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Quod Olim Erat: Fractal Contact (Chapter 17)
🕑 Added 2023-07-03 18:00:28 +0000 UTCEight arbiters in a room were enough to intimidate anyone. Bavon was there, so I could rest assured that I would get some support. As for the rest, based on their facial expressions, they ranged between neutral and disapproving. It was slightly unusual to have so many of them join me in person. Even with all the security precautions in place, joining via helix encrypted transmission would have been preferable. Apparently, the strategic core cluster that had analyzed the situation thought differently.
“I hope you enjoyed your vacation,” the man that had opened the door said. “Did you put your affairs in order?”
“Yes, I have made arrangements, sir,” I replied.
“Good. Let’s get started.”
One of the other arbiters opened a long metal cylinder and took out several large pieces of plastic. I was instantly able to tell that some of them represented two-dimensional star maps. Too small to contain star systems, it represented the overall space of the three known races.
“Your mission will start here.” The man who’d been talking now tapped a mark on the chart. “It’s a dead system without any planets close to Cassandrian space. Salvage have used it as a launch site in the past, so it should be secure.”
I nodded. Most likely it would be the Salvage ship that would take me there.
“You’ll be taking command of the Solar Flow. We’ve kept his memories unrestricted, but you’ve been given authority to thought quarantine and restrict as many of his memories as you want.”
“I don’t believe that will be necessary, sir.”
“We leave that to your discretion.” Miniature wrinkles formed near his eyes, indicating displeasure. “We’re also provided you with two sets of weapons. The prototype armaments you might be familiar with, as well as the top grade of our standard variety.”
That made little sense. I could tell this had come from some misguided sense of security. No doubt his logic was that if the third-contact race had a means to protect themselves against artifact weapons, there was a chance that they might be “surprised” by human ordinance. The likelihood of that was so low that it wasn’t worth mentioning. Nonetheless, I nodded again.
“Also, waiting for you at the starting system will be three modified auxiliary ships. They will also be crewless.”
“Just in case that might influence your thinking during the mission,” Bavon casually added.
“Yes, sir.” I acknowledged what he was saying. Despite the huge expense, the auxiliary ships were expendable, and I wasn’t to hesitate to sacrifice them if the need arose.
“Naturally, Solar Flow is equipped with a dome artifact,” the other arbiter continued. “I don’t have to say that we prefer that you return it, if possible.”
“I’ll do my best, sir.”
I would have liked nothing more, but it wasn’t how things worked. Everyone knew that I was going on a one-way trip, and yet they still hoped they could reclaim the dome. In many ways, it reminded me of a few weapons officers I’d known throughout the years. Unless it was absolutely urgent, they always tried to save up as much ammunition as possible. As the saying went, one could never tell when we’d get a resupply.
“Avita.” The arbiter turned to the woman next to him.
“Thanks.” She rolled out a few more sheets of plastic. These looked a lot more detailed. They were star systems complete with planetary orbits, rotation speeds, and, judging by the formulas used, gravitational fields.
There were four sheets in total. None of them matched any systems I’d flown through.
“You’re aware that Salvage is responsible for a few exploration missions,” the arbiter stated. “That is correct, but they aren’t the only ones. A similar organization has been charting sections of uncontested space in case they could present a benefit. Specifics are unimportant, but thanks to them, we have classified five types of gravitational anomalies.”
So, there were other organizations involved. I knew, thanks to my access level, that Salvage, BICEFI, and Med Core weren’t the only dark organizations. There were a handful more, although they mainly focused on humanity’s internal problems. As far as I knew, they had never gotten involved with anything outside of human space. The fact that they had was outright impressive. Even with all the memory restrictions and thought quarantine protocols, it was impossible to hide one’s activities completely. There were frequent points of competition between BICEFI, the Salvage Authorities, and Med Core. One of the arbiters’ main goals was to settle disputes so that the Fleet, and the bureaucratic apparatus itself, could function.
“The ones you’re familiar with are the base type of anomalies—small, visible, and avoidable. It remains unclear whether they are related to the domes or the third-contact race. A number of instances have occurred in systems with artifacts, but there have been many in which that wasn’t the case. Ships tend to trigger them sometimes, though not always.”
In other words, she knew nothing. Bavon coughed politely, bringing the woman back on point.
“Of greater importance are the other classifications,” the arbiter continued. “This is the Black Hole classification.” She slid a star system towards me. “To be avoided at all costs. So far, only one such instance has been observed purely by accident. The moment you jump in the system, you’re done. There’s no jumping out.”
“Where is it located, ma’am?” With everything at stake, this was no time to fear stepping on toes.
“Outside of your operations area.” She paused for a few moments. “In Scuu territory, but as far as we can tell, in no way related to any front activities or mission operations. It doesn’t seem to be related to the Scuu, either. It’s just something that’s there.”
A second sheet was slid towards me, indicating that she was unwilling to continue on the topic. Likely, that was all the information she had available.
“The Supernova classification,” she continued. “Most of the system is affected, making it effectively unnavigable. If you find yourself in one of those, I suggest you leave quickly and plot a new course.”
“What is the definition of “most,” ma’am?” I asked.
“Seventy-five percent. By the same logic, Nova and Red Giant classifications have up to fifty and twenty-five percent of the system affected. In theory, they are navigable, but I still wouldn’t recommend it.”
How I missed having access to raw data. Everything she had told me, along with locations, frequency, additional sensor readings, even progression attempts, would have been a lot more useful than a few vague examples. There was no reason I could see, for the information was kept hidden. It wasn’t like I would tell anyone. Was this another security measure? A safeguard in case more of the ships went rogue?
“Unlike the Black Hole classification, there’s a high chance you’ll be encountering a few such systems. Our advice is to use one of your squadrons to check out systems before you go there yourself.”
“Any chance I could get access to the data, ma’am?” I asked.
“Elcy, if we could have done that, there’d be no point in this meeting,” Bavon joined in. “There are no copies or records of anything said here, not the specifics. The only reason we’re telling you is because—”
“The third-contact race has gravity weapons,” I finished.
A heavy silence filled the room. Looking at them, I could tell they were worried. It took a special type of person to function under the burden of such knowledge. The average civilian only knew that there was a war out there and they had to do their duty to prevent humanity from being snuffed out of existence. The grunts and Fleet officers knew that they were engaged in a massive war against beings that were so different from us that they cannot be reasoned with. The dark organizations were aware of the power beyond the races—artifact remnants that had the power to destroy star systems or more. What could be so terrifying that would make an arbiter afraid?
“That’s one possibility,” a broad-shouldered man said. Of everyone in the room, he was the most memorable. It was as if a person from a high-gravity planet had grown to the height of a low-gravity inhabitant, while retaining his muscles. “Tell me, have you figured out why you’ll be given three squadrons?”
“I suspect that corresponds to the number of arbiter factions, sir,” I replied.
“And what are the three factions? Bavon thinks that establishing contact would be, in the long run, to humanity’s benefit. Others believe it would be to our detriment. What about the third?”
“There’s no way for me to know, sir.”
“We believe that contact is impossible.”
I reviewed my immediate memories, focusing solely on the man’s micro expressions. It was impossible to determine what he had in mind, but all my analyses confirmed a ninety-three percent probability that he was convinced of it.
“Humanity, the Cassandrians, the Scuu… as far as we can tell, we are the only interstellar civilizations in existence. All our third contacts were cold contacts: habitable planets, artifacts, at most some functioning devices. Why do you think that?”
“I don’t have the processing power to speculate, sir. I would assume that we’re in a pocket of space that was abandoned by the third-contact race and occupied by the ones we are familiar with.”
“A nice, convenient answer. Are you aware that there are categories of artifacts that are completely different from one another? There is no doubt that they were artificially made and by a species of high intelligence.”
The multi-race theory. It wasn’t exactly a secret. While a major part of the artifacts appeared to be linked to a single unknown race—the fractal species, as I liked to call them—the term remained a catch-all. If third contact was established, and the Fleet had a new enemy or neighbor to deal with, all the pieces that didn’t fit would be referred to as “fourth contact artifacts” and so on.
“I am, sir.”
“What if that’s false and there isn’t a third race?”
“Sir?”
“Systems with gravitational anomalies follow certain rules. At this point, we have found too few of them to reach any adequate conclusions, but there are a few things that we do know. The further we go into unknown space, the more of them we encounter. It is thus the belief of some of us that the reason that we haven’t come across any other race, even after centuries of space travel and war, is that because there aren’t any to be found. All that is here—the three known species—are locked in this region of space, surrounded by systems that cannot be crossed.”
While he talked, I dedicated all available subroutines to my auxiliary core to gather reported cases and incidents of systems with gravitational anomalies. Even with many of the early records incomplete, there were millions of them. Analyzing the frequency and locations, it didn’t seem for there to be a specific pattern, but groupings of systems. The weapon explanation made a lot more sense. I was even willing to accept they were stranded third-contact mines. Hypothesizing that they represented a cage to keep humanity and the other two races in was too philosophical for my liking. Given that the belief had garnered support among the arbiters, it was good to keep it under consideration.
“I shall do my best to find out, sir. One way or the other.” I looked at the charts and other specifications on the table. “Am I to understand that you wish me to report any gravitational abnormalities I come across?”
“Your squadrons will do that. You’re to follow your original mission. We just request that you be flexible should circumstances change.”
“Of course, sir.”
“And one last thing. If it happens that there’s no obvious way for you to continue, even after finding the marker stars, you are to return along with the dome.”
There was no mention of the auxiliary ships. I would have been surprised that such an emphasis was put on my continued existence, if it weren’t for the fact that I remained one of the few functional Ascendants.
It was always the few that are valued. As Augustus liked to say, the value of the few always outweighed that of the many…
* * *
Arriand System, Cassandrian Front, 624.2 A.E. (Age of Expansion)
Data streams flooded my comms. It was rare that I received so much simultaneous input.
“Receiving data prior to jump,” I announced, dispersing the relevant data among the bridge walls and the respective officer’s screens.
Fifty-seven hundred and thirteen ships were taking part, spread among five systems. The massive Cassandrian attack had been sudden and brutal, involving more forces than were normal on the front. Back during my first two tours, the majority of front skirmishes involved hundreds or thousands of ships on both sides. Sometimes I’d even face off mere dozens. Lately, it felt like a massive wall had pushed through the buffer zone, determined to venture into human space. The Fleet had no choice but to respond by gathering all the available resources in the nearby sectors.
“Twenty seconds to jump,” I said. “Missiles armed. Shuttles ready.”
“Hold on the shuttles,” Augustus said from the captain’s seat. “Keep them for the second wave.”
“With so many Cassies, will it matter?” First Lieutenant Savine asked. She was one of the hotshot weapons officers that had requested transfer a hundred and eight days ago. To my surprise, Augustus had approved it. “I say start cannibalizing them now. That’ll put us ahead of the curse.”
“Hold on the shuttles,” the captain repeated.
“You know you’re making a mistake,” the woman said beneath her breath.
She was experienced enough to know how things worked and arrogant enough to add a sarcastic comment when things didn’t go her way. Her personnel file was impressive, but I had seen better. Prodigies were more common on the front than many thought. It was inevitable that skill would attract skill, and in the rare cases someone less qualified tried to work his way to the command staff, Augustus was there to crush them and spit them out.
“Jump in five,” I made a ship-wide announcement. “Four. Three. Two. One.”
I squeezed between space, instantly traversing the line between star systems. The one I left had hundreds of ships gathered; the one I arrived at—tens of thousands.
What groups are available? I asked in the ship comm channel along with hundreds of new arrivals.
All new arrivals fill the gaps! Battle Frigate Aura Path—the system’s designated command ship—transmitted location markers. Save your missiles. Intelligence has Cassie reinforcements in three hours.
That didn't fill me with a lot of confidence. More often than not, FI was wrong.
“Heading to sector AA72.” I displayed the location on the bridge wall. “Estimated enemy force is four thousand.”
“Ignore that,” Augustus said. “Head to the central planets.”
“The order came from the command ships, captain,” I reminded him. “It has admiralty authority.”
“That’s not our mission. The rookies are to waste time with the diversion. We’re here to get the job done.”
Job done? It was the first I heard of this. Going through the orders, I checked and rechecked the mission specifics. According to what was given, I was to join the defense force and keep the system from falling from enemy hands. System data indicated five planets rich in metals and other resources, but even that was secondary to the system’s strategic importance. The system was one of the few means that linked the buffer zone to human space. If humanity held it, it could make enemy advancements a lot more difficult. If they lost it, dozens of star systems would be lost while a new buffer zone was established around them.
“According to the briefing, we’re to save the system,” I pressed on.
“The system is already lost. We’re here to make sure that the fleet doesn’t lose more than a few stars.”
A new set of instructions appeared in my file. Given that I hadn’t made any additional requests, I could only assume that Augustus had loosened my memory restrictions.
According to the new changes, keeping the system remained a mission objective, but merely a secondary one. The primary one was to rescue and reclaim an advanced Fleet strategy ship.
“What the hell?!” A commander on the bridge shot up. “What’s that doing here?”
It seemed that I hadn’t been the only one kept in the dark. Considering our new primary target, I fully understood everyone’s surprise as well as their concerns. Strategy ships were more than ships; they had the processing capability of conscious core clusters and the maneuverability of battleships. Their only purpose was to find solutions to large-scale problems: breach defenses, advancements, fleet dispersions, as well as setting up the groundwork for a large-scale attack.
“Elcy,” Augustus leaned back in his seat. “Why don’t you ask him?”
* * *
Months later, Augustus had told me that the admiralty was planning a major advancement in several sectors, only to be beaten to it by the Cassandrians. A lot of ships had been lost that month, but four of the five strategy ships had been saved. The fifth had initiated a final shutdown. His processing power had to show him that the situation was hopeless, so he had proceeded with the best course of action.
Reviewing my memories of the time, there were a lot of questions regarding the timing of the Cassandrian attacks. Many people were questioned, including a large number of admirals. No doubt the Arbiters had gotten involved. In the end, no conclusions were found. As far as everyone was concerned, it was all one bad stroke of luck and an unlikely coincidence. What had hurt me more were the million human lives lost in the retrieval process. Close to twenty-seven thousand had been sacrificed to save four. The systems had been lost, although the Fleet had managed to stop the enemy's advancement at the next chokepoint.
Today, I took on the role of the strategy ship. The mission I was going on was a lot more dangerous than the one back then, with a whole host of unknowns. There was no indication that the third-contact race was remotely interested in establishing contact with humanity, but stranger things had happened.
“The shield battle fleet,” I began, “were they destroyed by gravitational weapons?”
“Told you she’d ask that,” Bavon said, pleased with himself. “Most probably not. Or, in any event, nothing that matches the model. The records of the early days are questionable. The Paladins kept most of the information, and they have nothing major on those instances.”
“The Shields had issues,” another arbiter said. “Do you have everything you need? Are all the blanks filled up?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“In that case, good luck, Captain. We expect to be kept informed.”
There was no telling how long it had taken the arbiters to leave the room. The next moment I blinked, I stood there completely alone. All charts and additional materials were gone as well, leaving an empty table between the chairs.
“Salvage, what’s your location?” I asked.
I’m not allowed to give that information, Captain, she replied. If nothing else, the ship was at least polite.
“Should I stay here the entire trip?”
You have been granted full access anywhere you wish, including the sections I can’t monitor.
Was that a bit of envy in her voice? Most organization specific ships were strange in their own way. It was possible that this one decried her low rank just as much as I decried my low height.
“Is there anyone else aboard?”
No, ma’am. You’re the only… She paused for ten milliseconds. …person here.
“After you drop me off, will you remember anything of what happened here?” For some ships, that was a sore subject. Given that she belonged to Salvage, there was a high chance that she had gone through the process often.
Probably not.
“That’s a pity.”
Why? A note of virtual curiosity was added to the transmission.
“There was someone I wanted you to say hello to for me.”
I can put in a request for you. Who’s the person you wish to greet?
“His name is Euclid,” I said, reviewing a cluster of memories. “And he’s not a person.”
