LiseEclaire
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Quod Olim Erat: Fractal Contact (Chapter 32)
🕑 Added 2023-10-17 15:22:35 +0000 UTCTransport crafts… I was hundreds of light years from human space, and the first vehicles I saw were man-made. There could be no doubt. Even before the visual confirmation, I could recognize the engine sounds. The mere fact that they—whoever “they” were—resorted to such tech suggested that they were aware of the effect technology had on third-contact artifacts. If so, there was only one group they could belong to.
I started running combat simulations the moment I got a visual confirmation. There were three of them, each with the capacity to hold twenty people. The dense vegetation gave me some advantage, though not enough to counter the potential weapons they had brought. If they decided to bomb the area from the air, there was little I could do.
The transport crafts flew over, continuing in the direction of the comm pod’s impact site. It seemed that I wasn’t their target. Just in case, I reviewed my memories from the time I was inside. There was no physical evidence that I had been in the pod’s chamber. The opened hatch door and the modifications to the system were circumstantial evidence at best, and only if the pod was retrievable. Given the state of the engine, it wouldn’t be out of the question that it continued going till it reached the first major obstacle or body of water.
Still, how did they get here? Even with the information provided, the arbiters couldn’t have figured out the exact spot so fast. And yet, not only had they done so, but they had managed to beat me to it.
Using the mind scalpel, I examined every second of my memories since the Ascendant funeral. Most of the restricted events I knew already. There were one of two minor details that I had missed, but nothing surprising.
How did you get here? I wondered.
I was lucky that the landing hadn’t gone smoothly. If it had, I would have left the space suit with all its recorded messages to increase the chances of future discovery. Of course, back then, by “future”, I expected it to happen years from now, if not decades.
There was one silver lining, as Gibraltar would say. For there to be three transport crafts, there had to be a base or large camp on the planet, and where there was a base, there were weapons, instruments, and nourishment.
There was an eleven-point-two chance that this was an elaborate trap. On the other hand, even if it were, there was an eighty-three percent chance that my captors would keep me alive. Their being here suggested that they shared my values regarding the fractal race: contact was more preferable than avoidance.
Analyzing the crafts’ flight pattern in memory, I plotted a course of action. Acting as carefree as they had while flying through, I doubted they’d resorted to anti-tracking maneuvers. Chances were that they had flown directly from the base, or at the very least a supplementary depot.
Despite the pain, each step I took was cautious. Even if I wasn’t spotted, I couldn’t allow myself to be as careless as them. They had the vast advantage of numbers and weapons. I was alone and, for all intents and purposes, harmless.
A few hours of walking later, I heard the sound of the crafts again. All three of them were flying back, this time carrying the remnants of the pod strung with large cables between them. That was definitely not standard protocol. All it took was one good shot and all three of the crafts would be damaged at best, destroyed at worst.
Luckily for them, I had no weapon, and even if I did, I wouldn’t waste the element of surprise on transport crafts. Them finding the pod suggested that they pretty much knew I was on the planet. The only questions that remained were: was I alive, and if so, where exactly was I hiding?
The direction they followed matched perfectly with the one I was going. If Gibraltar were here, he’d curse the pod for not getting itself completely destroyed. I knew better. It had taken a string of good fortune to get me here. It was unrealistic to think that it would continue forever.
Evening started making its presence known. The planet rotated a lot slower than most I had lived on, causing long days and long nights. The evening itself lasted seven hours, and even after that, a crack of bright sky was still visible on the horizon beyond the tree leaves.
Meanwhile, an unmistakable glow of artificial light also became visible in the distance. There was no way to mark that as incompetence. No one in the Fleet could be so careless or stupid. The humans on the planet wanted to be found.
Is that how you’re planning to achieve third-contact? Have them come to you?
It was a sloppy approach, one that I would definitely have avoided. Although humans had the tendency to resort to desperation when things didn’t go their way. I didn’t doubt Bavon’s arrogance. He, and the other arbiters, seemed skilled enough, except when it came to their own expectations. The man had probably thought he’d arrive at a planet that represented the pinnacle of technology. I, too, had gone through that possibility, but not at the expense of every other. Considering what most of the other artifact covered planets had been like, one could safely conclude this would be no different. The rod and dome artifacts created optimal conditions for organic life—probably having to do with the energy stored within them.
Moving on for another thirty-two minutes, I finally reached the outer perimeter of the encampment. It was, as I expected, a quickly constructed, fully functional base. The elements had been flown down from battleships and assembled on the spot.
Looking at the care the landing party had made not to disturb any vegetation, it was safe to assume they had landed on an empty spot. It was also possible that they had sent a few probes to find a spot above a cobalt deposit, but that would be giving them too much credit.
Squads of soldiers, wearing space suits and full protective gear, walked about the structures. At least I could rest assured that someone had read the reports from my Med Core mission. Other than the occasional wall, there were no base defenses to speak of. Vehicles and devices appeared to be of far greater importance. There were two massive landing pads covered with transport crafts. Additionally, I could recognize heavy duty excavators, laser drills, and several more truck-like constructs that were absent from my databases.
Carefully moving along the perimeter, I kept an eye out for food and oxygen supplies. Regulations demanded that those be dispersed to all vital buildings as quickly as possible. There was nothing worse than putting all one’s eggs in one basket in a hostile environment. However, overabundance resulted in carelessness. I had seen it many times before. Since the base wasn’t under attack, transport containers were left on the landing pad before their contents were transferred to the appropriate locations.
It was physically painful seeing that the cargo landing pad was at the edge of the base instead of a central location.
Never criticize a gift, I told myself as I stood in wait, observing.
Each giant container was equipped with a basic lock. Patrols passed by every hour. None of them seemed particularly enthusiastic, merely walking by. They didn’t observe the surrounding forest, nor did they check the container locks.
As I lay in wait, a shuttle flew down, descending onto another of the landing pads in the base. It wasn’t a model I was familiar with, but I could tell that it was an armored personnel shuttle.
A few groups of soldiers stopped with their patrol, heading in the direction of the new craft. Whoever was aboard had to be important. That also provided me with the best opportunity I’d get. Timing my moment, I rushed to the container pile. There was no point in hiding anymore. Even with security this lax, the chances of me approaching unnoticed were less than half percent.
Reaching the container proved easier than anticipated. To my surprise, opening it was even simpler. For some reason, the arbiters still hadn’t removed my authorization privileges, allowing me to bypass the security protocols without as much as a peep.
Being believed to be dead came with its unexpected bonuses, though not for long. Before opening the container, the system triggered its redundancy confirmation procedure. Fleet bureaucrats were always concerned with theft and mutinies, so every retrieval of material, be it aboard ship or on planet, was reported directly to them. Within moments, the admirative subroutine would mark my little visit as unscheduled and send a report to the human responsible. From there, it was a minute at most to reach the people in charge of the base. Thankfully, that was a lot more than I’d need.
Stacks of oxygen canisters and food tube containers were immediately visible, along with heavier components—like power generators—behind. I never particularly liked that type of nourishment, but it was better than nothing.
According to the cargo manifest, there were no medical supplies, but I glanced about all the same. Things tended to get mislabeled occasionally. Unfortunately for me, this wasn’t one of those cases.
The lock panel flashed, requesting that I reconfirm my identity. I ignored it, opening a food tube container and inserting one of them into the slot of my suit.
The lights in the base intensified. My little adventure had triggered some alarm bells. It was time to go.
The food in hand, I rushed in the opposite direction I had come from. Standard base procedure would be to focus on the areas closest to the break-in point. Of course, I had to be quick about it, since the following step would be to surround the entire base.
Why aren’t you using battleship scans, though? I wondered. Surely you can’t be that afraid of the effects an orbital scan would have. Or do you know something I don’t?
I dedicated all available subroutines to run simulations. This was a pivotal moment. Aside from food, the base had the devices and information I lacked. Running away wasn’t bad, but if I wanted to establish contact before the arbiters, it would be useful to have a peek at what they had discovered so far.
Five hundred simulations later, I had my answer. The chances of me escaping were between seventy-three and ninety-five percent. The odds of me doing so after poking in the base system—twenty-six. Even so, I had one advantage on my side.
It’s now or never, I told myself and rushed towards the nearest base structure. If they hadn’t revoked all my access privileges, they soon would. Then again, I had expected them to do so many times up till now.
Did you have a hand in the delay, Otton? I wondered. There was no telling how involved the Paladins were in all of this, but maybe they had calculated that I stood a better chance at successfully establishing contact than the alternatives.
On the front, infiltrations in colonies were rare. Ships were the usual target. Everything on-planet was overrun. Now and again, there would be whispers, rumors of people going insane on the Scuu front and attacking their inhabitants. I had witnessed it on Gregorius a few times myself. That’s why I knew the exact course of action that was present when facing an unknown opponent. First would be isolating the area and cutting off any means of escape. Simultaneously, security would be focused on protecting all vital locations: administration, armories, communications, and food supplies. What always remained overlooked were backup and redundancy installations. In this case, I immediately made my way to the physical backup facility.
Smaller than the rest, the structure had the appearance of a reinforced bunker. All data relating to the base, from the vital to the automatic subroutine instructions, was copied and backuped there in case of unusual occurrences. In theory, should the general installation be destroyed, a flotilla of battleships could retrieve the entire bunker, and figure out what had happened. The method was used during Cassandrian surges, though quickly abandoned, since reaching the affected planet’s orbit was usually as lethal as the surge itself.
No guards were present as far as I could see, but that was a false sense of security. Standard regulations required armored technicians monitor the backup at all times.
Reaching the entrance to the bunker, I input the emergency override code. In some cases, that would be enough to let me in. More often, it informed the personnel inside of an emergency they had to react to.
Remaining out of sight of the bunker’s visual sensors, I waited. If this had happened to me, I’d have simply ignored it, but humans were granted an overwhelming dose of unhealthy interest in things they couldn’t explain.
“Who’s there?” a voice asked from the panel. “Identify yourself.”
I waited.
Three seconds passed. On the fourth, the massive shielded door started its sliding motion. It was at that point that I sprang into action, rushing straight for the entrance.
The person who opened was armed and in full combat gear, which was a plus. Slamming the container I was carrying, I let the momentum of my run bring him to the floor. I, then, immediately grabbed his automatic rifle and pointed it forward.
A second person was there in a semi-state of readiness. He had put on most of his protective gear, but had yet to take his weapon from the rack.
“Close the outer door,” I ordered in a calm fashion.
The man hesitated.
“In this atmosphere, I only need to wound you,” I bluffed. “Close the outer door.”
There was a thirty percent chance that he would trigger the alarm instead. Fortunately for me, he went along with my order.
Rookie, I thought. Had he had a moment more to consider, he would never have complied. However, these moments of indecision separated the rookies from the veterans. They were also the reason most hesitant grunts didn’t get to live long.
The metal door clicked behind me. The filtration process activated, removing all the air from the chamber. It was followed by a crude decontamination procedure, flooding the room with ultraviolet light.
“Remove your helmet.” I stood up.
The soldier on the floor seemed unconscious, but just to make sure, I kicked him in the side of the head. No reaction followed.
“Do it, private!”
The use of military commands had an immediate effect, making the man stand to attention and instantly take off the helmet. He was young, with light bronze skin and pitch-black hair. By the shocked look in his eyes, I could tell that he had seen some combat, though not nearly enough. More importantly, it seemed that he realized what I was.
“You know who I am, right?” I asked to confirm.
The man nodded.
“Good. Can you open the internal doors?”
“I don’t have the authority—”
I didn’t wait for him to finish, leaping towards him and slamming the butt of the rifle in the side of his neck. The man instantly collapsed on the floor. He had attempted to play me, suggesting that the initial shock had worn off.
I went to the internal access panel and manually input my authorization code. As expected, it registered as valid.
Gunfire erupted as the internal door slid to the side. The technicians were considerably better prepared than the guards. Sadly for them, they had already lost.
“Stop shooting or I’ll open the external doors!” I shouted.
They didn’t. Bullets kept flying beside me, hitting the reinforced door and walls. There was no way they’d hit me, though ricochets were another matter.
“I’m opening it now!” I manually overrode the safety protocols of the bunker and opened the external doors.
As the gunfire decreased, panic set in. Everyone was yelling as they scrambled to get access to their oxygen systems. Several waves of pain swept through my body, as I simulated what the effects on the atmosphere would be on the people. At the very least, they would be quarantined for years.
“Sorry,” I whispered and rushed into the inner room of the bunker.
There were only four people present. Knocking them out quickly, I went to the emergency access console. This would have been a whole lot easier if I had my standard means of communication, but the dead race “jewelry” I had pierced through my head was still in effect.
Let’s see what you’ve found.
Considering the people running the operation, the security was laughable. Everyone relied on the access level required and hadn’t bothered to create any dummy info dumps, honeypots, or secondary security measures. There wasn’t even a helix encryption.
I guess when you’re on a one-way path, you might as well be sloppy, I read on.
From what I could make out, the base had been established four days ago—a few days after I had entered the system. The mission was led by the contact arbiter faction, which came as no surprise. There was no information how they had found the location, but they had moved quickly. Three bases had been built: two on the current planet and one on the other.
A series of surface scans were performed, then quickly stopped once it was found that the planet was covered with high concentrations of cobalt. According to the preliminary readings, there were a multitude of potential dome areas. That was the reason standard communication was forbidden and replaced by laser methods.
Someone paid attention to my methods. I smiled.
Two auxiliary ships had made it to the system, but their idents were retracted. Provided they were part of my original mission, there was a sixty-six percent chance that Radiance was still alive. The kid was one tough ship, and not one that would let herself get defeated easily. Unfortunately, the same could be said for the rest of the group.
I skimmed through the technical data, focusing on the exploration reports. The impact of my pod had created some commotion, though not its approach. Pings and systems scans had also been forbidden—anything that could be interpreted as a hostile action. Only the planetary probes seemed to be an exception.
Five missions were ongoing at present. All of them were focused on confirming the presence of “focal points.” One of them was located approximately thirty-one kilometers from the base, with the rest scattered in a thousand-kilometer radius.
Just as I proceeded to open the file containing the mission debriefings, a message appeared on the console screen.
AUTHORIZATION REVOKED
The screen went blank.
Finally, someone had removed my access privileges. That would be possible only for an arbiter, and given that base communications were limited to the planet, the person had to physically be present here.
“Thank you for your assistance in this mission, Elcy,” Bavon’s familiar voice filled the room, coming to me from all access consoles. “Humanity owes you a debt of gratitude. However, we’ll take over from here. Some things are just too important to be left to the judgment of a battleship.”
