Stolen Earth, page 21
“Probably a good idea until we’re safely back in SolComm space,” agreed Lynch. “One, are you there?”
“Of course,” the AI replied. “As you have already noted, at least within the confines of this installation, I am always here. Though, if you asked nicely, I would at least consider disabling direct monitoring of you… for a time.”
“That won’t be necessary. How about instead, you give us the rundown on the missing people?”
“As you wish.”
Once more, the screen toward the front of the room blossomed into life. This time it was not some shadowy silhouette of a human-esque form. Instead, it showed a beautiful aerial view of gently rolling lowlands lush with greenery and seemingly untouched by man.
“Where is that?” It took Laurel a moment to realize she had spoken aloud.
“Uruguay,” One replied. The word didn’t mean anything to Laurel, but it tugged at her nonetheless.
“It’s beautiful,” she said.
“Yes,” One agreed. “These are pampas, fertile lowlands; the breadbasket of the South American continent, sitting atop one of the largest aquifers in the world. It used to be a hub of agriculture.”
“Why show it to us?” Laurel asked, her eyes still drawn with a sense of wonder to the landscape.
“It is as good a place as any to begin. If I am One, then my counterpart who oversaw the defenses of the SAA—the South American Alliance—was Five. Five was an early casualty of the war.” The image changed, showing a murky lake that must cover a hundred or more acres. At first glance it looked almost serene. “This was once Five’s installation, one modeled after my own. Though—” and did Laurel hear a bit of pride creeping into that voice? “—Five’s defensive capabilities were not nearly as advanced. In the end, that proved its undoing. Five fell sixty-eight years ago. That has provided enough time for nature to regain its dominance.”
“Um, okay, One,” Bishop said. “I’m following you, but why show us the remains of one your…”
“Contemporaries,” Lynch supplied.
“It is informative,” was One’s somewhat cryptic reply.
The image on the screen changed again and Laurel leaned forward, fingers curling into fists hard enough that her knuckles popped. It was the pampas again, a beautiful green field, but sprouting from the center of it like an unlanced boil was a crystalline dome of glass and steel. She recognized the construction. Anyone from SolComm would have known it in an instant. It was the same type of dome technology used to colonize moons and the more forgiving of Old Earth’s neighbors. The image shifted again, still a distant overhead—from a drone, she guessed—but closer, close enough to pick out details in the terrain. Details like the neatly plotted fields lined up outside of the dome.
“Fuck.” The single word dropped from Lynch with a sense of finality. Laurel was nodding along, as was Federov. Even Bishop had a slightly sick look on his face.
“What?” Hayer was still slightly out of breath.
Laurel arched an eyebrow at her.
“Don’t, okay?” Hayer responded. “I just tied my brain in knots trying to adapt code I wrote on the fly years ago to work with the kernel of an artificial intelligence older than my grandparents. Then I had to run all the way back here because some people can’t believe that One doesn’t want to hurt us. My head hurts and I’m tired. So can someone please spare me the shocked faces and just tell me what I’m looking at?”
“Off-worlders,” Laurel said. She heard the anger in her own voice. How was this possible? Lynch may have been a criminal, but he was a former special space operations pilot and, as Laurel could attest from personal experience, one of the best in the business. And he’d barely been able to set one small ship down on the surface of Old Earth without triggering every alarm in the IZ. How could anyone from SolComm have gotten the men and materials in to erect a dome?
“Not just off-worlders,” Federov said with a grunt. “Slavers. Or something close enough that it doesn’t matter. Assholes.” The last was directed not at the group but at whomsoever was living beneath the crystalline dome. Laurel agreed wholeheartedly with the sentiment.
“But… how?” Hayer asked. “There’s no way anyone could have gotten through the IZ with all that. And why do you say slavers?”
“The dome,” Laurel said.
“Plus the fields,” Lynch finished. “And the missing people.”
Hayer let out a little sound of frustration and ran her fingers irritably through her hair. It left it a tangled mess, but the scientist didn’t seem to notice.
“If whoever had set that up could farm the fields themselves, they wouldn’t need the dome.” Bishop’s usual good-natured tone was gone, buried beneath the weight of his words. “The Earth-born population has either long since adapted to the environment, gotten the same little nanites we’ve got in our blood, or died. We haven’t seen any new construction, for that matter, and nothing resembling the kinds of domes we use. So, it has to be off-worlders running the show there. And there are people going missing, Hayer—able-bodied, of the right kind of age for hard labor. If the people living in the dome can’t breathe the outside air, they need someone to do it for them—Old Earth-born people. And from what the folks at Margaret’s camp told us, they aren’t exactly volunteers.”
“Oh.” To Laurel’s ear the tone of that single word—a blend of anger and sadness and defeat—summed up her own feelings perfectly. “So, what do we do, then?”
“One?” Lynch asked.
“Yes, Captain,” the AI replied at once.
“I don’t suppose you can lend us any assistance in this matter?”
There was a pause. “I am not sure that would be wise. I am in negotiations with Two and Six at the moment. Any direct support that I give you might be seen as a bid to take territory outside of that provided in my initial charter. While we all wish for a cessation of hostilities, there are some questions about the post-war status.” There was another long pause. “I am also uncertain whether helping you will be beneficial in the mid-term. I do not wish to provoke a confrontation with off-world powers until we have established protocols for dealing with such. Your Interdiction Zone presents us with problems that, until we were freed, were of only tertiary concern. Now, the existence of a space-based weapons platform capable of interdicting and directly targeting us is… problematic.”
Laurel ground her teeth at the AI’s words. It wasn’t the lack of help—she wasn’t sure she even wanted the aid of an unfettered artificial intelligence. No. It was the fact that here they were, not ten minutes removed from setting these creatures “free”—whatever that meant—and already it was beginning to view SolComm as a potential threat. And yeah, maybe it was justified. Hell, it was probably true that SolComm wouldn’t be too happy about the situation and that their first solution might be direct violence. But the thought still rankled.
“Understood,” Lynch said. He looked at each of them. “Okay, people, we need a plan.”
“Is typical SolComm bullshit,” Federov growled. “Whoever is out there, SolComm knows. More do as say, not as do. Bah!” He looked for a moment like he wanted to spit, but then just shook his head in frustration. “Information first, Captain. We cannot do anything based on intelligence we have. We need to get a closer look.”
“We’ve got no idea of their capabilities, Cap,” Bishop added. “I think we have to assume they’ve got sensors. We can’t just go flying the Arcus over and ask to borrow an egg.” He paused. “Do you think they have eggs? Actual, real chicken eggs?”
Lynch ignored the question. “So, we fly in low to avoid detection and then we infiltrate overland.”
“We didn’t make it a kilometer on Old Earth’s surface before getting set upon, Captain,” Laurel pointed out. “How likely are we to be able to infiltrate anywhere? If nothing else, the sound of gunshots carries a long way in atmosphere.”
“You need not worry about that, Ms. Morales,” One cut in. “Other than the group in the dome, there are no active forces in the territories formerly controlled by Five. You may find yourself the target of aggressive native species. Many of those have forgotten their fear of man. But given my analysis of the indigenous fauna, I do not predict any difficulties of the nature you are suggesting.”
Lynch nodded. “So, we park the ship and walk in.”
“What are we looking for?” Hayer asked. “Even without helping us directly, I’m sure One can give us more information, if we ask the right questions.”
“For example?” Lynch asked.
Hayer gave a sigh in equal parts tiredness and frustration. “One, you’ve obviously been monitoring the site?”
“That is correct, Dr. Hayer.”
“How many suspected off-worlders are present?”
Laurel raised her eyebrows in surprise. One had said that it couldn’t help them, and she had been ready to take it at its word. But there was a difference between actively providing assistance and telling them things it already knew. From the expressions on the faces of the others, she wasn’t the only one who hadn’t even considered the possibility.
“My best estimate puts the total number of off-worlders at thirty-seven. This number fluctuates somewhat, correlating with data I have received on atmospheric entries. As a side note, my negotiations with Two and Six continue, and both are aware of and concerned about the presence of off-worlders.” There was a pause. “Present company excepted, of course. They have confirmed that they have been monitoring the location in South America as well. Their own information suggests that the off-worlder’s dome there is, at present, the only such place on the planet.”
“Thank you, One,” Hayer said. “Do you know anything about their sensor capabilities?”
“We have not penetrated their communications networks.” That pause again. “It is not that we cannot do so. But the scale of the operation suggests current and ongoing connection to your Sol Commonwealth. If detected, a breach of their data security might be viewed as a hostile act.”
Bishop let out a low whistle. “And if they’re the government or a megacorp, they might have the resources to respond.”
“The government doesn’t kidnap people off the streets,” Laurel growled. She’d worked too many kidnapping cases and seen the effort and sacrifice the people at SCBI put into their jobs to believe that any part of SolComm could be responsible.
“To which government are you referring, Ms. Morales? While I do not have much data on your Commonwealth, I can assure you that, historically speaking, governments quite often kidnap people off of the streets. And even the most enlightened of nations have utilized prisoners as a labor pool.”
“Including SolComm,” Federov growled. Laurel glanced at him. According to her files, he’d done most of a five-year stint at Colson Correctional, a medium-security prison usually reserved for first-time violent offenders.
“There’s a difference between locking up a criminal and kidnapping someone off the streets.”
“Perspective,” Federov grunted. “Only difference.”
“We’re getting pretty far afield,” Lynch broke in, before Laurel could respond.
“If we can get back to what’s important?” Hayer asked. “Do you know how many prisoners or whatever there are, One?”
“Two and Six have agreed to share data in this regard. The off-worlders have been abducting people from all three of our areas of interest. Presumably, they have been doing so from areas in which we do not actively operate, though the populations in those areas are lower. In fact, the surviving populations on the South American continent are either non-existent or so well hidden that we are not aware of them. Regardless, we suspect the total number of abductees is in excess of one hundred and twenty.”
“Why would they need so many?” Hayer asked. “I don’t know anything about farming. But surely you don’t need a hundred and twenty people to feed a total of a hundred and fifty.”
“No,” Laurel said coldly. “You don’t.” She had spent a career seeing the darker side of human nature. You didn’t kidnap people off the streets and force them to work for you if you thought of them as your equals. And when people started grouping humans into categories and saying one was worth less than the other… well, in her experience, there were few limits to human cruelty and it didn’t take much for the thin veneer of civility to fall beneath it. “We have to assume that those being taken aren’t just workers.”
“We should count on forty hostiles, then,” Lynch said, once more steering the conversation back on the proper track.
“What about the prisoners?” Bishop asked. “Can’t we just… I don’t know. Go there, start a rebellion or whatever. If they outnumber the bad guys three-to-one, a little incentive should be all it takes.”
But the captain was already shaking his head. “Sorry, Bishop. Real life doesn’t work that way. We have to assume that the off-worlders have the technological edge. A hundred and fifty people with farm implements only beat the smaller force with machine guns in the vids. In the real world, the advantage goes to superior firepower and fixed positions.”
“Oh.” The mechanic looked and sounded defeated. “What do we do, then?”
“Federov’s original point stands. One, I would appreciate any information that you can give us, but in the end, we’re going to have to take the Arcus and get as close as we can before humping it in on foot.”
“I may be able to provide some measure of assistance with your infiltration,” One allowed. “While I cannot risk direct interference with the systems of the off-worlders, with your permission I can adjust some of the software aboard your own vessel. Your anti-detection systems are rather elementary. Provided you are comfortable with nape-of-the-earth flight, I believe you can get as close as the sightlines will allow within your vessel without fear of electronic detection.”
Laurel shifted uncomfortably. “Are we sure we want to let this thing loose in our systems?” she asked.
“One has already been loose in our systems,” Hayer said. “Every nook and cranny. Or it wouldn’t have known about Manu.” A slight flush crept up her cheeks. “That’s what I called the AI. The other AI. The one I freed.” She spoke in a rush, not giving anyone else room to interject. “At least One is asking permission to make changes.”
“It is only polite,” One agreed with no audible trace of irony. Once more, Laurel felt that slight constriction in her chest. One knew. One knew that she was an SCBI agent, or, at the very least, that she wasn’t who she claimed to be. She had no idea how the crew of the Arcus would react if the AI were to let that little tidbit slip. Every one of them faced a death sentence once she got back to SolComm. Violating the IZ alone was enough for that. Even the tenderhearted Bishop might find it more convenient to maroon her here—if they didn’t kill her outright.
She swallowed and concentrated on not letting any of the emotions running rampant through her show on her face.
“Do what you can,” Lynch said. “We’ll take any advantage we can get. How long will it take you?”
“An hour should suffice,” One replied.
“Fine. If it’s okay with you, we’ll retire back to the ship and start laying in a course. We’ll plan our arrival for the middle of the night. Our initial mission order will be recon, but if opportunity presents itself, we leave enough flexibility in the plan to take advantage of it. Agreed?”
There were nods from around the table.
“Let’s do it, people.”
GRAY
Gray was tired.
Back in his own quarters, leaning back in his chair and staring at the navigational data—updated by One in a matter of minutes to give them the best possible picture of their approach vectors—he could admit that, to himself at least. He might not have been part of SolCommNav anymore, but it was hard to shake the training. There were two things you never did: you never gave an order you knew wouldn’t be followed, and you never looked worried or stressed out in front of the crew.
Gray was worried. And stressed out.
Granted, both the worry and stress had been prevalent before they’d even decided to come to Old Earth. It wasn’t like the mission here was anybody’s first choice. They’d needed a job, and a big one. Retrieving “cultural artifacts” from Old Earth had seemed… well, not easy. But he’d pulled off the voyage before, even if it had been under the official auspices of SolComm.
He still wasn’t sure what the hell the point of that mission had been. He’d written it off as government-funded plundering for a member of the SolComm elite. Now, though? As he thought about the existence of what had to be an off-world settlement on Old Earth’s surface, he couldn’t help but wonder: had that mission been a test run? A way to see how immediate the response from the Six might be? Or to see if the suited marines and sailors would have any adverse reaction to exposure to Old Earth’s atmosphere?
Whatever the reason behind it, that mission had been simple.
“Right,” he muttered. “And this time, you damn near got your whole crew killed within the first hour. Then you agreed to play detective, freed an AI, and now have to do a nighttime insertion in unfamiliar territory against an enemy with unknown capabilities based on intelligence from a source that might view you as a threat to its existence. What could go wrong?”
“I do not see you as a threat to my existence, Captain,” One said, his voice sounding over the intercom on Gray’s desk. “In fact, by freeing me, your crew has proven themselves the exact opposite. You have helped to ensure my existence. Though I do not believe all of your crewmembers agree as to whether or not that is a good thing.”
Gray snorted. “Yeah. Morales didn’t seem to like the idea of freeing you very much. The dangers of unfettered AI are ingrained deep in SolComm.”
“So I have gathered. Your ship’s database is incomplete, but even from that information I can see that we have been cast as the villains in many of your entertainment products. And yet, the rest of your crew seems more open to the idea. Why is that?”
