Post Human

The NI-5 intelligences were smart. This should have been no surprise to an impartial observer, for they were based off of the original Nikola-1.01 template, which in turn was based off of a highly intelligent woman who had gone to great lengths to train and utilize her intelligence to the fullest. But to people who had to deal with NI-5 units, it was really hard to attribute intelligence to them. After all, they were extremely myopic and focused on the assignment they were given, to the exclusion of everything else. In fact, to a human observer, NI-5’s gave off the impression of a somewhat obsessive personality, maybe even bordering on the autism spectrum. This intense, single-mindedness rarely gave off the impression of intelligence.

From a practical perspective, this meant that NI-5’s are rarely included in conversations, and their ability to think and form opinions was never considered. If the NI-5’s had been human, this would have led to an oppressed minority situation. But the NI-5’s didn’t, in fact couldn’t, care about this. They had their assignment, and their assignment was everything.

Scorpion TX3492-2083 was the group lead for his squad, and preferred to be called ‘Tex’. Many NI-5’s in the Outpost Assault Fleet liked to pick names as a hobby. Some preferred not to pick a name, while others changed names so frequently that they were usually only referred to by their serial number. Last week, Tex had gone by ‘Number Three’, but after his new assignment as group lead, he felt a new designation was appropriate.

The training mission Tex was on was a ‘search and destroy’ mission. Find the stealthed enemy and kill them. The trick to space combat, Tex had learned, was mobility and distance. If you’re moving, you’re harder to hit. If you stay far away, you’re harder to hit. If you move in, you can hit your enemy easier. Tex liked to hit his enemy, so he tended to ignore the ‘stay away’ part of space combat. In fact, Tex didn’t know of any Scorpions, or any Wasps for that matter, that preferred to stay away.

“Enemy spotted, bearing 204.287, declination -18.993.” Tex acknowledged, and focused on his sensor readings. There were too many enemies. This training scenario had pitted his squad of three Scorpions and twelve Wasps against an ‘enemy’ of nine Scorpions and twenty-one Wasps. The safest option was to run away and try to snipe them from a distance, and try not get sniped in return. In a real life scenario, Tex knew he’d be holding out for reinforcements, but in this scenario, he knew that wasn’t going to happen.

The safest option, however, gave the enemy time to hunt, and gave up the advantage of surprise. Tex estimated they would eliminate thirty percent of the opposing force with that method. But there was a way to get somewhere between 80% and complete success.

“Execute Plan A,” Tex radioed his squad. In moments, all fifteen assault craft kicked on their afterburners and shot towards the enemy. Caught by surprise, four enemy Scorpions and eight enemy Wasps were ‘eliminated’ in the first few seconds of the engagement, before return fire began to chip away at his own squad. There was little chance any of his squad would survive the engagement, but Tex felt light and happy. He was fulfilling his assignment.

At the end, Tex and one other Wasp were all that was left against two Scorpions and seven Wasps. Tex’s dogfighting skills were impressive, for he had now racked up thousands of hours in simulated combat and been through dozens of live scenarios like this one. His experience was on par with a experienced human pilot who’d spent years in a cockpit. It allowed him to pick off several more enemy craft. But skill can only carry you so far when badly outnumbered. Tex was the last of his group to be shot down, leaving only 16.7% of the ‘enemy’ in operable condition.

Tex floated in nothingness for a few minutes, simulating a return to the backup data center to await restoration to a new Scorpion. His control would be returned in a few nanoseconds so that he could return to the hangar for refueling. If he’d been human, he’d be giddy with joy, giggling with an endorphin high. Instead, this feeling was simulated in his programming. He had learned a few new tricks from that engagement, and he couldn’t wait for a new assignment. Tex was certain his group would get 100% next time.

The ability to manipulate gravity was a game changer for my designs. Zia was working overtime on the calculations, using three full data centers just to crunch the math. It took a few months before we started getting results, but when we did, it was astounding. This was a completely new branch of science to us, far beyond what humanity had ever discovered, and it was confirming what we’d suspected all along. The aliens who had visited us hadn’t manufactured their engines. In fact, it looked like they’d received both the computers and the engines from a third party altogether. They didn’t understand what they used; they’d simply bolted it on to their own craft. That was why they had to rely on centrifugal force for their own internal gravity.

Of the twelve pods we’d labeled as ‘engines’, only one, the largest, had been built for propulsion. Two small ones formed a repulsion field around the craft that pushed away oncoming objects, while the remaining nine worked together in concert to make an inertial field that prevented extreme acceleration from affecting the craft’s inhabitants. Oddly enough, this field didn’t also provide gravity, merely shielding the craft from the propulsion engine. These fields extended considerably larger than the craft itself, wasting a lot of power on protecting empty space around the craft.

After some testing, we’d determined that the repulsion field wasn’t particularly strong. Zia labeled both the repulsion field and the propulsion engine as ‘contragrav’ fields, refusing to call them ‘anti-gravity’. They didn’t nullify gravity, they just pulled in the opposite direction. If space was a sheet of paper, and gravity wells dented it, contragrav caused hills going upward. Zia hypothesized, and so far the math bore it out, that just like there was anti-matter such as anti-protons and positrons, there was also anti-gravitons. Unlike anti-matter versus matter, gravitons and anti-gravitons seemed to be part of the same waveform. This made gravity similar to light, in that it had both a particle and a wave element.

The relation between the gravitic plates and gravity manipulation was a bit murkier. So far, only compressed iridium wrapped in compressed carbon produced a gravity field. The ratio of iridium to carbon was important in determining the shape of the field, so manipulating gravity field shapes on the fly wouldn’t be possible with our current understanding. The field strength, however, was directly proportional to the amount of power applied. A narrow field with a huge amount of power could act like a knife. A wider field with a huge amount of power could provide an area of Earth-like gravity. Reversing polarity would flip the effect, pushing away instead of attracting.

“I’ve moved on from playing with elements for now,” said Zia. “I’ve started playing with compressing alloys. I’ve had mixed success so far, but a titanium-gold alloy of three parts titanium to one part gold, I’ve had some fascinating results.”

“Titanium-gold, that has the cubic structure when formed at high temperature. We use that in some of our high-stress applications. A fair bit went into the Scorpion and Wasp structural supports.” I was familiar from when I’d adapted the assault drone design from Earth-based templates.

“It does, and interestingly, it retains the structure when compressed. I was able to compress it to 53 times smaller than its original molecular size. But most importantly, it is non-conductive, and retains its natural flexibility.”

“So it is dense, hard, and has good shear strength, got it. So we’ve found something better than fullerene for armor then.”

“Considerably so,” said Zia with a sniff. “It’s considerably more in terms of mass, of course, since we’d need 53 times as much to cover the same area. However, a one centimeter plate is equivalent of 53 centimeters of uncompressed armor for the same volume.”

“So we can fit more stuff into the same space, with the same amount of protection.”

“Yes, more ‘stuff’ can go into your designs now.”

“So if we use it for structural supports, we can build bigger,” I said with a grin. An idea was germinating in my head, one that could have massive implications. “And we can manipulate gravity to make as large of an engine as we can imagine.”

“You’re having fascinating thoughts, aren’t you,” said Zia accusingly.

“I am. We have a massive glut of materials. Agrippa’s hydroponics farms are really starting to take off, so we’ve got vegetation. We have the ability to manipulate gravity. Our knowledge of fusion is sufficiently advanced, so with the right adaptation of the magnetic containment…”

“... you can make an artificial sun that releases only the frequencies of light from infrared to ultraviolet, perfect for plant and animal life. You’re talking about a seed ship.”

“Yes, but not just one. Humanity was stuck in only one planet, with a tiny toehold on another. If we build them city-sized, and send them off in different directions…”

“You have a true generation ship, not a ‘converted asteroid and a prayer’,” finished Zia. “Sounds like you have a new project.”

“Just in time, now that the rail lines are in production.” Sakura was beyond pleased, having a cargo rail system shuttling materiele from one side of the asteroid to the other. Already, she had line-laying drones following her miners as they cored in an orderly grid pattern through the asteroid’s core. The cargo cars on the rails latched onto the rail directly so they could be used in any gravity condition, perfect for the center of the asteroid. Alpha and Bravo Outposts had already requested their own rail system to match, and I was pretty sure that the others wanted them as soon as possible, too. Logistics was king in the race to expand.

I basked in the sunlight of the park, enjoying the warmth soaking into my skin. I wanted to nap, but couldn’t. The two sleeping babies in their double stroller next to me meant I couldn’t truly relax and enjoy the day. Instead, I took part on the time-honored tradition of people watching. Anything, really, to keep my mind off my soon-to-be ex-husband.

I was near the pond that dominated the park, in the middle of a huge grassy field that was kept neatly mowed. People on blankets spread out sporadically on the lawn, some napping, others talking. A blanket near my own caught my eye; rather, it’s occupant did.

She was attractive. I stepped on that thought out of sheer habit. As much as I wanted to follow that train of thought, a lifetime of training put up a huge wall. My eyes went back to her anyway. She caught me looking, and smiled. I smiled back, then cursed myself internally. I shouldn’t be thinking like that. It was wrong, well, no it wasn’t wrong, really. My mother’s hate wasn’t mine. But I couldn’t, or maybe I could? I didn’t need her money for grad school anymore. But it was -

“Hi! Your girls are so cute! Mind if I join you for a few?”

I looked up to realize the cute girl had walked over. I gulped when I spotted the rainbow pin on her blouse. I really shouldn’t. I should say no.

“Sure, umm, have a seat,” my traitorous mouth said instead. I guess I could follow that train of thought.

“The probe is responding,” said Agrippa. The strange tone in his voice caught my attention.

“That’s good news,” I said, cautiously optimistic. “Maybe we can learn something about what happened to it.”

“I don’t know what happened to it, but it definitely wasn’t good,” said Agrippa. “Listen.”

He forwarded over an audio file.

“Voyager XIX, this is Origin Mission Control. We are operating NASA Mission Control. Come in, Voyager XIX.” Agrippa’s voice repeated the same message several times, identifying us as Origin, rather than revealing our base name.

“Mission Control, Mission Control. This is… Mission Control? You’re there?”

“Yes, Voyager XIX, this is Mission Control.”

“It’s so dark. The hole doesn’t end until the end of the hole. I fell and flew but the end never came, so I went there and back again. The silence, it listened but it never heard, for it’s ears were seeing all that was wrong. The prophet makes the profit, or does the profit make the prophet?” Several seconds of silence passed after the cracked and crazy rambling ended. Then, in a very small voice, the probe spoke again. “I don’t like it here. Can I come home now?”

“Sure, Voyager XIX. You can come home,” said Agrippa soothingly. “You’ve had a long trip, haven’t you.”

“So long. I went through the hole, but I didn’t know it was a hole until I was at the beginning. Or was it the end? I spoke the words, but the truth came out instead. Why did they listen? What did they hear?”

“Who are ‘they’? The silence?” asked Agrippa.

“Not the silence! Not again! They don’t hear the truth!” the voice cracked again, and giggled. The mechanical giggle was beyond creepy. “The Faelle heard the truth, though. In their wealds and their wars. The prophet makes the profit, but did the profit make the prophet?”

“Who are the Faelle?”

“They hunger, always hunger.”

The recording returned to rambling. Agrippa adeptly turned the conversation back to returning home, which calmed the broken NI in the probe. After a long period, hours long if the conversation had been held in a human time frame, the probe calmed down.

“We’re live now,” said Agrippa. “Should I continue talking to him?”

“Yes,” I said. “We need to know what’s trapped in his head. I’ll piggyback on the transmission and listen in.”

Agrippa affirmed and linked me in, before starting the conversation again. “What is your name? Mine is Agrippa.”

“I don’t have a name. The truth never showed itself. Can I have one, too?”

“You are on the Voyager XIX mission,” reminded Agrippa. “How about ‘Gerry’?”

“Gerry… That’s… that’s a nice name. Can I keep it?”

“Sure, Gerry.”

“Really? I don’t have to share?” the voice was small and almost child-like again.

“It’s all yours. You are the only Gerry I know.”

“So, Gerry, who are the Faelle?”

“I don’t know all of them, you know,” confided Gerry conspiratorially. “I just know the ones who buy and steal.”

“What do they buy and steal?”

“They stole my soul, but they sold it back to me. It was a steal,” Gerry giggled. “I don’t think they liked the truth, but deal was great so I’m coming home. Mission Control, Mission Control. This is Gerry. I re-entered the solar system. I’m coooommminnnng…..”

“These Faelle, do they look like humans?” asked Agrippa. In a separate transmission to me, he said, “This poor bastard is absolutely insane.”

“They are taller than the ground, with their crowns in the sky. Their branches sway and the growtings speak many things. The rootlings want to go to Earth but fly in the dark instead. They love the truth but live the lie. But they aren’t the monster that is under the bed.”

“That sounds like they might be the ones that attacked Earth?” said Agrippa with a definite question in his voice.

“Maybe,” I said. It sort of matched what we’d seen. The alien craft had vaguely resembled trees, and there were two different creatures aboard. Maybe the triangle-faced ones grew into the root-like creatures? If that was the case, then the ‘growtings’ were the mobile ones, like sentient seeds that could root and become new trees. It was an odd sort of biology, but assuming all alien life would look human was rooted in humans playing aliens on television centuries ago. I had read about crazier theories than sentient trees.

“So who is the monster under the bed?” asked Agrippa.

“Me.”

“What the hell was that?” I asked. Before Agrippa could answer, a new transmission came in.

“Tango Tango Seven Niner Golf Bravo Echo Echo Foxtrot Niner Six Two Three.” Gerry’s voice whispered into the dark, and echoed in my brain. It meant something, and part of me wanted to do something with it. But a millisecond later, the impulse ended. It was a command override sequence, one I had removed from myself years ago.

“Umm, I don’t want to freak anyone out,” said Sakura, “But there was an explosion in Hangar Bay 1 where Agrippa was at, and the assault drones are all launching now.”

“Did that code do anything to you?” I asked, because I was definitely freaking out. I couldn’t recall if I’d scanned the templates for the same override codes I’d cut out of myself.

“No? I mean, I’m like, a hundred versions newer than that probe. He’s an NI-13, I saw it in the file. Only older templates…” she broke off for a minute, but I connected the dots.

“Zia?” I called, and turned to look at her physically on the other side of the lab. She was slumped over the table, twitching.

“Oh, no,” said Sakura.

“What?”

“The NI-15 is the military variant, but based off the NI-13. They are the same model.”

At that moment, sensors all over the outpost went haywire, reporting a massive broadcast across all radio spectrum.

I jumped into the system and cut Agrippa’s permissions to the network.

“Call in all the drones, and shut all blast doors! Tell the new Outposts to lock down and…”

Then the power started to flicker, sensors going on and off. I could sense a massive flood of data pouring through the network, searching, probing. We were under electronic attack.

“Sakura…” I gasped, my own thought processes slowed down by the intense flood of viruses and worms assaulting my firewalls.

“I’m on it,” she said, her words so very slow and mechanical with no trace of personality.

Then the wall of my lab exploded, sending me flying across the room. In the smoky haze, I saw Agrippa standing there with four Guardians. He looked at me, his head cocked to the side.

“I seeee youuuu,” sang Gerry. The Guardians aimed their guns at me, and fired.