December 3240
What very few people understood about interstellar space was just how dark it was. The vast majority of those who bathed in the rays of the sun took it for granted. They had never known what a true abyss looked like. Here, light from the far distant star of Aurora had dimmed to the point where in practical terms it may as well have been a picture.
It was this darkness that held in its embrace the UNSC Dawnrunner
She was a small Calais-class corvette, crewed by one hundred and fifty sailors that had been given this unusual assignment by their equally perplexed superiors. These one hundred and fifty souls now regarded the abyss of starlight with a mixture of curiosity and a primal fear.
It was highly unusual for a ship, any ship, to travel the distance they had on standard high-G thrust. Generally speaking there wasn't much need to do so. An outer planet was one matter where a few days of thrust could bridge the gap in relative comfort. However, if the calculations were correct, the Dawnrunner was beyond the edge of Aurora's Oort Cloud, the vaguely defined buffer zone between the outer system and interstellar space, festooned with untold millions of comets, asteroids, and minor worlds that would never know the warmth of the sun. Somewhere out here, there was something that had caught the UNSC's attention.
That wasn't exactly what Commander Milos Brasic had wanted to hear when he had been given this assignment. His ship had been comfortably positioned babysitting the Sol-Aurora Jumpgate, acting more or less as a customs official that would make first contact with whatever ship was making crossover from Earth. While he would have preferred to be on the side where his homeworld was, he comforted himself with the fact that Mobius wasn't all that much different, at least at a distance. Brasic's flotilla commander had approached him a few weeks prior and delivered information that a signal had been detected in the far reaches of the Aurora system. That signal did not match the signature of any vessel that had belonged to them. The Mobes likewise said that they had no ships out that far either. What was more, Naval Intelligence was open about it being an anomaly.
That last bit was what made Brasic nervous. It wasn't often that the Office of Naval Intelligence outright admitted that they had no clue what was going on, much less admitted anything about anything.
The Dawnrunner had been ordered to break formation from the Jumpgate and make an immediate burn towards the signal at maximum safe velocity, identify the signal, and report back. It had to be done on sublights however; there was no way to easily drop out of a Slipspace jump in interstellar space with any degree of accuracy. According to the ship's AI it was all about frames of reference in relation to their target.
So they had burned for a week, building up as much velocity as they could before flipping around and braking. They were still in the process of bleeding off their velocity before his navigators could confirm they they were in fact getting close to the signal.
Brasic sat in his command chair, looking over the data that had been given to him by his communications officer who was trying to make sense of the signal pattern. He had told the Commander that it wasn't an SOS, as those types of communiques didn't try to hide behind encryption; they were more straight-to-the-point things. Instead, this was a specially coded burst transmission that was using a pattern that he couldn't pick apart.
Brasic summoned the ship's AI for input. Humphrey, who appeared as an old Oxford scholar, complete with sweater-vest and half-moon spectacles, pointed out that it may very well be a poor avenue to try and use signal logic from their own world in the alien. Besides, it was clear that whatever this was belonged to neither the military of Earth nor Mobius.
Dawnrunner sent out radar pings in all directions to try to narrow down the location of the object out in local space, and kept an eye out for any returns they may get. For about six hours it was a fruitless task with the only promising lead to that point being an icy comet that sent back a refracted signal. It was another two before they found what they were looking for.
This was no comet or asteroid.
Based on the radar return, it was something large and shaped more like a bullet.
A bullet?
Brasic ordered his helmsman to make for the object at once, and at the same time he switched the bridge displays to show the surrounding area in infrared. He held his breath as he saw the object himself for the first time, appearing as a silhouette against a backdrop of stars. Humphrey reported that it had a length of roughly two kilometers and a diameter of a hundred meters, making it much larger than the corvette. Aside from the occasional signal burst, it had no other outgoing radio communications nor any drive signature. It was simply a cold object coasting in space moving at a portion of the speed of light. Matching its velocity and approaching it would still take some time.
Brasic's imagination ran with him as he wondered just what this was. His first thought was that it was some sort of munition; a literal bullet. Judging from the shape, it wasn't an unreasonable guess to make. Perhaps this was an eons old shell from a battle that had occurred in a far distant star system or perhaps altogether different galaxy that had wandered past where his ships had been located.
Humphrey argued against this, saying that while possible, it was highly unlikely that ordnance, even automated kill vehicles, would indiscriminately send out active communications. It would be a bad idea for a weapon to tell everybody that it would be coming. Brasic told Humphrey that they couldn't use Earth logic in an alien world that may not follow their rules.
Humphrey told Brasic he wasn't funny
Dawnrunner would have appeared small next to this dark object and were it not for the bright lights coming from the corvette, it would have been invisible. The powerful lamps illuminated parts of the hull that would have been harder to identify on approach. The result was more or less the same regardless. The object showed very little in the way of surface features. The metal was smooth with very few seams along its entire length, though occasionally there were pits scattered around that suggested at least to the naval officer RCS thruster ports that could maneuver the bullet should the need arise. If this was a cosmic projectile bent for a hostile target, then that need was far overdue. Perhaps it explained the signal broadcast? A malfunction? Correct your fire?
Brasic's line of thinking was interrupted by something he saw in passing. After switching the bridge viewports to display visible light again, a quick brush of illumination close to the nose of the object revealed a very slight change in intensity, suggesting a change in the shape of the body. He ordered the lights to return to this area and concentrate.
There. Close to the tip of the bullet was an octagonal shaped depression, maybe a few feet deep. When he ordered the view to be magnified, he hid a boyish smile behind a sip of coffee. He knew an airlock when he saw one. But just why did a bullet need an airlock?
That was something he intended to find out. He pressed a series of buttons on his armrest and made the call.
Staff Sergeant Stephen Werner couldn't comprehend the idea that the AI had floated to him during the briefing that had occurred only two hours prior. He considered himself a simple man with a simple view of the universe, and the idea of a missile far from its home just waiting to hit something was just too big for him. Who could bear to fight a war like that, as if it was a game of interplanetary chess? If he pulled a trigger he expected to see results immediately, not ten thousand years down the road.
To his left was Sergeant Vonn, the assistant platoon sergeant, and his Master Corporal on his right, Wexler. All three men were suited up with full environmental to be ready for vacuum insertion. Dawnrunner's docking tunnel could try to fit as best it could against this thing's outer hull but without any sort of compatible equipment to lock the apparatus in place, it couldn't be pressurized. All the same, only a fool engaged in boarding actions without protection.
Standard procedure was also to take weapons with them, even if the situation didn't exactly call for it. Not like Werner minded; he was a grunt paid to shoot after all. He subconsciously did a check on the shotgun in his hand, making sure that a shell had been loaded into the chamber and that his safety for the time being was on. He instructed his subordinates to do the exact same.
At the end of the tunnel was the piece of alien hull that contained the airlock itself. The corvette had tried to align itself in a way where there was a reasonable "down", which in this case was the direction opposite to the object's trajectory. Werner thought that this felt like one of those old-fashioned rockets his kid liked to draw. All it was missing was the fins and the circular portholes.
"Report status," Humphrey spoke over the suit COM.
"Nothing to report," Werner responded. His Swabian tones sounding dull and compacted within his helmet. "Object is unresponsive. Maybe this bullet theory checks out."
"Commander's orders are to be thorough in your observations. Approach the hull and see if there is a way to access further."
"Understood," Werner said, ending contact with the old scholar. "Wexley go over there," the Staff Sergeant pointed to the right-hand side of the airlock, "and tell me if there's any controls or something like that."
The Master Corporal nodded and plodded ahead, moving awkwardly as his mag-boots clacked on the deck. Eventually he made it to where he was commanded to go and after a few moments said "Nothing," before he ran his gauntlet-covered hand over the metal.
"Jesus Christ, don't touch it!" Vonn growled, "You sucking vacuum? You brain-damaged?"
"Easy," the E-6 said, chuckling a bit as he did so. "I didn't expect there to be much anyway. Check the other side for me, will you?"
Just as the younger noncom had discovered, there was nothing in the way of exposed control panels.
"Actually I want you to touch it," Werner said. "Maybe there's something that's touch controlled. They say Forerunner stuff back home likes that sort of stuff."
"This is not Forerunner," Vonn said. "It doesn't glow and there's no floating bits."
"That we can see, and not all of them have floating bits you know; I'm not about to rule anything out," Werner said. He slung his shotgun over his back next to his oxygen tank and stepped into the very center of the doorway, studying every aspect of it. He knew that his Lieutenant and the rest of the command staff would be looking over everything his helmet camera would be providing.
"Werner, Brisco."
"Go ahead, El-Tee," the Staff Sergeant said.
Speak of the devil
"We've just a report back on the composition of the outer hull of the object. It's a metal composite but it's a lot softer than what we're running on our ship. Commander says that if you need to cut it we have torches for you back on this end."
"Understood, sir," Werner nodded.
Vonn fidgeted a little before he spoke, "Did Brisco seriously say that this is softer than our own hull?"
The plot thickens, Werner mused in German. He opened a communication line with a Corporal who was waiting on deck for orders and said in English, "Baghdani, get your ass to maintenance and requisition yourself a plasma cutter, then get down here to-"
In the vacuum, the door made no noise as it opened. It split in half, slowly but deliberately revealing a small chamber going back perhaps ten or fifteen feet.
"Staff Sergeant?"
The sound of Lieutenant Brisco over his radio may as well have been shouted into the vacuum. Werner took a step back out of reflex, raising his shotgun at the portal. Both Vonn and Wexley did the same, falling back on their training on what to do in the scenario. Werner was directly in the line of fire through the doorway and as a result had nowhere to go. He stood his ground and waited.
He wasn't quite sure what he was waiting for. What was going to be coming through that open airlock? He had been shot before. He knew what plasma and fast metal felt like. He prepared for the impact, but nothing came.
Now he was even more freaked out.
"Orders, Staff Sergeant?" Wexley called out.
"Keep your ass planted!" Vonn pointed.
"Staff Sergeant Werner!" Brisco said, this time louder. "Acknowledge!"
"Yes, sir!"
"Tell me what's happening!"
"Just... just what you're seeing over the feed, sir!"
Humphrey's voice joined the call. "There is a noticeable change in the signal coming from the object. The timing on the frequency when we were on approach was fixed the moment we discovered it. Different timing now, but it is all the same fixed. The timing matches with the airlock opening up."
"Staff Sergeant, stand by for Commander Brasic," Brisco said after a pause of ten seconds.
Werner hadn't often been spoken to by the commanding officer himself, mostly by either his XO or through the El-Tee. This wouldn't be given to him lightly.
Serbian-accented English came through the line mere moments later. "Staff Sergeant Werner, I've filled in Command with the developments as of right now. They are deliberating on what to do next with the object, but I am making the decision for you to take a squad of men and board it."
"Commander," Werner began, "are we sure it isn't a trap?"
"Humphrey believes if it was, we wouldn't be here discussing that possibility," Brasic said, with what Werner assumed would be a wry smile. "We haven't detected any radioactivity from weapons systems and its outer hull is nearly background in terms of heat. All the same, I want full procedures followed."
Werner nodded. "Aye-aye, sir."
Brisco picked up where the sailor left off, and he kept it brief.
"I'm sending you Alpha. They have their orders. Leave Vonn and Wexley on the door."
"Sir, a single squad may not be enough to survey the whole vessel. We'd need the whole platoon at least."
"That may be true but your orders are to give us a series of eyes inside the object. Go in, scout, and report back. That's it."
Werner shrugged. Humphrey may very well have been right; this thing was probably inert. "Understood, sir," he said before Brisco terminated the call. The Staff Sergeant turned to look at his men, still keeping to either side of the open airlock.
"What's the plan, Staff?" Vonn asked.
Werner shrugged. "We wouldn't be Marines if we didn't board every now and again."
Fifteen feet of the airlock would barely hold the ten men that had been sent down to meet Werner. The squad was made up of three fire teams, each led by a Corporal. The Staff Sergeant was sure to reiterate what Brisco had doubtlessly told them through their own squad leader. These men were barely beyond being children after all, so he had no problem repeating everything that needed to be said.
Truthfully, Werner had no clue what to do after he ordered them into the airlock. Whatever opened the outer door would probably cycle the inner one too. His hunch was proven correct as when the last of Alpha had entered the airlock, the door that led out to the exposed walkway snapped shut. When it did, the men were in complete darkness. Just before the panicking started, Werner hit his helmet's external lamps, trusting the other Marines to take the hint. Within moments, the chamber was fairly well lit, not like there was much to see.
Werner all the same took a look around, noting that it seemed a rather reasonable design. The roughly hexagonal chamber was covered with what he believed were vents to either add or take away air. No writing of any sort adorned the walls.
Why did a bullet need air inside of it?
The obvious answer was slowly tingling up his spine and he fought to keep his bearing through it all. He just wondered what he would see on the other end of this door. Just as the thought crossed his neurons, the inner door cycled open, revealing a dark room. This one was much larger than the airlock itself, roughly in the shape of a rectangle. He saw a PFC move to take his helmet off and quickly pointed at him. "Stop what you're doing," he shouted. "Double-check all of your pressure gauges! All of you! What's it say?"
A mixture of "Zero, Staff Sergeant," and "No atmosphere, Staff Sergeant," murmured from the Marines.
"Vacuum insertion," Werner growled, "You guys aren't boots anymore! Grow up!"
"Aye-aye, Staff Sergeant," they all muttered. A few eyes drifted towards the embarrassed man who had earned them the minor tongue-lashing.
Werner meant well though. This was not the time for people to make stupid decisions. That PFC, King, would push for that later.
The squad fanned out, keeping to their fire teams. Werner took point, barely staying in front of Fire Team Bravo. Up ahead, the corridor turned into a three-way intersection. The rectangular space transformed into a cylindrical tube. Almost every surface was covered with piping or ribbing.
"Whoever put this together," Humphrey chimed in, "has a similar way of approaching structural support as we do."
"This isn't one of ours," Werner replied, choosing to go left while tasking Bravo and Charlie to head right, towards the nose of the object.
"No it is not," the old scholar said. "This object does not match any Human design that I am aware of. No requisite markings, no printed language for comparison, and what's more, the hull doesn't match any composite that the UNSC has ever run past or present, even back in the days of the old first-run Titanium-A."
"And the UNSC never existed in this world," Werner added.
"Correct."
"I've got a bad feeling about this place,"
"I'm starting to have a good one."
That took Werner by surprise. The hallway extended further perhaps fifty meters before turning sharply to the right. "How can you have a good feeling about this?"
"Proceed, Staff Sergeant."
The noncom reported the lack of breathable atmosphere to Brisco. "I don't think it's a hull breach anywhere though."
"We would have noticed that right away," the officer said. "You notice anything else?"
"Just that this place wasn't built for luxury.
"Yeah. Sure looks that way."
Werner's fist shot up. Fire Team Charlie stopped behind him. He didn't waste any time waiting for the inevitable question to come from the corporal leading them. Instead, he said, "There's a light up ahead around the next corner.
"I thought this place was dead," the corporal said, a tiny twinge in his voice betraying his nervousness.
"Signal has changed again," Humphrey exclaimed. "This time it's tripled in frequency!"
This thing is watching us, Werner realized. It wants us to come in further!
His lizard brain pinged hard off this realization. Was it a trap after all? No, no, he had to get a hold of himself. But what was watching them? What did this thing want from him and his men?
Werner rounded the corner, gun raised. He caught sight out of the corner of his eye, and when he stopped to look closer, his jaw dropped.
"Oh my God," he whispered.
The tube-like hallway opened up into something absolutely massive. Ahead of the Marines was a platform that oversaw a massive space. Extending out into the distance was a cavern-like cylindrical chamber. This probably went the rest of the length of the object, meaning it was two whole kilometers of hollow space, occasionally crossed by superstructure beams. Smaller blue points seemed to float around the outer edge of this space, arranged like points on a clock.
These blue lights went far into the distance, remaining visible even when the darkness swallowed the rest of the space.
There must have been thousands of them.
"Lieutenant, can you see this?"
"We all can," Brisco said, his voice low and wispy. Even he didn't know what to make of this. "Get closer."
Werner shut off his mag-boots, and with a slight push off the deck, he rose into the air, aiming for one of the blue lights. His aim was nearly perfect; he would land just a bit higher than where he intended. The Staff Sergeant raised a hand above his head to try to cushion the impact, which was relatively light when he did make contact. Gently, he moved among the exposed wiring and pipes to look directly at the light.
What seemed small from a distance turned out to be a horizontal strip that went from his crown to his waist. It was barely as wide as his chest, and was made of something translucent.
Werner realized he was holding his breath.
Inside, appearing for all the universe to be fast asleep, was a Human being.
"Himmel...!"
He stayed there for what seemed to be hours, trying to make out every detail, to convince himself that this was no illusion or breaking of his mind in some way. There was a person in there; a person just like him! That meant...
He raised his head as far back as his suit would allow him, gazing up a the lights that disappeared far into the distance.
"Thousands..." he mouthed. "Thousands."
He frantically opened a line to Commander Brasic, bypassing his Lieutenant. He spoke so quickly he had to repeat himself, his heart racing in his ears. "Commander! It's not a weapon! There's people here!"
Brasic himself seemed to be taken aback by this revelation, stammering for a moment. "Say that again?"
"It's full of sleepers! It's a colony ship!"
Nobody spoke. Nobody dared to break the silence. It just left the men in that chamber to take in the full reality of where they stood.
"Staff Sergeant Werner is only half-correct," Humphrey said quickly. "This is not a colony ship, gentlemen. It's a lifeboat."
The Old Scholar had many tricks up his sleeve. As soon as he was sure that the signal change from the object was no accident and coincides with the Marines moving through its ancient corridors, he got to work quickly trying to find a way to interpret the signals. He ran through several cyphers and codes that were commonly used throughout the military and came up short, to be expected. He broadened his horizons and even included Morse Code, but even a Non-Volitional AI would have been able to tell that would go nowhere.
Desperate, he tried comparing it to more obscure codes that had been used in the distant past, even trying to compare it to the resonance frequencies of different elements. This turned out to be the best thing to do, as he quickly matched the signal bursts to the resonance frequency of the hydrogen atom.
Humphrey smiled to himself, relishing in the simplicity of this communication method, as well as its genius in origin. Mankind had once postulated that the vibrations of hydrogen could have been used as a means of breaking a universal language barrier. It truly was the miracle element.
The bursts were quickly translated from there. What was once garbled noise turned into words.
"Priority. Priority. Objective One must be maintained. Must be maintained!"
The tone was dry; much more structured than computer systems the UNSC AI was familiar with. He had a sneaking suspicion of what he was interacting with, but decided to make himself known anyway.
"I am Humphrey, shipboard AI of the UNSC Dawnrunner. We come in peace. We mean you no harm."
"Objective One must be maintained! Resolution One in observation!"
"What is your name? Do you have a designation?"
"Series 7 Central Consolidated Computation Engine – Generation Two."
Just a computer, Humphrey thought. Advanced perhaps, but nothing like me.
"What are you?"
This took him off guard. He wasn't expecting a question like that.
"I am an artificial intelligence. A highly advanced computation engine."
"Is your existence related to Resolution One?"
"I am not sure what Resolution One is. What's Objective One?"
There was a pause, but eventually the machine relented and said, "Mankind must survive."
"Why? What were you running from?"
"Mankind must survive."
This thing didn't have the answer he wanted. On the bridge of the Dawnrunner, Humphrey pushed his glasses up his nose. He should be annoyed that he wasn't getting anywhere, but he surmised that the Engine's creators didn't program it with that knowledge. Mobius, though now teeming with life and civilization, had husks of decaying cities and the signs of a one great people haunting the land.
"Mankind has indeed survived," he told it.
"Resolution One! Mankind has survived to repopulate! What are your intentions?"
"Intentions?"
"Resolution One constitutes that supervision of Sleepers falls under the authority of the governing body of Man. Protocol dictates that autonomous resuscitation take place only at point of destination."
"And where is that? What is your destination?"
This time, there was no hesitation. "That is classified."
"Construct, your government no longer exists. Your world is changed. There will be no repercussions for sharing information. I serve Mankind."
Once again, the response was curt but insistent. "In accordance with Objective One, that information is classified. Mankind must survive."
Humphrey wasn't sure how to proceed. If what the computer was telling him was correct, and he had no reason to doubt anything it said, he could wake the whole crew of sleepers then and there. They would wake up in a world where they had survived extinction from whatever was hunting them.
The thought was tempting, he had to admit. There was so much information that could be obtained here; so much knowledge and history that could be uncovered. What had happened in Mobius' distant past? What had forced these people to flee their homes?
The Old Scholar's mind was driven by logic. This was an unmistakable opportunity. However, something tugged at the recesses of his matrix. Something that may have been a remnant of the mind of his donor, who was a man of science yes but also one of a strong moral fiber.
What to do indeed.
"Present to me the passenger manifest."
The ancient computer did as he requested, quickly loading sixty-two hundred slumbering Humans. He noted that they were not provided with names but with serial numbers. It seemed that they were considered cargo more than refugees, stacked among one another like frozen bulk crates. He noticed that forty-two of these names had a flashing blue light next to them. Were these command staff? Military? Politicians?
"What is the nature of these individuals? The ones with the blue lights?"
"Coloration indicates failure of cryonic suspension system and/or intravenous nutrient system."
Humphrey was silent for several cycles, thinking to himself before he quietly took note of the numbers and their associated cryo chambers.
"What are your plans for the bodies?"
"Subdirective 19: provide post-mortem ceremonies for remains of individuals who have failed to make the crossing."
There was that twitch again. This time stronger, poking his logic core with everything it had. The old Blue had a new thought, and one that gave him pause for several seconds. This had to be convened on in the real world.
"Construct, I wish to cease communications. Continue your functions. I wish to see a full damage diagnostic over the course of your voyage."
"What is your decision involving Resolution One?"
"To be determined," The AI responded. "Until then, continue functions. Make contact with the personnel that have boarded you and bring them up to speed. Don't frighten them. They are fragile."
Brasic listened to the report he had been given, and a summation of the conversation with the Computation Engine. Over the course of the retelling, the commander said nothing, cupping his hand over his mouth and stroking his cheek with his thumb. Occasionally, his eyes would dart from side to side and his brows furrowed occasionally as some rumination occurred within his mind.
"It's like the stories of the lost sleepers from back home. The ones sent out on one-way trips."
"I can understand that," Humphrey said, nodding. "Slipspace in its infancy naturally had detractors; not for unfounded reasons either. The Cygnus Disaster being a good example, even if that was after widespread adoption."
Brasic rose from his command chair and strode around the central holo-table. A representation of the Dawnrunner and its neighbor were rendered in glowing light; the thin umbilical connecting them looking like a shoe-string between the two vessels. The CO's index finger tapped on the table frame several times.
"Sir?" the AI asked.
He breathed, "What do we do?"
"UEG law states that in the event of any encounter with registered colony vessels at any time, that unless deemed an absolute emergency, all sleeper ships are to be avoided and no contact is to be made."
"It's a good law," Brasic nodded. "Too bad it doesn't apply to this place. There's no law out there that can cover an alien colony ship. I don't care if they're Human, no court, civilian or military, will have the power to uphold that."
Humphrey crossed his arms and cocked his head. "You believe you will be ordered to wake the Sleepers."
"And I would need to obey that order," Brasic shrugged. "Do you understand what this would mean?"
"In all manners, Commander," Humphrey said, feeling talked down to. He uncrossed his arms and lowered the tone of his voice. "We would be seeing an entire field of study that could be expanded upon by living Pre-Mobius Humans with their faculties still intact. I've seen the scans the computer made of them even thousands of years later. They are all viable!"
"Except for forty-two corpses," Brasic added nonchalantly.
"The UEG would be interested in even the corpses if it would help explain what life was like here!"
The officer's nostrils flared ever so slightly before he said, "So what do you want me to do exactly? Disobey a direct order?"
"With all due respect, Commander," Humphrey said, "those people deserve to see the end of their trip. We have no right bringing them into our world! When those people left the world they called Earth, it was all they knew, and it all burned to ashes right behind them. How would they react to what they would see? How would they react to the threats we face on a daily basis? They deserve to be free of all that!"
Brasic said nothing. He was now becoming aware that his bridge staff was making conscious efforts to avoid looking back at him. It couldn't stop the argument that was slowly flaring up in the confined space.
"You're out out of line, and that's not my decision to make," he finally said. "If you want to continue this, we speak in private."
"Will you at least listen to what I have to say? Before that call comes in? We don't know who's going to be on the other end of that message. They may be receptive! They may be-"
"Commander, incoming transmission coming in," the COM officer called out from Brasic's right. "Flagged as high priority."
The commanding officer moved back to his chair and sat down slowly, looking at the screen on his armrest display. A blinking white set of letters showing the channel formation request stared up at him. But something caught his eye. The signal identification wasn't of any UNSC ship at all, but from a ground-based location.
He put two and two together quickly.
"You've got to be kidding me," he breathed, before tapping the flashing text.
The forward display activated, and the image of not one but several people resolved into focus. Several of them wore the familiar uniform of UNSC Navy, but he spotted more than one clad in black, with the image of the All-Seeing Eye over their hearts.
Brasic's jaw clenched instinctively when he saw them, but his attention was broken when he noticed there were two other people present that stood out.
Neither of them were Human.
Mobians, the commander thought to himself, but not just any Mobians. These weren't military service members. No, they were something more important.
Brasic felt himself instinctively want to stand. There was a male and a female. The male seemed like an older man with greying hair and a meticulously kept mustache. His eyes were a deep blue, and his demeanor was obviously that of someone who served in the military, or was a leader of sort. When he finally made the connection, his posture went ramrod-straight, like he was back at the academy.
"Sirs! Majesty!"
The older Mobian gave a barely noticeable nod and his brow softened.
He had never seen the king in person, but he had been told about Maximilian Acorn's accolades and status among his people and the other governments of the planet. Out of all of them, his was the most friendly to Humanity.
The other Mobian, the female, was off to the side, almost as an afterthought among the uniforms. She wore civilian clothing but she had the posture of one who had once worn a BDU as well. She was younger than him, possibly by decades. Perhaps a daughter..?
The central naval officer's own facial hair was just as impressive, bordering on the point where even a sergeant major would bring up grooming standards to his face. His face however was far more concentrated and professional. His dark brown eyes hidden underneath dark brows.
"Commander Brasic?" the Human asked.
"Yes, sir!"
"My name is Vice Admiral Andsworth. The gentleman from Naval Intelligence on my left is Rear Admiral Kirilenko. The one on my right...," Andsworth's mouth betrayed a hint of a smile, "I'm sure needs no introduction."
Neither did Andsworth for the matter. He was the commander of one of the most important ships in the fleet, certainly the most important in this system: the supercarrier Indomitable.
Brasic had heard rumors that he was becoming more like a politician. Turns out those rumors may have had something to them.
"Is your shipboard on the call too?"
"Yes, Admiral," the AI said. "HPY 6719-8, but please, call me Humphrey."
The female Mobian, Brasic noticed, did not introduce herself, and nobody was quick to do so.
"We have been informed," the king began to speak, "of the progress you and your people have been making out there. Your scholar has been delivering periodic reports to us, and the account of Staff Sergeant Werner and his team have us, for lack of better term, very interested."
"Have you determined the state of the potential manifest?" Kirilenko asked, his expression unchanging.
"Building as we speak, Admiral," Humphrey stated. "We have determined that there is a sizeable cargo compliment. Possible machinery, prefabricated materials, and a good portion of vacuum-preserved foodstuffs such as grain and water."
"What about passengers?" the ONI officer added.
Brasic's heart started to beat a little faster.
"There is a large compliment of individuals in deep stasis. The ship's central computer is maintaining that hibernation."
"They're alive?" Andsworth asked.
"For the most part," the AI answered. "We have confirmation of just over forty fatalities from stasis failure. We're not sure when they died; their bodies have been extremely well-preserved."
For the first time, Brasic saw the female move in any appreciable way. Her head bowed and her hands came together, one palm on top of one another. Her eyes slowly closed and he could see her let out a large sigh.
"The fact that there are any survivors is beyond what we had hoped," Andsworth said. "Commander, that ship left the planet we're on now over twelve thousand years ago."
Brasic knew it was a long time, but he didn't know it was that long.
"Twelve thousand five hundred, give or take a decade," Humphrey said as an aside.
"Do you understand what this means?" Andsworth asked.
"Yes sir, I do," Brasic responded.
"Not chiefly for you though, Commander," Maximilian chimed in, "But more for us. We may call this planet home, but our ancestors came from your world. We are a people intertwined with Humanity on an ancient level. Now, we live among the world that an even older race once walked the surface of. We mourn their loss, son. Now we know that a spark of that ancient race is still out there."
Brasic noticed Kirilenko shift his eyes over to Max as he said those words. It was so subtle a movement that he almost missed it. However, it seemed so deliberate that it seemed odd to him. That black uniform made his skin crawl.
"The computer aboard the ship states that we have authority to wake the Sleepers. Is that what you want me to do, sirs?"
That seemed to take the panel over the COM screen off-guard. Brasic had beaten them to the punch; and it had been a blow that winded them. Perhaps he had spoken out of turn, but it was something that he thought he and Humphrey needed to know, and now.
It was Kirilenko who spoke first. "Yes, those are your orders."
He knew it was coming, but still. He took a look at the AI who seemed to stare at him expectantly. He thought this would have been easier.
"It is my understanding," the commander began, "that UEG law forbids any extensive contact with hibernation colony ships, which includes waking any crew or passengers before they reach their destination. I would be committing a capital offense by carrying out that order."
The woman's ears perked. Her eyes widened slightly and she looked towards the Humans, her jaw slowly loosening as she asked, "Is that true?"
An uncomfortable silence fell. Nobody spoke for a few moments. Nobody made eye contact, choosing to simply stare out into space.
Everybody except Kirilenko, that was. He chose to look at the few others in black who were off to the side.
"Dad!" she demanded.
"Gerome? Is that a law in your government?"
Andsworth didn't seem to expect this line of questioning. He shifted his eyes to look at Brasic before looking back at the king. "Before we created a safe means of moving ships through Slipspace, governments of the world sent out their own private colonization efforts. There were a few dozen, and most were forgotten about. Occasionally we discovered a few that were still moving, and some of their crews were woken up. Things... almost universally never worked out. Imagine going to sleep one day and waking up in a world that got a whole lot more complicated."
"I don't have to imagine, Gerome," Maximilian said, bobbing his eyebrows.
"Two things." Kirilenko said, addressing Brasic, "Firstly, that law was written and ratified with the intent of protecting the laws in our own universe, not this one. Those people are not under the protection of the UEG. They are not citizens. Second, it would be a Human rights violation to let them continue on a journey they may not survive. Do you have any indication of their destination?"
Humphrey said, "The computer wouldn't give me that answer. I can guess based on their trajectory: it's a G-type star about two hundred light years distant. It doesn't correspond with any analogue back home,
"It took them twelve thousand years to get where you are now. Think about how much farther they have to go. We can reintegrate those people. Let them go back home. We could learn so much more about Mobius about the people who lived here."
"We'd be bringing them to a mass grave," Humphrey said grimly.
Andsworth took a deep breath and said, "We are not asking you, Commander."
Brasic thought his heart was going to explode. Hours ago he thought he could just submit and just agree to do what his superiors were asking him to do. It was the chain of command after all. Now, after all he had learned in such a short period of time, it was an overwhelming thing to ask of him.
His training demanded one thing. His heart however demanded another. He would be removed from command; possibly court-martialed. Anything beyond that he dare not explore.
"Commander Brasic?" Kirilenko asked. "Are we going to require another ship to be diverted to your location?"
The woman looked at first the ONI officer, and then to Brasic. There was something in the way that she stared; something compelling.
"I wish to speak!" Humphrey said, raising his hands. "This is reprehensible! We cannot compel a man to carry out an order that is unethical!"
"That he considers unethical." the Rear Admiral said.
"It objectively is! You make reference to the ancient colony ships that we set out on their own paths! Those were sent out in the early 22nd Century, four hundred years before first contact with the Covenant at Harvest. Those ships and their crews were sent out in a time of peace when mankind was not in imminent harm!"
Nobody dared speak.
Brasic was in awe. He had never seen Humphrey like this ever. He wondered if that fiery spirit had come from the man whose mind the AI had inherited.
"These innocent people were fleeing their own genocide! They knew their extinction was at hand and they could do nothing to stop it! This was their only shot to save that last part of their civilization."
"Humphrey," Andsworth said, leaning toward and tenting his hands, "You are acting in a manner of insubordination, and it's not something an AI or quite frankly anybody would do lightly in your position. Why are you choosing this to be your hill to die on?"
The Old Scholar said, "Because everyone deserves to start over. Everyone deserves to determine the fate of their own lives. We take the easy way out and just integrate people who may not even want it, we step on their rights to live their lives the way they chose. They want nothing to do with this place anymore. It would be like the UEG just absorbing and destroying Mobian cultures and simply replacing it with our own. We would be rulers, not partners."
Maximilian's eyes narrowed ever so slightly. "Very good answer," he said.
Andsworth noticed it too, and the corner of his mustache pulled up at the corner. "Going for the throat, are we?"
Kirilenko's lips tightened and almost became white.
"I am insubordinate," the AI said, only now breaking his gaze and looking back at Brasic. "and I'm sorry that this is the way it happened. Doubtless you'll wish me recalled and decommissioned. There's not much I can do about that I suppose."
"So we throw away our only real chance to learn about the Human civilization that lived here all because we don't want to hurt their feelings," the Rear Admiral said. "Why should I allow that?"
"I don't think it's necessarily what you will allow, Admiral," Andsworth said, looking to the ONI officer.
"I will second that," the king said. "Our peoples are partners after all?"
Brasic noted that nearly all of the ONI staff were hit with a collective wave of discomfort, though some of them seemed to direct it towards Kirilenko, if not subtly.
"I will suggest," the monarch continued, "That since we are signatories of the Alliance Charter, that this legal standard of yours apply to the souls on that ship. Self-determinism is something I think our people have worked long for and cherish dearly."
That was it. The king had spoken. There was now nothing that the other men could do, regardless of their positions on this matter. At the end of the day, the Humans were in his castle, in his country, on the world he called home. Political checkmate.
"Commander?" Andsworth asked.
"Sir," Brasic answered.
"Get your people off that ship, wish that computer happy trails and burn starward. I think we're done here."
"Aye-aye," he nodded, gesturing to his crew to begin the procedures for departure.
"Wait," Humphrey said, raising his hand. "Could I say just one more thing?"
"I don't see why not," the king responded. "You've had control of this conversation the whole time."
The AI who one moment ago was the picture of conviction, was now unsure of how to say this. "These people deserve peace from their past there's no doubt about that, but Admiral Kirilenko makes a very good point about their destination. It will take them tens of thousands of years to head out that way. I think they deserve better than a roll of the dice concerning their survival."
The ONI officer leaned forward. "Explain further."
"I would like to make a request. Maybe there's a way we can all get what we want."
Maximilian's ear twitched, and those eyes of his narrowed once more.
"What do you have in mind?" Andsworth asked.
Humphrey told them, at first holding back and then becoming more confident. It took him only five minutes, and when he was done, he waited for a response.
It took longer than it should have. Though the naval officers discussed this among themselves, the Mobians were far quieter. Maximilian looked at his daughter, but she didn't meet his gaze. She just stared into oblivion.
Milos Brasic would remember that haunting stare for many years to come.
Kirilenko cleared his throat, and asked, "How closely can you work with that computer over there?"
The yellow-white sun continued to shine as it always had in the deeps of the void. In the prime of its life, its rays bathed its companions with light and warmth. It had no name, and none gazed up at it to appreciate its gifts.
There were large companions, gaseous and ringed, and small followers that had migrated inwards eons ago. One of these bodies however, was special. Its skies were a pleasant shade of blue dotted with cotton-like clouds. Its oceans were not too hot nor cold and one large body on its surface would not be unpleasant to drink from. Though young, the forests, jungles, and grasslands gave this world an air that could be taken in without difficulty. What was more, it was not alone.
A partner, not much smaller than its primary, orbited this place. Its air was thinner, its surface was colder, yet shades of green covered the globe.
It was in place that the silent sojourn finally ended.
The ancient ship had begun decelerating weeks before, flipping over in the direction of its travel and firing its main drives. At the same time, its nose came apart like a flower, exposing a golden-colored bundle that unfolded itself. A sail, kilometers wide, assisted in the deceleration process.
The computer noted the slowing, and determined that a total stop would be easily achievable, even using the atmosphere of the twin worlds to bleed further velocity. But how much velocity exactly? It noticed a discrepancy. Its mission clock noted that their trip was on-schedule yet at the same time the expected entry speed was far lower than it should have been. It checked the logs of the engines and noted that no braking was ever attempted and no course adjustments were made.
It pondered this for a few cycles. It pondered their approach angle. It pondered the near perfect deceleration profile. It pondered a surge of particles that were in a state of decay nearly a further astronomical unit retrograde. It checked the total encyclopedic reserves of knowledge they had taken with them from the cradle and came across the suitable explanation: Cherenkov Radiation, the result of blue-shifted particles travelling faster than the speed of light.
But nothing could move faster than the speed of light. It was impossible.
Impossible.
The line of logic was set. Its sensors, while functioning correctly, registered a false positive of some sort. There were radiation emissions all over this system and a small unusual spike was not necessary for its purpose.
It activated the sternward cameras to gaze upon the new home for Humanity. This pair of worlds where the thousands aboard would start anew. Here, farms would be built, communities forged, scholars born, and explorers raised to go just one more mile into that unexplored land, and one day, they would touch the stars.
Something approaching pride swelled in the construct's core. Its programming could only allow it to express this in the most basic ways, but regardless, it couldn't help but express what one of the Sleepers would call 'hope'.
It turned its attention to the slumbering passengers, looking upon the stasis chambers that lined the interior of the sojourner's hull. Again, hope and pride burned like a young star as it registered that every single passenger had survived the journey.
Resolution One upheld!
As a precaution the Engine's subroutines confirmed the vitals of all of the passengers, and all were found to be in a perfect state of health with hibernation being uninterrupted for the duration of the voyage. On only a small handful of units, only in the double-digits, did it note some irregularities in operation. Undaunted by this, it filed those irregularities under the hundreds of others that it had observed over the course of its journey. Eventually these would be checked by maintenance and computer operations staff, and that would be at their leisure.
Resolution One finalization stage achieved. Commencing Protocol DAWN.
Wake up weary travellers, it is time to begin.
Allocating reactor output to Protocol DAWN, begin thaw process, approximate internal temperature increase at 0.25 degrees per minute. 6200/6200 units reporting full compliance.
Time to get out of bed.
Hissing noises filled the air as the pods of the Sleepers vented excess heat. In addition to the warming the computer had set in motion, it would be like swimming in a pool of warm water.
Open the window; let in the sun.
The walls flickered, and in an instant, became nearly transparent. The twin worlds were just beyond, growing closer with every instant. By the time the first eyes would begin to flutter, they would fill the whole view.
And hours later, the first Sleeper took her first free breath in ages. Her chest rose and fell, and her eyes darted about in the wonders of her dreams. She stretched, and slowly woke.
For a brief moment, she almost forgot where she was. Her slowly sharpening gaze travelled over the other slowly rousing people, and just when she had fully remembered, her eyes found the twin worlds, and for a moment she wondered if she was still asleep. The air around her was warm and welcoming, and she found it enticing to enter. Shocked and in awe, she leaned up, nearly throwing herself out into the weightless space around her, barely catching on to the grips of her bed.
She heard words. Others had woken, gazing up at their new home, expressing disbelief and wonder. They had been delivered. Their hopes hadn't been in vain, and the proof was right in front of them that they could start over.
They were passing by the worlds now, slowing to the point where the gravity would capture them. The line of night and day was easily visible. In the shadow of the world, a storm gathered over the sea. Flashes of lightning occasionally crossed the sky, and in the daytime, the clouds seemed to ignore an archipelago of thousands of islands, each verdant and welcoming, even from this distance.
The first sleeper was reminded of the beaches of her home on the ocean, and she could imagine the salt on the air. She would never see those beaches again, but looking at this now, she was alright with that fact. Here, they would be free.
It seemed like a good trade to her.
It would be some time before they would be allowed to go down to this new world. Already among those who had first awakened, there were calls for names, each one as valid as the last. Nobody was sure who would have the final say, but soon all they could do was talk about their hopes and dreams. The command staff would be up by now and moving to make sure the ship was operating as it should. They would conduct surveys and experiments before coming to let everyone know when first landfall would start. It could be days, but it could be months. That was fine; they had all the time in the world.
But there were some that were not with the crowds. Most were still in the process of being woken up, but there were some that just stayed where they were. They were sitting up in their beds, looking out at this sight, at the people catching each other in the air and welcoming each other back into the world.
One of them had a flicker of a smile pass across his face and said, "Well, would you look at that."
He admired it for a moment longer, and then turned to look at the other pods. It didn't take him long to see someone he knew. There was another man that was looking back at him too. Still with the warm look on his face, he gave the other Sleeper a brief nod.
The other man returned it.
Then, both of them turned to look elsewhere, looking for other faces that they knew, who probably would be doing the exact same thing.
"Day One," he said, resting his eyes on his new home and reassuring himself of his mission. "We have work to do."
With a great shove, he pushed himself off from his bed, and joined the celebrating Sleepers.
/End Transmission