GENERAL WHARFEN HAD JUST COMPLETED HIS MORNING PRAYERS and was in his prebreakfast meditative state when an aide presumptuously entered the room, stood, and bowed slightly at attention.
The general sat there in the lotus position, then suddenly raised his head, and those large, black eyes opened in slow and dramatic fashion. The aide was quaking with fear and exuding respect and apology, but he stood his ground.
The general did not immediately speak; he thought first, which was why he was the general. Clearly the aide knew what intruding would mean, and he was extremely uncomfortable in doing so. Therefore, he was here because something terrified him more than the general’s wrath. The general was the highest ranking officer in the entire System Peacekeeping Forces, Chief of Staff and above even the fleet admirals. So, the general did not ask why he had been disturbed.
“Who?” he asked softly.
“A thousand pardons, sir. I would not—”
“Enough! Snivel later on your own time if you have any left! Answer my question!”
“A Val, sir. With the highest possible code.”
The general sighed, untangled himself, and slowly rose. “Very well. Ten minutes in my office. I assume I am allowed time to properly dress.”
“Y-yes, sir. I will inform it. Permission to leave, sir!”
“Go.” He got up and was at his dresser before the aide had managed to back out and close the door. The general was entitled to a valet, but he never used one within his personal quarters. Clean, press, and prepare, fine—but there was a certain level of privacy he would not surrender.
The general was a perfect specimen of humanity. He was, in fact, more than human, and he knew it. He, and all the forces under his command, had been genetically engineered and bred to be superior. Even the lowliest soldier, male or female, was a fighting machine who could not only accomplish great physical feats but was also of the highest intellect. They were born, bred, raised, and trained to be soldiers, absolutely dedicated, absolutely committed, and absolutely obedient—even he.
But, the fact was, he still didn’t like the damned machines and Vals in particular. They were, for all their massive design and inhuman appearance, far too human inside, and yet they were faster, stronger and possibly smarter than any human could ever be, which was why he disliked them. When one is as perfect as humanity could be, one does not like to look at someone, or something, that is even slightly better.
Still, absolutely none of the Forces would think of disobeying a Val with the proper codes and clearances, nor any command from Master System. Such a thing would be tantamount to a Fall from Grace. Not that he or anyone considered the machines, even Master System, to be gods; they were just machines, created by ancient human beings.
Humanity’s ancestors, back on Earth, had reached a point in their development where they could destroy all life, and the great minds who helped maintain their destructive system went to work building the greatest defense computer in human history, a self-aware and self-evaluative creation. With the knowledge that no one else was aware of their actions, they dared to program their creation to work out ways, any ways, by which the destruction of humanity could be prevented—and then to insure that humanity could never destroy itself again. And when that time came, and the computer seized control of all the Earth’s weapons systems and neutralized them, it took command. To save themselves, the political and military leaders obeyed it and carried out its orders. To fail to do so meant political death, at the very least, and replacement by more tractable leaders.
Inside the vast data bases of what was known only as Master System were vast knowledge and incredible new discoveries. Humanity already had some interplanetary capability; to that Master System added the impossible—interstellar travel by “punching” a hole through space-time, pushing a ship across countless light-years under natural laws far different from those in our universe, then “punching” back through again. The computer flew the ships; the computer alone knew the charts and objectives.
In order to fulfill its primary program and still retain absolute control, Master System constructed great ships to take billions of humans to the stars, to worlds that had been partially or fully terraformed. The heart of the interstellar ships was a device known as a transmuter, the result of a failed theoretical attempt to design a matter transmitter. Tremendous energy was required to punch through space-time, and using huge ramjets, the transmuter could convert thousands of tons of rock from the solar systems they visited to energy and store it in adequate quantity. The transmuter however, could not use this fuel itself. The only fuel a transmuter could use was a complex compound based upon an ore that formed only under certain geophysical conditions in certain solar systems—the ore murylium.
Master System charted the universe and discovered sufficient quantities of murylium for its needs. It built automated mines and factories out in space, supplied by a network of automated interstellar freighters. With bigger and more efficient transmuters Master System partially terraformed all the worlds it needed, then matched a large group of Earth-humans with each world, and transmuted them to those forms that could survive there. It established four hundred and fifty-one “colony” worlds and in the moving process created four hundred and fifty-one new forms of humanity. Those millions left on Earth were relegated to museumlike reservations and held at a cultural and technological level approximating the year 1700. Certain individuals from each culture—the best, the brightest, the most ambitious and innovative—were given access to Master System’s technology. Working from hidden communities called Centers, they were expected to maintain the cultural level of the masses as it was, ignorant of the existence of a Center, or Master System. Only a few who lived in the old ways knew the secret; these served as field agents for the Centers’ administrators. The colonial worlds were also organized in this fashion, as were even the few alien worlds under Master System’s control. The system worked, but it had an uncontrollable side effect. In pooling all the brightest and most ambitious and skillful in small Centers with access to technology, it was inevitable that they would also find ways to beat the system. Master System allowed the Center personnel to think they were putting one over on the system they still faithfully served but to keep them honest and in touch with their cultures, all personnel were required to return to their native cultures and live the primitive life for a period of at least three months each year.
Master System had reduced, changed, and reseeded the human race in just under two centuries, and during that period a very few clever humans somehow managed to take control of some automated interstellar spaceships and fly them into noncolonial regions. Their descendants, the freebooters, provided the only means of contact between colonial Centers of different worlds and exchanged murylium and other exotic materials for access to data and technology that was beyond their means. The freebooters were useful at times, so Master System made a covenant with them, promising to let them be if they, on occasion, would aid Master System with information on illicit human activities of its far-flung centers. In effect, the freebooters became the four hundred and fifty-second colony without realizing it.
But Master System did not trust the stability of its creation, and so it constructed the Vals: massive humanoid robots with incredible mental powers and all the built-in tools and weapons needed to enforce Master System’s rule. There were, however, very few Vals, and they were generally person or mission specific; when their task was completed, they were erased and reprogrammed.
The supplementary force was the SPF: the System Peacekeeping Forces, human beings born and bred to be fanatically devoted soldiers and police—roughly a thousand troops for each race Master System ruled. All forces were under the command of the Supreme Chiefs of Staff, which now was headed by General Wharfen and which outranked any other Center. The SPF had been used many times in local situations, but never on a massive scale—until now.
Vals could sit but they almost never did. They were more than two meters tall, made of glistening black alloy in vaguely human form, but thick and broad in all departments. Except for their blazing crimson eyes, they were featureless, all their sensitive equipment armored and protected, but they moved with the ease and fluidity of a human, and they spoke in very human tongues.
The general did not salute or otherwise show deference to the Val; he knew such gestures meant nothing to the great machine and he was prideful enough not to bow to anything not human-born. The Val was a messenger and a tool, nothing more.
“I first require knowledge about the campaign against the freebooters,” the Val said in a pleasant baritone.
The general took his seat behind his desk and relaxed. Vals terrified many people but they were nothing to him. Only enemies of the system needed to be frightened of these creatures.
“We hit all three ersatz freebooter centers in a coordinated action. We had a few wounded and some equipment failures but no real casualties. Almost all humans present were either captured or, when that proved impossible, killed. We have thirty-four prisoners and they have undergone extensive mindprobes. From the Gulucha and Halinachi staffs we learned next to nothing, but Saarbin essentially surrendered without a shot and we have much information from them on the location of freebooter routes, camps, enclaves, and their capabilities.”
“Why were Gulucha and Halinachi so unprofitable?”
The general shrugged. “Gulucha’s entire staff blew itself up when it found its escape routes blocked and no other alternatives. The only ones left were mindless creatures—prostitutes, bartenders, that sort of thing. Mindless transmuter creatures, essentially. Halinachi—well, Fernando Savaphoong and his immediate aides escaped, and we have been unable to locate or trace them. It was inexcusable, although I must say this Savaphoong was very clever and seems to have been the only one to plan for such an eventuality as the collapse of the covenant. Colonel Wor Shu Op and his staff have apologized to God in any event.”
Even the Val understood what that meant. They were not executed—there was no reason to waste people that way—and they were not suicides. Rather, they had surrendered themselves and had been reprogrammed as basic troops. It was the ultimate humiliation for such as these, and that they had done so voluntarily because they were ashamed of their failure reassured the system of their absolute devotion.
“There is no sign of this colonization ship they control?”
“We have signs, but you know how vast space is and how easy it is to hide virtually anything there. There are probably many whole planets within our Quarter that we’ve never found or looked at; what is a ship, then, even of that size? They took a hundred tons of murylium and the freighter that contained it. I would say that speaks more for their capabilities than merely hiding. They are not on the defensive, and that bothers me. If they took it and ran to somewhere far away from the Quarter, then there would be little to worry about, but they are here, somewhere, and we are dependent on them to make a move in order to catch them. We will catch them, sooner or later, if they remain bold and aggressive, unless they make a run for it.”
“They will not make a run for it. We would not even bother with them if all they were doing was attempting to sidestep the system. Master System is patient. We would eventually find and co-opt their grandchildren. Until now, no one has been authorized to know their true objectives, but Master System has decided that certain of its most loyal commanders must be informed in order to do their jobs properly. They are after components—disassembled logic circuits—that when assembled could cause massive harm to Master System.”
The general was fascinated, although he well knew that what he was being told was so secret that it might eventually cost him his own mind in a Master System mindprint. “So? Out here?”
“Yes. The device is quite ancient and was created by the same ones who created Master System. The circuits are in the form of large, impressive gold-and-black jewelry—rings, in fact. Needless to say, the rings are inconsequential in and of themselves; it is the circuitry and code contained in the settings that is the danger.”
The general shook his head in wonder. “Why would the Makers even build such things?”
“There are always checks and redundancies in any system, and destruct hardware in the most reliable machinery. They did not really know or fully comprehend what they were building, remember, and the potential for abuse made them nervous.”
“But—why weren’t these rings or whatever they are gathered up and destroyed during colonization and pacification ages ago?”
“They are a part of the system. They can not be removed and their assignment and availability is also prescribed. The best Master System could do was to distribute them among the stars and suppress all knowledge of their existence. In spite of all that, these people found out, and they are after the rings. That makes them the most dangerous people Master System has ever faced.”
“Then the things will work.”
“Yes, if all five are assembled and then inserted into Master System’s special interface.”
“You know where they all are?”
“Yes—to an extent. We know on what worlds they are, but not in all cases who has them. They have passed through many hands, all ignorant of their purpose, over the centuries. One is controlled by chief administrator Lazlo Chen on Earth. We believe he knows exactly what its purpose is, but that in itself is useless without the other four and the interface. Another is in the Cochin Center on Janipur where it is on display and taken out only on ceremonial occasions. We know the worlds and probably the regions for the others, but not necessarily the exact locations or possessor.”
“And these rebels know the locations as well?”
“We believe so.”
“Then—it’s simple. We simply have to locate and take the rings first, leaving dummy duplicates as bait, sit back, and capture them.”
“It is not that simple. The system requires that the rings be in the possession of humans with authority. That means administrators and the like. It could redistribute them at the beginning, for reasons not explained to me, but it cannot touch them now. It could interfere only to reassign the rings, and since the rings tend to be main badges of office rather than personal possessions, to eliminate an administrator would simply confer ownership on his or her successor. My orders are quite explicit. No one from our own forces must take the rings from their owners. The best we can do is to use them as bait, as you said, and deal with whoever comes to steal them. It is an irony that were you not under the command of Master System, you would be fully qualified to take and hold one of the rings, but since you are, as are all our forces, this is impossible.”
The general was appalled, although the information confirmed a suspicion he had always had about machines versus humans. “You mean—they are fully allowed to steal the things, but we are not allowed to requisition them for security purposes?”
“That is correct.”
The general sighed. “Well, if we know where they are, we can cover them so tightly nothing could get through.”
“Not necessarily. The colony ship has one hundred and fourteen transmuters aboard, four of which are large enough to do ship’s repair and augmentation, and the memory capacity built into its core is more than sufficient to use them in the most complex ways. These people are dedicated to overthrowing the system or dying in the attempt. They will be fanatic enough to use the transmuters on themselves and take whatever form they need to get the rings, no matter what the personal cost.”
Wharfen shook his head. “You believe, then, they are fanatical enough to do that? And to train and learn how to be something quite alien well enough to fool the locals?”
“I do. Security then must be absolute, yet none beyond this room, including particularly those who now possess the rings, must be told of the rings’ true nature and importance lest we breed a generation of fanatics who one day could do what these renegades now only dream of doing. Nor should you be confident. These people do not act alone or in a vacuum. They had help and they were assembled for this purpose.”
“Help? Who?”
“The enemy. Master System fights a stalemate: a war of machine against machine, far removed from here. But the enemy’s clever. They have infiltrated us as we have been unable to infiltrate them. This is no mere band of rebels, General. This is a deep thrust inside our lines, a flanking maneuver that attempts to score the decisive victory by proxy.”
“Who is this enemy?” the general asked. “Where is it being fought?”
“We do not know who it is. Great power, as great as our own. As to where, Master System does not tell us. If we need to know or our participation in active battle is required, then we will be told. Otherwise it is not our concern. We are, however, now involved, for this is an enemy thrust and we are required to blunt it. After all this time they have found a weak spot.”
“Between a half dozen and a dozen people, many from primitive holds, in a fourteen-kilometer-long spaceship can threaten the entire system? I cannot believe that.”
“We don’t know their numbers. Discovering Arnold Nagy, the former security chief of Melchior, sitting in a bar on Halinachi with an unknown and two fugitives was something of a shock. We know they have more than just the one ship and the captured freighter. We must find them, General. We must make them come to us and then take them.”
“But there is so much we don’t know . . . ”
“We know this—we have the easier task. They must have all five rings and know how to use them. Thus we need only prevent them from obtaining any one of the five to win. If we fail, all humanity will suffer.”
“If we fail,” the general replied, “we probably deserve to.”