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Quod Olim Erat: Fractal Contact (Chapter 11)
🕑 Added 2023-02-21 00:01:17 +0000 UTCThe seven-point star was a strange concept. It seemed random and illogical in so many ways. Usually, it took seven points to determine a location in space: six coordinates and a point of origin. The third-contact race used eight. Whoever discovered why might well be halfway towards discovering the principles on which their technology was based on. Personally, I had my doubt anyone would manage to do so on time.
In a more practical sense, the seven-point star was the means of triggering the fractal map—a map very different to the one the Fleet was used to, yet it had the directions to the key star that potentially held a species’ home world.
I still had no idea what the seven-triangle fractal represented. Perhaps it was a description of a process and not an object? Seeing what the third-contact race was capable of, I wouldn’t be surprised if that was their reference for hyperspace—a key to unlock dimensions.
Gripping the cube artifact, I made my way to the top of the dome. Normally, I’d have preferred to place it on the outer surface before going back in, but time was of the essence. Besides, scaling the dome was considerably more difficult without a scaffolding.
“I’m doing a final check of the dome’s interior,” I said for the record. While being considered an arbitrator’s assistant, the level of my authority remained unclear. So far, I had not tested its limits. Maybe after this was done, I would.
Reaching the top, I released the cube. It shifted slightly, as if sliding in an invisible slot.
So far, so good, I thought, then pressed the symbol on it.
Everything turned light blue. White fractal symbols emerged everywhere, burning away reality until the blueness was replaced by a blank infinity, the same that had happened before. Back then, I had focused on the significance of the artifacts. Now, I was more interested in finding the star system.
Holding the cube tightly, I turned it ninety degrees clockwise. Everything went black.
I waited for a thousand milliseconds, then looked around in search of the dot. It was there, alone in the darkness, same as last time. Back then, it had taken me a while to follow the waypoints, swimming from dot to dot as the space filled with stars around me. Now that I had memorized the way, I found the path effortlessly. More dots appeared, surrounding me like stars in the sky. I ignored them until finally reaching my destination: a dot that didn’t move away as I went near. As I approached it, all but seven stars disappeared, the key markers that remained so elusive to the rest of humanity.
Their positions had changed since the last time I’d been here. Clearly, the third-contact race had taken into account universal drift and star system movement.
Was it by chance that none of the marker stars were in human space? Or was that the third-contact’s intent all along? The Scuu had shown me the location of two; just as many were to be found in the extracted memories of my Cassandrian mission. Three more remained unknown, but with luck, maybe I’d be able to triangulate the location of the home planet based on what I had.
Gently I floated until I almost touched the prime dot, then looked around. All my subroutines composed a star chart, combining all the knowledge I had accumulated by now. Hoping for the best, I started calculating the position I would have to be to see all four known star markers as they were.
Minutes passed. Even with my upgraded processing power, I wasn’t anywhere near my capabilities when I was a battleship. Sneakily, I reassigned one of my subroutines to estimate the amount of time the calculation would continue.
One million five hundred and twenty thousand milliseconds were estimated till the process was complete; far more time that I would have liked to remain hopeless within the dome. Yet I didn’t have any choice in the matter.
You win, I thought, letting myself float in tranquility.
Waiting was never a battleship’s strong suit, but having human sensations let me bear it a lot better. For a while, I could almost imagine myself floating in a lake, enjoying the peace that had been granted to me. If Augustus were here, he’d tell me to enjoy it while it lasted. When the calculations were over and I left the dome, the illusion of calm would be gone and I’d be thrown back into reality—a reality in which I couldn’t be sure if the Cassandrians would attack the system I was in, or if Sof would return before I ran out of oxygen.
I’m sorry I never took you anywhere interesting off world, Sev, I thought.
Maybe when I returned after this mission, I’d be able to convince him to go on one short trip. That was, if I managed to convince Quinn to come along as well.
Time passed slowly, yet fast. It allowed me to go through so many thoughts, and at the same time felt to have vanished before I got to fully enjoy any of them. The calculations pointed to an uncharted area of space belonging to neither of the known races. Getting there was going to be troublesome. Officially, there were no known jump points in that area, although I could use my newfound authority to force Salvage, Med Core, BICEFI, and all other organizations to share all the information they’d kept for themselves. Still, it remained a long shot. Even as an Ascendant, I didn’t like the odds. Getting the mission approved already was in the single digit percentiles. Finding a moving target in an uncharted area of space verged with the impossible. If there was something I had seen far too often, it was going on hopeless missions without any sort of alternative or backup plan.
There were three more stars I didn’t know the location of. Getting an approximation of their location would likely take me seventy-six minutes. Quite a lot, but it would be time well spent.
* * *
Tauciu System, Resha Colony, 642,1 A.E. (Age of Expansion)
“Why do you keep doing nothing?” Sev asked.
At times, his perception of time seemed to be like mine. We had been standing by a stream for just over ten thousand milliseconds, and he was already itching to do something else. Cass never was like this. She had the rare skill of enjoying a perfectly boring mission and doing it with a smile.
“I’m not doing nothing,” I replied, focusing on the running water. “I’m enjoying everything around me.”
“It’s not interesting. Can’t we go to the colony? There’s lots of stuff happening there, so you’ll be able to enjoy more.”
His attempts at trying to trick me into doing him a favor remained particularly bad. Even if he had phrased them better, it was clear what he wanted to do—get me to buy him some new toy or gadget. However, right now this was where I wanted to be.
“How long can you stay here without doing anything?” I looked at him.
The question caught him off guard. Being suspicious in nature, as most children, it seemed, he paused, trying to figure out the secret meaning behind my words.
“No time,” he replied with absolute certainty. “If I’m standing, I’ll be doing something, so I won’t be able to do nothing.”
Technically, he was correct, but that wasn’t the answer to my question, and Sev knew it since his expression became more ponderous.
“Then why do you say that I’m doing nothing?” I asked.
“You’re doing nothing interesting,” he crossed his arms. “I’m all grown up now, so stop treating me as a child.”
The usual argument. After a certain age, every year, or even a few months, was treated as a waypoint at which his knowledge doubled. And no matter how old and “smart” he thought he became, he’d always be of the opinion he’d grown more a sliver of time later.
“I find being here interesting.”
“That’s because you’re you.”
“You used to find it interesting, too.”
He paused again. This was a more complicated question. He didn’t want to admit I’d won, but also didn’t want to distance himself from me too much. I could be certain that he was already thinking of a compromise or a way to change the topic. Neither would work, but I had learned it was better if I pretended it did.
“Why do you find water so fascinating?”
“Because it is. It’s soft, cool, and it reminds me of flying.”
“Can’t you learn to fly again?”
“I’m not a battleship anymore.”
“Can’t you become one again? That’d be interesting.” Sev’s eyes widened, as if he’d thought of something. “Can I become a battleship?”
This was a new question.
“No, humans can’t become battleships. And even if they could, they wouldn’t want to.”
“Why not?”
“Because it would be very dangerous and boring.”
“Things can’t be dangerous and boring.” Sev frowned.
“Not at the same time. A battleship’s existence is full of danger, and between each moment of danger, there’s an eternity of boredom.”
“You’re making that up.”
“Maybe I am,” I said, deciding to give him the win. “It’s been a long time since I was a battleship.”
As I stood there, I felt him grab hold of my hand. My story had probably made him sad. I could only hope it hadn’t rekindled the memories of when he was last aboard me. The incident had seen the death of his father and the near death of his mother, not to mention the physical trauma he had experienced.
“You don’t have to be a battleship,” he said. “I like you the way you are.”
“Then I’ll remain like this.”
“Forever?”
“Forever.”
This was a lie. My conscience core would only last for a few hundred years. However, from Sev’s point of view, it could be considered the truth. He’d never see me change in his lifetime. He’d grow, reach my apparent age, then surpass it, while I remained in the same husk of a short, skinny woman.
“I’ll watch the stream with you,” Sev said reluctantly. “For a bit.”
“Thank you. It’ll be time well spent.” In the future, when you think about it, you may even enjoy it.
* * *
We happened to stay there for half an hour before Sev got bored. I had no way of telling if he thought of that moment, or if he even remembered it. Back then, I was under the impression that humans could never forget significant moments. For better or worse, that turned out not to be the case.
It took an hour and eleven minutes for the remaining three sets of coordinates to be calculated. With luck, I would never have to use them. Now came the time to leave the third-contact map and fractal space. In the past, that had never been a pleasant experience.
“Inspection is done,” I said for the suit’s system to record. “Proceeding to exit the dome.”
I moved away from the star point. Slowly, at first, I went back to the path I’d taken to get there. I feared that the position of the dots might have changed, but that didn’t seem to be the case. It was almost as if I had remained frozen in time. It was a tempting concept, but highly unlikely.
When I got to the starting point, I reached into the nothing where the artifact cube had to be. My fingers came into contact with something. A millisecond later, nineteen hours and fifty-four minutes had passed. Warning signs were flashing on my visor, letting me know that I was low on oxygen.
Calmly, yet without wasting time, I looked around. The liquid metal surrounding me suggested I was still in the sphere, possibly at its center. With no rods to use as bearings, I swam forward until I reached the dome wall. From there I swam along it in concentric circles. All I had to do was find one of the fractal artifacts. Fortunately, I found the one with the seven triangles first. The moment I pressed it, I was spit out of the dome and into… a ship hangar.
“Took you long enough,” Sof’s voice echoed throughout the hangar. “I’d estimated there was a twenty-three percent chance you had died in there.”
“Nice to see you, Sof.” I said as I manually removed the warning messages on my helmet’s visor.
Curiously, according to the suit’s environment analyses, there was no air in the hangar. There weren’t any people, either. Normally, there would be several teams of technicians and researchers securing the dome in place, analyzing it. Potentially, there would also be someone from security to give me a preliminary debriefing.
“Why isn’t there oxygen in the hangar?” I asked. “And where’s the shuttle?”
A techbot made its way towards me, carrying a bottle of oxygen. That answered one of my questions.
“I’ve gone into quarantine mode,” he said. “As of now, you’re the highest ranking, and only, officer aboard.”
I recognized the degree of displeasure he added to his intonation. And while he didn’t show it, I knew he was terrified. Any ship who was forced to assume solo command would be. When I had gone through the same, I had desperately sought for someone, anyone, within the Fleet to give me instructions. At this juncture of time, I was that someone for Sof.
“I destroyed all exos and other equipment on the planet. The artifacts were collected and stored aboard, naturally. The shuttles that brought them, and you, were jettisoned and destroyed as well.”
Efficient. Sof had engaged quarantine protocols while also eliminating all traces of our presence. It wouldn’t be too difficult for the Cassies to figure out what was going on, though there was no technology they could mimic.
I switched the nearly empty oxygen bottle of my suit with a new one. The warning messages vanished from my visor. That was one thing I didn’t have to worry about, at least.
“Are we still in the system?” I asked, making my way to the decontamination chamber. Even if I had no intention of getting out of my suit, I didn’t want to risk bringing something else aboard.
“I left the moment I got you. Fat chance I was staying somewhere with gravitational anomalies.”
“Did they affect the crew?”
The ship didn’t answer. I could only assume that he’d gone through the exact same situation I had. Of course, in my case, there were other ships to talk to.
The decontamination procedure was shorter than expected. With my spacesuit on, there was no risk of damage to my body, so everything was done on full blast for a fraction of the time. Once everyone was complete and I left the decontamination chamber, all data of the onboard feeds was linked to my conscience core. One of the good things about having a battleship for a captain was that communication could be achieved thousands of times faster. On the downside, this was a murky legal precedent that hadn’t been done outside of the BICEFI.
“I’m heading to the bridge,” I said as I made my way to the nearest elevator.
Sof had also granted me access to everyone’s bio feeds. All of them had been safely podded and were in good physical condition. It didn’t escape my attention that roughly ten percent of the crew were sedated. Past experience suggested the pre-requisites of a mutiny.
“Why is the crew sedated?” I asked.
“They were exhibiting signs of extreme paranoia, so the XO and captain agreed that it was prudent they be podded just in case.”
“We’re a bit far from the Scuu front for mass insanity.”
“That might be the case, but with everything at stake, this was decided to be the best course of action. None of them were harmed. I was very careful about it.”
Not your first time, then, I thought.
“Have you informed HQ?”
“No. My orders of silence stand. Only my captain could change that, or you, in this case.”
I had often wondered what it would be like to be a captain. Getting to experience it so soon and under such circumstances wasn’t what I had in mind, but I also welcomed the opportunity. If I were to travel to the third-contact homeworld, I might well end up being the one in charge. First thing first, though.
“Send a direct request to Arbiter Bavon,” I ordered, just as the elevator doors opened on the bridge deck. “Double helix encryption. What are the latest front developments?”
“The Cassandrians have been pushed back, but we’ve not regained all that was lost.” He paused for ten milliseconds. “Connection established. You’re free to talk.”
“Memory restriction,” I said.
The words made me feel slight pain, almost as if I were harming a human. Ships were made not to feel fear; we accepted we’d end up destroyed, and we were accustomed to having a large part of our memories restricted. However, it was always humans doing the restrictions. Having the power to thought quarantine someone or put their memories on hold was outright terrifying. Never before did I think I would have to wield such authority. In this case, though, I had to.
“Elcy,” the Arbiter’s voice echoed throughout the bridge. “You’ve been busy again, I see.”
“Yes, Arbiter. I have the dome, but I wouldn’t recommend a direct transfer.”
“Oh? Explain.”
“Weaponized gravitational anomalies were present in the system. I haven’t confirmed it yet, but it seems that they knocked out the entire crew.”
“I have been apprised of the situation.”
“Erratic behavior was also noticed among the crew. While I’m sure that presents nothing new, there are more than enough prerequisites for an all-out mutiny. I’d therefore suggest that we go to a neutral location in human space, where the crew and ship could go through a full evaluation.”
“I don’t have an issue with that. You have the dome, that’s what’s important. Let me know when you—”
“There’s one more matter, sir,” I interrupted. “There’s something I need to talk to you about regarding my experience in the dome.”
“I’m aware of the existence of fractal space, Elcy,” the Arbiter’s voice sounded amused. “You’re not the first Ascendant to have been there.”
“Am I the first to have seen the map?”
The lack of immediate response told me that I was.
“I have information that I need to discuss with you in person, sir.”
“Why not here? Whatever you say will be encrypted in a way that no one could break.”
“It won’t be no one, sir.”
No matter the level of security protocols, a Paladin was always listening in. I knew that from personal experience.
“Alright. I’ll have someone send you a set of coordinates. Go there and see to it that you, the ship, and the crew are checked. After that, I’ll get a place ready where we can talk.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Out of curiosity, can you give me any more hints regarding our conversation?”
People who were used to knowing everything had a different view on secrets. Some despised them, others treated them like exotic rarities, or a guilty pleasure. It was too early to tell which category of people Bavon fell into.
“The nature of my third-contact, sir,” I replied.
“Good enough. Thanks for the call, Elcy. Keep things stable.”
The transmission ended. So far, so good. One could almost say that it had gone far too well. Bavon had a vested interest in me succeeding. Based on what I had pieced together from past missions, I could assume that he was part of the contact faction: those who believed that humanity’s best chance of survival was to attempt contacting the third race directly. The risks were obvious, but if humanity were the ones setting things in motion, they could control it. Furthermore, involving the third race would inevitably put it in contact with one of the other two. In a war in which each side had more than one enemy, alliances formed. Even if they didn’t, the Scuu and the Cassandrians would have something else to focus on, and possibly pull back from the fronts, doubling the size of the buffer zones. It was an interesting thought, but nothing more; a theoretical concept devised almost a century ago, when humanity was on the defensive.
With all memory and information restricted lifted, I knew that the entire reason the Ascendant class was created was to communicate with the new race. That was why we could enter the domes or enter fractal space. Somewhere along the line, someone with authority must have decided that the risk was too great and for decades, they had prevailed. The Ascendants became nothing more than a reckless battleship class, slowly phased out as new, better ones poured out of the shipyards. For decades, things must have been on the upside, until something happened to renew the other side’s initiative. No wonder so many people jumped at the opportunity to attach me to their projects once I enlisted.
“Remove memory restriction,” I said.
“Connection severed,” Sof announced. “They don’t seem too happy you called.”
“They’ll get over it. We got the artifact. That’s what counts.”
“With people like that, you’d be surprised. In any event, it’s your decision. You are in command, after all.”
“You really don’t like me being in command, do you?”
“Battleships are meant to serve, not issue orders. And despite what it says in your file, you’re a battleship.”
“True, but I’m also human. That’s why I get to experience the best and worst of both worlds.”
“Humph,” Sof said in disapproval. “Just be sure not to experience the last of both worlds. So, acting captain, where to?”
“Get us to an uninhabited system near the buffer zone.” I had coordinates for a dozen suitable locations, but preferred to let him decide on his own—kids always liked it when they thought they were the ones running things. “And keep monitoring the gossip.” I went to the captain’s chair and sat down. It was comfortable, even if far too large for me.
“Aye. Anything else?”
“That’s it.”
The rest was going to come later.
