The ABACUS Protocol Read online

  One

  The boom of the rocket’s engines filled the air, and Vivian Skye’s lungs. Her eyes went wide and her hand covered her mouth as the spacecraft took flight, climbing into the Auroran sky. Tendrils of red and green fire twisted together, dancing with the flow of the planet’s magnetic fields. The rocket passed through one curtain of color, and then another, its trail threading through the few patches of blue present in the late morning sky. She squinted as the spacecraft climbed towards Helios, the Auroran sun. Using a finger to blot out the yellow might of the star, she watched the ascent until her eyes were squeezed shut.

  This was her first visit to the spaceport in the capital city of Antica, Aurora’s only major link to the stars. Vivian swallowed and gripped the rail. Her eyes traced, and retraced the smoke parting the dancing green and red lights. She chewed the inside of her lip, her mind working to understand why the totality of leaving Aurora was so difficult to process.

  Somebody snickered behind her, and she turned to face the noise.

  “They weren’t kidding when they said Aurorans were hicks.” The speaker was a tall man with a beady eyes and a sagging chin. His skin was too pale to be from Aurora, and he sneered at Vivian as their eyes connected.

  “Yeah, it’s just a rocket. Those have been around for almost a thousand years,” said an equally pale woman. Vivian’s arms crossed and she pretended to read a street sign as she backed against the rail.

  “Just don’t eat the vegetables and you won’t turn blue like them, okay honey?” the man said as they turned away. Vivian hung her head as her face flushed, the glory of the rocket launch all but forgotten. At the university, offworlders had been kind and respectful—she hadn’t expected such unkind remarks on her own planet. It had taken almost two hundred years after colonization for the Auroran people to begin to evolve and adapt to their harsh world; a few vegetables would make no difference to an individual. Her mouth opened, but words escaped her.

  The pair looked behind them and walked away, their gaze set in front of them. Vivian ran her fingers through her hair as she watched them leave.

  “Ignore those idiots. They’re just sore because I cleaned them out at poker.” A deep but cheerful voice appeared next to her, loud enough that the couple turned back to glare at him before scurrying off.

  Vivian turned and pursed her lips before responding. “I guess they ignored the tourist guide,” she said, smirking. The man smiled, his bright white teeth contrasting against his reddish-blue lips. His cropped hair held a slight hint of blue pigmentation in the sunlight, known as blueberry blonde on Aurora.

  “The paragraph that recommends avoiding ‘friendly’ games with the locals is gold, and they never listen. Ego. Such a liability.” He smiled as his eyes scanned her face, and continued: “Are you heading offworld?”

  “Yes, I’m on the thirteen hundred express shuttle,” she replied, leaning back against the rails overlooking the city. She’d arrived early to watch the ships take off, to try to ease her anxiety about spaceflight. It hadn’t helped—the knot in her stomach grew with every ignition.

  “I knew it,” he said, pointing to the ground at her feet. “I stood right where you are for three hours my first time. You never see them taking off from back home, on the Borealis Plains. My name’s Sven, by the way.” He smiled as he watched the dissipating trail of smoke in the sky. The rumbling persisted, forcing Vivian to lean closer to Sven to make out his name.

  “Well, hi Sven! Oh, wow, you’ve really been off world? How many times? And, I’m Vivian, from Australis Valley,” she said. She had seldom spoken to anybody who had left Aurora. The professors from other planets and visiting dignitaries simply didn’t understand the mystery and intrigue that Aurorans associated with space travel. Her cheeks grew hot, and she turned away from him to look at the city.

  “This will be my fifth time. I don’t think it will ever get boring. Where are you off to, southerner?” the man said, leaning against the metal bars and looking down at Antica’s low skyline. Red brick buildings sprawled to the horizon, seldom exceeding three stories in height.

  “I don’t know if you’ve heard of it, but I got an internship working on the Extra-Galactic Observatory,” Vivian said, hoping he wasn’t a luddite. After the ABACUS incident, Aurora had received an influx of immigrants seeking refuge from the perceived threat of sentient artificial intelligence.

  “I haven’t heard of it. What’s the closest planet?”

  “New Damascus is where I catch a shuttle,” she said. While the trip through the wormhole singularity would be nearly instantaneous, the Extra-Galactic Observatory was an unglamorous four weeks by shuttle from New Damascus, in stasis.

  “That’s at the edge of the galactic arm! Why under the lights would you want to go all the way out there?” he said, taking a step back. She could understand his reaction; there were many other observatories, even one just outside the Helios star system.

  “I wanted to work with their computer, quIRK. It’s a unique opportunity, because there are so few deep-space quantum computers that are as advanced and new as it is.” She spoke the words too fast, one tumbling out after another.

  “quIRK?” repeated Sven as he raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like some kind of particle. What’s that stand for?”

  “Well, the ‘q’ and the ‘u’ are for quantum, and IRK is an inside joke about how irritating the system was to design. Physicists and computer scientists have been historically notorious for picking humorous names,” she said. She smiled, relieved that he wasn’t overreacting; there really was nothing to be afraid of. quIRK was just a machine, only similar to ABACUS in design fundamentals.

  “You know, I got to talk to one of the quantum computers with a basic personality and a human speech interface on Nova Albion. It’s scary how smart it was. Think you can teach this quIRK to play poker?” he said, laughing.

  “I’d love to try. quIRK is supposed to have pretty good social skills, I’d like to see him try to bluff.”

  “So, it’s a him, now?” Sven crinkled his brow.

  Vivian sucked in a quick breath. “It just doesn’t seem right to refer to him as it, when he has a male voice, so why not?”

  “Fair enough,” he said with a shrug. “How about we go clear out some more offworlders before our shuttle leaves? I’ll be with you at least until the central hub at Epsilon Eridani.” His eyes twinkled and his grin returned.

  “Can you see Sol from there?” Vivian had always wanted to see Earth, but that had been made impossible after humanity had destroyed the only singularity conduit to the system in response to the emerging ABACUS intelligence.

  “It’s small, but there are signs pointing to it. I’ll show you when we get there. The shipyards in the asteroid belt are also a sight to behold.”

  “I can’t wait! Okay, let’s go find some easy marks. I want to have some fun before I go,” Vivian said as she flashed Sven a wolfish smile. She was relieved to not have to spend the trip lost and alone.

  Two

  Vivian was strapped into her seat, deep within the confines of the rocket. The Spartan metal interior was a stark contrast from the natural earth-tones and blues of Auroran decor. The chair pressed into her spine, its padding insufficient for the high gravity environment. Sven had arranged to be moved to the seat next to her. She was sitting by the window—all she could see was the infinite ripple of the lights. Anything more than a quick glance sent her vision spinning and her stomach threatening to empty itself of every meal she’d ever eaten. She and Sven hadn’t managed to find a poker victim, but they had instead idled away the hour talking about Sven’s exports. He was trying to establish a luxury business selling Auroran flutes to offworld music programs, with great success. Vivian played the Auro
ran flute herself, although she didn’t consider herself to be more than an enthusiastic amateur. She hoped it would be a good way to make friends, if the flutes were as popular as Sven indicated.

  “Relax, it will be okay. It’s really fun, and haven’t you always wondered what the moons look like without the lights dancing over them?” Sven whispered in her ear.

  She smiled, and realized that her knuckles had turned white from her grip on the restraints and her jaw had clenched itself shut. “I’ll try,” Vivian said. She scanned the other passengers. Some were sleeping. How could anyone sleep at a time like this? They were sitting on a giant bomb!

  “Don’t look at them; you’ll miss what’s going on outside the window. Out there is way more interesting. I bet you can’t tell the moons apart!” Sven was teasing her, now.

  “Oh come on, I can tell the moons apart.” Vivian said, chuckling, fixing her eyes on the chairs in the aisle across from them.

  “Okay, what’s the true color of Aeos?” he asked, running a hand through his hair. It stood up in a shock of blueberry spikes.

  “Aeos is the only moon that’s actually white. Pyrois, Aethon and Phlegon are all captured asteroids and grey.” She felt silly at being able to recite the grade school lesson from memory, almost twenty years later. At least she could still pronounce the tongue-twisting names. Why couldn’t they name planets and moons after something other than ancient Terran mythological figures?

  “Somebody remembers primary school!” Sven said, clasping his hands in front of him and talking through pursed lips. “Good to know living inside a mountain for five years didn’t blind you to the natural radiance of our world.”

  “It’s only a fifteen minute elevator ride to the surface, you know,” Vivian said, rolling her eyes. “Some of us cave dwellers like fresh air.” The temptations of readily available electronic entertainment, movies and interactive games often blinded young Aurorans to the low-tech surface world. Even the silent and inhuman quantum computer at the university was an interesting novelty.

  “Just checking.” Sven was cut off by a recorded voice instructing them to stay seated and to not remove the restraints. Vivian wasn’t going to let go until they were safely in orbit and en route to the transport singularity. She clamped her jaw shut, determined not to scream as soon as the ignition sequence started.

  The ship lurched, and Vivian swallowed hard and fought not to hold her breath. Her heartbeat rattled against her ribs. She stared at the plain steel ceiling of the ship and willed herself to be calm. Much of this rocket-based technology was over one thousand years old, she reminded herself. Advanced anti-gravity systems would not function in the Helios system, and the space propulsion system was unsafe to use within a planet’s atmosphere. Thus, re-usable chemical rockets had made a comeback.

  Vivian pressed against her chair. Her chest grew heavy, but the discomfort was manageable. A quick check outside the window showed Aurora’s pale blue sky spattered with dancing green and red lights. Sven grinned at her, stretching his arms behind his head and feigning yawning. His errant bravado soothed her nerves. Some of the sleeping passengers awakened. Suddenly, the sky went black, and Vivian could see the stars unobstructed for the first time in her life. She couldn’t believe how many of them there were! Usually, she could see the brightest local stars, such as Vega and Sirius along with Aurora’s four moons, and maybe Betelgeuse on a rare night when Helios’ intense storms quieted. She’d seen pictures of space, but it was nothing like actually being there. She craned her neck, wanting to take in everything. There was so much to see!

  “Looking for something?” Sven asked.

  “I was hoping to see Aeos.” Vivian blushed, not wanting to embarrass herself by claiming to be spellbound by the stars.

  “Not this time, I’m afraid. Sit back and enjoy the trip,” he said as he closed his eyes.

  A metallic voice announced that their travel time to the Aurora Singularity Connection was eight hours, and that gravity had been set to Earth Standard. Vivian had never felt so light before—her limbs moved too quickly, and her heart seemed to float in her chest. She looked out the window, and watched with both elation and despair as Aurora, the only home she’d ever known, shrank into the distance. She saw a white flash just over the northern continent, and hoped it was Aeos.

  The restraints popped free, and she twisted around for a better look. Aurora had become a pale blue dot, but she hoped to spot some of the other planets, especially the gas giant, Hyperion. Like Aurora, it had brilliant persistent lights that were a spectacular sight from space. Vivian hopped out of her seat, and her arm flew back and whacked Sven in the face.

  “Hey! Watch where you swing those!” Sven rubbed his nose, which had reddened.

  “I’m so sorry!” she said, feeling her face flush.

  “You’re fifty percent stronger now. Take a walk and get used to it before we get to the hub.” He returned to slouching in his chair, and tested his nose with his fingers.

  She stood up, taking great care to keep track of all her limbs. They were not long, as she was just about average height, but she had a powerful build and now understood that she didn’t know her own strength in standard Earth gravity. Cramming her hands into her pockets, she shuffled towards the window to stargaze.

  Three

  The trip through the singularity wormhole had been exhilarating, but brief. As they approached the large, steel-enclosed ring, Vivian could only see a starless void ahead of them. She wasn’t used to total, complete night. On Aurora, the skies were perpetually lit, and there had been artificial lights everywhere in the subterranean university. It had never occurred to Vivian that anyone could seriously be afraid of the dark, but as she stared into that artificial singularity, the walls seemed to close in, drawing that black point into an infinite maw. Her breath caught in her throat—she had to will herself to keep breathing. So many possibilities flooded into her mind—the controlled singularity could lose containment and smash them into subatomic particles, or one wrong calculation could result in a premature ejection from the wormhole, marooning them in the emptiness of uninhabited space. It had taken decades, and sometimes even centuries, for stasis ships to establish new hubs for rapid travel and colonization, and the Aurora colony predated the network altogether. Her heart raced, and she gasped for breath.

  A hand clasped around her shoulder, shaking her. She spun to face it. Sven cocked his head and peered at her. “Are you okay?” he asked.

  Vivian blinked a few times. She opened her mouth, but words escaped her.

  “It’s alright, Vivian.” He squeezed her shoulder. “This is the safest way to travel. There haven’t been any accidents on the network in centuries.”

  Vivian forced out a slow breath and nodded.

  He smiled. “It will be fine. Trust me. If it’s not fine, I’ll send you a new flute free of charge.”

  Vivian chuckled and found her voice. “How will you send me a flute if we’re lost in space?”

  He frowned. “Don’t think too hard about that one. It might rip space-time. Now, enjoy the show.”

  There was no sensation of movement or bright flash of light when they entered the aperture, as opposed to their violent take-off. The stars re-emerged, and ahead of her lay an imposing space station. It was an immense rectangular metallic structure, with indents where hundreds of tiny ships were nestled. Red and green lights flashed along the alcoves, and windows ran outside the periphery of the intermediate levels. Vivian had never seen anything so impossible, or so huge. Even at a distance, it dwarfed the ring of hubs that honeycombed around it. With nothing of similar size to put the giant prism in perspective, it seemed large enough to be its own planet.

  “You know how I know it’s your first time in space?” Sven’s voice was dry, but his smile remained warm.

  “Oh, sorry,” Vivian said, without taking her eyes off the monstrosity in front of them. She couldn’t believe something so large could have been built in space.

  “You�
�ll get used to it. How long until your connection?” Sven maintained his easy-going disinterest in the structure. She noticed that he avoided looking at it.

  “I have about two hours to figure out how to get there,” she said, frowning as she acknowledged that she had no idea of how to find the ship to New Damascus.

  “Fortunately, what they don’t tell you is that over half of that thing is empty and sealed. They’re still waiting for teams to reach all those new systems to establish a hub.” Sven laughed as he spoke.

  “What’s so funny about that?” she asked, hoping that he wasn’t laughing at her.

  “Humanity isn’t known for its long-term planning capabilities. The fact that they’ve planned for hubs that won’t be open for hundreds of years is kind of funny.”

  “I see your point. You have to wonder about the people who voluntarily go into stasis for hundreds of years, though.” She contemplated her own imminent four week stasis trip, something she tried very hard not to think about.

  “You know, they’re probably very well rested,” he said, stretching.

  Vivian doubted that even stasis could make her relax. She hadn’t managed to sleep on the shuttle at all, and she had only nibbled on the complimentary meal.

  They disembarked the ship in silence, and she stepped onto the Epsilon Eridani station. She was surprised by how spacious it was on the inside, the ceiling stretching up almost twenty meters. The large metallic chamber was bisected by a conveyor belt for rapid passenger movement. A collection of shops and depots lined the far wall, and an eclectic assortment of humanity wandered the giant corridor. Smells of greasy food wafted about the room, mixing with the stale air. People bumped into her, and she pushed back, trying to stay with her guide.

  “Okay, I have to leave you here,” Sven said. “I need to get my cargo out of storage on Phaeton, and that’s going to take longer than you have. Check a terminal for your directions.” He paused, and handed her a small yellow plastic wafer. He continued: “Here’s my Gal-Net contact, when you get yours set up drop me a line. You never know when you can use a friend out here.”