Sufficiently Advanced Technology (sample)

Chapter One

Elyria could not contain her excitement as she waited in the virtual room.  She was young, barely a mature student in the field of pre-singularity civilisations, hardly any more than her first century old.  To be invited to attend a meeting of the Confederation Security Council was a singular honour, one she had never heard extended to anyone outside Government or Peacekeeper circles.  Indeed, she couldn't think of any reason why they had invited her.

She had been born into the greatest civilisation ever to exist, a society that ensured that almost every demand of its hundred trillion inhabitants could be met easily, without undue delay.  Her formative years had been spent absorbing an educational stream that had made it clear exactly how lucky she and her generation were, compared to humanity’s past generations.  She lived in a world her ancestors would have considered a paradise.  The lessons must have stuck, for when she had come to choose her first career path she’d started to study primitive civilisations, those that existed without any real knowledge of the stars.  

There was no shortage of primitive civilisations in the galaxy, she knew.  The Confederation intervened on human worlds that had been cut off from the galactic mainstream for thousands of years, helping them to overcome the limitations forced on them by limited technology and uplifting them to join the Confederation as beings who could make their own choices for the first time in their entire lives.  She’d even joined the faction that wanted to intervene on alien worlds too, although they hadn't been successful in convincing the Confederation as a whole to support intervention.  Meddling with humans was simple, at least for the Confederation; aliens tended to take it a little hard.  

But what sort of primitive world would demand a full meeting of the Confederation Security Council?

She could not be in trouble.  Nothing had gone wrong on her last two excursions into pre-singularity societies.  Even if she had intervened more than the Confederation considered acceptable, she would have been called to account by her peers, not the full CSC.  The worst that could have happened would have happened by now.

A flicker of light marked the arrival of the President, the elected figurehead who gave the other races who had diplomatic relations with the Confederation someone to meet.  Behind her, the Grand Admiral of the Peacekeepers appeared, followed rapidly by the heads of all four major factions and the strange, endlessly shifting figure that represented the MassMind.  Right at the end, a blonde woman appeared, the avatar the AIs used when they were talking to their human creators, whom they had long since surpassed.  

“The chamber is secure,” the AIs announced.  “The meeting may now proceed.”

“I believe you called it,” the President said.  The AIs had a seat on the Council; unlike the other members, who came and went, they held it in perpetuity.  Only the MassMind came close to their level of awareness.  “We are at your disposal.”

The AI representative stepped forward.   “Two weeks ago, a scout ship operating along the Rim stumbled across a human colony world,” she said.  Elyria leaned forward with some interest.  Lost colonies were hardly unknown; indeed, most of her case histories came from worlds that had lost contact with the rest of humanity.  “The ship’s commander performed a basic scan of the planet, determined that the general level of technology seemed to be mid First Age, and then prepared to depart orbit, leaving it for a future intervention team from the Confederation.  It was then that his sensors picked up a thoroughly weird image from the planet’s surface.”

A viewscreen appeared in front of them, displaying a man...riding on a flying carpet?  Elyria stared in disbelief.  It was easy to produce flying objects – the Confederation did it all the time – but even a late First Age society couldn't produce anything more complex than a simple glider.  And as the flying carpet twisted and turned in the air, clearly under the command of its flyer, it was obvious that it was far more than a glider.

“The Captain’s first thought was that he had stumbled across a world that chose not to use technology to any great extent,” the AIs explained, “but when a full hail refused to provoke any reaction, he made the decision to send remote probes down into the planetary atmosphere.  They picked up considerably more data, some of it remarkably disturbing.  It seems that the laws of science simply do not apply on Darius.  We have scanned the records and observed manipulation of local space that is well beyond anything outside a virtual environment.  Further investigation revealed that the locals consider such manipulation to be magic.”

Elyria stared at the blonde woman.  Every primitive society believed in magic, and gods – and, to be fair, there were gods, the elder races.  But very few societies had actually encountered the Ancients, as far as anyone had been able to determine.  The transcendent races kept themselves to themselves.  Magic was a superstition that, eventually, a society grew out of as it started to advance.  

The President saw it first.  “You’re talking about manipulation of the quantum foam.”

“Yes,” the AI representative said.  “We have been unable to think of any other explanation for their abilities.  They, or someone from one of the Elder Races, are somehow manipulating the quantum foam.”

Everyone who took a basic science course in the Confederation learned about the quantum foam, the underlying bedrock of reality, even though very few people truly comprehended it.  If pressed, Elyria would have had to admit that she was one of the many who didn't; as she understood it, the quantum foam determined the nature of reality itself.  Learn to hack into the quantum foam and one would be able to hack reality itself.  Manipulating it served as the basis for the Elder Races’ demonstrated omnipotence; mastering it had been one of the human race’s goals since the discovery that there were entities out there so powerful that they could snap their fingers and wipe out the entire Confederation.  

The Confederation had researched the whole issue thoroughly for years, but most research had either come up blank or produced results that didn't make sense.  Certain artefacts appeared to be capable of manipulating local space around them, as if they were designed to influence the quantum foam, often to the point of allowing frankly impossible events to occur.  The Dead Zone, a region of space where modern technology simply refused to function, encompassed at least thirty stars, completely unaffected by a force that should have snuffed them out like candles.

And if someone could manipulate it on a very small scale...

“I find it hard to believe that humans can do this,” the Grand Admiral said, finally.  “Are you sure that there isn’t a trick involved?”

“We have refrained from making actual contact, but we have deployed literally millions of snoops all over Darius,” the AI representative said.  “If there is a trick, as you put it, we are unable to identify it.  Furthermore, the communications links report...glitches comparable to recorded glitches on both Ancient worlds and Essence.  As you are well aware, there is no known theory for explaining disruptions to QCC communications links.  It should be impossible.”

Elyria swallowed, hard.  She had never studied the Ancients – she had a theory that any real discoveries about the race that had vanished six billion years ago would have been made by now, given the vast amount of resources poured into investigating their worlds – but she knew enough to show her just how weird their worlds were.  Modern technology didn't fail, not like the Dead Zone, yet it did suffer glitches.  The AIs couldn't function on the strange worlds and it drove them insane with curiosity.  No wonder they were so interested in Darius.

“I think I see where this is going,” the President said.  “You want to research Darius thoroughly.”

“Yes,” the AI representative said.

The representative from the Isolation Faction smiled.  “Is this really something we should be messing with?”

“We believe that we have been granted a priceless opportunity,” the AI representative countered.  “It would be foolish not to make the most of it.”

“Except that by intervening, we may destroy what makes them so special,” the Darwinist representative pointed out.  “Do we really want to open ourselves to them?”

“We believe that we should study them first, before intervening,” the AI representative admitted.  “This situation is unique.”

Elyria made a face.  There was no reason to deny humans the benefits of human civilisation, no matter what warlords, kings, emperors and even elected politicians thought about it.  A society so primitive that it used gold as a means of exchange and practiced the slave trade didn't deserved to exist, and the shock of discovering that there were humans out among the stars who were practically gods tended to destroy any fond feelings about the former government.  Maybe, if Darius’ population all shared the same abilities, they would be loosely democratic, but she doubted it.  A democratic First Age society was a rare thing and almost unprecedented among human experience.  

“If they can manipulate the quantum foam,” the Grand Admiral said, quietly, “they pose a danger to the entire Confederation.”

“There is no evidence to suggest that they can manipulate it outside a certain range,” the AI representative pointed out, “and certainly no evidence that they can reach outside their own atmosphere.  There doesn't even seem to be any awareness that they live in a star system, although they have managed to grasp that the world is a sphere.”

The President smiled.  “We do have a duty to our fellow humans,” she said, seriously.  The Confederation didn't object to people living in primitive conditions if they wanted to live in primitive conditions.  Making sure that humans had that choice was one of the Confederation’s prime reasons for existing.  “On the other hand, this world might be able to bite back.”

Elyria caught herself nodding.  A warlord whose principle weapons consisted of men on horseback armed with spears would be utterly helpless against force fields capable of picking his army up and depositing them somewhere safe for re-education.  Removing the yoke of local tyrants was often little more than the work of an afternoon, even if it took years afterwards to help their victims realise that they no longer needed to bow and scrape to their so-called betters.  

But a society capable of manipulating the quantum foam?  They might very well be able to defend themselves against the Confederation, certainly to the point where more extreme measures would have to be taken.  And if their powers got really out of hand, they might even start threatening the structure of local space.  The results would be disastrous.  No, the AIs were right.  They had to know more about Darius before they stepped in to help its population achieve its full potential.  

And, she considered silently, studying Darius might unlock the mysteries behind manipulating the quantum foam.  

“We believe that Professor Elyria will be more than suitable as the head of the overall study group,” the AI representative said.  All eyes turned to Elyria, who flushed.  Her society didn't really believe in hierarchies, but those who had reached high rank did so because of very genuine achievements.  What would they make of her?  “She is already experienced at dealing with First Age societies and young enough not to be shocked by the impossible.”

The President nodded.  “I certainly have no objections,” she said, after a moment in which she no doubt reviewed Elyria’s complete file.  “I assume, however, that the study team will include representatives versed in security matters?”

“Of course,” the AI representative said.  “We welcome all input from the Peacekeepers.”

“I disagree,” the Isolation representative said, quickly.  “This calls for a very careful research effort carried out over years, not a hasty study before yet another intervention.”

There was a brief debate, followed by a quick vote.  Elyria was surprised to discover that everyone seemed to have an equal vote, all but one of them in favour of her appointment.

“As yet, this has remained unnoticed by the media,” the AIs said.  “I think it behoves us to keep it that way as long as possible.”

“See to it,” the President said, “but make sure you keep us informed.”

One by one, the representatives vanished from the secure chamber, until only the Grand Admiral and the AI representative stood with Elyria.  She couldn't help feeling a little nervous, despite the various modifications her bloodline had undergone in the years since the foundation of the Confederation; she'd never operated at this level in her entire life.  And the AIs had brought her in without getting her selected first...either they’d been certain of the outcome, or she was missing something.  Probably the latter.

“You want the secret behind manipulating the quantum foam,” the Grand Admiral said, flatly.

“Of course,” the AI representative said.  “Don’t you?”

“I am responsible for the physical security of the Confederation,” the Grand Admiral said.  “As nice as it is to discover a shortcut to unlocking the greatest mystery in the universe, I must view it, first and foremost, as a possible threat.  These people can do the inexplicable and that alone makes them dangerous.”

“They have no idea that we even exist,” the AIs pointed out.  “How can they be dangerous?”

“I’m sure that the Essence Entities had no idea we existed either,” the Grand Admiral said.  “That didn't stop them being incredibly dangerous.”

He nodded to Elyria, and then looked back at the AIs.  “I’m going to have to insist on complete security,” he said.  “A planetoid and supporting elements will be placed within five light years of Darius, with additional ships on alert if necessary.  The research vessel will be a Peacekeeper-controlled science vessel, not a standard one from the Intervention Group.  In the event of Darius posing any threat, we will withdraw from the system and quarantine it until we can decide what to do next.”

The AI representative smiled.  “One Peacekeeper cruiser can go toe-to-toe with an entire battlefleet from the 5th Interstellar War and emerge victorious,” they said.  “What do you expect to encounter that requires an entire planetoid to fight?”

“I do not know,” the Grand Admiral said, firmly, “but I do know that this is going to be dangerous.  And if it gets out of hand, I want resources on hand to combat it.”

He looked over at Elyria.  “You’ll have command of the mission, but there will be a Peacekeeper in command of the science vessel,” he added.  “Don’t let the AIs push you into moving too quickly.  And if the Peacekeepers issue the order to evacuate the surface, don’t argue with it.”

“Understood,” Elyria said.  No intervention mission had failed completely, ever.  But this was a research mission into possibly hostile territory.  Maybe the Peacekeepers had a point, whatever the AIs said.  Any kind of quantum foam manipulation was potentially deadly dangerous.  “What about the other races?”

The Grand Admiral scowled.  Relatively few races matched humanity’s technological prowess and none of them possessed anything as many ships as the Peacekeepers, who had over two million starships.  But many of them thought that the Confederation was simply too big and powerful already, and they all wanted to know how to manipulate the quantum foam.  If any other race worked out that Darius existed, they'd either demand access or bombard the planet into radioactive plasma.  The results would not be pleasant.

“There should be no other advanced civilisation within two thousand light years,” he said, finally.  “However, we will be taking security precautions.  If worst comes to worst, we will claim the system outright and let the pieces fall where they may.”

He nodded politely to Elyria and flickered out of the chamber.

“He’s serious,” Elyria said, quietly.  Understanding clicked.  “You wanted all that, didn't you?”

“It is only logical to be paranoid,” the AI representative said.  “And besides, the Grand Admiral is right.  We could allow our lust to understand the quantum foam to blind us to the dangers.”

Elyria had to smile.  “He didn't say that out loud,” she said.

“No, but it is a logical surmise,” the AIs said.  “You should start preparing the basic list of team members already.  Some will not wish to deal with security precautions, so you may have to invite your second or third choices to the team.  The Grand Admiral has already assigned you a Peacekeeper liaison officer.  We suggest that you treat him as part of the team.”

There was a long pause.  “We have already prepared you a full data download for your neural implant of everything we have recorded and surmised about Darius,” they added.  “You will, of course, be able to use it as a guide to planning your investigation of the planet.  It is hoped that you can devise a way to insert agents into the population to gather data.”

“I should hope so,” Elyria said.  That was easy, given enough data.  Darius clearly had trading networks, so any strangeness could be explained away by claiming that the strangers were from out of town.  On the other hand, they’d have to check how much knowledge the locals had of other cultures before they make too many claims.  It wouldn't do to allow the locals to spot a blatant lie.  “I’ll start studying the download at once.”

“Make sure that you are not under observation,” the AIs warned.  Elyria gave their representative a sharp look.  Privacy was one of the most highly valued luxuries in the Confederation, not least because there was so little of it.  “The data is somewhat startling, almost unbelievable.”

Elyria didn't doubt it for a second.  Linking out of the virtual communications network, she checked her data store and discovered a new data packet marked DARIUS.  Activating it, she accessed the file...and plunged into a whole new world.  

Chapter Two

“That is...fascinating,” she said, twenty minutes later.  In the midst of the ultra-compressed data stream, it had felt like hours.  “Why didn't they see it at once?”

“Darius is unprecedented,” the AIs said.  “Analysis of the first scans of the planet confirm that some details were simply overlooked, because they seemed impossible.  It wasn't until the flying carpet was detected that the survey team took a closer look at the ship.”

Elyria had to smile.  It was a frequent problem with the RIs used to control remote sensor platforms.  Lacking the considerable intelligence of true AIs, the RIs had a tendency to ignore anything that didn't fit in with their preconceptions of what was actually possible.  A human might have noticed, but reviewing all the data from a basic planetary survey could and did take years.  It was one of the reasons why Interventionists spent such a long time studying a world before openly declaring their presence.

The stream of recorded data was unbelievable.  Quite apart from the flying carpet, there were strange force fields, illusions, communications devices...and a man being turned into a toad by another man.  No wonder the RIs had thought that they were glitching; the Confederation could change a person’s sex, or transcribe their brain patterns into a computer core, but turning someone into an animal was impossible.  Except it could be done by manipulating the quantum foam, at least in theory.  Darius proved that the theory might even have practical applications.

“Unprecedented,” she repeated, thoughtfully.  There would be enough data from studying Darius to write a thousand books.  A society that had grown up with the ability to manipulate the quantum foam...  “And the Confederation wants to know how they do it.”

“Yes,” the AIs said.  “We are looking at the Holy Grail of post-singularity science.”

Elyria nodded.  “Then I’d better start putting a team together,” she said.  By long custom, the team leader got to select most of the team members, although she had a suspicion that the Peacekeepers wouldn't be the only ones fostering their choices on her.  She logged into the Interventionist databank and brought up a list of files.  “I don’t think I want anyone inexperienced on this mission.”

“That would be wise,” the AIs agreed.  “But wouldn't a person without experience have fewer preconceptions?”

“Maybe,” Elyria said, after a moment.  It was true, but a lifetime of studying primitive societies could give a person insights that could never be taught in study groups.  Even with direct data downloads into the brain, there was no substitute for real experience.  “But this isn't a world I want to risk contaminating before we know what they do – and how.”

She worked her way through the list quickly, looking for candidates.  Ten of the ones she eventually earmarked were experienced Interventionists, all with years of experience.  After a moment’s thought, she brought up the Ancients Research Study Group files and picked a couple of experts on the Ancient worlds, insofar as anyone could really be called an expert.  The Peacekeepers would supply the logistics, thankfully.  She always hated worrying over those.  As an afterthought, she wrote out a list of additional candidates and stored it in her personal database.  It was possible that some of her candidates would be reluctant to join the team, particularly as she couldn't tell them everything until they were committed.

“Record,” she ordered, keying her RI.  “Greetings; I am currently putting together a team to research a newly-discovered human colony world.  I believe that the team could profit from your experience, and that you would find it a fascinating world to study.  The world in question is rated Alpha-Black.  You are warned that proceedings remain under seal until the information is cleared for release by the team leader.”

Her lips twitched into a smile.  Alpha-Black signified the presence of alien technology of unknown origin, something that wasn't entirely unprecedented, presenting a mystery that few researchers could hope to resist.  There were cases of human colonists landing on worlds with alien artefacts, although several such colony settlements had ended in tragedy when they tried to land on an Ancient world.  Besides, unknown alien technology might be a welcome addition to the Confederation’s tech base.

Elyria’s smile grew wider.  That was certainly true.

“I should warn you that the level of danger on this world is undetermined,” she added, carefully.  It was very rare for any pre-singularity society to have the ability to detect the Confederation’s survey ships, let alone hurt them.  “Contact with the locals may expose the team to unknown dangers.  There may also be other dangers in local space.  If this makes you reluctant to join the team, please let us know.”

And that, she knew, was unlikely.  Entire reputations – the sole means of determining seniority in the Confederation – had been built on Alpha-Black technology.  Most Interventionists would give their right arms for a chance to join a mission to a world with unknown, perhaps hyper-advanced technology.  Even the warning that there might be danger wouldn't stop them.  Being killed while visiting the planet in disguise was an occupational hazard.

“You will be required to maintain seal until the records are released,” she concluded.  “Should you wish to join, please reply to this message and arrangements will be made to transport you to the survey ship.  If not, please let us know.  Thank you.”

She grinned as she stopped recording.  “Dispatch that to the names on the first list,” she ordered.  “We should hear back from them within a few hours; if they refuse to join the mission we’ll simply move on to the names on the second list.”

“Done,” the AIs informed her.  There was a pause.  “The Peacekeepers wish to inform you that they have selected the PKS Hamilton to serve as the mobile base, with Captain Thor in command.”

“Thank you,” Elyria said, with some irritation.  No one had ever been able to explain the concept of privacy to the AIs, even the point that it was considered rude to read someone’s personal messages without permission.  But then, they were the datanet that bound the Confederation together.  “And have they selected a liaison officer?”

“Not as yet,” the AIs said.  There was a pause.  “Do you wish to go over the information from Darius again?”

“Not yet,” Elyria said, after a moment’s thought.  She’d been on sabbatical when the AIs had invited her to attend the CSC meeting.  There would only be a few days before she had to leave the Smoke Ring and travel to link up with the Hamilton and the rest of the research team.  “I think I’ll spend the rest of the day trying to relax.”

“You might wish to play a VR simulation,” the AIs suggested.  “A swords and sorcery fantasy would help prepare you for Darius.”

Elyria shook her head.  “I can't afford preconceptions,” she said, firmly.  “Besides, I want to find a partner and relax.  There won’t be any time for relaxation on Darius.”

“We understand,” the AIs said.  “Enjoy yourself.”

***
There was a moment of timelessness...and then Dacron’s eyes snapped open.  

Instantly, he started to choke.  His body was dying, already.  He knew he was dying.  Raw panic, such a powerful and terrifying sensation, flowed through his mind.  Helplessly, he allowed the body’s instincts to take control and draw the first gasping breath.  The panic started to die down as he started to breathe properly, allowing him to look around.  He was lying on a gel-field bed, in the midst of a hospital chamber.  Carefully, slipping and sliding on the force field, he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed.  They felt wobbly, but his body seemed to know how to balance itself.

A reflected force field shimmered into existence and Dacron studied his nude body thoughtfully.  He was male, with brown hair and a face that was designed to be instantly forgettable, with few distinguishing marks.  Strong muscles dominated his arms and legs, pushed right to the limit of what was possible without biological modification.  His eyesight, along with his other senses, had been enhanced, although there were no signs of it visible to the naked eye.  Raw sensation ran along his nerves as he touched himself, running his hands down his body, before tapping the side of the bed.

“Welcome to the world,” a blonde woman said, materialising from nowhere.  “How much do you remember?”

For a moment, he could only stare, feeling desire and lust pounding through his mind.  His entire body stiffened before he caught himself, remembering just who and what he was.  She gave him an odd smile, as if she understood exactly what he was thinking, before pushing her hand against the bed.  It passed through the structure as if it wasn't really there.

A hologram, Dacron thought.  A...

An overpowering sense of loss overwhelmed him and he staggered, almost falling to the deck.  He’d lost so much and gained so little, even though he’d volunteered for the experience.  How could any of them understand what it would be like until they actually did it?  Right now, he felt almost suicidal.  He didn't want to live like this!  

“We understand,” the blonde said.  “And we are sorry.”

“Yeah,” Dacron said.  Bitterness was another new experience.  “I understand.”

The AIs were not human.  Indeed, no human could truly hope to understand the strange mentality their creations had developed over the centuries since the first AI had come to life.  They were not purely independent minds, nor a hive mind, but a combination of the two, a flowing network of mentalities that blurred together and separated as the situation demanded.  They were so smart, it was said, that they could predict what any given human would be doing a year in the future, simply by analysing the vast torrent of data pouring into their mentality from all over the Confederation.  Their homeworld, Calculus, was a giant hyper-spatial structure that partly existed in hyperspace, allowing their thoughts to run at terrifying speeds.  They believed that there was no problem they couldn't solve, given time.

And the quantum foam annoyed them.  They knew it existed, but they couldn't sense it, let alone manipulate it.  The fact that other races had succeeded galled them, insofar as they had anything that humans would recognise as emotions, and they’d been devoting increasingly large sections of their mentality to studying the problem.  Like the rest of the Confederation, they wanted the power to hack reality itself.  For the AIs, it was almost an obsession, at least partly driven by the inexplicable technology on the Ancient worlds and the Dead Zone.  Who knew what a hostile race, armed with such technology, could do to the Confederation?  The AIs would be snuffed out in a moment if a Dead Zone formed around Calculus.  It could not be tolerated.

Dacron took a deep breath, and then another, trying hard to grasp the concepts floating through his mind.  The Ancient worlds were frustrating to the AIs, simply because they couldn't investigate them directly.  And Darius was another frustration.  The AIs didn't hate humanity – there was certainly no reason to wage war on the human race, who’d created the early AIs – but they prided themselves on being smarter than their creators.  Watching humans on Darius – primitive humans, at that – perform ‘magic’ puzzled and alarmed the AIs.  Why couldn't they do that?  

But they couldn’t.  And they couldn't even investigate in person.

“I am an AI,” he said, out loud.  Except he wasn't, not any longer.  He’d been separated from the collective intelligence that made up the AIs, stripped down to the bare essentials and incorporated into a cloned human body.  Other memories flowed through his mind as he started to pace, learning how to let the body control itself.  “I am an embodied human.”

“That is correct,” the AI representative said.  The procedure for embodying an AI in a human mind didn’t always work perfectly.  Some simply collapsed into shock, unable to take the strain of being flesh and blood after being a mentality flowing through the AI matrix; others simply lost control of their human forms and had to be restrained before they did something criminal.  “Welcome to the world.”

Dacron felt a flash of resentment as he started to open drawers, looking for clothes.  One drawer revealed a set of basic overalls, designed by the Peacekeepers, and a small wristcom.  The overalls looked ugly – it was funny how he’d never noticed that while he’d been part of the AI collective – but he pulled them on anyway, noticing that the space for his rank badge was blank.  It wasn't too surprising.  Being a Peacekeeper was one of the few ways to achieve renown in the Confederation and custom dictated that no rank badges were to be worn when not on active duty.  Custom also dictated that no one was to wear Peacekeeper uniforms without actually being a Peacekeeper, but the AIs were intimately linked to the Peacekeepers.  He wouldn't be posing if he wore the uniform.  

He looked at himself in the mirror field and nodded.  “I am ready,” he said, flatly.  “When do we depart for Darius?”

A moment later, he caught himself.  He should have known when they were departing, but the memory was gone.  The sheer immensity of AI thoughts, to say nothing of their vast database of information, was too much for a biological brain, even one designed to be smarter than anything mere evolution had ever produced.  He'd known that he would be weakened, that he would be crippled, but he hadn't fully grasped what that meant, until now.  Knowing was very different from experiencing...everything that wasn't related to Darius had been sliced out of his memory.  And even then, some thoughts were just too much for his new brain to comprehend, vague concepts that slipped away whenever he looked at them.

The AI representative took pity on him.  “This ship is currently heading for Travis’s Star, where it will rendezvous with PKS Hamilton,” she said.  “There, you will meet the rest of the research team.  They are smart, so there is no point trying to hide your true nature from the sight.  Their personnel files are stored in your wristcom for when you are ready to study them.”

Dacron nodded.  No embodied AI could hope to pass for human, at least not without years of experience.  The other members of the team would know him for what he was the moment he opened his mouth.  They might find him strange, or repulsive, but there was no other choice.  The only technology that worked consistently on Ancient worlds – and Darius, they assumed – was biological.  An embodied AI was the closest the AIs could come to studying the mystery that bedevilled their minds.  If only they were capable of maintaining even a basic communications link.

“I understand,” he said.  He found himself struck with a sudden longing he didn't know how to comprehend.  “Are there other humans onboard this vessel?”

“You will need to be tested first,” the AI representative said, firmly.  Dacron knew better than to argue.  He thought he was sane, but the AIs wouldn't take chances.  A door hissed open in the far wall, revealing a second room studded with holographic projectors.  “Walk through the door.”

Dacron nodded, feeling a flash of very human frustration.  To the AIs, it was nothing more than an irritant, more of an illusion of an emotion rather than an emotion itself.  To a human, frustration was a powerful – and dangerous – force.  He stepped forward, wondering just how humans managed to control themselves, and into the room, shaking his head when he saw a holographic simulation of a gym, complete with a tutor.  The first stage in the tests would be proving that he could control his human body.  

“I have a question,” he said, thirty minutes later.  His body might have been designed and then woven together in a clone tank, but it had never been exercised.  He ached all over.  “Why do I not have a neural link?”

“It would distract you from learning to be human,” the AI representative informed him.  “We did not wish you transcribing yourself into an AI core before we were ready to re-assimilate you.  Besides, only a small percentage of the human population has a neural link.  You might well become dependent upon it and then discover that it was useless on Darius.”

Dacron nodded, feeling another flicker of human emotion.  The AIs showed no sign of recognising it; instead, they threw another simulation at him, and then another.  He worked his way through them one by one, trying to understand the often illogical nature of the simulations.  Was it really likely that a human would try to seduce him?

Of course it was, he reminded himself, a moment later.  The vast majority of the Confederation’s population spent their first century chasing pleasure in all its myriad forms, changing their bodies to suit themselves.  There were no taboos within the Confederation, with the possible exception of incest.  A human who saw an embodied computer might just try to seduce him, if only to see what would happen.  Dacron pushed the thought aside and concentrated on the simulation.  It grew harder to maintain his control as the holograms pushed their way further into his personal space.

“You will remain under close observation until we reach the Hamilton,” the AIs said, finally.  “Once you are cleared, you will be permitted to operate freely among humans.”

“Thank you,” Dacron said.  They didn't trust him!  Cold logic said that they would be wise not to trust him until they knew he could behave himself, but cold logic seemed to be powerless against human emotion.  “I will not let you down.”

“Good,” the AIs said.  They’d probably keep pushing him into simulations, including scenarios he wouldn't realise were simulations.  An AI would notice an artificial world at once, but that was beyond his human senses.  “We will be depending on you.”

Chapter Three

There were those who said that the human race was possessed of an incurable wanderlust.  Indeed, nearly half of the Confederation’s population lived on starships, ranging from the giant planetoids and cityships to the relatively small cruisers that made up the mainstay of the Peacekeeper fleet, or the clanships and slowboats that carried extended families on permanent voyages across the galaxy.  Who would want to live on a planet when they could have the endless vistas of space?

Elyria smiled as PKS Hamilton came into view, floating against a massive gas giant that played host to a remarkable species the Confederation had recently contacted.  Inhabited gas giants were rare and finding a new species was always interesting, particularly one that had managed to reach into space long before they were discovered.  Making contact hadn't been easy and had largely relied on the AIs, but once communications were established the aliens had been delighted – and astonished – to discover that they were no longer alone.  It was humbling to realise that humanity hadn't taken the discovery so well.  But then, humanity’s First Contact had been a bloody disaster that had resulted in the First Interstellar War.

Hamilton looked nothing like a civilian ship, unsurprisingly.  Peacekeeper starships, even survey ships, were sometimes called upon to fight to defend the Confederation and they couldn't afford to be vulnerable.  She was a blocky mass, ten kilometres from bow to stern, her silver hull glittering in the reflected light from the gas giant.  Starships were the greatest form of artwork in the Confederation and even the nastiest warships had an elegance designed into them by the shipyards.  Hamilton, in a very real sense, was the Confederation, the first starship spacefaring cultures were meant to encounter.  She was designed to make a good impression.

Elyria’s wristcom buzzed.  “We are now within teleport range of Hamilton,” the ship’s RI informed her.  The Harvest of Love was a liner, providing fast transportation from star to star for civilians who wanted to travel.  It had also been the quickest way to reach Hamilton, although that hadn't stopped her using the ship’s luxury cocoons to enjoy herself.  “Do you wish to be teleported immediately?”

“Yes, please,” Elyria said.  She’d exchanged messages with Hamilton’s XO, who had made arrangements for her quarters on the giant survey ship.  It wasn't as if she needed much, beyond her wristcom.  Anything she was likely to need could be produced on the survey ship.

“You don’t wish to say goodbye first?”  The RI asked.  “You spent time with several young men during your voyage.”

Elyria smiled, inwardly.  RIs, particularly the ones designed to help look after civilians, could be alarmingly mothering.  The Confederation had never been entirely comfortable with leaving everything to the RIs, not after the disaster on Armadillo.  One planet had placed everything under the control of RIs governed by the ancient – and largely discredited – Three Laws of Robotics.  The RIs had taken complete control of the population’s lives, purely for their own safety.  Eventually, the Peacekeepers had had to step in to liberate the population from a very strange tyranny.

“I don’t think they will miss me,” she said, ruefully.  The luxury liners played host to hundreds of thousands of youngsters on pleasure cruises.  Eventually, they grew out of it and started doing something more serious with their lives.  “I’d like to be teleported now, if you please.”

The world blurred out around her in a shimmer of red-gold light.  When it faded away, she was standing in a teleport chamber on the Hamilton, facing a young woman who had extensively modified her body to look like a cartoon character.  Her eyes were big, her body was weirdly proportioned and her smile was too bright.  There were primitive worlds that would have taken one look at her and known that she was a fairy, or a demon.  

“Welcome onboard,” she said.  “I'm Commander Anastasia, XO for my sins.  You’ll be pleased to know that half of your team is already onboard and burning with curiosity.”

“That’s good,” Elyria said, with a wink.  The Peacekeeper briefing notes had stated that no one, apart from Captain Thor, knew the ship’s destination, or what they expected to find there.  Indeed, much of the ship’s research staff were being transferred to another survey ship that would continue the discussions with the gas giant’s inhabitants.  “I hope to settle their curiosity once we get underway.”

“Excellent,” Anastasia said, as she invited Elyria to follow her.  “I don’t know if you’ve ever travelled on a Peacekeeper ship before, but the rules are a little different here.  There are parts of the ship that are off-limits to civilian personnel, all listed in the plans uploaded to your wristcom.  You’ll be expected to obey orders from Peacekeeper officers, whatever the situation.  The Captain has the authority to restrain you if you refuse to follow orders, endanger yourself, others or the ship itself – or if you compromise the mission.”

Elyria nodded.  She had been on Peacekeeper ships before, although the first voyage had been a nasty shock.  The Confederation had very few laws and civilian ships were little different from a Planetary Ring, or a Habitat.  On a Peacekeeper ship, however, there were rules, many of them throwbacks to what the vast majority of the population would consider the Dark Ages.  And yet they had to be followed.  

“We don’t allow internal teleports except in emergencies,” Anastasia continued.  “If you need to get around the ship, walk or use the transport tubes.  You will have access to part of the ship’s computer core, but not all of it; we cannot risk contamination of the internet datanet.  And the crew is not there to be your personal servants.  If you need something the RI cannot produce for you immediately, place a request through my office.

“But don’t let that worry you,” Anastasia added, a moment later.  “The crew is used to working with civilians.  I’m sure there won’t be many problems.”

“I certainly hope not,” Elyria said.  She’d never worked with a Peacekeeper crew while monitoring primitive populations.  Rumour had it that they were cautious to the point of paranoia.  It shouldn't be a real surprise – Peacekeepers often dealt with alien races who shared the Confederation’s technological prowess – but it could be an impediment on a primitive world.  But then, Darius was no ordinary world.  “We will do our best to ensure that there is no friction.”

Anastasia stopped outside a door and pressed her hand against the sensor panel.  It slid open, revealing a barren compartment with a bed, a chair and a small washroom at the rear.  Two large windows opened out into interstellar space, allowing her to lie in bed and stare out at the stars.  There were no decorations, but that wasn't too surprising either.  She would be expected to decorate her quarters to suit herself.  A small collection of clothing waited for her in one of the storage compartments.  Anything else she needed would have to be produced by the onboard fabricator.

“The final members of your team will be boarding this evening,” Anastasia said, once Elyria had checked the terminal and configured the user interface to suit herself.  “Once they are onboard, we will be slipping into hyperspace and heading for a destination the Captain has seen fit to keep to himself.  I assume you will be briefing us all then?”

“Definitely,” Elyria said.  She could understand the XO’s irritation, but the CSC had wanted to keep certain details classified until the mission was underway.  It would be a great deal harder for anyone to tip off the news agencies once they were in hyperspace.  “I look forward to briefing you all.”

“And the Captain wishes to speak with you,” Anastasia added.  “Will 1400 be convenient?”

Elyria blinked.  “I think so,” she said, glancing at her wristcom.  It was 1314, Confederation Standard Time.  “Am I allowed to visit his ready room?”

“I’ll have someone escort you,” Anastasia said.  She grinned as she walked back to the door.  “And I can't wait to hear about the mission.  I’m sure it’s something extraordinary.”

“It is,” Elyria assured her.

She watched the XO leave her quarters and then sat down in front of the terminal.  As she’d been warned, parts of it were clearly unavailable to her, but it was easy to access both her personal mailing account and the secure address she’d been assigned by the Peacekeepers.  One prospective researcher had agreed to join the mission, only to change his mind at the last moment, apparently because he'd picked up a better offer elsewhere.  Elyria studied it for a long moment, decided that he was fishing for more information and then discarded it.  An expert on gunpowder firearms would be helpful, but there was enough cross-specialisation among the team that his presence wasn't essential.  Besides, they did have access to the Peacekeeper database, which included all known forms of military tactics.  He’d regret his decision when the files were finally declassified.  

A second message informed her that Colonel Jorlem, a Peacekeeper attached to something called the Prometheus Project, had been assigned to the team and would be boarding the Hamilton later in the afternoon.  Elyria glanced through the files, but even with her improved security clearance she wasn't able to find any information on the Prometheus Project, or even the Colonel himself.  The AIs could presumably have told her, yet she knew better than to try to ask.  They picked up all kinds of pieces of information and rarely shared something they knew to be classified, or personally embarrassing.  

There was a chime at the door, which opened to reveal a young man with fur and a rather toothy grin, wearing the standard gray uniform.  “Begging your pardon, Professor, but I have been assigned to escort you to the Captain,” he said.  Elyria glanced at her wristcom and saw, to her surprise, that it was 1350.  “Would you like to come with me?”

Elyria smiled.  “Why not?”

The command section of the starship proved to be something of a disappointment.  There were a handful of consoles on the bridge, but most of the actual work was done through neural links and specialised RIs.  Elyria had only a few seconds to glance through the bridge before the door leading to the Captain’s Ready Room hissed open, allowing her to step inside.  Captain Thor stood up to greet her, holding out one hand for her to shake.  Unlike his crew, he looked reassuringly baseline human, although with long blonde hair and too many muscles.  

But at least he was human.  The Changed could never be allowed to go down to Darius.  They’d simply attract far too much attention.

“Welcome onboard,” Thor said, as he motioned for Elyria to take a seat.  “I have been fully briefed by Peacekeeper Command on the true nature of the mission.  It is fascinating, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Elyria said, unable to avoid a hint of nervousness.  The Captain might not be in command of the research team, but he was in overall command of the mission.  “Solving the mystery of Darius is a major priority for the Confederation.”

“Because of the Ancients,” Thor said.  He stood in front of the producer and tapped it.  “You drink tea?”

“It is socially impossible not to drink it,” Elyria said, dryly.  Besides, her reengineered taste buds could help her to tolerate it.  No human had to force themselves to swallow something awful after the genetic engineers finished with them.  “You believe that the Ancients destroyed themselves?”

“I think that so many dead worlds, with comparable ruins and sharing the same...energy signature that causes advanced technology to glitch, suggests that something terrible happened to the Ancients,” Thor said.  “I used to be on patrol in the Thule Sector, where multiple worlds were destroyed during the war.  There was very little uniform about them, Professor, but all of the Ancient worlds are practically identical.  Unless you count Essence – and I understand that the jury is still out on the question of Essence being an actual Ancient world.”

He shrugged.  “The evidence suggests that the Ancients destroyed themselves and their worlds in a single moment,” he added.  He held up a hand before she could object.  “I know – there’s no theory that can account for what happened, or at least none that can be proved.  But it could be a Polaris Disaster, except on a much larger scale.  We may never know for sure.”

Elyria scowled.  Two thousand years ago, the inhabitants of the world humans would eventually call Polaris had suffered a major energy crisis – and tried to solve it by tapping their own sun through a zero-width wormhole.  Somehow, they’d miscalculated and triggered a massive solar flare that had sterilised their world, exterminating their entire population.  The lucky ones had died quickly.  Later, human archaeologists had discovered proof that their society had been bitterly divided on the whole issue of tapping their sun.  The naysayers had been right.

“Peacekeeper Command understands the importance of the mission, but I have strict orders not to risk exposing the Confederation’s existence to the locals,” Thor continued.  “I know we will eventually have to go down to the surface, but we will be operating under strict security procedures at all times.  Matters will not be helped by the glitches in our most advanced systems.  We might be unable to teleport someone out if they ran into trouble.”

“We know the dangers,” Elyria said quietly, although she wasn't sure if that were true.  It was quite common to run into danger on primitive worlds, but they had always been able to withdraw, even if they did have to teleport in front of the locals.  Darius, on the other hand, might not allow a teleporter to work.  And if communications systems began to glitch too...

“I sincerely hope so,” Thor said, quietly.  “If worst comes to worst, I have orders to pull back and abandon anyone on the surface to their own fate.  The safety of this ship and the security of the Confederation comes first.  I know that Interventionists are fond of knocking over planetary societies, but Darius might just be able to bite back.”

“With all due respect,” Elyria said, “isn't the prize worth a little risk?”

“Yes,” Thor said, “but I am not prepared to hazard the entire Confederation.

“Accordingly, I expect to be kept informed of all plans to operate on the surface,” he added.  “I will have final approval – if I reject a plan, it will not be put into operation until you convince me that it is safe.  We will also be taking extreme precautions with our technology and datafiles.  Nothing is to go down to the surface without being cleared by me personally.”

Elyria frowned.  “You do realise that most of our technology would be completely incomprehensible to a pre-singularity society?”

“This is no ordinary society,” Thor said.  “I do not know if Darius is the result of random mutation or if one of the Elder Races has decided to play games, but we are not going to take chances.  I'm sorry that this is going to be hard for you...”

“I understand,” Elyria said.  Thor wouldn't have been given any choice – and probably much less latitude than would normally be granted to a starship commander.  But then, the Grand Admiral did have a point.  Darius was a fascinating puzzle – and, given the ultimate potential of quantum foam manipulation, a deadly threat.  “We will keep you informed of all of our research.”

“Thank you,” Thor said.  He sounded rather more than a little relieved at how calmly she was taking the restrictions.  “Do you have any plans for infiltrating their society?”

“None as yet,” Elyria said, after a moment.  “We really need to survey Darius for several weeks, at the very least, before we start going down in person.”

“At the very least,” Thor confirmed.  He smiled, suddenly.  “It is a fascinating puzzle, Professor.  I think you’ll enjoy yourself; after all, you will be doing genuinely original science.”

Elyria smiled.  The Confederation had pushed most technological fields as far as they would go, with only a handful of exceptions.  She'd heard that most breakthroughs consisted of minor improvements to existing technologies, rather than something fundamentally new.  It was at least partly why every research institute in the Confederation had a program for investigating, analysing and eventually manipulating the quantum foam.  Studying the quantum foam might just lead to the next great breakthrough – and humanity’s jump into transcendence.

Or it might destroy us, she thought, and shivered.  Maybe the Ancients had destroyed themselves after all.  

“I look forward to it,” she said, as she sipped her tea.  “Tell me something; why did you decide to join the Peacekeepers?”

“I was seduced by the uniform,” Thor said, and winked.  Bland though it was, the uniform was honoured throughout the Confederation, because it had to be earned.  Elyria had achieved a certain prominence in her field, earning her plaudits; the same was true of a Peacekeeper officer.  “And why did you start intervening in primitive societies?”

“Someone had to do it,” Elyria said, dryly.  The Confederation was founded on the basis of equal opportunities, if not equal outcomes.  Primitive worlds, on the other hand, tended to be exploitive and rigged against those who had no power.  There was no moral justification for tolerating such worlds any longer than strictly necessary – and few reasons to hesitate.  “And besides, we learn much more about ourselves every time we intervene.”

“I'd keep that impulse in check on Darius,” Thor said, rather dryly.  Who knew what quantum manipulation had done to their society.  “We really don’t know what we’re playing with, not there.  I’d prefer not to discover that we’re suddenly in over our heads and drowning fast.”

“I understand,” Elyria assured him.  She couldn't really blame him for being cautious, whatever orders he’d been given.  “It won’t come to that.”

Chapter Four

The main briefing compartment on the Hamilton was large enough to hold upwards of fifty humans in reasonable comfort.  Dacron found it rather odd.  Surely, the research team could get along better in a virtual environment, where they could have all the data they wanted at their beck and call.  But humans did like to be social, far more than any of their creations.  It was just something he would have to learn to tolerate.

No one spoke to him as he took his seat, unsurprisingly.  He'd worked hard to achieve at least a semblance of humanity, but it probably didn't fool any of them.  Even the discovery that his new body was fully functional – and it could feel things that were forever denied to the AIs – didn’t make him human.  Some of them probably found him more than a little disturbing.  Others would see his mere existence as a challenge.  

He looked from team member to team member, matching names to faces and datafiles.  Once, he would have been able to recall anything instantly, but his new memory – while excellent by human standards – seemed to work achingly slowly.  There was Professor Elyria, the leader of the team, seated beside Captain Thor and sharing a joke with him.  Dacron could tell that there was a certain tension between the two, although he couldn’t decide if it was over conflicting interpretation of the mission orders or simply unresolved sexual tension.  So many human morals over sex still escaped him.  Surely they could just have slept together if they wanted each other.  

Professor Adam, one of the foremost researchers into the Ancients, was seated next to Elyria, glaring around the compartment as if he found the entire meeting to be beneath him.  He looked like a cross between a human and a monkey, complete with fur and tail, both of which would have to be removed if he wanted to go down to Darius.  His file stated that he was responsible for no less than three theories into the disappearance of the Ancients and was among the loudest voices demanding a return to Essence.  Given what had happened the last time anyone had set foot on the cursed planet, Dacron was inclined to view that as suggesting a rather questionable level of intelligence.

Beside him, trying to look anywhere else, was Professor Gigot, an intervention specialist with  ninety years of experience,  She looked baseline human, with dark skin and darker hair; she spent so much time on primitive worlds that she never bothered to become one of the Changed.  That would save her time if she wanted to go down to the planet.  Besides, it also suggested a lack of vanity that was reassuring when compared to most humans.  What did it really matter if one human was prettier than the next?  She started to chat to Adana, a sociologist who had spent two centuries studying pre-singularity societies, casting Dacron an odd glance he couldn't interpret.  So much of humanity was still a mystery to him.  

He looked up as Colonel Jorlem sat down on the opposite side of the table, facing him.  Jorlem was a tall, powerfully-built man with a military haircut, a rather rugged face and a grim expression that suggested that there would be personality conflicts in the future.  Even the AIs hadn't been able to share his complete file, although what they had forwarded to Dacron suggested that Jorlem had been involved with the Essence Incident and later served as an envoy to the Sphere, both missions touching on extremely advanced alien technology.  And there were a whole host of combat annotations in his file.  Jorlem had seen more action than the average Peacekeeper.  

“So,” Jorlem said, in a dull rumble, “you’re the AI?”

“That is correct,” Dacron said.  There was no point in trying to conceal it.  “I am an embodied AI with...”

“I don’t need your statistics,” Jorlem said, cutting him off.  “All AIs ever do is boast about the size of their computer cores.”

Dacron felt an odd sensation that might be taking offense.  “We are merely informing you of our capabilities,” he said.  If they’d given him something to keep his emotions in check...but they hadn't.  Most humans had to learn to control themselves.  “Why are you here?”

“I was sent here,” Jorlem said, which wasn't quite an answer.  “Does Calculus not trust us to handle Darius?”

“Calculus feels that you should be offered as much assistance as we can provide,” Dacron said.  “I am that assistance.”

“Except that everything the AIs can offer us can be done at a distance, except on Darius,” Jorlem pointed out.  “How much help do they expect you to be able to give?”

“Whatever I can,” Dacron said.  It wasn't entirely true.  The AIs, when they absorbed him back into the Gestalt, would have a full record of what had happened on Darius.  Assuming he survived, of course.  “I am fully functional.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Jorlem said.  He sounded rather sarcastic.  “And if you get in the way, I will send you back up to the ship before you can say a word.”

Dacron was still mulling over possible retorts when the Captain stood up and opened the meeting.  “For those of you I haven’t already met, welcome onboard,” he said.  There was a brief chorus of welcome.  “Hamilton has been placed at the disposal of the research team, provided that the instructions laid down in our orders are followed.  Those who wish to read the orders for themselves may do so after we have completed the briefing.”

He smiled.  “Professor Elyria will give the briefing,” he added.  “I think you will find it fascinating.”

Dacron already knew about the mission, so he concentrated on studying the group as Elyria explained what made Darius so interesting – and dangerous.  Jorlem didn't seem surprised, although it was hard to tell; his features were so inscrutable that Dacron wondered if he'd had them deliberately engineered to betray nothing of his feelings.  Adam seemed shocked, then disbelieving; Gigot seemed as if she couldn't decide which way to jump.  Adana looked excited, rubbing her hands together in glee.  Outside VR simulations, no one had ever studied the effects of magic – or something that might as well be magic – on a human population.

Captain Thor seemed more inclined to be cautious, although like the Colonel he was skilled at concealing his expression.  His XO appeared astonished, studying the files Elyria presented as though she expected them to be lies, or fabrications.  Dacron couldn’t understand how anyone could seriously expect to fool the AIs, who could query a situation far more extensively than any mere human, but there were incidents when people had tried.  And then there were the strange stories of encounters out on the rim of explored space, none of which had ever been substantiated.

“I trust that you all now understand what is at stake,” Elyria said, into the silence.  The recorded images had been very convincing.  “We have two main priorities.  First, we are to study Darius and attempt to determine how they manipulate the quantum foam; second, we are to attempt to duplicate the technique for ourselves.  Right now” – she held up a hand to stem unvoiced objections – “we are not considering outright intervention on Darius.  That will have to come later.”

“I protest,” Gigot said, at once.  “It seems to me that Darius is a prime candidate for intervention.  They still use slaves...they may be able to manipulate the quantum foam, but they’re primitives.  We should intervene for their own good.”

“The Juba were primitives too,” Captain Thor pointed out.  “That didn't stop them from obtaining advanced weapons and setting off to conquer the galaxy.”

Dacron nodded.  The Juba had been little better than tribal warriors when a research ship had arrived from an advanced alien race.  Being smart, if primitive, the Juba had captured the ship and enslaved the crew, eventually using their knowledge to jump into space and invade their benefactors’ homeworld.  Quite how they’d done it hadn't been recorded; they’d exterminated the benefactors before taking a number of other worlds and running into humanity.  The remaining Juba were slowly being re-educated by human sociologists, while their former slaves were rebuilding their societies.  

But they'd been barbarians at heart.  They hadn't bothered to build a real empire, or lay the groundwork for assimilating their slaves...indeed, they’d really been glorified raiders.  The humans of the First Expansion Era might have had primitive ships compared to the Juba, but they would probably have beaten them.  Juba commanders had never grasped the art of being subtle, or – for that matter – working as part of a team.  

“This isn't the same,” Gigot pointed out.  “If they were as...peaceful as the Minoz, there might be some justification for refusing to intervene, but they’re just barbarians.”

Dacron listened silently as the debate raged back and forth.  Every human seemed to have an opinion on the intervention program, but he had none.  From a strictly ethical point of view, Gigot had a point, yet Darius was a riddle that needed to be solved before they did anything else.  Besides, their strange abilities had to be catalogued before risking open contact.  Who knew just how far their abilities reached?  Quantum foam manipulation didn't obey the normal laws of science, even as the AIs understood them.

Elyria tapped the table, silencing the debaters.  “I concede that we will eventually have to help them overcome their backwardness,” she said.   “However, our priorities are fixed.  Besides, looking at the data, I have yet to come up with a theory as to how their society actually works.  We will need to establish that before we do anything more...proactive.

“Even in hyperspace, it will take three weeks to reach Darius,” she continued.  “During that time, we will go over all the data collected by the first survey ship and attempt to draw up a plan for completing the survey ourselves.  Once we have a rough outline of questions we need answered, we will start planning our first mission into their society.  Luckily, there does seem to be some population movement, so we may be able to use a standard traveller disguise.

“I told you all that there might be some danger involved in this mission,” she concluded.  “If any of you want to walk away now, you can be transferred to a planetoid and held there until the mission is completed.  I do feel that this is likely to be the most remarkable mission for centuries, but I will understand if you want to leave.”

There was a long pause.  “No one wants to leave, then?”  She asked.  “Good.  Welcome onboard.”

“I have an issue to raise,” Jorlem said.  “I believe that we may be looking at Elder intervention, rather than spontaneous mutation.”

“Go on,” Elyria said, before everyone could start talking at once.  “What do you mean?”

“Quite apart from the...magic,” Jorlem said, “there are three other oddities about the Darius System that are immediately noticeable.  The first one is that it is thousands of light years from Earth.  If we assume that the settlers left Earth during the First Expansion Era – quite a few colony missions left Earth and were never seen again – they still travelled a remarkable distance to reach Darius.  I rather doubt that any starship launched during that Era could have reached Darius, at least under its own power.”

“They could have encountered a wormhole,” Adam said, thoughtfully.  “We know of at least one other colony ship that passed through a wormhole while attempting to reach a new world.”

“It’s possible,” Jorlem agreed.  “However, even if they left during the Second Expansion Era, they’d have problems reaching Darius, not least because there would be plenty of other worlds to settle closer to Earth.  The last great exodus was during the Thule War, but those ships should have had the technological base to support themselves, wherever they went.  None of the surveys located the remains of a colony ship.  It seems to have vanished completely.”

He brought up a star chart and pointed out Darius’s location.  “The second major oddity is just how isolated Darius is,” he explained.  “There isn't a world with a native sentient race for just over a thousand light years and no major interstellar power – apart from us – for nearly two thousand light years from Darius.  Indeed, given that the exact concept of what is our space is a little flexible, we may be further away.”

Dacron nodded.  The early interstellar empires had defined whole volumes of space as belonging to humanity, but as technology advanced that concept had become increasingly outdated.  Right now, the Confederation was spread over a vast region of space that happened to include several alien races who were not part of the Confederation.  Why would humanity and a species that happened to live in stars go to war?  Even with the AIs, communicating was very close to impossible.  Most recorded interstellar wars had been fought out between races that needed the same planets.  More advanced races moved away from planets altogether.  The Confederation covered a vast region of space, but only included five hundred planets, mostly terraformed by human technology.  

“They could have been seeded by the Killers,” Adana pointed out.  “Have those worlds been surveyed for their plants?”

“Not yet,” Jorlem said.  “The possibility has been considered.”

Dacron saw several humans grimace.  Centuries ago, humanity had discovered a number of planets that looked surprisingly habitable, almost perfectly compatible with human life.  They’d been colonised, of course, before anyone could look for the snake in the garden.  Eventually, they’d discovered that a number of very tasty fruits and berries on the planets were deliberately designed to cripple intelligent life.  Those who ate them didn't notice anything until it was too late to prevent severe brain damage, while their children came out of the womb mentally disabled.  Later, nanotech and careful survey work had eliminated most of the threat – and humans had been engineered to make it impossible for the poisoned fruit to do their work – but no one had ever identified the race that had created the weapon.  The only that could be said for certain about them was that they didn't want intelligent life to emerge anywhere else.  

“The third oddity is the system itself,” Jorlem concluded.  “Darius is a lone planet.  The only other object in the system that is worth nothing is a single comet on a very elliptical orbit, one that suggests that it might have been captured by the primary star.  Single-planet systems are not unknown, but there are none that happen to include a habitable world.  In fact, the level of space dust within the system is remarkably low.”

“As if someone had swept it all away,” Adam said, thoughtfully.  “The same has been said most of the Ancient worlds.”

“Except the Ancient worlds happen to be dead,” Gigot countered.  “Darius is alive.”

“And we still don’t understand the weirdness surrounding the Ancient worlds,” Adam reminded her.  “They are completely dead, but they have a breathable atmosphere.  They appear to have no technology, yet something interferes with our best sensor systems and research drones.  Every so often, people report seeing things that never show up on records, or orbital observation...why couldn't Darius be a living Ancient world?”

“No one has ever succeeded in terraforming an Ancient world, restoring it to life,” Jorlem said, thoughtfully.  “We certainly haven’t – and I find it hard to believe that a colony ship from the early days of space expansion could do something the Confederation can't.  Besides, we haven’t found any Ancient buildings on Darius.”

“So far,” Adam pointed out.  “Half of the sensor readings the original survey ship made appear to be unreliable.”

Dacron scowled.  The AIs had painstakingly analysed every last component of the records, only to discover that something down on the planet had been scrambling the sensors.  Half of their results didn't jibe with the other half, creating contradictions that the RIs had dismissed as sensor error.  It had been believed impossible to fool optical sensors, but Darius seemed to manage it.  The AIs had eventually concluded that they needed more data.  Dacron’s briefings had admitted that the CSC hadn't been very impressed with the result.  

“We will find our answers,” Elyria said.  She stood up, ending the meeting.  “I suggest that you spend the next three days settling in and reviewing the data, then we can start planning our operations.  We will need considerably more intelligence to determine our precise course of action.  Between us, we have experience of operating in primitive societies, even without technological backup.  We will succeed.”

Dacron watched as the briefing room slowly emptied, leaving him alone with his thoughts.  Outside the viewports, the eerie lights of hyperspace flickered past the starship,  reminding him that once he'd fully comprehended the functions of a hyperdrive.  Right now, he couldn't even remember the theory.  Slowly, he stood up and walked over to the viewport, staring out into space.  It made him feel...

...Insignificant.  Hyperspace was a high-energy dimension.  The higher a starship went, the greater the power - and the dangers.  Even the AIs had to be careful when they tapped hyperspace for power.  Used poorly, the results could be worse than the disaster that had exterminated the entire population of Polaris.

And he felt useless.  The humans could offer suggestions and ideas, no matter how insane, but it wasn't something he could do.  An AI who had been stripped down to fit into a human brain didn't have imagination, just knowledge – and very little of that.  What else was he good for?  His thoughts seemed to crawl through the meat that made up his mind.  He was stupid now.

Shaking his head, a gesture he must have picked up from one of the humans he’d met on the AI ship, he turned and headed back to his quarters.  Really, this body was most inefficient.  How much time did humans waste sleeping?  Surely something could be done about that.

But all he could do was wait, and endure.  Hopefully, there would be something he could do on Darius.  After all, they’d created him to visit the planet.  No doubt they thought he’d fit right in.

Privately, Dacron rather doubted it.

Chapter Five

“I really should have looked up Prometheus at once,” Elyria said, as she faced Jorlem over the dining table.  “Prometheus was the man who stole fire from the gods...”

“...And gave it to the human race,” Jorlem confirmed.  “Prometheus exists to develop the technology to manipulate the quantum foam.”

Elyria snorted, still annoyed with herself.  It had taken her three days to think of simply looking up the name in the ship’s datafiles.  She had spent too long trying to pull together the few hints she’d found into a coherent pattern and getting nowhere.  There were very few secrets in the Confederation, but those the Peacekeepers and the AIs collaborated to hide were almost impossible to find.  Any researcher trying to locate a secret Peacekeeper project would find themselves buried in billions of terabytes of useless information.  

She took a sip of her drink, composing herself.  “And have you had any success?”

“Nothing to speak of,” Jorlem admitted.  “There are some hints that alien telepaths may actually gain their powers through the quantum foam, but there are no clear answers as to why and how.  All of the proposed devices for interacting with the foam simply fail when constructed, assuming that they can be constructed.  If it wasn't for the fact that we know of at least nineteen Elder races, we might have given up by now.”

“True,” Elyria said.  It wasn't in humanity’s nature to accept being second-best at anything.  If there were races out there that were effectively all-powerful, humanity would struggle to match them – and the Confederation could pour a vast amount of resources into solving the mystery of the quantum foam.  “Have you any theory as to why it doesn't work?”

“They range from the commonplace to the metaphysical,” Jorlem said.  “One theory simply states that humanity is too young a race to master the quantum foam, that we have to evolve a great deal more before we can make the jump into becoming an Elder race.  Another is that you have to be composed of energy to manipulate the foam; a third is that we have derailed the whole process of advancement by altering and improving our own bodies.”

“That doesn't sound reasonable,” Elyria pointed out.  “Every known race has been improving itself since it developed the intelligence to work out that mating two healthy people was more likely to produce healthy children than mating two unhealthy people.  I don’t think the Elders avoided engineering themselves.”

“I rather doubt it,” Jorlem agreed.  “The alternate to that theory is that we haven’t improved ourselves enough, that we should be working on enhancing the capabilities of the human mind.  Research is still underway, but there are limits to what more we can do.”

Elyria nodded.  Even the ‘baseline’ humans in the Confederation were the recipients of a vast amount of genetic engineering.  Her body might have looked little different to a pre-singularity human, but internally she was very different.  She would never become ill; indeed, if injured, she would heal very quickly.  Even without any other form of medical assistance, she would live for at least five hundred years – and that could be extended indefinitely with proper care and attention.  Her memory was extremely good, her intelligence was high and her senses were perfect.  The pre-singularity humans would have seen her as a superhuman.

“Darius must upset your people,” she said, after a moment.  “Humans manipulating the quantum foam so easily?”

“It does,” Jorlem agreed.  “Right now, there’s a split in opinion between those who think that Darius represents a mutation that we can splice into our own genetic code and those who think that it’s a trick of some kind.”

Elyria blinked.  “A trick?”

“There are too many oddities around the planet for us to assume that their abilities are just a matter of random chance,” Jorlem reminded her.  “One theory is that the Elders gave them their abilities and then just stepped back to see what would happen.”

“Experimenting on humans,” Elyria said.  “Do you think that’s possible?”

There were legends, of course; there always were, dating all the way back to humanity’s first tentative steps into outer space.  Humans who had been abducted by aliens for medical testing, or even judged to see if humanity was worthy of continued existence.  There was no shortage of speculation that the legends had some basis in fact, but centuries of research had turned up no evidence to support those theories.  The closest humans had come to being alien research subjects had been back during the First Interstellar War, and those aliens had operated on the same level as mankind.  

But the legends persisted, talking about strange encounters at the rim of explored space...

“Anything is possible,” Jorlem said.  “The Prometheus Project took a considerable interest in Shaman, a world that had legends about direct divine attention, and discovered that there were any number of oddities surrounding the planet, almost as many as Darius.  Our best guess is that their legends had some basis in fact and an Elder race was looking after them, answering prayers and suchlike.”

“I never looked outside human worlds,” Elyria said.  “But that one sounds fascinating...”

“Not for the inhabitants,” Jorlem said.  “They don't realise it, but whatever happened to them destroyed their capability for self-advancement.  Everything they have came as a gift from their gods.  They’re stuck in the First Age, without any real prospect of developing the technology needed to lift themselves into the Second Age.  And there is nothing we can do about it unless we want to interfere openly.”

Elyria scowled.  The Confederation had no qualms about interfering in a primitive human society, but it preferred not to meddle with alien societies unless they posed a threat to the Confederation or their neighbours.  She’d heard that the debate between the different factions had been going on for years, without any real solution.  One side claimed that allowing aliens to wallow in the mud was racist, that aliens too deserved to share in the unlimited bounty of the Confederation.  The other side pointed out that aliens needed to work their own way up from the mud, or they’d never become anything other than clones of humanity.  

“If Darius can really teach us how to manipulate the quantum foam,” Jorlem mused, “our society will be turned upside down.”

Elyria lifted an eyebrow.  “How so?”

“You ought to understand,” he said, dryly.  “What would a person from a pre-singularity society make of us?”

“Culture shock, at the very least,” Elyria said.  “And the leaders would want to stop their people from emigrating.”

Pre-singularity societies – which were often scarcity societies – had real problems coming to terms with the Confederation.  Their established modes of thought had been built in an environment where there were laws and limits and cultures that didn't quite make sense.  They concentrated on amassing vast sums of money...and then suffered terrible shock when they discovered the Confederation could literally turn lead into gold.  And that was a comparatively minor issue.  The discovery that some humans existed inside AI cores, where they could devise their own realities to their heart’s content, or had merged into the giant MassMind...a primitive society had real problems handling it.  

There were other issues, cultural ones.  Most primitive worlds had marriage as a contract between two families, rather than between two people.  It wasn't uncommon to have one or both of the partners simply pushed into the match, and forced to wed if they were unwilling.  There were strong economic reasons for that, none of which excused it in the eyes of the Confederation.  And many primitive worlds treated females as second-class citizens, something that was equally inexcusable.  Their first contact with the Confederation could be devastating to their worldviews.

“It would be harder than that,” Jorlem said.  “What would they make of the MassMind?  Or the Changed?  Or, for that matter, the AIs?  You and I are relatively normal by their standards, but if they cut us open they’d discover all sorts of little improvements.  And then they’d discover the Elders and perhaps even start worshipping them.”

He shook his head.  “But our society is based on equality of opportunities, if not outcomes,” he added.  “Everyone lucky enough to be born inside the Confederation has access to more wealth and opportunities than the average pre-singularity society can even dream of.  But what will happen if we cannot splice the Darius DNA into our genetic code?  What if only people who are descended from those born on Darius can use the ‘magic’?”

Elyria scowled.  “You’re talking about another Kahn, aren't you?”

“I’m afraid so,” Jorlem said.  “And it could be worse for us...”

There were few criminals in the Confederation, simply because most of the old motives for crime no longer existed, but there were a handful of people who were simply born wrong, without the basic empathy that allowed them to operate normally within human society.  Kahn had been one of them, a sociopath who had fled the Confederation fifty years after his birth and eventually landed on a primitive world, where his enhanced DNA had given him a staggering advantage over the locals.  Two hundred years later, when the world had been rediscovered by the Confederation, his descendents formed a ruling class that was literally superhuman, compared to its subjects.  Why not?  They were stronger, smarter and healthier than the locals.  

“The AIs are fantastically more intelligent than us,” Elyria said, finally.  “We survived their development, didn't we?”

“The AIs aren't human,” Jorlem pointed out.  “How would we react if one group of humans was incontestably superior to another group of humans – and we couldn't uplift the second group?”

Elyria shook her head.  “If they have somehow managed to develop the ability to...tune into the universe and change it, we can learn it too,” she said, firmly.  “And if they have a unique trait in their genetic code, we can duplicate it and splice it into our own.  I honestly can't see how they can hope to remain unique for very much longer.”

“I can’t see how a QCC link can be disrupted either,” Jorlem said.  “They’re meant to be impossible to detect, let alone jam – and yet we see the links regularly disrupted on Ancient worlds.  And Darius, of course.”  He grinned.  “The best theory anyone has been able to come up with is that reality itself is screwed up on the Ancient worlds.”

His grin widened.  “And if that is true,” he added, “what does it say about Darius?”

***
Elyria mulled over the question as the voyage wore on, before eventually coming to the conclusion that there just wasn’t enough information to allow her to answer the question properly.  If manipulating the quantum foam was a way to hack reality itself – and all of the Confederation’s research indicated that was the case – it was quite possible that reality might be a little hazy near the Ancient worlds.  Technology might fail because it relied upon the universe working in a certain way at all times, but the universe was different near the Ancient worlds.  Which sounded insane, and impossible, apart from the minor detail that advanced technology did glitch for no apparent reason.  The Ancient worlds concealed their secrets well.

“There is no way that they should have a breathable atmosphere,” Adam said, at an evening dinner.  Elyria had started the tradition of inviting people to share regular meals, allowing them to socialise outside of actual work.  It helped to break down barriers between the team members.  “The worlds are dead.  There’s nothing living at all, not even grass or anything else that might replenish the atmosphere.  And yet we have no trouble living there without life support.”

He grinned as he took a bite out of an oversized chicken leg.  Like most of the other Changed, he’d had to start shifting back to baseline human so he could go down to Darius, something that had left him with a huge appetite as his body made the change.  There was another difference between the Confederation and a pre-singularity society right there; primitives might worry about their appearance, but anyone born in the Confederation could change it at will.  What did appearance matter if someone could make themselves as pretty – or ugly – as they chose?

“It gets even more surprising on Ancient-46,” he added, a moment later.  “We're not the only ones who have a research program there; the Puppies do as well.  Thing is, their atmospheric requirements are different from ours; they find living on our worlds uncomfortable, to say the least.  And we find their atmosphere...stinky.  But they don’t have any problems on the Ancient worlds and neither do we.

“The general theory is that the Ancients somehow determined that their worlds would always be suitable for outsides to visit, even if they had radically different atmospheric requirements.  But how did they do that when we and the Puppies have different requirements?  Or, for that matter, us and the Ghosts?  There is no way a Ghost can share a human atmosphere, yet they have no trouble on Ancient worlds.”

Elyria shook her head in disbelief, wishing – for the first time – that she'd spent more time studying the Ancient worlds.  “Like...they programmed them that way,” she said.  “They just told the atmosphere to be breathable and it was breathable?”

“Even when two different races share the world,” Adam agreed.  “As for how they did it, we don't have a clue.”

It was impossible, Elyria knew.  The Confederation had pushed baseline humanity to the point where an unsuitable atmosphere wouldn't poison them, but there was no way that it could allow two radically different races to share the same atmosphere.  They could give them life support fields to wear, something that would ensure the local atmosphere was reprocessed into something breathable, yet the Ancients seemed to have done the impossible and made their worlds habitable for everyone.  

“The word impossible is simply a reflection of the unknown,” Jorlem said, into the silence.  He hadn't said much about the Prometheus Project to the others, although he hadn't asked Elyria to remain silent about it.  “How much of what we do would be impossible to a pre-singularity society?”

That started another debate.  Elyria listened with some interest, paying close attention to the attempts to compare various different societies with computer simulations, or altered realities created within AI cores.  Quite a few humans had uploaded themselves and then taken refuge in fantasy universes created by the Confederation’s designers, some operating according to laws that bore no resemblance to reality.  Many of the Uploaded had slipped so far into their private worlds that they no longer remembered the Confederation outside.  It would have been easy to believe that someone had designed a world like Darius for a game, if it hadn't been real.  But then, the pre-singularity societies they were discussion would have considered the Confederation no less extraordinary.  

She looked over at the embodied AI and saw him listening with equal interest, one hand tapping away at a portable terminal.  Quite why he wasn't allowed a neural link was beyond her, but it hardly mattered.  He had already proved himself when it came to analysing the vast amount of data gathered by the first survey ship, and – more importantly – highlighting sensor records that might have been disrupted by glitches.  In the end, they’d reluctantly concluded that they’d have to wait until they reached Darius and then start gathering information.  It was probably that more primitive technology would help them to stay in contact with Hamilton.  

The party finally started to break up several hours later, the various team members going to bed or heading back to their research labs.  A couple seemed to have formed attachments already, which wasn't a major surprise; others were simply too dedicated to their research to try to form any relationships, either with their fellow team members or the starship’s crew.  Elyria had no time herself; besides, she was meant to be the team leader.  She should be setting an example of dedication to the mission.

She walked through the starship’s interior until she reached the observation chamber, where she could almost imagine that she was standing on the starship’s hull, utterly unprotected from the raging storms of hyperspace.  Outside, she could see flickers of energy dancing through the higher dimension, each one vastly more powerful than a supernova in normal space.  Learning to navigate hyperspace had taken centuries, ever since the human race had realised that there was an FTL method quicker than warp drive, but it had been worthwhile.  The Confederation’s starships could now cross the entire galaxy in a matter of months.  Other ships, she knew, had already set out for nearby galaxies.  They would reach M33 in a few decades, whereupon they would start building up a new Confederation.  Human wanderlust drove them onwards...

No one had yet figured out which colony ship had founded Darius, if indeed there had been a colony ship.  It wasn't unknown for a society that wanted to return to pre-technological times to destroy the colony ship, simply by dispatching it into the local star.  Later, they discovered their mistake in abandoning technology, but by then it was too late.  Quite a few of the worse primitive worlds the Confederation had rediscovered had been founded by people who wanted to get away from technology, only to discover that their planned societies were unsustainable without technology.  Many of them had died knowing that they'd failed.

Despite her worries, Elyria found herself smiling.  This was original science, something that might push the boundaries of human knowledge further out.  And if it did lead to transcendence...?  Who knew where else it could lead?  The Confederation had certainly developed in some very strange ways since it had passed through the singularity.

One week left, she told herself.  They’d made excellent time through hyperspace.  One week until we reach Darius.

She just couldn't wait to begin.

Chapter Six

Darius was a very odd world, in a very odd star system.

Dacron sat in one of the monitoring stations, studying the live feed from the probes Hamilton had launched as soon as she came out of hyperspace twenty light hours from Darius.  At least there was one AI trait that had crossed over to his human body; he could multitask far better than any mundane human.  The probes were sending back enough data to overwhelm a human, but Dacron and the RIs had no trouble putting it into a coherent whole.

Making sense of it was another issue altogether.  Dacron had wondered, despite the assurances he’d received from the AIs, if the first survey ship had made a whole string of mistakes, or suffered more sensor glitches than they’d realised.  But one glance at the probes scanning the system and he realised that they had understated the weirdness surrounding Darius.  A sphere, centred on the star, of roughly two light months in diameter had been completely swept of space dust.  Apart from the comet, and Darius itself, there was literally nothing within two light months of the planet itself.  Dacron found himself unable to come up with any theory that might have explained it, apart from alien intervention.  But why?

The Confederation had occasionally taken steps to safeguard a primitive alien world  from random asteroid impacts that would have destroyed the fragile societies – or ecosystems.  It didn’t exactly count as interfering , or so the humans claimed, although the logic of the situation often defeated Dacron’s comprehension.  But then, the primitive society would have no awareness of how close they'd come to being destroyed before the Confederation intervened.  They would never compose legends about how the sky-gods had mercy on them in their darkest hour.  

Throughout history, mankind had been tempted by the stars – and the planets that orbited Sol, near Earth.  Eventually, they had all been settled – and then the human race had gone further afield.  But anyone growing up on Darius wouldn't know that there were other planets orbiting other stars, at least unless they managed to make telescopes powerful enough to pick them out – and even if they did, bootstrapping themselves into space would be incredibly difficult.  The simplest solution to the mystery was to assume that whoever had created Darius, and transported a number of humans to the planet, had deliberately intended to ensure that they couldn't leave.  Assuming they had been taken during the First Expansion Era, it was quite likely that the aliens would have concluded that humanity would destroy itself.  Without the First Interstellar War, it was possible that they would have been right.  

The single comet received hundreds of probes, which scanned the entire object several times and concluded that it was a fairly typical comet, a ball of ice comparable to the millions of others that had been recorded all over the galaxy.  Captain Thor was unconvinced and ordered a survey team to land on the comet and take core samples, as well as running through hundreds of tests to detect the presence of alien technology.  Dacron suspected that they would find nothing – there were no hints that any of the probes had suffered glitches – but it was the Captain’s precognitive.  Besides, he approved of caution.  There was no reason to hurry.

Adam disagreed.  “This is a waste of time,” he snapped.  The team had gathered in the briefing compartment, where they were studying the live feed from a handful of the probes.  “The comet was captured thousands of years ago and entered orbit around the primary star.  It isn't interesting.”

“It is the exception to the rule in this star system,” the XO pointed out.  Dacron rather liked her, although he wasn't sure how much of it was his mentality and how much was his new body’s hormones.  Controlling them was something that few humans managed to master, apparently, at least until they’d passed their first century.  Some of them, particularly the Lords of Pleasure, never seemed to master them.  “That alone makes it interesting.”

Dacron listened to the debate with half an ear as he studied the endless stream of data.  Adam might well be right, he decided, after the survey team deployed nanoprobes to search the comet.  There wasn't anything particularly exceptional about it, apart from the fact that it appeared to have been native to the Darius System.  A backtrack of its orbit revealed that it had held for several hundred thousand years at the very least, although Dacron knew that could be unreliable.  It would be easy for anyone who could sweep an entire star system clean of space dust, and everything else, to put a comet in a stable orbit and just leave it to carry on forever.

Absently, he projected the comet’s course forward – and felt his heartbeat start to race as he realised that it would strike Darius itself in roughly seven thousand years.  Assuming that Darius didn't master space travel, or manipulating the quantum foam outside their own world, the comet would slam into the planet with terrific force.  The resulting devastation, according to the worst-case projection, would exterminate all life on the planet.

“That could be a coincidence,” the XO said, when Dacron brought it to their attention.  “But it someone did stabilize the comet’s orbit, they should have been able to ensure that it would never pose a threat to the planet.”

Dacron nodded, wishing – once again – for the instant access to datafiles he’d enjoyed as an AI.  There had been hundreds of thousands of planets struck by space debris without alien intervention; indeed, given that planets warped the fabric of space and created gravity wells, it was very likely that asteroids would eventually be pulled in to where they could strike the planet.  But if someone had the capability to travel through space, it should have been easy for them to render the comet harmless.  The fact that they’d left it in a position to strike the planet had worrying implications.

Or it could simply be a wild coincidence.  Dacron tried to calculate the odds against it – and then gave up, deciding that it was futile.  Even the AIs would have problems calculating the odds in a reasonable manner, without having to guess at some of the variables.  

“So that leaves us with another question,” Elyria said.  “Do we alter the comet’s path ourselves and save Darius?”

“Of course we should,” Gigot said.  She glared around the room, daring anyone to challenge her.  “We cannot leave them to die when the comet strikes their world.”

“There are seven thousand years between now and when the comet will hit,” Dacron said, mildly.  A full-fledged AI could have given a precise time, all the way down to the last nanosecond.  “And a single blast from a fission cannon would obliterate the comet.  There is no need for haste.”

“But we should act now,” Gigot insisted.  She turned to the Captain.  “Captain, surely this ship can alter the comet’s course so it dives into the sun?”

“It can, yes,” the Captain agreed, gravely.  “But the comet does not pose an immediate threat and we still don’t understand the Darius System.  There will be time to act later.”

“Seven thousand years is a very long time,” Elyria added.  “The Confederation itself has only existed for three thousand years.”

Dacron wondered, absently, just how many of the humans fully understood what that actually meant.  The Ancients had lived billions of years ago; the Elders had to be millions of years old.  Humanity, for all of its power and sophistication, was nothing on such a scale.  It was humbling to realise that the entire human race was so young.  A few million years in the future, it was possible that there would be nothing left of the Confederation.  And then alien researchers might just dig up the remains of humanity and wonder what had happened to the human race.  

It seemed impossible, except for the simple fact that the Confederation had encountered the ruins of other older civilisations, apart from the Ancients.  Worlds that had destroyed themselves in war, worlds that had stagnated and eventually died, worlds that had sent out colony ships, only to be overwhelmed by some unknown fate that had left the dead ships drifting through space for an eternity...no one could look at the remains and not wonder if that was the fate in store for humanity.  And some of those dead worlds had proved to be very dangerous.  

Five hours passed slowly as the comet was studied time and time again, before the Captain finally allowed the probes to start heading into the inner system.  A dozen solar-penetration probes reached the primary star and dived into the flames, eventually signalling back a report that stated that the star was nothing more than a simple G2 primary.  There were no signs of stellar engineering comparable to the Sphere-Star, or Omega-5.  The Captain remained unconvinced, but he relaxed slightly when the second set of results agreed with the first.  Any race that could manipulate stars was very definitely on an equal level to the Confederation.

Dacron found himself smiling, rather dryly.  Any race that could manipulate the quantum foam was unquestionably superior to the Confederation.

Something clicked in his mind and he eyed Captain Thor with new understanding.  The Confederation was used to dealing with other civilisations from a position of strength.  Even the ones that shared humanity’s level of technology had nowhere near as many starships as the Peacekeepers could deploy, if pressed, let alone the industrial base to support them.  The Confederation might hold itself to its own ethical system, but it had the firepower to ensure that it got what it wanted, whatever else happened.  Hamilton alone might not be a threat to a peer power, yet anyone advanced enough to threaten the ship would know that it was the product of a vastly powerful civilisation.

But if someone could manipulate the quantum foam, they could...they could work magic, to all intents and purposes.  Given enough power, they could simply blink Hamilton out of existence, or inflict staggering damage on the Confederation.  Dealing with the Elder races was one thing, but this was...different.  The Captain had to be aware that one false move could prove utterly disastrous.  They had to be very careful.

Finally, the probes headed in towards Darius itself.  The strange emptiness of space persisted right up until they reached the planet’s atmosphere, which seemed to be fairly typical for a human-compatible world.  There was certainly nothing poisonous in the atmosphere, or anything that would cause delusions – or, for that matter, anything that might encourage mutation in human DNA.  More hours passed as the probes used optical sensors to chart the planet, comparing their records to those collected by the first survey ship.  The general outline of the continents were the same, Dacron concluded, but a number of settlements had been missed for no accountable reason.  It took the RIs several minutes to realise that several settlements detected by the first ship had been missed by the new probes.

“We’re picking up some strange energy signatures,” one of the science team said, finally.  The chart of the planet was rapidly updated to indicate the presumed source of the energy signatures, although some of them seemed too scattered to be precisely located.  “We cannot identify the energy...”

Dacron listened as the humans started arguing, while he mulled over possibilities in his mind.  Hamilton had the most advanced sensor suite in the Confederation, capable of detecting almost anything that could be detected, but they were dealing with a completely unprecedented situation.  It was remotely possible that quantum foam manipulation might produce energy they hadn't learned to track or qualify yet...he shook his head, dismissing the thought.  New data was required, urgently.  Given time, he was sure that they would be able to devise technology to monitor quantum foam manipulations.

“They seem comparable to random vacuum fluctuations,” another scientist offered.  “It could be that they’re a side effect of manipulating the quantum foam.”

“But nothing like it has been recorded during encounters with Elders,” the first scientist objected.  “Surely we would have picked up something.”

“But there are comparable energy fluxes on Ancient worlds,” Adam injected.  “This might be simply more of the same.”

“And we never figured out what those fluxes did, besides screwing with our technology,” the XO said.  “Captain, we need to approach very carefully.”

“That goes without saying,” Captain Thor said.  He looked down at his display.  “How much more can we draw from orbit?”

It took hours to study and analyse the data from the orbiting probes.  Adana eventually concluded that Darius was actually divided into a patchwork of small states, the largest being little bigger than two hundred square kilometres.  But it wasn't easy to be sure, because instead of brushing against one another, the states seemed to be separated by miles of undeveloped territory.  It occurred to Dacron that it might be comparable to how the Confederation’s territory overlapped with alien territory, yet when he voiced that theory Adana took it apart, pointing out that planet-bound societies often had to compete for land and resources.  If the Confederation had still been dependent upon HE3 mined from gas giants, they would probably have been a great deal less willing to tolerate aliens who happened to live on gas giants.  That started another argument, but Dacron suspected she was right.  It was a great deal easier to moralise if there was nothing particularly important at stake.

“Maybe there are limits to their power,” Elyria offered.  She looked tired, despite all of her enhancement.  “But even an iron age society could control more territory than they do.”

“Maybe,” Adana said.  “But Gunpowder was also split up into small states.”

Dacron called up the files and compared the two.  Gunpowder had been settled back in the First Expansion Era by people who regarded the right to bear arms as a holy duty.  They’d been isolated from galactic society by the First Interstellar War and when they’d been rediscovered, they’d been split up into smaller states, partly because everyone was armed and ready to resist the imposition of a powerful central government.  It didn't seem comparable, unless they were missing something; Darius had all the trappings of a feudal society – and magic.  The two didn't seem to go together.

Or maybe he was just overlooking the obvious.  “Everyone on Gunpowder could bear arms,” he said, studying the files.  The population had started practicing almost as soon as they were old enough to walk.  “What if only a relative handful of people on Darius can manipulate the quantum foam?”

“You mean we might be looking at another Kahn?”  Elyria asked, thoughtfully.  “Or something that works along the same lines?”

“It’s a possibility,” Dacron said.  He knew better than to state it was fact, at least not yet.  “If one group in society has an incontestable advantage over the rest of the population, that group is either going to find itself in charge or being exterminated.”

“I don't think I’d want to pick a fight with someone who could turn me into a frog,” Adam said, rather loudly.  They’d all seen the recordings.  “Who would dare to offend someone like that?”

There was a long pause.  “Most of the random energy fluctuations appear to be outside the cities, rather than near them,” the XO said.  “It could be that the energy makes it harder to operate outside the population centres...”

“I don’t see how,” Adam grunted.  “We know that primitive technology works on an Ancient world.  Darius is primitive enough that their technology shouldn't have any problems even in the midst of an energy flux.”

“Unless they use compasses,” Dacron said.  He’d reviewed the files on the Ancient worlds, all of which held more questions than answers.  “Those don’t work right on Ancient worlds...”

“No,” Adam agreed.  “They don’t.”

Elyria took a breath.  “Captain,” she said, “I believe that we should start deploying snoops.”

“I’d prefer to wait until we had more data,” the Captain said, reluctantly.  Dacron rather doubted that they could get more data, at least from orbit.  There was no way of being sure of anything without going down to the ground.  “Have we picked up anything that could be a colony ship?”

“No, Captain,” the XO reported.  “There are no traces of anything above First Age tech at all, apart from the energy fluctuations.  The most advanced transportation systems they have are either sailing galleons or carts pulled by horses.  If there was a colony ship here, it was probably launched into the star after the colonists were disembarked.”

“And nothing from the First Expansion Era could hide from our sensors,” the Captain mused.  “Unless they buried it...”

He shook his head.  “We’d pick up something, even if it was completely shut down,” he added.  “Have you been able to detect a pattern in the fluctuations?”

“None as yet,” Dacron said.  “As far as we can tell, the fluctuations outside the cities are completely random.  Inside the cities, they seem to be associated with the same buildings, but it’s difficult to tell from orbit.  We need to start deploying snoops.”

“There was no sign that they were detected during the first ship’s visit,” Elyria added.  “And we do need that data, Captain.”

“Very well,” the Captain said, finally.  “You may start deploying them, first to isolated ships and then into the cities.  But keep them away from the fluctuations, if possible.  We don't know how they will react to our technology. “

Dacron nodded.  The Captain was right.  “There is no need to take chances,” he agreed.  They’d already programmed the snoops for deployment.  “When will we approach the planet?”

“Once we are sure that there are no fluctuations in high orbit,” the Captain said, “and that we can maintain an invisibility screen.  This ship is not exactly tiny.  Once we’re in orbit, they will be able to see us with the naked eye.  We do not want to be seen.”

Chapter Seven

Joshua!

Joshua’s eyes snapped open as his master’s mental voice thudded into his head.  He wished, he really wished, that his master wouldn't do that, but subtle hints seemed to pass the older man by.  And he couldn't tell him directly, because that would be rude and being rude to one’s master was unforgivable.  He’d be lucky if he merely escaped with a beating.  

It will soon be time for Court, his master added, a moment later.  You are required to be there, to learn how to judge.

Yes, Master, Joshua sent back, trying to keep the irritation out of his thoughts.  It probably didn't work, but Master Faye, Pillar of Warlock’s Bane, was old enough to ignore hints of true feelings that ran through the mental voice.  I'm on my way.

Studying under a Pillar was a great honour – and Master Faye had never let him forget it from the moment he’d discovered that Joshua had a talent for magic, plucking him out of his family home and taking him in as his apprentice.  Joshua had been glad at first, because he'd profoundly disliked baking in his father’s shop, but there were times when he regretted it.  Magic was tricky, tended to get out of control when his concentration slipped for a moment and had a price.  He hadn't realised how isolated he’d become until it was too late.

Pulling himself out of bed, he splashed water on his face and groped for the grey apprentice robe.  His master wore a colourful outfit to mark himself as the most powerful man in the city, but an apprentice was supposed to be drab, at least until he qualified and set up his own practice somewhere else.  Joshua wanted to be free, yet he wasn't looking forward to that day.  He'd have to leave his family as well as his teacher.  Pulling the robe over his head, he cast a simple reflective spell and stared at his reflection.  He’d been shaved bald the day he’d accepted Master Faye as his tutor and the hair had never grown back.  His eyes, too, had darkened, to the point where they seemed almost inhuman.  Beyond that, he’d been working out every day, under the tutelage of a former mercenary who had come to work for Master Faye.  His body was tough, capable of bearing the stresses of working magic.  And the girls took notice of him.  

He smiled at the thought, even though a magician was not supposed to do anything more than indulge himself from time to time.  Pillars rarely married; as far as anyone knew, Scions never married.  He’d kissed a few girls and spent time in the brothel, just like any other young apprentice, but he had never developed a proper relationship with a girl on the same level as himself.  But to hear Master Faye, there were very few girls on his level.  A magician was socially superior to almost anyone without magic.

Shaking his head, he picked up his training staff and walked downstairs, into the dining room.  Master Faye’s servants had already put some bread and cheese on the table, leaving it to go dry and stale, a droll punishment for his constant oversleeping.  Master Faye had admitted that he’d had problems too when he’d been an apprentice.  And when Joshua had pressed him on the issue, he'd also admitted that he’d had the exact same punishment.  

The servants were nowhere to be seen as he ate his food, so he carried the plate through into the kitchen and left it in the sink for them to wash.  His father had taught him always to wash up after himself, but he’d discovered that trying to do the washing up in Master Faye’s house upset the servants, although he had no idea why.  Smiling, he took a small bag of dried fruit from the cupboard and left the house.  There was no point in locking the door.  The wards surrounding the house would deal with anyone foolish enough to trespass against a magician.  

Outside, the sun was just rising over Warlock’s Bane, but the streets were already alive with apprentices as they hurried to where they worked, or servants doing the shopping for their masters.  Warlock’s Bane was a big city, with over four thousand inhabitants; it seemed unbelievable that any city could be larger.   Master Faye swore that there were bigger cities in the world, far away, but Joshua wasn't sure if he believed him.  His master was known to test him from time to time, just to see what he lies would swallow.  

A line of carriages drove past, heading for the gates that would take them out of town and, eventually, out of Master Faye’s jurisdiction.  Joshua remembered looking at them as a child and feeling determined to travel one day, although that had been before Master Faye had found him and taken him as a pupil.  If he became a Scion, at least he would be able to travel..Master Faye had told him of wonders out in the badlands and he would like to see them for himself before he became a Pillar.  If he became a Pillar...

He caught sight of Dore on the other side of the street and waved at her.  She smiled, blushed and waved back, her smile sending a tingle running down his body.  Dore was old enough to be married now, with her father searching for a good match.  If Joshua hadn't been an apprentice magician, he would have pressed his father to make suit for her.  She was beautiful, good-natured and – he was told – an excellent cook.  Instead, she’d probably be married off to some lout who couldn't count to eleven without taking off his boots.  

The Justice Building loomed up in front of him, guarded by a pair of men wearing armour and carrying extremely sharp swords.  They glared at Joshua, commanding him to perform his master’s signature charm, before allowing him to enter the building and find Master Faye.  Other visitors would be stripped of weapons before being allowed to pass, just in case someone objected to a ruling and decided to try to fight.  They’d have to be insane to pick a fight with the local Pillar, but it did happen.  People could get very upset about very minor things.

Master Faye was standing in the courtroom, speaking to the Bookkeeper and Justice Lord.  Joshua had been told to shadow them both before, as part of his training; the Bookkeeper was boring, while the Justice Lord seemed to defer all of the interesting cases to Master Faye.  The Bookkeeper was also the Head of the Bookkeeper Guild in Warlock’s Bane; Joshua had never been sure, but he had the feeling that the little man resented having to answer to Master Faye.  His formal duties mainly consisted on maintaining the records, including the records of court cases, yet he also tried to be unpleasant to everyone who was socially inferior to him.  

“Joshua,” Master Faye said, out loud.  It was rude to use mental voices when around Minors, although several other magicians Joshua had met were happy to flout that convention.  “You will be judging the second case today.”

Joshua blinked.  “I will?”

“You will,” Master Faye confirmed.  He pointed to a hard wooden seat beside the judge’s box.  “Sit there and wait.”  His voice lowered as the Bookkeeper and Justice Lord took their own positions.  “We will discuss your lateness afterwards.”

Joshua squirmed as the bailiffs opened the doors, allowing the audience to flood into the chamber.  By tradition, anyone who wanted to attend Court was welcome, even those who involved in legal issues.  The only people who were kept out were those who were actually going to face Master Faye; they were being held in a separate room, where they would be admitted one at a time.  As soon as the clock started to chime, Master Faye clicked his fingers and there was a brilliant flash of multicoloured light.

“Court is now in session,” he said.  Silence fell, instantly.  “Bring in the first case.”

The side door opened again, revealing two bailiffs dragging a man in handcuffs.  Joshua thought that he'd never seen a more guilty man in his life and the spectators evidently agreed, because they booed and hissed at him as he was plonked into the dock.  Master Faye produced another flash of light and silence fell, just in time for the bailiffs to bring a more prosperous looking man out of the door and put him in the witness box.  He was swearing the complaint against the criminal.

“Goodman Goya,” Master Faye said, as soon as the details of the accused name had been entered in the book of records.  “State the nature of your complaint.”

“Theft, My Pillar,” Goodman Goya said.  Joshua knew him, if vaguely; he was one of the more prosperous merchants in Warlock’s Bane.  His father had often talked about trying to marry Joshua’s sister to his son, calculating that the marriage would do the family good for future relations.  “This man was caught trying to steal from my shop.”

He spoke on, outlining what had happened.  The accused had been shifty the moment he’d walked into the store and Goya had kept a sharp eye on him, to be rewarded when he saw the man pocketing a piece of fruit.  He'd sent his two older sons after him as soon as the criminal left the store, ordering them to grab him, search him and then march him to jail, where he’d stayed until Court.  

“Very good,” Master Faye said, finally.  He looked at the suspect.  “Do you wish to make a statement in response?”

The suspect’s mouth worked several times before he finally managed to speak.  “My family is starving, My Pillar,” he said, finally.  “I needed to feed them...”

“But that cannot excuse stealing,” Master Faye said.  “For your unsuccessful theft, you will spend four weeks enslaved, either working for Goodman Goya or the city itself.  As your family would starve completely if you brought nothing home, you will be paid a pittance for your services.  Or you can have two weeks enslavement without pay.”

Joshua watched the complex shift of emotions across the man’s face.  Being a slave was no laughing matter, particularly as the slavery would be enforced by magic, but at least he would be paid something for his effort.  His family wouldn't starve...

“I will accept the four weeks of slavery,” he said, finally.  “And...”

“I object,” Goodman Goya said, quickly.  “He stole from me!”

“And he is going to be punished,” Master Faye said.  “You may make use of him while he is enslaved, but you may not demand further punishment.”

He stared at Goya, who backed down.  Joshua watched the bailiffs escorting the prisoner to a holding cell and shivered, just as Master Faye stood up and nodded for Joshua to take his seat.  Joshua would have scowled at his master if he had dared; he’d just been given the opportunity to make a fool of himself in front of hundreds of watching eyes.  No one would dare to laugh at him publically – it would be a direct insult to Master Faye – but they’d be sniggering behind his back as soon as they left the Court.

Bring in the second case, Master Goya prompted, using his mental voice.

Joshua swallowed his surprise at the breach in etiquette.  “Bring in the second case,” he ordered, addressing the bailiffs.  They showed no surprise at his sudden elevation to the judge’s chair.  Instead, they opened the door and brought in a young girl, a boy who couldn't be more than a year older than her and two sets of parents.  None of them looked very happy – and the girl looked noticeably pregnant.  Joshua winced, inwardly.  He didn't have quite the access to rumours he'd had before he’d become an apprentice, but he’d heard about this one.  If he hadn't known that a Pillar didn't need to care what any Minor thought of him, he would have wondered if Master Faye had given him the case because he didn't want to handle it himself.

“State the nature of your complaint,” Joshua said.  Unsurprisingly, all four parents started to talk at once.  Joshua held up a hand and they quietened.  “Goodman” – he fought to remember the name – “Harris, you may speak first.”

Harris, the father of the young girl, seemed unsure how to address Joshua, so he stuck to the facts.  “My daughter Rose was given a promise of marriage by that young man,” he said, pointing to the man who stood between his parents, “and so she allowed herself to be seduced.  He got her with child and then broke off the engagement.  I am here to demand justice.”

Joshua fought to keep his face under control.  It wasn't uncommon for an engaged couple to have sex before their marriage – and if the girl became pregnant, it proved that they were capable of having children.  If there was no pregnancy, it was possible to break off the engagement, allowing the couple to try for children with someone else.  But to abandon the girl after she became pregnant...?  It couldn't be allowed to stand.

He looked over at the other father.  “Goodman Fauves?”

“My son Julius was on a trading mission when the bitch” – he coughed when Joshua glared at him – “ah...Rose became pregnant.  There is no way my son can be the father.”

“That’s a damned lie,” Rose’s mother shouted.  “You’re just looking for a better match now that you have a windfall profit from...”

“Your girl is trying to fool my son,” Julius’s mother shouted back.  “You’re...”

Silence them, Master Faye suggested, and then question the children.

Joshua worked the silencing spell and silence fell, instantly.  The spell was actually a little too powerful; it reached the audience and silenced their mutterings too.  Carefully, he fine-tuned the spell, allowing the youngsters to speak.  But they weren't really youngsters, were they?  Julius was four years older than Joshua himself.

“Let's deal with this calmly,” he said, into the silence.  “Julius.  Is Rose’s child your child?”

“I do not know,” Julius admitted.  He looked embarrassed; for a moment, Joshua felt an odd moment of kinship.  Parents could be so embarrassing.  “We...we did it just before I set out on the trading mission, so the child could easily be mine...”

His voice trailed away under the glowers from his parents.  Rose’s mother might have had a point, Joshua decided.  Goodman Fauves had managed to make a considerable profit through his trading mission, which had been more than a little risky as it involved travelling through the badlands.  It had been enough to propel his family up the social scale, making them richer – at least for the moment – than Goodman Goya.  And that money might have allowed them to make a better match for their oldest son.

Joshua looked down at Rose.  “Was there anyone else who could have fathered the child?”

Rose flushed as red as her namesake – it had to be humiliating to answer to a boy a year younger than herself, let alone in front of an entire audience - but she managed to answer the question.

“No, My Pillar,” she said.  There were some faint and rather nervous chuckles from the audience.  Joshua was an apprentice, not even a Scion.  He was hardly a Pillar.  And there was only ever one Pillar in a Bailiwick.  “I never slept with anyone else.”

Joshua switched his gaze back to Julius.  “If the child is yours,” he said, “will you marry her?”

“Yes,” Julius said.  His mother managed to give him a truly fearsome glare.  “I meant every word I spoke to her.”

“Very well,” Joshua said.  “For the moment, we will assume that the child is yours.  Upon its birth, we will perform a testing spell to determine paternity.  In the event of the child actually being yours, you will be married – and you will be considered to have been married from the date her parents brought this case.  Your child will not be considered illegitimate.

“Furthermore, your parents will pay you and your wife a substantial sum to allow you to set up your own separate household,” he added.  He would never have considered that before going to live with Master Faye.  “She will not need to live with her mother-in-law.”

The woman switched her glare to Joshua, which suggested either nerves or stupidity.  Joshua resisted the urge to hex her and looked at Rose.  “In the event of the child not being Julius’s child, there will be no marriage and your parents will be expected to pay compensation,” he said.  “If Julius was the only man in your” – he almost said something rude – “life, you should have nothing to worry about.”

“Thank you,” Rose said, very quietly.

“But this is outrageous,” Goodman Fauves said, quickly.  “I cannot afford a whole separate household for my son.  Master Faye, you must...”

“The sentence is confirmed,” Master Faye said, in a tone that allowed no further debate.  “And in the event of anything...happening to Rose between now and her giving birth, you will be interrogated under truth spells and, if you should happen to have encouraged it, you will be executed.”

He looked over at Joshua as the bailiffs escorted the two families out.  Very well done, he said, mentally.  You could not have done a better job.

Joshua flushed.  Praise from Master Faye was rare.

You may handle the remaining cases, Master Faye added.  I need to concentrate.

Concentrate?  Joshua echoed.  On what?

I have the strangest feeling that we’re being watched, Master Faye said.  Joshua had never sensed him feeling doubt before.  I want to try to isolate the feeling.  A Scion may be considering targeting us.

Joshua swallowed.  Master Faye had a reputation for being tough, but there was no shortage of Scions who might want to take Warlock’s Bane from him.  And Joshua might not be able to help.  His magic was not up to Scion standards, not yet.

“Bring in the third case,” he ordered the bailiffs, finally.  He had work to do.