The first instinct was to put the bullet points into my notes for Broadcasts 8-10 and leave them there, but I saw the opportunity to use the ideas for a short story. Will these characters appear in broadcasts 8-10? I'm absolutely certain most of them won't. One MIGHT come into play, but even that's not at all certain. Will the events in this story result in something important to characters in Broadcasts 8-10? Yes, but if you don't read this, you still won't be missing any important details.
Should you have read Spinward Fringe Broadcasts 0 to 7 and The Expendable Few before reading this? Some of what's in this story probably won't make sense if you don't.
With no further delay, here's the promised short:
The Atlantean Decision
A Spinward Fringe Short
© 2013 Randolph Lalonde
The leaf-shaped,
concave shaped Eden Fleet mothership reflected the blue light of a nearby star
as it lazily orbited amongst thousands of smaller Eden vessels. First Minister
Amo Tammen couldn’t look away from the tall display pillar in the middle of the
darkened Observer Chamber. The ships reminded her of the hanging ponds she used
to watch as a girl. She would sit there for hours as the living sculpture moved
around the building. The attraction consisted of large shifting globes of water
held in suspension fields around the Third Peace Museum. The globules would
join to form bigger ones, separating before long, mixing the hundreds of
glittering fish who made the living sculpture their home.
The remainder of
the Eden Fleet may have found their way to one solar system, a machine race
united, and a decision had to be made. “What is the consensus of the
Observers?” asked First Minister Tammen.
The ship they watched
from, The Atlantean, had the tools to disrupt the entire Eden Fleet if they
were gathered in one place. The fleet would shut down long enough for the
Atlantean’s weapons to push the ships into the star. Amo hoped the Observers
had come to the conclusion that there were other construction ships in the
galaxy. She hoped the decision could be put off.
Amo’s aide, Nero
Livingston, stepped in close beside her. She could feel that he regretted the
news he had to present. “They were holding off on declaring their consensus
until you requested it.”
“They waited for
me to be ready while I was waiting for them to come to their decision,” she
said with a half-hearted smile. “If we conducted ourselves with any greater
measure of civility, we’d cease to function.”
“It’s a gesture
of respect, First Minister,” said Nero.
“Let’s have
expediency instead,” she replied. “The Observers have come to a consensus,” she
said, provoking her aide’s thoughts to the knowledge she needed. She could hear
him thinking as clearly as if he was whispering in her ear. “This is the entire
Eden Fleet. They were doubtless when they told you.”
Nero nodded. “They
were. Every Observer agrees; this is all that remains. I’m sorry.”
Amo Tammen
allowed Nero to feel sorrowful for a moment before addressing him. Her gaze
returned to the countless ships orbiting the blue star. “You are sorry for the
consequences I face in making this decision,” she guessed. “But this is a
position you hoped I would be elevated to for nearly two decades. These are the
decisions of a first minister.”
“When you lay it
out so plainly, it makes me seem foolish,” Nero said.
“Not if you doubt
I’m the right person to make the decision.”
“You are exactly
who should be,” Nero replied. “I only cringe at the public backlash. If you
decide to let them be, to observe them from afar, then you suffer the ire of the
common people. If you decide to destroy them, you will lose the support of the
pacifist movement.”
“The pacifist
movement has been motionless for fifty years,” Amo replied. “That’s the beauty
of a successful pacifist. They rarely become restless.”
Amo could feel
Nero’s amusement at the comment, but there was an underlying sense of
impatience. He didn’t like suspense. “There are other groups who could align
against you if you decide not to destroy the Eden Fleet, there is no winning
here.”
“I am isolated
from the public so I can view them from afar, and make important decisions
without interference,” said First Minister Tammen. “A good thing when you
consider this has little to do with them, but their voices will be raised
nevertheless. Put simply: I’ll let you consider the politics while I look after
the rest.”
“So the will of
your people doesn’t factor into this decision for you,” Nero concluded.
“Not in the
least.”
“How can you say
that?” asked an indignant voice. It’s owner, Joola Whule, could be seen just
past the edge of the viewing column. “You represent the Lorander Corporation
and its people in this, a matter of great concern.”
“This is a matter
of great concern to the Lorander people?” Amo asked, amused. “How? Our colonies
have never been attacked by any part of this fleet.”
“What about the
military volunteers? Many thousands have died,” Joola replied.
“They volunteered
to aid in the cause of people outside of Lorander territories, all of whom were
not wise enough to see how they could stay out of harm’s way. Their loss is
unfortunate, but it is no matter to me or the general populace.”
“It’s a loss of
life, and this fleet is the cause,” Joola replied, jabbing her finger at the
display column.
“A little girl
named Nora could also be blamed,” Amo replied. “The girl who was connected to
machines that kept her alive, but utilized her as an inexpensive computer. Now
she stands at the head of an entire people with a new face, a new name. They
call her Eve. Should we visit her world and murder her for dreaming this fleet
up so long ago? I’d say she’s the real cause of this, and a greater threat now.
What level of interference would you suggest?”
“That’s an
entirely different situation,” Joola replied. “These ships could turn on any
people any time, even the Lorander worlds.”
“That’s not the
common opinion from your fellow Observers,” Amo replied. “Most of your council
believe they are simply in the process of deciding what to do, there have been
no attacks for some time now.” The hostile emotions she felt coming from Joola
told her that, while she was winning the argument, she was heightening the
Observer’s irritation. “I hear your concerns, and I know you believe our people
are entitled to a referendum on this issue. The military and social collective
have both put the matter in my hands instead. I’m afraid that’s where it rests,
and the time for deliberation has come to an end.”
“No one wants to
take responsibility for this decision,” Nero said. “So they burden her.”
“I’ll make sure
the collective is aware of how burdensome your decision-making has become,” Joola
Whule said, straightening her loose overcoat and sitting down.
Amo Tammen took a
moment to block the emotions rolling off the woman and regain her composure
before looking back to the imaging pillar. The ships continued moving in a
peaceful orbit, glittering like shards of diamond and silver. When she was
certain her mind was clear, she began to consider everything she knew about the
machines. The large chamber was silent as twenty people sat around the bright
viewing pillar. She knew most of them were directly connected to the social
collective, a link she cut when she began her journey as an empath. The silence
was a blessing to her, but it took discipline to keep the emotions and thoughts
of those silent watchers out of her mind.
Amo was thankful
that it came easily that afternoon. She lowered herself onto the floor, where
she sat cross-legged. The decision was coming. There was only one option she
could feel satisfied with. It was time to start thinking aloud for the record.
“If only I could hear their thoughts. The transmissions we intercepted between
Eve and the Eden Fleet revealed such an odd collection of difficult emotions. I
could explore such a mind for years.” She looked to the data readout running
along the bottom of the display. There were millions of short-ranged
transmissions going on between the serine vessels at the centre of the solar
system. “They are having their own congress in a language our best software
can’t decipher. Any communications with them haven’t earned a reply, so there’s
no asking them about their leaning. From what we’ve learned about their
emotions, we can see that they feel differently, but the categories, the basics
are the same. A machine that can feel angry, that can feel lost, can also feel
longing and hope.”
Amo Tammen
recalled the recent passing of her parents. After ninety-three years together,
and over three hundred and sixty four years of life between them, they decided
it was time to conclude their lives together. While she understood their
decision, and was in awe of the peaceful passing they chose, Amo could not help
but feel lost the instant they were gone. She was a person who embraced what it
was to be human and the quest for peace at the same time. That calling had
prepared her for many things, but the rudderless sensation of being an adult
orphan was not one of them. The memory of watching her parents’ life signs fade
simultaneously as they held each other was over twenty-four years old, but it
still felt fresh.
“They must feel
so lost,” she said, allowing a tear to roll down her cheek.
“Abandoned by
their leader,” Joola said from where she sat. “That’s how they see it,
according to a recent transmission. They must be angry.”
Amo shook her
head. “No, they were made to defend something. Deciding on a new target to
protect should be easy for them. They would not be here, so far away from the
Eden system and the settled worlds, if they were furious. This is a sign of
confusion, indecision.”
One of the other Observer
Council members looked to Joola and shook her head. “Don’t interfere, please.
You will be censured. There is no excuse for your conduct here.”
“I’m not going to decide their fate,” Amo
said. “Send them a data capsule with our observations of the Sol System, Eden
System, Regent Galactic worlds, the Edwin Cluster, and the Fornax Dwarf
Galaxy.”
“Pardon me, First
Minister, but I must remind you that the Sol System is in a state of
deterioration. Axiology is being overthrown thanks to the impending Edxian
invasion and a fresh desire to have a hand in the fate of the local systems,”
said Krix Murrow, of the Observer Council. “Also, the Edwin Cluster has been
hardest struck by the Order of Eden attacks. They are in great need. Lorander
Corporation is still considering the thought of taking the cluster and
rebuilding.”
Nero looked to
the Council member then back to her with a raised eyebrow.
“Prepare the
capsule,” Amo confirmed. “Ensure that there are no actual instructions attached
to the information.”
“What is your
intention here, First Minister?” pressed Krix.
Amo watched Nero
close his eyes and arrange the information package using his uplink. The
Council as a whole would feel entitled to an explanation, so she decided to
offer one. “If this fleet requires a target to protect from its own
inhabitants, the Sol System is a perfect candidate. The new Sol System war is
born out of a fundamental disagreement that’s dividing families and territories
alike. At best they are facing a new exodus. At worst, war could break out, and
that is a possibility according to the Citadel agent we captured on Izila. The
Eden System is a death trap, but if this fleet wants to end their existence,
which is unlikely, it’s the ideal place. Most importantly, the general populace
of the Milky Way are accustomed to avoiding the Sol and Eden Systems, making
them ideal destinations for this fleet.”
A clamour of
protest rose in the room, and Nero silenced them by rising to his feet.
Christopher Garrow, the Council Chairperson, spoke for his fellows. “The Sol
System is precious, and we haven’t subjected the Eden System to close
observation. We are missing so much information about the development of the
Eden Fleet that we could discover from what remains there.”
“The meek that
inherited the Earth and restored it are on the verge of destroying it once
more. When people turned towards the Sol System a century after the Departure,
it was only to discover that we were not welcome back,” Amo replied. “We were
told that we had forfeited our right to our homeland. Now they are a fractured
people, taking up arms against each other to fight over something as simple as
the right to open their gates. If the Eden Fleet decides to invade the Sol
System, it will give the people a reason to unite. A new council will form to
replace the members assassinated by Citadel.”
“They could be
annihilated if they don’t unite to defend themselves,” Christopher replied.
“That’s a
possibility I can live with. The Sol System has lived for too long behind a
shield of paranoia and greed. In the beginning, their self-imposed isolation
made sense, but the people of the Milky Way have changed. Earthling thinking is
as alien to the common people of the galaxy as we are to the common Lorander
soldier. Do you have other issues with my decision?”
“The Edwin
Cluster! Why point them in that direction?” demanded Christopher.
“To provide a
ready target for a set of instincts we have yet to fully witness, but I believe
the Eden Fleet has. This fleet of beings are incredible builders, as well as
preservers, and our analysis tells us that they are capable of rendering
medical assistance to people in need. If a need to make reparations is within
them, the Edwin Cluster is the best place for them to start.”
“What if they
decide to wreak further destruction?”
“I doubt they’d
begin in a place they’ve already razed, and you’re intelligent enough to see
why,” Amo replied. “Why aren’t you objecting to the idea of sending them
information about the Fornax Galaxy?”
“That’s the only
option that makes sense,” Joola said. “I’m sure they’ll begin their journey
right away if they’re capable of feeling curiosity.”
“Because our expeditions
discovered three distinct races of machines there,” Amo replied. “You forget –
from the Eden Fleet point of view, everything is a machine. Humans are a race
of parasites on worlds that are natural machines, worlds are part of a solar
system, also a machine, and so on. There is a possibility that our records of
Director Nine or the other mechanic races won’t seem special to them at all.
They may seem too easy to understand, boring.” Amo stood and slipped her hands
into the sleeves of her modest dress before regarding the distant fleet
depicted on the imaging pillar. “These are all what-ifs and why-nots that could
be for naught. They have access to so much information already; who is to say
that our capsule won’t go ignored and they continue deliberating without
considering my interjection? That’s the most likely outcome, a completely
dispassionate reaction.”
“So this is your solution,
then? Take the most passive act?” Sarah asked.
“This is anything
but passive,” Amo replied with a chuckle. “If they take this capsule too
seriously, their gaze will be drawn to Lorander again, and they may decide to
examine our culture of harmony and exploration to an extent we find more
intrusive than we can bear. We will be exposed the moment we launch this
capsule.” Amo turned to her aide and nodded.
Before anyone
could object or question further, the capsule was launched from one of the probe
tubes aboard the Atlantean. Everyone in the Observer Chamber watched silently
as the capsule was collected by a single Eden probe bot. The readout at the
bottom of the display pillar made it clear that the data in their package was
being read.
The probe bot
released the capsule and hung motionless in space for a long moment before
returning to the massive fleet in orbit behind. An instant after it arrived in
orbit around the blue star, a ripple moved through the entire fleet, and the
mothership pointed away from their fiery host. The Atlantean shuddered as wormholes
were generated almost too near their port side.
“Battle
stations!” cried one Observer Council member.
In scant seconds,
the entire Eden Fleet was gone, and the wormhole disturbance was gone. “I’m
thankful you’re retired from the military, Ugo,” Amo said as she watched the
tracking data crawl along the bottom of the pillar display. “We’ve suffered no
damage, we were only in their way.”
“Where are they
going?” asked Joola.
Nero selected a
tiny burst of data from the Eden Fleet and made a familiar, satisfied “ah,”
sound that Amo had come to enjoy. “They sent us an image,” he said. A red cross
appeared in the middle of the pillar in the centre of a ring of text that said:
A COMMON FUTURE
“I can’t believe
it. They’re going to the Edwin Cluster,” Joola said.
“They will build
something unexpected there,” the First Minister said. “We should send an
observer ship to witness. I nominate Joola Whule to lead the mission.”
SPINWARD FRINGE IS A REGISTERED TRADEMARK OF RANDOLPH LALONDE
