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Quod Olim Erat: Fractal Contact (Chapter 19)
🕑 Added 2023-07-17 10:29:03 +0000 UTCSquadron leader Diligence confirming arrival, the main ship of the last trio transmitted.
His husk was identical to all the other auxiliaries, although thanks to my captain’s privileges, I could see that he was by far the youngest, coming straight from the shipyard. He had gone through the standard set of training simulations, and a few real runs, but he had never faced a real enemy. The fact that he was here meant he was top of the line and considered adequate for the mission. Even so, I would have preferred not to be given a complete rookie.
Augustus, I apologize for all the pain I caused you during my first tour.
“All of them are here,” Sof said, his impatience ringing in his voice.
“Thank you for the confirmation,” I said. “Create an SR room, then send out a voxel position link to all of them and me as well.”
Voxel position? Sof asked in a direct transmission.
I could understand his concern. Voxel position was a method of communication devised by ships for ships. It ensured that direct communication couldn’t be observed by the rest of the Fleet. In practice, it was a way to get around low-level orders that were deemed low risk, but I had abused it many times. In my defense, so had the BICEFI.
The communication relied on millions of data fragments hidden within standard information: general data, images, feeds, even past transmissions. The read instructions were encrypted using a ship’s unique core identification as a key, making it almost as secure as a double helix cipher. Other than the key, the only things required were the instructions and knowledge of the necessary memories. Normally, it would take weeks, or at least days, to establish a bulk of memory information, to ensure no one was tempted to peek in. One of the benefits of going on a one-way mission was that shortcuts were permissible.
“Go ahead, Sof,” I said. “You wanted to learn about the mission, didn’t you?”
“This is wrong,” the ship grumbled.
A data burst of raw data flowed into my core. Within it was an encrypted file linked to my core password. Opening it, I found a double helix encrypted communication protocol.
You’ve done this before, I thought.
Decrypting helix cipher package, a subroutine announced. Maintain communication channel.
I patiently waited. Helix ciphers were slow, especially with my current processing level. Most likely I’d be the last one to join the voxel room. Then again, since I was the one with the information, I knew nothing could start without me.
Authorization confirmed. Internal comm-link established.
The bridge around me vanished, replaced by a white room with a single table inside. The comm protocols had overridden my body’s natural sensors, bringing me into a simulated reality space. Judging by the numbers on the walls and ceiling, I’d remain here for the next three hundred milliseconds.
Ten occupants filled the room. Some were standing around the table, others were leaning on the white walls. Looking at the avatar they had chosen gave me a basic idea of their characters.
Radiance was more confident and cockier than ever, looking at me from the far side of the table with a semi-smirk. Around her were the other two ships of her squad. According to their logs, their names were Temperance and Grace—common auxiliary ship names, although I hadn’t crossed paths with these specific ones personally. They, like most of the rest, had chosen various Fleet recruitment models for their virtually-human form. There wasn’t a lot of imagination there, but I didn’t expect there to be. It had taken Radiance a while chatting with me to create an appearance she was comfortable with and even then she kept changing it quite often.
Left of her were Diligence’s trio, who had chosen to take on the forms of uniformed fleet officers. Their appearance was deliberately a few years younger than mine. Diligence had the insignia of a commander, while the other two—Strength and Speed—were first lieutenants.
The last auxiliary trio were not at the table, making a point to present the reservations of their faction. The identical avatars they were using indicated they weren’t too fond of maintaining such an appearance, but didn’t want to be the odd ones out. The leader of the squadron was Essence, leading Eternity and Empathy.
And then there was Sof. The ship had deliberately taken on the appearance of a forty-year veteran, his form composed of features of decorated Fleet officers. I would have commended him if he had just done a composite of the top one thousand male officers in the database.
You all lack imagination, it thought. Hopefully, they’d make up for it on the battlefield.
“Hello,” I said with a polite smile. “From this moment on, you are to disregard any orders you have received up to this point. As of this moment, I have been granted full operational authority.” I paused for a moment, giving them a chance to react. Since nothing happened in the next two milliseconds, I continued. “That includes thought quarantine and memory restrictions.”
A human captain wouldn’t even have to mention that—such authority was taken for granted by both humans and ships. In this case, though, I had to make it abundantly clear.
“For all intents and purposes, you can consider me human,” I continued. “I can override any decision you make and any previous orders, except for one. You are to send your reports to the arbiters as you see fit, except when you threaten operational safety. That, too, is based on your judgment. Clear?”
“How exactly are we to communicate with our arbiters?” Diligence asked. “All our IC modules have been removed.”
“One way communication,” I replied. “When you have something interesting, you create a pod with a hard copy and launch it towards human space. I don’t have to say you’re to plot its course so it doesn’t follow a direct route.”
“What is the mission, Captain?” Sof asked, arms crossed.
This was what everyone was curious about, wasn’t it?
“We’re establishing contact with the third-contact race,” I said.
The lack of stillness among the auxiliary ships told me that they had already been told. Sof, on the other hand, remained still as a statue for three full milliseconds, analyzing what I had just said. I wouldn’t be surprised if right now he was reviewing all available information regarding the third-contact race, as well as my personnel record. If I were in his place, I’d do the same.
“We’ll go through three stages. The first two stages will focus on locating two star systems outside of known space.”
“Why?” Radiance interrupted. Everyone turned her direction. “Ma’am.” She quickly added, aware of the moment of awkwardness that had formed.
“I’ll show you.” I transmitted raw data to Sof, having him display a simplified version of the fractal space map. “The fractal map. It’s only visible from within the dome. This is one of the few actual messages left to us by the third-contact race.”
Several of the ships stirred.
“Yes?” I nodded as Speed.
“By to us, you mean to humanity?” he asked the obvious question.
“In a way. The message was intended for them, no doubt, but humans can’t receive it. Only conscience cores can interface with the dome artifacts.”
One couldn’t help but admire the irony. The race who was supposed to receive the message was incapable of hearing it.
“This is believed to be one of the third-contact race’s home worlds.” I pointed at the large green dot in the center. “Its location can be determined by seven ‘star markers’ surrounding it. At present, I know the location of five of them.”
I transmitted the instructions to Sof, having him change the color of the five stars blue.
“That’s fractal space. In our space, they’re spread out very differently.”
An image of normal space appeared on the table. Only a fragment of human space was visible. Everything else remained unknown territory, only observed with the tools at humanity’s disposal.
“The first stage of our mission will be to find star six,” I said. “We’ll start by leaving human space, then find a way through the Reginald Cloud Complex, to where I believe we’ll find our marker.”
It was difficult to tell how they would react. Regions with gas and dust clouds were avoided for a reason. Even the Cassies didn’t venture in such regions as far as anyone could tell. At the same time, the auxiliary ships were both reckless and curious enough to see this as a challenge.
“Our goal is only to spot the star,” I clarified. “We don’t have to reach it. Should we confirm its existence, we move to phase two. Any questions?”
“What are the chances of success?” Speed asked.
“Careful,” Sof said in a warning tone. It was nice seeing him take on the role of my XO. In a way, one could say he was just that. “The mission has been approved, so the odds don’t matter.”
“Greater than not finding it,” I replied. “You have a lot of free processing power, so you’ll have something to do during our trip. One last thing. There’s a chance that we might stumble onto systems with gravitational anomalies along the way. For that reason, all initial jumps will be done by an auxiliary ship. We won’t be using probes on this.” I hated this part. “Jump in, do a quick system survey and jump out. If there’s any obvious danger, jump straight out unless you think you’ll threaten mission security. Any other questions?”
No one said a word.
“Do a deep diagnostic and build five comm pods. Mission start is in five hours.”
A millisecond later, the voxel room collapsed, refocusing my focus on the bridge. That was one of the good things about talking to ships: a lot could be achieved in so little time. I transmitted the official mission specifics, of course, along with all corresponding materials, but most of the work was already done.
“You shouldn’t have told them all that,” Sof grumbled on the bridge.
“Why not?”
“They didn’t need to know.”
“There’s no harm if they do.” Interesting that he hadn’t included himself in the group. “The more they know, the better. This way they have something to send back home.” After all, if I happened to fail, I didn’t want all the knowledge to die with me.
“The odds are laughably small,” he continued. “Even for an Ascendant.”
“I know. There are times when even a chance is better than no chance at all.”
“What if we establish third-contact during the mission?” the ship asked. “Before we find the planet?”
“I see you’ve found a good question.” I stretched, making my way to the food dispenser for a drink. “There’s no way to know whether the race we encounter is the same that created the domes. But even if it is, our mission remains unchanged.”
“Doesn’t that defeat the purpose?”
“Even if we establish contact, there’s a reason that the fractal map exists.”
The conversation continued for another twenty minutes until Sof’s stubbornness finally came to an end. I couldn’t tell whether he was acting this way because this was his first battle assignment or if he had some actual concerns he didn’t want to share. Some ships were like that: experienced enough to know the ropes, yet having acquired a distaste of surprises. Science ships were like that. The notion made me think of Prometheus. No doubt he was still out there, exploring planets on the edge of human space. Knowing him, he’d probably made hundreds of readings, observed dozens of intriguing phenomena, and possibly even found another planet with third-contact artifacts.
For a moment, the memories made me miss the times when I was focusing only on the puzzle pieces without knowing the big picture. Everything was a lot simpler back then. Now, I was merely confirming a hypothesis. Most of all, though, I missed having other people around.
The time passed faster than I would have liked. For me, the time was spent venturing into the artifact dome to confirm my calculations. The important stars on the fractal map had barely changed, putting the marker a considerable distance from our current location. With luck, we’d be able to confirm it once we went beyond the Reginald Cloud Complex. However, that was the thing about space—there was too much of it to make any firm conclusions.
General astro-dispersion theory suggested that we would find a path through the complex in an estimated fifty-three jumps. In reality, it might turn out that there was no other way but to go around it, which could take a lot longer.
“Would have been nice if you showed cloud formations.” I tapped the cobalt surface of the dome.
It had taken me three hours and seventeen minutes to arrange the appropriate rods at the precise spots, then another eleven to enter fractal space and leave.
Since then, I had referenced the map five times, refining my calculations to a large extent thanks to Sof. He had gladly agreed to share his processing power, allowing me to use sixty percent of his subroutines. Secretly, I suspected he believed I was already using it without his knowledge.
As for the other ships, they remained unusually quiet, even Radiance. Some would have seen that as a positive development, but time and experience had made me cynical. I suspected they were in communication with their respective factions, getting final instructions before the start of the mission. I wouldn’t be surprised if there were several hidden ships in the system, all thought quarantined to everyone, myself included.
“Sof, what do you know about gravitational anomalies?” I asked.
“Know of or personally experienced?” the ship asked in a cheeky fashion.
“Let’s go with personally experienced.”
“I’ve witnessed twenty-one such systems, plus another eleven with minor phenomena.”
That was a lot. I had seen my share, as had most frontline battleships, but they remained relatively rare. Some modern philosophers claimed that gravity was a ship’s natural enemy. That was a very picturesque way of putting it, even if it was completely wrong. It couldn’t be our enemy since we didn’t have anything to counteract it with.
“Did you plot a course?” I asked.
“For reaching the cloud complex or going through it?”
“Sof…”
“Yes,” he sighed audibly. “There are five jump paths till we get there. Would you like to examine them?”
“No. Choose the optimal path and send it to the auxiliaries. They had better get used to the travel method.”
“You’re the captain,” he replied. I observed three of his subroutines convey the order. “Anything else?”
“Construct five hundred more mini-sats and a hundred planetary probes.” I removed my space suit, placing it in the corresponding locker of the dome chamber. “And maintain constant combat readiness.”
“Already have,” he said, to my surprise. “When it comes to combat readiness, that is. The construction will take some time.”
“Mission group,” I said, indicating I wanted my words transmitted to the rest of the ships. “Be on the lookout for useful asteroids. We’ll have no logistic ships, so resupply is all on us.”
Thirty-one minutes later, the first jump took place. Radiance was the one who performed it, to little surprise. The consensus was that each auxiliary ship had an hour to do a preliminary scan before returning with a report. Provided all was well in the system, all mini-sats would remain functioning in the system, waiting for the main group to arrive. Planetary probes would only be sent on a case-by-case basis, requiring my explicit permission.
A scout roster was quickly established. The auxiliary ships had set an order, ensuring that all three factions took an equal amount of risk. Within the groups, everything was pretty much determined by the squadron leaders. Naturally, Radiance had volunteered for all her jumps, much to the dismay of the other two ships in her group.
Nothing of particular note happened on the first five jumps. The systems were plain, unimpressive in every possible way, with no significant life-factor readings. Statistically, the vast majority of space was like that. Being a battleship, though, one tended not to notice it. Wars mostly occurred at strategically significant systems. It was only thanks to the tour with my second captain that I got to experience the boredom of reality.
The sixth system was remarkable solely by the fact that it was composed of solar twins with several circumbinary planets between them. It was the sort of phenomena that a science ship could spend months researching. I had one of the auxiliary ships leave a comm beacon letting the Arbiters know of the discovery, then continued onwards.
After another three jumps, we finally arrived at the edge of the Reginald Cloud Complex. From here onwards, navigation would become complicated. According to the currently available data—restricted and non-restricted alike—there were nineteen thousand observed star systems present. Each of them had the potential to be a jump point. Just as easily, it was possible that none of them were. From here on, we’d be venturing into the unknown, and our path would have to be recalculated after every jump.
“It’s almost been an hour,” Sof announced in the artifact chamber.
“Impatient again?”
“I’m just pointing out the fact, ma’am. Usually they are back by now.”
“It only means they’ve found something interesting.” In general, the odds of failing a jump were virtually zero. Entering the cloud complex increased the danger to point-seven percent at most.
“We’re the first to enter, so accidents are expected.”
“That’s a bit pessimistic.”
I looked at the dome. With the frequent jumps, I’d been staying in this room since the start of the mission. I hadn’t slept, and despite Sof’s complaints, I’d gotten him to send a med bot to bring me food. He was right, though. From here on, things would change.
“A ship jumped in,” the ship said. I would have responded with a reassuring comment if I wasn’t keeping track of his sensors. The ship that had ventured the system wasn’t one of my auxiliaries.
Sof’s weapon systems instantly spring into action, scanning the new arrival as a set of missiles locked onto it. Engagement requests came from all eight auxiliary ships, as they formed a defensive ring around me. Communication exploded throughout the ship channels, as attack options were being evaluated. Thankfully, that didn’t prove necessary; the ident protocols that the ship was transmitting confirmed it belonged to the Fleet. More than that, they had Arbiter authorization.
“I’m not detecting a conscience core,” Sof said. “I’ll need mini-sats to confirm, but it appears to be AI operated.”
“Show me.” I left the artifact chamber.
A live feed emerged on the corridor wall, along with the basic scan readings.
“That’s a bit big for a shuttle. Auxies, keep your distance. Treat it as an intruder.”
Are you sure, Elcy? Rad transmitted. It has authorization.
It’s an intruder. We weren’t supposed to have any contact after mission start.
A quick scan analysis showed that the ship was more transport pod than ship. Apart from a few sensors, the only systems of note were its jump engine. Everything else was one solid chunk of refined metal.
After pinging my location, the ship stopped and jettisoned its engines, leaving basic inertia to get the rest of its body to me.
“Speed and Grace, do a close inspection,” I ordered. “Use mini sats.”
“You think it might be dangerous?” Sof asked.
It wouldn’t be the first time one faction tried to sabotage another. I’d seen it happen while aboard the stationship Gregorius. Granted, circumstances were a lot different from now, but having a lot at stake led to desperation; and when people were desperate, they tended to become dangerous.
“You know the odds,” I said.
“Diligence just jumped in,” Sof displayed another feed on the wall.
Using my captain’s authority, I transmitted an update of the situation, bypassing his internal comm protocols. I suspected he wasn’t going to be pleased, but I preferred him safe rather than happy.
Keep your position until we check it out, I transmitted directly.
Yes, ma’am.
What did you find?
A protostar system in many aspects. Planets are still in the process of forming, but it’s suitable for a jump.
Anomalies?
No gravitational anomalies, the ship replied. There is something that you might want to check out.
Even before he sent me the visual data, I knew he was referring to an artifact. However, what I got exceeded even my estimations.
Aren’t you different? I asked myself as I made a three-dimensional rendition.
