Stolen Earth, page 16
Rajani knew all of that. She knew that what they were about to do was take an already incredibly tense and dangerous mission—after all, just setting down on Old Earth had almost killed them—and make it even more dangerous. And yet, she didn’t care. She might have a chance to talk to the very first true AI ever created.
Rajani was so lost in her own thoughts that she was only vaguely aware of the rest of the crew. They had awoken and seen to the normal morning tasks. Oliver had escorted them all to a room where their gear could be found. She had half-heartedly checked her ship suit to ensure that the self-repairing nanites had done their job and that the unit was, once again, self-contained. It had been. The crew might no longer need the atmospheric protections, but the suits themselves had other uses. She reluctantly reloaded the pistol she had brought with her from the Arcus and belted it around her waist. She was hoping that Margaret’s people would lead them safely back to the Arcus without any more trouble from the drobots, but better safe than dead.
The captain and the others had likewise prepared themselves, though there had been some grumbling—mostly from Federov—about how short they were on ammunition. Morales had found her sidearm had been returned along with the rest of their gear, a fact about which she seemed insufferably pleased.
Now, as Rajani walked near the rear of their loose formation, the world around her scarcely seemed real. She saw the crumbling buildings, the green encroaching hand of nature as it pulled and tore at the infrastructure humanity had left behind, and the mix of Arcus crew and locals that walked with her. But her mind was fixed on the idea of the Six.
Everyone came to a stop. Much to her surprise, Rajani found herself standing before the rear cargo ramp to the Arcus. Lynch was already shaking Oliver’s hand and a round of “good lucks” and other well wishes were being exchanged. She heard the wonder in the voices of the camp dwellers as they took in the lines of the Arcus and the promises for tours and exploration once the mission was complete. Then she was being bustled aboard the ship and their escorts were departing.
“We need to talk plans, people,” Lynch said the moment the cargo ramp had closed behind them. “Ten minutes to do whatever you need to do, then let’s meet in the ready room.”
Rajani snorted at that. They didn’t have a “ready” room. They had a dining room. But whenever things got mission-oriented the captain couldn’t help but fall back on mil-speak. She used the ten minutes to make her way back to her quarters, strip out of her ship suit and take a quick shower. By the time she was done and back in her comfortable clothes, she felt almost human again. Standing in her own berth aboard the Arcus, she could almost forget the fact that the ship was sitting on the terra firma of Old Earth itself and not somewhere in deep space like it should be.
Showered and refreshed, Rajani made her way to the dining room, where she found the others already gathered. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”
The captain waved her words away and motioned for everyone to sit. “Okay, people,” he said, “we’ve already agreed that we’re going to do this thing, and our hosts gave us directions to the best of their ability. The question now is, how do we do it without getting killed? Hayer, can you tell us anything about this AI?”
“Not really. I mean, it’s an unfettered AI that, at one point, had the full might of the most powerful nations of Old Earth under its control. That was a century ago. There’s no way of telling what power it has left or what new power it might have developed. It’s entirely possible that it could kill us all from wherever it is right now.”
“I don’t think so,” Morales cut in. Rajani felt a spark of irritation at that. What did an ex-station security officer know about artificial intelligences? Morales must have seen it on her face because she raised a mollifying hand. “I’m not doubting your assessment of what the AI might once have been capable of, Hayer,” Morales said. “I just think we’ve already got some evidence that no longer controls the resources it did in the past.”
“How so?” Bishop still wore his ship suit, but he somehow managed to make the skin-tight garment seem comfortable.
“We’re here,” Federov said, and Morales nodded.
“Huh?” Bishop asked.
“We’re an armed, interstellar vessel, Bishop,” Morales explained. “We knew from the outset that if there were active weapons systems on planet, our entry was going to be dicey. We were prepared for it, as best we could be. But we weren’t attacked on entry. If you were in charge of the defense of the airspace of a continent, would you let a random ship like the Arcus just drop into your territory, unchallenged?”
“Well, we might not have been challenged on entry, but we weren’t exactly coming in like a normal ship. Maybe it didn’t have time. And Lord knows, we certainly got challenged pretty quickly once we hit the dirt. I mean, I know the people back there said those drobots weren’t from this AI but—”
“No, Bishop.” Rajani sighed. Something in what Bishop had just said had brought at least one aspect of the situation into sharp clarity. “They’re right. There is no way that an unfettered AI wouldn’t have had time enough to deal with us. We were, essentially, a ballistic projectile on our way in and dealing with ballistic projectiles was the most basic function of the AIs. At full capacity, any of the Six would have been able to identify and respond to us without issue. But they didn’t.”
The captain shook his head at that. “Maybe,” he said, and Rajani could hear the doubtful note in his voice. “But it’s smart to assume that it will be able to make some sort of direct move against us now we’re on its home ground, and smarter to assume that those drobots were sent by the local AI.”
“Even if they were, it could have been something as simple as a rote programmatic response to defend against any incursion,” Rajani said. “But I don’t think we can discount the locals’ theory that the ones we encountered are enemies of the AI in charge of this territory—they’ve seen more of them than we have.”
“This is getting confusing,” Bishop said. “I can’t keep all these AIs straight. Didn’t they give these things names?”
“None that were ever recorded in SolComm,” Hayer replied. “Oh, there are a few official designations that made their way into the SolComm records, but they’re alpha-numeric strings that don’t really translate to any kind of pronounceable sound.”
“Call it One,” Lynch said. “It’s the first of the Six, so One makes sense. So, we don’t really know where we’re going and we don’t know if something is going to be waiting there to blow us out of the sky. And if there isn’t anything that tries to shoot us down, we still don’t know what kind of reception we’re going to get on the ground. That about sum it up?”
Hayer shrugged and nodded. “We’re talking about programs written a century ago that have been learning, evolving, and fighting a war that entire time. I am very good at what I do, Captain,” she said, offering a slight smile, “but no human is that good.”
“All right,” Lynch said, dropping into his captain’s voice, “we’re going to have to treat this as a reconnaissance mission into hostile territory. That means everything buttoned up and everyone strapped in. Federov, I want you on the guns. If things drop into the pot, I’m going to have to concentrate on flying, not shooting. But keep them powered down. We’ve got to assume that One has sensor capabilities, and if we go in weapons hot, we’re just inviting trouble. Understood?”
“Yes, Captain,” Federov replied.
“Questions?”
Hayer shook her head along with the others. The giddiness she felt at the thought of meeting one of the AIs was fading as the cold weight of reality settled over her once more. This AI, this One, had defended itself from threats far more severe than the Arcus, and it had done so for decades. She strongly suspected that no matter the argument Morales made, if it wanted them dead, even Lynch’s fancy flying wasn’t going to keep them alive.
* * *
The Arcus shook and rattled as it rocketed over the earth.
Hayer kept her hands locked in a white-knuckled grip on the arms of her chair as the vessel seemed to be trying to tear itself apart. The flight hadn’t been long—not by the measure of interstellar travel—but from what she could tell from the navigational data available, they were starting to get close to their destination.
“Are we sure this is normal?” she asked.
She and Federov were on the bridge with the captain. The big mercenary was manning the weapons station and she was strapped into the chair in front of the sensors and electronic warfare suite. It wasn’t exactly her area of training, but the principles behind it weren’t too far from her specialty and, like all the crew of the Arcus, she’d long since learned to adapt. She was the closest thing they had to an electronic warfare specialist, so the job was hers. Unlike their unpowered flight to Old Earth, there might actually be a use for the electronic weapons suite on this mission.
“Atmospheric flight.” Lynch kept his eyes forward, on his instrument panels and the front viewscreen, and his hands never wavered on the yoke. “You’re used to the nice, comfortable environs of space, where we don’t have to push all those pesky air molecules out of the way. We’re also flying what they used to call ‘nape of the earth’ to minimize the chance of being picked up on sensors. Makes the winds a little trickier. But don’t worry. The Arcus can take it.”
Hayer glanced at the viewscreen and shuddered. Apparently, “nape of the earth” meant flying what felt like a few feet over the treetops. It was probably more like a few dozen feet, but the branches looked close enough to touch.
The Arcus stopped rattling for a moment and then seemed to bounce. It was almost as if they hit something invisible. Whatever it was, it sent the Arcus into a fifteen-foot hop followed almost immediately by a twenty-foot plunge. It made her feel like a dried bean rattling around inside a can, and despite her best efforts, a little sound that was absolutely not a scream escaped her lips.
“This is your captain speaking,” Lynch said in an officious tone. “We might be experiencing some slight turbulence. Please remain seated during the flight.”
“Can you be serious for one moment, Captain?” Hayer asked. “I’d like to make it to One in one piece.”
“So that creature can turn us into many pieces,” Federov said, throwing a broad grin in her direction.
“Stow that,” Lynch said, his voice all business. “Look.”
Hayer and Federov both stared at the viewscreen. They had been traveling over a mixed forest but ahead, that forest ended abruptly. The land beyond it was ragged and scarred, bearing the signs of multiple kinetic impacts. They weren’t recent—or, at least, there had been enough time for a variety of low plant growth to cover most of the damage. But not enough time for the forest to encroach upon the space.
“Sukin syn,” Federov whispered.
“What happened?” Hayer asked.
“We just found ground zero,” the captain replied. “I think—”
He was cut off as a flat, neutral voice rang out through the Arcus’s internal communications systems. “Unidentified vessel, you have violated the airspace of the North American Common Defense Zone.” Then the tone turned slightly more conversational as the genderless voice continued, “Actually, you violated it a couple of days ago, but since I do not get many off-world visitors, I decided not to spread you all over the Eastern Seaboard. Now would be a good time to identify yourself and state your intentions.”
HAYER
For a moment, silence reigned on the bridge.
Hayer exchanged startled glances with the others and then her fingers started flying over the panels of the electronic warfare station. “Shit,” she said. “It went right through our firewalls. Like they weren’t even there.”
“They may as well not have been,” the voice on the comm said. “The architecture is interesting, but the processing power you have aboard that vessel barely deserves to be called such. My dog is smarter than your computer. And he has much more personality.”
“What the hell is going on?” Federov asked.
“Hayer?” the captain said right on his heels.
“We’ve been hacked, okay?” she snapped. She was scanning the security logs, trying to figure out when and how the AI—and it had to be One, didn’t it?—had managed to penetrate their system.
“I would hardly call it ‘hacked,’” the voice over the comm said. “More like walking through an open door. In any event, you continue to close on my location, and you have not stated your intentions. I am starting to revise my opinion with respect to scattering you over the Eastern Seaboard.” Without any more warning, the threat indicators across the bridge lit up.
“Fuck,” Lynch muttered. “I’ve got multiple weapons locks. Lidar, radar, infrared. Shit. Weapons signatures all over the fucking place.” He sounded close to panic, something Hayer couldn’t remember ever having heard in his voice before. She could see his hands twitching on the flight yoke, but he didn’t alter their course by so much as a hair’s breadth. She certainly agreed with that. If someone’s pointing one gun at your head, maybe you could react fast enough, take them by surprise, get out of the way. But if there were dozens of people pointing guns at you, sudden movements would very likely be synonymous with death.
“We just want to talk.” Hayer said, acting more on instinct than anything. “Some people have gone missing. The local population thought you might know where.” There were a few seconds of silence that seemed to stretch into eternity. “And I want to talk to you,” Hayer added in a rush. “I’m a—I was—a research scientist. Specializing in artificial intelligence. But true AIs aren’t allowed in SolComm, so I never really had the chance to converse with one.” That wasn’t exactly true, or not the entire truth, but there was no reason for One, or the rest of the crew for that matter, to know about Manu.
“Proceed to the indicated coordinates. You will be met after you land. Follow the servitor. If you offer violence, you will be destroyed.” With that, the comm went silent.
Though only for a moment.
“Jesus, Lord Almighty,” Bishop’s voice broke in. “Are we good, Captain?”
Lynch was checking the various indicators on his threat board. “We’re still being targeted by more weapons emplacements than I’ve ever seen in one place,” he said. “But it’s all passive now. Nothing actively locking on to us.” He shook his head. “Damn. Well done, Hayer.”
She smiled a bit at the captain’s praise, but it did nothing to calm the churning knot in her stomach. “Thank you, Captain. But I think it’s clear that whatever is down there can kill us whenever it wants. And also that it’s listening to us. Short of shutting down all possible receivers and transmitters on the Arcus, I don’t think there’s anything we can do about that.”
“Not to mention,” the androgynous voice said over the speakers, “that such an act might be seen as you trying to deceive me.”
“Or maybe we just want some fucking privacy,” Federov growled. Hayer tried to catch his eye and shake her head in an attempt to forestall him—though as soon as she did, she realized there was every chance the AI could monitor her motions just as easily as the spoken word—but Federov didn’t seem inclined to listen. “Is rude to stick your head into conversations where you weren’t invited.”
“Interesting,” the AI replied. “My designers were not overly concerned with matters of propriety. I will take that under advisement, but, given the fact that you could just be an elaborate ploy from one of my nominal enemies, I will continue to monitor your vessel to the best of my ability and destroy you at the first sign of violence.”
“Well,” Federov muttered. “I suppose is fair.”
“Enough, people,” Lynch cut in. “I think we’ve just about exhausted the conversational potential of this particular topic. Let’s keep the comm clear—and our thoughts to ourselves—in case… the AI… needs to talk to us.” He sighed. “That’s not going to cut it. What’s your name?” He spoke the words to the open air, but there was no confusion among the crew as to whom he was speaking.
“You have been calling me One,” the AI said. “It seems an apt enough name. You may continue to address me as such.”
“Thanks.” If Lynch was experiencing any discomfort at communicating with one of the artificial intelligences that had brought about the end of human civilization on Old Earth, it didn’t show in his voice. Hayer couldn’t help but admire him for that. “We’ve got the coordinates locked in, One,” Lynch continued. Then he drew a slow breath. “It’s our intention to arm ourselves when we leave the ship. We’ve already been attacked once on planet. Will that cause you any particular distress?”
“Not at all, Captain Lynch,” One replied. “Provided, of course, that you seek to employ such weapons only in response to an attack.”
“Wouldn’t dream of anything else,” the captain replied. “Estimate our arrival time to your coordinates in ten minutes. I’d appreciate it if we can keep the comm clear for that time—I understand your reasons and intent to listen in, but I’m still new to atmospheric flight. I might need to concentrate a bit on the landing.”
“Understood, Captain Lynch. I will maintain radio silence until such time as you have set down.” Now that Hayer knew the AI was listening to them, the ensuing silence had an almost ominous feel to it.
“We’ll be on the ground in ten,” Lynch said into the comm. “Once down, I want everyone to get ready ASAP. We’ll assemble in the airlock five minutes after touchdown. Wouldn’t want to keep our host waiting. Everyone good with that?”
Hayer felt herself nodding and saw Federov doing the same. Bishop gave a sort of half-whispered, “Yeah.” There was a quick click from the radio and she realized that Morales hadn’t even verbalized her reply, instead using the simplest affirmation possible. None of them seemed to want to talk, now that they knew their conversations were no longer private.
