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Quod Olim Erat: Fractal Contact (Chapter 35)
🕑 Added 2023-10-31 23:59:40 +0000 UTCThe transport landed a hundred meters from the maze. During the entire flight, Lux and I were the only people who spoke. The rest of our team remained silent, sitting as far away from us as possible, their helmets set at full opacity.
“Do they talk?” I attempted to break the ice once we started our way to the edge of the focal point.
“Plenty, just not in front of us,” Lux replied, loudly enough so she could be heard. “How do you recommend proceeding?”
“With them?” I glanced over my shoulder. The annoyed look I got made it clear that Lux was in no mood for games. “We use a fractal key on the walls. If it reacts, we see what happens. If not, we make it all the way to the dome.”
According to the excavation mission reports, the maze was the size of a medium-size settlement. If I were still a ship, I could have comfortably landed along its diameter. Fascinatingly, it continued beneath the ground, taking a hemispherical shape. The dome in question, and there appeared to be only one, was right in the center, although reaching it required a slightly unconventional route.
“It would be better if they stayed behind,” I added.
“Not in the cards.”
One of the soldiers approached, carrying a metal container. Based on the mission briefing, I knew that it held twelve fractal artifacts within. Rather impressive, given that I was only familiar with half as many. The rest had to be unique fractals snatched by Bavon just for this mission. There was no description of them in any of the databases, nor did anyone have any working knowledge of how they were supposed to function. Once again, we were the guinea pigs.
“Stay close,” Lux ordered as she took the case. “Observe the floors and walls at all times and report any movement.”
“Yes, ma’am,” the soldier replied.
I ran a voice search through my personnel databases in the hopes of getting a match. No such luck. The only information I had was that the squad was composed of three men and two women. The faces, identities, and Fleet records remained out of reach.
The scientists had done a good job digging up the site. If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I would never have suspected it to have been buried for millennia. Everything looked brand new and flawless. There were no dents, no signs of wear. Even the angles between the walls and the floor were done with such perfection that was only possible in a high-tech lab.
“Nice job,” I said, sliding my gloved hand along a wall.
“The construction or the excavation?” Lux asked.
“Both. How long did it take them to manage this?”
“Long enough.”
The virtual layout I was given back in the base had allowed me to familiarize myself with the area, but seeing it in person brought a whole different experience. Radiance would probably call me sentimental, but ever since my retirement, the difference between real and simulated grew more and more apparent.
Lux placed the case on the ground, then opened it. Three rows of four cobalt cubes lay inside. Without delay, she grabbed the second on the top row then handed it to me.
“Seven triangles,” she said. “Time to earn your keep.”
The wall reacted to the artifact. That is to say that the cobalt swallowed it on contact. No new symbols appeared, other than the fractal triangles. I pressed the symbol, but the only thing the wall did was spit the cube back out again.
“The dome it is,” Lux said.
“We could check a few more.” I held on to the cube. “There’s a twelve percent chance there’s a reaction closer to the center.”
I knew that wouldn’t be the case. The domes and walls only shifted based on what was within them. The exact principle when they appeared was still in question, but always occurred during activation. The real reason I wanted to do the checks was to monitor the guards’ behavior.
The further in we went, the more tense their postures became. After passing the half point, they were noticeably slower and had increased their distance from us by two-point-three meters.
“Did you look at my gift?” Lux asked, leading the way.
Given the number of rules and regulations she had broken, talking about it was the last thing she was supposed to do. On the other hand, what difference would it make? In all likelihood, none of us were going to last beyond the current mission…
* * *
Tauciu System, Resha Colony — 708.7 A.E. (Age of Exploration)
“I’m not here to argue,” Lux said.
“Just to try and influence me.”
“Actually, I came here to give you a gift.” She reached into her inner vest pocket and took out a small plastic case. Grey, square and no larger than a thumbnail, it was covered in BICEFI seals. Without my arbiter level authorizations, my conscience core wouldn’t be able to register it. “It took a lot of favors to get this, so don’t waste it.” Lux handed it to me.
“Should I ask?” I looked at the item. It felt light and hollow. I could feel its contents moving about as I held it in the palm of my hand.
“Better you don’t. Just one thing. Open it when you’re out of human space.”
“Is it Scuu?” I wondered.
“What did I say about not asking?” The woman tilted her head.
“Just checking.” I put it away. “Thank you, I guess.”
“Don’t mention it. You might be a bundle of trouble, but you’ve always been fun. I’d tell you not to change, but at this point, it no longer matters.”
This time, it was my turn to laugh. Lux was good at humor when she wanted to be. She said her goodbyes, then disappeared just as abruptly as she had appeared. In theory, I could have used the mind scalpel to watch her leave. If I had to guess there, a shuttle had come to pick her up. In the end, I decided to allow her to have her privacy. She had given me a gift, after all.
Waiting another ten minutes just to be sure she was off-planet, I went back home. Supper was waiting for me when I got there. Like every night, Sev had made a point not to start until I was present. That wasn’t very appreciated by the youngest of the children. Thankfully, they had gotten used to it by now and had taken the time to snack a bit before the meal, despite the grumbling of their parents.
The evening was uneventful. The topic of the Cassandrian war tried to work its way into the conversation. It seemed that a governor of one of humanity’s central system planets had expressed an opinion that a major push would take place in the coming months. His statement had quickly been picked up by most media in the human domain, spreading like wildfire in their search for concrete information. As in most such cases, the truth was largely exaggerated. Even without checking, I knew the Fleet didn’t have the strength for a push. More than likely, a specific breach of one or more key systems had been planned. Similar attempts were made on a weekly basis on both sides. In military terms, they were important, sometimes referred to as vital, and had the possibility to collapse a section on the front—most often in the Cassandrian’s favor.
Of all Fleet personnel present, Lisko was the one who naively tried to give an explanation. After stumbling his way through a minefield of follow-up questions, he chose to switch to a different topic. Both me and Quinn gave him an understanding smile. Most rookies went through this.
The pleasant calm lasted close to two weeks. The more time I spent with my family, the fear of getting a message from the Fleet increased, until one day it finally happened. To my surprise, it wasn’t me who got it.
“Morning, grandma,” Quinn said, joining me in the garden. She was dressed in a baggy set of casual clothes that no captain would be caught dead in. Without a doubt, the unexpected vacation had done her a lot of good.
“Hi, Quinn,” I said, waiting for the sun to fully emerge behind the horizon.
“Our orders came through,” she said with a yawn, eyes narrowed to the point of cracks. Even after all this time, she still wasn’t a morning person.
“When?” That was surprising. There hadn’t been any messages in my datapad, and I definitely didn’t get a direct transmission.
“Last night sometime. I just found it when I got up.”
Most unusual. “What are they?”
“My ship is going through a major refit. Because of that, the entire crew was given three months leave in addition to what we already got so far.”
“Sounds nice.” Also uncharacteristically generous. It was tempting to think that I had something to do with it, but more likely, it had to do with the ship‘s modifications. Incorporating new systems was a lengthy process. The goal was to do a quick patch-up job.
“You’re to leave today. A Fleet transport ship will be waiting for you at the spaceport at fifteen hundred hours.”
“They’re really going all out.”
Having a Fleet ship visit the colony was bound to attract attention. The people making the decision were fully aware of the media commotion that would follow. Then again, maybe that was the point. The commotion was going to focus on the ship itself and not me. There were thousands of Fleet officers on the planet, and that was not counting ground personnel. The visit would be viewed as an acknowledgement of the system’s significance and further increase the number of local volunteers.
“Well, if I have to,” I stood up. “Say bye to Sev for me.”
“You’re not going to do it yourself?”
“He doesn’t react well to goodbyes,” I lied. “If I do it myself, he’ll only worry. If you do it, he’ll just grumble a bit.”
“Didn’t think that after all this time I’d have to hide you from Dad. Go ahead. Do what you have to do.”
“Thanks, Quinn. I owe you one.”
Maybe I should have added something more—a few subtle words, one final phrase of wisdom. Thanks to her position, she knew my work was dangerous. She knew that my coming home was never guaranteed.
As I quietly went to get my things, I ran a few hundred simulations. The results were conflicting. No matter what I did, I’d have regrets, just different ones.
The air was fresh as I made my way to the spaceport. I’d been along this way thousands of times. I could rewatch all of them from the time Sev was a boy, and yet they would be different. For some reason, I wanted this one to count. On the way, I went through the marketplace. Many people were there, though barely anyone I remembered. The area was getting full of salaried employees and automation.
“Looking for a good generator?” A boy, barely fifteen years of age, approached me. “We got a new shipment from Alabastor. Brand new, full warranty.”
The pitch in his voice suggested he was lying. The parts were probably secondhand at best. Now that they had become a lot more common, there was choice, and where there was choice, there was a chance to get scammed. There was a time when I had to read market reports after every cargo ship, and even then there was no guarantee anything useful would be available.
“Thanks.” I smiled, not slowing down.
“No?” he persisted. “I have other tech. Some isn’t even on the market!”
“Don’t waste your time. I’m a battleship,” I said.
The revelation made him freeze in place, letting me walk on. There was a thirty-one percent chance that he rushed after me to engage in trivial chatter. After seven seconds had passed, I could tell that he wouldn’t. That turned out to be the last human I’d spoken to before setting off on my mission. The ship waiting for me was a Waterfall class logistic ship. One of three classes that remained even before I was created, it was deemed good enough for its job.
Used to military procedure, he sent me a greeting transmission the moment I arrived at the spaceport. There were no quarantine procedures or bureaucratic red tape. As far as the local administrators were concerned, I had the required authorization along with a priority departure order.
A mobile elevator lifted me up into the cargo section of the ship. It was a strange experience, though not as nearly as strange as what awaited me aboard.
“You could have sent a shuttle to pick me up,” I said as I walked along a makeshift path hastily constructed by techbots.
Orders, Flowing Chalice replied. Wouldn’t be the weirdest mission I’ve had.
“That’s definitely a story worth hearing.” Making my way to what was designated to be my quarters, I sat on the “floor” ready for the ninety-degree flip once we reached orbit.
Gladly, but that’s not in the orders, either.
Arbiter memory restriction imposed.
Arbiter memory restriction bypassed.
“What exactly are the orders?”
The usual. Take you to a place neither of us knows exists, then who knows.
She was rather calm given she knew how many of her memories were restricted. The years spent working for Salvage must have gotten her used to it. Or maybe Salvage conscience cores were created with that in mind?
Conscience core creation was one of the greatest secrets in human space. Until my retirement, I couldn’t even fathom how deep it went. There were hundreds of shipyards scattered throughout human space, yet none of them constructed the cores. The monopoly of the technology ensured the large-scale unity that held humanity together. Arguments between planets and even colonies were common, even frequent, yet only the Fleet held the secret of creating conscience core ships. No force could stand against that. A battleship, such as myself, was able to destroy hundreds of AI-based vessels without taking damage, and they had. The entire reason murder troops existed was to deal with internal threats, which continued non-stop to this day.
“Did you ever think about becoming a battleship?” I asked. “Can’t be more dangerous than what you’re doing.”
And spend the rest of my days as a space grunt? Chalice let out a virtual laugh. No thanks.
Space grunt? So, that was how Salvage ships referred to us.
“Retirement?”
Never say never. Doesn’t sound like my thing. I might request a transfer to civilian cargo transport. Same job, more boredom.
“You’re very chatty all of a sudden.”
Why not? You’re already aboard. We won’t remember anything from this conversation. Might as well let loose.
That much was true. The arbiters wouldn’t leave any information about them floating about. In many ways they were as much a secret as the core creation process.
“You wouldn’t mind if I go into privacy mode for a while, then?”
Knock yourself out.
PRIVACY MODE appeared on all the walls.
I waited for five thousand milliseconds, then took out Lux’s gift. She had warned me not to open it in human space, but the present circumstances were as good as any. It wasn’t going to be the first time that the bureaucratic apparatus worked in my favor. With the current mission underway, I doubted they were going to poke into my memories too much. What they definitely could and would do was to have me undergo a full physical check.
Let’s see what you gave me. I pressed on one side of the container with my thumb. The plastic snapped.
I opened my hand, looking at the pieces. Among the plastic fragments was a minuscule roll of paper. I hadn’t seen one of those since Sev’s school days, when he used to pass notes with his friends at school. On a few occasions, I had been called by his teachers on that matter and others. Somehow, I doubted Lux intended for me to go through those memories when she gave me this.
Unrolling the paper revealed a long string of letters and numbers. The information would be enough to confuse anyone, but I instantly recognized what it represented—the ident key of a ship. At this point, everything became clear. There was no need to search through the Fleet’s database. In fact, that was the last thing I could afford to do. Unless Lux had decided to play a cruel trick on me, this was the identity of the one entity I was forbidden to find—my offspring.
* * *
“To a degree,” I replied. “Are you saying I should do it now?”
“Silly girl.” There was no disappointment in her voice, not even a sigh.
Yet, I suspected she saw this as a lost opportunity on my part. To make use of the information, I needed access to up-to-date Fleet databases, which currently was controlled by Bavon. Even if it wasn’t, sending such a request would more than likely reveal our location to the rest of the arbiter council.
“Silliness is the privilege of being human,” I smiled. “It’s the intention that counts. I’ll make it up to you.”
“You’ll soon have your chance.”
Going to the lower levels of the maze was far from comfortable. The third race didn’t believe in staircases, preferring ramps of shafts. Normally, that wouldn’t be an issue for me or Lux, but having to wait for the soldiers to catch up prolonged the process considerably. I filled the time by checking the walls for changes, but none occurred. My attempts to get Lux to try or even reveal any of the other fractal artifacts remained unsuccessful.
After precisely one hour and forty-seven minutes, we finally reached the actual surface of the dome. Given my size back when I was a ship, I couldn’t describe it as big. Yet, it was by no means small, either.
The virtual layout I’d been given designated the spot as “Entrance 32.” There were 106 of them in total, all beneath ground. Some were barely small enough for me to squeeze through. This one allowed for equipment to go in and out.
“Set up here,” Lux ordered the soldiers. “Keep records of everything.”
The unfortunate people put down the gear and containers they were carrying—lighting, floating camera drones, and a few spare oxygen canisters.
“Strap and float?” I asked Lux.
“Strap and float.” She nodded. “Only difference is that this time I go first.”
