The Armageddon Inheritance

“With that reservation, our initial estimate, that their technology was essentially a vastly refined version of our own, seems to have been correct. With the probable exception of their mat-trans—on which, I regret to say, we have been unable as yet to obtain data—we have encountered nothing Engineering and Dahak could not puzzle out. This is not to say they had not advanced to a point far beyond our current reach, but the underlying principles of their advances are readily apparent to us. In effect, they appear to have reached a plateau of fully mature technology and, I believe, may very well have been on the brink of fundamental breakthroughs into a new order of achievement, but they had not yet made them.

“In general, their progress may be thought of as coupling miniaturization with vast increases in power. A warship of Dahak’s mass, for example, built with the technology we have so far encountered—which, I ask you to bear in mind, represents an essentially civilian attempt to create a military unit—would possess something on the order of twenty times his combat capability.”

He paused for emphasis, and there were signs of awe on more than one face.

“Yet certain countervailing design philosophies and trends, particularly in the areas of computer science and cybernetics, also have become apparent to us. Specifically, the hardware of their computer systems is extremely advanced compared to our own; their software is not. Assuming that Omega Three is a representative sample of their computer technology, their computers had an even lower degree of self-awareness than that of Comp Cent prior to the mutiny. The data storage capacity of Omega Three’s Comp Cent, whose mass is approximately thirty percent that of Dahak’s central memory core, exceeded his capacity, including all subordinate systems, by a factor of fifty. The ability of Omega Three, on the other hand, despite a computational speed many times higher than his, did not approach even that of Comp Cent prior to the mutiny.

“Clearly, this indicates a deliberate degradation of performance to meet some philosophical constraint. My best guess—and I stress that it is only a guess—is that it results from the period of civil warfare which apparently converted the Imperium into the Empire. Fleet computers would have resisted firing on other Fleet units, and while this could have been compensated for by altering their Alpha Priority core programming, the combatants may have balked at allowing semi-aware computers to decide whether or not to fire on other humans. This is only a hypothesis, but it is certainly one possibility.

“In addition, we have confirmed one other important point. While Omega Three’s computers did use energy-state technology, they also incorporated non-energy backups, which appears to reflect standard Imperial military practice. This means a deactivated Fleet computer would not experience a complete core loss as did the civilian units discovered at Defram. If powered up once more, thus restoring its energy-state circuitry, it should remain fully functional.

“Further, even civilian installations which have been continuously powered could remain completely operational. Omega Three’s capabilities, for example, suffered not because it relied upon energy-state components, but because it was left unattended for so long that solid-state components failed. Had the battle station’s computers possessed adequate self-repair capability and spares, Omega Three would be fully functional today.”

He paused, as if rechecking his thoughts, then glanced at Colin.

“That concludes my report, sir. Detailed information is in the data base for anyone who cares to peruse it.”

“Thank you.” Colin pursed his lips for a moment, inviting questions, but there were none. They were waiting for the other shoe, he thought dourly.

“Commander Coha

“We still don’t know how they did it,” Coha

“For all practical purposes, we can think of their weapon as a disease lethal to any living organism. Obviously, it was a monster in every sense of the word. We may never learn how it was released, but the effect of its release was the inevitable destruction of all life in its path. Any contaminated planet is dead, ladies and gentlemen.

“On the other hand—” as Colin had, she drew out the pause for emphasis, “—we’ve also determined that the weapon had a finite lifespan. And whatever that lifespan was, it was less than the time which has passed. We’ve established test habitats with plants and livestock from our own hydroponic and recreational areas, using water and soil collected by remotes from all areas of Keerah’s surface. From Governor Yirthana’s records, we know the weapon took approximately thirty Terran months to incubate in mammals, and we’ve employed the techniques used in accelerated healing to take our sample habitats through a forty-five-month cycle with no evidence of the weapon. While I certainly don’t propose to return those test subjects to Dahak’s life-support systems, I believe the evidence is very nearly conclusive. The bio-weapon itself has died, at least on Keerah and, by extension, upon any planet which was contaminated an equivalent length of time ago.

“That concludes my report, Captain.”

“Thank you.” Colin squared his shoulders and spoke very quietly as the full weight of his responsibility descended upon him. “On the basis of these reports, I intend to proceed immediately to Birhat and Fleet Central.”

Someone drew a sharply audible breath, and his face tightened.

“What we’ve discovered here makes it extremely unlikely Birhat survived, but that, unfortunately, changes nothing.

“I don’t know what we’ll find there, but I do know three things. One, if we return with no aid for Earth, we lose. Two, the best command facilities at the Imperium’s—or Empire’s—disposal would be at Fleet Central. Three, logic suggests the bio-weapon there will be as dead as it is here. Based on those suppositions, our best chance of finding usable hardware is at Birhat, and it’s likely we can safely reactivate any we find. At the very least, it will be our best opportunity to discover the full extent of this catastrophe.”

“We will depart Keerah in twelve hours. In the meantime, please carry on about your duties. I’ll be in my quarters if I’m needed.”

He stood, catching the surprise on more than one face when his audience realized he did not intend to debate the point.

“Attention on deck,” Dahak intoned quietly, and the officers rose.

Colin walked out in silence, wondering if those he’d surprised realized why he’d foreclosed all debate.

The answer was as simple as it was bitter. In the end, the decision was his, but if he allowed them to debate it they must share in it, however indirectly, and he would not permit them to do so.

He couldn’t know if Dahak’s presence was required to stand off the Achuultani scouts, but he hoped desperately that it was not, for he, Colin MacIntyre, had elected to chase a tattered hope rather than defend his home world. If he’d guessed wrong about Horus’s progress, he had also doomed that home world—a world which it had become increasingly obvious might well be the only planet of humanity which still existed—whatever he found at Birhat.

And the fact that logic compelled him to Birhat meant nothing against his fear that he had guessed wrong. Against his ignorance of Horus’s progress. His agonizing suspicion that if Fleet Central still existed, it might be another Omega Three, senile and crippled with age … the paralyzing terror of bearing responsibility for the death of his own species.