed by pi-1 Ursa Major some forty years earlier. That was a long time ago, but she was still the closest thing to a local observer there was. All Thor had to do was track her down, find out if she had seen anything, then report back to Sol. It was that simple.
Or so it had seemed in theory. The problem, of course, was that Lucia Benck had been piloting a probe 25 percent the size of a normal survey probe. Even if the engine were running,
Chung-5
would be very hard to find. And even if Thor
did
find her, Lucia might not be able to tell her anything, anyway.
Thor knew an avoidance tactic when she saw it. Something about going back was bothering her. It wasn’t just Sol’s anger, or the death of her colony. It was a thought that Axford had placed in her head. Vega was a hive populated by one person. Was that what Sol wanted survey space to become? She could understand—intellectually, at least—that Sol had been just one of the many parts of a distributed intellect that Thor could not even hope to comprehend. She could also appreciate the simplicity of the Congress of Orphans program: the traitors in each survey mission had been programmed to obey the orders of UNESSPRO, and since Sol was the sole surviving remainder of the original organization, they should obey her just as readily. Sol now had a chink in the armor of every colony in survey space. This, combined with the many versions of her, put her in an excellent position to take over.
Sol didn’t need to listen to anyone. She could do whatever she wanted, once everything was in place. Thor should be glad about that, since she was part of it. She knew she
should
be happy to contribute. But something nagged at her; doubt tickled at the back of her mind. What made Caryl Hatzis so special that she should decide what happened to everyone? Especially when everyone literally meant
everyone.
The future of humanity would rest in her hands.
Until she knew exactly how she felt about that, Thor suspected that continued avoidance would be for the best. Even if all the other Caryl Hatzis engrams signed up without question, she could be the odd one out. There had to be some random variation in every group. Maybe she was the freak in this case.
But, then again, maybe all her selves were feeling the same way about their highly evolved original. Maybe
that
was the real reason for the Congress. If her own engrams revolted against herself, Sol would still hold the reins. She would still be at the center of the web holding humanity together.
Pearl
arrived at the center of the latest search area and began scanning. At least she knew she wasn’t chasing shadows. The metal disk she had found in Hipp43534 sustained her and urged her on; the quote from Nietzsche molded on one side confirming that Lucia Benck was both alive and, apparently, in good humor. Who else would still believe that “the love of truth has its reward in Heaven”?
Whatever Lucia Benck had seen or not seen might be irrelevant, but at least the search was giving her time to think. And that was the most important thing. Behind her, in surveyed space, engrams were dying, whether by being taken by surprise by the Starfish or ambushed by the Yuhl. For the time being, Thor felt she was probably in the safest place around. Unless the thing in pi-1 Ursa Major was hunting her, too, in which case it might just prove to be the most dangerous place of all.
2.0.1
Rob Singh
EXCERPTS FROM THE PID (PERSONAL INFORMATION DIRECTORY) OF ROB SINGH, UNESSPRO MISSION 639, TESS
NELSON (PSICAPRICORNUS).
2160.9.11-13
Disaster: it turns out that the Starfish have a more thorough
cleansing program than we gave them credit for. Apparently, trailing behind the stealth front is a kind of mop-up crew that is guaranteed to find us and wipe us out, in time. How anyone knows this I can’t imagine, but we have to move, nonetheless. Maybe it has something to do with the new aliens—the Yuhl/Goel. I’ve heard a rumor that they worship the Spinners like a god. Maybe there’s room for my secondary specialty, after all.
My first is still a devalued commodity, though. Our hole ship came back from Sothis today. Hatzis told us about the problem, and we voted to evacuate to Sothis. We’ll be downloaded into solid-state data storage, then physically loaded into the hole ship for transportation. The hole ship will do all the navigation required for the jump through unspace. They need pilots like our survey ships need hand cranks to get them going. Just for the record, I voted against the move. Personally, I’d rather take my chances in one of the dead systems—like some of the other missions. When I told Hatzis that, she called a vote, and we lost. We didn’t stand a chance, and she knew it. The majority decides to drag us with them to an illusion of safety and warmth, and we all have to tag along. It’s too inefficient to split the mission at this stage; too complicated.
Fuck that,
as Hatzis might say. Were our positions reversed, I’m sure she’d endure a little inefficiency to get what she wanted.
But I guess I shouldn’t complain. There’ll be plenty of data at Sothis to lose myself in. Even without the gifts, there’ll still be work to do. It’ll be interesting, in fact, to compare my findings regarding the Esch’m and the X-ray sources with information from the other colonies. If they don’t have the same error, I’ll be even more confused.
* * *
In transit. Nothing to do now but wait. The trip is unremarkable,
endured in quarter time so as not to overload the processors we have available. The hole ships make it too easy, almost boring. But at least I can say, now, that I’ve traveled faster than light. It’ll take us less time to cross the fifty-odd light years between psi Capricornus and Sirius than it would’ve to circumnavigate Inari. Amazing.
Before we left, I got the chance to ask the Gifts about the Map Room data. Everyone else was preparing for the journey to Sothis (packing their suitcases, so to speak), newly afraid that the Starfish might drop out of the sky on us at any moment. Neil was free for a short time, and he passed on my question. It wasn’t anything too tricky, just a simple request for clarification regarding the X-ray glitches. Did the Gifts know anything about where the mistakes might have come from?
“No,” they said. “We don’t.”
No great surprises there. But Neil took it upon himself to pursue the matter further.
“Could they have been deliberately planted?”
“They could have been,” the Gifts replied.
“What about the Yuhl?” Neil asked. “Why aren’t they in the Library?”
“We are not familiar with that race.”
“Why not? They were contacted by the Spinners. They must have been, or else they wouldn’t have hole ships. So why aren’t they in the Library?”
“We are not familiar with that race,” came the flat response again.
“If I ask you a third time, am I going to get the same answer?”
There was a brief silence. I saw the recording, so I know it happened. I’ve never seen the Gifts hesitate before.
“Our knowledge is obviously not complete,” the Gifts finally admitted. “We cannot explain why.”
End of conversation. Neil has had enough experience with the alien AIs to know when to give up.
Still, good on him. That’s hole number three. We’re no closer to knowing what the errors mean, of course, if anything, but at least they’re mounting up.
* * *
I thought I was ready for Sothis, but I wasn’t. It’s so
crowded. Not physically, but electronically. We’re not the only colony that’s been evacuated and plugged into the network they’re building here. Where before I’d only forty-odd people to talk to, now there are over two hundred within easy reach. We’ve been thrust face-to-face with the reality of engram duplication. I have met three Caryl Hatzises so far, and two other Ali Genoveses. Four of myself have come to visit, also—virtually, that is. We have taken to wearing green name tags on our chests, not displaying our names, but rather the names of our origin colonies. It’s the only way to keep track.
They expect thirteen colonies to join up all told. I’m not superstitious, but I find myself hoping that it’s not unlucky.
* * *
Still settling in. There was plenty to do when we arrived,
but that’s slowing now. We’ve been playing catch-up—not just with the other missions and other versions of ourselves, but with what’s been going on in general. The other versions of myself who have been here longer are no clearer on what’s happening behind the scenes, even the ones who are survey managers. The Hatzises are a closed court. Sometimes I think they’re as bad as the Gifts.
But we have resources here, at least. I can think as fast as I want, even if it does mean using Overseers from destroyed colonies. That’s like thinking with someone else’s dead brain cells and struck me as a bit distasteful at first. But there’s no denying the need we have for it, and it doesn’t make sense letting good hardware go to waste. In a sense, it gives us a little
too much
time to play with. There’s an air of expectancy through the refugee camp. The Starfish are more dangerous than ever. Giving us time to muse on that thought is not helping.
But it has given Ali more time to visit. Although she’s still nominal SMC of our mission, now that she’s chucked our lot in with the Hatzises she’s delegated the greater part of her responsibility to them. She looks relieved about that, too. Mostly.
“There’s been no talk of what happens
after
,” she complained to me yesterday. “If we survive the Starfish, I mean. Do we go back to our colonies and finish what we started, or do we stick together in one big group and try to recolonize Sol System or something?”
“Is that what you’d like to do, Ali?”
“I don’t know, Rob. But it’d be good to discuss our options.”
“Perhaps they’re not even thinking about options until they’re sure we’ll have any.”
“Perhaps. And I suppose there’s always the senescence problem. That’ll be with us, no matter what we do.”
“I’ve been thinking about that,” I said, looking to lighten the mood a little. “I think the Vincula could have fixed the engrams back in Sol if it wanted to. It’d be like fixing a steam engine for someone from our time. But it didn’t need to. Who repairs steam engines when everyone uses fuel cells? They’d be museum pieces, not worth serious attention. So the Vincula didn’t even try.
“Sol, on the other hand, has nothing
but
us. Her options are limited. She can let us fade away, which we know we’ll do in time, or she can work out how to fix us. It might not be that hard. Even if it is, she can just freeze batches of us in SSDS memory until she has the problem nutted out. All she needs is time, and she could have plenty of that.”
“Assuming we survive the Starfish,” Ali repeated.
“If we don’t, the point is moot.”
“True.” After a slight pause, she asked, “Do you ever wonder how your original died?”
“Of course.” I gave in to her gloominess. “I can’t help it. I’d always hoped to meet him again, somehow.”
“Ever the optimist.” She smiled sadly. “I wonder what mine would have made of all this.”
“The same as you, surely?”
“Maybe not. She wouldn’t have stayed like she was when I left forever.”
“She might have become like Sol, you mean?”
“Perhaps. I don’t know if she survived the Spike, but if she did and she was here now—”
“Would she be doing the same?”
“As Sol, yes.” She shrugged, sending her hair swaying. I had upgraded my virtual quarters to include floor-to-ceiling windows with views of San Francisco Bay outside. Sunlight suited her skin.
I put a hand on her shoulder. “You would have done the right thing, I’m sure.”
She looked grateful, even though she knew I was being carefully noncommittal. “I like to think we all would,” she said.
She stayed longer than I expected. I guess we all need a little closeness, now, when things are really getting tight. I know I’m grateful for it, if only because it takes my mind off things. It certainly makes the move to Sothis that much easier to bear. If this is to be our last stand, at least I’ll be there to see it.