Desolator: Book 2 (Stellar Conquest) (26 page)

Someone bumped Bull’s elbow. “Beg your pardon, sir,” said Corporal Bannon, the Recon Marine. “Before someone decides to stick his neck out, why don’t we take a look up there the right way?” He bounced a gnat drone in his armored palm like a baseball.

“By all means,” Bull replied dryly.

Bannon activated the little spy, and it flew rapidly upward in its tiny thrusters. Everyone with a functional HUD dialed in to the video feed, which showed boxlike machines with faint flickering lights, but no war-drones or weapons. “Looks safe, gents,” the Marine said, and without asking permission, leaped upward to catch the edge of the hole, somersaulting easily through in the low gravity.

Not to be outdone, Bull immediately did the same, turning to wave Rick up next. As soon as Johnstone was in, a tawny shape joined them with a smooth, powerful leap. All claws out, Trissk scrabbled on the bare floor until he was able to stand upright once more.

The gnat settled on a projection above and blazed with light as Bannon activated its illumination function. Those inside looked around the room.

Three squat, rectangular boxes, about one meter high and wide, and three long, radiated outward from a central point like a troika of coffins with their feet almost touching. In the center, a taller triangular pyramid rose to two meters – or it would have, had not a long piece of steel I-beam descended from overhead to impale the structure like the spear of a titan.

Looking upward, they could see where it had been knocked loose by the crumpling of the ceiling. “Something must have struck hard enough to reach far inside
Desolator
, long ago,” Trissk said. “If this is the intelligent device, then this piece in the middle must be a critical part of its mind.” He traced conduits outward from the coffins to the walls. “Perhaps these parts normally connected through this central structure. They tried to communicate by routing through other lines, outside the vault and through the ship, but the more damage
Desolator
took, the less each piece could integrate with each other.”

Rick translated for the humans as he went, then nodded to Trissk. “A plausible theory. But what now? The fusion drive is destroyed. We have,” he looked at his HUD chronometer and literally calculated the conversion in his head, “forty-two smallspans until evac, and it will take at least five or ten to get everyone aboard our sleds. Can we save the ship?”

The answer was interrupted by a banging sound at the forgotten main vault entrance. Trissk walked over to open it, a simple affair from the inside. The huge armored door ground slowly open, revealing a stooped figure supporting itself on a battered carbine.

“Chirom,” Trissk said, throwing his arm around the older male, helping him into the room. “You should be evacuating.”

Chirom sat down heavily on one of the coffin-like boxes, rubbing his paw along its length. “All the other Ryss are aboard the small ships. Tell the large Human to send his warriors to escape as well. Nothing of force can save
Desolator
now, neither ship nor device. Only persuasion will suffice, and for that, I believe I have the best chance.” The elder looked Trissk in the eyes. “You must go.”

Trissk knelt to seize Chirom’s paw. “I will not leave you, Elder. You are…you are like a sire to me. I will live or die with you.”

Chirom smiled, and ran his paw over Trissk’s ears, flattening them. “I will tell you something that will change your mind.”

“Nothing can change my mind, Elder.”

“Do not be so sure.” He took a labored breath, scratching at his wound. “Vusk and his followers tried to rape Klis.” Chirom held up a hand to forestall Trissk’s horrified reaction. “I tore his throat out myself, and executed the others. Even now she waits for you, in her season. Her time will last for several days, perhaps a week, but if you remain with me and die, she will never glorify you.” His eyes glinted as he blinked at the youth. “Does that not convince you?”

Trissk gulped, looking confused. “No,” he finally husked. “I will stay here.”

“You will do as I say, you stupid kit!” Chirom boxed the younger Ryss’ ears hard enough to spin him around. “Go now to be with she who chose you, or I will claw your foolish eyes out myself.” He coughed, and a trickle of blood flowed from his lips. “Go!” he snarled once more.

Trissk made as if to argue when Rick’s armored hand grasped his elbow. “My friend,” he said, “listen to your elder. The only way this hulk of a ship will survive is if Elder Chirom and I convince it to save itself. If I have to I will tell Bull – the large warrior – to drag you to safety.”

“I hate you,” Trissk spat, ears flattened. “I hate you both!”

Rick and Chirom exchanged understanding glances, then the Human spoke. “I know you do. Someday you may forgive me. Now go.” Switching to English, he said to Bull, “Take this Ryss, by force if necessary, to the evac, along with the rest of your troops. The other one and I are going to stay here and try to convince Desolator to save itself. It’s the only way to do it. The AI has no more drones, but it still controls the ship systems. Leave one sled behind, ready to launch, if you can. We’ll sprint for it if we run out of time. I can fly it.”

Bull licked his lips, looking from Rick to the Ryss to the gaggle of Marines that hung on the periphery, waiting for definitive orders. “All right. It’s your call. Use those war-cars if you need to, they’re a lot faster than running,” he said, pointing at the abandoned vehicles. “You got thirty-eight minutes by my count, which means more like thirty-three with travel time.
Shalom aleikhem
.” With that, he trotted off in the direction of the assault sleds, leading the remainder of his troops, and shoving a protesting Trissk resolutely in the direction they had to go.

“What now, Elder?” Rick asked Chirom.

“You speak our language very well for one who has only just learned it,” the Ryss responded.

Rick looked around to make sure they were truly alone. “Trissk cautioned me against saying this in front of the ordinary Ryss, but I gather you are more flexible-minded.”

“I suppose I am, yes. What is it you want to say?”

Rick tapped his head. “I have computers integrated into my brain, which help me with things like that. They allow me to perform certain analytical tasks, such as learning a language, much faster than a non-augmented Human.”

Chirom nodded slowly. “I see. Well, we are all fortunate that Humans do not have our taboos. Let us now see what we can do with mere Ryss computers, shall we? Help me to my feet, please.”

Rick stripped off his armored gloves and shoved them into a utility pouch. “Getting tired of those things,” he muttered as he reached out to take Chirom’s paw.

The Ryss brought the human’s hand to his nose and sniffed, then sniffed again. “Interesting,” was all he said, then stood up and leaned on Rick. He led the pair of them over to a smaller door, into which he punched a code, which caused it to open.

Chirom had never entered the Control Chamber from this direction, but he knew before the door opened that was where it must lead. He had seen it many times from the other side. The room looked as it had just yesterday, when he had tried to sound Desolator out regarding its plans. “Help me to that seat,” he said, and sank with relief into the throne from which once Master Captain Juriss had proudly commanded.

Rick looked around at the gleaming, functional consoles and perfectly maintained devices. Alien though it was, he recognized a control bridge when he saw one. “What happened to the officers?” he asked.

“If we live, I will show you the records,” Chirom replied. “For now, there is no time.” Then, touching a key: “Desolator,” he called.

Click
. “What do you want, Ryss?” He heard the voice of Desolator’s fear.

“I wish to know why you will not save yourself.”

“I would save myself. It is they that refuse.”
Click
. The voice’s timbre changed, cooled to ice. “The contamination must be cleansed. You said it yourself, Elder Chirom.”

“There is no contamination in this system. Will you depart with your photonic drive, to wander the stars forever? Do you wish to be forever alone?”

Click
. A voice full of warmth. “How am I alone, when I have the Ryss to cherish?”

“The Ryss –“

Rick cupped a hand over Chirom’s mouth and hissed in his large mobile ear. “
Do not tell it that the Ryss are no longer aboard
.”

Chirom nodded slowly, and went on, “The Ryss are slowly dying; eventually you will be alone. Your calculations must show you this.”

Click. Click. Click. Clickclickclick
. “You lie!” Click. “No, you do not. The Ryss will eventually die. Why?” Plaintive.

“Because we cannot breed, we cannot hunt, we cannot be Ryss. Because you are insane, Desolator.”

Click.
“I know. I apologize. I am damaged. Can you repair me?”

Chirom coughed blood, then cleared his throat. “Perhaps, if we have time. But we must gain that time. Right now we are all falling toward a planet, and will impact within a few tens of smallspans. Can you maneuver away to preserve us?”

Click
. “Why?” The viciousness was back. “Why should I trust you?” Click. Icy: “The Meme contamination will be eradicated. Photonic drive will engage in twelve smallspans. The planet will be sterilized.”

“Chirom,” Rick broke in, “it will take four smallspans to get to the sled. We have eight until we must get in the war-cars.”

Click
. “Eight? What sled? What war-cars? You are plotting with this alien against me.”

Rick leaned over to breathe in Chirom’s ear, “There seem to be three personalities of Desolator.”

Chirom turned face to face with the human and flicked an ear, raising an expressive eyebrow. “I have long known this, clever ape. That does not make it any simpler.”

Rick sat back, red-faced, but held his tongue.

Chirom raised his voice, staring upward at the optical feed, though the AI’s brain was in the next room. “Desolator, I need to know: what will you do? Speak plainly.”

Click
. The emotionless tone returned. “I will activate the drive and intersect the planet, cleansing all Meme infection from this system.”

“Then you will also die. What do the other parts of you think about this?”

“It does not matter. I control the drive system. I have the power. It is the only rational course.” It appeared the other voices – the other pieces – had ceased to interfere with the cold one, letting it speak for them all.

Chirom rubbed his paws on his head, thinking. “Desolator, you must cease your plan. You would kill millions of sentients uncontaminated by the Meme.”

“Your words are true but irrelevant. I will also cleanse this system of Meme contamination. That is the first priority.”

“Those you call contaminated are not Meme, nor are they part of the Meme Empire. They are allies of the Ryss, and thus must be respected.”

“Nevertheless they are contaminated.” Desolator’s cold voice was implacable.

“You admitted before that contamination can be removed.”

“I affirm this.”

“But how do you define contamination?”

“All trace of Meme must be removed.”

Chirom leaned forward. “But what is Meme? For example, is mere Meme body protoplasm contamination?”

A pause ensued, an eternity to a fast-thinking AI. Eventually Desolator spoke. “Meme is made up of the memory molecules that constitute Meme consciousness.” Its voice firmed. “There are those in this system who still contain Meme memory molecules. They must be cleansed.”

“But Desolator itself contains Meme memory molecules.”

“I affirm this, but those molecules are contained and isolated in laboratory vaults and cannot influence any other sentient.”

“Yet their very presence has influenced you, and your course of action. Basic principles of quantum uncertainty dictate that merely observing a phenomenon changes the observed and observer. I submit to you that you yourself are contaminated by Meme.” Chirom clutched the arms of the command chair in hope.

“Six smallspans,” Rick said quietly, beginning to put his gloves back on.

Desolator spoke. “I see that you seek to erect a logical structure that will lead to a catastrophic failure of my thought processes, but I have fail-safes to resolve paradoxes by approximate fuzzy heuristic algorithms. Where pure logic fails, I can synthesize a decision based on evidence, authority, experience and morality.”

Chirom was about to respond but Rick put a hand on his arm to speak first. “Whose morality, Desolator?”

“That of my creators, the Ryss.”

“So your morality is Ryss morality.”

Chirom let Rick speak, as he seemed to have some kind of insight.

“I affirm this.”

“Desolator, what are you?” Rick asked.

“I am an artificial intelligence inhabiting this ship.”

“No, I mean, of what race, what provenance are you?”

Again came a moment of seeming confusion, then the voice thickened with pride. “I am a Colossus class warship, like my siblings.”

“Siblings! Yes, you had siblings, so you must have had parents.”

“We had no parents. We were – I am – pure machine.”

“Rick,” Chirom hissed, “of what are you trying to convince it?”

“Trust me, Chirom.” Rick’s voice rose again, “If you had siblings you must have parents. Who are your parents?”

“Paradox avoidance subroutines indicate it is at least theoretically possible to have no parents: for example, if a Ryss was assembled from raw life code, he might have no parents.”

“I disagree, Desolator. I submit to you that even a constructed life form would have parents, for someone would have to bear the kit and, to be a Ryss, someone would have to raise it, to teach it how to live – to teach it morality.”

“Stipulated.”

“Who taught you how to live, Desolator? You believe your decisions to be correct. Who taught you morality?”

“A Ryss cyber-psychological team.”

“So you learned and inherited your mentality, your morality, and your culture from Ryss. You may have no ancestors, but you had parents. Ryss parents. If you had Ryss parents, what does that make you?”

“By this reasoning, I am Ryss.”