Stephen Berry - The Biofab War

"God," said John in disgust.

"You've met Gaun-Sharick, I believe," said POCSYM. "Gaun has, among other things, headed my efforts to keep the Terrans from stumbling over the old temple-transporter sites, with occasionally unpleasant consequences.

"Gaun, perhaps our guests find your physiognomy distressing."

Cindy stood there, wearing a yellow halter top, faded denim cutoffs and a pair of sandals. ''Better?'' it asked with a freckle-faced smile and a toss of the head. The long flaxen hair swished back over a bare, tanned shoulder.

"Worse," gritted John.

Fred Langston took Cindy's place with the same slight ripple that had heralded the girl-form's appearance. It puffed a meerschaum pipe, hands in the tweed jacket pockets, Gucci-shod feet crossed as it leaned insouciantly against the railing.

"Why?" demanded D'Trelna.

"Why what, Captain?" asked POCSYM, puzzled.

"Why this entire exercise, POCSYM!" D'Trelna's face grew dark with rage. "Why create these monstrosities-telepathic monstrosities at that?" He stabbed a finger at the Lang-ston-thing. "Why have them descend on us, kill millions of our people, and alter our very way of life?"

"For your own good, that's why," said the unperturbed voice. "As our-the Empire's-scouts probed deeper into the galaxy, they encountered the remains of a once-great interstellar culture, the Trelanquawelakin… Call them the Trel.

"The Trel's planets were lifeless, devoid even of microbes. In the watery tombs that had been the Trel's cities, the Empire found evidence of a cataclysmic war of extermination.

"Somehow breaching the very fabric of space and time, vast armadas of ships had surged into our universe from another dimension. Without attempting contact, they began to methodically slaughter the peaceful, whalelike Trel, the only interstellar race of that time.

"Recovering from their initial shock, the Trel rallied and in battle near Cygnus-F18789105 Red to you, Captain-they routed the invaders, expelling them from our universe and sealing the breach. The primordial energies unleashed in that conflict rendered many of the nearby stars forever dark, a condition noted millions of years later by the Terrans, who dubbed the region the Coalsack.

"It was a pyrrhic victory for the Trel. Greatly weakened, their numbers depleted, they fell easy prey to the drone biophage ships scattered in their wake by the retreating foe.

"Dying, the Trel left a full account of their struggle for any race that might succeed them. An account and a warning: the breach could be reopened in about five million years.

"The Trel believed their nameless killers' mastery of trans-dimensional travel included also the dimension of time. The Enemy need only jump forward to the seal's dissolution and come through again."

Harrison was intrigued, despite his mistrust. "But the energy required for a time jump must be huge."

"True. Considering the Trel's figures-a billion ships, the smallest the size of this satellite-a time jump would drain the Enemy's galaxy, leave it a dry husk of black holes."

"They'd have to win through or die," said D'Trelna. "They couldn't retreat this time."

"The Enemy may not actually die, as we understand the term, Captain. The Trel finally captured a small enemy scout ship, enmeshing it in a webbed damper field. The two crewmen were inorganic: artificially created, silicon-based life forms."

"Robots."

"At what point, Mr. Harrison, does a machine become human? Where lies the threshold?

"These were highly individuated life forms, that much was apparent from their appearance. Alas, when the Trel turned the damper off, their captives blew themselves up. Took some of the Trel with them.

"That's all we know of the Enemy. If those machines were the Enemy, of course, and not just its servants.

"My task, given me by the greatest social engineers in the Empire, was to prepare humanity to withstand that invasion. As part of my charge was Terra and its people, I was established here. But I've watched the remains of the Empire over the centuries. You degenerated into a selfish rabble, concerned only with your own bellies, no more than a small police force for protection and possessed of the grand delusion that the universe would leave you alone.

"Well, it took me a long time, but I finally crafted the perfect enemy for you: merciless, hostile, utterly alien.

"I thought for a while, after you found they couldn't be bought off, that the S'Cotar would send you the way of the Trel. I was wrong. You rallied, counterattacked, forged an alliance. You were magnificent, more than fulfilling my fondest hopes. Well done."

"Would you really have let your biofabs destroy us, POCSYM?" asked D'Trelna.

"Yes. Such were my orders, Captain. If you couldn't survive the S'Cotar, what chance would you have against the Enemy?"

"This is all hypothetical, POCSYM," said John. "You have no evidence that the Trel were right. How could you-"

"Your pardon, sir. The breach reopened about one hundred and fifty Terran years ago. Two years ago, before they were detected and destroyed with alarming ease, my pickets signaled the advance of a vast armada through the breach. An armada of the sort described by the Trel. Their vanguard should be upon your outposts, Captain, in less than a year."

"Why should we believe you, POCSYM?" challenged the K'Ronarin. "You're the one who's been the father of lies. Why shouldn't we just put an end to this now?"

"If by 'putting an end' you mean to me, Captain, it will take far more than the ships now in bombardment orbit overhead. Contrary to an old Terran fable, the moon is not made of green cheese. It's made of shipbuster missiles, fusion batteries and half a million S'Cotar warriors.

"Have no fear, though. I'm forbidden to harm you."

D’Trelna gave a short, bitter laugh. "You kill millions of my people, then blandly tell me you're forbidden to harm us! My God! What warped minds must have programmed you!"

"Not warped. Just ordinary men, like you, trying to do their duty as they perceived it. Men who made a far greater sacrifice for their ideals than either of you will ever make.

"Enough. Your actions have proved my mission a success. You represent an armed, unified, vigilant humanity, the goal of my creators. Captain, I acknowledge your authority and submit to your arrest. Further, as a symbol of my good faith and proof of my ultimate veracity, I'll now destroy the S'Cotar."

Langston's image vanished. Treachery! hissed the mind-whisper. Gaun-Sharick stood before them again, antennae swinging in agitation. You promised us the galaxy if we would but defeat these soft things!

"It seems they're not so soft, Gaun. As for the galaxy-it was never mine to give. You had to take it. Yet with all the advantages I granted you, you failed. You're now only a dangerous encumbrance.

"In the S'Cotar bodies your researchers dissected, Captain, did you find a small protein chip grafted to the brain?"

"Yes. We thought it had something to do with the telekinetic abilities. The chips dissolved when removed, though."

"They're installed at birth by my servos and govern the telekinetic and telepathic gifts. Those chips make everything possible, including the bit of theater we've been enjoying: the battle on Terra, the wiping out of the biofab fleet.

"As Gaun-Sharick knows, the chips contain a matter/antimatter power source. And, as he also knows, they are my control over the S'Cotar. When they're outsystem, my drone ships pace them, armed with the kill code, ready to bring those dichotomous elements together.

"Most of the biofabs are now insystem, my effective range.

I'll now kill them. Stand clear of Gaun-Sharick. This will be messy."

Langston reappeared, eyebrow raised. Its smile broadened as the seconds passed. "Problem, POCSYM?"