Stolen Earth, page 14
“You are right to assume that the people living on Old Earth now are not the global civilization that was in place during the Last War—the End, as you call it. Much was destroyed. We don’t have sophisticated communications, and beyond a few radios cobbled together in various encampments, our everyday knowledge of other groups is limited to whatever we can reach by foot,” Margaret said. “Most of our communication is done by direct meetings or using couriers. There are two other camps within a day’s travel of here. And they’ve lost people too.”
“Any chance that one of these groups, or maybe people from farther away, found and refurbished an old military aircraft? Some pretty advanced technology seems to have endured from the past.”
“For our part,” Oliver said, “we’ve salvaged only what is necessary to survive—I cannot imagine it’s much different elsewhere. You have to understand, the nanites we use are as much organic as they are machine, and they’re largely self-assembling. We don’t actually have the technology to build at that scale… the old nanites are used as a starter for the new.”
“Like sourdough,” Hayer muttered.
Oliver beamed at Hayer. “Very much like a sourdough,” he agreed. “And just as some of the old sourdough starters stretch back generations, our own nanites are much the same. And I’m sure ours have varied from other camps, but we’ve all come out with a recipe that keeps us alive, at any rate.
“But the reality is that most of the technology we use was created for emergencies and long-term survival. It was designed to be maintained and repaired without highly specialized tools. We could probably work out how to restore an old military vehicle, but you have to understand, those vehicles were full of thousands of highly complex electronic parts. Some of those parts we have no way to reproduce. And we certainly don’t have the tools and scanners and such to make sure they were installed and functioning properly. Is it possible that some other group has held onto that kind of technology? I suppose anything is possible. But I wouldn’t go so far as to call it probable.”
“Any chance of outside players?” Lynch asked.
“Yesterday, I would have said no,” Margaret responded. “Yet here you are.”
“Here we are,” Lynch agreed. “Still, so far as I know, there’s only been one sanctioned mission to Old Earth.”
Federov snorted. “None of us would know that. Only those involved in mission would be told.”
“Fair enough,” Lynch agreed. “And it’s also possible that smugglers or scavengers have made it through the IZ. We did.”
“We barely managed to get the Arcus through in one piece,” Bishop said. “I sure as heck wouldn’t want to try that again. How many pilots do you think could have made that landing?”
“Not many,” Lynch said, no trace of modesty in his voice. “But I know quite a few confident enough to try anyway. Someone could have gotten lucky.”
“Okay,” Hayer cut in. “We could theorize about maybes all day. But it won’t get us anywhere. We need a more scientific approach. That means we need to look at the most likely groups first. And that means people we know are already here.” She glanced at Margaret. “Or those we’ve recently learned are here, anyway. It may be possible that SolComm is involved or that someone else like us was stupid or desperate enough to try to breach the Interdiction Zone. But logic and reason tell us that we’re more likely to be dealing with something already present. We are only aware of two operating here: groups of the descendants of End survivors, or agents of the Six. And based on the information we have,” she indicated Margaret and Oliver with a tilt of her head, “only one of those has the capacity for flight.”
“Which means,” Lynch said, “that the most likely culprit is one of the Six. Who, for whatever reason, has suddenly developed a need for living, breathing humans.” A pall fell over the meeting as Lynch spoke. Laurel wondered just what an artificial intelligence designed to wage war would need with a bunch of human subjects.
Lynch broke the silence. “I understand that you have a problem. What I don’t understand is what you think we can do about it. The Arcus is armed, but I don’t think she can take on a planet’s worth of machines engineered to kill each other and any humans that get in the way. We’re grateful for the help you’ve given us, but we’re not suicidal.”
Tomas’s face started to redden again, but Oliver put a gentle hand on his shoulder. “We don’t need you to go in guns blazing,” he said. “We just need information. We need to understand why things have changed. If this is some sort of sign of a renewal of direct hostilities by agents of the Six—”
“If it is,” Margaret said, “we need to know about it.” Laurel could hear the steadfast determination in her voice and the care she held for those in her charge.
“Is big planet,” Federov grunted. The mercenary had been silent through most of the conversation, though Laurel had appreciated how he’d had her back. Probably because he was itching for a fight, but still. “We cannot go flying about the world hoping to run into these Six. Especially if we know that they have aircraft of their own. And maybe anti-aircraft as well, yes? We will be well and truly trapped here without the Arcus.”
“Um, there’s also the whole job we were sent here to do. I mean, I don’t know the buyer,” Bishop said apologetically to Lynch, “but I’m guessing if we don’t bring back the goods, our little jaunt to Old Earth might cause us even more problems.”
“And we’re operating under a deadline,” Lynch agreed. “We know the maintenance schedule on the satellites for the next ninety-six hours, give or take.” He looked at the three across the table. “We didn’t come here on a sightseeing tour. Our employer has asked us to retrieve certain… ‘cultural artifacts’ I guess is the term.”
“Then you’ll benefit from some local assistance,” Margaret said. “Which our people can give you, without having to deal with the hunter-killer drones that, as you’ve already seen, still haunt these ruins.” She offered a smile that had a hint of actual warmth in it. “I’m sure we could handle pulling together whatever items your employer is after. And maybe a few others, besides. We may well have half of it lying around this building somewhere, if it’s as mundane as you suggest. It looks like we’re in a position to help one another.”
“Maybe,” Lynch said. “But Federov’s point still stands. We can’t just go gallivanting off across the entirety of Old Earth hoping to run into an AI to spy upon.”
“You don’t need to,” Oliver said. “We already know where one of the Six is. Everyone hereabouts has known since the beginning. The beginning of what you call the End, I suppose.” His lips twisted a little bitterly at the wordplay. “If you were to look at a map of the known settlements, it would be pretty obvious, too.”
Laurel mulled that moment. Then it came to her. “No settlements too close to ground zero?” she guessed.
The doctor nodded. “When the war broke out, the Six’s primary target wasn’t humanity, as such; for the most part, they targeted each other. The entire purpose of the nations and alliances of the Last War building their own AIs was to keep up with the incredible speed at which the modern battlefield changed. Take out the enemy controller, and you would find yourself with an insurmountable advantage.”
“Too bad it didn’t work,” Hayer muttered. “The idiots. The whole point of artificial intelligences is that they can learn and improve themselves. The Six could do it so much faster than humans can. There wasn’t any real chance of one gaining superiority over the others.”
“True enough, Ms. Hayer,” Margaret replied. “But you’re looking through the lens of hindsight. All our ancestors really wanted was the same thing people have always wanted: an assurance of safety in a dangerous world and a chance to continue their traditions and raise their families in peace. And they were willing to pay an extremely high price to achieve it. Our histories teach that the Six weren’t built to fight wars so much as prevent them. The first to come online, the one right here in this land, was intended to be a deterrent, the ultimate shield.” In her shrug, was the weight of good intentions and unintended consequences.
Laurel winced a little at that. Was SolComm’s Interdiction Zone any different?
“So, you know where this AI is?” Lynch asked. “And you want us to stop in, say hello, and see if it’s been taking people.”
Margaret and Oliver both nodded, ignoring the flippancy in the captain’s tone.
“And in exchange, you help us accomplish our mission?”
“We can take you right to the ruins of the local museum. It’s a shambles, but something’s bound to have survived. All kinds of places between here and there to find more of the junk you’re after. I’m sure you’ll find enough pure Old Earth ‘memorabilia’ to satisfy a dozen of your customers,” Oliver confirmed. “Lord knows, it’s not doing us any good; maybe it will serve a better purpose out among the stars. Remind folks where they came from.”
“How do we get close to AI, Captain?” Federov asked. “Is literal war machine with more than a century of fighting experience. If we believe stories, then it has armed aircraft, and robots we have already seen. I am not sure we can do this thing. Is not wise.”
He spoke harshly. Laurel couldn’t blame him for thinking it a bad idea. Still, these people clearly needed help, and the crew of the Arcus had at least some ability to do so. Hell, she wanted to help them, even the punk kid who had laid claim to her sidearm.
But she had a mission of her own, and she had to get back to SolComm to complete it. Provided SolComm let her back in, with the Old Earth nanites and God alone knew what else coursing through her bloodstream. Shit. The situation kept getting more and more fucked up. So much for a little jaunt to the surface, a quick pickup, and then back home to issue her report. She’d been an absolute idiot to believe that it would ever be that easy. But Federov was right.
“We’ve got to help them, Captain.” It was Bishop who spoke. Laurel blinked in surprise. “They saved our lives,” he continued. “We can’t just abandon them. If we can help, then we should help.”
Lynch didn’t say anything, but his eyes drifted over to Hayer.
“We help.” Hayer squirmed in her chair as if uncomfortable with the entire situation. “We may be outgunned, but this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. A chance to see one of the actual Six? I didn’t want to come down here in the first place, but this is worth the risk.”
Laurel snorted again. It figured that the academic would care more about the AI than the people it was supposedly kidnapping. Still, whatever her reasoning, Hayer would be putting her life just as much at risk as any of the rest of them. And the academic’s particular set of skills might be more valuable than that of trigger-pullers like Laurel and Federov.
“Federov?” Lynch said. “Do I even need to ask?”
The big man frowned. He was silent a long moment and Laurel watched the emotions play across his broad features. “Dermo,” he snapped. “Bishop is right. They saved us. We help. But not for nothing. These people know the area. We give them list. They collect for the job.”
Lynch’s eyebrows rose slightly in surprise at Federov’s about-face, but the half-smile never left his face. He glanced over at Margaret and Oliver. They exchanged only the briefest of glances before the doctor nodded. “I think we can work with that.”
“Good. Morales?” he asked.
She took a moment to think it through. The crew had—once again—surprised her. She knew that, whatever else they were, they were also hardened criminals, fugitives and, by virtue of violating the Interdiction Zone, subject to the harshest penalties the Commonwealth could hand down. And yet, all of them, even Federov, were on board with the notion of helping out the Old Earth inhabitants. Not because they had to. Margaret and Oliver had made clear that they were free to go. No one would try to stop them if they simply said, “Thanks for the assist,” and went back on mission. No. The crew of the Arcus was choosing to help because they wanted to. For different reasons, perhaps, but at the heart of each was a sense of gratitude.
It was… unexpected, even after R292-A. And in the face of it, she couldn’t simply ignore her own desire to help. She looked at the others, battered, out of their element, and with more than enough trouble of their own to be interested in helping others. And yet, every one of them looked determined. Determined to pay back a debt owed, yes, but it was more than that. They were determined to help those who had no other avenue.
It called to that hidden part of her that wanted to make things better. As she looked at the crew, it was like she was seeing them for the first time. They were more than mercenaries and criminals. They were more than fugitives, from their own troubles or the law. They were more than smugglers and pirates out for their own gain. They were a group of people willing to risk their own lives to help others, for no better reason than it was the right thing to do.
Dammit. She wasn’t supposed to like these people.
“I’m in,” was all she said.
GRAY
In a communal, cafeteria-style kitchen the evening meal was being served. At Gray’s best guess, there were about a hundred people in the room, some lining up to be served, as he was, and some sitting at tables with families or friends to eat. “Quite a crowd you’ve got here,” he said to Margaret, who was waiting in line next to him.
“About half our people,” she replied. “We eat in shifts.”
“Two hundred people,” Gray sighed. “How do you do it? We didn’t see anything that looked like fields or crops. I guess you can hunt,” he stumbled a bit on the unfamiliar word. SolComm still produced meat of a sort. Lab-grown protein chains derived from terrestrial animals would have been a better description. Gray had no idea if it tasted like real animal flesh, and he’d not had it often in the navy after all. There were rumors of actual domesticated animals maintained for top government officials and the ultra-rich, but Gray doubted it. Simply put, plants needed less oxygen than animals—with some producing a net gain—and broke down more quickly into useable byproducts.
“We have crops,” Margaret replied. “But they’re hidden from the air. In the early years of the Last War, the AIs focused on military targets. But as the years passed, and the military targets got either too well hidden or too hardened to strike, the enemy—if that term even makes sense, all things considered—switched to targeting population centers.” She offered a sad smile. “That was about the time the off-worlders, what you now call SolComm, started evacuating the population en masse. But they couldn’t take everyone. Not even a tenth part of everyone.” She fell silent for a moment, leaving Gray to watch the steady flow of people along the line.
He thought of Themis station. So many dead. And it had been easy. An order, a few taps on a screen: thousands of lives lost in a single attack run. “It must have been bad,” was all he managed to say.
“So our stories tell us. We don’t have much left from those times, you understand. Nothing more than oral histories. People were scrambling to save what they could, to get away from the cities. And, from what the stories tell us, we were doing as much harm to each other as any of our nominal enemies were. Panic does that to people,” she said sadly. “There’s a reversion to the baser natures, a dissolution of the veneer of civility that we’ve all worked so hard to cultivate. Over a period of maybe ten years, humanity suffered its largest die-off in the history of the species. We don’t know the actual numbers, you understand, but we can estimate. Something like sixty to seventy percent of the population perished.”
“Billions of people,” Gray said, voice just barely above a whisper. Then he thought about it some more. “But that would mean a hell of a lot more people here, now, then I’ve seen any sign of.”
“That was just from the war, Mr. Lynch. When the fighting grew less intense, all the infrastructure was gone. It took everything humanity had just to hold on to enough medical technology to maintain the nanites needed to survive the poisoned atmosphere. And the life most people led prior to the Last War didn’t exactly prepare them for living in a world where electricity and food and communications and clean drinking water were in scarce supply. The fighting between the Six claimed more than half the population of the world. Famine and plague took half again of what remained. As for the rest—” she smiled that sad, aching smile again “—well, we did the rest ourselves, Mr. Lynch. Within my lifetime there have been raids between camps: raids for food and water, raids aimed at taking people for work or… other purposes. And in my lifetime, there have been reprisals for such actions. Entire camps wiped out as one group made war upon another. War to the hilt, Mr. Lynch; war with no survivors.”
“Damn,” Gray whispered. It shouldn’t have surprised him; he’d seen as bad or worse in space. Hell, he’d done worse. If his only other choice was to take what he needed, or lay down and die, he didn’t doubt that he would. He certainly couldn’t fault the remnants of civilizations on Old Earth from doing the same. Not when their entire world had fallen apart around them.
“Things are better now,” Margaret said. “We’re a hard lot to stamp out. It’s been twenty years, near enough, since I’ve heard of any serious incident between camps. It’s part of the reason why these disappearances have everyone so riled. And why we’re hoping the perpetrator is one of the Six. No one who lived through it wants to see tension between the camps ramp up again.”
“How many camps are we talking?” Gray asked.
“Across the world? No one knows. I’d guess that there are still millions of us—of humans, I mean—scattered about. I don’t think my ancestors were the only ones with the tenacity to survive. Around here the cities—” she waved one hand idly at the building around her “—were all abandoned during the worst of the fighting. But after most of the shooting stopped, those living outside them realized the potential. Lots of stuff left behind; plenty of tools, generators, fuel. Not even the Six could completely eradicate centuries of civilization. People started trickling back, banding together. That was bad, at first. A lot of bodies, disease. That sort of thing. But time did what time does and eventually nature took its course.
