Storming Heaven

Chapter Fifteen

The massive sensor array was large enough to envelop an Earth-sized planet comfortably, yet so thin and gossamer that a single tiny asteroid could wreck hideous damage on its system. It had grown up over the years from a tiny cell of nanites placed on an asteroid by a human starship, supervised by an AI called IQ-HI, configured to scan for signs of alien activity over thousands of light years. It was a task demanding inhuman patience, watching vast areas of space for tiny spikes of energy that might mark the existence of a hidden civilisations yet IQ-HI didn’t mind. The AI had no sense of time passing, or any capability for boredom. It had more than enough to keep even its vast mental facilities occupied.

Its watch for distant flickers of energy was suddenly disrupted by a massive energy spike bare thousands of kilometres from the array. The wave of energy was so intense that it blinded hundreds of different sensor nodes on the array, forcing IQ-HI to rapidly reprioritise its systems to handle the sudden overload. The wave of energy kept building rapidly, finally stabilising into a massive gravity singularity. IQ-HI compared it rapidly to every known natural event in its memory banks and concluded that it wasn’t a natural phenomenon. Microseconds passed as it checked and rechecked, before reluctantly deciding that the only known source of such power were the Killers. It sent an emergency signal back to System Command and retuned its sensors again. Priority One orders were to record and analyse anything to do with the Killers, even at the expense of more theoretical studies. It had no capability to feel annoyed at the interruption, but if it had had such a capability, it would have done so. It hadn’t been built to respond to every little piece of interference from so-called intelligent beings.

The wave of energy focused into a funeral and then into a wormhole. IQ-HI recorded the sudden shift in power rapidly, noting the arrival of a massive object from somewhere across the galaxy. A lucky shift in the wormhole’s position revealed a glimpse of a star on the other side, wherever it was, allowing IQ-HI to compare it to the massive database of stars in the galaxy. It only took additional microseconds to confirm that the other end of the wormhole was alarmingly close to the galactic core. In the time it took the AI to determine the terminus, four more Killer starships had arrived, accelerating away from the wormhole at sublight speeds. They could have moved quicker, but apparently they were in no hurry — or perhaps the Killers only thought as fast as fleshy humans. The AIs wondered, sometimes, if the Killers were rogue machines, rather than living creatures. It might have explained quite a bit.

It watched dispassionately as the wormhole folded down and faded away, leaving only gravity shockwaves as proof that it had ever existed. Absently, subroutines began to analyse the sheer level of power the Killers had displayed, calculating just how much power they would require to create such a wormhole. No known power source would suffice, unless they actually risked generating the wormhole and keying it to drain power from the quantum foam. The human race had attempted such experiments in the past, but they had always ended badly, destroying the research stations. If the Killers had mastered such technology, it would merely make them a more formidable threat. Their five starships possessed enough firepower to lay waste to the entire system.

And they were accelerating towards the array. An AI, unlike a human, had no room for wishful thinking. At the very least, IQ-HI concluded, they were going to smash straight through the array and destroy it. It would almost certainly terminate IQ-HI’s existence. The AI worked rapidly and uploaded its findings into the MassMind, knowing that more powerful minds would use its readings to generate their own theories, perhaps gain new insight into how the Killer technology worked, before concluding with a compressed copy of itself. Unlike a human, an active AI mind-pattern could be downloaded into another AI core, or even allowed to run freely in the MassMind. It would live again.

It noted the power spike building on one of the Killer craft and added its sensor readings to the upload. The power seemed to build achingly slow — a human would have barely been aware of any delay at all — but eventually the pulse of white light leapt towards the array. There was a brief moment of pain as the array disintegrated — it regarded sensor damage as pain — and then darkness.

Every alarm in the Asimov System Command Centre was going off at once.

“Shut that racket down,” Captain Thomas Mandell barked. The five massive red icons that were proceeding in towards the heart of the system needed no explanation. The day he’d dreaded ever since assuming the position was finally here, yet nothing, not even the most advanced simulations, had prepared him for this moment. “What is their ETA?”

“They will enter firing range of the main cluster in twenty-one minutes,” his tactical officer reported. Every sensor in the system was focused on the incoming Killer starships. It crossed his mind that any number of pirates and smugglers were probably making their escape while the Defence Force was distracted, but that was hardly a serious concern. They might be the only survivors of the system. “They will be in firing range of mining craft and a handful of tourist ships within ten minutes, unless they change course.”

“Order the tourist ships to jump out now,” Mandell ordered, grimly. A day ago, everything had looked so peaceful. Now he was going to watch as the Killers tore his home system apart. “Contact the mining craft and tell them to pull as many men and women off the platforms before they have to run.”

“Several mining craft have jumped out already,” the tactical officer said. Mandell scowled, but he couldn’t blame them. They hadn’t signed up to face the Killers and their little craft wouldn’t even scratch their paint. “The others are complying.”

“The Docking Master is reporting that almost every starship in the system is either requesting permission to depart or attempting to depart without permission,” the local system officer added. “There’s panic sweeping the asteroids.”

Mandell took a breath. The Asimov System was nothing, but asteroids; there were thousands upon thousands of asteroids circling the dull red star. No one was quite sure why they hadn’t collapsed into planets thousands of years ago, but it suited the human settlers just fine. There were hundreds of asteroid colonies scattered throughout the system and over five billion human lives… all of which were at risk. They all needed to be evacuated before the Killers arrived, yet he could see no way to move them all. It would have been impossible even with the entire Defence Force fleet of starships, let alone the few hundred he had in the system.

“All right,” he said. “Open a channel into the asteroid public announcement system.”

“Channel open, sir,” the communications officer said. “You may speak when ready.”

Mandell smiled bitterly. “This is Captain Mandell,” he said, keeping his voice as calm as possible. “There is a Killer fleet approaching this system. I am hereby declaring martial law over the entire system and commencing evacuation procedures. I want everyone to report in to their local processors if they wish to be evacuated and further instructions will be issued. Any panic or violence will be quelled with as much force as is necessary.”

He drew one finger over his throat and the channel cut. “The Local Government isn’t going to be happy about that,” the tactical officer muttered. “They’re going to want to handle the evacuation themselves.”

“They can have me court-martialled if we survive this day,” Mandell snapped, angrily. One Killer starship would be beyond their ability to handle. Five Killer starships were massive overkill. The handful of actual warships in the system would barely be able to slow them down; hell, the Killers could just ignore them and keep burning into the system. “Gunn?”

“Here, sir,” the AI said. Gunn was one of the oldest AIs in existence and claimed to have developed a sense of humour. Everyone else, including other AIs, doubted it. AI attempts to understand human jokes had rarely succeeded. “Where else would I be?”

“Link into the local processors, emergency priority, and start assigning berths for evacuation,” Mandell ordered. “Follow the emergency protocols and push life support on all starships to the limit. I want you to get as many people out as possible. Dump the local MassMind nodes onto the network and snap everyone in the VR worlds out of it; they have to know what’s going on.”

“That would be inadvisable,” Gunn pointed out. “Community Medical Regulations clearly state…”

“Override,” Mandell snapped. The AI was correct — breaking a person out of a VR world would cause massive disorientation, at best — but the alternative was to leave them to die. A treacherous part of his mind wondered if that might not be the best solution — they’d die in their personal heavens, with no awareness of the fate that was about to befall them — but his oath forbade it. “Wake them up and brief them, now.”

He turned away from the AI console, trusting it to handle the task, and looked down at the coordination officer. “Inform the starship commanders that I’m commandeering their vessels for the evacuation effort, centred on the main cluster, and they will dump their holds and take on as many evacuees as possible,” he ordered. “Inform them, in addition, that any attempt to jump the gun and flee without taking on a full load will result in them being engaged by the defences and destroyed.”

The coordination officer worked his console. “They’re pissed, sir,” he reported, with a trace of gallows humour. Evacuation or no evacuation, the Defence Force personnel would remain at their posts. “They’re already filing protests about your orders to everyone who will listen.”

“Never mind,” Mandell said. He could understand their position — the starships represented, even for the Community, a considerable personal investment and real wealth — but he wanted to save as many people as possible. “The Admiral may permit them to bring charges later, but at least they will be alive to bring the charges.”

He turned back to the main display. The Killer starships were closing in on the first mining station, an unnamed asteroid housing a single man and a team of robots. It didn’t matter to anyone, but the miner, yet the Killers targeted it anyway. Streaks of white light tore from their starships and blew the asteroid into a boiling storm of energy. The remaining mining craft pulled back and jumped out as one, escaping the juggernauts bearing down on them.

“I have completed my evacuation plan,” Gunn said, diffidently. “Sir, assuming that the current situation does not change, we will be unable to evacuate more than five million people from the main cluster before the Killers open fire.”

“That well?” Mandell asked. There were so many bottlenecks in getting people out onto the starships, let alone into space and away from the targeted asteroids, that he’d be surprised if they got half that many out. “Don’t hesitate. Start issuing the orders now and move them out as fast as possible.”

“Aye, sir,” the AI said.

“I’ve got Captain Jeff Zeitlin for you,” the communications officer said. “He wants a word with you.”

“Patch him through,” Mandell ordered. “Jeff. What can I do for you?”

“My squadron intends to attempt to delay them,” Zeitlin said, firmly. “We’ll buy you time to evacuate the cluster.”

Mandell shook his head. “I can’t allow that, Jeff,” he said, grimly. “You and your squadron will be destroyed, for nothing.”

“We have to try,” Zeitlin snapped back. “How can we stand by and watch as the Asimov System is torn apart? If we can delay them and win you even a handful more minutes, it would mean the difference between life and death for thousands of people. We have to try!”

“I know,” Mandell said. He ran one hand through his hair, tiredly. He felt as if he had aged a thousand years overnight. “Good luck.”

“We have to get out of here,” Captain Basil snapped. “You don’t understand!”

“And I’m telling you that we are waiting for the evacuees to board,” Private Ron Friedman replied, tiredly. The pair of Footsoldiers wore their full combat armour and carried their weapons in their hands, but both of them knew how tiny they were compared to the advancing Killer starships. The Killers wouldn’t be intimidated by the black armour… and their advance meant that it was losing its power to intimidate Basil and his family. “Please, sir; be patient.”

Basil glared at him. He was an overweight man in a galaxy where such conditions could be corrected easily; Friedman wasn’t sure if his refusal to do so was a result of religious conviction or simple laziness. It would be easy to sympathise with the man — the Family Farm was the only thing he had, apart from his family — but the Footsoldiers had their orders. No starship was leaving the asteroid cluster without a full complement of evacuees.

“And where,” Basil’s wife demanded, “are we going to put them? They’re going to mess up my nice clean ship!”

Friedman counted to ten under his breath. Basil’s wife was almost the polar opposite of her husband; she’d been through so many different cosmetic procedures that she looked almost stretched. She was inhumanly thin, almost a stick, without any sign of breasts or thighs. Friedman knew a moment of sympathy for Basil — in his place, he would have divorced the stupid cow without a second thought — but buried it quickly. The man was talking about abandoning women and children, after all, and there was little that was more reprehensible.

“You will be compensated for all damage,” he promised, although he wasn’t sure if that were actually true. The Community would do what it could, but even if Asimov was the only system under attack, resources would be stretched to breaking point. They might find themselves hunting desperately for a safe place to hide, let alone make repairs. “Your life support is rated suitable for fifty passengers in the main compartment. If we had the time, we would ditch your cargo and pressurise the holds to make room for more evacuees.”

He ignored Basil’s cry of pain. The Family Farm was carrying a thousand bottles of Rigel Brandy, among other such luxuries, and if Basil managed to sell it properly, it would bring him thousands of credits. The Community’s economy placed a high premium on real foodstuffs and the brandy should have set the family up for a very long time. Losing it to the Killers would be a serious blow, but they’d survive.

“And we definitely don’t have the time,” Basil said, looking over at the tiny display panel showing the live feed from System Command. The five Killer starships were still advancing on the main cluster, picking off smaller mining stations and settlements as they moved. It might have been a mistake to have that on the display, Friedman concluded. It wasn’t conductive to calm thinking. “If they get within two minutes of the asteroid, we’re out of here.”

“Please don’t,” Friedman said, calmly. “I would have to use deadly force to prevent you from abandoning the evacuees.”

“You can’t be that much of a robot,” the wife protested. “You’ll die too! You could come with us and be safe!”

“I know,” Friedman said. “I knew the risks when I took the job and…”

He broke off as a message came in from Gunn. “Our set of evacuees is coming towards us now,” he said. “Please open the hatch.”

Basil looked mutinous, perhaps resentful, but reluctantly complied. Normally, there would be safety fields all around the starship, preventing air from leaking out or any accidents from damaging other starships, but now all such precautions had been abandoned. Friedman linked into the hanger’s main processor and looked through the monitoring systems, spotting a large group of children advancing towards them, escorted by another pair of Footsoldiers.

“Children!” Basil’s wife snapped. “We didn’t bargain on children!”

Friedman said nothing as the first children entered the starship, to be shown to their positions. They weren’t all children, he realised suddenly; their ages ranged from five to eighteen, with a handful of older children providing supervision for the younger kids. A handful of them had defocused eyes, suggesting that they’d been pulled out of VR worlds and helped to join the evacuee groups.

“This is unacceptable,” Basil’s wife continued, eyeing one of the teenage girls. “This is totally…”

“Shut up or I will stun you,” Friedman snapped, silently glad of his armour. The two Footsoldiers would have to sleep in their suits until they reached safe harbour, but at least it would provide the ultimate sanction to their decisions. “If you can’t be civil, at least be tolerant long enough to get them somewhere safe and out of the line of fire.”

He watched though the armour as the final children boarded and the AI cleared them for departure. Basil leapt to power up the engines and lift the starship out of the hanger and down towards the exit. Friedman had never been so glad to see stars in his life, even through the suit kept him calm and focused. It was more than could be said for the children. The younger ones seemed to think that it was all a game, but the older ones knew what was happening… and that they might have left their families behind forever.

“Course laid in for safe harbour,” Basil said, as the starship emerged into open space. It was filled with hundreds of starships seeking escape, or in rare circumstances trying to land to pick up more evacuees. It seemed impossible that they wouldn’t succeed in evacuating the entire system, but Friedman knew the maths. They wouldn’t have a prayer of saving more than a handful of evacuees. “Jumping out… now!”

Behind them, the Killers opened fire.