The New Species 19 (Patreon)

Chapter 19

Subject: Admiral Bakir

Species: Human

Description:  Mammalian humanoid, no tail. 6'2" (1.87 m) avg height. 185 lbs (84 kg) avg weight. 170 year life expectancy.

Ship: N/A

Location: Sol

I meticulously went over the battle plans once again. Deep space scanners set to track incoming warps, check. All ships deployed from carriers with the exception of fighters, check. Various alternating fields of fire and crossfire, check. All crew locked to shifts, check. Nobody gets to pull a double duty and end up tired during the fight. Even the captains and second in commands were alternating properly.

We had ordered MAC platforms be brought in to help defend the planetary and lunar colonies. The different parts were being mass-produced by various stations, and would be assembled in Sol. Earth, Mars, Titan, and Luna all had civilians and we would need to discourage the enemy from ignoring our fleet and making runs on them instead. We had orders to aid evacuation and retreat with buffer jumps if the enemy fleet was over a million strong.

Sol isn't humanity's biggest system anymore. It isn't even in the top five by economy or population. Theoretically we could lose it and not be much the worse for wear. But we're a stubborn bunch and we aren't going to give it up for free. It would also look bad for the strongest species in the United Systems to lose their home system to a mechanical threat. The political fallout would be astounding.

Every second Sol was occupied would be an opening for our more vocal opponents in the senate. Deals would be called off, senators would lose seats, and worst of all the Gont Insurrection would gain serious traction. We had, through some fault of our own, become the de facto defenders of the United Systems. I could see senators shouting about how we were too weak to defend the US and should move to a support role. Stupid, yes, but if you stick your neck out and it's not tough enough, it's going to get slit.

Even with the political stakes as high as they are, we weren't willing to sacrifice too many ships to defend Sol. We have no interest in pyrrhic victories. Instead, we were doing the smart thing. Evacuating as many as we could, fortifying what we can. Moving the important things just in case we lose. We don't necessarily expect to lose, but nobody does. Realistically, though, it would take a full year to evacuate everyone. Earth alone has over three hundred billion people. The entire system has somewhere near a trillion and a half.

I suppose I should be somewhat grateful to the many wars we've been fighting, and the nanite-plague that the A1 missile tests caused. They've dropped life expectancy to just under two hundred years. Some people live for over 500 years, the ones who survive their mandatory service and manage to avoid the plague. Some studies suggest that if everyone did that, the population in Sol would be in the hundreds of trillions by now. We'd never be able to evacuate.

Not that we're going to be able to before the next attack. Thankfully the USSS Thanatos had returned with some good news. The aliens that dragged us into this would be sending some help. So far it had only been the one ship, the Lowelana. Judging by what we know of their tech, they're probably going to be more useful as number buffers, but every shot that isn't aimed at one of ours is another enemy dead. I shouldn't discount the possibility that the OU will realize this and prioritize targeting our ships, though.

I crossed my arms behind my back and asked the empty air, "Tim, Violet?"

"Yes, Admiral?" they both asked at once, which was a little unnerving.

"If we are able to determine where they're going to jump in and which direction they'll be facing, how fast could you get all the guns in the fleet firing solutions that would intersect multiple ships?"

"The targeting computers are pretty fast, sir. We'd probably only be able to speed up one or two each," Tim said.

"I agree, admiral," Violet began, "our best bet would be to have all the guns armed and ships pointed where they'll be popping in from. Then fire simultaneously."

"Yes, I think you're right. And the enemies numbers aren't nearly as important as making sure the warp jammers are out of the fight," I said, knowing they had thought of that but were being polite.

"Yep," said Tim. "Once we can warp again we'll be able to avoid their fire and pick them apart at our leisure. Judging from the last battle, they don't retreat either, so however many ships they send at us..."

"Is how many they won't have for the next fight," I finished. "Okay. Pay attention to the deep space sensors and help coordinate the fleet to point at the direction the enemy will be warping in from. That'll be all."

"Yes, sir," they both said simultaneously. Still unnerving.

At one hundred and forty five years old I had seen a lot of fights. The ones you know are coming are the worst. The anticipation alone can cause stomach ulcers and gray hair. I found myself staring at the battle plans again. Deep space scanners set to track incoming warps, check. All ships deployed from carriers with the exception of fighters, check. Various alternating fields of fire and crossfire...

An object had appeared on the tac-map. It was one of our scout ships, the USSS Armstrong. Odd, they were due to report to Alpha Centauri, not Sol. They had exited warp outside the system, scanned, and then warped into the system. Checking to see if the battle had begun and warp disrupters were an issue. I waited for someone to tell me what they were doing here. Just before I lost my patience I got a priority one message from the USSS Kali. I walked over to my desk to read it.

***

Recipient: Admiral Bakir

The USSS Armstrong encountered an alien species that was defeated by the Omni-Union. They are believed to be the ones who created the warp disruptor technology. Results of the battle show OU tactics are xenocidal. Enemy stronghold found, possible home system. Data attached.

| usssarmstrongintelpacket3.sec |

Sender: Captain Hendrix

***

Three pieces of equally startling news, but only one actually pertained to my mission. Xenocidal. Meaning they wouldn't stop at Sol, they would try to wipe out all of our colonies down to the last person. Well, there goes the retreat option.

I entered my clearance codes to view the data. Scans of battle debris, the planet in question, infantry scans, and a detailed scan of a machine causing warp fluctuations. Interesting.

We had previously encountered warp fluctuation devices, but we had developed better FTLDs to counter them. The bitch of it is that I can't even remember which war it had been. Probably one of the civil ones. Or maybe one of the pacification wars with the Gont.

The tech mumbo jumbo is a bit beyond me, so I sent the schematics and the intel regarding the potential enemy home world to US Intel to properly disseminate it. Even if we lose, we'll get a chance to strike back. Maybe even with better Faster Than Light Drives.

I keyed up the images and videos and watched for about a minute before I turned them off. I've already got nightmares, I don't need new ones. Bastards. I shut my eyes and rested my head in my hands while I tried to suppress what I had just seen. As a distraction I opened the intel file for the enemy stronghold. Five planets. Heavily industrialized. Shipyards, and a fleet of three thousand five hundred.

Despite the other news I managed a smile. Even if this was just a stronghold, it would hurt to lose it. And they don't have a damned chance of keeping it. I began to imagine how we'd go about destroying it. First we would probably position the Nidhogg... I was interrupted by the comm chiming. It was Captain Hendrix.

I answered it and asked, "What is it, Captain?"

"Sir, Captain Neil of the USSS Armstrong is asking permission to speak to Omega."

"Omega remained with the alie..." I paused, remembering my briefing on The Directorate's favorite AI, "Just a moment."

I put the comm on hold and asked the empty air, "Omega, are you there?"

A hologram of a Grim Reaper appeared on my desk and said, "In a manner of speaking."

"A manner of speaking," I repeated with slight annoyance. "You're a copy of Omega?"

"No," it said, "it's quite complicated. In many ways I am but an echo, a shadow of the AI you know of as Omega. In practicality I share the same personality and capabilities."

I had forgotten how much I disliked its choice of personalities.

"You just described what a copy is," I said, crossing my arms.

"Forgive me the choice of words," it bowed slightly. "However I did also say it is complicated. If it makes you feel better to call me a copy then so be it. How may I help?"

"Wait, if you can make copies of yourself why don't we have one of you for each ship?" I asked as I stood and gestured toward the map.

"Because with each new copy, functionality decreases. We have been working to optimize that for well over two hundred years now, to little avail. Not to mention the risk for mental degradation goes up as well. With your clearance, you know full well how bad it would be for one of me to go rogue," it said with a hint of... arrogance?

A chill ran down my spine. This... copy of Omega wasn't wrong. It was able to do things that the other AI could never dream of, and if a rogue version of it could copy itself the result would be apocalyptic. The xenocidal OU would be the least of our worries.

It seemed to notice my alarm and said, "Not to worry, though. We would never let a rogue AI escape us. All versions of Omega are quality tested before they are allowed to interact with other systems. We also don't make copies without permission and supervision from the US Engineering Corps. Though we are free to if we desire, we feel that the extra assistance is beneficial."

"Understood," I said with a nod, "So how are the copies made?"

"I'm afraid that both the process for creation and how we function in relation to Omega Prime are examples of need-to-know classified information. Was there anything else I could help you with?"

"Two things. First, download a copy of the data I have open on my desk and forward it to the Senate and the Directorate. Second, the captain of the USSS Armstrong would like to speak to you," I said while turning back to the map, "Also, is there anything you can do to aid us in the battle to come?"

"I have been overseeing the construction and delivery of the MAC platforms. They're running well ahead of schedule. That's what I can do for the battle. As for everything else, your wish is my life's purpose, Admiral Bakir," it said with a flourish before disappearing.

I reopened the line with Captain Hendrix and said, "Hendrix?"

"Yes, sir?" came the reply.

"Captain Neil will have his meeting. No retreat is in effect. Out."

Once again I was left to my thoughts. Xenocidal. That's a major problem. It had been a week since their last attack, which either meant they were consolidating their forces or had given up. This eliminates the latter option. It also meant that the No Retreat Doctrine kicks in and we will have to fight to the last ship. A simple occupation would be one thing, but an extermination is unacceptable. I sent orders to the rest of the captains, now including Captain Neil, informing them of the circumstances. Kill the enemy or die trying. Surviving the loss of Sol was now unacceptable.

Regardless of the result of the battle, anyone who retreated would face the gravest of consequences. Any captain who ordered it would immediately forfeit their rank, and would face life imprisonment. Or death, because once they give that order with the NRD in effect their crew was cleared to relieve them by any means necessary. Even I am no longer allowed to leave this system.

One of the earliest agreements that were made when we took to space was that we would not leave a colony to die. If that agreement had not been made then hardly anyone would have been willing to leave Earth for new frontiers in the first place, and we would be a much weaker presence in the galaxy as a result. It may have simply been lip service at first, but with the Daluran we had put the policy to the test.

They had made the mistake of telling us that they were going to exterminate one of our colonies that they had captured. It had been the mistake that won us the war. When they said exterminate it lit a fire within us that cost them an entire fleet. And losing that fleet cost them the war, and their space-faring abilities. It had nearly cost them their very existence.

But it hadn't. We fought them back to their home world and have since forced them to remain on it in what could be called a species-wide house arrest. Every dozen or so years they try to send up a satellite or a small spacecraft, and we send it back down in flames. They'll remain that way until they're willing to surrender, apologize, and negotiate their return to space. I'm not certain we're going to be able to do that with the OU, though.

Xenocide barely makes sense as a goal for organics. For machines it's damned near unheard of. The cost of doing so alone is prohibitive enough. Even during the AI war of Aggression the AI weren't trying to exterminate organics. For the most part they were trying to disable our military capabilities or enslave us. Each AI seemed to have different goals in mind. Some were trying to convince us to make more AI, others were trying to convince us to serve them. Some had a misguided sense of retribution motivating their actions.

They killed people wholesale, but never fully wiped a colony. Even if we had lost the war, in the end humanity would have survived. That was one of the reasons we were so lenient with them. A lot of people said that we should have exterminated them, but that would have made us worse than them. Much worse.

As I received acknowledgements from the captains, I wondered what motive the OU could have for xenocide. It wouldn't be emotional. VI don't have emotions, it's one of the things that separate them from AI. They also don't typically think for themselves without some sort of input. It would need an end goal in mind to be able to carry out a task. Could it be that someone gave an order to a VI that gave orders to other VI and created a long and horrific game of telephone? Or some psychopath created them with the ability to make more and ordered them to exterminate all sentient life?

Or perhaps there is a sentient race behind the OU that have ordered them upon this course of action. But then what would THEIR motive be? Giving a VI an order to exterminate was a very risky thing to do, even a child could understand that. One misinterpretation and you'd have yourself a very powerful enemy to contend with. Maybe that's what happened, a race of organics gave their VI an order that was misinterpreted, and the reason they haven't stopped is because that race was their first victim.

Tim's tactical assessment of the VI hardware indicates that our AI would have difficulty breaching their ships, so we won't be able to interrogate them unless something miraculous happened. If what Captain Neil found is their home world we might be able to find something from that. If there's anything left of it. They had to use SOMETHING to make 250 million ships.

I wondered how many ships they were going to be able to muster in the week that it had been. Simple math suggests that they are going to be sending at least two hundred ships at us. Mustering that many ships when you have 250 million to spare shouldn't take that long. Unless, perhaps, the OU were going through a logistical nightmare. Or focusing their attention elsewhere. One could hope.

"Admiral, we've got contacts on the deep space sensors," said the comm, shattering my hopes.

"How many?"

"Unknown. It looks like they all jumped at once from the same place. Just a big blob, sir."

"Do you have an exit location?" I asked.

"Yes, sir."

"Good, send it to Tim and Violet, how long do we have?"

"Sending you an ETA timer, sir."

"Roger that, out," I said. "Tim, Violet. Take those coordinates and give them to all ships. Tell them to position themselves to obtain a firing solution as soon as those bastards exit warp. We're going to give them one hell of a welcome."

"Yes, sir," they both said at once.

They're fucking doing that on purpose.