West of Nothing

55. The Weakest Link

"Hard to say. We tried teaching it the concept of time but it never used it in a sentence before, much less combined it with a verb. Maybe it means time is passing. Or maybe it means..."

"That it needs to get somewhere soon," Mason said. "But where could it go? It's not like there is a mothership coming."

"Yeah, about that..." HotDamn said.

"The comet!" Mason exclaimed, his eyes shooting to that bit of downy turquoise. "Comets come from the Kuiper-Belt, right? Goat said the X-Bots might have been made out there because of their isotopes. Could the comet be an alien spacecraft?"

"Slow your roll there, boy," HotDamn said with some amusement. "NASA is pretty confident the Gelfrey-Baines comet is not an alien mothership. For one, it's covered in icy rubble, some of which is in the process of sublimation, which is what gives it that picturesque tail. For another, it's already on its way back out of the system. It would take one hell of a propulsion drive to turn that iceball around."

They had reached the oxygen housing for the gas tanks and paused to take a breather.

"If not the comet, then what?" Mason asked.

HotDamn wiped sweat from his brow. "NASA's Near Earth Object network picked up a cluster of small asteroids on a possible impact trajectory with Earth."

"Possible? How possible?"

"NASA's giving the odds at thirty percent."

"What if they do hit? They're not civilization killers, are they?"

"Nothing like that. They're less than fifty meters in size, still quite large for meteors. But if one were to strike in the heart of a major city, it would be a bad day."

"These aren't natural asteroids, I'm guessing?"

"NASA doesn't seem to think so. There's at least a dozen of them in a tight cluster, which is highly unusual from what I hear. If you leave objects in space long enough, they like to cling together—something to do with gravity. They're moving pretty slowly for asteroids and they have dark albedos, as if they are sucking up all available light. There could be more of them out there for all we know. It was kind of by accident we spotted these. They happened to pass in front of a distant star cluster, causing an occlusion."

"Could they be some sort of alien spacecraft?"

"Who knows what they are. But the timing seems pretty coincidental, wouldn't you say? First we have a rain of spiderbots and then these mysterious dark objects show up." HotDamn patted the oxygen cannister. "Ready to lift this thing into the slot?"

After a fair amount of grunting and swearing they managed to heave the tank over the platform's lip and situate it in its cradle. Mason pulled out the flashlight and shone it on the nozzle area. "Who else knows?" he asked between pants.

"Aside from the major, only me and Skunkworks that I'm aware of. Skunkworks was the one who broke it to me, and he heard it from one of his old JPL buddies. But that was two days ago and it's been all radio silence since then. On top of that, a lot of astronomy sites have been dropping offline recently. Not that anyone's noticed amid all the spiderbot furor." He paused to attach a hose to the cannister. "I shouldn't be telling you any of this, of course. The government is deadly serious about keeping it under wraps. They're just starting to get a grip on the situation now the spiderbots are keeling over from STS, and this could blow everything to hell. We're talking real end of the world type stuff: panic in the streets, group suicides, mass hysteria."

"Why are you telling me then?" Mason asked.

"Things are going to start happening very quickly. So if you're thinking of doing something, now might be a good time."

"Is there something in particular you want me to do for you?"

"If there was, I'd just ask, or manipulate you into doing it, whichever was easier."

"You could be manipulating me now."

"So you're not as clueless as you let on." He turned a dial next to the nozzle. There was a faint hiss and a small gauge twitched, then nothing. Nothing was good. He dusted his hands off on his jeans.

"What is it you think I should be doing then?" Mason asked.

"Sorry kid. I can't do all your thinking for you."

Mason felt like they were talking in circles. "Even if I wanted to, what could I do? You said yourself I'm dead weight. To be honest, I'm not sure myself what I'm still doing here. All this stuff with graphene composites and super DNA is way over my head."

"It's exactly your bench-warmer status that puts you in a unique position to act." HotDamn cast a glance toward the guards, who were still lost in conversation. "The rest of us are under too much scrutiny to make bold moves. Sure, security has been relaxed a bit here lately. We can talk to our families, search the web, even take these little outings to the Hab. But don't let all this 'we're in it together for the good of mankind' crap go to your head. After the crisis passes—assuming it does—there will be a big-time accounting and heads are going to roll. One of those heads will be Major Zeus. He's a marked man and he knows it. He's just trying to hold on long enough to shield us from the shitstorm that is going to come down on this place like the almighty wrath of God."

"You think we're in danger?" Mason asked.

"I don't think they'll take us out behind the woodshed and shoot us, if that's what you're afraid of. But you can bet your ass you'll be on the government's radar from now on. As for this place, they'll tear it down and build something a hundred times bigger in its stead. There are technologies here that are too tempting to resist, and the government will want full control of them. It will be the dawn of a new arms race in robotics and AI. Within five years, we'll see decent knock-offs of the X-Bots. Within ten, we'll have improved upon the design. It will all be done in the name of planetary defense, of course, but the real battle will be fought over who is qualified to be the world's protector."

"How am I supposed to change any of that?"

"You can't change it, sorry. But maybe there is something you can do. On a much smaller scale, of course."

"Are you going to get around to telling me what that is?"

HotDamn placed a hand firmly on his shoulder. Mason had seen him do this with other people before and privately sneered when he saw their eyes brighten. What a cheesy, paternalistic gesture. But damn if it didn't make him feel bolder somehow, like he had just been knighted by the queen of England. "Believe me, I wish I could tell you that, but I really have no fucking clue myself. You're a smart kid. I'm sure you'll figure something out."

As they trekked back to the main complex, Mason felt utterly confused. What had all that been about? Yet by the time he reached the Bridge, pieces were starting to fall into place. He didn't have anything so clear as a plan, but the inkling of an idea was beginning to form.