Stephen Berry - The Biofab War

"Were you able to get any life form readings through the breach?"

"S'Cotar. Several miles distant but numerous."

The Admiral's expression was impassive as he spoke into his communicator. "Captain S'Nar. 'Fleet Alert,' please. Emphasize it's not a drill. Then plot a bombardment pattern for the Terran satellite-get the coordinates from L'Wrona on Implacable." He'd hardly finished before the battle klaxon sounded.

"One further revelation before we adjourn, sir," said McShane, holding up a hand as L'Guan rose. The Admiral sank back into his chair.

"I don't know if I can take any more," he said with a weak grin. "What?"

"We believe we've found the S'Cotar home system," D'Trelna said. The outside view blurred as Vigilant's shield went from meteor to battle force.

"Where?" snapped the Admiral, leaning forward.

"Here."

The Captain pressed on before his superior could recover.

"We've been using drones from Revenge for picket duty, searching for any concentrations of S'Cotar that might have escaped."

"I know," said L'Guan, his voice made too loud by the sudden silencing of the klaxon. "So?"

"They have sophisticated detectors, sir. The asteroid belt shows signs of extensive mining, over a long time and only recently abandoned."

"Mined for how long, Captain?"

"At least several centuries. Many of the larger asteroids are hollow, and life readings indicate the presence of vast numbers of S'Cotar. We also have grave suspicions, as yet unconfirmed, about five of the satellites of Saturn.

"Happily, we seem to have accounted for all but a handful of their ships."

Stephen Ames Berry

The Biofab War

"No!" cried Zahava. "Admiral, your weapons could alter the moon's orbit. Do that and you'd kill millions on Earth. Tidal waves, earthquakes-the whole isostatic condition of the planet would be disrupted!"

L'Guan had been about to order heavy bombardment of the fragile lunar surface.

"She's right," said McShane earnestly. "Earth and moon dance a delicate ballet, sir. To tamper with one is to tamper with the other." L'Guan looked at him solemnly. "You see, gravity, Admiral, is the stuff that holds all of this to-"

D'Trelna loudly cleared his throat. "The Admiral is a master astrophysicist."

L'Guan held up his hand. "POCSYM is in league with our deadliest enemies. It isn't necessary for me to solve the mystery of it, merely to resolve it. Now. The only other option I have is ground assault on a hardened fortress, an action that would cost the lives of many of my men and probably not succeed. And if we don't take that fortress out, no matter what the cost, then Terra has an enemy camped on her doorstep. And K'Ronar has one at her back."

He slapped the table. "We have to do it now!"

"Sir, there is another possibility," Harrison said, glancing at D'Trelna. "We'd like your permission to try an appeal to logic and first principles." D'Trelna nodded. "If that fails, then ring down the heavens."

"Good morning, POCSYM," said John.

"Good morning, gentlemen." The rich voice echoed through the machine's great central chamber.

John and the Captain stood on a small service catwalk spanning POCSYM's main shaft. Miles below and above, disappearing into a fine pinpoint of light, the endless array of equipment encircled the brilliantly lit tunnel. Small maintenance robots went silently about their housekeeping chores. A dry, warm breeze caressed the men's faces.

"You asked, literally, to see me, gentlemen. This will have to do-I'm not very compact. How may I help you?"

As John leaned against the rail, D'Trelna unfolded a paper, cleared his throat and began reading. "By order of Grand Admiral L'Guan and subject to confirmation by the Confederation Council, be it known that Planetary Operations Control System, Mode Six, programmed by Imperial Colonial Command on K'Ronar, Imperium 2028, and now operating at"-here followed a long series of star coordinates-"and known by the acronym 'POCSYM Six,' is granted sentient being status within the definition of sentience as promulgated by the Seventh Confederation Council.

"If you accept, POCSYM," added the Captain, "this automatically confers citizenship, retroactive to Compact that established the Confederation. Do you accept?" He returned the paper to his pocket.

"Yes, thank you, Captain. A very touching gesture. Please extend my deep appreciation to the Admiral.''

Not pausing, D'Trelna took another document from his tunic. "Citizen POCSYM Six," he intoned, "be advised that I am a sworn officer of the K'Ronarin Confederation, and that I hold a warrant for your arrest issued under Fleet Articles of War.

"Do you submit yourself to arrest, Citizen POCSYM Six?''

"That was very clever, Captain," said POCSYM after a moment. "I sense Mr. Harrison's fine Medician hand in this. By accepting citizenship, I granted your Confederation jurisdiction over me.

"Is this a test of my loyalty, my logic, my sanity, perhaps? Do you hope to sway me from my purpose by sweet reason?"

"Do you submit yourself to arrest?" repeated D'Trelna.

"What are the charges? Littering?"

"High treason. Lending aid and comfort to the enemy."

There was a long silence. Then a different voice. Dry, crisp, efficient.

"You've gone far, Captain. My compliments. But not quite far enough. You see, I am the enemy."

A S'Cotar stood on the catwalk.

"How many intelligent life forms do you think the Empire found in our galaxy, gentlemen?" POCSYM continued, ignoring the alien.

"None that I'm aware of," replied an impassive D'Trelna. "And we've found only the S'Cotar."

Warily eyeing the transmute, John shifted away from the railing, ready for action.

"More precisely, Captain, the S'Cotar found you, didn't they, ten Earth years ago?

"But yes, we, the Empire of which I am the last survivor, also found no others. The galaxy is empty, save for hundreds of ruined worlds, thousands of cities, all slag-heaps, their radioactivity long dissipated. Many worlds bring forth intelligent life. Few races, though, survive their adolescence-nuclear fission is a deadly toy. K'Ronar, with its atomics restricted to a small technoaristocracy, was a survivor. We found only the remains of others, long dead. We were alone."

"Aren't you forgetting someone, POCSYM?" asked John. "What about Terra?"

"I thought it clear, Mr. Harrison. You're undoubtedly of K'Ronarin stock. Early in the Empire's bloody history, more than one wave of refugees fled into uncharted space. Few were ever heard from again. By the time the first Imperial scouts reached this sector, the colonists had sunk to barbarism. We put you back on the road to civilization and your birthright, the universe. You're as much K'Ronarin and owe as much to the Empire as does the Captain."

"How is this relevant to your dramatic statement of a moment ago?" asked D'Trelna.

"The Empire did not discover the S'Cotar. Through me, it created them."

"Biofabs!"

"Ah, you've been doing your homework. Good. Yes, the S'Cotar are my biological fabrications."

"Biofab research has been proscribed since the Second Interregnum, ending the Biofab Wars," said D'Trelna. "That was an Imperial edict, POCSYM, which you've chosen to ignore. Why?"

"Captain, I can only exercise free will within the bounds of my master program. One of its principal tenets was the construction and deployment of these biofabs, the S'Cotar."

"Biofabs are clones, aren't they?" asked Harrison.

No, said a cold whisper in their heads. We are as unique as you. POCSYM created one thousand three hundred and eighty-nine original and distinct S'Cotar two centuries ago. They then bred their own larvae. A society planned to the last detail awaited them. No thrashing about, no civil wars. We are one.