Laughs sounded from Eliana, George, Suzanne, Mata Hari and Gatekeeper, while BattleMind did a dragon version of a ‘huff’ that involved bunching up its spinal armor plates.
Matt reminded himself that the T’Chak aliens, while appearing in dragon form to him, were sexually trimorphic, omnivorous, and their sexes came in male, female and neuter versions. Perhaps the dragon’s clasping of its two manipulator hands to its yellow-scale chest signaled a need for contact with a fellow T’Chak? A female perhaps? After all, even an alien with three brain clusters could feel emotions.
Maybe, just maybe, Mata Hari’s emotionality growth was affecting BattleMind? He knew that months ago it would never have made any effort to shield him from its thunderous thought-flow. And while it spoke with disgust of its infestation by
organic lifeforms, he knew that his actions had helped it perform its Task assignment better than it could do on its own. After all, a single battle won does not make for success in a long-term war. But would there be any organic T’Chak still alive, perhaps in stasis, somewhere in the Small Magellanic Cloud? BattleMind had made that claim right after its defeat of the Anarchate battleglobe in Halcyon system. Perhaps there were survivors in the Large Magellanic Cloud? They would traverse the outer portion of the LMC on their way to the SMC. Perhaps they could visit a world inside the LMC and discover, what? Well, they would see whatever the future held for them.
CHAPTER
SIXTEEN
Two months later, Matt sat in the Interlock Pit with his organic and AI friends nearby, gazing at the incredible majesty of the Large Magellanic Cloud. Oblong in shape, measuring about 14,000 light years across, the cloud’s central bar and single spiral arm remnant were anchored by the red-glowing Tarantula Nebula at the far end, with a scattering of stars ranging from blue supergiants to red giants and millions of F, G, K and M-type main sequence stars at the near end. It had been a long trip along the Magellanic Stream, a journey of more than 160,000 light years to reach this outer edge of the cloud, before later following the neutral hydrogen gas bridge over to the more distant Small Magellanic Cloud. For now, though, he just wished to soak in this giant jewel box of whispy red clouds, blue supergiants, yellow Sol-type stars, white and yellow F and G stars, and the deep red of cooler, older M-type stars. While all such stars, gas clouds and nebulas could be seen in home galaxy, to see them in an array like this was truly magical.
“Beautiful,” whispered Eliana from her accel-couch nearby. “Does anyone know
where
in that immensity we will be heading? Where the T’Chak outpost is located?”
Mata Hari moved to stand beside Eliana, holding hands with a mellow-acting Gatekeeper. “We do. Gatekeeper and I, we know the location. BattleMind shared it with us just before we left Translation. It is presently focused on trying to detect tachlink messages from T’Chak worlds here and in the Small Magellanic Cloud.”
Suzanne brushed her yellow curls back from her freckled face. She squinted thoughtfully. “I thought the T’Chak only lived in the Small Magellanic Cloud. Is that wrong?”
“You are both wrong and right,” Mata Hari said with a soft smile, clearly enjoying
her new dress design by Suzanne that was based on a Croatian block-in-block motif. “Right in that the Cluster Prime of the T’Chak lies in the small cloud. Wrong in that the T’Chak Imperium expanded their colony worlds to include many inside the large cloud. When you are the sole intelligent species in the two clouds, it takes time to occupy millions of Earth-like worlds.”
“Sole species in the clouds?” George said, stroking his beard. “That sounds unlikely. Mata Hari, what is the source for that data?”
Matt’s AI partner looked to her newfound partner Gatekeeper, who had become more and more ‘people-like’ in his behaviors since joining their trek. “Maker of parks, I know only what BattleMind has told me. But you have studied the Anarchate memory crystal and also the backup memory module for our . . . director, the item BattleMind kept hidden from all of us until recently.”
The holo of a middle-aged Greek man who was clean-shaven, with
grey head curls, a squarish face and light brown skin, looked down at Matt then out to include everyone. “As Mata said just now, she is both right and wrong,” he said, his look that of an evening companion happy to be among friends. “The history modulus of the 94
th
Imperial Dynast of the T’Chak Imperium claims there are no other space-faring species in the two clouds. But it seems likely their definition of ‘intelligent species’ did not include alien lifeforms that existed only on a home planet. If they did not travel the star lanes, they did not exist.”
Suzanne sat forward in her accel-couch. “Did they kill everyone off?”
“Unknown,” Gatekeeper said. “But it is possible that in the 207,000 years since they were last heard from, that one or more planet-bound species has now achieved spaceflight. Including perhaps the Alcubierre space-time mode of travel.”
Matt had wondered about that T’Chak claim. “So, Mata Hari and Gatekeeper, we should be alert to the chance that other species may be able to detect our gravity wave pulse when we leave Translation?”
“Yes,” Mata Hari said, turning to look at the jewel box of the Large Magellanic Cloud. “And the first place to be alert is star system TC44391, which lies just outside the LH95 stellar nursery region. It is an F7 main sequence star that is older than the stars in LH95. The system has five planets, two of which are gas giants. Planet three was colonized by the T’Chak a half million years ago.”
Eliana tapped her armrest.
“Mata Hari, how far is that system from where we are now?”
“Seven hundred forty-two light years. Close in stellar terms,” she said with a shy smile.
Matt reached back and attached the optical fiber neurolink cable to the back of his neck. “Then I guess we should be heading that way. We can leave for the Small Magellanic Cloud only after BattleMind has a chance to inspect this planet and its automatons for news about his makers.”
A weak cheer sounded from his friends just before Matt submerged his awareness into that of the ship, Mata Hari and Gatekeeper, the distant purple glow of BattleMind, and the Alcubierre Drive modulus.
He avoided
ocean-time
and stayed within his normal neurolink. With a PET thought-image he moved them all into a new space-time universe that would last for the two days it would take to arrive at TC44391. He looked forward to escaping his tech-mech rapport and going for a swim in the lake with Eliana. It might be his last chance to claim normal ‘human time’ with his love. Once they arrived in the T’Chak system he suspected things would get confused, frustrating and perhaps dangerous.
George sat tensely in his accel seat, his attention focused on the
front holosphere that glowed just above Matt’s curly black hair. His hands gripped the couch arms as he tried to appear relaxed and calm for Suzanne, now sitting behind him. For her, for her peace of mind, he must be calm and confident. Like Matt.
Mata Hari
hung just outside system TC44391, its bright –yellow-white star occupying the center of the holosphere. They lay within the star’s Kuiper Belt of proto-cometary objects, stealth-shielded against all detectors thanks to the Alcubierre defense fields. After the Bogean Harmony surprise and the worry about new space-traveling species, Mata Hari and Matt had insisted on such a cautious approach. Before them the holosphere filled with endless historical readouts on the T’Chak colony world, and the ribbon of satellites and debris that circled the third planet. Once again Matt sat in the Interlock Pit, lightbeams invading his inner core.
In front of
George sat Eliana, watching the display from her accel-couch. She appeared somber and not fully rested, as if her night had been as disturbed as his. But she’d taken the time to brush out her waist-long black hair, apply rose-colored lipstick and change into a Vietnamese
cheongsam
style dress. During their shared group breakfast, she’d been friendly enough, though she had talked only of minor things. She and Suzanne both seemed aware that new unknowns could carry unpleasant surprises.
“Do not worry, dear George,” said the holo of Mata Hari as she stood to his left, still holding hands with the Greek gardener persona that Gatekeeper preferred. “Matthew and I have entered many systems this way during our years of Vigilante work. It is time-consuming, but wise to enter quietly an unknown place.”
Eliana looked back, her albino white face appearing tense. “But Mata Hari, you two have the historical records and images from the T’Chak History Modulus. Isn’t that enough?”
George had thought book learning sufficient, before he arrived at Omega and learned how vital it was to read the body language of a species, not just know its description.
Arriving here more than 200,000 years after the modulus had been created was the same. As Mata Hari patiently explained.
“My dear, this is not Halcyon or Galifray systems, where people visit often. This is an old, old star system that should be emitting a barrage of tachlink and EMF signals, like those we detected at Morrigan,” the AI said as she smoothed the chain-mail she now wore, with her sword affixed to her back. “Yet we discern no such signals.
We detect no starships. There are no mobile neutrino emissions, a reliable indicator of someone moving through space. Finally, the atmosphere of the planet does not show elevated pollutants, which accumulate even on a world where fusion power is primary. That says this is a tech-dead world. But
why
is it dead?”
Matt nodded even as his attention fixed on the holosphere. “I’m out of
ocean-time
, for now. And Mata Hari is quite correct. Our job is to visit that world and learn why it is dead. Or, why it
appears
to be dead.”
To George’s right, be
yond Matt, grew a purplish holocloud that grew larger until the twelve-foot tall dragon form of BattleMind appeared. The alien AI’s scaly black wings spread wide, its toothy long mouth party opened and the armor plates on its back and sides bunched together as if it too was tense. “There is no tachlink response to the code I have emitted. Any automaton of my like, or even a non-aware device, would respond. If there were power and if there was something able to respond. Let us proceed inward.”
“Agreed,” Matt said. “But we will dribble out SpyEye Remotes, sensorBeads, sensorProbes, and tachRemotes in case someone else enters space behind us.” His
left hand gripped his arm-rest and starship
Mata Hari
moved forward on its deut-li thrusters. Eventually they would reach one-half lightspeed, then reverse half way there so they could come into a high orbit about a world that glimmered blue from oceans, brown from deserts and green from scattered forests and meadows.
George looked back over his shoulder at his combat suit. Soon enough he would enter the suit and join Matt on any space or land foray that they undertook. He hoped that this time he would be a
s useful in spotting the unexpected as he had at the Trans-Galactic office. And he hoped that dead really meant dead.
Matt gazed at the planet below him in normal-time mode, the lack of any
activity by ancient comsats, habitat debris and a few polar orbit geosync satellites gave him hope that the planet below really was tech-dead. And while he now spoke and thought at human speed, the optical neurolinking lightbeams that caressed his skin in the Pit gave him backup as needed.
The silvery shine of giant cities spotted the planet’s various continents, even though green overgrowth had spread
little fingers down the transit routes of the radial design of each city. Similar metal reflections showed around large lakes, some high peaks and at the polar ice caps, indicative of a species that did not accept weather or geographic limitations on their life choices. After all, this was a colony world of the T’Chak, the perfect species, a species that was equally at home flying in the sky or treading along pathways between high-reaching buildings of stone, ceramic, metal and glass, each building a marvel of intricate design. Perhaps he would have liked meeting an organic T’Chak, if they could put aside the ‘we are perfect’ persona for a moment. This world suggested they had much to be proud of in how they lived their lives.
He looked aside at the somber dragon AI. “Well, BattleMind, where do you wish to go, or visit?”
“The city urbus beside that large inland lake, at the equatorial continent. The Planetary AI is always located in the Imperial Urbus of each planet. That urbus is below us.”
He spoke to Mata Hari both aloud and through mind-link. “Is
Ariadne
ready for our journey?”
“Yes, Matthew,” said his partner, still dressed in her chain-mail, leather skirt and steel
saber. Her look was somber. “And dear ladies, I know you wish to breath the air of a planet after three months aboard this ship, but let Matt, George, BattleMind and myself first establish the safety of this world below.”
“Damn!” muttered Eliana. “How did you read my mind?”
“Mine too!” said Suzanne with a sigh. “I don’t have those nanoBit computers in me like George does.”
Matt bit his lip to keep from laughing. Gatekeeper stepped back to view the other half of their crew. “Eliana and Suzanne, it is logical for a visitor to a new world to visit it. But George and Matt are now a combat team, well able to defend themselves. While you two may out-think our gentlemen, it is best for them to go first. Is that agreeable?”
He marveled at how the Omega AI was so incredibly diplomatic. Rather than give an order, it explained and asked for compliance.
“Oh, yeah, that’
s agreeable,” muttered Suzanne. “At least Eliana and I can see what you folks encounter thanks to the helmet cams of those suits you wear.”
All true, Matt recalled. He climbed out of the Pit, then looked at George. “Shall we suit up?”
“Sure,” George said, getting out of his accel-couch and then stripping off his shirt and pants. He headed for his white ceramic armor suit, resting against the back wall of Bridge, just like Matt’s own Suit. With a wave and a smile at Eliana, he too headed for Suit.
“Open.”
Suit obeyed.
It turned on waldo boots, bent forward, and split along its backspine, the rocket backpack hinging away as interlocking trapdoor plates opened in Suit’s midback—much like an antique zipper. Matt stepped into the tubular legs and pushed his feet
into transducer-lined padding. Mid-calf support struts locked around his shins, then others about his thighs, ready to magnify every muscle twitch into a hyperkinetic kick-jump. He felt strong. From ten to a thousand times stronger than a normal human. Squatting, Matt thrust hands and arms into Suit’s outstretched armor-arms, felt similar struts lock-up, then ducked his head. He raised it inside the helmet and stood up straight. A rumble sounded from his back as Suit closed up, pressurizing its interior.