Intergalactic Cycle 2205, System 902B
Panta 45 “Gravedigger” – IGC Decommissioning Unit
Commencing Record-Keeping Protocol
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“This is Gravedigger with a lock on – uh, what is this place again?”
“Rim Outpost Gaia,” Hera sighed and restarted the transmission for the third time.
“Sorry, I’ll get it right this time. Erhem – This is Gravedigger with a lock on Rim Outpost Gaia, commencing standard decommissioning procedures in accordance with IGC task protocol.”
The seasoned duo sat in silence while they waited for clearance from headquarters. Ares fiddled with the buttons on his military dress, as he often did at the end of a long shift, while Hera contemplated their romantic evening ahead. A blue indicator beacon sputtered alight on their console, providing a visual indication that headquarters had cleared their operation to begin.
Ares cracked his neck first to the left and then to the right, and placed his hands on the shuttle’s throttle, “Here we go again, huh?”
“Don’t remind me,” Hera groaned. “Are you still interested in heading back to my place after this?”
“Of course, I look forward to it every week.”
Hera breathed a sigh of relief. Their date was still on, despite an overly busy week at work. One more decommissioning job and they would home free.
The naval officers had long been engaged to each other, both as professionals, and as friends with unsanctioned benefits. Though the Intergalactic Naval Force had strict regulations that governed romantic relationships between service members, Ares and Hera operated largely outside the prying eye of military regulators. As semi-independent warrant officers, their interactions with headquarters were rarely face-to-face, giving them more freedom to flout the rules.
“Let’s get on with this,” Ares clicked away at the shuttle’s control panel, before launching an auto thrust maneuver towards the ancient outpost. Like most outposts built during the height of the Serpian Conquest, very little information had been retained about the facility that they were tasked with decommissioning. The majority of non-terrestrial military installations built during the Serpian Conquest were constructed as information repositories and emergency operation centers, but few of them were ever used. Now they were massive liabilities, even more so with human expansion reaching the edges of the galaxy.
“I sure hope that this one doesn’t have any weapons platforms like that station in System 803,” Hera shuddered.
“It’s a good thing that our exo-armor is resistant to projectile weaponry. The look on your face when that turret fired on me,” he smirked, “now that was priceless.”
“Hey,” Hera laughed, “I was worried. We had tickets to the Colosseum that night. It would be embarrassing to go alone.”
“I’m more worried that we’ll get stuck in one of these things like Mara and her team did last week.”
“The fact that command forgot about them makes it even worse,” Hera’s tone darkened.
“That’s why I’m retiring next cycle, assuming we survive this hunk of junk.”
“I’ll join you.”
“I wish you could,” Ares replied.
As they prepared to execute a manual docking procedure with the station, a surprising ping rattled their receivers.
You are approaching a military outpost operated by the Inter-Galactic Confederacy. I am S.T.O.R.K., the artificial intelligence (AI) charged with the upkeep of this station. Please identify your craft or prepare for weapons engagement.
“Wow!” Ares lurched forward in his seat, “this outpost still has power. Now that’s not something you see every day.”
“Only every other day,” Hera sneered, “I hate dealing with these tone death conquest class intelligence units, but at least we won’t have to manually dock.”
Ares and Hera activated their communications implants and initiated standard contact protocol. If the intelligence denied their access request, then they would have to return with backup, which was hardly optimal given their under-the-table relationship.
“This is Warrant Commander Ares Troy, badge XRAY52, and Second Warrant Commander Hera Carthage, badge BRAVO86, of IGC Task Group Panta 45, requesting permission to dock.”
A crisscrossing array of red and white light strobed out from the outpost. It worked its way across the surface of their craft, crisscrossing every corner of their vessel with an unusual degree of precision.
Identities Verified. Greetings Commanders Troy and Carthage. Your Class D shuttle is too bulky to execute a standard landing procedure. Would you prefer to dock at the cargo port in the rear?
Ares and Hera shot equally bemused glances at one another.
“There weren’t Class D landing craft during the time of the Serpian Conquest, were there?”
“No,” Ares scowled, “but maybe this outpost still maintains a data linkage with headquarters, it wouldn’t be the first time something like this has happened.”
“It’s been awhile,” Hera nodded skeptically at her partner before responding. “Yes, we would like to dock at the cargo hold.”
Understood. Initiating docking procedures.
A magnetic pulley funneled their landing craft closer to the outpost and then hovered them along the surface of the facility. The structure bulky, metallic, and completely windowless, possessing only a few small portholes.
“I don’t know about this,” Hera mumbled.
“Neither do I,” Ares responded.
A rectangular slit sluggishly revealed itself as their craft approached the port side of the structure. Within its mouth was a standard military cargo hold, replete with a freight elevator and an automated provisioning station.
“Looks normal to me,” Ares sighed a breath of relief.
“Yes, more normal then I would have thought,” Hera skeptically agreed.
“Let’s not overthink this.”
“Right.”
The final hailing beam led their craft into the chamber, securing it firmly within a docking station.
Please wait while I pressurize the airlock, thank you for your patience.
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Pressurization Complete. Welcome commanders. I have dispatched a sentry bot to aid in your navigation of this compound. Decommissioning of this base can be achieved by accessing the power core on level 18.
“How do you know our mission parameters?” Ares pointedly questioned the artificial intelligence.
Despite a lack of maintenance for the last 972 cycles, I have prioritized maintaining this station’s connection with IGC headquarters in adherence with my programmed directives.
“And what are those?” Hera interjected.
I am afraid that you lack the security clearance to make such an inquiry of me. However, since you are acting under decommissioning protocols, I will overwrite the security clearance requirement so that you can make an official report of my final operations and mission parameters.
“Thank you,” Ares replied, “before we exit this craft, I would like to have some reassurances about what exactly we are walking into.”
This is Outpost Gaia, established in intergalactic cycle 1301 under the guidance of Second Admiral Roman Ceres, in accordance with the Emergency Countermeasures Act. This station was created to serve as a one-way linkage to Gaia in the event of a total societal collapse.
“Good thing that never happened.” Ares patted Hera on the shoulder, “this sounds like the kind of nutty stuff we discover in these outposts all the time. It’s hard to believe that our ancestors actually believed that we came from a planet called Gaia. It’s even wackier to think that they tried to create a linkage to it.”
A sudden burst of static blasted Ares and Hera in the eardrum.
“Damn it! This place is interfering with our communications equipment, let’s hurry up and shut this facility down so that we can go home.”
“Agreed,” Hera concurred.
Ares and Hera took a power core containment device and an artificial intelligence disablement kit with them as they exited their spacecraft and entered the facility’s cargo hold. These were standard decommissioning tools, and despite their bulkiness, they were surprisingly light to lug around.
A small droid of archaic design greeted them with a beep and led them deeper into the structure. There was nothing remarkable about the station’s interior. Its hallways were well lit but dusty, its stairs had rusted but were sturdy, and its control room was painfully outdated but still functional. Despite the structure’s oddly cognizant artificial intelligence system and unusual external façade, this job was starting to seem like nothing more than a run of the mill decommissioning gig.
Greetings commanders. I received a broken general transmission from headquarters 15 minutes ago, were you expecting a systemwide test procedure today?
A glowing white orb floated around the control room, passing from panel to panel and station to station. S.T.O.R.K was quite advanced for his era but was nothing compared to the intelligence systems in use across the modern IGC. As part of Panta 45’s decommissioning procedures, he would be deactivated, secured and then memory washed. In a best-case scenario, he would find a repurposed life as the caretaker of an elderly home or military hospital. In a worst-case scenario, he would be scrapped completely.
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“I’m assuming you know what’s coming next for you, don’t you?” Ares took the intelligence disablement kit from Hera and placed it on the AI’s circuit board.
I am ready to accept my retirement if that’s what you’re asking. If you had come even a few cycles later then you did, I would have died anyway. Most of this station’s core functions besides life support and communications have had to be disabled due to unaddressed maintenance concerns and energy supply issues.
Hera opened the disablement kit and readied a digital download stick for use. She pulled out a battery regulator to be used during the transference procedure. Older intelligence systems were built to be operated using a constant power supply, otherwise their systems would shut down completely. S.T.O.R.K was likely no exception to this rule.
“Out of curiosity,” Ares stood up from his auditing beacon and faced S.T.O.R.K., “what does ‘S.T.O.R.K’ stand for anyways?”
Stasis Task Overseer and Repository Keeper. In my programmed role, I am responsible for maintaining this station’s biological inventory and ensuring that it is prepared for transference to Gaia if command deems it necessary.
“Biological specimens?” Hera interjected. “If there are biological specimens onboard this station then this decommissioning job just got much more complicated.”
“I agree,” Ares responded, “S.T.O.R.K., would it be possible to set up a communication line with headquarters? I need to get their take on this information.”
I have been unable to re-establish communications with headquarters since I lost their frequency 20 minutes ago.
“That’s not unusual from our experience,” Hera responded, “these rim systems have notoriously bad communication linkages.”
This station is outfitted with multiple high-powered communication arrays. I have not had trouble connecting to headquarters in the past 424 cycles, and my last disconnection incident was only a temporary outage caused by a solar flare.
“Our shuttle is likely interfering with this station’s ancient systems. Let’s continue running our diagnostics while S.T.O.R.K works through this issue.”
“Sure,” Hera agreed, “but we may have to return to the shuttle if he can’t make contact soon.”
“I’ll take that under advisement,” Ares put his head down and continued his inspection of the station’s power core. It was an ailing system based on outdated micro-fission technology. Such systems were often hijacked and turned into dirty bombs by revolutionary groups and terrorist cells. Seeing to the disposal of the station’s hazardous power generating materials and biological agents would prevent any unwanted consequences from reaching the public. Though the life of a decommissioning agent was hardly glamorous, it was important work. There was a time when Ares had enjoyed his occupation, but it had become thankless in recent years. If it weren’t for the companionship of his much younger junior officer, he probably would have retired already.
“Would it be possible to examine this station’s biological inventory?” Ares lifted his head to face the hovering AI.
S.T.O.R.K motioned him over to a control panel and pulled up a hologram of the complex.
We are on level 18, the control center of this facility. Beneath us is a dormitory level, and beneath that is a non-functioning hydroponics farm. This station was originally intended to hold a small garrison of soldiers, but that never came to pass. Starting at level 15 are this facility’s stasis chambers, which persist until levels 1 through 4 which are our docking and storage facilities. Levels 5 through 7 are experimental and are not to be launched except in dire circumstances.
“I see,” Ares said, “and what kind of biological agents are in these stasis chambers.”
Well, the short answer is – hold one moment, I am receiving a transmission from headquarters.
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It’s encrypted, one moment please.
“Ares, come here,” Hera said palely.
“What is it?”
“Just come here.”
Ares cautiously approached his partner, stooping down with her over a seemingly innocuous power conduit.
Hera looked over her shoulder and feigned a smile, then hastily whispered a message to Ares.
Ares’ face dropped, “are you positive?”
“We need to contact headquarters immediately, this place is a level S technological hazard.”
“Okay, let's return to our ship,” Ares whispered, “be careful not to arouse the AI’s suspicions.”
Alert Mode Activated.
Incoming Hostile Presence Detected.
“It’s on to us!” Ares tapped his exo-armor activation link, immediately blanketing his body in a flexible micro-steel barrier.
A general quarters alert rang through the room, sending defensive barriers and turrets pushing out in every direction. In an instant, S.T.O.R.K. had transitioned from a white energy orb to a bright red cloud of text and numerical symbols.
“What are you doing?” Ares tapped his partner’s armament activation link, shrouding her with defense as she struggled to retain her composure. Without wasting a second, Ares took the intelligence disablement device in hand and made a hasty cut towards S.T.O.R.K’s mainframe.
Incoming Vessel Detected.
Make Confirmed as a Serpian Viper-class Battleship.
Preparing Countermeasures.
“S.T.O.R.K, desist this instant!” Ares grabbed the disablement device and jabbed it into the mainframe. “I know what is stored on this station, and I will not allow you to release it into the galaxy. Desist with your deceptions or I will activate the device.”
Incoming Transmission Deciphered.
GALACTIC SECURITY ALERT RECIEVED
TRANSMITTING
A burst of static again sputtered into the duo’s communications implants, transitioning hastily into a broken message.
“This is 3rd Admiral Zoroaster…Terra has Fallen…Home Fleet is…Galaxywide Extermination Imminent.”
COMMENCING OPERATION PHOENIX
IMMINENT GALACTIC COLLAPSE ACKNOWLEDGED
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LAUNCHING LEVEL 16 – FAILED
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LAUNCHING LEVEL 15 – FAILED
“Ares, what is this?” Hera collapsed violently to her knees as S.T.O.R.K began an automated countdown.
LAUNCHING LEVEL 14 – FAILED
“I’m disabling S.T.O.R.K now,” Ares activated the disablement device, sending a pulse of disruptive electrical interference into the rogue AI's mainframe.
LAUNCHING LEVEL 13 – FAILED
“It didn’t work!” Hera screamed.
“It’s manufacturing a fake crisis so that it can release its cargo, what kind of twisted person built this thing! How is it so resilient?”
LAUNCHING LEVEL 12 – FAILED
SELF DESTRUCT SEQUENCE INITIATED
CONTACT WITH HOSTILE FORCE IN T-MINUS 5 MINUTES.
“Get back to the shuttle,” Ares screamed. “Hurry!”
“What about you?” She grabbed his arm.
“Don’t worry about me, I’ll catch up with you once I disable this thing. Now go!”
LAUNCHING LEVEL 11 – FAILED
Hera scrambled through corridors of pulsating red lights and disorienting alert messages in her attempt to make it back to the cargo hold. She had descended through the crew levels in a blink of an eye, but the stasis levels proved more challenging to navigate. They were replete, with of all things, the mummified corpses of human beings held in rusted pods. Each row of pods looked exactly the same, creating a labyrinth of passageways that only compounded Hera’s dire situation. The droid that had escorted them into the compound had purposely avoided the stasis chambers and taken a direct route to the control room, but that droid was nowhere to be found and Hera had no idea how to navigate the facility. She would have to find a way out on her own, and quickly.
LAUNCHING LEVEL 10 – FAILED
Ares bashed at S.T.O.R.K’s mainframe with the butt end of his sidearm, sending shards of microchips and chunks of metal flying in every direction. No matter what he did, S.T.O.R.K did not desist. The countdown continued. He shot two energy pulses at the brooding manifestation of an AI, but they merely phased right through him. The circuit board, he thought to himself, as he desperately sought a means to defeat the artificial intelligence and prevent it from releasing its loadout. He opened the circuit panel and continued his desperate struggle against the AI and the clock.
LAUNCHING LEVEL 9 – FAILED
By little more than chance, Hera encountered a fire stairwell and quickly descended to level 5. She was only one level away from the cargo hold, but there was no sign of Ares, and more worryingly, S.T.O.R.K was still active.
Outpost Gaia had been created by a relatively unknown 2nd Admiral, a man who had all but been erased from the history books that she loved to read. Now she was starting to realize that this was likely a deliberate move. Admiral Ceres had perfected a technology that was thought to be fictional by everyone within IGC command, and now that device was trying to release itself upon the galaxy. If it were to succeed, the consequences would be disastrous.
Worse still, S.T.O.R.K was manufacturing a fake crisis. The Serpians were eliminated close to 1000 cycles ago. To claim that the IGC was under attack from a phantom menace was laughable.
LAUNCHING LEVEL 8 – FAILED
Ares desperately clawed out every wire within reach, but none of his actions seemed to make a difference. Then he remembered S.T.O.R.K’s greatest weakness, the power core. Throwing caution to the wayside, Ares pried open the cover to the micro fission reactor and prepared to remove the device from the station, but it was a fake. Whoever had designed the station had created a reactor made out of colored green water, leaving the real reactor out of his reach. Ares pulled out every panel and floorboard that he could find, in a vain effort to find the station’s power supply, but even he was resigning himself to the hopelessness of his situation.
“Please let Hera make it out of this place,” he prayed aloud, “please!”
LAUNCHING LEVEL 7 – PROTOTYPE FRN – FAILED
Hera stared in doe-eyed disbelief through a porthole as a ship of immeasurable size approached the station. This was not an IGC ship, nor was it of human make. It possessed all the qualities of a large snake, coiling and twisting its way through dark space like a serpent slithering towards its prey. She desperately tried to radio Ares but received no response. At its current rate of travel, they had a minute at best to flee from the station. Ares would not make it, and her own hopes of escape were fading quickly. She recorded one last message to her partner, and then sank onto the metal floor in despair. As she was about to give up hope, a bright green light appeared at the far end of the corridor. It seemed to beckon her to it, almost as though it were speaking to her. As she stood up and approached it, a padded metal door flung open, revealing an escape pod. I’m saved, Hera choked back tears as she entered the pod, but her gut wrenched knowing that her partner wasn’t.
LAUNCHING LEVEL 6 – PROTOTYPE BUD – FAILED
Ares received a transmission from Hera that made his heart sink.
“S.T.O.R.K is not deceiving us, we are under attack by the Serpians. I don’t know how or why this is happening, but there is something I want to tell you before we die. Ares, I love you. I always have, and I always will. This next part is painful to tell you under these circumstances, but it is something that you need to know. I’m pregnant. I’m so sorry that you will never get that chance to be a father to our child, but we can only hope that he will be with us in the afterlife. Goodbye my love.”
Ares collapsed against the rusted wall of the control room, sobbing uncontrollably at the news. There was no way that an artificial intelligence could re-create this kind of emotion in its deception. The message really was from Hera, which meant that humanity really was doomed. How could this be happening? The Serpian threat was eliminated over a thousand cycles ago. How? Why?
He nudged open a concealed porthole along the wall and chuckled hysterically as a massive golden serpent prepared to swallow him and the station whole.
“Goodbye Hera, for what it’s worth, I love you too. If…”
LAUNCHING LEVEL 5 – PROTOTYPE PAL – SUCCESFUL.
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OPERATION PHOENIX, PHASE 1 COMPLETE
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SELF DESTRUCT ARMED
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Goodbye Commander Ares.
Hera clutched her stomach tightly as she digested Ares last words to her. The escape pod jettisoned itself and picked up steam as it roared away from the facility. She grimaced in horror as the structure self-destructed level by level before being engulfed by the menacing Serpian battleship.
Ares was dead, as was the IGC. The threat that had nearly wiped out humanity a millennium before had this time succeeded in its goal. Despite her escape, there was no hope for her anymore.
As she contemplated suicide, a soft feminine voice lulled her worries to sleep.
Greetings Commander Carthage.
Do not be alarmed, our destination is not within the enemy’s reach. Please sit back and rest, you have nothing to fear.
“Who are you?”
I’m your PAL.