Mr. Grey slowly picked himself up off the floor. A puddle of spittle and blood covered the spot where he had been laying. It was not the most dignified of positions, but he did not have an audience that could tell the difference either way. He would have been grateful for that, had he been able to feel anything but awe and exhilaration.
The small Verde residence had grown insufficient for his growing collection of assets and workshops. He had relocated as quickly as possible to a nearly empty warehousing compartment. It had once housed supplies meant to carry the heretics through months of spaceborne travel. With their current crisis of supply, it was now nearly empty and unvisited, a perfect space for his needs.
His Resources were still hard at work around him. None of them had offered him help, or even paused in their duties. They knew their purpose now, though many of them were new to the true order of things. Beyond the Verde cell, Mr. Grey had been able to assemble another two dozen Resources, one family unit at a time. Each of them had been subdued, modified, and released to gather their closest associates for a similar procedure. In time, he was confident that most of the inhabitants of the ship would be under his control, though he was already looking for ways to spread his reach beyond the vessel. The Contact would want him to be able to affect the entire fleet, after all.
The Contacts, he corrected himself. He had been shocked when the newcomer’s signal had come through, and doubly surprised when his previous Contact had broken into the conversation partway through the transmission. In the chaotic storm of the next few moments, both Contacts had struggled to establish dominance, with both of them using their command codes and access. Neither had been willing to reveal their own location; instead, they had used Mr. Grey as a connection point, conducting their argument in words that defied his comprehension.
Witnessing such a struggle amongst his superiors had been a glorious, stupefying moment. He’d known of the occasional disturbance among those on high; the effort to attain perfection was rife with such disagreements, as was only natural. Such things could only be expected among beings so mighty, and as he had always known, it had been resolved in a way far superior to anything he had witnessed among the people of the Known Worlds. The Contacts had striven and fought, but they had done so in ways of logic and prioritization. Their goals had merged, blended, until the Contacts had been almost as one. They were unified; they were perfect.
In the end, one of the Contacts had assumed ultimate authority. The assets of both Contacts were subsumed beneath their command, and the information available to Mr. Grey had been accordingly updated. It had expanded the options available to care for their mission, but it had also increased the number of missions that the Contact was responsible for. One of the Contacts had been charged with patrolling the area to contain and harass the Outer Ones. The combined assets of both Contacts would now be turned to that task, in addition to destroying the heretics and their Device.
Fortunately, Mr. Grey had already attempted to provide his own contribution. Even as the overwhelming presence of the Contacts had savaged his mind, he’d been informed of the fact that one of the primary targets of his mission had left the Concord. One of his new Resources had been tapped into the heretic flight network and had alerted him to the departure of Gabriel Miller’s rig. He’d helpfully supplied the information to the Contact, who had accordingly dispatched assets to intercept the heretic commander.
To his dismay, those assets failed to complete the mission assigned to them. That final report had led to the Contact severing the connection, leaving him to recover on the floor of the warehouse, surrounded by those Resources that he had gathered.
As Mr. Grey picked himself up, he still felt like he could hear the Contact’s final commands. DESTROY THE DEVICE. SABOTAGE THE HERETICS. DO NOT DELAY.
He gave himself a grim smile. At least that last command would be easy to obey. Between the accelerating recruitment of his Resources and the additional knowledge the Contact had given him, he would be more than capable of destroying his targets, even while the Contact’s other assets pursued the Outer Ones through the system. By the time the last of those evasive foes was dead, the heretics would be ripe for destruction. All he needed to do was follow the training he’d been given since birth, and then victory for the Cause would be certain.
Susan stood alone in the OMNI chamber and waited.
She knew OMNI would speak to her again. The instant the images that Gabriel’s rig had captured had been uploaded, the system had paused in a way that made her suspect OMNI had been pouring over every byte of data. It was clear whoever had sent those dark rigs, OMNI was just as interested in finding them as she was. The only real question was whether the avatar was going to appear to her on its own, or if it would simply begin to act independently.
Either prospect had filled her with dread, but the threat to Gabriel’s life had brought things into a clearer focus. If the system had been a recalcitrant officer or troublesome enlisted in the Directorate, she would not have simply waited for it to appear and disrupt her schedule. She would have confronted it, taken control. The people who depended on her needed the system; that fact alone meant she would confront it.
What better time than right now?
Bracing herself, Susan made a calm, deliberate gesture, and the chamber came to life around her. It was a subtle change, something those unfamiliar with the system might have missed. There was a vibration of sorts, a hum just beyond the edge of human hearing, and somehow the bland walls of the chamber seemed to fade slightly, as if they’d become less real. Susan watched the shift closely, wondering just how much was created by the system itself, and how much was an illusion of her own creation. The human mind was a malleable thing, after all, and she was all too ready to mistrust what she saw here.
The avatar arrived a heartbeat later. This time it seemed as if Arland was stepping out from a wall, emerging from it for all the world like a man parting a curtain rather than simply appearing out of thin air. Then he spoke, his expression unrevealing as usual.
“Admiral. You summoned me.”
Susan allowed silence to stretch between them. “Yes.”
Arland’s expression flickered—was that some twitch of emotion on those hard features? The projection’s voice carried no hint as it continued. “There has been another incident. More subspace echoes were detected, along with at least two different, independent waveforms. I suspect that there are two enemy presences in the system, in addition to the infiltrator.”
She fixed him with a hard stare. “Why didn’t you report it?”
“Fleet operations were ongoing. Waiting until they were completed was likely the best way to handle the situation.”
Something about that response bothered her. The reason why became clear as she considered it. “OMNI, I am in command of the fleet.”
Arland’s avatar nodded. “This is correct, Admiral.”
She let a bit more iron into her voice. “This means that I will decide what the best time would be for me to receive more information, not you. If I am in active combat, I will ask you to wait. Do not delay telling me critical intelligence based on your own calculations.”
The avatar paused, his face wooden. “This system is capable of—”
“Nothing, if I deactivate you again.” Susan waited for the avatar to continue to protest. Instead, Arland’s face seemed to close down entirely. If she had to guess, it was concealing something akin to panic behind those battered features. “Again, I am in command of the fleet, not you.”
With what seemed like an effort, Arland replied. “This is correct, Admiral. I will comply.”
Susan waited for a long moment, watching the avatar closely. When it did not continue, she inclined her head slightly. “Good. Now, when did the subspace echoes occur?”
“They began shortly after the RSR flight reached the debris field, Admiral.” Arland made a gesture, and a timestamp appeared, along with the image of the RSR’s location compared to the fleet. “They continued throughout most of the rest of the engagement, terminating once Captain Gabriel’s team was secured.”
She stared at the timestamp with growing suspicion. “Could these subspace transmissions have revealed Captain Gabriel’s mission?”
“It is possible.” The avatar’s guarded tones were studiously careful. “It would depend on how far the infiltration has spread. I am unable to determine what information the infiltrator would have access to, but the amount of data exchanged through the subspace stratum appears to have been significant. Captain Miller’s position could have been compromised.”
“I see.” She began to walk around the OMNI chamber, continuing to stare at the avatar. “Have you ever seen rigs like the ones that Captain Miller found?”
Arland shook his head. “This system has no record of such rigs.”
“Would the Wild Colonies have been able to develop them?”
“It is possible, but the data I have access to is several design generations out of date.” Arland’s frustration leaked through, coloring his impeccably professional tone. “Access to Directorate systems has failed to provide more up-to-date information.”
Susan’s eyes narrowed. “Does the system have any records of the strangers, either?”
“No, Admiral. None beyond what this fleet has encountered.” He seemed wary now. Almost uncertain, behind his blunt mask of a face.
“So, either of them could be from the Wild Colonies?”
Arland paused. “It is unlikely that the strangers are Wild Colony assets, given the lack of subspace transmissions during their previous sightings. However, there is a non-zero chance.”
“You aren’t familiar with Wild Colony technology?” Susan raised an eyebrow. “I thought you had data on their techniques.”
“As I said, my last data from the Wild Colonies is several generations out of date. Their infiltration techniques, military equipment, and other assets may have significantly changed during that time.” Arland shook his head. “Their only consistent feature has been the use of infiltrators to weaken and compromise targets, and the use of various subspace technologies to conceal and enhance their capabilities.”
She paused for a moment, her mind going over the possibilities. “They couldn’t have changed either of those two things? It has been some time since you last encountered them.”
“That is correct, Admiral. The strategic advantages to their subspace technology are significant enough that their leadership would never abandon it voluntarily.” The avatar paused one more time, his lips twisting in an unconscious grimace. “Their tendencies for infiltration have been pronounced across all recorded encounters with the Wild Colonies. It is a product of their logical framework and overall strategic goals, and unless these have changed, they will continue to devote considerable effort to such work. I consider it unlikely to have been altered, despite the time elapsed. The existence of subspace echoes within the fleet is additional evidence of this fact.”
For a long moment, Susan considered the facts she had been given. The picture forming in her mind was not a good one. OMNI’s capabilities were already near-miraculous, far beyond anything most modern command-and-control technology should have been capable of producing. She still couldn’t quite believe that it worked as well as it did, yet here the system was admitting that the Wild Colonies possessed technology that compared to it, or surpassed it. If the Wild Colonies had technology on that sort of level, and she ignored the threat…
She shook her head. It was time to focus. “OMNI, aside from Captain Miller’s recordings, how else can we help identify the current threats to the fleet as Wild Colony assets?”
Arland grunted sourly. It was a curiously human gesture from the avatar. “More data would be required. Perhaps a larger number of scouting missions would gather the necessary information.”
Susan smiled slightly, though there was very little humor in the expression. Given the cost of the last scouting mission, she wasn’t about to risk losing even more rigs and pilots for small glimpses of the enemy. Not when she had other options. “Thank you, OMNI. I will have something else for you soon. Until then, take no other actions unless I specifically request it. You’re dismissed.”
The avatar gave her a steady look. Then it vanished. She studied the vacant area where it had stood, waiting for it to reappear. When it didn’t, she began to relax. Apparently, OMNI was as easy to order around as any subordinate in the Directorate. If only she didn’t have the feeling that the system was already trying to circumvent her instructions.
She shook off that feeling and gestured to open a channel to Commander Mesic on the bridge. “Commander, contact the Achilles. Instruct them to set up another meeting with Captain Wong.”
One way or the other, she would find the information she needed. Then whoever had tried to kill Gabriel was going to pay.
“Gabriel! How are you doing?”
Gabe blinked in surprise. He had been bracing himself for yet another shuttle flight—his fifth so far today—and found himself completely taken off guard. “Father? What are you doing here?”
Clark Miller, Speaker of the Way, met Gabe’s astonished gaze and smiled broadly. “Why, just catching up with my son, of course. You are a difficult child to keep track of lately.”
With a grimace, Gabe forced himself to stand. He’d spent the past few days bouncing back and forth between visits to the various ships of the fleet, training with his pilots, flying close-in patrols for the fleet, and meetings with IntCent on the second new group of mysterious rigs he’d managed to discover in as many months. Luckily, they seemed to be taking this second group far more seriously than the first one, but it hadn’t made his interminable time in the Intelligence section any less agonizing.
Balancing it all against the obscure shuttle schedule between the ships of the fleet had only made the entire process more onerous, but he had finally made the last arrangement. The shuttle he was on was headed to the Compass, the destination he had been hoping to reach the whole time. Hopefully his other visits had prevented OMNI from predicting things—but if his father had somehow managed to outguess him, then he did not have much hope for OMNI failing to see the pattern either.
He realized abruptly that he had been staring off into space. Gabe shook his head to clear it and tried to smile. “Sorry, Father, I’m just a bit tired. Do you want to sit down? These things tend to rock back and forth a lot.”
“So I’ve noticed.” Clark nodded amiably and settled in beside Gabe, using the cane he held to bear the weight as he shifted. Gabe hated the cane, though his father didn’t appear to mind it. The thing was a legacy of the wounds the Speaker had taken while they were still in the Known Worlds. Those injuries continued to pain him, but his father didn’t seem to complain about it at all.
As Clark leaned back with a sigh of relief, Gabe folded his arms and studied him. “So, father, what did you want to ask me about?”
“Oh, nothing much. I just wanted to share with you how impressed I’ve been with your actions recently.” Clark smiled easily again, lowering his voice slightly. “Your work with the rest of the fleet has been greatly appreciated. I’ve heard from several people how helpful you’ve been.”
Gabe blinked. “They have? I haven’t done anything, though.”
The Speaker of the Way chuckled. “They beg to differ. The personnel aboard the Surveyor were particularly happy to be visited. Though they mentioned they were still having trouble with the records you looked at.”
“The ones left by Duvaid Queagros?” Gabe sighed as Clark nodded. “I figured they would. He was a scout that seems to have faked half his records. It’s been a problem for them.” The comparison to his own efforts to confuse OMNI made Gabe uncomfortable enough to try to change the subject. “I don’t know why they are so happy, though. I’ve just been visiting them and asking how they’re doing. That doesn’t seem all that helpful.”
“It meant more than you expected, then.” Clark’s eyes seemed to twinkle with amusement, and he patted Gabriel on the shoulder. “You encouraged them, listened to their concerns. Several of the crews you visited have thanked me for things that you’ve arranged for them with other parts of the fleet. It has been an enormous aid to people who might otherwise have been overwhelmed and despairing with our journey.”
“Oh.” Gabe thought it over for a moment, feeling a brief burst of shame. He hadn’t been really trying to do any of that. If he hadn’t needed a chance to confuse OMNI as to his objective, then he might never have done any of it at all. “I’m glad that has gone so well, I guess.”
“So I see.” Clark tilted his head to one side. The intensity of his stare once again made it feel like the elder Miller could read his thoughts. He smiled slowly. “Now, would you be able to tell me exactly what our dear Admiral has you actually doing, Gabriel?”
Gabe grunted. Despite himself, he glanced around the compartment. It wasn’t like he expected OMNI to step out of a wall—to be truthful, he wasn’t entirely certain what the avatar even looked like—but he was sure that the shuttle wasn’t a safe place. “She hasn’t asked me to do anything in particular, Dad.”
“Beyond the usual, of course.” Clark raised an eyebrow, and Gabe felt a hint of ridiculousness. It was obvious he had already puzzled part of it out, at least, but he didn’t seem willing to pursue the question further. Instead, he sighed and settled back against the crates stacked behind them. He even closed his eyes, as if he was going to take a nap. “Well then. I suppose I should just enjoy our visit to the Compass. It will be my first time aboard as well, you know.”
Curious despite himself, Gabe tilted his head. “Really? I thought you and the Keeper were getting along well.”
“Well enough, I suppose, but Hartwinn remains a very private man.” He smiled again, this time with a hint of determination. “I may be checking up on you, but to be honest, I’m just using you to get a sneak peek. I hope you don’t mind.”
Gabe grunted. He supposed it would provide him a little extra cover for the visit from OMNI, but at the same time, it wasn’t going to do him any good if his father managed to get them kicked off the ship before he could corner the Keeper for questioning. “As long as you are on your best behavior.”
This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.
Clark opened his eyes. “Why Gabriel, aren’t I always?” Gabe grunted in response, and the Speaker chuckled. Then they settled into a companionable silence as the shuttle wove its way closer to the destination that Gabe had been aiming for over the past two weeks.
The docking port for the Compass seemed normal enough, though Gabriel noted the door seemed to have been reinforced. It was a triple hatch as well, which surprised him. There was usually the occasional blast door on a military ship, but most of the time, one was enough. Three doors seemed like an extreme precaution, and an equally odd investment of time and resources on a supposedly civilian ship.
He'd expected a lower level crewman or flunky of some kind to greet them, but instead the Keeper himself was there, his belligerent, stubborn face attempting to put on a show of friendliness for once. Perhaps he was a pain most of the time, but it appeared Hartwinn Schreiber at least felt the duties of a host clearly enough.
The Keeper stepped forward and bowed slightly from the waist. “Captain Miller. Speaker Miller. Welcome aboard the Compass.”
The greeting was curiously formal, even from a stuffed-shirt like Hartwinn, but Gabriel pushed that aside. He offered the Keeper a similar bow. “Keeper Schreiber. Thank you for welcoming us.”
Clark bowed as well, though it was a little awkward with his cane. “Yes, Hartwinn, thank you very much. I have been looking forward to this visit.”
“You have.” The words came out a little flat, as if the Keeper didn’t quite believe the older Miller. He glanced at Gabe and then grimaced a bit. “I was under the impression it was Captain Miller who wanted to speak with me.”
“Oh, he most certainly does. Some kind of business from the Admiral, I believe.” Clark grinned amiably. He waggled the cane in Gabe’s direction, totally ignoring the glare Gabe was giving him. “For me, though, it was all about visiting this ship! It is an incredible place, from what I’ve heard. A precious treasure from the earliest days of the Known Worlds.”
Hartwinn stared at Clark for a moment and gave a grudging nod. “This is true. The Compass has sailed the stars for a long time, actually. It is part of my duties as Keeper to keep it safe from those that would usurp it.” He glanced at Gabe and grimaced again. “Unfortunately, I was not able to do so with the Concord, but at the very least, this ship will remain secure.”
Gabe frowned slightly as he remembered the blast doors, but before he could speak, the Keeper gestured for them to follow. He led them down a hallway that was decorated beyond anything that he’d seen in another ship before. Every inch of the corridor had been carved with incredibly delicate images and patterns. They fed back on each other, forming a myriad of possible interpretations. He couldn’t remember having seen anything like it. It had to have cost a fortune to create, yet he couldn’t imagine any reason that someone would put so much time and effort into a simple corridor.
Clark seemed just as fascinated by the designs as well. He reached out one hand, trailing his fingers along the ridges and curves etched into the surface. “So intricate. How long did the vessel take to create Hartwinn?”
“Several lifetimes, as you see it now.” The Keeper’s smile was thin and strained. He seemed to be putting a supreme amount of effort into not lecturing his guests. “The original ship was far plainer than this one, but each successive Keeper left their own mark on the place, so to speak. Over each generation, the Compass grew more ornate, I suppose.”
Gabe nodded slowly. His eyes searched over the designs again, thinking of the amount of work they represented. “How many people were involved? It seems like the ship must have spent ages in a shipyard for this kind of labor.”
Hartwinn’s face seemed to close down abruptly. “The Compass has rarely needed the attentions of a shipyard, actually. It was deemed…unnecessary.”
An awkward silence fell, though his father appeared unaware of it. Clark walked along with them, his cane still swinging in his grip, while Gabe frantically searched for something to say. He hadn’t meant to step on a sensitive subject, but from what he could tell, he’d managed to put his foot squarely in his mouth.
As they walked, the corridors showed little sign of growing more spartan. If anything, the complexity of the designs continued to grow, until each corridor was a riot of patterns that dazzled the eye. Gabe could have sworn that he saw lights flickering along the metal as well, as if some sort of circuit had been interwoven in the patterns. The effect was entrancing; he quickly began to forget his concerns as he studied it. It was almost as if the walls were speaking to him, somehow, in a way he had never expected before. Yet how could it…
The Keeper came to a sudden halt, and Gabe had to pull himself out of a daze just to keep from crashing into him. He jerked to a stop and shook his head sharply, mentally berating himself for losing focus. Susan was depending on him; he couldn’t afford to mess this meeting up.
They had arrived at a solid metal door, one that Gabe could have sworn might have held off an army of boarders. The solid construction seemed out of place amid the ornate walls and civilian status of the ship. Gabe frowned at it for a moment, and then the Keeper cleared his throat.
“Before we proceed, I’m afraid that I must have your promise on something.” Hartwinn’s voice was careful, almost worried. His face was blank, however, lacking any significant expression. Gabe blinked as he realized it reminded him of how closed off Susan’s face occasionally got when she was in a more formal mood.
Clark spoke before Gabe could manage a word. “Of course, Hartwinn. You know you can trust us.”
The Keeper glared at Clark, a hint of his usual abrasive animosity reemerging. “This is not something to be casual about, Clark. I mean it. Before we go any further, you have to swear that you will not reveal to anyone what you learn here. Not to the rest of the Wayfarers, not to your Council of Elders, not to your Directorate Admiral.”
Gabe opened his mouth to protest, and Hartwinn shifted his glare to him before he could so much as form a syllable. “If you cannot promise me, then I will take you back to your shuttle, and you will never set foot on this ship again. Am I understood?”
The silence that followed was complete. Then there was a click as Clark straightened up and set his cane before him. “I give you my word, Hartwinn. As the Speaker of the Way, and as my personal bond of honor.”
He stared at his father for a moment. Clark Miller had never betrayed his word in his life. When his father looked back at him, it was with the kind of calm expectation that told Gabe he was not going to get out of anything less. “You have my word too, Keeper. Your secrets will stay safe with us.”
“A fragile promise to rest my hopes on.” The bitterness in the Keeper’s voice surprised him, but Schreiber shook his head. “But I have no choice now. Very well.”
The Keeper turned to the doorway and nodded. It shifted upwards, receding into the ceiling at a slow, deliberate pace. Inside, there was a simple meeting room with seats built into the floor around a circular table. Each piece of furniture looked like it had been molded from the floor up, giving a smooth, organic feeling to the entire assembly. It seemed remarkably sterile and plain, with none of the ornate designs of the corridors outside. If anything, the contrast set the pristine perfection of the furnishings apart.
Hartwinn led them inside, his posture still obviously reluctant and belligerent. “Please, sit.”
Though his gracious words were ruined by a rough tone, Gabe followed his father’s example and stayed silent. They took their seats, and Hartwinn walked around to the opposite side of the table, where one chair had been built just a little taller than the rest. If it hadn’t been shaped so plainly, Gabe might have called it a throne. As it was, the Keeper settled onto it with a disgruntled huff.
There was an expectant silence. As the seconds ticked by, Gabe began to shift in his seat. He glanced at his father, who gave him a calming gesture. When he looked at the Keeper, Hartwinn seemed absorbed by his study of the center of the table between them. Nothing suggested he even remembered that his visitors were in the room with him.
A minute passed. Then another. Gabe glanced at his father again, who was starting to frown. Then he looked back at the Keeper and took in a breath to speak.
The Keeper spoke first. “Come now. You wanted them here. Will you make them wait all day? Let’s get on with it.”
Gabe blinked. He opened his mouth again, but before he could speak, the air in the room abruptly changed. It seemed to fill with a subtle buzzing sound, just out of the range of his hearing. When he glanced to the side, he saw his father frown slightly.
Then they appeared.
The first was a solemn, calm man with an aristocratic bearing. His resemblance to the Keeper was faint, something that he would have had a hard time recognizing. As the others appeared, standing beside each of the empty seats, Gabe saw those same family features in each of their faces, along with a certain cast to their bearing. All of them were watching him and his father, a calm, unwavering focus that made his skin crawl.
Clark was the first to speak. “A series of avatars, Hartwinn? I know the Admiral has encountered something like them as well. Do each of them represent a similar system to OMNI?”
The Keeper grimaced slightly. “Not as such. The OMNI system was an… offshoot of sorts. These are something very different.”
Gabe blinked. The eyes of the projections seemed just a bit too sharp for a simple virtual avatar. Their steady gaze was unnerving. What was this? “They are still your ancestors, though, right? They look like you.”
“Thank you, I suppose. They are.” The Keeper smiled. “A rather important set of them, actually. These are all the former Keepers that have ever been.”
Gabe looked over at Clark, who was staring with undisguised awe at the gathered figures. “So they are historical records running back to the constructions of the Compass? That must require a lot of data.”
“Oh, it is much more than that.” Hartwinn’s smile grew slightly. “For all my life experience, there are some things that I’ve never managed to master. One of them is a way to introduce this knowledge to others. Perhaps you wouldn’t mind, sir?”
For a moment, Gabe felt a stab of confusion. Then the initial image spoke, and things became much, much clearer.
“Gabriel Miller. I was once the Keeper of Knowledge, Ned Schreiber. Welcome to the Compass.”
Gabe stared at the projection. The name was an old, faintly remembered from a dusty old history lecture in secondary school. His title was different, too. Had things changed over the generations?
It was his father who answered, his voice carefully respectful. “A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Schreiber.”
“An honor for all of us, as well.” The projection gestured to take in the others. “We have been most interested in meeting you, Clark Miller of the Wayfarers.”
A feeling of dread started to creep over Gabe as he looked around. “Wait, they’re real? They’re not just a projection?”
The Keeper’s smile faded slightly. His expression grew serious. “They are very real, Captain Miller. Very real indeed.”
Gabe shot up out of his seat, his heart pounding in his chest. Since he had first been able to remember things, his memories had been filled with stories of Old Earth, from the times before the Burning. It had been artificial intelligence that had started that terrible apocalypse, and anything like it had been banned to avoid another such catastrophe. Yet the only way to simulate a person’s thought processes, to replicate what made someone human, would be to—
“Calm yourself, Captain.” It was the projection of Ned Schreiber that spoke. The image wore an understanding expression, though the eyes remained disturbingly sharp. “We are not what you fear.”
“Easy to say. Harder to prove.” Gabe tried to keep his voice was wavering, but it was hard. The Lord knew it wasn’t every day that a man came face to face with nightmares from the distant past.
“I must say that I agree with my son.” Clark’s voice was somehow far steadier than Gabe’s, even as he remained in his seat. His eyes moved over the assembly of images before coming to rest on Hartwinn. “We’ve all learned of the consequences of embracing artificial intelligences, even ones modeled on the human mind. The Burning Times consumed Earth and the First Colonies. The last thing we need now is for that legacy to follow us to our new home.”
“Your worries are understandable and justified, even if they are foundationally incorrect.” The words came from another of the images, this one a woman who appeared in her middle years. She smiled. “As Ned would be able to attest, the situation during the Burning was more complicated than simple conflicts with artificial intelligences. It was an intricate cauldron of opposing forces which resulted in the catastrophe.”
“The Speaker does not want an entire history lesson, Samantha.” Ned’s words were still calm, and his gaze hadn’t moved from Gabe. “Nevertheless, my descendant is correct. The war may have started over several rampant, progressional intelligences, but it quickly devolved once deep-seated class inequalities set in. The power of the Great Minds was broken, and as they died, they ensured that most of humanity followed them into the dark.”
Gabe set his jaw. “And how do we know you aren’t lying? An AI might say anything to keep itself safe.”
“True, but in this case, you have my direct memories of the incident. After all, I bore witness to the Burning myself.” Ned’s projection made the pronouncement softly. As he did, the light in the room changed, and more images began to glow along the walls. They showed cities burning, planets shattered. In each one, Gabe could sense a deep welling of grief, though he could not say how he felt it.
As he watched a fleet of ships scurrying away from a dying space station, and he felt a sudden burst of astonishment. “Was that the Compass?”
“Indeed, it was. I wondered if you would notice.” Ned spread his arms wide. “It was a near escape from Earth, but the results were worth it. To carry the knowledge we had been able to save, and to bring it to a new part of the galaxy, untouched by the Burning.”
Gabe thought again about the carvings in the corridors, the incomprehensible amount of effort they’d displayed. How old was this ship?
His father spoke next. “So this vessel is from Old Earth itself?” As Ned nodded, Clark shifted his gaze back to Hartwinn. “It is an impressive claim, but it still hasn’t answered my son’s question. An AI would be able to manufacture any memories that we could experience. We will need something more.”
Hartwinn slowly nodded, an almost resentful respect on his blunt features. “I thought so. If it will set your mind at ease, then I show you.” He looked at the projections, who reluctantly nodded. They vanished, and a door opened in a wall that Gabe would have thought was seamless. It slid upward without a sound beyond a slight hiss of air, and when it stopped, it gave no sign that it had ever been anything but an opening.
The Keeper gestured for them to follow him through it. “Come. It is time to see what our ancestors have left us.”
It was another long walk, but Hartwinn was not silent this time. “When the Burning consumed Old Earth, the Keepers knew that the knowledge of the ancients would be lost. Most of what they had learned would be reduced to ash along with the Great Minds and the rest, but they wanted to take steps to make sure that some of it could be recovered. It was crucial that they could make it possible to survive in the galaxy after the homeworld burned.”
Clark nodded absently. His eyes were still running over the patterns, as if searching for answers now. “I had always wondered how the settlers who came to the Known Worlds had enough technology left to do what they did. The terraforming alone must have required countless different kinds of learning.” He glanced at Hartwinn. “You’re saying that the Compass brought it with them?”
Hartwinn shook his head. “There were several ships, each with computer systems and tools that could accomplish that task. The Compass initially carried many computational systems as well, but it also carried something else. Something far more important.”
The Keeper had led them to a door, this one seeming far older than the rest of the ship. It looked like it belonged in a bank vault somewhere, complete with the giant wheel on the front. Gabe watched it warily as it began to spin, grinding open with a sound like metal teeth gnashing together.
When the way was clear, Hartwinn continued walking ahead of them into the dark. “The Keepers knew that, left unchecked, the same sciences that had led to the Burning would appear again. Humanity has a tendency to revisit its worst ideas, no matter how often their history warns them against it. The survivors of the Burning would have taboos, of course, but my family knew that those simple prejudices would not hold them from the temptation of that power. A more permanent warning had to be left behind.”
Gabe’s eyes adjusted to the gloom. He saw orbs floating in the dark, suspended in the air by localized gravitic tethers. They lined the path Hartwinn was following, several ranks deep. He glanced at his father, who was staring at them as well. The Speaker’s lips were moving, but Gabe couldn’t hear a sound beyond Hartwinn’s voice, still drifting out of the dim ahead of them.
“These are what the Keepers have guarded for so long. Each of these orbs is constructed of polymer of some arcane construction, quite beyond anything that we can make now.”
Another voice abruptly broke in; Gabe recognized it as Samantha Schreiber. “Technically manufacture of the loganus-five polymer is still possible, but prohibitively expensive. Further testing might—”
“Yes, yes, thank you, Ancestor.” Hartwinn’s voice carried a certain amount of resignation, but Samantha’s voice fell silent again. “The material they are made of is impossible to change once the formation is complete. They can be destroyed or damaged, but never changed.”
Clark lifted his head suddenly. “It was once theorized that the artificial intelligences grew beyond their programming. That they learned and changed into something more than what they were created to be.”
The Keeper smiled and bowed slightly. “You are correct. The rampancy of those intelligences, together with the degradation of the personality matrices of other types of recorded data-personalities, led to much of what happened during the Burning.” He took the orbs in with a gesture. “The people you saw before had their personas inscribed on these orbs. Their memories are fixed. They cannot change. They cannot grow or learn. Rampancy or meme-degradation are both impossible for them.”
Gabe studied the orbs quietly. He wished he hadn’t forgotten his sidearm on the Concord. “They seemed like they were alive to me. If they can’t form new memories, why could they remember me?”
“An excellent question, Captain.” Ned’s projection walked out from behind Hartwinn, glowing softly in the dim chamber. “A small amount of separate servers are reserved for short-term memories. They are shared between personas, granting the illusion of sentience for a while. Those circuits are not enough for any serious problems to develop, and even if they were, the core persona of each of us will always remain unchanged.”
Hartwinn watched his ancestor with a wary look. “He’s correct. It’s likely that they won’t remember this interaction the next time you see them. If they do, it will be only in a vague, abstract way from the most recent ship’s records. It can make relating to them…frustrating.”
“Far be it from me to suggest that Schreibers can be frustrating anyways Hartwinn.” The Keeper gave his father a half-serious glare, but Clark turned to address the projection of Ned Schreiber. “How far back do your current memories go, then? A year?”
“Most short-term storage lasts only three months. Occasionally, when a new persona is added, the amount can be shortened to less than one.” Ned Schreiber glanced at Hartwinn, and then looked away. “It is generally enough for us to reach a consensus if necessary. For most tasks, we require the current Keeper to brief us on the present situation.”
“I see.” Clark looked back at Hartwinn. “A heavy burden, my friend.”
The Keeper’s chin rose. “It is my duty, Clark. My family has always carried it. I will not fail now.”
“I would not expect you to.” Clark’s voice was as grim as Gabe had ever heard it. The Speaker gestured broadly with his cane. “All the same, I still have questions. For example, why reveal all this to us now? You could easily have continued to keep this a secret from all of us.”
Hartwinn looked away. “I could have. At least until I die.” When he looked back, there was a solemn kind of recognition in his eyes. “I told you after the consensus of the Ancestors concluded it would be useful to do so. On a personal level, I am not an immortal. Once I die, there will need to be a new Keeper.”
Gabe frowned. “Aren’t there other Schreibers? Other members of your family?”
“Most of them are gone. The Schreibers have…suffered over the generations.” Hartwinn turned and began to pace back and forth, his movements heavy with anger. “Some branches of the family fell away from the Keepers, deciding that what we were doing was wrong. Others abandoned the path for other opportunities, looking for power and influence in the Known Worlds.” He paused. “Still others went to the Wild Colonies. They may have compromised some of our secrets to them.”
Gabe grunted. “That would be dangerous. They would probably want to do a lot with technology like this.”
“Indeed, they would.” Hartwinn paused. “The Wild Colonies have always been enemies of the Keepers. We always knew that if the Compass fell into their hands, the records of the Ancestors would be destroyed—or worse, put to some corrupted use. The blend of this knowledge with other technology can create machines of terrible power.”
Something clicked for Gabe, and he grunted. “Arland Schreiber did that, didn’t he? That’s how OMNI works. He put together something he learned here and installed it aboard the Concord.”
Hartwinn nodded slowly. “He did. The Concord and her sister ships were each given a device of sorts, something he hoped could be used against the Wild Colonies in his time. The ships were a great success; though two of them were lost, they allowed the Known Worlds to shatter an invasion fleet that would otherwise have destroyed our people.” Then he closed his eyes. “I am…uncertain about the status of Arland’s remnant. The details of his project are not complete in our records, but I am fairy certain that it would be a very good idea to restore whatever parts of him remain to the Compass.”
Gabe felt a chill. “You think he might be unstable. That he built something that could decay in a way that these ones don’t.”
“He was under considerable pressure at the time. It would have been understandable if he took risks.” The Keeper opened his eyes again, fixing Gabe with a stare. “Even if he had not, the Concord is a combat ship. If it took enough damage in exactly the right place…”
Their own imaginations filled the following silence with more than enough threats. Gabe shivered slightly. “So if we shut down the system and take it apart, would it cripple the Concord? We can’t afford to lose the flagship, even if OMNI is a bit crazy.”
Hartwinn and Clark glanced at each other. “I confess I am not sure, Captain Miller. Once whatever remnants of Arland Schreiber are extracted and returned here, the system may not be able to function without him, and I do not know exactly how integrated it is with the flagship’s other systems. With so much of the details of it missing, I do not even know how he accomplished what he did.”
Clark spoke slowly, as if he was choosing his words carefully. “I believe my son is worried that shutting down OMNI during a time when the Wild Colonies may be hunting us may be a poor strategy, Hartwinn. Removing your predecessor from the Concord will not do us much good if the fleet is destroyed by your enemies afterward.”
The Keeper nodded. His expression was resigned. “I see. Then we are at an impasse.”
“Not so fast!” Gabe pointed a finger at him. “You said you don’t know how he did it.”
Then he gestured at the floating orbs. “Do they know?”
There was a pause, and Hartwinn’s expression slowly shifted into an uncertain kind of hopefulness. “I’m… not sure. I could consult with them, but their understanding of modern technology is limited. The situation may be beyond my capacity to explain.”
Clark rapped the bottom of his cane on the floor. “Then I will stay with you and see if I can help. My son can return to the Concord and continue making whatever preparations are needed in the meantime.” His father looked at him. “Once we have a plan of action, I will let you know and we can begin the process. In the meantime, do not give OMNI any clue what we are doing. If he is unstable, the last thing we need is for it to try to defend itself against us.”
Gabe nodded. His mind was racing with the possibilities, but one concern kept floating to the top of his mind. How exactly was he supposed to explain all this to Susan without the possibly insane AI listening in?