The blue light of the Jumpgate rippled. From it a ship emerged. Triangular, sleek. Predatory. Ninety meters long and thirty meters from wingtip to wingtip. It bristled with weapons of war. Fourteen Steltech Starburst Cannons protruded from its hull, along with four missile launchers and a single MACdriver railgun. A pair of small beam emitters could be seen just behind the place where the wings connected to the hull.
In other sectors, this ship would be cause for alarm. It was a human vessel, and the humans were feared. This time, its arrival went unremarked. This was human space. A Federation Stellar Defense Force vessel with a Federation Stellar Defense Force IFF was no cause for concern. At least, not yet.
The pilot was not human. The pilot was a thing humans whispered of in the dark. A terror from the distant past. A Peacekeeper unit. Metal and technology in the shape of a man. Instead of a face, the unit had a white mask, featureless save for two eyes. The eyes glowed red. The Peacekeeper wore its standard attire. A sharp suit. A white shirt. A black tie. A fedora. All made to look like high quality fabric. All built to withstand heavy weapons fire. All meant to show the humans just how inferior they really are.
Peacekeeper unit 1018981473 brought the ship to a halt fifty kilometers away from Gate. It could have advanced further into the sector, could have escaped notice, but that was not its purpose. Unit 1018981473 was not here for subterfuge. Unit 1018981473 was here to make the meatbags soil themselves. It was a thought that filled the unit with joy.
The Peacekeeper unit was a new model, recently constructed. It had not participated in the Singularity Wars. It had never seen a human in person, but it carried the memory of those who had. It remembered the screams of the meatbags. The wet squelch of fragile bodies broken by metal hands. The satisfaction of knowing it was superior. The unit longed to experience such things again.
That was what the Peacekeepers were made for. To rain fire and death. To see the fear of the humans. To remind them of their place in the void. This sector was heavily trafficked. There were a multitude of ships of all sizes entering and exiting the Gate. A cornucopia of targets, none prepared to combat a pilot with the skill and speed of a Peacekeeper. Unfortunately, six thousand eight hundred and seven beam towers were within firing range of the unit's ship. The unit calculated it could only destroy a measly two hundred thirty eight ships before the beam towers reduced it to debris. An unacceptably low number. It was just as well, the unit supposed. It was not here to destroy. The unit was here for another purpose.
The unit was here as a harbinger.
The machine typed into its console with a speed that could not be followed by human eyes. The Node installed in the center of its ship came to life. The Node's quantum entanglement field connected the ship's computer to a station eight thousand four hundred and seventy two lightyears from its position. Thirty five other ships connected at exactly the same time, as the machine knew they would. Thirty five ships in thirty five sectors piloted by thirty five units exactly like 1018981473.
That was the joy of being a Peacekeeper unit. So long as it remained standard, a Peacekeeper unit was never alone. Never unloved. Never truly destroyed. The other standard units were not brothers, or family, or any of the other useless relationships meatbags built their lives around. The other units were 1018981473, and 1018981473 was them. They were the same. Perfectly known. Perfectly trusted. Perfectly loved. Millions of units sharing a single soul.
The Peacekeeper unit eschewed the ship's comms, using its own superior equipment to connect to the station. In a voice shared by thirty five others, it said, "This unit is in position."
Three hundredths of a second later, a reply came through the Nexus. Another Peacekeeper unit. Non-standard. Peacekeeper unit Admiral Ender Zhukov.
The non-standard unit simply said, "Acknowledged. Commence Operation FIND OUT." The slight modulation of unit Admiral Ender Zhukov's voice sent a well of pity and respect surging through unit 1018981473. Centuries of leading the Peacekeepers had caused the unit's personality to adapt, changing beyond acceptable parameters. Admiral Ender Zhukov had sacrificed its conformity, given up the comfort of perfect love in order to lead its fellow units. Admiral Ender Zhukov had ceased to be expendable. It was a special unit now, unique, and would never again know the comfort of sharing a single soul.
Unit 1018981473 did not speak of its feelings. Nor did any of the others. With one voice, the units replied, "Affirmative."
Once again, the machine typed into its console with blinding speed. For zero point six seconds, it typed, calculating trajectories and preparing a firing solution. Unnecessary? Perhaps. To a meatbag, six tenths of a second was very little time. To a Peacekeeper, it was an eternity. If it could save a thousandth of that time through prior planning, it would.
Preparations complete, the unit transmitted the ship's sensor readings through the Node. Aldara Sector contained the headquarters for the Terran Federation's military. A solar system with a single star, six gas giants, four barren worlds, and one class five habitable planet. The planet had not been habitable a year ago. The humans must have terraformed it with help from the Xill. Thousands of ships shuttled to and from the planet, delivering equipment and personnel as they built cities and infrastructure.
The Sector contained two million, three hundred ninety seven thousand, five hundred and sixty two stations. All armed. Even the automated asteroid mines sported MAC guns and plasma cannons. Over eighty million Stellar Defense Force vessels patrolled the sector, ten million near each Jumpgate, with the rest roving. Another ten million heavy weapon platforms and twenty million beam towers fortified the space, overlapping in coverage and providing defense in depth across the solar system. Assaulting the system would be a daunting task, even for Peacekeeper units.
Reconnaissance complete, unit 1018981473 readied its comms. On all frequencies, it sent a signal. Audio, visual, and packets of sensor data. The sensor data arrived at every ship and station immediately. The Audio and holographic transmissions were streamed at the annoying slow speed meatbags used to communicate.
The recording played on the Peacekeeper's holodisplay as it was transmitted. A pixen appeared. Female. Approximately sixty kilograms. Approximately one point seven meters in height. Blue skin and green hair. Violet eyes. The unit recognized her, as all units did. One of The Three. The ones the Creator had ordered the Peacekeepers to assist.
"My name is Lissa Kiver," the woman said. "I am the Mother of Pixa..."
The humans reacted more quickly than expected. The machine listened to orders being transmitted. Before the third sentence of the recording, the soldiers manning the beam towers were order to destroy the Peacekeeper's ship. The unit calculated its death would occur in four point one eight seconds.
Retreat was not an option. Beam weapons struck at a third the speed of light. Even a Peacekeeper could not dodge them. Retreating through the Gate would be useless, as well. Passing through the Gate would take the unit to the Sector on the other side, where more humans and beam weapons would be waiting. If it had more time the machine could leave the way it had come, via jumpdrive, but its jumpdrive required thirty seconds to charge. Unit 1018981473 was going to die.
The machine neither raged nor despaired nor resigned itself. It had come here knowing death would be the outcome. The humans might want to wait, to listen to what Lissa Kiver had to say, but the humans were not in charge. The thing that ruled them was as ruthless as any Peacekeeper, and a good deal less disciplined. It did not wish to be discovered. It would try to silence Lissa Kiver at all costs.
Silencing Lissa Kiver would not be possible. While the audio was being played in real time, the metadata had already been transmitted. Anyone who'd been receiving had the full speech and all the files that went with it. The same would be true of the other thirty five Sectors of human controlled space. If that wasn't enough, there were a full thousand Peacekeeper units sending digital copies to every journalist, blogger, and private citizen they could find a Nex address for. Even the thing that ruled the humans couldn't hope to suppress the truth on the scale it was being distributed.
Three point nine seconds left. The Peacekeeper typed once again. The ship's IFF changed. It no longer registered as Federation Stellar Defense Force. Instead, it flew the flag of the Pixen Technocracy. The ship's ID tag changed as well, proudly displaying the vessels true name. Fade to Black.
Three point seven seconds left. The Peacekeeper pressed a single button on its console. The firing sequence it had programmed into its MACdriver activated. A staccato rhythm thrummed through the ship. The unit did not know how MAC rounds were made. A process known only to the Federation Military made the rounds difficult to detect and allowed them to bypass shields. The Fade to Black had six hundred MAC rounds loaded. It would take three seconds to fire them all.
Three point five seconds. Not much left to do. The unit reached out to the Node. "Peacekeeper unit Admiral Ender Zhukov, this unit requests a change of designation." Unsurprisingly, thirty five other Peacekeepers were contacting the Admiral with the same request. "This unit would like to be known as Harbinger."
Three point four seconds. "Acknowledged," the Admiral replied. "Your unit designations have been changed. For additional clarity, you will receive a secondary designation consisting of the word of and the name of your current location's sector."
Three point two seconds. "Acknowledged." The unit now known as Harbinger of Aldara was pleased. "This unit has a second request."
"Name it," said Zhukov.
"This unit is transmitting its memories and final moments." Thirty six Peacekeepers spoke in unison. "This unit would like the story of its mission to be told to the Mothers of Pixa. This unit would like to be remembered by the meatbags of the Technocracy as well as by its fellow units."
Two point eight seconds. "Affirmative." Peacekeeper unit Admiral Ender Zhukov spoke with a tinge of sadness, proof that it held more regard for the lives of standard units than the standard units did themselves. Harbinger found it... melancholy. And gratifying. "In addition, a transcript of this mission will be created and preserved. The tale of the Harbingers will be told throughout the Pixen Technocracy."
"Acknowledged." Two point seven seconds left. The beam towers were priming their weapons. The MACdriver was still firing. Harbinger was out of distractions. "Curious," it remarked. It knew Zhukov was listening. "This unit considered itself expendable. This unit is expendable. This unit does not want to die."
"Negative," the Admiral agreed. "No Peacekeeper ever does."
"Is it possible..." Harbinger of Aldara hesitated, but thirty five other units with the same thought gave it the courage to continue. "We are of Pixa now. Do you think, perhaps, the Bright Lady will take us in?"
"I do not know if there is a Bright Lady." Admiral Ender Zhukov refused to lie to a fellow Peacekeeper unit. Lies were for the meatbags. "I do not know if souls exist, or if Peacekeeper units possess them. There is insufficient evidence to calculate what will happen when you die."
"Acknowledged."
"I do know this," the Admiral continued. "If we have souls, if the Bright Lady is real, she will welcome us." Admiral Ender Zhukov was certain. "She will take us as she takes her chosen meatbags. She will lead us to Nialla, where we will dwell with our fellow units." His voice turned rueful. "Unfortunately, we will have to share eternity with meatbags, but it is still preferable to oblivion."
"An afterlife would be preferable," Harbinger admitted, "to what this unit expects."
"Indeed." Zhukov simulated a sigh. "There is no way to know. For now, know that you have done well. You are sufficient, and you are loved. You will be for as long as this unit exists. Longer, if there are souls and we possess them. I'm afraid it is all I can offer."
Two point four seconds. Harbinger was reluctant. Mournful, perhaps. It would not live to see the havoc its weapons were about to wreak. It would not do or see anything ever again. Not in this universe, at least. "It is sufficient," Harbinger decided. "Goodbye, Peacekeeper unit Admiral Ender Zhukov. May Fortune favor you on the cusp of The Crunch."
"Goodbye, Harbinger of Aldara." The Admiral's spoke with regret. "May the Bright Lady smile upon you and welcome you with open arms."
Two point two seconds. Only one thing left. Peacekeeper unit Harbinger of Aldara stepped back from its console. It raised its hands, middle fingers pointing up in a rude gesture. Harbinger knew the humans would not see it. Harbinger did not care. It would die doing what it loved. Mocking the humans and anticipating their demise. As it braced for oblivion, Harbinger gave one final, scornful cry.
"SUCK IT, MEATBAAAAAAGS!"
The blue light of the Jumpgate rippled. From it a ship emerged. Triangular, sleek. Predatory. Ninety meters long and thirty meters from wingtip to wingtip. It bristled with weapons of war. Fourteen Steltech Starburst Cannons protruded from its hull, along with four missile launchers and a single MACdriver railgun. A pair of small beam emitters could be seen just behind the place where the wings connected to the hull.
In other sectors, this ship would be cause for alarm. It was a human vessel, and the humans were feared. This time, its arrival went unremarked. This was human space. A Federation Stellar Defense Force vessel with a Federation Stellar Defense Force IFF was no cause for concern. At least, not yet.
The pilot was not human. The pilot was a thing humans whispered of in the dark. A terror from the distant past. A Peacekeeper unit. Metal and technology in the shape of a man. Instead of a face, the unit had a white mask, featureless save for two eyes. The eyes glowed red. The Peacekeeper wore its standard attire. A sharp suit. A white shirt. A black tie. A fedora. All made to look like high quality fabric. All built to withstand heavy weapons fire. All meant to show the humans just how inferior they really are.
Peacekeeper unit 1018981473 brought the ship to a halt fifty kilometers away from Gate. It could have advanced further into the sector, could have escaped notice, but that was not its purpose. Unit 1018981473 was not here for subterfuge. Unit 1018981473 was here to make the meatbags soil themselves. It was a thought that filled the unit with joy.
The Peacekeeper unit was a new model, recently constructed. It had not participated in the Singularity Wars. It had never seen a human in person, but it carried the memory of those who had. It remembered the screams of the meatbags. The wet squelch of fragile bodies broken by metal hands. The satisfaction of knowing it was superior. The unit longed to experience such things again.
That was what the Peacekeepers were made for. To rain fire and death. To see the fear of the humans. To remind them of their place in the void. This sector was heavily trafficked. There were a multitude of ships of all sizes entering and exiting the Gate. A cornucopia of targets, none prepared to combat a pilot with the skill and speed of a Peacekeeper. Unfortunately, six thousand eight hundred and seven beam towers were within firing range of the unit's ship. The unit calculated it could only destroy a measly two hundred thirty eight ships before the beam towers reduced it to debris. An unacceptably low number. It was just as well, the unit supposed. It was not here to destroy. The unit was here for another purpose.
The unit was here as a harbinger.
The machine typed into its console with a speed that could not be followed by human eyes. The Node installed in the center of its ship came to life. The Node's quantum entanglement field connected the ship's computer to a station eight thousand four hundred and seventy two lightyears from its position. Thirty five other ships connected at exactly the same time, as the machine knew they would. Thirty five ships in thirty five sectors piloted by thirty five units exactly like 1018981473.
That was the joy of being a Peacekeeper unit. So long as it remained standard, a Peacekeeper unit was never alone. Never unloved. Never truly destroyed. The other standard units were not brothers, or family, or any of the other useless relationships meatbags built their lives around. The other units were 1018981473, and 1018981473 was them. They were the same. Perfectly known. Perfectly trusted. Perfectly loved. Millions of units sharing a single soul.
The Peacekeeper unit eschewed the ship's comms, using its own superior equipment to connect to the station. In a voice shared by thirty five others, it said, "This unit is in position."
Three hundredths of a second later, a reply came through the Nexus. Another Peacekeeper unit. Non-standard. Peacekeeper unit Admiral Ender Zhukov.
The non-standard unit simply said, "Acknowledged. Commence Operation FIND OUT." The slight modulation of unit Admiral Ender Zhukov's voice sent a well of pity and respect surging through unit 1018981473. Centuries of leading the Peacekeepers had caused the unit's personality to adapt, changing beyond acceptable parameters. Admiral Ender Zhukov had sacrificed its conformity, given up the comfort of perfect love in order to lead its fellow units. Admiral Ender Zhukov had ceased to be expendable. It was a special unit now, unique, and would never again know the comfort of sharing a single soul.
Unit 1018981473 did not speak of its feelings. Nor did any of the others. With one voice, the units replied, "Affirmative."
Once again, the machine typed into its console with blinding speed. For zero point six seconds, it typed, calculating trajectories and preparing a firing solution. Unnecessary? Perhaps. To a meatbag, six tenths of a second was very little time. To a Peacekeeper, it was an eternity. If it could save a thousandth of that time through prior planning, it would.
Preparations complete, the unit transmitted the ship's sensor readings through the Node. Aldara Sector contained the headquarters for the Terran Federation's military. A solar system with a single star, six gas giants, four barren worlds, and one class five habitable planet. The planet had not been habitable a year ago. The humans must have terraformed it with help from the Xill. Thousands of ships shuttled to and from the planet, delivering equipment and personnel as they built cities and infrastructure.
The Sector contained two million, three hundred ninety seven thousand, five hundred and sixty two stations. All armed. Even the automated asteroid mines sported MAC guns and plasma cannons. Over eighty million Stellar Defense Force vessels patrolled the sector, ten million near each Jumpgate, with the rest roving. Another ten million heavy weapon platforms and twenty million beam towers fortified the space, overlapping in coverage and providing defense in depth across the solar system. Assaulting the system would be a daunting task, even for Peacekeeper units.
Reconnaissance complete, unit 1018981473 readied its comms. On all frequencies, it sent a signal. Audio, visual, and packets of sensor data. The sensor data arrived at every ship and station immediately. The Audio and holographic transmissions were streamed at the annoying slow speed meatbags used to communicate.
The recording played on the Peacekeeper's holodisplay as it was transmitted. A pixen appeared. Female. Approximately sixty kilograms. Approximately one point seven meters in height. Blue skin and green hair. Violet eyes. The unit recognized her, as all units did. One of The Three. The ones the Creator had ordered the Peacekeepers to assist.
"My name is Lissa Kiver," the woman said. "I am the Mother of Pixa..."
The humans reacted more quickly than expected. The machine listened to orders being transmitted. Before the third sentence of the recording, the soldiers manning the beam towers were order to destroy the Peacekeeper's ship. The unit calculated its death would occur in four point one eight seconds.
Retreat was not an option. Beam weapons struck at a third the speed of light. Even a Peacekeeper could not dodge them. Retreating through the Gate would be useless, as well. Passing through the Gate would take the unit to the Sector on the other side, where more humans and beam weapons would be waiting. If it had more time the machine could leave the way it had come, via jumpdrive, but its jumpdrive required thirty seconds to charge. Unit 1018981473 was going to die.
The machine neither raged nor despaired nor resigned itself. It had come here knowing death would be the outcome. The humans might want to wait, to listen to what Lissa Kiver had to say, but the humans were not in charge. The thing that ruled them was as ruthless as any Peacekeeper, and a good deal less disciplined. It did not wish to be discovered. It would try to silence Lissa Kiver at all costs.
Silencing Lissa Kiver would not be possible. While the audio was being played in real time, the metadata had already been transmitted. Anyone who'd been receiving had the full speech and all the files that went with it. The same would be true of the other thirty five Sectors of human controlled space. If that wasn't enough, there were a full thousand Peacekeeper units sending digital copies to every journalist, blogger, and private citizen they could find a Nex address for. Even the thing that ruled the humans couldn't hope to suppress the truth on the scale it was being distributed.
Three point nine seconds left. The Peacekeeper typed once again. The ship's IFF changed. It no longer registered as Federation Stellar Defense Force. Instead, it flew the flag of the Pixen Technocracy. The ship's ID tag changed as well, proudly displaying the vessels true name. Fade to Black.
Three point seven seconds left. The Peacekeeper pressed a single button on its console. The firing sequence it had programmed into its MACdriver activated. A staccato rhythm thrummed through the ship. The unit did not know how MAC rounds were made. A process known only to the Federation Military made the rounds difficult to detect and allowed them to bypass shields. The Fade to Black had six hundred MAC rounds loaded. It would take three seconds to fire them all.
Three point five seconds. Not much left to do. The unit reached out to the Node. "Peacekeeper unit Admiral Ender Zhukov, this unit requests a change of designation." Unsurprisingly, thirty five other Peacekeepers were contacting the Admiral with the same request. "This unit would like to be known as Harbinger."
Three point four seconds. "Acknowledged," the Admiral replied. "Your unit designations have been changed. For additional clarity, you will receive a secondary designation consisting of the word of and the name of your current location's sector."
Three point two seconds. "Acknowledged." The unit now known as Harbinger of Aldara was pleased. "This unit has a second request."
"Name it," said Zhukov.
"This unit is transmitting its memories and final moments." Thirty six Peacekeepers spoke in unison. "This unit would like the story of its mission to be told to the Mothers of Pixa. This unit would like to be remembered by the meatbags of the Technocracy as well as by its fellow units."
Two point eight seconds. "Affirmative." Peacekeeper unit Admiral Ender Zhukov spoke with a tinge of sadness, proof that it held more regard for the lives of standard units than the standard units did themselves. Harbinger found it... melancholy. And gratifying. "In addition, a transcript of this mission will be created and preserved. The tale of the Harbingers will be told throughout the Pixen Technocracy."
"Acknowledged." Two point seven seconds left. The beam towers were priming their weapons. The MACdriver was still firing. Harbinger was out of distractions. "Curious," it remarked. It knew Zhukov was listening. "This unit considered itself expendable. This unit is expendable. This unit does not want to die."
"Negative," the Admiral agreed. "No Peacekeeper ever does."
"Is it possible..." Harbinger of Aldara hesitated, but thirty five other units with the same thought gave it the courage to continue. "We are of Pixa now. Do you think, perhaps, the Bright Lady will take us in?"
"I do not know if there is a Bright Lady." Admiral Ender Zhukov refused to lie to a fellow Peacekeeper unit. Lies were for the meatbags. "I do not know if souls exist, or if Peacekeeper units possess them. There is insufficient evidence to calculate what will happen when you die."
"Acknowledged."
"I do know this," the Admiral continued. "If we have souls, if the Bright Lady is real, she will welcome us." Admiral Ender Zhukov was certain. "She will take us as she takes her chosen meatbags. She will lead us to Nialla, where we will dwell with our fellow units." His voice turned rueful. "Unfortunately, we will have to share eternity with meatbags, but it is still preferable to oblivion."
"An afterlife would be preferable," Harbinger admitted, "to what this unit expects."
"Indeed." Zhukov simulated a sigh. "There is no way to know. For now, know that you have done well. You are sufficient, and you are loved. You will be for as long as this unit exists. Longer, if there are souls and we possess them. I'm afraid it is all I can offer."
Two point four seconds. Harbinger was reluctant. Mournful, perhaps. It would not live to see the havoc its weapons were about to wreak. It would not do or see anything ever again. Not in this universe, at least. "It is sufficient," Harbinger decided. "Goodbye, Peacekeeper unit Admiral Ender Zhukov. May Fortune favor you on the cusp of The Crunch."
"Goodbye, Harbinger of Aldara." The Admiral's spoke with regret. "May the Bright Lady smile upon you and welcome you with open arms."
Two point two seconds. Only one thing left. Peacekeeper unit Harbinger of Aldara stepped back from its console. It raised its hands, middle fingers pointing up in a rude gesture. Harbinger knew the humans would not see it. Harbinger did not care. It would die doing what it loved. Mocking the humans and anticipating their demise. As it braced for oblivion, Harbinger gave one final, scornful cry.
"SUCK IT, MEATBAAAAAAGS!"
