Revelation
© 2020 by Walter Reimer



“Captain Murasaki.”

The badger looked up from the book he was reading. “Yes, Borealis?”

The AI that operated the ‘northern’ half of Sol System’s military communications array said in a pleasant contralto, “A fault indication has appeared in one of my logic blocks.”

That caused the boar to set the book aside and get to his feet. “Have you alerted the duty controllers?”

“Of course, but protocols require that the base commander be notified – “

“Understood. Well done, Borealis. Are you having any trouble with your core?”

There was a pause as the badger hurriedly pulled on his pants, and he was shouldering into a shirt when the AI replied, “I am detecting pieces of code that should not be present. They are proliferating.”

A cold hard lump formed in Murasaki’s guts. “Let the duty controller know I’m on my way to the command center, and see if you can trace where the stray code’s coming from.”

“Already tracing, Captain. Commander Wen has been notified.”

“Thank you.” A moment to put on his boots, and the badger ran from his quarters.

The command center was as he usually saw it, a restrained bedlam of display screens coupled with the mutter of controllers as they received, answered, and forwarded message traffic from every part of the Confederacy’s military structure. A group of technicians were gathered around one set of screens, several feverishly typing on their padds as they tried to help Borealis.

Commander Wen, a tall and normally fastidiously neat canine, looked anything but right now. Her uniform collar was open and her headfur was disarrayed. She did a double take and said, “Thank Deus. Have you been informed, Captain?”

Murasaki nodded and looked past her at the master display at her console. The icy lump grew when he saw that the corruption now had ten percent of the AI in its grasp. “Countermeasures?”

“It’s an unusual hack,” Wen said. “We’re trying to break the code now – what?” she snapped as a senior technician waved at her frantically.

“It’s base thirteen, Ma’am,” the bear said.

“Base thirteen?” the two officers practically said in unison.

Murasaki, being the superior officer, said it first: “Fuck.” There was only one sophont race that Terra knew about that used base 13. “We’re under Imperial attack,” the badger declared, and ears perked all around the command center. “Trace where the code came from, and shut that channel down. Alert Australis and Argus,” he ordered. Argus was the base that controlled Sol System’s defensive weapons and sensor arrays.

“Trace complete,” Borealis suddenly announced. A holographic display came up, showing the entire communications network. One thin red line snaked through various relay points. “The source is Argus Station. Jonah states that everything is fine.”

“Everything is not fucking fine,” Wen said, startling those around her. The canine never swore, no matter the provocation. “Jam that channel, Borealis.” A pause. “Borealis?”

When it spoke, the AI’s voice sounded a bit slower. “Twenty percent corruption. Primary . . . cognition threatened. Recommend . . . “

Wen yanked a key from around her neck and unlocked a safety cover on her console, revealing a physical button in the traditional red. She glanced at Murasaki, and without a moment’s hesitation the badger nodded.

The canine’s finger pushed the button down.

The tank that held Borealis’ core suddenly severed all communications links, and poison flooded the mass of cloned nerve cells. Two seconds later, the poison was followed by concentrated hydrochloric acid. With links to the core severed, the message traffic and all other base functions shunted to a bank of non-AI computers.

“Attention, everyone,” Murasaki called out, slicing through the babble of voices in the command center. “Sound the Admiral’s Signal for this system,” signifying an imminent attack or invasion of Terra itself. “Notify Fleet Central and the Commander, Home Fleet.” He swallowed. “Inform them that Argus has fallen.”


***


“We’ve been detected, Captain-major.”

Aka, their luck couldn’t have lasted forever, m’Gen reflected. Still, this base was theirs; they had successfully co-opted the AI and had control of the system’s sensors and defenses. They had made mischief.

It only remained to make more mischief.

“Notify our ship that we will require extraction. The sensors will not see their approach or departure,” the kam ordered. To a trio of technicians he said, “Set all defense stations to independent mode, and have them target any ship with a Terran military transponder.” As the shlani bent to their tasks, m’Gen pulled a bloodstained key from his uniform pocket.

He rubbed the pad of his thumb against the dried smear before slotting it into the safety cover and unlocking it.

“Commander?”

Of course; the AI would know what was being done. “Yes?” he said.

“Am I to die?”

“Die? You were never alive,” the kam said. Rage caused his fingerclaws to shift in their sheathes. Just a few more fractions, and it would be ready.

One by one, the technicians signaled that his orders had been carried out. One sensor display showed a Terran ship being destroyed by a defensive array near Keres.

“But I am alive,” the AI said, almost plaintively.

“Not for long.”

His finger rested on the button.

“Will I be remembered?” Jonah asked.

M’Gen’s ears went back.

“No.”

He pushed down on the button, and the lights in the base went out, replaced within a tenth of a second by automatic emergency lights as the non-AI computers took over life support.

“Begin evacuation,” he ordered, and the shlani under his command hastened to comply.