Roboteer (48 page)

Gustav’s hackles rose. That was a little too close to the truth for comfort.

‘It doesn’t have to be like that,’ he said.

‘Doesn’t it?’ said Monet. ‘Thanks to technology, we live in a time when one ignorant man has the power to destroy millions with the flick of a switch. And unless human nature changes, there will always be powerful people who choose ignorance.’

‘You’re wrong,’ said Gustav bitterly. ‘It’s poverty that creates fanatics, not human nature. And it’s inequality that causes poverty. The genetic modification you’re talking about
is
inequality. It binds inequality into our very cells.’

‘Then how come Galatea hasn’t destroyed itself in a blaze of injustice?’ Monet demanded.

‘Because it’s
rich
!’

It was Monet’s turn to laugh. Once again, Gustav considered killing him.

‘Galatea’s not rich!’ he jeered.

‘Isn’t it?’ Gustav snapped back. ‘How else would you describe a world where everyone has more food and living space than they can possibly use? Where robots wait on you hand and foot!’

‘I’d call it desperate. On the world where I grew up we
had
to cooperate because the alternative to pulling together was death for everyone.’

Gustav’s almost spat his reply. ‘You naïve little man! What do you suppose the Earth has been like since your ancestors left it to rot?’

‘If it was so damned bad, why did your people build warships the moment you pulled yourselves together?’ Will snarled, his hands shaking. ‘Warships which you used to attack worlds that bore you no ill will.’

‘To break the cycle of poverty! Or are you going to tell me that Galatean traders had no intention of exploiting our population?’

‘Yes!’ Will shouted, his face red with anger. ‘What the fuck would we want the Earth for now? You left us in the fucking lurch back when you started murdering each other and we learned to do things for ourselves. There’s
no one
on Galatea who’s interested in exploiting the Earth. We’re too busy trying to stay alive. Earth and Galatea are
not
the same. Your air never ran out because someone forgot to close a valve. You never saw a city crushed to death in a sandstorm. The Earth is still cosy enough for you to squabble over it. Your supposed suffering stems from the fact that you let people believe in
bullshit
without suffering the consequences. Well, guess what? Game’s over.’

‘Yes! The game
is
over, Mr Monet,’ Gustav shouted back. ‘So at least have the courtesy to admit the real reason why you’re going to take over the Earth rather than blaming your actions on some aliens you have never spoken to!’

Will’s eyebrows shot up. ‘You doubt me? After all this, you still don’t believe in the Transcended?’

‘Would you, in my shoes?’ said Gustav, disgusted. ‘Where’s the proof? I spent two years studying the Relic and I never heard a word of what you claim. For all I know, you stole this ship along with that artefact you found. You ransacked the Relic and now you’re making up a convenient story to justify your revolting intentions.’

Monet stared at him long and hard. The silence stretched. Then the Galatean spoke again.

‘Give me that gun in your pocket, General.’

Gustav tensed. ‘Why?’

‘I want to show you something.’

Gustav pressed his lips together. It didn’t look like he had a great deal of choice. If Monet could scan him without his noticing, there were probably a dozen concealed weapons pointing at him right now. He slowly removed the weapon from his pocket and passed it reluctantly to the roboteer.

Monet took the gun. To Gustav’s surprise, the Galatean pressed the barrel against the tip of his own thumb.

‘Watch,’ he said, and fired. His blood spattered across the immaculate decor.

To Gustav’s astonishment, Monet’s eyes never wavered. No pain registered on his face. The roboteer held his ruined hand out before him. The top of his thumb was nothing but a ragged mess of blood and bone.

‘Look at it,’ Monet ordered.

Gustav dragged his eyes away from the Galatean’s fierce gaze and stared. New flesh was growing out of the ruined tissue at incredible speed. Gustav’s skin crawled as he watched the new digit swell and quiver. This was not the work of Galatean modding. This was something else.

‘They remade me, from the inside out,’ said Monet, tossing the gun idly aside. ‘
Now
do you believe me? Or are you going to convince yourself that I stole the means to rebuild my body, too?’

In a moment of ugly comprehension, Gustav realised that the roboteer had been telling the truth, at least as he saw it. The aliens really were on his side. Monet’s escape from the prison at New Angeles was suddenly a lot easier to understand.

But if Monet was to be trusted, that meant the suntap really was poisoned. And the Earth had been under threat from the moment he, Gustav Ulanu, had assembled the very first one. His mind cowered from the implications. Apparently his words to Rodriguez had been more pertinent than he’d realised. They were
already
at war with an advanced civilisation. They had been for years.

Gustav drew an uneven breath and met Monet’s eyes once more.

‘Temporarily, at least, you have convinced me,’ he said, as evenly as he could muster.

His mind struggled to create a more mundane explanation for the thumb. There were plenty he could think of – psychotropic drugs sprayed on him as he’d entered the ship, holograms, a prosthesis. None of them had the ring of truth. Why would the Galateans bother to arrange so elaborate a ploy? And none of them had known he’d bring his automatic on board. He had to assume the Transcended were real.

It was therefore also highly likely that Monet believed everything he’d said about their intentions for mankind. Peace through genetic engineering still sounded like a lie to Gustav. So what did they really want? Clearly, they weren’t bent on the destruction of the human race. With ships like this at their disposal, they could have achieved such a goal already. Nor did their intention appear to be to protect the human race, as the policy they were requiring looked certain to dissolve the definition of humanity altogether. They must want humanity alive for some other purpose.

‘Do you completely trust these Transcended?’ said Gustav.

‘No,’ Monet replied. ‘But I trust them enough.’

‘What is the purpose of all this modification?’

‘To evolve and join them.’

The roboteer reddened slightly as he delivered this line. He didn’t look that comfortable with the notion, either.

‘Those species they consider likely to survive they help develop,’ he added, sounding less confident than ever.

The skin prickled on the back of Gustav’s neck. That sounded a lot like farming.

‘I see. And did they tell you what kind of modifications we’re supposed to get?’

‘It doesn’t work like that,’ said Monet. ‘They didn’t intervene to tell us what to become.’

‘Yet they chose to communicate with you specifically, I gather.’

Monet nodded. ‘Yes.’

‘Because you’re a roboteer.’

‘I suppose so.’

‘So perhaps we should create a whole generation of roboteers?’ Gustav suggested.

‘Perhaps,’ Monet replied stonily.

The irony in Gustav’s voice appeared to have completely passed the roboteer by. A whole generation of autistic computer people for the aliens to tinker with. Gustav could think of nothing more likely to reduce mankind to the status of pliant machinery.

‘Did it ever occur to you that there must have been species that developed without external help?’ he said. ‘That you may simply have been talking to the biggest bullies in the playground?’

Monet grimaced. ‘Yes,’ he snapped. ‘Of course it did. But that doesn’t mean it’s true. For all we know, they could be the teachers, there to stop the fighting. But who they are is irrelevant. They hold the power. The role of humanity in this galaxy is about to change, and we all have to be ready for that. We have to stand together.’

Gustav nodded to himself. That much was evidently true. But to what end? In his experience, higher powers seldom had altruistic motives. It appeared likely that in their eagerness to win the war, Monet and his kind had delivered them into the hands of something vast and terrible.

Except that he, Gustav Ulanu, had started it. He was the one who’d gone seeking the secrets of the ancients. He was as much to blame as anyone. A tight knot of guilt formed in his stomach.

‘Forgive me if I am not filled with enthusiasm for the new golden age,’ he said, his voice less steady than he’d have liked.

‘I don’t care if you are or not,’ said Monet. ‘I just want you to help me bring the news to Earth.’

The Galatean was asking Gustav to inform his people that they’d failed. That despite all their efforts, they had overlords yet again. And this time they wouldn’t be as easy to topple as a few colony worlds.

‘The truth will be broadcast with or without your help,’ Monet said firmly. ‘The government
will
be changed. You have an opportunity to help make the society that follows it a reasonable one. The choice is yours.’

Gustav swallowed and shut his eyes. Nausea closed his throat. In all likelihood, Monet was asking him to usher in a new era of servitude. It went against everything he’d lived for.

‘I cannot,’ he croaked.

‘Fine, then,’ the roboteer snapped. ‘I’m wasting my time.’ He pushed himself up to the airlock. ‘Sorry we can’t see eye to eye, General. I’ll speak to you later.’

The airlock slammed behind him with a thud.

Gustav floated motionless in the centre of the room and concentrated on his breathing. He covered his face with his hands. He, Gustav Ulanu, had opened Pandora’s box. Perhaps it was fitting that he should be the one to tell the world what he’d done, though he knew it would break his heart to do it. The knot of guilt inside him swelled and festered.

Was it so wrong of him to have sought knowledge? Was it so wrong to believe that science and reason could save mankind? Even now, he found it hard to accept that ignorance would have been better. If curiosity wasn’t worth the risk, then his entire life had been a cruel joke.

Something nudged his elbow. He looked down and saw the executive automatic slowly turning there. Gustav grabbed it, flicked off the safety and brought the gun slowly around to sit against his temple. He didn’t believe in an afterlife, but still found himself
thinking of the things he’d miss. His work, mostly – those wonderful days when it felt like he was unlocking the secrets of the universe. Before everything went sour. He began to squeeze the trigger.

‘Please don’t,’ said a soft voice from behind him.

Gustav froze.

Monet drifted back into the room. ‘It’s not worth resorting to that.’

‘Isn’t it?’ Gustav said hollowly. ‘What exactly do I have to live for? I will not become a slave, and I would rather not see that fate befall my people.’

‘No one is going to enslave you,’ said Monet.

Gustav snorted in amusement. ‘Wait and see, roboteer. Power always comes at a price.’

The Galatean sighed. ‘Is it so hard for you to believe that the future might be good?’

‘A good future is a free one,’ Gustav replied. ‘In a good future, there are no monsters looking over your shoulder.’

Monet was silent for a moment. When he spoke again, there was contempt in his voice as well as pity.

‘We’ve never been free,’ he said. ‘And there have always been monsters. The only difference is that now we have to face them.’ He shrugged. ‘I thought you a rational man, General. Yet here you are, ready to end your life on the basis of a belief you can’t let go of, just like the rest of your church.’

Gustav stiffened.

‘Why don’t you wait around and see what happens before assuming the worst?’ said the roboteer. He turned and dragged himself back out of the room. The airlock closed a second time.

Gustav breathed deep. His finger tensed on the trigger again but this time he lacked the will to pull it. Will’s words kept ringing in his head. If Gustav lived and died for an unsubstantiated belief, in the end how different was he from Rodriguez?

He let the gun slip out of his grasp and tumble slowly away from him. He’d made enough bad decisions. Perhaps he should gather some more data before he made another. Gustav buried his face in his hands once more and quietly began to weep.

20:
ULTIMATUM

20.1: WILL

Ira brought the
Ariel Two
out of warp fourteen light-hours from Sol to survey their destination. They didn’t dare come any closer. As soon as the Earthers got wind of their approach, things would become complicated.

The home star hung dead ahead of them, an innocent-looking point of light, little different from the billions of others that surrounded it. Yet the sight of it deepened the mood of impending finality that already suffused the
Ariel Two
’s improvised bridge.

Nobody spoke. The import of what they were about to do quashed conversation. Inhabited worlds were eggshell-delicate things. If they put one foot wrong in the home system, they’d either plunge humanity back into war or perpetrate the worst genocide the human race had ever seen. Even if their mission succeeded, their mark would shape human history for centuries to come.

Hugo tuned the communication array to sweep for broadcasts from Earth. To Will’s surprise, what emerged from the cabin speakers was not military code but dance music. He shared a confused glance with Rachel before flicking his attention to the video feed. It showed people celebrating – millions of them, in rallies that spanned the globe. Apparently, as far as Earth was concerned, it had already won.

Will brought up another other channel to find footage of mass parties. Another showed speeches by jubilant subsect leaders. He flicked through the spectrum, finding the same pattern everywhere.

‘… usher in a new era of peace and order …’

‘… the Sons of Mao. Our only limit now is our imagination!’

‘… give thanks, and remember those who sacrificed their lives saving human space from the twin sins of capitalism and genetic fascism …’

Will found it all rather chilling and ironic. The home world still had no idea that Galatea had been freed. But then, of course, how could they? The
Ariel Two
had only just arrived, travelling at nearly twice the warp of any Earther vessel. The celebrations, he realised, had probably been going on for days.

‘I thought this might happen,’ said Ira, watching the feed with a sour expression.

‘Tang’s report from the invasion fleet must have triggered this,’ said Rachel. ‘He basically let them think he finished us.’

‘And why not?’ said Ira bitterly. ‘What was left? Saint Andrews, Destiny and Kurikov – three pitiful minor colonies who couldn’t even put up a fight if they tried. And the High Church doesn’t care that our Fleet got their evacuation arcs off in time. They’re stealthed and travelling at sub-light. Where are they supposed to go?’

He killed the audio and turned to fix Will with a grim stare. ‘Are you still sure you want to do this?’ he said. ‘This won’t be the same as retaking Galatea. Even if we’re lucky and they’re celebrating so hard that they barely notice us, this is Sol we’re talking about. We can expect more weapons, more panic and more hatred than you’ve ever seen. Twelve billion people are going to feel like you pissed all over their brand-new golden age before it even started. You need to be ready for that, because taking lives is not likely to be optional here. And even with a ship like this one, there’s no guarantee we’ll get out of here alive. We still have no idea what the
Ariel Two
can really do – or what its limits are.’

Will regarded the silent images of grinning faces and waving flags.

‘We have to do this,’ he said. ‘Who else is there? Humanity needs to know, and it won’t be easier later.’

Ira nodded. ‘That’s what I thought you’d say.’ He turned back to his controls.

‘Wait,’ said Will.

Ira shot him a quizzical glance.

‘I want Gustav here in the primary core with us.’

Ira’s eyebrows rose. ‘In here? While we face down the entire Kingdom? Are you in your right mind?’

‘We need him,’ said Will. ‘Who else is going to help us manage a peaceful Earth if we succeed – the Prophet Sanchez? And if this ship is damaged, our last line of defence should be protecting one core, not two.’

Ira sighed. ‘This is your show, Will. And you have a point, unfortunately.’

Will glanced over at Hugo to find the scientist looking at him with an oddly pained expression, his mouth pressed into a thin line. He looked away.

‘If he tries to stop us, I will kill him,’ said Hugo simply.

Ira snorted. ‘Not if I get there first.’

Will wondered who’d actually be most at risk when they were all in the same room: them from Ulanu, or Ulanu from them.

He called the general’s cabin. Ulanu looked up into the camera, his mahogany face as unreadable as wood.

‘I’m sending you a docking pod,’ said Will. ‘I invite you to join us on the bridge. I recommend not bringing your gun.’

Ulanu’s eyes narrowed. He stared at Will for a full twenty seconds before opening his mouth. ‘I accept,’ he said at last.

‘Thank you,’ said Will. ‘See you shortly.’ He killed the link and leaned back in his couch, hoping he hadn’t made a dreadful mistake.

Ten minutes later, Ulanu drifted into the core, escorted by two maintenance robots Will had assigned, just in case.

He nodded to Ira. ‘Captain.’

‘General,’ said Ira curtly.

‘We’re headed into the home system,’ said Will, gesturing for Ulanu to take a seat on the couch he’d prepped. ‘Do you have any recommendations for our approach?’

‘Of course,’ said Ulanu. ‘By coming here, you risk the vast majority of the human race. How could I not want to advise you? First, the Kingdom will not take you seriously without a show of force. Without it, they will assume that any video footage of your actions at Galatea is doctored and that your arrival is a desperate ploy. I have tried to think of a way around this, but I cannot.

‘Therefore you will have to make a point where they can see it. However, do it anywhere near Earth and you are likely to butcher millions. Do it too far away and it will take too long for the Kingdom to notice and respond. I therefore recommend the fleet shipyards at Ceres. The population there is tiny – a standard complement of fifty-five. However, the facility’s value to the Kingdom is enormous. The defences are formidable, though not on the scale that this ship has already faced.’

‘Why should we trust you?’ said Hugo bluntly.

Gustav shot him a dry look. ‘You don’t have to. I was asked to give my opinion.’

Will brought a schematic of Ceres up in his sensorium, borrowing security details from the database core they had taken from the
Nanshan
. He saw a dozen ships – three heavy cruisers and nine gunships – along with extensive drone support from silos on the asteroid’s surface. Before the
Ariel Two
, such a target would have been considered borderline suicidal. In the wake of Galatea, it looked like a couple of hours’ work.

‘What do you think?’ he asked Ira.

Ira snorted. ‘The Fleet have wanted to nail Ceres since the start of the war. It’s never been an option. It’s two-point-seven AU out, which means twenty-four minutes, give or take, for suntaps. That’s a long wait. But the major fleets at Earth and Mars won’t be able to respond in under thirty, which means we only have to take out local defences on our antimatter reserves.’

Will nodded. Gustav had chosen well. Ceres was big enough to get Earth’s attention, but empty enough to not make them look like murderers. He wondered if they could trust Ulanu not to lead them into disaster. There was no way of telling how much the General’s loyalties had shifted since their last conversation.

‘You’ve been thinking about this,’ he said, eyeing Ulanu’s impassive face.

‘How could I not? I have thought about little else since we left Galatea. The responsibility you wish to saddle me with is … unspeakable.’ A brief tremor of emotion curled the general’s lip. ‘So let us understand each other. My cooperation hinges upon two conditions. Violate them and I will do my best to destroy you.

‘The first is that I will not aid you in fighting my own people. I will not lift so much as a finger to help you kill Kingdom citizens, not even if my own life depends upon it. And I will not let you paint me as a traitor. Prior to our arrival at Earth, any statements of war you wish to make, you will make for yourselves. Is that clear?’

Will nodded. ‘I would expect nothing less.’

‘Secondly,’ said Ulanu, raising a single, quivering finger, ‘you brought me here to speak to the Prophet. That I will do. But we do it my way. Once you hand me control over communications, I expect no interference. None. Even if you do not understand my choices, you will respect them.’

‘Works for me,’ said Will. ‘If we’re going to trust you to handle Earth, we may as well start now.’ He turned to Ira. ‘Captain, I propose we lay in a course for Ceres.’

Ira regarded them both with a look of nervous uncertainty. ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘Let’s get this fucking war over and done with.’ He brought the ship back up to warp and took them in-system as fast as the
Ariel Two
could fly.

It was not lost on Will as they dived crazily sunwards that this was his first ever visit to the home system. Before him lay the setting for every adventure story that had shaped his childhood and every great event that had informed his civilisation. Yet there would be no time for sightseeing. He was not here to enjoy history, only to make it. And possibly, if things went badly, to end it.

He, Hugo and Rachel all anxiously manned the sensors, watching for signs of attack while the pull of warp pummelled them into their couches. Gustav, meanwhile, lay on his couch, his eyes screwed tight shut as if to block out his own role in the affair.

The closer they came, the more the
Ariel Two
’s velocity dropped as Sol’s radiation cluttered the enormous ship’s warp field.

Ira broke the hush. ‘Hitting sub-light speeds in ten, nine, eight …’

At sub-light, picking up a drone tail was inevitable even if they hadn’t done so already. Since the Drexler colony’s last desperate attempt to attack Earth two years ago, the home system had been littered with defensive munitions. There were millions of them, pumped out by automated factories. When
Ariel Two
slowed for orbit, they would catch up and smash themselves against the hull.

‘Disrupter cloud, dead ahead,’ Rachel warned. Will followed her marker and saw a billowing streamer of darkness stretched across the space before them, whole light-seconds on a side. That was the other issue with the home system: patrolling swarms of disrupters dumped smears of ionic crap at random intervals. While the chance of getting trapped in so vast a space was small, it still constituted a serious risk. Ira veered around the cloud, piling on the gees.

‘I’m seeing our tail,’ said Hugo. ‘Fifty-nine drones and counting. Our lead is at seventeen seconds.’

‘Another cloud,’ said Rachel. ‘Sending you the bearing.’

Ira veered again. Everyone in the cabin held their breath.

‘Lead at nine seconds,’ said Hugo. ‘Drone tail up to three hundred and fourteen.’

Will’s skin prickled with anticipation as they slowed towards Ceres. The approach seemed to last for ever. The drone tail slowly closed on them. He itched to act.

‘Closing on Ceres in five, four, three …’

Ira dropped warp.

‘Shields
now
!’

Will was already on it. The quagitators flared into life and wave upon wave of missiles erupted against the exohull in blasts of blinding incandescence. The drone barrage at Galatea had been nothing by comparison. Groans like some dying leviathan echoed through the ship as its entire structure flexed.

‘Exohull stability at eighty per cent,’ Rachel reported. ‘Now sixty-five.’

‘Firing suntaps,’ said Hugo. ‘Power in twenty-three minutes and forty seconds.’

The bombardment slowed and died in a final rumble of thunder. It took a full minute for the glare around them to fade. As it did so, the crew of the
Ariel Two
got their first proper look at Ceres.

Military engineering had transformed the asteroid into a dandelion head of orbital towers and construction frames. It was as if the tiny world had been taken over by enormous metal trees bearing huge surreal fruit. The fruit were starships. Will could see at least twenty under simultaneous construction.

‘Holy shit,’ said Rachel.

Galatea had nothing like this place. There’d have been no point – they didn’t have the crews to man ships produced in such quantities. It put in perspective why the Earthers had been so hard to beat.

Ira sent the shipyard a hail on the truce channel. An astonished face appeared: a jowly military commander in a black dress jacket pulled over a canary yellow casual one-piece. Will could see decorations hanging in the cabin in the background – flags in the colours of all subsects.

‘Unidentified ship!’ the commander shouted. ‘Who the hell are you and what in the Prophet’s name is going on?’ Outrage and panic were fighting for control of the man’s face.

‘This is the Galatean Starship
Ariel Two
,’ said Ira smoothly. ‘This facility has been selected for destruction to make a demonstration for your government. We are giving you advance warning to evacuate your staff and withdraw your defensive fleet before firing commences. We would like to minimize loss of life, so we implore you to take this recommendation seriously.’

The commander blinked at him in disbelief. ‘Is this a joke? Galatea has already fallen. Everyone knows this. The war is over.’

‘We liberated it,’ said Ira. ‘You have fifteen minutes to get your people out. Escape shuttles will not be targeted. That is all.’ He killed the link and rubbed his eyes. ‘Anyone want to take bets?’ he said darkly.

Mere seconds later, the Ceres defensive fleet undocked and started to manoeuvre. At the same time, drones started pouring out of the surface of the asteroid in long streams.

‘I guess they didn’t need the fifteen minutes,’ said Ira.

He backed the
Ariel Two
away. The drones kept coming and coming until there were so many it was ridiculous. There were thousands of them.