Event Horizon (Hellgate) (101 page)

The screen had been idling with ship data, and now brightened with a catalog-style presentation. Travers had touched down on many worlds where native forms had survived. He had seen fifty-kilo insectivores that mimicked rocks and fed through scores of gaping mouths like mouse holes, across which sticky webs were spun to catch prey; he had seen ‘birds’ with leathery wings, that birthed larval young which were carried in pockets in their throats until they matured into perfect miniature copies of the parents and flew right out through the open beak; and a colony creature comprised of ten thousand parts, all of them mobile, which hunted by scent in the permanent twilight on the terminator of a world in captured rotation, and could pare a man down to bare bones in minutes. Startling creatures were commonplace on worlds like Jagreth, which were sufficiently earthlike to require very little terraforming; and they abounded on worlds so different, so venomous, humans and Resalq passed them by.

Zunshu 161-D was suspended between those poles, and its indigenous life was odd indeed. It flew, it swam, it crawled on the surfaces of hundred-kilometer rafts of some stuff like slimy moss, which clumped together in profusion over the rich, warm updrafts from the planet’s hot depths. Avian forms the size of the Capricorn glided through the high atmosphere – hollow boned, with hydrogen bladders giving them buoyancy as they hunted other, smaller ‘birds.’ The smaller forms lived in the transition zones where gas became liquid; their emerald green skin was pockmarked with breathing holes like a dolphin’s as well as gills like those of a basking shark, allowing breathing function to alternate as they dove to hunt and rose back up out of the liquid water with jaws heavy with prey. Great schools of bony ‘fish’ jetted through the ocean with six tentacles probed forward and ridges of muscles pumping water through the hollow tubes bisecting their bodies; shadowy hunters preyed on them from the seething depths of the ocean, where sulphur, calcium, carbon, iron, copper, ammonia, were suspended in great swirling storms over the hot updrafts.

And the waters teemed with tiny krill at the bottom of the food chain, microorganisms breeding in profusion in the deeps, where the planet became ever hotter, until at last life was absent. Between the hot depths and the high, transitional ‘fog’ zones, rafts of algae gathered in vast pastures, often several hundred kilometers across – live and slimy on the surface, dead and congealed toward the middle. Creatures grazed on the lighter surfaces, where sea grasses, sponges and soft corals rooted in. The dark undersides of the enormous rafts was a different world, where eels and twelve-legged, hard-bodied, large-clawed squid fed on tiny
crustacea
, and molluscs spun the most astonishing shells Travers had ever seen. They were every shape, every color, reflecting the rich diversity of minerals with which this ocean was heavy – spirals, cornucopia, globes and cones, filled with hydrogen and carrying the creature in a graceful, effortless dance.

“That’s quite the biosphere,” Rusch remarked as Lai’a completed the presentation. “Biologists could spend a century here – I’d love to sample the local version of DNA.”

“Do you wish Probe 107 to take physical samples?” Lai’a asked. “The waters around the platform are not as rich as those elsewhere, and they are also contaminated with heavy metals, fuel elements and low-level radiotoxicity, but many bacteria, plankton and the hardier fish-like species are to be found.”

“Do that,” she agreed. “You’re still seeing no sign of weapons on the platform, Lai’a?”

“None. I believe Doctor Sherratt intended to make the point that this platform is the only location in the star system where
intelligent
life has been identified; it might not be considered strange for the planet’s defenses to be orbital, and ranged throughout the system – likely back as far as the Drift – while the home of the intelligent species is sacrosanct.”

“An intelligence that thinks like the Zunshu,” Dario mused, “might not be able to credit that an invader could get through their defenses. To them, the total annihilation of other species is acceptable – even desirable. Their weapons make them unassailable. Why insult your home by turning it into a fortress?”

“Then, the message they keep repeating,” Marin said thoughtfully, “is probably, ‘Don’t shoot, we’re unarmed.’”

“And we want to be saying, ‘Put your hands up, come out and
talk
,’” Vidal finished. His brows arched at Travers and Marin, and then at Mark and Shapiro. “We all know what the bottom line is.”

First contact
. The words seemed to mock Travers, but it was Rabelais who said, “We always said we were coming here to nail the bastards to a wall and make them negotiate – tell us
why
. It would’ve been convenient to look at them on a screen, with functional comm, but it’s not going to happen.” He pushed away from the table and gave Mark and Shapiro a speculative look. “We’re going aboard, aren’t we? The only question is
when
? And I’ll be damned if I can see a reason to wait.”

Shapiro held up a hand to stop him, and Vidal and Travers. “Lai’a, report on activity, following the transmission pulse.”

“Nothing yet, General,” Lai’a told him. “Though it was boosted, it has not yet reached the heliopause. I can detect no activity in the inner system.”

“And you can make nothing of the signal?” Rusch mused.

“No, Colonel. I
speculate
that it might be a recall signal, summoning weapons which were deployed some time ago and are on station keeping in the driftways across Elarne. If this is the case, there will be a considerable time lag before those weapons can return to this system for assignment; nor will they arrive simultaneously. My ammunition stores are at capacity now. I am capable of eliminating such weapons as they are deployed. Additionally, I am equally capable of taking evasive
maneuvers
from the environs of the platform as from this orbit.”

It took a moment for the sense of what it had said to hit Travers, and it was Vidal who said, “You can enter the atmosphere?”

“Of course.” Lai’a actually sounded surprised. “Pressures and densities at the platform’s depth are insignificant; the ocean chemistry will in no way compromise my hull armor. However, the fallout from my transspace drive would cause devastation to this biosphere. The drive module can be undocked and placed in safe orbit, with a guard of gundrones, and I have already deployed the chain of Weimann-enabled sensor drones, as specified. They are currently being seeded back through the roads toward the Drift, and are online at this time. I estimate 18 minutes would be necessary for me to depart the Zunshu platform, return to this orbit and redock the transspace drive. The early warning provided by the chain of sensor drones far exceeds this period.”

“Well, now,” Mark said quietly, “this opens worlds of possibility.”

“Risk factors, Lai’a?” Shapiro’s face was masklike, but his eyes burned.

“Risks involved in undocking and redocking the drive? There are no risks, General.” Lai’a paused. “Likelihood of being caught unawares by incoming weapons before the drive can be redocked – less than one percent. Probability of the transmission pulse being a recall signal summoning weapons, 80%. Probability of those weapons reaching 161-D in the next six hours, close to zero. Probability of a manned enemy vessel dropping out of e-space at the edge of the exclusion zone – given what we know of Zunshu strategies – also in the order of zero.”

“Might weapons from the defense zones in the outer system be reassigned to this orbit?” Rusch asked shrewdly.

“No, Colonel. According to observations made upon entry into this system, those weapons are immobile – or,” Lai’a added, “they are like the gravity mine swarms defending the Deep Sky. They surf on gravity currents which, at the heliopause, are too faint to allow them to move quickly enough to render them effective. They would need to make contact with a ship of considerable size, and utilize its mass.” It paused. “There are no such ships in this system, save myself.”

“And we,” Travers said with an odd, icy calm, “won’t be giving the little buggers the opportunity.” He looked from Mark to Shapiro and back again. “You thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Window of opportunity,” Jazinsky said succinctly. “Even if they fully intend to pound crap out of us again, they can’t do it for hours –
six
hours, so Lai’a calculated, before we start looking at any significant odds stacking up against us.” She glared at the screen where planetary data continued to amass as Lai’a ran scan after scan and the drones continued to work. “There’s a big, wide window of safe opportunity, and we’re sitting in it right now.”

“We’re wasting it,” Marin observed. He passed a hand before his eyes as if to pull his thoughts into order. “If you’re putting it to a vote, I say go – now, while we have a healthy chance.”

“Zunshulite hardsuits,” Vidal rasped. “We go in armed right up to the teeth – undock the drive, leave it in orbit. Lai’a puts a docking ring on the likeliest part of the platform, and … we go say hello.”

“First contact,” Marin whispered, as if he could scarcely believe the words.

“Priority: find their computer core,” Mark added, “and put a line into it … and that, Dario, Midani, is going to be your job.”

“
Shitshit
shit
,” Dario hissed, “I need Tor.” His arms closed about his chest, hugging himself as he rocked. “I
need
Tor.”

“Tor being still in Infirm place, staying,” Midani Kulich crooned. He took Dario in an embrace. “Him being getting well, healing … Lai’a will soon be mending. But is you and me, can doing, this. Coming with Midani, being brilliant? Please, you?”

The convoluted syntax was odd enough to jolt Dario back to the present. His eyes were bright with tears as he looked up into Kulich’s face – the face, Travers thought, of the ancestral Resalq, which in its own way was alien enough. Dario scrubbed his palm across his eyes, gave Kulich a hug hard enough to make him grunt, and pushed away.

“All right, Mark. It’s me and Midani.”

“And me,” Jazinsky growled.

“No.” Mark was emphatic. “You have too much on your mind, with Richard in surgery – and you’re too likely to be trigger happy, after what happened to him. Sit this one out, Barb. Let me go in – I’ll take Dario and Midani to handle the technical work … Neil, Curtis and Mick for security.”

Shapiro took a step forward. “I should be there.”

But Mark’s head was shaking, just as emphatically. “Not until we can
talk
to them, Harrison, and we won’t be able to do that until we’ve established a connection between their computer core and Lai’a.”

“Dangerous, isn’t it?” Rabelais said doubtfully. “If they were ever likely to try an override, actually networking with the Zunshu AI would be like waving a red rag in front of a charging bull.”

“I am confident of my firewalls,” Lai’a announced.

“You haven’t had the chance to test them,” Dario said dismissively.

“True, but all we learned from the
Ebrezjim
suggests that if an override attempt were likely, it would have happened by now.” The AI’s reasoning was impeccable. “The
Ebrezjim
was overcome long before it approached the orbit of 161-D. No such attempt was made upon me. I am curious as to why not, but it is certain no answers will be found without direct contact with the Zunshu computer core. And,” it added, “I am curious to test the firewall. Since the beginning, Doctor Mark Sherratt has possessed the means to effect an emergency scram of my functions before significant damage can occur, allowing a restart when appropriate. At absolute worst, human transspace pilots can return this ship and crew to Hellgate. I have monitored the progress of pilots Vidal and Queneau, Travers and Marin. All are eminently capable. No further progress can be made without direct contact with the Zunshu, or with their computer core, and I consider the risk to myself manageable, and worthwhile.”

The words seared through Travers’s brain. Direct contact with the Zunshu. He looked sidelong at Marin, who nodded. Vidal was as sure as Jazinsky, Rusch, Shapiro and the Sherratts. He forced his mind back into focus, made himself listen as Shapiro said,

“Alexis, take Ops. Barb – run the datastream. Ernst, Jo, take navigation and flight control. Lieutenant Fargo, I want you to come into Ops and take over tactical. Engineer Fujioka – ship systems, engines and life support. Just … in case,” he added. “Lai’a, the
nanosecond
you perceive any
possible
attempt at interference –”

“I shall scram,” Lai’a pledged. “Control will be passed to the human crew until or unless the override threat can be identified and eliminated.”

“Good enough.” Mark took a breath, held it, let it out slowly. “As we’ve said, this is our window of opportunity – it won’t come again, and I’d say we’re on the clock.”

“We are.” Rusch clapped her hands sharply. “Stations, everyone. Lai’a – ten minutes to depressurization. Armor, people.
Now
.”

Chapter Eighteen

Lai’a, Zunshu 161-D

Every Tech screen lit up with red warnings and cautions as sixteen immense Aragos – each with its own generator, two backups, maintenance drones and handling crane – shut down. Marin glanced quickly at Jazinsky and Mark Sherratt. Their faces were bleak but Mark gave Curtis a soft assurance that the warnings were normal. Lai’a whispered a commentary as the transspace drive lifted out under tractors between four big, ugly industrial drones. The hull roasted with fallout, but a decontamination gang began to strip contamination at once, while Arago fields designed to hold off gravity surges from the most violent Hellgate storms wove a dense cocoon around Lai’a.

The sublight engines had already begun to thrum, and Marin took a last chance to give his bare hand to Travers for a moment before gauntlets and helmets locked into place. The soldier in Neil had reasserted. He had returned to source, falling back on what he knew, and no matter the rank they had earned, Curtis recognized the master sergeant who was the last commander of the
Intrepid
.

At a fraction the speed at which the Capricorn would have
spiraled
through re-entry, the ship dropped into the tenuous upper atmosphere. The high temperatures normally associated with re-entry barely registered, and if they had, Lai’a would have ignored them. It floated down with absolute stability, through ever-denser clouds of ammonia and methane, fluorine and chlorine, hydrogen sulphide, carbon monoxide. Woven Arago fields formed a bulbous ‘bow’ below and before the hull of the old super-carrier, and around it the atmosphere of Zunshu 161-D flowed as smoothly as the air patterns around a seagull hovering on the wind.

A storm the size of Velcastra roiled around the equator of the giant world; thousand-kilometer lightning forks arced and flashed – three times, Lai’a attracted them, and after the second strike it reported, “Capacitor banks are at maximum. Further lightning will be deflected.” Marin listened as the soft voice of the AI, with its long Resalq vowels, described the descent in terms of atmospheric pressures, chemistry, temperature. This was a serious planet, not merely massive – with a core compression-heated to furnace temperatures and, somewhere far below, a heart of liquid metallic hydrogen as hot as the surface of its sun – but also a chemical factory on a planetary scale. Every conceivable element was carried on the upwelling currents from depths as hot as the hell of myth.

Lai’a catalogued
aluminum
, palladium, rhodium, cobaltium, caesium, uranium, as well as exotic isotopes, and improbable alloys that could only be forged under incredible temperatures and pressures. 161-D manufactured them in a natural process, down deep, and convection driven by explosive storms in the lower atmosphere carried them up into the scalding, murky bottom layers adjacent to the more clement oceans where life thrived.

“This place is a technologist’s paradise,” Jazinsky whispered as the ship dropped through the complex pressure zone where gas gave way to liquid, and where the immense ocean of liquid water was suspended between the frigid upper atmosphere and the pressure cooker heat of the deeps. Vast pockets of oxygen and nitrogen created blue skies through which currents toxic to humans and Resalq wove fantastic colors and patterns. “I could spend a year here,” Jazinsky was saying, “just figuring out how this planet works.”

“Another time,” Dario agreed. “I’ll come back with you, if Harrison can achieve this armistice of his.”

Even then Shapiro was studying every aspect of the planetary data a layperson could grasp, struggling in a limited time to understand the environment in which the Zunshu had evolved. Knowing where they came from might afford a glimpse of how they thought – Marin hoped so, though for himself, he was conscious mainly of a leaden sense of foreboding as the ship levelled out, shed speed. Forward momentum fell to just a few meters per second; repulsion systems assumed station keeping, maintaining its position relative to the platform, against the cross-currents.

The transspace drive was parked in low orbit, surrounded not only by gundrones and sensor platforms, but by a swarm of gravity mines such as had destroyed the
London
and its battle group, and devastated the two fortified moons in this system. It was as safe as Lai’a itself, while a fraction below the ship, no more than 200 meters ahead, the platform remained utterly passive.

A pace at Marin’s left hand, Travers was intent on the navtank and Marin heard the soft rasp of his breathing, a sound of exasperation. “Like waiting for the other shoe to drop,” Curtis remarked to no one in particular.

“Every device we have is on standby,” Rusch told him. “If they show us a gun, there can be a howling cavity in the atmosphere where this object used to be, and a small chunk of super-compressed
stuff
dropping straight down to the core of this planet … gravity weapons,” she added, “are a bitch.”

“And who knows it better than the Zunshu?” Vidal said darkly. “They’re not going to hit us now, Lex – well, not unless they have this hypothetical doomsday weapon ready to come online. If they have, we’re history – but then, so are they.” He made a sound of bitter humor. “Mission accomplished: the Zunshu are obliterated, though they did it by their own hand rather than strike up a conversation.”

“Yes, well, I just as soon not be obliterated along with them,” Dario observed. “Mark – you seeing this?”

They had approached the platform from one of its shortest sides. The great shape was slowly coalescing out of the background murk of what was technically salt water, but so heavy with contaminants, Marin wondered how anything lived in it at all. Local species seemed not to notice the noxious pall – they might rely on it, he allowed. He was no planetologist or xenobiologist, but grade school kids studied creatures who breathed hydrogen, swam in liquid ammonia, metabolized rock.

The platform brightened in the wide discs of the floods from Lai’a, but beyond the lights it dimmed swiftly away into murk and twilight. The surface shone dully, with no specific color or shade. No edge was straight; every corner and angle was a smooth, organic curve, almost as if the structure were alive, or had grown here rather than being built. Vast swathes of the upper surface were dark with colonies of some dense, deep red kelp which whipped in the currents from the ship’s repulsion.

Enormous shoals of bioluminescent creatures raced away from Lai’a, riding the powerful bow wave as the ship cruised to a dead stop on complex Arago fields. Marin leaned closer to the display, the better to see and fully expecting searchlights to strike out from the platform, or a dock opening to launch a craft, a comm pulse, a gun barrel –
anything
to acknowledge the intruder’s presence.

Nothing. The Sherratts, Rusch, Jazinsky and Shapiro had gathered at the end of the tank, discussing options, ‘game plans,’ as Vidal called them, but the biggest challenge Marin perceived was the complete lack of any reaction at all from the platform.

“Lai’a, is there any change in their transmission?” Mark asked as the repulsion brought the ship onto station keeping a scant 200 meters from the structure.

“No change, Doctor,” Lai’a told him. “It is broadcasting from an armored node on the outside of the platform, not from a source within. Do you wish to announce our presence here?”

“Like they can’t look out a freakin’ window and
see
us?” Vidal was pacing. “Mahak, this is
wrong
. You know this is wrong. I’m starting to wonder if Neil’s right, 161-D has been abandoned. Maybe the Zunshu left for other systems centuries ago. We’re looking at a – a husk. This
can’t
be it … sure, it was their home base when the
Ebrezjim
got here, but – look at this!”

“I’m looking.” Mark was still, studying the graphical overlay Lai’a had projected into the navtank.

With greater resolution afforded by proximity, it was mapping the inside of the platform now – a labyrinth of compartments across forty distinct levels, some with fifty meters of open headspace, others formed like tokomaks around dense clusters of machinery which could only be the mechanisms of life support, power and data conduit. Structural members fanned in peacock tails, on wild diagonals, flanked by open tunnels which Marin thought might have been technicians’ spaces. At this level the infrastructure was semi-recognizable, though the closer one looked, the more confusing the details became.

In any comparable human or Resalq installation, decks would be designed according to ancient Euclidian geometry. Here, compartments more nearly resembled bubbles, and tunnels that might be engineers’ crawl-ways
spiraled
apparently without plan. A compartment might extend upward through five levels, and halfway through its soaring height, corkscrew through 90
^o
and head away, only to branch off into flocks of balloon-like satellite sections resembling soap bubbles, all jostling for space and changing shape as they were limited by major structural bulkheads.