Majesty's Offspring

Chapter 5: Eruptions from the Past

“They were difficult times, you have to remember. There was overpopulation, environmental disasters, economic disasters, distrust among worlds, just to name a few of the problems of the time. Sometimes insane times call for insane solutions, and that’s when Majesty came through.”

Excerpt from the personal memoirs of Richard Denkin, former first President of the United Earth Parliament

A long, wood table adorned the conference room. Its glossy surface reflected the white lights overhead. The reflections exposed the fine, wood grain patterns in the material. Engraved on the surface of both ends of the table was the Greek symbol for the letter Omega, with a circular black and gold design—the logo for Omega Research Corporation.


The chairs lined up along the table boasted plush, black leather. At the end of the table sat a lone occupant. His chair was more elevated than the rest, signifying his high rank in the company. To most at Omega Research he was known simply as the “Chairman.” Only the others who would soon fill the empty chairs knew him by name, and even then, the only other name they called him was “Chairman Riaz.”


The doors to the conference room opened and the six Directors walked in and took seats at the table. A guard, wearing formal attire, stood at the entrance waiting for the Directors to arrive. Once they all took their places, the Chairman motioned the guard away, leaving the seven executives alone in the room.


The Chairman glanced at the faces around the table. Omega Research Corporation’s Directors— his Directors, looked like fleeced sheep. Their defeated expressions told him all he needed to hear. Without saying a word, Chairman Riaz pushed a button on his chair.


A low hum sounded and a barely visible field of blue energy appeared around them— enveloping the entire room. The null field hugged the walls and doors like a cushion. Riaz knew that the null field would shield them from any snooping devices, be it audio, visual, thermal, or molecular imaging—all forms of surveillance would be blocked. However, the technology could only remain active for a matter of minutes—so he would need to make this meeting short.


The Chairman pressed another button on his chair and the lights in the room dimmed. In the center of the table, a hidden holographic projector lit up; various colored graphs and tables with figures popped up. A robotic-sounding voice ensued from the projector.


“Omega Research Corporation ongoing earnings decreased 25 percent to 19.5 billion credits. Ongoing earnings per share decreased 21 percent to 5.1 credits …”


Judging from the faces around the table, this was not news to them—as he expected.


“… Income from the Ocean Maintainer Services dropped 19 percent, which constituted approximately 70 percent of the declining income. ORC stock downgraded. Poor performance contributed to aggressive competitor activities and lack of technological advances by ORC in recent months…”


The report soon ended. The Chairman let the figures hover over the table until they all had a good chance to digest them. With another push of a button, the hologram disappeared, and the lights brightened in the room.


“I take it this news did not come as a surprise,” the Chairman began. “We have stippled our own research and development to throw off the government’s hounds. This has obviously damaged our competitive standing and financial position. And it is a matter of time before the UEP resumes its interest in us.”


The Chairman waved around the table. “We are losing. Now, what do we do about it?”


After a moment of silence, one of the Directors raised his hand.


“Chairman, we have halted the government’s investigation. Surely we can resume exploiting the A.I. technology and continue with the plan.”


“No,” the Chairman said. “We have only delayed the UEP. Chin is a temporary safeguard, not a solution. We cannot risk drawing interest in our activities again so soon.”


Riaz paused, looking around the table. For several moments, no one else spoke.


The Chairman slammed his fist on the table. “I need to hear ideas! Our next actions will determine our fate. This is not just Omega Research that is at stake; it is our survival we are discussing here. You are all involved! This corporation’s fate is your own fate. Is there a hint of innovation anywhere around this table? Or is cheating the only way we can grow this company?”


The Directors looked at him, their expressions sheepish. They had become so complacent, that they were now clueless on how to achieve organic growth through traditional means.


At that moment, a warning buzzer sounded indicating that they only had thirty seconds before the null field would collapse.


“Very well,” Chairman Riaz said. “I am going to have the A.I. moved from our R&D facility to a safe location. If the government resumes its investigation, we do not want a surprise raid uncovering it. We will reconvene in a week’s time. By then, I expect some ideas from you all. Meeting adjourned.”


The Chairman pressed a button on his chair and the dark blue null field around them vanished. The doors to the conference room opened and the guard stepped in. The Directors all stood up and left the conference room, leaving the Chairman sitting alone. Riaz motioned the guard away, who left, closing the doors behind him.


Riaz pushed a few keys on his chair, and the lights dimmed. The holographic projector came alive again. Floating above the table was a hologram of a diamond-shaped device. The device was elongated and about two meters tall. Its translucent surface seemed to give off an odd glow. In the hologram, several scientists were working around the device.


The Chairman stared at the device intently. He knew the device not only held the past of Omega Research, but the future as well—and it was a future with infinite possibilities.





 


*****





 


Seven shadows danced across the hull of the large vessel. The seven small ships traversed across the top of its hull in a wide delta formation. Merciless Errands led the squadron of ships, guiding them above the Sea Wolf.


Inside Merciless Errands, Julius looked across his capital ship’s hull, examining the details he rarely got a chance to see. The saucer shape of the Sea Wolf was more visibly prominent from this angle. He saw running lights illuminate the hull plating, exposing what he realized were imperfections in the hull, undoubtedly caused by the ad hoc repairs done to it following their numerous battles.


As he descended closer, he could see spots where the once shiny silver paint had now turned to various shades of black. Even the Jolly Roger emblems that adorned the port and starboard sides of the ship were now fading into a barely recognizable blemish. Without the time and resources to devote to keeping the ship’s beauty in check, he would have to live with it for now.


Julius pulled his ship up and pointed the squadron to their destination—the dorsal section. The dorsal hull was a long cylinder that ran along the center of the ship. Here on the hull the name Sea Wolf was emblazoned in red lettering.


“Hey, boss, we’re getting awfully close,” Reece said over the link. “We going to crash into the thing or what?”


Julius moved a hand over a panel and keyed in a combination sequence.


Ahead, on the back of the dorsal hull, a transparent, blue force field appeared. Beyond it was the entrance to the landing deck.


“Huh, look at that,” Reece said. “I thought only carriers had fighter bays.”


“Carriers and the Sea Wolf,” Murdock said. “It’s the only cruiser to have them.”


A blue light inside the shuttle cockpit lit up and a soft chime sounded, signifying that the cruiser’s computer was ready to begin remotely auto-landing the squadron.


Julius ignored the indicator, instead taking the ship into the bay manually.


“Why do you always have to do things the hard way, Julius?” Murdock said.


Julius ignored the comment, instead concentrating on the launch bay ahead.


The squadron of ships dove down into the force field, their delta formation changing to an abreast formation. The inside of the launch bay was divided into multiple lanes, and each fighter picked a free one to land on.


Julius could see his ship passing over the trigger line on the landing lane, and at that moment he felt a jolt as the tow beam emitter took hold of the ship and began to slow it down.


He deactivated his engines, allowing the emitter to take control the ship. The emitter guided the ship away from the landing lane and put it down a few meters away in a parking spot. The procedure was repeated for the other the ships by their own lane emitters.


Julius and Murdock both exited the shuttle. On Julius’ order, Murdock walked off with a couple of crewmembers to disarm and remove the remote detonators from the other ships.


A crewmember in a pilot’s uniform walked up and stood by Julius’ side. Both of them waited on the flight deck for the new recruits to assemble. Reece and the rest of the pilots soon filed up.


“Okay, recruits, I’ll keep it short,” Julius said. He gestured toward the crewmember next to him. “This is Ensign Jacobs. He will be orienting all of you on what you need to know. After you are settled, you can accompany the last wave out to New Las Vegas for a day. If you have any questions, Jacobs should be able to answer them.”


The pilots looked at each other, then at Reece expectantly. Reece raised his hand.


“Yes?” Jacobs said.


“Is there any way we can get an advance payment?”


“Advanced payment?” Jacobs said, turning to Julius and looking dumbfounded.


“Well, uh, none of us have any credits left,” Reece said, looking down at the deck. “We blew it all at Deimos.”


Julius frowned at them.


“We don’t need much, sir,” one of the other pilots interjected.


“Perhaps you can ask your new brothers at arms for a loan when you get to New Las Vegas,” Julius said. “Assuming you still want to go. Jacobs will handle the rest of your questions.”


A rumble of questions erupted from the group as they surrounded the ensign. Julius turned away from the pilots and headed back into his shuttle. Once inside, he retrieved the metallic space debris and took it with him to the main elevator.


“Deck nine,” he said to the elevator.


He half expected it not to work, but this time the elevator began to move; probably just luck. The doors soon opened and he exited near Laina’s suite. He pushed the panel to the suite, the door opened, and he entered. Inside, he could see Laina hovering over a pile of artwork on the floor.


“Running out of room, dear?” Julius said.


Laina half turned to him, an annoyed expression on her face—she hated to be called “dear.”


“Just trying to organize, honey,” she said, a little sneer on her lips. “I don’t suppose you have any desire to trade up for a nicer ship? Perhaps something with more spacious quarters?”


Julius stepped farther into the room.


“Here,” he said, tossing the metal plate at Laina as he walked all the way in. Laina reached out to catch it, fumbling with it before taking hold of it.


“It’s not heavy,” Julius said.


Laina turned the plate around, examining it. “Oh … surprisingly light.”


“It’s duratanium,” Julius said. “Same stuff the hull plating of the Sea Wolf is made of.”


Laina reached out to hand it back to Julius.


“No, it’s yours.” Julius held his hand out. “A gift for your collection.”


“Come on, Julius, I don’t need any more junk.”


“No, it’s not junk—it’s a piece of history. It’s hull plating from the UES Vindicator. I ran the codes through a database. Vindicator was part of the task force accompanying the UES California before it was destroyed by the A.I., just like in your portrait over there.”


Laina brightened somewhat and began re-examining the plate. “Oh, how did you get it?” she asked.


“It was floating out in the debris field. The gravity must have attracted it centuries ago. Who knows what else is floating out there.”


Laina nodded slowly, then began setting the plate down near the pile of artwork on the floor.


“You do know it’s your birthday, right?” Julius said.


Laina walked away from the pile and poured a drink from a liquor cabinet. She sat herself down on a couch with drink in hand.


“Yes, of course,” Laina said.


Julius walked over and sat on a couch opposite her.


“What’s the matter then?” Julius said.


She silently stroked her hair and gazed up at the ceiling in thought.


After a moment she finally spoke. “Have you ever had any second thoughts about the path you have chosen?”


Julius stretched back in the couch. “Never! Life is too long to torture yourself with trivial things like regret.”


“I’m serious, though. Have you ever wished you were in a … different line of work?”


Sighing, Julius rolled his eyes. “You’re thinking about retirement again. You do this every year.”


“No,” Laina said, glaring at him. “It’s not that. I mean, yes, it is something I have considered—but not for the reasons you might think.”


“And what reasons are those?” Julius said.


“You think it’s because I consider this lifestyle beneath me,” Laina said, motioning to their surroundings. “But that’s not it. As far as I am concerned, the corporations are the lowest form of life on the galactic totem pole and our operation is several notches above them.”


“No argument there. So what are your reasons then?”


Laina paused. “Our operation has made a good deal of profit and avoided bloodletting in the process. We have even managed to donate to charities and the needy occasionally. We recruited those who needed to be saved from ultimate demise at the hands of Enforcement, giving them homes and a purpose of sorts.


“But probably most importantly, we have done it our way, not succumbing to the temptations of a dark enterprise. We have reached every goal we set forth—you and I—all those years ago. But now, as I look at us, I realize none of it really matters. We may well live forever and continue, but the fact is we don’t make a difference.”


Julius crossed his arms over his chest. “Laina, you’re looking for a hint of reason for what we do, but you won’t find it—so quit looking. You think what we have done is some part of a grand plan, but there is no grand plan. The universe is just chaos and we are a miniscule part of it.”


Laina took a sip of her drink. “Perhaps. I suppose the evidence would seem to suggest you are right. Yet, there is so little we know. Take for example the events that took place over a century ago during the A.I. War. There is so little documented about those years—why is that?”


Julius glanced up at the portrait of the nanobots attacking the UES California.


“There were a few reasons,” Julius said. “For one, many of the databases that housed much of the information about the time were inadvertently destroyed in the process of killing the A.I. There was also a need to destroy many records about the A.I. to prevent the technology from resurfacing. When the laws to eradicate any A.I. technology were passed, a great deal of information pertaining to the era was outlawed.”


“Yes, I understand all of that,” Laina said. “I just find it almost surreal to think of a life like the one they lived—the one you lived. I mean, you were there. A life where no one really had to work, a life where all the difficult and important decision making and chores of mankind were done by a superior intelligence, a world where the corporations did not rule. It is as if we were given the garden of Eden. But something happened to change it.”


“It’s hard to remember that far back,” Julius said. “I only have vague memories of the time.”


“Don’t you find that unusual?” Laina said. “Everyone I talk to can’t remember anything concrete about that era.”


“No, not really,” Julius said. “Even though we are, for all intents and purposes, immortal, our minds still can only retain so much. Probably the most vivid memories I have of the era come in dreams.”


“Dreams—really? What are these dreams like?”


“Well, I had one recently that was extremely vivid. Probably more vivid than any conscious memory I can recollect of the time. What are you getting at, Laina?”


“I’m not getting at anything,” Laina said. “I just don’t understand why such a utopia could have been destroyed like that. It was a tremendous loss.”


“It was not our choice,” Julius said. “The A.I. wanted to become too independent. It was too powerful as it was. If we had allowed it to reproduce like it wanted, it would have made us humans completely obsolete.”


Laina took a sip of her drink, finishing it and setting it down on a table. “Have you ever thought,” she said, “that we were meant to become obsolete—and like the stubborn race we are, we chose to destroy our successor instead?”


Julius took in a deep breath. “You didn’t see what I saw the A.I. do with its nanobots. I saw entire cities, filled with people, burnt to ashes before my eyes as I flew overhead unable to do a thing about it.


“You didn’t feel the terror of everyone that lived through those times or see the innocent lives that were lost, slaughtered by the A.I. If you saw what it did, you would have no doubt the choices we made. We were the honorable and destined victors in that war.”


Laina looked dubious. “Interesting … Seems your memories are vivid enough to recollect all of that. Tell me more about it.”


Julius stood up, feeling a surge of anger inside. “You are too young to understand what happened. Just keep on drinking, Laina. Perhaps you will manage to have a revelation of some grand purpose that will justify your existence before your next birthday.”


Laina’s eyes grew wide as she jerked her head back. Saying nothing else, Julius left her quarters.