The Dead Sun(Star Force Series #9)

-3-



The next morning, Jasmine and I were up early and checking out the vids on the net. Every news report played me up as a dashing knight, and she played the part of my consort. She really seemed to like it.

One thing quickly led to another. Morning sex isn’t always as great as it’s cracked up to be, but the morning after my flashy rescue was an exception. Jasmine was in fine form, and I was unusually awake, despite the fact that I hadn’t seen a cup of coffee since the day before.

We had the best stateroom the ship could provide. Potemkin was an old Imperial battleship, and although it had been updated, it wasn’t like one of our more sparsely-appointed Star Force designs. There were pillows and hanging curtains, even a private portal to the stars outside. Our activities quickly frosted up the glass.

Outside the stateroom, a continuous parade of crewmen seemed to be marching by. I was baffled by this, as it was quite early, no more than 0600. In my long experience aboard starships, they were usually fairly quiet at this hour. The few people on duty were either late for bed or yawning and stretching, preparing for the day shift.


The footsteps outside in the hallway became inescapably obvious. They came every few minutes, impinging on our awareness despite the lovemaking.

Finally, as we were winding things up to a nice finish, a tap came at the door.

Nothing can screw up a climax like an interruption. We managed to enjoy the moment, but we were both left frowning at the door.

“Ship’s door,” I said, addressing the ship’s AI. “Open audio channel.”

A chime sounded, indicating it understood the command. Crow’s ships were intelligent enough, but they generally didn’t talk. They followed commands, and that was about it. In a way, I thought it was a design improvement over our more sophisticated—but sometimes argumentative—interfaces.

“Who is it?” I demanded loudly, knowing my voice would echo out into the passageway.

Jasmine squirmed away from me with a bed sheet wrapped around her and headed for the small private bathroom. I frowned and sat on the side of the bed.

“Are you speaking to me, Colonel Riggs?” asked a very familiar voice. It was none other than Marvin, my overly-intelligent, overly-eager robot.

Marvin was more than just your typical robot. He was a nanite brainbox with a massive capacity and an eclectic body he’d built himself with “spare” parts. Really, he was a being who regularly reconstructed himself. There was no one else, machine or flesh, quite like Marvin.

“Marvin?” I asked, my mind racing.

Jasmine came out of the bathroom, her face angry.

“That’s who we heard out in the corridor?” she whispered. “He’s been lurking out there for the past half hour. Probably listening.”

I looked at her, then at the door. I didn’t try to deny the possibility. He would do things like that if he wanted to talk to me badly enough. I imagined him tapping and rasping up to the door, listening to us having sex, then scuttling away disappointedly. I suspected he’d been doing this over and over again, as if he was caught in a loop of some kind.

“How long have you been out there?” I demanded.

“Does that matter, Colonel? I need to discuss something important with you.”

Jasmine headed back into the bathroom with quick steps. I could tell she was pissed off at the robot.

I pulled on some smart-pants and let them close over my legs and waist.

“All right, come on in,” I said resignedly.

The door melted away, and Marvin humped into our quarters. He was a bit too large for the space available.

Using his own ever-morphing designs, Marvin had always altered his shape the way others changed clothing. Today his central body mass consisted of a single cube—reminding me of the first time I’d met him. He had about a dozen upper-body tentacles. The lower ones were thick and short and were being used as legs. The upper appendages were long and snake-like. Instead of his usual dozen camera-eyes, I counted only seven. These were held aloft via the writhing nest of upper tentacles. He had so many damned limbs he still had plenty left over to manipulate his environment.

I noticed right away he didn’t have any gravity plates attached to his undercarriage. That must have been why he’d been making so much noise as he move around outside, “politely” waiting for us to finish our activities.

I was surprised by the lack of grav plates and wondered what it meant. He liked to fly using gravity repellers, and often got into trouble for unauthorized investigations in space. One of the things we disagreed on most often was whether or not he should have the power of independent flight and space-travel. While configured for flying, he could do more work, but he also tended to zoom off and do things no one wanted him to. Often, these independent activities gave Star Force a headache.

Today, he had no repellers at all. I could only surmise that he’d trimmed them out of his design in order to placate me—as sort of a peace offering.

That thought didn’t put my mind at ease, however. In fact, it had quite the opposite effect. When dealing with Marvin, I knew that the more cooperative he was at the beginning, the more I was going to have to pay at the end of the exchange.

Jasmine closed the bathroom door and fired up the shower. I felt a twinge of regret. I liked showering with her after our encounters. It was kind of like having a light dessert after the main meal.

“Let’s start over again,” I said cordially. “Hello, Marvin. You’re looking trim this morning. What’s up?”

“Hello, Colonel Riggs. I’m here to formally ask for your permission to solve a major problem Star Force has been facing for some time now.”

“Whoa, whoa,” I said, chuckling at his intensity. “Tell me what you’re talking about first.”

“Are you aware there are two rings exiting the Thor System that have never been successfully explored?”

“Oh, that,” I said.

I was indeed aware of the unexplored rings. Thor had three rings we knew about. One led to the Eden System, and we pretty much controlled that one for now. We had Welter Station, a giant fortress in space, sitting right next to it on the Eden System side. The other two rings were more mysterious. One was about an AU out from the central binary stars and led to an unknown location in space. When we’d chased the Macros out of the system, they’d used that ring to escape.

The third ring was in the oceans of Yale, a water-moon that used to be inhabited by the Crustacean species. We’d managed to switch off that ring using some control codes we barely understood. It hadn’t functioned for many months, but when it had, Macros had used it to invade the world’s seas directly.

For a long time, we’d carefully avoided both rings. We didn’t want to trigger any kind of violent response from the Macros, who were undoubtedly waiting on the far side of the rings. Several times, we’d sent in stealth probes through the active ring in space, but we’d never gotten the probes to return, nor gotten any data back from them. It was as if those ring transported anything traversing through it directly into the heart of a black hole.

“Which one are you talking about?” I asked Marvin.

“The ring in space. The underwater ring is small and disconnected at this point.”

“The space ring…” I said. “Are you suggesting more probes? Because I don’t see much point to that. We’ve tried many times and failed consistently.”

Marvin’s lower, thicker legs churned momentarily. He sidled closer to me.

“There are two possible reasons why the probes aren’t working,” he said.

“Yeah. The main one being that the Macros are instantly blowing them apart.”

“I can be more precise than that.”

“Okay,” I said cautiously, “let’s hear it.”

Internally, I was already telling myself to be careful. This was one tricky robot. Rasputin himself couldn’t have talked the Czarina into some of the crazy things Marvin had been able to get me to do.

“Let me start with a list of possibilities,” he began, “one is that, as you suggested, they’re being destroyed somehow the moment they go through the ring.”

“That seems obvious. What’s your other possible reason?”

“They’re unable to function due to an unforeseen system failure.”

“That’s almost the same thing, Marvin. Your ‘theories’ are useless.”

“Not so. If the latter situation is the case—and possibly even if the first one is the problem—I have a solution.”


“Yeah?”

We stared at one another for a second. I realized that Marvin was waiting for me to beg him to tell me his solution. I was annoyed, as this talk didn’t seem to be going anywhere, and I had the feeling it was going to end with Marvin requesting resources to do some strange thing that probably didn’t need doing in the first place.

“Aren’t you curious as to the nature of my solution, Colonel Riggs?” he prompted finally.

“‘Curious’ is too strong of a word,” I said. “I’d say I’m slightly interested—but getting bored fast.”

“Unfortunate. I’d thought you would be intrigued, as I’m engaged in solving one of the remaining mysteries within Star Force’s sphere of influence. I want to discover what’s on the far side of the unexplored ring. A portion of my neural net has been working on that problem for over a year now.”

“I’m happy for your brainbox, Marvin. But, personally, I’m just glad there haven’t been any more attacks coming from the Macros for a long time. If they stay on their side of the ring, I don’t care why they do so. I’m in favor of leaving them alone.”

“A quiet stalemate isn’t going to be the final result of this conflict, Colonel Riggs. The enemy will not rest. They’re very busy right now, let me assure you. They will come to us by any means necessary when they’re ready.”

I thought about it and realized that Marvin was probably right. The Macros weren’t like humans. They didn’t calm down and go into “peaceful mode” when no enemies were in sight. Instead, they built up for the next conflict.

“All right, all right,” I said, heaving a sigh. “You’ve got me curious now about finally scouting that ring. Let’s hear whatever idea you have—but without listing any weird special equipment you might think you need.”

Marvin’s tentacles curled and uncurled excitedly. He did that when one of his plans was working out. I knew that he figured he had a fish on the line and was reeling the clueless bastard into the boat.

“Let me start by explaining the supporting facts so you can understand the validity of my proposal,” he began.

“Get on with it.”

“Very well. If the probes are being destroyed when they cross into the enemy system, it can’t be instantaneous.”

“Why not?”

“Because there is no such thing as a true instant in time—it is a continuum. Perhaps the process of destruction takes a nanosecond, or a millisecond. Whatever the answer is, that’s the timeframe in which we have to work.”

I snorted. “That isn’t much time, Marvin. You can’t even get a computer chip to add two numbers in a nanosecond.”

“The reaction will have to be extremely quick. In fact, it will have to be ongoing as the probe passes from our system to the next. If it is already engaged, it will not be necessary to sense a changed situation and react to it.”

“I’m not following you.”

“Here,” he said, curling tentacles in my direction. He indicated the command screen embedded in the conference table. All major ships in our fleet now had them. It made tactical discussions far easier.

The big oval screen glowed at his touch. It showed the Thor star system, with its three dead water-moons once inhabited by trillions of Crustaceans. I didn’t like to look at it as it was probably my biggest failure to date.

“At this end of the Thor system, we have the ring which links to Eden. Over here, we have the second ring, which chains to an unknown destination. The third ring is underwater and currently inactive on the world formerly known as Yale.”

“Formerly? It’s still Yale, even it if is a radioactive hellhole.”

“Reference updated,” Marvin said. “In any case, imagine we construct a probe with a single powerful signal emanating from it. We send it through the ring, and, even if it’s a very, very brief signal, we’ll find out where it comes from when we hear it.”

I frowned. “I can see how your plan could work. You’re saying that it could be anywhere in the galaxy, and wherever it’s transported, if it’s broadcasting when it goes through, it will be broadcasting when it comes out. Even if it’s destroyed almost instantly, we should get a blip.”

“Exactly, sir.”

“I don’t like it for two reasons.”

“I’m ready to defend my proposal,” he said.

“I’m sure you are. Reason one: we’ve never sent anything noisy and disruptive through the ring before. We’ve tried to be stealthy, so as not to trigger the Macros into activating a counterattack.”

“I would suggest that our attempts at stealth either haven’t worked, or they haven’t been relevant. The fact that the probes never return and the Macros never come in response indicates they were detected and destroyed—and yet the anticipated Macro response wasn’t triggered.”

I rubbed my chin and nodded. “I’m willing to give you that one. And I would like to know what we’re up against, so I’m willing to take some level of risk. But here’s my second objection: this radio signal you’re going to send won’t be able to get here in any reasonable length of time. What if the other end of the line is a hundred light years distant? Are you honestly expecting us to wait a century to find out if your experiment failed or not?”

“No. The response will be instantaneous.”

“How?”

“I was not proposing to use radio-based technology. Ring-communications utilizing entanglement theory will be used.”

I shook my head. “I’m surprised at you.”

“Really, Colonel?”

“Yeah—your plan can’t possibly work. In fact, the more I hear about it, the more inclined I am to think you’ve got some other plot up your sleeve.”

“Could you clarify that statement?” he asked.

“You know as well as I do that the ring is being continuously jammed,” I said.

He moved as if to rebut my statement, and I put a hand up to stop him.

“A small broadcasting ring will not be able to send us anything,” I continued. “Even if it does, it won’t be able to tell us where it’s from. Not if there’s only a nanosecond to take readings. The beauty I saw in your plan, if we were to use radio, would be the directional nature of the signal. We could pinpoint the source if we got it directly from space.”

“Very insightful objections, but you really don’t think that I came here with an incomplete proposal, do you?”

I paused, thinking about it. “No, I guess not.”

“I’m not here to insult your intelligence, Colonel. I’ve thought of these difficulties, and I believe I have a solution. First, we will not use the ring in the Thor system to relay the transmission. Second, I’ve come up with a way to get a directional fix on a ring-to-ring resonance signal.”

He had me at last. I folded my cards and dove in. Sometimes, when Marvin was really flying high, you just had to go with him. His thought patterns were quite possibly superior to those of any human being that had ever lived, at least when it came to quantifiable things like science and engineering. Essentially, he was the smartest being I’d ever encountered.

He laid out for me in detail how he was going to do it. Really, it was ingenious, even for Marvin. He had invented the ring-to-ring communications boxes in the first place, so I should have expected he could improve upon his original designs—but I hadn’t.


“You’re telling me that you can do this?” I asked when he’d finished going over screen after screen of blueprints, diagrams and advanced math. “You can get two small devices to communicate instantly across any distance—even a hundred light years or more?”

“Exactly. And what’s more, I can detect the direction of the signal. That part has been tested.”

He showed me his prototype, and I had to admit, I was impressed. He’d built small resonance-communication devices in the past. Every major ship in the fleet had one. Using them, we were able to turn the rings into a series of routers, relaying information between distant ships in real time. The difference in his new design would be the size of the units—each unit would be small and wouldn’t need the larger rings to relay the signal.

“Have you got a prototype of these two smaller boxes?” I asked excitedly.

“If I did, I wouldn’t need your approval to build them, would I, Colonel?”

My grin faltered. “Let me guess…this is going to cost me, isn’t it?”

“The devices in question will require a fantastic amount of power and rare materials. I’ll be constructing the rings from collapsed star material—dark matter—then forming them into precisely matched and entangled shapes. Essentially, they have to be the same ring.

“How can you shape collapsed star-matter? You couldn’t touch it physically.”

“Actual physical contact would be dangerous and essentially impossible. We’ll use gravitational emitters. Something similar to the weaponry and drive systems of Phobos, but on a much grander scale.”

“Grander?” I didn’t like the sound of that. Phobos was seven miles in diameter, and about half the ship’s volume was dedicated to generators. “How much power would it take to activate a gravity emitter that could do the job?”

“The output of the local star would be enough.”

“What?” I shouted. “You mean Sol? Are you crazy?”

“Humans have often suggested there is a pattern of irrationality to my circuitry that causes me to generate ill-advised theories and plans. If that matches your definition of insanity, then I might match that classification.”

“Yeah,” I said slowly, trying to wrap my mind around the conversation. “Mad as a hatter.”

He finally left, and Jasmine came out of the bathroom drying her hair.

“What did that crazy machine want this time?” she asked me.

“He wants to build a big stick and poke the Macros with it,” I said.

“That’s crazy.”

“Yeah…” I said slowly. “But I think I’m going to let him do it.”