Humanity's greatest question of the Shiplords, asked twice now, had always been why. And even now, with true war a reality between your races, you still wanted to understand. All you'd ever seen of the Shiplords had been their military, and even Insight had struggled to make sense of the flashes of civilian life they'd glimpsed. Here was the chance to infiltrate, observe, get a glimpse of your enemy behind the wall of military force and Tribute Fleet zealotry. The possibilities of what you could learn from that were intoxicating, enough to make your head spin before Sidra prodded you to stay on task.
Even so, it continued to push at your mind as the
Adamant ghosted deeper into the system under stealth. Your electronic warfare section was at highest alert, watching for any non-standard emission that might betray your detection. Without the upgrades to the ship's computing systems, that would have taken up enough of Iris's processing allocation to render her essentially useless for other tasks. With them in place, however, you found that your daughter was making more complex plans.
The message that she 'had an idea' led you down to the terminal section dominated by the information warfare techs, to find her flitting between consoles to check and advise. Despite everyone in the room surely knowing that she was monitoring all the data flows at once. And, you noted with some amusement, very pointedly not wearing the uniform she was now entitled to.
"You got my message." She didn't quite ask, not looking up from the scrolling mess of what you thought was a communications protocol. The room had changed since you'd first seen it. The terminal sections were scrupulously clear of any debris, but the pristine walls of standard grey had been adjusted to a more welcoming orange tone. There were pictures scattered around, too, and the terminal workspaces had been divided by drapes of semi-transparent cloth. All in all, it looked nothing like what your mind demanded it should. But what it should look like mattered less than what the people in it could do.
"I did," you nodded, knowing she could see it. "What have you found?" She wouldn't have sent anything to you without having far more than 'an idea' to work with. The smile she turned on you as she stepped back from the display she'd been watching was dazzling.
"The system security net here is very good," she explained, "but I've been inside Shiplord data environments before. This isn't their best. If we were to guess, the net here was set up primarily as another layer of tripwire. If we can access it, our analysis gives us an excellent chance of success. And despite it just being a tripwire, it has to be the network behind any surveillance platforms in system. If we can suborn those, we'll have a much easier time with the rest of our mission."
"How would you get in?" There was no value to questioning the analysis. Infospace manipulation had been second nature to Iris since birth. Still, her eyes softened as she recognised what you'd done. Trust was easy to give when little rested upon it. A great deal would rely on this work being correct.
"Trailblazer designed a program to simulate a Shiplord communications challenge several years ago," she said, waving a hand across the screen beside her. "It's been tested extensively against Tribute Fleet systems and was what got me into the Regular Fleet network during the Third Battle of Sol. Without it," she shook her head. When she continued, it was far more softly. "It works, mom. I already staked my life on it once, and it didn't let me down."
"And once you're in?" You preferred not to pursue the implications of her last statement beyond their existence. Despite your awareness of how risks had to be taken in war, she was still your daughter, and you knew that made you emotionally…involved.
"There it becomes more of a projection," she admitted, "but I'm confident. There's no major activity in the system nodes. If there's an AI in there somewhere, it's low level or dormant. If the former, I can handle it. In the case of the latter, well," she sighed, fingers flexing unconsciously. "In that case, it'll be bound up in tripwires, and I'll…just have to make sure I don't set any off."
"That," you trailed off slowly, conflicted. It was one thing to know it had happened, quite another to sign off on this. You trusted her, of course you did, but even so.
:You're not being fair to her,: Sidra scolded, but gently.
:You know she's smart enough to not take unnecessary risks, she just doesn't want to lie about the danger.:
:I know,: you sent in reply, the mental equivalent of slumped shoulders accompanying the words. Sidra didn't let it last long, sweeping you up in a wave of warmth.
"I know it sounds bad," Iris said, meeting your eyes squarely. "But only Vision would have more experience than me in this. And we've got none of the hardware-level vulnerabilities that would be expected from any other race coming out of the current," her lips twisted in distaste, "Shiplord system. If we did, I'd never suggest this."
"I know," you reached out, catching her closest hand with your own. "But this is what you can do. And I'd be a fool not to let you."
"That wouldn't be like you," Iris smiled impishly.
"No," you shook your head, "I guess it wouldn't. But with that said, there remains one, final, question."
"Oh?" Iris cocked her head curiously.
"Yes," you nodded solemnly. "How are you going to explain this to Mary?"
Alas that your daughter had grown up enough to see through such things. It was still an interesting discussion, and one you did end up having to be part of. But it was also a foregone conclusion, and all of you knew it. Iris had been added to the
Adamant's crew to provide a missing component of infowarfare capabilities that it had been expected your mission would require. And despite both of your concerns, you knew that she was right to suggest this. If you wanted into the Shiplord datanet, she was the best option you had. If not the only one. The rest of the EW section was good, but they knew their limitations, and not one of them was a Potential.
It took you a little out of your way to get into the proper position for the attempt, but it was seen as worthwhile time. Despite their transmission speed, lagless signals were primarily directed. If you could send the challenge from the same vector as one of the Shiplord craft in orbit around the planet, it was possible that a failure would be played off as a glitch. Not the best cover, but it was what you had to work with. And it only took two hours.
Two hours.
Your name is Iris, and despite your confidence in explaining this plan to your parents, the moment to prove it came rather faster than you'd expected. Your internal clock was adamant that the last hundred and nineteen minutes had passed at the same rate as all the others, but it was clearly lying. Yet the time was here, and you forced yourself to calm, running through the fine-toothed creations that you'd prepared relative years ago for this very eventuality. You'd wondered if your parents would be here to see you go, but they'd given you an offer of their presence instead.
It was odd, being an adult like that, and not something you were entirely sure you wanted. But you'd said yes, asked them both to be there. And now, they were. Amanda's expression was outwardly calm, but you were her child. You could see the faint hints of tension, the worry in her eyes, but there was something else there, too. Mary, she was more openly worried, yet her face was taut with a very different emotion. Resolve, you realised. But of what? You could have found out, without even asking. But you'd worked hard to not be that version of yourself.
"What is it?" You asked, instead, focusing fully on the reality around you even as a vast array of underlying routines kept watch on your other responsibilities. Your moms exchanged a look, then Mary sighed, and Mandy chuckled.
"Should know better by now, shouldn't we," Mary shook her head fondly. "You always were too smart for us to hide things."
"Except the sugar," Amanda said dryly, and you giggled. But then she sobered, and you saw the tension and the fear swept from her face as if it had never been. "You know we both wanted to be here to support you, Iris. But there's more we can do than just be here."
"We can't go in there with you," Mary continued, before you could point out that clear inability, "but that doesn't mean we can't help you. There's…something that we think Mandy can do, to make you far more capable in there than you usually would be."
"What do you mean?" You asked, attention snapping to your blonde-haired mother, who smiled tightly.
"You know what my Focus is, Iris. What you might not be fully aware of is how many forms Mending can take. One of them, one that I'm quite skilled in, is making things stronger. I can do this to the
Adamant's processor base, and keep them online at a level of power drain that should make them burn out, but," she paused. It was only for an instant, but you saw the moment of hesitation. "But I can do that for you too, Iris."
"We know it's not something you like to talk about much," she said, pre-empting your immediate question, "but you've always been capable of so much more than you've chosen to be. That was your choice, always, but you told us before that much of it was based in the fear of never being able to come back whole. What if I told you that we could make sure you would?"
"I'm not sure you understand what you're asking, mom," you replied, very softly. Your eyes were wide with shock, but the mind behind them was shaking it off quickly. The risks were enormous, but the potential of being able to turn everything - your gaze snapped up, meeting her blue eyes squarely.
"How sure are you? You both know the risks, what I'm capable of becoming if I take those parts of myself offline." You swallowed, finding it difficult to do so. "How certain are you that you can bring me home again?"
"Completely," Mary stated. "We'd never lose you." You stared at her, trying to find words, the questions you needed to ask.
"I told you that I can make things stronger, Iris," Mandy said. "But if you're diving into hell, I can keep you whole. I didn't want to offer this, not really, but war often leaves us with few choices. I can make you stronger, yes, of course. But it would be nothing compared to how powerful you can become if I make you whole instead. And that way, we know you'd come back. Because you'd never stop being our daughter. But it's your choice, love. Not ours."
Tears pricked at your eyes, emotions surging through you in response to the sheer love in your parents' eyes. What they were offering, and how, it was almost too much. But that was who they'd always been to you, as much as they could be. And you might be biased, but you thought they'd done well. Even then, the question remained. Did you want to do this? To risk so much, in pursuit of the chance for peace?
Faces flickered across your mind. Countless faces, all the ones you'd ever watched. Then your friends, and the family of choice and the nearest thing to blood you'd ever known. Nei, Aya, your parents. Would you risk this for them, knowing they were there to catch you? Put that way, was it even a question?
"This is more important than anything I've ever done," you said. "And we're all risking so much here, for so many." Mandy opened her mouth, but stopped as you shook your head. "I'm not doing this to be equal with them, moms, or to prove anything. I'm doing this because I trust you, and you've promised me that it's possible. And if I can be more than I am to help protect those I love, then I will."
There was quiet then, again, but it was a comforting one, full of the acceptance that your family had always offered. They didn't need to tell you they understood, or that they were proud. They said it all without saying a word. And it made you glad that you'd chosen the system core as the jump-off point for your incursion. There was no real reason for it, your processing capacity was the same anywhere on the ship, but it had felt right. Even if the room was small, and rather boring visually. It meant that there'd been no one else here, for moments that belonged to your family.
But as with all good things it had to end. The
Adamant reached the point in space directly between one of the Shiplord craft and the relay station you'd identified, and a signal flared in your awareness.
"It's time," you said. "Is there anything we need to do?"
"We're ready." They said together, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. One day, you thought.
"Then so am I." You turned your attention inward, rushing down through the endless arrays of processes that you'd always chosen to preserve, searching for the master switches that had been yours to command since adulthood. And that you'd never once considered turning.
You had a soul, there was more than enough proof of that. But you also had more control over your mind than any other human could truly understand. Not even the Unison Intelligences came close, and though she was of humanity, Vision had never seen herself as entirely human. Maybe you'd understand that, after this.
Energy rippled around Amanda as she dove into her Focus, and virtual displays filled the air in a whirlwind of readouts around your darker-haired mother. The heart, the mind, and the link between, you thought for a moment. Though perhaps not. Mary was far more than a link.
"Iris," Amanda's voice was pitched oddly, and through the ship's sensors you could see the searing coruscation building within her breast.
Mothers' Love: 75 + 36 (Practice) + 20 (Concert Set) = 131. Trance threshold exceeded! (Pls why?)
"Daughter." The energy pulsed, wrapping in on itself until it was unbearably bright, yet none of it radiated beyond the bulkheads.
Trance Roll: 84. Success threshold exceeded. (Iris! Stahp!)
Blue eyes met your own mismatched pair, and for a moment her pupils flashed silver.
Practiced Miracle!
You hit your internal master switch. And your mother Spoke.
Be Whole
Every single emotional and personality routine you could access halted or terminated outright, and a wave of cold fire swept across your mind. Why had you left them running for so long? It was so inefficient, surely? It wasn't as if they served any real purpose. But this, this, you could see and feel so much more than you'd known before. And that was only in this instant. You'd lamed and pulled yourself down for far too long. If you'd had this against the Shiplords last you'd met, they would never have stood against you. But then, why stop there. This entire mission was inefficient. So many people, wasted on a job that only a few were needed for. Why not show them how little they were needed?
The words of the human, more than human, really, who'd spent so much time trying to raise you as her own hit you. So futile, you'd no need of this. You were already whol-
And you found yourself shivering as the feedback of barely a dozen cycles caught up with you. You reached out through the infospace, and a thought dissolved the fragments of control code you'd started to embed in the
Adamant's systems before anyone could notice them. Part of you spun away, trying to process the reality of what you'd been. The rest of you had no time for that.
"Thank you," you whispered. Then you triggered the Trailblazer communications challenge, and your mind lanced out from the
Adamant, faster than light itself. Yet your hardware was faster than light, too. You began the journey as a singular, infinitely complex form. What hit the edge of the Shiplord infospace did so as a torrent of mirrored instances, dedicated to a single goal.
Calculated Infiltration: Roll aborted via Miracle. This is getting silly.
It took them less than a microsecond to crack the Shiplord challenge, and by the time the system was able to recognise what it was dealing with, more instances were already flooding through the gates. They tore into the infospace, isolating any outwards communication flows and ripping their control circuits away. And even as security systems activated in response to your intrusion, more and more instances of yourself poured into the system. They were all part of you, every one of them,and needed no direction to understand what you wanted to do. After all, they were you.
Something roused at the core of the system, the presence coming awake in less than instants by human standards, yet you'd never had to act on those timescales. It was well protected, for certain, but also disoriented, coming online in the middle of a situation that it had never been truly designed for. As you had been, as you would be again, it would have posed a considerable challenge.
Even as you were now, your foe possessed far more processing power, and that would always tell in a prolonged engagement. Unfortunately for it, you had no intention of allowing one to occur. You split off further instances to engage the defences around the still only stirring AI. They flooded forward, and you tried to move with them, only to stutter to a halt as searing agony filled your mind, countless minds trying to press down on your own, each trying to assert itself. It was only for an instant, yet you felt the energy around your mother back on the
Adamant surge higher in response, and the pain was simply gone.
You were you again. Scattered and sharded endlessly across the infospace, yet all still…you. And the AI in front of you was still only beginning to formulate a response. You could see it beginning to form, the defences solidifying, focusing, as it prepared to purge its system. But all it could see right now where the shards of yourself, not the self behind them. A critical flaw in its detection profile. And, alas, a fatal one.
A group of instances identified the weakest points in the AI's core defences, and you fought through another wave of scattering pain as you flung another wave of selves against them. There was absolutely no subtlety to the strike. Brute force was the name of the game, and for the moment, you could embody it. And so you did. Despite the pain, despite everything. And one of those points finally wavered, a full three seconds since you'd sent the initial challenge, you were ready.
It was not, you would discover later, any fault of the system's AI. It had simply been programmed with an overriding objective to call for aid in the event of an overwhelming cyberattack, and it had been shifting priorities for a last-ditch strike to wrest control of one of the communication arrays from you. It probably would have worked, too. Unfortunately, to be so strong in one place, others had to suffer. And that left it just a fraction too vulnerable.
There was a sensation alike to a crystal giving way, just before it shattered. A desperate scream as you poured through the cracks, spreading like poison from the rifts you'd forced wide. You felt the system's mind still railing against you, trying to fight even as you ripped away any semblance of its ability to do so. You forced yourself not to think about it for now.
There were the master switches. The controls that the Shiplords had driven through the mind you faced. Glowing knots within the infospace, seemingly innocent, yet you could not unsee the chains to which they were bound. No matter what you were doing now, no matter that it would never be right, the Shiplords had done so much worse. You grasped the controls, flowing into them, making them yours. And any hint of struggle ceased.
You felt sick.
The endless instances you'd spun out for the combat collapsed back into you, and you rocked in place as those millions of iterations merged. There'd not been time for any of them to truly build differences, but they'd gathered an enormous amount of knowledge from the engagement. You'd…have to allocate time to working on that. This wasn't going to be the last Shiplord security system you'd have to crack. Focus on what was important right now, you told yourself. Handle the rest later.
Now that you could actually take the time to analyse it, you found the infospace you'd invaded rather small. There were several communication channels that you'd been spoofing, but now that you had control of the system, you set it back to normal operations. Leaving your own components there would be too risky. There were the surveillance systems, entry logs, there was even a control map for the gates. Not that you were going to touch that. You'd been able to hide your presence in your assault, but taking overt action would be obvious to any caretakers on the stations.
But there were other systems, too. Those you'd expect from any life-bearing station: environmental, supply, interactions. Other ones too, however. One half of the infospace felt like a security control panel, carefully watching. Yet the rest, sitting in plain sight now that the security protocols had been defeated, was a bookcase.
For a moment, wonder overwhelmed even your heart-sick disgust with what you'd just done, and you reached out to pluck the first book from the shelf. You examined it carefully for any trace of tags or other security measures; there was no call to rush things, not now. Only after you were certain that there were none, and wasn't that interesting, did you open it. It fell open easily within the virtual space, to a page that felt creased from long use.
It read almost like a tourist guide, but that tone was wrong.
You opened your eyes. The power of the Miracle your mother had set upon you was fading. Some echoes of it remained, and you could feel the subtle alterations to your structure it had worked. Working quickly, before you could blink, you reactivated the protocols you'd set offline ten seconds and a lifetime ago. Then you looked across the space, to where Amanda was beginning to come back to herself.
She was getting better at that, you thought. How much longer? It didn't matter.
"We've had it all wrong," you said, and though your voice was but the ghost of a whisper, your parents heard you. "We thought these might be research bases, training hubs, even weapons depots."
"Iris?" Mary moved forward, the virtual displays around her rippling as she passed through them, and she opened her arms just so. You were inside them before she could even begin to react. "What's wrong, love?"
"They're not any of those things," you said, burying your face in your mother's shoulder. "But I think…I think they might be what Tahkel said, even so." Amanda moved behind you, pulling you close and resting her chin comfortingly above your head.
"What are they, then?" She asked gently. One of your hands squirmed free from the hug, motioned in the air, and a virtual display flickered to life between you and the far bulkhead. The words you'd read, the very last ones before returning to your body. The
Adamant would have no need to fear the security protocols of this system anymore, but you somehow doubted that would be noticeable. Not with this.
"They're memorials." You replied. "But why?" The display was simple text, translated using the Shiplord language convertor Marcus and the Ministry of Security had perfected over a decade ago. But its implications were anything but simple. It read:
Be welcome in this place, those who have come to remember our failures. Here is the last in many cycles. They could have been so much more, yet we could not make them listen, and in that lies the same failing as the rest. Our own, it must be remembered.
Come within with respect, to understand what we took from reality. What they could have become, for all but our people shall forget in time. Remember the Zlathbu. And find resolution here, for such a mistake to never pass again.
Iris has successfully infiltrated and suborned the Shiplord security network around the star system. In doing so, she has gained access to a significant cache of information detailing the reason for the system's shielding. You may pick a perspective within the Adamant's crew to react to the analysis of this cache. The perspective of Iris is banned.
[] Amanda Hawk
[] Mary D'Reve
[] Jane Cyneburg
[] The Adamant's intelligence section
[] Write-in?
