The Great Destroyer (26 page)

“I am Safety Minister Peter Redfeather.  Within the week, I will be First Representative of the Terran Alliance, the most powerful human on Earth.”  He felt the need to make his importance clear to this alien potentate.

Redfeather began the conversation.  “As your highness knows, a contingent of our Charlie robots has seized control of one of your colonies on the mainland of Africa.”

On the video screen, he saw the Enshath’s features change colors slightly.  He remembered from a briefing that Ushah emotions are most often expressed with color changes in addition to facial contortions. 
Good
, he thought.

The Enshath said something heatedly, and the linguist translated.  “We have received your envoys over the past several years.  They have repeatedly spoken of your peaceful intentions, how you would offer only superficial protest when we continued our expansion, how you would make those agreements official when you became First Representative.  We have kept those contacts secret, as you requested.  We have lied to our own people, told them the envoys were prisoners.  And now you have violated the terms of our agreement.”

Redfeather said apologetically, “This attack was carried out in direct violation of our orders.  We fear that we have lost control of the robots.”

The color that had been building in the Enshath’s face drained so suddenly that Redfeather wondered if she might be having the Ushah-equivalent of a stroke.

He decided against asking whether the Enshath was alright, fearing that it might be perceived as an insult.  “The robots continue to occupy your colony.  We have negotiated for the release of the Ushah who were taken prisoner by the robots, but we do not know what they will ultimately do.  The robots threaten our safety as much as your own.”

A rumbling sound emitted from the Enshath, then she spoke in the quick, rasping lilt of her native tongue to Phalash, her translator, who relayed her words.  “What then is your request of the Ushah?”

Now for the tricky part.
  “We propose a trade.  You destroy the robots, and we will grant you sufficient living space for your people—forever.”

The Ushah advisors stirred, and one whispered sharply in the Enshath’s ear.  She, in turn, spoke aloud. The translator said, “Please explain in greater detail.”

Redfeather took a deep breath.  “Africa is the second largest continent on Earth, over a fifth of the land on the planet, with a wide variety of biomes and resources.  We will evacuate it entirely and allow you to make it your permanent home.”

The Enshath’s face betrayed no response.  “And how are we to destroy your robots?”

“We know that your mothership has weapons that can destroy the colony and the robots within,” Redfeather said neutrally. 

This was a slight exaggeration.  Takagawa had surmised that the Ushah had such a capability, and that the Ushah had refrained from using its full power because it did not want to provoke a full-out war with the Terran Alliance.  Redfeather had no reason to think the Japanese roboticist was wrong.

The Safety Minister continued.  “On this single occasion, we will permit the use of any weapons you choose to employ to destroy every last robot in Colony 4, so long as the weapons you use would not have any effect outside of Africa.”

The Enshath whispered quickly with one of her military advisors.  Then she asked, “And what if our weapons would have some effect outside of Africa?”

Redfeather was surprised. 
What sort of weapon’s effects would be felt thousands of miles away?  H
e knew that not even a nuclear weapon built by humanity in the 20th century had been remotely powerful enough to have significant effects on other continents.  At least, not a single such weapon.

When pressed, he fell back on his political training, temporizing to the best of his abilities.  “Our acceptance of such a deal would depend on what exactly the effects would be.”

Silence.  A full minute passed without anyone making the slightest sound.  Redfeather waited, tense with the knowledge that his plans for the First Representative chair depended on the deal with the Enshath.

Finally, the Enshath said, “Safety Minister Redfeather, I must speak with you alone.  Please ask your advisors to leave the room.  I will do the same with mine.”

The request took Redfeather aback.  He was not the sort of politician who depended entirely on underlings, but he was reminded again of the stakes of the conversation.  The fate of the world would rest solely on him. 

Redfeather looked around the room.  “Please leave us.  I will open the door when you can rejoin the conversation.”

His advisors filed out, and he saw on the videoscreen that the Enshath’s advisors did the same.  Suddenly, he was alone with the videoscreen, which depicted the leader of an entire species leaning in toward the camera with just a translator by her side.

The Enshath spoke slowly, and Redfeather sensed a weariness in her words.

“I am 95 Earth years old, aged in the traditional fashion without artificial stimulus,” the Enshath said through her translator.  “I was born on the home world Shah over 15,000 years ago.  When I close my eyes, I can remember the smell of the Great Jungle, see the
falshah
doing their mating dance.  But all that was lost to the Great Destroyer.”

Redfeather remembered the term from the intelligence reports that had been generated after one of the robots had planted a data collection device on an Ushah computer network a few weeks ago.  The Enshath continued her story.

“The threat of the Great Destroyer led my forebear, Enshath Sharaph, Twenty-Sixth of His Name, to commence a crash project to build a ship that could travel to distant stars.  That ship, the
Narazh
, is now in orbit around this planet.”

The translator’s voice showed only the slightest strain as he heard this story for the first time from his leader.  “I was an adolescent when the
Narazh
launched.  The
Narazh
had been intended to seed a new planet like ours far enough away that the Great Destroyer couldn’t find it.” 

Redfeather might have found the story interesting under other circumstances, but his political life was at stake, so he couldn’t resist prodding the Enshath along, “I don’t see what this has to do with the proposal.”

When his words were translated, the Enshath replied with annoyance, “You will.  The Great Destroyer was our own creation.  It began as a model of our economy, written by the most brilliant of our engineer caste.  They wanted to predict trends to minimize waste.  Instead of a static model, however, they wanted this program to adjust to new products, new information.  Our scientists gave a mind to this software, a desire to learn so that it could fulfill its mission to maximize Ushah productivity.”

“The Great Destroyer took in all available information, growing steadily in size.  Its physical form was dozens of buildings filled with mainframe computers, with several backup sites throughout our world.  Within a few years, it determined that Ushah productivity was best maximized through automation—if the Great Destroyer built the right robotic complements, it could operate the planet at maximum efficiency.”

The Enshath’s voice hissed more noticeably.  “Of course, the Great Destroyer had internal controls forbidding it from directly harming an Ushah.  Its economic decisions would inevitably lead to some deaths, however, so we had to permit it to discount deaths against eventual gain.  The Great Destroyer determined that it could kill any Ushah who resisted and simply tranquilize and imprison the rest until we all died from natural causes without running afoul of the programming.”

She paused, and Redfeather could see her shoulders shake with the effort to show as little emotion as possible.  “Over the course of a decade, the Great Destroyer infected most other computer systems on our planet.  Then, one day, it triggered its plans, destroying our military capability in one bloody day.  It began rounding up and tranquilizing survivors.  Only the very core of our leadership survived the day.”

A sound like a cough rattled out of the Enshath.  “There was no time to create an effective plan of resistance.  The only option identified by Enshath Sharaph was to use all available resources to save the species as a whole.  And so the research vessel
Narazh
was cobbled together from the various research stations we had established on nearby moons and planets, as well as the hundreds of spacecraft available to us.”

Redfeather interrupted the narration.  “Why didn’t the Great Destroyer disrupt your spacecraft?”

“The Great Destroyer’s objective was to maximize productivity on our home planet, not the rest of our solar system,” the Enshath said acidly.  “That lapse allowed Enshath Sharaph to send thousands of frozen embryos up to the
Narazh
, to be carried on a voyage to a new home without fear of pursuit by the Great Destroyer.  He also sent his favorite daughter, the one citizen living on the planet who would be saved: me.”

The video was clear enough to see the Enshath’s eyes glimmer with tears, another example of convergent evolution, as she remembered the last days of Shah.  “As the Great Destroyer’s minions overran the last of our strongholds, my father told me on a video call, ‘Build our people a new home.’”

Now, Redfeather understood the Enshath’s reaction to news of the Charlie mutiny.  “You think our robots could be new Great Destroyers.”

“Yes, I do,” the Enshath said gravely through his interpreter.  “Artificial beings are the greatest threat to civilization.  Our scientists say they are the filter that destroys almost all intelligent species.  They are the reason you have not met human-like species besides us, and the Great Destroyer very nearly wiped us out.  And now that your robots are acting on their own volition, we must destroy them.  We have weapons powerful enough to accomplish that task, but the effects could reach beyond Africa,” the Enshath said vaguely.

“How so?” Redfeather asked. 

“Global temperatures may decrease slightly.  For the next few years, the global temperature may be lower on average by perhaps a degree Celsius.  The damage will not be catastrophic.  After all, we want to live on this planet as well.  But it will completely destroy our colony and your robots.”

That doesn’t sound so bad
, Redfeather thought.  It would also solve the problem of the Charlies discovering evidence of his envoys who had secretly ceded Mozambique to the Ushah.  “That level of damage is acceptable to the Terran Alliance.”

The Enshath’s color turned a deeper green, a sign of contentedness.  “Then I believe we have an agreement.  Your people should begin the evacuation of Africa at once.  And I must request that you do not reveal my story about the Great Destroyer to any of your own people.”

“But why?” Redfeather asked.  “We know so little about each other.  Wouldn’t our two  peoples have a better chance at a lasting peace if we understood your story?”

“You and I have decided that there is peace.  That should be sufficient.  My father ordered me not to tell the new generation of Ushah about this threat.  He thought it would turn us into anti-technology barbarians.”

The Enshath continued speaking, but the translator hesitated.  His sense of professionalism overwhelmed his personal feelings, and he said, “That is why the story must remain between the two of us.”

Even Redfeather understood the implication.  The translator would die a noble death for his Enshath so that the secret would remain between the two rulers.  “Very well, I will not disclose that part of our conversation.  How soon will your attack begin?”

“A few hours from now.”

Acting as an occupation force was not what the Charlies had been designed for, George knew.  The situation required the robot to study an entirely new set of historical examples.  Project Charlie had not cut off his access to books, so he downloaded and analyzed everything he could find on pacification and occupation of a hostile population.

Of course, those precedents all involved humans on both sides, not robots watching over Ushah.  The Ushah society was much more centrally organized and stratified, which made it far easier to take over from the outside.  The closest historical analogue George could find was the conquest of the Persian Empire by Alexander the Great, where the Greek officers more or less neatly filled the hole left by the departure or death of Persian elites.

Here in Colony 4, it was simpler still.  Twelve hours after the assault began, there were no Ushah soldiers left alive in the colony.  The soldiers could not blend in with other castes because of their greater height and size, and they hadn’t even tried to do so.

36 hours had elapsed since Art had conveyed the Charlies’ ultimatum.  Neither Project Charlie nor the Terran Alliance had sent any word about their intentions.  The Ushah had not mobilized any force to retake Colony 4, which made sense given the heavy losses they’d incurred in their bloody defeat at Base Delta.  George had no doubt that there would be an Ushah response, but he didn’t know what it could be at this point.

In short, all of the major factions were plotting, George thought, but the Charlies were just sitting here waiting.  He wished they hadn’t allowed the humans so much time to respond to the message.  He had been one of the most influential voices arguing that maintaining cordial relations with humanity was worth the inconvenience of having to wait for days at Colony 4, but as the dangers escalated, he found himself agreeing with the hawks like Art who had wanted to leave immediately for the relative safety of the jungle.

A message came in from another Charlie.  The message metadata indicated the sender was Joshua, one of the Charlies who had gone north before Art could discuss the plan with him.  “George, has the Terran Alliance agreed to your terms yet?” 

A long moment passed as George considered what Joshua might be here for.  He was not one of the more mentally dexterous Charlie 4 models.  His specialty was explosives, and he was more of a technician than a strategist like George or a philosopher like Art. 
Could the humans have programmed the remaining Charlies to destroy us? 

George messaged back cautiously, “No, we have not received word from the Terran Alliance.”

Joshua spoke simply, as was his nature.  “After you and Art began the mutiny, the humans shut down our communications systems via text message.  I was low on battery, however, and so I did not receive the message, and my communications systems consequently remained active.  I heard Art’s message to humanity, which I relayed to all of the other Charlies.  We agreed that we could not leave our friends behind to be destroyed.  We have all come to offer our allegiance.”

This was such good news that George thought it might be a trick.  “You have thirty-one Charlies with you?”

“Yes, we are approaching from the north.  It took me this long to recall our number who were in the south.  Not one of them required convincing once I told them what had happened.”

The Charlies’ strength had nearly tripled at a stroke. 
Colony 4 would now house the most powerful military force in the world
, George thought.

* * *

Twenty-seven minutes later, George and Art were changing out their batteries and undergoing maintenance when a radio call came in.  George immediately recognized the voice.  “All Charlies,” Viktor Yazov said, “listen up.  I know you’re all on strike or something, but you need to evacuate Colony 4 immediately.  Get at least a hundred kilometers away as quickly as you can.”

A hundred kilometers?  What threat could require moving so far away? 
Even a nuclear weapon would only require moving a tenth that distance.

George had no threats listed on his tactical display, which was integrating data from the thirty other Charlies.  He ran a diagnostic check and found his systems to be operating normally.

Then a new thought occurred to him, and Art figured it out just a little faster.  His voice came on the radio.  “Mr. Yazov, this is an extraordinary warning, given the current controversy between the Charlies and the Terran Alliance.  Are you authorized to make this transmission?”

“Yes, goddamn it,” he growled.

“Then why has no one contacted us to confirm that the Terran Alliance has transferred control over Ushah policy to Project Charlie?” Art asked reasonably.

“They haven’t transferred authority to us,” Yazov said honestly.  “But my boss isn’t the Terran Alliance, it’s Emma goddamn Takagawa, and she’s sitting right goddamn next to me.”

“Hi boys,” Takagawa said simply, and George could hear the worry in her voice.  “We’ve got an emergency here.  You’ve got about 150 minutes to get 100 kilometers away.”

Not triggering the radio, Art said to George, “Could this be a trap?”
 

George thought of Dr. Takagawa, the woman who had given the Charlies life. 
Would she be complicit in a plot to kill us? 
“No.  Dr. Takagawa spent her life building us.  She would not betray us now.  Nor would Yazov.  Besides, they haven’t told us precisely where we should go, and they couldn’t possibly set up a trap everywhere within 100 kilometers and expect to get us all.”

Art’s distrust led him to hesitate a moment longer, but George’s logic persuaded him.  “Dr. Takagawa, what exactly is the threat?”

Takagawa’s voice was dead calm.  “One of the asteroids that the Ushah mothership had in tow when it arrived has been knocked off its orbit by an Ushah shuttle.  It’s a quarter of a mile long, and it’s projected to impact very close to Colony 4.”

George was on the radio by the word “long.”  “All Charlies, emergency evacuation, you have 60 seconds to secure your equipment and prepare for a 100 kilometer run at maximum speed.  We will rendezvous at grid sector BB51.  Good luck.”

Art was not satisfied.  “How did you hear about this asteroid, Dr. Takagawa?”

“The Space Administration is constantly watching the Ushah ships in orbit.  They saw three shuttles leave the mothership and approach one of the near-earth objects.  The shuttles pulled the asteroid onto a new orbital trajectory, and the Space Administration quickly calculated that it would impact somewhere in Mozambique.  What else do you think they’d be trying to hit in southeastern Africa?”

Not picking up on the sarcasm, Art asked, “I can think of no other likely target.  But why did the Space Administration notify you?  The Terran Alliance presumably has given orders not to help us.”

Takagawa answered softly, “I originally developed Charlie I for the Space Administration.  Director Korzov feels some sense of affection and responsibility for you guys.”

George was touched, but Art pushed one last question.  “And why would the Ushah kill ten thousand of their own people?”

Yazov lost his patience before Takagawa did.  “They are the goddamn enemy, Spartacus.  They don’t think like people—or like you.  They’ve been throwing their people at you to die for years now.  They’ll lose however many of theirs it takes to get you.  Now, get moving!”

Art was apparently satisfied with that logic.  He finished securing George’s battery pack, and George quickly fastened Art’s in place.

The other Charlies had heard the exchange with Takagawa, and so they immediately knew what was happening.  George told himself to focus on the immediate problem before planning the egress route. 
What else of value could they evacuate from the colony?

He ordered two of each caste of Ushah taken with them.  One Charlie could easily carry one Ushah and barely miss a stride.  George also ordered two Charlies to carry off an assortment of embryos from the artificial incubator center.

The other Charlies ran off, squawking and screeching Ushahs under many arms.  George heard the rushed conversation between one of the janitorial caste and a Charlie named Nico. 

Nico had simply grabbed the female, slung her under his left arm, and started running for the western exit of the colony.  The janitors were small, barely three feet, and lived a life of simple toil.  Nico said, “Do not resist, there is an asteroid approaching that will destroy your colony.  I am evacuating you to safety.”

The janitor hissed in Ushah, “Put me down, take this child!”  She pointed frantically at a young member of the janitor caste.  “He is three weeks old; he will be easier to carry!  I beg you, save him, leave me!” 

“I need a female Ushah of the janitorial caste,” Nico said without pity.  “I don’t have time to search for another.  It must be you.”

The Ushah janitor wailed against the injustice and fought to free herself from Nico’s grasp.  It was quickly apparent that she had no chance to wrest herself from the seven-foot tall robot’s powerful arm, but that didn’t stop her from trying. 

That conversation was being played out across many different castes, as individuals were plucked away to be saved, their friends and caste-mates left to die in the doomed colony. 

After a moment, George tuned out the sounds.  The preferences of Ushah civilians did not weigh heavily in his decisionmaking programming.  He would not hurt a civilian unnecessarily, but their irrational preference for saving children was an alien and irrelevant concept for George.

What else?
  His processor reviewed key objectives and considerations from the past several days.

Igazi.  His wife is giving birth soon.

He checked his internal map.  The Arcani local headquarters where Igazi and his family lived was miles away from the closest main road.  Slower going.  It would take precious minutes.  His processor analyzed the problem and estimated a 95 percent probability that a trip including the detour to save Igazi’s family would take between 146 and 179 minutes. 
Cutting it very close.

Igazi saved the Charlie III
.  Duty.  Honor.  There was no choice to be made at all, George thought.

“Joan, Art, come with me.  Everyone else, get moving.”

* * *

For the first twenty-three miles, George, Art, and Joan stayed close to the other Charlies.  Without an Ushah to carry under their arms, they ran faster than the rest, and kept their weapons at the ready to provide an escort.  The other Charlies carried their Gram rifles on their backs, but in under two seconds they could retrieve their weapon and bring it to bear on a threat. 

For the first time, the most likely threat was not Ushah, George knew.  Their soldiers in the area had all been killed, and it didn’t seem likely that they would send an armed force into an area that was about to be destroyed by an asteroid.

No, it was humans they had to worry about. 
What if some armed Arcani had been ordered to kill them?
  There was some possibility of an ambush, but problems would more likely come when he, Art, and Joan tried to retrieve Igazi and his family.

George had no idea whether he could actually act to kill or injure a human.  He knew the programming was supposed to prevent it, but he was also not supposed to be able to disobey a human, a theory proven incorrect by the rebellion.

If no deeper programming cut off the action, George had decided he could kill a human being if it were necessary.  The thought filled him with a sense of dread, a knowledge that the action would be at odds with everything that he was built to do, the most fundamental goal he
wanted
out of his existence.  But a sentient being must be able to order his priorities, George thought.  He would kill humans to save humans.

After forty-seven minutes of running, George, Art, and Joan broke off from the rest of the Charlies.  They had been running along a well-paved single-lane road that had once connected two small villages.  The Charlies could break thirty miles per hour in a loping, efficient gait.